//------------------------------// // The G ~ The Sight // Story: Synest Dead // by Roan //------------------------------// "Ah, Vinyl Scratch, I've been waiting to meet you in the hide." "Who are you, exactly?" "Names aren't important. How are you liking the wig?" "Wig?" "It's a long story. Second day, I kinda . . . burnt my mane off." "Are you sure this is a good idea?" "I'm telling ya Vinny, pyrotechnics are all the rage! Now, normally it's all done with, you know, technics, but I don't think a little bit of unicorn magic would be considered cutting corners . . ." "The great and powerful Trixie would hope not!" "Was that your first encounter with Trixie?" asked Facsi. "Yes, and I wish it were the last. Almost lost a hoof trying to follow one of her plans after-" "Hey!" snapped Pokey. "We're out of order as it is! Let's get back to the brown colt." I didn't answer him. I was too busy pondering how he'd known about the burning mane fiasco. The only nonmember present was Trixie, and she didn't seem like the type to go blabbing off about her own spectacular failure. To this day, I still don't know how he knew. "Cigarette?" he asked, offering me a box of mareboros. "I don't . . ." "I know, but you will soon! Oh, I've been interested in you for a quite a while, Scratch. You are quite a valuable asset, and soon you'll be even more so." If just one of the many connotations with being an 'asset' to a mysterious stallion were to penetrate my thick skull then, my answer would not have been a simple minded "What?" "I have another gift for you. Please, remove your shades." I obliged. No reason not to. "Oh, wow, these eyes . . . may I just say that crimson suits you very well. Could you shutter those rubies, just for a moment?" Continuing to humor him, I did as he asked. I heard him blowing, and moments later I was met with fine powder spread along my muzzle. Doing what came naturally to me, I opened my eyes, sneezed, wheezed, and shortly inhaled most of the dust. Everything went dark for a second, and then small motes of color appeared before me. A yellow prism took the place of the colt, and a series of seemingly unintelligible figments replaced the rest of the room. "What did you do to me?" My words prompted a several short-lived blue blips to fan out in front of me. "I've given you the sight!" His lexics released several wisps of pink that lashed out and surrounded me. It took me a moment to realize he was chuckling, and that the whirls were responding to his chortles by bouncing about my frightened figure. "Make it stop!" He continued laughing. The wisps continued circling. I started shaking. After a few seconds, I decided it was all too much for me. I shoved my shades back on, and-wait, who turned on the lights? My vision returned to normal. In front of me was the brown colt, rolling on the floor laughing. "See, only you can make it stop, Scratchy! Now, I must be off, but before I go . . ." With a few deft movements, he was at my side, nuzzling my neck. And then he bit me. "Did you suspect him of being infected at the time?" "No. I didn't even know about the infection until the next day. I thought it was a dream." I woke up the next morning, apparently having been put to bed after my meeting with the lunatic pony. Before leaving my sheets, I felt along my neck to make sure the bite was real. It was. As I shifted out of my covers, I was stopped by the grasp of another pony. A sleeping Octavia clung to my form with her fore-hooves. Not wanting to disturb her, I decided it would be best to rest a little longer. We lay like that for a while before she was awoken by the crashing sound of the wall breaking down. Tor, presumably running away from something, had bowled himself through any and all structures that prohibited his movement. Through the hole, I could see a distinct trail of destruction marking his path. Before I could lecture him on just how much money he was surely wasting by redecorating in such a brutish manner, Octavia and I were swept away in his charge. He knocked the two of us out a second story window. I lost my shades in the fall, and at the time they were the only method I had to correct my sight. Octavia appeared to me as a marbled white pony, while all around us were mottled figments of varying shades. A crescendo of epic proportions sounded as they began rushing to our position. I heard a scream, and one of the figments latched on the livelier shade to my side. It winked out of existence shortly afterwards. Alone and surrounded, I started galloping in a bid to escape. "But that wasn't her end, was it?" Facsi asked, pleadingly. "No. Not by a long-shot. However, Octavia and I wouldn't meet again for a while. And not on the friendliest of terms." Pokey groaned. "More importantly, that was your first encounter with the infected?" "Yes." I ran, kicking away any of the shades that managed to get a hold of me. Eventually, I came upon a new sight. A beige and indigo figure, with a scarlet center. It was calling out to me, shouting my name. Gesturing with something analogous to a hoof for me to come through a doorway that I couldn't see. I did as it suggested, and after the slam of a door, found respite in slumping against a wall, panting. "Oh, oh my Celestia . . ." Lyra's voice came with a sliver of cognizance. "Zombies, Vinny, Luna damned zombies! Who would have thought, you know?" I couldn't take that. My brain wouldn't accept that as an answer. This all had to be a dream, right? I played along. "Yeah, yeah . . . uh, Ly? I'm kind of . . . I can't see . . ." My mind shut down. It's not the Doctor. It's. Not. The. Doctor.