> Few
>  by Birdring
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> non-existent hidden
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In recent years, there are numerous threats. As governesses, of which they had already fought several torments for the peace, they introduced at the same time a kind of elite guard, remedying and negotiating any attempt to constrain. Only in the last few moons did they fight and overcome the chaos perpetuator himself, they physically destroy one of the biggest myths about the moon, converted a complete population using its source of nourishment and so on.

The team was locally known as "Mane 6" was in fact made up of six members, its intriguing members being representatives of the Elements of Harmony. They are : Honesty, Kindness, Laughter, Generosity, Loyalty and Magic. Being twilight the representative of magic, Applejack of Honesty, Fluttershy of Kindness, Pinkie pie of Laughter, Rarity of Generosity and Rainbow dash of Loyalty.

Currently, the housekeeper is in her castle, which is also a seat of friendship, ready for political and practical issues related to Equestria and friendship, when Starlight Glimmer, her direct student, notices and nods with a smile, she greets the mentor "Good Twi morning!"

Twilight, who was available at the library,reading some books turns around and answers affectionately, "Good morning too!"

Starlight looks curiously at the housekeeper and asks, "What are you studying so hard at this time of day?"

With a happy look she replies "Artifacts, these things can be magic. For several moons we didn't know that this existed around here, let alone that there was so much magic, these things can give a good boost to the study of magic itself" In fact, the Princess of Friendship is known for keeping quantities of materials from various corners and the case that no one knows these tools makes the situation a little intriguing. "I've been researching them for a few days, would you like to help me?" she completes.

Starlight responds in the affirmative "Obviously, all for science!"

Several days of research passed and no progress was made. Starlight has just arrived at the castle and when opening the door is greeted by Alicornio, who is visibly tired of the effortless, the sovereign soon asks "Did you get any clues?"

Starlight responds with lowered ears "Sorry but no"

The alicorn, who already expected this kind of response, says to activate the more relaxing situation "Come in, you better rest" and then walk around inviting the newcomer to follow him. They soon end up in the library, but instead of incessantly looking for at least one mention of powerful objects, they sit at the table, Starlight deducing that since this is where Twilight spent most of her time, she used to feel more comfortable. After a few moments of silence, Alicornio happily tells Starlight to finish the ice "It looks like these things never existed and we haven't even found anything about the instruments used by Grogar and the gang!"

Starlight, the counselor, sympathetically replies "I don't think these things really have any kind of record, it was a good hunt, I believe when we have rested we can both think about it" The two ponies spent a lot of energy looking for any trace of artifacts and now it needed a break. Twilight agrees, experience has shown her that wear and tear affects thinking that was exactly what was being demanded right now.

The rest was well spent reinvigorating the ponies, the 3 days off were spa trips, reading novels and simple walks for some fresh air. The two are now having breakfast and Twilight says "I hope our time away from school doesn't affect our friends and classes" says the pony thoughtfully.

The counselor, with a reassuring look in her eyes, replies, "I'm sure Spike is doing a good job as a director and the girls always manage to control the situation."

"I'm glad the students are constantly helping each other," says the mentor. A thought spontaneously pops into Twilight's mind as she gulps down her tea: "I think I know a better method for finding the artifacts." Starlight is watching curiously, hoping the housekeeper will continue to say, "We should ask some pegasi or griffins to help search the area." The student seems to agree. In fact, pegasi and griffins always need to fly looking down, making them constant object hunters. The idea also seemed like a unique promise at the time, that all the less practical methods had already been tried.



And that idea also failed. Both the griffin and the pegasus found nothing. As usual, at the end of the day, at the end of sunset, a griffin, being the representative of the searches, delivers the report, and each day, Twilight's hopes fade. "You really haven't discovered anything?" Alicornio asks, she emphasized to them the importance these objects would bring to the advancement of magic and wanted a guarantee that they would try their best.

The griffin responds with an anxious look: "We didn't find any of those things you asked for."

"Not even a bit odd piece?" Twilight persists but already expected what the answer would be.

"No princess, maybe next time we'll be luckier," says the griffin.

Twilight lets out a sigh like she's exhausted and says shaking her head "Okay", which sends the griffin flying. Twilight turns around and now goes down the hall and up some stairs, goes to her room and sits in the chair at her desk where she has some papers with attempts, failed attempts to at least find some stuff about legend that at least mentions one thing about magic powerful or at least people babbling oddities. Twilight leans back in her chair and thinks Maybe Starlight is right, maybe there's no record of these things. All we found was what we already knew. It was already night and tomorrow would be a new day. She is thoughtful, tomorrow she will resume classes like Starlight did. It was already night and she decided to sleep, she sets the table then puts the papers in the drawer and lies looking out the window thinking that later is the new and comforting day





-------------------------------------

I woke up to the sound of a hoof banging frantically on the door. The man lets out a sigh, as if he's disappointed. Blinking my eyes, I tried to shift my body into a better position to stand up. Immediately, white dots filled my vision from the raw agony running through my neck, and I stopped moving. The door gave with a crack, and a white-furred mare entered. A spark of fear made me tense, and I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming. I succeeded, most of the time, though a groan still escaped.

The apparent nurse's head snapped toward the noise, and she looked almost… worried. Okay, she looked absolutely terrified, but it wasn't on my behalf. Could not be. But why would she be afraid of me? I couldn't move, I couldn't speak. I was helpless. Completely helpless. Totally at the mercy of these candy-colored horses.

Part of me wished they would finally show me some. The rest of me knew better. Clenching my jaw in pain, I looked at her blankly. The mare shivered slightly under my gaze. I can imagine why. My eyes felt dead when I saw them.

I refused to stare, I refused to grimace or frown. My lips twitched up on the left side, just for a moment.

The nurse swallowed and looked away from me, stepping forward and manipulating my arm around her withers. "Come on... Get on them!" I managed to get my legs under me, and slowly made my way to an unstable, hunched position. Sleeping on the floor while I was still badly injured hadn't done wonders for my pain. And with the morphine bag now dry, I was feeling every bit of it.
-----

The walk back to my room was slow and dangerous, the combined (and clumsy) efforts of the white pony's assistance and my limp lending itself to more than a few tumbles. Eventually, however, we did. I had just gone to bed when the pony wrinkled her muzzle. "Okay. You must be the stinkiest creature I've ever seen. I'll get you a bath." I didn't bother trying to stop her.

I closed my eyes and sighed. I hadn't thought about what in what felt like a lifetime. When things were carefree, when they were just lovely things. But in my situation right now... I still didn't hate it. I couldn't hate myself. No matter how angry or hurt, even if it destroyed my life, even if I am just a nonexistent mad man, however destroyed I became, part of me still saw life as something incredible of an even more incredible complexity. . I think I was more disappointed. When I got here, I expected... I don't know what I expected. I committed to my choice before I really thought about it.

...What made me come here in the first place?
> To good men, rags.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"After a while you learn to hold back" says the man in the black suit

"It is necessary to learn", says the passenger in a soft voice.

Both people were in a car and were heading to the prison, the place was known for housing death row inmates, murderers and consequently madmen.

Arthur said to Harry, "Have you heard a lot about this place?"

"It's a penitentiary with a lot of people with psychiatric problems, that's all I know." answer Harry

"For alienated criminals," said Arthur.

"Well, we wouldn't be here if they weren't," replied Harry.

Harry looks through the windshield towards the direction where the offenders' detention would be and asks "What about the man we're going to interview?"

Arthur replies, "I don't know much about it. I have your name in my notebook. I think they'll give us all the details of the case when we get there."

Harry surveyed the immense expanse around him. "Whatever happens to this man, he couldn't get far."

Arthur shrugged. "It seems that prisoners are subject to all sorts of hallucinations."

Harry looks at the driver and asks "Are they schizophrenic?"

The man looks sideways between the road and the passenger and replies, "I think some do. Anyway, we're not going to find here the Mongoloids we usually pass on the street or any guy who's afraid of cracks in the sidewalk, or who sleeps too much." He straightens up and looks at the road and continues "From what I can gather from the report, most of the inmates are normal and are in prison for petty crimes but there are some insane inmates. There are even some ending their time on death row."

---

They arrived at the location determined by the gps. It was on a slope and the beach looked as if it had been battered by the sea for the last few nights; it was covered with shells and pieces of wood washed up by the tide, there were carcasses of molluscs and dead fish already half-eaten by the scavengers of the region, whatever they were. Arthur also saw debris, no doubt blown away by the strong wind—soaked tins and wads of paper, a license plate that had ended up in the trees, the numbers faded in the sunlight.

In front of the McPherson penitentiary, the deputy director went to receive them. He was quite young for the position he held, had black hair a little longer than usual, and moved with a casual grace that Arthur associated with the way of Texans or men who lived with horses growing up.

When asked, Arthur and Harry showed their badges, both were Agents. McPherson studied them for a long time, blinking his eyes, comparing the photos with the faces.

"I don't think I've ever seen a badge before," he said.

McPherson signed the receipt on a clipboard and shaking his head said, "Well, we can go."

McPherson led them up a gentle slope through the trees. After passing through the trees, they walked along a paved road, which curved into a smile, and Arthur saw a house on his left and a house on his right. The one on the left was more modest: Victorian, with a mansard roof, black-painted woodwork, small windows that looked like sentries. The one on the right, in Tudor style, dominated, like a castle, the small rise on which it stood.

They continued walking, climbing a very steep slope, covered with grasses, and then they came to a milder, greener relief, which flattened out at the top. Here the grass was lower and bordered on the traditional lawn, which stretched for hundreds of meters, until it was interrupted by an orange brick wall, which seemed to follow the entire contour of the island. Reaching about ten feet high, it was surmounted by a single electrical wire, and the sight of that lone wire struck Arthur, without his understanding why. He felt a sudden pity for the people on the other side of the wall, who well knew the meaning of the wire and realized how much the world wanted to see them confined. Arthur saw several men in dark blue uniforms outside the wall, their heads bowed, scanning the ground. Harry said: "Prison guards in a jail with some inmates with no mental health is pretty weird, if I may say so, Mr McPherson."



This is a maximum security jail," McPherson said. "We are governed by dual statutes: the State Department of Mental Health and the Department of Federal Prisons."

After the quick walk they came to a large gate. One of the servants used a key to open the gate in the middle of the wall. The gate swung open, servants pushed their wheelbarrows in, and two guards approached McPherson, one on his left, one on his right.

McPherson straightened up, assuming an absolutely formal posture, and said, "Now I would like to present the situation to you in general terms."

"You will be entitled to all the services we can provide and all the collaboration that is within our reach. During your stay here, however brief it may be, you will obey the regulation. Are we understood?" Ask the man.

Arthur nodded, and Harry said, "Fully."

McPherson fixed his gaze on a spot above their heads. "Of course Dr. Wesley will explain the more specific points to you, but I would like to draw your attention to the following: it is forbidden to make contact with patients in this hospital unless monitored. Do you understand?"

"Pavilion A of this hospital is the building behind me, on my right. It's the male pavilion. The female pavilion is pavilion B, on my left. Pavilion C is after those cliffs, behind this complex and the staff quarters, in the premises of an old fort. Access to pavilion C is prohibited, unless you have a written order and the physical presence of the director and Dr. Wesley, understood?"

New head movements.

McPherson held up his massive hand, palm up. "I request you to hand me your firearms."

Harry looked at Arthur. Arthur shook his head and said looking between his hand and the man. "Mr. McPherson, we are federal agents, lawfully constituted. As such, we are required to carry our firearms, whatever the circumstances."

McPherson's voice whipped the air like a steel cable. "Article three hundred and ninety-one of the Federal Code of Penitentiaries and Hospitals for the Dangerous Patients determines that the obligation to carry a weapon, imposed on a police officer, admits an exception: when there is an order to the contrary by the immediate superior or persons in charge of the management and protection of prison or psychiatric institutions. Here you are included in this exception. You will not be allowed to pass these gates carrying firearms."

Arthur looked at Harry. Harry bowed his head to McPherson's outstretched hand and shrugged.

Arthur said: "We request that this exceptional situation be officially registered".

McPherson said: "Guard, please proceed to record the suspension of use of weapons for Agents Arthur and Harry.

"Suspension is registered." "Gentlemen," McPherson said. The guard to McPherson's right opened a small leather pouch and McPherson held out his hand again.

They both took out their weapons and handed them to Pherson where he placed them in the bag which he handed to the guard.

"The weapons will be kept in the room next to the principal's," McPherson said softly, the words rustling like leaves, "located in the main building in the middle of the park. You'll have them back later in the day." His casual cowboy smile returned. "Well, as far as official business is concerned, I think that's enough for now. I don't know about you, but for my part, I'm glad it's over. How do you feel about going to see Dr. Wesley?"

He turned and, followed by the others, passed through the gate, which closed behind them.

Within the area encircled by the wall, the lawn stretched on either side of the main path, paved with bricks that matched the wall. Gardeners tended the grass, trees, flower beds, and even a row of rose bushes planted along the hospital's outer walls. They were flanked by servants, and Arthur saw some prisoners, identified in their orange jumpsuit, wandering around with a strange duck-like gait. There were many men and a few women.

"When the first doctors arrived," McPherson said, "this was just grass and weeds. You'll see the pictures. But now.."

To the right and left of the hospital stood two identical colonial-style houses—with windows and doors painted a bright white, barred windows, panes yellowed by salt and sea air. The building was charcoal-colored, with the bricks softened by the sea air. And from the top of its five floors, the attic windows seemed to gaze out over the newcomers.

McPherson said: "It was built to serve as battalion headquarters, just before the Civil War. Apparently, they intended to make this a training base here. So, as war approached, they concentrated all efforts on building the fort, and later turned it into a prison camp."

"Fascinating," commented Harry. He lit a cigarette, then took it from his lips to stifle a small yawn, blinking in the sunlight

They went around the back of the compound, found more gardeners and servants, many of whom were weeding the dark earth along the back wall.

"Wesley is a true legend in his field," McPherson was saying as they turned around, directing them to the building's entrance. "First student in his class at Harvard, he published his first paper on neurological pathologies at the age of twenty. He was consulted several times by the most renowned mental institutions."

They climbed the stairs and crossed the marble lobby, whose ceiling formed a dome above them. As they approached, a grate clattered open, and they entered a large anteroom where there were two clerks, one on the right, the other on the left, behind desks, facing each other. In front of the newcomers, beyond a second railing, stretched a long corridor. Arthur and Harry had to take off their badges again and show them to the clerk on duty near the stairs, who did the usual checks, while McPherson wrote their names on a register. Behind the clerk was a barred cubicle, occupied by a man in a uniform similar to the director's. Several sets of keys hung on the wall behind him. The three went up to the first floor, entered a corridor that smelled of wax. Underfoot, the oak floor gleamed in the white light from a large window at the end of the hall.



"It's a lot of security," Arthur commented.

"We took every precaution," McPherson said.

"You have to consider the fact..." McPherson said, turning his attention to Arthur, as they passed several rooms, all with closed doors, with the doctors' names inscribed on small silver plates, "... that there is no United States, there is no establishment that compares to this one. We have inmates with very serious problems. We accept those that no other establishment is able to deal with."

They stopped in front of a double door. On a metal plate fixed in the middle of the door on the right, it read

DR. J. WESlEY, CHIEF PHYSICIAN
Phersorn opens the door and everyone enters. Dr. Wesley was very thin, almost skeletal. He didn't quite look like the sacks of bone and gristle but he sure as hell was in need of a good meal. His little black eyes, very sunken, emanated a somber atmosphere that seemed to spread over his entire face. Wesley's skin was riddled with acne scars, and his cheeks were so hollowed out they looked like they'd been sucked out of his body.

Nevertheless, Dr. Wesley had an explosive, animated smile that brimmed with a confidence capable of lighting up the iris—with that smile he toasted them at that moment, as he walked around the desk to go, hand outstretched, to greet them.

"Arthur and Harry," he said. "Thanks for coming."

He shook the men's hands with a "Nice to meet you." The smile faded from his lips, and he said to McPherson, "Well, you've done your bit. Thank you very much."

"It's been a pleasure, gentlemen," he said to the newcomers, and left the room.

Wesley leads the Agents to another room. The room looked like a conference room, with a large wooden table in the center and a few chairs, from which Wesley sits smiling and says, "Did the senator expose the situation to you?"

Arthur and Harry looked at each other as they sat down. Arthur said: "We had no contact with any senator, Doctor. The Federal Department entrusted us with this mission."

Wesley put his elbows on the table, folded his hands, rested his chin on them, and stared at them over the rims of his glasses. "Excuse me, our fault. What did you say exactly?

We know that a prisoner is under a "Special Condition". Arthur placed a notebook on his thigh and flipped through the pages. "A certain Brannan Axelson."

"And that we were supposed to help him come to terms with a situation we still didn't quite understand," said Harry.

"Correct." Wesley says "I believe you could infer from the report that this penitentiary also caters to criminals with psychological problems." The doctor adjusts himself in his chair "The man in question is a war veteran suffering from PTSD, he killed a police officer whose wife was pregnant. His time on death row is ending." The doctor looks between the agents "He has other disorders which make him extremely violent, in his time here he attacked 8 guards, the most aggressive patient we've ever had. As you can see in the corridors, if it weren't for that fact, we would have less policing here."

The Medic waits a few moments to continue talking, so that there is not too much information in the Agents' heads. "Unfortunately Brannan never showed any signs of improvement, which makes us have to make a drastic turn in what we've done. Your main objective is to deal with the federal bureaucracy"

"Does that mean we just have to sign some paperwork?" Speak Harry

"I refuse to help murderers, let alone cops." Claims the most experienced agent

"He knew what happened to his behavior when he was angry but it's not sure if he made a conscious decision to kill him" Wesley replies "

Arthur mutters to himself with his head down "Amazing how he manages to separate" he looks up and says to the doctor "I think there's a difference between fixing as bad as it is and murdering"

"Difference yes, not absolution." the doctor promptly responds.

"What's defensible about that?" Ask the agent.

"I'm not defending. Just one question: can an irrational be held responsible for the actions of a rational?" asks the doctor.

To which Arthur retorts "Perhaps the need for government acceptance would have been greater than any moral limit."

"We have no way of knowing but it's incredibly recognizable that there is a deep connection between his mental state and the crime. What I'm saying is that he's sick, otherwise would he have progressed to murder?" Wesley asks.

The question hangs in the air which makes the room silent for a few seconds when Harry interrupts the quick monotomy stating "I've been wondering if we should think about our tactics."

Wesley takes a cigar that has always been on the table and lights it with a match, and looks at harry replying "I personally would choose not to talk about the murder. Brannan also talks openly about his mental illness. If you take it easy you can even talk about the murder. your past."

Harry says "But what exactly do we have to do?"

Wesley puts the cigar to his lips and says, "As I was saying, we live under the rule of law which means that most of what we do here requires authorization from both the involved party and the federal state." After expelling the smoke from his mouth he continues " The main issue is that we will be sending him to another place, a place so far away that it will no longer be governed by our laws, imagine throwing a man into a dimensional hole where we are not sure what is and where it will stop"

"But won't he die in a short time?" asks the most experienced agent.

"That's the point, there's a huge chance that he will die in the process of transitioning from this place to the other and when that happens you will help us to make the documents." Answer the doctor.

Harry who was paying attention leans back in his chair and says "I think I get it, as he hasn't improved you are sending him to another location but if he dies it will be considered his capital death."

"Correct..." says the doctor.

"When can we see him?" asks Arthur

"In the time you prefer, the faster the better. If you want to go now I'll take you to the official who guided you to his cell" Wesley replied standing up.

Both Agents get up "I think we can go now" says harry.

The men were led by the doctor out of the building and went towards pavilion C, and inside they walked through corridors passing through several bars and as they walk they hear the sounds of prisoners complaining about the presence of men in suits but in the region where they were practically it was not audible for the detainees to grumble about their situation.

"Where we are is a relatively remote area where prisoners are held in this complex" Dr. Wesley says as if he knows what the Agents were thinking.

They arrived at the end of the corridor where there is an employee sitting behind a desk and his back has a cell door.

"Mr. Ganton," Wesley said. "These are the gentlemen I told you about." Arthur and Harry shook Ganton's hand. "Mr. Ganton has worked with us for many years. He IS the head of the servants. He was the one who took Brannan to his room last night." Wesley looks at Arthur as if wanting him to progress the conversation with the clerk.

"We came to see Brannan." says Arthur.

Ganton gets up from his chair a little shaken because rarely does anyone ask to see the man and says "Wait a minute" and opens the cell door and goes through some more corridors until he gets to where the prisoner was.



Brannan was an old man, 66 years old, however he has a body weight between thin and obese 1 which gave the appearance of about 50 and he had a beard and gray hair. If it weren't for his dead, tired voice people would think he was somewhere around 45 years old. He was sitting setting up a voice recorder, slow motion. He always tried to occupy his mind with anything but that was no guarantee that he would escape his torment. The images jumped in his consciousness extremely quickly, no more than half a second and this happened all the time, even now where he is passing the copper wire so that the electric current flows through the device, images of corpses whitened by decomposition appear and disappeared. Even when he presses the button to check if it's working, the smell of rotting meat doesn't come out of his nose.

When Ganton enters the cell the audio player is working, a slow, finished voice that anyone listening could only associate with one person, Brannan. "The use of reason is to justify the dark desires that drive our conduct... impulses... passions" the tape was interrupted before finishing what it had to say, showing that it still needed repairs.

"There are people who need to talk to you."

Brannan, who was sitting in the chair with his back to Ganton, looks sideways at the clerk, perhaps wanting to see his facial expression. He takes a few moments before slowly speaking "Later, I will see them"
----

Harry had just asked how many psychic prisoners there are in the institution to which Dr Wesley replies "12, and most are minor criminal patients."

"How many prisoners are there in total?" ask Arthur

"658 if we count those who arrived at the end of this month."

Ganton arrives at the grid that separates the corridor where the employee is from the corridor where the Agents are and says "He doesn't want to come,will have to wait"

"We'll stay here, let him know when he's ready." Arthur tells Arthur that after the answer the clerk turns around and goes down the hall perhaps going again to check on the convict.

"So how's it going to work?" says Harry

"If 'how will it work' you mean how we will transport it to another location is simple. I assume you are aware of the evolution of atomic science. In recent years it was discovered how to 'manipulate' an atom, in reality they only managed to open the center of certain specific atoms which opens a hole in its almost zero mass and it is precisely this 'hole' where it enters. It is not a hole literally, in fact we will give ourselves an injection for the nucleus of the atoms to expand. Brannam will become transparent and disappear like a light being slowly turned off"

"But how will you bring him back?" asks Harry with his arms crossed.

"We're not sure yet but we're trying some methods."

Wesley notices that there's someone coming, a figure heading towards them, the dr's to be more specific. Without waiting for her to arrive, he goes to the figure who seems to discuss quickly and in a worried way leading the way that as far as the Agents knew was the exit from the pavilion.

Ganton appears again and says "He's ready." and opens the grate gate for the Agents to pass and follow the employee to a room with nothing but a desk, two chairs behind the small table and one in front. Arthur and Harry sit in the two chairs, they wait for a few minutes and hear footsteps in the distance with the rustle of chains. They soon deduced that he was the man they were waiting for and because of the anxiety Arthur puts his arms around.

A few more steps and the sound of a cell opening is heard, it was Ganton bringing the prisoner, handcuffed at the wrists and ankles. Seeing the man Arthur says "Uncuff him" Harry looks at Arthur with a look between confused disapproval and acceptance.

Ganton uncuffs Brannam's wrists but not from his ankles, still with his arms crossed he says "All." which the clerk takes a few seconds to comply with and after uncuffing him, Ganton goes to the corner of the room.

Brannan was on his feet, staring adamantly at the term men seated behind his desk. His silence causes Arthur to say "I'm Special Agent Arthur, he's Special Agent Harry. It's not an interrogation Mr. Brannam, we're interested in your current status."

Brannam continues to stand still, looking at them which makes Harry uncomfortable "We want to hear from you, with your words, what happened." says harry adjusting himself in his chair.

Brannam remains still for a few moments and decides to walk towards the Agents' desk where he had his chair. With long strides that made a heavy sound from his shoes he approached the seat and slowly sat down. He doesn't say anything, waiting for the men in front of him to take the initiative.

Arthur puts his elbows on the table and intertwines his fingers with his hands on the table and says "Over the years the justice has charged you with several crimes but changed several main points. But no matter what they say, you keep the same story."

At the end of the sentence Brannam already answers looking directly at Arthur "Because my truth is simple. And yours is complicated."

The agent raises an eyebrow and asks "Complicated how?"

"You don't realize it, but the only truth is the now. The now is the only real thing" Brannam replies firmly in his voice.

Arthur responds looking at Harry "We're more interested in yesterday. How it met, influenced and indoctrinated it"

He is interrupted in speech by the inmate " 'Indoctrinated', c'mon man."

Harry then asks "How did it start?"

Brannam says with her attention to Harry, "Those people you call unity were children you didn't want." He turns to Arthur and continues evenly, "Which they discarded like garbage. I picked them up from the side of the road and said: there's nothing wrong with rational."

"Reasoning? Is that what you taught them?" asks rhetorically Arthur still with his fingers crossed with his hand on the table.

Brannam waits a few seconds before answering and says tilting his head "Are you a family man, Agent?"

"I am" quickly replies the agent

"It is?" says Brannam in uniform with Arthur's response. He quickly points to the guard "So is he, with the keys and the gun. His children are taught. They learn his beliefs and live by them." Brannam continues looking at the Agent with his firm voice "And you teach your kids. Look at yourself, judge the lies you live. These kids come at you with a knife, they're your kids.

Arthur replies, with a contemptuous expression, "They were your followers, Brannam. You gave them the knife.

"You taught them." Immediately answers Brannam. "It wasn't me. I just tried to help them up." He puts his hands on the body and asks in a sarcastic voice "Am I to blame for what your children do? Your children, that you neglected"

"We know the unit didn't act without your approval," says Arthur without moving.

Brannam chuckles, "If you know, you know. You don't need to talk to me. You need to talk to yourselves."

Arthur lets out his breath and leans back in his chair without saying anything. Harry takes over the conversation and says "In the summer of '89 you said 'It's time for Ragnarok.' To start a race war by murdering the rich.

The man interrupts "This is the prosecutor's fantasy, it's his fear. It's a reflection of his fear.

Arthur, who had taken a cigarette, hastily grabs a report inside an envelope, throws it on the table and says "So this never happened?"

"I'm not saying it didn't happen. The guy who wrote these writings is a genius. He's got everything a prosecutor would want, he just doesn't have one thing, a case. So he puts military traitors on the stand. They tell a sad story about having lied and cheated and done every dishonest thing he can remember." He keeps looking at Harry "But it doesn't matter. Now you're telling the truth." He says sarcastically looking from one to the other "They don't have ulterior motives, like immunity for multiple murders."

"So all the witnesses lied?" asks Arthur with his back against the seat.

Brannam promptly responds with her head tilted towards the agent and her voice high-pitched, "Each witness testified what was best for her." Arthur puts the cigarette in his mouth and the man concludes looking at Harry "Do you believe this 'bewildered murderers' crap?

Harry responds, "'Deconstruct the pigs' I admit that seemed to be his vision.

"There is no vision" Brannam looks at Arthur who has the cigarette in his mouth and writing something with his left hand "Maybe I had opinions about races and their drawbacks." he turns back to Harry "I don't remember talking about race war"

"When did that become history?" asks Harry

Brannam puts his hand on his knee making his elbow make an angle " They started getting more money. They gave content so that the media will publish whatever perversion they want to publish. The prosecution went to court with this version so stupid that it was later dropped 'Brannam: The most dangerous man alive.' He quickly points to the report on the table and says, "These texts gave me so much power, that with one look, I stopped his watch. I sat in my cell thinking, 'Damn! Am I everything they say? I almost believed that crap. " He looks at Arthur who seems calmer now "I've been staring at every watch I see. And you know what? As much as I look, it never stops"

"You had a group isolated in remote regions and you convinced them and had them killed." says Arthur, still leaning.

"There's a circle where a man lives. He's responsible for his circle and that circle only." Brannam says energetically, moving his arms in a circle for emphasis, he continues, "It was hard to tell if the limbs were at the end of a wave or entering another. At the time we were advancing inside. We were learning, but that changed. They went out, created their own circles. And now you want to play 'Jesus loves me'? The blood of the lamb, the game of right and wrong that we played 2000 years ago?"

"Right and wrong is a game?" question arthur

"There is no right and wrong. Things are as they are. Life is as it is. Right and wrong have nothing to do with it" the man promptly replies.

"The murder of a police officer is simply 'Is that what it is?' " to ask the agent rhetorically.

"But it is, isn't it?" and after the sentence Brannam gives a slight sarcastic laugh and continues "Nobody ever dies, nobody ever lives. It's two words in a game left.

Arthur says dropping his cigarette on the floor with total contempt and asks Harry "How much of this shit do you still intend to hear?"

Brannan immediately says to the Agent with his head bowed "You need to walk down a different street. Put your clothes inside out and let them laugh at you."

"You are a coward who killed a police officer who had a pregnant wife." says Arthur with anger in his voice.

Brannam says in a slightly sarcastic voice "yeah, you eat meat with your teeth, kill better things than you and say your children are murderers."

"You shit killer" says almost arthur almost spitting.

Harry says in a low voice "Arthur" as if to reprimand him for his sentence.

Brannam chuckles looking at Harry and turns back to Arthur in a more serious tone "This anger you're feeling, Agent Arthur, it's all yours. Go take it out on someone else. I'm tired of being your punching bag. I'm tired of being your reflection."

"You are not my reflection"

"I always have been. I've been in your cell since I was 17. I don't even have a name. I'm B-33920. A bell rings." Brannam stands up abruptly from his chair making a little self-conscious sound and moves his arms energetically and speaks evenly, "I stand up. A bell rings. I leave. A bell rings. I do what the signal says. I'm Pavlov's dog. I'm the whatever you want me to be." He sits in the chair and bows his head and continues in a lower voice, "But what you want is a monster, because that's what you are. I never had a voice in your world, you created it. How do you feel about those deaths? that's what counts. It happened in your world, not mine."

Arthur tilts his head with an expression of anger and disgust "What counts is having killed an innocent."

Brannam remains unchanged "Now you can throw it on my back. You can lock me in your penitentiary. You can say your world is better. But prison is the way of thinking. We are our prisons, our jailers, we serve our time, in the mind. Can't you see that I'm free?

"It doesn't feel free to me-"

"You don't look like it to me." Brannam interrupts "You look like an outline of something you've been told you are. You live by people's opinions, you have pain all over your face and you wonder if you look good."

"Enough" Arthur gets up and starts packing his things in his suitcase with the clear intention of leaving and quickly leaves, making his partner follow him.

As they walked the halls and passed the bars the only thing said was "let him go to hell"

----



The two Agents had easily reached the outside of the penitentiary and were nimbly in close proximity to the car. Arthur was sitting on the hood with his arms crossed and a frown showing his displeasure over the situation. "Listen harry" said the slightly older man catching the boy's attention. "I'm officially off this case. In fact, I'm leaving today."

"The situation is really very difficult but I intend to stay and see how far it goes" replies harry

Arthur gets off the hood and unfolds his arms, showing himself much calmer now and says opening the vehicle door "I know what I do and I've thought about it and I believe that whatever I do, it won't change anything." He finishes the Agent inside the car and his hand on the steering wheel.

"But what about your weapon? And how am I going to get back?" asks harry.

Arthur starts the car and says "I can send a driver to pick you up." he turns the steering wheel to the street and starts to loosen the pedal "The guns were safe inside. Legally they can't transfer them anywhere."

Harry gives a nod and Arthur finishes before leaving "See you in the capital"

--

After the "interview" Brannam was taken to his cell by two police officers, one on each arm. All the cells were common, white walls, iron door with a glass at head height to have a view of the outside corridor, but their peculiarity was their location. There were other cells but they were all empty. Brannam was led through the narrow 200-meter-long corridor with no living soul except the prisoner. The only sound audible in the 50 meter perimeter was his handcuffs and the sound of the guards' footsteps, a sound that hurt him inside. After removing his handcuffs and being put in his cell, they lock him up. For surveillance purposes, a camera and a loudspeaker were installed in the hallway, which were monitored remotely by a security guard. The guard, after seeing the detainee being placed in the cell, puts on a relaxing song, a melody that could spend long hours listening without realizing the time fly.

Brannam was standing, looking through the glass of the cell door at the loudspeaker playing the music, motionless. Maybe that song was to calm the tension of an interview or maybe it was for some other random reason, uncertainty was always a constant in his life.

After a while he turns around, putting his back to the wall and sits on the floor with the back of his head pressed against the wall, standing almost a few inches to the left of the door. He feels a hand on the glass in the door, a sense of presence. The hand taps the glass a few times, Brannam doesn't react. Brannam doesn't look but feels that she is outstretched in a fist, waiting for more knocks. After a few seconds the hand beats again, more insistently. Brannam never turned around to see what it was, as torturous as it was. He knew perfectly well what it was, it was something he could never fail to recognize as being: his mind.

For some reason the cell is darker. He feels the presence of a being inside the cell, the bipedal figure is watching him, the black figure walks and disappears. It was not a physical sensation but a psychological one, a place between waking dream and consciousness. Then the hand punches the glass that breaks the window and the crash of the shattering glass stirs Brannam's mind, making images of blood pop in his head, everything in flash with several lights, forests, men laughing, animals with extremely sharp teeth. , eyes staring at him. As soon as they came, the images were gone. Brannam didn't need to look at the door to see whether or not the glass had been broken. Everything was normal, the same cell as always. The music had ended, he had the impression that it had been interrupted for quite some time.



Something catches your eye, it was the door opening. He knew that this was real.

It was Harry entering. He wasn't wearing a suit, he was wearing a casual outfit. Maybe he had a day or two since the initial contact.

Quickly an employee enters and puts the chair and leaves to leave the two alone. Harry says "In case you don't remember me, I'm Agent Harry" He sits in the chair and says "I'll try to get you out of here."

Brannam, who was standing leaning against the wall, puts himself in front of the Agent and continues to stand "You want to hear about my 'they', don't you?

"What?" asks harry putting the clipboard in his lap, wanting to understand what he's talking about.

"My them, because every paranoid schizophrenic has 'they' or 'others'. That's what the masses believe."

Harry takes his pen out of his pocket and asks "I want to know how you got here"

The man puts his back to the wall again and says "Things are dark out there" he says with a sarcastic tone, a little joke with the fact that it's night. "Do you think it's hot here?" he says in a sarcastic-derogatory tone, giving the impression that he's pissing off the Agent, as if he wants to convey a message that Harry understands to be "Are you going to stick with random questions or get straight to the point?"

"it's an oven" answers harry with a slight smile. He gets more serious when he starts saying "Brannam, I've finished the paperwork, you don't need to stay here anymore. If you accept the final condition of your rehabilitation, it's possible that your execution will be canceled if it's well evaluated by the analysts when you return"

Brannam doesn't respond, remaining still.

Harry opens his briefcase and takes out a carton that contains blue pills. He says "If you accept to take them, you will sleep and we will transfer you to another place. We have no set time back and we don't know where you will go. These are the advantages and disadvantages of the offer.

"Has everything happened tonight?" question Brannam

"Yes, tonight." answer Harry

Brannam approaches the Agent, looks at the card for a few moments and takes it. "May your will be done." the man speaks.

"Great decision" says Harry getting up and heading for the door.

Brannam gives a nod and says to the Agent "We will be meeting again very soon, Agent."

Harry nods and leaves.

Brannam swallows the pill dry and lies on the floor mattress, patiently waiting for the substance to take effect in his brain so that he sleeps, this being the only way for this man to actually sleep.
> Just a little unbearable
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Comic"


Mutters Brannam who was sitting on the bed. He looks around again, he's never been a good observer, and that's why he can only think that the room "is too white". In order to see more colors he gets up and goes to the window, where as expected, the view was more colorful than the usual gray cell.

Seeing the green world and its structures was really a sensation.... how can one define the non-existence of sensation? For some reason Brannam could never feel anything for anything, completely without feelings. What for many would be a moment of a lot of crying, euphoria, the extremes of many emotions, for the man was just... random.

Brannam, who was reflecting on his own coldness, notices that there are four-legged creatures dotted in the vision, both in the garden a little below and in the town beyond. He puts his elbow on the railing, just observing the daily routine of the inhabitants. The old man was asking how the gardener would prune the twigs since he only had hooves and something sharp on his forehead, suddenly the pony's horn glows, bringing a spatula floating in an aura of the same color. Scraping off the twigs with ease, the being puts the object back in the saddlebag, he takes a cloth from his overalls pocket and wipes his forehead, he seems satisfied. The gardener looks at the main gate, the entrance and exit gates and notices the approach of some other ponies and decides to withdraw.

"At least he can stay in the same position to get the job done" thinks the man, turning his attention to what Brannam automatically calls 'Six ponies team' a parody of 'Six man team'. They easily pass through the gate and soon disappear from the old man's sight, entering the castle. Brannam notices the entrance and exit gate, it was barred and manned by two guards with puffy chests and raised chins in their golden armor. The man reflects on how easy it would be to escape, if he just jumped high enough to get his chest over the wall, how would they stop him? They didn't even have hands!

Brannam is tired of looking at the outside view now, the outside was intriguing but, as always for the old man, cloying. Now he turns to his bedroom door, he wants to leave. He didn't care if the creatures instead doping him and investigating him anatomically accommodated him, it was irrelevant, it was a random fact.

The wooden door was unlocked and after opening it he sees that the hallway is empty, strange, why a castle with several rooms if no one is going to use them? The lack of beings in the region was an advantage for Brannam as he didn't need to explain why he left the room.


-----------------------------------


After learning that a new human was in Canterlot, arrangements to bring in the elements of harmony were quickly made. In a short time the 6 were already inside the Castle.

As usual, Celestia greets them with her friendly tone "Welcome, looking forward to the new human?"

Twilight, who always liked the new one, lets her eyes shine with joy, showing Celestia her clear anxiety to see the Man "But of course"

Celestia, who has always admired her pupil, advises her to look her in the eye "It wouldn't be hasty, we'd better start at the beginning" She looks at the others "Don't you think so?"

Everyone nods and the quick silence is interrupted by Raibown dash who, as usual, was hovering "Where did you find him?"

"Incredibly he was in a restaurant." responds Celestia, not mentioning that the ponies got scared of the human and called the royal guard.

----------------------






Ah, that was the worst . Brannam had been walking around this castle for what felt like an eternity, and he was no closer to finding a way out. The faint murmur and crunch of hooves he heard echoing from God knows where kept him paranoid. He was dreading every turn, walking as silently as he could, heart pounding in my chest like a drum. Come on, this place can't go on forever...

So, finally, a ladder! Going down too. He was pretty sure he was pretty high but knows he's gone down at least six flights of stairs, probably more. So the next floor was at least progress. With a slight smile on his face, he continued his tour of the castle.

Another half hour of pilgrimage, darling! Another ladder.

More hiking, and amazing! A new flight of stairs. One of the walls was lined with windows, so he knew he was at least at the outermost end of the castle. If I kept to the edges, I'd have to find a door eventually. The rhythmic tapping of bare feet on the stone floor was the only companion he had now, his speech muffled long ago. He was starting to relax. Maybe everyone is gone? At least it was smooth. Yes, absolutely nothing would go wrong, smooth sailing from here on out.

The ninja walk turned into a walk, which turned into a walk as he turned the next corner... and immediately came face to face with a white and blond unicorn stallion. He screamed, he dragged his hooves, Brannam punched his muzzle, he fell and the man rushed past him. Why does this happen to me ?


---------------
Rainbown's ears perked up. "Did you hear that?"

Celestia turned to the source of the noise, her worried expression still firm on her face. "That sounded like my nephew..."

Running to the door. "We will!" she calls her colleagues.

It didn't take long to see the source of the sound, the tall, bipedal being was walking calmly while a guard was on the ground, stunned.



----------------------

You know... I would have killed to be able to say that. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" I called after me, somehow controlling the scream despite my lungs burning and threatening to give up. "JUST LET ME GO!"

"No way!" I heard screams behind me, along with the rapid flapping of wings and the thudding of hooves on stone. I haven't eaten in days. I was sleepless. I could feel my limbs shaking, and my mind wasn't what it should be. But I didn't dare entertain the thought that my body would give in before I could get away.

I refused. I would absolutely not let these ponies see me fall. Come on, you are the most successful predator your species has ever seen! My breath was panting, irregular and rough, while my body was already preparing for a violent reaction. You dominated your own planet without magic, without help, long before you invented weapons and knives! These ponies are nothing compared to what you can do!

The idea of ​​starting to run crossed his mind, he had the advantage not in speed but in agility, but would it be enough for him to leave? Maybe he could if he jumped into some window not knowing where he would land, but that seemed impractical since they were almost on top of the man.

So why run? I was so tired of running. Of running my whole life, competing against the non-existent. So tired of being scared, of being afraid of what I might do to myself and others. A wide smile stretched across my disheveled face. And why would I be afraid of ponies?


I had the upper hand here. Why should I run? I am a predator, she is prey. I stopped and turned around, crouching down to get ready just in time for Rainbow to hit my chest. I was sent sprawled across the floor, but I was still able to lock my arms around his belly. I kept my smile despite the pain in my chest, a husky laugh rising from my very dry throat.

"I caught..."


Applejack and the others fell behind their cyan speedster, huffing and puffing. "Rainbow... cosarn it, STICK WITH TH'GROUP!" They kept running for some time, barely managing to catch the prismatic trail Rainbow had left in her wake around corners. "RAINBOW!" Applejack yelled, irritation seeping into his tone. A thick, meaty thud and a grunt of pain pressed even harder, slowly pulling in front of the group until she turned the next corner to see Rainbow on top of Brannam , the human's arms locked tightly around her body.

"Got it..." Twilight shivered at the dark tone of Brannam's voice, a deep, dead voice. She and the others stopped as Brannam rolled over and pinned Rainbow to the ground, her body pushing hers into the stone floor and her hands clasping her throat.

No... no, no, no, no!" The lavender pony panicked, looking between her friend and her ward, not knowing what to do. If I try to stop him , I could hurt you, but if I don't...

Brannam pressed harder, and Twilight could have sworn she saw something catch the light rolling down her cheek. "I never wanted this!" He screamed, the pegasus trapped beneath him gasping for air that wasn't there. "Why don't you just LEAVE me ALONE! You STUPID PONY!!!" Rainbow's red eyes rolled to Applejack, tears rolling down her furry cheeks and terror clear in her eyes.

The choice was taken from her. Twilght galloped forward just as Brannam's eyes met hers.

They looked the same . His eyes held the same fear. He knew he was going to die here, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Twilight closed her eyes tightly, concentrated on her horn....

She kept her eyes closed, breathing heavily even as Rainbow continued to gasp and gasp. Celestia walked past her, examining the pegasus.

Without a word, she and the fallen mare disappeared in a flash of light.

"H-Oh I didn't mean to... For God's sake, I didn't mean to kill him..." Twilight rambled, "You guys saw it, right? H-he was hurting Rainbow, I d- I had no choice!" She shivered, her legs giving way under her. Sitting on her hind legs, she pulled one front paw against her chest to calm her racing heart. "I s-just wanted to stop him! I should take care of him, make him healthy, keep him calm..."

A wing at her withers made Twilight gasp, looking into her shy companion's bright eyes. "You didn't mean…" Fluttershy half-whispered, leaning against the lavender pony. "He was... scared. And suffering, in a very dark place. He wanted for this to end."


Twilight stood there, absolutely stunned. There were absolutely no words she could use in response. Instead, she lowered her head and covered her face with her hooves. The mare sniffed a little, trying her best not to break.

"...Girls?" Fluttershy's voice rang out in the silence, "He's alive...he tried to say something when Twilight hit him." The mare in question tried to cringe even further at the mention of hitting the human, before the words really caught on. When she sued him, however, she immediately stood up.

"You have to help me take him to the hospital!" she screamed. "Come on!" She slipped her head under one of the limp man's arms, trying to find a way to drag him. When no one else moved, however, she frowned. "LET'S GO! We can't play around here anymore! Help me!"

Clearing her throat, Rarity tried to reason with the farm pony. "Honey... are you sure this is a good idea? He tried to kill our friend."

Applejack turned to her "Well, do you have a better idea?!"


-----------------------

My head hurts. My throat burned. My limbs were heavy and numb.

Then the Usual.


Lying on a bed, a powerful blow to the head, feeling like shit. Well... I thought, it looks like they caught up with me. Speaking of...

I opened my eyes, scanning the area. In addition to the physical presence of myself and the bed, the room only had a window.

I closed my eye, trying to minimize the concussion-induced migraine pain. I laughed, the right side of my mouth curving into a bitter smile.


"Well I did. We can't all get what we want." I tell myself, obviously getting no response.
> Keep burning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day was satisfactory for Dylan. The human worked, a stewardship won through the element of generosity. It was thanks to the influence of a white pony with a purple mane named Rarity that he got a job at the newspaper, had an interesting salary considering the regional prisoners. He published weekly in the newspaper "O interest" where he talked about the most dynamic subjects. The work was not far from where he lives now, it was a little far from the city, at most a few minutes.

These days he's been writing about the relationship between Twilight's inclusive actions and the region's overall economic growth. In just a few weeks they built a new school, renovated the hospital, built several parks and countless other projects that are under construction.

The man went to and from work with his social clothes and a black suitcase, this night he made a point of leaving his straight hair combed.

The road wasn't bad - on the contrary, it was even comforting to walk along the path surrounded by vegetation under the ever-present stars but what annoyed the man was that the magic poles were spaced apart, creating a dark part in between.  Dylan never understood why the ponies call the iron object that has a magical light on top of it "hanging ember" but that's just a detail.


Dylan while walking looks at the moon, it was a little bigger here than in his homeland, a fact that made it more flashy, the shooting stars that pass behind it only adds to this hypothesis "Impressive as on earth could never see the stars" he thinks to himself

He was crossing the long, lonely dirt road when he noticed that someone with a larger build than he was walking, very close to his back. The person, whoever it was, cleared his throat, signaling that he intended to speak to her. Dylan stopped and turned around. It was Brannam.

It had been a few days since Dylan learned that a new human had entered Equestria and that unfortunately he had injured Raibown Dash which required a tube to be put down his throat to breathe because of the crushed trachea.

Seeing the most mature human in person was really a memorable experience, wore brown pants, boots, a black shirt, his cap that covered his upper face and a blue-green blouse.

It seemed his only impulse was to get away from there. He felt his heart pound. He wouldn't be able to say a word, but Brannam forged ahead in the same motion, just placing a helping hand on Dylan's arm for a moment so that the two were now walking side by side. He began to speak with the grave politeness that was peculiar to him. "I was waiting for an opportunity to speak with you," said the old man. “I read the article on equine communication in these areas that you published the other day. You're quite interested in the language, aren't you?

Dylan had so many questions, he wanted to talk, but his mouth was dead. He believed that he was the only human who belonged on that planet. Who is this guy really? How long was he here? Does he know me? Has he always been here? Why haven't I seen him before? Why isn't he in the hospital? Do others know you? Why is he talking to me at night in a dark and vacant place?....

All these thoughts went through his head in less than a second and he didn't even realize he'd answered the old man's question completely awkwardly. "N-Not my area."

The place where they talked was between one lamp post and another, making it impossible for anyone to see them, even if they looked in their direction.

"But you use it very elegantly," said Brannam, and then continued, "What I really wanted to say is that I noticed that in your article you use two words that have become obsolete. They have been dropped. Ponian Dictionary?

Dylan gave him an odd look, opening his mouth several times to say something, but closing it again and again as what he wanted to say died in his throat. In shock Dylan answers "no"

"I don't think the tenth will be published for a few months. But a few copies were distributed in advance. I got one. I thought you might be interested in taking a look."

"Of course I do," Dylan said, immediately realizing where this was going.

“Some of the new changes are extremely ingenious for sentient equines. Decrease the number of verbs — I think this is the aspect you will find most attractive. Well, let's see, what if you stopped by my room one of these days? Wait a minute. I will give you the address.”

Somewhat distracted, Brannam felt in both pockets and took out a notebook and pencil. After positioning himself so the pale man could read what he was writing, he registered something, ripped off the sheet and placed it between the fingers of his left hand. Brannam pulls back a little and puts his right hand inside his blue blouse, taking something from the left side.

Dylan was completely embarrassed that he couldn't even make out what the man had written, it was a lot of information to assimilate, let alone what the purpose of it was. The man in front of him extends his arm which makes Dylan instinctively take what Brannam is handing him, for some reason Dylan doesn't know what he gave him, he just felt that the texture of an envelope and that inside there was an object with a shape. geometry of a parallelepiped.

While there was no need to hide it, he realized it was extremely intimate, as if what had happened was a mandatory secret. Maybe it was because of the darkness and the pressure because even if it wasn't said, it was blatant that what happens now should be kept secret in the worst case a maneuver to overthrow the current government, at best just a man wanting temporary privacy, at least it's what goes through the young man's mind.

"I'm usually home at night," Brannam said. "Are you religious?"

Dylan nods, knowing he wouldn't be able to communicate properly.

"May your god give you a good night's rest, believe me when I say we will meet again for sure. I don't know where. I don't know when. But I know we will meet again, some sunny day." Brannam nods and turns away, walking in the opposite direction of Dylan, who finds himself holding the envelope looking at where the old man walks perhaps expecting some response from his divine night-blesser.
> Wielding the sword
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dylan was in his house, standing looking at the table where the envelope was that had the paper Brannam had given him earlier.

Since that house was granted to him along with his citizenship he never felt uncomfortable being in the house that had a view of the corgo that descended from the vegetation above, even being at night it was possible to see the terrain and its natural roller coasters and the moonlight shining right in front of him, illuminating just the table as if some mystical shape was suggesting that he see what's in the envelope.

Dylan pulls out his chair and sits down, looks again into the moonlight, taking a deep breath and wishing it was no big deal, that tomorrow everyone will be at a frat meeting with the elements of harmony, that everyone is happy with the laughter of the day. flock as they walk to the new human's welcome party. 

Dylan takes the smaller paper that has something written on top of the envelope and puts it on the corner of the table, he just now notices that the envelope is made of bread paper and was sealed with a small tape, just that it wouldn't open and what was inside didn't fall, how he managed to do that since he was supposed to be in a hospital bed was a mystery but better focus on something else.

He reaches out and takes the envelope and opens it with the fingers of his right hand, a handling advantage the locals didn't have. He promptly puts his hand inside and takes something out, pulling out something rectangular in black color, the object was easily recognizable, it was a VHS tape.

Dylan mentally remember that in equestria the place where you could see the content of the tape was in the cinema, one of the several works that Twilight brought to equestria, it was one of the attractions that most profited and they were really forming a strong market, there are stores that sell VHS tapes and even VCRs, but for those who only rented a tape for a few hours just went to the cinema, there was usually a tiny entrance fee.

Dylan opens the envelope again to take out several papers that were stapled together. This in the man's home world is something quite trivial, even more so in the digital world in which he lived, but here to get these things it was necessary to go to several stores. Brannam should go to the stationery store to get the envelope and the paper, he should go out, walk through the center of the city until reaching the ink shop and after that he should continue, pass the fair and in the butonica section turn left, because the product store electronics was close to where Twilight's old house was, hardly anyone could find these places without knowing a little about the city, he should have at least asked some pony.

But surely Dylan would be updated on the human's status, in fact, while under supervision Dylan had received a letter every 6 and 6 hours. Obviously with requests that Dylan visit the then-human, in fact, Dylan had wanted to go see him the previous morning, but the lack of news about the human left him a little perplexed as to whether he should go or not. Apparently Brannam left the hospital and got the objects he needed only to subtly communicate with Dylan and a young, bipedal alien well known for having seriously injured not only a loyalist but a thunderbolt doing this without actually being noticed. it's a considerable feat, even more so for a patient.

The man takes the paper and places it in a position to examine it and reads in a low voice to himself what is written on the cover.



  

100% Disabled



Supreme Court of the United States
________________ 

BRANNAM AXELSON, Petitioner

________________ 

On Petition for a Writ of Certiorari to the United States Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit      
    


Dylan blinks a few times, a measure of perhaps trying to read on, an attitude that proves useless as he places the paper on the table so that he only sees the blank back. Dylan leans back in his chair, looking again at that moonlight coming through the window. Even though his house was well lit with magical energy, with the lamps being sparks of fires that never stopped burning, it was intriguing to see how the moonlight also acted as a source of light. While looking from the moon and imagining the moon's trajectory in front of him, Dylan notices that in the corner of his eye there is a small white figure on the table.

Dylan takes and unfolds the smaller paper and the first thing he notices is that it was clearly written in a black pen, which is curious because in ponyville you only use a fountain quill. Dylan moves his torso and head away and places his fingers on the upper left and right ends of it so that he arranges it at a reasonable distance from his head in order to have a complete view of the paper that had about 6 lines written on it. This time the reading was mental


Many spend their lives in the incessant mission to correctly fulfill social demands, without any doubts or questions. Few become dead and need psychiatric follow-up because they can't stand the world that comes crashing down on them, a conscious trip to the bottom of the well.



After reading the message he feels that Brannam only communicates through metaphors. He is almost certain that some sublimated idea was conveyed on the track that he had not yet understood.

Your mind goes out of focus, trying to understand and put things in order. Without Dylan's will, the petition popping into his mind, he'd only endured reading to the cover, preferring to leave the many pages under the first blank page untouched, but what were they all about? And above all, petition of what?

Dylan turns his attention to the note in his hand, it only has a few lines written on it, but it seems to have a lot more depth and again that feeling that some unclarified idea reappears, an idea that Dylan would probably discuss with himself in the next few days if it really was what he wanted that was.

At least the small text was a little clearer. Only now does it come to mind what maybe Brannam was up to with these files, he wanted help, professional help. Needed something or someone to bury the dead, so that they "consciously hit rock bottom" Dylan tells himself.

Clearly the most important text was the note, the vhs and the petition inside the envelope was contextualization. Maybe Brannam wanted Dylan to send this file to the supposed Psychiatrist so he could get into some rehab program, but there's a catch...

Equestria does not have these services, in fact Ponian medical science is still finishing research to create vaccines against common pathologies and general surgery, ponies saw no violence and practically lived without getting sick, let alone suffering from mental disorders.

However, he still had a possible volunteer, Dylan wasn't sure, but Starlight's experience in mind control in the past piqued her interest in the subject, she proved to be quite effective in helping with the students' problems at her school, both so that before becoming a director, she was a counselor. But she never worked with really serious cases, just common teenage social disorders.

At the end of the reasoning it was obvious that on his next day he should take both the vhs and the petition to Starlight, would it really be a bore if she rejected the man of that new program she made, what's his name? It should be something that in the end has "Friendship"
> Always seek a healthy life, but one that is ignorant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Standing in this place... this hopeless sidewalk. Waiting for something... for something I don't know what it is. Not. Denying reality doesn't help me to face it, I'm waiting for death, a being that presents itself and does the job I never wanted to finish.

I hold my breath until the sun comes up, waiting in the dark shadows of the skyscrapers. Waiting for that day to come, the day someone finally sees my need... the day someone does the work looking me in the eye.

This… day will take forever to arrive. But someday... I know it will. All that waiting...all that hope...all that longing. It wasn't done. He came from a dream. It came from my mind. He came from heaven. But how could he have ended up with me? I ask myself this all the time. Luck? Destiny? Or…maybe it's just a waste of time. But I wasted so much time...waiting...waiting for death to appear in my life. It must be fate. But I know the time will come, I don't have much time. Death already speaks to me softly. She talks to me with interest. I already smiled at me. She squeezes my hand like I'm worth it. And she treats me... like a person.


I'm trapped and she's the only one who could set me free.

Still... I get caught in chains. And it hurts. So much pain inside of me.

Waiting...

The procedure involving the also human Dylan was fruitful, I was behind the tree lines following his steps, he took my envelope to a building. There is a huge entrance of creatures starting at 6 am and leaving at 11:30 am, curious. I discovered a new name, Starlight glimmer, unfortunately I couldn't discern who it is associated with.

Now I'm standing here. Despicable world, dark street, no light, looking at the house ahead, waiting....

Standing still, on this moonless night with all the doors of the magic chickens closed, streets empty. Any sound fades when I arrive in town, they cease their routine to hide from me, hold their breath.

Eventually lights come on revealing the silhouette of a sentient equine, he wants to see me. They want to see the bastard next door, the dying man standing, they want to remember my appearance, the potential killer, the possible destroyer of lives,

of the monster.

You are right, I am all of these. Even in another world, they know I have nothing to lose.

I have the sensation of your eyes profiling the anatomy of my face, ears, nose, chin, mouth, cheek, forehead and eyes, nothing escapes their vision, I suppose they want to determine my emotion based on my facial muscles, many interpretations can be taken for an expressionless face. The magic chickens want to see if I feel remorse for smothering their almighty rooster, as usual, biased judges, incompetent superiors. Little do they know that I did it because I wanted them to kill me but this service is already underway, better forget the shortcuts, better wait.

Waiting....

I speak with the wait

So I keep quiet... I talk to her in my head... But this is just a dream. I'm out...
hidden behind a mask, metaphorically, physically underneath my cap that darkens the top of my face. She can't see who I really am… I put on a show. I'm a character. Old. War Veteran. I am against all thoughts of love and sex, life and death, contempt and affection, grace and adversity. I throw all my anger and deep thoughts on my victims. And I'm completely emotionless.

Inside I'm just a man. Brannam Axelson. Afraid. Traumatized.

But what am I? I will never know. But I know one thing... with waiting I will die. The wait will never know that. No, no one will ever know. I'm really good at hiding it. Why do I hide this?


Because I'm too broken... too hard to deal with myself. I would end up killing myself. I need to put on a strong cover... a hard shell to protect me, to keep me alive and at least 1% sane.

Brannam Axelson, a condemned man who doesn't want to be seen. A sociopath, an insane, a stain. Impossible to clean it. So the two… Brannam and the Veteran. We are both destined to fall... destined for a horrible
life. But I chose Veteran because I think he'll keep me alive a little longer...

I call my neighbor's death. But at night, when I go to sleep... I think about her... I talk to her.... I think about what could be... what should be... how it's going to be...

And then I wake up knowing this will never happen. But then I think… At least she's there. At least I can see it. And the sooner I get out of bed, the sooner everything will come true because it will be one less day of life. And that's enough for me...so I'm fine. And together we walk, together we talk, together we fly... and together we own the sky.


 <><><><>



"And so Clover the Smart spawned Luscious the Lusty," Starlight stated flatly, slamming her hoof against the wooden surface of her desk. Around the classroom, some of the students jumped at the sudden noise. She sighed. They were obviously sleeping.

Frowning, she looked around the room at the participants. Most of the creatures were looking at her, their eyes devoid of any life. She was already used to this laziness that always comes before a quick holiday, tomorrow would be hallowen. At least two were completely passed out, silent snores escaping their muzzles. One of the students, a griffin, had a trail of drool running down the table.

After a few seconds, the class looked back at Starlight. Some of the students in the back looked at her with glazed eyes, and another part scribbled in their notebooks, and one shared her latest artistic masterpiece with her friend. Starlight couldn't understand, but given the giggle, she could guess.

With a huff, she got out from behind her desk and trotted forward. Frowning, she stopped a few steps from the first row of tables. One or two students stopped their conversation, their mouths frozen mid-speech.

Wordlessly, she let her presence dampen the conversation. After those who noticed her finished her play, she cleared her throat and retorted, “Quiet!” She tapped a hoof and wagged her tail.

“They need to learn , Starlight,” she could almost hear Twilight say. “If they are not in class, they are not learning! Imagine if many were… late ?!”

In her head, she could see Twilight giving her a final lesson as an alumnus. The lesson of “I have to be firm sometimes”. For some reason, it was just her writing thousands of lines of “I won't let my students skip class”.

As much as it was probably best for her to let them off the hook, she would need to hold them for the rest of class time. It wouldn't be long anyway, there were only twenty-five minutes left in class.

Snorting, she gritted her teeth and internally complained, “Why, Twilight? Why did you only give me three substitute teachers? You couldn't fill in the rest of the Pillars? Was Star Swirl too busy sniffing out a resurrection spell or something? She moaned. If this went on much longer, she would have a headache before long.

While Starlight was grateful that Twilight had convinced some of the Pillars of Equestria to help, she was still understaffed. Also, the Pillars weren't ideal.

Mistmane spent a lot of time napping instead of teaching. Despite his young mind, his old body demanded rest.

Flash conducted his classes generally like old-school military drills. More than once, ponies or other creatures came out screaming when they were done. If they could move, that was. This also depended on the Flash not lusting after Somnambula, as they often taught together.

Shifting her gaze from one student to another, Starlight grunted, “Now , if we are finally done, can we go back to Clover the Clever?” A round of exasperated gasps found her. She smiled. It was more or less what she expected.

When she opened her mouth, the bell for the half hour before the end of the day rang. The mass of students instantly begin packing up materials with the clear intention of withdrawing.

Starlight waits for them to put the materials in their bags and when they are ready to leave she says in a loud voice "Something really bad happened today"

All the students now, curious, sit up straight, facing Starlight, of course the sign would make them more alert but the students had an idea of ​​what Starlight would talk about, it was the most talked about topic of the day, nothing that the discipline of gossip can't to do.

"Three students from the Class C basketball club have filed a complaint against Soul glow. They allege that after practice, soul glow attacked and injured them and left without a scratch."

Soul glow, a blue earth pony, brown eyes and black mane slams its hoof on the table, brow furrows and keeps its body avant-garde leaning forward and speaks, its voice conveying injustice "It was self-defense! Legitimate!" he palm up "It was envy that I became the starter, then they came to fight!"

"There's no evidence of that." said Starlight, keeping the same tone as when she started talking. She notices the stallion open his mouth, as if his base has been broken. "It would have been a different story if there had been a witness." He turns his head downwards, as if the floor of the floor is interesting, she is trying to remember that at the time of the fight there was some witness.

"Guys!" says a unicorn getting up, addressing the class "Has anyone seen the Soul glow fight? Does anyone know anything about it?"

Total silence in the room, Soul glow looks at his colleagues, trying to see if anyone from his class saw the fight but no one says anything, they just content themselves with looking at the wallet.

Starlight says with her eyes closed "Tomorrow, there will be a meeting with the C class" she opens her eyes "Depending on what this happens, there may be changes and disciplinary measures for Soul glow."


<><><><>

After another end of class Starlight heads behind her desk, waiting for most of the students to leave.

After all the students have left, Starlight gets up and when she reaches the doorway she stops, as if she's forgotten something. She turns her head back and using her magic, turns off the light No remedial action this time

She was walking to her private office,that there was nothing private, a kind of "place does everything" as she called it, because it was there where some social workshops operated, it was her office, and even a kind of clinic.

Funny, the door to this room used to say "Councillor" and now it says "Principal" Starlight will always feel a little proud of this little change in the sticker on one of the school's many doors. Before entering her office, she couldn't help but notice the blue earth stallion, it was one of the students in the flash class. He was clearly waiting. He had been in a fight recently, by the way, today will be the meeting to find out what happened.

Starlight stops in front of him, immediately the stallion becomes more reclusive, and looks at the ground "Before we go to the board to see your case I have to check the agenda, matter of 1 minute"

Starlight effortlessly teleports a small notebook and before it drops to eye level it is already open, on the page she wanted.

She, before opening it, had a mental image of her schedule, according to her calculations, she had completed all the tasks and what she should do from now on until the weekend, with the exception of the blue stallion, nothing stressful.

Starlight was right but until she read half of the small sheet, she had a notation that wasn't long. She read"Clinical follow-up to Brannam Axelson" was written in black and had a note written on the side written in red"EXTREMALY SPECIAL CASE"

She remembers Dylan's insistence on helping Brannam perfectly well, she was very persistent about prioritizing his case, she wanted him to come here several times a day, it seemed like Dylan wanted a 24/7 vigil for the new human, Starlight wasn't sure if she would agree to have him committed using one of the student rooms. It couldn't be that serious the situation of it, right? Perhaps the human who put Raibown Dash on a stretcher is seriously suffering from some problems.

Dylan didn't go into too much detail, just said he'd understand if he read what was written on the envelope, "better read while accompanying it, better to hold on to it" the pony recalls her thought.

She frowns, the first meeting between Starlight and Brannam was supposed to have taken place  day ago.

But she should focus on the pony in front of her, Starlight feels a quick cold air pass through her belly as she notices it left him waiting for a while "Well Soul glow, I recommend that you enter, I have to save the schedule"

The stallion nods his head and when he enters, through the small gap there was when Soul glow opened the door, Starlight quickly saw the silhouette three heads turning to face who was entering, they were from the basketball team of class C, after Soul Glow closed the door behind him, only Starlight remained in the hallway.

There was a nightstand a little further back, which Starlight had to walk over to approach, opening the drawer with her magic, she put the notepad inside.

Obviously before entering the room and resolving the post-fight situation, Starlight has to do her "Anti-Outbreak" ritual Starlight looks at the other, hair brushing her withers, slowly closes her eyes, lets the air in through her nostrils, and slowly release the air.

Starlight always feels like the stress is gone with the carbon dioxide when she does this process. She looks out the window, taking in the scenery "Why nature is so calming?"

"Blind obedience. Pointless exercises"

The pony clenches every muscle when she hears a dopey male voice, the fight or flight instinct makes her heart beat a little faster. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a blur, slender but tall, approaching.

She turns her body slowly, head down to find the owner of the voice. Sensing that she was heading in the right direction, she lifts her head, forcing a smile just to try to be polite.

"Busy?" says the bipedal figure, wearing a cap, pants, boots and blouse. She'd seen Dylan before, but was this human really… unique? She's not sure if it's because she only saw one single human but she has a feeling that the being in front of her is not a human, even though anatomically similar to Dylan, it was at the same time different not knowing how to explain why.

"Oh, you were just in time haam..." She looks away and places her hoof on her chin, trying to remember the man's name.

"Brannam" he says calmly

She puts it in front of her mouth and clears her throat "Mr Brannam, actually was going to see the situation in the council about a fight" she looks at Brannam "Would you like to accompany me? consider this our first appointment"

"This isn't a bother for me," shrugging he says, still calm.

-----------------

In the council room there was a large rectangular table with its 6 chairs placed one in front of the other, with 3 on the left side and 3 on the right side, forcing the participants to sit facing each other. Starlight had her own chair, it was in a position where she could see all the students. In the chairs on the right side were Soul glow and 2 friends, a griffin and a changeling and on the left side were the three ponies of the basketball team that were attacked, they still had bandages on their bodies

Brannam then stands, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and his right foot placed beside his left foot.

"Let's now do the deliberations of the violent event" says Starlight "For both sides, I want to be sure which version is the real one." She teleports in front of her a leaf that already hovers at the height of her open eyes. "Sky Shadow and the other three, you all claim to have been called by Soul Glow to a special annex and there he attacked them. Soul Glow denies this. He insists that Sky Shadow was the one who called him there." Still reading she continues "The versions are contradictory. The only certainty here is that the aggressor, Soul glow, attacked Dazzle flash, Colt Ice and Sky Shadow."

Soul glow that after the end of the sentence immediately slams its hoof on the table, standing up and tilting its head towards the three accusers "I admit I hit them!" he points the hoof accusingly "But they started it!"

"Keeping the discussion about aggression and letting Soul glow free from punishment are both bad options" mentally says Brannam, he tilts his face towards the black equine, the changelling is looking at the wooden table , immobile and mute.

Soul continued to say "That's envy because I'm on the list of possible starters! And in training, you guys always get in my way-"

"Please silence." Starlight interrupts, Soul glow sits back in her chair. "Without witnesses or evidence, we will proceed on these terms. Acceptable?"

The griffin settle down in his chair and the changeling cringes a little but both remain silent.

Brannam without breaking his stance, pulls a rock out of his pants pocket, he aims for the chagelling's horn.

Silence in the room. Starlight finally puts the paper on the table "It's clear from the injuries that the violence was one-sided." She rests her chin on both hooves "I think I should make my decision based on tha-."

She is interrupted by a female scream, coming from the chageling, she has stood up and is looking at the human, asking non-verbally why he had thrown a rock at her head, she had some moisture in her eyes, Lila Night was a person sensitive.

Brannam thinks to himself with his eyes closed on his always expressionless face "When someone is unconscious, a physical stimulus brings them back to reality" He opening his eyes says "If you don't fight, you'll end up losing ."

Lila Night holds her breath as she realizes he was right, she looks at the three ponies in front of her. "I beg your pardon. I would like to cross-examine the witness, may I?" asks chagelling for Starlight

Starlight still with her hooves crossed in front of her chin responds "Can"

Lila Night lets out her breath before saying "What was the situation Soul glown called you in?

"After Training was over, he said he wanted to talk to me." Reply The Pony Who Had Some Bandages On His Face

"And what was Colt Ice doing there? He's not from the basketball club."

"I-I wanted security."

"Safety?"

"Everyone knows how strong Soul glow is!"

Soul glow lets out a small 'tcht' and keeps her face scornful, lila night continues "Did you think he might attack you then?"

"That's right!"

Brannam is still unperturbed even though he already thinks it's a joke "Answer prepared." instant thought about the answers.

"Did you bring Colt ice as security?"

"Yes, I did it to protect myself!"

"Fighting multiple enemies makes combat more difficult" The changelling lets out a sigh.

Dazzle flash for a slight moment opens his mouth a little surprised to see his thesis being rebutted "Well... It was because we didn't want to fight!" he says trying to sound firm

"If you didn't want to fight and didn't intend to fight back, it's highly unlikely the three of you would get hurt." concludes the equine still standing.

Brannam uncrosses his arms and straightens his shirt he looks somewhere a little above the center of the wooden table and mentally speaks "Common sense" with just a turn to the left he is already in the hallway, outside of the room, he endured too much what he considered a theater.

When the C-Class representative opened his mouth to speak, Starlight said, still without changing position, "Both sides gave false testimony." she continues "Let me ask you Class C... Can you say your testimony is true?"

"Y-yes, of course!" speak Dazzle

"What about you, D-Class?"

"Certainly" says chagenlling

"Then I'll give the verdict tomorrow at 4:00. "If I don't get proof of who's lying, or admission of guilt by then, I'll take it into account until expulsion." She looks ahead and says with a little wave "it's just ."

----------
Starlight, as usual procedure in meetings, waited for everyone to leave for her turn to leave and lock the door. After going through the main gate she also decides to close it with magic, tomorrow she wouldn't have class because it's hallowen. Beyond the vast plain it was already possible to see that the sun was almost ending its setting, the sky turning orange and already getting dark.

Upon returning her gaze to her front, she realizes that the human was standing on the lawn in front of her, he was facing her direction but had his head turned to the left, seeing the last lights of the sun disappear from the sky. Starlight wonders why he wasn't under the light pole, I don't know, it was everyone's normal attitude. She blinks a few times because she thinks it's strange that she didn't see him coming through the gate.

"Are you still here?" Starlight question approaching Brannam.

He looks at the pony that had come down the few stairs to meet him.

Starlight seeing that the expressionless man wouldn't respond, says with a smile and a little ironic tone "When you helped Lila to compose herself, I thought you had some strategy in mind."

Brannam with his usual look in the eye when talking says "I'm not Dazzle or Colt. I have no strategy."

The director looks away and speaks as if thinking aloud "So Soul glow was acting recklessly in claiming innocence?"

Brannam turns to the side, toward where the sun has set. Starlight didn't expect an answer but the man says "Winning this is an illusion"

Starlight was about to answer but notices that the man started to walk, he didn't seem to want to leave the school because he was walking on the lawn path that had floor.

As she follows behind Brannam, Starlight, after a few minutes of silent walking, slightly tilts her head to the side and looks at the human's back and says trying to bring up something "Hmm... If Soul Glow had a witness, it would help quite his case, don't you think?"

Brannam says still walking, not making a point of looking at the director "Even if she testified, she wouldn't do much good." Starlight lets out a low growl, barely perceptible in surprise. "The question of whether it was self-defense or not is a trivial detail."

As they walk into the now night area outside the school, Brannam continues, "Even if it was self-defense, that's not the root of the problem."

Starlight who is about 2 meters behind the man lets out a small questioning with raised eyebrow "ham?"

Still walking, he continues, "This type of student is always talking and doing stupid things. They act in a way that ends up generating resentment." Brannam looks at something on the ground in front of him, not taking his eyes off the thing that caught his attention he continues "They make a horrible impression around them."

Starlight while listening also starts looking at the ground, looking for what the human observed. The moon this night did not want to emit its lights. Even with the streetlights it was still hard to see small objects on the ground, especially for untrained eyes like the pony.

Brannam stops walking when she approaches the bark resulting from the shedding of a cicada's skin, she was on her back, part of her right wing had been ripped off by the ants present. "Let's say there was a murder. There are two suspects. One has killed in the past. The other is full of virtues and follows the law." The ants gather under the broken wing and manage to lift it and lead it to wherever the anthill is. Brannam now losing interest in the dead creature-how can a being still be considered a "being" after death? banishing the question from his mind, he starts walking again "Who would you believe?"

Starlight who is still behind Brannam is looking down at the ground towards the human's heel "On those who walk within the law, I guess."

"Maybe it's not true." He promptly replies "But with so little evidence, people end up making decisions on what they know."

Starlight looks at Brannam's back "Are you saying that Soul glow ended up being a victim of its own behavior?"

After realizing that Brannam wouldn't answer her question she says looking at his back that slightly rose and fell as he walked "But I still think he needed to say something" she drops her gaze again to the human's heel "Is what it means to be a friend."

"You must follow what you think is right." says Brannam with his chin always up and eyes staring straight ahead, unless, of course, he sees another carcass. "I don't think it's wrong to do that."
> Hello exhausted person
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Excerpt from Dr Mike long's notes, 25 March 1998

"Well, I imagine you know what this is..." says the doctor placing a board with an image that had paint smudges arranged randomly. He is sitting behind a small table, in front of him is a convict.

The doctor was a little obese, wore a brown blazer.


*First interview with Brannam. He's more distraught than I thought, but I'm optimistic. Success can give me a great name.*


Brannam was dressed in his standard prison outfit, gray overalls, but he, unlike everyone else, had written on Velcro a letter followed by a sequence of numbers: B-33920.

Pushing the image of Brannam's hands closer he says "I want you to take a good look and tell me what you see."


*He is very withdrawn, expressionless in both face and voice. Getting a response from you is, as a rule, DIFFICULT.*


"Won't you look at the board, Brannam? Won't you do it for me?

The man slowly takes the board between his fingers and lifts it just a few millimeters off the wooden table with only a slight incline.

Brannam now raises the drawing board a little higher with the image. With his arm outstretched he places it at chest height, staying a little below the chin of the doctor who is with his elbow resting on the table holding a pen whose tip is connected to his mouth, he has an inquiring look, carefully scans the Brannam's face as the man concentrates to interpret the image.


*I could look into his face for hours…but he returns the look, which I find uncomfortable. It never seems to blink.*

*However, I am convinced that I can help you. No problem is beyond the reach of a good psychoanalyst.*



"And so Brannam, what is it?" asks the Dr as the man puts the praxa close to the face

"What do you see?"


Of the figure Brannam could only see in the night a dog, a brown German Shepherd, dead, lying on its stomach. The head was split in half, a deep vertical tear that went from the nape of the neck to the snout, the width of the tear was from ear to ear, you could see the brain. The crimson red blood that came out in a steady stream had soaked through the crevice and splattered across the animal's face. It came out of the crevice and spread, went down backwards accumulating on his back, out the sides and fell, wet his muzzle and formed mini pools of blood on the left and right side of his nose on the lawn. He had dilated pupils that were surrounded by blood and his ears were pricked up. He had  a look of sadness.

Brannam lifts her head, looking at the doctor without moving the clipboard. "A beautiful butterfly."


*Their responses to the smear test were surprisingly bright, positive and healthy. I really think it's getting better.*




*I just wish he wasn't so intense.*


*I wish you wouldn't look at me the way you do.*


THE ABYSS ALSO CONTEMPLATES


*His full name is Brannam Axelson. Born in 1946. Mother: Gretchen glick.  Father: Unknown.*



"Shall we try another?" says the psychoanalyst taking another board



*He measures 1.74m and weighs 63kg. He is in excellent physical shape for his age.*



The mind doctor tilts the clipboard with the thumb and forefinger of one hand for Brannam to see "How about this one?" he says pointing the pen at the photo with his other hand.



*The cops don't like him; neither does the underworld; Nobody like. I've never met anyone so isolated. But, after all, how would he have gotten to that state?*

"Brannam?" he says, catching the inmate's attention.

The man who never leaves his posture - hands on the table, body and neck erect always looking forward, picks up the clipboard at belly level, he still keeps looking at the doctor.

"Good. Very good." the psychoanalyst says pointing to the board that is slowly lifted by Brannam "Now, I want you to tell me what's on the board..."

"Tell me what you see"

The image activates a memory. Brannam was about 6 years old, he was in the apartment. The boy was standing in the doorway watching two figures squirming together. Was his mother and was being kissed fiercely by a "new stepfather", she let out muffled moans into the man's mouth as he ran his hands over her. He was bald, wore glasses and casual clothes. The mother was half-naked in heels.

"Mom, is he hurting you?" says the boy in a low, tiny voice, conveying more fear than a question.

The two immediately stop and unclasp each other, the mother returning with a disgusted look to the boy in the white shirt. The man pushing his torso away extends one of his arms waving in the boy's direction to say "There are children here?!"

"Bastard" she says tilting her head towards the boy, expression of clear anger "I should have aborted you" she says with her face above Brannam's, could see the wrinkles and other effects of middle age on her skin. Coming out of the angry expression and entering with one of disgust she slaps the boy's face with a wide open hand slap, she returns to her normal posture taking a few steps back and closes the door tightly, locking herself with the man.



The old man takes his eyes off the board and looks back at the doctor "Beautiful flowers"

The doctor takes another board and holds it at chest height with the image pointed so that Brannam can see "What now?"


"I knew this boy's mother was a bitch" says a teenager to his friend

Even though it was a wide alley, they were preventing the child from passing. The one who spoke wore a red blouse and smoked. The friend wore a green sweater and was chewing an apple.

"I... I need to get something from the store. For my mother..." says the boy

"I have something here for your mother" says the one wearing the red blouse

"That's it. I know that everyone has already fucked the slut." says the one in the green sweater.

"Is she really, kid? Is your mother a whore?"

"Of course she is. And he's going to make an appointment for us, isn't he, whoreson?"

"Please. I have to go--"

"You're not going anywhere..." The one who was chewing interrupts the speech pushing the apple in Brannam's face with such force that it bursts the fruit smearing the boy's face with paste "...whoreson".

Brannam, who was peaceful, now has an angry scowl on his face, his right lip raised to show his teeth, a mixture of anger and contempt.

"EHHAHAHA! Look at him"

"Looking is better than smelling"

"Motherfucker"

The one who smoked grabs the boy's striped shirt with both hands "Maybe there's lice." He approaches his face "It's full of disease"

"Do you have illness, Whoreson?"

"Hey, riche, be careful he..." says the one in the green sweater when he sees that the boy was holding the teenager's red shirt with his right hand while with his left hand he took the cigarette out of his mouth.


"AaAaAaIaaAAaaRGH!" His only reaction is to close his eyelids and scream in surprise as he feels the cigarette butt being pressed hard against his left eye.

The boy lets go of him and leaves the dying man moaning, who only reacted by putting his hand on the eye that had been burned. People looked at the situation perplexed.

Brannam jumps towards the other teenager, he knocks him down with the help of his knee. On top of him Brannam puts his thumb inside his mouth pressing his tongue down which left the teenager scared with his mouth open and with difficulty to speak


"Hold the boy! For God's sake, hold it!" Someone speaks of the crowd.

"Oh my god No no no no" says the struggling teenager as he feels the boy's teeth pulling violently on a patch of skin on his right cheek, he could feel some hot liquid coming out as the skin started to come off.

"Hold your arms! your arms!" Says a man as he gives the boy a tie, he had an animalistic, murderous face. In addition to the smudged face of the mace, he was red with rage.

"You should be arrested! Did you see that bite?"

"A beast! a mad dog!"

"A really mad dog!"

"parental fault"

"A beautiful rainbow" says Brannam, taking his eyes off the board and looking at the doctor.

"Magnificent" says the psychoanalyst, getting up.

The iron door had begun to open

"Brannam, I'm very pleased with your answer this afternoon and I want you to know that." The doctor starts tucking his belongings under his arm "I think there is hope. And you?"

The old man doesn't respond, he doesn't even have a reaction. Unshakable.

The iron door is fully open

"Yeah..." clears the doctor's throat "Well, Brannam, I think that's all for today." Two guards begin to enter the room "The guards will take you to their... uh... Rooms" Brannam gets up "See you tomorrow."

The doctor puts his hand on his chin and looks sideways at the old man being handcuffed to the hallway.



*In 1956, he attacked an older child, partially blinding him with a lit cigarette. He was ten years old.*

*As soon as they investigated his domestic life, he was removed from living with his mother. Away from her, he seems to have improved a lot. *

*Excelling at School, Brannam became a bright but extremely quiet child.*

*For example, when informed of his mother's brutal murder, he restricted his comments to one single word:*


"great"


"Starlight, it's late. Still reading about this Brannam guy?" asks an orange quadruped addressing unicornio who was reading the notes under a candle on a desk, it was the room where she used to carry out her activities when she was at home.

"He seems fine to me" says the unicorn closing the book it was reading with its magic.

"He struck me as terrifying." says Sunburst approaching. "Don't get too involved, Star, or it could ruin your good mood."

"Sun, I'm too fat and too full for anything to break my mood..." she says getting up.

"...Although some topics from his childhood..." she says a little annoyed

Sunburst puts his front paw over Starlight's hip, bringing her closer to him, the two of them side by side, face to face "Shh. Leave it. You have a good life. So do I. Nothing else matters."

He runs his paw until he reaches her mane. "You're the kindest and most positive person I know. That's why you need to take care of yourself." He starts walking towards the door still with his paw on it "Are you sure it's safe to stay with Brannam?

When they arrive at the doorframe Starlight says "Don't worry. Not a threat anymore."

"I hope not. Now, come on... forget about work. The night is beautiful..."

..."Let's see if it lasts forever."
> Neurotoxin
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Goodbyes are getting old




Cold, empty walls. Long, empty corridors that were so narrow and dark they closed in, sucking the air from the lungs and the sanity from the minds. Dim yellow lights that cast ugly shadows on the walls. Anything.




Next time you can go ahead and go




Echoing footsteps against hard floors. Heavy metal doors, slamming loudly into the void, swung open like the groans of a dying creature. The occasional screams and curses that echoed through the walls, muffled and tormented, furious and bitter. They were ignored.




I'm tired of begging you to kill me




The first to visit were random professional heroes and detectives who pressed for answers, medical staff who cleaned his wounds with cold, cruel hands, and psychiatrists who dug needles into his arms and brain.



The same questions asked. Location. Name. Number. Plan. He didn't give anything. He simply looked at them until his resolve broke and they looked away, asked the same question,



"What are you?"




Gracious God, you're amazing




Good question. He had no idea. A ghost. An empty vase. A demon.



Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was never alive to begin with. None of it ever felt real anyway. Everything felt numb and empty, like looking at memories that weren't even his.




According to you I'm a lucky 






"He's unstable, irrational. 24/7 surveillance was ordered. Attempts to get him to cooperate were nil. He won't talk.  He has severe damage in his mind, advanced stage of  failure, extensive  trauma. He doesn't seem to be in pain. We don't know how he survived this long."



Maybe not. Is he alive or is it all a dream? Was any of this real? He doesn't know... it doesn't seem real.




So why did you lie to me?




The brain is still active. Maybe these last ten years were made up in those few moments in your brain. Perhaps they are that vision, just false events playing like a movie inside a dying brain.



Perhaps he is already dead. Maybe this is hell.




Why do I cry myself to sleep?




They drug him and strip him daily to throw him in a cold bath, cruelly hose him down, scrub his scars . Manic and flustered, even if they hurt him. Then they close the door and leave him in the dark.



He sits in the dark for hours, staring into space. There is no sense of time in this place. No concept of day or night, life or death, just darkness. Shadows that grab him, devour him, consume him. They whisper in his ears and cry when he falls asleep.




Gracious God, I'm replaceable




"Why would you do that? Become that?" 


He never meant anything to the normal man. He was never anything but something to discard, to take and throw away, to chew and spit out.



He doesn't mean anything



You said I'm crazy and incurable



He wonders if this is all really happening or if he's just imagining it all, like some kind of nightmare.



He usually doesn't react, remains lifeless and vacant. They call him a freak, inhuman, monster, demon.



He doesn't feel anymore. He doesn't feel anything. He hasn't for a while.




I think you were right




They always ask the same questions. Why you did? He doesn't know, he doesn't tell them, but he honestly doesn't. He's not even sure if they're still alive.



Why is he a villain? What are the villain's goals, his goals? Why did he kill this person, commit that crime? It's always “whathe did” or “what's wrong with him”, not what happened to him?



Nobody cares what happens