Chapter 8- Taking Strides
Chapter 8
Taking Strides
Chris lay in bed with only his pajama bottoms on and stared at the ceiling. Come on, Chris, Sam urged from inside his head, it’s been three days, and the only thing you’ve done is sit here. You would have starved by now if weren’t for Sweetie Belle and Cadence. You need to get up and do something.
“What’s the point?” Chris asked out loud without moving. “There’s nothing I can do that’ll make a change now.”
For a while, all was silent again. You’re wrong.
Chris gave an amused huff. “Oh, yeah?” He questioned. “How’s that?”
You need to show everyone that you’re not going to just roll over and give up. Samson explained. Show them that just because you got benched doesn’t mean you’re done fighting.
“And how am I supposed to do that?” Chris asked finally shifting to sit on the edge of the bed.
Train, Sam said simply. Train like we’ve never trained before. Show them that you're not only going to be ready for another fight, you’re going to be better than ever.
Chris sat for a moment and collected his thoughts. “You’re right,” he finally said, letting a small smile reach his lips. “And besides, we’ve got some new moves to perfect.”
Chris could feel Sam’s pride growing. That’s the Chris I know.
Chris gave a short laugh and grabbed his shirt off the nightstand and started pulling it over his head. He had been so busy with the conversation with Samson that he had failed to hear his door open and close.
Sweetie Belle walked down the corridors of the Castle of Two Sisters in her favorite outfit with a tray of food in her hands. Chris hadn’t shown up for breakfast, again, and it had her and the rest of the Elements worried. Her relationship with Sunset had been cold over the last few days, but the rest of the Elements seemed sympathetic to Chris’ plight. Cadence had even come by several times to check on him with her, concerned over the young man’s overall health.
Although, it would be a lie to say she was checking on him only for his sake. In fact, her reason for doing so was somewhat selfish. Chris had brought a certain light to her life. The way he stayed upbeat and almost always smiled, it warmed her heart in an otherwise cold world. But seeing him in his current state… it was almost painful. His playfulness was gone, replaced by a state of morose being. He just laid in his room and stared at the ceiling.
She sighed and looked down at the tray in her, hoping he’d be feeling a little better today. She approached the door to his room and took the tray in her magic to free her hands. She raised her fist to knock but stopped when she heard Chris talking from within.
“How’s that?” She heard him ask. There were no sounds in the room for a few moments before Chris spoke again. “And how am I supposed to do that?” The sound of the mattress shifting reached her ears.
Curious, Sweetie moved her hand to the handle and slowly pushed the door open. She peeked inside and stopped when she spotted Chris. He was facing away from her, head lowered as he conversed with an empty room, but that’s not what got her. As her eyes fell on Chris’ uncovered back, she moved a hand to her mouth to muffle the gasp that tried to escape her lips. A long, knotted scar ran down the right side of Chris’ back, running parallel to his spine.
As Chris stood, Sweetie closed the door as quickly and quietly as she could. When the door finally closed with a click, she turned and put her back against the wall. Thoughts and fears ran through her head before she finally decided on a solution. She straightened up and took a few calming breaths before knocking on the door.
“Who is it?” Chris called from inside his room.
“It’s Sweetie,” she replied, raising her voice slightly to be heard through the door.
“Come on in, Sweetie.”
She opened the door completely and walked through, levitating the tray of food back into her hands. Chris was coming out of the bathroom, his hair freshly combed and wearing his black cargo pants and an orange sleeveless shirt. “What’s up, Sweetie?” He asked as he moved towards his open closet.
She paused for a moment as she made her way over to his desk. “Just bringing you breakfast,” she answered simply as she continued on to set the tray down. “You missed out again today.” She hesitated again with her back to him as he grabbed a pair of socks and his boots. “Everypony's getting worried about you. Even Heavy Ladle asked about you this morning.” She could hear Chris working with his laces, but as she finished she heard the scratch of nylon against nylon stop.
All was quiet for a while until she heard the bed shift again and footsteps as Chris made his way to her. “Sweetie,” he said softly and quietly. She turned slowly to face him and looked up into his eyes that were filled with worry. He was silent for a while as they looked at each other before he lifted his hands to hold her shoulders comfortingly. “I already promised I was going to make this world better,” he practically whispered, “and nothing is going to stop me from doing that.”
She stared up into his eyes for a while, and her eyes began to water. She threw her arms around him, surprising the human as she cried into his chest. “But what if you can’t?” She cried, holding on tighter. “What if they keep you off the battlefield permanently? What if they put you back out there and you get hurt? I don’t want to lose anypony else to this….”
Chris sat in shock for a while, then looked down at the mare wrapped around his torso. His features softened and he lowered his arms and held onto her comfortingly. “Then I guess I need to make one more promise, don’t I?” Sweetie squeezed tighter, making him smile a little. “Sweetie Belle, I promise I won’t let anything bad happen.” Sweetie Belle sniffled a little and pulled away, once again looking into his eyes. Chris kept his hands on her shoulders. “You okay?” He asked, as he lifted his hand and wiped away a tear with his thumb.
Sweetie sniffed one more time before nodding. She let out a humourless laugh. “And I promised I wasn’t going to let anypony see me cry,” she said quietly, wiping away her own tears.
Chris gave his own chuckle. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not a pony then.”
This time, Sweetie let out a true laugh. “Yeah,” she replied, “I guess it is.” She paused for a moment and soaked in the moment. “Do you mind if get cleaned up?” She finally asked jerking a thumb towards the bathroom.
Chris gave another chuckle. “Of course not,” he replied. “Besides,” he continued, “I still need to finish putting on my boots.” Sweetie looked down and laughed at the comical sight of Chris standing with one boot on, half laced, and only a sock on the other.
Sunset walked through a hallway she very rarely visited. Like the rest of the castle, it had been restored, but that didn’t keep it from having a lonely feeling to it. The hallway ended in an archway that led to a spiral staircase. Without skipping a beat, Sunset started taking the stairs more than one at a time, using controlled flaps of her wings to jump up a good four steps at a time. Using this method, she reached the top of the stairwell that held ornate double doors inscribed with symbols of the moon. She approached hesitantly and knocked on the wood.
“Come in,” a voice rang out from the other side. Sunset opened the doors and passed through them, closing the heavy doors behind her. She turned back to the room and observed Nightmare Moon’s private study. Silken veils hung from the ceiling, appearing like the starry night sky and two bookshelves lined the rounded wall on either side of the door. A dark wood desk sat below the only window, open scrolls, books, and an inkwell occupying its surface, and a small matching table sat near the back of the room with two chairs and a tea set. A solitary perch sat just inside the arch leading to the balcony, where Nightmare stood looking out over the Everfree.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t?” Nightmare asked without turning around. “The Everfree, I mean.”
Sunset was silent for a moment. “Um, yes, yes it is,” she finally replied with a bit of uncertainty.
Nightmare let out a short laugh. “That’s funny,” she stated, turning and walking into the tower towards the table. “It wasn’t long ago that ponies coward in fear of the Everfree Forest and all the ‘horrible’ beasties within.” She paused and poured tea into two cups. “Have a seat,” she offered, gesturing to the other chair as she sat. Sunset made her way over and sat, taking the teacup in front of her just as Nightmare did. They were silent for a few moments as each individual prepared their tea to their liking and took silent sips from their cups. Finally, Nightmare placed her cup and saucer down on the table and placed her hands on her lap.
“Why did you pull Chris from active duty, Sunset?” She asked, raising her teal eyes to stare into Sunset’s.
Sunset was slightly unnerved. “He was a loose cannon in the field. He ignored a direct order.”
“Did he tell you why he ignored the order?” Nightmare pressed.
Sunset was silent for a moment. “He wanted to play the distraction, said we wouldn’t be able to make it to the Tree.”
“And did you check his theory?”
A pattern was beginning to form as Sunset was once more silent for a moment. “I did….”
“And?”
Sunset sighed. “And he was right. We would have arrived close to ten minutes after Digster and his cogs.”
“So he made a call that benefited the entire Resistance,” Nightmare summarized, taking another sip of her tea. “So, why exactly did you pull Chris?” She asked looking up at the younger alicorn.
Sunset let out a breath. “I’m afraid he’s going to get hurt, or worse, get someone else hurt.”
Nightmare let out a sigh. “Sunset, do you ever think that your worrying might be holding you and your team back?”
“I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt,” Sunset explained quietly.
“None of us do, Sunset,” Nightmare sympathized, “but this is war. Unfortunately, casualties will be a part of it. I’m not condoning any of our little ponies getting hurt, but it is a sad reality.” She let out a sigh. “I’m not going to condemn your actions. However, I am going to ask that you reconsider your decision. Chris has only been here a little while, and I can already see changes being made. Good changes. Just give him a chance.”
Sunset stared into her tea for a while. “Alright,” she conceded. “I’ll watch him, and if I can see his potential, I’ll put him back on.”
“Thank you, Sunset,” Nightmare Moon said gratefully. “Now,” she picked up the teapot, “would you like another cup to take the stress out of your shoulders?”
Sunset took in a breath and let her shoulders relax. “That would be nice,” she replied with a smile as she held her cup out.
Gloved fists thumped against the canvas of a punching bag. Right, left, right, right, left, uppercut, left hook, right elbow. The blows continued to rain down on the bag until a spinning heel kick finished the combination.
“Nice improv, Sweetie,” Chris said, poking his head out from around the punching bag.
“Thanks,” Sweetie replied, straightening up one of the strings of her hoodie. “All those new moves you’ve been showing me are great.”
“Yeah,” Chris agreed with a smile, handing her a water bottle and a sweat rag. “You’re getting better, too. I could actually feel those last couple of punches.”
“Oh, hush,” Sweetie replied jokingly before taking a drink of water. “I heard you huffing and puffing back there every time I landed a good hit.”
Chris laughed. “And you’re gaining confidence,” he added, taking the rag and bottle as she handed it back to him. “Before long, you’ll be one of the best fighters in the Resistance.”
Sweetie looked hesitant for a moment. “You think they’ll actually put me out in the field without you?” She finally asked.
“Sure, I’m sure,” Chris replied with a smile. “I’m the only one that got benched. As fast as you’re advancing, they’ll probably put you back with Pinkie to take care of each other.”
“But Nightmare said we weren’t good together,” Sweetie argued, returning to her combinations.
“At the time, yes,” Chris grunted as a powerful blow landed in the stomach area of the bag. “But that was a month ago. Now, you’ve not only gotten stronger, both in body and magical ability, but you’re becoming more adaptable.” Chris jerked his head out of the way of a roundhouse kick. “With every new technique you learn, the more you’ll be able to work around Pinkie’s… Pinkieness.”
“Well,” Sweetie replied, throwing a strong uppercut that rammed into the solar plexus region, “I owe it to you.”
“Naw,” Chris answered, “all I can do is teach you the moves, you’re the one that puts the effort into perfecting them.”
Sweetie was silent as she finished another combo, this time ending it with a double fist strike. She dropped her hands, relaxed her stance, and backed away from the bag. They had had to go to her room before going to the training room so she could change. She now wore a pair of pink athletic shorts, and a dark purple tank top finished off with a gray hoodie and white tennis shoes.
“Do you want to work the bag for a while?” She asked as Chris once again passed her the water bottle and rag.
“You getting tired or something?” He replied jokingly while leaning against the punching bag.
“You wish,” she bluffed in humor, a small smile playing on her lips. “I just didn’t want to take up all your gym time.”
Chris chuckled at that as he and Sweetie traded places. “If I wanted,” he said, tightening the straps that kept his gloves on, “all my time could be gym time.” He took up a fighting stance then remembered something. “Uh, Sweetie, are you sure you’re going to be okay holding the bag for me? I do hit a bit harder than you do.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sweetie assured. “Besides this way I can get used to absorbing an impact.”
“If you say so,” Chris replied bringing his fists up. He started throwing his punches slowly and softly at first but began to pick up speed. Soon, he was hitting the bag much faster and harder than Sweetie could. Right hook, left hook, left elbow, right, right, left, right straight kick, right roundhouse, right, left, right, right elbow. He continued on for several more combinations, practically letting his body work from memory and instinct. He finally let loose with a right haymaker that hit the bag with a loud bang. He sat there for a moment, not moving and breathing heavily.
After a few moments, Sweetie looked out from behind the bag. “Are you okay, Chris?” She asked with concern.
Chris looked up at her like she had broke him out of a trance. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Sweetie. Just got a lot on my mind.”
“I understand,” Sweetie sympathized while she handed him a fresh bottle of water and sweat rag. Sweetie was silent as Chris wiped his face and took a drink of water before asking her next question. “So,” she began as he removed the bottle from his lips, “what are you going to do after this?”
“Well, after the punching bag I was thinking about taking a shot at the bench press,” he replied not completely understanding the question.
“Not after the punching bag, silly,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful hit. “I meant after the gym.”
“Oh, sorry,” Chris apologized. “Um, probably going to get some lunch after this, then go down to the lab and see if I can get any work done.”
“Well, at least you have something to keep yourself busy,” Sweetie said as he went back to hitting the bag, albeit with less force.
“Yeah,” Chris agreed, “it could always be worse.” They were silent again as Chris finished his combinations. When he finally stopped he took the water bottle and looked around the gym while he quenched his thirst. He spotted the bench press just as a griffon and earth pony finished their reps and moved on. “Come on, Sweetie,” he said, throwing his rag over his shoulder as she came out from behind the punching bag. “I have something I want to test out.”
They made their way over to the bench press and put their stuff down. Chris stood for a moment, looking between the bar and the weight rack. “Hm,” he hummed in thought. “Do you know how much the bar weighs?” He asked.
“Um, I think I heard somepony say it was forty-five pounds,” Sweetie answered.
“Okay,” Chris replied, rubbing his chin. “Back on earth,” he began as he took the hundred pound weights off each side of the bar, “I was known for my endurance, not my strength. In fact, I only benched about eighty percent of what I should have been able to.” He walked over to the weight rack and began picking up different weights. “My coach used to joke and say I was like a sports car with a huge fuel tank and no horsepower.” When he finished, each side of the bar held a twenty and ten-pound weight. He laid down on the bench as Sweetie moved to stand behind the bar, just in case.
He grabbed the bar and started bringing the bar up and down. “Now, though,” he continued, finishing his fifth rep, “I feel a lot stronger.” He finished his twelfth rep and sat the bar back in its rest position and sat up.
“You don’t even look like you broke a sweat,” Sweetie said in amazement as she walked over to him.
“I don’t think I did,” Chris replied, “and that was my old max.”
“You have been training really hard since you got here,” Sweetie pointed out.
“Yeah, but still.” Chris moved to the weight rack and did some mental calculations. He picked up the hundred pound weights he had taken off earlier and sat them on the bench while he took off the other plates. When he had finished rearranging the plates, each side sported 120 pounds a piece.
“Uh, Chris,” Sweetie said hesitantly as she looked at the large weights. “Don’t you think this might be too much? Those other guys were only doing 245, and they looked a lot bulkier than you.”
“Only one way to find out,” he replied taking his position on the bench again.
Sweetie let out a breath as she went back to her previous position. “If you say so.”
Chris started doing his set, pulling and pushing the barbell. He did this twelve times before he set the weight back down, and stood up, shaking his head. “It’s still too easy,” he muttered to himself. He again rearranged the weighted plates, not stopping until each side equaled out to 180 pounds.
As Sweetie watched, she started getting nervous. “Chris, I don’t think this is a good idea,” she warned. “This is three times as much as what you started out with.”
“Yes, it is,” Chris agreed as he settled back down and put his hands on the bar. “But I have a feeling that this will be the one.” He lifted the barbell out of rest and started his rep. He moved the weight up and down, sweat beginning to form as he pushed and pulled. He made it to his twelfth rep, but where he usually stopped, he continued, bringing the barbell up and down three more times before pushing it back up onto the rest. He sat up and grabbed for his rag and water bottle.
“That was amazing!” Sweetie exclaimed coming around to sit on the bench next to him. “How did you do that?”
Chris shrugged as he caught his breath and brought the water to his lips. When he’d finished gulping down the life-giving liquid he looked back to Sweetie. “I don’t know. That’s something that I shouldn’t have been able to do without help.” He looked back to the loaded barbell. “My maximum has more than tripled in the time I’ve been here. I’ve never even heard of something like that.”
Sweetie was silent for a while as she sat next to him, different thoughts going through her head. “What do you think it could be?” She finally asked.
“It could be any number of things,” Chris answered honestly as he got up and stretched out his aching muscles. “It could be anything from Equus having a different gravitational pull, to Equestrian magic, or even over-exposure to Static.” He turned and held a hand out to Sweetie to help her up. “So many things have changed, I don’t even know where to start.”
Sweetie took his hand and let him help her up. “Whatever the reason,” she said as she finally stood straight, “it’s a good thing for us.”
“Agreed,” Chris said as he started taking some of the weights off the bar. “You want to give this a go, or are you ready for lunch?” He asked, glancing over at her as he worked.
“Actually, I think it’s time to get cleaned up and head to the mess hall,” she replied. “Just watching you work like that made me sweat.”
Chris smiled. “O~kay,” he said jokingly as he slung his sweat rag over his shoulder and turned to the door. “Wonder what they’re serving,” he asked aloud as he and Sweetie began their walk to their respective rooms.
“I don’t know, but I bet Heavy Ladle will have a few words for you,” Sweetie said with a giggle as Chris’ face paled.
Both friends continued on their way, neither of them noticing the dark blue figure that watched them as they left.
Midnight made her way down the dark hallways of Canterlot Castle towards the throne room. In her hand she held a holographic projector, which held some rather disturbing news. She walked in silence, absorbed in her thoughts. That is until another set of footsteps drew her attention.
She looked up from her thoughts and saw the last being she had hoped to see during her stay at the castle. “Queen Machina,” she said with light venom as she came to a stop in front of the machine monarch.
“Oh, hello, Midnight, dear,” Machina responded patronizingly. “I thought you had gone back to that run down encampment you call a castle.”
Midnight fumed inwardly. “You’re husband has yet to release Sombra and I,” she replied with clenched teeth.
“I don’t see why not,” Machina pondered, “it’s not as if the two of you being here is helping anything.”
Midnight could feel her anger rising and fought to control the flare of magic that was building up around her. “He acknowledges our tactics and strategies. There isn’t exactly very many beings around that compare to his intellect,” Midnight gave a wicked grin. “It must be a nice change.”
Queen Machina bristled. “Now you listen here,” she growled, stepping closer. “You are nothing more than a blood-sucking tick that latched onto a predator. Without us, you and your miserable servants would have been thrown back to that ruined world of filth.” Machina’s face morphed into an evil sneer. “You are nothing without us.” She flicked her fan open between their faces and straightened up. “Ta, ta, dear,” she said, sweeping past her and further down the hall.
Midnight stood in place, her fists clenched and trembling. She would not allow Queen Machina the satisfaction of knowing that she got to her. Instead, she made a mental note to incinerate a few more cogs when she made her way back to Ponyville and continued on her way to the throne room.
As she approached the double doors, she could hear yelling from inside. Two new cogs stood guard over the doors and once again crossed their weapons as Midnight closed the distance.
She let out a sigh. “You two can either move or,” her hands burst into teal flames, “you can end up like the last two.”
The cogs shared a look and started to move their weapons. Suddenly, the shouting grew in volume and loud stomping could be heard before the left door was slammed open, crushing the unfortunate cog. Sombra stormed out, either oblivious to the cogs demise or uncaring.
“Sombra?” Midnight said in surprise as the crystal monarch walked past. “Where are you going?”
“Back to my empire,” he shouted over his shoulder, “and away from this madness!” He quickly disappeared down the corridor.
Midnight turned back to the doors and made to enter but stopped. The surviving cog had moved to the other side and was currently trying to pull its comrade out of the wall. Midnight stared for a moment then grinned wickedly. Her hands and horn lit up with teal magic, the doors quickly following suit. She moved her hands close together and ripped them apart with as much force as she could muster. The doors were forced open, slamming into the walls again and smashing the second cog into the body of the other and crushing it. With a wicked smirk, she entered the throne room.
King Mondo was pacing back and forth in front of his throne and grumbling to himself. He continued on like this as Midnight walked in, and didn’t take notice of her presence, even after she stopped in the middle of the room. She waited for impatiently for Mondo to give her his attention. When he didn’t, she did the only thing she could think to do.
“Hm-mm,” she cleared her throat as loud as she could. King Mondo stopped in his pacing and finally turned to face Midnight.
“Ah, Midnight,” he said, waving his staff in the air. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Midnight thought back to how she had thrown the doors open with enough force to flatten one cog against another. “I shall make my entrance more obvious next time,” she said, making a mental note of that little line. She hefted the holographic projector in her hand. “We finally managed to salvage some of the data from Digster’s memory core.”
“Oh, yes, Digster,” Mondo said with excitement. “Did you manage to salvage his personality core?”
“Unfortunately not,” Midnight answered while flipping the projector in her hands in a bored manner. “It was extremely difficult to get back Digster’s last few moments.”
“Hm, pity,” King Mondo responded, more over the low amount of memory they had recovered than about the permanent loss of one of his Captains. “Well, let’s see it then.”
Midnight hesitated. “It’s… it’s not exactly something you’re going to be happy about,” she told him in forewarning, before tossing the device into the air where it floated and let out beams of light that played a video from Digster’s point of view.
There was a bright flash and Digster was standing over the Everfree. He looked down and spotted three beings; an off-white and purple unicorn, the changeling queen, and a yellow Psycho Ranger. Digster let out a laugh at the sight of their tiny figures.
“If you won’t fall, then I’ll bury you!” Digster cried as he stomped on the figures. A faint, yellow blur could be seen racing away from his foot. A few moments later, the air was full of the sound of jet engines and a black, star-shaped ship flew out of the cloud cover. The yellow blur could be seen entering the cockpit again, and the zord transformed into a humanoid shape. “And I thought I killed you with that stomp,” Digster declared to the machine. “Now I get to crush you and your worthless zord!”
There was a moment of tenseness before a voice echoed from the zord. “What did you just call Delta?” Digster took a step back. “We… are not worthless!” The voice yelled. The zord rushed forwards and slammed into Digster’s midsection. The camera panned so that Digster was looking down the zord’s back as flames erupted from its feet. The ground got further and further away until the image was filled with a globe of Equus. The opposing robot came back into view and got smaller as Digster drifted away. The voice boomed out again. “I hope you can hear this, Mondo. We’ll never stop until Equestria and all of Equus is free from you.” The cannons that served as the zord's fingers began to glow. “I hope you’re ready, ‘cause we’re coming for you! Gyro Blasters, fire!!!” Arcs of plasma lanced out of the zord’s rotating fingers, hitting Digster several times as he cried out and finally exploded, leaving the video as nothing more than static.
King Mondo was silent for a moment as he stared at the black and white static. Slowly, Midnight started hearing a low growling and backed away a few feet. Suddenly, steam exploded from Mondo’s ears, and he thrust his staff forward, wrapping the projector in electrical energy and threw it into the wall, letting out a yell of frustration. The projector crashed into the wall and shattered in a shower of sparks.
Midnight flinched away from the monarch’s rage. Mondo continued to spew steam and kept a continuous stream of electricity flowing from his staff as sparks leapt from the walls. Midnight lifted a shield in front of herself as the beam made its way over her. This continued for a few more moments before Mondo finally calmed down. He turned and stared at Midnight as she brought down her shield. “How many?” He asked shortly.
Midnight gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
“How many rangers!?!” Mondo roared slamming the butt of his staff the ground.
Midnight flinched. “Just the one, King Mondo,” she replied as she tried to regain her composure.
“How can there be only one?” Mondo asked, his anger slightly dispersing. “If there is both a red and yellow ranger, how can there just be one?”
“We looked over the readings we got from the area,” Midnight explained. “The ranger’s signature is… unique.”
“How so?”
“When we looked at the readings that we got from the areas during Silo and Digster’s fights, the energy signals seemed completely different at first. However, when we looked closer, there was a single strand of information that remained the same. To add to that, the biological signal of the ranger is the same, albeit it is growing in strength.”
King Mondo remained silent as he processed the information. “So, there is only one ranger,” he muttered before looking back to Midnight. “How much stronger has he gotten?” He questioned.
“Since his first appearance, we estimate that his signature has grown a little over three times as strong as it once was.” Midnight paused for a moment before continuing. “My theory is that something is causing him to grow in strength to the point where it is proportional to that of races native to Equus.”
“What you’re saying is that some force is making him stronger,” Mondo summarized. “But why?”
“I may have an answer to that,” Midnight proposed. “When I found out that the ranger was human, I did some research, especially over,” Midnight grimaced and rolled her shoulders in annoyance, “the mirror portal. The portal changes the physical form of anyone that enters it. The reason for this is because ponies can’t survive long in a human world, and the same is true for humans in a pony world. By all rights, the ranger should be dead by now.”
“But instead he keeps getting stronger,” Mondo finished.
Midnight nodded. “Something- or someone- wants him here.”
“But who and how?” King Mondo asked. “It can’t be Zordon. He died in the explosion that brought us here. Hmph, he was the explosion that sent us here. Besides, he was never into the augmentation of living beings. So, it is only logical to assume that a force of this world is to blame.”
“That would be a logical conclusion,” Midnight agreed as she turned and started to make her way out.
“Where are you going?” Mondo questioned the mare.
“Back to Ponyville,” she answered simply, “I’ve been gone too long, and my equipment at the castle is better suited to analyzing the Psycho Ranger’s abilities. I’ll send whatever I find and any news through a messenger. Until the next summoning, King Mondo.” She walked out of the doors and closed them behind her.
King Mondo stared after her for a few seconds and moved to his balcony. He looked out towards the Everfree. “I'm getting closer, ranger,” he murmured. “Soon, you and this world will bow to my rule!”
Chris and Sweetie were walking down the halls of the castle, laughing and enjoying each other's company after lunch. Suddenly, a beeping jingle played out. Chris looked down at his communicator. “Really glad, I changed that,” he told Sweetie as he lifted the device and pressed the response button. “This is Chris Scott.”
“Private Scott.” It was Nightmare Moon. “Would you please come down to the Council room. And if you see Ms. Belle, tell her we’d like to see her as well.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” she replied canceling the call.
Chris and Sweetie shared a look. “Wonder what this could be about,” Chris said as they changed directions to head back towards the Council room.
“I don’t have a very good feeling about this,” Sweetie responded.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Chris reassured. They were absorbed by their own thoughts as they walked and a few minutes later they arrived at the door to the Council room. Chris looked to Sweetie Belle. “You ready?” He asked.
“As ready as I can be,” she responded.
Chris nodded and moved his communicator over the security panel. There was a beeping noise and a gruff voice sounded out. “Names,” it said shortly.
“Chris Scott.”
“Sweetie Belle.”
Everything was silent for a second before the door slid open revealing a griffon in full armor. “The Council is waiting for you,” he told them, shifting sideways to allow them entrance.
“Thank you,” Chris said as he followed Sweetie into the room. Upon entering, he looked around to get a feel for the room. It was low-lit, with a large oval table set in the middle. The Councillors sat around it, one for each race plus the Elements and Head Councillor. All the seats were occupied except the seats for the Dragon and Zebra Councilors. As they walked into the room, all eyes turned to them.
“Private Scott, Ms. Belle,” Nightmare addressed them from the front of the room. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. Please have a seat.” She motioned towards a pair of seats that had been prepared for them at the end of the table. They made their way over to the seats and sat down.
Nightmare waited for them to be seated. “Do either of you know why you’re here?” She questioned, folding her hands in front of her.
Chris and Sweetie shared a look with one another. “No,” Chris answered turning back to face the Council. “I can’t say we do.”
“You are here,” an older griffon explained, “to discuss the actions of Changeling Councillor Chrysalis three days ago.” The griffon was obviously older, and wore an old military uniform, the nameplate in front of him reading “GUNTRAM.” “Reports say that Queen Chrysalis was on the battlefield when you were fighting the Machine Captain Digster. Green silk also puts her at the scene of battle. Now, I’ll only ask once,” he gave both pony and human a cold stare. “Was she there or was she not?”
Sweetie flinched under the harsh gaze and Chris frowned. He put a hand on Sweetie’s arm to reassure her and thought quickly. He looked around the room and spotted Shining Armor and Cadence giving him sideways looks as if in warning. Chrysalis and Nightmare both sat stone-faced as if neither was bothered by the issue. The only other pony he knew personally was Sunset Shimmer, and she was making a point of not looking at him, for what reason wasn’t clear. Finally, he turned back to Guntram with a response. “Neither me nor Sweetie saw Chrysalis on the battlefield,” he said sternly, forcing a convincing tone into his voice.
Guntram raised an eyebrow and glanced towards the Diamond Dog Councillor, Winston, according to his nameplate. He shared the look with the griffon and turned back to the pair. “Then how do you explain the green silk?” He asked.
Chris moved his eyes back and forth between the two Councillors before he took another look around the table. Some of the other Councillors began looking away. He looked back to the other two Councillors, his frown growing. “Me and Sweetie set an experimental trap that combines different elements of our magic.”
“Would you mind demonstrating this ‘new spell’ for us,” Guntram asked, an almost unnoticeable smirk on his beak.
“Of course not,” Chris replied, keeping his eyes locked with the griffon. He stood from his chair and backed away from the table. Sweetie kept a calm face as she too got up and followed him. After they were about five feet from the table they turned to face each other.
“What are we doing!?!” Sweetie hissed low enough that only Chris heard.
“We need to make webbing,” Chris explained as low as he could as he brought his hands up and started channeling magic through his hands. Black Static flowed over his hands and a sphere of magic energy formed over his upturned palms. Sweetie glanced between him and the magic before adding her magic to the sphere. Chris could feel the consistency of his magic change as if he had been holding a stone that suddenly turned to putty. “There it is,” he whispered. He and Sweetie moved their hands over the spell, trying to mold the earth energy into a web.
Sweetie shook her head. “It’s not going to stay together,” she murmured.
Sweat started to form on Chris’ brow. Think, think, think! He shouted at himself.
Stop thinking, just do, Sam told him, bringing his consciousness to bind with Chris’. Do what’s natural. Chrysalis’ title might depend on this. You saw the griffon and diamond dog, they’re up to something.
Yeah, Chris agreed. I’m going to try something. He stopped focusing so hard on the earth magic he was molding, just enough for his left hand to lose its Static. He felt the magical weight shift to his right hand and adjusted the flow of magic accordingly. Okay, Chris thought. Hold that for me. He felt Sam put all of his focus on keeping the earth magic as it was, and moved his focus to his left hand again. He focused and summoned his basic Static, its orange glow spreading over his hand. He concentrated harder, his brow furrowing, and slowly the Static turned from orange to blue. Got it, Chris thought as he moved his hand back to the mixture.
Got wha- HOLY SHIT, THAT’S COLD! Sam cried as the ice magic was suddenly added.
Sweetie too let out a little gasp at the cold shock.
“Sorry,” Chris apologized as much to her as to Sam. “Can you bind this together?”
She nodded and worked her magic through the amalgamation. Chris added his focus back to holding everything together and felt as the ball of magic condensed a little and became a little more rigid. Too rigid.
Scheisse, so close, Chris thought.
If we’re mixing magic like paint, why don’t we add a little pink? Sam suggested.
Chris grinned. That’s a good idea. Can you hold on to all this?
Not without help, Sam replied.
Chris looked up at Sweetie. “We need you to hold this together for a second,” he told her.
Her eyes widened for a second, but then she nodded. Chris felt the weight in his hands lighten. With that taken care of, he removed his right hand, hoping that using the hand wearing the Psycho Morpher would help him focus his magic. He started up his Static, the light orange flashing around his hand. He focused a little more and the orange turned to pink. He made eye contact with Sweetie who nodded. Here it comes, Sam, he thought as he moved his hand to the sphere of magic. The pink energy merged with the rest, and the texture changed once more. It’s ready, Chris thought.
Just one last detail, Sam reminded him.
I can’t change the color, Chris responded.
But Sweetie might be able to, Sam told him.
Chris looked to Sweetie. “Can you make it green?” He whispered.
She nodded and the sphere changed from a multicolor sphere into a pure green. “It’s done,” she said quietly then looked to Chris. “How do we deploy it?”
“Compress it like a spring,” Chris explained, “then direct it.”
“Where to?”
“I’ll handle it.” Chris and Sweetie began to compress the orb of energy. When it was as small as possible, Chris gave a nod. He turned to the Council, and he and Sweetie threw their arms forward. Web-like strands shot from the orb, spreading harmlessly over the heads of the Council members… except for Winston and Guntram, who felt the breeze of the webbing go past their ears.
“It was a bit easier in the forest,” Chris admitted. “The heat of battle led us to rely more on instinct rather than pure intellect, but it worked.”
Guntram raised his head and gave the pair a cold stare. “How dare you-”
“Private Scott, Ms. Belle,” Nightmare interrupted. “Thank you for your help in clearing up this issue. You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris replied. He turned to leave, but as he did so he couldn’t help but catch the small, appreciative smile that Chrysalis threw his way. He and Sweetie walked out of the room and started down the hallway, the griffon guard closing the door behind them.
“Well, that was fun,” Chris said as he stretched his arms behind his head.
“Fun?” Sweetie questioned. “You lied to the Council, we barely pulled off that spell, and you almost clipped two of the Councillors with it. How was any of that ‘fun’?”
“Guess it’s all in how you look at it,” Chris replied with a smirk.
Sweetie shook her head and went silent. They walked that way for a little while before she finally picked back up. “Chris, I want to ask you something.”
“Ask away,” he responded, his goofy grin still plastered to his face.
“In the council chamber, you said ‘we’ need you to hold this together. Who’s ‘we’?”
Chris’ grin fell away and he looked down at her. He stared for a while and let out a sigh. “Let’s go to my lab,” he said, “we’ll talk there.”
Chris opened the door to his workspace in the engineering department and stepped to one side to let Sweetie in first. After she walked through the door, he followed after, closing the door and flicking the switch that controlled the soundproofing to the “on” position. He turned back to see Sweetie staring at him with concern. Chris frowned. I knew this would happen, he thought.
Do you hate me? Sam asked.
Chris was silent as he walked over to his computer. No, he finally replied as he picked up the cord that would connect his morpher to the computer.
Do you hate yourself?
Chris stopped, the sudden question taking him by surprise. He frowned but didn’t say anything as he finished plugging in his morpher and turned to face Sweetie Belle. “Okay, Sweetie,” he started, “we’re alone and there’s almost no way anyone can hear us outside these doors.” He let out a nervous sigh. “What do you want to know?”
Sweetie was quiet for a few moments before she spoke up. “Who is ‘we’?” She asked.
Not pulling any punches is she, Chris thought. Chris let out a breath of air then looked up at Sweetie. “Have you ever heard of Multiple Personality Disorder?” When Sweetie shook her head he continued. “Here in Equestria, it’s an extremely rare disorder, almost non-existent, but where I come from, it’s more common. It causes someone to develop a second set of personality traits. It’s like two people have been shoved together into one body.” Chris took another nervous breath. “My second personality is Samson Jaeger. Since I’ve come to Equestria we’ve grown closer, more like... brothers.” Chris stopped and waited for Sweetie to say something.
When she did, it wasn’t what he was expecting. “You said this is a disorder,” she began. “How does this disorder develop?”
Chris was once again caught off guard and had to take the time to think. He came to the conclusion that he didn’t like where this was going. “Multiple Personality Disorder is usually developed when a person is exposed to multiple highly… stressful situations.”
Sweetie bit her lip and looked away, taking a shaky breath. She finally looked back with concern in her eyes. “Chris, how did you get that scar on your back?”
Chris froze and his eyes widened. Eventually, his face dropped into an ashamed look as he stared at the ground. “When did you see that?” He asked, his voice low.
Sweetie was quiet for a few seconds. “This morning, when I brought you breakfast,” she began to explain. “I was going to knock, but I heard you talking to somepony, so I waited. But when nopony answered and you kept talking, I got curious. I… opened the door to see if you were okay. You were sitting on the edge of your bed with your shirt off….” She trailed off, not knowing whether she should continue or not.
They were both silent for a while. The silence was becoming deafening when Chris finally spoke up. “My father… was a good man. We went to work, paid the bills, and gave me all the love he could. If he had to bring his work home he’d let me help. That’s how I first got into programming and computers. It was the perfect environment for a growing kid.” He let out a short, sour laugh. “Except it wasn’t. My father was completely in love with my mother. He adored her… but she didn’t love him back. When I was about eight months old, she ran away, and to fill the void, my father turned to the bottle. For every ‘welcome home’ hug, there was a ‘get out of my face’ slap. For every ‘good job’ high five, there was a ‘you’re annoying’ kick. For six years, I faced that abuse. Every day, from the time I could remember until I was in the first grade, I took that beating. One night, he came home from the bar, a bottle in his hand. To this day, that is the only memory that I can’t fully recall. My dad got upset and started swinging the bottle around. It hit me in the arm first, and I ducked the next swing and started running for the door. There was a crash and my dad started chasing after me. I got the door open, but it was too late. Despite all the things I don’t remember about that night, I will never forget the pain of that bottle leaving the scar on my back. I somehow managed to get to my neighbors’ house. The next thing I remember is being put into an ambulance and driven to the hospital.”
Chris stopped and took a shaky breath. “I was put into the foster care system. I got bounced around three different times before someone actually took me in at fifteen.” Chris looked up at Sweetie Belle with tears in his eyes. “I never felt like I belonged anywhere until then. The man who adopted me was Andrew Scott. He was my caseworker, and he was the only constant in my life. He would check on me, see how I was adjusting, and every time a foster parent dropped me, he was always the one to pick me up.” Chris got quiet and lowered his head again. “But like all good things, it didn’t last. My senior year of high school, he got sick… and he didn’t make it. Just like that, I was alone again.” A few tears escaped his eyes and he wiped angrily at his face. “I had nowhere to go, and no one to go to, so I made an executive decision. I hacked into one of the most prestigious universities in the state of North Carolina, and bought a one-way ticket.”
Chris’ face grew angry and he started clenching his hands on the desk behind him. “But just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, life had to hit me with one last curve ball. On the first day of my new life, I just had to go down to the store and buy one last notebook. On the way to the store, I was stopped by a guy asking for money for booze. He was so… dirty and unkept. I looked him up and down and saw the sign he was holding. It said his name was Joseph Jaeger… my father.” Chris stopped for a moment and took a breath. “That was the last time I saw him.” Chris stopped and kept his eyes on Sweetie.
Throughout the story, her expression had changed multiple times, usually within the sad or shocked category. Right now, though, she was staring simply in shock. She blinked her eyes and turned her eyes away, bringing a hand up to brush away the few tears that had escaped. She turned back and looked at the young man with sorrow on her features. “Chris, I-”
Chris raised a hand to stop her. “I never wanted anyone’s sympathy. To tell the truth, I never wanted anyone to know the whole truth about me. I didn’t want to be looked at like a freak, or an outsider. I just wanted to be normal.”
Sweetie stared for a few seconds, a few more tears rolling down her cheeks. Finally, she stood up straight and did her best to put on a brave face. “If you don’t want anypony’s sympathy, then,” she blinked her eyes and something new filled them, “will you at least allow them to care?”
Chris stared at her for a moment before he looked down then off to the side. So many thoughts ran through his head. So many memories. Finally, he came to a conclusion. He looked back at Sweetie… and smiled. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “I think I can do that.”
Sweetie’s entire body seemed to relax and she let a smile light up her face. She walked towards him and opened her arms. Chris let his smile widened slightly and he raised his arms to accept the embrace. As they wrapped their arms around one another and their faces became hidden from each other, Chris’ smile faded.
As they stayed there in each other's arms, Chris thought back to Sam’s question. I used to hate myself completely, Sam, he thought to his brother. I used to hate so many things, but nothing more than myself.
And what about now? Sam questioned.
Chris was silent for a moment. Now, I don’t want any of that, he answered quietly.
Then what do you want?
Chris looked at the mare he held in his arms and thought about all the time they had spent together. How much happier he felt. As these thoughts passed through his mind, he knew.
This, he answered, pulling Sweetie in just a little tighter and letting a small, earnest smile appear on his lips. I want this.
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She has a name you know
7623506
I knew someone was going to say something about that.
7623535
Well damn... 'dat backstory tho!
might even say... baby got backstory?
...I'll see myself out. Though I really do take issue with shady political types...
7623927
Agreed, which is why I decided to throw him into the mix. Now we've got trouble inside and out.
7624088
Sp00pie... makes me wish for the day of our cross to come faster...
Love me my backstory, and that anti human theory. I thought I was the only one who thought about it!
7624524
I just came up with it on the fly so I'd have an excuse for Chris/Sam getting so much stronger.
7625108 I touched upon the concept and never revisited it, I think I might go back to it now.
Any plans of making some of the Elements into rangers?
7644393
Pffft, hahaha! Why would I make anypony a ranger? Th-that's rediculous. Why would you ask such a thing...
7645090 Sweetie Belle.
7646033
*whistles innocently*
7646184 Which season ranger would fit her?
7646360
I have a plan... that is all....
i1.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/001/124/062/2d6.jpg
7646366 ok
Queen Machina got burned badly.
But, how would he have known that?
Good changes like what?
Is that a thing?
Ok, that’s kinda funny.
You haven’t done anything either.
Is that what he’s doing?
Did he just say no and walk away?