• Published 26th Jan 2015
  • 2,999 Views, 82 Comments

Outsider's Game: Night King - Bluecho



MLP/Vampire: The Masquerade Crossover. A lost denizen of the World of Darkness wakes in a World of Light.

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10 - ...Remove The Veil

Ch. 10 - ...Remove The Veil


Present

“So tell me, how did they get those prop squid to fly around like that?”

Ponies filed out the theater doors, though more than a few lingered around. They lingered to get a glimpse of the princesses leaving. Their eyes were bright, their smiles broad with anticipation.

Dougal turned upon the onlookers, catching their eyes. Towering over their heads, he regarded them with cool disinterest.

Several of the ponies assembled there cringed or flinched, breaking out into a cool sweat. Their hearts raced. Most averted their eyes, then broke off to leave.

The vampire shrugged, turning back to his companions. “...where were we?”

“The prop squids?” said Luna, eying the fleeing ponies uneasily. She frowned, feeling just slightly hurt that interaction with the common citizens was denied her.

“Oh, ho!” Twilight said, bouncing up and down. “I read all about the production on my way here. Those floating figures were suspended by specialized parts on the back called Levitation Hooks. Unicorn technicians backstage would grab the props by those hooks and use them for simple puppetry. Some theaters have more advanced levitation controls that can be manipulated to open and close mouths or move individual limbs. But unless the technician is really talented, it usually takes a couple unicorns to pull that off.”

“Hmm...” Dougal said, stroking his chin.

“Ah, your royal highnesses!”

When the party looked around, they spotted the approach of a very dapper unicorn in a vest, well coiffed mane, and monocle. Draped on his back was a very slender mare. These two were followed by a number of admirers and hangers-on, all dressed in their finest.

The stallion smiled, chin held slightly aloft. “I was informed Princesses Luna and Twilight Sparkle were in attendance. What a lovely show, was it not?”

“Ah, good evening magnificently coiffed pony,” Luna said, smiling. “I have not seen you since our riveting living chess match in the Canterlot gardens.”

“Nor have I seen you since Cadence and Shining Armor's wedding, Mr. Fancy Pants,” Twilight said, approaching.

“Yes, it has been a long time,” said the stallion, “Princess Sparkle, you should attend more of the Canterlot parties. I remember when you and your friends livened up the last one, that one instance. Back before your ascension, as it were, was it not?” The stallion brushed a lock of hair into place. “Say, how is Miss Rarity these days?”

“She's doing great, sir,” Twilight said. “She's actually here in Baltimare for the culture festival. She's going to visit the art gallery tomorrow, followed by the fashion show.”

“Then I suppose I shall see her tomorrow night, because that's where Fleur and I will be attending,” the stallion said, turning his head and nuzzling the slender mare affectionately, which she returned. The stallion adjusted his monocle. “...say, who is your unusual friend, here?”

“Ah!” Twilight said, turning to the vampire. “Dougal, this is Fancy Pants, who my friend Rarity says is the most important pony in Canterlot. Fancy Pants, this is Dougal Dempsey.”

Dougal stepped forward and bowed to the stallion. After researching pony names as much as he did, he was no longer surprised that “Mr. Fancy Pants” was not a derogatory term. “Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Dougal said, extending a hand.

Fancy Pants looked curiously at the offered, strange appendage, then extended his hoof politely, allowing it to be shaken. “Likewise, Mr. Dougal Dempsey. And don't let the Princess fool you, I am not nearly as important as everypony makes me out to be.”

Dougal extended his hand to the mare. “Ma'am.”

Fleur allowed her hoof to be taken. “Ooh!” she gasped as Dougal bent over and kissed her hoof. She giggled, “cheeky. And so...cold...”

“I say, old chap,” Fancy Pants said, “would it be out of bounds for me to inquire as to what sort of creature you are?”

“Dougal Dempsey is a 'Human Vampire',” said Luna, looking unhappily sidelong at the whole exchange.

“A vampire?” Fancy Pants said, one eye widening just a fraction.

“Of the Human variety, but yes,” Dougal said, bowing, “I am.”

Fancy Pants' entourage, previously content to watch and gossip among themselves, grew dead silent. They all stared at Dougal.

The stallion himself merely shook his head. “I do so hope we won't end up on the menu, right old chap?” He chuckled a little, though Fleur Dis Lee frowned a bit.

“An unfortunate affliction of mine, sir,” Dougal said, shutting his eyes and smiling. “But my own affairs are in order, thanks to our dear Princesses.”

“How so?” said Fancy Pants, genuinely curious.

“All of my...donors...have given of their own volition,” said Dougal, “I have a clinic that draws...previous vitae...in exchange for money. The citizens of Equestria have nothing to fear from me. I am merely now a businessman.”

“A business MAN...how quaint,” Fancy Pants said, whistling once. He smiled. “And what exactly is your business, Mr. Dempsey?”

“Currently shipping,” Dougal said, straightening his jacket. “Though I have been aiming to move into the technology sector.”

“Really?” Luna asked, piping up from behind. “Technology?”

“My...homeland,” Dougal said, “has in common with Equestria a number of technologies. But it has a number of others that I cannot find in evidence within this wonderful country. I see opportunity, and have ideas about where to start.” Dougal smiled, fishing a pen from his shirt pocket. “I've recently contracted an engineer, who has produced this first prototype. A pen with a completely self-contained ink supply. This is the least of the things I can bring to market, given enough time and enough brilliant minds.”

“How novel!” Fancy Pants said, looking upon the pen with wide wonder. He held his hoof against his monocle and leaned in for a closer look. The mare on his back leaned in too, prior unease replaced with rapt attention.

“Amazing!” Twilight Sparkle said, leaning in from the side to gaze at it too. “A pen that doesn't require an ink bottle. This could increase my writing speed by an order of magnitude, if I didn't have to re-ink my quill every few seconds!”

“I shall see to it that your highness is the first to receive one,” Dougal said, pocketing the device again. “That is, once I can drum up enough funds for manufacturing.”

“We...if you need any help on that front, old sport,” Fancy Pants said, straightening up, “write me up in Canterlot.”

“I appreciate the understanding and interest, Mr. Fancy Pants,” Dougal said, suppressing the urge to giggle at saying the name. “Such a pen, however, is the least of the devices I aim to produce.”

“Tell me all about it when you write, then,” Fancy Pants said. He turned to the Princesses. “It was lovely meeting you here, your highnesses. I'll be here all festival long, so don't hesitate to find me. And send Miss Rarity my regards, will you Princess Sparkle?”

“I will, sir,” Twilight said, nodding.

As the celebrities walked away, assorted hangers-on looking back and gossiping in a more positive light towards the “human vampire” that had so impressed the important pony, Luna stepped up to Dougal. “What was that, Dougal Dempsey?”

“That, your highness,” said Dougal, turning to Luna and grinning with eyes shut, “is called networking. You would be amazed – or perhaps not at all – how many business-ponies simply will not have anything to do with a strange bipedal creature they've never seen before, that is rumored to drink blood.” Dougal began walking. “Moreover, he was a very pleasant, understanding stallion, by the looks of it.”

“Mr. Fancy Pants has a certain, well, fancy for rustic sorts,” Twilight said, following him. “He liked my friends and I for that reason, though he likes my friend Rarity for her fashion sense and high class taste.”

“He likes the rustics, hmm?” Dougal said, clapping his hands behind his back. “Then do I have stories he might like. Stories of growing up in Missouri, and all that.” He walked a few steps before his grin disappeared. “...or do I have stories...?”

“What's that?” Luna asked, trotting to catch up.

“...I wonder, sometimes, how much I really remember, from my living days,” Dougal said. He looked out over the landscape, visible from their vantage point at the edge of a ridge, where the theater was built. He could see the city lights glowing in the darkness. Not nearly as dark as his world, he was sure of it. “It was forty five years ago, now. How much of it will I remember in detail next year? Next decade? Next...”

“LOOK OUT!”

Screech. Crash.

High up the hill, a carriage careened downhill towards them. Ponies jumped out of the way in panic, the vehicle bouncing and skidding backwards over cobblestone. As it swerved and bounced, the front briefly came into view, showing the wooden bars that would normally be attached to the ponies leading it were broken off and leaderless.

Inside were the silhouettes of ponies trapped within.

“Sweet Celestia!” Twilight cried, aghast.

Luna took to the air in a single motion, while Twilight leaped to the side.

Dougal jumped, though a second too late. His pants were caught on the rushing carriage and tore at the leg. “Gaah!” he screamed, yanking his leg away. The fabric came off, rendering his lower leg naked, though uninjured. He stumbled, rolling so as to return to his feet. His eyes jerked to the carriage as it rolled towards the cliff face.

“No!” Twilight yelled, half running and half flying after it. Her horn lit up a violet, shining like a beacon in the darkness.

Crash.

The carriage smashed through the railing and went sailing through open air. It tumbled end over end.

Violet aura surrounded the carriage, and the vehicle stopped in mid-air.

“Huff...puff...phew!” Twilight said, straining under the effort. Her horn glowed bright, waxing and waning in intensity.

Suspended in air, the carriage vibrated. Then the carriage doors flew open, oriented down. Two adult ponies slipped out, screaming.

“AAAAAAh!” they cried. “Aaaaaa...oh!”

The two were enveloped in a deep blue aura, flailing their legs in air for several seconds and craning their heads in search of proper orientation. Finally, they looked back to the ledge.

“G-got them!” Luna said, her prodigious horn alight. She stood next to Twilight Sparkle, the two concentrating on maintaining their hold upon the heavy loads.

Dougal ran up beside them, flanked on all side by a crowd of ponies. The vampire looked upon them, then waved his arm back at the throng. “Get back! Clear the way! Can't you see they need room for-”

“H-h-help! Help!”

All eyes turned back to the carriage, its open door flapping free in the chill night wind. A small figure wriggled and writhed from the mouth of the door. It was a young colt, clutching the door frame for dear life. Hind legs kicking at the open air.

“My baby!” said the mare suspended in the air. She waved her legs towards the carriage, but could get no closer.

“Oh no!” Twilight cringed, straining under the weight of the carriage. Could she afford to move or shift the carriage, for fear of jostling the suspended child?

Luna gritted her teeth, eyes wide in horror. “Can't...”

“Heeeeeeelp!” the colt cried, muscles straining in his forward body. His front legs slid a little. “I'm slipping! I'm-”

He dropped. “Ah!”

“Nooooo!” said the suspended stallion, jerking in the air and reaching out fruitlessly.

“My baby!”

“Aaaaaah!” cried the colt...

...who suddenly stopped mid-fall. “Oof!” He looked around.

He was born aloft by a black tentacle, leading off from the shadow of the cliff's edge.

“Wha-?” he said, looking at the arm that wrapped itself around his midsection. It was dark. Not even dark like any material, but absolutely black. As if a hole in space broke off and elongated itself into a great limb. The boy shook, feeling an utter coldness at the tentacle's touch. “Ah! Ah!” he cried, struggling in vain against the arm.

Then the tentacle retracted, carrying the colt to the cliff edge.

The crowd of ponies gasped in mixed relief and horror. They whispered amongst themselves. At least one pony fainted at the sight.

Looking about in confusion, the colt eventually looked to the oncoming land.

He stopped just in front of Princess Luna.

The lunar diarch blinked in shock, her horn still alight. Then, she reservedly extended her forelegs, allowing the disembodied limb to drop the child into her care. “...what?” she whispered, looking back and forth from the child to the parents to the tentacle, which retracted swiftly into the darkness.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Luna spared precious attention to look to her side. Twilight Sparkle did too, mouth agape.

Dougal Dempsey stood at the front of the crowd, clapping his hands slowly. “Nice catch, your highness,” he said, his upper face cast in shadow against the lights behind him. “That is our night princess! Everyone cheer for our Princess Luna!” He began clapping harder.

The ponies all around him looked to each other, and at Luna. Slowly, their frightened expressions changed, and they started laughing and cheering.

“Hurray for the Princesses!”

“Whoohoo!”

“Yay!”

Luna, remembering herself, turned back to the space beyond the cliff and pulled the suspended ponies back to land. In her peripheral vision, she noticed the carriage being hauled away telekinetically to the ground as well, away from the assembled bystanders.

The two adult ponies touched down on the ground, freed from their blue aura. They rushed over to Luna.

“Oh thank you, Princess!”

“Come here, sweetie!” said the mare, letting Luna hand her the colt. She hugged the shaking child close to her. “Mommy is here. Don't worry. We've got you.”

The stallion wrapped his forelimbs around his wife, then looked at Luna. “Princess, I can't thank you enough. Just...thank you!”

“You are...welcome, citizens,” Luna said, blinking. She turned and walked into the crowd, letting them part and sling excited words of praise at her. She mumbled and nodded, but didn't really hear the words.

She found her way out of the crowd, seeing burly ponies approach with first aid kits and caution tape in their mouths. As she continued walking, she found Twilight Sparkle resting by the overturned carriage.

With a little concentration, Twilight levitated the down carriage again, turning it over and planting it firmly on its wheels. Or at least as firm as it could, its back wheels smashed in the collision. “Luna! How is the family?”

“...huh? Sorry, they are together again,” Luna said, shaking her head. “They will be fine.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Dougal Dempsey walk up to the side of the carriage. His eyes looked over the body, then spotted black fabric whipping in the wind. He grabbed hold of the attached piece, yanking at it until it tore free.

He studied the ruined cloth, then pocketed it. He sighed. “Well, I suppose that's that crisis finished. Perhaps we ought to head home, hmm?” Dougal grinned at them, then began walking towards the spot where the guards were waiting with their conveyance.

“...yes...I suppose so,” Luna said, following.

“Princess Luna, that was amazing!” Twilight said, running up beside. “I haven't actually seen you use something quite like that.”

“What?” Luna said, blinking at Twilight. Then she frowned. “Oh...that...”

“It really was a close save,” Twilight said, smiling. “You did well.”

“I did nothing, Twilight,” Luna said.

“Oh, you're just being mode-”

“No. Really.” Luna frowned, but did not look at Twilight. “I was not the one who summoned that...thing...” He eyes were focused forward.

Meters ahead, Dougal Dempsey walked nonchalantly towards their ride, hands clasped behind his back. The Keeper whistled as he walked, his exposed right leg displaying an inverted ankh in black tattoo ink.


February 1955

“Ugh...”

He felt something against his face. Something soft, draped over his face...his whole body. His eyes fluttered open. He saw light filtering through thick fabric. He shut his eyes and wormed his hand up to his face beneath the sheet.

Gripping the fabric, he pulled the sheet away. Instantly his eyes were bathed in intense light from above him. “Ah!” he grunted, shielding his eyes. He tried to lift his head, and found it hurt like hell. He hissed, blinking rapidly and clutching his scalp. It was if he experienced the worst hangover in his life. The hangover that stood crowned and throned over all other hangovers as the uncontested king. “...gah...shit...”

Sitting up, he realized he lay within a hard white dish. He shook his head, brushed hair from his face. He looked down on himself. First he noticed that the dish he was in was in fact a bathtub. “...what...the fuck...?” he grunted, tugging at the sheet that was draped over him. It was a floral print shower curtain, unmoored from its curtain pole.

Next he noticed his jacket and shirt were missing, leaving his chest bare. “...ugh...the hell...”

Dragging himself to his feet, Dougal examined his surroundings. He was situated in a hotel bathroom. He knew it not to be any bathroom he'd ever been in before, but it took a moment to realize why he thought it was a hotel bathroom.

That...guy...

The door was closed. Dougal trained his ears, but was too disorientated to hear what lay outside the room.

He stepped forward, turned towards the mirror. Saw the ornate wallpaper reflected there, as well as the towels hung from the rack opposite the sink. Saw the reflection of the sink top. Saw even the reflection of the bathroom door.

What he did not see was his own reflection.

“What...what the fuck...?” he said, staring at the mirror that did not reflect him. He stepped forward, face scrunched in confusion and pain. His head hurt. His mouth felt...very dry. He smacked his lips, drawing closer. He reached a hand out towards the glass.

His fingers banged against the polished surface. “Ah!” he cried, drawing his fingers back. His hands shook, his eyes wide. Dougal jerked backwards, watching the mirror vibrate entirely as he struck the wall. It wasn't a window to an identical room on the other side, but an actual reflection. As he jammed against the wall, he saw the image of the towel racked get disturbed.

“Ah! Aaaaah!” He turned around, grasping at the rack and towels both. He tore them off the wall, feeling them come easily from the plaster. Too easily. As he clutched the towel and rack together, his head whipped back to the mirror, and saw both floating in the reflection. “Agh!” he cried, dropping the items and watching their doubles plummet to the ground.

“It's difficult getting used to, I know.”

“Agh!” Dougal yelled, looking sideways.

The door was open. Standing in the doorway was that suited man, cane in one hand, bowler hat in another. His face was no longer wreathed in impenetrable shadows. Revealed fully was the man's well-kept mustache and beard, that grew down to his neck. His nose was a little long, and his face gaunt. He had piercing green eyes. He had a toothy, predatory smile. That man – Antonio Espinosa.

“...hah...hah...you...” Dougal said, eyes darting from mirror to man. “What the hell is going on?”

Antonio chuckled a bit to himself.

“Answer me!”

“Oh, don't play dumb, Dougal,” Antonio said, tilting his head. “Use your eyes...you know what this is, don't tell me otherwise.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue.

Dougal turned to the mirror, clutching his head. It was patently absurd. It had to be. He gritted his teeth, then stepped forward. His fist smacked into the mirror. A spiderweb of cracks formed over the mirror's surface. As he pulled his fist away, shards of mirror fell to the sink top.

He studied his hand. Tiny fragments of mirror protruded from his knuckles. “Aaaagh!” he screamed, flailing his arm. Shards flew from his wound, and he clutched his wrist again. Despite the lacerations, he did not bleed. On another point of fact, his hands were pale.

Then he realized, despite the exertion, he wasn't breathing hard, nor could he feel his heart beating despite his mounting panic.

Dougal clutched his chest, feeling for a heartbeat that wasn't there. He turned to that man – Antonio Espinosa. “...w-what the hell did you do to me?”

Antonio stepped forward, his smile dropping a bit. From the corner of his eye, Dougal saw this man had no reflection either.

“I have set you free,” Antonio said. “I saw you...laboring under all those...burdens you had. The ones holding you back. Career, girlfriend, possessions, homes...even your family.” He stopped before Dougal. They were about the same height, yet somehow this man stood so much taller. “For five years, I watched you...and took from you. I took everything you had, just to see how you'd react.” Antonio looked to the side, into space. “There were others I watched, of course, but...they didn't have what it took. They let the loss of such...petty things as jobs and affection destroy them. Until there was nothing left but a...” He sneered. “...pathetic waste of space.” He looked to Dougal, his sneer dropping. “But you, Dougal...oh you...”

Dougal shook his head. “No...no you're lying...no one could do all that.”

The man wagged his finger. “Tsk, tsk. If you have the right power, you can do anything,” Antonio said. “And believe me, I have a lot of power. Power developed over many years, through ruthless dealings and...other things. With the kind of power I wield, the will of men is like putty. It's a simple thing to make a man siphon funds, while others focus hawk-eyed towards one man in particular. Even easier to get a man evicted, or to make a woman hate her fiance.

“Simulating the onset of cancer in an old woman is more difficult, but I have other people for that...people with talent in...working directly with flesh...”

Eyes grew wide. Memories of the previous hours stirred.

Dougal lunged at him, seizing the man by the shirt. “You bastard!” he screamed, pushing the man back against the wall. “You bastard! You killed Tony!” He pulled back his fist, striking the man's face. Felt the impact of Antonio's jaw through his knuckle bones. “You destroyed my career!” Dougal backhanded the man. “You killed my mother! Drove Rebecca away!”

He pushed the man out the bathroom door to the hotel room entryway. Dougal pulled his fist back for another punch. “You ruined my life!”

As the fist flew, Antonio caught it in his palm, clasping his fingers around the knuckles and squeezed. “No.”

“Ah!” Dougal said, watching – feeling – his fist get effortlessly twisted back at the wrist. “Agh!” He pushed back, but to no avail.

With one final shove, the man toppled Dougal over. He sprawled on the floor, nursing his aching wrist.

Antonio flexed his fingers, twisting his neck until it popped softly. He wiped at his lip, collecting drops of blood on his fingers. These he licked, smacking his lips. “No, we'll have none of that, boy.” He looked down to the ground and retrieved his fallen bowler hat and cane. “...no, I did not ruin your life. Because there was nothing there worth ruining. Your life as a...simple human was worth nothing. Humans are nothing.” He plopped the hat on his head, adjusting it carefully. “Dougal, I made you so much more.”

“Hey, is everything okay in there?”

Thump. Thump.

Dougal looked up, seeing a scantily dressed woman walk into view. She had a considerable amount of makeup on her face. That face had a mole under her left eye, and she had a short stock of blond hair. She looked down at Dougal, throwing him a pitying look. “Is...he going to be okay?”

Thump. Thump.

“Absolutely,” Antonio said, sizing up the obvious prostitute. “He's the one I hired you for. He'll be right with you. I'll see to it you get paid for your services, if you'll just wait a little longer.”

“...okay...” the woman said, looking unsure at Dougal. She walked out of view of the bathroom. From the next room, the sound of a mattress being disturbed.

Thump. Thump.

Antonio reached down and grabbed Dougal by the arm. With one motion – one handed – he pulled the young man to his feet. “Now...enough of this petulance. There will be plenty of time to talk later.”

Dougal smacked his dry lips. He didn't resist as Antonio pushed him out of the bathroom and into the large hotel room proper.

“You have a date with a...little morsel.”

Thump. Thump.

Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.

As Dougal lumbered into the room, he could hear it. That sound. That sound that called to him like a siren.

He looked at the woman, sitting on the bed, looking bored. She caught him approaching, giving him an indifferent look, though she soon tried to hide it behind a fake smile.

Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.

She said something, but Dougal couldn't hear her. His eyes played over her face, over the mole under her eye. Down past her chin. Dougal stared at her neck. As he inhaled through his nose, the most...intoxicating aroma washed into him.

He knew what he wanted to do. Knew he couldn't stop himself.

Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.

But why would he want to, anyway?

The prostitute blinked, her faux smile – her affect – fading. “Hey, are you feeling oka-”

Dougal pounced on her. Fangs elongated in his mouth. They closed over warm, inviting flesh.

“EEEEEEE-”

The woman had enough time for a single shriek before the weight atop her and the pressure at her throat killed the breath in her lungs.

Nearby, Antonio stepped forward, fingers stroking his cane excitedly. He was smiling, fangs bared. “Yes! Do it! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

As he watched un-nature take its course, Antonio spread his arms out wide. “Welcome to Clan Lasombra, Dougal! Welcome to the Sabbat!”