Blacklight: Dead Man Walking

by The Salesman

Dreams and Paranoia

Deadman quietly followed his escorts through the corridors of the castle, occasionally glancing at some painting, tapestry, or other. He learned during his time taking history during high school that one could tell a lot about a group of people by the subject of the artistry that they kept around.

It made logical sense, of course, a more conflict oriented group would more likely have quite a few pieces of artwork around depicting such actions in a highly positive light. However, a civilization at peace would likely have artwork picturing either such conflicts in a negative light, or artwork which depicted peaceful events more often than the other groups. It was a rather simple theory, the background of the artist influenced their subject matter.

At least, it did in humans, but he could afford to assume in his idle speculations. They seemed to be startlingly human-like so far.

Overall, it appeared to him that they were a part of the latter group, or the artists were at least from part of the country that was peaceful, as he saw hardly any artwork depicting conflict. Hardly being the operative term, of course.

They had earlier passed a stained glass window which would require further investigation; it depicted quite a few ponies in golden armour squaring off against a horde of black, chitinous looking creatures. Above one side were two ponies which happened to look eerily similar to Princess Cadance and Captain Shining Armour. Over the other side, there was another, larger chitinous looking creature. What he found most curious, however, was that every one of the chitinous looking creatures had both a horn and wings, which otherwise seemed to be reserved for princesses alone.

The question of whether or not the creatures having both wings and horns was the artist’s rendition was something that needed investigation. He certainly could not discount even more sapient species being here, especially after finding out about the presence of gryphons on this world.

If he did not have his Blacklight training, he would probably be flipping his shit right now at the thought of everything that had been dumped on him today. Were he not sure of his mental stability, he would have thought he had gone insane, he mused.

He was broken out of his train of thought as his guards approached a door and stood on either side of it.

He approached the door and swung it open, a rush of cool air greeting him from the open balcony door. To the back left of the room sat a rather nice set of carved wooden dining furniture. Along with that, primarily a window to the outside, with a few supports to keep it up. Thankfully, these windows had curtains. Towards the back right of the room, a four poster bed rested with a nightstand by one side, and a bookshelf by the other. Near the bed there were a few dressers for any clothes he may acquire during his stay. Along the other in a corner he saw some cushions set on the floor, and heading towards the back he saw a door which, judging by the tiled edge of tiled floor he saw heading into the room, was his washroom.

He turned back to his escorts and said one simple word, "Dismissed." He then closed the doors and engaged the lock. Walking over to the balcony wall, he closed the balcony door, locking it too, before swinging the curtains shut. He was going to decrease the possibility of anyone breaching security to minimum.

He set down his LMG on the top of one of the dressers and unpacked all of his ammo, as well as bringing his cleaning kit out from one of his armour’s pockets. And so, the evening ritual began. As he took apart his gun in order to clean it he thought over his plans for representing the Blacklight Agency in this world, his hands starting to go on to autopilot.

This situation meant that the Agency's strategy of staying outside of the public eye was certainly not going to work, although he would attempt to minimize situations where he had to appear or speak in public. The amount of time he spent speaking was directly proportional to how many people were calling for blood in the past.

Chuckling at that slightly amusing thought, he reassembled his gun and pulled out his pistol to do the same.

He wondered if the ponies in the hall were faking it, in order to appear polite in front of him, as foreign dignitary. It was very possible, as he could have very likely he intimidated them into faking it. The way he gave his speech gave it quite a few spots where he could be misinterpreted as wishing to heavy handedly enforce the will of the his organization. Too late now to go and revise it, though.

Fitting the suppressor back in place on his pistol, he finished his maintenance on his guns and walked over to put his pistol and ammunition into the nightstand’s drawer. Heading back over to the dresser, he grabbed the LMG and went back over to his bed. Kneeling down, he slipped the gun and ammunition underneath it.

With all of that taken care of, Deadman lifted up the covers and slipped under the sheets, laying there fully armoured. He wasn't going to take any unneeded risks in such an unsecured location without someone there to watch his back, even if it meant he had to sacrifice the feeling of a nice, soft bed. The inside of his armour wasn't that uncomfortable anyhow.

He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep moments later.

As Luna sat on her bed, she thought about how glad she was that her sister agreed with her her more than what she let on, especially after it was brought up that all of the evils that had besieged Equestria over recent years had the ability to alter one's mental state.The notion that her sister herself could very easily be compromised probably helped too. It was agreed upon that he was to be treated hospitably until they knew for certain of his intentions, however.

She supposed that it made it much less damaging than her proposed methods to their reputation as it were if she turned out to be wrong.

Another thing they had settled one was surveillance of this 'Deadman;' perhaps they could divine some more information about him and his organization by watching his actions and words carefully.

Tonight she planned to go a bit deeper than that.

Closing her eyes, she focused her magic and weaved it into a spell which she had cast many times before. Releasing it, she drifted into the realm of dreams with much more control than the average dreamer.

Within seconds, the spell found its intended target and propelled her into his dream, an image slowly coming into existence. Much to her surprise, she wasn't within her own body.

No, she was looking out from behind the casing of Deadman's helmet. This was not a normal dream, it was a dream of the past, a memory being replayed.

The first thing she noticed that she had a startlingly unrestricted field of view, looking out into the world as if there was nothing at all there. The only reason that she knew there was a helmet of some sort there was that there was the memory of the feeling of something resting on Deadman’s head. Something else then caught her attention. In both the bottom left and the bottom right of vision there was a semi-transparent set of numbers on top of some sort of a gauge. Along with these, there was a set up of three what she assumed were names with a set up similar occupying the middle of the left edge of the screen and a small list to middle right, although she could not read the text.

She wondered if he always saw these strange markings, or if they were the result of the same arcane construction that allowed him to see out through the front of the helmet.

Tearing her attention away from the detailing of the inside of the helmet, she looked out beyond the helmet and saw a street of a kind she had not seen before.

The ground, where there would be a conventional road there was a smooth, light grey surface made up of what looked to be smaller stones, bound together by something that looked like it must have been a liquid at some point. To either side of this narrow road had large buildings rising into an overcast sky, reaching up to six stories in height, dwarfing most pony structures by far, with colourful signs and wires hanging in between them. However, something seemed a bit off about the signs… It was then she realized was off.

The signs were semi-transparent, they all seemed to project in mid-air by some force of magic. Truly, whatever Deadman was, they were likely more potent than ponies magically, on average. To keep up so many precise enchantments would be quite magically draining on their inhabitants to a high degree, and the precision that each has in rendering their chosen sign in the air points to fine magical control.

Deadman lurched into motion and began walking down the street. "Remember, Agents, the mission is a smash and grab, we are to retrieve the scientist from The Order then get out. If we can't accomplish that, we are to make sure that the scientist is iced before we go, clear?" Deadman stated in a voice devoid of the metallic tone that she had heard earlier, although just as cold.

"Deacon acknowledging," a male voice responded from out of nowhere with an accent she could recognize, sounding so close that it seemed like they were talking right into Deadman's ear.

"Viper acknowledging," said a bored sounding voice.

"Ghost here, orders clear," said a third voice with a fair amount greater amount of bravado, before continuing "Hey, maybe we are going to get lucky and we're going to get to shout at someone to, as said by Deadman, 'Get in the fucking bag' again."

"Can it, Ghost," responded Deacon, as three sets of footsteps settled in behind Deadman, "It wasn't as if you were coming up with any better idea to get him to come along without shooting that guy and dragging his bleeding ass back.”

"Come on, Deacon, you know I meant that we should threaten to shoot him," the one known as Ghost moaned.

"And that is why you were aiming at him from where he couldn't see you, right?" said Viper joining in the conversation.

"Ladies, slap fight back at base, mission now," Deadman flatly stated.

They all went quiet, and walked on in silence for a few minutes among the stone, the metal, and the illusions.

Then Deadman raised his hand up to the side of his helmet and depressed a button. The world was then awash in a shade of blue overlaid in places with numbers. Luna wondered about the purpose of this for a second before it all became clear to her. It saw beyond the street in front of them, and into the buildings to the side, providing a general outline of the inside of buildings on the side of the street. Within a few of the buildings she saw a few yellow coloured shapes of what she guessed were members of Deadman's species, laying down in most cases, or stumbling around in a few others. In addition to this, there was a large number of orange shapes some distance ahead.

Luna shuddered, thinking about the implications of this. Whatever the Tartarus Deadman's plans were to do in the castle, he could further them without them even knowing if he wished. Unless he was carefully watched at all times, he could out maneuver them with no trouble, and pursue his goals in secret. Not to mention that if he wanted to eliminate someone in particular he would have no issue making sure not only they were alone, but that no one would see him enter or leave the crime scene. That alone would made him a major threat if he were to have evil motives.

"Looks like the mass of SIVs is still around the safehouse," Deadman said, continuing to walk to the destination. Weren’t SIVs the victims of that disease her sister had mentioned? "We are approaching the 'smash' part of the operation, but I think that I saw something on top of a building, three or four blocks from the place. Looked like it was artillery. We'll proceed there and see if we can snag some fire support,” he continued

As they further approached the building, Deacon piped up in a joking tone "Santa must have left a gift on the roof since they didn't have any chimneys."

Deadman lifted his hand up from whatever he was holding out of vision and tapped his helmet again, turning the front of his helmet blue and showing the large mass of orange bodies again as well as a lighter blue object on top of a nearby roof.

"Deacon, on me. We're going to check out the top floor. The fire-escape is down,” Deadman said, and motioned over to a ladder hanging from the building. Deadman looked around for a second, before settling on a taller than average building. “Ghost, Deacon, three blocks away at four-o’clock there is a building for you to cover us from,” he continued.

“Confirmed,” came a chorus of three voices as he finished, before two sets of feet from behind Deadman moved off.

Deadman looked back over his shoulder, and Luna saw another armoured Agent standing there, in a set of armour similar to Deadman’s, but lighter, and holding another one of those fancy tube items which he seemed to carry everywhere, albeit with different size and detailing. Perhaps they were some sort of ceremonial club indicative of ranking?

“I’ll take point,” Deadman said and turned back around and began walking towards the building, before starting to climb up a vertical metal ladder, which would be near impossible for anything but a biped to get up.

Upon reaching the top of the ladder, Deadman started to creep his way up a set of stairs made out of the same metal, with Deacon’s set of lighter feet making quieter steps behind Deadman.

Reaching the roof, Deadman directed his attention to its center, where rested a tube with some smaller cylinders propping it up to the sky. Beside it was a large, closed case as well as a smaller slab resting on top of the case.

Deadman lifted the tablet off and said “Change of plans, we have additional firepower. We are cleaning the SIVs before we go in,” passing the tablet to Deacon, he opened the case, exposing the contents to the air. Inside the case were three bronze cones, laying gently there on some sort of foam. Clearly, they were important.

“WP,” Deadman said, probably reading the intelligible letters off of the side of it.

“Are we seriously going to use that shit? You know what it does to people,” Viper said, sounding more and more agitated as he spoke further.

“SIVs aren’t human any more, Viper,” Deadman flatly stated. “Set it up,” he continued

Luna figured that was the name of his species. At least they could attach a name to his kind now, besides ‘Agent’.

“Sir, is that an order?” Deacon questioned.

“Yeah, it is,” Deadman flatly stated again, propping up metal tube on the two smaller ones attached to it, before dropping one of the bronze cones into the top, wide end first. As Deadman looked back, the tablet which was now in Deacon’s hands was lit up. “Deacon, you aim, I’ll load. Ghost, Viper, get in a good place to watch the place. Make sure the mark doesn’t get away,” he continued, flipping on his HRV and looking through the terrain once more towards the SIVs. He then flipped it off, and looked back down at the open case, grabbing another bronze cone.

“Viper confirming positioning,” a voice came over into Deadman’s ear.

“Ghost confirming position,” a second voice followed.

“Deadman acknowledging,” he said, and nodded “Deacon, first shot behind the safehouse. Don’t allow that escape avenue.”

A short pause went by as the tubing beside Deadman seemed to adjust itself, before Deacon said “Firing.” A loud bang filled the air, followed by a whistling noise, and a thick cloud of white smoke spreading from a point off in the distance.

Deadman gently dropped another cone into the mortar, and flipped his HRV on immediately after. “Torch the mass front first,” Deadman stated as he turned it back off to see the world normally as it was, accompanied by the hissing sound of the smaller tubes readjusting.

“Firing,” Deacon stated once more, and the same loud report came from the tubing, followed by another cloud of smoke filling the area. In the distance, the SIVs went into a frenzy, rushing around the area in search of some attacker but somehow oblivious of the loud noise in the distance.

Grabbing the final cone, he slid it in the mortar and said “Hit the back of the horde, maximum injuries.”

“Yes, sir,” Deacon said as the tube adjusted itself again, before firing the same loud report it had twice before.

“Moving in on the site. Ghost, stay on overwatch, Viper, flank around to the side with your cloak,” Deadman commanded and whipped around to the stairs to descend. Deacon picked up his rifle and walked not far in step behind him.

Once Deadman hit the ground, he began moving at a far greater rate than he had before, moving down the street while taking faster and longer strides, with another set of covered feet not far behind him.

As Deadman rounded a corner into the area which was thick with the smoke, Luna would have shivered in horror as disgust overtook her, if she currently had a body to do so with.

Through the slowly dissipating smoke, there were bodies in a very similar shape to that of the Agents she had seen, burnt to a mess of deep red, with white where the bone was shown due to the flesh around it falling away into nothing but ash. All throughout the square, there were bodies resting where they fell for the final time in most assuredly painful last moments. The terrain around was not spared either, as among the burnt bodies were burning parts of the normal terrain, thick clouds of white as well as fire obscuring what was being burnt. She distinctly hoped that they were not more bodies in similar circumstances.

To think that one could do this was boggling to her mind. Even if their minds were gone, they didn’t deserve this; it was too far! But what if the intention behind this was to save lives in the long run?

He seemed to be very big on protecting others in his earlier speech, and she could hear no insincerity in his voice then. If this was how far he would go, she did not know her opinion on it. There was always the choice of going around or sneaking through, he didn’t have to do this… but it was a quicker and likely more effective way to do the deed than either of those, and she had to wonder if he disregarded the means fully if it brought the desired ends.

Without regard to the moral dilemmas Luna found herself trapped in, Deadman walked on towards the building, through the flame and the ash like it was not there. “SIVs, coming from the east,” Ghost’s voice sounded, prompting Deadman to whip around at a startling speed for such a figure, and drop on to one knee before heaving an object which she recognized as the thing he carried around with him everywhere up to eye level, looking down another illusion as what she assumed was some kind of aiming assist. She had to wonder what use the obviously heavy device would have for it, though.

Her questioned was immediately answered as another human, foaming from the mouth came from around the corner, and promptly fell dead with a large chunk of his head missing the same instant a loud bang and flash issued from the object Deadman was holding.

Then more humans in a similar state, and another bang came from the side, followed soon after by Deadman’s weapon crashing like the continuous roar of thunder during a fierce storm, blocking out all other sound as the center of the aiming assist moved in through the horde, sprays of red mist erupting from each SIV which passed in the center of the circle.

She had seen enough.

With a single flash she found herself back in her own body, the feeling of being a pony rather than a mass of bipedal armour, a relief she never thought she would feel.

Standing up from her bed, she walked towards her doors. She was increasing the guard around his room as much as she could, and she was going to put the order in to have magic woven into his room under the guise of it being for his own protection from assassins. Soon as she was done that, she was going back into the realm of dreams and informing her sister of this. She needed her counsel about this.

It was clear that Deadman was dangerous, but she didn’t truly know if he was a threat.

That worried her.

Author's Note:

Not dead, just gone for a while.

Comments

[ChaosSapphire]

Not dead, just gone for a while.

I see what you did there

[The Salesman]

3325751
That was unintentional, I swear.