//------------------------------//
// Prologue 
// Story: For Want of a Better World 
// by Lunafan1k 
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Reader discretion is advised, the following fic contains some very controversial issues for use in this story and has no real backing to any modern events including those referenced in the work.



My name is Jeff, and this is my story, my story of friendship, love, and family. I would like to start off with how I grew up like any other kid, with a mother, father, perhaps even a brother or even sister. Unfortunately, my life is not the happy kind. I never knew my parents, my real ones anyway. I was raised as an orphan after I was found in a back alley as a newborn. I was lucky to survive for as long as I did, as though my very soul simply refused to give up on life. I spent the first six months of my life in a hospital ICU, tube fed medications to warrant off the infections and nutrition to help my frail body grow stronger. 

After the treatment I was handed over to the local orphanage, where the nanny had taken up the responsibility of digging through the police reports to find my real parents, and to bring them to justice. Unfortunately my DNA never registered a match to any of the police records worldwide, making me just another statistic for child abandonment for the year of 1989.

Growing up as an orphan in New York isn’t as bad as the movies make it out to be. We were all on a schedule just like any other child, wake up bright and early, go to church to pray, then to school to learn. As a child I never liked the idea of God, Jesus, the whole ghost thing or how thinking to yourself was somehow sending a psychic signal across the cosmos to a deity who was either all powerful, but didn’t care about us, or cared but had no power to help us, or never existed save for in the minds of those who believed.

To prove my logic I would ask others, “If such a god did exist, why are we orphaned? Why must we learn the cruelties of reality at such a young age?” But alas, my level of thought was beyond the comprehension of the other children, even the nuns and nannies, forcing me to be an outcast among outcasts. They wanted nothing to do with a “non-believer,” and seemed content to do as much as possible to either shun me or attempt to guilt me into the religion. I did try, just to fit in and no longer be shunned, I went  through the robotic motions and read the words aloud. It worked for a time, until my soul became one with my mind and body.

I found I had a talent, a knack if you will. The phone would ring and without hesitation I would say the name of the person calling. Other times I would predict the order in which children became adopted, or who would win the next sports game. This was looked upon as coincidence, until my streak of 100% true predictions continued to predict word wide events of things others had no possible chance of knowing. Bombings, political struggles, deaths of people in the cities. I was told to stop, even called a demon, a monster. 

So I stopped my predictions, well I stopped announcing them aloud. I stayed in my room most of the time, nobody came to see me, nobody wanted to adopt a freak like me. Often I would get lost in my imagination during my times of isolation, using anything as a toy for the center of my thoughts. All I had was my school supplies, the protractor became a fuel gage, the pens were spacecraft or rockets, and the pencils were the beings that operated the rocket. During one such session, I was holding all three aloft and moving them through the air when I heard a gasp of alarm at the door. I looked up from my play to see a nun mark the symbol of the cross in my direction. Confused, I looked back to see that my protractor was floating in the air before my face as the nun ran to get help.

Several priests from the Vatican stopped by to attempt an exorcism, so intent on my monstrosity they were willing to try anything. Have you ever witnessed an exorcism? I’m not talking about the crappy Hollywood films; the real ones are much worse and degrading. I was stripped naked, tied to a post and flogged while boiling water was splashed onto my back. The steam they claimed was the demon leaving my body was actually my flesh boiling on contact with the hot water. I didn’t last long before I lost consciousness from the intense pain.

When I awoke the next day, my wounds having been treated and was told they were from the demon ripping its way out of my body. I didn’t believe them for a second, I knew what monstrous things they had done. At that moment I vowed to never do such things again, the pain was simply too much, and so I locked away my potential and drifted through life for the next few years.

When I was ten, a very strange couple stopped by the orphanage. They were dressed in solid black, not like a nun or priest who usually wore a white collar or apron. Some rumors were spread that they were devil worshipers simply because of the way they dressed, but the man put their arguments to rest stating it was for his career as a sales man for the Black Friday event coming soon. 

The nanny led them to the common room, where they were able to sit down with each child. I watched from afar as they seemed to interview each kid, taking notes and whispering to each other. I began having a tingling sensation in my mind as they made eye contact with me from across the room, which I blocked out purely on instinct. They kept staring, the tingling came back with more force than before, and I used all my will power to shut it out, forcing the couple to break eye contact as I did so. Without a word to me the couple stood and left for the main office.

Three days later, I was adopted by the same strange couple. I was worried, afraid even, as I waited for the time when they said they would pick me up. My fears meant nothing to the nanny or nuns, as though they were getting rid of unwanted trash. Right on time, my adoptive family pulled up to the curb. Their car had a white exterior, but the interior was a red felt fabric, giving it an older look. My new parents spoke very reassuringly to me, promising sweet things as they packed my solemn bag into the trunk.

The ride to my new home was silent, save for that annoying tingle in the back of my head. 

“You really shouldn’t block yourself out to things around you.” My new father, Joe, had said. 

“What do you mean?” I asked

“You shouldn’t rush him, he will learn in time.” Lisa, my new mother, said.

And so life went on, my parents showed me how to expand my mind, feel the energies around me, but still I held myself back, not wanting to frighten them. They were the most kind and caring people I was ever lucky enough to have as a family. They called themselves Followers of Enki, one of the gods of old. They noticed the news article about my exorcism in the news archives and decided to have a look, to see if I was as possessed as they said or was naturally strong in spirit. The tingling sensation was them trying to analyze me, and the fact that I could not only feel them, but block them out proved my spiritual strength.

Several years go by, my meditations advancing at an alarming rate. Middle school was a joke for me, the concepts and knowledge was far below my potential. It was just another day, period two was droning on about some literary author when my entire mind was raked with dread. So strong was the feeling that my body seized up and I fell to the floor, where I writhed in pain and misery. After several intense seconds I was able to sit up. My body was covered in cold, sticky sweat and tears were streaming from my eyes. Something of this magnitude has never happened to me before, but it wasn’t long before I found out the cause. 

The school was full of screaming students and teachers were in a panic, the entire city was plunged into chaos. I was able to force my way outside, where a large number of people seemed to be running away from something. I looked up toward the sky, to notice the building my parents worked at, was engulfed in flames. In that moment I knew, the agony I felt, was the souls of hundreds, including my parents, leaving us. I stood there in silence, staring up at the burning building, wondering what could have possibly happened. Soon another plane crashed into the other tower, once again I felt the deaths of those around me.

I lost everything that day, I began life with nothing, and today it was reduced to nothing once again. I swore vengeance on those that would not only take my loving family away, but the families of the innocents lost to the towers. I was glad we invaded the nation responsible; the terrorists would never win against the might of a unified nation. 

The years went by quickly, I was relocated to live with my dad’s relatives. They did not like the meditation or belief system I was raised with, they instead forced me to be a Christian again. I found it not to my liking, so instead I went to the gym each Sunday. I worked out, trained, became an athlete, and ate right. All for one goal: join the marines and kill the ones responsible for the deaths of thousands. The fact my parents died with the first ones made the quest for vengeance personal.

At the age of 17 I was able to convince my aunt and uncle to sign the waver to allow me to join the armed forces. They seemed happy for me, but also relieved to have me out of their hair a full year early. 

It was only a few weeks before I was able to get on the first plane to the training facility. There were several Staff Sergeants lining up the new recruits into a formation I commonly saw used in movies and parades. We were ordered to line up into five rows, then empty our pockets of everything but our money and ID cards, the rest was deposited into the trash bins. We were then led off, nobody was able to march properly and this seemed to piss off the marines. After much yelling and verbal, degrading threats we managed to get onto the busses waiting for us outside.

During the ride to the main training facility we were forced to watch a video explaining the details of what was to transpire for that day. Once we got off the busses we lined up along the wall, where we were told how to stand at attention, the proper spacing between same sex recruits was to place your toes against the heel of the one in front of you, also called “nut-to-butt.” Opposite sexes were to remain one full linoleum tile behind the counterpart. 

We stood and waited for hours, several fainting and being drug away. When asked where they were taken, we were ordered to be silent and do pushups. We eventually made it to the fitting room where we were issued a sweater, sweat pants, shirts, socks, and underwear. We changed into our new garments and placed the civilian clothes in a box to be shipped home. Next we waited in line for several more hours, this time to have our heads shaved to bare skin.

Boot camp was full of yelling, standing still, course maneuverability, and gun training. After several long weeks, I have fully succumbed to the jarhead mentality. Blindly following orders, I was the perfect marine. Our division graduated, and the ceremony held little importance to me, as I was already looking forward to the day I set foot in the sand, gun in hand, terrorist in my sights. But that had to wait, as I had more training for my part of the field to complete. Luckily, it was to take place in Afghanistan.

The long plane ride over the sea was torture in itself. I couldn’t bear to wait any longer. Fourteen hours and a plane terminal later, I joined a convoy on the way to base. We were all silent, nervous about our futures. We knew things were bad, but we were mistaken when we thought this trip was to be uneventful. There was a massive explosion as the lead truck ran over an IED. There was no ball of fire, just a large cloud of smoke and dust as the truck was sent flipping through the air. Everything happened fast, my training took over and I made my way toward cover. The man next to me and I stopped suddenly as we heard a “click.”

“I think it’s you!” He said, then turned to run. As he lifted his foot another blast blew him to bits, the concussion of the explosion threw me twenty feet into the air, before landing in a heap. The last thing I saw was the Afghans appearing over the hills and gunning down the remaining solders as I, too, died. 

Being dead was a lot like sleeping, except as my soul left my body, I began to realize things. The power I had suppressed and held back for so long made itself known. My mind was flooded with imagery, sensations, and information on how to manipulate the world around me. I felt a hand on my shoulder, thinking it was my family I was disappointed to see it was someone else. He stood seven and a half feet tall with a slim yet muscular build, Buer, he called himself, said he had been watching me since I was born, and that death was no longer an issue for me. My soul had long since transcended to that of a gods, each reincarnation adding more and more power upon itself since the beginning of the human race. Now I knew, it was me. I was the one destined to fix the world, to act as the kind god that punishes the evil of the world. 

Now open to the majesty of the universe, overflowing with power, I merged back into my mangled body. Bending the world to my will, I fixed myself, closed the wounds and healed my bones. I knew my task ahead of me was large, and I couldn’t do it without help. I called upon the energies and made a copy of my soul, then placed it into a large rock before me. I molded the stone into a spitting image of a large wolf. With another burst of energy I gave it flesh and life, more animal than golem, my familiar was complete. We gathered the bodies of the men around us, then I bent time and space, creating a worm hole to the base we were heading toward. 

The appearance of the dead men and myself was met with mixed results, some thought I was a new biological weapon made by the government, others thought I was Jesus reborn, and others saw me as an abomination and wanted to kill me on site. My familiar decided to remain invisible and floated along behind me as I gleamed from the minds of the marines what they thought I was, then told them a simple story that turned them over to my side. I also read the emotions and reasons why they were here, most of them wanted to protect their family, others for the military benefits. I was able to transcribe the knowledge and experience of those around me and add it to my own knowledge. Soon I knew how to operate every weapon, vehicle, machine system, and to speak several languages. 

A convoy was about to head out to attack a terrorist hideout, and the marines wanted their new weapon out on the front lines, I gladly jumped at the opportunity. It was my power, my responsibility to help the world, what better way than killing the source of terror? I was so naïve. The convoy pulled to a stop at a rundown shack, we quickly surrounded all sides and ordered the occupants to come out at once.

I reached out with my mind, all I could feel were scared women and children, the men putting on a strong face as they prepared to face the demon. What demon? My eyes widened in realization, the Americans were the evil, invading their land as a few fought back against the invasion. They were labeled as terrorists, thought to be a major organization when they were but simple farmers fighting for their land.

I tried to stop the company from firing into the hut, but they ignored my protests and killed everyone inside. They reported back to the base about the enemy using women and children as a diversion for terrorist activities. These simple people have done nothing wrong, and were gunned down in cold blood. This was not the vengeance I sought after, this was not the evil that needed to be purged. The evil was right next to me. I asked them why they killed innocents and reported the false information. They were following orders, they said. Orders from someone higher up. 

The next day I set out to find this higher authority, unfortunately the chain of orders went up through the ranks, above even the president to the real people in power. The congress and representatives that were paid large sums of money to allow the war in Iraq to occur, for what reason? Oil. The industries running America set up an inside job to bomb the buildings my parents worked in, as an excuse to go to war over oil, were allowing hundreds to die each day, just to make a profit. This was no free world, this was not the America our forefathers dreamed of creating, this was just a sick game.

So my familiar, Fang he called himself, decided we should take the most logical course of action, we destroyed the oil fields. All of them. I watched the midday sunlight turn to night as the smoke filled the sky, the fires would burn indefinitely, until the oil ran dry. We thought that to remove the source of the problem would fix the problem, but no. The people were lost in a panic, very few listened to the idea’s I planted in their minds, how to clean the sky, how to build the future without need of oil, using pure electric cars and renewable energy. 

Instead the world turned on itself, each country blaming the next. Another war took place, I was to blame for the oil burning, yet the people didn’t see me, they saw America. It happened all at once, each country killed the other with nuclear warfare. I had failed, I could not stop every missile, even with all my power. The aftermath left the world destroyed, the radiation killing all life, save for our own. I decided that this world needed to start anew, without humans and their influence of greed for power and killing.

Fang and I removed the radiation, feeding it to the sun. Next we cleaned the skies, the pollution was removed and split apart, the waste also sent to the center of the sun. The cities, the minerals, metals, and cement were returned to the core of the planet, where it was melted and allowed to become one with earth once more. We rebuilt the world, renewed life to be as it should have been.

Our task finally completed, I made a solid crystal cavern deep within the mountians. Should life evolve enough to find us, we shall do what we can for the betterment of the world, and this time, we will not fail.




1.6 billion years later



“Hey! Come see this, I found something!” A young worker called out to the other diggers.

“Did you find another strange fossil?” Asked a young female.

“No, even better.” He replied.

“Oh sweet Celestia, this is huge.” She said as they gazed upon a massive crystal sphere.

“The biggest archeological discovery of Equestria.”




A/N: I know that human in Equestria is frowned upon, but this is more than that. I'm open to criticism but please keep the trolling to a minimum.

The main concept for this was from Jagun, who was also the editor. So send hate mail his way if something's not right.

Also, the boot camp scene was from my own experience in the Navy with a few things added in to give it a Marine feel, I apologize to any marines who read this if it is not up to par with Marine boot camp.