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Warning : the following twisted fanfiction contains dark material of a violent and sexual nature. Viewer discretion is advised... seriously, brony. I scared the shit outta myself writing this.

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Once upon a time...

In the magical land of Equestria, aeons ago there was a stranger. His name was, Strife. A creature of unknown origin, different in both appearance and in behaviour from all the ponies in Equestria. He was bitter and brittle. The constant rainbows and happiness that was so infectious in the magical land became the bane of his existence.

A wizard with all things mechanical and technological, Strife gathered a following and built war machines, starting a conquest to take over Equestria and mould the lands to his will. Hundreds and thousands of pony-folk suffered atrocities Equestria had never known at the hands of Strife's cruel armies!

Rape... murder... camps full of ponies tortured and forced to work to death in polluting factories...

But Strife's followers were few. And those standing with Princess Celestia were many. The conquest was eventually thinned out and crushed, banished to the farthest most desolate corners of Equestria, while General Strife himself was brought before the princess for judgement.

Princess Celestia decided exile was not fitting, considering the crimes Strife had committed. She bound him in a hidden cavern wrought with magic granting him immortality, but trapped and isolated forever, where he would think on what he had done for the rest of eternity... alone, with only his own misery to keep him company...

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PseudoFiction proudly presents...

A non-canon My Little Pony fanfiction...

Written and directed by SniperSpartan-977

Drafting and creative design by Mark

My Little Pony

The Aeons of Equestria

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Episode 1: The Arrival (Part 1)

The evening birds sang their final songs for the day, and the insects noisily buzzed their way back to their nests. The tall grass rustled loudly, the green ends swaying in the wind along the edges of his view. The sky was dotted with puffy little clouds, turning from blue to a dark evening purple hue.

He could only groan out a single word, innocently raising one hand from the dew-dappled grass.

"Hit!"

In fact it had felt like he'd been the sole target of whatever airsoft game he'd been playing. Like he'd been riddled with bullets from all angles at a dangerously close range. The scary thing was, he didn't remember the last time he'd played airsoft.

Reno moved his hand from a mid-air position over, then let it fall down on his face. Lazily he rubbed his brown eyes, before sliding his fingers over his forehead and running them through his shorn black hair. The boy was eighteen years old, athletically build, but maintained a lean, skinny structure in overall.

The last thing he remembered, in fact, was crawling into bed after another long day of staring at a computer screen in class. The weekday routine was so monotonous, Reno didn't even have to remember what he did last night just to know what he'd done.

So where was he now? Had someone thought it funny to drag him out into the yard while he slept again? But the clear, unpolluted sky and fresh air entering his nostrils? This didn't seem very like where he lived.

Slowly Reno sat up and looked around. He was sitting on a hillside, mountains and grass stretching out all around him in every direction. Behind him was a thick oak tree, emerald green leaves rustling in the breeze. Some were plucked loose and danced through the air on a gust of wind.

Everything about the scenery seemed wrong though. The lay of the land was just... too vertical. It was almost out of a fantasy movie. Mountains on the glittering horizon stretched up at extreme angles and were peaked with perfect dustings of snow. The valleys glistened with steam and rivers winding this way and that. Birds formed a perfect V-formation above, tweeting as they migrated in a seemingly random direction. Far off in the distance, at least a month's walk away at the looks of it he could just about make out a cluster of stone towers and steeply arched bridges glued to the side of a sheer cliff, framed by the glimmer of a rainbow.

Reno opened his mouth to say something, but the shock to the system wasn't over yet. He looked down at himself and saw he was clad for a mixture of an epic quest and immediate combat in Afghanistan. On his feet were his tattered brown hiking-boots, all laced up perfectly. Covering his legs were the pants he'd normally wear when he was playing airsoft, a pair of waterproof canvas German Flecktarn camouflage KSK trousers with spacious pockets on the thighs and soft padding on the knees. He was wearing a t-shirt by the feel of it, and over that was a dark, ashy-grey fleece jumper. Hanging from one of his belt loops was a similarly grey baseball cap, and lying in the grass by his right hand was a black backpack, bulging in every direction the way it was packed with things. It looked like whoever had whisked him out of his bed and into a whole new dream-world had at least found it within their heart to dress and pack him up accordingly.

Reno closed his eyes again and rubbed them hard. This was a dream. It had to be. C'mon, Reno, wake up! He screamed in his head while slapping his cheek red and raw. But the pain persisted and he didn't wake.

And then there was a flutter. Reno opened his eyes and looked. A butterfly fluttered right past his eye and darted around in front of him. Her wings were vibrant colours, a mixture of yellows and emeralds glittering and swirling around. She darted about, then landed on the young man's knee. And then Reno really lost his mind. He realised it wasn't a butterfly at all.

Slowly the fairy stretched out her limbs, standing on her delicate toes like some sort of ballerina. There was a broad smile plastered on her narrow face, as she eloquently held out her arms for balance, and gave a small bow. The wind picked up again, ruffling the dress wrapped around her body, and her wings fluttered again. In an instant the creature that wasn't meant to be was whisked away, and she disappeared giggling from view.

"Holy shit." Reno said out loud, finding comfort in the sound of his own voice. Slowly he climbed to his feet, dragging the bulky backpack up with him. "We are definitely not in Kansas anymore."

Reno wasn't even sure where he was going to go. What was he going to do? What was he supposed to do?

Instinct seemed to kick in when he heard a thunderclap and realised it was getting darker. Find civilisation and figure it out from there, was what he came up with. He turned downhill and only now noticed thick piles of smoke rising past a ridge into the next valley. Fire meant one of two things. Some sort of battle, or civilisation. Either way, with nothing to lose, Reno moved out.

Shouldering both straps of the backpack, he secured the clip across his chest and moved with a jogging pace. In just minutes he was out of the tall grass and stumbled onto a path. It wasn't much, no more than a dirt road, but it was relatively smooth and walked a little easier. Sucking in some fresh breath, he followed it around the ridge, noticing how it angled downward.

As he moved he noticed some shouting. Voices of people. But there was more thunder. Pops echoing throughout the hills and valleys, each followed by fresh screams.

The road continued to wind around the ridges and through miniature valleys, each progressing step and bend carrying Reno closer and closer to the sounds of commotion. He could smell soot now, and the reek of burning hair. More and more it seemed like he was making a mistake. But he had to be sure.

A shrill scream to his right caused Reno to stop, just as the sky was growing too dark to see properly. The pops sounded more like cracks now. Almost like gunfire? It didn't seem like a good idea to go see, but still, Reno needed to know what kind of threats he'd be up against. Turning sharply, he dropped his backpack along the side of the road, hid it under some ferns then disappeared head first into a cluster of bushes.

On hands and knees the young man crawled, clawing his way through the thick undergrowth and slithering past thick tree roots bursting from the damp soil. Eventually he reached out and pulled a branch away to find himself looking out over a town. Directly ahead of him was one of the buildings. All of the houses were thatched cottages with the top floors overhanging the bottom. There were figures running this way and that, some armed, others not. It was hard to see in the dark, even with the flashes of fire. On the far end of the ville was a burning building. It looked like the village was under attack.

From his vantage point Reno couldn't see a damn thing though. Ignoring the fear reflex urging him to retreat, the young man forced himself through the bushes and climbed to his feet. Keeping his head low enough his hands could nearly brush the ground, he dashed across the open ground and slammed his shoulder against the backdoor door-post of the nearest house.

Slowly he reached out and twisted the door handle, pushing the heavy wood open. Silently Reno slipped into what looked like a medieval kitchen. Not really taking in the sights, he crossed through the hall into the front room and crouched by the window. Reaching out he gently pulled aside the net curtains to get a better look outside.

Darkness consumed the village beneath a moon that now glowed in the sky, hanging full and watching like an evil eye in the sky. The stars were blotted out, leaving just a black canvas above.

All the time a man's voice kept chanting. "Curfew is now in effect." He bellowed from some unseen location. "All ponies must remain indoors. Those who break curfew will be deemed as hazardous, and will be pacified... curfew is now in effect..." it went on like a broken record.

A shrill scream pierced the cold air catching Reno's attention. He watched silently, flinching lightly as a figure dashed across the open ground. She was panting for breath, overcome with panic and fatigue. She tripped over her own feet and fell flat-out, skidding to a halt by her palms and face in the dirt. Spitting out clods of earth she rolled onto her side to give Reno a better view.

She wasn't actually what Reno would on first glance consider a person. She was a mare. The anthropomorphic equine was clad in simple fatigues almost like a tunic wrapped around her body. Her arms ended in hands with four fingers, and her digitigrade legs ended not in feet, but hooves. Her fur seemed to be a fairly vibrant colour, dulled only a little by the splashes of mud and the night's darkness.

And then came the hulking beast she had been running from.

It was a creature of cold metal. A living suit of armour, almost as black as the night with glowing red eyes and bits of brass mechanical clockwork visible in the joints from which motion caused jets of steam to hiss. The clockwork-warrior stepped closer to the fallen pony and stomped a heavy armoured boot on her leg. The mare screamed again, feeling bone snap and watched her twisted leg sink into the soft mud.

Pleading and sobbing, tears rolling from her eyes, she held up her hand to beg for mercy.

But none came from the mechanical beast. The clockwork-warrior held up its weapon, some sort of black rifle, tucking one end against its shoulder, aiming the rifled barrel directly at the equine at its mercy. A flash and a crack. Blood splashed the mare's face and she suddenly clutched a hole in her hand, crying out with agony.

"Holy shit." Reno cursed under his breath, feeling sick at the sight, but unable to look away.

Another shot filled the air. The mare's head snapped back and she collapsed in the mud, unmoving. Inside, Reno felt his hands begin to tremble. This was getting serious. Why had he walked into this? How could he be so stupid!?

Outside the clockwork-warrior stepped back and continued to stare at the dead equine. A new figure walked into view behind it, bleeding from the shadows that loomed throughout the village. The newcomer stood as tall as a typical man, clad entirely in midnight fatigues and a head-wrap hiding its face from view. All that could be seen underneath the cloth was a shadowy region around the eyes. Mounted over the torso was some sort of chest rig with pouches, and hanging from his right hip was a pistol, clearly visible.

The robed figure acted like a commander, lazily waved off the clockwork-warrior, and the armoured hulk left the newcomer standing with his hands clasped behind his back over the dead mare. Behind him Reno started to see more silhouettes of clockwork-warriors take shape as they ravaged everything that stood in their way. The 'commander' was standing no longer than a second when a series of distressed yet defiant whines cut through the air, piercing the pane of glass between Reno and the commotion outside.

"Unhand me! Unhand me this instant you ruffians!" came the unicorn's voice, despite the distress still laced with classic theatrics. "Do you know who I am?"

She was strung between two armoured equines, dragged forth by what looked like conscripted soldiers. The 'conscripts' as Reno identified the horses dragging her forth, were clad in sleek fitting grey armour over black fatigues and carried swords on their belts, seemingly inadequate weapons compared to the projectile firearms the clockwork-warriors carried.

Between the conscripts hung a mare with light azure fur, her sleek hourglass figure clad in a long dark-purple dress. Her mane was an off white grey colour, short and curling inward slightly, with a horn that identified her as a unicorn sticking her from her forehead. The mare struggled as they dragged her before the commander.

The figure turned to face her, then slowly looked the mare up and down. "You are the one they label Trixie." The commander said oddly in a plain tone.

Trixie reared back tugging her arms loose from the conscripts holding on to her, and rubbed her fur where their rough gauntlets had squeezed her. "That is The Great and Powerful Trixie to you. The greatest and most powerful pony to inhabit Equestria." She propped her head and narrowed her eyes, staring the commander down defiantly. This 'Trixie' was Reno's kind of girl. Seamlessly stubborn, if not a little big-headed.

"Very well, greatest pony in all of Equestria. You will tell this one where he shall find the throne of the moon." the commander stated plainly with an odd pattern of speech. He seemed to refer to himself in the third person on all accounts.

That caused the unicorn to falter, but only for a moment. "The Great and Powerful will not tell you a damn thing!" Trixie snapped, her curses even sounding like she was reciting Shakespeare.

The commander's hand swiftly moved down and drew his pistol clear of the holster. Out of the holster it looked like one of those old fashioned Lugers the German officers used during World War 2... at least, the world Reno was from. The long barrel turned over and connected gently with Trixie's throat, causing her to swallow a breath, staring down at the matte black steel.

"You will tell this one where he shall find the throne of the moon." the commander calmly repeated. "And for your insolence you shall be punished regardless." He looked at the conscripts, slowly lowering the pistol. The underling equines quickly took up Trixie's arms again. "You shall take this one to the abattoir for questioning."

The conscripts dragged Trixie away, the unicorn still defiantly screaming over her shoulder. "Yes, well, you look like an old rag! So, hah!"

Reno's eyes widened when he realised they were dragging her to the building he was hiding in. any second now he'd be made. Unless he moved really quickly. Twirling around, his eyes flitted from one end to the other looking for a hiding spot. He couldn't dash out the back in time...

A door in the hall. That had to be a broom cupboard of some sort. Reno dashed over and wrenched it open. The wood swung aside with ease and the young man stepped in... only the floor fell away sharply without him expecting it.

Gritting his teeth as the world punched him from all sides, Reno tumbled noisily down a set of wooden stairs before he landed hard on his front, hands slapping against cold stone. He could feel dirty grit between his fingers. Every joint and bone hurt. He could even taste copper.

"Ugh." He groaned softly, lifting his head to look around from where he lay bruised and weak. "The basement. Had to be the fucking basement."

He only had a second to take in his surroundings, but in that second he didn't like what he saw one bit. Down in that pit of a basement were several wooden chairs fitted with straps on the legs and arm-rests. Hanging from the walls were assortments of knives and butcher equipment. There was a large table in the corner, the rough wood caked with patches of brown and black.

He'd tumbled right into a torture chamber.

The front door was torn open somewhere above and Reno could hear the unicorn being dragged along the wooden floor with much whining and complaint. The sounds of the hooves beating the wooden floorboards grew louder as they got closer. Reno acted quickly, scrambling across the stone floor, he slid underneath the table and lay perfectly still in the pitch black shadows, trying not to think of what kind of spiders might crawl down his neck.

The wood of the basement steps creaked and spat dust. The azure unicorn was dragged down them by the two conscripts, Trixie fighting them every step of the way. She kicked and squealed, but her hooves scraped uselessly along the ground as they pulled her forth and shoved her into one of the chairs nearest to the knives hanging on the racks, facing the shadows where Reno hid. They bound her wrists down first, then her ankles. The larger of the conscripts stayed behind, while the smaller disappeared back up the wooden steps, leaving Trixie alone with the burly stud.

Silently the conscript pulled off his helmet and walked over to Reno. He held his breath, hands trembling as the mighty iron hooves grew larger. They stepped right up to his face where he lay, and there was a thud as he laid down his helmet on the table. He turned and walked back, pulling a long curved knife from the rack as he passed. The blade gleamed in the flickering torch-light as he moved closer to the wide-eyed unicorn.

"What are you doing?" Trixie pulled at her bonds. The chair was bolted to the deck, but shifted and creaked a little as she struggled... but the leather straps and sturdy frame held fast. She was trapped, entirely at the mercy of her captor. "I demand to know what you are doing!" she tried to sound defiant and theatrical as she had before with the commander, but her voice audibly cracked and faltered into a squeal of fear.

The conscript knelt by her hooves and picked up the hem of the unicorn's immaculate robe. Slowly he pulled, stretching it out before hooking the blade underneath. With little to no effort, the blade cut through the silken gown and travelled higher and higher between her legs.

Trixie screamed, not with pain as Reno first thought for a terrible moment, but with horror. "Stop! Stop that! This is Canterlot silk, you... you barbarian... you... you..." she couldn't even find the words to describe her horror at seeing such a finely crafted, and seemingly expensive dress so brutally cleaved away.

The blade ran over her lap, missing her flesh by millimetres, then cut straight up along the belly of the dress. The gown peeled away revealing her brilliant azure figure underneath. The point of the blade finally pulled free at her bust and the whole dress fell out of the way, leaving Trixie in just her lingerie.

The unicorn had a smooth hourglass figure clad in only a lace bra now and a pair of panties. Pure dark azure hosiery kept the fur on her long, sleek legs from ruffling, held up by a garter. Revealed on either flank of her firm, rounded buttocks were her markings almost like tattoos, the image of a magic wand sprinkled with pixie dust. Looking down to see her modesty was hardly covered, Trixie locked her angered eyes with the stud. She was fuming, to the point of steam shooting from her eyes like a cartoon character. The fur on her cheeks lit up bright red as she growled bearing her teeth.

"Enough is enough!" she bellowed. The air around her horn beginning to shimmer and glow with white light. "This is where The Great and Powerful Trixie draws the line!"

The air around the knives on the rack started shimmering and they slowly lifted up, pointing towards the stud standing by her. She made it look like she would launch the blades across the room. Reno was begging her to do it in his head. If she just finished him off, he'd crawl out from under the table, help her out of that chair and they'd turn their rudder to this hell-hole.

But she didn't. The conscript just stood there, un-fazed, like he saw into the unicorn's mind and saw she wasn't going to do it.

"I'll do it!" Trixie cried. "I swear, I'll do it! You don't think Trixie can do it?" she leaned in, preparing to launch her attack, but a voice caused her to choke on a breath.

"This one seriously doubts you have what it takes."

Darkness seemed to creep in from the corners of the room. The white light around the knives faded and they rattled, hanging back down in the rack. Looking up Trixie felt shock rack her system. A black aura surrounded her horn. She looked across the room at the bottom steps and saw the commander from outside standing there. One hand was raised with a similar black aura working its way around his fingers.

Trixie focused, but she had no control. No power left. The commander, blocking her magic, moved closer and closed his hands around her horn. The mare struggled, but he held her fast until the darkness faded and light filled the room again. Slowly the commander let go and Trixie tried again. She groaned and huffed... but nothing happened. She couldn't use her magic!

"The effects are temporary." The shadow-commander said lazily, slowly walking around her chair. "But the punishment this one intends to inflict shall have a lasting mental impact. This one can guarantee that."

As he obliviously walked past Reno, the boy peered up and saw the region around the commander's eyes. He noted the pale flesh, pig-eyes, the ridge of a nose. He was a human! Another human being! But what the hell was he doing all this for? Reno still couldn't put it all together. Sure humans were capable of horrible things, but this... the more he thought about it, the more human this whole situation seemed. It was a grim reflection of what happened in Reno's world all the time. Maybe not as close as this, but it was something he'd read in the newspapers, or see on CNN every day.

As he passed, the commander nodded to his stooge who moved around behind Trixie and started rummaging around at another table where she could not see. Trixie's head was in the way, so Reno couldn't see what was going on either. Regardless, the unicorn turned and twisted, eager to know what was going to happen to her.

"What is he doing? What are you going to do?" Trixie's breath caught in her throat. She was wheezing as she hyperventilated feeling the panic rise within her.

"Hush, the one they label Trixie." Trixie snapped her gaze around as she felt the commander touch her left hand. The gloved fingers stroked over the back of her delicate hand, admiring the sleekness of her fur and the immaculate manicure applied to her nails. "You shall discover exactly what will happen when the time is right."

It came without warning. Without premise. In the commander's other hand was a knife, a delicate looking scalpel with a tanto-tip. His arm moved up, the knife in reverse grip before it scythed down with a blur of silver. The point met flesh and pierced straight through the back of Trixie's hand, slamming into wood with a pronounced 'tchock!' The sound made Reno twitch as he closed his own hand in into a fist, almost feeling it himself.

Flecks of crimson stained the clean fur on the side of her face and Trixie screamed, her face contorted a way she thought never possible. It was the worst pain she had ever felt, and it travelled up her arm, leaving a tingling in her elbow. Tears started rolling down her cheeks, dragging tracks of mascara with them and causing her eyes to redden.

"What do you want?" Trixie screamed, her defiance having already evaporated. "Please, I'll tell you anything. Anything!"

"Come, come. There will be plenty of time for that later." The shadow-commander said, gripping the knife and pulling it loose with some effort. It came free with a squelch, causing blood to spread through the fur around the narrow wound. Trixie screamed and sobbed in synch as the knife came free. "This one has yet to begin."

Delicately the robed creature balanced the knife in his fingers and touched the point to the index-knuckle. He pressed as Trixie squirmed, and the shadow-commander had to hold her hand down so he wouldn't slip and take her finger. Swiftly and with practiced ease he made a shallow cut along the back of the mare's index-finger. He then moved on to the middle, ring and finally the pinkie-finger. By the time he had finished, blood gathered on each of her fingers' manicured nails.

Trixie just cried, unable to comprehend how this could possibly get worse.

The stud returned and handed a ceramic bowl to the shadow-commander. "Tell me, the one they label Trixie." The interrogator said soothingly. "Have you ever heard the expression; rubbing salt into the wound?"

Reno braced himself, almost sensing what was coming. He could closed his eyes, but he'd still hear it. It made him feel ill. He could feel tears welling in his eyes as he felt sorry for the unicorn. But what could he possibly do?

The commander held the bowl down for Trixie to see, and the unicorn saw what was contained within it. Salt, powdered. Before she could even begin to imagine what that was for, the shadow-commander moved the bowl to her left hand and ground her fingers into the white powder.

Fresh pain raced through her hand, burned its way all the way up her arm and caused the unicorn to convulse. The wood of the chair groaned and the straps rattled, but she didn't break free. Fresh screams filled the basement as she felt her throat grow raw.

The commander just whistled a cheerful tune to himself as he worked, twisting the bowl to get more salt in the wounds and keep the grains moving. The more movement, the more pain. Eventually he grew sick of her screams and looked at the conscript. "Gag her."

That made the stud smirk. Slowly he turned to face the unicorn who looked at him with glistening eyes. The pony started undoing his belt and opened up the zipper along the front of the trousers he wore underneath his armour. Trixie whimpered, eyes growing larger as a long, pulsing equine cock slid out from the folds of cloth.

Reno was horrified simply thinking about what was going to happen next. He didn't think his eyes could go any wider, but they did. He felt something wet touch his cheek and slowly run downward.

The stud grabbed hold of her face and squeezed to make sure she was paying attention. "Listen up, bitch." The conscript growled in a low tone. "Keep those teeth away, or I'll fucking smash them in, understood?"

Trixie gave a small nod, which was good enough for him. In one foul thrust the broad head slipped past her lips and into her mouth. The unicorn squirmed tasting his salty sweat, a distinctly foul odour entering her nostrils... but she didn't dare bite down. She moaned against his length, feeling the warm shaft pulse and scrape along the surface of her tongue. But it only made the stud grow harder and begin to buck his hips back and forth.

He suddenly jolted forward and the head of his member jammed into her throat. Trixie gagged loudly, unable to breathe with the obstruction blocking her airway. The stud on the other hand grunted with pleasure as her throat muscles, wet and tight, hugged his shaft.

Trixie struggled, but his hand clamped the back of her head and held her in place. Her lungs were screaming for air. Her gag reflex threatened to hurl up the contents of her stomach. The world darkened and her vision narrowed. Her eyes started rolling into the back of her head. For a while the pain in her hand didn't seem so bad, no matter how the shadow-commander ground and twisted. Her tongue was numb like the rest of the inside of her mouth.

She was so tired... maybe she'd just take a quick nap...

The obstruction was suddenly pulled away. The stud's cock slipped out of her mouth and a line of drool connected the head with the Trixie's bottom lip. She gasped for breath, sweet air entering her lungs. Everything raced back in a second. The room grew blinding bright. Pain lanced through her body.

She screamed herself hoarse, needing another few seconds to gather the ability to speak. She didn't even know what questions were going to be asked, or what these monsters had in mind. She just started talking, telling what she knew.

"I don't know what the throne of the moon is!" the poor unicorn quickly screamed through the pain, leaning forward as best she could with her eyes nearly bulging out of her skull. "I swear to you, I don't know! I lied. I'm not great and powerful! Please, have mercy!"

The bowl of salt was pulled back, but the pain persisted. The shadow-commander thought for a moment, then moved the salt closer again. "Lies. You are the one labelled The Great and Powerful Trixie. You are known in all of Equestria, are you not?"

Squealing, Trixie tugged at her restraints, pulling in her fingers as best she could as her back slammed into the backrest causing the wood to creak. "Wait! Wait!" she said quickly and the salt stopped just millimetres from grinding in her wounds again. "I know someone... her name is Twilight Sparkle. She knows everything about Equestria. I heard she even used the elements of harmony once! She might know what it is!" She finished in a little squeak, watching the bowl in the commander's hand intently.

"The elements of harmony?" The commander whispered before raising his voice again. "Where is the one labelled Twilight Sparkle?"

"I do not know..." Trixie sighed tearfully, black streaks of mascara staining her cheeks. "I don't know her personally."

There was a long pause, the pretty unicorn looking innocently between the stud and the commander. "Please..." she whispered in a small voice. "Please, I don't know..."

The commander gave a brisk nod. The stud grabbed Trixie's face again and his length was forced against her lips again. She screamed against a gritted jaw, but suddenly her face went numb, followed by intense heat as she realised the stud had slapped his knuckles across her cheek. As her mouth fell open, his member forced past her lips again and slammed into the back of her throat with each thrust. Again, with fresh tears, she gagged with every thrust as his salty taste ground into her taste-buds.

And speaking of salt...

The bowl came up and the shadow-commander ground her wounded hand into the salt again. The pain that had settles returned, twice as intense this time.

"This exercise is becoming tiring, the one they label Trixie." The commander spat, impassive towards the mare's moans of pain and the grunts of pleasure coming from the conscript. "If you tell this one what he wishes to know, this one will assure you, your acquaintances will not be harmed and you may leave."

The hand holding her wrist for good measure let go and he waved the conscript off. Once again almost disappointed he pulled back and his member slipped from her lips with a wet pop. Trixie coughed and cried, doubling over and resting her horn against her other wrist.

"I don't know, please! Please, please, please..." she begged and sobbed as the bowl twisted, pushing her hand deeper in the salt. "I don't know..."

And then the bowl fell. It fell from the commander's grip and smashed on the stone floor. Shards of ceramic and grains of iodized salt spread around Trixie's hooves as she weakly hung there, sobbing, tied down, tortured and broken. Reno found himself trembling with anger more than fear now. How could they do this to her? Just abuse her, break her like that?

The darkest edges of the young man's imagination could only theorise on what cold monster commanded over this legion.

"Your lack of knowledge is truly a pity, the one they label Trixie." Slowly the commander stepped around her chair and walked to the stairs.

Something must have hit Trixie. She must have realised she was going to die. She had to do something. Anything! Bluff! Lie!

"Wait, wait. Last I saw her was in Ponyville!" Trixie added urgently, her sophisticated tone long broken. "She may still be there!"

The commander stared at her for a while, then gave a slow nod before turning to climb the steps out of the basement.

"Wait, I've told you everything I know... you promised... I will not be harmed and I will be released! You promised!" Trixie's chest heaved rapidly with panic.

The commander did something he hadn't during their entire meeting. He laughed. But unlike a laugh that brought warmth to a heart, it felt like the commander was pulling the warmth right out of the room. "This one thanks you for the information provided, the one they label Trixie, it has actually been most useful..." the commander gave a shrug then continued up the stairs. "But unfortunately this one is a liar much like yourself." His boots were all that was visible when he quickly added to the stud left with Trixie. "You shall do what you please with her for tonight, she will be released in the morning."

"No!" the mare screamed. "Wait! You promised... you -mmmrrmmrrmph!" her voice was suddenly muffled and replaced with a loud gagging noise as something filled her mouth and was shoved into the back of her throat.

Somewhere above the basement door slammed shut. The commander's footsteps faded away, leaving only the grunts of the conscript, and Trixie's gags with every thrust. The stud had one hoof up on her lap, his crotch level with the unicorn's face as he thrust back and forth. His back was to where Reno lay, and the human dared crawl from his hiding place.

But what the hell was he supposed to do. If the young man tried to dash up the steps he'd be seen and he'd be fucked. He only had one choice. He had to take this conscript out.

Slowly crawling out from under the table, he made sure to keep the conscript in his range of vision at all times. Slowly and soundlessly he climbed to his feet, keeping his back hunched and his profile as small as physically possible. The last thing he wanted to do was lose balance and make a sound, or cast a shadow in the stud's view.

Reno quickly glanced around and thought of taking a knife. But where was he going to stick it? He'd never stabbed anyone before, and if he did it wrong the stud, an already larger creature, would just shrug the wound off and turn the knife on him. And with a pounding heart and shaking hands, using a knife was definitely out of the question.

Then he saw a length of rubber tubing. Sturdy, not too stretchy and fairly narrow in diameter. It was no doubt used as tourniquets when limb removal became part of the torture sequence. It gave Reno an idea. He quietly moved closer, pulled a length from the metal hook and wrapped either end into each hand, leaving about thirty or so centimetres of hose between each clenched fist.

Taking a long breath and holding it in, Reno started moving closer to the stud. The conscript had increased his pace, Trixie now screaming against the gag filling her mouth. Each deep thrust drew a new choke or gag from the mare. Reno was practically touching the conscript with his arms and tube raised high over his head when the stud cried out, throwing his head back.

That was it. Do or die.

Reno darted in, looped the hose under the equine's chin and pulled it taught against his wind pipe. The larger creature choked with surprise as the rubber stretched against the bulging Adam's apple, forcing the pipe shut. They both tumbled backwards, the heavy stud landing right on top of Reno as his back crashed against the stone floor. There was no noise, just a soft gagging and the shuffling of their bodies struggling over the dusty ground.

Reno clenched his eyes shut, holding on tight. He pulled harder, almost fearing the rubber hose would snap and wound the improvised strangulation chord around the back of the conscript's neck. He could hear his own breathing, rapid and short as he fought against the pain lancing across his fingers holding on to the hose as tight as he could.

Weakly, the larger stud reached out to grab hold of something, but his fingers only found air. His body kicked, gagged and convulsed, fighting for air, but none came. Slowly the shuffling died down. The kicking grew weaker. A hoof lightly tapped against Reno's shin, but it was so light the young man didn't even feel it. Another tremble and convulsion later everything stopped. The stud's head hung limp against the cold floor, and Reno held the strangulation chord in place for a few more moments of good measure.

Panting for breath he let go. The rubber snapped out of his grip and pinged across the floor. Rolling away, Reno didn't dare look at the limp body. Was the conscript unconscious or dead? Reno pretended he was just knocked out. he didn't want to think of what the alternative made him. Quickly, skirting around the body, Reno crouched in front of Trixie.

Her eyes were closed and she was whimpering under her breath. Drool and other sticky material ran down over her lip and caked to her chin. Reno quickly gripped her shoulder and gave her a shake.

"Hey." He whispered. He needed her to wake up. He needed her help navigating this world. He needed to know where it was safe. "Trixie! Wake up!"

Trixie gave another pained moan, but did not look up.

"Please, I need you to help me!" Reno pleaded, his voice breaking. Still no reply.

She was gone. Broken. Lost. Catatonic. Whatever, she wasn't coming back, and if Reno stuck around he'd be a dead man. Cursing under his breath he looked over at the steps, then back at Trixie. Still nothing, so he turned and dashed up the steps.

It didn't matter how much noise he made anymore. He had to get out. It was all planned in his head. He'd jump out the back, dash through the bushes, grab his bag and follow the road as far away as possible. Reno was a strong believer in Murphy's Law, which stated, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

But he couldn't believe his luck when he cleared the kitchen unhindered and found himself bounding across the back yard. He dove into the bushes he'd emerged from earlier, fought his way around trees and through undergrowth and tumbled clumsily out the other way, landing hard on the rough stone of the pathway cutting through the woods. It took him a few seconds of feeling in the dark to identify his bag, but in another second he had it secured on his back and was running full sprint down the road, leaving the sounds of destruction and pain in his wake.

---***---

"M'lord! Come and see!" Commander Karskin called, knelt in the soft dirt behind the building housing 'the abbatoir' for interrogations. The Shadow Legion commander straightened up as his lord and master approached briskly escorted by a clockwork-warrior.

The silent bodyguard huffed to a halt by the robed figures, glowing crimson eyes watching the nearby treeline for motion.

"Report, the one labelled Karskin." The lord demanded.

"We found a conscript dead in the abattoir, sir." Karskin reported obedient in a formal tone reserved for authority. "Strangled. Two sets of footprints here. One sneaking in. The second dashing out. A reasonably light figure. Human, most definitely."

That made the lord's eyes widen a little. "You are sure?"

Karskin nodded rigidly. "Aye, m'lord. Should I dispatch a kill-team?"

"Negative." The lord ordered with a lazy wave with one hand. His hands clasped together behind his back as he stepped over the set of tracks Karskin had found and gazed off into the dark woods. "Sent a small scout party. Nothing that will attract attention. Bring him back dead or alive."

"A small scout party, m'lord?" Karskin asked with some confusion. In truth the commander would have been more comfortable sending a kill-team with full complement of clockwork-warriors to hunt and eradicate the interloper. Sure the scout party could move faster under the public eye, but the small numbers meant they could not search the countryside thoroughly, and risked failure should the interloper prove to be resourceful.

"This world will burn, commander." The lord said. "This one will not risk failure because of the clumsy mistakes a kill-team may make. Send a scout party. This one expects progress within the next twenty-four hours."