The Roommate From Tartarus

by naturalbornderpy

The Price Of Kings

I let Sombra’s unconscious body fall to the hardwood before noticing my hands were shaking. I looked at the blood—the oddly thick blood still left on my fingers and palm. One quick sniff told me it wasn’t blood at all, but some ketchup mixed with water.

Sombra had been coated with the stuff head to tail. So just what the hell had happened here since I’d left?

The fur clinging to his muzzle still caused me worry. I yelled for my cat again and then ran around the condo in search of him, finding a mound of chips on the kitchen floor and three empty containers of condiments alongside them.

Seriously. What the hell happened here?

Before leaving the condo, I filled my bathtub to the brim with cold water and added two bags worth of ice from my freezer into the mix. The motionless Sombra went in the tub next, coughing and thrashing around the moment his body hit the ice.

“Argh! Cold!” he screamed.

I dunked his head under the icy surface as he tried to talk; watched as he blew large bubbles under the water. Every handful of seconds, I gave him a moment to breathe before dunking him again.

“Where’s my cat!?” I yelled into his ear, doing my best Batman impression. “Where’s Mittens, you sadistic prick?”

He spat out some water. “Dead… I ate him…”

I submerged him again. “I don’t believe you.”

Sombra tried paddling against the edges of the tub with his hooves. “Admit defeat, Steve. You cannot win… not when it is only the two of us here now…”

I let go of his head and left him in the tub, closing the door behind me and grabbing the keys to my car. Something felt so very wrong about all this.

***

I found my cat less than three minutes later, on the side of the road and slowly making his way towards the downtown area. He kept close to the curb and well away from oncoming traffic. Much like Sombra, his fur was covered in a variety of crap that looked like every liquid-based ingredient in my fridge. A few chunks of bread stuck to his back and head.

Sombra had tried to make himself a cat sandwich while I was out.

My Goddamn stupid, murderous pet pony tried to make a sandwich out of my cat.

I pulled my car over and scooped him up quick, dropping him once due to the excess mess on his fur. Back in the car, I put him on the floor in the back and thought for a while.

I knew I couldn’t bring him back to the condo while Sombra was there. Either Sombra had tried to eat Mittens while I was gone and Mittens ran away, or Sombra had had a change of heart and let him go. Either way, Sombra had wanted him gone. Had he pretended to gobble my cat simply to save face? Or had it been a vengeful attack on me personally, in a bid to anger and annoy and hurt?

Or was there something else I wasn’t getting?

Since the moment Sombra watched me play with my cat, he scowled and commented on its sheer stupidity. When it was just Sombra and I, he never said a word about my cat; only when I was touching Mittens or calling for him did he critique. Was it jealousy that had provoked Sombra’s wrath that day? Or did he honestly feel that all my attention and thought should be directed towards him?

Probably, I thought. Given how much of a self-centered dick he’d been so far.

Weighing my options for the immediate future, I drove a half-mile to my sister’s place that she shared with her boyfriend. Before knocking, I used their garden hose to wash out most of the goop off Mittens (who was busily trying to twist and claw at me while I sprayed him with the water). My sister answered the door and I roughly shoved the cat into her hands. She’d always loved Mittens when she visited my house. I figured a few weeks at her place couldn’t hurt.

When she asked what was going on, I told her she wouldn’t understand.

“Does it involve someone?” she asked curiously.

“Yes.”

“A girl?”

“No.”

She raised a brow. “A guy?”

“I wish it were that simple.”

I left her to ponder the other possibilities as I climbed back into my car and found the number I’d written down while at work. It took all of my lunch break and more, but I’d managed to track down someone that sort-of believed in my story. Or would if I could give them the proof.

And now more than ever was I ready to do that.

***

The following two weeks went by more quiet than most. Most of that time, I spent either locked in my bedroom with my computer or sitting perfectly still on the couch next to Sombra. For the most part, he continued with his usual gloomy disposition, but every few minutes I thought I’d see the hints of a grin on his face, as if he just knew what I was thinking about.

Did he want me to be mad at him? Did he always want confrontation?

Sombra still believed I thought Mittens to be dead. If that had truly been the case, he never would’ve woken up in a bath full of ice. In fact, he never would’ve woken up at all.

“You’re not still mad, are you?” he teased, only slightly taking his eyes off the TV.

I checked the wall clock in the kitchen. Any minute now.

I told him, “I hope your new home gives you lots and lots of bacon, Sombra.”

He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to reply, when a knock interrupted him.

I slapped my cheek. “I wonder who that could be?”

I left the couch to answer the door, a small smirk on my lips. Outside was an older man in grey suit pants and a left open white-collared shirt. The simplicity of the clothes might’ve taken me for a loop, but a quick glance at his gold rings and silver watch told me he was the right guy after all.

I shook his hand and let him inside. By this point, I could hardly keep the big goofy grin off my face.

Sombra rose a couple inches off the couch, eyes slowly tracking from me to our guest.

I held an arm out. “Sombra, this is Mr. Roland, who has come to talk to you this afternoon. Mr. Roland, this is Sombra, or as he likes to be known, King Sombra.”

Roland chuckled, scratching his unshaven chin. “King, you say? Wow. I had no idea ponies even had kings.”

I chuckled along. “Neither did I, until this weird guy shot out my toaster and into my kitchen.”

Roland turned to me. “You know, such talk would make you a madman, Steve. But I guess the proof is in the pudding.” He put both hands on his thighs and looked at Sombra on the couch. “Hello, Sombra. Think you’d want to come live with me? I promise people from all over the world would just love to pay to come and hear your stories, if what Steve here tells me proves true.”

Sombra looked at Roland for a moment, before turning to me and holding my sight. As he narrowed his eyes, I could tell something rather dark was sliding into place. It wasn’t the greatest of feelings.

Thankfully I knew Sombra liked to talk.

I walked to the couch. “Go ahead, Sombra. Tell him about yourself. The castle and the Empire and the slaves and all that. I’m sure Mr. Roland would be very interested in it.”

Sombra stared at me as if I were a difficult math problem, tilting his head while lifting one ear and lowering the other.

I pursed my lips. “You know, all that kingly stuff you used to do? The blood and the beheadings and all that?”

Slowly, Sombra opened his mouth, elongating the motion as much as he could. He coughed quietly.

Roland pinched the bridge of his nose. “And here I told myself no more crazies. But then again, I must be a little crazy too, trying to believe something so asinine.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I guess I liked the sound of ‘King Pony’ a little too much. Although, I’ll give you credit for dressing him up for the part—the horn and the weird hair and everything. But I wouldn’t leave him on the couch for long; knowing ponies, a shit stain might be coming your way soon.”

He made for the door as I held out a hand to him. “Wait! Wait just a minute! You might think I’ve lost some marbles, but his little bastard honestly shot out my toaster and now won’t leave me alone. He even ate my cat a few weeks ago!”

Roland stopped by the door. “I think that’s why cats and barnyard animals aren’t supposed to live together. Or with people, for that matter.”

I glared at Sombra. “Say something, damn it! Say anything! Don’t you want out of this tiny place? I thought you hated me!” I thought for a moment. “You want bacon? Say just a single word and I’ll give you all the bacon you want.”

Without warning, Sombra jumped off the couch and wrapped his forelegs around my waist, burying his head into my stomach while keeping his eyes shut. Startled by the sudden movement, I lifted both hands well away from his mouth.

Roland glanced back and chuckled. “Seems like your pony really likes you. Why would you want to get rid of him so bad?”

As Sombra squeezed my body tighter, I felt my original elation float away.

Somehow Sombra had taken the act of being cute and adorable and turned into something cruel. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“But… he’s not even from here. He’s from Equestria, a whole land of talking ponies and…”

My words hung in the air like ugly balloons—ones I wished I could’ve taken back or popped entirely. Sombra was making me look like a jackass and there was nothing I could do about it. Upon reflection, I should’ve videotaped the talkative pony and then suggested the meeting, although Sombra might’ve gotten wise when I tried to shove a small black recording device into his face.

“That all sounds well and good, Steve,” Roland told me, “but I should really be on my way. Good luck with the pony. Maybe write a book about your ideas. ‘Sombra the Pony King.’ Good children’s fiction, perhaps.”

Sombra turned up to me, his eyes much brighter than I’d ever seen them before. His grip around me tightened, painfully so. He whispered to me with a sneer, “You’ll never get me to leave. You’re stuck with me, Steve, forever. I have become a plague upon your home.”

I’d never been more horrified while being hugged before.

I shuddered as Sombra kicked off the floor to lick at my face. Successfully dragging his tongue from my chin to my eye, he left me alone and made his way to Roland.

“Wait! Don’t touch him!” I yelled, to no avail.

Sombra did the same mid-level embrace on Roland, continually shifting his head from side to side like dogs sometimes did when they pressed into someone. Maybe he’d learned that from that Animal Planet marathon last week.

With both hands, Roland scratched Sombra’s head and back, giving him a couple playful pats. He laughed. “Maybe you should’ve gotten a less friendly pony, Steve. Could’ve solidified the evil overlord premise more.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s never been this friendly before.”

Sombra tried to lick Roland’s face. “Could’ve fooled me. But I really must be going. Good bye, Steve. Good luck with whatever this is.”

He pushed Sombra away as the pony came back to me, a toothy smile on his face. He mouthed the words “Watch this” before clearing his throat.

“My name is Steve and I eat the same bowl of cereal every morning before work with two-percent milk.”

The voice was mine, but the body was not. Sombra had somehow spoken aloud and channeled my voice with complete perfection. It was odder than odd. Old recordings of my voice tended to make me vow never to speak again. Seeing someone’s lips move and have your own voice come out of them was something else altogether. That particular scene from The Exorcist came to mind.

I looked at Sombra sitting on the floor, not able to keep the worry off my face. He saw my emotions plainly and ate it up, his Cheshire cat grin preparing to split his muzzle. He opened his mouth again.

“My name is Steve and I think Mr. Roland should go fuck himself with something sharp and dry.”

Hand still on the doorknob, Roland took a step back into the house. He shook his head and exhaled. “Now that’s uncalled for. I’ve already wasted half a day reading your emails and visiting your so-called ‘King,’ so there’s no reason to have a hissy fit when all I see before me is bullshit. I feel bad enough already for you, Steve, because I think you might actually believe what you’re going on about. Add to that the fact you live in a condo with a pony, and…” He stopped himself. “Never mind. I’m done. The very least, this’ll make a good story next time I get drunk at the bar.” He looked at Sombra and hooked a thumb towards me. “Good luck, king. You’re going to need it with that one.”

Roland shut the door behind him, descending the stairs behind the curtains over the window.

A plethora of emotion swam over me—ones of annoyance, anger, and fright. As much as I wanted to start throwing stuff around by the fact I was still living with a weird pony in my house, what took forefront in my mind was what had changed with my weird pony houseguest.

I looked down to him. Sombra was sitting on the floor with an innocent expression.

“How did you do that?” I asked.

Sombra lifted a hoof by his head and brought it up and down to match the movement of his words. My upper and lower lips rose up and down with his hoof.

“How did you do that?” he echoed back, again in my voice.

I screamed for a second before covering my mouth with a hand. I immediately knew it had been the wrong thing to do as Sombra startled chuckling deep within his throat. That act of cowardice wouldn’t sit well. A deep red aura started at the tip of his horn and swirled around it until reached his head. His red and green eyes burned brilliantly like colored crystal heated with fire.

A splash of ice hit my gut. “You’ve gotten your magic back, haven’t you?”

He nodded.

I steeled myself. “This doesn’t change anything.”

He raised a brow. “It might.”

Something struck the back of my head and I looked to find a floating newspaper roll, wrapped in the same light from Sombra’s horn.

He laughed. “Doesn’t feel good, does it, Steve?”

“This still doesn’t change anything.”

My couch, recliner, end tables and coffee table all levitated off the floor. Sombra barely even seem to notice.

I chewed on my tongue. “You want bacon, don’t you?”

“Obviously.”

“Fine. I’ll be sure to make enough that you choke.”

I walked to the kitchen and pulled the package out of the fridge, trying to keep my hands from trembling.

Sombra sniffed at the air. “There’s a new aroma here. Do you smell it? It must be fear. But you can’t be scared of little ol’ me, can you? The same pony you put in a trash bag? The same pony you threw into an icy bath?”

I grimaced. “Not scared. Just annoyed. As far as I’m concerned, this is just a minor inconvenience.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Soon I’ll know everything it is that you fear and will manipulate you accordingly.”

I set the over-stacked plate of bacon into the microwave. “What if I told you my biggest fear is a condo with no pony in it?”

Another rolled up newspaper struck me from behind. I grabbed it and tore it to pieces.

Sombra snarled. “Rule number one: no more Steve jokes. They are not funny! And just because you laugh at them doesn’t somehow make them funny. Don’t get me wrong. You are a clown, Steve, no doubt about that. Just not the right type of clown.”

“You’re giving me rules now?”

A third paper struck my head.

“Ouch! Damn it!” I put a hand where I’d been hit. “Where do you keep getting those?”

Sombra opened a cabinet near the fridge, showcasing a thick stack of old newspapers. “I’ve been collecting.”

“What’s rule number two, then?”

“I…” Sombra paused. “I haven’t thought that far in advance. So, for now, rule number two is don’t question the rules!”

I set the plate of bacon on the floor and Sombra made quick work of it, wincing each time a bit of hot bacon grease struck his face. He barely gave the bacon a single second to cool.

As I watched him, I tried to formulate a plan of how best to deal with an angry, violent, moody pony with untold magical powers. My first idea was to run, before I realized I still had a lot of stuff that I liked here, my computer holding highest priority.

My second idea was nowhere to be found.

Shit.

SURVIVOR’S JOURNAL: FOURTH ENTRY

(Fourteen lines of incomprehensible HAHAHAs and HEHEHEs later…)

Sorry. Sorry about that. Sometimes your emotions run away from you and you can’t help but write them down. Needless to say, I’m feeling rather joyous at the moment. My belly is full of warm meat and my jailer has suddenly become my slave in less than a day.

Tonight I will start delving into Steve’s mind, locating that which makes him tick and that which hides in the very dark center of his being. We all have fears—that which scares us. I am no different, and neither is Steve. So now comes the time to discover exactly what makes him mumble out and whimper while he sleeps. Besides little ol’ me of course.

Oh, the times, how they are a-changing.

Author's Note:

A short out of the condo adventure is next. Whatever that means.

Comments

[Seether00]

Urge to kill Sombra rising.

[pahnazd]

Well... Sombra went from being an asshole to... well... okay, he didn't change, he's still an asshole.

[naturalbornderpy]

6250308 I try to keep characters consistent.

6249296 I'm so thrilled!

[pahnazd]

6251765 In that case you have a flawless record!

[Mister E]

That was some deft writing with Mittens. I was wondering how all of that was going to work out. And now Steve could be in real trouble.
Hmm, I won't even try to speculate anymore, just gonna sit back and enjoy.
Besides, I still have to clean my monitor from your comment from the OTHER story... (Thx, again so much for that...)

[naturalbornderpy]

6254141 That's the art of writing dick characters. You give them cute things to do and readers will be able to tolerate them more. Oops. Shouldn't give away my secrets.

[AAAAAAUUUGGHH]

I shuttered as Sombra kicked off the floor to lick at my face. Successfully dragging his tongue from my chin to my eye, he left me alone and made his way to Roland.

Perhaps you had meant "shuddered?" I could be wrong, but...

[naturalbornderpy]

6262694 Nope. You're correct. Which is sad, because this is the second story I've done the same mistake and someone's made mention of it...

[naturalbornderpy]

6293919 You and most of the internet, it seems...

[Emperor]

Well, that was a bit of a bait-and-switch

Steve should still have some ammunition, he just needs time at work away from Sombra to realise it. Like maybe feeding Sombra so much sugar he eventually dies of sugar overload. Pinkie will sympathise at least

[ThatBadGuy]

Three times "Hurrah!" to villains!