"Wake up. Now!"
A pony, who was unconscious on the floor, stirred and opened his eyes. He couldn't see anything... or feel anything! He sat up quickly and looked around. Nothing. Nothing but black. At first, he thought the room had no lights on, but that theory was proven wrong when he looked at his hoofs. He could see them fine.
"Don't panic," said a voice in the shadows, "You aren't where you are. You will never be where you are unless I put you there."
The pony looked around, confused out of his mind about what he was hearing.
"Who are you?" The pony asked the darkness, and he realized his voice was high and young.
"I'm no pony. I'm also every pony, including you. I've poured my life and soul into you, and you will listen very carefully to what I have too say."
The pony saw something walking towards him out of the darkness. It looked like an old unicorn with wrinkles drawn over his facial features.
"First of all," he said as he walked, "You are incomplete. You have a body, but no taste. I can change that."
The pony suddenly felt his body rising, and he realized he was levitating in midair, if there was air.
"I think I'll make you a peach-skinned pony," the unicorn said, and a hot, tingling feeling passed through the pony as if something was pouring paint over him.
"Let's give you a lab coat," the unicorn continued, "and some glasses."
The pony felt fabric being put on him, and a pair of round glasses appeared on his face.
"And a cap!"
A blue cap appeared on the pony's head.
"Let's give you green eyes," the unicorn pressed on, seeming to enjoy himself now, "And a long, blonde mane and tail."
The pony could feel his hair growing longer, and some of it began covering his eyes. He shoved it behind his head, annoyed.
"Now for your personality," the unicorn stated thoughtfully, "You're a thinker. You love to think about things. And you're cutie mark will be a green question mark. You are twenty-three years of age."
The pony felt his flanks burning lightly, and he thought that something was pushing hot coals on them. He grunted silently from the pain.
"I will now give you your name," the unicorn said, "You will call yourself... Ponderson."
A pin appeared in front of the pony, and it stuck itself into the lab coat he was wearing. He picked it up with his hoofs and looked at it closely, and he saw engraved on it, "Ponderson".
"I'd say you have been perfected at last," the unicorn sighed as he gazed up at Ponderson, "I will give you your assignment now."
Ponderson felt the levitation cut off, and he fell to the ground with a thunk. He landed on the pin attached to his jacket, and it dug into his chest painfully.
"Get up," the unicorn said in disgust as Ponderson groaned, "Get up and get over it."
Ponderson struggled too stand up as he pulled the pin out of his chest. Why hadn't the unicorn had the of adding a cover?
"I'm sorry," said the unicorn in a would-be apologetic voice, "Did I forget to add a cover for your wittle pin?"
Ponderson felt a lump press against his bleeding wound. The next second, he didn't even feel a wound. He looked down at his lab coat and he didn't see a blood stain!
"Go ahead and waste all the time you want! Time doesn't even apply, here! But if you're done, I think I'll move onto your mission."
Ponderson looked back at the unicorn, who was looking at him and tapping his hoof impatiently.
"There's an airplane flying towards City 13 right now. Combine forces are going to take it down, reason being there's an important pony up there by the name of Ashfeld. She is supposed to be the one to defeat the Combine in the near future, which is why they are going to attack. Find her and get her off the plane. You can do what you wish after that."
"And what if the plane crashes?" Pondeson asked.
The unicorn shrugged, "I have plenty of back-ups if you fail. In the mean time, you're on your own. Good luck." The unicorn turned around and began walking away.
"Wait!" Ponderson cried suddenly. He had more questions to ask!
"Wait?" said a voice next to him, "Wait for what?"
Ponderson looked beside him and met the eyes of a red pony. She had red and black striped hair, and she was looking at him in confusion. Ponderson looked around again and he realized he wasn't with the unicorn anymore. He was on a plane.
Ponderson was seated to the far left and had a window seat. He gazed outside the window, expecting to see grass and trees, when instead he saw a field burning. It was smoking, and Ponderson could barely see anything else. The sky was a deep brown, and an urban city was visible in the distance
"Hey, buddy," the pony said, leaning towards him and speaking in his ear, "Don't shout, please. Ponies are looking."
Ponderson looked down the isle, and indeed, ponies were staring down at him.
"When did you even get here?" she asked him, "I don't recall sitting next to you."
"Strange," Ponderson admitted. How did he get here? Where was the unicorn?
"So," she said awkwardly, "What, uh, what are you planning on doing in City 13?"
"What do I-" Ponderson stuttered, "I... I'm looking for some pony there."
"Mind if I ask who?" the red pony asked curiously.
"Well, from what I can remember, her name's Ashfeld."
"Ashfeld?" she repeated, surprised.
"Yeah," Ponderson said, looking at her hopefully, "Do you know her?"
She scoffed, "I should. She's me!"
Ponderson stared at her in surprise.
"Mission accomplished, right?" she said, chuckling.
"Yeah," Ponderson said again, "Mission accomplished... I'm Ponderson." He held out a hoof.
"Briquette Ashfeld," she stated proudly as she shook his hoof, "But you can call me Ash. So, what were you looking for me for?"
"Uh," Ponderson thought for a moment. Should he tell her?
He was saved the thought of an awkward conversation stopper be the sound of a distant explosion. He and Ash looked out the window, ad they saw one of the buildings in front of them collapsing. Ponies were falling out of it to there deaths on the streets below, and those would might survive would surely be crushed by the smoldering wreckage. Ponderson took off his glasses to get a better look, which turned out too be a stupid idea; he couldn't see without his glasses.
"It's horrible, isn't it?" A voice said behind them. Ponderson turned his head around to see the seats behind him, and he saw a blue colt was looking at him. His ear lopes were torn.
"Very," he said, "What's happening down there? Do you know?"
The colt chuckled, "Yes, I'm afraid to say I do know. Better than any pony, probably."
"Could you tell us?" Ponderson asked, but at that moment something happened to make the plane swerve tremendously off course. Ponies were screaming, and Ponderson had to grip onto the seat's armrest to prevent from sliding down the isle as the plane shot downwards.
"What the hell was that!?" Ponderson shouted to the colt over the screams from other ponies, including Ash.
"Turbulence!" he shouted sarcastically, "It was a Combine rocket, dumbass!"
Ponderson looked out the window, which was cracked now, and saw that the wing was on fire. He also saw that they were heading straight for a field that was crawling with things he couldn't make out.
"And what's that!?" He shouted to the colt.
The colt looked out the window, and his eyes widened.
"Death!" He shouted back, "I'd hold onto your hat if I were you!"
Ponderson took off his hat, and as he did so, the plane came crashing into the field. A large piece of plane flew off and hit him hard on the head, and he remembered nothing more.
"Get him out! He's breathing! He's breathing!"
"I can tell he's breathing, ma'am, thank you very much!"
"Oh, aren't you the politest..."
Ponderson came too, and the first thing he realized was that he was still in the plane. the second thing he realized was that he was being dragged by his forelegs. His glasses were hanging off one ear, and his hat was smoking. All around him the sound of alarms and air being released from tanks filled his ears.
"How're you doing, Ponderson?"
He looked at to see who was dragging him, and met the eyes of Ash.
"Headache," Ponderson said simply.
"Well, that figures," a voice said in behind him, and he turned to see the blue pony from earlier, "I'm still marveled that you survived with that blow you took. An entire seat to the head! You have a thick skull, you do."
"I hope that was a complement," Ash said as she dragged Ponderson off the plane. A different sound now occupied his ears. A sort of groaning, like something was in agonizing pain.
"Aw, crap!" The blue pony said, reaching into a suitcase (which Ponderson guessed was his) and took out an Uzi, "I hope you can walk, Ponzy, because I predict we'll all be dead if you continue to slow us down like this."
"Yeah, I can walk," Ponderson grunted. Ash dropped him and he struggled to regain balance. He fixed his glasses to see what was making the noise.
"How did you get that through airport security?" Ash asked the blue pony, staring at the gun with a horrified look on her face.
"I know a few ways too dodge the law," he said, "I know how too do many things."
"Well, do you know what those things are?" Ponderson asked, pointing out into the field they crashed into.
Ash and the pony looked where he was pointing, and they saw about four dozen bloody Earth Pony corpses crawling towards them. Their chests were torn open, revealing their rib cage, heart, and lungs. It looked like they were wearing fleshy helmets.
"Those are headcrab zombies, my friend," the blue pony stated, "And these are ear plugs. You should put them on for now."
He threw a pair of ear plugs to Ponderson and Ash, who caught them and stuffed them into their ears while the blue pony did the same. He cocked his weapon and fired at the zombies, hitting and killing six of them.
"Go!" he mouthed to Ponderson and Ash, "I'll catch up!"
They took off running left towards a cave. More and more headcrabs kept showing up, and Ash nearly tripped over one as she ran. They weren't five more steps away from the cave entrance when something came and clasped onto Ponderson's head. He went blind, his ear plugs vanished, and he tumbled to the ground. He could hear Ash screaming as he tried to pry the thing off his face, but it wouldn't come loose. He could feel veins running into his temple, and he started to relax. He was dying, he thought as his struggling eased, he was surly dying.
At that moment, however, he heard a gun fire, and the thing attached to his head slid off. He could see again, but he was sweating tremendously. He wiped his face with his hoofs and looked behind him, and he saw the blue pony running up to them. Ash grabbed Ponderson by his hoof and help him up, and they ran into the cave together.
"Quick!" Ash said as she took out her ear plugs, "Help me barricade the entrance!"
The blue pony came running in, firing his gun madly, and Ponderson went momentarily deaf. He plugged his ears and couldn't tell what was happening. All he could see was a group of bodies crawling in, a body zooming inside, and everything going dark.
Silence.
"Ah," said an unfamiliar, gruff voice, "Sorry 'bout that. Any pony got a light?"
Ponderson was blinded by a brightness that flashed unexpectedly. He grunted in pain, shielding his eyes. When his eyes adjusted, he saw the blue pony holding a lantern, Ash copying Ponderson, and a new pony sitting on a rock. He was a brown Pegasus pony, with a dirty blond mane and tail. His eyes were purple, and it looked like he hadn't shaved in days.
"Apologizes," the blue pony said when he saw me and Ash, and he turned the light down. I relaxed in this amount of britghness and turned to gaze at the newcomer.
" 'Ello, lads!" He said brightly, "Who are you all?"
"Who are we?" the blue pony said , "You just trapped us in this rotten cave! And you want to friendly talk us?"
"Didn't mean it!" The Pegasus said, "Winchester's me name, and I'm flyin' low over the country side away from City 12 over thar, and I see this plane goin' down. And I wonders, 'What in the name of Celestia happened over 'ere?' So I come soarin' over, hopin' there'd be survivors, when I see three ponies runnin' towards this cave. I flew over quickly as i could, ran into a boulder, and I dazed meself. As it came topplin' down, I came to me senses and flew right in 'ere too make sure every pony was safe and sound."
"Oh, yeah!" The blue pony sarcastically, "Yeah, we're fine here! Just a little case of stranded in a cave, is all!"
"Be greatful yer alive," Winchester said grumpily, "Now, I told ye my name, now what's yers?"
"You may call me Typhoon," the blue pony said , "Typhoon and proud too be so!"
"Right," Winchester said in an annoyed tone, and he turned to Ash, "And what be your name?"
"Briquette Ashfeld," she answered cooperatively, "But I go by Ash."
"Ash..." Winchester repeated, and he turned to Ponderson, "And what 'bout you?"
"Ponderson," he said, "My name's Ponderson."
Winchester looked around at all of us, reciting our name aloud, "Typhoon, Ash, Ponderson. And what be yer special talents?" he added eagerly.
"What is this to you?" Typhoon questioned angrily, "A camp-out?"
"," Winchester said simply, and Typhoon scoffed.
"My special talent is in pyrotechnics," Ash said quickly, and Ponerson looked at her in surprise. Pyrotechnics?"
"Really, now?" Winchester asked, and it became clear he was just as surprised as Ponderson was, "What's yer cutie mark?"
Ash rolled onto her back to reveal her flanks, and on each of them was a single burning flame.
"What about you?" Ash asked him curiously.
"I'm specially talented in winning!" Winchester announced, "Heck, it's in me name!"
Typhoon broke out into a fit of hysterics.
"Winning?" He laughed , once he regained control of his voice, "Your talent is winning? Then why is your cutie mark a beer bottle?"
"Maybe because I'm best at winning drinking games!" Winchester suggested furiously, "And do I have to ask what yers be? Probably along the lines o' gettin' on every ponies nerves or makin' sure no pony likes you!"
"Ponies like me!" Typhoon yelled, "Just because a fat drunk like you doesn't like me-"
"What did you just call me!?" Winchester roared as he stood up from the rock he was sitting on.
"I hate having to repeat myself, but I'll make an exception!" Typhoon shouted, "I said you were a fat drunk! Or are you too inebriated to understand me!?"
Winchester started towards Typhoon, and Ponderson got up and tried to hold him back, but it was like trying to stop a steam roller. He bulldozed over him easily, and he leaped at Typhoon. He would've beaten him to a pulp if Ash hadn't tackled Typhoon out of the way.
"What are you doing!?" She screeched, "We can't fight each other already! We hardly know each other!"
"He called me a fat drunk!" Winchester cried.
"And you're taking it very maturely!" Typhoon yelled from under Ash, "In the meantime, after I apologize, could you get this mare off of me?"
Ponderson sat up and realized he couldn't see anything again, but knew it wasn't dark. He felt his face, and he discovered his glasses were no longer on the bridge of his nose.
"Hey!" He called out, "Could you three stop messing around and help me find my glasses?"
"Yes!" Typhoon shouted, "Let's go help Ponderson! Let's help him and forget this ever happened!"
"I second that," Ash agreed.
"Oh, alright," Winchester grunted, "But I haven't forgiven him yet."
Ponderson crawled around on the floor of the cave, feeling for his glasses, when a sharp pain stuck into his right hoof. He cried, and Ash came hurrying up.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Something stabbed me!" Ponderson said, bringing his hoof close to his face to see it better. There was a shard of glass in stuck his hoof, and he was bleeding slowly.
"Uh-oh," Ash said, scooping something up and causing a rattling noise, "I think I found your glasses, Ponderson."
He sighed. "They're broken, aren't they?"
"Broken glasses?" Typhoon's voice called, "Chester, look what you did!"
"I did nothin'!" Winchester argued, "Don't start a whole nother argument!"
"I'm just saying," Typhoon said calmly, "You did run him over like a freight train."
Winchester opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, but it seemed that he couldn't come up with a reply, so he kept it closed.
"I'm sure we can fix them," Ash soothed, "We just need someone whose special talent is fixing! Typhoon?"
"Not me, ma'am," Typhoon said, "My special talent is in predictions."
"Now wait just a minute!" Winchester piped up, "If you're special talent is predicting, then why is your cutie mark a storm cloud?"
"Because I am exceedingly well in predicting weather," Typhoon answered, "And I can't predict whether or not we'll be able to get out of here or when."
Winchester chuckled. "Whether," he laughed, "I see what you did there."
They soon came to an agreement that they needed to get out of the cave soon and find some pony who could fix Ponderon's glasses. Typhoon and Winchester tried to move the boulder blocking the way out, but it wouldn't budge. Ash joined in, and still nothing. Finally they had to help Ponderson over and ave him push with them. Nothing.
" 's no use." Winchester said groaned, giving up and sitting back on his rock.
"I predict we'll never get out," Typhoon moaned, sitting next to Winchester, "And you smell."
"Typhoon," Winchester said, "Are you always complaining about everything?"
"Life is nothing but complaints," Typhoon answered in a bored tone, "Might as well get used to it."
Ash, though every pony had given up, kept ramming herself into the boulder. She pushed and pushed for a full five minutes, and it didn't help at all.
"Help!" She shouted, startling the other three, "Some pony help!"
"No pony's gonna hear ya," Winchester said, but Ash kept shouting.
"Help! Some pony, help! We're in the cave!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming! Hold your horses!"
Every pony froze. Did some pony just answer?
