Epilogue [Extended]
Epilogue
“Beginning surgery.”
The girl struggled against her bonds, to no avail. Her arms and legs were fastened to the operating table tight. A leather strap constricted her throat, making it hard to breath. Her head was held in place by some cold, hard apparatus. Light shined in her face from a strong lamp, blinding her.
A figure leaned into view. A dark silhouette against the light. As the girl's eyes adjusted, she saw the figure had blue hair, and wore a white surgical mask and eyepatch.
The nurse – Valentine – looked elsewhere. “Scalpel.”
Another figure leaned into view. He wore a thick mask, his brain on display beneath a glass skullplate. Brain Drain clasped a metal tool in his claw-like gauntlets. He handed it to Valentine.
The girl couldn't move. She was paralyzed.
Sweet trinity above.
“Anesthesia levels?” Valentine said, examining the knife. It glittered under the heavy lamp.
Brain Drain was replaced with a nun. “Holding steady,” she said in guttural tones, a mixture of high and low voices.
“Understood. Commencing incision.”
The nurse leaned over the girl, bringing the scalpel closer and closer to the girl's face.
The girl tried to scream. But her mouth wouldn't move. She couldn't breath.
She felt the knife cut into her flesh. Heard the wet squish of parting flesh, the scraping of metal against bone. Saw Valentine staring at her, meticulous. Unemotional. Dead-eyed.
The cutting stopped. Slipping fingers into moist flesh, the nurse peeled skin back. Darkness fell over the girl's eyes, only to disappear. Valentine pulled the girl's face away. The girl could tell it from the silhouette of eye, mouth, and nostril holes in the middle of the skin flap, as it was passed under the lamp.
The face was tossed unceremoniously aside. The disembodied head of a cat woman jumped into view and eagerly caught the girl's face in its mouth. It plopped out of sight, lips smacking loudly. “Yum yum yum yum yum!”
“Transfusion status?” Valentine said.
“Blood transfusion proceeding normally.” The nun's place was taken by a maid, back alight with blue fire and blood red skulls in her eyes. The Skull Girl's sleeve was rolled up, a tube stuck in her desiccating arm. Thick, black blood flowed from it, feeding into the girl's own.
The girl felt like screaming. Like crying. Like throwing up. She still couldn't move.
No no no!
“Understood.” Valentine turned to her side, picking up a leather satchel. Her bloody fingers fished through the contents. “Retrieving facial graft.” From the dark confines, the nurse brought out a circular object. It was concave, and when the nurse turned it over under the lamp, light poured through two holes, evenly spaced.
The girl vibrated intensely on the table. Finally, she opened her mouth. “Please! Don't do that!” she cried. “I want my own face back! Please!”
“Nonsense,” Valentine said. “This is your face. Applying graft.” She lowered the mask towards the girl's face.
“Let me go! I don't want this! I just want to go home! I want- MHMP!”
The mask slammed over the girl, shutting up her mouth. She wept profusely. Her whole world went red. She couldn't breath.
“Nurse?”
Valentine turned to the assistant. “Yes?”
The maid was replaced by a violet alicorn pony. A tray levitated in front of her. “The organic implants are prepped and ready.” She grinned. A nail floated off the tray, black as pitch and wriggling.
“Understood.” The nurse took the nail in her blood-splattered fingers. Where once the blood stains were red, they were now black. Valentine reached out her other hand. “Hammer.”
A blond haired girl forked the hammer over. No, now she had raven hair. It seemed she couldn't decide. “Hammer,” Filia said, smiling cheerfully.
The nurse nodded. “Proceeding with implantation.” She stooped over. Hovering the sharp end of the nail over the girl's eye, Valentine raised the hammer.
The girl trembled all over, feeling the sharp point against her cornea.
I just want to go home.
“But Painwheel...” the nurse said. She shook her head, the mask falling away. “You are home.” It was the girl's mother. Standing across from her, the girl's father loomed ominously. “You're right where you belong.”
The hammer fell.
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH”
Carol bolted upright in bed. Her body shivered, glistening with sweat. She breathed heavily, tears rolling down her cheeks. She clutched her blanket close.
She looked around. The bedroom was mostly bare, the most prominent decoration being a vase of flowers on a table beneath the window. The first rays of morning light filtered in.
The human huffed and puffed, blinking. She wiped her eyes. “A dream...just another dream...” Her heartbeat slowed.
Carol looked at the brand new clock on her bedside. She looked out the window. “I guess it's time to get to work.”
“The usual before work, Goose?”
Al Gratin carried a tray to the table, planting a cup of coffee and a fluffy pastry.
Goose Down nodded, grabbing the coffee cup. “Thanks, Al. You're the best.” He sipped the beverage, letting the warm aroma waft over his snout. He took a bite from the pastry, chewing happily.
“Taste good?”
“Good as always,” Goose nodded, taking another bite.
“Can I get something?”
Al and Goose looked over. Goose almost spat out his coffee.
Carol walked up, clad in a cotton blouse and denim work pants. In one hand hung a cello case. “Is it too early for fruit smoothies?”
Al Gratin blinked, then shook his head. “Not at all! I'll be right back.” The cafe owner ducked into the building.
Goose Down averted his gaze, sadly fiddling with his cup.
“Uh...have we met before?” Carol said, tilting her head at Goose.
“Um...yeah, we've...hurf...met a few times...” Goose trailed off, taking a furtive gulp of coffee.
“Oh. Well I'm sorry, I don't think I got your name.” Carol held out her hand. “Hello. My name is Carol.”
Goose looked to the human's hand, then to her face. He noted how the formerly emaciated creature looked fuller...healthier. Her eyes were still red, framed in black, but they were softer. Less intense. She opened her mouth broadly, teeth flashed. It was so awkward, it was goofy. Harmless.
The stallion extended his hoof, allowing it to be enveloped in the human's grasping paw. He smiled. “Goose. Goose Down.”
“Woo hoo!”
An energetic little go kart sped down a quiet dirt road. Wind swept through the manes of three little fillies.
Mostly because the day was already a bit breezy. The cart was hardly exceeding a galloping pace. Just as it was designed.
“Down that way!” Apple Bloom cheered, pointing a hoof to a different road.
“Right!” said Scootaloo, edging the control rod to the side. The Cutie Mark Crusaders felt the centrifugal force against their bodies, pulling them away as they turned hard. Dirt flew up as the wooden wheels dug into the ground.
But the momentum was too great, and the cart couldn't make the ninety degree turn. “Whoa!” Scootaloo said, as the cart ran off the road and onto the grass. “Ack!” She hammered the stick back and forth, trying to straighten them out.
“Runnaway cart!” Sweetie Belle yelled, hooves clasped around the edge of the cart.
“Brake! Brake!” Apple Bloom said, hooves hung around Sweetie Belle.
“Brake! Right!” Scootaloo's hoof shot to a lever to her right. Yanking it back, the cart's wheels locked. “Hold on!”
The cart skidded along, dirt flying everywhere. It traveled towards a wooden fence. The three fillies gritted their teeth, bracing for impact. Luckily, friction took its toll, and the cart slowed to a stop just before the fence.
A relieved Apple Bloom flipped a switch to shut off the electric engine. “Whew! That was close! Ah thought we were done for.”
“Good thing we had brakes this time,” Sweetie Belle said.
“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, wiping her brow.
“Yes, it is.”
The fillies peeked over the fence. Carol was sitting on the ground, gardening tools in her hands.
“Oh! Miss Painwheel!” Apple Bloom said.
“Uh, we're sorry for all the noise,” Sweetie Belle said.
Carol shook her head, smiling. “Oh, it's alright,” she said, spading dirt from a patch of ground. She plucked a white flower from a box at her side and plopped the roots into the hole. As she cupped dirt around the roots, she said, “And please, call me Carol.”
The human rose to her feet, wiping her sweaty brow.
“You done, hon?” Lemon Drop said, walking out of the house around which the garden was situated.
“Yes, all done,” Carol said, stretching her arms over her head. She looked at her hands, caked with dirt.
“Dirty work, huh?”
Carol nodded. “I've been meaning to pick up gloves, but I have to order from the Griffin market, and those are expensive.”
“Oh, then I'll make sure you get a little extra for the work.”
“You don't have to do that, Miss Lemon Hearts.”
“Maybe not, but I'm doing it anyway.” Lemon Hearts winked. “If you're done for today, head inside to wash up. I'll be along in a second. Then I'll give you your bits.” She looked out over the bed of flowers. “Breathtaking.”
“Thanks,” Carol said, heading inside. A cello case was propped against the wall next to the front door.
Lemon Hearts looked over the fence, finally spotting the Cutie Mark Crusaders and their wagon. “...the hay is going on here?”
“Nothing, ma'am!” Apple Bloom said, turning on the cart.
“Just taking our cart out for a spin,” Sweetie Belle said, waving a hoof.
“And now we'll just be going,” Scootaloo said, putting the cart in reverse and backing them out, full speed. “Bye!”
“Scootaloo watch out for the trees!”
“Ah!”
“Hey Carol, come right in!”
Spike stood aside, allowing the human to step inside. The cool night breeze behind her swept into the library, rustling the pages of any book left open.
“Thanks” Carol said, setting her cello case on a table. “Is dinner ready?”
“Just got done,” Spike said, leading her into the kitchen. He pulled a chair back at the table, which was adorned by a number of vegetable dishes. Steam billowed off the food. “It was nice of you to come.”
“That it is, Carol,” Twilight said, already seated at the table, a full plate of food before her. “How are you doing at your cottage?”
“I'm doing great. I'm planting flowers in my spare time. The inside needs some more furnishings, though,” Carol said, taking her seat. “Thank you Spike.”
“Mm hmm,” Spike nodded, pushing her chair in. He ran over to take his own seat.
“Did Princess Celestia get my thanks for arranging that place?” Carol asked, spooning diced carrots on her plate. “It all seems too generous. I feel bad for taking it.”
“She knows you're grateful,” Twilight said, “don't worry. She considers it just recompense for what you did for Ponyville...and for having to deal with Discord.” The alicorn sampled a spoonful of peas. “Plus...munch munch...she wanted to congratulate you for the temple. Since you cleared it out, teams of archeologists and magical researchers have been crawling all over it. We're learning so much we never knew about ancient Maretanian culture, art, and magic.”
“I'm glad, then,” Carol said. She eyed the other dishes. “Everything smells delightful. Spike, did you cook all this?”
“All of it. As if Twilight could be trusted to cook.” Spike winked.
“I have cook books, you know!” Twilight said, frowning.
“Yeah, but you get distracted by them, and end up just reading the cook books, rather than watching the food while it's cooking.” Spike shook his head. “Lost so many good dishes that way.”
Carol stifled a chuckle with her hands.
“But anyway, I also got you something special.” Spike pointed to a covered dish. “In there.”
Carol lifted the lid. “Egg puffs?”
“You can get plenty of eggs around these parts,” Spike said. “Nopony ever thinks about how many eggs they eat when they bake things. I should have thought to just serve those, instead of traveling to Manehatten for Griffin market chicken.”
“But I like your chicken,” Carol said, using tongs to drop three or four little egg puffs to her plate. “But thanks anyway, these look great.” She popped one in her mouth. “Munch munch...delicious.”
“Just don't tell Fluttershy,” Spike said, winking. “If she ever stopped to think about how many eggs she's eaten buying from Sugarcube Corner, she'd probably freak.” He thought a moment, then added, “Also, don't mention that chicken thing. She still hasn't forgiven me for that.”
“Ha ha ha!” Carol laughed, followed by everyone else.
Rain fell heavily on the city of Tailgier, soaking the Maretanian soil into mud. Little streams of water flowed downhill through the streets. The sun was long set, and the evening deepened the darkness of the storm. Sailors and locals sped back and forth, ducking under awnings and shielding their heads with newspapers or shawls.
One building, not too far from the bay, stood out. Lights flowed out from its windows, and from the neon sign that read “Antaio's: Beer & Berbers”. Shouts and thuds came from inside.
“Out!”
The bar door flew open, a zebra in tattered clothes being thrown out by some burly, surly bouncers.
“Agh!” the zebra moaned, slamming to the ground. Muddy water sprayed everywhere. Bruises and scraps marred his face. His lips smacked, and he spat. A tooth splashed into a puddle. He stared at it with surprise, then looked up forlornly.
“Come back when you can pay your bucking tab, scrub,” said the bartender, as his fellows filed back inside. He slammed the door shut. The neon sign blinked momentarily with the jostling, then continued humming. Water flowing over its surface cast rippling shadows in the ambient orange light.
The zebra rose weakly to his hooves, gritting his teeth. Water rushed down his face, his hair matted and limp, getting in his eyes. He angrily brushed it away, then began limping away.
He walked around the corner, ducking into an alley. Soaked to the bone, he sat himself under a small awning, where it was slightly drier. The zebra shivered, hugging his forelegs for warmth.
Fishing for his dusty coin sack, he found it to be just as empty as before. In seconds, the only contents became drops of water. The zebra cursed in his mother tongue. He left his village – so long ago now – seeking his fortune. He thought he could get it easy, by gambling or simple cons. But he pissed it all away, every bit he made.
The zebra rubbed the side of his stomach. Traced the line of a scar. He remembered the hard-edged crew that gave it to him, over a missing few grams of “product”. His hoof brushed against a fresh scrape. He winced, figuring his old scars had new company.
He examined the spot he sat on, then grudgingly prepared to curl up for sleep. What little sleep he could hope to get.
“You look like you could use some help.”
The zebra started, looking around for the voice. “Who's there?”
From the darkness and rain, a cloud of vapor approached. In moments, it coalesced into a torso, head, and arms. The zebra swore it looked like a minotaur, except with a tail instead of legs. It also looked terrifying.
“What are you!?” the zebra gasped, leaning hard against the cold mud brick wall.
A pair of glowing yellow eyes formed on the cloud's face, topped with bushy cloud eyebrows. It floated above the ground, too insubstantial to be disturbed by the rain. The face smiled wide with a vaporous grin, bottomed out by a thick chin. “A friend,” the cloud said, “if you want me to be, that is. Down on your luck, huh?”
“...uh...yeah...” the zebra said, staring at the cloud. He gulped. “My...m-my grandmother talked of things like you. You're a demon. An evil spirit. Have you come to...t-to eat me?” He didn't know if he shivered and stuttered so from the cold, or the fear. Perhaps it didn't really matter.
“An evil spirit? Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am.” The cloud loomed over the zebra, studying him. “But I ain't here to eat you, boy. I'm here to hire you.”
“H-hire?” the zebra said, pushing himself to his hooves, one leg on the wall.
The cloud's arm extended into a whip, flying back and up. It fished along the roof, then came back bearing some object the zebra couldn't see clearly in the dark. “Yeah.” The cloud held up the object; a brown, rain-soaked satchel. To the zebra's dismay, it looked to be made of tanned hide. The cloud spoke, “I'm a powerful spirit, but it's a pain hauling this around everywhere. Bigger pain to be dealing and plotting, when every creature that sees me pisses itself.
“I need an assistant. Someone to carry this load, and manage my affairs. You want a job?”
The zebra stared at the satchel, then at the cloud's face. Those two yellow lights. They reminded the zebra of that day, arriving in Tailgier Bay by boat, and seeing the lights on the dock.
Those lights that promised the zebra so much opportunity.
“Yeah...yes, I want a job.” He held out a hoof, letting the cloud drop the satchel's strap right on it. The zebra felt its weight. It felt heavy in some insubstantial, intangible way. The zebra didn't even want to think what grisly thing he was holding.
The cloud smiled. “Ho ho ho!” he chuckled. “Then we have us a deal.”
Hair stood up on the back of the zebra's neck.
“What's your name, kid?” the cloud asked.
“...Z-Zeb,” stuttered the zebra, standing up fully. He gingerly slung the satchel strap over his head, letting it hang from his neck. “My name is Zeb.”
“Welcome aboard, Zeb. Call me Arabus.” An ephemeral hand reached out and patted Zeb on the shoulder. “Stick with me, kid, and we'll have more power and wealth than you can imagine.”
Zeb's back twitched under Arabus' touch. But Zeb grinned. “I don't know, boss. I can imagine quite a lot.”
Carol patted the cello case by her bed.
“I didn't need you today,” she said. “That's good. Maybe in this world, I won't ever need you again.”
The human changed into floral print pajamas. She wished she had more than one pair. If she asked Rarity to sew another, the mare would insist on creating eight more, and doing it gratis. It took all Carol's power just to talk the fashionista out of it the first time.
Hopping into bed, Carol reached over and turned out the light. She crawled under the covers.
She thought of her parents. She sighed. “Mom...Dad...I don't know if I'll ever come home.” Carol smiled. “But I'll keep working. Keep moving forward. You'd want me to do that, wouldn't you?”
Slowly, Carol drifted off to sleep, once again grateful to be without pain. “Today was a...good...day...”
Carol dreamed pleasantly.
“Your Majesty.”
Princess Celestia walked into the laboratory. “I received your message, Professor Bright,” she said, wings fluttering slightly. “You have something to show me?”
“Indeed I do.” The scientist led the diarch to a work table. Dozens upon dozens of glass jars were stacked on its surface. Each contained bits and pieces of desiccated pony remains. “Our autopsy of the zomboid creature proved nominally fruitful. We examined the pieces and cross-referenced their magical make-up to that recorded in necromantic papers stored in the Manehatten Museum of Mystic History. We've almost completely isolated the thanotonic mechanisms that animated the bodies.”
“You'll be able to reverse the effects?”
“Already have for most of the remains, as per your orders.” The scientist looked into a jar. “Since your ban on practical necromancy some years ago, finding experts on the art was difficult. One of the university students we brought on was virtually required to learn it from scratch from the books we could find, but according to him we'll be able to produce a viable counterspell against this variant.”
“Any significant deviations from historical Equestrian necromancy?”
“A bit, mostly in how the animation spell was weaved. It's much more mechanical, we think, than done with unicorn magic. But the underlying principle is the same.” The scientist waved a hoof, leading the princess over to another table. This one was covered in meticulously placed machine parts. “Speaking of mechanical subjects...”
“The machine heart,” Celestia said, eying the largely disassembled contraption. Pieces here and there showed signs of the puncturing they suffered, as well as of scorching. “I must admit the idea of a machine that absorbs magic to be...disconcerting...”
The scientist's face brightened. “Oh, I find it fascinating,” he said, then stopped himself. “Hrm...I mean...thorough examination of the machine has been...informative.”
“You understand how it works?”
“Only just barely, your majesty,” he said, eyes set on the metal parts. “But our understanding grows each day. It's...it's simply amazing. Aside from being driven mechanically, the way it absorbs ambient mana and distributes it across its web of connectors...it works on a model of magical theory we've never seen before!”
“Really?”
“Really!” Professor Bright scrambled to one side, pointing to a large poster plastered to the wall. It was adorned with hasty, exuberant notes of an esoteric, convoluted nature.
Celestia admitted to herself she could hardly make heads or tails of the information.
“We trawled the universities,” Professor Bright said, rapidly. “Checked dozens of texts on magical theory. Consulted experts in the field. Most of them had trouble grasping the ideas, and those that could initially swore up and down that it couldn't work. We had to tell them about how it was used in action to get them to believe. Nopony has ever seen a thing like it.”
“Shouldn't work?” Celestia asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“That's what the experts and the math said. Magic as we know simply does not work the way this model says it should. Not as we've ever observed it.
“Whoever made this machine was working on magic principles completely outside the context of our world.”
Outside
“Our girl is doing quite well for herself.”
Two figures stood on the edge of the universe, looking down on the world of Equestria. Strings of universes played out behind them.
No, three figures. “Indeed she is,” Discord said, stroking his beard. “It'll be a shame to see what's coming. I would almost be sad...if it didn't promise to be so interesting.” He grinned.
“You still have them?” the wanderer asked, tapping his cane with one finger.
“Right here,” Discord said, holding up the bubble. The parasites squirmed within. “I'll give them to her...when she asks for them back. You're sure she'll need them?”
“Almost certainly.” The wanderer stroked his thick, dark beard. His fingers were adorned with gold rings, one of which was attached to a wrist bangle by a length of chain. “It promises to be a thoroughly interesting affair. You...won't interfere?”
“Nope.” Discord shook his head. “What fun would that be?” He laughed heartily. “Ha ha ha! Oh...I'll see you two later. Tell me when everyone else gets here!” With that, he flew back into his universe, hiding in the folds of reality. In the Dreaming, where creativity was raw, boundless, and free.
The wanderer turned to his companion. “What do you think of him? This world's avatar of disorder?”
P. Rose paused.
“He's a fool, and a tool, and nutty interloper, like thread unspooled, keep him away from her. I got enough problems with the other chumps out here. Need me not this dumb spot, talkin' makes me need a beer.”
“Well said, Mr. Rose.”
“And don't give that 'Mister' crap!” The other turned on the wanderer. “I may wear a suit, but I can rap. Shut your trap, if you think of disrespecting me. I'm a straight gangster, yes with an 'R', cause I'm committing dope crimes, with my rhymes, it's plain to see. I'm P. Rose! And don't you forget it. Or your neutral ass is bound to get hit!”
“Alright, alright. Be cool, as they say.” The wanderer sighed.
P. Rose spread his arms out, a long white shawl draped over them and hanging from his elbows. He wore an expensive, cream-colored suit. His beard, while not as long as the wanderer's, was thick enough, and well maintained. He has a thin mustache, all to set off his Latin features.
And – unfortunately for his companion – he had a similarly stereotypical temper. “WJ, why you disrespect me? I came all this way, though my business is pressing.”
“You must know, I mean no offense.” WJ tapped his cane. “Besides, ones as far traveled as you and I should know better than to quibble over semantics, when the intent of respect is plainly evident. It is for that respect that I call you 'Mr. Rose'.” He paused, then added. “Perhaps Mr. P. Rose is better.”
P. Rose grumbled to himself, turned back towards the world. He nodded curtly.
WJ nodded in turn, looking to the world of ponies. How he hated what would ultimately occur there. He needed distraction. “Mr. P. Rose,” he said, “why did you choose the girl?”
“Why? That question ain't tough,” said P. Rose. “She won, beat the Heart, ain't that enough?” He smiled.
“I was under the impression you favored more...endowed women.” The wanderer motioned with his hands, miming an ample bosom.
P. Rose snorted. “I know, there were other chicks bustier than her. All fighting for that Heart, I quite concur. But it's a fool that bets just for looks. I'm in the bu'ness for keeps, and I look for hooks. I'm willin' to sacrifice to win...” He stroked his beard, contemplatively. “But her growin's not done, but about to begin.”
“Ah. An investment in the future, as it were,” WJ said, sardonically. It was almost clever reasoning, if it wasn't motivated by perverse lust. Still, reasoning by a pig is still impressive.
Not that he would ever say that aloud.
“Man, when is this thing gonna start, anyway?” P. Rose said. “I got to do crimes and make dimes, and bills to pay.”
“Patience, oh master wordsmith.” The wanderer leaned heavily on his cane. His eyes were locked down on the world. Taking in its beauty. It's brightness. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. We cannot proceed until the other Outsiders come, and bring their candidates.
“Only then can the Outsider's Game truly begin.”
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Is there more coming?
5445300 Though Turning Wheel ends, Outsider's Game will continue. More on that...later...
You BETTER add a sequel! This is just too exiting to put down!
5445319
Is it still gonna be Skullgirls cross?
5445341 I wish you hadn't asked that.
...no, it isn't.
It's a Vampire: The Masquerade cross.
5445341 But I will be putting out a one shot (maybe two), still crossing over with Skullgirls. Probably non-canon.
5445348 Aaaa... I've been wanting to play that game. I've also been wanting to play Skullgirls... Now that I think about it, there are a lot of games I've been wanting to play.
I sense a sequel coming.
Bluecho, this was an awesome story. If you do make a sequel, I think it's going to be awesome.
5445348
Alright, so the next story for Outsider's Game will feature another game instead. That's fine.
Will there be, sometime in the future, a story where Carol returns, along with whatever other characters you have chosen?
Because I'm getting a 'Chess Game of the Gods' vibe here, and other candidates were already mentioned.
So, story for each candidate, and then a massive crossover involving all of them?
5446174 Exactly. Right on every count. It's like you're psychic or something.
The trick is...all the other crossovers will be for games. And you'll never, in a million years, guess what I chose. Dropping that one about VtM was a freebie because...that was the easiest to guess. Trust me.
5446368
We can already throw away any classic FPS. Because no one writes about them.
No Doomguy, No Duke Nukem, No Lo Wang, No Corvus, No Caleb. No one gives about this guys.
Them we can throw away any positive character without tragic destiny, fate or end. Carol was enough tragic with her "stuck with parasites in my body" situation, is she?
And voila - we still have tons of games. We never gonna know.
5445352 Can Big Band (co-)star in one?
5451139 Hmm...he might...I honestly hadn't thought of it.
This will need thought.
That's quite an awesome symbol
4049684
You know, I hadn't really thought about that too much.
To me she definitely seemed to be expressing fear that it would happen, not a desire that it happen. However that doesn't mean part of her didn't feel that it could potentially be better for her little ponies that the human go away (limiting damage to the few ponies traumatized by the human's suffering and death) then remain.
If part of her did want it to happen then I'm not sure if Celestia thinking of Painwheel as an "it" then correcting herself with "her" was born of a dislike that manifested as an objectifying "it" or if it was a gender neutral "it" because it took her a moment to figure out which Painwheel was before mentally correcting herself.
Anyway. Please tell me more. I wish to know what lead you to think what you do so that I may learn.
5513387
....Yehehehehesssss!!!!!
5523356 My team is Big Band, Parasoul and however I'm most confident with at the moment, which is usually either Valentine (Ninjas in a fighter game), Ms. Fortune (I still need to use my head properly in battle) and Fukua (She plays better than Filia for my money.)
I hope Beowulf and Robo-Fortune will join those 3 as bench sitters.
5523392
If I'm feeling cocky, I tend to add in Cerebella as well. Under the right conditions, and with a decent amount of luck, I can quite easily hammer out a 115-130-hit combo before anyone knows what I'm doing.
I'll fookin' rek ye, m8.
1v1 me phaget
5527414
Foil or regular? If foil, SO JELLY!
5559747
I like Peacock to a degree. For the most part, her playstyle is interesting, and she can dish out ludicrous amounts of damage *cough*Goodfellas*cough*, but her personality just rubs me in so many wrong ways.
5527581
Nope, it's a regular. I'd ditch every card in my inventory (except my Boss of The Saints) for a foil Cerebella.
Am I the only one who had "In a Moment's Time" (the credits song in Skullgirls) playing through their heads while reading this epilogue? It can't have been just me..
Too bad this doesn't have canon interaction between Big Band and Carol, He seems to be the only one in the game who both knows and cares about what she goes through(going by my knowledge of his and the other charrie's story modes).
Got the urge to reread this after listening to the soundtrack. Yatte yaruze!!
Well worth rereading.
Maybe its just me, but that shit Discord wanted seems entirely beyond pointless and a weak excuse to have two painwheels fight each other, can't even enjoy the ending with something so stupid. Oh right, setting up for sequel, I guess. In which case Discord is right about her asking for the parasites back. Naw I'm giving this a dislike.
And the ending is only one chapter, not a set of chapters for her rehab or anything and character development etc?
Basically what I wanted since the start for her but naw. Lets go on pointless tangents.
Shooby doo ska shobby hob dob lob bob snob *evil chanting, apparently, ooo mysterious ooo keeps the readers enthralled, not entirely pointless no sirree*
i think this is one of my favorite fics ive ever read. great work 10/10
WOAH! ok first when i was looking at the cover from a far i thought she was naked but when i click onto the fan fic i noticed she has clothing
Typed painwheel into the search bar and was surprised to have anything come up at all. This’ll make for a fun read.
9207312
It did not end well like at all
Where the h e c c did this come from? I was waiting for a good Skullgirls crossover to show up for a while, yet there was one on this site, highly rated, over 100K words long, and completed, since 2014?! Shame on me, but thank goodness I searched "monster" and stumbled on this! I'll get right to reading.
This is shit.
Humans are weak fucking monsters, ponies are godsends and can do no wrong, even when they fuck with your head and essentially violate you by making you remember being tortured, mutilated and controlled by an older male who most likely forcefully fucked you somewhere along the line, but fuck that, ponies are always innocent little cumstains right? Also, no matter how fucking stupid their decisions are its always going to benefit you, 'emotionally', despite how absolutely brain dead you would have to be to make said decisions.
That's this whole story in a nutshell.
Hell, chapter fuckin' thirteen or sum Twiggles mindrapes she main character, because the wants infor-fucking-mation all for big mommy Celestinigga. But because the method was 'wrong' and 'unethical' this mother fucking Alabaster-rainbow-haired-florida-man-esque-motherfucker-of-a-crown says "FUCK DIS SHIT I NOT ACCEPT YOU DATA BECUASE IT BAD."
And here I'm sitting right here, lookin'like someone just pussey punted ten fuckin' lemons into my nose, like, a traumatic experience just occurred and you just going to discard all the data gotten, making all the suffering that just occurred absolutely worthless.
All the while I'm thinking 'This bitch realises that denying reality doesn't change it right?". Real talk people, Denying the facts that your student dug up by unlawful means does not make what they did to get those facts disappear.
And it only gets worse. Painwheel becomes Lady PinCushion the pushover who magically gained royal-class etiquette and is so emotionally fragile she jumps onto the enlarged erection of anyone providing mental support so transparent it makes the invisible woman look like a fuckin' glowstick lodged inbetween my naked black asscheeks at midnight.
I couldn't have made a bigger shit than if I chugged down ten bottles of laxatives and stuffed my guts with five kilos of spicy tacos with extra green beans.
That's how big this stinking heap of cow piss is and now my fucking toilets clogged, congrats fuckwit, cue the Green Gobbler!
9774456
While your opinion is valid I like the story despite its flaws as it does give a unique perspective to pain-wheel and how she veiws the world
9774854
Just saying, buddy, but there's difference between a difference in perspective and being a PinCushion for unjust punishment.
9775437
Fair enough
Glad I remembered this and finally got around to finishing it. A fun read and something I’ll gladly read again in the future
9774456
well damn
We really need more skull girl stories on this website.
We really need more Skullgirls stories.
Yo, this is the best MLP crossover fanfic that I have ever read, for now! It is not just fun and funny, it is also saddening and heartwarming. I was rooting for Carol/Painwheel and sympathizing with her throughout this story which honestly felt like a journey. I really love the relationship between Twilight Sparkle and Painwheel, because the former was trying her absolute best at helping the latter despite the latter's unfriendly and dangerous attitude.
DISCORD YOU SON OF A..... AND THOSE 2 CRUMMY BUDDIES OF HIS. AND THIS WICKED GAME OF THEIRS!!! Sorry, I just felt really elated when Carol got rid of her parasite and is now living a happy life amongst the ponies. The fact that her life could get ruined, because of a game that Discord is enabling.... kinda pisses me off.... but also excites me. DAMN YOU DISCORD!
Anyway, this is my favorite MLP crossover story and I hope that I'll read another one like it or better than it in the near future. Toodles!
11400505
Agreed
So is there a sequel or something?
11416291
That’s a good question… I don’t know
11697597
Well there is an ancient comment I forgor….
Anyways!
I have longe since come to the selfsame conclusion and fully embraced my broken sense of humour.