Into the Darkness (Dead Beat / Luna)

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“What a wonderful night~ Wouldn't you say, boys?” The bat stallion said as he ripped open the curtains, the light from the moon flooding the bar's back room with an eerie red glow as if it had been bathed in blood. The stallion's crimson mane, slicked back, greasy, his words pouring out of of his mouth with a certain charm, the kind that a conman carried with him in his front coat pocket, the kind that you would only have if you'd been around the block a few times. “Yes...” The second stallion said, under his breath, his glasses refracting from the corner of the room as he messed with his violin. The messy maned bat stallion, kept to himself most of the time, sipping from his can of Pegasus Blue Ribbon, and eyes the room, a thick smoke hanging over head from a third stallion, sat on the couch. “Whatevah ya say, boss. As long as ah get paid~” The strong scented bat stallion spoke as he took a long draw on his cigar, hacking up a lung... metaphorically speaking. The smell of burning tobacco and liberally used cheap cologne over powering the small mare on the couch next to him, who tried to keep from coughing but let out little ones in between breaths. “You're gonna kill yourself if you keep smokin' those things, Necro.” The crimson maned stallion said, turning back to the group, his yellow eyes peering though the three others as he went to the cooler, pulling out another can of PBR. “Who's gonna play drums if you croak, Nightshade? The guy can barely play the violin~” He shuffled over to the couch, wedging himself between the mare and Necro. “I will not subject myself to such a barbaric instrument... play it yourself, Nightcrawler.” Nightshade glared from the corner, finishing off his can of beer. “He's right though...” “Ah'll stop when ah'm dead~” Necro blew a cloud of smoke into the mares face, right past the crimson bat, sending her into a coughing fit. “Oh, ah'm sorry, did ah hurt your pipes, Deady?” “Ack hack ugck!” Dead Beat tried not to think about it... “No... I'm fine. The show was great though! This is what show is suppose to be like?” He tail wagged under her dress at the thought of fame, her voice being able to carry her to a career. “I'd always imagined a spot light on me... they are a lot hotter than I thought they would be...” “It's not the only thing...” Nightcrawler said as he snapped the can open, throwing his head back and chugging it's contents, “Ahhhh...” his head dropping down with a sigh, “not the only thing that's hotter than you think...” He leaned against her, the alcohol thick on his breath. “H-hey~ Uh... thanks... I-I think, but... come on man... Personal space...” She shoved him away, sliding further down the couch, the furniture seemingly extending into the darkness. “Don't be like that, Dead Beat... you owe us something~ We got you up on stage~” Nightcrawler said with a burp, his physique morphing... twisting... boiling... as he clamored for her, “If... WEEE, didn't get you...” his voice grew deeper and groggy, as if he suddenly ate a hooffull of gravel, “out there... Y̘̙̮͔̬ͨͭ̌̓O̘̘̲̲̅O̯͚ͬ͌͛͠O̟͒̒O̘̻͑̒͝.͈̜̻̙̻̈̽̚͢.̮͈̮̜̪̈ͩ̌̅͆̚.̹͓̲͉̤̜̄ͯ͜ͅ ͇͓̟́Y͛̎҉̠̞̘͉̯͇̳o̩̝͋͌̊̓̕ö͍̣͉͆o̧̺͎̳̪̱͋̇o̞̜̍͛̈̃̂.̴͍̰̥̲̠̤ͥͅ.͖̠̬͑͛̊̊ͬ.̦̭͇͙͖͘ ̵͓͙̱̤̺̯͐̉͛̆͆͒̄o̸͔o͚̱̹ͬ̒ͯ̓o̠͙̻̽ͨo͐̓ͨ́͏͙̘͍̤̝̯̳o̤͈̻͙̹͈̐ͣ̅ͬͮͯo̯͉̩͈͒͋͛ͣ͋̑o̢̼̰o͎̭̲͖͐ͧͨͯͦo̰̲̯̜̦.̣̝̼͈̻͚̾̔̍ͩͅ.̡̦̲͚ͧ..̨̐̇̿̀ ̴͚͇̬̒͋ͦ̊͌ would s-still b̨̟͇͒͂͗ͪb͏͓̫̦͖̥̗b͇̫̹̿̐ͭͦ͒̕ͅb͒̓͐̀b̖̩̹̥̜͙̹͠b̑҉̱̰̱̹̺͈̼b̨͚̌b̛̗͉̯̳̤ͬ͒̾̓̂͐́b͖̑̅ͨ͂̔̀̕b̰̫͔͠b͔ͥͦͤ͊̒ͣ̚b̡͔͛ḃ̪̗͚͈̝̇ͣ̎b̪͆͘ͅ.̼̮̤͔͓̳͒ͧ͆.̷͕̞̣ͪ.̛͛̓ͪ̾͌ ” his words poured forth, sticky and entrapping like tar, over her legs as he crawl onto her stomach. Dead Beat couldn't do anything... she had been pinned to the couch by the monster that Nightcrawler had become, the blob of red and black, smelling of lust and piss warm beer. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped. “You... you owe us... FOR... your... f̜̳͙̞͖͉͎͆̀ï̝̺̱̒̍f̶̖̥͔ͮ͋ͣ̊̆̽̉t̹̫̗͙̳̑ͣͭ̐̑ḙe̺̫̯͊͛̉ͤn̥͓̞̺̦̠̆͟ ̧͍͎̦̱͂m̷̰̦̈́ͫỉ͔̝̱͓͕̲͖͛́͆ͯ̃̀n͈̘͕ͮ̈̎̉̾̓u̞̞̜̝ͨͪͩͣ̂͟t̛͚̭̟̀̎ͭ̅̚e̙͚̻̤͗̽͌̆ͅş̺͛̔̌ ͊͗͋́̊ͥ̎͘ô̢̹f͈͕̥͉̥̖͛͞ͅ ̺̙̤̩͖̍̎̈́̌ͅf͉̭̹̺͌̿̃a̯m̻̈͆ͩe̮̼̓ͩ̀ͣ̈!̸̝̣̘̬̀̇̓ͫ̂̇̚ͅ ” The monster was joined by it comrades as the room closed in around her, their eyes rolling in on themselves, all of their bodies collapsing into piles of muck on top of her, trapping Dead Beat in a substance so much more fowl than the three combined. She struggled as tears poured from her eyes, but the mare could not muster enough strength to break free.

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At that moment, everything froze around the mare, and the foulness on her went still, though her senses of the experience strengthened, as though she could feel every hair of her coat gripped by the filth, as though at the smallest levels she were being tugged apart. But then, a deep, ghostly purple wrapped around the putrescence, the magic feeling impossibly soft like a cold, soapy bubble over her as it flowed between her coat and the blobs. The weight of it all lifted, the stifling air thinning, cooling. “Breathe a first breath of safety, for none shall hurt you now, and these brigands shall not hurt you again.” Above, there was no longer a roof, but the sky of a nightmare the color of a lit heavy bruise, and in it hovering above, a very tall mare of a black coat and a blue, starry mane. Her eyes shown the color of seawater, but slit in shape like a Bat Pony’s, and large, gleaming fangs draped over her lips.

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She shrieked in silence as the muck caused her splitting pain, but just as fast as the pain shot through her limbs, it was lifted away by an unknown presence. The magic cleansed her of her former band mates, just as Dead Beat had tried many moons ago, but in a much more literal sense this time around. Then a voice echoed as the roof blew away, and the furniture surrounding her melted away. She stared into the sky, tears flowing forth from the corners of her eyes, witnessing the descent of the mare. Her breathing haggard, and her limbs sore, this filth, even though gone, had made sure to leave it’s mark on her, even if it wasn’t a visible one. “Wha… what is happening… why am I here… I-I-I swore I’d never come back to this p-place...” she stammered, legs wobbling from the nightmare she had just experienced, “and… who are you?” she shouted into the air, breath visible in the now cool, fresh environment, “W-what did you do to them?” She had trouble composing herself. She’d lived the prior experience more than once, the three stallions she had called friends, using the one thing they shared as a weapon. It was a daily occurrence at this point, the… no, they were never friends… the monsters attacking her, yet she never ran, as if she hoped it would have a different outcome. This time, this time it was different.