Outsider's Game: Night King

by Bluecho

05 - Scars Of Nights Past

Ch. 5 - Scars Of Nights Past

---

December 1952

“How does it look, Doctor?”

“We got the tests in. Did them twice, just to be sure. I still don't understand it, there was no cause...”

“Just give it to me straight, Doc.”

“Sigh...your mother has cancer, Mr. Dempsey. Lung cancer.”

---

Present

“He's in here, your majesty.”

Princess Luna stared at the pantry door. Frightened kitchen staff milled around, shivering in the corner or acting like they aren't listening intently. The lunar diarch shook her head. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” said the guard, nodding. “The staff saw him burst through that door and ensconce himself in the pantry. They haven't seen him come out since.”

“Oh Princess, it was awful!” A severely frazzled cook walked over, hat askew, apron splattered with batter. “It crashed in, snarling like...like a mountain lion. Its face was burnt like untended eggs, and it just...just rushed on through. It knocked into me, I couldn't move for fear. And look!” She pointed to her front. “I was making batter for the breakfast donuts when it barreled into me, ruining my apron and the batter!”

“And in all the excitement, 'e upended my batch of omelets!” cried another chef. “Breakfast is, 'ow you say, ruined!”

Luna sighed, rubbing her face. “Alright, alright, everypony. It will all turn out fine. Just...resume work from scratch, and we will handle it from here.” She paused, then added, “And get my sister some coffee...and me too. On the double!”

As the staff nervously returned to their tasks, one young cook wandered over. “Your highness, how are we to bake or season if we cannot get into the pantry?”

“Uh,” Luna said, “...go to the secondary kitchen and get supplies from there. And if there are none, send somepony out to get them.” When the cook rushed out the door, Luna rubbed her eyes. “Such a long night. Anyway, about this creature.”

“Do you want us to go in after him, your highness?” said a guard.

“No...no, it will be like cornering a fox,” said Luna. “A wounded fox...why the pantry, anyway?”

“It has no windows, your highness,” chimed in a chef. “The supplies perish less easily without sunlight.”

“Yes, of course it is.” She sighed, turning to the guards. “It is nearly dawn now. He dare not leave while the sun is high. Hold the pantry. Let neither ponies in, nor that creature out.”

“Yes ma'am!” the guards said, assuming positions beside the pantry door. One stood below the kitchen windows, another two next to the kitchen doors.

“I shall return before dusk, to await him. As you all were.”

“Oh, Princess!”

A cook sidled over to Luna as she was leaving. She leaned in close to whisper. “Princess...there were live chickens in that pantry.”

“...why?”

“The delegates from the Griffin Kingdoms were flying in this weekend, and we were preparing...dinner.” The cook frowned nervously. “...I...heard them, when it...went in...the chickens, that is...”

“Yes, well, those chickens are gone,” Luna whispered, looking over her shoulder at the pantry door. “They're likely a lost cause. See to it a new set of chickens is procured for our Griffin guests before they arrive. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, your highness.” The cook walked off.

Luna sighed more deeply. “Where is that coffee?”

---

January 1953

A dog barked somewhere outside. Dougal awoke, rolling over.

Damn dog, he thought. What squirrel is it barking at now?

It went on a few moments, then... “Yip!” The barking ceased with a pained cry.

Dougal sat up in bed. He strained his ears.

Silence.

Covers were cast off. Creeping to the window, Dougal peek through aged wooden blinds. He soon gave this up, however, as the night was too dark and too deep to see by. The window offered a poor vantage anyway.

He snatched up his slippers, baby blue to match his pajamas. Old floorboards creaked beneath his heel as he exited his old room.

Dougal crept as quietly as possible, navigating the halls he knew so well. Footfalls were planted on spots known to sound least, a habit formed from boyhood ventures out after dark. His fingers brushed lightly against a familiar patch of wall. Darkness provided no obstacle. No here.

Alighting to the foot of the top of the stairs, Dougal cast a glance to his parent's room. Recalled the day of the funeral. His mother slept alone now, though at least she was finally sleeping. She spent hours coughing every night, and would doubtless wake later with another coughing fit. Never ending.

He shook his head, then descended the stairs.

Chill air struck him when Dougal opened the front door. He looked around. The suburban street was deserted, as it ought to be. He spied the pile of rust across the street. Once a child's favorite bicycle, it had apparently been left out in the rain one night. Dougal never learned the details, but the parents and son had gotten into a fight about it and, neither willing to move it, left the ruined contraption to molder away. When he'd left home, Dougal had seen it still free-standing; when he returned, the bike had according to his mother finally collapsed under its own weight.

Dougal ventured out into the yard. He cast his eyes and ears about. He saw no one.

Trekking through overgrown grass, he stomped to the fence marking the border between properties. Once a vibrant white – he knew, because it was Dougal who painted it in the hot summer sun – the fence was faded now to gray. The spot he approached, he knew to be the dog's favorite spot to watch cars roll by. Dougal very carefully leaned over the fence.

From the corner of his eye, something moved.

Dougal jerked his head in that direction. Head panning left, right. He stared at a patch of sidewalk and pavement illuminated by a dim street lamp. Straining his eyes he searched the street, but could see nothing for the glare. Dougal shivered for the cold, warm breath crystallizing into a white mist as it escaped his mouth.

He watched for a moment, then retreated to the house. Casting quick glances over his shoulders nearly every step of the way.

When once more surrounded by familiar walls, Dougal crept to the living room window. He peeked through the front blinds. He saw nothing by the glow coming down from the street lamp outside.

Slowly, he crept back up the steps. Wincing with every creak, Dougal traced his way back to his room. Shutting tight the bedroom door, he cast a look around the bedroom. Most free space taken up by boxes stacked to the ceiling. Papers and a typewriter were stacked on a little writing desk in the corner, a boyhood staple unused to adult concerns.

Dougal crossed to the bed and tucked himself back in. He slept poorly.

Outside his window, perched atop the neighboring house, a silent figure stared at the window. It cradled a limp, furry trophy in its arms.

---

Present

“How is the guard, sister?”

Princess Celestia watched as the guard in question retreated blearily towards the barracks, two other soldiers helping him. She frowned sadly. “For as deep as it was, the mental imperative to block our way was simple. I removed it completely, though I ordered bed rest.”

“Right, there could be lasting damage from the mind control,” Luna said.

“No, not for that,” Celestia said, turning to her sister and smiling. “Like I said, the command was simple. I meant he should get rest from the logic probe. It did more to tax his mind than the vampire did. Has he been found, incidentally?”

“Dempsey found his way into the pantry, and has locked himself in,” Luna said dryly. “He's not coming out, but I have soldiers guarding it. He won't escape...how are the guards he attacked?”

“Oh, a little banged up, but they insisted on remaining on duty,” Celestia said, hiding an amused grin behind a hoof. “I suppose we got lucky, he just wanted to hide.” She sighed. “It really was terrible, what happened.”

“Indeed,” Luna said. The two alicorns wandered into the throne room. The lunar diarch gazed up at the stained glass. “Attacking our subjects, stealing their blood, mind controlling members of the guard...”

“No, I don't mean that, Luna,” Celestia said, shaking her head. “I mean, those were bad, but...I feel terrible about what I did to him.”

“...you're not serious.” Luna raised her eyebrows. “Sister, what happened was not your fault. And it couldn't have happened to a more deserving creature.”

Celestia frowned. “Don't talk like that, Luna. It's a horrible sentiment. You heard that cry, you saw the fear in him. The pain. By my very presence, I cooked him alive.” She closed her eyes, touching her chest as if in pain herself.

“Sister, he isn't alive,” Luna said, shaking her head. “Dempsey is a corpse, fueled by the blood of the living.”

“Dempsey?” Celestia asked, opening one eye. The orbs were growing damp.

“Dougal Dempsey. His name. We talked at length, about himself, about his world, about his kind.” She shook her head. “I do not like what I heard of his world, or the 'Kindred' as he calls his vampires.”

“But you have talked to him. How did he behave?”

“I...oh, don't start, sister!” Luna walked past the solar diarch, huffing. “You always do this.”

“Do what?” Celestia said, displaying a mischievous smile.

“You are always so quick to forgive them,” Luna said, puffing her cheeks out. “It was the same with...Discord...” Luna looked to the ceiling, then around in every direction. She hoped he wouldn't show up unexpectedly, in some outlandish costume. She hated when he did that, and she was in no mood. “You would have forgiven Tirek and Sombra, had they given you the chance.” Luna sat on the floor, crossing her forelegs. “...you even forgave me my betrayal...”

“And I was right to do so for you,” Celestia said, walking over and placing a hoof on Luna's shoulder. “Now we'll be having no more of your classic Luna guilt parties. The angst clashes horribly with the carpet.” Celestia giggled softly, patting Luna's head.

“Hrrmm...” Luna groaned, blushing. Her cheeks were puffed out. “I do not throw guilt parties. And I am too respectable for angst.”

“Oh, somepony is just cranky because she's had such a long night. Go get some sleep, Luna. I will manage the day like I always do.”

“But what if the vampire tries something?” Luna asked, though she found herself yawning. “I...haah...I need to be ready if something happens.”

“Oh, just because you're the experienced vampire hunter, doesn't mean I can't handle one.” Celestia smiled, taking a seat on her throne. “If earlier showed anything, it's that I'm uniquely qualified to do so.” She frowned then, looking sadly in the distance. “He came willingly, this Dougal Dempsey?”

“...yes.” Luna rose to her feet. “He surrendered on the spot, and behaved himself the whole way. Obviously, he was up to something.”

“Or...” Celestia said, “...he was taking responsibility for his actions. And for his submission to us, I burned him. Simply awful.”

“You give the vampire too much credit, sister,” Luna said, looking over her shoulder. “You have not even spoken to him. How do you know he is not simply a terrific liar and actor? For what I've seen, that amiable personality is a facade. Underneath, he's still a bloodthirsty monster.”

“Maybe...” Celestia said, tapping her chin. “How to talk to him without being in his presence? Hmm...”

Luna yawned. “I guess I shall take to bed. Make sure I am awoken before sundown, sister.”

“Of course, Lulu.” Celestia smiled warmly at her sister's departure. As she sat alone, Celestia thought some more. “Hmm...perhaps...That...could be useful...”

---

March 1953

“...well, Mr. Dempsey, your resume looks impressive.”

Dougal grinned broadly, sitting tall in the interview chair. “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”

The interviewer shuffled through the papers. He was also grinning. “I see you're twenty eight this year. Old enough to have caught the end of the War. Tell me, were you in Europe?”

“...well, no, Mr. Jones,” said Dougal, scratching the back of his head. “I wasn't in Europe...”

“Ah, then you were on the Pacific front. I've heard some horror stories about what went on over there. There were the camps in Europe, of course, but...well I suppose you'd know it better than me, son.”

“...uh...no, I wouldn't, Mr. Jones.” Dougal's mouth switched nervously. “I...I didn't have the...honor of serving.”

The smile on Mr. Jones' face fell. “...why not?”

“Well, there was the draft and all,” Dougal said, scratching the back of his head more thoroughly now. “The rest of my class were called in, but...for whatever reason, Uncle Sam didn't send me my papers.”

“Mhmm...”

Dougal noticed now that the back of Mr. Jones' office was decorated by a rather prominent American flag and a glass box framing a military uniform. Dougal gulped. “...it's not like I didn't want to serve, Mr. Jones. They just didn't call me in.”

“You could have enlisted, son.” The man was studying Dougal intently now.

“...yes, I guess I could have...”

…

When the interview was over, Dougal walked out of the office, passing a row of chairs. He looked down, and saw another man get up and walk towards the office. He had a resume in his hands, and his hair was cut military style.

Dougal left, eyes downcast.

---

Present

The pantry door creaked open.

The vampire's head peeked out from the crack, looking around and blinking in the light. Then he caught sight of the menagerie of soldiers assembled in the room. Dougal's head ducked a little back.

“That's right. We see you. Come out right now, Dempsey.”

Creaking loudly, the pantry door swung fully open. Slouching and marred by several nights unkempt, Dougal stepped forward. His head was dipped, though he cast glances to either of side of him. Long locks of pitch black hair dangled in front of him.

He came to a stop before the impressive stature of the lunar diarch.

Princess Luna was standing at her full height. “Look at me, vampire,” she said, “Do not avert your eyes like a guilty child. You are far too old for that behavior, are you not?”

Dougal sighed. His head turned up, dark eyes rising to meet Luna's. Artificial light fell upon his face.

Luna gasped slightly. She studied the face, eyes absorbing every detail. Great burns and creases. She noted how some segments – horribly disfigured by any measure – had already begun to heal. But the damage was extensive. Luna's chest tighetened.

She shook her head, forcing herself to regain her composure. “...you are...healing, Dempsey?”

“...well enough under the circumstances, your highness,” Dougal said. He brushed his hair back with his fingers, exposing more of his injured face. He heard a guard nearby choke, then collect himself. The vampire cast his vision that way, watching how the guards eyed him with horror barely controlled by rigid professionalism. “I may heal myself of most injuries, so long as I have the blood. Ones from fire or the sun, however...” He leveled his gaze at Luna, trying to feign disinterest, “...such things take more time. And more blood.”

“And how many lives will you consume to heal those wounds?” Luna asked.

“None, if it can be helped, your highness.”

“I'm not happy, Dougal Dempsey,” Luna said, scowling. Her eyes bore into Dougal's.

Dougal looked to the ground. He could ill stand such an...intense stare. Moreover, instincts honed over decades required he avert eye contact save on his terms. It was simply common sense, among Cainites. “I...apologize.”

“Don't apologize to me, Dougal Dempsey,” Luna said. “Apologize to the soldiers you battered in your mad flight. Apologize to the cooking staff, crowded in the auxiliary kitchen so they could prepare dinner.” She leaned forward, pressing her snout directly in Dougal's face. “Apologize to the poor guard whose mind you violated!”

He shrank a little, if at least for the invasion of personal space. “...it was...my mistake, your highness,” he said, gulping reflexively, “it will not happen again.”

“It certainly will not,” Luna said, leaning back. “Mind control is a grave offense in Equestria, vampire. We do not abide it. Not a second time.” She looked away. “I knew your...amiable demeanor was merely a facade. You are more dangerous now that I originally thought, if you have this power. I knew I ought to have destroyed you, and be done with this business.”

Dougal tilted his head, thinking. Then, he bowed it. “I submit to your judgment, your highness.”

“...in light, however, of your...previously stated problems with a certain 'beast', however,” Luna said, sighing, “my sister insisted on leniency...she expressed regret over the injury that prompted your flight.”

Dougal's head rose. He narrowed his eyes. Thoughts wandered to the previous night. To the blinding light and the searing pain. He still smelled the smoke, it having seeped into his jacket.

His vision briefly wandered to a wall. He felt that dread again, somewhere far beyond it.

“Moreover,” Luna said, “Princess Celestia has yet to meet you and hear your testimony. She will not allow you to be judged until such time.” Princess Luna stepped aside. “Therefore, you will be held in the castle – under guard trained to resist mind invasion...” Luna narrowed her eyes at Dougal. “...until your unique vulnerability to my sister's presence can be arranged. Guards, escort this prisoner to the dungeon.”

“Yes, your highness.” Two guards took their place on either side of the vampire.

Dougal looked at them, then at Luna. “...very well.” He smiled at the guards, one made disturbing for the damage. “Lead the way.”

As Dougal was walked towards the kitchen door, he turned to Luna. “Oh, your highness?”

She sighed. “Yes?”

“Am I to be fed?”

She sighed deeper. “You are a greedy creature, vampire, and your appetites sicken me.” Luna covered her eyes with a hoof. “But yes, we have arranged your...meals...with the blood bank. You will find chilled bags in your cell.” She peeked, eying him gravely. “Assuming you have no problem with cold blood?”

Dougal smiled, looking forward. “We all must make due with shifting circumstances. I can deal.” He began walking again, his escorts leading him out the door.

Luna looked after him. How he clapped his hands behind his back as he walked. She noted with concern how the new, strong manacles swung with broken chains from his wrists.

Heard him ask his escort, “Perchance, am I allowed reading material?”

Comments

[Jess887cp]

I'm loving the story. Douglal is a badass, even if his backstory is super sad.

[Bluecho]

5744582 And we haven't even gotten to his Embrace, yet.