//------------------------------// // Chapter 1- Paint Me Red and Call me Psycho // Story: Equestrian Psycho // by BlakeCorman //------------------------------// Equestrian Psycho Chapter 1- Paint Me Red and Call Me Psycho Chris Scott walked through the convention center without a care in the world. Power Morphicon had been just as fun as he had imagined, especially with all the other cosplays around him. However, it did remind him of the one shortcoming of his own cosplay. Despite all his many months of work, he simply hadn't had the time to complete the helmet to his Psycho Ranger Yellow costume. Maybe I shouldn’t have spent so much time on the gauntlet, he thought, glancing down at the aforementioned accessory. He had paid special attention to that part of the suit, modifying the specifications in order to hold his smartphone snugly in the center rectangle to be accessed from his wrist. Chris let out a sigh as he walked between the sales booths. If I hadn’t, maybe I could have finished the helmet. He shook his head to clear the thoughts. He lifted his head to look over the crowd, trying to find one face in particular. He’d heard through the grapevine that Jason Frank would be making a surprise appearance from one of the booths, but he had yet to find it. He finally stopped to get a better look around. However, after a few moments of no luck, Chris began to feel a little letdown. “Ugh! Curse you, James, and your mind games,” he grumbled quietly to himself. “Excuse me, sir.”Chris turned towards the voice to find that the vendor whose booth he had stopped in front of was the one to call on him. The vendor seemed to be dressed up as the bounty hunter who found the Psycho data cards for Deviot in Power Rangers Lost Galaxy. “Oh, sorry. I was just trying to get a better look around,” Chris said, an apologetic smile spreading across his face. “No need for apologies,” the vendor said, waving his hand reassuringly. “However, maybe there’s something here you’d be interested in.” Chris looked down at all the “novelty” items spread out across the table, although nothing really caught his eye. “Nah, sorry, sir,” Chris said, shaking his head, “but I don’t think you got anything for me.” “Hold on a moment,” the vendor said, stopping Chris before he could move away. “I think I might have something for you.” The vendor bent down behind his booth and rummaged around underneath. Chris stood by patiently, not wanting to be rude, but wanting to get back to his search as soon as possible. “Here we are,” Chris heard from beneath the table, the vendor standing back up again, a cloth bundle in his hands. “This should interest you,” he said, handing the bundle to Chris. Chris rolled the bundle around in his hands for a moment before unwrapping it. What he uncovered simply amazed him. “No way,” he exclaimed, because, in his hands, he held a perfect replica of Psycho Yellow’s helmet. “How’d you get this?” he asked, still staring at the helmet. “Oh, I have my ways,” was the only response. Chris was too busy admiring the helmet to notice the creepy change in the vendor’s tone. “It’s so cool. How mu-” Chris was cut off as he looked up at the vendor to find him holding his hand up. “Have fun,” he said, snapping his fingers. Before Chris could comprehend what was happening, he blacked out. Light filtered through the leaves of the dark forest trees, the slight breeze causing them to rustle. Chris was laid out in the middle of a clearing, the trees growing towards the center to block out the sun. Slowly, Chris began to moan groggily as he came back his senses. “Oh… what happened?” he asked out loud, sitting up and bringing his hand to his head. When he did he felt a foreign weight on his wrist. What? He thought, finally opening his eyes to look at the uncomfortable restriction. On his wrist sat a strange device, a black brace with an oval contraption, a strange gold symbol imprinted on top. The symbol looked like an upside down M with exaggerated angles and points. “Huh,” was all he could think to say, “weird.” He took his eyes off the device and finally took a look at his surroundings. “Aw, man, not again,” he said, figuring he had had another episode when he found himself in the middle of a forest. He stood up and looked himself over. Even though he was wearing clothes he wasn’t familiar with, a red t-shirt, black leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and dark combat boots, he didn’t find any new wounds that had come to be a tell-tale sign of his second personality taking over. “Well, that’s new,” He said to himself, wondering if Samson had broken the habit of hurting them to spite him. “Either way, he’s gotten me into a real mess,” Chris stated, looking around to figure out which direction would be best. “Maybe I should go-,” A scream cut off whatever Chris was about to say, and he took off in the direction of the scream without a second thought, two goals in mind. First, the voice might belong to someone who knew the area better than he did, and second, whoever it was, they were in trouble. He ran between the trees, dodging low-hanging branches and jumping over roots that grew out of the ground. He didn’t run very far before coming across the scene and stopping. What he saw he couldn’t believe. A dozen or so of what looked to be cogs from Power Rangers Zeo crowded around in a circle, but that wasn’t what threw Chris off. In the middle of all the chaos stood an anthropomorphic Starlight Glimmer and Sweetie Belle standing over an injured Scootaloo, magic charged up and ready to fire. Even brandishing spells, Starlight and Sweetie were in a bad way, sweat dripping from both of them, and blood running down Sweetie’s face from a cut above her eye. The cogs were slowly closing in, forcing the mages closer together. Chris reeled from all the new information before shaking his head, a look of determination hardening on his face. Whatever the case, he thought, they still need help… but how? Use the sword, came a strange voice from inside his head, catching him off guard. A voice in his head was nothing new, but this wasn’t Samson. What? He replied mentally, asking more from the confusion of a new voice in his head than the reference to a weapon he did not have. Use the sword, it said again. Suddenly, instructions were “transferred” directly to Chris, telling him what to do. Chris hesitated a moment, looking down at the device on his arm, and heard a soft thud. Sweetie had fallen to one knee, breathing heavily as sweat and blood dripped off her chin. That was all it took. Chris threw one last glance at the device and ran full force towards the crowd of cogs. As he ran, he lifted his left arm in a ninety-degree angle and brought his right hand over the opposite wrist, the center of the device flipping open to reveal a screen with the image of a sword appearing. Some of the cogs noticed the disturbance and began turning. Chris took this as a sign to pick up the pace. He leaped into the air, drawing both arms back to the left. “Deploy, Psycho Sword!” He shouted in midair, clenching his hand around the now-forming handle. As his momentum carried him forwards and down, he swung his arm out, the sword forming from bright red grid lines. The blade sliced across the chests of three cogs -sparks flying from their mechanical bodies- before his feet hit the ground, tucking his body forward and rolling through the crowd, and coming to a stop in front of the trio of ponies. He stood and turned, shifting sideways so that his left side was towards the mass of robots, one foot in front of the other, bringing his arm to his side so the blade rested at an angle to his body, raising his head to stare at the enemy. “So,” he began, settling into a back stance and bringing the sword parallel to his chest, a wild grin crossing his face to match the fire in his eyes. “Who’s next?” A few cogs in the front ran forward, crossing each other’s paths and moving to flank him. Chris stood his ground as the bots charged him. The one to his left got to him first, and swung out with its fist, aiming for his head. Chris caught the attack with his left hand and held the machine in place until its comrade came into range. As it did, Chris flipped the blade in his hand, bringing it into an underhand grip before slashing both opponents across the chest. Sparks flew as the attack connected, dropping both cogs at his feet. The remaining cogs hesitated a moment before lining up. The masks on their faces slid upwards, revealing laser lenses in the place of their eyes. Oh, crap, Chris thought, eyes widening in realization. He moved into a guard stance, crossing his arms, and righting the sword in his hand, bringing it above and parallel to his left arm. The cogs let loose their laser bolts, sending a barrage straight towards him. It took a fraction of a second for the bolts to reach Chris, who reacted by catching the energized bundles on the flat of his blade and threw them to each side, causing twin explosions to go off harmlessly behind Chris and the worn out ponies. That was close, Chris thought, taking in slow controlled breaths to get his heart back under control. I need to get in closer. He dropped into a crouch, the sword held out horizontally in front in front of him, and charged forwards, closing the distance in no time. He slashed through three or four cogs before entering the crowd. He used all of his experience in martial arts to keep the group at bay while he dismantled them a few at a time. He flew around in a blur of motion and color, almost like a red and black hurricane, cutting down the machines relentlessly. He finally came to a stop facing away from Starlight’s group, only one cog remaining. The unlucky robot had somehow managed to get between Chris and the ponies and watched Chris’ back for any signs of movement. As the tension grew, the cog broke first. It turned towards the now defenseless equines, its face sliding up to reveal its blasters. The blast never came. Suddenly, Chris was facing away from the cog again, standing like a runner at the start, arm and sword held up at an angle over his shoulder. All at once, sparks flew in a perfect diagonal all around the cog’s body as it slid in two. Chris stood up and relaxed his sword arm just in time for the two halves of the automaton to hit the ground. The body sparked and spasmed a few times before it finally lay still. Chris glanced over his shoulder at his handiwork before bringing the blade to rest on his other shoulder, turning his head back, and letting out a long breath. He finally raised his sweat drenched head to throw a wide grin in the direction of the trio. “Well, that was somethin’, wasn’t it?” “Indeed it was,” came the reply from behind him. The ponies stiffened, terrified looks in their eyes as they saw what Chris couldn’t. His eyes widened in confusion. As he turned to face the newcomer, a small, “hm” escaped his lips, and when he saw what it was, he too stared in horror. He was staring at Staroid from Zeo, but he was different. His body was overall slimmer with only his gauntlets remaining the same size, the star on his back only covering his upper back instead of down to his legs, and he now sported a long sword with a star-shaped guard on his hip. “Now,” Staroid began, starting to walk forward and moving his hand towards the sword at his hip, “if you and your comrades could surrender, you might make it out of this alive.” “Heh,” Chris chuckled, moving into a sideways horse stance, bringing the sword horizontal to his chest once more, and finally adding his left hand to the sword. “Sorry, bud, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” “Pity, King Mondo wanted some new subjects for Prince Sprocket’s torture lessons,” Staroid replied, advancing and drawing his sword, which transformed in a flash of light into a large scythe. The weapon’s staff was nothing special except that it ended in a large star, the menacing blade sprouting from one of the five points. A single drop of sweat rolled down Chris’ face as he thought of a plan of attack. Holy VERDAMMTE SCHEISSE!!! I can’t take this guy! Not as you are now, came the voice from earlier. What does THAT mean!?! Chris exclaimed inwardly, stepping back to keep distance between himself and the slowly approaching menace. Simple, was all the voice said before disappearing. What’s sim-, his thought was interrupted as more instructions appeared in his mind. It took a moment for Chris to process it all, but, when he did, the look of frightened determination melted into a seemingly insane grin. He relaxed his stance and stood up, taking his left hand away from the sword, which he stabbed into the ground so it stood on its own. Staroid stopped his approach, some of his confidence melting away in the heat of Chris’ own. “W-what game are you playing?” He asked, voice slightly trembling. “No game,” Chris stated, shaking his smiling face as he raised his wrist to show off the device on his wrist. “But this is going to be REALLY fun.” The grin disappeared from his face and his features morphed into a look of complete seriousness. He turned to the side, bringing his right arm back to a perfect right angle and placing the index and middle fingers of his left over the middle of the device. “Go,” he said calmly, his body tensing before throwing his fist forward with all his strength, “PSYCHO!” Chris’ body was enveloped in a shining black energy that shattered, leaving behind black armor. Red energy shot from Chris’ wrists, shins, and torso drawing armor to those areas, white on his limbs and red on his torso. He rotated his arms at the elbow inwards, leaving energy behind around his head. As his arms rotated back to rest, the energy solidified into a red helmet, leaving his eyes exposed. Finally, a black visor extended towards the center of the helmet, hiding his eyes. All this happening in under a second. Staroid brought the hand he had used to shield his eyes down, gawking at the sight of the ranger’s sudden transformation. “Who… WHAT are you?” He exclaimed, taking a step back. “What am I?” parroted Chris, his voice somewhat digitally distorted. “The dark firestorm,” he intoned, waving his right hand in front of his face before throwing his left hand out and stepping with the motion. “Psycho Ranger Red.” Chris crouched down as Staroid stumbled backward a few steps. “Oh, this is gonna be fun,” he mumbled under his breath before launching himself forwards, pulling his sword from the ground as he ran towards his opponent. He closed the distance in a flash, moving far faster than he did pre-morph. Staroid swung his scythe down towards the coming red blur. Chris dodged to the left, seeming to phase into an electrical state and flowing in that direction. Chris came to a stop on Staroid’s left, swinging the Psycho Sword towards the robot’s side. Staroid caught the motion and swung the staff of his weapon to intercept Chris’ blade. Chris jumped away from Staroid to avoid the upward slash of his opponent’s weapon. He danced back into the fray, this time going for an overhead slash. Staroid parried the strike and launched his own counterattack. Chris deflected the blow and moved to engage at a different angle. Chris and Staroid continued this, dancing around each other, their weapons clashing over and over again. After a while, the two clashed once again, more viciously than any other encounter before. They each pushed against each other as hard as they could. They finally pushed away from one another, sliding a few yards apart. It’s time to end this, Chris thought, bringing his left hand over the Psycho Sword’s blade and charging it with red energy. Let’s go. He charged forward while Staroid was still regaining his balance, jumping into the air before he had completely closed the distance between them. Staroid saw the oncoming assault and lifted the staff of his scythe to intercept the blow. Unfortunately, this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. The Psycho Sword cut clean through the scythe, sparks exploding from Staroid’s torso as the blade slashed across it. Finish him, the voice in his head told him. With pleasure, Chris thought back, preparing a final attack that would cleave the machine in two. Then we can go after the others. An image of the three ponies, huddled together behind him, leaped into his mind, the voice’s dark intention bleeding the image red. “What!?!” he said aloud, pausing mid-swing. The outburst didn’t go unnoticed. Staroid suddenly righted himself and swung the blade of his scythe downwards. The weapon slashed across Chris’ exposed chest, sending up a shower of sparks as it met the ranger’s shields. Chris was launched backward by the combined force of the attack and the repulsion of the shields. He landed on his back, rolling to a kneeling position not far from Starlight’s group. Both combatants smoked from the previous attacks, Staroid’s damaged circuits sparking as Chris’ shields threw out vapor as they repaired themselves. Finally, Staroid stood tall, pointing the star of his scythe at Chris. “This isn’t over yet, Psycho Red,” Staroid stated, spitting out the name like venom. “Next time we meet, you won’t be so lucky.” With that, he turned away, shifted into a star and sped off through the treetops. Chris stayed where he was for a moment, breathing heavily and supporting himself with his sword. He finally pushed himself back to his feet and turned to face the mares he had protected. “Power down,” he said, walking forward as bright red grid lines appeared across his figure, the armor seeming to evaporate away from his body. Finally, the belt shifted into energy, traveled up to his shoulder, down his arm, and solidified into his Morpher. Starlight and Sweetie both tensed up as Chris drew near. He noticed this and stopped a little distance away. “Is everyone alright?” He asked, genuine concern in his voice. The pair reeled at his sudden kindness. “Um,” started Sweetie, looking to Starlight who simply shrugged. “We’re a little beat up, but we’ll be okay.” “That’s good,” he said. “That’s real good….” He lurched forward and fell to the ground, unconscious. Dark light shone from the green and black flames of the torches that lined the cobblestone walls. Staroid walked further into the chamber, fear building up inside him. He approached the only real light in the large room, light that illuminated a dark, twisted throne. Behind it lay a giant purple and green dragon, its body scarred by many battles, and above it all, on the menacing throne itself, sat an alicorn with dark purple fur, her mane and tail an even darker shade with lighter shades of purple and pink mixed in and flaring around her like fire. From her back sprouted a pair of dark wings that matched the color of her mane and tail, and she dressed in a sinister but beautiful dress that matched the lighter colors of her mane, black armor covering her chest and forearms. When Staroid finally stood at the foot of the terrible throne, he kneeled down and bowed his head. “Mistress,” he said, opening the air to conversation. “Staroid,” the dark alicorn said slowly, letting the tension in the room grow. “Did you succeed in your mission?” Staroid squirmed. “I’m sorry, mistress, I did not.” The alicorn’s glowing eyes narrowed. “And why, pray tell, is THAT?” “We ran into a… complication.” “What kind of ‘complication’?” she asked, leaning forward and digging her nails into the arms of her throne. At this, Staroid looked up to his mistress. “A warrior in red armor, wielding a twisted sword. He called himself ‘Psycho Ranger Red’.” “Psycho Ranger?” the alicorn intoned, sitting back in her throne. “Curious. How strong do you believe him to be?” “He destroyed my entire battalion,” Staroid began, “but when we clashed, he fought as though he had never done so before. It is my belief that he only managed to defeat me through superior speed.” “And to think I used my magic to remedy that for you,” the enchantress speculated, bringing up a hand to her chin. “Thank you for bringing this to me, Staroid. You are dismissed.” Staroid stood and began to walk away. “Oh, and Staroid.” He stopped and turned back to his mistress. “Remember that you answer to me. And the next time you meet this ‘Psycho Ranger’... kill him.” “Yes, mistress,” he said and bowed, before turning to continue his exit. When he had finally left the room and the doors closed behind him, the great drake lifted his head to the one he called “mother”. “What will you do about this, Twilight?” “Simple, my dear Spike,” she purred, bringing a hand up to stroke his great head. “I will report this to King Mondo, then we will plan our next move. And, Spike, you forget.” “Sorry, mom,” Spike apologized, closing his eyes. “It’s alright, Spike. Just remember, Twilight died years ago. I am Midnight.”