//------------------------------// // "Hello Clarice" // Story: Forsaken // by Iron_Hooved //------------------------------// *Clip, clop, clip, clop* two ponies made their way across a long white corridor, their hoofsteps the only thing disrupting the eerie silence that filled the place. They hadn't spoken for a while and one of them was starting to feel a little bit uncomfortable. He quickly glanced at the cerulean pony leading him somewhat nonplused, hoping to find some answers in that quiet, reverent demeanor that he'd adopted ever since they'd stepped inside that place. Apparently he'd noticed the uneasiness that he was starting to exhibit for it was him that broke the silence. "Something bothering you?" he asked in a low deep voice without so much as a backwards glance. It was a simple question but one that sparked many answers, or rather concerns, inside his head. He tried to organize his thoughts in order to produce what he hoped to be a reasonable demand, but even after ransacking his brain he couldn't find any better way to respond. "What's all this about?" he finally spoke hoping not to sound stupid or uninformed. As a soldier, private Top Brass was a committed pony: he always went above and beyond what his superiors asked of him and wanted to be as highly informed about his mission as he possibly could. He was fresh out of military school back in Canterlot, having been hoof-picked for this assignment after all that intensive psychological training he'd undergone under the tutelage of none other than Commander Storm Chaser. He wasn't very experienced but he more than made up for it with his eagerness and thirst to prove himself. He was a pony with big dreams, hoping to one day succeed his mentor as the commander of the Imperial Guard. And yet after all that emotional training he'd undergone, he couldn't help but feel uneasy about this particular mission. After all, why was it the job of an Imperial Guard, an elite soldier, to be made stand guard in Canterlot's psychiatric ward? "Your job is to watch over patient #42 and make sure she's isolated at all times. Normally we'd place some orderlies outside her room but she's a highly unusual pony, and the D.A. fears she might escape," explained the orderly as he began digging into the pockets of his milky white shirt.. "So does that mean she was involved in the terrorist attack on the Princess?" asked Top Brass with a bewildered look. "Could be but we aren't sure yet. There's no evidence to indicate that," replied the orderly as he pulled out an ID card with a collar made of little metal beads and slipped it over his head. "What do you mean? I thought suspects were usually held in the cells back at the Police department until interrogation? Why waste time and resources investigating somepony when there's no physical evidence linking her to the crime? And for that matter why bring her here of all places?" he insisted even more puzzled. "Apparently she was seen dragging a long range, projectile device the day of the Summer Sun Celebration. The Police found the contraption when they raided her house in her hometown and, after having determined it had been fired recently, they took her in for questioning," answered the orderly matter-of-factly. "I thought the explosion was caused by a bomb hidden underneath the altar...?" continued Top Brass in a doubtful tone. "It seems that way but apparently the D.A. doesn't want to take chances. He wants to know if the device could have been involved in some sort of back up plan in case the assassination failed," he explained as they reached the end of the corridor where an old gray-colored pony wearing a beige uniform sat in a desk guarding a thick metal door. He hadn't noticed either of them approach him despite the loud conversation they'd been having, maybe he was just used to the noise down there or too transfixed in the sports magazine he'd been reading to pay attention to the world around him. "Good night," said the orderly as he approached the desk. "Hnnn," replied the pony unconcernedly without lifting his eyes from the magazine. "We're here to check up on one of the patients in ward S," explained the orderly, with an annoyed expression. "Mmmm," responded the disinterested pony as he turned the page. "This pony will be staying here, on instructions of the D.A. to guard patient #42," he stated as he gestured toward Top Brass. The pony's reaction to these words were curious to say the least: as soon as he heard mention of patient 42, he fell backwards from his chair and hit his head on the wall behind him. "You okay?" asked Top Brass stupidly, as if falling and hitting your head on concrete walls was an Equestrian tradition ponies regularly engaged in. "Ouch," groaned the gray pony as he massaged the back of his head, slowly opening his eyes. "We need you to open the door, if you please," insisted the orderly with a tone of utmost indifference towards him. The custodian looked up at him and then his eyes darted towards Top Brass as he examined him with an inquisitive look, as if he were appraising him. "New guy eh? Did you bother to fill him in on the gory details?" he asked the orderly as his eyes narrowed maliciously. "Gory details?" gulped Top Brass as he swallowed hard, now feeling nervous and less secure. "Just ignore him," replied the orderly impatiently as he picked up the custodian's card from the desk and swiped it in the electronic lock right next to the door. "What gory details?" persisted Top Brass as he addressed the custodian who was now recovering from his earlier mishap. "You mean they didn't tell you anything about the patient? You didn't ask your superiors why she was in here of all places? Ever wondered what happened to the four other guys that came in before you?" cackled the custodian in amusement. "Well I've heard some comments about her err... uniqueness," he replied trying to appear informed. "Oh you haven't heard anything son," the ancient pony assured him, his eyes widening to give him a mysterious look. "Doors open, let's go," interrupted the orderly who'd just finished inputting the code on the lock. Top Brass followed him through the door as he cast one final glance at the old pony smiling toothessly at him. "Uhm," started Top Brass as they made their way down a corridor filled with cushion-lined doors. "What is it?" asked the orderly, now somewhat uneasy. "You never answered when I asked you why she was here instead of the Police Station," Top Brass reminded him with a nervous look. "Listen, you're a well trained pony. You know the procedure before they interrogate suspects down at the station?" whispered the orderly slowing his pace, as he nervously looked around for any eavesdroppers. "Well, they isolate them from other potential suspects and err... observe them to see if they fit one of the given psychological profiles of a criminal, right?" Top Brass responded, wondering what this all had to do with his question. "Right, and it's usually a skilled detective, and in some cases a psychiatrist, that examines and observes if there are any... anomalies on the subject," indicated the orderly. Top Brass' eyes widened in comprehension. "You mean the psychiatrists who examined her deemed she was insane?" he asked with bewilderment. "No. Their diagnosis bore no results. It was undetermined," he finished significantly with an enigmatic look. "Undetermined? But what does that even mean??" insisted the soldier more puzzled than ever as they reached a spiral staircase that led down to the basement. "I'm not sure but she's definitely strange: so far all the guards that have been sent to watch her have cracked," responded the orderly as they began their long descent into darkness. "Cracked?" croaked Top Brass, his throat now unusually dry. "Cracked, stumped, befuddled, confounded.... She drove every single one of them to insanity. One of them nearly ripped his ears off in a effort to shut out her voice. We found him the next morning, huddled in a corner, mumbling to himself, begging for his mommy," sentenced the orderly with a grave look. Fear suddenly gripped the young soldier as he started wondering what his fate would be. They were now traveling down a stone passageway that looked absolutely decrepit. Several empty cells with iron bars stood on either side of the walls, the cold stony floor covered with grime and dust. Water was slowly leaking down one of the moss-covered walls where a puddle had formed beneath it. Shackles adorned the walls in most cells, partially obscured by darkness as torches timidly lit the grim dungeon-like facility. Top Brass wondered what had transpired here in the past and what sort of criminals had been held in this old prison. 'What deep dark secrets did this place hold? What was the former purpose of the decadent jail? And what grim stories, obscured by legend and folklore, had this underground labyrinth suffocated within its stuffy walls, never to see the light of Equestria's sun again?' "Don't worry. You'll be fine as long as you stick to your instructions" the orderly interrupted him before his imagination could wander off too far. "Just don't answer her questions, don't talk to her, don't listen to her, don't even look at her, and for Celestia's sake, whatever you do, don't accept any requests she makes or agree to any promises, understood?" he concluded placing emphasis on that last sentence, as they reached an iron door with bars on the window. Inside, drowned in shadow, stood silhouette wearing a restraining jacket. The dark figure had been strapped to a mechanic bed that had been propped vertically against the wall, her deep rattling breath escaping through the tiny bars of the muzzle that been placed on her, as she snored peacefully. "Good, she's asleep. Looks like you won't have too much trouble," assured the orderly in relief as he fit a huge old-fashioned key in the padlock that secured the door and unlocked it. *creak* protested the metal hinges barely holding the rusty old door as the ponies stepped inside the room. Patient 42 suddenly began stirring and both ponies held their breath with caution as sweat drops slowly etched their way down their foreheads. "Mmmmff," the filly gave a dissatisfied moan and continued sleeping. The orderly wiped the sweat off his brow and gestured the guard to stand next to her. Reluctantly, Top Brass approached the patient and stood at her side, his heart beating violently like a trapped animal, desperately trying to break free from its cage. With one final encouraging look, the orderly stepped outside the room and closed the door behind him. "I'll be back at dinnertime to bring you some food," he whispered as he stepped away, his hoofsteps slowly fading into the distance as the soldier stood there alone, with nothing to keep him company but that thing. Not a minute had passed since he'd entered the room when every last hair on his body suddenly seized up, standing on end. For a second he thought he'd been showered by icy water as he stood there like a statue, incapable of movement. He felt the gaze on his back, examining him, surveying his every movement. He desperately wished himself invisible but knew it was hopeless, for the creature was aware of his presence and had begun stirring once more in its place. His limbs heavy like concrete, he slowly turned around fully aware of the mistake he was making yet unable to resist the call of death. It was unreal, it was a nightmare, it was the closest he'd ever felt to pony hell as that gaze pierced him like a thousand daggers, those electric-blue eyes staring into his soul, descending into his subconscious, penetrating the deepest layers of his mind to feast on his darkest fears. He felt insignificant, a mere cog in a huge contraption, a drop of water in the vast ocean as he came to a sudden realization: 'he hadn't been sent there to guard the creature, he'd been sent there to satisfy its hunger! His whole life had been a lie, all throughout his 20 years of life he'd been prepared, trained, raised like a pig for slaughter, all for this one moment where he must fulfill his purpose and satiate the beast's hunger. It was, after all, fate, a cruel design of the goddesses that he meet his end there and then, there was no hope, there was no escaping it'. Both of them stood there for what seemed an eternity, until slowly but surely, the lips of the creature began curving into an obscene smile as she revealed two rows of perfectly even, pearly white teeth. And when she spoke, her shrill singsong voice filling the whole room, every fiber in his very being screamed out in rejection: "Hi there, I'm Pinkie Pie! Who are you? Are you friends with the guys from before? Where are they? What are we doing here? What's with the getup? Are you an actor? Are we in some sort of play? Ooh! Ooh! I know! Are we playing hide and seek? Who are we hiding from? Hey do you like playing games? I LOVE PLAYING GAMES! My favorite game is ponyball! Have you ever played ponyball? Well of course you haven't! I made it up just now!" "Hnnnnnnnnnnng!" jabbered the poor pony, as violent spams shook his body: he'd been trained to withstand torture but this was worse than he'd initially imagined. "Ooh! Was that you're doing? Is that a dance? Are you dancing? What's it called? Ooh! Ooh! How about I try it too?!" continued the pink monster mercilessly. "Aaarghhhh!" cried out the poor pony as he rolled over trashing around in pain. "Hey! You don't look too good? Are you feeling okay? I know what will cheer you up! A PARTY! Did you know that I'm really good at parties? It's my special talent, you know! Huge cakes, blue balloons, yellow balloons, purple balloons, dog balloons, pony balloons you name it! Just let me get my party cannon! Oh right! That pony took my party cannon! Have you seen my party cannon?" finished the 4-legged atrocity as she delivered the coup de grâce with that last sentence. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" yelled the soldier as his scream pierced the night sky only to fade out of existence as the darkness engulfed the torches' light, extinguishing them. "Tut, tut, tut, we do really seem to run through them," sighed the old custodian as he turned yet another page. "I'm guessing I'll be sent to clean up after this one as well," he complained in an almost resigned tone as he got up from his chair and wandered off down the long corridor, whistling a lullaby.