//------------------------------// // Chapter 9 - Insert Pun Here // Story: Equestria's First... Russian? // by I Brained My Damage //------------------------------// Equestria’s First… Russian? Chapter Nine Insert Pun Here Twilight, her friends and the two humans escorted themselves out of the castle as Solovyov continued to get used to the feeling of having skin made of stone. As they walked, questions flowed through Solovyov’s head as water would through a river. “Twilight,” he began, the pony in mention turning her head towards Solovyov, “Am I going to be staying like this? I’m not complaining, I just want to know if this is something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.” “Well, probably. I wasn’t even aware there was a spell to reverse Cockatrice magic, let alone its side effects, so I don’t know if you’ll be staying that way forever, or if it will eventually wear off.” Suddenly, Solovyov had an idea. “Do firearms exist in Equestria?” “As far as I’m aware, no, they don’t,” Twilight replied. Alexander, who was walking beside Solovyov this entire time, nudged him with his elbow. He still felt it as if he still had regular skin, which was odd. Alexander whispered to his friend, “I have a prototype firearm in my house. I only use it for home defense, as I’ve had a few wild animals tread onto my property, which were dangerous ones, of course. Why did you question if this world had firearms?” “I want to see if my new skin is bulletproof,” Solovyov whispered back. “When we get back to Ponyville, we’ll head over to my home.” “Sounds like a plan, but first, I need to get my laptop back from Twilight.” The group arrived at the train station, and as they stood there, the ground vibrated as the train slowly came to a halt in front of the crowd. * * * * * A large group of people stood in a large, open plain near a small village of nearly fifty. The group of people was slowly processing what they were seeing. The village they viewed was similar to a small village that relied upon nobody. They had small fields where they grew their own crops, a nearby river for drinking water, and several homes lined the street that passed through the village. “BWAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” They all chuckled and exploded with laughter as they processed what was before them. Several ponies came out of their homes to give confused, and some frightened looks the group of bipeds before them. The few farmers stopped their work in their fields to do the same action. “OOH MY GOD, THIS IS TOO RICH!” one person specifically said as he fell on his hands and knees. He couldn’t continue to stand from how hard he was laughing. Since he didn’t know any better, one farmer pony cautiously approached the group of humans. *** The farmer pony approached without saying anything. The leader opened the visor of his helmet, revealing his cold eyes. He approached the questioning pony. “Skahshetay, vey videli vysokogo belogo cheloveka, derzhashchego tonkim ustroystvom, kotoroye vygiladit byt izgotovlena iz serebra?” (Have you seen a tall white male walking around with a thin devices that looks to be made of silver?) The pony stared back as he heard the speech he couldn’t understand. “Parlez-vous Française?” (Do you speak French?) The farmer tilted his head in confusion. “Hablas español?” (Do you speak Spanish?) Still no clear response. “Sprechen Sie deutsch? (Do you speak German?) Do you speak English?” The farmer pony’s ears perked slightly as he heard his language. He raised his hoof and pointed at the man in front of him. “You speak English?” “Yes, we speak what you call ‘English.’” “Good, so we are on common ground,” he paused as he recalled all of his lessons in the English language. “Tell me, have you seen a man who is about this tall, and was holding a very thin device that looked to be made of silver?” he asked as he held his hand at about Solovyov’s height. “Well, we haven’t really seen anypony like you around here and-” “Sorry to interrupt, but did you say anypony?” “Yes, I did.” “I don’t understand. What is an ‘anypony’?” “Like... Anypony can think of a question? Anypony can open a door?” “Gah, never mind,” he grunted in frustration. “So you are telling me you have not seen a man of my given description anywhere? Not at all?” “No, we haven’t.” The man sighed in frustration as he contemplated about what to do next. “Do you have a map of this world?” “What do you mean ‘this world’?” the farmer asked. “You’re not from around here? Not even from the most distant lands?” “No. I would love to explain everything, but we are all on a time constraint being here. Please, show me a map so we can be on our way.” “Fine, I’ll be back in a second.” The farmer retorted. As he walked back to his village, he yelled, “Hey! Anypony got a map this fellow can use?” The ponies in the village scurried about their homes looking for a map, but to no avail; no pony had a map. The village had been isolation for so long, they no longer needed them. The farmer pony returned to the man awaiting a map. “Uh… I- I’m sorry sir, b-but we don’t have a… a map for you to use.” The man closed his eyes, and breathed loudly through his nose to display his frustration. “Fine; have it your way,” he said as he waved a command to his group. “Prehodeetchya. Piedohm.” (Come. Let us leave.) The group of humans turned west and walk into the distance, leaving the town awestruck by the advanced technology the biped wore and wielded. * * * * * Twilight had already came and went as tiny starts speckled the sky. Sweat started to bead on Solovyov’s forehead as Alexander used his gun’s detachable ramrod to pound in the required musket ball into the barrel of the gun. “Just one more moment.” “Are you sure this is safe, Alexander?” “Oh trust me, everything will be fine,” Alexander said as he pointed his working replica of the model 1766 Charleville musket, as he stood in Alexander’s back yard with the gun pointed directly at his foot (from a safe distance, of course). “Take a shot to the foot, he said. You’ll be fine, he said,” Solovyov muttered. “Are you ready? Remember, the hospital is right down the street if something goes wrong.” “Just get this done and over with. It’s better to face the pain now rather than later.” After stating this, Solovyov wrenched his eyes closed as right as he could, giving his best attempt to prepare for the possible immense amounts of pain that may follow. “Firing,” Alexander said. The flintlock mechanism engaged as he pulled the trigger, making the hammer strike the frizzen, eventually igniting the main powder charge in the barrel, causing the musket to fire. Solovyov couldn’t focus on anything else except the musket ball traveling at a very high speed towards his foot. In fact—he was focusing so hard—he saw every turn the musket ball made as it flew and as it left a blur in its wake. The musket ball connected with his bare foot, creating a sickening sound that was a cross between a crunch and a crack. As soon as the sound reached his ears, Alexander lifted his head and examined Solovyov’s reaction. Though his skin was a light grey stone at this point, it gained a very slight red pigment. It wasn’t just on his cheeks; it was all over his body. The pain was that excruciating. Solovyov’s head started to shake slightly due to his nerves being driven into maximum overdrive. Tears started to form on the rims of his eyes, and the upper layer of his teeth clenched down tightly on his lower lip. He closed his eyes, causing a few tears to roll down each side. Eventually, the pain was just too much to hold in. “FFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!” Solovyov screamed at the very top of his lungs. Any louder and his vocal chords would have gave way. * * * * * A loud, but very distance scream was heard in the distance. “Did you hear something, Spike?” Twilight asked her assistant. “Nope.” He lied through his teeth to avoid having to go and investigate the disturbance. * * * * * “Did you just hear that?” one human asked the group’s commander in chief. “Yes, I did. Whatever it is, we’re well prepared to defend ourselves if need be. Come, we’re almost there.” * * * * * Somehow, Solovyov was still standing even though he felt as if a handful of firecrackers had been strapped to his foot and lit. It certainly looked as if that was the case as he looked down at his foot, expecting it to be now non-existent. His foot was still there all right, but it had a musket ball lodged in it. About half of it was protruding from his foot, still stuck in there. “Holy shit,” Alexander said. “Wow, that had to hurt.” He mentally and slightly physically cringed at having to witness a musket ball being stuck in someone’s foot. “Please… for the love of Christ… GET THIS FUCKING BALL OUT OF MY FOOT!” he yelled in pain. “On it,” Alexander replied as he went to the small tool shed in his back yard and retrieved a pair of metal pliers. He walked back to Solovyov and kneeled down to his injured foot. “Just like a band-aid, just rip it off. Except this isn’t ripping off a band-aid; we’re pulling a metal ball from your foot.” He chuckled lightly at the comparison. Solovyov tightened the muscles in his leg as Alexander gripped the pliers around the protruding metal ball, and yanked as hard as he could. To the two men’s surprise, Solovyov’s foot hadn’t bled at all. Only a tiny crater roughly three centimeters in diameter remained. “I’m not sure if it will help, but let me go get you some ice and some bandages,” Alexander said as Solovyov lowered himself to the ground to take a seat. He soon returned with a small bag of ice, a roll of white, cotton bandage and medical tape in tow. He kneeled down and wrapped Solovyov’s foot with the white cloth and sealed it with the tape. “You don’t have a place to stay tonight, do you?” Alexander dryly asked. “Umm… no, I don’t.” “Do you need one?” “Yes,” he said, feeling like he was asking for too much. ‘ “I can let you sleep on the couch in my living room. It’s the least I can do since I left a hole in your foot.” “Thank you,” Solovyov replied with gratitude in his voice as his friend helped him up and started walking him to the door, he himself hopping on one leg. As he usually did when he had a moment of silence to himself, his mind wandered to the farthest, most unused thoughts in his brain. “Heh, to think that we met each other on Steam who-knows-how-many years ago…” That comment brought Alexander back to that same day they were both thinking. He chuckled lightly. “You sucked back then.” “Oh shut up,” Solovyov replied jokingly. They arrived in Alexander’s living room. Solovyov laid himself down carefully on his friend’s couch. Alexander tossed him a blanked that was on a chair adjacent to the couch. “Goodnight, Andrei. I’ll see you in the morning,” Alexander said as he walked upstairs to his bedroom. “Goodnight,” Solovyov replied quietly. It was moments like these that Solovyov’s thoughts ran rampant through his mind: the fire burning brightly in the fireplace set a comfortable heat in the room, the stars and moon outside being the only lights to see by, and the sound of crickets and other insects chirping in the distance. Nights like these were ones that Solovyov believed made people fall asleep from the pure serenity of the moment. As his thoughts continued to wander as he looked about the room, he remembered the song he played in his free time when he was younger. To him, it seemed to complement the night around him. He drifted off into the black abyss of sleep.