We're all a little crazy

by Draconaquis

The Wrong Kind of Freedom

Falling asleep, as it turned out, was not the best of ideas. Franky was a very deep sleeper. He had once been captured by a drug cartel in Mexico, and they were having a shootout with the local authorities. This was quite normal, except that they were aboard a moving train. And yet, there he lay, tied up, leaning against a wall, snoring peacefully, as the train thumped over the body of a less than fortunate druggie.

But deep sleep alone was not the problem. No, being asleep and not being able to wake up meant that he was alone with his own brain. This alone wasn’t the whole problem either. He knew his mind. He could handle anything his twisted imagination could throw at him. But what about the things that his mind didn’t invent? What about the things that actually happened? Memories. Memories were the wolves that hunted Franky down in the night. One thing most people didn't know about him was that his sleep was just as busy as the rest of his day. Sleep was really a relative term.

And so he fell. He fell, and fell, and fell. Through the claws of giant flaming beasts, through the wisps of black clouds that flailed about like tentacles. He fell for eternity, and no time at all, laughing the whole way. And when he finally landed, it was on a soft pile of pads, ripped straight from his cell. The pads were not happy about this, and pushed Franky off, grumbling in their own plushy language. Franky, still laughing, cascaded down a waterslide. Well, not necessarily down. He went up, sideways, frontways, inside out, and also left.

He smacked his lips. That wasn’t water, was it? No, that was something else. Something godly and blasphemous, beautiful and ugly, awe inspiring and horrifying all at once. Something thats taste couldn’t be rivaled by any other. Ahh, that wonderful, salty, metallic taste. Franky looked to his sides. He was riding in a massive, lain open vein. It was blue, but a vein nonetheless. He waved to the ghostly children who watched him, and they nodded in respect for the man who dared traverse the river of blood.

After a particularly sharp turn, Franky found himself sprawled on the stone floor of a small, dimly lit room. In front of him were two pedestals, with beams of light illuminating them. In between the two was a gigantic eye, which Franky knew was judging his every move.

“Choose.” It said, though it had no mouth. Upon the first pedestal was a knife. A rather average, fixed blade combat knife, with black cord wrapped around the grip. On the other, there was a fist sized diamond, carved into the shape of a heart.

“Choose.” The judge spoke again. Franky noted that the knife suspiciously resembled the one he used to make his first kill.

“Ah, gotta love symbolism. Fuck expectations, eh?” He smiled, reaching for the heart. “I do what I want.” The second it was in his grasp, the diamond began to glow, and with a flash of life, the convicted killer was in Heaven.

Literally, Heaven, standing on white fluffy clouds, golden structures gleaming, surrounded by winged angels. Franky took a moment to enjoy the sights. The sparkling blue rivers, the strange swaying plants that grew straight out of the clouds, and the chubby cherub children that ran and played.

“Finally, Franky.” Said a soft voice next to him. ”You’ve made the right choice.” He turned to examine a female angel, with great white wings spread out behind her.

“Have I? Well, I’m really glad you think so.” With that, he gripped the diamond firmly, and smashed it into her temple, where it stuck with a wet crunch. As her eyes slowly shut, Franky looked down at her.

“Sweetheart, for me, there is no right choice.” He grabbed the golden dagger that was at her side, and turned to go. He got a few steps away, before turning back and examining her one last time. Huh. As it turned out, angel blood was golden. A lot of gold coated the clouds that night.

He was stepping over the bodies of the Guards of the Gates of Eden, when he felt something in the dream shift. It wasn’t something subtle, either. But what was it? Franky scratched his head, thinking. Thinking! That was it! The dream had become lucid. He was thinking!

Lucid dreaming was a much more common occurrence for Franky than for most people, which was why he took advantage of it immediately. Towering above him was a Seraph guardian, one of the last protectors of the angelic realm.

“You will face the power of the almighty, and fall before the wrath of God!” When the creature spoke, the very air seemed to quake. It’s wingspan was over twenty feet, and it’s sword was twice as long as Franky. The magnificent blade seemed to ripple, like a pond disturbed with a rock.

“The wrath of God?” Franky twisted his hand, and the giant fell to it’s knees. The seraph roared, and tried to stand, but it could not move. With another twist, it shrunk, until it was his size. The human placed his hand on the seraphs cheek.

“Your god,” He said quietly.”is but a figment of my imagination.” The angel began to tremble, tears on its cheeks, and rage in its eyes.

“Your creator, your father, your king...” Frankys voice became softer still.”The one you have dedicated your very existence to serving, is only a spectre in my dreams.” He drew his hand away, and with it a stream of color came with it. A golden, shimmering, sparkling stream, that seemed to be alive in its own right. The angels soul.

As its essence left its body, the seraph seemed to fade. All the color drained into its soul, clenched in Frankys hand. The angel now resembled someone out of a black and white photo. The once mighty creature collapsed and cried into the clouds. Its destroyer knelt down, and took its face in his hands once again. His voice, soft as ever, seemed to echo in the angels head.

“What do you want?”

“My brothers.” The creature sobbed.”My brothers left, in the...the Fall.”

Franky stood. “So join them!” He declared. With a wave of his hand, the clouds were swept away, revealing a blazing inferno beneath. Black smoke and sharp pointed spires rose from the flames. The cries of the damned could be heard, calling for their loved ones. A pair of massive demons looked up at the human and the defeated angel, beckoning with their claws.

The angel gasped. “Eresthor...Malachi...” He whispered.

As he gazed into the depths, his color seemed to return. But not the bright radiance he once had. Spiraling black tattoos traced their way across his body, and his eyes became dark pits, with fierce yellow centers. The feathered wings on his back snapped and crunched as they morphed into the spiked wings of a bat. The new demon stood, and roared.

“I’m coming, brothers!” He launched off the small cloud, and dove into the fires of Hell. But, more importantly, into the waiting arms of his long lost family.

Franky smiled as he watched the joyous reunion. Corruption, He thought to himself, is a beautiful thing. He shook his head.

“Right then. I've got work to do.” With a snap of his fingers, he vanished.

He materialized on an infinite plane of white. Nothing, for as far as the eye could see. That is, until he turned around. The building he faced was rather bland, a simple brown house, or maybe a small shop. The door seemed to yawn, as if its job was exhausting. On any other setting, the house would have appeared sad, and fading, but in the blank nothingness of the dreamscape it was the most vibrant thing visible. A cold, otherworldly wind snaked its way across the barren white, and would have carried tumbleweed, had there been any. Franky, however, took none of this in and stormed into the house.

The inside was much more lively than the outside. It seemed to consist of a single room, albeit a large one. In one corner crackled a fire, and on the right wall sat a series of bookcases. Against the wall opposite the door were several exercise machines, including a bench press and a treadmill. A muscular, red haired man lay on the bench press, lifting at least 300 pounds. To his right, in front of the fire, was an old recliner, occupied by a smart looking man with a book. Franky nodded to them each in turn.

“Crash, Reggie.” Crash racked his weights, and Reggie removed his glasses, looking up from his novel.

“Sup, Franks.”

“Hello, brother.”

If one looked closely, they would notice that the two roommates closely resembled Franky, with some minor differences. Reggie, or Reginald, as he liked to be called, had the same tall, slender, but kept his black hair trimmed neatly, and he wore a bluish-grey three piece suit. Crash, on the other hand, was extremely ripped, and kept his red hair spiked into a mohawk. He was sweaty, covered in tattoos, and he wore... Well sweatpants.

Franky spoke. “Well, I would love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a little something to take care of. So where is he?” Crash tilted his head towards the couch that adorned the left wall of the room.

“Motherfucker hid back there as soon as you became lucid.” Franky marched over to the couch and reached behind it. He pulled out a teenage version of himself, with nerdy glasses and long blonde hair. He pinned the kid up against the wall, holding him by the throat. He smiled sweetly, and said in the most charming of voices,

“Hi there, Empathy.” The kid chuckled nervously.

“Umm, hello.” If he hadn’t been in a dream, Franky would have broken every knuckle in his hand by how hard he punched his captive. But since it was his dream, he made sure that Empathy was the only one who felt it.

“Hey, c’mon now- Ah! What the fu-OW! Listen, I- Oof!” A hard jab to the gut knocked his wind out, and Franky dropped him on the floor. He looked up, and shrank away from the menacing killer looking down at him.

“You have exactly ten seconds,” Franky said, ”to convince me not to beat your ass until it looks like roadkill.” Empathy glared, and spat some blood onto Frankys pants. The sweet grin turned feral.

“Have it your way.” He hoisted the boy up by the front of his shirt and turned around.

“Hey Crash, batter up!” Crash cackled, and picked up the bar from the bench press (which still had weights on it). He swung it around with inhuman strength, courtesy of the dream. He took a stance, pretended to spit, and grinned at Franky.

“Ready when you are, dickless!”

Empathy was suddenly hurtling through the air at Crash, who proceeded to swat him away with a powerful swing. He smashed into a wall and crumpled on the floor, groaning. He turned over, and then frantically tried to stand as the pair converged on him.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hey guys. Listen, I can explain everything, just-” He was interrupted by a vicious kick to the teeth, delivered by Franky. The black haired dreamer turned to his partner.

“Do you want to hear this, Crash?” The man in question shook his head.

“Not really, Franks.” Frankys grin stretched even farther.

“Good. Neither do I.”

Reginald adjusted his tie, and thought as he watched the violent spectacle unfold before him. He wouldn’t do much good there, if he decided to get up. Fights, and things of the sort, required instinct, and gut reactions. Reggie was good at thinking, planning, analyzing things. He had gotten Franky and everyone in his head out of many a hairy situation, and he was respected by even Crash. He thought back to when he first entered the chaotic realm that was Frankys mind. He had merely been a collection of pieces, not even connected. Wisdom, logic, common sense, self preservation, and many others. Then, a young Franky slammed them all together, and Reginald was born. Crash had already been around for a couple of years, and he and Franky took the arrival of a new personality rather well.

As time went on, several more personalities came and went, none being able to hold themselves together for long. Except Empathy. Reginald pitied the boy. He had barely had time to realize he was alive before Franky banished him. Called him a danger, unnecessary baggage. He didn’t even give the boy a proper name. Reggie sighed. Back then, the decision had been the right one, and he had supported it. But now?

Franky and Crash paused their brutal assault, allowing Empathy to choke out a few words.

“Why are you doing this?” He gasped. Crash moved to begin pummeling him again, but Franky held out an arm.

“Why am I doing this? Are you really that stupid? Allow me to enlighten you. Imagine this,” He waved his arm in a wide gesture, indicating the whole dreamscape. “Is an apartment.” He poked a finger at the boy. “You were evicted. You came back. Now, I’m entitled to beat the shit out of you until you leave.” Empathy groaned.

“That’s not how it works.” Franky shrugged.

“My head, my rules.” The kid shook his head.

“I mean I’m stuck here. I can’t leave at will. You beating me up won’t change that.” A black handled switchblade materialized in Frankys hand.

“Maybe I should just kill you, then.” The boy on the floor laughed, and then started coughing. After a moment he spat out glob of blood, and looked at Franky.

“Ha! Look around. We’re in your head. You can’t kill me unless you kill yourself, and we all know how your last attempt at that turned out.” This earned him three glares and a few grumbles.

“Yes, that was unfortunate.”

“I was so close, too.”

“Fucking judge.”

Crash spoke up, swinging the table-leg he had been using.

“I think we should kill the little fucker anyway, just to be sure.” Franky seemed to like this idea, but Reggie intervened.

“That would be unwise. Killing a part of your own brain might have unwanted consequences.” Three people sighed, two in disappointment, one in relief. Empathy took this moment to plead his case.

“Think about it. Was what I did really such a bad thing? I helped you! Thanks to me, one of the few people you get to interact with for the foreseeable future is actually on your side. I gained you a potential ally!” Franky glared.

“I don’t care if you told him you would come up there and suck his dick! The point is, you took control of my body. In my eyes, any good thing you might have had going for you(which you didn't) is now down the drain.” Reggie, sensing that things might turn ugly again, spoke up once more.

“What’s done is done is done. You can’t get rid of him now, and the only thing to do is make sure he doesn't do it again.” Reggie eyed the boy, noting the blood and bruises. “And I think he’s learned his lesson.”

Franky stared intently at the boy, and Crash snorted, tossing his table-leg back at the table, where it reattached itself. Everyone waited while Franky evaluated the boy. They could all see the ideas, arguments and thoughts swirling above his head, engaged in a fierce battle. The silence continued, and Crash considered waving his hand in between the two just to see what would happen. Suddenly, Franky spoke.

“He can stay.” Crash exploded.

“What?! That’s a terrible idea! Fuck, I can see the reasons why right there!” He pointed at Franky, who nodded.

“Yes, I’ve got plenty of reasons why he shouldn’t stay. But, we can’t just get rid of him, and I don’t want screaming in my head all the time.” He turned to the boy. “But if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I won’t hesitate to kick your ass out.”

Empathy nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, no more stunts. Lesson learned guy, that’s me.” Franky headed towards the door, but the kid called out.

“Hey, um. Just wondering, but what did you mean, screaming all the time? And how would you have kicked me out?”

Franky didn’t answer, but instead turned around and said, ”Hey, Reggie, Crash. Why don’t you guys show him around?” His evil grin had returned, and for some reason Crash burst into a fit of scary laughter.

The door slammed, and Empathy turned to see the two staring at him. Crash started towards him, but Reggie grabbed his friends shoulder.

“Maybe it would be best if I do this.” Crash sighed, but relented. Reggie led the boy towards the door through which Franky had just left. He opened it, and the trio exited their small house.

Empathy stood, gaping. Crash and Reggie both chuckled, both remembering their first time seeing the empty whiteness. Reginald placed his hand under the boy's jaw, closing it.

“If Franky had decided to banish you, this is where you would have been sent.” He explained.”That is also why you would have been screaming.”

Empathy scoffed. “Why? It doesn’t look so bad out there.” Reginalds eyes got a faraway look, and his voice grew quiet.

“Trust me.” He said, “You would have gone mad within a day.” Empathy noticed that both of his elders seemed lost in thought.

Sensing the boys next question, Reginald answered the boys next question before he could ask.

“Out there, that is where the subconsciousness resides. Every part of this mind that we don’t control, lives in the white.” He shivered. “It takes your worst fears, hates , and weaknesses and pits them against you. It tortures you, again and again, brutally, in a fresh new way every time.” Empathy was slack jawed once more.

“How do you know so much about it?” The still shirtless redhead decided to take this one.

“A while back, Franks had an...err, mishap, with an IED. It went off a little before schedule, and he was in a coma for a few weeks.” He shrugged. ”We were all bored out of our skulls, stuck in here, so we decided to explore. Good thing we all went in together, or I don’t think we would have come back out.”

The boy noticed that Crash was installing several chains and padlocks over the door.

“Um, what are you doing?” Crash presented a grin that almost rivaled Frankys.

“The boss said to show you around.” A heavy coat appeared in one of his hands, and a machete in the other.

“We’re going exploring.”

Franky opened his eyes, expecting to be in the apocalyptic Realm of Angels. To his surprise, he was greeted not by fluffy clouds and drawn swords, but a moonless starry night. The sky was a deep, purple black, but was almost covered by a blanket of stars. All colors of stars, white, blue, yellow, red, and every other hue of the rainbow. One could see solar systems, whole galaxies even. Planets, moons, asteroids, all flying majestically for just Franky to see. The surface he walked on was perfectly smooth, like a mirror. In fact, it was reflective, also like a mirror. Every shining star met its equal in the floor.

Franky, recovering from his initial shock of not being where he wanted to be, took his transportation in stride. Sometimes, his subconscious took control of the dreamscape, and be found that things went best when he simply played along. Trying to change things in this custom dream would only make his mind angry at him, so why try? And besides, it really was a beautiful night.

He walked for a while, simply enjoying the quiet. He wasn’t sure what his subconscious wanted from him, so he kept his eyes peeled. As it turned out, that wasn’t really necessary. He was approached from behind by a click-clacking noise. He spun around, and saw a white horse, with wings and a horn. She had a flowing, rainbow colored mane, that glittered and glowed like the sun itself. She had a tail to match, and both seemed to move in a nonexistent wind. For a moment, she(Franky assumed it was a she) stared at him, and he at her.

Finally, Franky said, “It’s a beautiful night.” Her stare broke, and she looked up at the stars.

“Thank you. “ She said. ”My sister taught me how to make it.” Franky struggled to narrow his widened eyes. So she can talk. He took her momentary distraction as a chance to reexamine her. She had a golden clasp around her neck, with a large purple jewel in the center. There was a strange mark on her haunch. It was a yellow-orange sun. Franky rationalized that her sister probably sported a moon.

“If I might ask, what are you doing here, your majesty?” She jerked her head back towards him.

“How did you know I was royalty?!” Franky raised a hand to his head, and tapped it with a finger. She looked up at her own and noticed the crown that sat there. She regained her composure and fixed a stern gaze on him.

“My name is Princess Celestia, and I am here to warn you.” Franky stuck his hands in his pockets, seeming mildly interested.

“Oh? Warn me of what?”

“I will visit you. Soon.”

“Okay.”

Celestia blinked. She had been expecting more of an answer.

“Is that all you needed to tell me?” Franky asked.

“Well, yes.”

“Good. Then I have some questions for you, if that’s all right.”

Celestia was at a loss. She had been expecting this human, this monster,. to be strange, and frightening. He was just standing there. He wasn’t even trying to take advantage of the dreamscape.

“So princess,” He began, “What exactly are you?”

“Well, a pony, of course.” She answered quickly. Franky raised an eyebrow.

“Not like any pony I’ve ever seen. You have wings and a horn.” He didn’t mention the fact that she could speak.

”In my land, I am called an Alicorn. A mix between a pegasus and a unicorn.” She had forgotten that she was essentially a myth in this world.

“Oh. And what is your land called? Where do you rule from?”

“The nation I rule over is called Equestria. The capital city is Canterlot.”

Franky chuckled at all the horsey puns, then asked, ”I see. Where is this Equestria?”

He was trying to trick his brain into slipping up. If he caught his subconscious with a lack of information, it would probably let him go. Or it might get mad and give him some nightmares. The problem was, his brain was on a roll. Equestria. That’s a good one. Meanwhile, Celestia continued to talk.

“Well, the thing is, Equestria isn’t exactly on Earth. I would tell you where it is, but the only creatures that have a name for our planet are the dragons, and I cannot speak dragon tongue.”

Franky gaped. His head had an amazing imagination. There was no way he could have come up with that on his own. The princess was looking at him suspiciously. Where was the unnerving smile, the scary calm, and the dark jokes? Where were the piercing eyes that seemed to stab you in the heart? This man seemed so normal, taking everything in stride, not a care in the world. He did not act like someone who had killed over a hundred people. Where was the monster she had been following all these months? Well, whatever he was playing at, it would have to wait.

“I must go. I cannot maintain this much longer.” Franky nodded to her, and she vanished, bringing the breathtaking stars with her.

Franky stood over the pits of Hell, on the edge of a small cloud. He watched the demons milling below, doing their satanic duties. Normally, he would walk among them, causing mayhem and chaos. He would normally make Hell freeze over. But now, a single, haunting thought echoed throughout his mind. Some part of his brain thought it was a pony princess.

Comments

[Draconaquis]

3031699 Wow, so many days later I come back, and I realize that may have been the stupidest joke I have ever made. Please forgive me.

Also, your comment matches your avatar perfectly

Blood, sex and tears. Have a nice day!

[Clocklike]

It's been a while...meh, worth the wait I guess.

[Draconaquis]

3102405 I'm glad you think so. I always aim to please. Hopefully the next chapter comes a little faster.

[Proper Noun]

But now, a single, haunting thought echoed throughout his mind. Some part of his brain thought it was a pony princess.

This is a more apt replacement for my summary of the chapter.
We now return to your scheduled programming.
You are now programmed.
Excellent.