> Quiet Valley
>  by Nightmare_0mega
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> You're Not Here
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Equestria's beautiful landscape of lush forests and green pastures, with the backdrop of majestic mountains and rolling hills, blistered by as the train charged forth on its path to the next destination. It was an ordinary event for most ponies in the land, as it had remained the most popular traveling choice for most by long distances. Whether it be to Las Pegasus, Fillidelphia, Manehatten, or even Canterlot, it was common for a full cart of eager passengers to be carried off to see the new sights and old.

However, the line being taken on this particular cart was a seldom traveled line. It was journeying off to the west, to the relatively unknown part of the land that had been all but forgotten by the rest of the world. It wasn't as if this place was completely isolated, but all that have ever traveled there were said to never be seen again. At least, that's what he heard when he collected the ticket for this excursion.

The cabin door of one of the only passengers on this journey was swiftly opened, and a pony stepped through, clearing his throat. "Uhm, Mister... Vergil, was it?" A brown clad pony had asked, his dark green uniform identifying him as staff of this current railway.

Sitting silently with a sheathed katana at his side against the train wall, pale blue eyes gazing out into the landscape all around, the pony addressed as Vergil slowly turned his attention to the ticket master that had approached him. He ran his silver coated hoof through his white, medium-length hair gently, and gave his blue clad coat a slight tug to rough out some of the wrinkles, as if to force himself to focus on someone he felt was unimportant.

"What is it?" Vergil replied, irritably.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you," the porter stated, "But I must inform you that we'll be arriving near the destination shortly."

Vergil gave a quiet nod, almost dismissively, as he turned his attention back to the outside, which slowly was becoming shrouded in mist.

"I must also remind you that the ticket you purchased is one way. If you wish to make a return trip back home, as per policy on this particular line, you must-"

"I know what I must do," Vergil barked back, "You were all very clear about that back in Ponyville. I do not have time or energy to waste on discussing this matter once again." 

"R-right," the staff pony stuttered out.

"Now, begone."

With that command, the train attendee backed out of the passenger cabin, and shut the door, leaving Vergil alone once again. Of course he was unbothered by the whispers and hearsay about the location he was headed for. He was a Son of Sparda, a half-devil blessed with might very rarely matched, but not quite uncontested. It was a mission in his life to remedy that error, but for now, it would be placed on the back burner, at least until he has a proper opportunity. As the silence began to set in once again, he reached into his jacket, and removed a set of papers he had been carrying. One was the note left behind from a very important individual, stating absence for a set period of time to visit family in a far away town. It was a strange method to announce such a thing, but considering the shy nature of the individual, he figured it was normal. At least, as normal as he knew for the time he had been in this world.

The second note, however, was addressed directly to him. Stranger still was the content within. It was beyond any real reasoning, even in the context of the insanity he put up with while a 'guest' in Equestria.

"I see that town in my restless dreams; Quiet Valley." he read aloud to himself, "I see myself, finding a special place, where you could finally be happy. I'm all alone now, and you're not here. But, I'll keep waiting, only for you." He stopped reading, clicked his tongue as he folded both letters and placed them back inside of his jacket pocket. Something was off about all this. She was supposed to be off to see family, and now she ended up in a town known, but not recognized by any current map? Furthermore, the second letter sounded like a love-struck fool. It made no sense. He wouldn't have believed a lick of it if it weren't for one very important fact. Both letters were in her writing. This lead to only one conclusion, which is why he decided to come alone. "Fluttershy," Vergil uttered, "What are you doing out here?" He gazed back out of the window as the fog slowly began to get thicker and thicker while the train felt like it was slowing down.

As it finally came to a stop, Vergil rose from his seat and fastened his blade to his side before he exited the cabin. He then slowly stepped down the walkway towards the exit door, where the porter was, waiting at his assigned station, already opening the door. Disembarking from the train, Vergil gazed about the lonely, barren train station. The platform was splintered and cracked, showing signs of neglect for who knows how long. Train schedules from seemingly years ago remained up and available, despite how dirtied and decayed they had become. There was a palpable chill in the air that seemed just a little bit unnatural. There's something definitely wrong here, he thought, which only fueled his suspicions over the strange note. His focus was then usurped by one off the attendees, whom had followed him out.

"Welcome to Quiet Forest Station. Mister Vergil, as per policy, I must inform you of where you need to go to contact us once your business is concluded. At the end of the terminal here is a telephone line, connected back to the nearest available station. If you wish to return home, or head to a new destination, simply phone, reserve a ticket, and follow the tracks out. We will be sure to reserve your seat for the trip to your next destination when you arrive. We may also take you back right now, if you so desire, provided that you purchase a ticked here and now."

"I know," Vergil dismissed once again, somewhat irately.

"However," the attendee continued, "This train will depart once you leave the platform. Please remember this."

Vergil remained silent for a moment, looking out to and fro from the station's boarder. "I have just one question," he said finally.

"Oh? What is it, Mister Vergil?"

"Which way to the town of Quiet Valley? If I recall, this station is still a fair distance away from the limits."

"Oh," the attendee started with a deflated tone, "Well, once you leave the platform through the exit, you'll come across the forest trail. This is the closest route to Quiet Valley."

Without another word, Vergil walked off towards the exit, and disappeared from sight. The train attendee gave a sigh, before he climbed back aboard the cart and began the final checks for departure.


*=*=*=*=*


The train station was a surprisingly small and straightforward place to navigate, but the trail that came after was a much different affair. The feeling of the slope told the young half breed he was descending down the hillside. Dense, grey fog obscured the world around him, leaving only hints of trees and the immediate surroundings reasonably visible. If he were anyone else, he felt he could easily get turned around along the way the moment he lost focus. Carelessness was the greatest foe here, which left Vergil undeterred.

He pressed on through the shrouded forest, hearing the foliage sway and rustle from the gentle, chilly wind that flowed through the fog. The sound of a crow or a raven could be heard in the distance, echoing for a moment before all became silent again. Unlike the other wildernesses he had to trek through, barring the location of the Gates of Tartarus, this place had the honor and distinction of being entirely cold, and somewhat empty. It was a strong sense of loneliness that he hadn't felt in a long while, and this time it was unforgiving.

Despite the nature of these trails, the Son of Sparda pressed forth, continuing to hike further down the trail. The constant grey was only broken up by flashes of green and brown, up until he came to a gate, that read "Quiet Forest Cemetery".

"A cemetery?" Vergil questioned flatly, "How droll."

With a gentle push, the gate squeaked open in protest, and he stepped through, beginning his trek through the hallowed ground. It was quite the normal looking plot of land, with elegant burial stones and tablets lined up in orderly rows, remaining dignified and mostly undisturbed. For a moment, he kept his guard up, more out of habit for the location he was in rather than any real danger. After all, there had been more than one instance where he encountered an ambush of demons hiding in a cemetery. It would have been quite the cliche, and a nice little change of pace for all the nothing he paced through until now. Despite his thoughts, the reality was that there simply were no threats in hiding. The less resistance, the better I suppose, he thought.

Upon dropping his guard however, and due to the fog's obscuring grey nature, Vergil accidentally stumbled over something, causing him to briefly lose his balance. Pride wounded, he swiftly regained his focus and touched his hilt, snapping towards the offending object... or subject.

"Whoa, hey, jeez dude," came the panicked voice of a young stallion, whom rushed to his hooves, but stayed low and slowly backed up. He wore a dirty khaki trenchcoat over the top of his light tan body, and a matching rimmed hat upon his brown mane. The only color that didn't fit with the earthy colors were his blue eyes.

Vergil glared at the individual for a moment, before his hoof slowly retracted away from his blade. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"Hey, bub, I could ask the same thing of you. I mean, you're the one that kicked me awake, literally." he argued. Vergil remained silent and measured, cautiously watching this new individual. Said pony clicked his tongue, and gave a sigh. "Whatever. If ya gotta know, I was having a nap."

"In a cemetery?" Vergil asked flatly.

"I have my reasons," he responded. "Anyway, now that I explained myself, it's your turn. I mean, not many folks come down here."

Vergil stared for a moment before he relented. "I'm looking for someone. I was told she may be here."

The strange pony's face went from a coy expression upon hearing 'she' to one of concern. "Hold on, here? You mean as in..." He trailed off, looking about the lined up tombstones.

"Not here in the Cemetery, you buffoon." Vergil snapped.

He then gazed off into the distance, away from the forest trail. "Oh, well, that's worse."

"What do you mean?" Vergil asked, somewhat curious.

"Well, and I don't know when this happened, but," the young stallion started, going silent for a moment, "That town... There's something wrong with it."

"Wrong?"

"Yeah, just..." he trailed off for a moment, before looking directly at Vergil and gave a nervous chuckle, "Heh, you probably don't believe me."

"I haven't said that," Vergil admitted, "However, it doesn't matter. I have business to attend to in town, and if there is indeed something going on, then it's all the more pressing."

"Right." He walked up to the Son of Sparda, and offered a hoof. "I hope you find whoever you're looking for."

Vergil looked at the stranger's offered hoof, then back at the stranger.

"Oh, right, maybe you're the type that prefers introductions first? My name is Red."

Vergil raised an eyebrow for a moment, before tentatively reaching for Red's hoof. "Vergil." He responded curtly.

"Good meeting with you Vergil, and good luck." With that, Vergil let go of Red and turned away to leave, but the pony stopped him for a moment. "Oh, wait a minute. If you're keen on getting into town, just head through the gate that way. From there, there's only the one road. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," Vergil responded flatly, before he finally took his leave, crossing the Cemetery, and reached the gate that lead to the town road. It was only a matter of time now before his real search began. He only hoped now that he'd find exactly what he was looking for.
> Lurking in the Fog
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gate creaked as its frame slowly swung open wide enough for the Son of Sparda to step through. Out of courtesy, he shut the cemetery gate behind him, and continued his quest. Unsurprisingly, the gate beyond the cemetery Vergil pushed through lead to more dirt roads that stretched ever longer into the fog, which only made him sigh in irritation. How long and tedious was this journey going to be, he asked himself. As he continued to ponder questions born from annoyance and audacity, he kept pace and traveled down the lonely road, passing by more trees barely visible through the fog, and even some wooden fencing. His irritated stream of consciousness began to wane as his ears picked up on strange sounds in the fog. Specifically, the sound of snapping twigs and squelching paces. He stopped for a moment, touching the tip of his hilt once again, and gazed about. For a moment, it felt like someone, or something, was following him. 

However, the moment his thoughts drifted in that direction, the offending sounds stopped, and all that could be heard was the wind and the leaves of the trees. He took the time to gaze about his surroundings, to the best of his abilities due to the limits provided by the thick fog, and sensed nothing of note. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed himself ever so slightly, and continued moving forward.

It took a fair amount of time, but Vergil found himself finally encountering signs of life. Or at least what was there once. It was a carriage, haphazardly parked off to the side of the road, seemingly abandoned, but no worse for wear. There were no signs of damage, no skid marks that could denote an accident, not even traces of hoofprints at the sides or the front of the transport. It was as if it had always been here from the beginning, and something about that made the half-devil feel a little uneasy. Never the less, he pulled himself away from the oddity, and soon found himself coming towards a strange building with no defining features, save for an opening missing its door. To the left and right, fencing blocked off possible routes, leaving Vergil with the only option. Stepping forth, he found himself in a walkway that had its windows blocked off by fencing, with newspapers scattered about the ground, damp, likely from the constant fog.

He pressed forward, ignoring the papers abound and the caution signs that peppered the surroundings, coming up to a gate at the end of the walkway with one more danger sign. He pressed against the gate, and found that it swung open easily, albeit with a loud, squeaking protest from the rusted metal. Passing through, he found himself in a less natural setting, and noticed that wherever he ended up was at what seemed to be a cliff-side. Over the edge, he could hear the faint sound of a creek, and could smell the surprisingly unpleasant scent of dirty water and rust.

Snorting to clear his nostrils of the offending sensation, Vergil backed away and continued along the newly discovered cobblestone road, feeling he must be close to the town. The road in question, peppered with bush and untamed vegetation growing off its side, had further signs of neglect with some cobblestones either cracked, or entirely up-heaved from their resting spots. The only other objects Vergil noted along the way where safety railings whenever there was a turn at any degree, and the lamp posts that stood tall, normally set up with the railings.

After reaching the end of the winding, twisting cliff-side road, Vergil came to a split in the path, however one direction was blocked off with a fence, fastened with a warning sign. He considered slicing apart the fencing and pressing forward, but felt whatever reason the route was blocked off for would hinder him more than he would like. Instead, he opted to take the alternate route, keeping his eyes peeled for any stray clues that may help in his search for the missing mare. Unsurprisingly, along the way all he found was overgrowth, the odd abandoned carriage, and more fencing to the sides, as if to discourage him from leaving the path set before him.

Eventually, after walking down the lonely path, with nothing but the wind, the trees, and the mist as his companions, his trek took him to what seemed to be the first real street of the town proper, emerging to what seemed like a "T" junction. For a moment, he wondered if he had passed by a sign indicating the town's entrance but failed to notice it, wondering where exactly Quite Valley's borders started. Shaking his head of the useless thought, he crossed over the streetway, approaching a flower shop that slowly emerged from the fog. A large banner extended across the front, indicating a grand opening, however the shabby visage it gave made it seem like the place was left to fester for years. Empty pots, damaged windows, and a distinct smell of rotting wood and rust could be picked up upon approaching the establishment. Placing a hoof upon the door, he pushed gently, only to find it locked tight. Peering through the windows, all he saw within were nearly empty shelves, dead or dying overgrowth poking through the floors, and the few pots that could be seen had nothing but soil in them. It was a sorry excuse of a flower shop, and he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach because of it.

Stepping back, taking in the quiet, dead, abandoned nature thus far, he couldn't help but wonder something foreboding. Why would Fluttershy ever come here? To be fair, the rest of the town could be vastly different from what he found so far, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. Besides, this land of ponies had given him one constant in his new life, and that was if there was any sign of life, any pony present would waste no time in greeting him, whether he wanted it or not. Never the less, he decided it would be best to begin his search properly, and comb the town. To the right, he could just barely make out the shapes of buildings, but only barely. To the left, he couldn't see much, but as sparse and mist covered as it was, there was a possibility that going left would lead to what blocked him earlier. Perhaps even lead to clues as to what was going on in this town. Vergil was no stranger to investigating strange locations after all, ever since that fateful day...

Deciding it would be prudent to act on his instinct, Vergil cantered to the left, following the street for a while, before he found himself at a cliff-side wall. There was another fence with warning signs attached at the mouth of a back-road exit, seemingly leading to where he had just come from through the trail. He attempted to gaze beyond said fence, but due to the fog, couldn't find anything of note that would give any satisfactory information. Instead, he turned his gaze to the opposite direction, and noticed a short alley surrounded by more fencing, with an abandoned carriage tucked into it. Strangely, the door to cab had been completely separated from the main body. Curious, he stepped forward the get a closer look, and took note of a few points of interest. The first was that the hinges of the door were actually torn. Whatever happened, the removal was a lot more deliberate. A saner individual would reason it was probably a repair job turning sour, with the door being ripped off in a fit of irritation. The distinct lack of any other signs of life, be it struggle or repair, ensured he discarded the more reasonable thought. Something was definitely going on here, just as that other pony had mentioned.

The other point of interest was what seemed to be a map sitting haphazardly on the seat of the carriage. Stepping in, he picked up the map, and studied it for a moment. It was a map of Quiet Valley, more specifically, the north-west portion of the town. The town, at least indicated on the map itself, seemed to be much more organized than other pony towns he had encountered, but not to the extent of places like Canterlot. If anything, it had similar planning structure to Manehatten. At least given his past as an involuntary nomad, he had some experience with urban navigation, so seeing typical indications of places of interest, such as the park, local bar, or clock-tower, weren't new to him. What was interesting were a few scribbles marked in red ink. He looked about the cab, and found the offending red pen that was used. Picking it up and pocketing it along with the map, he decided it would be best to keep both around for convenience's sake.

Exiting the cab, he decided to go what was decidedly eastward to the town proper, down what was known as Strong Avenue, and check out one of the nearby scribbles he noticed, which was a question mark that sat in a thin alleyway two blocks down. Passing Ball Street, he got a better look around the town within the thick fog. Every now and again he could find another carriage, either simply parked or somewhat roughed up, altogether abandoned just like the last few he saw. Some buildings looked like they could still be opened and explored, while others were very clearly locked off.  Everything around him, from signs to painted walls, had a slight diluted tinge to it, as if the color had been slowly eroding away for quite some time now. He could see signs of a once thriving and probably joyful town here, but the facts before him stated this was a long time ago. Stranger still, he found one place, ironically named Joy's Pub, that had the inside of the window absolutely covered in news clippings, blocking the view of the inside. Upon inspecting it out of sheer curiosity, he found the door to be unlocked.

He let his curiosity end there however. Dallying about and checking every odd location would ultimately waste time in his eyes, and he was here on a mission, not to site-see. If it was important enough, he'd come back to it. For the time being, he decided to continue marching eastward toward...

He then suddenly saw something he never thought he'd see in the land of Equestria, nevermind a lifeless location like this. A thick trail of blood leading forward along the very road he was taking. Passing St. Germane Street, he briefly saw some hard to identify figure crawl into an alleyway, making a heavy scraping sound before disappearing from his view entirely. Vergil touched the edge of his pommel once again, watching and listening for any further sensory information before he took cautious, determined steps forward. He reached the mouth of the alley, only seeing the trail of blood lead further in, but no other sign of the figure he had barely witnessed. It was as if it just disappeared, or was never really there to begin with.

Vergil gave an exasperated sigh as he made his way down the alley. He had every intention on investigating the odd clue pointed out on the map, but this small mystery gave him all the more reason to do so with trepidation. The further he wandered in, the more he saw trails and splatters of blood, either along the ground or occasionally against the wall. More than that, he began to hear a strange, but not unfamiliar sound; the sound of radio static, drawing ever louder the further he went in, following the blood. This was, until, he came across quite the grizzly sight. The corpse of a pony laid at the very end of the alley, covered in seemingly its own blood, looking like it was ripped open by... something. There, near the cadaver's foreleg, was the source of the offending noise; a small, portable radio, buzzing and squealing away.

The devil pony was about to investigate it, however another sound swiftly caught his attention. A loud metallic bang was heard, causing him to whip around and press his hoof against his blade, ready to draw. His eyes focused upon a dumpster, and out from behind came quite a ghastly thing. It looked like a pony, but all of its facial features were missing, save for the outline of a screaming mouth. Curled horns adorned its head, with one being broken. Short, thick claws, tipped in dried blood, punctuated its lanky forelegs. As it crawled slowly towards Vergil, he noticed chains around its neck that linked up to... something dragging behind it, tightly wound in the same chains. Its hind legs were nowhere to be found, as was most of the lower half of the creature.

Vergil smirked. It was obvious this creature's movement was very slow and limited, and whatever damage it could do with its claws were no more of a threat to him than a simple knife, but it was clear as day as to what this thing was. While appearing VASTLY different to the denizens of Tartarus he had to dispatch as part of his parole agreement, this was no doubt a demonic entity. A hostile, animalistic one at that, which currently made a disturbing, muffled, choking scream at him.

And so, approaching with pure confidence, Vergil lunged forward and drew his sword quick as lightning, and slashed downward at the creature. With a sigh, he prepared for the spray of blood that would follow, hoping that this excursion in town would eventually yield a place to clean himself from what he'd likely be doing while searching for Fluttershy. However, no blood followed his attack, and instead of the scream of agony, there was one of anger as the thing before him lunged in retaliation and slashed at his arm. Vergil dashed back, managing to avoid the hit, but now grew in trepidation. The blade should have hit, and that should have been the end of it. But there it was, crawling towards him with slow, painful, unholy, determined gait.

Still having a speed advantage, Vergil dashed around the side and attempted to skewer the thing through the back. As he did, though, there was no press of flesh that could be felt when blade met skin. The only thing he felt was the tip of Yamato clacking against the hard ground below.

"What in the-?" was all he could utter before the creature turned around, as if the blade wasn't even pierced inside of it, and swiped at Vergil's hind leg. He dodged, but one claw managed to nick him in the cannon of his leg, drawing a bit of blood from him. The Son of Sparda stepped back, gazing upon Yamato with confusion and fury, noting the distinct lack of demon blood coating the still pristine metal.

The creature howled its awful, muffled noise, and slowly crawled towards the hunter, having unexpectedly turned the tables. Vergil slipped Yamato back into its sheath, trying to figure out some way to dispatch this seemingly invincible monster. He could just leave, as a sane individual would probably point out, but the damnable vice of pride kept him planted to the spot. How dare this pathetic thing lay a claw upon him. The thing, now close enough to Vergil while he was internally wrestling with his own emotions and injured pride, took another swipe at the devil pony. Instinctively, Vergil swung his sheathed blade in an attempt to parry the attack. For the briefest of moments, Vergil suddenly felt like a fool, for if the blade seemingly phased right through the creature, what could the scabbard possibly do?

Then, the sheath clacked against the claw of the monster, successfully driving the attack away. Time stood still for a moment, and Vergil swiftly realized he was still properly armed. Moving quickly with the opportunity set, he dashed to its side and swung downward across the creature's head. A loud "THWACK" could be heard reverberating around the walls of the alley. Pulling back for a moment, he noticed he did significant damage to its head, having been slightly caved in at this point, leaking black ichor. The creature attempted to turn for another swipe along with a harrowing bellow, but Vergil moved faster and sliced upward with his sheathed blade, smacking the monster's entire body away into a wall. It collided against the surface with a sickening crunch, following the chained lump making a similar, if more metallic, sound, Wasting no more time, Vergil rushed forward, raised Yamato above his head, and stabbed downward upon its already damaged skull, piercing it with the blunt foot of the scabbard. The thing twitched violently for a moment, before it suddenly stopped moving in an unnerving fashion.

The static from the radio, which at the time had been very prevalent during the encounter, slowly subsided as the black ichor that seemed to be the creature's blood seeped from the wounds and began to pool around the thing. Vergil took a step back, and realized something. This was not a demon. Blood and viscera aside, demons tend to die cleanly, normally not leaving an entire body behind once deceased, which would either rapidly break down into the components that was used to summon it or burst into flames and dissolve the creature's body that way. Never the less, whatever this creature was, it was dead.

Static picked up again, but something was poking through the white noise this time.	"V---il...--e-- --- y--..." The Son of Sparda turned toward and approached the pocket radio, picking it up from its resting ground, and as soon as he did, the static ceased. Looking it over, he fiddled with the volume and tuner. It was unresponsive at the moment, but he had a gut feeling that due to whatever was around here, he felt it may come in handy. Pocketing the device, Vergil then began to make his way out of the alleyway, only to feel a slight twinge in his leg. Curiously, it was the leg that was cut during the encounter. Upon closer inspection, the small wound hadn't healed yet.

"What trickery is this?" he muttered in disgust.

Demons, including half-breeds such as himself, tended to be gifted with physical abilities that far outpace most mortal beings, one such feat including high regenerative capabilities. Wounds closing nigh instantly as soon they were opened. It was one of the few things that made survival against stronger monsters that much more plausible. The cut he sustained, however, posed a new, ominous idea to him that he dare not say out loud: Am I powerless here?

In an attempt to prove it wrong, Vergil focused upon the demonic power within himself, and begun to call it forth to take his true form. Try as he might, nothing came of it. "Why isn't this working?" he slowly uttered, seething at every word. Something was severely wrong with this town, and each new revelation made it so much worse that it initially seemed. There was no more time for intrusive thoughts. No more room to sooth his pride. The situation had changed, and he could no longer afford actions of hubris. He needed to find her before it got any more out of hand.
> Alone in the Town
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Exiting the alley back to Strong Avenue, Vergil checked the map again. Taking out the red pen from his pocket, he scribbled out the question mark that indicated the scene he was just at. For a moment, he questioned why a map all the way at the edge of town in an abandoned carriage had a hint that pointed him towards such a ghastly scene, and wondered in addition to what exactly was so important that it had to be noted. Ire built up more and more as these strange happenings kept presenting further, tiresome questions. 

Before he could bemoan his situation, the radio he had stuffed into his pocket began to buzz and squeal once again, at first feint, but then grew louder. He ripped the offending device from where he stored it and examined it closely, before another sound pierced through the noise and fog. Turning his attention to the intruding sound, Vergil laid eyes upon yet another creature dragging its loathsome body across the ground. The bridge of his nose and his brow furrowed as he sneered at the unsightly thing. Opting to not interact with the monster, noting how sluggish it moved anyway, the Son of Sparda exited the alley's mouth and moved back down Strong Ave towards St. Germane Street.

Turning the corner upon reaching St. Germane, he proceeded southward, hoping to find further clues, or perhaps a still living soul in this town. As he wandered however, he noticed the static from the radio that he still held onto began to die down until it all but ceased. He stopped for a moment, scrutinizing the device and pondering the situation, before he decided to run a small test. 

Turning back, he returned to Strong Ave, already noting the white noise starting up from the radio as it did before. Once again, he saw the monster in the fog crawl agonizingly slow across the road, and the closer he approached it, the louder the noise from the radio was. He stopped, realizing the creature's proximity was very closely tied to the radio. As to the reason why, he didn't know, but the town proved already to be as strange as "Red" had warned, so this may yet be one of the town's own conditions. Never the less, a warning against these creatures would only serve as a boon.

With his curiosity sated, he backtracked to St. Germane and re-proceeded to move southbound. As he progressed onward, he noticed the radio's static rising and falling. Taking quick glances while he moved, he noticed another few of those creatures. One moving slowly up the street, the other scratching underneath a parked carriage. Vergil's thoughts began to wander as his pace slowed, now seeing these things in a new light. The monster he fought in the alley had warped his impression of them. As dangerous as they could be, especially since the one he fought managed to leave a proper wound, they were relatively benign.

"Unworthy animals," he seethed, now opting to press onward without paying them any further mind.

Onward he pressed, down the current street, veering slightly off to the side when the noticeable sounds of the radio alerted him to the nuisances lurking just behind the mists. It was odd, really. Despite how ear splitting the radio was, only he seemed to notice its relatively loud volume in the silent streets. The creatures simply weren't bothered by its presence in the slightest, and thus never seemed to focus their attention upon him as long as he kept his relative distance. Faceless as they may be, it seemed to the devil-pony that they operated on sight rather than sound. The more he thought about it, the more he began to appreciate such a device.

As he crossed an intersection on Oliver Avenue, Vergil noticed something rather alarming in the distance to the south. It was faint due to the mist, but the closer he drew, the more he saw. Or, more accurately, the less he saw. The roadway he was taking had abruptly ended, leading to a jagged, sheer cliff that dropped into a misty oblivion. Worse was that this was not a natural phenomenon, as the street, sidewalk, signs, foliage, and even buildings had sustained major damage, as if the ground itself were ripped away from that end haphazardly. He'd call it an earthquake, but there would be MUCH more damage to the surrounding buildings if that was the case.

It was then that he spotted another carriage, this time tipped over, with the top having been ripped away and missing. Curiosity pulled him closer to inspect, and he found scattered papers, looking like a report. and a blood soaked body splattered against the seat. Vergil gathered the notes he could, and decided to skim through them, and realized they were reports. Specifically, reports about the town:



	 Day 1,

I was given the case to investigate a variety of strange disappearances that have been happening in a remote town called Quiet Valley. As of writing these observational documents, the investigation had just begun. I will proceed in earnest, and note any significant changes.

Day 2,

I had interviewed everyone I could find in town about the disappearances. Nopony seems to know of their whereabouts, citing absences days before they were declared missing, but no rumors or sightings beyond said announcements. What is bizarre is that some of the affected parties of the missing ponies are starting to forget, more and more frequently needing me to remind them of why they themselves hired me. Even worse, pictures of the missing began to disappear. Something is terribly wrong.

Day 5, 

I woke up alone in my carriage this morning to find the whole town shrouded in mist. No matter where I look, I can't seem to find anypony around. It's as if the whole place became a ghost town overnight. I'm also seeing strange shapes in the fog. I decided to just stay in the carriage for the time being and review my notes.

Day 5-2,

Some of my notes have gone missing. Some of the pictures that were missing have come back. What in Tartarus is going on? My head is starting to hurt, and I think I hear a siren somewhere.

Day 6,

There is DEFINITELY something wrong in this town. To Tartarus with professional decorum. If these reports are to be what's left of me, then know this: I've been seeing things out there. Terrible things. I should have NEVER taken this job. I don't know what I thought I'd gain by doing this. It's not like she'd be found in this blasted town. I'm going to die here, and it's all my fault. To whoever reads this, RUN. Leave town and don't look back. You could be the toughest rock on the cliff, and it wouldn't be enough. What lurks here is not-



The notes ended right there, but tucked between them were a few photos, with only one of them featuring a very clear and recognizable face, and who it was gave Vergil pause. The photo in question was of Fluttershy. He looked back to the body of the individual that likely wrote these particular papers, deducing that the corpse used to be an investigator of some kind, but no one else knew of Fluttershy's disappearance. How did this one get the jump on the investigation long before he received that strange letter from the mare in question? Did her so-called friends somehow forget, just like the others implied in the reports?

Never the less, he decided to claim Fluttershy's photo for himself after allowing the rest of the papers to scatter in the wind. He never brought her photo with him initially, confident he wouldn't need it in what he assumed would be a very short mission, but he felt that with such alarming developments as of late, it would be unwise to continue without. Before he slipped the photo into his pocket, he noticed slight grooves at the back of the picture, and decided to turn it around. 

On the backside of Fluttershy's photo was a note that read, "Rumor of missing mare at Joy's. Possible clue?". Feeling the name was familiar, Vergil pulled the map from his pocket and laid it upon the ground, scrutinizing it closely. Sure enough, there was a pub north of here named Joy's. Thinking back, he realized he had been at that location once before, but had decided not to enter. Slipping the photo and map into his pocket, he dusted himself off and proceeded back up the street, keeping an open ear on the radio static and careful eye on the limited view of his surroundings.

Once again, all threats were avoided effectively with this strategy as he very swiftly found himself back in front of the pub. Stepping up to the door, Vergil placed his hoof upon the handle and opened the door. As he did, he lightly chastised himself for not investigating prior when he first had the chance, reasoning he might have saved some time. That was IF the tip he found actually does point him in Fluttershy's direction.

Entering the pub, he noticed how dark it was inside, bathed in the incredibly dim light that leaked through the newspaper plastered against the windows. It was honestly quite an eerie contrast, but aesthetics were trivial compared to his mission. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he noticed how dilapidated the pub was, with broken seats and barren, damaged walls. Even the bar counter had nothing but a few cups, unknown debris, and bits of broken glass. Ire began to rise within Vergil as he considered the so-called clue on the back of Fluttershy's photo to be a lie, but something caught the attention of his peripheral vision.

It was a teddy bear, a little scuffed, but in decidedly better condition than the counter it was sitting upon. So much so, it looked like as if it were placed there recently. It was quite hard not to notice it with its relatively striking white fur and its obvious missing eye. Even more curious was the piece of paper folded and placed between the sitting bears legs. Taking the scrap, he unfolded it and scanned its contents. It was a piece of the town map, with the clocktower circled with the note scribbled next to it saying "saw somepony there that looked like that mare".

"Clocktower," he pondered to himself before he pulled the map from his pocket again. Looking it over, he found its location rather quickly and circled it himself. He noted that all he'd need to do to get there was to head west until he reached Miller Street, then go south for a short distance. It was practically a hop, skip, and jump away.

Smirking to himself, he discarded the scrap and turned to leave, only to see something he didn't notice before. Written in a reddish brown upon the newspaper plastered on the window were the words "A piece of the world is missing". Vergil raised an eyebrow, pondering only for a moment over what it could mean, before he dismissed it as nonsensical graffiti.

Exiting the pub, he turned to the west, and made his way through the street at a relatively quick pace, ignoring the constant presence of the crawling, dragging creatures that continued to inhabit the area against his wishes. Their blood trails and incessant grinding of what they pulled behind them disgusted and irritated him, especially as the dull throb on his slowly healing leg wound continued to remind Vergil of recent events. He made a mental note, deciding that once Fluttershy had been found safe and sound, he would return to butcher these pests and blow off some much needed steam. He would do so now, but fighting them in the way he had prior was inelegant, inefficient, and irresponsible. He had a job to do, and wasting his time, effort, and personal well being just to kill those things as powered down as he was would be beyond foolish. He should only ever stomach such encounters in emergencies.

It didn't take him long to reach Miller Street, to which he very quickly began to move south. However, while he did start to see what looked like a lengthy clock tower rise to the sky in the mists, just barely visible, he also noticed that the road ended on a sheer cliff once again; cutting off easy access to such a close location. He growled and grumbled for a moment, before he pulled his map out once more, drawing a red X at his current spot, before spying a slightly longer alternate route: continue west through Strong Avenue and head south on Valentine Street. It was slightly more roundabout, but was still within acceptable reach.

And so, Vergil did just that. Pulling out of Miller Street, he made his way a bit further up Strong Avenue once more. His new direction, however, was very swiftly cut short again as he encountered yet another massive break in the roadway. Both not wanting to anger himself further, but wanting to confirm where he was, he looked around the area, and noticed a slightly bent, but still legible signpost that showed this was, indeed, the corner of Strong Avenue and Valentine Street. Vergil snarled for a moment, before he pulled the map out again and crossed out that path. Going over it once more, he spied a much longer round about path that he could take to get to the clocktower, but it would require him to take a detour back up Miller Street.

Doubling back, he cantered back through Strong Avenue until he reached Miller once more, before he began to head north. It really didn't take him long to find himself to once again be blocked off at the pass with a sheer drop before him, but at the very least to the east the road still seemed to be intact. Not wishing to waste more time pondering the quickest method, Vergil opted to move eastward and try to see if he could head north on Saint Germane Street, only to find the roadway there had also collapsed or otherwise undergone a mysteriously upheaval. This, however, still did not completely hinder him, as he very quickly noticed the sound of tree leaves and rushing water in the distance. Directly to his east was a fenced off area, however he opted to move southward, following the fence until he reached the entrance to "Riverside Park".

Before him was a relatively normal park, much of it being open grass with sporadic trees, save for a relatively dense brush of shrubs and trees nearby the visible rushing river. It had decidedly much more life to it than the town, but was still just as eerily quiet, save for the creatures. The silence was disturbed, however, with the soft sobs of a child echoing from the fog. He tapped his blade's pommel gently with his hoof and swiveled his ears to get a read on the source of the noise.

"Show yourself," he commanded, still resting his hoof upon the blade. The sob quickly shifted to a slight 'eep', as a form crawled out of the bush, making it rustle, and emerged from the obscuring fog. Before Vergil was a very young colt. Tears stained his cheeks as dirt and leaves dirtied his silvery coat and dusty rosy pink mane. A silver arrow with butterfly wings was adorned upon his flank. Wiping away a tear, the colt fidgeted before the Son of Sparda.

"I-I'm very sorry m-mister," the young boy managed to stutter out, "I d-didn't mean to h-hide... I was just," 

Vergil gave a sigh as his his hoof retracted from his blade and he shook his head. "You shouldn't be out here, boy."

"I know," he replied, "but I lost my teddy yesterday. i-I came out here to find it."

In this fog? Vergil wondered, before shaking his head, "It's dangerous. Return home."

"I-I can't... n-not without..." the colt sobbed.

Vergil gave another sigh of annoyance as he spoke once again. "What does it look like?"

"P-pardon?"

"Your... teddy. What does it look like?"

"O-oh... its got white fur, like a bear in the frozen north. And its missing an eye. My mum gave it to me."

Vergil inwardly scoffed at the description, immediately recognizing it. "Very well. You stay put and stay hidden. I shall bring it back." Vergil had a job to do, but something deep inside him told him he would greatly regret allowing this kid to roam the streets in the fog. The monsters out there were trivial for him, even while weakened, but he knew that the child had no chance.

Exiting the park, Vergil checked the map once again, and realized the pub was just a straight shot south from where he was. Wasting no more time, Vergil briskly made his way back to Joy's Pub, entered it, and retrieved the bear from its resting place. Knowing he'd have a tough time carrying it with him normally, he found a bit of string nearby, and tied it to the scabbard of Yamato, making sure it was nicely secure to it. The whole thing looked ridiculous, but it was only temporary, he told himself. Upon leaving the pub. he noticed the radio start to buzz much louder this time around, especially considering it wasn't so active while he came to the building in the first place. The source of the distress was the increase in creatures that were now in close proximity to the pub.

What in hell? Vergil thought, There were NOT that many before now. One of the closer creatures, soon noticing Vergil was within its range, tensed back and gave a mighty leap towards the devil pony, Vergil dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding its lunging attack. The monster, missing its target, instead crashed through the door Vergil just came through. The sound was enough to get the attention of the rest of them, causing them to start clawing their way towards their would-be prey. Vergil clicked his tongue in annoyance, and moved away from the slowly gathering crowd, circling around them, and heading northwards towards the park. He could hear the horrible clawing and scraping behind him get fainter and fainter, but never actually going away. They're more aggressive, he considered, and persistent. I should hurry.

Soon enough, he reached the park, and the moment he stepped in and looked about, he began calling for the colt. "Boy!" he shouted, "Reveal yourself! I found your blasted toy!" Silence remained as he kept his ears focused and his eyes scrutinizing the area. Where is that brat? he fumed inwardly. He then noticed small hoofprints in the ground, roughly the size of the little colt's. He grimaced in frustration.

However, he didn't have time to stew in his anger, as the sounds of scratching claws and scraping metal slowly began to get louder out in the streets behind him. They're following me? Those monsters didn't exhibit this behavior before, so why now? He shook his head and decided to do what he originally thought of doing when he came to the park the first time. Follow the river upstream at the west side, and head for the water treatment plant. Gazing towards the hoofprints once more, he soon realized they were leading towards the same destination. If he ever found the little colt again, he was going to read him one hell of a riot act for his foolishness.

Vergil briskly galloped along the path through the trees and bush alongside the river, and it didn't take him long to reach a rather imposing building. He was aware that technology and building types in Equestria were very much a mixed bag of time periods and styles, but this one looked closer to being industrial in nature. Spartan and practical, with little in aesthetic. Very much an unequestrian looking building, which strangely unnerved him. However, what beat out that offbeat feeling was seeing an incredibly strange... thing, hung above the back exit of the building. It looked like a crucified pony, forelegs outstretched and nailed to the wall of the building, once again with no face, but its bottom half was an upside down top half, with minor, but significant differences. For starters, the bottom torso was far more emaciated, with the rib-cage clearly visible and pushing at the skin. The second was, at the end of the hooves, poked out long curved blades. It made the upside down hanging half look more like some sort of twisted parody of a praying mantis than a mockery of a pony. 

Vergil drew his attention behind it, and noticed that the door it hung above was wide open. He looked down upon the ground, and noticed the hoofprints once more leading towards the door. Did that stupid boy really run in there? He had no more time to ponder, as he started to notice the sounds of claws and scraping metal grow in volume. He looked back at the thing, noticing it seemed dormant. Vergil had no other choice, so cautiously he approached the creature, hoping to duck underneath and bypass it entirely. However, the moment he got close, the creature abruptly moved with a muffled scream, swiping its exceptionally dangerous bladed hooves at the devil pony. Vergil barely had time to react, as he swung his sheathed Yamato toward the attack to parry, only to remember that the blasted toy was attached. Before he knew it, the creature gripped the teddy bear strongly and began to pull, threatening to take the Yamato too. Vergil wound his other hoof around the scabbard and pulled back with all of his might, engaging in a vicious tug of war, before the string that attached the toy to his blade snapped, and Vergil tumbled backwards for a moment. 

Rising back to his hooves, he pressed his hoof against the handle of the blade, ready to fight, only to notice the creature hugging the teddy close to it. For a moment, there was soft, horrible gurgling noises coming from the monster. However, the gurgling stopped, and the bottom half of the creature melted away into viscera and bone, pulling off of the crucified top half, which remained unchanged. Vergil stood there for a moment, trying to put the pieces together, before realizing that the teddy had melted along with the creature, and thus was no longer salvageable. He'd curse over it, but honestly, he was just glad to be rid of such an embarrassing item. If he found the boy, he'd have to think up a lie about what had happened to his bear.

Soon enough, the pile of viscera disappeared, leaving behind dry bones and brittle blades, and a door wide open for him to step through. Vergil seized his opportunity, rushed forward, passing the crucified pony, and entered the building, shutting the door behind him.