I jerked my head over to the three other occupants of the room.
"Wh-What happened?" I asked, eyes open wide and irises constricted in horror.
They all turned their eyes away, ears flattened against their heads. They looked at their hooves, their injuries, the walls, anything other than meeting my gaze.
"Cyborg, what's going on?" I said sternly, focusing my intense cerulean orbs on the small blue colt.
He sighed, "Grim stole your colours. Sh-She took over. We couldn't stop her." He ended with a choke as his breath caught in his throat and a drop of moisture slid down his face. A small spark from the mechanical part of his complexion made him wince in pain.
"What do you mean, 'stole my colours?'." I asked as my brow furrowed in complete and utter confusion.
Once again, not a single pair of eyes met mine.
I began to gesture pleadingly with my left foreleg but stopped midway as dread replaced confusion.
It was grey. The whole leg was grey, the sharp hoof, the fur; the whole thing lacked any bright colouration at all. I looked down and a stab of horror ripped into my chest as I found the same grey colour all over my once brown coat.
I pulled a tuft of my mane into my line of sight to find that it too had lost the bright rainbow hues it once contained. Speaking had become a thing of the past as I stared blankly at the two injured colts in front of me. My mouth was hanging open and I could feel the familiar sting of tears at the back of my eyes.
"Spectrum?"
My ears perked up at the sound. The mouths of the two in front of me had not moved. My thoughts flitted to the limbs wrapped around me when I woke up. My head jerked to the side as I found the source of the voice.
Pencil.
I lunged and pinned his legs with my own. My tail swished in rage as he looked up at me with frightened eyes.
"Spectrum, w-what are you doing?" He squeaked.
"He's the real one, Spec." a voice came from behind.
I looked to Cyborg and Cocoa, who looked confused and worried.
"How do you know that, CJ?" I asked with my muzzle crinkled in anger. This was, after all, the face that had tried to make Cerberus food out of me.
"Well look at him!" Came the exasperated reply. Confused, I returned my attention to the quaking pony beneath me. This time I noticed the bruises scattered across his skin, the patches where fur was missing, the cuts and scrapes marring the orange coat, and the odd angle of his right hind leg and left wing.
He was broken beyond belief.
I stepped off, and my brow tilted upward in guilt. His expression softened, bringing the collection of bags under his hazel eyes to my awareness.
He gave a weak smile, before collapsing, unconscious, to the hard dirt floor. I looked up at the two other occupants of the room.
"He stayed up the whole time you were out trying to wake you up." Cyborg stated.
I paced the room as the gears in my mind began turning again;
There had to be a way to get out of here.