//------------------------------//
// Chapter 4: Who am I? 
// Story: Becoming Spitfire 
// by An A10 Warthog 
//------------------------------//



The man flew backwards off of the pickup, his rifle flying another direction from his body. Rather than get pulled off to my doom, I turned around towards the offending vehicle. The truck continued moving, the driver blissfully unaware of the fate of its passenger. I picked up the rifle, a plastic strip on the stock reading Winchester, and took off with it. I didn't want to proceed with my journey unarmed when people were trying to kill me. I made the mistake of taking another glance at the limp body of the man who I'd probably just killed.

My stomach turned upside down as I looked at him. He wore a red baseball cap, it was flattened two feet away from his head, and blood was starting to pool up around his head and torso. I involuntarily grimaced, as I knew why he'd died. He had tried to kill me, but still he was probably only a couple of years older than myself, maybe seventeen or eighteen- I couldn't be sure with these bizarre creatures. 

Wait... what? Yep, Spitfire was definitely creeping up on my consciousness. I wasn't the kind who wanted to leave the Earth, who had no faith in humanity, who liked the Conversion Bureau concept , and if it came down to it would probably have even shoot my favorite pony, Rainbow Dash, in such a scenario. Now, I liked ponies, just wasn't fanatical to such a ridiculous level. 

My name isn't important. Names serve a purpose- to identify someone, to give one individuality. But you don't know me- who I am, who I was. Who I was, funny thing is that's for sure not who I am now. I would never have charged a man holding a rifle. I groaned. I suddenly realized I had barely even heard my own voice yet, and hadn't even listened to it when I did speak. 

No, my voice wasn't the one from the translated version of The Best Night Ever in Swedish, but it was definitely Spitfire's. It was simply a cold reminder of the fact that I wasn't me anymore. I decided I was going to rest on a cloud, near a mountain top tonight, simply to avoid any more people trying to kill me. So, I flew off towards a mountain top, chose a big fluffy cloud and took a deep breath. It was going to be difficult to get to Chicago, but I had a good start.





I awoke to see my own face staring back at me, actually not my face, Spitfire's. Why the hay is this so damn confusing? 
So, I decided to say something to the face, something I kind of thought was funny.

"Are you me, or am I you?"

She rolled her eyes and replied to me, she looked slightly confused by my statement, slightly to my surprise,  "You've turned into me, but I'm not sure what will happen to us." 

Let me tell you, I typically don't get much out of my dreams because they're typically dumb and involve a large number of explosions for no apparent reason, but this was information, which surprised me. The way she said us... that bugged me. Were we going to merge minds? I doubted she knew, otherwise she'd probably tell me. Or I hoped she would. One can never be sure with the one they are slowly turning into.

"Do you even know what's going on, at all? I don't mean offense with that, but I mean really, the Elements of Harmony are in New York as is Celestia, and I actually am starting to get a bit curious about what the ponies in Equestria think is going on."

Her expression shifted, becoming unreadable, something told me this skill would be important for someone like her due to her being an officer, "So that's what happened, eh?" For some reason, I expected a different response.

"More or less," I replied.

Everything swirled away into blackness as she started to ask another question. I shot up immediately as I woke up, the crisp air refreshing me. Great, no bucking guidance and no plan, I've just got to get to Chicago, and not get killed. So, I did just that. I took off of the cloud and flew away towards what my GPS indicated was Chicago. But the question still had to be answered; was I still me?

I didn't know. I could only hope my soul- don't question the meaning of the word, you know very well what I mean- would survive. I didn't want to lose my existence- especially slowly. It kind of reminded me of those people who were just gone you would see in horror movies. Nonexistence always seemed a worse fate then death. Everyone dies- being slowly and utterly annihilated seemed much, much worse.   

Off that happy note, I realized I couldn't get very far with the rifle, it was heavy and awkward, so I simply abandoned it in a tree. I had no idea how I'd fire the damn thing anyway. So, I flew off above the peaks of Colorado towards Nebraska, and I remembered my friend who had family there, and my first grade crush who moved to Colorado which alluded me until now. Not like it mattered anyway, a voice stated, I am not sure if it was mine or Spitfire's but it was right: I had to get to Chicago.





I stopped to rest, and eat,  somewhere near Lincoln, hoping that no more rednecks would try to put a bullet in me. While I was stopped, I tried to make sense of my life and where the world was going in this situation. If what I'd read was accurate, Discord was involved. And assuming the fanfiction I'd read, was accurate to a degree as well, then I'd best prepare to get arrested for copyright infringement with the amount of pop culture references that were going to try and kill me.

I frowned as I thought of the possibility of the Hulk chasing me down, or a giant robot. Don't think about it, a voice urged me, I believe this one was Spitfire's. I knew that she would know more about what this damn villain could do and how he operated, so I thought about something else, as difficult as that was. A loud roaring noise echoed down across the plains and I looked up at a Boeing 737 flying past me. 

I let the thought of the jet distract me momentarily, as I attempted to guess where it was going. It could be Omaha, or maybe it shared a destination with me. But that was barely a matter of importance as I was done with my break, and I was ready to get back in the air. As such, I leaped off the cloud and into the air, letting my wings take me to Chicago; where disco lives forever.