> Haunting The Zebra Plains
>  by Jest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Awaken Unto Darkness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Opening my eyes felt surprisingly easy for some reason, though I couldn't tell you why I would think that such a thing would be difficult in the first place. The first thing I noticed after doing so was that it was both dark, and not dark at the same time, let me explain. There were no light sources to speak of, and instead of a slate white ceiling, there was a dull brownish grey stone. Though, come to think of it I couldn't recall why I assumed the ceiling would be white in the first place.

Shrugging off the weirdness of my situation, I stood on surprisingly sturdy feet, only to quickly realized that I didn't have any legs to speak of. Looking down revealed that there was nothing there, and as I continued to look down I ended up spinning all the way around. Apparently I was unbound by gravity, which was cool I guess, though that certainly didn't help the growing confusion and panic building at the back of my mind.

At least I had eyes, and hands for that matter.

Looking down I noticed that I had only three fingers on each hand, and said fingers were oddly pointed. They also werent connected to anything to speak of, no arms, shoulders or any of that, just a trio of floating fingers connected to a wrist. I waved my hands around and found that they did indeed have a maximum distance they could extend, plus it still felt like I had arms, though they were noodley for lack of a better word. It's hard to explain but I could feel like there werent bones in my arms and if I wanted to, I could move my limbs in a way normal creatures could not.

It was weird, but I was counting my lucky stars that I was at least alive, had arms, and eyeballs at least. I mean, if you woke up in some weird cave thing with little to no memory, and a shaky understanding of your own biology, you’d be pretty pumped that you werent strapped to a table with a needle in your arm. It also helped that I couldn't bring myself to panic, the emotion being muted for some reason I couldn't quite understand.

Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, I looked around, and found that I wasn't in a cave at all, but rather what looked like a room in a pyramid, if I had to guess. The walls were made of cut stone piled on top of each other, each one perfectly connected without any kind of mortar between them. It was definitely something one would assume to see in a pyramid anyway, an assumption made even more likely by the large sealed vases that I saw littering the ground.

Sniffing the air revealed that the scent of dust, and decay hung heavy in this room, filling my nostrils with the unpleasant smell. Sticking out my tongue in disgust, I was about to move on when I realized just how big my tongue was, and that it was a purplish blue. The thing was bigger than my hand, and nearly twice as long, though thankfully it didn't hurt or feel wrong in some way, which was my first assumption after seeing its color. Grabbing the thing revealed that it had no taste buds on it, and was in fact completely smooth, which unnerved me for some reason.

I quickly ran my hands all over my body, trying to figure out through touch alone what exactly I was. The first thing I discovered was that my eyes were narrow, like two triangles slapped on the middle of my face. I also had surprisingly sharp teeth that jutted right out of my face, which was odd, to say the least. At that moment I realized I could taste my finger at least, which meant the pleasures of food wasn't completely out the window at least.

Moving a little further up I felt a pair of spikes extend from my brows, sticking out a good few inches from the back of my oddly shaped head. At this point an odd sense of familiarity was beginning to flicker at the back of my mind, some part of me recognizing whatever I was. Unable to really put my finger on it quite yet I continued feeling around, finding that there were two other spikes on either side of my head below the first.

I also had pretty much no body at all, and only what felt like a short tail of somekind that extended from my head. No neck, no torso, no legs, and not a single clue where I was, or even who I was, now that I thought about it. Even my name was gone, as were anything else definitive, though I at least knew enough to know what a pyramid was.

Just keep counting your blessings, I told myself.

It was at that moment that I realized two things.

One, that I was in fact a haunter, and the second being that apparently Pokemon were real. Those kinda realizations went hand in hand, I suppose, though it sure didn't help that sense of panic that still sat patiently in the back of my mind. Then, it broke, the wall holding my emotions in check collapsing and flooding my system with panic and fear, my body letting out an involuntary shreik.

Or at least, I had intended to scream, what came out of my mouth was more like the anguished wail of a dying person heard in the distance after echoing through an empty house. Specific I know, but it was the first thing I thought of when I heard it. It also creeped me the heck out and I immediately closed my mouth and covered it with my hands, which felt cold.

Fitting, I suppose, though certainly not comforting in the slightest.

Tentatively removing my hands, I tried to speak, to say anything really, and though the words sounded like english, they also didn't, at the same time. It was the equivalent to watching a phone translate speech in real time, so even if you didn't understand what they said, you still at least kind of did. More weirdness to add to the pile, though I at least noted that my voice sounded fittingly spooky at least.

Wait, if I was a haunter, did that mean I was alive, or dead? Was I both? I tried to think back on the pokedex entry only to remember a single, solitary line.

Because of its ability to slip through walls, it is said to be from another dimension.

Well, that was helpful, and not very helpful at the same time. Waving my hand at a nearby wall I found that it could indeed phase right through the rock as if it were water, the barrier putting up only the slightest amount of resistance. At least I could add the density of matter to my list of fundamental forces I could now completely ignore.

Thinking back, I tried to recall any other information about haunter, only to find that I knew very little specific information on the Pokemon in question. I did remember the moves it could know at level one at least, which were confuse ray, hypnosis, lick, mean look, and shadow punch. That was five though, could I know all of them? Or perhaps I didn't know any?

I pushed aside those thoughts for now, as it wasn't like I had a target I could test on now anyway. Plus I wasn't sure I wanted to test that on just anyone, as haunter was a fairly grim pokemon, if my spotty memory was anything to go by. A touch made someone shudder until death, and a lick robbed someone of their very life force, which were both things that I didn't want to see the validity of quite yet.

A memory suddenly popped into my head, appearing unbidden before my mind’s eye and reminding me of a time I was playing Pokemon, and had an entire team of ghost types. It wasn't the original gameboy, so at least I wasn't super old, which was nice, or was it? Did that mean I died young, or didn't play Pokemon until I was older? My memories werent helping much, but what I did remember was that I had tried to beat the elite four over and over again with nothing but my ghost squad.

No items were used, and my squad didn't know any status affecting moves other then hypnosis and confuse ray. Using items was cheap, as was trying to build a team of anything other then your favorites, I remember thinking to myself. Only to wonder where that thought came from. Shaking my head, the memory petered out and I found myself floating in that musty room once again.

The smell was starting to get to me, so I decided to explore a little bit and maybe find a way out. It's not like I had anything better to do after all. Other then contemplate my own mortality, or lack thereof? I wasn't sure where I fell on that spectrum right now.

Only to find that I had no idea how to move for that matter. It wasn't like I had legs, or any other discernible method of locomotion for that matter. With a shrug of my nonexistent shoulders, I imagined I was walking and found myself floating along as if I were doing just that. With one mystery down I decided to reach for one of the vases, with the intent of grabbing it and finding out if I could even do such a thing in the first place.

Sure enough I could feel the vase in my odd three fingered fist and I lifted it up only to accidentally drop it, causing its contents to turn to dust the second they met the open air. After getting blasted by a burst of dust which may have been someone’s organs at sometime, I decided to float through the wooden door. A door that was undecorated, though surprisingly well preserved, given the apparent age of this place.

Floating out through the other side I found myself in a long hallway that stretched to my right and left, doors popping up every few feet along either wall. On one side there was a dead end, while on the other the hall continued before branching off again. Unsure of where to go, I quickly searched the dead end, my video game instincts telling me to search all the dead ends first so I didn't miss anything.

The rooms were all identical, each one being the same size, height, containing the same number of vases, and even the exact same door. Which I noticed had a small indent in the middle with a single word I couldn't read across the top of it, reminding me of a hotel room for some reason. Though strange, I figured it was probably where the remains of some lesser noble or perhaps where one of the lead builders were buried. My memory was spotty, but I could recall that the ancient Egyptians had supposedly buried their favorite concubines and wives with them as well.

Shrugging that off, I went back in the other direction, floating along curiously, my mind ruminating on what I had already learned. Only to stop when I realized that I had been referring to myself as male in my head, but did that really fit? I mean, I didn't have any parts anymore, nor could I even really remember my name or what gender I had been, so did it even make sense to call myself a guy? And for that matter, did it even make sense to refer to myself as a living thing?

My thoughts were getting a little too philosophical for my taste, so I tried to focus on finding my way out of this place before I contemplated such a subject. A little sun would do me good, but a tall frosty beer would be even better. Wait, I could taste things, but I was a ghost, so could I still get drunk?

I groaned.

Worry about weird implications of my new body later, find out where I am first. I thought to myself as I floated down the hallway. 

Upon reaching the next intersection I noticed that I could feel a bit of a breeze, meaning that the left was likely the exit. My first urge was to go that way, but glancing to my right revealed that the hallway quickly opened up to a much, much larger area. That had to be where the tomb’s owner rested, I figured, as its not like they would be buried in the entrance.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I floated along the hallway, one hand trailing across the seemingly normal stone. About halfway down a sudden twang made me jump, or float vertically anyway, as it's not like I had legs to jump with. Looking around, I found a hole had opened in the wall, and a tube could be seen just behind it. Glancing down, I found that a bolt rested on the ground, its head broken and its fletching ruined from the impact.

I should have assumed there would be traps, and suddenly I was very thankful for my incorporeal nature, as the bolt would have hit me right in the side of the head otherwise. Retracting my hand from the wall I decided to not trigger anymore traps, just in case one shot fire or something, as that might hurt. Wandering deeper, I noticed that the hall was deceptively long, but when I looked back it looked like I had only gone a few feet.

“Weird.” I muttered. There was definitely something strange about this place, but it wasn't like there was much that could hurt me, so I proceeded deeper regardless.

The hall twisted, turned, became wider, before narrowing once more and finally ending at the opening I had seen several minutes earlier. Glancing back, I saw the same short, normal hallway I had before, further confusing me. Shrugging off that strangeness, I peered into the pitch black room, my eyes having no trouble piercing the shadows that clung to everything.

The room was large, very large, and seemed split into three distinct sections, each one slightly different from the others. The central one was obviously the most important, as it was the largest, with large pillars flanking either wall and leading to a row of stairs at the top of which sat a throne. Upon which a skeleton sat patiently, as if he could get up and start walking around at a moment’s notice. The skeleton looked off, but I didn't stare at it for too long, as its appearance made me uncomfortable for some reason.

To the left and right sat stone coffins within their own halls that lay perpendicular to the central one. These ones had stairs right next to the coffins, leading up to a pair of sections that had dozens of smaller alcoves, each one containing more, slightly less impressive stone coffins. The ground around the first two coffins were also decorated with a wide circle filled with runes, and writing I couldn't read.

Floating over to one I quickly realized what had been so off about the skeleton, namely that it had not been of a human. I came upon this realization when I saw the lid of the coffin, where there were numerous depictions of bizarre striped horses in various scenes. At the top left was one of a small striped horse who was playing a flute and leading away a swarm of bees. 

After that they varied from the tiny zebra acomplishing feats of strength, to a depiction of the same striped horse gaining a swirly tattoo on his butt. He also met a sandshrew, and eventually a much taller zebra who stood next to an impressive looking gengar. Together the sandshrew and the other zebra bowed to their apparent rulers, grinning to each other all the while. Closer to the bottom of the coffin the scenes became more violent, though they were still interspersed with some pictures of revelry, and conversation.

It looked almost like a comic of someone’s life, only just the important parts, and all in a style vaguely reminiscent of egyptian hieroglyphics but with a distinctly african twist to it. It was hard to explain, but it was the closest comparison my poor memory could concoct when I looked at it. Either way, the zebra within had likely been a famous bard, poet, wanderer and fighter if their coffin was anything to go by, though it was hard to identify the gender of the occupant given the simplistic nature of the drawings.

That, and it wasn't like I knew the culture of weird african/egyptian zebra creatures to begin with. Curious, I decided to reach out and touch the coffin, only to be surprised when my finger was repulsed by a flash of purple lightning that shot up from the circle. It didn't hurt, but it definitely made me recoil in fear, the lightning disappearing the second I pulled away.

“So you don't want me to touch, I get it.” I muttered to myself. “Probably shouldn't have done that in the first place. Doesn't seem the most respectful I suppose.”

Looking around I noticed that the wall directly behind the coffin was different, and had a small vase on the ground which I hadn't noticed at first. Floating over to it, I quickly realized that it was the same type of thing that was on top of the coffin, only this time it depicted the life of a clearly intelegent pokemon. So maybe I wasn't quite as unique as I thought I was.

The top left most panel had a sad looking sandshrew in it, the poor ground type wandering the sand dunes, alone, and fearful. Eventually, he met a young version of the zebra I had seen just behind me, and they immediately fought, something I was immensely confused by. That confusion vanished in the next panel when both of them were hugging one another while crying for some reason, which definitely wasn't shown on the other coffin.

Did they have something in common or what? I wasn't sure what it all meant, but kept reading anyway.

The sandshrew followed the zebra around for a while, before noticing his new friend was in trouble, then he jumped in to save him, and from then on they walked beside one another. Shortly after, the sandshrew was replaced by sandslash, an entire panel being dedicated to his sudden evolution that came about after defeating what looked like a corrupted venosaur. After that the sandslash was depicted as alone, but I got the feeling that he had not separated from his zebra buddy, only that this story was focusing more on the pokemon.

It fought in battles large and small, and even learned how to play a strangely shaped three string guitar of all things. The final scene was of the sandslash and the zebra toasting while sprawled out on what looked like an elegant pair of lawn chairs. Had they both made it to old age and were celebrating a life well lived or was there something going on that I couldn't understand? The zebra’s final panel had only contained an image of cup in it and that had been it. 

Glancing down to the vase on the ground, I quickly realized that must be the final resting place of the Pokemon in question. Bowing my head respectfully, I floated away, my mind filled with questions, as well as a bit of deja vu for some reason.

Then it hit me, the reason these striped horses looked so strange was that they didn't resemble my world’s zebras. They were the zebras of the My Little Pony world, a show I had only watched a single episode of in order to understand the memes. Wait, where did that memory come from?

Shaking my head, I looked around the tomb once more, suddenly aware of how disrespectful my trespassing was. Sure, I could probably gain more information if I scoured the area, but after looking up at the vacant gaze of the skeleton I couldn't help but feel ashamed. I may have woken up here, but this place definitely had nothing to do with me, and it never would for that matter.

With a sigh, I decided to give the other coffin a brief look before leaving, and found myself gazing upon a completely different scene. This one was likely female, considering it always wore a dress, and had rings around her neck, though I couldn't be certain. She seemed to be training since a young age, the zebra in question brewing various potions, and venturing deep into the jungle alone. There she found a strange flower and earned whatever equivalent of a cutie mark zebras had.

After returning to town victorious from her quest, the zebra found that everyone she met was scared, and angry, with the other zebras being depicted as shouting and pointing in random directions. After a panel of searching, the zebra found a misdreavus tugging on a foal’s mane and laughing at the child’s pain. This seemed to prompt the zebra to act and she threw several vials at the ghost type, completely obscuring the next panel in colored smoke. The panel after that revealed a completely different scene than the one I had been expecting, as the zebra and the misdreavus were chatting and laughing like old friends.

From then on they were inseparable, with the Pokemon appearing in every image that the zebra did, though sometimes it was only in the background. Together they went on to brew many potions, heal creatures both large, and small, ranging from zebras, to Pokemon and even a dragon. After helping the dragon she met the same tall zebra and imposing gengar that the warrior poet had, and after that the scenes became much more violent.

The first battle was fought by throwing potions, and choking her enemies, with Misdreavus evolving right after it. Though things got darker, and violence became the norm, there were also a few panels of celebration, of chains being broken and zebras being freed. Had they been liberators of some kind? Or were the chains merely symbolic? Either way I didn't know, and the coffin likely didngt have many answers, as I was nearing the end of the zebra’s tale.

The last few scenes were of the zebra and her Pokemon fighting, being cut off, and finally making a desperate last stand that saw both the zebra, her Pokemon, and their foes slain. It was an abrupt and sad end, but for some reason it felt oddly fitting, the zebra and her Pokemon dying for what they believed in. Upon seeing such a scene I felt my heart swell, and I bowed to both the coffin and the skeleton.

I didn't have to even look at the misdreavus’ panel to know that it would be nearly identical to her lifelong companion’s. With my curiosity satiated, I floated out of the room, putting it all behind me and beginning my journey to the exit. While I floated along, I considered what I had learned, and did my best to fit all the pieces of this mystery together.

Zebras had apparently been suffering some manner of bondage, which had only been undone after the tall zebra and his gengar had acquired allies and rose to power. They seemed to have fought mainly other zebras, but there were a few other creatures depicted as well, namely ponies, and a few griffons as well. The zebras only ever had a single Pokemon with them, while I could remember at least one scene showing the warrior poet facing off against a unicorn who had a whole slew of Pokemon with him.

The questions that came from the coffins would have to wait though, as I needed someone capable of answering them in the first place, which meant I needed to get out of this tomb. It also felt like I had overstayed my welcome, and though there was no overwhelming urge to leave, I got the feeling like it was time to move on. I didn't question that urge, and merely traveled back to the first hallway, only to find that it was gone. Smooth stone stood where the many doored hallway had been only a few minutes earlier, and though curious, I figured it didn't matter much, as the exit hadn't disappeared at least.

Reaching said exit also took significantly less time than anticipated, and I quickly found myself nearing an enormous room that preceded the exit proper. I could also hear voices, though they were too far away for my to be able to discern anything definitive, only that it sounded like english. With hope fluttering in my chest, I floated past the enormous zebra statues which flanked either side of me.

I didn't give them so much as a second glance, as my gaze was fixed on the shaft of light I could see in front of me. It was small, little more than a crack, but through it I could see that the exit had collapsed, but an opening had recently been created. The voices grew louder, and I could tell they were arguing about who would go in first, their fear palpable even at a distance.

Throwing caution to the wind I decided to slip through the opening, using my gaseous form to slide through a passage that would have normally been too small for my surprisingly large body.

After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

I just hoped that they were friendly, as I had no idea how to use any attacks and didn't want to have to learn while in the heat of the moment.
> A Poor Man's Team Rocket
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Squeezing through the crack and out the other side, I willed myself to return to my full size once more. Once that was done, I looked around to find that at the end of a decrepit overgrown hallway, the temple ended. The dozen meters or so of temple left was in a sorry state of repair, with fallen masonry and smashed statues littering the ground. Beyond that was what looked to be a jungle, with tall trees, large ferns, numerous vines, and green for as far as I could see.

There were also three equine creatures standing in a small clearing near the entrance to the temple, or perhaps tomb was a better word for it. Either way, the trio was arguing quite loudly with one another, none even glancing back in my direction. Taking advantage of their poor focus, I crept a little closer, watching them while listening in on their conversation.

“You go in,”

“No, you!”

“You have the least seniority, you go in first!’

“I am carrying all the survival gear. I can't go first!”

“Then drop it and let me carry it!”

Back and forth it went, with hooves being pointed at one another and jabs being thrown.

Observing them a little closer, I noted that they looked rather out of place in the jungle. For one they were ponies or were at least closely related, as they were a little leaner, and a little taller than the ones I remembered. I wasn't sure how I came up with that assertion, given my complete lack of a frame of reference but it felt true enough so I stuck with it.

Either way, they were tall, with long legs, more angular features, and no cutie marks to be seen. Their eyes were also smaller, and none of them had wings or a horn. They also all wore some manner of clothing, though it didn't cover their entire bodies. Probably for the best, because I could tell this jungle was hot, given how sweaty they were.

I, however, was completely unbothered, though I could feel that there was indeed a warm, humid breeze. That small realization made me want to explore my own physiology a little more, but I held back a bit. Instead, I focused on observing them, brushing aside any stray thoughts that threatened to distract me from my goal.

The first creature, who I decided I was going to keep referring to as a pony until I learned otherwise, was the tallest of the bunch. His face was long, and narrow, and he had a grizzled look to him punctuated by the five o clock shadow I noted on his dirt brown face. The distinctly male pony had a piercing gaze to him, his yellow eyes containing both malice and cunning in equal measure.

He wore an old fedora, the kind you saw in gangster movies from the fifties, along with a red bandana around his neck. The next pony wore something similar, though his was oddly more modern than his counterpart. Where the first pony had a cowboy look to him, this guy was like some slick movie star from the eighties, complete with reflective black shades.

He wore just the collar of a suit jacket, held there by a loosely tied strip of purple fabric. His greyish-white fur stuck out in the sea of green, as did his slicked-back black mane. A style he shared with the third and final pony in the little cadre of temple divers.

Only where the second pony’s mane was pressed firmly against his scalp, this rather large, barrel-chested dark green pony had a bit more volume to his deep orange mane. With wide, stocky features and a thick jaw, the final pony was the most physically intimidating of the bunch. This was added to by his long sideburns, and the leather jerkin he had on.

“Well the boss put me in charge,” the cowboy gangster pony declared. “And I say that you go in, Stock.”

The largest pony grumbled, and seemed ready to argue, but bit back his retort at the last moment.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But I want first dibs on any loot we find.”

“So long as this ain't the tomb of the ragged king,” his leader retorted. “Cus if it is, the real big boss is gonna want to see it, and he's gonna want every last speck of dust for his collection.”

“Yeah yeah,” the large male dismissed. “We’ve plundered a dozen of these stupid zebra temples already. I know the routine.”

“And make sure you don't forget it. I don't want a repeat of last time,” declared the leader.

The large man grunted in anger, gesturing towards the mostly silent glasses-wearing male. “That wasn't me, Barrels here is the one that tried to pocket the skull of Agamoto.”

“What? No one told me I couldn't,” retorted the third stallion. “In fact, I remember you bein in charge of rememberin those kindsa things, Lock.”

The gangster pony groaned. “Augh, we can play the blame game later. We ain't far from that dirt hole village but I don't want to get stuck out here when the sun goes down. Since someone didn't pack the tent I asked him to.”

“Just get on with it already,” Barrels shouted.

Taking this as my cue to introduce myself, I floated out of the darkness and smiled as sincerely as I could muster. “Greetings gentleman. Maybe I could be of assistance,” I began.

I kinda thought these guys were grave robbers, but that didn't mean they couldn't be useful to me. I planned on prying them for information about the local area, culture, and people. I also hoped to get some kind of monetary reward out of it all, even if the idea of robbing that tomb didn't sit well with me.

Doesn't matter. They can't actually get through that collapsed section anyway. I thought.

Rather than be intrigued by my proposition, they reacted with fear, and panic, stumbling backward into the jungle.

“What in the heck is that?” Barrels shouted, pulling down his shades to look up at me.

“I dunno. Never seen a summon like that before,” Stock offered.

Lock elbowed the larger stallion and grinned. “That's a ghost type. A naturally occurring summon that guards the tombs of lost zebra kings. This is it, this is the place!”

I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure why you're talking about me as if I’m not here, but that's quite rude you know.”

“Oh look, it's tryin to tell us something. Maybe it's demanding we turn around,” Barrels muttered.

“Stupid summon. We can't understand your gibberish,” Stock remarked, causing his fellows to laugh.

I was growing more annoyed by the second but decided not to lash out. At least, not yet anyway. Floating down to the ground, I located a section of dirt and extended a finger into the muddy ground. A few gestures later, my message was complete and I gestured to it encouragingly.

“I think it wrote something,” Stock murmured.

“Looks like gibberish to me,” Barrels added.

“Probably only understands zebra,” Stock replied.

“That's not what their language is called… ahh it doesn't matter. Someone capture it so we can use it to plunder this temple,” Lock ordered.

“Oh that would make this all so much easier,” Stock agreed.

“It's a good thing I packed plenty of extra capture matrixes,” Barrels declared.

The movie star pony trotted over to where he had deposited his saddlebags and pulled out a handful of stones covered with weird glyphs. Though square, they resembled pokeballs in the way that they were split in half down the middle with the top being gold and the bottom a reddish rusty color. They also pulsed with a strange and almost malevolent energy that I found repulsive though I wouldn't be able to tell you why.

“Now I know you didn't say what I thought you just said,” I declared, arms crossed over the spot where my chest would be.

“I don't think it liked that,” Stock exclaimed.

Barrels rolled his eyes and handed him a bunch of the fist-sized stones. “I don't care what it wants. Boss wants that tomb, and we got a free ticket inside if we can catch it,” Barrels retorted.

“Remember, hit it in the middle and then force your will on it. The harder you focus the easier the capture is,” Lock declared.

“You know what, I’m just gonna go now,” I muttered, mostly to myself as I knew they couldn't actually understand me anyway.

“Now!” Lock shouted.

With a groan, I turned back around just in time to see the opening salvo of rocks fly at my face. They weren't exactly difficult to dodge for the most part, though I did notice that Lock had much better aim than the others. His stone flew right at me with just enough force that I didn't have time to avoid it.

Acting on impulse, I batted it aside, only I didn't actually use my hand to do so. Rather some kind of force extended from me and brushed it out of the way well before it entered my reach. The realization that I had some limited telekinesis was nice, but I stowed that thought for now as a certain group was determined to enslave me.

Now that I knew I had such a power, it was incredibly easy to turn away the projectiles long before they got close. I even broke the majority of the glyph-colored rocks, whipping them against the stony floor below me. After the fourth stone exploded in a shower of sparks and dust, Lock held up a hoof, stopping the group.

“Hold up. We can't waste any more of these things, otherwise, it's comin out of our pay,” Lock warned.

“But we haven't caught it yet,” Stock pointed out.

“I mean we could just beat it into submission first,” Barrels added.

“Exactly what I was thinking. Break out our summons, all of 'em,” Lock declared.

I raised a nonexistent eyebrow, my interest piqued. Pokemon always understood one another in the anime, and every other assumption I had made based on prior knowledge had worked. So, with that in mind, I stopped my retreat and waited as the group pulled out a couple more stones. These were slightly different however and glowed with a faint reddish light that emanated from the line dividing the two halves of the rock.

“Alright team, let's add a new member to the roster,” Lock exclaimed.

I half expected them to toss out a single pokemon but was unsurprised when they instead released a half dozen of the things. They did seem like team rocket types, so that made sense, even if it initially set me a bit on edge. Then I actually looked at them, and immediately relaxed, since they were all normal types.

There was a purple and white rat the size of a dog, and a purple and orange snake that was slightly larger. They were joined by a bipedal cat with a coin on its head, an eyeless bat with no legs, and a giant mouth. Then finally there was a diminutive humanoid with fins on his head which I recognized as machop.

I couldn't help it, I laughed at the predictable lineup the team rocket wannabes had arranged before me. An action that unnerved the ponies, and annoyed the band of hopeless losers lined up on the forest floor.

“Hey, shut your yap you sentient fart!” shouted the meowth.

I blinked and looked down. “Excuse me?”

“I said shut it, or we’ll make you shut it,” Meowth declared.

“Yeah!” shouted machop.

“Wait, you guys actually want to beat and enslave me? Why you don't even know me?” I demanded.

“The boss wants you and what the boss wants, the boss gets,” Meowth proclaimed.

“Yeah!” Machop yelled.

“Pluss I don't like the look of you,” Ekans added.

“What does that mean?” I retorted.

“Enough talk, take him down, you guys!” Lock demanded.

I rolled my eyes and watched as the pokemon threw rocks, bits of debris, or small boulders if you were machop. All of which I phased through without breaking a sweat, I didn't even bother to avoid the rather predictable series of attacks. Ekans spat something gross at me, but the greenish liquid didn't have enough force to hit me and fell uselessly on the ground.

“Really?” I asked.

“It's no use,” Stock muttered.

“Wait, Zuby, use that leech thing!” Barrels demanded.

“Right boss!” The Zubat rather affectionally referred to as Zuby declared.

I then watched as the eyeless thing flapped a few more times before launching what looked like a wad of spit at me. Only this ball of gunk defied the laws of physics and ignored gravity, never slowing one bit during its travel. That was until it hit me, bounced off, and returned to zubat, leaving me with a faint stinging sensation.

“Wow. If you do that a hundred more times I just might get annoyed,” I remarked.

“Zubat, keep using it!” Barrels declared.

“Nah, I feel like it's my turn by now,” I retorted.

I summoned up all the irritation, annoyance, and hate I felt for these dollar-store dummies. I then channeled this energy outward, hoping to use hypnosis, or something. Honestly, I was flying by the seat of my pants and was just hoping that something was going to happen.

Thankfully my desperate hopes came true, as a roiling wave of deep purple energy cascaded off my extended arms. Growing larger, it turned into a misty fog, and swallowed up everything in its path, from trees to pokemon, to unfortunate ponies. I wasn't exactly sure what this did, as the attack didn't seem like anything that Haunter was capable of. The closest thing was nightshade, but I couldn't remember diddly about that move except that it got better with levels.

Though I didn't know what it did, my opponents sure did, as I could hear screaming coming from the fog. A moment later it cleared, allowing me to see the pokemon and their owners running from the battle. Tails tucked quite literally between their legs, they sprinted away as fast as their legs or limbs could carry them.

“Huh,” I muttered, a grin crossing my face.

Speeding off after them, I caught up quickly and floated slightly behind them, readying my next attack. Repeating the same motions as before, I summoned up all the petty, vindictive spite I could muster. Once more purple smoke billowed forth, and once more my foes began to scream in absolute terror.

Not like they ever stopped screaming, mind you, but rather it returned to that same fever pitch as in the beginning. The sound brought a cruel smile to my face. Immediately I made up my mind to follow these guys back to their base. There I would torment whoever the person in charge was until they went back to wherever they came from.

I’m going to enjoy this. I thought to myself.
> Blasting Off!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I cackled madly as I drove the would-be tomb robbers before me like a herd of terrified cattle. Every once and a while I would use nightshade again, heightening their fear and giving them another burst of speed. At about the half-hour mark I was growing a bit impressed, as none of them had passed out, fallen behind, or even tripped.

Which was an achievement, let me tell you.

This was the densest jungle I had ever seen, or at least that I could remember anyway. Mostly hidden ravines crisscrossed the lands, obscured by foliage both large and small. Enormous trees sporting roots larger than ekans were a common occurrence, as were patches of undergrowth so thick you couldn't see through them. Yet these sure-footed, and utterly horrified creatures were maneuvering through it all, barely ever slowing down.

At about the hour mark the jungle began to thin somewhat, with the undergrowth that had been common, becoming increasingly rare. We also happened upon a path, one that was just barely wide enough for two ponies to run abreast of one another. Which meant that Stock was at the back, the wider stallion huffing obscenities at his associates between breaths.

The various pokemon flew, ran, or otherwise kept pace either above or behind their masters. They were mostly okay, but I could tell that ekans wasn't exactly used to moving so far so quickly for so long. Falling behind, the pokemon eventually turned back to me, terror evident in its scaly features.

I didn't even slow, and merely extended my tongue, dragging it across the snake’s head as I passed him by. The reptile tasted kinda good, but I chose to ignore that little nugget of information for the moment. Refocusing on my task, I glanced back at the ekans, who was frozen in the exact same position that he had been when I licked him. As I watched, he fell over, muscles seizing up completely and locking him in place.

Snickering to myself, I continued my chase, using another burst of nightshade to push my little herd faster. Sure enough, they began to sprint with renewed vigor, or at least most of them did, as two were starting to lag behind. Stock and the meowth were beginning to slow, the larger pony and feline summon not as in shape as their comrades.

Extending my long tongue, I surged forward and licked the mowth’s neck, causing him to collapse into a jittering heap. His master joined him a moment later, though he needed two licks to drop him, likely due to his increased size. Either way, they lay only a few feet away from one another, shivering and twitching, unable to move.

“Blah,” I spat, trying to get the taste of cat hair, and sweat from my tongue.

A firm shake of my head seemed to do it, and I focused back on the chase happening before me. Only to realize that I was nearing what looked to be a small village of some kind. It inhabited a clearing in the jungle, and was roughly circular, with a meeting hall-like building in the center.

Most structures were about as you may expect, clay, mud, and thatched rooves, but there were a few standouts. A newer-looking wooden building was in the middle of being built on the east side, relatively close to the jungle. There was also a squat stone structure that looked almost as ancient as the temple/tomb I had just left behind near the west side. In addition, they average homes were mostly raised or sitting on stilts, but a few of the smaller round huts with tall pointed rooves were not.

Between them ran dirt paths, while down the center, running next to the singular stone structure was a cobblestone road. Evidently, this had been more important than a simple village at one point, though I may have been assuming too much. Either way, it was an interesting little place occupied almost entirely by zebras, some of whom had gathered nearby.

Evidently drawn by the sound of screaming, they readied themselves for a fight as best as they could. The lone warrior amongst them wielded a spear, while a curved blade like that of a kukri was belted to his side. Upon seeing the ponies I was chasing, he frowned, but upon locking eyes with me, he turned and ran, belting orders at the gathered zebras.

They all ran to their homes, while he went to the lone stone building, or at least I assume he made it. I stopped watching him shortly after, as my herd was slowing down. Another blast of nightshade kept them going, though even then I knew where they were going. Which was good, as I was quickly running low on Nightshade, the ability taking more and more effort to use

Thankfully none of the zebra got in the way, the striped equines retreating to their homes and avoiding my gaze. Allowing me to press my fleeing herd toward the new building on the other side of town without issue. As I drew close, I noted that there was a half-completed sign out front, one which proudly displayed the name “East Plains Trading Company”, on it.

“Interesting,” I muttered to myself.

Before me, the two remaining ponies and their pokemon ran inside, bowling past a confused construction worker. I floated through the open door and followed them into the structure at a more leisurely pace, waving to the zebra in the hard hat. The equine waved back awkwardly before no doubt taking off back to his home.

Not like I could confirm that, mind you, as I was already weaving through the halls, chasing after the sound of hooves. As I moved, I concocted a plan, one that would hopefully clear up just who was in the wrong here. Because at the moment it sure looked like a foreign power had moved in, and was exploiting the unworldly locals.

I burst through a door a moment later to find that Barrels had passed out on the floor nearby, along with the zubat. Only rattata, machop, and Lock remained, the gangster pony facing an enormous stallion whose head nearly brushed the ceiling. He had the look of a drill sergeant, and the flat top haircut to match this rather dour but accurate summation of his appearance.

“Ahh its here!” Lock screamed.

The male then physically ran around the desk and hid behind his employer, shaking in all four limbs. It was pretty funny, though unfortunately for Lock, the towering mountain of horse he was using as cover didn't share my sentiment.

“Quit your cowering you ninny!” he bellowed. “It's just a summon!”

“But it's enormous and chased us for miles!” Lock yelled, pointing out from behind his employer’s back.

“Did you use the capture matrixes as I told you to?” the mountain retorted.

“Yes, and they did nothing!” Lock replied.

“Augh, go get that damnable priest in here. Maybe she can do what you nitwits could not,” the big boss declared.

I merely watched all this happen while trying to use hypnosis, to little effect. Willing my eyes to become all swirly and spooky did nothing, as did my attempts to lull him to sleep through sheer force of will. Backing up, I recreated the steps leading up to using nightshade, starting with the emotions that I felt.

Gathering together my curiosity, and willpower, I narrowed my gaze on the tall pony. I then pushed for lack of a better word, forcing those feelings outward through my eyeballs.

“Hurry up, its doing something with its… eyes,” my target muttered.

The hulking pony wobbled briefly before toppling forward onto his desk and almost hitting a framed picture of three ponies I didn't get a good look at. Lock, who had been halfway out the door, glanced back only briefly before taking off with renewed speed. Now alone, save for the nervous glances directed my way by a skittish reception mare down the hall, I got to work.

Or at least that's what I thought to myself, as I didn't know exactly what I was doing. A running theme, I know.

Using dream eater was the next thing I had in mind, but that wasn't quite so simple, even compared to hypnosis. For one, it was the highest level move Haunter could gain just from leveling normally, or at least that was the case for gen one. It also may or may not work the way I hoped it did, though it felt like a fair assumption if nothing else.

I mean, come on. If someone were to eat another person’s dreams then they should gain some of their memories, right?

Only one way to find out, I thought, only to pause.

“Huh, deja vu,” I muttered.
> Dream Eater
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Reaching down, I grabbed the sides of the guy’s head and bit down while imagining I was eating his dreams. I did not end up taking a chunk out of him, though I also didn't eat any dreams either. Instead, my jaws and hands sunk into his body, with the rest of me quickly being sucked in a moment later. It all happened so fast, so suddenly that I barely had a moment to wonder what was happening before I was drawn in.

For a moment there was darkness, and then I was greeted by the sight of a completely normal-looking road on a sunny, cloudless afternoon. On either side, there were brick homes of various sizes, though I couldn't see any taller than three stories tall. None had any yards or particularly great views, but the buildings themselves seemed fairly well constructed.

The entire area had a very British vibe to it, with the homes being right smack dab next to one another. Each one had a large chimney that poked out a good few feet above the home, standing tall over the rest of the street. Trees were sparse, but not as sparse as the people, given that there was absolutely no one as far as I could see.

It was then that I realized that what I was doing was kind of ridiculous.

Sure those team rocket wannabes had it coming and implicated that the boss knew of what they were doing. But I didn't have the whole story, as far as I knew the zebras could have consented to the whole thing. Plus I didn't even know why I should care, given that I was a new arrival to this weird dimension.

“Flying by the seat of my pants got me this far,” I muttered, only to pause. “I must have been a really petty or curious person in my previous life. Probably both.”

I shrugged and began to float forward, seeking out the dreamer in the hopes that I could find out what was going on. If nothing else I could at least gain some more knowledge of this new world, I decided. With that in mind, I drifted aimlessly down the street, keeping my ears and eyes open for anything odd.

I found it a moment later when I saw a mail pony appear out of literal nowhere, bags stuffed full of papers. He walked down half a block before stopping in front of a slightly larger, nicer-looking home and walking up to the door. Two sift knocks later and he was standing on the stoop, a single letter held in his hoof.

“Coming,” shouted a deep, familiar voice.

The door creaked open a moment later, and the enormous stallion stepped outside, a smile on his stony features.

“Letter for you sir, Hoofington?” offered the smaller male.

“That's me,” stated the dreamer, who paused to take the offered slip of paper. “Much obliged.”

“Think nothing of it, sir. Have a wonderful day,” replied the mail pony, tipping his hat to the other male.

The dreamer then nodded and stepped back inside with me close on his heels. Phasing through the wall, I peered out from the corner of the entryway, watching as Mister Hoofington opened his mail. Mail which I was able to just barely make out by reading over his shoulder.

“Something something recalled to duty, to oversee an outpost in Zebra territory for a period of no less than three years. Something about money, and a bunch of legal jargon,” I murmured to myself.

Mr. Hoofington did not take long to read the contents of the letter. Once he did, he was grinning and moved swiftly into a kitchen at the back of the home. There a visibly pregnant mare, and a young filly waited, the child building a well-worn puzzle depicting a castle of some kind. They were both like Mr. Hoofington, lacking in both wings, horns, and bright colors, each one having a fairly similarly drab color palate.

“Everyone,” Mr. Hoofington announced. “I have news.”

I watched as the grey and brown mare turned and raised an eyebrow, pausing the dishes she had been in the middle of cleaning.

“What is it dear?” she asked.

Mr. Hoofington raised the letter, which I just noticed had a Wax seal of a galleon on it as well as the words “East Plains Trading Company”.

“I have been deployed. In one month’s time I’ll be sent to the zebra plains to establish a new trading outpost,” He answered. “And I won't be back for some time.”

The filly gasped. “But you just came back from the last one!”

“I know honey. But the fool prince sold us a considerable amount of land and it's up to us to civilize the zebra. We have to do this before he wins or loses and our claims are… well let's just say it might get messy then,” Mr. Hoofington declared.

Oooh that was not a good choice of words, I thought to myself. No one who has ever earnestly declared their intention to civilize someone actually meant it in a positive way.

“Are you sure you can't have it delayed for a little longer? You little colt isn't supposed to come for another two months,” offered the mare, a frown crossing her face.

“Unfortunately I cannot. With a growing family I’ll need a higher wage as well as a chance to get a position here in Pucklebush,” Mr. Hoofington stated.

“I suppose,” murmured the mare.

“Daddy, you promised you’d come to see my dance recital,” whined the filly.

“When I come back I’ll see one then,” Mr. Hoofington replied.

“Okay…” murmured the young mare.

Mr. Hoofington grinned. “I know this is a bit of a shock to everyone but once I’m back I’m sure you’ll see it's worth it. Those zebras need a guiding hoof, and I need a better position in the company if I’m going to give you both the lives you deserve.”

The world then blurred the house vanishing and immediately being replaced by the inside of a wagon. Outside the mostly covered windows on either side was the green of the jungle while inside sat four familiar creatures. The males were hunched over a table set up in the center, atop which sat a map of a town called Luudama.

I immediately shifted backward, nestling into the deepest, darkest corner of the small wagon. Thankfully I was either invisible or moved swiftly enough for no one to notice me hovering over them. Either way, they continued speaking in low, hushed tones, gesturing occasionally to spots of interest on the map.

“You four search these locations for any temples, tombs, or otherwise. The old shaman didn't know any specifics, but she did mention that there were old first empire structures built there,” Mr. Hoofington explained.

“And then we steal everything that isn't nailed down,” Lock declared.

“But only under the cover of darkness. The shamans are sworn to be neutral but I still don't wanna deal with them,” their leader retorted.

“Why? I thought we owned the land, and the whole damn town,” Stock asked.

Mr. Hoofington rolled his eyes. “Yes we may have the law on our side but the stripe backs aren't exactly going to be happy if they see us hauling away all their cultural artifacts. Even if we own half the damn country, what with their fool princeling warring for the crown.”

“Can't we tell ‘em we're just putting them in a museum or something?” Barrels inquired.

“Not a bad idea, but I’d rather avoid the entire debacle. It's only us for the first year and a half, so we have to at least pretend to play nice with the locals,” Mr. Hoofington stated. “After that, we can build the sugar plantation we had planned, and put those maggots to work.”

“How are we going to do that? I didn't think we had the budget to hire them all,” Lock remarked.

“We don't. Which is why we’ll slowly raise the rent on the land until they can't afford it. Then we’ll offer them a chance to pay it all back with a bit of work. Simple,” Mr. Hoofington replied.

“Brilliant idea boss,” Stock exclaimed.

“Oh and keep an eye out for some kinda fancy tomb of their first emperor, or tetrarch? I don't know what the striped backs call him, but apparently, their old king was born around here and was buried somewhere in the jungle,” Mr. Hoofington explained.

“Aye boss,” the three others declared in unison.

“For the company, and the isles!” Bellowed their leader.

“For the company, and the isles!” Repeated his subordinates.

That was about all I needed to see, as it confirmed a lot of the suspicions I had gained about this place and these people. They were imperialists using a civil war to plunder the lands ignored or forgotten by the zebra leadership. Completely legal, but utterly debauched, a cruelty the likes of which I couldn't stand to leave unchallenged.

That being said. I had no illusions that I was going to solve this problem myself. I was but one guy, er one haunter. I could, however, remove one measly pawn from the board though and that was a start.

Licking my lips, I lurched from the shadows and chomped down on Lock’s head, removing everything above his nose. There was no blood, or gore however, he was just a dream figment after all. That being said, he did apparently have just enough intelligence to panic, releasing a cry and standing upright.

As the rest of the ponies screamed in terror or rage, I devoured the rest of the dream Lock’s head. Once he had nothing above the neck, the rest of his body vanished in a puff of brown-colored smoke. I moved onto Stock, ignoring the frantic punches launched at, or should I say through me.

“Get it, get it!” Mr. Hoofington shouted.

Grabbing Stock by the shoulders, I made short work of his upper half, his body soon dissolving until nothing was left. I was about to sink my teeth into Barrels when the dream shifted, and the dream pony disappeared. There was then a moment of weightlessness before we appeared in a familiar room, in a familiar house.

“You unconsciously fled to the one place you thought you’d be safe,” I exclaimed aloud. “Foolish little pony.”

“Stay back monster!” Mr. Hoofington declared, waving a pan up at me.

His wife stepped a little closer to her husband. “What is that thing, dear?”

“It's scary,” added their child, who was peeking out from between her mother’s legs.

“I don't know, just stay behind me,” Mr. Hoofington declared.

“I wonder if you’ll fight so hard to oppress people if you don't remember having anyone to come home to,” I remarked aloud.

“What are you talking about?” demanded the stallion.

“Let's find out!” I declared.

I lurched forward and grabbed his wife before biting her head off in a single powerful chomp. The moment my teeth connected, I felt the urge to suck, which was odd but my instincts had gotten me this far. Sure enough, I was able to consume the entire pony in a single pull, leaving not a single trace of her behind.

“You bastard, how dare you hurt…” Mr. Hoofington stopped. “Wait, who was hurt?”

I grinned and was about to continue my rampage when a sudden cascade of images assaulted my mind. Flashes of picnics, dates, awkward meetings with family, and a wedding, came and went as fast as I could take them in. Though beautiful at first glance, I could feel the stallion’s intentions and desires bleeding through.

He was every bit as cruel as I thought he was.

He never once loved anyone other than himself, and merely saw the mare as a trophy to put on his mantlepiece. Beautiful, at least by the standards of his people, and connected through a noble line that had fallen out of favor due to squandering their wealth. He knew that with the right amount of money, and the right kind of leverage, he could return the line he had inherited to power. With it, he could live out every mad fantasy, and desire before retiring early to a castle in the hills, surrounded by concubines.

I came to just as the stallion tried hitting me with a frying pan. Given that I was a ghost, and this was a dream, it did absolutely nothing to me. He still kept trying though, bless his cruel, probably non existent heart.

“Come here you little brat. Time for daddy to forget all about you,” I muttered.

Floating low, I swooped between the male’s legs and plucked the small filly from the ground. Escaping out of the male’s reach, I unhinged my jaw and tossed the dream pony into my non-existent gullet. This time the ensuing rush of flashes was far less numerous and were nearly completely identical to one another.

It was just an endless cavalcade of promises phrased in the same manner. “Next time honey.” was a phrase I heard quite a few times. Outside of that, his memories of her were mostly about planning his child’s future and using the filly to gain political influence with other parents. 

In fact, one of the earliest memories he had pertaining to the filly, had been the realization that a local baron was expecting a child. This set off a series of events that resulted in him impregnating his wife under the false pretense that he had changed his mind about kids. In reality, he had just hoped that he could use his spawn to get in good with the baron and potentially curry favor with him.

“You are absolute scum,” I muttered.

The stallion, who had been attacking me with a pan, paused and looked at me in confusion. “What was I doing? What are you talking about?” he half asked, half muttered to himself.

“Oh, nothing. Now then, let's see about making you forget all about this house you were so proud of,” I remarked.

I ignored whatever wrathful comment he shot my way and flew over to the closest wall. Tearing a chunk loose I swallowed the section whole and continued on at a ravenous pace. In no time at all, I had devoured a third of the building, most of his furniture, and was starting to gnaw on one of the supports.

When something strange happened.

“With the bellowing of this shout, I command you spirit, out!” shouted a feminine voice that echoed from all directions. 

My body trembled, but only briefly, and I was about to get back to work when I noticed one of my hands had disappeared.

“That's odd,” I muttered.

I could also hear distant chanting and smell what seemed to be burning incense.

“I am a shaman, brave and bold. You dark spirit shall release your hold!” pressed the voice. “Prove to all that you are kind, and leave this poor creature’s mind.”

I grit my teeth and resisted, pushing back against whatever was trying to pull me from the stallion’s dream.

“No, I’m not done yet. He hasn't suffered enough,” I declared.

“You have sinned, and I am the collector. Come forth come forth, foul specter,” shouted the voice.

This time I couldn't resist, and in an instant, I was pulled from the stallion’s dream. Emerging back into reality, I tumbled through the air but righted myself quickly.

Looking down I found myself staring at a pair of female zebras, one old, and one young. The elder was interesting but didn't capture my attention quite like the fierce gaze of her diminutive assistant. Barely an adult and lacking a mark, the zebra mare had an enormous mohawk, large gold hoop earrings, and several brass rings around her neck.

The elder smiled, and held out a pot, within which burned several clumps of dried herbs of some kind. “Zecora, you know what to do, continue on and see this through,” murmured the older zebra.

Zecora took the pot and grimaced. “Yes, madam Zedra.”
> Tangoing With The Shamanesses
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Spirit hear me and do not act, I come to you now to make a pact,” Zecora began anew, the young zebra approaching me with her pot filled with smoking fragrant herbs.

“What are you doing? What is all this? Incense?” I asked incredulously, glancing around in confusion.

“I am a shaman, sacred and holy, ready to bear my spirit wholly,” Zecora continued, stopping only when she was a foot or so away from me. “Head my words, head my rhyme, let us relax and undue this crime.”

“Crime?” I spat. “What this guy’s done is a crime and you want to defend him?”

I rolled my eyes in disgust.

“Why do I bother? You can't understand a word I say to you,” I muttered in annoyance.

“I may not understand your words that is true, but I still wish to bargain with you,” Zecora inquired.

“Bargain, understand… you know what I’m saying. At least a little bit of it anyway,” I murmured.

Zecora paused for a moment as if trying to decipher what I had said before nodding slowly.

“Of the truth you speak I acquire but a crumb, but I understand some while I speak with the drum,” Zecora added.

“Something to do with the rhyming and whatever else you got burning. Neat,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“What are they saying? Why isn't she capturing that thing?” Lock whispered in a low tone.

“You have nothing to fear, we just wish to know why it is here,” Zedra replied.

“We know why it's here. Because it wants to kill me, it already killed my buddies!” Lock hissed back.

“Okay, I did not kill those guys. Probably,” I interrupted, pointing a finger at Lock. “They should just be convulsing on the ground back there. Unless they swallowed their tongue or something. Someone should probably check on them.”

“The spirit is restless and desires justice be done. Let its opinion not be shun,” Zecora exclaimed, shooting a brief look at Lock.

“Whatever just hurry up and kill it or whatever,” Lock dismissed.

“You are on these guy’s side, really? You seem to have some respect for others but they sure don't,” I proclaimed, gesturing to Lock and his still unconscious boss lying sprawled out on his desk.

“I don't know the injustices of which you speak, but um, you need not shriek,” Zecora murmured, her confidence waning.

“Hold the tone, and maintain the rhyme, if you need help remember the chime,” Zedra offered. “Zecora you are no foal, hold true to your goal.”

“Though I am small and I am weak, I urge you to tell me what you seek,” Zecora began again, her chest puffing out. “No matter if it is weird or strange, I promise to try and make an exchange.”

“I don't even know where to start with you people,” I exclaimed. “These guys are using you. Do you understand me? The ponies don't have your best intentions at heart and this guy is the worst of the bunch!”

“I… I…” Zecora muttered to herself.

“Don't defend them, don't try to work for them. Get rid of them,” I pressed.

The cloying smoke that had slowly filled the air began to thin, as if Zecora’s mere focus had kept it solid until now.

“Stand back young one, let me show you how it's done,” Zedra interrupted.

The larger zebra took the incense burner from her student and strode forward, her forceful gaze hitting me like a truck and leaving me reeling.

“What the fuck,” I murmured.

“I am in control, I speak the word. Tell me why you have stirred,” Zedra ordered.

I wanted to flee, to leave but I could do nothing but float there and stare back at her, my mouth moving without my bidding.

“They defiled a crypt most holy, so I sought to make them suffer, slowly,” I murmured absently.

“Your desire for justice is good and brave, but from your wrath, they I must save,” Zedra proclaimed. “Now proclaim an oath from deep down, that you shall forever leave this, our town.”

I was about to do what she wanted, to swear that I would leave and never return, only for the door to the increasingly cramped office to swing open. In stepped the single largest pony I had seen so far. With shoulders so wide he barely fit through the door, and a head that almost brushed the top of the doorjam, he was an absolute monster, and on top of it all, he was a unicorn.

His horn was visible through the mafiaesque black fedora that sat atop his massive skull. Wearing a just as dark suit, and tie he had a brown undershirt, as well as a brown handkerchief sticking out of his front pocket. Though almost all of his fur was covered, there was enough left exposed that I could tell it was a stark white. I couldn't see a speck of mane peeking out from under his hat, though I could see the piercing grey eyes that flicked from one person to the next.

“What in the hell is going on here?” he growled in a voice so deep it rumbled throughout the room.

I could tell his appearance unnerved Zedra as her ironclad control had begun to waver, though not enough that I could move yet.

“That summon attacked the boss!” Lock exclaimed, pointing to me. “We tried to subdue it but our capture matrixes didn't work and our attacks went right through it.”

“That's because it’s a bloody ghost you idiot, but the better question is why these sun damned striped backs are in the bosses’ office,” he roared, his glare turning from Zedra to Zecora.

“We were asked to make the spirit leave and we almost did it,” Zecora bravely declared.

“Apologies mister collector, we are nearly done with dispelling the specter,” Zedra added.

“Hmmm,” He grumbled, his anger lowering to a simmer. “Get on with it then I suppose.”

Zedra breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to me.

“Your rest we did not stir, your tomb we did not thieve, so sate your hunger, cool your soul, and take your leave,” Zedra began again. “Speak these words, and-”

Hoofington twitched, his eyes opening and swiftly taking everything in.

“What are you idiots doing?” Growled their boss, who was struggling to stand up. “I don't want that thing gone, I want it captured!”

“But I-” Zecora tried to interrupt.

“You had your chance and you failed. Black Jack, capture that thing. I intend on paying it back for all the grief it's caused me tenfold,” Mr. Hoofington ordered.

“You cannot do this act most foul, I will-” Zedra retorted.

Black Jack didn't let her finish and with a blast of magic sent her flying into a wall. The mist she had created began to clear, and the hold the two zebras had held on me started to loosen but I could still barely move. It felt like the restraints had loosened but they bound me still, holding me to the metaphorical torture table while my tormentor closed in.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” I muttered, twisting about in the air.

“Zedra!” Cried Zecora, the young pony going to her groaning mentor.

“Do you have the advanced capture matrixes?” Hoofington demanded.

Black Jack reached into his coat and produced a familiar half-white, half-red orb. Though it looked like it was from the show, I could see that small runes were covering both halves.

“Just one,” Black Jack replied.

“Perfect. Capture that thing and I’ll knock five years off your sentence,” Hoofington proclaimed.

“Yes sir,” Black Jack replied, a wide grin sliding across his face.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” I cried.

Thrashing against my metaphysical bindings I was able to tear free my right hand and a small section of my body. Despite this, the rest of me was still stuck fast, and judging from how things were going that wasn't going to change in time. I tried to summon the limited telekinesis I had used before and though my hand glowed that same strange color nothing happened. Whatever was holding me in place was leaving me weak, barely able to even use my powers.

I was screwed. I wasn't going to give up, mind you but I had to face facts. I was screwed.

Black Jack used his magic on the orb, activating it and causing a dull white light to begin emanating from within it. It took a second longer to charge but once it did, he took a moment to aim before throwing it at my center of mass. I watched as it sailed through the air in slow motion, its trajectory unchangeable and my fate sealed.

Then out of nowhere, a young zebra appeared between me and him. Throwing herself in the path of the orb, she deflected the hit with her barrel and though it looked like it hurt, the capture device broke on impact. As she fell, so too did the severed halves of the now inert matrix that had been about to enslave me.

“No, you fool!” Hoofington spat.

“Dammit, she broke the orb!” Black Jack cursed.

“Beat it into submission! We’ll capture it later!” Hoofington ordered.

“Yeah that's not happening,” I muttered.

With one final tug, my other side was free, and the second this happened I was gone. Though my speed was hampered and it took effort to phase through the wall I was able to escape the room before anyone could try and stop me. Once I had put a bit of distance between us, the effects of the gas vanished and I was able to speed away, slipping through walls or doors one after another before putting the entire building behind me.

In the distance, I could hear a cry of rage followed by the stomp of heavy hooves heading in my direction. I had one heck of a lead though, and I sped off into the forest before that lumbering behemoth even had a chance to make it outside. Hiding in the shadows of the trees I watched from on far as the various bad guys spilled out of the building in search of where I’d gone.

After a few seconds, it became clear that I had already escaped the area and left not a single trace with which I could be followed. Hoofington stomped around and threw stuff before backhanding Lock to the ground. Black Jack and his boss then went back inside, vanishing from sight.

“That was a close one,” I murmured to myself.

For a moment I simply relaxed, lounging in the darkness of a large tree and breathing a sigh of relief. A lot had happened in a very short amount of time, and I needed time to compress, so I nestled into the crook of a tree. It was unlikely anyone would see me here in the shadows, or so I hoped anyway, either way, it was a pleasant thought.

“Right, so they aren't all dumbasses. These team rocket types do have real heavy hitters,” I murmured to myself while scratching my chin. “I assumed as much otherwise there wouldn't be anything stopping the zebras from just breaking their contract but that guy was enormous.”

I paused, a thought popping into my head.

“Wait,” I whispered to myself. “He said he’d take time off that guy’s sentence. Does that mean they are also utilizing prison labor? They did say debt slavery was a thing so maybe he fell into it as well for some reason. Looked like a real mafia type too, real hardened killer vibes on him.”

Suddenly the rather slapstic adventures of Lock Stock and Barrel took on a slightly darker tinge to them. I knew they were thieves, slavers with extra steps, and the arm of a foreign colonial power exploiting a regional conflict but… well when I say it like that it's not really much of a surprise that these guys would be capital E evil and not just cartoonishly bad.

My stomach began to rumble, prompting me to rise from my hiding spot and start searching for food.

“Where to begin looking?” I asked no one in particular.

I floated up and was about to head into the jungle when I noticed there was a commotion at the headquarters. Zebras and ponies alike were all stepping outside and by the look of it an argument had begun.

Zedra and Zecora were then hauled outside and thrown on the ground, one in chains and the other visibly injured. Zedra limped heavily, though another zebra villager swiftly moved to support her. This young stallion seemed ready to argue with the ponies but a few words from Zedra knocked the fight out of him. With downcast eyes she hobbled away, her newfound helper remaining close at her side.

Zecora however, was bound in chains and was without any such support. The young zebra was surrounded by Black Jack, Lock, Hoofington as well as a few other ponies. The singular armed zebra I had seen earlier was exchanging words with them and holding his spear quite menacingly. For a moment I thought a fight was about to break out, as a line was quickly forming between the two groups.

Then something was said, something so powerful that all the fight left the warrior, and his shoulders visibly slumped. Hoofington spoke for a few more seconds before barking an order at Black Jack and pointing towards where the port lay, I think. From my stolen knowledge I got the impression that was where they had disembarked in order to begin this strange colonialist project.

“Godamnit,” I murmured. “I can't just leave her.”

With guilt weighing heavily in my chest, I began to round the village with the intent of heading them off at the pass so to speak. I managed to get to the road just as Black Jack and Zecora reached it, the towering male roughly pulling along his charge with a long chain.

“Hurry up,” he barked. “We’ve barely left the village and already you are lagging behind.”

“I can barely walk with my forelegs bound together like this!” Zecora retorted angrily, waving her metal-bound limbs in emphasis.

“And whose fault is that, hmm?” Black Jack asked. “I sure didn't decide to ruin a several thousand-bit peice of equipment then implicate myself in the assault on colonial outpost liaison.”

“You were trying to enslave that noble spirit, what you were doing was wrong!” Zecora shouted back.

Black Jack tugged at the chain.

“You stripe backs don't seem to get it. Right and wrong don't matter. There is only the law, and those who fall outside of it, and since you did just that you’ll be serving ten years in a penal colony,” Black retorted.

“N-no. My people, the elder will save me,” Zecora murmured.

Black Jack yanked the chain into the air, forcing Zecora to dangle several feet off the ground.

“You don’t get it, do you? They already sold you out,” Black Jack declared. “If they fought their whole village would be guilty and we know you don't have the kind of money to pay for all those fines.”

“You’d enslave us all… just for defying you?” Zecora murmured in shock.

“Slave is such a dirty word,” Black Jack remarked. “We prefer indentured servant as you will not be under our employ forever but only a few short years or maybe decades.”

“But thats-”

“Shut up,” Black Jack interrupted, shaking the young mare around like an animal in a trap. “You are property of the company now and you will not speak unless spoken to. Understood?”

After a second of dangling by her hooves, Zecora nodded meekly.

Black Jack dropped her to the dirt with a thump.

“Good. Now show me where this temple is,” Black Jack demanded.

“What temple?” Zecora asked.

“Don't play games with me. The one being defended by that damned ghost summon!” Black Jack roared.

“I… I don't know,” Zecora admitted.

“Well we’re headed to where Lock Stock and Barrel saw it first and when we get there you had best figure something out,” Black Jack exclaimed, leaning in close to glare directly into the young mare’s eyes. “Because if you don't. I might just tie you to a tree and forget about you out there in the jungle. I am rather forgetful you know and I may just misplace you after the long day I’ve had.”

“You wouldn't,” Zecora shot back.

Black Jack merely grinned, revealing several gold teeth.

“I… I’ll try to find it,” Zecora murmured.

“You’d better, now get moving. Because I want that sentence reduction and I want it now,” Black Jack growled.

The slave driver then rose back to his full height and began to walk once more.

Following behind him at a distance I couldn't help but wonder if helping her was such a smart idea. Actually, I knew the answer to that. It wasn't smart, though it was the right thing to do, and that’s close enough in my book.