Nightmare

by Salty Alty

Chapter 3: Down The Rabbit Hole

I bid my farewells to Dawn that morning, making my way back home with my cargo in tow. It was much warmer out today, what with Winter Wrap Up having just concluded, banishing the cold, arthritis inducing atmosphere and ushering in a warming blanket of springtime weather. It was, all things told, a welcome change from the frigidity of the past few months.

Opening the door to my apartment, I walked inside, immediately trotting towards my bedroom. It wasn't fancy or "extra" by any stretch of the imagination, the walls being the same stark white color as the rest of the building. It hurt my eyes during the daytime, but I was able to remedy that particular issue with some standard black-out curtains. Otherwise, my bed was a simple combination of a few pillows, a large comforter, and a blanket stitched with various constellations that had been made by Aunt Nimbus for my birthday a few years back. All things said? Probably the most useful gift she had ever given me... I still remember the hay-bacon soap. That was bucking weird.

Hopping into my chair, I slid over to my desk, the wooden piece of furniture situated in the far corner of the room, where the least amount of light touched. My laptop was neatly placed in the center, surrounded by the usual peripherals. Mouse, headphones, RGB lighting... the essentials. VENOM may have overpriced their gaming laptops, but by Celestia was it refreshing not having to wait for every single bucking page to buffer. Call it overkill, but it worked phenomenally when it came to working at home, so I considered it worth the investment.

Booting it up, I quickly inserted the flash drive, instantly opening its storage as it finished connecting to the computer. There were a grand total of five files. Four were delivery logs of various chemicals and compounds that had been shipped from Dawn's firm to GenTech warehouses and factories, and the last was a single file mysteriously marked "INSTRUCTIONS: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY".

Deciding to leave the outlier for last, I began with the first delivery log. My attention was snagged by the quantity of chemicals being transferred, most of them being in the ten to twenty ton region. That wasn't the only oddity I noticed, however. Cross referencing each compound with a quick internet search revealed all of them to be either anesthetics, mood inhibitors, aphrodisiacs, painkillers, and strangely enough... incredibly strong amnestics. Which made no sense, even in the wildest scenario I could think of off the top of my head. Amnestics had always been used, since their inception, to treat trauma victims and those afflicted with Night-Terror Syndrome. Not the usual GenTech clientele, which consisted of lower income citizens from both Canterlot and the cities surrounding it. There hadn't been a documented case of NTS in over two decades... which begged the question:

What the hay was GenTech doing with enough amnestics to mind wipe the entirety of Canterlot?

Further investigation yielded similar results. Unfathomable quantities of the aforementioned chemicals being shipped to one central facility, with instructions for deliveries to outlying compounds and clinics. What was strange, however, was that each log had been signed off on by Crystal Heart herself, with clearly hoofwritten notes on where specific chemicals were needed the most. The mare may have been a visionary and one of the smartest and most intelligent mares since Clover the Clever, but I doubted even she would take such a hooves-on approach.

As I reached the last file of the bunch, I hesitated. The preview of the file was pixelated and blacked out in random locations, which was an obvious censor if I had ever seen one. And so I double clicked to open the file, like the dumbass I was.

Immediately after it loaded, I saw an image of... something, and all I could feel was pain as I collapsed to the floor, my heart pumping insanely quickly, threatening to send me into cardiac arrest.

"N̶̢̲̞̙̤̤̳̫̪͍̗̖͇̩̩͎̂̈́̿͒̀̒͗̔̄̕͘Ȍ̶̡̨̨͖̱̺̭͇̼̙̠͖̼̪̻̳͕͔͇̤͈́͂̈̂͑́̎!̸̢̢̻͓͔̬̥͎̣͇̖̰͔͎̝̎̀͌̋̌̄͛̅̒̎̋̆̚̕͜͝͝!̴̛̹̭̫̮͍͇̞̲̺̱̥̣̩͔͂́̂́̈̔̆̿̑̀̌̑͌̄̚̕͘͜͝͠!̷̛̺̱͚͓̊̃̿̾̒͑̓͑͊̎̌̀͛̓̾̍͝͝͝"

I had heard some sort of... shout, but I attributed it to my hazy frame of mind. With the sensation of goosebumps rolling across my entire body, the pain was now completely absent, and my heartbeat had slowed back to normal, leaving me to wonder what the hay had just happened. Blinking my bleary, tear-filled eyes, I wiped away the tears. I just wanted to get this over with already. "What the hay is happening?" I asked myself, wincing as a migraine pounded at the back of my head.

Pulling myself back up to my chair, I noticed that the image was now a blurry green spot in the center of my vision; but the file was now legible, easily and clearly readable as it should have been from the start.

A large column of text filled my screen, causing me to forget about the voice I had just heard and lean in for a closer look at this file.

Memetic kill agent activated > lifesigns stable > kill agent shall now fragment. Welcome, Authorized User!

Greetings. If you have received this file, you are likely assigned to the ongoing Amoraphyll project, an associate of such, or hold Quintus level credentials. Detailed within this file are a few basic instructions to help guide you until such a time that you are called upon for your unique expertise, or you are summoned to attend Orientation Seminar 356-A.

1. It is imperative that the circumstances surrounding, as well as the current status of, the Amoraphyll project remain under absolute secrecy. While we are aware of certain entities who have become interested in our recent activities, the fact remains that until such a time that the project has been completed and verified to have a 100% success rate, we are to maintain that no volunteers are harmed, manipulated, or experimented on against their will, regardless of the accusations currently levied against us. Extreme cases of inquiry shall result in affirmative action being taken against the inquirer, including potential application of Procedure 175-Doppel if the situation is deemed dire enough.

2. Sacrifices must be made to achieve progress. While we certainly do not ask you to give us your every waking hour of life, we expect a minimum of 80 (Eighty) work hours every week, with potential overtime as required. Additionally, rigorous testing is undertaken of all personnel assigned to the project every month to ensure a complete lack of memetic, chemical, or emotional contaminants.

With that out of the way, thank you for applying for a position within our team! You shall be contacted at a later date in order to fully induct you into the work environment.

Sincerely, Crystal Heart, C.E.O of Genesis Technologies and Pharmaceuticals.

I felt a shiver go down my spine as I read through the file. Memetic kill whatevers? The secrecy around a supposed anti-depressant? Emotional contamination? It was all so... bizarre. Like something straight out of a sci-fi novel. And Dawn hadn't dropped dead yet, so I knew he was at the very least high enough up the food chain to have this sorta stuff just laying about.

I stiffened up as I was confronted with a very serious question. Why did he even have all of this in the first place? How deep into this was he?!

My heart pounded wildly in my chest as I scrolled back up to where the image was, but in its place were just... blocks of different shades of green. "What the hay is going on here? Where did it go?!" I thought to myself, doing everything I could to try and enlarge the image, looking for whatever I had just seen. But that only revealed more and more cubes of green. Whatever that thing had been, it was just... gone.

I slumped back in my chair, my ears splaying back as tears threatened to leak out of my eyes. Everything had been going fine and bucking dandy up until a few days ago. No Everfree buckery, no strange conspiracies. Just me, my journalism, and my coltfriend. Now?

Now I didn't know what to think. But all of the helplessness and despair was forced back as a thought crossed my mind.

It was entirely possible that I was the only one who had witnessed... that, and lived to talk about it..

I was, in all likelihood, the only pony with any proof that something was amiss.

That should have scared me, like, chilled me to my bones, "cause me to shake under the covers at night" kind of scared me, but it instead gave me a grim sense of determination. If I didn't act, who the hay would? It's not like any specifics were known by anypony, Hay, even the head honchos of the Network were only "suspicious" that something was happening, and had asked for me, of all ponies, to look into this. From an outside point of view that might not seem like much, but to me it meant business.

I tabbed over to my email, quickly retrieving my cookie-cutter template I used for interview requests. I swiftly replaced all of the blank spaces with the appropriate names and terms, pausing as the cursor hovered over the big blue "SEND" button. Once I did this, there would be no going back. I was still able to get out of this. I could tell the Network to buck themselves, I could go back to my normal life. I could just... forget any of this ever happened. And I'm not going to lie, that option seemed very enticing.

But that wasn't me. That was spelled out clearly enough by my cutie mark, a newspaper held under a magnifying glass. It was in my nature to chase a headline, to crack the case, to get to the bottom of everything.

So, before I could change my mind, I slammed my hoof on the mouse, sending the Faust-damned email.

It was time to get to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I grimaced as I trotted up to the Canterlot Mortuary. It was a large, slate grey cathedral, a relic from an era long since gone. Originally, it had been a structure designed to house the honored dead of Unicornia, but now it served to lay all of Canterlot's dead to rest. And, by extension, their death certificates.

I shifted my shoulders to adjust my saddlebags as I passed through the automated doors, heading straight for the clerk. "Excuse me, Miss."

She looked up from the book she was reading, slightly alarmed by my sudden appearance. She was a thin, wiry sort of pony, her graying mane tied up nicely into a bun. "Oh, yes? What can I do for you?"

I lifted up my press pass in clear view so she could see it. I didn't particularly like using it. It felt like a cop-out, a cheat sheet to getting information you needed. But sometimes it was unavoidable. "Name's Evening Shade. I'm with the Global Reality Network, and I need access to the records inside this building for a segment we're doing."

She looked between the plastic badge and her computer, adjusting her glasses and pursing her lips. She was in quite the bind. "... What kind of 'segment?'"

I responded without missing a beat, trying to end the interaction as quickly as possible. "We're doing a story on the health risks associated with the typical diet of the common citizen, namely heart related illnesses." The lie came to my lips easily enough. I, regrettably, had to lie a lot in my line of work. Ponies didn't like it when you asked too many questions, or when you looked too deeply into their past.

She furrowed her brow, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head. She could either let me in under dubious pretenses, or reject me and potentially get chewed out by her manager. It was easy to see which choice she'd make. "Very well, you may have two hours, but I want you out by that time, understood?"

I nodded politely, retrieving my pass and walking towards the records room. "Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way."

And just like that, I was in. Shelves of cabinets reaching up to the ceiling made neat little rows, twenty-six of them, in fact. In addition to each one having every row of cabinets marked by a letter of the alphabet, signifying the first letter of a pony's name, they were also grouped by cause of death. Unsurprisingly, old age had a whopping four rows dedicated to it.

I didn't enjoy this kind of thing, not one bit. The first time I had had to come here had been during an investigation regarding unsolved murder cases in the city. It had disgusted me then, how could it not? It felt like I was... Disturbing the dead, as weird as that may sound. You get to know them intimately, almost as if they were a close friend or colleague. You discover their hopes, their dreams, and things they had never shown anypony else. But over time, especially after my brief stint with a P.I firm, I'd come to realize something.

The dead are just that. Dead.

I shook the grim thought out of my head as I perused the shelves, stopping once I had found the section clearly labeled "Heart Attacks, Cardiac Arrests, and other afflictions of the heart." I didn't quite know that I was right about this particular hunch, but I had a feeling.

Pulling the first of many cabinets open, I began my search. If I was right, then there were at least a few of these ponies affiliated with GenTech in some shape or form, and their cause of death would be something related to Cardiac Arrest.

It took me a solid hour to find suitable... "candidates", as it were, for a deeper investigation. A dead pony's family likely wouldn't respond particularly well to some random mare breaking into their home on the basis of investigative journalism. So how do you solve that issue?

Make sure that pony doesn't have a family to catch you in the act.

Trespassing was fine in my book, nopony gets hurt or startled, and I get to take my pictures and leave. Home invasion, however...

That was, legally, another beast entirely, and, for that matter, one I didn't feel like poking.

And so, I settled on taking a deeper look at a few ponies. All of them had passed fairly recently, and there hopefully would not have been any items removed from their homes. Keyword there being "hopefully."

As I made my way out of the archives, I flashed the clerk a smile. "Have a good day, Ma'am!"

She only frowned at me on the way out, muttering something about "Bucking millennials these days..." It didn't bother me much as I strutted out the door, finding myself a bench to sit down on. I had some impromptu background checks to run.

The first pony I took a look-see at was Bright Mind. Twenty-seven year old earth pony stallion, bit on the chubby side, junior researcher for GenTech, and all-around recluse from what I could see off of his social media. Died on a train after a sudden and unexpected heart attack, and nopony nearby knew CPR. Further snooping revealed he had a degree in chemical engineering, and that prior to his death he had, in his words, "Made a great discovery that was sure to get him promoted!"

Next on the list was one Gentle Suture. Forty-nine year old mare, went to med school for fifteen years. I had to admit, she was cute, especially for her age. Make-up is one hell of a drug, after all. She had been a manager of her own department in a firm contracted by GenTech, and had been discovered dead inside of her home. Took her neighbors a week to find the corpse, poor things. Her "official" social media was pretty clean, but I was sure I'd find a private or anonymous account with a deeper look.

Finally we had the anomaly of the group; Occam Razor. Strange name, I'll give him that. Head of the Department of Experimental Medicine inside of a GenTech-backed hospital, he had apparently been working with a patient, a pony named Snap Shot, who had been slipped amnestics. and He had been trying to help her recover her memory when his heart stopped beating while he had been alone in his office. Strangely enough, he had been the least likely to have had a heart attack of the three. Had a good diet, exercised daily, maintained his hygiene... certainly something to look in to.

By now the sun had begun to dip below the horizon's edge, which I took as my cue to pack it up and head on home. Almost dying aside? It had been a pretty productive day for me. I'd gotten a few leads, and I had some ideas on where to go from here.

As I trekked back to my apartment, I realized that I uhh... wasn't actually hungry whatsoever, despite spending the past few hours being generally active without anything to even nibble on. I chalked it up as an oddity and left it at that. I wasn't going to think too terribly deeply on it, not while I had a much bigger issue on my hooves.

The arrival home was as boring and mundane as I hoped it would be. Clicking the lock to my door shut, I let out a sigh of relief, basking in the serenity of my small apartment. I began to trot over to my computer in order to send an email... at least, that was, until my phone rang. It was Dawn.

"Hey there, Evey! You able to talk for a bit?" He asked. He sounded incredibly giddy, like a colt who was proud of his drawing.

I held the phone to my ear with a wing as I walked over to my fridge, retrieving the remaining container of Chineighse takeout within. "Uh, Yeah! What's up?" I said, dumping the contents of the disposable box onto a paper plate.

"So, here's the deal. I've got two reservations to Cloud Nine, and I just so happen to need somepony to come along. You good for... tomorrow at four?" Cloud Nine was one of the best restaurants in Canterlot, and it had the most delicious seafood I had ever tasted.

My jaw dropped as I microwaved my dinner, and I rested my elbows on the counter as I replied, playing with my mane. "Shut up!!! Where in the hay did you get those?"

He chuckled into the phone. "Well I've got this nice big salary and nothing to spend it on, so I figured since our anniversary is comin' up I'd treat you to somewhere nice."

I giggled, butterflies flitting about in my stomach. "Of course I'll go! As if you even needed to ask, you big goof!"

I could almost hear him smile as he responded, his tone abundant with joy. "Then it's a date! Oh, and I'd suggest you wear something nice. Wouldn't want a repeat of last time, now would we?"

He dropped the call as I opened my mouth to chew him out. He was referring to our six month anniversary, where he had picked me up for a "surprise date." I was... I suppose "underdressed" is a bit of an understatement. I had been wearing some sweatpants and one of his hoodies when he arrived, and the stubborn colt refused to spoil his own surprise, so he took me to some high end Prench restaurant in the higher class area of Canterlot while I was dressed up like, what the other diners referred me to as, "an absolute peasant." Now that had been hilarious.

I grumbled to myself, fishing the leftover fried rice out of the microwave. "Bucker didn't even give me the chance to be mad at him..." I swiped a can of soda out of the fridge with my tail as I hauled my food over to my desk, wanting to wrap up a few things before bed.

I'd save looking into Gentle Suture for tomorrow. I had another, far more compelling lead on my hooves.

And this one was alive.

"Dear Snap Shot..."

Author's Note:

Apologies for the skewed word count! Because of the way I wrote the embedded file scene, it's actually 300 words longer than the site tells you it is!

So, things are picking up now and the plot is starting to take shape. I'm interested in hearing what you guys have to think about it so far!

Comments

[Salty Alty]

9763047
Anything that you think could be done better to improve the story?

[Eris Dis Harmonia]

I am intrigued. Do continue.

[Salty Alty]

9763214
I certainly plan on completing this one! I actually haven't felt this much motivation to write in quite a while, and I'm honestly glad people are enjoying it!

[FolkloreBrony]

She only frowned at me on the way out, muttering something about "Bucking millennials these days..." It didn't bother me much as I strutted out the door, finding myself a bench to sit down on. I had some impromptu background checks to run.

media3.giphy.com/media/3orieUyda3QynAL8ek/source.gif

[DavisSentoV5]

This was a great chapter showing off Evening going all "Eddie Brock" in her investigations.... But that e-mail & document, she read earlier, really messed with her badly... Not good is an understatement...

[Salty Alty]

9763598
I definitely want to highlight that side of her life in these earlier chapters because it shapes so much of who she is as a character. Her personality, her worldview, how she views others, etc. It's something I think should have been done with Brock but wasn't due to the short runtime of the movie.

[DavisSentoV5]

9763601
And you did it with glorious fashion!

[Salty Alty]

9763614
Im glad that you think so!

[Mr_Perlimpinpin]

9763598
This is something akin to the SCP foundation, memetic agent used to kill unauthorized personel.

exemple : http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-001

[DavisSentoV5]

9763641
You're welcome!

[Nightflight406]

9763055
Uh get to the Nightmare helping part?

[Salty Alty]

9763927
In due time. You'll get to see the Nightmare in a few chapters.

[Salty Alty]

9763760
That is indeed where I took some inspiration from! As the story goes on I'll explain why and how they exist in more depth, and I'm sure you'll enjoy the twist!

[Shadowshame]

OK first off there are a number of times in two or three of the paragraphs where you write "had beenwas" I don't know if this is a typo or not because they seem to be the only typo in the story...never mind found one more right at the top of the first quote

Finally we had the anomaly of the group; Occam Razor. Strange name, I'dll give him that. Head of the Department of Experimental Medicine inside of a GenTech-backed hospital, he had apparently been working with a patient, a pony named Snap Shot, who had been slipped amnestics. and He had been trying to help her recover her memory when his heart stopped beating while he had beenwas alone in his office. Strangely enough, he had beenwas the least likely to have had a heart attack of the three. Had a good diet, exercised daily, maintained his hygiene... certainly something to look in to.

He dropped the call as I opened my mouth to chew him out. He was referring to our six month anniversary, where he had picked me up for a "surprise date." I was... I suppose "underdressed" is a bit of an understatement. I had been wearing some sweatpants and one of his hoodies when he arrived, and the stubborn colt refused to spoil his own surprise, so he took me to some high end Prench restaurant in the higher class area of Canterlot while I was dressed up like, what the other diners referred me to as, "an absolute peasant." Now that had beenwas hilarious.

And for my theory on why evening survived would have to do with the parasitic magic from nightmare moon's shoe attaching to her wouldn't it

[Nightspawn]

VENOM may have overpriced their gaming laptops,

So is that Foreshadowing, A reference to the Inspiration or is Venom an actual PC brand?