Chapter XV: Setting Things Up
No matter how optimistic the conscious mind might be, there is always some part of us that knows how bad things are about to get. The conscious mind can hope and believe in a better tomorrow, but a deeper, darker part of the mind always knows what is really about to happen. The man waiting in the clinic on the test results for the strange lump he’d found behind his testicles during his morning shower. The woman walking through the dark alleyway in the nasty part of town in the middle of the night when she hears a rapid set of footsteps behind her. And now, the pony princess waiting in a Plexiglas tube surrounded by enough wiring to make Starswirl the Bearded himself fall into conniptions. As she stood there, locked in place with nothing but the beeping from the device around her neck to occupy her, she looked at the armored door leading into her cell and dreamt of the moment when it would burst open and Twilight and Luna would fly through, brushing the machinery aside to hug her and tell her everything had been a huge misunderstanding. All this even as the black pit twisting in her stomach told her it was far more likely to end with her learning of Canterlot’s destruction through another slip of a human’s tongue.
Though she kept a brave façade, the Solar Princess felt tears burning just behind her eyes. For all she knew, Twilight was currently being tortured for information and human armies were sweeping across her lands, killing everything that got in their way. And could she blame them? Based on her brief encounters with both them and the ponies of some…dark…twisted version of her beloved Equestria had suffered greatly at the hooves of some…other…
How? How could this have happened? Was this other world like that land she and Starswirl had journeyed to so long ago? No. Based on what she knew, based on the trauma she had seen, it was far worse. Maker above. She had to get out of this cell and find out what that might have been!
The door opened again, and this time her head rose to watch it. She had learned her lesson. There would not be a repeat of Shining Armor’s surprise appearance at her side. There was a few soft beeps and a mechanical clunk, and then another human strode out of the darkness to stand there, his breath coming in heavy gasps, sweat dripping off his darker complexion, and a look of hatred so pure in his eyes that if she didn’t know better, she might have assumed he had been possessed by Sombra himself.
She met his anger-filled eyes with her own, tired vermillion pools, and the pair began one of the most intense staring contests in history. Though it felt like centuries passed, it took Celestia less than five minutes to realize she would have to be the one who ended this infernal silence. “Well?”
The man with the dark complexion halted his breath. For a second, she thought he might have died standing like that, his hands clenched into fists, that dark glare forever imprinted into his gaze, as if the sheer force of his rage had simply stopped his heart. Then, his breath came out in a long, drawn-out sigh as he reached into his pocket. She cringed, shying further away from the glass, her eyes squinting as she braced herself for whatever blow might come next. Instead, she found herself looking at a tiny version of herself, suspended on a tiny chain.
Her eyes widened, and she drew closer to the glass, peering at it curiously. Honestly, with the little chain and the beaten, worn look it held, she couldn’t help but feel it to be an apt metaphor for her situation. Though compared to this thing, she might as well have been spending the day at the spa. It looked like somepony had been stomping on it, and she could swear there was a scorch mark where the cutie mark should have been. Still, despite the tangled mass of mane and the marks where the humans’ strange, rubber soles had met with the tiny, glossy figure, it was impossible to mistake a face that she had seen in the mirror every morning for over a thousand years. Even if it was small and a little bit mashed in.
The human pressed the figurine up to the glass, his breath coming in heaving sighs again. His glare alone spoke murder, spoke pain and hatred, but it also spoke something else…desperation? She didn’t have time to think about that one: the human’s hand had gone to a keypad set into the base of her glass prison, tapping wildly, growing more and more frustrated with each keystroke.
“No, NO!” He screamed, slamming a fist against the glass. She felt like telling him not to bother. That if she couldn’t even scratch it, he didn’t stand a chance, but any words she might have had were caught in her throat as he began beating the glass, over and over again, attacking with a level of savagery she hadn’t even seen during the darkest hours of Equestria’s formation. Discord had never shown anything like this. Tirek or Sombra perhaps, but even those had been magic attacks. She had never seen someone attacking something with any kind of zeal until she saw this human slam his fist into that glass until his knuckles bled, a bandaged wound reopening.
Finally, he stopped. Not because of the pain, that much was obvious. A creature with a look like that in his eyes was beyond feeling pain. Instead, she could tell it was because of exhaustion. Sweat drained off his brow, funneling down his face in torrents. She thought some of that might have been tears, but between the blood smeared over the glass and the sweat mixing in all over his face, it was hard to tell.
The human kept himself braced against the glass, one hand still clutching the figurine, pressing it to the glass. Suddenly, Celestia felt the strangest urge overwhelm her better judgment. Her instincts screamed for her to draw away, to avoid the angry predator before her at all costs, but a thousand years of healing wounds and bringing ponies together told her otherwise.
Before she knew what she was doing, she slowly leaned forward until her muzzle touched the glass, the motion happening so quickly her nose nearly smeared against the clear surface. With that complete, it was far easier to press her lips to the glass in front of the bleeding hand and close her eyes, falling into a kiss, letting this single act of compassion sweep her up until her fears were forgotten. She drew back and opened her eyes again. The human’s hands were off the glass again, his eyes narrow with suspicion, the bleeding hand cradled in its brother like it had just been burnt. Or perhaps he had realized what he had just done to his hand once the anger had left him and his senses had returned. Ever the optimist, Celestia hoped for the latter. Ever the pragmatist, her body braced itself for the former.
“Better?” She asked, offering a smile barely strong enough to lift the corners of her mouth.
He didn’t respond, he just stood there. His breath still heaved, though not as badly as it had before. Where before, it rushed in and out of him as if the mere act of drawing it into and out of his lungs was meant to be some sort of blow against her, he at least had calmed to the point where every noise coming from his body didn’t sound like an attempt to phase through the glass and wrap his hands around her throat.
“Where did you get that?” She posited.
Once again, his breath stopped. Once again, she thought he might simply have died of sheer rage where he stood. Then he exhaled sharply. “From someone worth more to me than the whole world put together.”
There it was. There was her way in. Celestia swallowed her distaste at what she was about to do: it seemed so very manipulative to use her intellect this way, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She needed three things: to escape, to find out what made this species’ previous collisions with…someone else’s little ponies so traumatic, and to ensure Twilight was safe, not necessarily in that order. If everything went perfectly, if the little plan still forming at the back of her mind worked out, she might get all three of those things in one fell swoop.
“Someone I love like that is in trouble,” she said, hoping her eyes showed every scrap of emotion she felt. Her voice trembled as she spoke, and that hateful, manipulative part of her noted how this could only serve her purposes. For a moment, she hated herself for thinking that. “Someone I value more than all the gold in the world might be in danger, and I need to know she’s safe.”
The human kept that even glare on her, then snorted and walked away, stomping towards the cell door. “Please,” she said, first at a whisper, then at a desperate cry: “PLEASE!”
The door slammed shut, and once again, Celestia was alone. However, for the first time since being locked in this awful place with nothing but the beeping of the machinery and the occasional beating/interrogation to keep her company, a small bit of hope bloomed in her heart. Just be okay, Twilight, she thought to herself. Everything will work out if you’re okay…
And if she isn’t? That small knot in her stomach asked. She didn’t respond. She just kept whispering to herself: “Just please be okay, Twilight. Oh Maker above, please be okay.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Felipe walked out of the airlock looking like a man after a week in a warzone. He slumped against the metal door as it rushed shut behind him and locked into place with a series of grinding clicks, his face a map of utter exhaustion. He let his breath out in a long, drawn-out sigh.
Anton was standing over him.
“Enjoy your chat with the pretty pony Princess, tovarisch?”
Felipe didn’t even have the energy to raise his head.
Anton just sighed and offered his hand, which Felipe accepted gratefully. Then, with a powerful jerk of his arm, the Russian yanked him to his feet. Stumbling, Felipe was totally unprepared for when Anton gripped his injured hand, forcing the fingers open and grabbing the Celestia figurine. In his surprise, the only thing Felipe could do about it was give a strangled “Uh…no…”
Anton regarded the figurine with cold, analytical precision, turning it over in his hands. Felipe reached for it, but allowed his hands to drop. There was no point. The secret was out now, for better or for worse. His gaze sank to the floor, his hands hanging loosely like cold, wet noodles at his sides.
Anton held the figurine up by one leg, pinching it between his fingers. Felipe sighed once. “What was their name?” Anton asked suddenly, and with a tone so gentle the only thing that would have surprised Felipe more would be for the Russian to peel his face aside and reveal Twilight Sparkle herself.
Felipe’s eyes drifted up, widening. “Wh-who?” He asked, the only words he could manage in his utterly, completely, emotionally drained state of mind.
Anton’s eyes softened. “The person who used to own this doll,” he replied quietly.
Still with nothing more than that exhausted look on his face, Felipe locked right with Anton’s eyes. The Russian arched an eyebrow. A man as young as the one before him shouldn’t have held such a tired look. These were the eyes of an old man after a lifetime of hardship, perhaps living on the streets or with the memories of past horrors. These were not the eyes of a man barely out of boyhood.
“Marta,” Felipe rasped, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a long, hard swallow as he met the Russian’s eyes. “The best maninha a guy could ask for.”
“The riots in Rio…” Anton said, nodding his understanding.
“The mob got to the family home before I did,” Felipe explained. He couldn’t quite figure out why he was explaining. Maybe he had finally grown tired of holding it in. Maybe it was all finally coming out, whether he liked it or not. But here it was. “Someone threw a Molotov through the kitchen window. She was doing her homework there, she…”
He gasped, took a few shaky breaths. “…she was in too much pain from the flames to move, and then the roof gave…she…she was still holding that,” he said, motioning to the Russian’s closed hand. “Her favorite show to watch with her Filly.”
“And the man who did this?” Anton asked.
Suddenly, the old steel entered Felipe’s eyes, his gaze rising from the floor. He tacked off what happened to the man who burnt down his home and killed his sister like he was listing off a supermarket checklist. “Tracked him down, found out where he slept, put a pillow over his face, put a .45 against the pillow, and squeezed the trigger until it clicked dry.”
Anton nodded again, presenting the figurine to his coworker, keeping it standing on his palm as he held it out. Without a word, Felipe grasped the tiny bit of plastic and shoved it in his pocket, his gaze sinking to the floor again. The Russian clapped him on the shoulder, startling him. “C’mon,” he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I just got a message on my mobile. Apparently, the others are dragging the Prince over to the Admiral; let the old man chew his ass out for a while.”
Felipe’s eyes lifted at that, the beginnings of a smile actually starting to tug at the corners of his lips. “Think he’ll leave enough ass to boot off his ship?”
“One can only hope,” the Russian laughed as he led his counterpart out into the hallway.
“By the way,” Felipe said, his voice still low, but a lightness to his tone, as if something had been lifted from it. “Weren’t you concerned about leaving me alone in there with her?”
“I figured if the Yank could handle it, you could,” Anton shrugged. “Prince Shining Armor’s attack has proven that we can do damn near anything to her as she is now. If anything, we are more a danger to her.”
Felipe nodded with that, listening to their footsteps echo down the hallway behind them. “I see that, but that’s not what I meant. I must have looked…bad, walking in there. Weren’t you concerned for the prisoner?”
“Not particularly,” Anton snorted, winking as he held up a small handful of nuts, bolts, and wires. “Besides, I’m not sure that keypad lock works so well without these.”
Felipe just smiled back, shaking his head.
“What, can you blame me for taking precautions after the last visitor?” Anton muttered, shoving the fistful of junk back into his pocket. “I used to be mechanic of sorts, will be easy to put it all back together. Trust me, this is what I used to do for a living.”
Felipe did trust the older man, now more than ever, which is why it would be so heartbreaking when later on, he would be walking through the hallways and discover a single misplaced bolt lying in the middle of the tile, standing on its head, as it had been ever since it was placed there.
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I think this is a much better version of the meeting between Felipe and Canonlestia.
5074036
Agreed.
...oh boy.
Okay, I don't understand the last sentence, what am I missing?
5075896 he might be purposely locking celestia in there, just forgot, or maybe someone else tried to put it back together?
I'll only tell you this once:
BRAZILIANS SPEAK PORTUGUESE, NOT SPANISH.
The difference is crucial and should be obvious to everyone, especially a guy that's writing about Brazil.
The correct term is "irmãzinha" ou "maninha", which is less formal and more affectionate.
Would you look at that, the moment it is no longer needed for the plot everyone suddenly stops being stupid and restrains the war criminal.
Did no one go check on Celestia? Your kinda obligated to do that considering she was assaulted while in your custody, but then again you have shown you don't care about what is reasonable, sensible or in any way realistic or believable.
The way details hold on and remain relevant from scene to scene really makes a story bloom into it's own world. Shinning assaulted Celestia gest minutes ago but for all that it is relevant to this scene it may has well of happened months ago.
Ok ima make a prediction. Xenolestia will escape with the help of the Newfoals and Primelestia will be required to defeat her. All I can request if this is so is that there be a part where Xenolestia attempts to coerce Primelestia and Primslestia punches her in the face XD
Wrong move… He‘s ging to be triggered so badly by this…
Attacked 2 PoW and broke the treaty… That ass is a goner, especially considering that we’re talking about an Admiral with the age/experience to pack it!
6099690
Consistency is the hardest part in any story… Takes a lot of practice…