• Published 12th Aug 2013
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Dan Vs. The Magic of Friendship(Season 1) - Barrobroadcaster



The story of a man named Dan and all his friends in Equestria.

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Rad: Slice of Perfection

The Smooze may have been self-aware, but it wasn't exactly smart. The all-consuming muck had managed to consume the main yard in the center of the prison and several of the interior hallways. Then, apparently it got lost.

"Does anyone have any directions?"
"I don't."
"Where are you going?"
"Me? I was following you."
"Was not!"
"Get out of my way!"
"You're in MY way!"

The animated sludge bickered with itself while making no progress. No one knew how long it would continue arguing with itself, but it probably would at some point find its way through the maze of the prison complex and escape to consume Equestria. Bets were being taken by the guards- popular ones included "soon-ish" and "fucking never."

Meanwhile, the only one with an actual map was Dan. And he'd been distracted myself.

"Nicky, get over here."

(I feel like a nanny.)

"Okay, stand right here, and I'll get right here," Dan said. The two took up position on the sides of Count Graye-Daye Le Class'ae, a former Canterlot noble who tried to take over Equestria by schmoozing with royals and then blackmailing them with their own secrets. He was a notoriously well-dressed purple pony with a gray-white mane and silver mustache.

"Yes, yes, take your pictures while the world is falling apart around us, good show," Kelsan mocked. "We do NOT have time for this."

"Alright Doc, take the picture," Dan said, putting on his best smile. Which was still slightly sinister and creepy in its own way.

Doctor Whooves shivered, but recovered quickly. "Right." He looked around, then back to Dan. "We don't have a camera."

"Oh," Dan said, deflated. He rubbed the smug-grinning pony statue on the head. His tupee fell off and shattered on the floor. "Next time, Nicky, we're bringing a camera."

"Can we PLEASE get going?" Dollars asked.

Chris slid up next to the ODST. "Hey, if you guys have room for another, I'm a pretty decent shot. Resourceful, too."

Dollars rubbed his neck. "Yeah, I appreciate it, but we kinda work better alone."

"You're in a pair."

"We work better alone... together."

Chris rolled his eyes and shook it off. The other black-armored ODST said nothing, which was expected. Chris Redfield had realized another thing their intrepid group all had in common: they were what they appeared they were. From Dan's JERK shirt to Captain America wearing the flag of the U.S.A., they all wore their hearts on their sleeves. Even he did, with his old S.T.A.R.S. patch on his arm.

They traveled down that darkened hall, forced onward by the threat behind them, led by a man who seemed to deliver redemption from revenge. Led on like weary disciples following an angry missionary on his destined pilgrimage, all of them gladly martyrs for this innocent land on a search for salvation through unholy insanity. They were already judged, had been judged and wore judgement like a flag on their hides and in their tongues. Whether marked on their backsides or in some other way, they were all My Little Ponies. Not unforgiving nor final was it, but the active measure of their worth laid bare, an unspoken and natural grace in this world.

But it would be this world's last grace. From the falling white snow to the rising black tide, from the brown wall they scaled to the tan sands they crossed, from the steel horse they road to the gray halls they walked now, they bore witness to Equestria's final act. The curtain falls as it must. Forestalled no longer, the Director makes the final cut.

"It's about motherfuckin' time!"

"Sammy!" Dan exclaimed.

The armored donkey rolled his eyes. "Get your asses up here before you break something else."

"Hey, it's not our fault the Smooze is..." Dan was about to finish that thought when Samule's glare finished it for him. "Alright, lead the way. Nice to see you survived too, by the way."

"Get up the stairs," he shook his head.

The garrison was a series of round rooms with the generator on top. Wires had been attached to the ceiling and connected the generator to the rest of the complex. The backup generators had all been added long after the facility had been converted into a prison; the Spiral Staircase originally received power from the four main cities of Donquestria.

"Why is this place built like a museum?" Phoenix asked.

"Because it IS a museum. Or it was before we started locking scum up in here," Samule said. He wasn't aggressive now, but sounded tired. Not physically tired, but exhausted with this situation. "Place hasn't been used for its original purpose in a thousand years. But we took steps to make sure it was never completely forgotten."

The room directly above the first gallery of villains was yet another gallery, but of weapons. Specifically, guns. Before they entered, Samule spun around.

"I suppose telling you all not to touch anything is a bit of a moot point, isn't it?"

"What?" Dan asked defensively. "We're not going to touch an- oh good gravy." Dan's eyes beheld a wondrous sight; while he'd never been much for guns, he was much for firepower. And he saw plenty of firepower.

"Is that?"

"The Man With The Golden Gun's golden gun, yes," Samule said. "This place was originally built by the New Baltimare Gun Club. Their members collected guns, catapults, cannons, slingshots, pretty much everything that could launch something through the air."

The room was filled with glass cases. In those cases were guns- various guns from throughout history. An impressive collection if ever there was one, and in the center was hitman Francisco Scaramanga's golden gun, fully-assembled. Near that was a Phoenix International Samurai Laser, a Moonraker Laser, both of which Dan had seen before.

Chris rubbed his hand over one of the cases. "Nathan Drake's golden AK."

"Yeah, I thought that was cool, too. It makes you think, doesn't it?" Dollars asked, looking around. "Who else has been here, you know?"

Chris looked at the man. "Who are you again?"

The trooper shouldered his rifle. "Oh uh, I'm Dollars."

"Is that a codename?"

"Yeaaaah," he rubbed his neck. "It's a long story. We're with the UNSC. 9th Shock Trooper Battalion, me and Jake. Er, Lieutenant Jacob Hood."

"UNSC, huh?" Cap asked, coming up from behind them. "I've had a run-in or two with you guys."

Chris gestured to the stormtroopers, the Imperial ones and Kelsan. "You with them?"

"Not... really. They got shot down like us but, hey, I mean, we're all working together now, right?" He looked around. Dollars' partner was casually examining a gatling gun from Red Dead Redemption. Despite the fact it hadn't been used in over a hundred year, it looked pristine, as did everything else.

"You're SURE we can't take a couple things?" Dan asked.

"Oh sure Dan, I'd be very glad to let you take a couple things. You can take a broken arm and a few broken ribs. How does that sound?"

"Haha, okay Sammy, that's enough with the threats," Dan said. "Usually I'M the one who says that stuff anyway, so you're basically borrowing my lines."

Samule stepped up to him. "Am I? Well I'm certainly sorry you-"

And Dan stepped right back. "I said that's enough." The two faced each other, both of them armored aside from Dan's face mask. So he did something about it.

Dan reached up and grabbed Samule's face mask, to look at the donkey eye-to-eye. Before he could remove it, the donkey officer grabbed him by the wrist. But Dan simply flicked his hand and rather than yanking it off, snapped it back and let it fall to the ground. Samule L. Jackson did not flinch. Neither did Dan, however.

The room was silent for the better part of a minute. "I'm taking one thing."

Defeated, Samule sighed. "Fine. When you're finished, meet me upstairs."

"Everybody, follow him," Dan ordered. "I'll be right behind you."

There were a few reluctant glances but most followed the donkey to the generator. Phoenix walked with the others to the stairway to the roof, but then turned around to join Dan.

Dan was huddled over one case in particular and, to his word, was looting the contents. But he was also talking to someone on some kind of communicator.

"And how far away is that in miles?"

"Quite a few. Suffice to say, we're still relatively close by."

"Yeah, well, REMAIN relatively close by until we need you."

"That's about all we can do for now. Out."

Dan closed the communicator. "Nicky, over here."

"Who was that you were talking to?"

"Someone's listening in on us, Nicky. I'm not sure who but the walls have ears."

Phoenix looked around. "So, we're not taking any of these... museum pieces?"

"We're taking one- this," Dan opened the case he was leaning on. Inside was a Desert Eagle, one used by a very specific individual. A faded picture of three men standing over the carcass of a subterranean monster was next to it. On the back read: Perfection, NV

"Who is that?"

Dan picked up the picture and the gun. "He's a... well, let's just say I'm a fan of his. Here," he handed him the gun.

It was a big gun even for Phoenix. "I've uh, never really used this model."

"Well, neither have I but you're going to need to figure it out when the time comes." Dan took a long look at the picture, then carefully folded it and put it in his wallet. "Always be prepared."

Author's Note:

This is a little bit for me, but something I was happy to do. This was a reference I've been wanting to add for a very long time. Been busy though, next chapter will have more action.

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