It was dark. Very dark. So dark, nothing could be seen until the eyes of the observer had adjusted to the lack of light. It was a big room. The office of a very important individual. A man, barely 19. Sam Geladrin. His skin was a sickly green. He wore no shirt, and had several tubes attached in a method similar to an IV. They were draining fluids from his back into several unseen vats. He was situated between 4 tables, all of equal make and shape. Three of them had items pertaining to his various fields of study, hobbies, and jobs. One held many revised editions of books on chemical and physical theories, most of which were written by himself, and many chemistry tools like a Bunsen burner and a localized barometer. The next had many different contraptions, all created by Sam, designed as small versions of larger components that would improve the lives of all humans some day in the future. The third was covered in reports about an individual referred to only as “Walker.” We’ll get back to that. The last one had a large amount of food strewn across it. The food ranged from morning toast, midday snacks, and evening steaks. If he didn’t eat every so often, more so than a normal human being, then he would die. Just like that.
Another man walked into the room from a door that had been designed so it would not let in any light as passage was made through it. Sam was very picky about lighting. His experiments required even variables as oft overlooked as light be accounted for. The other man happened to be a friend. If he were not, he’d be reprimanded viciously for even possibly disturbing Sam.
“Have you figured out what it all means yet?”
“The stuff in the case? No. That’s going to take a while. I haven’t even started building anything from that yet . . .”
“Building?”
Sam took a sip of tea and then answered.
“Most of the stuff inside was part of a blueprint for a machine. I don’t know exactly what it does, but it’s similar to a psyche-archiving device.”
The other man lowered his head and muttered under his breath “Seeing it his way again, literally.”
“Marcelli, I know you think there’s something to be done about all this, but . . . We can’t bring back the dead, at least not these people. If you really wanted Walker to pay for what he did, then you’d have stopped him when he started over a year ago.”
“I know that. That’s why I want to know more about what he left behind. Tom-”
“Walker.”
“He wasn’t the kind of person who just up and shoots people to death, killer or not . . .”
“Isn’t.”
“What?”
“Isn’t that kind of person. Sarah says she found him in a dream an hour ago. He’s not dead. I called you here because she’s setting up personas for an somnium excursion. She’ll be done within the hour, but she can’t go herself because she has to maintain the dream. It’s just you and me.”
“Alright.”
“One more thing. Jack was spotted.”
Marcelli clenched his fists upon hearing that name.
“Where?” he said in an agitated voice.
“He followed Walker.”
Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from behind Sam.
“Doh!”
Marcelli dashed to the location of the noise while Sam peered over his shoulder. There was a small blue creature on the floor. It had wings, and a polychromatic mane. A pegasus. Upon opening its eyes and spotting the humans staring at it, it gasped for a moment and disappeared. The two men looked into each others eyes for several seconds.
“I forgot to mention where Walker is, didn’t I?”
“Yes, yes you did.”
Twilight and Star were standing over the book. They had partitioned themselves from the other ponies in a room on the second floor.
“What does this say? It’s not in any language I’ve ever seen before . . .”
She had only just opened the tome and was already having a hard time believing it was relevant at all. On the first page was a line written in a language she could not for the life of her understand.
“The dead will fight the darkness, the heroes will fight the light.”
“What does that mean, though?”
“You and your friends will be fighting the tyrant, the light. And the dead, trans-literally ‘lavich,’ will be fighting the darkness.”
Twilight accepted the answer for the time, and continued scanning through the pages. That is, until she hit a point where she couldn’t read further. The book refused to open around halfway.
“You’ve hit the logistics section. Only the heroes and lavich described within can see it. You’ll have to find this world’s copy of the book. For now, just read through the first half. It explains what the heroes are, and what they’re supposed to do.”
She went back to the beginning of the book, and began reading the description of “the leader.”
Leaders unite the other heroes. They have a mastery of the flow, either through natural or artificial means.
The rest of the passage detailed “the leader’s” use of “the flow,” which Twilight didn’t see much use in reading, whether she believed Star or the book’s dispensations. She skimmed until she hit a list at the bottom of the page.
“Denominational Maladies?”
“The most common ‘problems’ that leaders have. There is only one, but it’s one that every leader has. Every hero has it. Most of the dead have it.”
She read, out loud, the only bullet present.
“Synesthesia . . . ?”
“It’s a psychological disorder wherein the afflicted relate senses to others. Most importantly, sound to motion, and motion to sound. Heroes and lavich have a very sophisticated form of it. They only feel, hear, and see the effects of it under special circumstances.”
“Like what?”
“Battle.”
There was a pause at this. Twilight went back to the book. The next page’s heading read “The dreamer.”
Dreamers use their minds to communicate with the dead. Their power has a degree of duality to it, they can also see far off lands, and project themselves to other beings.
The list of ‘problems’ had some substance to it this time. Ignoring the apparently standard entry, synesthesia, she looked at the 3 new ones.
Schizophrenia (misdiagnosed)
Overconfidence
Pyrophilia
“I believe that would be miss Rainbow Dash.” Star said, surprising Twilight.
“Why?”
“She said she saw Lyra and Roseluck, two dead ponies, in a dream. That’s what it means by communicating with ‘the dead.’”
Twilight thought about this for a moment. She still believed this colt was insane, or a very desperate liar with a crazy imagination. She hatched a plan, a plan to test this book and it’s heathenish teachings.
“I have a deal for you, Silver Star. If you can prove to me that Dash is “our dreamer,” I’ll believe your story, and this book, without even a second thought on the matter. If you can’t, I’m going to chock up everything that’s happened in the past few days to coincidence. The strange correspondence with Celestia, the parasprites, the disappearance of Luna, the explosion in Canterlot. All of it. I’ll have you arrested, on whatever charge I find suitable-”
“Try genocide.” he interjected.
“What?”
“Genocide. Have me convicted of genocide. If I don’t prove to you that that pegasus is a dreamer, then blame the entire parasprite swarm’s doing on me.”
Twilight eyes twitched.
“Fine. You have a week.”
“I only need a couple of minutes.” he said. He promptly turned around and sauntered to a banister separating him and the purple unicorn from the first floor.
“Rainbow Dash, would you kindly fly up here. Right over my left shoulder, as quick as you can. I’d like to test something and-”
Before he could finish, the rainbow maned pegasus was gunning it. Seconds before she passed over him, Star pulled something out of his suit and held it in her path. It was small, metallic rod, wrapped in a dirty looking grey net. Dash hit it without slowing down, knocking the rod from Star’s hoof. She and the device tumbled and rolled across the floor behind him. Turning around, he saw Twilight sporting a look of abhorrent shock.
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT!?”
“She’ll be fine. A little bruised, but not quite as bad as she would be if I had used any other method. You’ll understand in a moment.”
Twilight just stood in place, gaping at him. This colt had shown up out of nowhere, claimed he was here to protect and teach her friends, and now he’d given one of them a concussion at the very least.
“Twilight?” Rainbow Dash said. Twilight turned to her friend, lying to the left of the unicorn in what could not have been a comfortable position.
“Why did call me up here?”
The voice didn’t come from the body, and nothing about it said it did. The lips hadn’t moved. It was from above her. She looked up and was met with the crimson eyes of Rainbow Dash. They were not completely opaque.
“You, I, what-”
“I knocked her out, but because I did it with this,” he said, grabbing and presenting the rod to the perplexed mare, “She began to dream, to really dream. Specifically, she’s dreaming that she had made it to us, unobstructed. I forced her to create an astral projection.”
“Twilight, what’s he talking about? This is all . . . Woah, woah, is that . . .”
Rainbow’s eyes fell on her own body.
“But I’m . . .”
She looked about her body, feeling herself to confirm presence and tangibility. She dropped to the ground, nonplussed. She circled and prodded her sleeping self, pinching both bodies. Eventually, the body shuddered. The ghostly form disappeared. Dash woke up, rubbing her head as she turned to her friend. Twilight stopped gaping and spoke.
“All right. You win. I believe you. Pinkie’s a reincarnation of a murderer. Fluttershy’s a zombie scientist. Dash is some sort of psychic . . . I don’t even know. But, in this convoluted reality you’ve forced me accept, what am I?”
Star trotted beside Twilight. He laid a hoof on her shoulder and lowered his head.
“You’re their leader.”
Dash woke up, gasping for breath.
“So, what do you think of humans?” said Silver Star.
Rainbow was being trained to use her dreaming powers, with the colt’s help. She asked him earlier in the day if there was any way she could be shown what a human looked like. At the time, Twilight interjected and told her to practice her ‘mystical dreaming mumbo jumbo instead of speaking with Star about trivial matters,’ so she decided to do just that. With the help of the book, Twilight and Star had pronounced her the dreamer. The hero that could peer into faraway places in their sleep. She was glad she’d gotten an equal amount of practice getting to sleep quickly as she did flying.
“Well?”
“Tall. Really tall, and . . .”
Agreeing to work with her powers as requested, she modified her question. Could I see them in a dream? Two birds with one stone. He had her lie down, and fall asleep, while he took out a small metal object. She didn’t know what he did with it, but instead of having a ‘normal’ dream she found herself in a dark room with a green man silently manipulating small objects with his fingered hands. After a few minutes, another man entered and they discussed things she didn’t understand. When they mentioned the name Tom, she realized they were talking about the pony sitting over here presently. What luck, that on Rainbow’s first controlled peak into another universe would give her information so relevant to her situation. Unfortunately, having no real experience with her powers, she mucked up and revealed herself to the humans she had been observing.
“And what?”
“Green. Well, one of them was . . . Star, do you know anyone by the name Marcelli?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. When he did, his voice faltered.
“Yes. But we can talk about that later. You woke up in a panic. What happened?”
“I sorta, uh . . . Appeared over there, somehow . . .”
“Ahhhh. You see, you focused just a little too hard on staying in the dream. Once you’ve started observing an area, you won’t be pulled away if you lose focus.”
“So, like, I can actually appear wherever I dream?!”
“Yes, but it takes a lot mental energy. You may not feel it, but you’re exhausted.”
Seconds later, Rainbow squirmed in response to a splitting headache.
“Yeah, I think I know what you mean.”
Lyra sat, stood, whatever a head does, on a desk at one end of the room while her cohorts slept in beds on the other side. Well, one of them slept. Roseluck had not voiced her opinion over the past day. She was suspicious about everything that they’d seen since this spell had begun, but far more inclined to believe that they were not dreaming. She crept out of her bed and silently trotted across the room and whispered to her friend.
“Psst, Lyra.”
“What is it, Roseluck?”
“I can’t go to sleep . . .”
“Because you already are. Hell, if we’ve been in a dream for this long I’m more than willing to believe there’s some crazy communal thing going on.”
What’s hell? Why in the world would I use a word like that, it feels so vulgar. I’ve never heard it before, so why does it sound so familiar . . . .
“But Lyra, I think we’re really . . . Never-mind, I wanted to talk to you about Onassis.”
“I don’t trust her.”
“Me neither, but I think there’s more to it. I don’t think she’s really a pony.”
“Well duh.”
“How should can we find out what she is, though?”
“You could just ask me about it.”
Lyra and Roseluck immediately announced their startlement, through motion and sound respectively, at the appearance of the third voice. Onassis moved out of her covers and stared at the two mares with a pleasant smile. Roseluck was so frightened by the idea that the pegasus had heard them speaking of their dissent that she just shook in place. Lyra, on the other hand, fully expected her to be listening, and put on a straight face. She hadn’t expected Onassis to interrupt, especially not in such a way and certainly not at that point in the conversation, but it didn’t matter. She’d be getting an answer.
“Great, what are you?”
“A parasite. Was a parasite.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I was a small organism residing in your friend Fluttershy’s brain. One day, she died, and I gave my life in her stead. Years later, I’m chosen to go on this stupid adventure beyond the grave with you and 8 other ponies. You’re dead, your friend is dead, and 6 other ponies you may or may not have ever met, are dead. This isn’t a dream. Deal with it.”
“Wh-what?”
Roseluck, either mellowed out at this point or sufficiently numbed by incredulity, stopped shaking and spoke up.
“Could you say that again, slower this time. I didn’t catch everything . . .”
“Gladly.”
They’d gone out to eat. That’s what Onassis them they’d be doing. No sleep would be had that night, not that they felt like they needed any. After her revelations, they wouldn’t feel like doing so for a while. They were in a ‘pizza’ parlour. Run by an otter. This existence grew even more confounding and whimsical at every step. Lyra had been placed on the table, beside her friend, with the green maned pegasus on the other side. They were still processing what they had been told by Onassis. Roseluck was confused. Lyra took the words from earlier with a grain of salt, but not out of distrust or disbelief. She’d practically come to terms with death, with only the slightest doubt remaining to chide her into believing otherwise.
A pseudo-pony, once a parasite . . . A parasite in a pony, no, my friend, too . . . I don’t care if this is a dream. I can’t just let this pegasus make claims like that and not at least try to investigate them. Even if I wake up in the middle of it, and everything I uncover turns out to be for naught. Even if this is all real, and delving into the truth hurts me and Roseluck more than what happened to me on the minefield . . . I’m going to find out what’s going on.
“Hello, may I take your order?”
An otter, female, in a waitress getup had rolled herself to their table. She was wearing roller-skates. Onassis answered her.
“Yes, a medium pizza please. Half pepperoni, half vegetarian.”
What the hell is a pizza? What the hell is pepperoni? Vegetarian? Is pepperoni . . .
M-meat?
The waitress wrote down the order on a small notepad.
“Will that be all?”
“Yes.”
She rolled to the kitchen, placed the order on a hook, opened, and promptly entered, a door to what was presumably the break room. There weren’t any other patrons. The 3 ponies were their only customers.
“You can ask me whatever you want.”
“Before you two went to bed, why didn’t you start doing the whole regeneration thing?”
“Because you don’t have any blood.”
“What do you mean? I’m made of . . . Clay! I don’t think dolls have blood, fantasy or not.”
Onassis sighed.
“Roseluck, you can attest to this. When your hooves broke, they bled, did they not?”
“Y-yes. Red and white . . .” Roseluck said, shaky from the memory.
“Lyra, as a head, a head with a hole at the bottom especially, you don’t have any blood. You’re hollow, empty. Without blood, you can’t metabolize clay and regrow any of your body.”
Lyra thought about this. It made some sense to her, crazy sense but still sense.
“How do I get blood, then?”
Just then, the waitress reappeared, along with their order. She placed it on the table. Onassis pulled some irids out of her saddlebag by the teeth and placed them in a small tray held by the otter, who rolled away and counted out the coins in her paws. The food itself was odd. Lyra had never seen much like it before. It was like a quiche, but flattened, and missing the layer of dough that would normally cover the contents of the dish. It was sliced, like a pie, into 8 flat cone pieces. The ingredients were proudly presented atop the meal. Almost every one was covered by a layer of thick, white cheese. One half was made up of things reminiscent of a salad, and the other . . .
The pepperoni side, at least the side she hoped was pepperoni, had something she hoped more with all her being was not slices of meat. She was disgusted by the possibility that anypony, no, anyone, would eat another living thing that was not sessile. It was odd, this repulsion. She hadn’t flinched, or produced an analogous motion of such, when the prawn shot Dokker, probably killing him. But when presented with the possibility that someone in her party was omnivorous, she couldn’t restrain herself. Couldn’t banish the thought. Couldn’t keep quiet.
“Is that . . . meat?”
“Yes, and if you want to recover your body anytime soon, you’ll be eating some of it.”
Lyra’s pupils shrunk. She stared at Onassis. Even though it was not a command, it was far more than a simple suggestion. She was being asked to eat meat, nay, required, not out of courtesy but condition. This, she could not take.
“You’re sick.” she muttered.
“What was that Lyra? You’re going to have to speak up.”
The calm demeanor the pegasus carried only served to make the pale green head that was Lyra begin to seethe with anger.
“Onassis, you disgust me. I’m not going to eat meat.”
“Understandable, which is why I’m going to have to make you eat some.”
“Wha-hmmmmpph”
With a few flicks of her hoofs and what remained of her wings, Onassis stuffed a slice of pepperoni pizza into Lyra’s mouth. She tasted it, and was disgusted to find that her taste buds obliged without even a hint of refusal to the meat. She tried for a gag reflex, to force out the doughy, bloody, mass of food, but as soon as it had been tasted it simply ceased to exist. The entire slice was gone after just a moment. Lyra had just consumed the one thing she never thought she’d even have an inclination to try, that she never thought her species would ever be able to stomach, and that was that. No physical qualms. No aftereffects, yet. She looked to her companions. Roseluck was crying into her hooves. Onassis had a smug grin. They stared at each other for a few moments. Lyra donned the most resentful face she could, while Onassis kept up her grin.
“Would you like another slice?”
“No.”
Two men, one sporting green tinted flesh, walked through a well lit hallway. Every so often they’d come upon a door that would automatically open and close for them. Everything had a very sharp, cubic design to it. Zero salient angles to speak of. There were no lights. No torches or bulbs, fluorescent or otherwise. The walls, floor, and ceiling illuminated everything with their own emanations. They reached the end of the hallway. A door, like the others, but manually operated. The green man stepped forward and hit several keys that, due to polarization, could only be seen with clarity when the observer was within a close distance to them. The door opened, and on the other side was a dark room. Not as dark as the one we’d first seen these two in, but much darker than the hall they had just traversed. A woman, age 21, stood up from a desk littered with sketches. She turned around and gave them both a welcoming smile.
“Hello Sam, mister Alender.” She said, in a voice failing to belie her expression.
Marcelli opened his mouth and began to speak, but the green man silenced him with a raise of his hand, and spoke in his stead.
“Hello Sarah. We understand that we’re late, but there was a situation on station 4 that required Marcelli’s immediate attention.”
“It’s alright. Walker hasn’t moved from where I spotted him last night. Have either of you seen Indigo?”
Marcelli had the answer to this.
“No. He’s still in his ‘little Versailles,’ until this afternoon.”
“Well, that’s great. He can join you two then. I’ve already prepared 4 personas. I won’t be going anytime soon, gotta establish the link and all that jazz.”
“Sam didn’t tell me anything about where you found Walker. Could you enlighten me a little. I’d rather not just wake up in a completely different body, different world, and be expected to track down the most dangerous man in existence.”
Sarah walked across the room and picked up multiple drawings. She brought them to the two men. They depicted several colorful houses and landscapes. She went to her desk and went back to sketching, talking as she did.
“He’s in place that the locals call Equestria. I don’t know if that’s the name for the entire planet, or just a nation.”
“Regardless, what are the locals?”
She grabbed several sketches and tossed them to Marcelli and Sam, immediately getting back to the one she was working on before. Only one of them made any moves to catch them, and that was Marcelli. Having succeeded in receiving the paper, he flattened it and scanned it over several times. He was confused by what he saw.
“What are these supposed to be?”
“Ponies.”
“So that’s what that thing was . . .”
His expression went from nonplussed to something alike the face he’d walked in with. He walked beside Sarah and presented to her the sketch he’d been given, now pointing at one particular object on it.
“The one with the hat, is that him?”
“Yes.”
“When can we go?”
“Now.”
And then, a blue object fell to the floor, trailed by a rainbow. This time, Marcelli was prepared, expectant. He dashed across the room, caught it, and immediately stared into it’s eyes. They looked at each other for what felt like minutes, but was really only seconds. Sam and Sarah, far more informed about the other world than the man now holding the pegasus, were not surprised by the appearance of the creature. Well, Sarah was, but she wasn’t startled. Marcelli turned to her.
“Sarah, can you lock the projection?”
“Done.”
“Good.”
He turned his eyes back to the pegasus.
“We’ll be able to speak without any interruptions, then.”
Its face turned pale, whimpers of fear began.
“I promise not to hurt you. I just want to know where you’re from, and who you are. I already know one of those things, so if you’d kindly answer the remaining question . . .”
“Rainbow Dash . . .” she said in a solemn, but compliant, voice.
“Well then, Rainbow Dash, I know you’ve heard at least two conversations between me and my cohorts. Is that all you’ve heard and seen of us?”
She nodded slowly.
“There’s someone in your world wearing a suit. It looks like it’s made of silver, or something of the sort. Somewhere on this suit, is a small insignia. A spiked cane, with a 5 pointed star in the top. He also wears a black hat. Have you seen him?”
“Y-yes. I’ve s-seen somepony like that . . .”
“He’s dangerous, and a lot of dangerous things will be happening around him. Promise me you’ll stay away from him.”
“I-I’ll try . . .”
“Are you a spy?”
“No!”
As part of her exclamation, she burst out of Marcelli’s grasp.
“You can go now.”
And with that, whatever prevented the pegasus from ending her projection was removed. She left the humans as soon as it went. Sam paced from one end of the room to the other, scratching his chin. He spoke.
“So, they’re about to hit genesis. This is going to be interesting. Maybe we should just sit back and wait this out. We might mess up something over there. Maybe Walker’s assembling some heroes, he does have the book.”
“I don’t care what part he has in this. We’re confronting Walker. Sarah, begin the dream. Start up the personas. We’re going now.”
“Wait!”
“What?”
“We have to name them first.”
Rainbow Dash had not intended to dream herself into the presence of those scary creatures again. She’d left the company of her friends to get some rest as Star had advised. The pain in her head had rather obstinately remained long after she reached her cloud home. She went into her kitchen, and had a daisy sandwich. Afterwards, she turned to her bed. Cognizance left as she hit the vaporous sheets. And without even trying, Rainbow was back there. Watching the men through the corridor. Learning the green one’s name, Sam. Seeing a new face, Sarah. Hearing their talk of this “Walker” . . .
Then being held, by that strange one with the brown hair. Marcelli. She hadn’t noticed it before, but there was something on his back that she just couldn’t quite make out. It shined. Not like it was giving off light, just reflecting it. It didn’t matter though. He told her to steer clear of the suited being, shining and hat-having. But dangerous. That was the message she’d received. Silver Star was a dangerous pony whom she should avoid. Possibly even the one they were trying to find, Walker. She doubted it given her experience with the colt; he didn’t seem like a pony that would kill people. But, the three humans shared this confoundment in their target. Even with these thoughts running through her head, she couldn’t bring herself to condemn him. Sure, he chose a very . . . violent, method when convincing Twilight of his assertions. She still had the bruise from earlier, just above her left eye. But she’d forgiven him, and he was sorry for doing it. But was that just tact? Was he really some sort of psychopath? She pushed all these doubting ideas back, mentally labelling them as ‘auspicious,’ or at least the closest word she knew that had the same meaning.
Before Dash could finish repressing the thoughts, she heard a noise behind her. The twang of a guitar. Normally, the idea that someone had snuck into her home unnoticed would have been the first thing to come to her mind. Instead, she reveled in the calming effects that the sound carried. It warmed her, all throughout, removing a chill she hadn’t even realized was there until it ceased. The headache was gone. A familiar voice said something rather impolite. Rainbow turned around to face the noise, and the following swear.
There, on the other side of the room, was the girl from before. She was sitting on the cloud floor, legs crossed in a way that Rainbow assumed was uncomfortable. It was, of course, entirely normal for a human. Held in her arms, was the guitar Dash expected to see, albeit in the hooves of a pony.
“Well, I guess I can’t really play my song now . . . Doesn’t matter though. You figured out who we were talking about, right?”
Rainbow Dash, perplexed beyond what she’d felt when she’d first seen a human, responded after a couple seconds.
“Ye-n-no. What?”
“Walker. You heard those two talking about him like he was genocidal maniac.”
“Yeah, but . . . What was there to figure out, I mean . . .”
“Obviously, Marcelli, the one that caught and questioned you, told you to avoid him. Silver dude, with the hat?”
“Yes . . .”
Sarah stood up, sliding the guitar around her torso until it held not in her hands but by a strap around her shoulder.
“You and your friends have been speaking with him for the past few days now. I didn’t tell either of them that. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be with him, now especially. Anything we said about him killing, it’s . . . Well, you see, we don’t have any proof he’s killed anyone, you see. I’ll try to explain this as quickly as I can, Sam and Marcelli are expecting me to speak with them in a bit.”
She paced around her side of the room and continued.
“Walker, or as you know him, Silver Star, got himself into a very bad situation. The only way out, was to . . . No, no, too far back. This guy, Jack, he . . . Ugh, just a second.”
She sat down, same crossed legs as when Rainbow had first seen her, and brought a hand to her chin, stroking it in thought.
“Okay, I’ve got it. A year ago, something happened to someone he cared for dearly. A young girl named Marie was captured by a group that called themselves “Hell’s Firing Squad.” She was indoctrinated by their leader, and made one of their highest ranking members. Months later, Walker was captured by the same group, but instead of being converted to their cause, they did something else entirely. When Marie saw him, whatever had her set on working with them was crushed. So they took Walker, and made him an example of what would happen to her if she tried to disobey the squad. He escaped, and attempted to free Marie. But . . . when all was said and done, she decided to kill herself. She didn’t want to live with what she had done. Walker acts like she’s still alive, and for that reason some of us believe he’s delusional. Anyway, after all that, he disappeared for a while. The three of us used to meet and discuss important things, politics and the like, but that all stopped. He came back months later, armed to the teeth. “Killed” thousands . . . But there were never any bodies.”
Rainbow Dash gulped loudly at this.
“Oh, shoot! I don’t have much time left. Uhhhh . . . okay, uhm, how do I . . . Right, Marcelli believes that he killed a ton of people, but me and Sam disagree. For different reasons. What I’m trying to say is, don’t go off and tell your friends he’s a maniac or anything like that. You don’t have any reason to believe he is. Don’t even tell them about this conversation. You could muck up a lot of things if you do. Uh, any questions.”
Dash, thoroughly confounded, shook her head.
“Great, I have to go, seeya!”
And with that, she was gone. The guitar, however, was left in her stead. The blue pegasus stared at it for a moment. Then, she slowly crawled into her bed and pulled the fluffy covers over herself. The headache returned.
I really need to stop eating right before bed.