//------------------------------// // Interlude: Words in a White Room // Story: The Great Brony Migration // by Laichonious the Grey //------------------------------// Small and cramped. And way too much white. A young man, late twenties, dark brown hair, lanky and all around average, turns his head this way and that, like the camera in the upper corner of the room. Yep, too much white. That pretty sums up the room in which Wit sits. It had to be an interrogation room, no doubt. It had a camera, watching his every move and a one-way mirror window. Like that was supposed to fool him into thinking he was alone or something. All it needed was one of those big Hollywood lamps so they could shine it in his face. Instead it had one big white light on the ceiling and a stainless steel table. No guard. That could be a good thing, or a bad thing. They probably thought it unnecessary. He was stuck in a wheelchair on account of his leg with a hole in it. If he did try to escape, well he’d be thwarted by the first flight of stairs he came to. The blue painted steel door opens to admit an older man in a dark, sharp-cut suit. He has a sleek black tablet computer in his hand and what he probably thought was a disarming smile on his face. Wit was pretty impressed, so the feds have moved into the future. No more bulky manila folders stuffed with papers to slam on the table. “Hello, I’m Agent Barker, FBI.” He pulls out a black leather wallet and flashes his badge at Wit. Wit sees it long enough to register the letters FBI printed on it before the so-called Barker flips it away back into a pocket. “So, Joey,” the agent says. “How do you know my name?” Wit snaps. Barker smiles. “We ran your prints; pulled everything we have on you. Though, it’s not what we expected to find.” Barker furrowed his brow and frowned at the reports on the tablet. In an instant, a well practiced smile again appears. Wit scowls at the agent. “Anyway, you are Joey Nederman, otherwise known as ‘Wit’. Which do you prefer, Joey or Wit?” Barker switches on the tablet swiping in a pass-gesture. “Wit’s fine.” He says, those two words so dripping in venom the agent should be dead where he sat. Barker taps a few fingers on the steel table, holding his cleft chin with one hand his eyes darting over the hostile young man. “I’m not your enemy, Wit. I’m here to help you.” “You killed four of my friends, G-Man,” Wit growls. Barker swipes again with a practiced motion on the surface of the tablet. “Wit. Active member of several online forums. Over two hundred thousand posts in the past four years on one site in particular, Ponychan. Care to tell me what this Ponychan is about, Wit?” Wit continues to try and bore a hole through the agent with a steady glare. “We believe that this Ponychan site has connections with the domestic terrorist group, Anonymous. Do you have any information regarding that, Wit?” “Ponychan has nothing to do with the Anons, G-Man.” Barker spreads his hands, inviting. Like the maw of a Venus Fly-trap was inviting. “Enlighten me then.” Wit snickers, clenching a fist. “Pish! Like you care about the truth.” “Ahh, but that is why we are here, Wit.” Barker gets up from his chair to lean on the steel table. And now, the punchline. “Like I said, I’m not your enemy, if anything I’m your friend. Two days ago, someone made a big mistake. Two days ago, you lost four friends because of that mistake, I’m here to try and fix that.” “You can’t just fix dead friends,” Wit hisses through clenched teeth. Barker stands up, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Okay, bad word choice. I’m sorry--” “No you’re not,” Wit says under his breath, scowling at the false mirror. His reflection scowls in turn at the agent and the room. “Listen, Wit. We’ve pulled files on all of you that we found at the industrial park. The worst crimes we could find on any of them was petty internet piracy, and a few unpaid parking tickets. Now, we were told and given strong evidence by several sources that the compound known as Friendshipping Express Inc. was a false front for a terrorist sleeper cell. Turns out, they lied. The bastards.” Wit’s eyebrows shoot straight up into his hair. Had he been able, he would have jumped to his feet. “That’s crazy! I... What? Who the hell... Core-ban!” A hand flies to his forehead. Barker raises an eyebrow at Wit. “Who is Core-ban?” Wit runs a hand through his hair. “They’re the anti-bronies, the ones who have been doggin’ us around.” Barker pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling noisily into it before glancing at Wit again. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. Anti-bronies?” Wit gives the agent a withering look. “Bronies are fans of My Little Pony, G-Man. Don’t tell me you never heard of us. Two years ago, a bunch of members of Core-ban crashed a brony convention, destroyed stuff, burned the building to the ground. It was all over the news.” “My Little Pony... heh, I know that show. My granddaughter loves it. Does that make her a, what did you call it?” “Brony.” “Yeah.” “Not really.” Wit leans forward wincing slightly at the pain in his leg. “Bronies are usually older fans, most of them guys, like me. Ponychan was just one of probably hundreds of pony sites that we used to talk to each other. About ponies.” He shoots the agent a wry smile turned smirk. “Okay, I can see that. But how do you explain the stolen equipment we found destroyed in that warehouse and why it was rigged with explosives?” Wit fidgets, shifting his gaze to everything but Barker. He glances at the tablet, a list of stolen items from a couple universities scrolling on its screen. “That’s complicated.” Barker looks at his watch. “We have time.” Wit looks reluctant, shifting his gaze back to the mirror, so Barker speaks up again. “We just want the truth, Wit. I promise, we will get to the bottom of this, with or without your help. I think it would be better and faster if you did help. Better for us, better for you, better for your friends. There have been four innocent deaths. We need to know who’s responsible for feeding us false information. If this Core-ban group is behind it, we’ll shut them down. This group sounds a lot like Anonymous... and I’ve been trying to pin them down for years. But this is the first time a hacker group has used mob tactics and apparently they had their sights on hurting you and your friends. I don’t take kindly to bullies like that, Wit.” Wit closes his eyes. “It started after the convention got trashed. I was there. One of the guys that ran one of the most popular pony sites, Equestria Daily, had an idea: What if we could leave Earth?”