I am sorry, my little ponies. I do not mean to scare you or make you feel as though things are hopeless. What I want, as I said before, is to teach you. This time, however, I want to teach you all to find what is truly frightening to you, and then face it as an old friend. Treat it like you have needed to speak to it for a long time and then seek to understand it. That is the first step to resolving this war.

Entry 035 - A Dark Nightmare Night (Part One)

The crowd in Serenity Gardens went wild, and for good reason. Nightmare Night was upon us and I was experiencing the first representation of the festival in Stable T-Thirty from center stage, literally.I rocked their costumed hinnies off the scale. I lived on the high they gave me and for a moment, I knew how my changeling friends felt when they fed on the love of the ponies in T-Thirty.

Nightmare Night was the celebration of the time when Princess Luna became Nightmare Moon and rose to plunge the world into darkness, void of the sun. She was vanquished by her sister Celestia and entombed in the moon for a thousand years. Those were the kind of family problems I could relate to.

The way the Stable chose to celebrate this was with treats, games and a big Nightmare Night concert in the underground gardens. They dressed up in costumes they considered scary and attempted to play silly tricks on each other. It certainly was a contrast to the Nightmare Nights I’d experienced, where the Wastelands attempted to purge each other of ponies for a whole night, more than usual at least. In comparison, this was fluffy and, dare I say, cute.

Given a reprieve from my Stable uniform and headband, I was in a sleek black and blue number with silver boots, headdress, and chest plate. A set of painted goggles to look like slitted eyes completed my Nightmare Moon costume. In the past few months Hot Shot had succeeded in bumping up my reputation in the Stable from Guardian Griffon to Bad Bird, the singing performer not afraid to speak her mind because she wasn’t a precious little Stable pony.

I wrapped up the Nightmare Night song I was singing, closed my wings to drop back down to the stage and grinned to the fans.

“Of course you loved that one, you love a wee bit of chaos don’t you, Birdbrains?” I jeered at them, to madly-devoted whinnies and cries of delight. The Stable dwellers enjoyed the edgier persona only I could seem to provide, even if it was all just an act. I wasn’t permitted to be a real bitch the way I had been in the months before I’d stepped through ‘The Door That Must Not Open Again’, but I could pretend to be a shadow of my former self.

“Thanks for showing up I guess, the band really needed yer support as well as mine. Your costumes aren’t completely rubbish, I’ll give ye that.” I let the mass laugh, stomp and cry for more. I didn’t have another song in my itinerary but I still strolling along the stage with the microphone in my claw, seeing the silhouette on the wings of the next singer growing impatient. The thrill of this game was seeing how far I could push the system. “Thanks to this braw band, I'd stick around but that my lot. As you know, Birdbrains, I didnae get chosen for the ascension battles for the third time. Nay fair, aye? Do ye recall who did?” I swirled my free talons around in a circle in the air and held them to my avian ear as though I’d struggle to hear the deafening yell.

“MELLOW MELODY!”

“Aye, spot-on,” I smirked, “sadly, she was nay good enough to reach the wee final either, and so, unfortunately, you’re stuck with her next. I would--” I stopped as I found I was talking to myself. The microphone had died. A second later, the lights above and those pointed at me on the stage flickered, but only a second before the beams and sound came back. A few ponies jumped and whinnied in surprise.

“Uh oh, I dinnae touch anything,” I joked, to a murmur of awkward chuckles. “I think that was Celestia sayin’ she does nay want her either. For the sensible ponies out there, wander off, get some candy and have a great time. For the rest of you, I’m sorry to announce to the stage, MELODY!” The grin widened as I listened to the crowd whoop my name when I took my leave from the blinding stage lights, sharing it with an unimpressed Mellow in a dark witch-queen outfit on my way past.

“Do ye think that last cry was fer me or ye, lassie?” I sniggered, causing her to roll her eyes so heavily I thought she might lose the pupils in the sockets.

“Your act is tiresome but you’ve not been here very long. Enjoy your five seconds of fame, darling. It won’t last.” I watched her saunter past me with a deep huff. She paused to look more engaged and lively, only to falter when the audience began chanting.

“Bad Bird! BAD BIRD! BAD BIRD!” She twitched violently and glared at me, as though it was my fault they were calling my name again, but I just shrugged with a chortle. Snarling irritably, she swiftly recomposed herself and leaped out, to a chorus of boos. It may only have been a playful response from the onlookers, yet to me, it was wonderful revenge for the way Melo-doty had treated me. She continued to the microphone with a small and hidden snap at the leading musician to start playing and sang over the catcalls. Disappointingly, the crowd didn’t ridicule her for long before they stopped to listen to the song.

I envied that she got the first choice of songs to sing at the Nightmare Night concert, being Hot Shot’s potentially incestuous sister. ‘Night of the Living Hunger’ was the song I wanted to sing, it was one of my faves. I listened a while longer and wondered what had caused the brief break in power. I hadn’t seen that happen in the three months I’d been in the Stable, but I’d heard talks about a full blackout before. Or it could have been… I scraped that concern and listened to the music before sulkiness got the better of me, making me turn and walk fully backstage.

I stepped down the steps with stage crew hurrying up and down beside me. It was surreal to be standing in the center spotlight before a mass convergence willing to praise every noise that came out of my beak, and seconds later be in the dark with stagehands too busy to give me a single glance. Like all highs, the pleasure from the glee of the fans was fading far too quickly for my liking. I was eager to get back out once more and feed off of the excitement of the ponies, I even stopped on the stairway to consider it. The weight of the voice augmenter around my neck got more noticeable and chest developed a tightness as though my heart ached for a loss I hadn’t realize I’d lost. I began turning while I was still thinking about the feeling, drawn by a force stronger than me…

“Crowella.” I almost shat myself at the utter of my name by my ear.

Procrustean had snuck up on me. I scrambled and slipped clumsily down a few steps to escape from the stoic pony, more sickeningly evil-looking in ghoulish face paint. Our PipBucks and low lights were the only illuminations on him, not helping his unpleasantness in the slightest. He held his stare as I regained my footing and stood back up, avoiding his eye.

“Aye?” I asked uncomfortably, ruffling my wings. If he wanted to speak to me, it was almost certainly bad news. Since he’d spoken to me in the cell on my first Ascension Day, Procrustean had ensured I was aware of his surveillance on me every chance he got. Although I took solace in knowing that Molasses Candy was safe in the Under-Stable catacombs, sneaking off to visit her made matters more difficult for me. Luckily for me, there were few identity problems that couldn’t be solved by a changeling or two.

“You look worse than usual. Have you been taking anything?” He asked me ironically. I shook my head numbly, clearing my throat as I uttered that I hadn’t. He snorted grumpily, “then perhaps you should. See the hospital ward. I cannot have my spy on the inside missing anything because they were not alert.” For a moment I’d thought he was advocating me using chems and briefly I considered recommending that he try something himself, in case a hit of Dash or Moon Dust might make him less of an arsehole. My beak stayed shut.

“Update me.” The phrase was so common now I didn’t need to ask him what he meant, but I did need to look about quickly with a kick of anxiety, in case who he was asking about might be listening.

“Procrustean, Poxy works for Hot Shot now. She could be around here, I canny jus’ spill the beans about her and Whisk’s involvements right now,” I answered quietly. The reply only earned me a dark snigger as the great prick kept his beady eyes on my goggles.

“What’s the matter, griffon? Are your mistakes catching up with you?” He leaned closer, his ghostly face decorated with sinister black shades, his skeletal cheekbones, and eye sockets darkened. “I don’t care if your accomplices punish you for telling me about their goings-on. If anything were to happen to you, I would have the perfect evidence to destroy the rest of your friends. And besides, if you don’t—”

“They still haven’t given me one clue about how the Minstrel got destroyed,” I blurted out, not wanting to hear him promise to put pressure on Elm or Gypsy again. “Poxy still won’t pass two words past me since we fell out and her stallion has been just as quiet.”

That didn’t seem to quell his eagerness to see me bleed out every last secret I would hold for my betrayed comrades, his right eyebrow rising suspiciously.

“If you don’t find out what happened to that Minstrel soon—”

“W-Wait, look, I dunnae know about that yet, but her latest right-hoof pony has been shooting his gob off aboot a different plan.” I felt my body physically shrink as he kept his stance upright over me. When I realized he was just going to wait, I drew in my breath. “The word is they… They wannae take down something important to the Stable. Somethin’ like water supply or energy.” The news was enough to have Crusty step out of my personal bubble. He sat on the steps, finally looking away from me with his mood darkening further.

“When?”

“I’m still finding out, but I’ll—”

“Who?” He ordered slowly, squinting demonically at me. I shifted a further few steps down from him.

“Rock Roller, h-his name is—”

“Security Chief Procrustean,” partially revealed by the glow of the lights on stage for a moment, Mr. Punch appeared at the top of the stairs and hurried down to us, “this is your call to be on stage for your duet with Mellow Melody.” The security chief glanced between us before nodding restrainingly to Punch.

“Keep me informed,” he muttered his last words to me, then asked the assistant, “my guitar’s already on stage, yes?”

“Yes, sir. Everyone’s excited to see the King of Cool duet with Melody once more, it’s been a while since- oh.” The big brute had stopped paying attention after the affirmative and strolled the rest of his way up the stairs without a farewell to either of us. Meanwhile, I sat stunned by the fresh and unreal revelation I’d just heard come from Punch’s lips.

“He’s the King of Cool? That… him?!” I squawked, pointing after the trial the chief had taken. The awkward subordinate of Mr. Shot flailed for me to lower my voice.

“Yes, he is! The security chief is a very talented performer, unfortunately, Mr. Shot has been unable to get him to sign a contract…” Fruit Punch ushered me the rest of the way down the stairs, not going anywhere without me as he seemed eager to ensure I got to the V.I.P. area without wandering off. As we reached the small marque behind the stage, he held the curtained door open for me and I slipped through the gap, hoping that I might get some positive attention to bring me out of my post-show funk.

Inside, the canvased walls would have been a navy and gold, if deep ruby lights hadn’t turned everything a dangerous red. Masked horses of various themes strolled about, talked and relaxed in the tent. No squealing fan-ponies had sneaked in to greet me and Hot Shot’s regulars were far too used to seeing me around to give me any overzealous applause for my act. Not even a signing table had been organized for me. I looked aside to Punch.

“No signings for me today, Punchy?” I asked irritably, adjusting the uncomfortable chain of the pendant around my neck.

“Oh. Well, no, th-there are no autographs usually given on event days like Nightmare Night…” he laughed simperingly, hoping I might cheer up from seeing him amused only to urgently excuse himself when he saw that it wasn’t working for me. He shuffled away, mumbling something about needing to check that the finale of the show was prepared and left me to my own devices.

Having nothing better to do, I sighed and I strolled across to the refreshments table, helped myself to a cup of actual fruit punch given an unhealthy dose of liquor. I sipped the juice and pondered how I had gotten through the past few months.

“Ahhh! Oh no, it’s Nightmare Moon!” The over-dramatic cry behind me gave my slackened mood an extra tug down, causing me to release a long groan. Locating a spare bottle of rum, I poured the extra alcohol into the mix and glanced back as it glugged into the bowl. Black Cherry, with a paper-mache second head strapped to his right shoulder by two black ropes, grinned back at me. He held a bottle of wine with a hoof and grinned with an exultant optimism at me. Something looked different about him, and it wasn’t the dual-headed outfit. I tried to put a claw on what…

“Naaah,” the voice by my side had my jumping for the second time that night, “Moon had fewer feathers and a far sexier laugh. Disgruntled Moon would suit you better.” I turned to a knight in shining armor standing beside me and gave the grill hiding their face a long dark stare. Smirking, I moved a claw out and flicked the snout of the helmet with my claw, confirming my suspicions that the costume was waxed and shiny cloth rather than real metal. The strike thwacked rather than twanged, and the stallion inside yelped out, rubbing his helmet beak.

“Ow…”

“A knight, Woody? I don’t know how you can fit yer ego in this Stable, let alone a tin can.” The black-eyed pony lifted his cloth visor to grimace through the gap, shrugging dolefully.

“Wasn’t my idea,” he complained, pointing a hoof back at Cherry. The blackish-brown horse poured a swallow of wine down his throat and swallowed happily, nodding hopefully at the motioned accusation.

“He looks like a pony I saw in a book once, can’t remember which book or what it was but it was some kind of sir or something. Y’know who I mean?” I shook my head slowly, about to advise that he got that a lot from ponies (before they got to know the real him) when I finally figured out what looked odd about the coal and crimson maned pony. The usual bulge around the chest of his Stable Uniform was missing.

“You’re not wearing your amulet,” I pointed out, quickly looking about the floor, “Did you drop it or did you— Mmf.” Together, Elm and Black closed my beak with their hooves and tossed their heads from side to side to make sure no pony else had noticed. We got some weird looks, but the context was lost to everyone but us.

“Shh! Shhh!” shushed Cherry urgently. The lights fizzled and flickered again, and yet were nothing more than a memory as I took a quick look at them. Elm spoke again without giving them a single look.

“I and Gypsy are helping him part ways with it,” the dark knight whispered to me, “we’re currently trying to sort a suitable forgery for him to wear since Black can sing and not offend anypony without the use of augmenter to help him. Unlike--”

“Unlike me, aye,” I grunted, glancing at the bottle Cherry was still holding protectively, “ye won’t be needin’ the tipple then…” I went to grab the wine, only for the horse to back away, hold it out of reach and perform a drunken spin to avoid me taking it.

“Ah, ah no, I still need it!” he nickered, to yet more looks.

“He does,” Elm lamented, “For now at least, to ease the withdrawal.” The ‘two-headed’ alcoholic clung to his bottle like it was his only child I’d asked to sacrifice, I relented and left him to the drink. He moved into a corner, eyeing me as though I’d try to take the drink again, finally slipping down to hide from view and drink in peace.

“Off of one vice and onto another, Wood,” I said after chugging the full contents of my glass and double-dipping into the fruit punch for another drink. “Do you really think he’ll be any better on the bottle than he is was with his M.V.A.?”

“If it’s the reverse of you and how you’ve been since you’ve had yours, then yup. I do,” he replied bluntly.

“Don’t start this again,” I snapped hotly with a protective claw over the medal under my breastplate, “I havenae choice. I cannae sing withoot it.” I took an annoyed swallow of my drink and patted my M.V.A. affectionately, returning my free talons out from my chest again.

“There’s always a choice, Crow,” Elm stole my drink from me and helped himself to the rest of the contents, swilling the liquid in his muzzle before gulping obnoxiously. “Are you sure you put enough rum in this, maybe you should have included the bottle.”

”Buck off,” I huffed, finally having spent enough time with him to know I wanted to be rid of him for the rest of the night. “I’m gettin’ out of here. Try not to buck Cherry, since you two are so close now.”

“I can’t say I’ll try, but I’ll think of trying,” the stallion joked as I walked away. “Hey, and we need to talk about visiting our friend Dr. Whithers soon too.”

“No, we don’t,” I retorted before slipping out of the flap into the cooler evening air of the cave gardens, breathing in deep. Elm had been trying to inspire me to go with him to see Dr. Whithers ever since we sneaked into the Stable Tec Sciences building with him. Supposedly, the stallion knew a lot more about what was going on in the Stables than we did, but that was exactly the reason I wouldn’t go. Procrustean had already proven he’d known more about me than I could have imagined and I didn’t want that monitoring eye finding out about the sneaky rebellious plans of my friends. It was for that reason that I’d avoided Semi Skimmed like a plague as well.

Out of the back of the V.I.P. tent, some of the stage helpers and free performers were taking a break for something to drink, eat or smoke. I waved and offered them a friendly hello and while I got a few nods of greeting back none of them were interested in giving me the same satisfaction of seeing me that a follower of my reputation would. I hovered there for a few seconds, just to see if a conversation might spark from my presence but as they all went back to their own business, I decided I needed to try a little harder. If the mountain wouldn’t come to me, I would go to the mountain.

With Melody and now ‘The King of Cool’ still singing on stage, I slipped over the fence to stop normies mixing with celebrities of the Stable, out into the main audience area and around some of the food and beverage stalls set up to feed the grisly mass in the gardens. In other areas further away from the music, there were carnival games and smaller exhibits to see, but I didn’t need to go that far. Slipping through the shadows, using techniques I’d learned during my days as a raider, I moved about behind the carts until I found my first targets of the evening.

A trio of foals, one of whom I recognized from my first trip to the hospital ward, was walking away from a caterer with gruesome red cotton-candy treats. They’d dressed up, one as a tin pony, one as a witch, and one as a lion, and each had matching containers for collecting the treats they found or earned throughout the night. I moved out behind them as they passed, then let out a soft, sinister chuckle.

“My, those treats look good,” I cackled in my best impression of the wicked Nightmare Moon, or how my Pa had suggested she sounded when he told me the stories, “but not as yummy as you would be!” I pounced out, creating a series of squealing neighs and bleats from the tiny ponies.

“AHHH! Nightmare MOON!” They yelled, grabbing each other in a hug, eyes bigger than the namesake of my alter-ego. I laughed and strolled out of the cover of the shade, lifting my goggles and grinning.

“Nah, nay bother, wee’uns. It’s just me!” I watched the jaws drop and smiled at their stunned expressions for a moment. Their high-pitched squeaks nearly perforated an eardrum when they shouted again.

“AHHH! Nightmare Bad Bird!” They immediately rushed forward and hugged me, all trying to talk at once in a maddening jumble of compliments and requests.

“--OHyoursongsaresocoolandIlovethewayyousingthemand--”

“--Areyougoingtosingagain? CanyougosingwithMellowMelodyandtheKingofCooland--”

“--YouweresofunnywhenyousaidthosefunnythingsaboutMellowMelodyandIlikeyoumorethanherand--”

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, lads and lassies,” I chuckled, waving them down with my wingtips and clawed hands. Inside, I was loving this, they could do it all day. I was able to ignore the anchor of amulet of Rara around my neck once more and a warm fuzziness entered my heart. “Thank ye, your jus’ as kind as I was expecting. I cannae do any more singing tonight I’m afraid, but if you’ve got anything to sign..?”

“Oh, well…” The foals started digging through the goodies they’d been given, looking for something flat enough to sign. It was the little filly I knew, in the Princess dress, who found a long flat candy wrapped in a waxed paper that I could easily scribble on. I took it, only to notice that I didn‘t have a pen to sign anything either. I asked the foals, who shook their heads and was about to speak to a vendor of the cotton-candy stall when I happened to look at the packet in my claws again.

Sweet Elite. This was a product from Molasses’ candy shop in the Le Grand Sector of the Stable. The problem was that three months ago, Mole’s ascension had meant that Moley couldn’t go back to her store again and since then it had remained closed. I’d expected one of her brothers or sisters to claim the property as theirs but none had. Only one pony had ever really had any concern in wanting to keep it in operation and she was in the Under-Stable with the changelings. Or, at least, she was supposed to be.

“Where’d ye get this?” I enquired, waving the stick to the foal curiously. She blinked and pointed to her pumpkin-shaped basket nervously. “No, before then, who gave it to ye?” Understanding, she nodded and all three of them directed me towards a cluster of trees beside the slowly spilling river that ran through Serenity Gardens. Thanking them, I tossed the treat back and after a few unhappy noises promised they’d get a free autograph from me next time, before hurrying towards the area I’d been pointed in.

The space between the group of trees was busy with ponies of all shapes and ages, moving about like radscorpions picking on a meal. I flew up for a better look and hovered above the branches, discovering for myself what had gotten everypony so interested. Inside the tight clearing were three large bushels that were each half full with candy, chocolate and other good things once sold at the Sweet Elite. Giving out these goodies was a pony completely masked in a blackish-blue and azure-purple suit, with a wide-brimmed hat matching the superhero outfit. A full facemask hid the face, with just a pair of light green glass goggles for eyes.

I’d seen the character design before, especially since my fillyfriend was a big fan of the ‘Mare Do Well’ Detective Comics. Hoping my assumption was wrong, I dropped down behind the masked pony and reached out, grabbing her gently but firmly by the back of the neck. Everypony around us gasped as I apprehended the nice mare giving them free treats and the heroine kicked and whinnied in surprise until she heard my voice.

“Apologies, ponies, but Mare Do Well and Nightmare Moon need to have a wee barny, help yourselves to the candy while we’re away,” Mare Do Well went as floppy as a puppy that had just been caught weeing on a favorite rug and I quickly carried her away to a less conspicuous part of the gardens, dropping her inside an empty stall. Crossing my front legs before my chest and creased my brow, staring down at her.

“Candy givin’ a new hobby of yours, Mare D’Well, or have ye given up the greatest detective pony work and started a new franchise?” The mare gave a non-committal shrug, knowing speaking would only incriminate her.

“Wouldn’t happen to be anypony I might know under there, aye?” I pressed, leaning in with a small fume burning at the back of my gaze. The sock-covered head shook slow, testing my patience and so, with a dissatisfied sigh, I clipped both hat and mask with my talons and whipped them off in an instant.

Molasses sat, stunned by the light and whinnying meekly, giving a small apprehensive smile and a little wave. Her usually messy mane was messier and wet with perspiration from being covered in the veil for Celestia-knows how long. Nearly squawking in anger and worry, I pulled my wings up to shelter both of us and bore down on her.

“I knew it. What in the gret egg were ye thinkin’ comin’ up here! Don’t ye realize the trouble ye’d be in, not to mention the trouble you’d put every changelin’ includin’ Bones in!”

“I know, I’m sorry, but I was going craaaaaazy down there, Captain,” Mole protested, “I’ve been good, and I love our new changeling friends, but I miss giving out candy and seeing the faces of the ponies go all happy-smiley when they eat it! I only came up here because I wanted to share that with them again, and my face was hidden so they didn’t know it was really me.” Her eyes misted over with nostalgia as she smiled a little brighter. “I love Nightmare Night, that foals have a good time and it’s so much fun to dress up and play. It’s the best! Well, it, and Winter Wrap-up, and Hearth’s Warming, and Cider Day--”

“Stop, okay Mole, stop!” I moaned, dragging the palm of my talons over my face and stretching the sockets of my eyes for a freakish split-second. “Ye cannae stay here. It is only a matter o’ time before you’re found and then we’re both in the shit, so I’m taking ye back to the shelter, aye?”

“Aye,” mumbled Mole dejectedly, circling a clothed hoof between her covered hind legs with a small whicker. A small sparkle of hope entered her eyes as she glanced back up to me, “can I at least go see the Sweet Elite one last time? It was my most favorite place and I met my only best friend in the Stable there, long before I met you and Elm and PJ and Gypsy, and Lumbah and--”

“Stop!” I commanded again, shoving the mask over her face urgently to hide her pleading eyes, but the hangdog look had already gotten to me. With a small cluck, I gave her a quick nuzzle of my beak and returned her hat to her head. “Clop me, Luna, buck me sideways. Alreet, fine, but one look an’ then we’re taking you back to the changelin’s.”

I backed out of the empty carriage and helped the Mare Do Well impersonator out of it too, before looking about to check that the coast was clear. Gathering and hiding the pony under a wing, I turned us and moved as discreetly as I was able around the backs of the parlor game stalls towards the exit of the Gardens. I listened to the ponies cheering when they bowled over a set of coconuts or whining when they missed getting the horseshoe on to the poles, annoyed that I could be joining in and instead was forced to babysit my candy-loving marefriend. I hoped I’d have enough time to take her to her store, then home and get back before the festivities ended.

“Who helped you get the candy in here in the first place?” I asked her as we moved along, frowning down at her. She kept quiet. “Was it Elm?” More silence, but the way she tried to avoid my gaze gave it away. “... I’m gonnae slap him next time I see tha’ wassock.”

As I urged us towards the gate quicker, I didn’t stop to think about looking around any corners, and so was surprised to bump into a lone clown smoking a cigarette around the next one. Worse yet, as I started to apologize and back us up, I saw that I’d only driven us into the Overstallion himself. Overlook, dressed in a colorful wig, makeup, and a polka dot version of his usual attire, looked just as startled to see me and a concealed pony under my wing but then gave a relieved sigh.

“Ah, hello Crowella. Looks like you were after just as much privacy as I was, eh?” He chortled, waving his smoke about in a magical aura before taking a hurried drag on it, speaking in clouds in his next breath out. “It doesn’t do for the Overstallion to reveal his vices you see, I have to maintain a squeaky-clean record.”

“O-Oh, heh, well, dunnae worry, Overstallion, I wouldnae tell a soul. If you’ll excuse me…” I attempted to sneak past, only to have the blasted fool step into my way as he flicked his cigarette off into the river with a twinkle.

“You performed wonderfully, by the way. On stage, I mean,” he had to add when I gave him a blank look, “you really are settling in well. I’ve been meaning to catch up with you and your colleagues for a while now, as a matter of fact. I was hoping to further discuss your time outside and what you encountered.” I froze up, breathing in and forgetting to breathe out again. Gypsy had hoped I’d get an opportunity like this, to get closer to Overlook and to find out why he was still allowing the Ascensions to take place. The only butt-fucking factor in this scenario was the pony under my wing, whom he happened to notice as he gawked at me. “Ah, I did not see you had company. Who is this?”

“Um, errr, um, Mare Do Well,” I answered clumsily, hoping he would take the suggestion and go with it. He laughed but shook his head.

“No, I mean, who is in the costume? I can see they’re dressed as Mare Do Well, my youngest daughter Midnight is a bit of a fan even as an adult.” Overlook bent towards the masked vigilante, grinning with a shimmer on his glasses, “Who is Mare Do Well?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” a male voice piped up. Elm joined us from behind me, a slight breathlessness to his gruff and croaky voice suggesting he’d been running. “‘Who’s Mare Do Well?’ That’s usually the kind of thing the bad guy asks,” he chuckled, stealing Molasses out from under my wing to hug her. “On this occasion, it’s just my mare Gypsy, isn’t that right, sweetie?” Mole, catching on quick, kept quiet and simply nodded, to the mirth and acceptance of Overlook.

“Aye, Gypsy Breeze, that’s her,” I added, glimpsing Elm briefly out of the corner of my eye. I saw his PipBuck for a moment, with green and red dots flashing on his display, and figured he must have tracked me and Mole the moment he realized I could encounter her.

“A mare-vellous disguise, Miss Breeze,” Overlook quipped, my nerves too high for me to groan at the terrible pun, “and a knight too, very clever Mr. Wood. Hmmm. we’ve got a knight, a mare, and what do you get when you put them together?” he pointed to me, “a Nightmare! All we need now is the moon. Speaking of the moon, I should like to get back to my quarters and prepare for a little party of my own.” He pointed up to the glowing orb representing the pretend moon in the solid sky above us. It took me a few fried brain cells to remember that the Overstallion’s office had been reported to be behind the sun and the moon.

“I’d like to extend all of you an invitation. There will be other guests, of course, the greatest and dearest of the Stable, the council leaders, Procrustean, Dr. Candy, and of course Mellow Melody and Mr. Shot. Would you join us?” A party in the Overseer penthouse. Damn! Of all the wonderful opportunities I would have had to get him drunk and make him spill his secrets, at the expense of seeing Dreamer and Melody again, and yet I had to refuse. I took a long deep breath and grit my beak before answering.

“That’s real nice of ye, Overstallion, but I’m afraid I cannae. See, Gypsy’s had a little too much tay drink and so I was just escorting her to her wee bed to sleep it off.” I looked back to Mole, who exaggeratedly staggered about, bumped into Elmwood, then fell and rolled onto her back with her hooves in the air. I gave a nervous chuckle, hoping he’d fall for something that I’d have a hard time believing was a fact.

“I see,” he murmured, “well, perhaps our good knight can escort her home and then join us later in the night if he is able?” The thought hadn’t occurred to me, but at the moment it was mentioned I gave a small sound of perception.

“I don’t know,” I turned to Elmwood with raised eyebrows, “Mr. Wood, do you think you could take Mare Do Well away with ye, since she is your mare after all?”

“That’s ‘Prince Elmwood’ if we’re being pedantic,” Elmwood muttered, shrugging before forcing one of his more unnerving smiles, “I’ll gladly see that ‘my princess’ gets back safely. Sorry if she’s been any trouble, Ms. Moon. Come along, Mare Do Well.” He clasped Mole by her shoulders, returned her to her hooves and guided her along as I watched the pair go. The superheroine struggled to keep upright, walking bow-legged in a way told me Molasses had not seen very many drunk ponies, let alone been one.

“And then there were two,” Overlook smiled to me, starting to make light conversation. I tried to keep focus, look polite and nod in all the right places, but I couldn’t help but worry and continue to look in direction Elm had taken Molasses. I could understand her pain. Even though the changelings and especially Private Joke and Lumbah had been very accommodating to her, it wasn’t hard to go a little stir crazy in the Under-Stable. The changelings the minimum amount of commodities to survive but they had very little else to entertain a long-term stable dweller like Mole. They didn’t even celebrate Nightmare Night.

I hadn’t been keeping track of everything Overlook was saying when I realized he’d paused for me to respond. I apologized quickly, explaining that I’d just been distracted by Mellow and Procrustean announcing their last song to round up the concert for the evening, and asking him to repeat his question.

“I said, I wondered whether you encountered any forces for good outside of our Stable.” He pushed up his slipping glasses as he breathed old smoke breath on me. “You’ve mentioned before that there were raiders and the Snips who attacked you were some of them, but you have never said whether there were any good ponies out there. I cannot assume all good ponies go to the Gardens of Equestria, after all.”

The question wrong-footed me. Were there good ponies outside of the Stable? I gave it a great deal of thought, rifling through the ponies I’d met and wondered whether I could class any of them as honest or virtuous. Only one came to mind.

“I met one mare, once. If ye could call the poor soul that.” When he tilted his head in curiosity, I added, “she was a ghoul, ye see.”

“A ghoul?” he spat the words as though he had met one for himself, but then he waved me on to continue, “what is a ghoul? Surely you do not mean a ghost?”

“Nay, well, not quite, Mr. Overlook,” I looked up to the ceiling as though the garden’s roof might provide the inspiration to better help me to explain the premise of a zombie-like creature to him. “There’s ponies, and sometimes other creatures out there who didnae die necessarily in the bombs tha’ the zeebs, er, zebras I mean, released across the major cities of Equestria. Instead, they became undead, unable to die, y’see? Some went feral, lost their minds and turned into hungry cannibals while others maintained their brains and while their bodies decayed over time, they remained alive an’ kicking. In a sense, I mean.”

“That sounds horrible,” the Overstallion murmured, “I do not know how such a creature could exist, let alone be good.”

“S’what y’get when yeh fuck wi’ magic,” I muttered bitterly, sighing. “Anyway, this one mare, ghoul or nay, she was a beaut. Always had a smile, mare of very few words but if she did need to say a thing she made sure it was kind. Loyal as any of my feathers. I only knew her as the delivery mare.” I smiled fondly, remembering the time the grey winged ghoul had wandered in on a moment of closeness between me and Snowbird, only to respond with a giggle and a single word. ‘Cute!’

Overlook was about to speak again but was stopped by a strobing effect caused by the lights above going off and on again in quick succession. This time, everypony stopped to look, as the blinking of the lights stopped. The event had been long enough to cause perturbed feelings within the audience this time, however, as each and everypony turned to their neighbor to murmur and share the disconcertion. Those closest to us looked to Overlook.

“Overstallion?” asked one.

“What’s going on?” queried another, with the hope that the clown beside me could solve the problem. The Overstallion dropped his gaze from the moon’s false light to the ponies around us and cleared his throat gently, hiding the perplexed frown I’d just caught him wearing.

“Now, now, ponies, do not fret. What can sometimes happen with the reactors is that the energy from the talismans is too great and will cause the power levels to flicker. However, it won’t do any damage, there are spell matrixes on and within the reactors to ensure that it is a safe level of power being generated. Since the blackouts all those years ago, we’ve put every possible measure in place to stop it happening again.”

He’d barely finished his ironic speech when a loud klaxon, reminiscent of the one I’d heard on the day I entered the Stable, sounded out about the cave we were in. All music stopped, all eyes turned to the golden orange flashing lights flaring above the gateway to Serenity Gardens. All of a sudden, part of the ceiling began to move, sliding down as though it was breaking off from the main piece of the roof cover.

Chaos surrounded me but I hopped up from the ground and flapped, continuing to watch the piece of metal slide down. It slowly dawned on me that the sheet had not broken from the rest of the ceiling and that in fact, this was a door that has been hidden in the canopy above us the whole time. From the large chunks of debris and the heavy moths of dust that flew out from it as it cranked its way down, I considered that it must not have been lowered in a long time and wondered what that meant. Another fear struck me, however, as I realized that the moment the door came down, I and the many ponies around me would be locked in the gardens outside of our Stable.

Instantly, I jetted towards the door as it grew closer and closer to the ground, the lucky ponies who’d managed to be close enough to it surging through the gap above their heads. However, it was growing tighter and more dangerous to scramble through and before I was even near the large gate, ponies were crawling to get through.

When it was too low, the ponies pounded on the metal, screaming to be let out. I dropped in time to the ground and pushed bodies out of the way so as to grab one fool by his ankles as the door closed down towards his skull. I yanked him back just in time, a millisecond too late and his head would have been crushed under the weight of the large metal barrier. The fortifying gate connected to the long metal band across the threshold of the gardens with a heavy clanking thud, shaking the floor around us and digging into the ground. From it came loud whirrs, several deafening clicks before an eerie silence fell over everyone and everything.

The crowd and I stepped back from the huge shutter, painted with the old images of a nighttime sky, now blocking our way out, a single question on everypony’s lips. Why? Why had we been locked in?

Panic set in again amongst the crowd, ponies forcing themselves against the door, smashing hooves against it, braying and screaming in hope that one or more of these actions will release them from the huge tomb. Unfortunately, the worse had not yet come to pass.

Above us, the great white moon flickered again. Heads turned to look up at it, my own joining the stares, my heart racing, and my body tightening in fear. No, I prayed in my head, please don’t go out now. I still had not learned that no princesses heeded my prayers.

The light flashed and buzzed. Around us, the speakers for the stage popped and screeched with distortion. Everything became a high-pitched whine. Then, against the promises of Overlook, the light of the deceptive moon dimmed in the sky. Ponies had seconds to remember what their friends around them looked like before the lantern in the sky was completely extinguished.

With nothing left to illuminate it, Serenity Gardens plunged into thick, oppressive darkness...

Author's Notes:

Music for this chapter; This Is Halloween - Marilyn Manson. Click here to listen to it!

Whipped up a quick chapter for 'Nightmare Night,' hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Happy Nightmares!

I am going to take a short break from writing 'Scoundrels' after this, sort of. I've got an essay to write for my studies as well as a chapter for 'Luna Switched' which hasn't been touched for months. I'll be back on FO: ES soon.

Quick thanks to Synesisbassist, Salty Alty (Link!) and Official Fallout Equestria (Link!) for editing.

The story of the Scoundrels is really ramping up now if you want to discuss it at any point, you can by following this link to my Discord Server!

Also, if you're enjoying it or you want to put your thoughts across, please share your ideas, comments, and horse noises below!

As always, thanks for reading and I'll catch you in chapter thirty-two!

All good things,
Scar

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