Interval 4.1: Buy Me a New Life
“What the fuck!?”
“Oh, c’mon! Move you asshole!”
“Why do these fucking noobs keep doing this shit!? Play the damn game! Stop sitting around!”
Rabbit gaped silently as he slowly opened his eyes. The world was a blur. He could feel drool gathered on his cheek, between his skin and the rough carpet beneath. As he opened his right eye first though, he wished he hadn’t.
“Aw, shit-eating, cocksucker!” the boy immediately cursed as the microphone of his headset stabbed him in the eye.
The Xbox Live communicator was perched a little awkwardly on the drowsy teenager’s head, but the cushioned ear-muff was still pressed against his right ear. Through it he immediately heard numerous crackly, whiney pitched rebuttals.
“Who are you calling a cocksucker, asshole!?” a voice that simply had to belong to a gender challenged twelve-year-old screamed across the vast expanse of magical tubes that made up the phenomenon that was the internet.
Hot on his tail were numerous other voices sourced from dimly lit gamer-dens across the globe. But Rabbit wasn’t listening. Sitting up, he tore away the headset and rubbed his eye where he’d accidentally jabbed himself. To his shock he found his faithful bush-hat was missing and immediately scrambled to look for it.
And then he realised he didn’t actually own a bush-hat. His mouth falling open with shock, Rabbit looked over his own ‘gamer-den.’
It was his bedroom. Exactly as he had left it on Friday the twelfth of July. The day he’d been teleported into Equestria by the Great and Powerful Trixie, supposedly three and something months ago. But nothing had changed. It was as if he’d never been away.
The walls were adorned with posters of the teenager’s favourite bands, movies and video games. Under his window with the drawn curtains he saw his low cupboard topped with a computer screen and containing his humming Xbox. The controller lay among a tangle of wire on the ground by the boy’s feet. The floor was a minefield of discarded cans of soda and candy-wrappers. To his side was a tall wardrobe next to his bed.
Suspended on tall stilts, underneath the bed was a large desk, the workspace littered with craft-tools, crumpled shreds of paper and torn templates. The surface itself was blotched with modelling paints and covered by bits of discarded grip-tape. Perched centrally on the desk was Rabbit’s skateboard, next to a pair of tattered skating-shoes.
Tearing his eyes from the state of his own bedroom, Rabbit looked directly at his monitor. The mini-dashboard centred his darkened screen while his Halo matchmaking session continued in the background, showing the time and date near the very top.
Saturday, 0918 hours, 13/07/2015
If he’d actually been in Equestria, he couldn’t have been there for more than a dozen hours, never mind three months.
With a confused groan, he ran his tongue over the rough plaque coating his teeth, smacking his lips at the brutal, bile-like aftertaste of pop rocks & coke. His mom had been working late last night, leaving the teenager to fend for himself on the Friday night. He’d spent it like any other job-less summer-holiday teen spent their night. Lock the doors and windows and overdose on alien-killing... well... basement-dwelling-nerd-killing.
Rabbit had spent last night on Xbox Live. But also somehow spent several months travelling across the magical land of Equestria with the Great and Powerful Trixie. What was the last thing he remembered? Passing out in front of the Xbox?
Or Discord’s maniacal declaration that the holiday was over? Had that actually happened, or was it all the result of some kind of sugar-comatose dream?
With a sigh the teenager rubbed his throbbing head. The sane thing to do would be to make sure this really was happening. So he slapped himself across the face...
Ouch!
Yup, he was suffering from a healthy dose of reality.
Crawling forward, Rabbit jabbed the power button of his Xbox a few times until it finally turned off with a gentle hum. He didn’t bother logging off Live, or explaining why he wasn’t playing anymore. He couldn’t care less about a bunch of basement-dwelling jackoffs writing him an angry message or tearing down his otherwise exquisite ‘online-rating’ a few stars. He had more important shit to deal with.
Climbing to his feet, Rabbit jerked back one of the curtains and looked outside. Out there he saw it. His home. His city. And right slap-bang somewhere in the middle he was; where someone thought it was a great fucking place to just drop a suburban cul-de-sac right between a plethora of high-rises.
Weird.
Dropping the curtain, Rabbit sighed as he moved to the door. He needed to see more. He needed to be sure he was stuck here for good.
And when he opened the door he got a fright.
In a blur of black and white, Rabbit felt a shotgun shell unload in his chest. Not literally, of course, but something big, heavy and fluffy collided with him with enough force to knock him clean off his feet. as the teenager slammed to a halt on his back he looked up to see the angry snarl of a five-year-old canine growling in his face, teeth bared and everything.
There were billions of dogs across the globe, possibly more across the universe and even more across multiple dimensions – if you’re a believer in the multi-verse of course. Every single one of them hated Marion with a vengeance... all except one.
“The hell, Snoops!?” Rabbit exclaimed.
Snoopy’s angry snarl turned into a goofy look before she straight up licked her master on the face. With a disgruntled chuckle, Rabbit shoved his dog to one side and climbed to his feet again. Though to call Snoopy just a dog was giving too much credit to the canine species. And was a little cruel to Snoopy. She was unique, truly unique. Not just a unique kind of breed, but also a sentient-being kind of unique. You could talk to her and she’d look at you with those intelligent brown eyes. All the time she looked like she understood. All the time figuring out. Plotting. Planning.
And bugger me, she listened and understood. Better than any dog Rabbit had ever seen. Sheep-dogs eat your heart out, Snoopy ate those wannabe pieces of shit for breakfast. Rabbit could literally ask Snoopy to fetch him a sandwich, and Snoopy would – somehow – return with a sandwich... which she would of course proceed to munch down in front of him. Dogs will be dogs after all.
He was of course a little too scared to ask Snoopy to fetch the Ark of the Covenant, just in case she came through for him. He’d be too curious not to open it, and despite popular belief; what if it melted everybody and not just Nazis?
What if?
Back to her actual breed, Snoopy was somewhat of a recluse. She was mostly a lean and attentive Border-Collie, with the athleticism of a Husky sled-dog, the resolve, courage and loyalty of a German-Shepherd mixed with a healthy dose of the cuddly lovability of a fluffy Saint-Bernard. Standing up to about Rabbit’s waist whilst remaining on all-fours, Snoopy had a midnight black coat with white socks, a patch circling her right eye and at the tip of her fluffy tail; finally noteworthy was the curly dark brown fur under her floppy triangular ears.
“You miss me, Snoopers?” Rabbit asked with a grin as he scratched the canine behind the ear.
In response, Snoopy cocked her head and gave her master a confused look. Why the hell was she supposed to miss him? Had he been away?
Realising this, Rabbit slowly nodded. “Right.” He sighed.
Surprises didn’t end there though. An adjacent door opened up and a woman stepped out in front of the teenager. Looking up, Rabbit felt his eyes widen.
Jennifer Chapel started with a smile, before her face twisted into a concerned frown at the sight of her son. Something was off. Something was terribly – no, horribly wrong! And it was immediately identified by Rabbit’s mother, since moms always knew these things.
“Hey. You’re up early for a Saturday.” She commented.
Rabbit just blinked at his mother, comprehending what he was looking at.
Just by looking at her you’d never expect the woman was in her late thirties. Which was kind of irritating for Rabbit – hey, have you ever had to put up with your friends constantly commenting on how hot your mom is? She had a lean and fit figure, a few feet taller than her son with short hair and Rabbit’s eyes. There was no denying the two were related. And there was no denying she could still kick Rabbit’s ass despite her age.
Jennifer liked to keep in shape. She hit the gym once a week. She still woke up at oh-seven-hundred every morning for a twenty kilometre run – oh, I beg your pardon. Sprint. Though this was no surprise considering her profession. Colonel Jennifer Chapel was already dressed for a day at the office; a sleekly fit navy coloured dress uniform attenuated her already annoyingly attractive figure – annoying to Rabbit, not to me. She ain’t my mom – with colourful set of commendations pinned to her breast.
“Mom.” Rabbit croaked. There was no way to hide the surprise in his voice. While ‘in Equestria’ Rabbit thought he’d never see his own mother ever again... but there she stood!
Noting his surprise, Jennifer cocked an eyebrow before grinning. “Marion.” She greeted with a chuckle. “I’m making pancakes. They should just be a minute.” She added quickly before edging around her son who was acting strangely.
Watching as she descended the stairs of their home, Rabbit barely noticed Snoopy licking at his hand for immediate attention. “Kay...”
Yup, you heard that right. His mother called him Marion. That was his real name. Marion Chapel. Or sometimes ‘Marr’ for short. And yes, Rabbit had received some shit for his name at school. But being as charismatic as he was, the teasing didn’t last long. Punch out the right asshole on the yard and you’re bound to make some important friends very quickly.
The real kicker of it all was the grave realisation. The realisation it was over. No more ponies, no more travels, no more crazy adventures...
Kneeling down beside where Snoopy sat, her tail bashing the floor mercilessly, Rabbit scratched the dog behind the ear. He wasn’t watching her as she shuffled closer for a hug. The teenager was looking back into his room, taking in the boring old sights.
No more hanging out with the Great and Powerful Trixie. No more Trix ‘n Rabbit. No more Rabbit, period.
Only Marion Chapel.
This identity, and possibly reality shattering realisation was vocalised in a single word:
“Fuck!”
What? You were expecting something profound from our main character at this point?
My Little Pony:
Versus Equestria
[The Mildly Interesting Marion Chapel]
Interval 4.1: Buy Me a New Life
When he made it to the kitchen following the smell of pancakes, Marion felt his eyes widen a little. He had thought that Discord character from his dream looked weird, but in comparison to his own mother?
Seeing his mom dressed in her military dress-uniform, wearing a bright pink apron over the top while making pancakes... now that’s weird. Probably went against all sorts of rules and regulations too, but Jennifer was one of the few women in the world who was allowed to screw-the-rules. She was one of those very few that could somehow balance her military obligations and her obligations as a mother perfectly. Sure she’d missed the odd birthday or a few Christmas family gatherings, but she had always been there when it counted. When Marion took his first steps. When he said his first word (which was ‘dipshit’ by the way. One of Jennifer’s more shameful slips of the tongue). His first need for a Band-Aid. The first day of school. His tenth birthday. Any and every school play Marion had been in. Graduation. She’d been there.
Marion pulling out a chair, causing the legs to scrape noisily on the kitchen tiles drew her attention. She looked up from the first pancake sizzling in the frying pan as she saw her son sit with his faithful canine flopping to the ground at his feet.
“Did you finish off your college applications?” Marion’s mother asked.
The teenager cleared his throat, hoping to avoid that conversation. But he quickly faltered under Jennifer's gaze. “Uh... I’m dotting the ‘i’s.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Marr. We had a deal. You’re the one who’d rather go to college than the army. And the recruitment period is almost over.”
“I know, I know. Calm down, woman!” Marion whined. “I’m working on it.”
“Don’t work on it, get it done.”
Marion sighed, remembering the slug from his wild dream last night. “Jeez, lady. You sound like my mom.”
Arching an eyebrow, Jennifer stared at her son. “Marr. I am your mom.”
Marion blinked. “Oh... right.”
Shaking the frying-pan and shaking the first pancake loose, Jennifer systematically checked both sides were equally cooked before walking over to the dining table where her son eagerly waited for breakfast. He had his knife and fork clenched in his fists as he could literally taste those pancakes already.
But as she stood by his side, she didn’t serve, leaving her son whimpering helplessly.
“Pistol jam.” Jennifer said very suddenly. “Failure to eject. What do you do?”
Marion’s eyes popped. “Huh?”
“Failure to eject on a slide-operated pistol.” Jennifer elaborated. “It’s stovepiping. What do you do?”
At the realisation what she was asking, Marion dropped his cutlery and rubbed his eyes with a frustrated groan. His dream had at least given him an impression of a three month rest from this crap. “Oh c’mon, mom.”
Here we go again. The teenager thought to himself. Every morning the same old story.
“Do you want a pancake or not? Because individuals who get shot because they can’t unjam their weapon in a firefight don’t need to eat pancakes.” Jennifer teasingly waved the pancake under his nose to rub the mouth-watering scent in some more.
Little did she know the teenager had broken a long time ago. “Alright, alright. Fine.” With a grumble, Marion held out his right hand as if holding a semi-automatic pistol. At the same time he shot her an expression as if to say ‘There, I’m doing it! Satisfied?’
In his mind’s eye he imagined the grubby firearm filling up the empty space in his hand. A nine-millimetre calibre German-made H&K USP. As far as generic guns go, the Heckler & Koch is probably the most generic ever built. Then again, it was designed and built with German efficiency in mind, so what would you expect?
On pretty much any semi-automatic, slide-operated side-arm, the failure to eject jam could have more than one reason for occurring. It could be the ejector – the piece of the gun that took the empty shell of a spent round and kicked it out of the weapon – was damaged or faulty. Or – more commonly associated with stovepiping – the jam could have been caused by limp-wristing.
Essentially, the slide of the pistol hadn’t snapped back far enough, causing the breech to close too soon as the spent shell is ejected. As a result the empty shell catches in the ejector port forming a kind of chimney out the top of the gun. Hence the nickname, stovepiping.
Okay, so that covered how Marion would identify a failure to eject. He considered his way of shooting and figured the cause was not a faulty weapon, but limp-wristing was the culprit. So what is limp-wristing you ask?
A gun operates on recoil, right? Even if you’ve never held a firearm before, you can appreciate this simple fact. So with recoil operation, you must have a firm platform for the pistol to operate from, or you will negate the effect of the recoil and cause a malfunction. If you don’t anticipate the recoil upon firing and just let the blow-back manipulate your arm or stance, you’re limp-wristing.
Marion fixed the problem using what he had personally nicknamed ‘dummy method.’ It was easy. Ignorant about exactly what went wrong or why, the teenager immediately pretended to eject and catch the magazine, turn the gun upside down and yank the slide back all the way. As he did, the jammed round would simply fall to the kitchen table before he let go and allowed the slide to slam forward again. From there he slotted the magazine back in place and cycled the action with another yank at the slide to chamber a round and resume firing.
He made extra care to indicate he was letting go of the imaginary slide, allowing it to snap forth on its own spring-power. That way his mom wouldn’t call him out for riding the slide, which apparently caused a whole plethora of other problems.
Stovepiping. Limp-wristing. Riding the fucking slide. Christ, you’d expect gun enthusiasts to come up with less-lame nicknames for their shit.
“I hate guns.” Marion grumbled dusting off his hands and gratefully imagining his gun had transformed into a much more comfortable Xbox controller. Truth be told, every trip to the firing range his mom had dragged him on had been among the most uncomfortable experiences in his life. Guns – and we’re talking about real guns here. Not virtual guns, or airsoft guns, or nerf-guns. Real guns – were loud, dangerous, and downright irritable at the best of times. They say the Kalashnikov assault rifle is so easy to use a child can master it. Well, let Marion put that dumbass baby to bed right now by saying on the record that the AK-47 not only kicks like a fucking mule with every shot making it quite literally painful to use, the way the magazines are fitted with a hooking action is irritating; and don’t even get him started on disassembling that puzzle box for cleaning. All it takes is one little spring to ping off out of sight and you’re fucked...
Yuck, was a word that didn’t quite do the experience justice.
Jennifer shrugged as she let the pancake hover above Marion’s plate. “When relieving a right-handed hostile of their side-arm, why do we twist the muzzle away in a counter-clockwise action?”
“To break his index-finger in the trigger guard.” Marion answered with a bored tone. “It scares me how that’s not even a hard one.”
“Last question.”
“Have at me.”
“Did you remember to charge your taser last night?”
That one took Marion by surprise. He’d been expecting to be giving an operational presentation on the M16-carbine, or explain how to calibrate a surface to air missile – neither question Marion would know how to answer, might I add. He hadn’t expected to be asked if he remembered to recharge a rather unpleasant birthday present.
“Um... no?”
Jennifer narrowed her eyes. For his seventeenth birthday she had bought him an M26 Taser. I know what you’re thinking. Where’d she put the ribbon? And my answer to that is; don’t be such a fucking smart-ass.
The M26 wasn’t exactly subtle or compact, but the thing packed one hell of a punch. The same day he’d unwrapped it, Marion had accidentally shot himself in the foot, so he was intimately familiar with how effective the damn thing was. That was the day his dislike for guns had extended to tasers, simply out of spite.
Marion threw up his arms in defeat realising his chance to get a pancake before it got cold was rapidly slipping away. “Oh, c’mon! Just because it’s not the answer you want to hear, doesn’t mean it’s wrong!”
Jennifer scowled. “Who is overseeing the Zero Point Energy Converter Project’s security?”
“You are.” Marion grumbled.
“And what happens to our primary dependency on oil if this project is successful?”
“We’ll no longer need the stuff... in the next decade or so.” The boy added under his breath.
Ignoring him, Jennifer continued. “And who will that piss off?”
“Oil companies and oil hoarding governments.”
“And what would be the best way for them to hurt me so they can hurt this project?”
“By hurting your family... me, mainly.”
“Are you seeing a frightening picture developing here?”
“Yeah.” Marion glumly rested his head in one hand.
Jennifer tipped the frying pan and let the pancake fall on her son’s plate. “Make sure that taser is charged before you leave the house today.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The teenager quickly saluted before diving onto his pancake. He wasn’t going to waste any more pancake time with terrifying crap. He was still young, and at that age his ‘ignorance-filter’ was still set to filter out most of the sombre, scary shit that was part of his day-to-day life.
“You know,” Marion started, talking between chewing mouthfuls of breakfasty goodness soaked in sweet maple syrup. “Normal mothers talk to their sons about math problems or soccer practice at the breakfast table.”
His mother scoffed. “Normal mothers aren’t high ranking military officials with dangerous overseas enemies.” Jennifer then noticed what he was doing and before returning to the stove she smacked him upside the head with the spatula. “And don’t talk with your mouth full!”
Jennifer Chapel was military to the core. Her mother had been in the military, and her mother before that, and her mother before that. And determined not to let her son be a combo-breaker, Jennifer had made all sorts of unorthodox past-times part of Marion’s upbringing. She’d taken him spelunking, shooting, scuba-diving, orienteering, rock climbing; even tried to teach him some kickass fighting styles – which he’d never used outside the schoolyard until his dream of Equestria.
If he had actually taken an interest in any of these past-times he could have passed as Batman. But thanks to lack of interest, Marion would have made a crappy soldier anyway. Stubborn, selfish, lack of commitment and – let’s all just admit it – a smart-ass.
Marion simply was not cut from the ‘military service-cloth,’ no-way and no-how. But that didn’t stop Jennifer from trying. Marion may not have inherited his family’s patriotism, but stubbornness was something every Chapel – mister or missus – had as part of their core-programming.
While Jennifer prepared to cook up the next pancake and Marion reached the halfway point of his breakfast, neither noticed Snoopy lifting her head. Her floppy ears lifted up as she twisted her head to look out to the hall where the front door of the house was. To the humans there was nothing to be heard. But Snoopy had heard it without fail.
Ding-dong!
The sudden ring of the doorbell jarred all three of them. While Marion and his mother merely lifted their heads to look, Snoopy was off like a shot. Her claws scratched audibly on the tiles as she scrambled to her paws and launched herself barking into the hallway. Her bark wasn’t malicious though. Both Jennifer and Marion would have noticed by Snoopy’s bark if there was a stranger by the door. The dog had already picked up his scent and was letting out a ‘happy’ bark as her tail wagged enthusiastically.
There was only one person it could have been.
“I’ll get it.” Marion announced as he rose to his feet and followed the crazy-dog.
He crossed to the front door and turned the key. Now Jennifer usually insisted her son follow a procedure when answering the door, especially when he was alone. She was protective that way, and with good reason. But since his mother was home, and toting a semi-automatic weapon under the kitchen sink, Marion balked from the side of caution and just tore the front door open.
Standing in the porch was a man. Now for the sake of making for an interesting story, this man could have been a mafia boss who was wringing the community dry. He could have been a terrorist come to kidnap Marion in broad daylight. He could have been a serial stalker who liked to bother Marion’s mom on a regular basis...
Nope. Standing on the porch was Brian, a physicist... just a physicist. I know. Boring, isn’t he?
Thirty something, Professor Brian Sinclair wasn’t a typical stuffy scientist. Heck, the title professor just didn’t suit him. When I say professor you immediately think a guy in a tweed suit, polished shoes and greasy brylcreem hair. You expect thick glasses and cliché obsessive compulsion disorders. Checker shirts and fucking suspenders at the very least.
Nope. Brian was a healthy gym-goer. He was even a skater in his younger days. He was a pretty good looking guy too, according to the girls Marion had talked to – tall and dark as the phrase goes. On top of that he wore normal clothes, and didn’t have glasses. Jeans, sneakers and a pretty cool leather jacket Marion wished he could wear and look good in. The guy even played video games like a demon. Marion couldn’t count the times Brian had given him a run for his money in pretty much any game of the teenager’s choosing.
In all, Brian was a pretty cool guy... for a nerd, that is. Cool enough for Marion to like him well enough despite the fact the guy was hopping in bed with his mom.
Brian was Jennifer’s boyfriend... no, not the other way around. Brian was a pretty stand-up guy, but even Marion knew who wore the pants in that relationship.
“Hey, Marr.” Brian greeted with a rather dorky grin. You can work ‘em out, you can dress ‘em up, but you’ll never really take the nerd out of ‘em. “Is Jenny home?”
Giving a very fake glare, the teenager narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Jenny? Nah, no-one here by that name.” the teenager shook his head.
Hearing that, Jennifer called out from the kitchen. “In here, Brian!”
Marion’s eyes immediately widen with realisation. “Oh, you mean my mom!?” he stepped aside letting Brian move into the house. “Yeah, her first name is actually colonel.”
“Marion, you would need three more promotions to get to be an asshole.” Jennifer snapped as Brian disappeared to greet his girlfriend in the kitchen, Snoopy bouncing around their visitor.
Her son ignored her with a sarcastic roll of his eyes and a slam of the front door. “Oh, no! Mom, I forgot to frisk Brian before he stepped inside! What if he’s a dangerous Russian mole!? Gasp! What if he’s armed with a nine millimetre Glock twenty-something...? Or some shit to that effect.” He added after a thoughtful pause, wondering if there was actually a gun called a Glock Twenty-Something.
“Well I know exactly where he can holster that weapon.” Jennifer stated with a suggestive wink just as Marion walked back into the kitchen to catch the grownups tangled in each other’s arms.
The professor chuckled with a broad smile. Marion retreated disgusted to his half-eaten pancake, feeling his appetite rapidly disappear. “Ugh. Gross, you guys.”
“You wanna pancake?” Jennifer asked when Brian finally let her go.
The man smiled, sitting down next to Marion. “You know I can’t say no to your pancakes.”
“Seriously dude!” Marion spluttered through a mouthful, causing Brian to chuckle again. “There are children in the room!”
As Marion stuffed his face and Jennifer reserved the next pancake for her boyfriend, Snoopy finally settled by the teenager’s feet as Brian leaned closer.
“So, Marr.” He started, striking up their usual exchange of casual morning conversation. Whereas his mother would ask the unorthodox questions about guns ‘n shit, Brian was more of a motherly figure who’d bring up questions like ‘how was the skating meet?’ “You ready for the big unveiling of the Zee-PEC tonight?”
Marion paused to think. “The what-now?”
“Zero Point Energy Converter? Zee-PEC for short.” Brian explained.
Marion rolled his eyes. The Zero Point Energy Converter was a green energy project funded by the military. The actual device – some kind of portal making thingy that filtered out these kind of complicated trans-dimensional photons and converted them into a renewable energy or some crap like that – was housed and tested in a refurbished building on the edge of the city. Brian was on the team who designed and built it. Ironically, his girlfriend – Marion’s mother – was head of security. The thirteenth of July, that very evening, was when the device would go permanently active and take over power generation for the whole city. It was all very high profile stuff, there being a big party and everything.
In Marion’s opinion it was a load of Greenpeace hippy-crap. And he’d never be able to forgive for those assholes throwing him the ‘here’s a cute baby seal dying because of you’ television advertisement.
“Zee-PEC?” Marion asked. “That’s the acronym they’re using for that thing? Lame. A room full of the smartest guys on the planet, and that’s the best those dorks come up with?”
“Be nice, Marr.” Jennifer warned as she moved over with a plate of pancakes.
“Unable to comply with request, mother.” Marion chuckled as he swallowed down the last bite of his breakfast. “I’m gonna go walk Snoopy. I’ll meet you guys at the party tonight.”
Snoopy had absolutely no problem with that idea. All she had picked up on in that sentence was the word ‘walk’ and already she was bouncing about the place, tail whipping violently back and forth. She knew exactly what the word ‘walk’ entailed.
Excitedly the dog followed Marion out of the kitchen, practically stumbling over the teenager’s heels.
“I laid your suit out on the bed.” Jennifer called out to her son.
“You’re a super-mom!” Marion called back as he and his dog charged up the stairs.
Returning to his room, Marion stripped out of last night’s clothes and changed. After fresh shorts and socks, he pulled up a pair of loose fitting cargo trousers, midnight black with hardened knee pads hewn into the tough fabric. Next on was a black under-armour shirt with long sleeves. Though unlike the select club of ‘roid-monkeys who haunted the local gym, Marion didn’t have an impressive musculature to show off with the tight fitted shirt. So to preserve his dignity – something many wearers of the fabled under-armour were incapable of – he pulled on a loose fitting olive green t-shirt over the top.
Stuffing his suit into his backpack, he shouldered both straps before lacing up his skating-shoes and tightened the straps of his wrist-guards over his forearms. Finally he made his way over to his desk and picked up Snoopy’s harness. The dog was like a sugar-high puppy, and could barely sit still as Marion comfortably tightened the straps around her shoulders. When the loyal hound was harnessed up and waiting by the door, Marion grinned, teasing Snoopy by standing idle for a moment.
She barked several times to get the teenager into motion. Reaching back, Marion retrieved his skateboard.
Marion had been boarding since before he could remember. He liked to think he’d mastered staying balanced on his skateboard before he could properly walk. It made for a better brag-story than the actual tale behind his learning to skateboard. Let’s just say in the true story he’d spent several weeks face-planting asphalt.
Marion had made his own skateboard, bought a blank deck along with fairly generic trucks and street-grade wheels. An eight inch deck carved out of Canadian Maple, topped by black grip-tape with orange trucks and midnight black wheels, he’d even painted the bottom of the deck himself. He’d stencilled on the iconic ‘RIG’ health-bar from the video game Dead Space down to a red sliver of health along with a pronounced splatter of blood – he’d definitely lost that health doing something awesome. Above that was a ‘marker’ insignia with the nose and tail painted with red and black hazard-stripes. It had taken him a week to get it right, but the result was worth it. Skateboarding was – apparently – about self-expression. And nothing said self-expression more than a custom board.
Hooking up Snoopy’s lead, the duo charged down the stairs and out the front door, creating such a ruckus that Jennifer peeked out to catch a face-full of the dust kicked up in their wake.
Running out in the fresh city air, Marion uncoiled Snoopy’s lead and let her run ahead a little. At the same time he jumped up, gripping his board by the nose and slid it under his feet. His soles took hold of the sand-papery surface before he landed neatly on the four wheels with a sharp clack! Rolling smoothly over the even pavement, leaning from side to side to steer, the dog-lead pulled taught and Snoopy towed Marion out of the front garden and into the street.
Seeing them shoot out towards the city centre, Jennifer called out after her son. “That doesn’t look like walking to me! Hey! You be careful on that thing.” She added pointedly.
“You know me!” the boy waved over his shoulder before they swiftly disappeared out of the cul-de-sac.
Jennifer sighed. “That’s what has me worried.”
***[]***
Something called a ‘Zero Point Energy Converter’ you’d expect to have a rather large budget. And truth be told, the Zee-PEC did have a big budget... for the device itself. The facility that housed the device however... that’s a different story.
It used to be a school known simply as The Body of Christ. Catholic school, naturally, just on the edge of the city and wrapped in a foetid womb of agricultural farmland. And as such, the smell of manure had never quite left the building.
The military had bought it specifically to house the Zero Point Energy Converter; picked it up for a steal allowing them to pump more funds into the actual device. The ‘facility’ as it was now aptly named, remained a dump. Colonel Jennifer Chapel knew it, lead scientist Brian Sinclair new it, their colleagues knew it, the board of funders knew it – heck the rats in the beck that ran along the side of the building and even the crows that crapped on the roof knew it. despite having been a catholic school once-upon-a-time, the facility looked like a Bulgarian nuclear reprocessing plant. The bits that weren’t stained concrete were asbestos. It lay alongside the brook like a filthy hobo, breathing in the stinking air that drifted off the fertiliser-poisoned water.
But, the place was a beacon of green, renewable energy, and no matter how ugly she was, the facility held a fondness to the staff that served in her like a faithful verruca of long acquaintance... okay, sorry, that one was a little gross.
That night however, the facility had been done up to be reasonably presentable for the unveiling. Broken windows had been replaced. The perimeter gates had been double checked and re-sprayed to hide the patches of rusty chain-link. Even the guard, an older out-of-luck Afghanistan veteran was dressed in his dress-blues.
The parking lot, usually cracked and littered with patches of tall grass growing through the aforementioned cracks, was littered with various limousines and other expensive looking cars. The lights all throughout the facility were turned on and all sorts of beautiful people looking out of place in such a squalid place were enjoying a party within.
The main atrium was where the party was at. The cavernous room was pretty much the first you entered when walking through the main doors. The place was nice and open with a stage to one side where a live band played some funky tunes. The buffet was something an Arabian Prince would be proud of, the tables adorned with vibrant and nicely presented foods that sat in the glimmering shadows of various grand ice-sculptures. The night was young, the punch was still fresh and the catering staff were handing out tall glasses of champagne to the various ladies and gentlemen dressed up to the nines.
The back of atrium was where the Zero Point Energy Converter itself stood – in full view of the public – in a reserved alcove big enough to house a party on its own. Standing up against the back wall, the metal grey ring shaped device stood behind a massive pane of clear, impenetrable material. There was a single access door, pulled shut and double bolted sealing the Zee-PEC away from the general public. Complicated server stacks and piles of machinery with the respective thick coils of wiring connected the plethora of electronic equipment filling the space. No square inch was wasted bar the metal ramp running from the sealed doorway up to the foot of the ring.
While the band played, idle chatter was exchanged between groups and individuals. Including Jennifer and Brian who swayed gently in each other’s arms on the dance floor. While such a soothing situation should have indicated both the head of security and the lead scientist were calm and collected... in fact Brian was calm. Jennifer was – unlike her normal self – nervous.
Still in her dress blues, she kept looking over Brian’s shoulder to the main doors, nervously biting her polished nails from time to time. With a frustrated sigh, her boyfriend stepped aroud her so she would keep glancing at the door.
“What’s wrong?” Brian asked.
“He’s late.” The colonel said.
Brian shook his head. “He’ll be here.”
“Brian, what if he’s fallen off that stupid board and hurt himself. He didn’t call. What if someone took-...”
“Jenny!” Brian almost exclaimed. “Marion is a tough kid. He’s fine. He’ll be here.”
Normally speaking she’d be calmed. But for some reason the woman couldn’t calm herself. She still looked over her shoulder to the atrium entrance to check where her son was. It was only a minute after Brian figured reconciling her was pointless that Jennifer’s heart suddenly calmed at the sight of two silhouettes in the doorway.
“Finally!” Jennifer pointed before breaking away from her boyfriend. Brian lifted his gaze to spot the duo as well. At first there was no detail, just two black silhouettes of a teenager and a dog casually marching by his side.
And as he entered, the band hit a new beat.
Clad in a black suit with white shirt, all Marion was missing was a tie. It was alright though, he made up for it with his dark aviator-sunglasses. His backpack was shouldered with his skateboard attached by some bungie-chords.
Making his entrance with an abundance of swagger, he strutted boldly past security, smirking and nodding to several older party-guests. The crowd parted, moving to either side to let the boy go through. Even spotting a particularly attractive lady, Marion boldly pointed her out and lowered his glasses to flash her a wink along with a smooth ‘chk’ of his tongue.
Jennifer had to give the woman credit, she did avoid looking disgusted.
Moving on, Snoopy stayed by his side, strangely strutting in a similar fashion to her master. The sight made Jennifer snigger before she stepped in their path to get the dynamic duo’s attention. “Your late.” She announced unable to get the anger in her voice quite right after having seen that entrance.
“Hello, mommy-oh!” Marion greeted, not realising the word mommy-oh wasn’t widely regarded as cool as daddy-oh. “Do I make this look good or what?” the teenager smirked as he delicately tugged at the edges of his suit jacket.
Jennifer gave a nod of approval as she looked her son up and down. He did a reasonable job of making himself look rather presentable. Hair was still a mess though, but he made it work. Heck, he’d even tucked in his shirt... but then her eyes reached his feet and she saw his white-and-red skate-shoes sticking out under his black trousers.
“Marr, what are those?” she asked pointing at the horribly out of place sneakers.
The boy’s whole cool stance faltered as he slowly took off his sunglasses. “Uh... practicality over aesthetics?” Marion tried with a wide, innocent smile.
“Good answer.” Jennifer grimaced. “I have some social rounds to make. Stay out of trouble.”
Marion snapped into a stocky salute, his hand bouncing clumsily off his forehead. Even Snoopy sat down and puffed her chest out in attention. “Yes, ma’am!”
As Jennifer left them, Marion patted his leg for Snoopy to follow and the two of them made for the buffet. The teenager had nabbed a quick lunch while walking Snoopy, but with the sun dipping behind the horizon he found himself hungry again. What he found at the buffet table was beyond satisfactory.
Marion had to admit he had no idea what orderves actually were, but whatever they were and however they were made... they were freakin’ delicious. And since he wasn’t brave enough to try the puke-like bile that sat in a bowl labelled ‘caviar’ he stacked his plate with the more appetising looking finger-food.
Every now and then he’d accidentally drop something for Snoopy to quickly mop up before the cleaning staff showed up.
As if the dog standing by his hip and the backpack carrying a skateboard on his back weren’t enough to make him stand out, the way he carried a plate stacked high with food put him even farther out of place in a room full of rich people. Most of the folk around him were either investors or military figures – identified by the dress uniform not too dissimilar from Colonel Chapel’s. The main difference between them and Marion was that they knew how to behave at these kinds of parties.
Marion on the other hand treated it like he would any party. take advantage of the free food and try to sneak in a few drinks. It seemed the catering staff were onto his ruse though and seemed to avoid him when he waved for a glass of champagne. Still, it was worth a try. He’d make his rounds on the uncorked wine-bottles at the far end of the buffet later.
It was while Marion was trying to balance a plate in one hand while figuring out how to fill a cup of punch in the other without dropping his whole plate – curiously eyed by Snoopy who was practically willing it to fall from the teenager’s hand – when a shadow slid across the table in front of Marion.
“Well, hello there, doggy.” A gruff, older voice said. “What’s your name?”
Marion found some space to put his plate and glass down before he turned on the spot. Standing by his side was an older man clad in dress-blues and a cap, several shiny medals and colourful commendations weighing down his chest. Seriously, there were some stretch marks at his collar, that’s how much bling the guy was toting. He was a balding gentleman, creased skin with a thick build – what had once been muscle turning to fat over several cruel years of elderly life.
Marion grinned as the man looked up. “That’s Snoopy.” He said, identifying the general’s rank markings stuck to the man’s lapelle.
The general gently petted Snoopy on the head before the friendly hound offered a paw. “Ah, I used to have a dog just like him when I was growing up.”
Marion chuckled as Snoopy gave a confounded snort realising the old man had called her a ‘he.’ As the man straightened up he offered a hand to the teenager.
“Zimmer.” The man charmingly introduced himself. “General John Zimmer.”
Marion shook the man’s hand. “I’m Rab-...” Marion quickly stopped himself, reconsidering. “Eh... Marion. Marion Chapel.”
General Zimmer gave a nod as he recognised the boy’s name. “Ah, yes. The colonel’s boy. Colonel Chapel talks about you a lot. Good to finally meet you, son.”
“I guess that means she never talked about all the bad stuff.” – the general chuckled as they turned back to the buffet-table – “Mom threw your name around a few times. Aren’t you on the board of overseers for the – dare I even call it that – Zee-PEC project?”
“That I am. Room full of the smartest dorks on the planet, and the best acronym they come up with is Zee-PEC?” – Marion laughed – “At least they got the free booze and pretty girls part of the launch party right.”
Marion grinned. This general was a pretty cool guy. “That sounds like a good enough reason to miss the season finale of The Walking Dead to me.”
General Zimmer “So what brings you to the unveiling tonight? Isn’t there a school dance or something on tonight?”
Marion stopped himself from choking as he sipped his punch. Involuntarily he grimaced on the inside as Zimmer reminded him of the school dance. He’d graduated a month or so ago and said his ‘tearful’ goodbyes to his teachers and classmates. From that moment on it had been full on planning for one final get-together for the students of Marion’s class.
The Post-Graduation Dance. A concept Marion could never quite grasp.
Marion’s classmates could best be described as thugs, spacks, drongos, bozos, dildos, queers, cunts and killers... and that’s just the girls! Heck, Marion’s class was the best behaved in the whole school and they would have had any normal God-fearing teacher calling in the riot-squads with tear gas and rubber bullets. But isn’t that the case with any highschool, really?
Did he really want to spend another day with those people?
... well... up until his Equestria dream last night, Marion had planned to ditch the Zee-PEC unveiling early to head to the dance in question. But since he’d met his mind’s creation – Trixie? He didn’t feel like going anymore.
“Oh, yeah. That. Not really going to that. Couldn’t find a date.” Marion lied. He couldn’t help think that if Trixie were around he’d have no problem showing up to one last gathering of all the inconsistent characters he had put up with for five years of his life. That figment of his imagination had made him realise what a real friend was like. What it was like to make a real difference in someone’s life. More importantly; what it felt like to have someone make a significant difference in his life.
“Since when does the lack of a date stop the animals from partying?” Zimmer almost cried raising his plate of snacks high above his head, giving Marion the impression the old man had been hitting the sauce a little early that night.
The teenager snorted before leaning closer. “Heh. Actually, this is where I’d prefer to be. I spent quite a lot of time around here, probably more than I did at home. Between you and me, general, I’ve kind of been doing your job for you.” – The old man chuckled as Marion elaborated – “Keeping Professor Sinclair on his toes and all that. There was this one time; I stole the sign-in book to see if he’d notice.”
“Oh, so that was you?” came a jarringly familiar voice. Stiffening, Marion squeaked as he looked over his shoulder to see his mother standing nearby, her arms crossly folded across her chest.
Gulping, the teenager managed to maintain his composure enough to flash the general an upbeat smile. “Uh-oh. Is this my queue to fake my own death?”
Moving closer, the colonel gave Zimmer a quick salute. “Excuse us a moment, general. I need to... uh...” Jennifer paused to find the right words. “Discipline my son.” She added seething to the teenager.
Chuckling, General John Zimmer returned the salute to both Chapel and her son. “Well, it’s been nice knowing you, Marion. As you were, colonel.”
Taking her leave, Jennifer grabbed Marion by the ear and dragged him away from the buffet table, Snoopy following a little disappointed.
“Ow! Apples! Apples!”
Jennifer didn’t let go of her complaining son until they reached the control room.
The facility’s control room was very much like the Zee-PEC’s chamber. Adorned with bands and ribbons of wires, server stacks, consoles and multiple flickering screens. It was where the squints would be hanging out for the evening. Though of all the guys in white labcoats operating the computers, Brian was the only one in a black tux and bow-tie.
He sat on a desk-chair behind a main console adorned with dials, switches and buttons. It was at the very front of the control room by a large slanted window looking down over the whole atrium. The party below, the Zee-PEC chamber, event he buffet table were visible through the observation window.
Smiling, Jennifer let go of her son’s ear and pointed him inside. “And try not to steal anything.” She warned before heading to the security terminal to warn the security staff that the Zero Point Energy Converter was ready to fire up.
Marion answered with a grumble as he made his way to where Brian sat.
“All systems are green.” One of the scientists announced.
“General Zimmer finished his drunken speech and we are ready to rock.” Brian announced proudly reaching over his control panel. He hinged open an upturned box revealing a big red button underneath. “Hey, Marr? You wanna do the honours?”
Marion snorted loudly. “And be responsible when it turns out you fucked up your math and this thing blows up killing the universe? No thank you.”
“Sissy.” Jennifer teased as she walked over and sat down beside her boyfriend.
Flashing her a grin, Brian leaned forward and pounded his hand down on the button. A moment later the Zero Point Energy Converter buzzed to life, drawing everybody’s attention.
The inner ring of the device began to spin, whining loudly. Static energy buzzed through the Zee-PEC’s chamber, manifesting in several bolts of lightning arcing through the space. A few guests jolted, other cheered. Eventually the charging hum reached its crescendo and the whole device kicked into high gear.
The chevron shaped locks on the quadrants locked, slamming into place and halting the inner ring in an instant. With a distinct thunk and a rumble that shook the building’s foundations the Zee-PEC built up to the pièce-de-resistance of the show.
Waves of energy gathered around the inner border. A liquid like surface shimmered from the outside inward, meeting at the centre point, and in an explosion that could only be described as a mass of bubbling broth bursting out from within the massive ring, the device activated.
When the rumbling settled, and the light faded, everyone looked to the Zee-PEC and stood in awe. It was like gazing into an upturned puddle of glowing blue energy, some kind of current causing outward ripples to glow brilliant white as they wavered from the centre out.
All dials and lights in the control room were green. There were no explosions, no warnings and no blaring evacuation alarms. Without a doubt, the Zee-PEC was running successfully.
Leaning closer to Brian, Jennifer kissed the relieved looking professor on the cheek. “That’s my man.” She praised proudly.
Staring into the rippling portal, Marion couldn’t help feel he’d seen this before. It was familiar somehow, yet this was the first time he’d ever seen the Zero Point Energy Converter active.
“I know a hundred quantum physicists and multiple-world-theorists who wished they could stand here.” Brian whispered sideways. “Mankind’s first stable portal between dimensions, crossing the spaces between spaces.”
“I saw that episode of Doctor Who too...” Marion whispered back. And then a very important point arose in his brain. “So how does an inter-dimensional portal help the world’s energy crisis, exactly?”
“The world on the other side of that portal has an atmosphere that is literally buzzing with pure energy.” Brian explained. “This portal draws that energy into our world and pulls it into the buffers. Some of that buffered energy is filtered off to maintain the portal. It only takes about thirty percent of the filtered energy. The rest can be drawn from the buffers and converted into anything we like. Heat, electricity, whatever.”
“There’s a catch though, right?” Jennifer asked, taking an interest in the lecture.
“Well, the portal reaches critical mass if it’s unmanaged for too long. From there it’d turn into kind of like a black hole and sort of end the world a little bit.” Brian deadpanned.
Marion scoffed at that revelation. “That’s a pretty big catch!” his voice broke as he exclaimed.
“That’s why we implemented the control crystals.” Brian explained, pointing to the computer equipment flanking the Zee-PEC device. “They manage the portal’s mass carefully and syphon out excess energy, preventing it from suddenly growing and killing us all. Without those we’d have to close the portal every few hours. Now, thanks to those crystals, we can just leave it open and monitor the readings manually just in case.”
“Something tells me there’s a little more to it than that.” Marion commented after a brief pause while scratching his head. Even Snoopy looked confused.
“I’m speaking in ‘Dummy-Marion’ terms of course.” Brian smiled.
“Right. Thanks.”
Marion was trying to come up with a retort for the dummy-Marion thing when the ground shook. The windows rattled in their frames and some dust the cleanup crew had missed filtered down from the ceiling, misting the air around some of the guests. At first it seemed like there was nothing to be worried about. But then the trembling continued. Several more shudders shook the facility, and now the guests were starting to look worried.
Jennifer had already darted across the control room to her own station. She was inspecting the cameras with wide-eyed shock. One by one the screens flashed off and showed only static. Following her gaze, Marion however caught one glimpse of something.
It looked like another Zee-PEC portal opened in thin air right in front of the camera. A second later it flashed to fuzzy snow.
“That can’t be right.” Brian commented checking his own instruments as the tremors failed to end. “Johnson, how are the anchors holding out?”
“The seismographs on the Zee-PEC anchors are on zero!” a scientist in the corner of the room responded. “Whatever that is it’s not coming from the Zee-PEC.”
“Then what-...” Brian stopped himself as he looked through the observation window down at the party below.
The distressed guests were only thrown into further duress when something exploded into the very fabric of space-time in the midst of the dance floor. The band had long since stopped playing. A few folks screamed, jumping out of the way as a puddle of water formed right in front of them. this puddle however defied the laws of logic, much like the Zero Point Energy Converter did. A perfect disk of water, rippled calmly as it stood on end in the middle of the atrium.
Marion realised too late where he had seen the portal before. He recognised it from his dream...
Figures burst out of the portal hanging over the dance floor. Clad from head to toe in dirt brown fatigues, they sported steel ballistic vests under what looked like MOLLE tac-vests complete with magazine pouches and the works rigged to them. gripped in their four fingered claws were the easily distinguishable shapes of Kalashnikov assault rifles, the fusion of steel and wood impossible to mistake. Masks were pulled down over their faces, though it did little to hide their identity as there was only one thing that was built so out of proportion with long gorilla-like arms and bulldog-style faces.
Diamond Dogs.
And they weren’t alone. With them was a small crooked figure, though his posture was not to be mistaken for a weak one. Marion knew all too well the first time he’d tangled with the demonic looking monkey-man who stepped in after several of the Diamond Dogs.
He was impossible to mistake. It was the Collector from Marion’s dream! And if the Collector was impossible to mistake, events that followed should have been predictable.
The Collector and his mutts swept into the atrium leaving everyone bar security speechless. The armed security force ordered to keep the facility secure by any means necessary. When they saw the Diamond Dogs, they didn’t see cartoonish disproportionate creatures. They saw armed militant forces, and responded with appropriate aggression.
Marion flinched as several men cocked their pistols and prepared to fire on the dogs. Any second now a brutal firefight was going to break out, man versus dog... and then the strangest thing happened. Stranger than Diamond Dogs toting machine guns.
Click was the sound that echoed throughout the universe. It was heard by all, as the flash was seen. And in the blink of an eye all of the human soldiers’ guns had turned to ham.
“What the fuck.” Marion whispered. That could only be the work of...
He appeared in a flash of light floating above what had been a party. the Frankenstein of cartoon villains, the embodiment of chaos in behaviour and appearance.
Discord.
Marion pointed, not quite capable of coming up with something smart to say as Discord hovered there, laughing jauntily and spouting something about ‘toy-soldiers.’ But the sudden insanity didn’t end there.
Shadow rose up from the floor around the guards who were confounded by how their guns had turned to ham and were now held at gunpoint by the illegitimate love-children of a mutt and an ape of some kind. The darkness permeated like moisture rising from a hot surface, bubbling through he cracks in the floorboards and misting into the air. The whisps of living shadow seemed to form tendrils that quickly coiled around individuals. The tendrils solidified, grabbing anything they could get a hold of. Wrists, ankles, arms or legs. Marion noted General Zimmer fighting viciously against a tendril dragging him across the floor by the scruff of his neck. All pretty much at once the tendrils of shadow grasped the guests and herded them into a corner away from the doors and the Zee-PEC for the Diamond Dogs to keep an eye on the hostages.
When the tendrils misted once more they shot through the air before solidifying beside where Discord landed, wiping a tear of amusement from his eye. The darkness formed into the familiar shape. Not unlike Princess Celestia or her sister, Luna, the creature solidifying by Discord’s side was a tall, slender alicorn made entirely out of night sky. Clad in pale moonlit armour, Nightmare Moon was impossible to mistake, maniacal laugh and all.
The scientists were going mad trying to quantify everything they were witnessing down in the atrium. Even Brian had lost his mind trying to make sense of it. Somehow he’d thought it a good idea to punch numbers into a calculator, whatever the reason for that was completely lost on the rest of the world. Jennifer Chapel was in an equal panic, desperately trying to rais someone, anyone on the radio. Her entire security staff was down in the atrium and incapacitated, she was on her own until reinforcements arrived.
But since she was only getting static on her radios and phones, that would be if reinforcements arrived.
Marion had stumbled away from the observation window and huddled himself up agiasnt a cold wall. He was seated with Snoopy trembling up against his side. This was happening. This was really happening! They were being attacked by Equestria’s villains.
With a trembling hand, Marion reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His ever faithful, simple little Nokia C2. The one he’d used in his Equestria adventure. He hadn’t thought of checking it. It hadn’t rung all day, so there had been no need to. But in his dream of Equestria he’d taken pictures on it.
If he’d really been there, he’d still have those images, right?
His heart hammering like a machine gun against his ribcage, Marion fumbled for the menu and accessed the gallery. What Marion found in his photo-gallery was a series of brightly coloured pictures.
The first picture was of someone, or rather somepony he thought he’d never see again outside his mind’s eye. An azure pony stood up on a mobile stage, a confident grin plastered over her face as the Great and Powerful Trixie reared up onto her hind legs, cape billowing in the wind.
The second image was of himself. He had one hand wiping away tears in this eyes as Trixie smiled reassuringly by his side. She had an aura of magic engulfing her horn where she magically bandaged up the teenager’s hand after he’d stabbed himself when first attempting to use his climbing-axe as a grappling hook. Instinctively Marion checked his hand to find there was no scar, but being all powerful Discord could have easily healed the distinct mark before teleporting the boy on his way home.
The next image was a panoramic shot of the Equestria landscape. A marble city carved entirely out of the clouds and topped by vibrant rainbows hung high above the glistening valley below.
Moving on he found an image of another human he’d run into on his travels. Andrew Shepherd was frozen in frame, doubled over and laughing alongside Spike the purple baby-dragon; with Ponyville’s librarian Twilight Sparkle standing stunned in the doorway somewhere in the background.
Finally at the end of the album was the brain-smelter. Marion stared at it for several long moments, trying to push down the tears welling in his eyes. The picture was of Trixie and himself. The duo sat on a grassy hill, Equestria spread out behind them. Trixie’s horn was glowing where she magically operated the phone’s camera to get them both in the shot, and the companions were smiling brightly at the lens. Framed behind them was Canterlot, grand and glittering as they had reached the final leg of their journey.
For the second time that day, a reality shattering realisation overwhelmed the boy. Though this time, it wasn’t so cruelly jarring.
“Trixie was real.” He whispered to himself as the human felt a wave of relief crash down over him. His companion had not been a figment of his warped imagination. The time he had spent with her had been real. The way he felt about her... that was real.
Why it felt like he’d swallowed a jar of butterflies as he thought of Trixie, the teenager couldn’t tell.
But clearly it has to do with the time-tempered phrase; there is someone for everybody. And clearly for everybody there is – in some exceptional cases – somepony...
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HOLY SHIT BATMAN! THE KING OF JOKERS JUST CRASHED THE FUCKING PARTY!
Well. This is bad.
GOD DAMNIT IT ENDED TO SOON.
Damn good chapter though.
i2.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/288/685/a02.jpg
...
Wow thats one way to crash a party.
and with excess ham to go with it
whens the next one going to be released?
'Marion'...
.....
More! And quick! I can't wait too long for this suspense!
Please, your like holding out on us man!
What a tease!
Great chapter, seriously! I Loved this!
Take my mustachios!!!
I wonder who is going to save the day... I get the feeling Rabbit/Marion won't be able to do it all by himself.
Damn... i still read these chapters and never learn how to tell a story with such detail myself...
Oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, snap
well.....I suppose quite a lot of shit is about to go down. Go pony?
rematch?
DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU TOO HELL! I'VE NEVER BEEN AS FRUSTRATED BY A CLIFFHANGER BEFORE!!!! WWWWWWHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYY (also totally called it)
I.
I want.
I want MOAR!
... You stole the idea for the Zee-PEC from stargate atlantis.
... I have no issue with this
My brain is now planning to lapse into a coma.
I do wonder what will happen next.
Hoooolly shit now i read the whole story in one go and was expecting it to continue and then BAM cliffhanger and no new chapter!!
I feel horrible right now!
HORRIBLE!
Star Gate SG1 refrance, Damn, I was actually expecting Teal'c, Carter, Daniel and Colonal O'Neil to come through that fucking thing XD
Ass Kicking!
Wonderful chapter!
~Have a good one.
So is Rabbit going to go into the portal or are his friends going to come out of it?
1630765
Why not both?
well, Discord certainly knows how to 'ham it up'!
I think the fact that I was listening to Green and Blue from Halo 4 during the beginning, then Nemesis (also from Halo 4) near the end made this so much better. And it was already great without some unintentional music.
1632608
That's funny. I was listening to the Halo 4 OST while finishing up this chapter too.
1633012
Strange minds think alike.
I think that is the sign for everyone to untrack this.
but but the AK is a simple gun to dismantle Russian soldiers sometimes dismantled them in battle no problem only 8 main parts and once you have practiced the rock reload its a very easy and efficient method
Clearly, he needs to go to "Bleach"-verse and have Ichigo perform the final Getsuga on Discord while Urahara stealthily implants his high-level sealing spells in the evil spirit.
It worked great against God-mode Aizen!
Sudden realization face would've been epic
I would like to say first that I have loved your stories and writing so far. Just a little problem with some details. Don't be mad or think I'm an asshole.
I have been a gun lover all my life, i shoot in competitions (3 gun mainly), and I'm in the Army as an infantryman right now and this story made me a little butt hurt. Come on a female navy col going on about how react to a jam in a firefight? Please, like she would ever be out into that situation. Seriously seems out of chacter for a female officer in the Navy. I also found your bit on the AK to be quite funny.there is nothing hard about AK disassembly or cleaning. The recoil is also mild to say the least and mag changes aren't hard. I guess I'm saying its just a bit over done. Oh and for a stovepipe you only have to rack the slide, you don't have to drop the mag ;)
Oh that 9mm glock 20 something your thinking about is the glock 26. I'm very picking when I see firearms in movies, shows, and stories....
Well, I look forward to your next chapter.
"You're late."
hors d'oeuvres
Oh.... MY.... GOD. THIS. WAS. AMAZING.
And now onward, to the next chapter! Allons-y!
To add to the spelling changes, it's not his queue to fake his own death, though it could be his cue.
This chapter I almost skipped. I didn't regret reading this at all. Yet again, lucky bastard.
Great fanfiction, but a serious, serious, SERIOUS mistake. I must be the first Bulgarian to read this... Bulgaria never had any nuclear reprocessing plants. You've got us confused with some other former Soviet republic.
I don't mean to be a jerk about this and I don't mean any real offense, but this chapter was, by far, the most difficult to get through. I'm sorry, but I can only sugar-coat constructive criticism so much. However, if you're anything like Marion, I'm sure you can handle this lengthy rant in good stride.
First, the nasty part of this comment:
How you described everything in Interval 4.1 with such meaningless detail, so often, was painful. I mean, honestly, did you absolutely have to go into such excruciatingly long descriptions on his dog's breed or his skateboard's custom paint job? I found myself just jumping to the next paragraph more often than should be allowed. Seriously. It went from clothes to "Oh God, he's explaining how to clear a stovepipe."
The same holds true for your fight scenes. They go on forever and you go into waaaay too much detail on how exactly each foot is placed and which fist is thrown, that people just get lost in the madness. No, I'm not going to follow where your left foot goes and where your right hand hits like some kind of mental Twister game. Keep it short and keep it simple.
That whole morning's scene with Marion, his mom, and Brian seemed like it was directly ripped out from a bad 90's movie. Just switch some words out and, 'Bingo!' Uninteresting dialog with flat characters. Maybe Marion wanted to talk to somebody about his out-of-body experience. That could have been an interesting conversation. A military mom with a hallucinogenic son would make amazing reading material.
The first half of this fan fiction was fantastic. I realize that this is, probably first and foremost, a comedy writing, but the romantic and down-to-earth interactions between Rabbit and Trixie were always priceless. Things got cringe-inducingly weird with the whole Luna/Trixie human-transfiguration kiss contest, but I'm wiling to throw that into some water under a bridge.
The very concept of a human making a dishonest living among ponies is mind-numbingly awesome. I'll give you that. But when Marion returns to the human world, he demonstrates to the reader that the main character, in fact, didn't develop at all. Seriously? After all he's been through, all the things he had done and seen, he saunters into the high-class party with aviator sunglasses (at night, mind you), a skateboard on his backpack, and a dog in tow? True, while he had made his living in Equestria neck-deep in deceit, and passed the whole experience off as a dream, he still should have learned something.
The way that he just sauntered in that party like he owned the place showed that he hadn't matured at all. He went to Equestria as a child and then came out a child. I could be wrong, but I'm willing to bet money that by the end of this grand tale, whenever that'll be, he'll still be the same, selfish, megalomaniac kid as he started out to be.
Realistically, he would been at the very least the teeniest bit sad that Trixie, as he knew her, never existed in the first place. But no. He'll just drool like an idiot over just one pancake and then describe to us at how unbelievably 'rad' his skateboard is, like some 'cool 90's kid'. How old is Marion anyways? Up until now, I would have guessed that he was 17-19, but, honestly, after this chapter, it's going to be hard to imagine him any older than 11. Actually, how does an obvious idiot like Marion, who apparently skips out on the last half-hour of class, graduate while still a teenager? Unless you count 18 to 19 'teen' ages, I don't see it.
I also don't understand how Marion dislikes his name, but then casually introduces himself with it to General Zimmer. Consistency, man.
Final point: YOU NEVER SALUTE AN OFFICER INDOORS. I made that mistake before and it is a violently embarrassing situation. Thank Celestia that General Zimmer was apparently too drunk to notice.
Now for the nicer part:
I like this story. Really. I like it a lot. Hence, my reason for ranting when I saw it ingloriously 'crash and burn' in this chapter. So don't take this as an offence, since, in actuality, it is a huge compliment. I want to see you and this story grow and flourish in future chapters so here's some unsolicited advice that you may or may not already know.
For starters, the reader is pretty much on a perpetual need-to-know basis. They'll need to know enough to have a mental image, but they don't necessarily need to know how many buttons your character has on their button-up shirt. You also don't need to describe exactly what color shirts the character is wearing and in what order he puts them on. If you do this every single time he changes clothes, it gets very ridiculous, very fast.
Second, focus less on the 'What' and more on the 'Who'. It's the difference between, say, Michael Bay's Transformers and Jurassic Park. Explosions are cool and all, but even if you have a sack-load of dinosaurs roaming around, it's that human element that really captures the hearts and minds of your audience. Tying that back to the topic, nobody at the fancy party mentioned the skateboard tied to his backpack or his aviator sunglasses. Yet, you mentioned them in the narrative. Apparently, they were just there. Their only purpose was to add to the supposedly overwhelming amount of "awesome" exuding from Marion.
Lastly, the most important advice I can give is my #1 rule: "Make sense." You might be thinking, "What fun is there in making sense?" My answer to that is LOADS. Mouthfuls of fun for everyone when stories make sense. It makes the story believable and as a result, immersive. A good narrative draws the reader in and holds them there, securing them to something they want to be secured to.
Does it really make sense that a high school graduate would be so dense as to completely miss every sexual innuendo thrown at him? I'm guessing that you graduated high school and you're the one that's writing them! So, why are they blowing over Rabbit's head? Not to mention that apparently Rabbit's school was a cesspool of rambunctious teenagers. If he was raised in a christian school or a nun sanctuary, it would make sense, but not with Rabbit's background. A background, by the way, that includes Xbox Live. That alone would break in virgin ears.
Does it make sense that the same guy that showed enough humility and charity to toss away thousands of bits worth of diamonds for a new school to display a one-man parade in front of people that have sacrificed more than he ever could? Who knows how many friends and fellow soldiers General Zimmer saw die on the battlefield for the pathetic, little, thumb-sucker to keep his take-for-granted freedom? I'm sorry, but as a soldier myself, that rubs me in all kinds of the wrong way.
Also, calm down on the 'bullet-time' bits. I've been in plenty of high-stress situations and not once did time slow down like that. In reality, you don't feel your heart beat or the air blowing past, in fact, you don't really feel anything. When adrenaline takes over, you're too focused on what you're doing to be worried about the wind caressing your hair or your ears hearing soft, pinprick noises. In the end, it all winds up happening too fast to be anything other than a messy blur.
Final point to "Making sense": Using the excuse, "I'm in a land of technicolor ponies that talk, so don't question it" isn't clever or original. Especially when used over and over and over again. I'm a pretty avid fan of Human in Equestria stories and I see this reasoning so often, that I find it no longer funny and has lost all meaning to me long ago. Explaining how a character got to where he did may be difficult, but it helps make an immersive story. Writing it off with the lame excuse above or its equally hackneyed twin "Because Magic" is just lazy writing.
Those first few chapters show that you have crazy good potential for writing out exceptional story ideas, but you have to put forth the effort to write a good story consistently.
I know that there's a lot here that would be considered mean and discouraging, but like I said before, I honestly like this story. I did this in the hopes that you know what to do to become a better storyteller. So don't stop writing, just do a better job at it.
If you skipped all of that for the TL;DR version, here it is: Get your lazy butt back up there and read everything.
Well, there goes the neighbourhood!!!
Zeepec
OPEC
I see what you did there
My friends dog when you mention walk will start barking and racing around the door. Also if you say squirrel he’ll do the same and actually try to look for one