//------------------------------// // CH7: One Walkman Man // Story: A Stallion's Man // by Spirit Shift //------------------------------// Through the tides of costumed fans and wandering otaku, a man in yellow strode forth, his cape billowing in the winds of rushing fanatics and his bald head radiated brilliantly from hours of pre-con buffering. Today was the day that this great hero would shine brighter than all the other costumed collective that now surround him. As this brave hero paraded proudly through the massive array of vendors and merchants, a single stall caught his eye, amongst the cheap knick-knacks and assorted junk a single item announced itself for all to see. A limited edition, collectors, ten-inch Genos figurine. It was single-handedly crafted to be exact in every way and proportioned to the last hair on his perfectly sculpted head. The very sight of such a rare collectible sent the hero into a tizzy of unbridled fanboyish glee. In a mad dash, he rushed to the item nearly drooling in rapturous joy. In his glorious triumph, he accidentally sent flying the small handheld walkmen that had been lying on the edge of the table. Without a second thought, the hero reached forth his red-gloved hand mere inches away from the prized collectible. With a resounding snap, the hero whips back his hand from the ruler that launched out from behind the counter. The hero looks up to see a strangely dressed man behind the stall, his face shrouded and oddly out of focus. “I can see you’re interested in my wares,” the merchant said whistling slightly as he spoke. The hero nodded enthusiastically. His hand reaching back and pulling his wallet free. The merchant raised his hand and laughed eerily from his position. “There will be no need for that my friend. Money is the last thing I need, please just take it. But be warned, you might find it comes with a price far steeper than any mere coin.” The hero stood in shock at the merchant's offer, his head tilted in confusion. He had already reached for the figure, but at hearing the merchant’s final sentence, he had stalled his hand. “Hey, woah, who dropped the Walkman?” In his hesitation, the hero contemplated his decision as another man had approached the stall. The merchant and the hero turned to look at a smiling Barrett walked over with the Walkman in hand. The hero blinked in confusion. The merchant, on the other hand, shot out from behind his stall. “No, that was not for you,” the merchant howled. swiping for the radio only for Barrett to step back. “Hey, I was just looking, calm down old ma--” The Walkman started to glow, softly at first, but in an instant, it exploded in light and Barrett was gone. The merchant shifted his view about and finally stopped on the hero who now stood dumbfounded. The merchant coughed and motioned toward his stall. “So, uh! Where were we?” The hero looked back over at the trinkets and back to where the other man had vanished and for a moment the two sat in complete silence. Then in a single motion, the hero delivered a heavy punch to the merchant’s face knocking him to the ground. The merchant looked up in shock and the hero smiled to himself having delivered quick and timely justice. Barrett, on the other hand, was not having such a great time. After the flash, his body was warped as if being sucked through a bendy straw, and the light only grew brighter as he waited for his inevitable death. --- Then as suddenly as it began it was over, Barrett opened his eyes to see himself floating in the air. Looking down he saw lush trees surrounding the area, and nearby there seemed to be some sort of large town. Before he could see more gravity decided to take hold. “Shit!” he cursed as he fell through the air. Crashing into a large bush, the human luckily only managed to destroy several branches. Even so, he still cringed in pain from the sudden impact. “What the hell happened?” he groaned, trying to push himself off of the bush. Then there was a sharp crack as the Walkman landed on his head. “Gah,” Barrett yelped tenderly rubbing his head and glaring at the Walkman which sat perfectly fine on the ground beside him. Barrett rose to his feet and grabbed the blasted device and looked about and around at the various trees and fauna. “It’s a forest,” he muttered. “I’m am a forest with no way back.” Barrett always the calm thinker, weighed his options. “I could stay here or I could die... I could look for other people or die, I could find shelter or die, OR I could end up manticore droppings, also known as DYING!” “Better go with option three.” Stuffing the walkman away, he began to walk aimlessly down a path, moving a few low hanging branches out of his way. He couldn’t make heads or tails of his surroundings. “Oh come on, this can’t be happening,” Barrett complained, he rubbed the back of his head. “Not even five minutes in and already I am lost.” Barrett stopped when he heard a twig snapping, “Hello, is anyone there?” He was only greeted with silence. “Oh man, this is starting to feel like one of those cheesy horror films… I hope I’m not the asshole victim that gets killed in the first five minutes.” He resumed his aimless trail. The words were barely out his lips before a bush began to rustle. It caught Barrett off guard and he took an offensive stance. “I’m warning you. I’m like a wild animal when cornered! I’ll shove my fist so far up your ass you will have knuckle marks on your spleen!” He raised his fist in the air towards the bush. A rabbit hopped out of the bush. It gazed towards Barrett and then took off running. “Something about that rabbit looks… It looked familiar,” he mumbled, trying to pretend that he hadn't just used his best insult on a rabbit. Barrett walked down another path, he soon saw a run-down wooden shack, “Well, seems like I’m not the victim.” he said to himself. He walked over towards the door of the shack, he reached to grip the knob and gave it a twist. Barrett pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Not what I expected, but I’m not complaining. Whoever owned this place really left in a hurry,” he said, walking over to a chair and sitting down on it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath. “Okay, I really didn’t think this through. Where are the ponies, zebras or even the griffons? Anything at this point, but no...” he paused. “I get stuck in a dark and gloomy forest.” Barrett said, crossing his arms. He looked around the shack. “I really want to know which God did this so I could punch them in the face.” He notices a rusty tool rack nearby, on the rack was an assortment of hastily forgotten tools, each coated in a layer of dust and the beginnings of rust. “So, God decided to drop me by an old lumber mill?” He got up, going to get a closer look at the tools. Barrett slowly reached out towards one of the hanging hatchets. Hatchet in hand, Barrett gave the tool a slow twirl. As he runs his finger on the flat side of the ax, small bits of rust flake off the worn metal. "This could work,” he said to himself after giving the axe a few practice swings. Barrett walked back to the chair, this whole ordeal has been a bit tiresome to him. He gave a huge yawn and then leaned back. “Damn, I’m tired…" he uttered, stretching. “It’s getting late and I should catch some shuteye,” Barrett mumbled, setting the hatchet down on the table. He kicks back and relaxes in the chair. Barrett yawned and rubbed his arms in the cool dank air of the humble little shack. “Tomorrow is the day everything will go right.” --- “So much for things going right, or things making any sense for that matter,” Barrett said knuckles white as the hatchet in hand arched with every exuberant leap of the human’s desperate retreat. The sounds of hooves pounded the earth behind him. A stone whizzed inches from his head as he dashed further into the forest he’d made his base. “Monster.” “Foalnapper.” “Beast.” All names the herd of rampaging ponies pointedly plodding after the peculiar person that made a presence in their particular place of residence used to describe the pitiable Berret. “I didn’t do nothing,” Berret fired back into the crowd, to be met with another volley of stones. The chase had been going for a bit and Berrett the pinnacle of human perfection he was, was in fact on the brink of collapse. His chest heaving as he stumbled mindlessly through an endless procession of pines. It was just as the human was on the brink of total collapse that he found a ditch on the bank of a babbling creek. Berret’s eyes flashed between the ditch and the ponies, the ponies, and the ditch. He took a deep breath and counted back from three. As he passed a rather large pine, the line of sight broke and he made his leap of faith. “Well, either this works or I get trampled to death, here goes.” Barrett hit the dirt hard, landing stomach first on a rather unforgiving stone. A rocking pain ran through his body as he desperately bit his tongue, hand over mouth as the angry mod grew closer. The sound of bodies slowing from a mad sprint to a canter and finally, a casual canter sent a shiver down the waiting human’s spine. Murmurs joined the babbling of the creek to Barrett's side. “Now, where the heck did the beast make off to?” One unseen pursuer asked. “I dunno, seems like we scared it right good, doubt it’ll come back either way,” another pony said. Barrett smiled behind his hand internally nodding along with the merciful pony above. “But it could talk, it might try being all sneaky and attack when our back’s are turned,” a third pony said voice lower as if expecting ease-droppers. “Oh come on, Broadside, I doubt if it can talk it's that dumb. I mean there’s like twenty of us and only one of them,” the reasonable pony from before responded. Barrett could feel the warmth of the sun, a simple hope, a feeble hope. The savior had come. “I guess not, fine, but don’t come crying to me if you get eaten,” the earlier stallion, Broadside said, scoffing as hooves began to shuffle. The voices and hoof steps growing more distant with each second. “Thank you,” Barrett whispered to himself, hands clasped, hatchet still ready in hand together as he gazed into the sky. After a solid minute of no hooves, rocks or Broadside, Barrett stood with a hearty groan, freehand rubbing his aching stomach. “That was close.” “Yep, you’re lucky mister, it’s good that grown-ups aren’t all that smart,” The voice caught the perplexed human by surprise sending him tumbling back butt first into the creek behind him. “Guess you’re a grown-up too, huh?” the voice said, giggling at Barrett's sudden tumble. Barrett cursed under his breath and took in the view of his foe. A small, like a super small spotted filly, stood at the edge of the ditch smiling merrily at the waterlogged human. “I thought, you were done chasing me?” Barrett asked, as he stood and slogged his soggy butt out of the chilly waters. “The grown-ups gave up, but I’m a brave adventurer, so I knew I’d find you,” The filly said throwing a hoof into the air and beaming proudly. “Oh gee, well ya found me, now what?” Barrett asked as he hopped up from the ditch his eyes baring down on the tiny filly. “Wanna be friends?” the filly asked. Barrett blinked, coughed, blinked again and finally shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” The filly jumped about grin even wider than before. “I did it, I befriended a monster. I am the best adventurer ever.” At that moment, the fear in Barrett's heart was overwhelmed by a far more powerful emotion. The emotion of getting diabetes from watching something so cute it should legally be classed as a form of biological warfare. When the filly finally stopped, Barrett shrugged again. “Well, if we’re gonna be friends, I guess we'll need names, right?” “Oh right. I'm Smallfry, it’s nice to meet ya,” the filly said followed by a proud salute. “Hmm, kinda cruel to name a kid that, but okay. I’m Barrett, nice to meet you too.” Barrett said giving a salute of his own. “So, Mr. Barrett what kind of monster are you anyways?” Smallfry asked. “The worst of em’ all, I’m a human,” Barrett said with the added effect of wiggled fingers to each side of his face. “R-really the, worst kind, like ever?” Smallfry asked with a surprisingly audible gulp. “Pfft, Nah, I’m human, but I’m a rather chill guy, I think,” Barrett said as he dropped to one knee. “So, uh Smallfry, can I ask you a favor?” The filly tapped a hoof to her chin for a moment before giving a small nod. “I guess so.” “Well, ya see, I kinda may have started living in a woodshed somewhere in these woods. But, after that little chase scene, I’m kind of lost. You wouldn’t know how to get back there would ya?” “You mean the abandoned super off-limits, totally dangerous wood mill?” Smallfry asked one brow raised as she took a few steps closer. “Yeah,” Barrett answered eyes slowly offuscating the surrounding area. For a brief moment, Barrett pondered if asking a child where a super secluded abandoned building in the forest was a smart idea after all. “Of course.” I actually live pretty close to the old trail that goes that way, so I know that shack like the back of my hoof,” Smallfry said and struck a rather daring, adorable, but daring pose. Barrett wiped a metaphorical and literal hand across his brow. “Oh, cool, so uh, you mind leading the way?” “Sure, Captain Smallfry with save the monster human in distress,” the filly boasted as she took off at a brisk strut through the woods. “I’ve been called worse,” Barrett muttered to himself as he trailed behind the filly pants sloshing as he wiggled his legs to and fro trying to dry them at least a little. Barrett, as he followed his new tiny, adorable, talking pony friend, took in the deeper scope of his new reality. This was a reality where he’d found a way into a cartoon, a cartoon he’d seen at that. Though he didn’t remember the ponies in that show being as openly violent and racist. Barrett rolled his eyes, it was a kid’s show after all. Well, if there was one thing Barrett Biggs was good at, it was stumbling blindly through situations that in no way make any sense and often get far worse before they get better. It was only midday, but Barrett found the new stroll through the forest to be a reprieve, once he got back he was gonna find something to eat and take a nap. Then and only then would he plan for the inevitable second attempt at communication with the angry, racist pony folk. Yep, this was gonna be fine, everything was gonna be fine. Barrett nodded and smiled to himself. There was no way in Hell, Barrett was gonna let himself lose to a bunch of magical talking ponies. He was a human after all, besides this is the point in the show where the princesses or elements or whatnot would save the day and teach tolerance or something.