New girl at a new school? Normal. Trying to make friends? Normal. A nightmarish dream world that forces you to face your inner self? That's a bit more complicated...
"This is the Crimson Room, a place between nightmares and reality; mind and matter. You are not important. You are not welcome. Only a select few are ever called into this room. Consider yourself one of the unfortunate."
You are Liberty Belle, a new student in Canterlot High, joining the school at the end of the junior year. You've moved in with your Canterlot cousins, Rarity and Sweetie Belle, from Amareica at your parent's request, wishing for you to see the world outside of the country. However, when you just start to settle into Canterlot, you and other students begin to be plagued with dreams of black chains in a red room, it's up to you and friends from all walks of life to save the day.
This is the brainchild of my bestest friend ever GB115 and I, because we're so hype about the upcoming game Persona 5, which this is based off of.
Today is a very important day. It’s your first day in Canterlot, and as you stand in front of Carousel Boutique, your new home for the next year, you take in all the new sights and sounds from all around you. At the corner of the street is a bakery with the smell of sugary sweets calling out to you. A bit closer is a restaurant that, while it has no smell, is very pleasing to the eye. You recall seeing a library on your way over, too. It seems like there’s much to do in this town. You have no time to think about that, though, as you are pulled from your thoughts by girl’s voice coming from the boutique.
“Cousin Liberty, how are you, darling?” You turn to face the voice and find your cousin Rarity racing towards you, arms outstretched. You embrace her in a hug as she says, “Oh, Sweetie Belle has been talking about you coming since forever! You must tell us about your trip, honey!”
You chuckle as you say, “Let me get my stuff inside first, Rarity. As you can see, I’ve got quite a bit of luggage.”
“Oh, of course!” Rarity says. “Sweetie Belle, your cousin Liberty’s here! Help me bring her bags in!”
Out of the shop runs a little girl with curly purple hair, passing the luggage to jump into your arms. “Ohmigosh, you’re finally here!” she shouts with a crack in her voice. “I didn’t think you were ever gonna get here! I have soooo much to tell you! So this one time, at school…”
“Uh, Sweetie,” Rarity interrupts, “shouldn’t you be helping with the luggage?”
“Oh yeah! Sorry!”
As Sweetie begins to bring in some of the luggage, Rarity says, “She’s got quite an active imagination. Anyways, you’ll be happy to know that I got everything all set up and ready for school tomorrow, so all you have to do is head to the front desk. The receptionist, Cadence, is a really nice lady, and I’m sure she’ll help you with whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Rarity,” you say as you roll a case up to the front door. “I think, for now, I need to rest. It’s been a long trip from Amareica.”
“Oh, of course! I’ve prepared the guest bedroom for you, so go on up and sleep. It’s the second door on the left on the second floor. I’ll bring the rest of your stuff in for you.”
“Thanks again, Rares.” You walk through the boutique and up the stairs in the back to get to the second floor where the sisters live. Heading into the guest room, you find it looking impeccable. The decor seems to have all been handmade by Rarity herself, showing off her skill as an expert seamstress. You plop down on the bed and allow yourself to drift off to the dream world…
When you next wake up, it’s night time. You groggily get up and stumble your way out of the room and down the hall. As you pass by the bathroom, you walk in to get a good look at yourself.
Your gray skin is prominent behind your white t-shirt. On it is a red, white, and blue star symbolizing Amareica, your home country. Your jeans are ripped at the knees, giving them a worn look. Your Amareican look is driven home by your messy blue hair, usually kept at a medium length. It seems odd to you that all the girls in the country of Equestria wear skirts all the time, but that seems like something you’ll get used to. It feels weird to be the odd one out, however. Maybe you’ll ask Rarity to make you a dress later. However, for now, you decide that you’ve stared at yourself for long enough. You walk back into the hall and down to the dining room, where Rarity and Sweetie Belle are both eating dinner.
“Good evening, dearie,” Rarity says as she puts her fork down. “I made some salad if you’re hungry for dinner.”
“No thanks,” you say, taking a seat at the table in between the two. “I had a big lunch on the way over.”
“If you insist,” Rarity says, taking a bite out of her own salad. She swallows before she continues. “So, why again did you come over to Canterlot?”
“My parents wanted me to leave my comfort zone,” you explain. “They wanted me to get out and see the world, something they never did. I dunno why they’re pushing it on me, though. I didn’t ask for it, they just gave it to me.” You take a look at Sweetie Belle and add, “But, nevertheless, I’m glad to be here with you girls.”
“We’re glad to have you here, too,” Rarity says as she finishes her salad. “What do you say I take both of you out onto the town, give Liberty here a tour of our home?”
“Sounds great!” you say as you get up. “Let me just make myself look more… presentable, and then we can go.”
The three of you walk down the sidewalk, the lights from various stores and street lamps both lighting up the way. Since your tour started, you passed by the bakery from before, the Sweet Shoppe, the restaurant, a popular date spot named The Sweetheart Inn, and a guitar shop called Rocker World. You pass by a police station when Rarity speaks up.
“Listen, I know this may seem very… overprotective of me, but I’d like for you to hang out with my friends and I during the first few days of school,” she says. “The last couple of kids who came in were… a lot of trouble, to say the least, and I’m afraid all the students will think the same of you.”
“Uh… sure, I guess,” you reply. “What kind of trouble are we talking about, though?”
“Remember that one time your family took us to Fillydelphia?”
“Yikes,” you say, remembering a horrible memory that resulted in the family being kicked out of the Town Hall and asked never to come back. It wasn’t a fun memory.
“It’s worse than Fillydelphia, dear. Just… don’t mention it to anyone, alright?”
“My lips are sealed,” you say before Sweetie Belle pipes up.
“You guys were so cool, though!”
Rarity takes her sister by the arm. “Sweetie,” she says, gritting her teeth, “this is neither the time nor the place to talk about this.”
“Alright…” the younger sister says as she pulls her arm away dejectedly. Although it seems incredibly odd, you decide not to probe further. The trouble that the new kids caused seems like a very touchy subject.
It seems like no time at all that the three of you are back at Carousel Boutique, and even less time before you get back into your bed. You hear Sweetie Belle excitedly talking to her sister about the next day of school before you drift off to sleep, hoping that this coming year will be as exciting as your parents hope.
You wake up the next morning feeling refreshed. You hear Rarity and Sweetie Belle having breakfast down the hall, and you decide to get up and join them. “Good morning, darling,” Rarity says as you walk into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”
“I had some trouble adjusting to the new bed,” you tell her as you pour yourself a bowl of cereal, “but other than that, it was fine.” You head back to the table with your cereal and sit down next to Sweetie Belle, who’s eating buttered toast. “So,” you ask her, “do you usually drive to school, or do you walk?”
“We walk,” Sweetie replies before taking another bite of her toast. “Ish not that far.”
“Sweetie,” Rarity calls, “what did I tell you about talking with your mouth full?”
The younger sister swallows her food before speaking again. “To not do it?”
“And why, Sweetie?” Rarity continues as she walks into the dining room.
“Because it’s not ladylike?”
“Exactly.” Rarity picks up two backpacks and heads down the hall. “Liberty, school starts in about an hour,” you hear her shout. “I suggest you get to your morning duties as soon as you need to.”
“Got it!” You quickly finish your breakfast and head back to your room, grabbing your clothes and toiletries before heading into the bathroom and closing the door behind you. You turn on the shower to what you hope is the perfect temperature, undress, and climb in with your washcloth, body wash, and shampoo. The water seems a little hot, but it’s something you can deal with. As you start to wash yourself, you think about what happened last night between the sisters. Could it have been chalked up to the older sister trying to prevent Liberty from hearing crazy ramblings from an eighth grader, or was Rarity trying to hide something? You think about it as you finish washing up.
When you’re finished, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off before taking a look at your clothes. You remember what you thought yesterday about feeling like the odd one out and decide that you’ll ask Rarity to make you a dress later today.
After you dress and finish brushing both your teeth and hair, you meet with Rarity and Sweetie Belle downstairs and tell them, “Alright, I’m all ready to go.”
“Great!” Rarity picks up her backpack and slings it across her shoulders before putting the second strap on. “Just follow us, and we’ll tell you a bit more about the school on the way there.”
“...well,” Rarity finishes as the two of you stand in front of the school, Sweetie Belle already inside, “that’s what school life is like. As for the clubs we have, CHS is opening its sports clubs this Friday. We’ve got a co-ed soccer team, a girls’ and a boys’ basketball team, and a football team.” She slightly chuckles as she adds, “I doubt you’d join the football team, though.” You nod your head in agreement as Rarity smacks her head and shouts, “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I shouldn’t be telling you all of this! Your tour guide needs something to tell you about!”
“Tour guide?” you ask as you enter the school with Rarity.
“Yes, dearie, a tour guide,” she repeats. “One of the students in our class will be giving you a tour of the school for your first day.” She looks around and says, “Well, I really must get going to class. The front desk is over to your right. Miss Cadence will be able to help you.”
“Alright, see you later,” you say, waving to her before making your way through the crowd of students to the front desk. A pink woman with candy-like hair in hues of pink, purple, and yellow has her back facing you.
She fixes the collar on her gray sweater as she says, “Oh no, where did I put those files? I swear I had them somewhere around here…” You clear your throat and knock on the desk in front of you. She turns around, showing a pair of crooked glasses on her face. Fixing them, she says, “Oh, I’m so sorry! You must be Liberty! I’m Cadence, nice to meet you!” She sticks out her hand in front of you.
“Nice to meet you too,” you say as you shake her hand. “I’m supposed to be getting a tour guide or something?”
“Yes, you’ll be getting a tour guide,” Cadence says. “Let me call her up.” She takes a microphone off her desk and says over the intercom, “Can Vinyl Scratch please come to the front desk?” She puts back the microphone and says, “She’ll be here soon. Why don’t you take a seat?” Cadence points to a row of seats next to the front desk.
“Thank you,” you say as you sit down on a seat at the end. You watch the crowd, taking note of every girl in the room wearing a dress of some sort. “Is it a law that girls have to wear skirts around here?” you think to yourself. “I haven’t seen a single girl wearing pants since I got here.”
An exasperated sigh snaps you from your thoughts, and you hear Cadence’s voice coming from the intercom once more. “Can someone please take Vinyl Scratch’s headphones off her head and tell her to come to the front desk?” she says in a slightly annoyed tone. You lean forward in your seat and look at her. She flashes a smile back, saying, “Don’t worry about that. She’s known to be listening to her music and not paying attention much.” It doesn’t take long before a girl walking through the crowd comes up to the front desk.
She has spiky blue hair that looks pretty stylish with her white skin and jacket. On her jacket is an embroidered music note, a pair of purple shades that covers her eyes, and loud music playing through the headphones that hangs around her neck. However, the part about the new girl that you like the best is that she doesn’t wear a skirt; she wears jeans!
“Vinyl,” Cadence said, “this is our new student, Liberty Belle.”
“Sup?” she asks you, sticking her hand out. You stand up and shake her hand, but halfway through the shake, she turns her hand upside down and shakes it once before letting go.
“Did I just join a gang?” you think to yourself. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say to her.
“Same,” she replies, looking almost uninterested. The bell signaling the start of the school day rings, and she says, “Well, time for the first stop on our tour: homeroom.”
As the two of you walk towards Vinyl’s classroom, you ask her, “So, is this a tour, or is this me shadowing you for the day?”
“Nah, don’t worry,” the girl answers. “it’s a tour. For me, it’s a reason to get out of class.”
“Sounds great!” you say, trying to be as energetic as possible. Vinyl shrugs it off and takes out her phone.
“Yeah, real great,” she says as the two of you enter her classroom. “Classes are a bore.”
“Vinyl Scratch, put your phone away,” yells the room’s teacher, a purple lady with pink hair, “or I’ll have to take it from you for the rest of the year!”
“Not actually in class, Miss Cheerilee,” Vinyl replies without bothering to look up from her phone. “I’m giving a tour.” She sits down in the back of the class, and you sit down right next to her. You notice that the loud music is still playing, but you decide to let it go.
“If you’re not in class,” you ask, “then why are we here?”
“Supposed to be the ‘tour’ of the homeroom,” Vinyl explains. She looks over to you and says, “I’m sure it can explain itself.”
“I… yeah, I guess it can,” you say. “Gee, for a girl who doesn’t want to be in class,” you think to yourself, “she doesn’t seem all that into being out.” The bell rings at that moment, and everyone gets up and heads to their classes. Vinyl pockets her phone and gets up as well, motioning wordlessly for you to follow her.
“Our first stop is the lunch room,” she tells you as you come to a big room with lots of tables. You can see the cooks working in the kitchen on the other side of the room. “Again, self-explanatory.”
“Are you gonna even try to explain any of this stuff to me?” you ask.
“Nah,” Vinyl says. “They all explain themselves. I don’t even know why they bother giving tours to students.” She puts her headphones on and walks out of the cafeteria, heading down the hall to the right of the lunch room as you try to keep up with her.
Tuesday <> 4/17 <> Afternoon
“...and that concludes the tour,” Vinyl says as she stares at her phone. “You can go home and have lunch or whatever.” She starts to walk away when you grab her by the shoulder.
“I’m still new here,” you tell her, “so I don’t know my way around town. Maybe you and I could have lunch together?”
Vinyl stood still for a moment before saying, “Yeah, sure. I know an alright place in town.”
Vinyl led you across town to a casual restaurant known as the Sportsball Bar & Grill. It seemed like a rowdy place, but that was just your kind of place. You loved sports – especially baseball. You even tried getting on the boy’s baseball team one year back home by cutting your hair short and wearing a sports bra to hide your bust. It didn’t work, though, as you were caught undressing in the locker room.
Vinyl’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You gonna take a seat or what?” she asks, patting the stool next to her at the bar. She takes her purple sunglasses off to reveal her pink eyes.
“Aren’t we too young to sit at the bar?” you say.
“Nah,” Vinyl replies, “you only gotta be seventeen to sit at the bar. You are seventeen, yeah?”
“Y-yeah,” you tell her as the culture shock hits you. You slowly take your seat, as if sitting on it incorrectly will cause it to explode. The bartender walks up to the two of you as he slides a martini glass on the rack above him.
“How are you ladies doing today?” he asks. Before you or Vinyl could answer, he says, “My name’s Mixtape, and I’ll be your server today. What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll get a Blood Moon,” Vinyl says. She sees your questioning look and explains herself. “A Blood Moon is like a hard Cherry Jubilee. Cherry vodka with grenadine and a couple of cherries to top it all off.”
You chuckle a little bit as you say, “Alright, now I know for a fact that you’re not 21. You can’t order that!”
“Actually,” Vinyl says, “you only have to be eighteen to drink liquor in this country.”
Another wave of culture shock hits you. “This place is so weird!” you think to yourself as Mixtape asks you what you want to drink. You ponder for a moment before you say, “I think I’ll just have a root beer, please.” When the bartender walks away, you ask Vinyl, “So why didn’t they card you? Do they not do that here too?”
“I’m a regular here, they don’t need to card me.” Vinyl takes a sip of her drink and pulls her phone out, tapping away on the screen with her thumb.
“Do you ever put that phone away?” you ask as Mixtape puts your drink down in front of you.
“No,” Vinyl deadpans as she takes her headphones off her neck and puts them on. The two of you sit in silence until it’s time for the bartender to take your orders.
“I’ll have the BLT with sweet potato fries, please.” you tell him. Turning to Vinyl, you see that she still hasn’t taken her headphones off. You tap her on the shoulder, then, when she doesn’t respond, you take the headphones off for her. “Hey, it’s time to order,” you say, scolding her.
Vinyl gives you a deadly glare as she takes her headphones back. “He knows my order,” she growls as she dons her glasses and puts her headphones back on.
“Wow, that girl’s got some issues,” you think to yourself. The rest of lunch goes by without a word between the two of you, and when you and Vinyl finish, she pays for herself and leaves you alone in the bar. “Well, so much for trying to make friends,” you think. You pay your own bill and walk back home
“How was your first day, honey?” Rarity asks you as she cooks a pot of pasta on the stove.
“It was alright,” you tell her. “I had Vinyl Scratch as a tour guide. She seems… apathetic, Always on her phone, always listening to music, anti-social, that kind of stuff.”
“Yes, Vinyl can be like that,” your older cousin says. “You have to give her time to warm up to you. For me and my friends, though, it was a rather... special occasion.”
“Oh? What kind of occasion?” you ask.
As if on cue, Sweetie Belle burst into the room. “Oh, it was the coolest thing ever! So my sister and her friends were stuck under the stage they had the finale for the Battle of the Bands and then—”
“Sweetie, not now!” Rarity shouts. “Go to your room!”
“But—”
“Uh-uh-uh! No buts, missy! Room! Now!” Sweetie Belle shambles back to her room before Rarity says, “Sorry about that, Liberty. Like I said, she’s got an overactive imagination.”
“Seems like a tad bit of an overreaction on your part, Rares,” you tell her.
Your cousin sighs. “I guess you’re right, dear. I’ll go apologize to her.” With that, Rarity walks down the hall, into Sweetie Belle’s room, and quietly closes the door. To you, it’s the signal for you to go to bed. You walk to your bedroom and get your night clothes on and, after brushing your teeth, fall onto the bed and think about your day. You realize that you forgot to ask Rarity to make you a dress, but it’s too late now. You also think about how protective Rarity seems of her information, as if she’s hiding a deep, dark secret. All these thoughts fade away as you fall asleep, ready for the next day.
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When you wake up, however, you aren’t in your room anymore. Instead, you find yourself in a large and empty red room with a black iron door in the corner. You look down and see your hands chained together, the chain holding the two connected to the ground. When you look back up, a black folding chair is in front of you. You jump a little, not expecting it to be there.
“Well hello there,” a mysterious voice calls from seemingly everywhere. You look around to find the source of the voice, but there doesn’t seem to be anybody in the room with you.
When you look in front of you again, the chair is occupied by a small red horse with flaming orange hair. It’s positioned itself so that it’s hanging upside-down on the chair, staring at you with mean-looking eyes. On either side of the horse’s rear end is a scar. You’re so focused on inspecting the horse that you let loose a little scream when it speaks with the same voice as before.
"This is the Crimson Room,” it says, “a place between nightmares and reality; mind and matter. You are not important. You are not welcome. Only a select few are ever called into this room.”
The horse flips upright as it finishes its speech. “Consider yourself one of the unfortunate."
You rattle your chains as you say to the horse, “Who are you?”
“You can just call me The Curator,” he says, getting off the chair and walking around the room. “I don’t really have a name, Liberty, so that’s just what I go by.”
“How do you know my name?” you demand, attempting to lunge at The Curator. The chains stop you, though.
“Oh, I know a lot of things,” the horse flaunts. “I know that you’re not from Canterlot, or even Equestria. I know that you’re a tomboy that loves baseball. I even know the name of the bartender that served you today. Mixtape, was it?”
“Shut up!” you yell at him.
Your captor trots up to your face and snarls, grabbing your mouth. “You’re going to shut your mouth while I speak, or else I’ll feed you to the strays!” he shouts. “I am not merciful! Do you understand me?” You give him an angry stare as he says, “Good.”
“Asshole…” you mutter under your breath as he continues walking around the room.
“I know a lot more than you,” The Curator continues, “but if there’s one reason why I’m here, it’s because I know something important.”
“And what’s that?” you ask.
“You have a certain gift; a potential, if I might. You carry an immense power, but power means nothing if you don’t know how to use it.”
“Yeah, so?” you spit at the horse.
“I can teach you. I can help you awaken to your potential, teach you how to use it. Of course, there’s a catch to this.” The Curator runs a hoof under your chin as he says, “You have to do what I say. No exceptions.”
You yank your head away from him. “Despite your, uh, charming attitude, I think I’ll pass. I’d rather be stuck here than be stuck with you.”
“Oh, poor little Liberty,” The Curator says, “you still don’t have any idea what happens to the people who get stuck here, do you? I’d hate for it to happen to you. It’s not often someone like you comes along.”
“Piss off,” you say to him, shooting daggers out of your eyes at him.
“Only until tomorrow night,” he replies. “For now, it’s time for you to wake up.”
The world starts to melt around you as you struggle in your chains. An intense darkness creeps towards you, threatening to take you over. The room starts to swirl as you pass out, feeling your head hit…
...the floor of your bedroom. You jolt your eyes open as you think about your dream and how real it felt. The cold chains on your wrists, the hard floor on your knees, the Curator touching your cheek; it all felt more than the dream it was.
The door opens to your room, and Rarity pokes her head through. “I see that you’re awake pretty early,” she says.
“Look who’s talking,” you mumble as you sit up and lean on your arm. Looking over your shoulder, you see that the clock reads 5:08 AM. “Wow, it really is early…” you think to yourself.
“I’ve been working on dresses all night, dear,” your cousin tells you. “I took a short break, but I’m up and ready to work again.”
“Don’t we have school in, like, two or three hours?” you ask, climbing your way back into bed.
“Not today. Since I run this shop, the school and I have worked out an agreement where I take a day off each week -- each Wednesday, in fact -- and I stay behind all the other days to catch up on what I missed.”
“Well, have fun…” you mumble as you flop yourself over on the bed and fall back asleep.
As per Rarity’s request, you decide to have lunch with her friends. The only problem was that Rarity wasn’t at school, and you had no idea who her friends were. Looking around the room, you see a bunch of groups sitting together, each being their own melting pot of hobbies. However, what stood out the most was Vinyl, the girl that showed you around yesterday. Her “group” consisted of her, listening to her music, and nobody else. Her face seems expressionless with her purple shades on. “Honestly,” you think to yourself, “what kind of asshole wears sunglasses inside?” Since you can’t find Rarity’s friends, you decide to sit down with Vinyl.
You drop your tray on your tour guide’s table and sit down across from her. You wave your hands in front of her glasses and say, “Hello, Gaia to Vinyl? You there?” Vinyl doesn’t reply. You try waving your hand harder, and she takes off her headphones.
“Do you mind?” she says. “I’m trying to eat lunch here. Y’know, alone. By myself. In peace.”
You sit back in your chair and mutter, “Why do you have to be so rude?” Unfortunately, Vinyl hears you.
“I don’t have to be your friend, new kid,” she spits. “Leave me the hell alone.” She sits back in her chair and puts her headphones back on.
“Hey, I’m talking to you here!” you shout back as you lean over and try to take Vinyl’s headphones off. The moment you touch them, however, she lunges forward and pushes you to the floor, simultaneously drawing the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. The only noise that can be heard in the room is Vinyl’s blaring music.
“I’m going to tell you this once,” Vinyl growls. “Don’t touch my things. Understand?”
You get up and walk away from Vinyl as the room returns to normal. However, you can already hear the whispers in the air about you.
“What did that girl do to Vinyl?” you hear a student say.
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure she’s a bunch of trouble,” replies another.
“What a bitch,” a guy says as you walk past him. “Vinyl doesn’t deserve that.”
You decide to ignore the rest of the whispers and make your way to your next class.
You can still feel your classmate’s stares as you walk home, as if they’re following you for the sole purpose of silently judging you. Sweetie Belle walks beside you, running through her day with her motor mouth.
“So then, out of nowhere,” she says, “I hear a crash, and I look up to see him on the ground right where he was sitting! It was like Button tripped while sitting down or something!” She turns to you and says, “Oh, by the way, what happened in the cafeteria today? I saw you and Vinyl fighting, and a lot of the kids were saying you started it. Did you?”
Without looking at your cousin, you say, “I didn’t start anything. Vinyl’s just being a bitch.”
“She’s alright once you get to know her, I guess.” Sweetie Belle smiles and looks behind the two of you before continuing. “She’s been over the house a couple of times. It’s really hard to get her to talk about herself, though.”
“I bet it is…” you mutter.
“Oh, and by the way,” your cousin says, “don’t let Rarity hear you use bad language. She says it’s ‘unladylike’ or whatever.”
“I don’t really care about being ladylike,” you tell her, “but whatever.”
“Neither do I, but it makes Rarity happy.” There’s a pause before Sweetie adds, “It also gets her to shut up for a bit.” You crack a smile as Sweetie hastily says, “Just don’t tell her I said that, okay? She’ll get really mad!”
“Don’t worry,” you tell her, “Your secret’s safe with me.” The two of you walk into Carousel Boutique, give a hard-working Rarity a quick hello, and split off once you reach upstairs.
Once more, you find yourself chained to the floor in the red room with the black iron door in the corner. The Curator is nowhere to be seen at first, but he eventually pops into your view from the corner of your eye.
“So,” he taunts, “what Clopney sayings to you have for me today, huh? Or was it all a ‘tough girl’ act?”
“Can it, horse,” you say to him.
“I’ll feed you to the strays if you don’t can it yourself!” he shouts. “I’m the master and you’re the slave!”
“Who the hell does this bipolar horse think he is?” you think to yourself.
“I told you who I am,” The Curator says, glaring at you. “I’m the guy who runs this place, and I know everything that happens here, including your thoughts.” The two of you stare daggers into each other for a minute before he breaks his eye contact and says, “I’ve got something to show you. Come along.”
“There’s no way in Hell I’m going anywhere with you,” you tell him.
“Oh, Liberty, if it were that easy.” The Curator pulls black chains out of the ground and tells you, “However, it’s just like I said; I’m the master, and you’re the slave!” With the last word, he yanks on the chains hard. You fall on your face as your hands are tugged away from you. Muttering as many curses as you can muster, you get up and follow the horse out of the room and into a hallway.
“You see,” The Curator says, “you’re not the only one who’s here. The difference is that these other people aren’t as lucky as you.” He leads you along a twisting path of corridor after corridor before stopping you in front of another black iron door. “Take a look inside,” he tells you as he motions a hoof to the barred window on the door.
Inside, you see someone else chained on the ground just like you were. However, unlike your cell, there wasn’t a folding chair in front of him. You hear the person sobbing, and it’s not until you hear him speak that you recognize who it is.
“Please, someone, just let me out of here!” Mixtape shouts with a strained voice. “I want to wake up from this… this nightmare! I want to see my family again!”
“Poor soul doesn’t know what’s in store for him,” The Curator says maliciously. You watch the room as a strange black mass starts to gather in one of the corners. What happens next is forever burned into your mind.
The mass starts to rise up, forming a human shape. However, this thing is far from human: the monster oozes a black substance, and its haunting eye sockets and gaping, screaming mouth are blood red. It starts to limp over to the helpless Mixtape, who starts to scream in terror.
“What the hell is that thing!?” he shouts as the monster get closers with each sickly step. “Oh Great Goddesses, help me! Please! I’m begging you, don’t let that thing come near me!” Whatever greater beings that were listening, though, had obviously turned their backs to him. The monster reaches him, looming over his body. The black substance drips all over Mixtape, causing him to scream even louder. The goop envelops his body, leaving you and the monster to watch a black heap scream for mercy.
“I call that a Taken,” The Curator chimes in, a bored tone in his voice. “It’s what happens when people are left here too long. The screams for help attract the monsters, and they smother them in shadow. They die in the dream, they die in real life.” You look back to the cell to see that Mixtape has completely turned into a Taken. His screams of terror have been warped into a horrifying cry of what seems to be pain. He -- it now, not he -- looks at you for a moment before dissolving into the floor.
“So,” The Curator says, tossing the chains in his hoof, “are you sure you want to take your chances in here? I don’t think you have much longer.”
You look at him, then back to the cell. On one hand, you would live the rest of you life a free woman, at the cost of dying in a terrifying manner. On the other, you’ll live, but as a slave to a sociopathic, bipolar, absolutely insane horse. When you weigh out the choices in your head, living a dream life of slavery is better than dying.
It’s a hard choice, but you decide to be The Curator’s slave. You face him and say, with defeat in your voice, “Unchain me. I’ll be your… slave.” You try your hardest to lace the last word with venom, hoping there’s a slim chance that it might poison him. After all, you’re in a dream, as far as you know. Anything can happen.
“Good girl,” your now-master says. He breaks the chains connecting you to him, but not the one connecting your hands together. “First, survive the Taken. Bye-bye, now!”
“Wait, my hands!” you shout, but it’s too late; The Curator has already disappeared into nothing. “Great,” you deadpan, “now I can walk around. That’s about it. How nice.” You aren’t left alone for long, however, as the howls of the Taken start to come from down one of the halls.
You turn around and run as fast as you can the other way, taking an immediate left turn into a large, empty room. “Wow, really putting the ‘dead’ in dead end, huh?” you think to yourself as you turn around to run out of the room.
Too late. A swarm of Taken, both in humanoid and horse form, block your exit. Panicking, you do everything you can think of to wake up; running yourself against the wall, shouting out loud, and even banging your head on the floor. You can feel the insanity fill inside of you as you come to realize that there’s no way out from death. The Curator tricked you, and now you were going to pay dearly.
As the horde closes in on you, liquid shadow already starting to cover you, your mind fills with images. Greeting Rarity at Carousel Boutique. The walk you took that night. Vinyl showing you around the school. Your first meeting with The Curator. Vinyl pushing you to the floor. The bond you and Sweetie Belle made on the way home earlier.
When the bond you made comes to mind, you feel a great power swell up inside you as a deep, booming voice speaks in your head. “I am thou, and thou art I.”
“No, it can’t end like this!” you shout as your vision starts to blur. “I can’t die here!” You scream at the top of your lungs as a single word enters your mind. With your last breath, you shout it.
“PERSONA!”
The chain holding your hands together breaks apart, and the power inside of you surges outward. You shakily stand up as the shadows are purged from your body. As you look up, you see a faceless being hovering over you, dark energy swirling in and around it. The remaining Taken step away from the spirit, seemingly afraid.
“I am Andropodon, the common slave,” it tells you in the same booming voice. “I will protect my master to the death.”
“To the death, huh?” you say in between gasps of breath. “Well, time to see what you can do. Kill them all.”
“I will do my master’s bidding,” Andropodon says. He waves his hands out in front of him, and a flurry of ice spike shoot out from under his ragged poncho. The Taken that are hit by the spikes explode into darkness, and those left begin shuffling forward. Andropodon takes one of his hands and thrusts it out, causing multiple purple runes to appear under the Taken that remain. He crushes his hand, and the Taken all crumple like paper.
“So,” you say as the room settles and Andropodon disappears, “this power… this is my Persona, huh?” You give a sigh of relief as you fall to the floor, blacking out.
