Hunting and Hunted

Chapter 1

>Everything feels warm.

>And wet.

>Bringing your hand to your face, you feel a liquid between the two.

>Its sticky and smells metallic.

>Opening your eyes, you can’t see anything in the blackness of wherever you are.

>"Ah, you’re awake. Good."

“Who are you and where am I?”

>"All in good time Anonymous, all in good time."

>Forcing yourself up, your feet slip on the liquid all over the floor.

>Bracing yourself against the wall you manage to keep your footing.

“Show yourself.”

>"My my, Impatient aren't we."

>"Don't worry, soon enough you won’t have any problems."

“What are you talking about?”

>"It’s best if you see for yourself"

>A flame flickers into existence, revealing the room.

>Everything is coated in a layer of red.

>Blood.

>On everything.

>On you.

>All around you are parts or something; the light is too dim to tell.

“What the Fuck”

>"That sort of language is unnecessary here"

>In front of you stands a horse, no a pony holding a candle.

“Are you the one who did this?”

>"Of course, but I’m not the one who is going to suffer for it, that’s your job."

>"That is, unless you want to play a little game?"

“What kind of game?”

>"Oh, nothing to complex, if you can catch me before the guards catch and execute you, I will turn myself in, and vindicate you."

“And if I can't”

>Well, you'll be dead, so it won’t matter then will it?"

“You Fucker”

>Lunging at him, you slip in the blood, and faceplant.

>"Now now, it wouldn't be fun for the game to end here, so I hope to see you later."

>"Or not"

>A heavy impact to the back of your head leads you to darkness.

>As you come to, the first feeling you get is pain.

>Lots of it.

>Trying to sit up, you find your arms bound behind you by rope, and you can feel fresh blood running from assorted scrapes all over your arms and face.

>At least nothing is broken.

>Rolling onto your stomach, you use your face to force yourself into a sitting position.

>"Looks like your awake Scum"

“Huh?”

>Looking around, you find yourself in a cell, surrounded by stone walls.

>"Come on, get up you bucking monkey"

“The hell.”

>"Get moving or you will be late for your own execution."

>you feel your body being dragged upright by some weird force.

>"Now are you going to move, or am I going to have to drag you all the way there?"

“What the hell is going on here?”

>"You are being executed for the murder of half a dozen ponys"

“No I mean with the talking pony thing.”

>"The buck are you talking to, you’re the only weird thing here, Now get moving."

>You stumble behind the pony, as it opens the cell, and leads you out.

>Around you, several Ponys in gold armor form up.

>'Probably guards or something' you think to yourself

>You are led down a winding series of corridors and staircases, until you are finally brought before a pair of wooden doors.

>Your escort opens the door, and shoves you through.

>Stumbling into the room beyond, you manage to avoid crashing on your face and only fall to your knees.

>A smooth but hard voice rings out through the room

>"Stand".

>With some effort you struggle to your feet.

>The owner of the voice is a white Pony, nearly as tall as you.

>It bears a crown and breastplate, along with its natural horn and wings.

>"You are accused of the murder of six innocent citizens. How do toy plead?"

“I.. I don't know.”

>The pony raises an eyebrow at you questioningly.

>"You don't know?"

>You shake your head.

>"Let us just see about that then."

>Her horn glows, and you feel a presence attempting to enter your mind.

>It stops before actually entering, and you see a surprised look appear on her face.

>She focuses again, the force reappears, but this time its pushing. HARD.

>The pressure builds, and you find yourself staggering with the pain.

>"You certainly are resistant aren't you."

Resistant to what?

>You get no answer, as the pressure increases once again.

>"OPEN YOUR MIND!"

>The pressure reaches unbearable amounts, and you collapse on the ground, barely able to breathe.

>As soon as the pressure appeared, it vanishes, leaving you panting on the ground.

>"Why do you resist me when all I seek to do is determine your innocence or guilt?"

“I wasn’t *gasp* resisting.”

>"Then why could I not enter your mind?"

>You can't respond, your lungs burning from the psychological torture.

>"It seems you refuse to explain, therefore I am left with no choice."

>No...

>"You will be executed at sunrise."

>NO!!....

>The strange force picks you up again, dragging you along the ground, further damaging your already damaged arms.

>Soon enough, you are back in the cell, your arms scraped and bloodied.

>Too tired to do anything else, you black out.