Contracted

by Slywolf930

Rebirth

Rebirth

Here lies the damned. The trained and the strong. The one who was led down a path of decay. Here lies Marx, the Fallen.

These were the words Marx saw float past his head as he gazed into the space around him. The sky and air everywhere he saw was a brilliant blur of a rainbow. Around him, the air was neither cold nor hot. Marx could hear whispers as his hearing started to come back to him.

“Well… tell him,” A soft voice said.

Marx turned around, seeing the two figures standing behind him. One was grim faced with a pale and bloody coat, his mane looked as dark as the night. He held a scythe at his side, the cracks and dried blood reminding him of Dalen’s scythe. Still, this looked like a more twisted Death than Dalen could ever have been. The wings at his side as well as the horn that looked as sharp as a blade made him take a step back from this pony.

“Marx, there’s something you need to know,” He said, his voice was dark and menacing. It had a hint of uncertainty, but that was barely audible.

“Who are you?” Marx asked, curious as to the nature of this pony as well as what was going on. If he remembered right… he’d died.

“You might know me as the Grim Reaper, Death, or even some cruel version of a god. In fact, I only hold half of those titles,” He said, glancing over to the pony next to him.

Marx looked at the mare next to him. Her features were soft, including her face that caused Marx to stare. Her pure white coat gleamed in a light that he couldn’t see. Her mane blew in a breeze that he didn’t feel. Her eye had a glint that made him gasp as he was speechless. Finally, her scythe poked out from her back, the white and light blue blade shining in the clear air. Her horn and wings were almost overlooked by his eyes.

“Don’t try to put any of this on me,” She said, her light and soft voice causing Marx’s heart to skip a beat.

“Anyways…” Death said, noticing Marx’s stare. “I’m in charge of reaping souls that have done wrong. Those that can’t be saved and must live a life worse than experiencing death. They are my property.”

“And I reap those of good intent; the ponies who didn’t deserve to die, and the ones who deserved a better life. They are my property,” She said, giving Marx a cold stare that caused him to take another step back.

“You’re the first problem we’ve had since Discord’s reign,” Death said, his voice echoing in the space around Marx.

“Problem?” Marx asked.

“You live to kill, a walking reaper. You are as ruthless as you’re told, and you care little for those you are forced to exterminate,” Death said.

“Yet you find remorse in everyday life. You question your orders, but always fill them out. That is, until recently,” She said, taking a step closer.

“Killing those six would have brought on a century of disorder and destruction. It was the last step for your fate to be sealed in the pits of Tartarus. Hell, if you killed even one the balance of the world would have tilted,” Death said.

“By failing, you could still be saved and redeemed as a child of good,” She said.

“But you killed a pony before you died,” Death said.

“It was in self defense,” She said, “And you felt remorse.”

“Meaning…” Death started.

“We don’t know where you belong,” She finished.

Marx looked to both of them, their words taking a few seconds to hit home. Finally, he looked confused. What was he supposed to do? Prove he was good or bad? Give them a reason to send him to Tartarus? What they’ve said so far is true, and they have every right to do as they please. They were gods of death after all.

“This was his fault,” She said, motioning to Death after noticing Marx’s confusion, “He’s the reason you’re here. Before, you were going to come with me as fate decided, but then he sent that pony after you. He broke a sacred mortal law, and thus, you will not be punished.”

“What?” Marx asked.

“Don’t think you’re in the clear yet,” Death said bitterly.

“We can’t take you until you’ve followed a path you’ve chosen, not one we’ve set out for you. So, we will need to give you a second chance. This time, we expect you to make the best of it,” She said.

“That means…?” Marx asked.

“The next time you die, expect not to come back,” She said.

“Will I remember all of this?” Marx asked.

“Yes, but if you tell anypony, we’ll send you straight to Tartarus before you can finish your sentence,” She said. “I’ll be waiting,” She said, activating her magic.

Marx couldn’t respond as the air started to morph. The ground fell out from under him as the sky turned dark. He could still hear her voice in his head as he left his state of subconscious.
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“The Canterlot Red Guard?” Rogue asked Myst.

“Yes, they’re responsible for all of it. I had to connect the dots, but I’m absolutely sure about it now,” Myst said.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Mercy asked.

“It means, that the Elements weren’t his only targets. They were simply the only targets he couldn’t get himself. Now, I fear the worst,” Myst said.

“How are we going to stop them?” Rogue asked.

“I have O.L. backing me up, all we need is Boss’ permission to gather the rest of the Organization and we can get moving,” Myst said.

“So, what’s the problem?” Mercy asked.

“If we go through with this, the Organization might not stay hidden anymore. We’ll become targets too, and the consequences are worse than the benefits. If we don’t succeed… we could be completely wiped out within days,” Myst said.

“But we’ll do it, we’ve got the power,” Mercy said.

“Maybe before… but we just lost Dalen and Marx…” Rogue said, looking towards the ground as she did.

“That’s why Boss is going to have to seriously think about this. If we win, all we’ll get is recognition and maybe some good publicity. I don’t know if any other powers are going to help us with this. The royal guards will have to help us eventually, as well as the Zebras, but there just isn’t enough to stop an entire Changeling army, much less the inevitable queen,” Myst said.

“This Red Guard… why are they doing this?” Rogue asked.

“Money, power, hell they’ve got a lot more reasons to do this than we have to stop them,” Mercy said.

“Aren’t we glad Marx failed that contract?” Myst asked sarcastically, before putting a hoof on his mouth and looking to Rogue. She was gone.
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Marx opened his eyes, the cool breeze of the night hit his mane as he looked at the moon’s glow. His eyes were transfixed on the light. He didn’t want to move, but the sound of rustling leaves brought him back to reality.

Marx stood up, stretching his hooves as he did. They were stiff but full of energy. He was alive too, and he was thankful for that. Now, he looked at his surroundings. There was a river on his right, the forest on his left. In front of him stood a cottage. Suddenly, he knew where he was. He saw Fluttershy just as she came running from the dark Everfree Forest.

Marx heard and saw the Timberwolves as they burst from the foliage behind her. His blade was out before he started to step forward. His weapons were still on him, thankfully. He also noticed that there was an extra weight tied to his back that he’d have to check on. He stepped to Fluttershy, her eyes still closed as she ran away. She hadn’t seen him.

Marx jumped over her, bringing the sword down as he landed on a Timberwolf. He’d gotten the one in the front, causing the others in the pack to stop and evaluate what was happening. Marx quickly decapitated the leader, bringing his sword up to the others. Before they could contemplate attacking, Marx was on them. One, two, three. They all fell like flies as he showed no mercy and sap covered his blade and half of his face.

Marx broke apart the last one before running into the bushes. He hid behind a tree before he looked out towards the cottage. Fluttershy was opening the door, wondering where the Timberwolves had gone. Marx felt proud of himself, putting away the sword as he caught his breath. He’d probably been at the peak of his rest. Maybe she should get more rest, and then he’d really be badass.

Marx grabbed the weight off his back and found it slid out of a sheath. He pulled it beside him, and realized quickly that it was a scythe. More importantly, it was Death’s old scythe. The shaft was broken in half, and Marx didn’t know what had caused it. What was left was mostly the blade and half of the shaft, but he reasoned it could still be used as a short ranged weapon. He put it back in the sheath it had come with and decided he might use it.

“Just a little reminder,” Marx heard a familiar soft voice say from behind him. He turned, but he didn’t see anypony as the air around him shimmered. He looked down at his hooves, noticing the slight blue aura radiating from it. It intensified for a few seconds, and then stayed at that hue and slowly dissipated.

Marx smiled to himself as he thanked the gods of death for being so nice. Now, he could easily tell how bad/good he’s been. Of course, it might also bring anxiety and could ultimately cause his only downfall, but it’s the thought that counts. Marx washed the sap off his face in the river before getting in a bush. He laid his head down, preparing himself to sleep and hopefully feel even stronger.
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Marx opened his eyes. The forest was dark and he could hear sounds all around him. There was no immediate danger, but something was off. He stood up, careful not to make too much noise. Marx walked forward, once again noticing the slightly larger weight on his back. He saw the cottage and realized there was something off about it. The lights were off.

Marx looked up to see the moon was starting to go down. Fluttershy wouldn’t be awake at a time like this. He walked to the window, ready to look inside and see what was wrong. Before he could poke his head inside the window, there was a crash and the door burst open.

A figure ran from the open doorway and towards the forest. There was a large bag at his side, and it was moving. Marx dashed forward, his sheathed blade in his mouth as he ran full force to catch up. When he was close, he dropped the blade into his hoof while his mouth reached out and grabbed the tail of the mystery pony.

The mystery pony was stopped in his tracks and fell to the ground. The bag slid across the ground and went quiet. Marx stood above the figure with the blade pointed at where he thought the head would be. It was too dark to see any details, just silhouettes and outlines.

“Whoa, who the hell are you?” The pony asked. It was a masculine voice with a touch of fear in his tone. Good, at least it wasn’t a professional killer. They wouldn’t utter a word unless forced to.

“What are you doing?” Marx asked. He tried to talk in a deep tone to hide as best as he could his actual voice. No pony would know that he was alive and kicking.

“Nothing man, I’m just doing my job,” The pony asked. Marx could tell there was more than just a job he was doing.

“What’s your job?” Marx asked.

Marx heard a gulp before the pony replied. “Alright, you got me. I’m stealing laundry,” The pony said.

The bag that had went quiet was now rustling again. Marx could see that the pony’s head turned towards the sound. Marx turned the blade, using the slight moonlight to glint down at his prey. The pony gulped again before nervously laughing.

“The truth,” Marx said in a dark tone. He wasn’t playing anymore. He gave up trying to hide his voice and decided to get his point across.

“Or what, you’ll get the sheriff on me?” The pony responded, apparently forgetting about the blade in front of him.

Marx sheathed the sword quickly and brought out the scythe on his back. Now, the thicker part of the blade easily caught the light and Marx brought it close to the pony’s throat. “I could always kill you…” Marx said even more devilishly than before.

“Okay, okay! I’m getting paid to kidnap this one mare, are you happy?” The pony asked.

“I could have guessed that, now… who’s paying you?” Marx asked.

“Listen, I can’t tell you that. Just go get the sheriff and we’ll be on our ways,” The pony tried to reason.

“If you want to be breathing in the morning, you’ll tell me what I want to know,” Marx said, getting impatient. The pony was quiet for a second before he whispered something. Then he spoke up when Marx squinted his eyes.

“The Canterlot Red Guard, they’re paying me. C’mon, can I go now?” The pony asked.

“One more question, where can I find them,” Marx asked.

“Just outside of Canterlot. There’s a big barn where they gave me the job. They said when I finish to bring them there. That’s all I know,” The pony said, sounding like he was quivering with the scythe so close.

Marx pulled the scythe back slightly, but asked one more question. “Them?” Marx asked.

“They said that there were three ponies I should be getting in this town. She was the last one before I was finished,” The pony responded without hesitation now, as if he recognized who he was talking to.

“Did you take the other two yet?” Marx asked.

“Only the first one, I was going to take the other two at the same time to save myself some trouble,” The pony said.

“Where’s the second one stashed?” Marx asked.

“Look, I can take you there, but you have to let me go after I show you. I’m probably going to be fired anyways now,” The pony said.

Marx sighed, but he agreed to the terms. He let the pony get up and walk in the direction of the forest. Marx quickly went to the side and used the scythe to cut the top of the big bag that had been moving. When he cut it, there was a softly coughing Fluttershy who looked up at him, but she couldn’t see him clearly because of the darkness.

“Get back to bed,” Marx whispered before running towards the pony. He caught up quickly and turned around to see Fluttershy running toward the town instead of her cottage. Marx made sure the pony in front of him had no weapons and that he didn’t try to escape.

After a few minutes of walking, the pony stopped and pointed to a tree ahead of them. Marx looked up and, sure enough, there was a second, identical bag held up in the branches of the tree. The pony jumped onto the tree and found hoof holds that weren’t there to grab onto. It was like watching a spider as he made his way to the top. When he grabbed the bag, he slid to the bottom and dropped it like a rock onto the ground. It was squirming and Marx wondered who would be inside.

“Alright, I’m out of here. See you later Marx,” The pony said, offering his hoof. Marx had to respect this pony. He knew when he was beaten. Also, the pony had kept his end of the bargain, so Marx bumped hooves with him and was going to let him run into the forest. As he turned to face a tree, he said one more thing, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anypony about this,” Marx saw him walk into the tree and disappear in front of his eyes. Marx knew that if the pony had attempted to run off, he would have easily gotten away.

Marx suddenly felt like he knew that pony from somewhere, but he couldn’t place it. Marx then realized what the pony had said as a farewell. He knew his name. He said he wouldn’t tell anyone. There were only a handful of ponies that knew both his name and what he looked like. They all lived in the Organization. Who would be glad to see him…?

“Recluse?” Marx asked himself before remembering the bag at his hooves. He bent down and repeated what he did with the last one. When he cut the top, he saw a dark shade of purple as well as some noticeable white in the darkness. There was only one combination like that he’d seen recently.

“Rarity?” Marx asked, as he took the bag off the rest of her.

Rarity was squirming from inside the bag, and she must not have recognized his voice right away, because she thought he was there to save her. She was struggling with the tape on her mouth, so Marx took out the blade and used the tip to peel off one edge and then pull away. The metal feeling must’ve caused Rarity to notice who was saving her, because her eyes went wide.

“Ahhh!” She screamed, seeing Marx’s face as a cloud above moved to allow for moonlight to clearly hit his face. She saw the new, deadly scythe on his back and she was about to faint. Marx put his hoof on her hair, and she stopped herself. There was something different about him.

“Fluttershy needs comforting back in Ponyville, she’s been the least annoying of you six, so I want you to go comfort her. You never saw me, and the last thing you want is to say that I saved you. So get out of here,” Marx said not too commanding, yet with force behind his words.

Marx dashed into the shadows and turned back to see if she’d comply. Rarity ran towards the town, and Marx caught a glance at something glinting on Rarity’s horn as she ran. There was only one person he knew that would be able to make that. If that was what he thought it was, then it was definitely Recluse he’d just stumbled across. Only he was skilled enough to make magic cancelling clear strips, as well as teleportation strips.

Marx looked down to his hooves, noticing a slight light on his them. The light blue aura returned briefly, before being replaced by a light red one. It settled in the red and then faded away. Marx could tell that he’d done something wrong.

“Honestly, you threaten one pony…” Marx said before turning and heading towards the direction of Canterlot to get his answers.

Author's Note:

There are some people that wanted a short story, and others who wanted a longer one. I'm having too much fun, but I really need to focus my attention on the rewrite. I'm going to continue in a seperate story after i finish the rewrite or a little bit before then. Still, I'd be glad to know what you guys think of the idea of two gods. More description of my headcannon for death in equestria will show up in a later story altogether, cause it's too much to explain in this story.

Next Time: The Battlefield, this isn't your everyday COD anymore.