open A Gloom Darkness, Looming

[Lightbulb 170]

OOC: https://mlpforums.com/topic/142439-a-gloom-darkness-looming/

 

Scratching a living off the floor of Plethora Fallows under city hadn't made a good pony out of many. Even the ones who could scavange the best cans of accidentally thrown away food couldn't find the best tech. And those who could, barely had enough food in their bellies to work the tech they had. Though most were in between, others were dying from their self grafted enhancments. That or dehydration and starvation.

 

Aztec stiffens at the sound of hoof steps, no-pony knew where he lived. No pony down here knew where no pony lived. If they did, they'd most likely all kill one another. The Earth pony shifts into the shadows of his derelict cement pipe home. Some pony was coming, they followed him, he's sure of it.

 

Reaching back to the hoof crafted blade he had glued to the pipe, he begins to breath with essence. If he had to kill them, he damn well would. Nothing stopping him, there was no law down here. Physically, no law. If you wanted something, you'd either trade, steal or kill for it.

 

The steps stop abruptly. As though noticing something, there's a chuckle. Damn, they found his traps, the sound of the string being plucked is audible even from down here. Aztec grits his teeth, waiting for the inevitable bag sound of his makeshift weapon, hidden behind a piece of plywood.

 

"Oh this is too easy," the invader says, hefting their weapon to cut the string.

 

A loud plunk followed by the sound of a weapon exploding signals the most likely death of that idiot. Aztec lets go of the blade, not wanting to break the thin laer of glue holding it up. He crawls out, several slicking droplets of oily water flowing down the side of his grey face. He notices, using it to slick his hair into a different way.

 

Coughing signals that the pony is still alive, in pain and possibly still partly on fire.

 

Aztec sighs, collecting a bent piece of piping from the wall to bash the pony's head in. Thinking simply one thought; 'At least I get his stuff.'

[Guest]

In the steel belly of what was called a "city" and the dark shambles of what is still ironically called "society", much had changed, and yet so much remained unchanged. Greed, anger, lust, destruction, and selfishness were the biggest motivators for change, but they themselves never changed. They would be the driving force for new worlds and the destroyer of old, but they remained untouched. So long as creatures lived, these qualities would exist and control them. It was the fate of things. The darkest part of one's mind would always be there and light would only illuminate it until that light went away. Light was not the answer to abolishing the darkness, it only warded it away. The truth was that darkness could only absorb darkness. So in a way, it was there to stay whether they wanted it to or not. That darkness would grow and fester and eventually... It would take over. Such was the way of the world. It had been built and destroyed so many times, and here it was ready to just do so again.

 

Mist knew this too well. He knew that ponies, griffons, and even his own kind alike were capable of terrible evils. Their good factors shined, but like any light, that shining would eventually fade out. People would get desperate, and often times, they would resort to unethical means to do what they liked. That is where he came in. While he was not one to choose sides, he would gladly be in the middle if it meant getting paid. At this point he could care less about who had what, or who was the higher class versus the lower class. If people had money, he would gladly accept it.

 

His skills and abilities often helped him on any job he was hired for. While the species lived separate they often would need someone who could slip through the cracks and infiltrate. He was sent here for that very reason. His ability to change into anything he desired was useful in that regard. He had come all the way here to the pegasus side of the city to collect on a bounty he was given. A young griffon sent him to rescue his daughter from some pegasus who had kidnapped her here. After quite an ordeal, he was able to retrieve her quietly and slip back into the crowds. He threw a hoodie over her to hide her identity as he began to lead the two through the secret tunnelways he knew to get to the griffon part of the city. She kept close as he illuminated the dark tunnels.

 

"So, Mr. Skye... Why are you helping griffons?" She asked.

 

The curious child was named Aurora. Mist found her inquisitive nature odd for someone in her position.

 

"To be honest with you, your enslavement to pegasus is no relevance to me. I'm just trying to collect a paycheck. I'd just as easily sell you back into slavery." He commented as he gestured for the two to move forward.

 

"That's a rather sad existence..." She admitted.

 

Mist rolled his eyes. "Look kid, I don't have a stake in any of this. In case you didn't notice, there isn't any changelings out here. I've got no where for me to call home, and I couldn't give less of a damn about what ponies, griffons or whatever race out there wants. I mind my own business and look out for me. It's worked thus far."

 

The two were coming up to a tunnel opening that Mist began to push open. The girl adjusted her hood so she could see better in the dark. "What will you do when I am returned and you are paid?"

 

"Probably swing up to the pony sector, buy some food and return down here to my home."

 

She blinked. "You live in these tunnels?"

 

He nodded. "Down below I have a secret entrance to where I reside. I find it a fitting metaphor that a creature like me lives in the bowels of this so-called city."

 

This was the nature of his life. Sure enough he did exactly as he claimed, he returned the girl, collected his pay and made his way up to the surface to the pony sector. He changed his shape to blend in as he went on his quest to locate some food. While food was very little, those who had a bit more would gladly sell it, for intense prices. If that didn't work, he would often resort to stealing it. His abilities made him an excellent thief.

[Vulcan 3,254]

The under city of Plethora Fallows, nightmarish landscape of a hole in the boiling hell it is, for the unfortunate who inhabit it, none underwent a greater suffering than the Unicorns born, or pushed into the wretched, vile, uncleansed slums. The above locals call them "Fallen" but really, they are mere ponies, ponies unlucky enough, to have been born directly into an unfortunate, horrid genetic lottery, many of which hail from families, families who had never had a magically-inclined equine in their blood line, not for generations. The inhabitants of the under city loved to expressed their frustrations towards high society through such unfortunates. Those Fallen spend, most at least, of their, grueling, most likely, slave lives ridiculed, hated, battered and beaten for the sharp appendage upon their brow, no matter how smart or magically inclined, even if this appendage is but a nub. 

 

 

A young Unicorn, dirty, a slick of drying blood down his face, walks about a scrap heap, his horn covered by a tattered, patchwork velvet, silk and cotton hat he had fashioned from the occasional pieces of fabric, the clean pieces that had found their way to the pit from the city above. A Neckerchief made of silk, or an unfortunate handkerchief. He'd even found a few little foal's capes that he'd fashioned into a sling-pack, carrying an Apex Key-card in it. He'd luckily found one of the ancient, crusty ones that would work down here. On one of the food store's front doorway.

 

It's in perfect condition, bringing a tear to his eye as he approaches the sealed steel door. Sighing, knowing of the sound, and flood of ponies using this card will bring.

 

'In and out Old chap,' he says in the back of his mind, the drowsyness audible even there.

 

(A very big thanks to lightbulb for editing this!)