//------------------------------// // Reality // Story: Angel of War // by Commander Ry //------------------------------// Angel of War A MLP:FiM Fanfic by Commander Ry Chapter 3 Reality Freedom, that was the only thought running through the young man’s head. They had freed him from his restraints and left him alone to his own devices. ‘Those stupid, stupid Communist equines.’ Actually, to say Casey wasn’t grateful would be a lie. Twilight’s trust in Casey deeply touched a part of the young man, causing his subconscious mind to strongly advocate that he should not abuse it.  Unfortunately, this part of his brain was bound, gagged, and thrown in some broom closet located in the lower part of his cerebellum. His training had full control, and right now his training yelled, ‘ESCAPE!’ The lieutenant made a move to roll out of his bed when he encountered his first obstacle. He was still attached and being recorded by the damnable heart monitor. ‘If I simply remove the connections, then the thing will assume I flatlined and raise some kind of alarm.’ Casey stared at the diabolical machine, contemplating the best way to neutralize it, when his sights rested on a small red switch. He smiled devilishly and flicked the power switch to the “off” position. The screen flashed and went dark. Casey fist-pumped the air in triumph and hopped out of his bed.  Upon landing, he let out a painful cry and fell flat on his face. “Apparently she wasn’t lying when she said I needed another week to fully recover,” the human mumbled quietly to himself as he used his bed to support his weight and stand up.  Ignoring his throbbing body, he limped his way to the center of the room. ‘Ok, I can’t just walk out the door,’ he thought.  ‘There is no way someone wouldn’t see me and in my state. I doubt I would be able to outrun anything. That only leaves the window.’  Casey glanced at the window on the other side of his room. ‘I could probably fashion some kind of rope with the bedsheets, but I need a weapon and other usable supplies if I actually plan on escaping.’ The lieutenant’s observations came to rest on the wooden cabinets next to his intended portal of escape. ‘Well I suppose that is as good a place as any.’ Ignoring the protest of his body, the human hobbled over to the cabinet, throwing the doors wide open. The sight that greeted him was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. “Oh hells yes!” Neatly stored inside the cabinet was the entirety of Casey’s survival gear; his flight suit, boots, helmet, med kit, and best of all… his radio. The only thing he noticed that was missing was his knife and M9, but Casey expected that not even colorful horses would be stupid enough to leave weapons within easy access of their captives. Forgoing his initial “shimmy out the window with a bed sheet” plan, Casey made for his radio, pausing only briefly to give a longing look at his flight suit. Up until now, the pilot had only been dressed in his boxers and skivvy shirt. He hated being out of uniform.  He felt exposed, incomplete, and rather embarrassed. His modesty, though, would have to take a back seat; his freedom came first. With radio in hand, the pilot slumped against the wall and began keying up the mic. Casey set the radio to broadcast on a rotating frequency bandwidth. ‘Fuck protocol,’ he thought.  ‘At this point I just need someone, anyone, to hear me.’ [Mayday, Mayday this is Lieutenant Jonathan Casey of the United States Air Force, broadcasting on all UN frequencies, if anyone is receiving please respond, over] The radio crackled as the pilot held his breath for a response. After ten seconds he tried again. [Mayday, Mayday this is Lieutenant Jonathan Casey of the United States Air Force. Any receiving stations please respond, over.] Another ten seconds passed with still no intelligible response. ‘Shit…’ he cursed inside his head.  ‘Ok no problem.  T-the room might be hampering the signal. Just got to get outside, give the antenna room to broadcast.’ The shadows of panic began to creep into Casey’s mind. His elaborate hallucination theory was starting to show cracks, cracks that he quickly covered up. ‘Ok , I just have to get outside, there can be a number of reasons why no one is responding on an open frequency.’ The pilot got to his feet, hobbled over to the cabinet and grabbed a small pouch that contained, among other things, spare radio parts. ‘There might be a problem with the radio, or the transmission is being blocked… I-I just need to get outside.’ The young man faced the window and with sweaty hands pulled back the curtains. The image that greeted him was a colorful one straight from a fairy tale, much different to what he was used to. “I-is this… candy land? …WHAT THE FUCK BRAIN!” Casey stared at a picturesque town composed of colorful buildings. The buildings ranged widely in their designs, one of them being what appeared to be a gingerbread house.  The town’s citizens all looked to be colorful ponies, going about their daily lives and performing activities that one would find common in a small town. With his hallucination theory reconfirmed, the pilot went about his mission of getting outside with renewed vigor. After a minute of playing mental chess with the window, he finally figured out how to open it. His luck continued when he discovered that a small three foot ledge ran at the base of the portal. Despite his partially healed injuries yelling at him, he managed to shimmy out onto the ledge and position himself just left of the window. In his new perch, Casey took a few more seconds to admire the town displayed before him. ‘Man, I have a damn good (if not slightly gay) imagination.’ His psychoanalysis was quickly put on hold as his training caught up with his brain, refocusing him on the task at hand.  Keying up the microphone once again, the lieutenant made his third attempt at communication. [Mayday, Mayday this is Lieutenant Jonathan Casey of the United States Air Force, broadcasting on all UN frequencies, if anyone is receiving please respond, over] After yet another eternity that lasted ten seconds, and absolutely no response, the horrors of doubt began to bang on the door of his brain once again. However, the little airman in his head proceeded to deadbolt this door and help the pilot with the very useful suggestion of ‘follow protocol.’ Not being one to disobey orders, he listened intently as his training sounded off, repeating words he remembered quite vividly. ‘In the unlikely circumstances that you are downed behind enemy lines, your radio and your emergency transmitter are your lifeline. Should you at any time find your radio not to be functioning properly, here are some basic field radio repair guidelines.’ His training continued. ‘First, ensure you have pressed the power button to the “on” position.’ Check. ‘Second, ensure you are holding down the “speak” button when you attempt to broadcast.’ Check. ‘Third, if the radio is still malfunctioning, replace the battery, as a weak power source can lead to a weak signal.’ Finally remembering a piece of his training that was useful, the pilot proceeded to dump the contents of his small gear bag next to him on the ledge.  A spare antenna, a spare battery, an orange cylinder, and a few miscellaneous screws and bolts tumbled out in front of him. “Wait, what’s this- holy shit how could I forget about the ELT?!” Casey mentally kicked himself as he picked up the orange device. The emergency transmitter, or ELT for short, was a small orange device that emitted a signal which continuously updated orbiting satellites on its current position. Its accuracy in guiding rescue personnel within ten meters of a downed pilot’s position made it an invaluable asset. The young man made a move to turn the ELT on when he noticed the small flashing orange light indicating it was already on.  Casey’s heart stopped.  Glancing at the small LCD read-out, his darkest fear was confirmed. The ELT had been active for [4 DAY: 7 HR: 23 MIN] “No… no, fuck… No, that’s impossible.” The mental dam that the young man had created to support his theory shattered. If the ELT had been broadcasting for four days, then that meant no one was receiving the signal. The signal could and would be received anywhere on Earth, that’s what the satellites were for.  It would only take JASOC at the most twenty-four hours to scramble a rescue detail, and they would never simply leave a pilot behind.  Millions of dollars of training ensured that. So, maybe he wasn’t on Earth. That would explain the ponies.  But that in and of itself made absolutely no sense and defied reality. Maybe, weather delayed the rescue attempt, which would also explain Casey’s inability to contact anyone via radio. However,  the sun was shining, and had been every day since he had gotten there.  ‘Maybe…’ he thought.  ‘Maybe that’s just part of the hallucination. Maybe the whole ELT problem is simply part of the hallucination.’ Casey began to reference what he remembered from his psych 101 class during his college years.  ‘A hallucination is a perception in the absence of a stimulus.’ However, hallucinations rarely create a brand new reality.  They build upon the stimulus you were already receiving. This means that something the pilot was experiencing had to be real… but none of it could be. Maybe this was a dream, but vivid dreams usually leave memory gaps; they jump from one action to the next, and Casey could distinctly remember every single thing he had done since ejecting. Hell, he even remembered some of his dreams while he slept in his hospital room. No, this couldn’t be a dream. But then… that meant everything Casey was experiencing was real. “No.” The lieutenant didn’t understand. Logic dictated that this couldn’t be real, but it also said that it had to be. Unable to comprehend his own reality, Casey did the only other option he had left.  He shut down. He put his body on autopilot and began running through the protocol of repairing his radio. *Replace battery [Mayday, mayday … please respond, over] *wait ten seconds- no response *Replace antenna [Mayday, mayday … please respond, over] *wait ten seconds- no response *Check and repair all wires and connections [Mayday, mayday … please respond, over] *wait ten seconds- no response *Should radio still not function properly, repeat as needed *Replace battery… (X*X*X*X*X*X) “Jonathan?” *Check and repair all wires and connections “Jonathan!” Casey’s body looked up and saw Twilight Sparkle’s head poking out of the window, eyeing him worriedly. His body went back to the task at hand, completely ignoring the mare.  He had to fix the radio. “W-what are you doing?” The pilot looked up again; the first part of his brain to come back online was his training. ‘Hostile! Defend yourself!’ He made for his gun, only to be confused when his hands touched nothing. The next part of his brain to start up was his instincts. ‘Escape!’ Casey made to grab his gear and jump off of the ledge, only to find his radio lay in multiple stages of disrepair. This half second of confusion let the last part of his conscious thought process come online. ‘Fuck.’ Casey looked back at Twilight, who simply stared at him with wide confused eyes. He looked back at his radio and began to put everything back into his small gear bag. ‘How long have I been out here?’ His ELT read [4 DAY: 10 HR: 17 MIN] ‘Huh, three hours…’ Casey couldn’t remember anything after discovering his ELT had been broadcasting. Even upon remembering that his reality was not real, the pilot couldn’t bring himself to care. He was either crazy or in a completely different world, and both of those answers were unacceptable. So, what did it matter? After packing up his gear, Casey looked back to the purple unicorn who hadn’t moved since she had found the young man. ‘Why am I even resisting these equines?’  The ponies hadn’t ever threatened him.  They had only attempted to take care of the lieutenant. In no way had they shown to be hostile. Even the questions they asked weren’t of a classified nature. So, why was he trying so hard to resist them? ‘Hell, it’s not like it even matters anyway.’ Casey decided that he might as well cooperate a little; he really had nothing to lose. Perhaps these ponies could provide him some needed insight into this reality, or at least his own crazy mentality.  With this decision, Casey looked out over the quaint little town, a much more cynical glint in his eye. “J-Jonathan?” Twilight had inched herself farther out onto the ledge, nervousness apparent on her face. “Miss Sparkle, is it?” For the first time since he had met her, Casey smiled and responded to Twilight’s attempts at communication.   “Your name, I mean.” Despite responding, the pilot never took his eyes off of the small community displayed before him. Taken completely by surprise, the unicorn simply nodded in response.  Casey smiled again, a contemplative look crossing his features. “What do you think would happen if I jumped?” Twilight’s eyes grew wide. “Do you think I would land safely on a marshmallow? Or maybe I would be caught by a lollypop giant before I went splat?” “I-I don’t think-“ the purple mare stuttered, but was cut off by the young man. “Perhaps you’re right, perhaps I would just fall.” Twilight inched closer to Casey, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. “Jonathan, I-I really think you should come inside.” Casey smiled at her fear. He found it rather humorous. Was she really worried for his safety? It’s not as if it even mattered if he jumped anyway. The pilot, of course, would never actually attempt to jump; Casey despised the idea of suicide. Still, he found the unicorn’s caring curious. She could be a projection of his survival instincts, a part of his brain trying to ensure he doesn’t do anything irrational. But maybe she was just an individual who feared for his safety, a living creature with compassion. “Miss Sparkle, I have one more very important question.” Twilight responded with a gulp. “Is this real?” ~(Commander Ry: Hope your enjoying the ride so far, this is actually the first chapter to be written entirely this year {the other two were originally drafted summer of 2011}. As always I look forward to any comments and feedback I can get, those of you who are following this story, favorited, or up-voted thank you, I can not accurately express in words my gratitude. Give tanks to my editors shadowdemon137 {you should totally check out his stuff btw -> http://www.fimfiction.net/user/shadowdemon137}, Bass, and She-who-prefers-not-to-be-named. Whit out these people you would be reading allot of incoherent garble.)~