//------------------------------// // Out Of Place // Story: Wesker in Equestria // by DeepThought //------------------------------// Out Of Place Wesker in Equestria by DeepThought Instead of heading directly into the direction of the settlement, the man clothed in black rags studied the landscape closer. The view was idyllic. Only a few tiny, sheeplike clouds obstructed the deep blue sky. A small stream muttered its eternal song nearby. To his left he could see a gigantic apple orchard spanning over miles of land. Although it was early in the day, the air was pleasantly warm. Wesker’s sharp nose noticed a complete lack of civilization’s ‘background smell’ - cars, planes, ships, and industrial plants would normally leave their distinct odor. The road before him split into two smaller ways, one leading directly to a farm house in the orchard. After Wesker quenched his thirst with the water the river generously provided, he decided to go to the farm first. Farmers usually started work early in the morning. He was therefore less likely to be caught entering the main building where the family lived. He had to remain unseen, since he didn’t know whether he was considered a threat to the public or not. His mission was to use any means to gather information he could find to catch up with the current situation. Stealing a few supplies - clothing, food, probably weapons - was his secondary objective. Staying near the brink of the forest in the shadow of the trees, the blonde man swiftly closed the gap between him and the building. At least a few miles from his position, he could see a figure working in the orchard. His assumption had been correct. Snapping an apple from a proud tree, he bit into the fruit and chewed. Self-proclaimed god or not, he had to consume food to stay alive. And this apple was rather delicious. Spying through the farm house’s windows, he made sure there was no one inside. Although it seemed strange to him that he barely fit through the entrance due to its small size, he entered nonetheless. The door was unlocked, so he didn’t have to force his way in. Wesker stood in a small corridor. To the right was a staircase and the ceiling was so low he had to cower constantly. Intently, Albert listened to the surrounding noises. Then he opened the first door on the left and stepped in, barely making any sound. A couch, a table, a fireplace - the living room. In a wooden frame was a picture of four pastel horses, standing near a barn, colored in the same shade of red as the one he just entered. Confused Wesker noticed they were smiling. One of them, the smallest one, also wore a bow. What a strange sense of art... There was nothing to be seen there. Wesker left the room exactly like he found it, turning to the second door. It was a kitchen. In one corner stood a simple coal oven by a white drawer sideboard. The door to the back porch was slightly open, allowing a small gust of wind to pass. The room’s center was dominated by a long, low dining table. No chairs? No fridge? As in the previous room, a few candles were scattered around. So backwards... The blonde man’s vague suspicion turned into realization. There was a complete lack of standardized, mass-fabricated goods and no electricity. Even the materials the house was built of, the uneven surface of the wooden walls, the crude nails and the plank floor hinted that it has been build by hand, only using the simplest tools. In every household in the hellholes of Africa had been at least a few proofs of human advancement - machine-made textiles, cell phones, television, plastic... This was not the case here. How isolated was this place? Was this a remote Amish community? It was a tad too colorful, though... Anyway, this was good news since it probably meant that no one had heard of Wesker, the man who’d almost brought doom and destruction to mankind. Searching for anything useful, Wesker opened the kitchen drawers. A few clean sets of silverware, several cooking utensils and knives. The blonde man also located a fresh loaf of bread, smelling sweetly as if it had been made only a few minutes ago. He took the bread and a particularly sharp knife and wrapped them in a piece of cloth decorated with a stylized form of a heart. Albert left the room behind and was just about to enter the next when he heard what sounded like footsteps. He hesitated. Deciding it was the best not to get caught since that’d definitely be the wrong way to make acquaintance with the local population, he headed to the kitchen, remembering the back door. Wesker could come back later, when the conditions were better. But what he saw there left him dumbfounded. The same small pony with a red bow he had seen in the picture was making itself a sandwich. Its limbs were fascinating flexible; the creature’s incredibly large eyes and its facial expression revealed a human-like form of intelligence. There was no doubt it was sentient. All of this, especially the house’s dimensions, made sense now. Just in that moment it turned around and noticed the threatening figure of the human gawking at it. He had to be taller than the pony by at least three times. It was no wonder it began to scream, “Appleeeeeejaaaaaaack!” Oblivious to the angry mare charging at him from behind, Wesker continued to stare at the filly, lost in thought. He instantly came up with a few theories explaining the existence of this strange creatures. Then a mighty buck threw him through the door frame into the kitchen. In the process pieces of furniture were damaged. Wesker lost the grip on his small package of loot. “Run, Applebloom! Get Twilight!” Did it just speak English? A bit dazed, but otherwise unharmed, Wesker back stood up. Seeing the blow’s source, the strong, fuming farm pony, he got into a defensive stance. He knew he was in trouble.