//------------------------------// // Chapter 7. The Day My World Changed. // Story: Magnets in a Mare's World. // by Triple-Rainbow //------------------------------// I ran into a familiar trio of sisters today, The Dazzlings. Apparently, Matter Horn had found a way around their cheap singing trick, leading to the sisters being thrown back into prison once more, their amulets likely resting in a storage box near wherever the guards are keeping my helmet. I've tried to reach out and feel it, but the more days pass the less likely I believe that it's anywhere near here. It's probably in an even more secure location than this prison, considering that the courts think that enchanted objects are more dangerous than the ones wielding them. Which, I suppose is fair to an extent. The Dazzlings were normal ponies without their amulets, with the exception being the residual minor curse that kept them looking young while using the enchanted gemstones. The most dangerous thing they could do without their necklaces was act self-entitled and arrogant, often lording over the fact that they were the first villains to come close to beating me, though the odds were in their favor and I was still inexperienced at the time. Many ponies, the siren sisters included, would claim that they were the first villains I fought against in this world, but they would actually all be wrong. While it’s true that I announced myself to the world as Magneto, my first act of heroism was when Timber, Glory, and I all drove to Trot City, I think it was a pun on Jump City from Teen-Titans. Another thing to note about Terra, the world, was that most cities and states were mirrored version of famous comic book locations. Dream Valley was Gotham, Canterlot was New York, Maretropolis was obviously Metropolis, and I think Ponyville was Townsville, though I could have been wrong about that. Regardless, Timber and I were sitting in the back of Glory’s old pickup truck talking about whatever came to his mind as I tried not to think about the rolling deathtrap we were all sitting in. Just looking at that rusted piece of junk was enough to give someone tetanus, and I don’t even want to think about that god-awful radio that was blaring the whole way there. Timber was still thankfully pleasant company, though most of our conversation consisted of him asking question after question. I was amazed by how easily he accepted most of my outrageous or silly lies. “Who were you dressed up as for comic con?” “A super hero who fell into a time vortex that erased their existence from history, but I found one remaining story in a comic in my attic and made a costume.” “Where did you grow up?” “A small rural town you probably haven’t heard of.” “Why is your name Xavier?” “I was part of a witness protection program system and had to change it. It was going to be X-Ray, but you know how much griffins suck at even the most basic of tasks.” I’m well aware of how stupid my answers were, but I began to stop caring about giving detailed answers when things like, “Magic” or “Super hero/villain did X, Y, and Z,” would just as easily suffice. Most of my backstory consisted of whatever I could steal from sitcoms on the tv, and I adopted a few mannerisms and traits from those characters to blend in better with this world. The only issue with my story was when he asked if I needed to buy ball-bras while I was in town since he thought I was wearing the same one for the past several weeks. My confusion at what a ball-bra was earned his shock and a curious, if not slightly devious, look from Gloriosa in the rearview mirror. He explained it, I said we never had them in my hometown, and that I didn’t need one. “But doesn’t it hurt if you don’t wear one?” “Timber, I’m already wearing underwear. Why would I need something behind that when I’m already wearing pants too?” I argued. “Hey Tim, if he doesn’t want to wear a ball-bra then we shouldn’t judge him,” Gloriosa argued, which actually put a bad taste in my mouth. Anything that made her happy usually made me quite miserable or annoyed. “Why are you so against wearing a ball-bra?” “Because it’s ridiculous! If you want to talk to someone about what they’re wearing, why don’t you tell your sister to wear a bra?” Gloriosa scoffed at that. “I’m not wearing a bra.” “And I’m not wearing some fucking ball-bra, either,” I added on, much to Timber’s growing dismay. “But—” “I mean, I’m wearing a shirt, so I don’t need a bra. I can kind of understand where X’s coming from,” Timber’s sister defended. I chose not to argue that I could see her nipples half the time. No need to bite the person helping you in an argument, even if they’re a bitch most of the time. “But everypony wears a ball-bra. It’s just common sense!” “Unless somepony has tiny balls,” Gloriosa decided to add on, sparking an argument between the two siblings as I stared out the window. As we came closer to the city, I hardened my resolve to act like one of these creatures. The tv set had prepared me a bit for some of the surprises I would have faced, one of them being the strange colors that covered the ponies. With Timber and, to an extent, Gloriosa, I was able to associate their skin tones with human colored skin. But the equestrians, with their green, red, and even purple colored skin, they sent shivers down my spine. It was decidedly more alien than either of my hosts, something that further separated myself from the ponies who called this planet their home. Thankfully, even though peach colored skin and white hair were rare traits, especially together, I was able to blend in well to the crowd of ponies who milled about in the streets. Before we went off to buy any groceries, Timber had convinced Gloriosa to tag along on a shopping spree for myself. I’ll admit, the usual camp shirts were starting to feel a bit snug, though I doubt it was because I was starting to get larger or anything like that. Gloriosa just seemed to think keeping the male shirts in the dryer longer was better for them, or at least that was the thinly veiled excuse she came up with. I was always so tempted to lodge a penny up her nose back then. Today though, I would be more likely to throw a few bullets up her nose instead. I was able to thankfully put off clothes shopping by visiting a few stores for essentials. The first few items were books that would help me acclimate to this world, along with a thick book detailing the many heroes and villains who live in Equestria. If I was going to become a hero, then I planned on knowing who my friends were and who my enemies were going to be. I should have known better than to think I could have been friends with these ponies. Sadly, I could only push off clothes shopping for so long until he dragged me with him to the changing rooms. It was fairly uncomfortable sharing such a small room with another man, even if he was a different species. On some basic, almost primal level, it felt wrong to be ass to bare ass with a member of the same sex. Of course, I have no qualms with people who are gay or prefer the company of someone of the same gender, but even in a casual situation such as this I felt unnerved. Moving past the awkwardness of sharing an enclosed space with a naked stallion, I was able to try on a few outfits that I felt more comfortable in. Gloriosa had called a number of them “Janefilly,” which was this world’s equivalent to a Tomboy. I didn’t care how others saw me, I wasn’t about to wear some ill-fitting shirts and frills just to appear a bit more normal in this backwards world. Timber seemed to be accepting of most of my decisions, but he continued to insist that I had to wear a ball bra. By the time he offered a ball bra covered in skulls, I had to put my foot down. “The answer is no, Timber.” “Come on, Xavier, you need to wear one.” “Timber, the day I wear a ball-bra is the day I kiss Gloriosa.” “You should totally wear a ball bra,” Gloriosa suddenly chimed in from behind her magazine, earning a middle finger as I continued talking to Timber. “I’m glad you’re thinking about me, Timber, but I don’t need or want… that on my balls. No self-respecting man stallion should have to wear them.” “Oh joy, you’re a Stallionist, too,” Gloriosa sardonically added on. “It’s not about oppression or anything like that, I just don’t want to wear a third piece of clothing on my balls!” I corrected very loudly, which caught the attention of a few shoppers. “Sir, is there a problem here,” one of the employee asked in a nearly monotone voice. “Just a little disagreement,” I assured her. “Well, please don’t make a commotion, I understand you may be upset that a certain item is out of stock or,” I didn’t let her finish as I just walked back into the changing room to try on a jacket. Outside, I could hear Timber apologize to the mare and I couldn’t help but silently scoff at that. I ended up buying a pack of ball-bras later after I was just about done. I never wore any of them, of course, but it wasn’t like Timber would know. As long as it kept him quiet, I’d pretend like I was following along with this world’s ridiculous customs. So, after wasting what little money I had on a worthless piece of cloth, we put our purchases in the car and went to collect our groceries for the next few weeks. Even though we had three mouths to feed, Gloriosa’s all vegetarian diet, and the lake full of fish near her little plot of farm land, we didn’t really need to buy anything aside from some perishables and canned goods. Everything was calm on our way back to the car. Timber and I made idle conversation about some mundane topics about celebrities that I didn’t really care for. So long as I nodded and said “yes” every-so-often, he seemed perfect content to go on and on about who was sleeping with who and what was happening with this herd or that herd. Herds were another topic that made me feel uncomfortable. I understood that their improportionate population almost demanded monogamous relationships to die out, but I still felt like it was something unordinary. It was like an itch at the back of my mind that kept reminding me that I wasn’t on Earth, a little annoyance that chased off any brief comfort I could find. The word alien had become too common in my thoughts as of late. I still held onto a small hope that I could return to Earth, but I knew it would have been difficult, if not impossible, to do it alone. That’s where my plan of becoming a hero came into play. Being a super hero would grab the attention of others, make them come to trust me, and then I could use their skills and resources to find a way back home. The U.S. government in comics never reacted well to having known aliens in their custody. A baby Superman was locked away and hidden in a bunker that bathed him in red light, and Martian Man-Hunter was kept in an offshore facility inside of a test-tube. It was only after their heroic deeds that the government decided to help them rather than contain them. At least, I think that was the excuse I used back then. It’s been so long since I held onto hope for returning to Earth. I know better now thanks to the Power Ponies. And speaking of those mares, that day was the first time I saw them in person as Fili-second shot through a building and skipped on the street like a stone, coming to a stop when her limp body collided with a car and activated the alarms. Her pink skin was caked in blood, staining her mostly white suite as she shakily got to her feet. The blue pegasus with a rainbow mane, Zapp, groaned as the blaring siren quietly died. The crowd around us froze as another limp figure slammed into the speedy heroine, causing her and the other vigilante to fall as a menacing laugh filled the air. Looking over to the partially demolished building, a white mare in a tatted brown cloak emerged with a sickly green glow encasing her body like a second layer of skin. A wall of fire washed over the mare as a lavender unicorn mare in a mulberry colored costume shot a volley of flames from her horn. Instead of screaming in agony at being consumed by fire, the tattered mare cackled as the emerald aura surrounded Matter-Horn and tossed her aside. The mare with black hair with hints of color kissing the edges of he greasy mane, whom I would later come to find out was Prismia, looked towards the crowd of civilians before sending a wave of energy careening towards us. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was frozen in absolute fear, as I heard the wails of death pierce the air a melody of madness. If it weren’t for the wall of pink energy that Radiance, another white unicorn mare who looked much better in comparison to thew haggard witch, raised a shield to protect us from the onslaught of dark magic. I was deafened by the screams of panicking ponies as I stared at the ensuing fight. A hulking yellow pegasus mare crashed through the building behind Prismia and tried her best to beat the villain into submission as Marvelous, an earth pony with a golden lasso that reminded me of Wonder Woman, helped Matter Horn to her feet before racing off to check on Zapp and a recently recovered Fili-Second. I was enchanted by their heroics, watching them with a growing glee as they battled the wicked mare who found joy in other’s suffering. Still, even outnumbered, Prismia held a distinct advantage over the other mares, easily dodging or redirecting their attacks with tendrils of magic that shot out from under her cloak. I have never wondered what it would look like if a rainbow could bleed, but if they could then I imagine it would look nearly identical to the colorful carnage that formed Prismia’s spectral limbs. The yellow monster, who I would also come to know as Saddle Rager, tore up the street trying to turn Prismia into a puddle, with Fili-Second racing around to minimize the damage as she moved ponies away from the fight. A bolt of lightning narrowly missed Prismia, striking Saddle Rager as the alabaster mare melted into a shadow and reappeared next to the pegasus mare, Zapp. Timber tried to pull me away as the other ponies raced off, even Gloriosa had run away without worrying about myself or her brother. I wanted to run, more than anything I wanted to do nothing but run. But I didn’t know what I wanted to run towards. Part of me wanted to run at the mare in a vain attempt to help, while a much larger and smarter part of me was screaming at me to run away. To my shame, I joined Timber as we ran away from the the fight, only for a fall of sorrowful colors to cut off our escape as one of the many tendrils wrapped around Timber to take him and several other ponies. I’m fairly certain that Prismia was saying something about hostages, but I couldn’t hear it over the pounding in my chest, or the screams that stabbed my ears. My breathing grew shallow as I watched Timber rise higher and higher, kicking helplessly as he fought for his life. I should have done more than stare like an idiot, but I couldn’t think straight until I felt a pair of hands wrap around my shoulders and drag me away from him. I don’t remember who it was, probably a random civilian trying to save my life, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to help Timber, I wanted to protect one of the few creatures I actually liked on this alien world. As I struggled against the two ponies who were trying to pull me away, my furious gaze landed back on the mare who was responsible for this. Prismia, the cocky and arrogant fool, was using Timber and the other ponies as hostages, using them as her own personal living shields. Something inside of me snapped at that moment, and I remember wanting nothing more than to kill her. I wish I had killed her back then. I wish I decided to kill criminals much sooner than I had. But, I was still able to stop her. No one ever connected her mysterious defeat to my debut several weeks later. To everyone there, it would have looked like somepony had kicked a car and sent it flying towards the monologuing monster. But I knew, I would always be able to smile at the memory of crushing her with under a red colored porche. The heroes didn’t have much time to question their sudden luck, and I couldn’t think of anything more than trying to catch Timber as he fell from the sky. Thankfully, several pegasi, including Zapp, were quick to catch the free-falling hostages and safely carry them down. That was the day I fully resolved to become a hero. It’s funny to think about how Prismia turned me into a hero, and later convinced me to become a villain. Without Prismia, I doubt that the world would have known me like they do now. At the end of her life, she did what she always aspired to do. She created a way to spread untold pain to the masses.