The Long Nightmare

by The Sonic Mage

Prologue

To call Manehattan “The City that Never Sleeps” would be a tad inaccurate. While it was certainly true that mass activity never really stopped at night, whether it be work or parties, there were plenty of parts of the city that were “dead”. Abandoned warehouses, decommissioned buildings, entire city blocks left empty and rendered useless. No pony lived in these areas, and few ever passed through them. These were the city areas that slept, and, for one reason or another, were cursed to remain asleep until they were eventually knocked down and replaced.

However, unbeknownst to anypony, that night, in one of these supposedly sleeping neighborhoods, on the edge of the city limits close to the Manehattan River…

…one apartment building lay awake.

---

“Where am I? Where are you taking me?”

“Shut your trap.”

A dark brown earth pony with a stopwatch and double-helix Cutie-Mark as being dragged into the apartment building with a burlap sack over his head by four other ponies. The four ponies were all wearing black and white, pinstriped suits and floppy fedoras.

“P-Please,” the brown pony pleaded, “Let me go. I-I have money! I-If you let me go, I would be willing to give-” his haggling was cut off by a blow to the head. He fell to the floor dazed.

“Put a sock in it! Or I’ll put a muzzle on it!”

The earth pony being dragged along is named “Double-Time”. He’s known for being exceptional at information retrieval and removal. In fact, it’s his job. But he doesn’t work at any law firm or bank. He finds employment in what is affectionately referred to as “The Business”. Crime.

He’s an escapist for hire. He can make ponies disappear into the next town or the ground. If you want to disappear, make somepony else appear, or steal an identity and everything it owns, he was the pony to find.

He was known for being efficient, effective, a master of his craft.

And a two timing sellout.

He was known to turn on employers if offered enough money. Even if it meant he got only one more Bit out of it.

He was hated, but respected. He was considered invaluable. Every mob needed a back door exit, and Double Time was the only pony who had a 100% satisfaction guarantee, provided that you paid enough.

His role and status made him feel invincible, untouchable.

He was anything but that at the moment.

His four captors finally managed to get their victim up to the top floor. They dragged Double Time across the dirty tile floor to the old penthouse suite.

“New guy,” the lead crook gave Double Time a kick in the face as he got his cohort’s attention, “Help hold him.” The lead crook let go of one of Double Time’s limbs, as he went to the door to give it a knock.

A few seconds later a knock came from the other side of the door. The crook reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a seemingly ordinary Bit, and held it up to the peephole in the door.

A few seconds after that, the door was opened by another crook, a bat-pony, who surveyed the group before him.

He looked at the crook who had knocked, then to the three crooks holding Double Time down, then back to the crook who knocked.

“Booker,” The door crook said plainly, “You’re late.”

Booker gave an annoyed huff. “You try and get this whiny little rat across Manehattan, without drawing the cops attention, in a timely fashion.”

“You do realize that I’ve been on ‘pick-up duty’ as well, right?”

“Shut up, Gate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gate opened the door wide giving them access, “Just get the punk in here so that The Boss can deal with him.”

Booker looked back at his partners in crime, and motioned for them to bring Double Time inside.

“Ups-a-daisy, dirt bag.”

“P-Please, whatever it is, I’m sorry!”

“Oh, you will be. Trust me.”

“New guy, keep a good hold on his head. And keep that bag on him!”

The four “Pick-up Ponies” dragged Double Time into the suite.

Booker hung his hat on the way in, uncovering his horn. “So, Gate,” he said, how’s ‘house-keep duty’ been going for ya this week?”

Gate locked the door behind them. “Same as always,” he said, “We keep the place in order, guard every entrance, and the place still smells like cigarettes and bodies, no matter how much cleaner we use.”

“Somethings never change.” Booker walked through the finely decorated living room along side Gate. The other “Pick-up Ponies” were close behind.

“Where’s the rest of the ‘House-keep Crew’?” Booker asked.

“They’re working on the other rooms,” the bat-pony replied. He would have kept talking if they hadn’t arrived at a particular doorway.

It was a set of double doors. The right door was painted white, while the left door was painted black.

Booker leaned over to Gate’s ear. “Has, uh...has The Boss come outta’ there recently?” He whispered.

“If he has, then I didn’t see.”

Both Gate and Booker looked at each other.

“Well,” Booker said, “You’re the house-keeper. Knock.”

Gate sighed, went up to the door, and, with some hesitation, knocked.

There was a *clack* as the door unlocked. Gate slowly opened the door. He looked back at Booker, before disappearing into the room.

Now they had to wait.

Booker reached into his suit pocket, and pulled out a cigarette. He placed it in his mouth and got ready to light it, until he heard a *cough* from behind him. He looked to see the “new guy” covering his mouth.

“What?” Booker said through his cigarette.

“Uh…” the “new guy” seemed anxious.

“I can tell ya got something to say,” Booker said, “So, what is it? Spit it out!”

The pony shook his head to gather himself, “S-Sorry Sir, it’s just that…”

“‘Just’ what?”

“...We’re going in to see The Boss, right?”

“Yeah, and?” Booker lit his cigarette waiting for the “new guy” to get to the point.

“W-Well, it’s just that…” the pony took a moment to put his words together, “...I-I’ve never seen or met The Boss.”

Booker coughed, briefly choking on his own inhale.

The two other “Pickups” went wide eyed as they turned to the “new guy”.

“Are you serious?” The big bruiser of an earth pony holding Double Time’s left arm and took off his hat in disbelief. “How in Tartarus did you get in this mob?”

“I Uh…” The “new guy” yelped as he suddenly felt a blade at his throat.

The pony holding Double Time’s right arm revealed his steel tipped pegasus wings. “What are ya,” he asked, his voice giving off an air of crazy, “Some undercover cop?”

“Cops? Where? Help! Please!” Double Time cried.

“No, no, no, guys Stop!” Booker quickly intervened, “Guts, chill out! Vincent, put those knives away, you’re scaring the kid!! Time, SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!”

The trio fell into silence after. Booker’s outburst. The unicorn took a puff of his cigarette, before looking to the “new guy”.

“Okay, first thing first: Kid, tell me your name, and take the hat off.”

The young pony removed his hat, revealing his unicorn horn. “M-My name’s Mason, Sir.”

“Okay,” Booker took another puff, blowing smoke into the air, “Now how did ya get into this mob?”

“I got the offer from that guy, uh, Gate! He gave me an interview. And none of you guys asked anything, so I thought it was normal.”

Booker massaged the bride of his snout. “Okay, look,” He went right up to Mason and looked him in the eyes, “There’s a lot you need to be taught, and not a lot of time to do it. For now, here’s what you need to know:

“1: You do what The Boss says. You don’t question him, you don’t talk back to him.

“2: Don’t get smart or smug with him. And don’t get all high-and-mighty either.

“But most importantly, right up there with ‘don’t question’, is the third rule:

“Don’t. Stare.”

Mason was sweating, and was now a tad confused. “W-What?”

“Don’t. Stare. At The Boss,” Booker repeated, emphasizing each word, “You know how yo mama always told ya, ‘Don’t stare at other ponies, it’s not polite’? That’s what I mean.”

Booker pressed his snout against Mason’s, “Are. We. Clear?”

“Y-Yes, Sir.”

One of the double-doors opened, Gate stuck his head out. “He’ll see ya now.”

Booker straightened out his suit, and looked back at his partners in crime. “Let me do all the talking, alright?”

The other three ponies nodded, and they slowly entered together, dragging their squirming hostage with them.

---

The room was dark. No lights were on. The only light that came in was the glow of the full moon through the windows. Even then the blinds were pulled in many of the windows, all of them opened and lowered to various levels. It coated the room in midnight stripes, an atmosphere that would have been calming if it weren’t for what resided inside the room.

The room was filled with all sorts of things. There were various filing cabinets lined up against the wall. They were all filled with files and documents regarding different ponies across Equestria. There were bulletin boards hanging from the walls with newspaper cuttings and photos of various ponies hanging on them, red strings connected to them all creating a massive web.

On the wall, at the front of the room, was a beautifully painted portrait of the Royal Sisters, with smiles filled with warmth and kindness. It was in pristine condition, and looked very expensive.

At the back of the room, there was a desk. A large, dark brown, laminated, oak desk. It was slightly worn from age, especially around the corners, but it was still functional.

Above the desk, on the back wall, was another portrait, one of some well dressed stallion. This one wasn’t nearly in as good condition as the other. While the right side of the portrait was fine, the left side was burned and torn beyond recognition.

Behind the desk was a large, luxurious armchair.

And in that armchair, his silhouette barely visible in the shadows, was “The Boss”.

A clock on the wall ticked as he waited.

The door opened. Four ponies in suits and one with a bag over his head entered. “The Boss’s” eyes stared the ponies, his eyes unblinking.

Booker, the pony in front, gave a small bow as he stood at the opposite side of the room to the desk.

“Evening Boss,” Booker said, trying to hide the stress in his voice, “Sorry we’re late. We got caught up in traffic, had to dodge some cops…Had to, uh, go around the city through the back streets to get here.”

“The Boss” didn’t respond he just continued to glare at them as he sat in his chair, giving off an air of aggravation.

Booker resisted the urge to wipe his brow of the sweat that was beginning to form. “We uhhh…” Booker could feel his employer losing what little patience he had left, “Oh! We got the guy you wanted us to grab!”

On que, the other three ponies threw Double Time down on the floor, before pulling the sack off his head.

The air of aggravation that the boss had quickly escalated to an aura of rage.

Double Time looked up at the pony in the dark who had ordered his capture. He couldn’t make out much.

He could tell that the outline was the build of a stallion, and the stripes of light from the windows illuminated a double breasted, pinstriped suit, but he couldn’t see much else.

What he could see in clear detail were the pony’s eyes.

The right eye looked normal enough, with a green iris, while the left eye seemed wrong. It looked sickly, dry, and irritated. The eye was dark red, with thick veins that looked like bloody cracks. And almost seemed like the eye wasn’t in its socket. Like it was just floating there. Glaring at him.

Double Time couldn’t help but be transfixed by the eyes. They were filled with such raw passionate hatred and disgust. All directed at him.

Double Time eventually mustered the courage to stand up and speak.

“Um, S-Sir…Whoever you may be…Please allow me to say that, whatever it is I’ve done, I am truly sorry for-”

His confidence was interrupted by a mechanical *click*, and a shape emerging from the shadow of the desk. A shape that made him freeze.

It was the slender barrel of a light repeater bow. Pointing right at his torso.

Double Time started shaking. “S-Sir, I-” His attempt at continued speech was rewarded with an all too familiar blow to his back.

Guts brought a hoof down on his back forcing him to the ground once again.

“You don’t talk when The Boss point a bow at ya!” He bellowed “When he does that, it means he wants ya to shut up!”

Guts was about to stomp on Double Time’s spine, before another *click* made him stop.

He didn’t need to look to know that “The Boss” was pointing the repeater at him now.

Guts returned to standing against the wall, without saying a word.

Booker cleared his throat, looking to his employer.

“So, Sir,” Booker asked, “What do we do with him?”

There was a long moment of silence. Nopony moved. Nopony said a word, or made a sound.

Then, in the poor light, “The Boss” reached into his left inner pocket with his right arm, and pulled something out.

There was a metallic *ping* as a silver coin rose into the air, turning heads over tails, before falling back to the hoof that flipped it.

Everypony in the room watched as the coin fell. “The Boss” held the coin up to his obscured face, glancing down at it, examining the side it landed on.

He then looked back up at the other ponies in the room, all of them waiting for something to happen.

Then, a deep, growling, rage filled voice that could only belong to “The Boss”, uttered five words.

“Take him for a swim.”

Double Time’s pupils shrank. He looked behind at his captors. Vincent was smiling maliciously.

“You heard the man,” the blade loving pegasus said, “Your hide is going for a dip in the Manehattan River!”

Double Time officially went into panic mode. “N-No! Please, no!! There must be something I can do!”

“Sure,” Guts said throwing the squirming pony over his shoulders, “You can tell us if you know how to swim or not.”

“You act that’ll matter in few minutes.” Vincent forced the bag back onto Double Time’s head, dampening his screaming.

“Alright, enough with the theatrics,” Booker ordered, “We all know what to do, so don’t waste time. Let’s go!”

Booker lead Guts and Vincent out, with Mason tagging behind. The newbie gangster hesitated on his way out. He chanced s glance back at where “The Boss” sat.

He had turned the chair sideways to face one of the windows in the room, as he fiddled with his coin.

“Oi! Mason!” Booker called, “No dilly dallying! Let’s move!”

Mason shook his head and hurried out. “C-Coming!”

The door to “The Boss’s” office closed, and the lock *clicked*.

The pony in the armchair stared out the window, observing the city beyond the glass.

He turned the coin over in his grasp. One side was clean, the other side scratched and burned. A scarred side.

He flipped the coin, and caught it. He took a moment to see what side it landed on.

‘Good head…’

‘Always the Good head…’

The pony sighed, before returning his gaze to the window, and began passively flipping the coin.

“The only true justice…”

Author's Note:

And so it begins...