//------------------------------//
// Chapter 23: Simpler Way 
// Story: Improbable Truth 
// by Charon the Chronicler 
//------------------------------//

                Every morning I jogged. It was healthy, yes, but that was just a small reason among many. Normally, I would be listening to audio books as I measured my breaths. Occupying my mind as I maintained my body. I had no such luxury in my delusion. So I busied myself. I counted the trees, I ran through random hypothetical situations, and I mused on the state of the ecosystem. Anything so my mind wouldn’t wander to my current situation. Finally, I began to think of how I started jogging. Dad insisted on doing so every morning. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that I joined him. It was a custom that started for him long before he met my mother. It was how he met her. They ran into each other, quite literally, on a morning jog.
 
                I told him it was like the start to a bad romantic comedy. Father laughed and said that’s what she said. His laugh was peppered equally with happiness and sadness.
 
                He continued jogging, even as he pushed mother and me in her wheelchair. He continued jogging even after she died. Rain, sleet, hail, or snow, it didn’t matter. It was his requiem for her. I could see that whenever I talked, or wrote, or brought back my grades, Amadeus would feel pride, with a twinge of sadness. I would later learn that while I may have looked most like him physically, most things, from my mannerisms, to my speech, and even my intelligence remind Father too much of my mother. He would write in ‘Fatherhood’ that he never would have expected a dumb man like him could ever win the heart of such a bright and beautiful woman.
 
                And so, his requiem passed on to me. It helped manage my thoughts, my body…my emotions. The emotions I ignored, pushed down deep inside. I wouldn’t allow myself to be controlled by them. Logic determined my reality, emotion rendered it apart.
 
                I am a master of my own fate.
 
                Of course, the reason I’m telling you about this particular walk rather than all the others I’ve had was because it was the beginning of something new. A series of events set in motion by one thing. My curiosity.

 I heard voices echoing across the trees. I could have just ignored them. I could have continued on my jog, or better yet, turned back to get Steel Fang to go fishing. But I couldn’t help it, I had to find out what was happening. Just as the moth is drawn to the flame, I was drawn by a potential story. It was in my nature. The muffled speaking slowly progressed into yelling, shouting, and finally screaming. It was only when I approached the edge of a cliff did the scene reveal itself. If I were less in control of myself, I might have gasped, but my eyes still widened at the sight of the three men below.
 
                Well, two.
 
                Three men in orange jumpsuits had been chained together. From the scene below, I could deduce that they had arrived somehow, only to be assaulted by a cockatrice. A pity the cockatrice was too close to them after it petrified one of them. Judging from the bloodied chains, the black-haired man swung his chain at the cockatrice and beat it into pulp. He moved about like an insect-quickly, sporadically, consumed by tics. The other man, a tall blond, was holding his head and moving about dizzily.
 
                It’s pretty obvious which one was yelling.
 
                “FUCK! SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOiNG ON?!” The shorter man kept trying to run in random directions, only for the chain to pull him back. Oddly enough, sometimes it seemed as if the chain was strained, others as if the man’s pull had very little strength at all.
 
                “Dude…please…give me a second.” The blond man raised a hand placidly.
 
                “A SECOND?! A CHICKEN-SNAKE just TURNED THE RUSKIE INTO A GaRDEN STATUE!” The man screamed as he ran over and punched the taller man. The taller man barely moved and tried to raise his head, wiping his bleary eyes. “THAT BOMB WENT OFF AND WE’RE ELSEwhERE! WHAT the fuCK IS GOinG ON!? MAdrE DeS DIOS!” He turned around and punched the statue in the elbow, sending the petrified man’s forearm flying off into the underbrush, ripping the handcuffs apart.
 
                Silence fell as the two men stared at the stump that once was a full arm.
 
                A sinister smile stretched across the smaller man’s face. He turned around to face the blond man, and in one swift motion, broke apart his handcuffs.
 
                “All this power…I wILl RAisE ABovE! I CAN SEE IT ALL!” Every muscle of his body seemed to twitch independently.
 
                “Hey man, are you okay?” The blond man reached his arms out to comfort him.
 
                “GeT Away FRoM ME!” He punched him in the shoulder, jumping back at the sickening pop.
 
                To the blond man’s credit, he didn’t scream. Maybe yelped, but he merely stepped back. Oooh, that’s definitely dislocated. But he seemed to try and put more force into it than he did in the statue. Is his strength fluctuating?
 
                “I Can SeE! I CAn See!” His head whipped this way and that, twitching sporadically. He began running about in all directions until he finally decided to scale the cliff. “I WiLL rUlE!”
 
                He scuttled up the cliff like a spider, stumbling every now and then when his strength failed him. But he kept coming. Closer. And closer.
 
                I felt it before he did. A movement beneath my hooves, as if the ground beneath me shifted in its eternal slumber. I heard a yelp, I looked down to see the crazed man staring back at me with an eerie smile. There were no edges, no cracks, nor even pointy protrusions for him to grab onto within reach.
 
                “hELlO LIttLE pOny.” It didn’t seem possible, but his smile widened further in some sick mockery of what was once a human face. “wOULd YoU KIndlY Let ME Up? I NeeD tO RuLE.” Even as he talked, the outcropping cracked underneath his weight. I could feel the earth beneath me pause, but it was the precarious pause before the chute.
 
                There was no itch. No unbearable hatred. Fear perhaps, before I was consumed by one emotion. Pity. So I gave him the mercy nobody gave me.
 
                “Long live the king.” Even as I looked away, I could see the surprise in his eyes as he fell onto the jagged rocks below.
 
                Even as I flew down, I avoided looking at the corpse. He was insane. I rationalized. And not saving him wasn’t killing him, right? If I did, where would I be? An insane person caring for another? I shoved those thoughts away like so many others. Approaching the dazed blond man carefully, I began analyzing his wound. Yup, definitely a dislocated shoulder. He began moving his uninjured arm to his shoulder, and I had to step in.
 
                “Don’t even think about it.” I stepped in front of him, looking up to him. He’s way taller than Val. “Kneel. I’ll set it, and we’ll go our separate ways.”
 
                There was a groan that sounded vaguely affirmative and he stumbled to his knees.
 
                “Good,” I clicked my tongue. “You’re lucky that your arm wasn’t torn off like the other guy’s.” I got on my hind legs and trailed my hooves across his shoulder to get the proper position. I’ve never done this with hooves before.
 
                The man grimaced and clenched his eyes shut in preparation. In one swift motion, I set the arm back in its place.
 
  “AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?” He opened one eye and looked at his arm.
 
                “Doesn’t hurt as much when it’s set properly does it?” I chuckled and turned to look at him directly.  Sky blue met hazel, and he said something I’d never expected anyone to ever say.
 
                “You’re the most adorable murder-horse I’ve ever met.”
 
                It was the first time in years I’d been rendered speechless.
 

<><><> 


 

                Traveler doesn’t need to be in the area to know that its ploy had succeeded. It had to have. And as much as it would amuse it to observe Windell try to interact with Adam, it has other places to be. Notably, Vanhoover.
 
                It was too cocky. Too sure. Traveler’s opponent was far cleverer than Traveler had given it credit. It knew where Traveler would be when it opened a big, obvious rift. The Nzugin may not have been the distraction it wanted, but it worked. The entity is not angry, or disappointed. It is driven. Emotions would not solve the problem it detected. It drifts through Vanhoover, taking note of the jitteriness of the crowds. Something happened recently. Something that shook up the city like a well-placed kick would aggravate an anthill. Guards moved about in troupes and shady characters stuck to the shadows.
 
                No, if it was the Snake’s work, it would be far more obvious. This is merely the result of someone doing something that upset the established order somewhat. By hanging around in pubs, invisible to all, it catches hushed conversations about a relic that disappeared from a particularly well-off criminal. Unless The Snake has taken a liking to gold and riches, it is doubtful that The Snake is involved.
 
                The tiny rift, however, speaks a different story.
 
                Too unstable to bring over organic life, the remnants of the rift lay just outside a kind old pony’s house. Traveler considers the possibility of a disease being brought over, magical or biological, but quickly throws the notion away. A disease that could work with the majority of the population and lay dormant long enough for quarantine to be ineffective would take far too long to obtain.
 
                But what about a parasite? Not a biological one, but a magical one? Traveler tenses. That could work. Traveler flows back through the city, winding this way and that, thinking. The opponent is intelligent. There is no doubt about it. But why choose Vanhoover? If it wanted to be distant from Las Pegasus, it would target Manehatten. Traveler shivers as realization dawns upon it. The Snake is aware that Manehatten is its main base of operations. It’s keeping its distance from Traveler. This just got a lot harder. So the entity begins a thought experiment. What would it do if it were working against a being such as itself?
 
                Acquire some underlings.
 
                It makes sense. With some followers, one could act in several places at once. Plus, when they do things, it is often impossible to trace it back to the mastermind. Unfortunately for The Snake, Traveler hasn’t restrained itself to just observing these past few centuries. It has a vast amount of funds at its disposal, several companies under its name, and a persona with some decent pull among the elite. Of course, its persona could not be damaged by affiliating with potential criminals, but Traveler could create another. And funds…well, money laundering is thankfully an unknown concept in this world, and Traveler is independent enough to keep it that way.
 
                The essence flows towards Manehatten, coalescing in an office in one of the taller buildings. A black coat to easily absorb light energy, a neat white mane to provide a contrast, goggles to cover his eyes, and wings to give him reason to be in the office without using the front door. The stallion walked up to the door and opened it, turning his head to look at his secretary.
 
                “Dapperquill, would you be a dear and find some time for me to organize a charity dinner?” The pegasus gives a blinding smile as the mare gapes.
 
                “A-a charity dinner, sir? As in, a public appearance?” The peach mare stammers as she taps her desk nervously. “But you’ve never done one of those before! You usually just toss bits at whatever cause you think is worthy!” Dapperquill blushes and looks away. “Sorry for being so blunt, sir.”
 
                “Your bluntness is one of the many reasons I hired you, so don’t worry about that, my dear.” The pegasus approaches the earth pony and lays a foreleg on her withers. “Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think, Dapperquill. Too many good ponies find themselves cowed into silence when they try to please whom they perceive are their betters. Never forget, I appreciate the work you do for me. Now chin up and show me that winning smile!”
 
                Dapperquill beams and Traveler mimes blocking her smile with a hoof.
 
                “Wow, it’s a good thing I wear these goggles, else you might have blinded me,” The stallion chuckles.
 
                “Oh, you,” Dapperquill giggled, trying to hide her smile. When her mirth dies down, she looks over an organized binder. “There’s a slot open this weekend.” Good, before the wedding. “And it’s the same day you’re meeting with Fancy Pants in the morning, so he may be able to join.”
 
                “Absolutely wonderful!” Traveler hops up in excitement for effect. “I do hope he brings his wife; she is such an amusing mare.” The disguised entity starts making his way back into his office when Dapperquill speaks up once more.
 
                “Sir, are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” Her tone betrayed her worry. “You’re well known for being an unseen driving force for the arts, education, and the sciences of Manehatten. Your announcement will definitely get the journalists riled up and a lot of ponies excited.”
 
                Traveler strikes a mock guard pose and gives a salute.
 
                “Let them come, colonel.” He gives a sly smile as Dapperquill giggles. “Just be aware you’ll be on the front lines with me.” The mare freezes. “Yes, you have to come. You need to get out more, dear.”
 
                “Pot, this is kettle,” She rolls her eyes, but keeps smiling. “Yes, sir.”
 
                “And could you see if you can book some ponies from the Manehatten Symphony. The first-chair cellist especially. As for the after-party, you can decide.” Traveler opens the door to his office as Dapperquill smiles and gives him her own salute. He makes his way into a chair that is supposed to be comfy, but he finds no coziness in it as biological beings would. But still, plans were being put into place.
 
                It’s good to be Monochrome, president of June Night Textiles, and majority shareholder of several successful companies.
 

<><><> 


 

                Adam didn’t expect to wake up.
 
                So the first thing he did when he came to was to slap himself.
 
                “Ouch.” He rubbed his cheek. “Maybe I should have just pinched myself.” He looked around the room, noting several windows and a single door, as well as a large column that seemed to be the main reason the hut was standing. Hanging in between a log supporting the roof and the main column was what seemed to be a hammock, underneath of which was a large pile of thick, round leaves. So I’m definitely not dreaming. Adam got up and stretched, observing the single room he was in. No bathroom? Maybe there’s another room? Hold up, there are windows. This entire room is the house.
 
                “Oh, you’re awake.” Adam turned around to see a tiny hooved creature and a wolf nearly as tall as Adam was in the doorway. “Now please leave.”
 
                Adam shook his head and stared at the pony. He tried to ignore the big wolf looming over the dull teal creature, but those fangs were hard to ignore. That, and the growling.
 
                “I get the feeling I’m not really welcome here,” He muttered.
 
                The pony, a pegasus apparently, rose an eyebrow. “You’re taking this quite well.”
 
                “Well, I slapped myself and it hurt, so I’m not dreaming. And I’m not dead either, so I’m just a bit confused about where I am.” Adam straightened up and held out his hand. “Whelp, my name’s Adam. Nice to meet you, murder-horse.”
 
                Said murder-horse looked at Adam’s outstretched hand and seemed to lean away from it, frowning. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times before finally settling on a response.
 
                “Murder-horse?” He stared up to Adam.
 
                “Yeah, because you Lion King’d the shit out of that Hispanic guy.” Adam shrugged and finally put down his hand. There was an awkward pause as the pony scrutinized Adam. The wolf, sensing his confusion, cocked his head and walked into the room, keeping its distance from Adam. “Sorry, it’s a reference. It’s a bit old, but it was a good movie. Do you even have movies here?”
 
                “I think so.” The pegasus’ eyes shifted from side to side. “But that is irrelevant. You are on your feet, you are healed, therefore, you can leave. It was difficult enough to carry you here without letting any part of you touch me.” He held up the door for Adam and gestured with a swing of his head. “I’m sure you can find fame and fortune far, far away from here.”
 
                “Woah, woah, you can’t just send me back out there!” Adam threw his arms in the air. “I don’t even know what’s out there.” The pegasus clenching his teeth ever so slightly, and he seemed as if he was about to frown. To most other people, he would have seemed stoic as ever, but Adam was a people person. And it was particularly peculiar how these pony people portrayed person people faces.
 
                “Yes. I can. Now get out.”
 
                “Well at least let me stay here for a while so you can tell me what the fuck’s out there.” Adam crossed his arms.
 
                “My house, my rules,” He said as he stomped a hoof down.
 
                “Help me out or I’ll…” Adam looked around before he remembered something the pony said. He grinned menacingly and moved his fingers about. “Or I’ll touch you.” Adam paused for a moment and stopped moving his fingers. “Not in that way, though.”
 
                The pegasus fidgeted about, eyes zipping towards a spear leaning on a wall, then towards the big wolf licking itself in a corner, to the floorboards beneath Adam’s feet, and finally to Adam himself. Suddenly he paused, and an eyebrow raised up ever so slightly.
 
                “Wait. The urge is gone. Odd,” He muttered to himself. Eventually his eyes rose up to meet Adam’s. “Fine,” he huffed. “you can stay here for a while. But you’ll have to earn your keep.”
 
                “Yes!” Adam clasped his hands together. “Now let’s do a team-building exercise!”
 
                “What?” Adam got the feeling the pony cocking his head in tandem with the wolf was going to be a common thing.
 
                “Yeah, whenever I work somewhere new, my bosses encouraged team-building exercises so we could get to know each other, and trust each other.” He waved a hand towards the pony. “I already told you my name, what’s yours?”
 
                “I’m not getting out of this, am I?” The pegasus sighed.
 
                “Nope!”
 
                “My name is Windell Green. And you don’t need to worry about me not getting anything you say, because I used to be a man.”
 
                The human leaned down to look underneath Windell’s undercarriage.
 
                “Are you sure that you’re a woman? I know hormone therapy has come a long way, but you sure sound like a guy.”
 
                “No,” Windell ground his teeth as his face flushed. “I mean human, jackass.”
 
                Adam’s curious smile died.
 
                “Is uh…that going to happen to ̶ ”
 
                “Most likely not,” Windell interrupted. “If it hasn’t happened by now, it would not happen in the same manner.” 
 
                “Oh, okay.” Adam nodded. An awkward silence followed as they stared at one another.
 
                “You don’t seem too surprised.” Windell leaned forwards.
 
                “One guy got turned to stone in front of me, and the other went crazy after getting super strong. I think there’s something screwy going around here.” Adam stood up straight again in an instant, beaming all the while. “But that’s for later! Right now, team-building! Step one: Find similar interests! What type of music do you like?”
 
                “I suppose I’m a fan of all genres. Although I do remember going to a concert—” The pegasus shook his head. “—No, sorry, that was just another false memory. Those come up eventually, but they’re easy to separate. I never remember travelling to Sweden. But yes, all genres, but the 80’s music is a more nostalgic thing for me.”
 
                “Wow, that’s a bit old, don’t you think?”  Adam shrugged. “I’m more into electronic and trance.” Windell frowned.
 
                “Say, an odd question for you.” Windell shuffled about somewhat. “When was it when you left?”
 
                “You’re right, that is an odd question.” Adam stuck his tongue out in concentration and rubbed his chin. Plus, I haven’t seen a calendar for the last couple weeks. “Last I checked it was late October of 2032. And since my birthday’s on November twenty-sixth, I’ll be twenty-five pretty soon!” Adam paused as he saw Windell staring blankly, mouth open in befuddlement.
 
                “So it isn’t inversely aligned. What the hell is going on?”  Windell murmured.
 
                “What’s up with you?” Adam stepped forwards and bent down to stare Windell directly in the face.
 
                “It was 2015 when I left,” He frowned again. “If I did leave. Can we continue this tomorrow? I need some rest.”
 
                “Sure! It was nice meeting you, Windell.” Adam held out his hand for a shake.
 
                “Likewise, I guess,” Windell muttered absentmindedly as he shook Adam’s hand. In an instant, he stiffened.
 
                “What?” Adam asked.
 
                “We’re touching…”
 
                Adam instantly pulled away.
 
                “Oh geez, I’m sorry man-er pony. Guy. Dude.” Despite his stuttering, Adam seemed sincere. Windell paid him no mind as he continued to stare at the hoof that touched Adam.
 
                “No, I mean I still have my magic.”