13 Symptoms and Complications

Thanks to Prince Nox (I'm no master, but I thank you for the compliment!), and Chrokeeper (It is a horrible creature) for leaving your reviews.

...where did everyone else go?

"I've never liked the use of limits." Nightfall said as Grimm transferred a knight from the fifth plane to the third. "They interfere with efficiency."

She drank delicately from her wineglass, the crystal goblet carved with bats and wolves, all locked in battle. A relic from another vampire's castle. Another vampire who was now a pile of dust.

"Oh, I suppose that's true," Grimm agreed. "But I have my reasons."

"A reason better than getting the task done well?"

"Yes. And if you will give me time, I will tell you."

This last statement was Grimm's idea of a joke. They both had an infinite amount of time, their contracts saw to that. It was just another way of saying 'not now'.

The officer relented after a while, her blank mask facing the Court member's pale, thin face. "Limits do hamper an operative's ability to perform at the peak of their power, that is true. But take it like this." Grimm took her staff in her gloved, hollow hands, twirling it absently back and forth. "You rarely leave this place to go to the outer realms, so perhaps you've never thought of this, but: When you can do anything, and everything, then missions become ridiculously easy. There is no challenge to obliterating an entire nation with a single spell. There is no enjoyment, no satisfaction to be had in simply appearing behind the target and taking its soul. Any novice could do it, with enough magical power. Many do, in fact."

Grimm paused to move a piece. She continued, "Nightfall, the reason I impose limits on those who work for me is to ensure they do not grow lazy and complacent. When one is forced to think about a plan before executing it, it becomes more real, more satisfying. Blasting away a well-defended structure offers a more rewarding feeling than destroying a shack that has not been spellproofed. It's what makes us what we are, what keeps us from descending into dull boredom."

The vampire looked at the officer with slight awe. This was Grimm talking. "I had no idea you thought about it that way."

Grimm cackled wickedly. "Plus, it's great fun for me to watch. Plotting the way that will cause the most chaos and still get the job done has, and always will be a hobby of mine."

"Ah." Nightfall nodded. That was more in character.

Spike panted on his little bed. He had been throwing everything he had and more against the door, but all it had gotten him was a terrible thirst and sore, cracked claws. The wood even resisted being scratched, for Celestia's sake! The little dragon had slowly come to the revelation that he was a prisoner. A comfortable and well-fed prisoner, but a prisoner anyway.

Now he wanted to know why. Was this black, hooded creature an agent of Discord? He doubted it. Somehow, Spike felt that the Avatar of Chaos wouldn't need any assistants.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Spike's leg was tapping against another bowl of gems. Onyx and jet this time. He loved jet, but just as he was about to chow down, he realized the hooded one was still in the room, conjuring up another bowl. This one was full of water.

"Um, hey," Spike said. "I don't know if you can understand me, but…"

The cowled face looked at him.

Spike quailed, but pressed on. "I…I've been having a great time here, but I need to…use the bathroom!" he made up on the spot. "So, like, I need to go outside!"

The figure in black raised a gauntleted hand and snapped its armored fingers. A fully functional bathroom, curtains included, materialized in the corner of the white room.

Spike paused, then stomped over to the sink. "Fine…" he muttered, disappointed that his plan had failed.

The hooded one was walking away, opening the door. Now would be a great time to escape, but every time, the being in black walked out backwards, making sure he didn't make a move for the door.

This time was no different. The door swung shut, guided carefully by an armored hand, the catch almost going into the frame…

"Grrraygan! Get out here now!"

The hooded one let go of the doorknob, slamming the door. Well, almost slamming it. The door rebounded off the frame and stayed open a crack.

Spike scampered over and peeked out. The rest of the place, at least what he could see, looked like a very white living room, with bookcases, pictures on the walls, and a sizeable recliner dominating the floor. Glowing orbs of light provided illumination.

The being in black's shadow moved. Suddenly, to Spike's horror, a huge, dark monster burst out with a quiet whoomph. Its violet-rimmed orange eyes flickered with malice.

"Welll?" the shadow beast seemed to say, its voice quiet and cutting, like an unbelievably sharp knife.

The hooded being's hand drummed on the recliner's armrest. "We are in trouble." It said. Its voice sounded male, and was more natural sounding than the shadow monster's, albeit just a silky.

"Trrouble? What for? We did not killl that ponyyyy, the blood fiennnd did."

"Yes, Vex, but I summoned it. By the rules, that counts as me killing that pony."

The creature, which Spike guessed was called Vex, extended its giant, feathery wings. "Psssh. We do not know if it issss dead."

The hooded one holding up a black book, small but radiating magic. It projected a three-dimensional image into the air. It was a picture of a male pony, lying on his side. There was blood all around it, and the poor stallion's rosy-red eyes were fluttering weakly as he tried to draw breath. The projection rotated slowly, and the hooded figure looked closely, seemingly agitated about this.

"That looks dead to me." The being in black said grimly.

"Merrrely a fictional image dreammmed up by the lexxxicon. It'sss not as if you went out and seeearched the area yourself." Vex reassured.

"I did. There was nothing left but a horseshoe."

"Therre we go," the shadow creature chimed. "He might be alive afffter all. No neeeed to worry ,Graygan."

So the one in black is called Graygan? Thought Spike. He continued eavesdropping, storing the information like only a librarian's assistant knew how.

"I'm afraid there is, Vex. There was still of hoof in the horseshoe. And to make matters worse, the blood fiend has seemingly vanished."

Vex didn't say anything for a while. Then, "Hmm…the blood fiend…it has a mind offff its ownnnn, yes?"

"I suppose it does. I never checked."

"Then it issss not your fault. The lexicon said no unavvvvoidable deaths. This was not unavvvvoidable."

"Vex, it says no unnecessary killing-"

"Shh."

Spike silently pulled the door shut, his eyes wide with horror and shock. Somepony was dead, and these two had caused it. There was no way he was going to be able to escape on his own. Vex was the dangerous one. It was a psycho. He could clearly see that, but somehow, Spike knew that Graygan was just as deadly. Spike went to the new bathroom and pulled the curtains around him.

He wished Twilight would come and save him, like she had saved him from the dragon. But is she came, it was almost certain she would…die. And the baby dragon would never be able to live with that.

Curling up tight and trying not to cry, Spike drifted off to sleep.

Doctor Red Cross trotted nervously from bed to bed in the Canterlot Equestrian Hospital, or CEH. She was a mare with glasses, a fiery red mane and tail, white coat, and had, predictably, a simple red cross on her flank, overlaid with a circle. Her stethoscope jangling against her front as she walked, the doctor paced around, checking on the patients.

Taking a pen from the front of her lab coat, the doctor filled in her hourly report.

-No improvements in any of the patients.

-Coma appears to be permanent, and no medication is having any effect, implying that this disease is of magical origin.

-Suggest bringing in royal mages at next meeting with Princess.

She closed her file and slipped it into her saddlebag. Red Cross sighed, her brow a rictus of worry. This was out of her league. Regular, everyday diseases she could deal with. But what was a doctor to do when there was basically nothing wrong with the patient, except that they wouldn't wake up? Sure, it started as a cold, but after a few coughs and sniffles, they went away, only to turn up unconscious a few hours later! It was uncanny!

It was spreading too, the doctor noted grimly. Yesterday, there had only been six cases. Today, there were twenty-one. If they couldn't find a cure soon, quarantine would be needed.

"I need a cup of coffee." Red Cross said as she walked out into the sunshine, toward the palace to deliver her report. It wasn't a terrible distance, only five minutes' walk. Normally a pegasus would ferry the report up, but her messenger was out getting more medical swabs.

It was, by all standards, a beautiful day in the capital of Equestria. Birds were chirruping their songs, and ponies of all ages cantered to and fro, brightly going about their business. Stopping by Pony Joe's to get a cappuccino and a bagel, the doctor soon arrived in the foyer of Canterlot Castle.

Canterlot Castle. What a fortress! A massive portcullis to keep out intruders and troublemakers (not that there were ever any), and a moat to boot. There were also a huge number of guards, all ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. It was unlikely any of them had seen much actual combat, but their presence was reassuring just the same.

The doors to the throne room were open, but there was another pony, an aristocrat by the look of him, already talking to the Sun Princess. He seemed agitated, and here and there, he coughed and sneezed, muffling it with a handkerchief.

The doctor frowned. It wasn't being spread pony to pony by conventional means, at least not from what they had seen, so the Princess and her guards were safe. In direct counter to that fact, nopony knew just how it was being spread. None of the patients reported eating anything similar when questioned, and they lived in fairly diverse areas of the city.

A medical mystery, it was. She drank her coffee and ate her bagel while she thought. Soon, she was done eating, but the Princess was still busy.

Red Cross cleaned her glasses as she waited. Then she heard it.

"Psst."

The mare looked behind her. There was a guard waving to her, his armor gleaming in the sunlight streaming in through the window.

"Psst. Doctor. Over here!" he shout-whispered.

Red Cross trotted over, adjusting her lab coat. "Yes?" she asked.

The guard looked around warily. "Not here," he whispered conspiringly. "Too many ponies."

The doctor stayed where she was. "I'm not going anywhere until you explain yourself." She said firmly.

The guard leaned his face close. "It's about the plague." He murmured.

Now he had her attention. "Okay. Where?"

The guard wheeled around and walked quietly into a room two doors down. The doctor followed, entering the room. It was a meeting room, clean and empty. The lights were off, making the open door the only source of illumination. The guard was nowhere to be seen.

"Hello? I thought we were going to talk about the plague." Red Cross called.

"We are."

Red Cross shivered, her ears tilting back. Something had changed in the guard's voice. She couldn't place it, but it was no longer quite right. She started to head for the door…

Hooves over her mouth. A blaze of orange light, dying down to crimson. The feeling of something, something like breath, being tugged from her body.

Then the doctor was outside in the foyer, feeling woozy and light-headed.

What was I doing? Doctor Red Cross wondered, steadying herself against a pillar. She couldn't remember. There had been something…

The aristocrat came out, blowing his nose. A guard nodded for the doctor to go in.

And go in she did, smothering a sneeze with one hoof as she went.

Back down the hallway, the doors to the meeting room swung open silently. Out stepped a white mare with a red mane and tail, glasses, lab coat, and a red cross Cutie Mark.

She smiled contentedly as she walked back into town, eyes glowing like hot coals.

-Author's Notes-

Just when you thought is was getting bad...

...it got worse.

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