Jericho

by Crushric

Chapter 7 — Bump

Chapter Seven: Bump

“Oh, this is me being brave! I wanna be brave at home, locked in my closet, with my teddy bear!”

“...that the Princesses forgive us for keeping this nation safe,” the recording crackled, then died down. Cards didn’t reply, just stared off into the trees that surrounded the road.

“So there you have it,” I said. “That’s everything we know so far, and that’s the plan. Aside from a few letters from and to White Tongue and Boulder, we didn’t find anything else of note while you were asleep. Any questions?”

Dust, standing off to the side, let out a yawn while arching her back and spreading her wings. When she caught me looking, she flashed a smile and flexed her wings. She pulled out her chocolate bar and took a nibble.

The unicorn pawed at the dirt road, refusing to look me in the eyes. “Maybe one,” Cards said. “Duke Elkington didn’t sound evil in that recording. I mean, if anything, he sounded a bit worried. What if... what if we’re all wrong here? What if he’s actually doing a good thing, but just is, like, really bad at it?”

I reached to the side and grabbed a lone leaf from a bush. Leaf in hoof, I offered it to Cards. “What color is this?”

“Um, green?”

“Very good,” I said, dropping it. “Do you know what color it wasn’t?”

“Mauve?” Dust suggested, munching on her chocolate.

“Okay, yes, but that wasn’t what I was aiming for.” I shook my head. “The leaf was neither black nor white.”

Cards inclined her head. “What does that mean?”

“We live in a marvelously colorful world, not one of just black and white, though it often seems to boil down into being gray. The fact is, people don’t do bad things just because. If you’re expecting to know who the bad and good guys are just by looking at them from a distance, you’re going to be sadly mistaken. After all, one person’s freedom fighter is another person’s terrorist.”

Cards didn’t reply.

“But enough being dramatic, Cards!” I said with a smile. “Now, where was this place you were taking us to? I’m a mite bit on the tired side.”

She pointed down the road. “Just a little that ways. I’ll–I’ll lead the way, okay?”

“Suits me just fine,” I chirped.

Lightning Dust, having eaten half of the bar, slid up next to me. “She seems to be doing well enough.” She licked a bit of chocolate off her lips as I looked back at her.

“And you’re taking this all in stride, a real trooper.” I followed after Cards, and Dust kept next to me.

“Yeah, I guess am I, ain’t I?” Dust replied. A bird flew overhead as she asked, “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You had a leg and several ribs broken, then you drilled a terrifying needle into your leg.” She shivered. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I hate needles. Not afraid of them, just hate them. Then, to top it all off, you got hanged. I mean, actually, really hanged.”

“And you didn’t try to stop them,” I said coldly, looking ahead. When Dust didn’t say anything else, I fiddled with my bags, poking and prodding with a certain object I had in there. I levitated out two earbuds and put them in my ears. A flick later and the sounds of familiar, thoroughly-enjoyable music filled my head. After the first song, I was actively humming the tunes.

Dust poked my shoulder. I glanced at her and saw her lips moving, but heard nothing. I pulled out the earbuds, then I could hear her. “...in your ears?”

“Say again?”

She ran a hoof through her mane. “Those things in your ears. What are they?”

“Mister Welch called them ‘earbuds’, so I guess that’s what they are, Miss Dust.” I went to put them back in my ears, but then she asked a question.

“What do they do?”

“Equestria lacks them?” I asked. Up ahead of us, Cards hesitated, then turned left and went that way. Of course, Dust and I followed her. “How queer.”

With a wing Dust pulled out her chocolate bar again and nibbled at it. “Well, what does it do?”

“It lets me listen to music without bothering anyone else,” I said, and Dust inclined her head. “I have them hooked up to a record player in my bag, and so as they play, the sound is played through the earbuds and not the speakers.”

“You have a record player in your bag?” she asked incredulously. “How?”

I hit pause on the record player and pulled it out. “See? You’d be surprised to see just how much I can fit in my bags.”

Dust took a huge bite out of her chocolate bar and munched. As she finished it, she threw it off into a bush. Before she could finish chewing, I sighed, “Somewhere, Dust, a buffalo is crying.” I trotted back and grabbed the wrapper, stuffing it into a pocket.

“Huh?” she mare questioned through a mouthful.

“Nevermind, dear girl,” I replied. “Never you mind.”

She swallowed. “Well, like I was saying, that’s not a record player. It’s too... compact.”

“Well, maybe Equestrian ones are just too big,” I scoffed.

“Would you two stop talking?” Cards called back. “Because we’re here. Look!”

I turned and saw the large farmhouse Cards was gesturing out at. A blink later and I was looking back. The forest that had lined the trail, it seemed, had been cut down here to make room for a farmhouse and the dark field beyond.

Dust whistled. “Wow. What a dump.”

“Why do you have to always be so damn negative?” Cards asked, frowning.

“Because lightning is positively charged,” Dust said with a shrug. “Thought I’d mix things up a little.”

I’m pretty sure that the only kind of lightning that’s positively charged is the kind that shoots upwards—ooh, that’s clever... I think. I facehoofed. “Ladies, that’s all well and fine, but can you stop bickering like an old married couple and get back to the matter at hand: namely, whose house is this?”

Cards nodded. “Farmer Agri. Used to live here with his wife, Cola, but she passed away not too long ago. Agri and Cola made a nice team. Grew some pretty good produce, too. I haven’t seen Agri in a while, but that’s probably because he’s waiting for the crops to ripen, y’know?”

Looking out into the fields, I asked, “And what did he grow?”

“Grapes. There’s a distillery in town, too.”

A branch to my left jostled. I looked over to it and paused. There, sitting on a branch and eying me, was a strange green bird with a yellow head, red face, and white beak. I’d seen it before, but where? Where? Recognition hit me as I recalled the painting Lyra had in her kitchen of herself as a filly, a small parrot on her head.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the bird.

“Hmm?” Dust hummed, looking over at it. Her voice went flat. “Oh, it’s one of those.”

“What is it?” I insisted on asking.

Dust sighed. “It’s a Marolina Parakeet, just an annoying pest.”

Cards spoke up. “I knew a filly in town who had a cat, but her cat ate a Marolina Parakeet and died. Apparently, those birds are poisonous, so don’t lick them.”

Dust and I turned our heads to Cards. “Why would you lick a bird?” Dust asked.

“Uh-dunno,” Cards said, turning back to the house. “So. Are we just gonna knock? I mean, Agri should be fine with it. He’s a friend of my father’s, so...”

“Why are there no lights on in the house?” I asked, but nopony heard me. The two mares just ambled their way to the door. Sighing to myself, I followed them. “Hey, can I knock on the door?”

Cards shot me a suspicious look. “You’re not going to punch him, are you?”

“No,” I replied, pawing at the dirt.

“No,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

My ears drooped. “What? Why? Did you want me to punch him? If so, I’ll break his jaw for you, no questions asked.”

She jerked a hoof up at me and shook her head. “No! N-n-no! No need for that! I just think he’d respond better to a familiar face, don’t you?” I gave a hesitant nod, and she sighed. “Okay, good.”

As Cards knocked on the door, I backed away from the girls. “Um, hello? Mister Agri? Are you home? It’s Cards, Sheriff Strong’s daughter.”

The parakeet squawked harshly. I glanced back, only to see a bundle of colorful feathers where the bird had been. That wasn’t unsettling in the least bit. Nope. As I looked over as Cards, I saw her sigh.

“Nada.” She tried the door itself and found it locked. “Any ideas?”

“One,” I muttered with a faint smile, sauntering over to the door. “Please move,” I said, and Cards did. I knelt down and took out a lockpick and knife.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Dust asked.

“Well, what would you expect a roguish type to be doing, hmm?” Tick, tack, tock. The surprisingly rusty lock opened up, the door coming next. Putting my tools away, I stepped into the first room, a rather dusty den. “Knock knock und klopf klopf, Mister Agri!” I called out. “I’m a burglar; I swear I’m not here to sell you a subscription to some really girly magazine!”

“What are you doing?!” Cards hissed.

I chuckled, gesturing around the room. “He’s not home.”

“How do you know that?”

“Did you see the vineyard out there? It looks abandoned. There are no lights on, he won’t reply to any knocks, and so I conclude that he’s not home.”

“Well, maybe he’s just been sick and so can’t go out there to work, huh?”

“Then we’ll explain that you came to check up on him, and found the door open.”

“But you just said you were a burglar!”

I sighed. “We were simply trying to get his attention via humor.”

“He has a dog, you know! A big, mean one!” She stamped her hooves.

“So where it is? Wait. No. Now that I’ve said that, the dog’s gonna just wander in here and attack us, right?” I glanced expectantly at a random doorway. “Huh. What do you know? No dog. That caught me off guard.”

Dust snickered, elbowing the unicorn in the chest. “Cards, I think he’s making fun of you.”

“Well, thinking is the greatest torture in the world for most people,” I replied, shrugging.

Cards sighed, hanging her head. “I hate you ponies.” She pointed through a random doorway. “Look, the kitchen’s in there. You two sit tight and I’ll go look for Mister Agri, okay?”

“Awful brave of you, Cards,” I commented.

“I need some alone time to rethink my life,” she said. When Dust and I didn’t move, Cards closed the front door for us and again pointed to the kitchen. “Well, go on, you. I’m going to search around the place, okay?”

“That’s a dumb idea,” I declared, inclining my head. “It’s a well-known fact that it’d be bad form to split up. So here’s what we’ll do: we’ll search the house together, thereby ensuring nothing bad happens to any of us. Are we clear?”

Cards groaned, looked like she was about to fight, but just lowered her ears. “Oh, what’s the use? Fine. But we’re going to check the bedroom first, alright?”

So we did. Dust and I followed Cards down a hallway and up a set of stairs. Slowly, Cards opened the bedroom door. “Hello?” she whispered. “Anypony here? It’s me, Cards, the Sheriff’s daughter.” The door opened fully, and Cards stepped into the dark room. “Hello? Sir? Mister Agri?”

“Nopony’s home,” I said, peering at the dark bed. By the bedside was a large lamp on a nightstand. I went over to it, took out a match, and lit it up. In the light, the room looked abandoned. A fresh, very thin layer of dust covered everything. A very stupid part of me wanted to ask Dust if she saw anyone she knew, but even I knew that was a dumb pun.

Cards looked around the room. “But this is where he’d be! I don’t get it.”

I opened up the nightstand and poked around. There was a black-and-white photo of a young earth pony couple sitting by the riverside; it had been placed face-down. Next to it was a small book titled “The Fruit of Wrath”, with many of its pages dog-eared and with a single bookmark in it. I opened it up to the bookmarked page, the very last page, and read a note written in the margins: “I want to put a tag of shame on the greedy bastards who are responsible for this depression and its effects. Also, are these gills?”

Back the book went, though not before I read the synopsis on the back. Apparently, it took place nigh a century ago, during a great depression caused by the disappearance of what little foreign trade Equestria had. I didn’t read much more than that because I stopped to think about that time nigh a century ago.

If memory served, and if I was correctly converting from Equestrian methods of dating to those used in the Reich, that was six years after King Viktor Pendergast took the throne. So at that time, under the leadership of King Viktor, Teutschland was single-handedly waging a war on three continents against Nippön and the white legions of the so-called “Good Stallion”, Waltharius. Whatever the reasons, the war must have had an adverse effect on Equestria. It was strange to think that the same event which ruined the Equestrian economy had helped turn Teutschland into the unrivaled superpower it was today. I made a mental note to ask Cards or Dust about it. Maybe they could help me connect the pieces of this puzzle?

“Huh. It’s locked,” Cards grunted, jostling me out of my thoughts. I turned to see the mare fumbling with the door to what looked like a bathroom. “You find anything, government boy?”

I shook my head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Great,” the unicorn groaned, her ears limp. She ran a hoof through her mane. “So, I’ve started to think that maybe he’s not here.”

Lightning Dust ambled into the room. “Yeah, so I just peeked through the rest of the house. Nopony’s home.”

“You ran off without us?” I said with a frown. “What did I tell you about that? You’re lucky that no incredibly contrived circumstances arose that caused us a problem and killed you.” I spotted a small wastebasket by the floor. It was empty, so I disposed of Dust’s candy wrapper.

Dust waved me off with a hoof. “You read too many horror stories, GB.”

“All stories have at least a grain of truth in them. That’s especially true of history books. Those only have a grain of truth.”

“Right,” she said flatly. “So, know what that means?”

“What?” Cards and I asked at once.

“I call bed!” Dust shouted, leaping onto the farmer’s bed. She hit it hard, bouncing and rolling as the bedframe slammed against the wall. Giggling, she rolled around the bed, crossing her arms behind her head as she looked out at us. “So, anypony want to share the bed?” she snickered.

Rubbing my nose, I sighed. “Think I’ll take me the floor.”

“Fine. Suit yourself,” she laughed. “So, Cards, how ’bout you?”

|— ☩ —|

With a solitary grunt, I opened my eyes. It was still dark. After nearly half a minute of mental self-encouragement, I managed to stand up and get off the floor. Dust was lying in the center of the king-sized bed, her limbs splayed out. On the other side of the room, sleeping on a loveseat, was Cards.

“Mmmugh...” the little mare moaned, kicking a leg into the air. “On your knees... bark like a dog.”

The hell is she dreaming about? I looked at the locked bathroom door, the call of nature growling. Rubbing the back of my neck, I pulled out my lockpicking tools and went to work. Tick, tack, tock. The lock clicked, and I put my tools away in one of the bags I’d taken off and put on the floor.

Opening the door, I came face-to-face with a bony pony. I subdued a gasp as I realized that he—at least, I thought it was a he—wasn’t looking at me. The stallion’s head just happened to be aimed in my direction. He didn’t move as I whispered a standard Equestrian greeting.

I blinked, blinked again, and then saw what it really was. I pulled out a match and closed the door behind me. “What’s all this, then?” I asked the pale skeleton. His bony smile was his only response. Then again, skulls always looked like they were smiling at me. I liked to think that it was because they were in a better place. That was a good rationale to give yourself whenever you came across any unmarked mass graves filled with children.

As I inspected him closer, I found that his skull had, somehow, been shoved into a fishbowl. Unable to find any signs of bodily trauma, I had to assume that this poor stallion had drowned. Somepony, probably the stallion when he was still alive, had written “I am a fish!” several times on the bathroom mirror.

“I wonder if that’s really how you died. Was it some kind of autoerotic asphyxiation, perhaps?” I muttered to the stallion, looking around. “Come to think of it, when I first entered your house, I thought my ability to see colors had been damaged somehow, because everything in this house is just so brown. And if someone lived in a house like this, they’d die of sadness.” I regarded the skeleton. “Mister Agri, were you happy? If you’d been alive, we could have painted your walls to help you ignore the voices in your head. It worked for me back home, except that it didn’t.” On the sink and next to the toothbrush was a note. I picked it up and read it.

To whom it may concern,

I have locked myself in the bathroom. I was born to be a seapony, and I can see that now. Unless somepony can prove to me inconclusively that I am not a fish, I’m just going to stay here and swim!

Sincerely, Former Farmer Agri, now a fish.

P.S. And to that fucker—you know who you are—fuck you to death!

“Well, that explains everything,” I said, smiling at the corpse. “Thanks for leaving such a conclusive letter that explained this ridiculous circumstance to me.” Sighing, I shook my head. “Equestrians are stupid, let me tell you.” A thought occurred to me, and I checked the tap. Nothing came out, although the match finally died. “Great. You didn’t pay your water bills, did you? Or maybe you have a well I need to pump. I swear, the dead are so inconsiderable.”

I exited the bathroom, closing the door behind me. “Now, if I were a water pump, where would I be?”

Cards rolled onto her side. “Good doggie, GB. Bark.”

My attention crept onto Cards. Was she dreaming really creepy dreams about me? Oh God! Grimacing, I trotted over to her. “Hey. Hey,” I hissed. “Wake up and stop dreaming about me—it’s freaking me out.”

“Mwuh?” Cards groaned, rolling over. “Government boy?” She wiped a sliver of drool off her lips. “What’s... what’s wrong?”

“You know this place, right?”

“Ugh, I guess. I mean, haven’t been here since I was a filly.”

“Good. Where’s the water pump? Assuming he has one.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Why do you want that?”

I affixed her with a hard look. “Because I just found a dead body in the bathroom that’s been staring at us through the wall and realized that I’d like a glass of water.”

Cards blinked. “Oh, okay.” She closed her eyes and rolled back over.

Realization in three... two... one... Oh, dammit, girl! You made me look uncool—

“Wait. What?!” Lightning Dust cried out.

Her? Wow. Didn’t see that coming. I turned to see Dust sitting up in bed, panting and sweating. “Something up?

“Did you just say there was a dead body in the bathroom?”

“Yep.” I still would really enjoy using the restroom. “Why are you sweating?”

She glanced to the curtain drawn over the nearest window. “’Cause.” Her wing twitched. “Did you hear that?” she gasped, pressing her back against the wall.

“Hear what?” I asked, tilting my head. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a fear of the dark.”

“No!” she whispered harshly. “I am not afraid of the dark!” Somewhere in the background, Cards was snoring.

I grinned. “Because, you know, I’m the silent ‘who’ in the dark when you whisper ‘who’s there’?”

“That’s not funny—”

“I know you’re in there,” came a soft, melodious voice from outside the window.

My blood ran cold as a chill went down my spine. Slowly, as if the mere act of moving my eyes would give me away, I looked at Lightning Dust. She sat frozen, her wings flared out as she stared ahead. “What the hell?” I mouthed at her, but she refused to so much as blink.

I noticed a thin stream of light tapering in through the window from where the curtain didn’t close completely. Was that the moon? Or something else? With infinite care I crept across the room, trying to get to my bags.

“I can see into your bedroom,” the voice came again, so soft that a rational part of me said I was just imagining it. Of all the times to get haunted, it had to happen when I needed to use the bathroom? “I’m at your window and I know you can hear me,” it said with more force.

Dust continued to stay absolutely still as I grabbed my sword. A shadow crossed the stream of light coming through the window. I jerked my head to the other window, the one nearest me and held out my sword.

“I’m at your bedroom window,” the voice whispered from its new window. So close to me, it sounded almost childlike. “I know you can hear me—I can see into the room, can see you looking at me but not seeing! Come, take a look, pull back the curtains, have a peek. I’m here at your window.”

It’s not my bedroom! I saw Dust finally move, but only enough to lay down and pull her covers to her chin. A suicidal wave of stupid boiled up from my gut and into my mouth. “No,” I growled, “you’re not at my bedroom window—I’m at your bedroom window.”

“Come, come, little pony, come take a peek,” it hissed.

“Come, come, little voice, come take a peek,” I dared back at it, holding my sword steady. As far as good ideas went, this was up there with kickboxing against grizzly bears and playing drinking games with bleach. In spite of that, the game went on: the voice would taunt me on and on, I would taunt it back, each of us daring the other to take a look, to open the curtains, to open the window. My heart was in my throat the whole time.

Suddenly Cards began to stir. “Government boy, Dust, would you two shut up?!” she groaned.

The voice fell silent as large whooshing noise came from outside the window. A second later and something landed on the roof. It clawed around at the roof, skittering and ambling around. I held my sword up to the sounds, but it kept moving. The roof creaked one way, I aimed the blade that way. It creaked from another side of the roof, I pointed it there, too.

“No, don’t,” Dust whispered, staring at me.

I glanced at her just as the thing outside scratched at the roof. Something heavy—like a thick door—squealed as the sound of clawing got closer and closer. A dark realization hit me: the house must have had an attic. It had been walking around on the roof. Now the sound was closer. Now it was inside the house.

The roof, no, the attic floor above me creaked as something heavy lurched about. I pointed my sword at it, but the sounds came and went in erratic locations. Then the noise stopped. Just stopped in the middle of a clawing.

I looked over at Dust, and she looked at me. “I... I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Sorry for...?” I tried, only for my ear to twitch as the thing moved again. I followed the sound with my eyes, and realized the sound was slowly, so slowly inching its way across the attic to Lightning Dust.

Biting my lip, I crept as silent as possible to the bed. With a silent hop I got on top of the bed, shaking Lightning Dust around. I reached up and put a hoof on the ceiling, feeling it. The ceiling felt weak, easy to penetrate.

“Wha...?” Dust whimpered, staring at me.

Scrape. Scratch. Scrape. Scratch. Skitter. Skitter. Scrape.

I felt the ceiling above me push against my hoof. Whatever it was, it was directly above me. Taking a deep breath, I raised my sword. “Bad monster!” I thrust straight upwards through the ceiling, the blade penetrating hilt-deep through it. “I’ll have none of that from you!” I felt the steel pierced into something soft and fleshy.

A demonic, wolf-life roar shook the very foundation of the house. The soft, fleshy thing jerked and spasmed, trying to jump off the blade. A crooked smile on my face, I put a hoof on the sword and manually tore it out of the thing. For a brief second I saw a part of it through the new hole in the ceiling, saw the massive four-fingered hand of dark blue, and the steak-knife-like black claws on each finger.

I only saw that hand because it was coming straight for me through the hole. There was no time to duck, to jump away, or flee as the hand grabbed for my face. At the last possible second it vanished. No, it didn’t retract or change course, it literally vanished. It was as if it had never existed in the first place. I looked at my sword; there was no blood on it.

What the hell had I just stabbed?

“Yes, just like that...” Cards muttered.

I looked over at the sleeping Cards. As I was about to shout her awake, she rolled over, and something clanked against the wooden floor. Frowning, I hopped off the bed and to Cards’ chair, Dust watching me the whole while. “Dot dot dot, question mark?” I mumbled at the white talisman lying at the foot of the loveseat. “Well, this looks like a trap.”

After spinning around, I walked into the bathroom and checked the body. There was certainly no horn on the farmer’s head. Glancing side to side, I grabbed the farmer’s leg bone and, with a jerk, tore it from the corpse. His body crumbled into a desecrated pile as I left the bathroom.

Dust gasped when she saw me and whispered, “What is that?”

I sighed. “Well, I just stole the leg bone from the dead body in the closet, thereby preventing him from coming back from the dead in three days, proclaiming himself the messiah. It was bad enough when Waltharius tried it; I’m in no mood to fight an army of demons for the rest of the century, understand?”

She merely inclined her head. As I got back to Cards, I used the bone to pick up the white object. I took out a packet of matches and tossed them at Dust. “Girl, light the lamp. Please.” In a moment she complied, and the room was filled with a fiery light.

Narrowing my eyes, I studied the white object. “It’s a talisman,” I finally concluded.

“A what?”

“But what does it do?” I looked down at Cards, then held the talisman over her head. Immediately, the mare began to mumble. Puzzled, I took it away from her, and she stopped. I repeated the experiment thrice more before concluding, “It’s some sort of charm to make ponies speak in their sleep.”

A shadow crossed the little light from where the one window didn’t close fully. “I can see into the room, pegasus. I know you’re sitting on the bed. I know you’re afraid. Come, let’s meet face to face... Lightning Dust.”

Sonofa—I dropped the talisman on Cards’ head and hurled the leg bone through the window like a javelin. The bone went past the curtains and smashed through the glass, followed by the sound of a large thing grunting in pain. I jerked my attention to the pegasus and demanded, “How does it know your name?”

She didn’t reply, so I grabbed up my sword and charged for the window. Of course, all that ended with was me ramming into the windowsill and bruising my shoulder. As it turned out, throwing a bone through a window does not, in fact, disintegrate the window and let you charge through them. Grunting with pain but trying to keep my cool, I flung the curtains opened and gazed out at the dark vineyard. There was no strange monster. I raced over to the other window and threw the curtains open. Again, no strange beasts.

“I don’t wanna play fair,” Cards muttered; “you look fine on your knees, boy.”

“Is she okay?” Dust asked, pointing at the unicorn.

“Yeah, probably not,” I said, walking over and taking the talisman off her.

The curtains closed, and I glanced over to see Dust closing the other set. She looked back at me. “I don’t want that, that... thing to look at me, okay, GB?”

“Why did that thing know your name?” I asked in a calm voice.

Dust swallowed. “I don’t know why it knew my name.”

I took a heavy step towards her, slashing a crooked smile across my muzzle. “You’re lying, Miss Lightning Dust. You know something about this thing, don’t you? That’s why you’re so scared, isn’t it?”

“I’m not scared of it!” she snapped. “There’s a difference between being afraid and being cautious, GB.”

“Yes, there is,” I glowered, and Dust backed away from me. “Now, girl, I’ll ask you again: why did it know your name?”

Dust backed into the wall. She swallowed as she looked up at me. “Because, because, because,” she sputtered, “because this isn’t th-the first time I’ve seen it—well, no, I’ve never seen it, but I’ve sorta came across it before.”

“When?” I said, my voice edging below freezing.

“The other night! I–I was staying in a B&B over in Sleepy Oaks, and this happened to me, okay?!” She stamped a hoof. “I don’t know why it’s following me!”

I inclined my head. “Hazard a guess.”

“What?”

“Hazard yourself a guess and tell me why it’s following you.”

“But I don’t...” She trailed off. Dust glanced over to the window, and asked, “Can I tell you from the bed?” I nodded, and she dashed over to the bed. Dust took a long, hard breath. She looked at me, looked at the windows, looked at Cards, looked back at me, and sighed. “Have you ever heard of the Wonderbolts?”

I shook my head.

She ran a hoof down her face, biting her lip. “Well, the Wonderbolts are kinda, like, the best fliers in all Equestria. They only let the best of the best’s bestest best join them, y’know? But even then, sometimes even being the very best doesn’t guarantee you a spot.” She hesitated, staring down into her lap. “My family’s not exactly the wealthiest one, okay? I mean, my father was a cloudmill worker, and my mother was the full-time stay-at-home type. Kinda hard to get anywhere with that kinda life, y’know?”

I think I know where this is going. But if she wastes my time and tells me her whole life story... I nodded. “And you struck up a deal with the the wrong crowd that somehow involved the Wonderbolts, right?”

Dust shook her head. “No, that’s the thing: I actually just impressed enough that I got a letter in the mail one day, inviting me to Wonderbolt Academy. I am pretty awesome that like.” She took a breath and looked off to the side. “Best of times, worst of times sort of deal, see? Because of... reasons I’d rather not get into, they unfairly kicked me out. I mean, the hell was I supposed to do? The point was to do your best, not coddle up to...” She shook her head. “Look, after that, I was kinda screwed. You spend your whole life working for something, and then when you get it, some psycho bitch comes along and ruins it all.” Dust gritted her teeth.

“And that’s when you got indebted to the wrong crowd?”

She frowned. “No, that never happened. See, I managed to get a job at the Cloudsdale Post, and even made a few friends after I managed to conquer my depression. Then one day my friend wrote this really, really strange story about weird shit going on out west. My editor got it, seemingly approved of it, but then gave it to me to get rid of. So, of course, being the clever mare I am, I kept it. Next day, my friend doesn’t show up for work. A few days later, her boyfriend comes to me and asks for help. Turns out that my friend went missing. One thing lead to another and another and next thing you know, I take a week’s vacation and come to Sleepy Oaks, the last place she was before coming to the Post with her story.”

“How long ago did your friend disappear?”

“Few weeks ago. Why?”

Hmm... that might sync up with that body they recovered in the swamp. Wonder if they’re the same pony. “Oh, just curious. And what about the monster itself?” I asked.

“I told you that. It showed up, and I didn’t get any sleep that night. Never entered the room, just stayed at my window. Maybe it’s related to the government conspiracy?”

I rubbed my arm. “And you never thought to tell anypony about it?”

“Who’d believe me? Besides, before I really could say anything, I ran across you.”

“Is that why you looked like such a wreck bad at the malt shop? You hadn’t gotten any sleep?”

She nodded. “I thought maybe someone was trying to just scare me away. The town seemed to really hate me, y’know? So I told myself it was just a nightmare, told myself not to think about, and that if I was very, very lucky, Princess Luna’d come in my dreams and help me get rid of it.”

Princess Luna getting rid of bad dreams? Now that sounds like the stuff of prayers! I took a breath and pawed at the ground. “Princess Luna enters dreams, now?”

Dust shifted her positions on the bed. “So they say. I don’t know anypony who’s had it happen, and, personally, I think it’s just some story out of Canterlot. I mean, then again—”

“Teutscher,” a soft, childlike voice whispered from the window. Dust buried herself under the covers. I turned to face the voice, again raising my sword. “Pendergast,” it said, and my heart skipped a beat.

“You know I’m a Teutscher?” I asked.

“Pendergast,” the voice said from the other window.

I spun to face it. “A Teutscher.”

“Pendergast. Teutscher. Same thing,” it whispered from the hole in the ceiling. The voice went back to the first window. “Come and open the window, pony, come and see the gifts I have for you. Come and see. I’m at your bedroom window, and I can see you! Take a peek; open the curtains and see me too.”

Every sound suddenly died. There was silence. Only silence. A minute, two, maybe three or more passed. I wasn’t counting, just waiting.

“Olly olly oxen free?” I probed.

“I’m at your bedroom window still,” it replied. Then, from the ceiling, “I can see you ponies through the ceiling. Come on, open the window. Come on, shine a light through the hole.”

Nopony spoke. The voice went away.

I grabbed the white talisman out from my pocket and tossed it across the room. It hit the unbroken window with a pang, and immediately the voice said from that window, “I see what you’re doing, pony. I can see into the bedroom through the window.”

A strange thought popped into my mind. I crept across the room to my bags and pulled out Duke Elkington’s gutted record. Putting it by the window, I set it to play. “Listen up, boys. You’ve been dispatched to this little town...” As it played, I motioned for Dust to stay silent.

“I can hear you two speaking,” the voice insisted. “You can’t get rid of me,. You can’t outsmart me. I can hear every word you say. So come on, take a peek outside. Look out the window. I can see into the bedroom and hear your every word!”

Dust looked at me, and I smiled. She hissed, “What are you doing?”

“I know you can hear me! You can’t ignore me! I’m here, and I just wanna see your pretty pony faces. Come on, ponies. Come, open up the window and let us have a look,” the voice said, getting louder and louder, now approaching conversational levels. “You only have two choices: take a peek, or sit there and rot!”

“Taking a third option, Miss Dust,” I replied.

At that precise moment, Cards apparently thought it’d be a great idea to wake up, screaming, flail around, and fall onto the floor. “Celestia—what—I—ahhh!”

The gutted player continued to pontificate its message, and the voice continued to speak. I took it and put it over by the other window, and a shadow crossed the light again. “Look how close you are,” the voice almost snickered. “I know you want to see me. I know you want to see as I see you.”

I got it! I think I know what’s going on!

“Oh Celestia, what is that noise!?” Cards yelped, rolling around the floor. “Whoa!” she grunted as I picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. The mare bounced across and collided with Dust. With any luck, that would be distraction enough, if my theory was correct. If the theory was wrong, well, I’d die horribly, painfully, and probably end up a victim of necrophilia—and that was being optimistic!

Making sure my duster was on tight, my hat secure, and my blade ready, I charged out of the room. Behind me, Dust shouted, “GB! Where are you going?! GB! If that thing comes in here and kills me, I’ll strangle you to death!” Her forceful tone most certainly didn’t make the rope burns around my neck hurt.

With a few quick motions, I barreled (okay, tripped on a rug and rolled down pathetically but unharmed) down the stairs and (after jumping back to my hooves) bounded for the front door. I still have to go to the bathroom!

I rammed into the door, cursed as I once again bruised my shoulder, then unlocked it. This time, I actually managed to tear out of the house and took in a deep breath of cool Equestrian air. From back in the house came a shrill, girly shriek. Possibly from Dust, but more likely from Cards. I ran to the back of the house.

There was a leg bone lying in the grass, but there was no strange figure standing outside the windows or on the roof. By the edge of the vineyard was a room-sized shack with a light coming from under the door. “Got you,” I panted with a smirk.

A pant, a skip, and a jump later and I was at the shack. I tested the door, found it unlocked, and rushed in with my sword raised. There, just standing there with a dead expression on her face, was a unicorn mare. Her eyes were a pure white, no irises or blood vessels or anything. Her ribs were nearly sticking out of her white fur. But what really caught my eye was her raised arm: it was studded and impaled with bits of metal, and a purple amulet was nailed into her hoof. The glow was coming from both her horn and, more strongly, from the gem.

I smirked. “Excuse me, Miss, where’s the fruit aisle? I can’t seem to find it.” The scrawny mare just looked at me, her arm still held up. “Ah, so it’s one of those pick-the-fruit-yourself places!” I swung my sword at her arm. She didn’t scream or even seem to notice when the weapon tore into her arm. A second later and her twisted, impaled arm was on the ground. I blinked in surprise. “How the hell did I cut your arm—what’s wrong with your arm bone!” I gasped.

As I looked into what was left of her arm, one thing I didn’t see was the white of any bone. I knew there was no way my weapon could have chopped off a limb, at least not with just a single strike and with me as its wielder. Her arm, though, was less an arm and more a sack of coagulated, blood-like jelly. “You don’t belong in phylum chordata!” I hissed. “But at least you won’t be casting any sort of illusion spells on me any time soon. Filthy mage.”

She collapsed into a heap on the ground. I stabbed the corpse with my sword, and sure enough, I found bones. Even in her arms and legs there were bones, just not the one arm. Looking up from the corpse, I saw the wooden chair in the middle of the room’s stone floor. There was a large desk on one end of the room, and several shelves packed with junk around the room.

I looked back at the corpse and spied something on the floor behind her flicker in the moonlight. I almost bent over the corpse to look at it, but thought better of it. Instead, I repeatedly stabbed the mare through the brain in case she was a zombie. Then I bent over her body and tried to find what had flickered.

As I shifted my weight, the moonlight poured over my shoulder and hit the object again. It was a thin, shiny string. I reached out with a hoof and plucked it, feeling the touch of several others. Following the strings, I found that they all lead to various parts of the mare’s body. It was as if she was a puppet. And if she was a puppet, who was the puppeteer?

Before trying to answer that question, I instead picked that moment to try to remove the purple amulet from her hoof. I sheathed my sword and then, using my crowbar... no, wait. My crowbar was back in one of my bags, which were both back in the bedroom. I am a stupid pony. Frowning, I took out my knife and tediously pried it from her hoof. It jumped out and hit me in the face, and I stumbled backwards in surprise.

Rubbing my face and muttering Teutsche curses to myself, I picked the amulet up. I smelled of magic and sorcery. Felt like it, too. Probably some kind of enchanted talisman like that white one back in the bedroom. If there was any way to pin down exactly what it did, it would probably take some sort of wizard, which I, as a Teutscher, was far from. Still, that didn’t stop me from speculating. I figured the spell matrices enchanted into the thing helped create extremely realistic illusions—

“Ah, so you actually managed to track me down,” a smooth male voice with a northern accent said from behind me.

“What?” I asked. Before I could turn around, a thin wire wrapped around my neck, and I let out a guttural choke, dropping my knife.

“Now, now, government boy, it’s too bad you were too late,” the stallion cooed. “I would like to thank you for taking so much time standing still. Really gives one the opportunity to pick his moment, chap.” I choked more, instinctively grabbing for my neck. “Why, my dear boy,” he chuckled, feathertips stroking my neck, “there’s no need to struggle.”

I gurgled as I twisted my head and body around, trying to face my attacker. With the jerk of a leg, I kicked him somewhere—the ribs, I suspected. The stallion made a tsking noise as he put a hoof on the back of my knee and pressed downwards, forcing me to my knees. Cards would probably get a kick out of this, a little voice suggested as I gasped for breath. And at the very least, unless he breaks your neck, you’ve got a minute or two to struggle.

“Hey, buddy!” Lightning Dust shouted. “Fuck you!” With the swoop of wings and a furious grunt, my assailant was knocked to the ground. I gasped for breath as the mare landed in from of me, sliding to a halt.

“Damn,” I said, “you actually bothered to save me—”

She smacked me across the face. “The hell is wrong with you, you idiot bastard?!”

“Ow!” I yelped, rubbing my face. “What was that for?”

“You don’t just leave a girl on her own to fend off monster!”

“I thought you were a big, tough girl and could fend for yourself!” I retorted.

“I am, can, could, and did!” she spat, sticking her nose into the air. “It’s just bad form on your part.”

“Really, you two?” Cards groaned, trotting into the room. “You’re really gonna do this now?”

I blinked, then pulled out my sword. “Scheiße, you’re right.” Turning to where I’d assumed the stallion had fallen, a hoof uppercut my jaw.

“Solar-flaring fuck the what?!” Dust blurted out as I caught myself. The emaciated white mare rose to her hooves, smiling a mouthful of steel shards, her eyes still blank. Her horn lit up with a sickly green color as she picked my knife up from the floor. She put the blade in her teeth, and I flinched as I imagined the bitemarks in the weapon’s grip. As she released the knife from her magical grip, she reached for the purple amulet.

But I couldn’t pay attention to that once I saw the stallion standing in the middle of the room. Despite the black business suit, matching fedora, and monocle, I recognized the green-coated basted: Jeepers, his wings outstretched, bits of the air between him and the emaciated mare flickering in the light. He twitched a wing, and the mare adjusted her stance, exactly like how a puppet master controls his pawns.

“Well, look who’s made a comeback,” I commented, readying my blade.

“Don’t call it a ‘comeback’,” he said with a smug grin. “After all, I’ve been here for a matter of years, Johnny Foreigner.” Jeepers twitched his wings and swung a hoof. Without delay, the emaciated mare lunged at me, twisting her head around to stab me.

“I am in no mood!” Dust barked, and bucked the mare’s head off. And by ‘head off’, I mean that the mare’s head sailed from her shoulder and collided with a shelf, knocking it over. Cards gaped as the headless mare stumbled and then caught herself. On the other hoof, Dust screamed and jumped away from the mare.

The strings! I jumped to the side and awkwardly flailed my sword around in the air behind the headless chick as if I were irresponsibly trying to kill a fly. It was that same kind of irresponsibility that once lead to me inventing ‘negligent regicide’ during this one game I played when I was a colt, but I tried not to think about that too hard as I heard the sound of taut string snapping. It was the kind of sound that’d make a pianist weep, but whetted my appetite for victory and Jeeper’s blood. The emaciated, headless mare collapsed to the ground; her body never once bled.

“Bloody hell,” Jeeper muttered as Cards, Dust, and I turned our attention to him. He adjusted his hat. Though it was dark, I was sure I could see stitches on his neck from where I’d slashed him. Doc Dome worked fast, apparently. “Well, I don’t suppose you’re willing to just call this even, are you?”

I shook my head, tightening my hat. “I’m afraid not, Jeepers. See, I am most interested to know who it is you work for, what they’re doing, why, and then how I can destroy them. But, more importantly...” I lowered my voice to a throaty, serpentine hiss. “You are a bastard and I resent your very soul! I hope you get an erection lasting longer than four hours!” Everypony but Dust paused and looked at me. “Er, that’s a reference to a thing in Teutschl—know what? No, I’m not explaining it. But let me tell it, it is something you do not want. It’s just that horrible, and would making a fitting punishment for you, Jeepers. Want a better one? Okay, let me think.”

Dust poked me. “Did I... did I just buck a mare’s head off?”

Jeepers scoffed, adjusting his monocle. “She wasn’t alive to begin with, you dumb tart.”

“What did you call me?!” Dust snarled, all hints of guilt gone.

Why is he even wearing a monocle to begin with? That’s the real question here... Unless maybe it’s enchanted. God, I hate magi. As my mind was monologuing, Cards took up a position to my left. With Dust on my right, we had ourselves a power trio. For added benefit, I was pretty sure all of us were crazy.

The stallion smiled. “I called you a tart. A harlot. A wench. A strumpet. A tramp. A slut. A whore. A floozy. A scarlet. After all, a proper lady doesn’t go wandering out with strange stallions from foreign lands, if he’s actually what he says. Need I say more, Miss Bitch?”

I don’t like how he’s suddenly gotten so cocky. “I got one!” I chirped. “Jeepers, may a swarm of rats ejaculate on you! While we’re at it, may you have a hundred relatives, and may they all give you socks on your birthday! And with regards to your unmentionable external male organ, I have it on reliable information that it is not worth mentioning, so much so that I don’t even see the point in not skinning it into an egg roll, which I will then proceed to feed to those spent rats from earlier. That’s right. I’m going to feed your stuffed-with-rice-and-shrimp dick to sexually aroused rats!” Everypony just stared at me the longest time. Seriously, all of them. Even Jeepers gaped at me.

“What the hell?” Cards asked in a high-pitched voice.

“Yeah, I’m kinda with her on this one,” Dust added.

“Don’t judge me,” I snapped, “I was being clever. It was more creative than every insult I’ve heard so far in your country.”

“I throw in my opinion with that pegasus harlot there,” Jeepers added, and Dust’s eye twitched, “though it was.... something else.”

“GB?” Dust growled.

“Yeah?” I replied.

“You know how to hurt ponies, right?”

“So I’d like to think.”

Dust took a breath. “Good. Because I seriously want to break this guy’s knees. But if you have something more creative, I’m open to ideas.”

“Not the only the thing you’re open for,” Jeepers snickered.

The reporter’s eye twitched. “Okay. That’s it. I’m going to kill him myself.”

“Um,” I said, “is that in the metaphorical sense, or the literal kind?” Why the hell is Jeepers taunting her when he can’t... possibly... hurt her... I tilted my head at Jeepers and his twisted, daring, ‘I know I’m winning’ grin. Oh, Scheiße.

“I’ll tell you when I figure it out,” she hissed. Dust jumped into the air, her wings beating hard as she gritted her teeth. “Be right back!” she yelled, tearing through the air.

“Dust, no!” I shouted. “It’s an obvious trap!”

“Wha’?” the mare sputtered, twisting her wings to slow down. Jeepers, on the other hoof, smiled and flexed his wings. Dust collided with something invisible in the air, screamed, and froze in the air. She struggled and twisted, but her body wouldn’t fall to the ground. That’s when I saw the shimmers of wire-light around her body, and attached to bits of Jeeper’s body. It was as if Lightning Dust were caught in a spiderweb.

“Oh my goodness,” Cards gasped, “are you okay?”

“I’m peachy,” Dust spat back, twisting and rolling around in the wires.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “You just had to do that, huh? I mean, what’s wrong with being a ‘slut’? Who is he to judge you for how you choose live your life, anyways? It’s your body, your rules.”

“I’m in no mood for a lecture, GB!”

Jeepers waved his hooves and wings, and Dust’s body spun around until she was facing me, her limbs splayed out. “A pity you slowed down when you did, Miss Dust. Had you hit the wires fast enough, I might have caused you some serious damage. But, alas, you are but a fly caught in my web.” He stepped up and grabbed her neck, somehow not pulling on any of the wires. “Wouldn’t it have been such a shame to lose such a pretty face as hers, hmm?”

“Don’t touch me, you sick, disgusting pervert!” Dust growled, struggling uselessly against the wires.

The stallion smiled at her, then me. “So, I’ve got your girlfriend now, Johnny Foreigner. If you want her to live till sunrise, you’ll be a good colt, won’t you? Good. Tell me, please, are you really a foreigner?”

I nodded.

“Liar,” he hissed, and the wires holding Dust pulled on her limbs. “I don’t believe you, not for a second. There’s no way a foreigner from such an... exotic land as you claim could enter Equestria without being noticed by the likes of my employers. And judging by your accent, I’d say you were from... Mare Orleans? I’ll admit, it’s hard to determine. Perhaps a noble gone quixotic? Judging from your lack of any slang terms, you sound almost upper-class, and are most certainly mad, like all of you Southerners.”

Huh. Does that mean Equestria has issues with sectionalism? Keen.

He stroked Dust’s cheek. “So, I’ll ask it another way, and you’re going to answer me truthfully, or I’m going to do... heh... terrible things to your girlfriend here.” Dust let out a single whimper as he caressed her wing. “Tell me, from where are—what are you doing?”

“Hmm?” I hummed, looking from the cards I’d spread across the floor. “Oh, I’m playing solitaire,” I chirped.

“What?!” everypony gasped.

I shrugged. “Well, you were taking so long with your monologue that I got bored and was going to play a card game. Hey, does anypony else feel slightly awkward when talking about anything card-related now that there’s a girl named Cards here?” At that, Dust jerked around and swore at me. A lot.

Jeepers tightened the strings, and Dust choked off. “You can’t play solitaire! What the hell’s wrong with you! I’ve got the lovely reporter and am threatening to do horrible things to her!”

“Like?” I prodded.

“Like strangle her, cut her, tear her limbs off with the wires, garrote her,” he growled. “I might even violate her?” Despite the wires, Dust managed to utter a pathetic whimper. “I’m the one in control here, and if you don’t play along, I will do those things to her!”

“Even the rape part?” I asked, looking down at my cards.

“Especially the rape part! To death, even! I’ll make you watch as I violate your—”

“Neat,” I said, nodding at him. I sat down on the ground, looking over my cards. “Let me know when you’re done with that, okay, Jeepers?” I looked over at Cards. “Hey, I just realized that I do not know how to play this game,” I chuckled warmly, ignoring her deathly grimace. “Do you? And can you teach me? I think we’ve got time to waste.”

“Uh...” Cards droned.

Jeepers stamped a hoof. “Are you mocking me?!”

I put a hoof to my breast. “Who, me? Oh, no, no, no, no—” I broke out in a snicker. “Yeah.”

“You can’t make fun of me!” he fumed, his face red. “I’m going to slice her, dice her, and violate her in front of you!”

“Mmm-hmm,” I hummed, nodding pensively at him.

“Do you have any idea just who you’re messing with, Southerner?! I’m the one in control here! I’m the one holding the girl! I’m the one in power, and you’re the one who’s going to die! Here! Tonight! And I’ll kill that other tart while I’m at it, too! I’ll make you watch as I do unspeakable things to their bodies and, and, and—”

I threw my head back and laughed. “You know, that would be intimidating if you were... oh, how can I put this in no uncertain terms? Ah, yes, I know. It’d be intimidating if you were actually intimidating.”

“Are you suggesting I’m not intimidating?!” he snarled.

“I’m sorry, did I st-st-st-stutter? I directly told you in a way that couldn’t possibly be misinterpreted that you weren’t the least bit intimidating,” I calmly replied. He bared his teeth at me and growled. “Let me spell it out for you, okay?”

Jeepers gritted his teeth, his eyes jumping from Dust to me. I could see he was trying to think, but I doubted he was doing any good. So I picked up and put back my deck of cards before standing up. “See, you’re assuming I actually care about the mare,” I said, gesturing at Dust. Her eyes went wide as she tried to scream against the wire around her throat. “I mean, I’ve known her for, what, a few hours? That isn’t nearly enough time for me to care about anypony. I can’t fathom why you think I’d be willing to risk life and limb for a chick who’s essentially a stranger to me.”

I turned around and trotted out of the shack. “I could just walk away now and not give it a second thought. I’m only sticking around because I just don’t like you, Jeepers. Think about it: what would I lose if Lightning Dust were to die? At worst, I’d be mildly inconvenienced without a set of flying eyes to help me out, but nothing I couldn’t manage without. Plus, she’s an Equestrian, which already sort of makes her worth less to me than if she were a Teutsche.”

The stallion’s eye twitched, Dusts eye looked watery, Cards gaped at me, and I smiled. “So, Jeepers, make your move.” I walked back into the shack. “I’m waiting.”

He only growled at me, clenching and unclenching his jaw. As he continued to do nothing, he even ground his teeth. Jeepers looked from me, to Cards, to the headless, then to Dust. His eyes darted to the opposite edges of the wall, the two places I’d figured that his wires had been anchored around, judging by the way Dust was held up by them. Looking back at me, Jeepers smiled. “I think I’ve got an idea of how to deal with you, you arrogant rat,” he chuckled.

Cards glanced at me as I replied, “Oh, that so? Do enlighten me. I’m getting rather bored just sitting here.”

“Yes, yes,” he snickered. Jeepers flexed with wings and jumped into the air. With the sound of rapidly grinding ropes, Dust plummeted to the ground with a thunk, and the stallion charged at me. “How’d you like to be up in a bind?!”

“Think fast, captain!” I laughed, and a bottle of Bucking Bronco hit him in the face. Screaming like a little girl, he clutched at his face and dropped to the ground. He rolled across the floor up to my hooves. Smiling, I casually clipped his wings with my sword. I was not gentle. That served the dual purpose of preventing him from flying and also destroying his ability to use his garrote wires.

Still smiling, I rolled him onto his back and stepped onto his neck. Then, with a single, quick motion, I slugged him in the nose, knocking him unconscious. He regained consciousness within seconds, disoriented, as I used his own wires to tie him to the chair at the center of the room. Letting out a satisfied sigh, I surveyed the scene of my victory, even though a part of me felt it had been more anticlimactic than I’d’ve liked.

Dust was curled up into a ball, her legs crossed as she quietly sobbed on the floor. Rolling my eyes, I sauntered over to her and knelt down. “Hey there, Lightning Dust. He’s dealt with, you’re fine.”

She punched me in the chest. “Get away from me!” she cried, tears in her eyes. “You don’t care about me! Don’t even pretend like you do! I heard what you said!”

I laughed. “Oh, wait. You actually think I was being...?” I shook my head. “You don’t really think that I was telling the truth, do you?”

Dust looked up at me with big, sad eyes. “I...”

A warm smile on my face, I told her, “I was pretty much just trying to infuriate him into attacking me, the same thing he did to you.” I rubbed the back of my head. “I guess I really, really overdid it, huh? People used to tell me I should have been in drama club, though I never actually joined it. I mean, what kind of monster would I be if I didn’t care about you, huh?”

An honest one?

The pegasus gave me a long, long look, staring deep into my eyes as if searching for even the vaguest hint of mistruth. It was that kind of soul-piercing look that always seemed to make me thirsty. I didn’t feel she looked convinced enough, which meant that I had to go on.

“See,” I said, trying to ignore her look, “I was trying to convince Jeepers that he wasn’t in control, despite the fact that he was in complete and utter control and knew it. I had to convince him that you were nothing, and thus that he had nothing, when the fact was he had me by the genitals, so to speak.”

He had her by the genitals too! Woo!

That’s just horrible and you should feel horrible. “Understand?” I asked. “I threw everything I had at him, hoping he’d try to make a move, and if he moved away from you, then I could win. Against all odds, it worked. I lied to him for you, Miss Lightning Dust.” Why the hell do these ponies need to keep having emotional trouble? I don’t have a degree in psychology!

She looked away from me. “But you sounded so... honest.”

I sighed, not an irritated sigh, more of sad, understanding one. “I would never truly abandon you like that, Dust. I might lie and tell you I would if it’d help me trick idiots like Jeepers, but never would I do it. Partly because I’d rather not have your death on my conscience, partly because of... well, back in Teutschland, we have a saying: Blut ist dicker als Wasser. You have this phrase word-for-word, but your meaning is strange. The saying means ‘blood is thicker than water’. Do you know what that means?”

Lightning Dust hesitated. “Family is more important than other things, things like friends.” The girl frowned. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Well, it has to do with both you and Cards equally,” I said, and the Cards glanced at me. “In Teutschland, that phrase does not mean that at all. The Reich, unlike Equestria, is not a land built off powerful aristocracies, is not a land whose aristocrats value family and their noble blood above all else, at least that is how I’ve come to understand how Equestria must be. Stop me if I’m wrong.” She didn’t stop me. “Most nations, you see, come into being by some great coming-together of their people, like Equestria was, or otherwise through some great revolutionary event. But Teutschland? No, it was borne at the blood-soaked end of a blade. And whereas most states possess an army, it would be perhaps more accurate to say that Teutschland is an army that happens to own a state.”

“But what does that have to do with me,” she insisted.

I smiled. “I’m getting to that. See, Teutschland was formed on the bonds of the military, bonds of the state, bonds of the king. So to us, the phrase ‘blood is thicker than water’ means that those whom you shed and spill blood with are more important than anything else. Water, you see, refers to ‘water of the womb’. Family is nigh nothing compared to that bond. Miss Lightning Dust, both you and Cards have spilt and shed blood with me, willingly or otherwise. To a Teutschen like me, there is no stronger bond. Whether or not you see me the same ways doesn’t matter, for I see you two as such.”

I like how you didn’t mention how that philosophy was a bit shaky when it came to non-Teutsche. What was it that former Chancellor De Gaulle once said? Oh, yes. “Teutschland has no friends, only interests.”

Dust looked at me with the same air as a mare trying to convert Equestrian feet into Teutsche meters in her head while her house burned down. “Do you really mean that?”

“Do you believe in me?” I countered. She didn’t reply. “Because I fear you’ll never truly believe me. See, Miss Lightning Dust, I know you don’t trust me, and you know I don’t trust you, either. But you didn’t run when Boulder broke my leg and ribs. And mere moments ago you charged down here and saved my life, despite on both occasions there being perhaps more logic to doing the exact opposite. You spilt blood both times for me. If that isn’t enough at least to build the basics foundation of what might one day resemble something akin to but not entirely trust, I don’t know what is. I’m willing to give you that. Are you willing to give that, too?”

The seconds ticked away like eons as she looked at me, as if hunting for just the barest hint of mistruth. Finally, the mare nodded. “I... I am, GB.”

“I’m an honest guy, but if you put me in a corner and threaten people, well, the gloves go off.”

She sniffled. “It’s just that he... Jeepers—” Dust buried her face in her hooves. “I felt his breath on my neck, and those... horrible, horrible hooves groping me!” She took a breath and looked at me. Her eyes were puffy and red, her face looked splotchy, and there were specks of dirt on her cheeks; that said, I couldn’t help but think that she looked really damn cute. She inched towards me. “Before today, I hadn’t cried since I was a filly. Even when they kicked me out of the Wonderbolts, I didn’t cry, I just froze up for what felt like months.” She rubbed her eyes. “Today, twice. I don’t like it, GB. I don’t! And when you said that you didn’t care, I... I don’t know.” Dust looked up at me almost... expectantly?

Did she want me to say something proud and heroic, like, “Don’t worry, Dust, I’ll never let you cry ever again”? To add to that, there was a nagging feeling in the back of my head that I was supposed to say something protective like that. But I knew exactly what was causing that feeling: her tears. For some reason, a mare’s tears contained some kind of pheromone that reduced a stallion’s testosterone levels, generally lowered his sexual arousal, made him less aggressive, and triggered a biological impulse to protect. Being that I was a male of the species Equus sapiens, the tears of the female of my species were having an effect on me. Stupid girls, perfectly evolved to mess with me.

So I did the only thing I could: I gave her the most reassuring smile that I could muster. “As it stands, Miss Lightning Dust, I’m going to make sure Jeepers gets what’s coming to him.” I stood up and held out a hoof to her. “Need a hoof?” Hey, look. You’re helping her up again for the second time today, assuming it’s not past midnight. I blame Lyra.

Dust accepted the hoof and I helped her up. She took a breath and looked up at me. “Thanks, GB. It’s—” she hesitated, looking at Jeepers “—it’s been a long, long day, and I think I’ve had several firsts today.” She looked to the side as Jeepers groaned as he struggled against the bonds.

“This thing is strange,” Card said. I’d practically forgotten she was still here, she’d been so quiet. She was holding that strange amulet up in the moonlight. Cards pulled the white talisman out of her bags, comparing the two things. “I think they’re both magical.”

I nodded. “So I thought. The white one appears to make people talk in their sleep, and the black one... I suspect it conjures up illusions of some sort. That thing that was haunting us up in the house? Not real, it only responded to sounds, though that doesn’t answer the question of that thing I was sure I stabbed, nor what I saw. This thing is a damn scary charm, the kind that’d need one hell of a mage to make. Let’s ask.” I walked up to Jeepers, still grunting against his bonds. “What are they for, Jeepers?”

“Sod off!” the stallion spat.

I introduced him most kindly to the back of my hoof. “Try that again. Mind you, I’m being polite because I am in the presence of two ladies. Don’t make me kindly request that they stand outside.” Cards put a hoof to her ear, a grim look on her face. “What purpose do those serve?”

“You don’t know who or what you’re dealing with!” he hissed.

“Your words are as as empty as your future,” I snarled back, grabbing his chin. “What does the black charm do?” Jeepers gritted his teeth, and I frowned as I observed his dental work. “What’s wrong with your teeth?” I asked, puzzled.

Dust stumbled to her hooves, almost knocking into me. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with his—oh my stars, is he what I think he is!?”

“What do you think he is?”

“He has fangs! He’s a vampire!?” She put a hoof over her breast, panting. “But that’s impossible! Vampires are a myth!”

I shrugged. “Well, if vampires weren’t real, you wouldn’t recognize one, would you?”

“I... I... what?”

“Regardless of how big and scary and full of impossible things the world is, I don’t think this one is real,” I said, poking his fangs with a hoof. “They appear to be made of plaster or something.”

“Are you saying vampires are real?” Dust asked, glancing over her shoulder. Jeepers growled, but nopony was paying attention.

“Well, I’m saying that I’m not really afraid of them. After all, once you’re cured, it can’t affect you ever again.” I shrugged. “This guy’s just a creep with a fetish for a monster he heard about in his story books.”

Dust gave me a lost look. “Are, are you saying you are... were a... vampire?”

I glanced over my shoulder and laughed. Then I went back to Jeepers, and something on his person caught my eye. There, peeking out from a suit pocket, was a folded strip of paper. When the stallion saw what I was looking at, he did his best to pretend like he didn’t care. Curious, I reached in and extracted the paper, and that got him to start squirming around like an epileptic gopher. I unfolded and read it.

—Don’t use this damn thing yourself, it’ll drain you practically to death.

—To use it, put it on the poppet and have the poppet use the thing. (POPPET, not puppet.) Its life isn’t.

—Uses: Shortwave broadcasts, creating aural, visual, and mechanoreceptive hallucinations. Doesn’t last for long, but can be used for psychological harassment.

—Notes: We’ve entrusted you with this prototype, it’s the only one if its kind, and we cannot make any more without this one. Lose it and you’re dead. Toodles!

I looked back at the stallion. “Wow. You kept this in your pocket? Really? Are you positively retarded?” I shook my head. “Was it so hard to remember how to use it? Are you just incompetent? And for that matter, who in the right mind would entrust something so precious and unique to a peon like you? Who is your manager and when can I speak to him?”

He merely looked mortified. I stamped a hoof. “Really, who’s your equally incompetent boss?” Stuffing the letter into a pocket, I waited. “Nothing? Do we need to have some fun interrogating you? Because I’m down with that idea. Here, we’ll even start out small: what was that poppet and how did you control her?”

“Piss off,” he replied, less forceful than a competent pony would have sounded.

“Seems like we’re going to have to do this with force. So, Mister Jeepers, how do you want this to end? The easy way? Or the hard way? Oh, please, please, please tell me the hard way! To clarify, I mean ‘hard way’ for you, since it’s the easy and fun way for me. Hell, I’ll even compose you a ballad or poem as I’m doing it. What say you?”

“You couldn’t comprehend who I work for and why I do this,” he said, admirably feigning confidence. “If you kill me, that’s it. You’re done.”

“Something wicked this way comes, Mister Jeepers, something in the night!” I singsonged, grabbing my knife off the floor, where it had apparently fallen. “Fright. I can see it well in your peepers, Mister Jeepers. So tell me what I want to know.” I put the knife to his carotid artery “Wouldn’t want to end the show—such an awful way to go.”

He swallowed. “You’re making a huge mistake, government boy.”

I dropped the singsong. “What was that skinny mare with the steel in her mouth, and how’d you puppeteer her?” He didn’t reply, so I grabbed one of his wing joints and bent it. “Tell me, please. She looks like some kind of homunculus, and that’s the kind of thing you find in the realm of witchcraft.”

Jeepers swallowed. “I–I’m not too sure, they didn’t tell me when she was given to me a while back, just that she was capable of using magic where I could not! My special talent is using puppets, and those strings are magical, so go figure how I used her! Okay? Okay? Let the wing go!”

That was easy enough. Time for round two. I released his wing. “Good boy. Now, how long have you really been working for them? I highly doubt you were just ‘found’ by Boulder and White Tongue.”

“Year and a half,” he admitted, looking down at the ground.

“Interesting. So, what do they know about me?”

“Probably everything,” he snickered. “Your mother, father, siblings, date of birth, location of birth, doctor who delivered you, and any other records you have. I don’t care what lies about some fairytale ‘Teutschland’ you spin those two ladies, because the facts are—”

I got my face real close to his. While I might not have known how Equestrians defined personal space, I was sure I was violating his. “Alles nur Lügen, mein Herr. Wirklich kam ich aus dem Reiche. Also sag mir die Wahrheit,” I growled, gutturally rolling all my R’s, especially the R’s that weren’t usually pronounced. My voice was far deeper than it was when I spoke Equestrian, mostly for effect, but also because a part of my Equestrian accent involved speaking in a higher pitch. “Die Wahrheit. Gib sie mir.”

“Wha’?”

“Eben komm zu dir!” I snarled, offering him a playdate with the back of my hoof. “Frag dich: ‘Werde ich das Trauma überstehn?’ Dein Herz schlägt schneller, weil die Angst dich in Kauf nimmt. Du musst nur verstehen: wir ernten, was wir säen. Du säst doch den Tod.” I let out a dark chuckle. “Du bist des Wahnsinns! Du bist des Todes! Du musst des Todes sterben!”

“The hell are you saying?! It’s freaking me out!” he screamed.

I grinned. “Teutsch. It ist ze—” I put a hoof over my mouth. “Teutsch. It is the language of my people. I was saying quite simply that you are insane, that you’re a dead stallion, and that you’ll surely die. What I didn’t get to,” I said with that same grin, “was how I was going to be the hero that ended you, and the question of just how painful your death would be. I know you don’t know anything about me or my people, and that’s fine by me. I’m not sorry, either. Es tut mir nicht leid.” I reaffirmed the knife over his carotid artery. “So I’ll ask nicely one last time for some answers before I start randomly cutting things and trying to make you squawk.”

“Government boy,” Cards whispered, and I jerked my head to look at her. “Please, don’t.” She was rubbing her ear. “Don’t do that. We’re supposed to be better than them, right? We are the good guys, right?”

I regarded her for a long time, knife still to Jeepers throat. “Say, Cards, could you go find that water pump for me? I still really, really need to use the bathroom. Dust, could you go with her.”

The little unicorn hesitated. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Dust gave the mare an unsure look as she gnawed on a hoof. “Please, government boy, you don’t have to do this. This isn’t what good guys are supposed to do. That’s what you are and I are, right?”

My eyes remained fixed to hers, unmoving and hard.

She swallowed. “You told me that we had to do good to make up for our wrongs. I might be paraphrasing, but that’s what you said. If you, if you did what I think... what I know you’re going to do, and I didn’t do anything to stop you, how could I live with myself?”

“You could force my hoof,” I offered, “and make me kick you out. No guilt there, right?”

“No,” she said. Her tone was sterner. Annoying. It was very annoying. You did not talk back to me when I was saving the world!

Maybe she’s right. Don’t crucify me here, I’m just throwing it out there. Reputation is everything to us. Look at what happened when we didn’t have a good one back in Sleepy Oaks, they lynched you. If Cards and Dust are to be traveling with you, they themselves are going to have to see you as a hero. Antihero works too, just so long they have high opinions of you. Long term plans, “government boy”, long term plans.

I sighed, sheathing the knife. “Way to go, Cards. I had him going there! Why the hay did you have to believe my scary but ultimately spineless threats? See, now you threw me off my game, and we’re back to square one with Jeepers.” I glanced at the stallion and whispered, “Don’t worry, you can ‘cut yourself shaving’ later, okay?” He squirmed, but I looked back at Cards. “Of course we’re the good guys, Cards, don’t be ridiculous.”

Cards inclined her head. “Wait, what?”

“Look, Cards, torture itself really doesn’t work. It’s the threat of torture that gets ponies to talk.”

“Wait, how do you know that?’ she pointed out, narrowing an eye.

“Cards, don’t ask stupid questions,” Dust said harshly. “He probably read it somewhere. Right?”

I chuckled. “Dust is actually accurate. I read it somewhere, not sure where, but it was one of those odd tidbits that I have trouble ever forgetting. Point is, up until you tried to stand up for him, he was believing that I was actually going to do it, and that meant he was going to talk. Way to go, Cards, way to go.”

She just tilted her head the other direction, her jaw opened. A certain bird that nested in mouths would have found her a perfect host. “Really?”

“Of course!” I snapped. “What kind of monster do you take me for?”

Her expression went dark. “Glasses.”

“Are you still on that?” I said in an annoyed tone. Cards bit her lip and nodded. “Okay, so now that the metaphorical cat is out of the metaphorical bag, what are we going to do with Jeepers?”

“Let him go?” Cards suggested in a weak voice, and Dust scoffed.

“Where do you think he’d go,” she asked, “Trottingham?”

I spoke up. “I’d make the suggestion that he’d go back to his superiors. It’s clear from what I gleaned from him that they don’t know the first thing about me. Speaking of whom, Jeepers has been being a really good sport about being tied up. Do you think we should, say, give him a lollipop for being such a good sport?” I looked at the stallion, who just sat there, leering creepily at me. A thought later and I pulled my knife back out. Forcing his jaw open, I jammed the blade into his left (my right) fang and fidgeted around with it. The girls gasped, but in a moment I’d pulled the tooth out and was examining it, ignoring Jeepers’ screams of pain.

“Quit being such a baby,” I groaned, then slugged Jeepers in the face. He didn’t lose consciousness from that, and so I groaned louder. I turned to Cards. “Cards, give me your socks.”

She blinked, her cheeks flushing. “I—wha’?” Dust gave the unicorn a peculiar, ‘don’t look at me’ look.

Then I noticed Cards wasn’t carrying her bags. “Great,” I sighed. Putting Jeepers’ tooth in a pocket, I fished around the room till I found a dirty, dirty rag. With my fancy new rag, I shoved it in the screaming stallion’s bloody mouth; he gagged, but I was at least almost entirely unsure that he wouldn’t not choke to undeath on it.

I looked over the tooth. It was indeed made of a strange kind of hard plaster which surrounded the original tooth. “Hey, why are you wearing a monocle?” I asked, and Jeepers screamed through the rag, tears in his eyes. “Don’t worry ladies, I speak rag-in-mouth. Always knew those classes would come in handy.” Again, Jeepers screamed. “He says he’s wearing a monocle because he’s training it to like being wherever it’s put.” I frowned. “That is at once both clever and idiotic.”

“His tooth,” Cards stated, looking at me with what I could only assume was horror. “You said you weren’t going to hurt him!”

I frowned. “No, I didn’t. You’re putting words into my mouth. Stop it.”

She stamped her hooves. “But you said—”

“That I wasn’t going to torture him, and I meant that,” I said sternly. “But I got the hunch that he was hiding something in his tooth; cutting it out was the only way to get it.” I looked down at the tooth. “Hey, look at this. There is something in here.” With my knife I dug into the tooth. Pulling it out caused the plaster to crumble off the tooth. I stared at the little pill I’d salvaged from the mess. “This isn’t what I think it is, is it?”

“What is it?” Dust hesitantly asked.

I held it up for her. “I think it’s a suicide pill of some kind. Hey, Jeepers, why is there a—” I grunted as the green pegasus leapt from the chair and tackled me. In a burst of hindsight, I realized why Jeepers had been being so silent before I tore his tooth out, and it was probably the reason he was now tackling me to the ground. Of course, the angle I fell forced the brunt of the damage onto my poor, poor shoulder.

“GB!” Dust gasped.

Keeping a grip on the knife in favor of holding the tooth, I tried to defend myself. He got off a punch to my forehead, and then he gasped in pain as the knife pierced his chest. Grunting and shoving him off, Dust rushed to my side.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?!” she asked, almost tripping over her words.

“Bloody hell,” Jeepers groaned, holding a hoof over his stab wound. “None of you are going to get away with this.”

I rolled to my hooves. “I’m fine, ladies.” Swapping my knife for my sword, I approached the stallion.

Cards stared in horror at the stallion as he lurched forwards and extended his wings. He jumped, flapped, and fell back to the ground. When he saw his wings, really saw them, he screamed. “My wings! You monster, what did you do to my wings!?” He collapsed onto the ground, screaming and shouting about his wings, almost forgetting the knife wound. As he clutched as his ultimately useless wings, I saw Dust grit her teeth and scrunch up her own wings.

“Thus,” I said darkly to Jeepers, “is your fate, one befitting of he who harms the innocent.” I shook my head and growled, “You have forgotten the face of your father.”

“We have to help him!” Cards insisted. “Government boy, you’ve got healing stuff, right? Right? Give him one, he needs it!” I merely stared at her. Her menstruating heart was not bleeding enough for two. “Please! We can’t just let him die.” I did nothing. “Don’t do this, government boy, this is cruel! Dust, you have you agree with me! Tell him it’s wrong, that we should help!”

We looked at Dust. The pegasus blinked at us, her jaw moving but nothing coming out. She looked at Cards, Jeepers, and then, with a hesitant slowness, at me. I met her look and instantly knew what was going through her mind. She wanted to let him die, to let him suffer for what he almost did to her, even though she knew it was wrong. The look in her eyes was that of a conflicted pony, one who, for the first time, held the power to determine who lived and who died. Judging from her dark expression and silence, it was not a power she had ever wanted. I knew I could have easily taken away that power from her, that she probably wanted me to make the choice for her, but I couldn’t quite resist the temptation to know what she’d do.

She never gave a response. It didn’t take long for Jeepers to die. With him went my best chance for getting the answers I wanted. More importantly, I was now free to finally use the bathroom.

|— ☩ —|

We buried Jeepers in a shallow grave behind the shack because Cards had insisted on it. It took me nearly half an hour to convince her to calm down after Jeepers died, time which could have been spent sleeping. Now back in the farmer’s bedroom (bathroom door closed in the hopes that Cards wouldn’t remember there was a dead body in there and thus make me bury him, too), we looked over our options.

“We need to get moving by morning,” I asserted. “I think Jeepers was here before us, so I don’t really feel safe sticking around when I know that others might know Jeepers was here.”

Cards looked up at me from the loveseat. “Government boy, what were in those letters?”

I blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

“You said you got a few letters from Doc Dome’s clinic. What was in them?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I pulled all five out. “Care to read them? Well, at least hold onto them till it’s bright enough to read?” She nodded, and I handed them to her. Cards muttered a thanks as I asked Dust if she had any ideas.

“None,” she replied, shaking her head. Dust, despite having her back up against the wall, covered most of herself up with the bed’s blanket.

Cards licked her lips. “Not too far from here is a captain who owns a ferryboat. He lives outside town and only occasionally comes in by boat to buy stuff. I think he makes his living shuttling ponies up and down the Songnam River, at least during tourist season. He takes his boat through the little local rivers and makes it to the big river. If we’re not too late, he might still be there, and maybe we could get a ride to the city.”

“Too late? Too late for what?” I asked, and they both just looked at me.

“Oh, of course you don’t know.” Dust forced a smile. “In a few days or so, Lollapalooza’s gonna start.” She proceeded to spend about a minute trying to teach me how to properly say Lollapalooza. “It’s a weeklong street party celebrating music, fun, and parties.”

I nodded. “Understood. So, we’ll get what sleep we can, and then go to this captain in the morning. Sound good, everypony?” They all nodded. “Good. Now, ladies, let’s get some sleep.”

Dust settled into the bed as Cards nestled on her couch. I sat up, back against the wall, and waited for them to fall asleep first. When I was sure they were both asleep, I took out my record player and set up my earbuds. Putting in one of my favorite albums, I rested my head atop my bag and allowed myself to rest.

Cards had better not be having weird dreams about me, I thought as I let my consciousness drift off into the doldrums of sleep.

Author's Note:

Footnote:

Just so we’re clear, “Agricola” is Latin for “farmer”.

Comments

[Jojo Salatcia]

Jeeeeeeeeeppeeeeeeeeeerrrrrsssss!

[Infinite Carnage]

When I read the title of this story, I though of this...

[RancidHovel]

Oh hey, Hellsing Abridged references. Also, ponified Walter.

[Beyond the Horizon]

“Even the rape part?” I asked, looking down at my cards.
“Especially the rape part! To death, even! I’ll make you watch as I violate your—”
“Neat,” I said, nodding at him. I sat down on the ground, looking over my cards. “Let me know when you’re done with that, okay, Jeepers?” I looked over at Cards. “Hey, I just realized that I do not know how to play this game,” I chuckled warmly, ignoring her deathly grimace. “Do you? And can you teach me? I think we’ve got time to waste.”
“Uh...” Cards droned.
Jeepers stamped a hoof. “Are you mocking me?!”
I put a hoof to my breast. “Who, me? Oh, no, no, no, no—” I broke out in a snicker. “Yeah.”
“You can’t make fun of me!” he fumed, his face red. “I’m going to slice her, dice her, and violate her in front of you!”
“Mmm-hmm,” I hummed, nodding pensively at him.
“Do you have any idea just who you’re messing with, Southerner?! I’m the one in control here! I’m the one holding the girl! I’m the one in power, and you’re the one who’s going to die! Here! Tonight! And I’ll kill that other tart while I’m at it, too! I’ll make you watch as I do unspeakable things to their bodies and, and, and—”
I threw my head back and laughed. “You know, that would be intimidating if you were... oh, how can I put this in no uncertain terms? Ah, yes, I know. It’d be intimidating if you were actually intimidating.”

So much Hellsing Abridged!!

This was an interesting chapter- it further proved the theory that no, not just Ponyville Ponies are insane, but all of Equestria is too! Keep up the research, I'm sure I'll have a book by the end of this!

~With regards, the Current Student of the Second True Magic.

[Crushric]

2633481 2633138 2633469
Yeah, Hellsing's pretty much my favorite anime, and the abridged series was bloody brilliant. Heck, the design of Jericho's cover was designed with Hellsing in mind, simply because the aesthetic was cool and worked well with the overarching storyline.
With regards to that joke, I'm not one for having a joke where the punchline is "I like this thing and hope that you like it too", so I hope at least I had fun with the formula they used for that Hellsing Abridged joke without seeming like I was just copying it.

[Crushric]

2633827
First off, thanks for the comment. I love hearing any and all thoughts.
Second, you're the first to note his odd attitudes (which is good), and I make him do that entirely on purpose. You'll come to figure it out later, but Jericho... isn't actually well in the head. His erratic attitude gets called out when Cards, a mare from chapter 4 onwards, calls him a monster. Though to be fair, he only does those negative things after that stallion (Doctor Dome) tries to punch him.
As for your remarks on him not denying it, he says:

“Why don’t you tell me who you think ‘them that sent me’ are so I can tell you that they didn’t send me.”

&

“Look, would you crazy ponies just calm down so we can talk this over and show you that I’m not whoever you seem to think I am?”

Feel free to discuss this with me (I love discussions!), but I feel as though that covers him trying to deny it. He clearly doesn't know what, exactly, he's supposed to be denying.

As for anatomy, "shoulder" is used by Rarity herself to describe what those are during issue #1 of the IDW microseries, wherein she mentions that it's be nice if Celestia sent them a guard to help them on their quest, a stallion with, and I quote:

Maybe someone with broad shoulders... a nice coiffure... an accent...

After reading that, it is clear that the term "shoulders" is perfectly acceptable in-universe to refer to that part of a pony. Again, feel free to argue (I encourage it), but I'm just going by a canon source.
But with regards to Jericho saying "arms", that's actually a valid complaint, and that's why I bring it up in chapter 4. See, it's a translation issue. In Teutsch, the word is "Arm" (depending on grammatical case and plurality, also "Arme", "Armen" & "Arms/Armes"), and so Jericho just uses the (overly) literal translation, which is mentioned as being wrong in chapter 4, but Jericho himself accuses Equestrian of being wrong.

If you'd like to argue, feel free to do so! I love talking things over with anyone willing to offer their opinions.

[ZephyrStrife]

I love the hellsing ultimate abridged reference! I couldn't stop laughing.

[Alondro]

>>>“Well, that explains everything,” I said, smiling at the corpse. “Thanks for leaving such a conclusive letter that explained this ridiculous circumstance to me.” Sighing, I shook my head. “Equestrians are stupid, let me tell you.” >>>

Well, I think that's a wee bit hypocritical given the insane reasons humans give for suicide.

I have seen some really bizarre suicide notes during the brief period I became interested in forensics.

Pot calling the kettle black!

Anyway, I just don't think this story's for me. It is a better-constructed crossover than most. Topically, however, it's just not what I'm into Pony for.

[Crushric]

2640885
Welcome to the party—dark humor for everypony!
2642882
I wouldn't say "hypocritical", since it's just the opinion, and Jericho didn't kill himself for a strange reason. But I thank you for taking the time to test out Jericho, even if it wasn't to your liking. Have a good day, mate.

[Blank!]

2643204

Phew. Made it to chapter seven. No, I think even Hellsing and 40K don't go into this loving amount of detail. This is Repo The Genetic Opera grade pitch-black humor. I was half-expecting Jericho to start singing about how much of a thankless job it is, being a hero.

The way the story is going now sort of reminds me of this interesting segment...

"I was going to be a hero, once," said Professor Quirrell, still looking upward. "Can you believe that, Miss Granger?"

"No."

"Thank you again, Miss Granger. It is true nonetheless. Long ago, long before your time or Harry Potter's, there was a man who was hailed as a savior. The destined scion, such a one as anyone would recognize from tales, wielding justice and vengeance like twin wands against his dreadful nemesis." Professor Quirrell gave a soft, bitter laugh, looking up at the night sky. "Do you know, Miss Granger, at that time I thought myself already cynical, and yet... well."

The silence stretched, in the cold and the night.

"In all honesty," said Professor Quirrell, looking up at the stars, "I still don't understand it. They should have known that their lives depended on that man's success. And yet it was as if they tried to do everything they could to make his life unpleasant. To throw every possible obstacle into his way. I was not naive, Miss Granger, I did not expect the power-holders to align themselves with me so quickly - not without something in it for themselves. But their power, too, was threatened; and so I was shocked how they seemed content to step back, and leave to that man all burdens of responsibility. They sneered at his performance, remarking among themselves how they would do better in his place, though they did not condescend to step forward." Professor Quirrell shook his head as though in bemusement. "And it was the strangest thing - the Dark Wizard, that man's dread nemesis - why, those who served him leapt eagerly to their tasks. The Dark Wizard grew crueler toward his followers, and they followed him all the more. Men fought for the chance to serve him, even as those whose lives depended on that other man made free to render his life difficult... I could not understand it, Miss Granger." Professor Quirrell's face was in shadow, as he looked upward. "Perhaps, by taking on himself the curse of action, that man removed it from all others? Was that why they felt free to hinder his battle against the Dark Wizard who would have enslaved them all? Believing men would act in their own interest was not cynicism, it turned out, but sheerest optimism; in reality men do not meet so high a standard. And so in time that one realized he might do better fighting the Dark Wizard alone, than with such followers at his back."

"So -" Hermione's voice sounded strange in the night. "You left your friends behind where they'd be safe, and tried to attack the Dark Wizard all by yourself?"

"Why, no," said Professor Quirrell. "I stopped trying to be a hero, and went off to do something else I found more pleasant."

"What?" said Hermione without thinking at all. "That's horrible!"

The Defense Professor turned his head down from the sky to regard her; and she saw, in the light of the doorway, that he was smiling - or at least half his face was smiling. "Are you going to tell me, Miss Granger, that I am an awful person? Well, perhaps I am. But then are people who never even try to be heroes still worse? If I had never done anything at all, like them, would you have thought better of me?"

So, I'm morbidly curious about where you're taking this story.

On the one hand, I love that you reference Terry Pratchett. On the other hand, it feels kinda weird that you just plain quote him word-for-word. Preface those with something like "A wise pony once said..." or paraphrase them instead, but... don't just leave them verbatim. It's not for lack of wit on your part, that much I know; some of these quips are very quotable.

And, of course, as someone with a working understanding of German, and for whom English is a second language, I am very amused by all the linguistic stuff... although I'd have liked to have Jericho have a little more trouble with slang, he acclimated a bit too fast IMHO. Then again, Equestria isn't very slang heavy.

[Crushric]

2643407
The musical comes later. I'm not even kidding, It's in my notes, but for a different, more demented version of an in-show song. Never read that one fic you quoted, but I've heard about it and had a passing interesting in looking in, but never found me the time to.
I've never read Pratchett's stuff, but I only knowingly quoted him once, referencing God's love for atheists, and that was prefaced with a line about Jericho's grandfather. I do quote Douglas Adams, and have done it about twice per chapter—my little way of paying homage to my favorite author and one of the biggest influences on my writing style (did a few more in ch.6)—though I usually.
As for slang, I established beforehand that he understands slang, it's just that he himself doesn't like using it.
Always glad to hear a person's opinion, mate. And I love discussing things.

[Valsher]

I can't read this anymore. This is sick.

[Crushric]

2645759
What's an "RWJ" and how did I reference it?

2644122
Ah, German. The pony fandom needs more German-speaking ponies that aren't expressly evil. Glad you're enjoying it.

[leafz pegasus]

2645843
Ray William Johnson, he has a rather popular youtube page

[Crushric]

2647468
Well, "down" is usually a preposition or adverb. If it were being used as a verb, it'd be in the imperative mood, which it is not. Were it a verb, it'd either make no sense in this context or require a following reflexive pronoun: "down yourself!" (Subdue yourself) or "Down!" (Commanding Jericho to take a drink), for examples. As it stands, it is being used as an interjection, which is not a verb. Jericho was just remarking on that, trying to show a bit of annoyance.

As for potions and side effects, the reason is "because I want to". That's really it. Maybe it's been done before, but I don't know where, and I thought it'd be a cool idea. Her opinion was that if flesh were to regenerate as supernatural rates (purely hypothetically), its rapid growth might make the cells slightly more likely to develop into tumors or become cancerous. But trust me, there are worse magical medical drugs in Equestria, at least worse in the wrong hooves (Read: Jericho's hooves).

Luna is not too short, that particular stallion is just that tall.

Also, what scene about arguing morality are you talking about?

2646149
There's a reason why he does that, though he mentions it once in an upcoming chapter as "Because I have no choice". We'll leave that at that for now, but that question is actually part of the overarching plot of Jericho.
He told the Baron he was "government boy" because Jericho assumed (wrongly) that the Baron was evil simply because Barons are always evil in fiction. Note how he tried to play off that, and then how badly that failed, because Jericho doesn't always make good decisions. Doc's house part, he explained that entirely on his own in the story.
That mare you speak of? That would be Lightning Dust. Read on; she's a main character.
I have no idea what a "zombie fic" is at all. I don't. But that mare is related to the plot in that... well, Jericho notes why this is chapter 7, and why she relates to Lightning Dust.
As for the coronary report, let me quote one line that solves all your issues:

No, forget it. I’m not trained for this, and I’m sure I’m missing something obvious. We need a professional, one trained specifically for this, to examine her before we jump to any irrational conclusions.

As for the rest, note how in chapter one he wanted to be a "famous adventurer", plus his status with having crossed the world in the most obtuse way to get to Equestria. One way or another, he's going to have him some (chaotic) fun exploring bits of that nation, and worldbuilding along the way.

[Jess887cp]

Congrats on your EQD feature. I just read these chapters and they are brilliant. I hope you keep on producing chapters of such quality, at a decent enough rate.

[Crushric]

2648165
Oh, God no, he's not sane. And if you note his thoughts, he states that his "philosophy" is possible complete BS, and he often uses it to manipulate ponies. Cards is only following him because she's so terrified of him that she can't say no. One must take into account each character's emotional states and/or (possibly) sinister intentions.
And aside from the your-mileage-may-vary stuff, I fail to see how his actions were expressly idiotic. Perhaps you'd spare me a minute to point out these events and explain them to me. (Ignoring his utter confusion at the problem at first, and being unable to respond properly to what he was being accused that.) I am incredibly open to hearing your opinions, and even fixing any particularity egregious errors.

2648182
Thanks, Jess887cp! I tend to write over 10k words per week, and then I post. I write as though every day were National Writing Month (2k per day), and so far that style's been funny and well-received. Expect something new almost every Saturday/Sunday.

[Jojo Salatcia]

but Jericho's description of god--while wrong--

What does this mean, even?

[The_Rickette_Syndrome]

Great. I love how the chapters are getting longer. Hurray for you.

I think I was the only one who got the reference to Hellsing abridged parody.

Other than that I'm really glad that your character isn't a total Marty Stew. Seeing that he has been saved by Lightning Dust and Cards, he isn't invincible and overpowered.

Will the main six be in this. I personally would prefer not.

You should have Jericho "break character" and lose control of his temper. That would be fun to see.

Other than that, I think his personality is stereotyped, and his manipulation of other's psyche almost identical to that of a Nazi. Not saying all germans are Nazi. I'm german myself and understand the psyche extremely well, but I'm not a Nazi.

[Crushric]

2648572
I'm glad your liking it, comrade! And to answer your questions:
The mane six will appear later, likely during Act 2 (Act 1 deals with the conspiracy). Stories about the Mane Six have been done to death, so I wanted to explore other bits of the world and side characters/OCs.
If you want to see him go nuts and lose his temper, wait till we get to the musical scene.
Jericho is manipulative because that's just who he is, how he was raised. I insist, though, that "Stereotyped" is an inappropriate word, since being manipulative isn't Jericho's defining trait; it's an element of it, but it's but a part. I try to go out of my way to associate things like the word Reich here with freedom, democracy, tolerance, and all that jazz. I don't know of any Nazis with a droll senses of humor, extreme tolerance for most all races & creeds, a belief in freedom & democracy & tolerance, and generally trying to save the world, so that's why I feel that "stereotype" to not be the best term to use here. Feel free to argue—I love discussions!

[Jess887cp]

2648223
10k A week, and then a post?

That has to be one of the most decent writing rates I've ever heard of. Keep it up!

[PaxMano33]

2648428 im talking theology. using logic, it is very possible to come to many conclusions about God, how he behaves, what he wants for us, an explanation of the form that he would take, yadda yadda. and no, I am not talking about God through the filtered lens of Catholicism, as catholics take the bible as their resource for the nature of God. they consider it a primary source document, as they claim it was written by him. and I say bullshit on that one for various reasons, although those are besides the point. the point is, we can discover a lot about the true nature of god simply by observing the world around us and how it works--or, at any rate, how god had originally DESIGNED it to work before we humans went and messed with that plan. when I say that Jericho's description of God is wrong, I draw on my knowledge of God derived through the only true "primary source document" he gave us: his creation; the planet Earth and how it works, us humans and how we were designed to work, life and how it works, and free will and how IT works. the conclusions I have drawn from finding the answers to all those other questions help me figure out how God works--or at least, how God works in relation to the Earth and us humans.
now, you may ask: well, if it was easy to figure it out, then why doesn't everyone know all of it? why isn't there utopia? I mean, if we humans are capable of figuring out what God's goal for us is, then why haven't we already found and accomplished that goal as a race? why haven't we already created a heaven on earth? simply because of two reasons: one is that it isn't easy to figure out how everything works. one has to look past a lot of human meddling, one has to have a mindset that is flexible, one has to be able to understand backwards and forwards thinking, and one has to have a good moral compass. and a lot more. and two: everything we know about god comes with one big catch--one that is big enough to unseat the whole train of logic. the catch is that the existence of god is an assumption. and you cannot use assumptions when using logic, everything must be firmly rooted in fact. that is why the act of believing in god is an act of faith. it has no proof behind it, no base in logic. despite what was said at the Vatican II.
but Jericho is happy to work under that assumption--heck, anyone who says god exists lives under that assumption--and I was too when I was studying world-based theology. I had to assume god even existed before I could make any provable declarations about him. and using my knowledge based off of our world and that one assumption, I am decisively able to say that that is not an accurate depiction of god.
there. a basic run-down of the study of earth-based theology. bible-based theology is a completely different animal, for all those theology-studying bronies out there, so don't go getting your panties in a knot over everything I just said.
and for all those people out there who want me to put my money where my mouth is and say that I am as smart as I say i am: no. that would be deliberately sparking a war against most organized religions in existence today in the comments section, and when almost everyone in the world belongs to an organized religion, it is not advisable to say anything that can be subject to interpretation unless you can easily back up your words. i have made that mistake before and all i got was a ton of people raging at me nonsensically until i had to make a new account. and no, i will not say the name of the website this account was on. now, unless someone WANTS to start a religious war in the comments with me, i will say no more about world based theology or my findings in the field. however, if any of you are feeling adventurous, i wont dissuade you from studying the field yourselves. all it is, really, is finding the truth. how do you do that? find something that is true in this world, in our plane of existence, and work from there (you wouldn't believe how many people doubt the fact that anything we do in this plane of existence applies to us. for example, there are a ton of people who doubt that we actually exist, who think we are nothing more than the fantastical daydreams of some larger spirit. there are some who doubt the idea of free will; ergo, they believe that fate has already determined the course of their lives. however, world based theology only works in THIS PLANE OF EXISTENCE, as it is firmly footed in OUR WORLD--at least, not until a certain point. then, you must find what plane of reality God exists in--and that was a bitch. i have an idea on it being the tenth dimension, but i cant prove it yet. i gotta analyze the laws of consciousness a little more. then and only then will i be able to apply the laws of consciousness to another plane of existence than our own.). ill give you a hint: start with yourself. then go bigger.
ah, ive said enough on this. does that answer your question? i know that Jericho's interpretation of god is "wrong" because ive deduced it to be wrong using logic applied to the constants in myself and the world around me. if you want to know how it's wrong, im not gonna say, cuz' it would start an argument-which, btw, is totally different from a discussion (im looking at you, Crushric ). so if you are still curious, take up studying it on your own. you don't need a teacher--i mean, all youre doing is analyzing a primary source document. albeit a very large and complex primary source document: creation.
now, i would find it understandable if you people reading this were no longer curious--or at least, no longer curious enough to take up the study on your own. in which case, im okay with that. but don't reply to me with insults or tell me that everything ive said is bullshit. i don't think ive said anything too inflammatory other than the fact that i have discovered most of how god works on my own and without the use of any reference materials but a few physics and biology books. if anyone thinks that's bullshit, fine. ill be happy to know that the only thing people are crucifying me over in their personal opinions is my perceived bigotry, or snobbishness, or pride, or condescension, or naivety. so if someone wants to call me something along those lines, then don't worry. i already know a fair bit of you are thinking it by now. no need to tell me again in text. however, questions are welcome, so long as they don't ask for information that i already said i wouldn't give. questions would be a much better reply to this than insults, at any rate.
so. im done here for now. if anyone actually took the time to read this, thanks. means a bunch, as the study of the nature of god is a passion of mine. and i deeply regret the fact that i took up so much space on the page. if this is going to crash fimfiction, i would hardly be surprised. i hope not, fimfiction is a good source of amusement for me, and itd be a shame to see it go down in smoke. so. here goes...

[PaxMano33]

2649910 hey! the site still works! that obscenely long post below DIDNT crash fimfiction! YAY!

[Crushric]

2651047
... *Sly Smile* I might have been heavily inspired by that scene, yes. And perhaps I love AlChestBreach so much that I have a little notebook filled with quotes from him, yes.

2649910
Just gonna say this right now: "Does it work?" As a student of anthropology, I have been taught that there is no such thing as a "right philosophy", only the idea of "does it work?" If a philosophy works for a culture, one has no business criticizing it, unless that philosophy actively hurts/kill its practitioners (such as Female Genital Mutilation amongst the Mandi of West Africa). Never once have I said in Jericho that "this is the correct philosophy. All others are stupid/wrong" because an anthropologist is taught that all views are equal. I won't criticize your way of thinking about whatever higher power you choose to think about (Anthropologists are taught that all religions are equally valid), but I will call you out on calling a philosophy "wrong" when it appears to work fine for its culture/practitioner.

[Jojo Salatcia]

2649910
Holy shit, that was long. I was gonna respond but aye, I can see that Crushric already has. Bascially, everything he just said. There is nothing to that states "everything Jericho is absolute truth. Deal with it". It's the characters philosophy, his belief(s). As Crushric has already said, it's your choice to believe whatever the hell you want to believe about any deity/ies, and I certainly won't criticize you for that, but it doesn't mean you get to say that others interpretaton of whatever gods they choose to believe as wrong or right.

But y'know what? I'm probably rambling on about shit I don't really know anyways. Just felt I should add my own two cents. But I will agree that this isn't really the best place for any kind of religious/philosophical argument. That's like dressing yourself up in polyester, bathing in kerosene, then going toe-to-toe with the supreme space diety, Boo, the talking disco hamster (he shoots fireballs, in case you're wondering).

...What the hell am I talking about, even?

[Jojo Salatcia]

2651047

Aye, Crushric is a huge nerd fan of AlChestBreach (in a very similar way that I am a huge nerd fan of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure), As such, you're probably going to be seeing tons more Al references later on.

[Goggari]

And I thought that you were referring to Mikael Agricola
Anyways,(I start my second sentance with that too many times) I'm loving this fic! Keep up the good work, can't wait for what happens next!

[Crushric]

2651684
Good to see you're enjoying it. You'll be seeing chapter eight soon enough, I assure you.
2651685
Random coincidence is best coincidence?
2651996
Ah, and here we get the first person remarking on that little issue. I'm not at liberty to say one way or the other; it's up to you, the reader, to decide if he's a hero or not. Jericho's just that kind of character.

[Crushric]

2656425
Ah, how'd I miss that? (Because I first heard that phrased with "euch" and I mentally wanted that -ch sound when I was writing?) I wish I weren't so stiff, but all of my German is entirely self-taught within the last year's timespan (mostly because I think the language is just so cool); and I have only the basest grasp of Füllwörter (eben, gar, etc), so I guess I'll need me another year to get that "natural feel". Being that a German speaker is the narrator of the story, well... stuff. Let's hope Jericho's in-German rant in chapter 7 doesn't make me look like an idiot, ja?
See ya around, mate!

[MessoriaAQ]

2656490

Oh I just finished that last chapter, and I can soothe your fears, It was good, but I guess

Wirklich, kam ich aus dem Reiche.
(you (accidentally? if not you're good) used some archaic/poetry vernacular which would be wrong if you'd have my german teacher *shivers*.)

would be
Ich kam wirklich aus dem Reich.
(dem Reich is a Dativ Objekt and thus doesn't get an additional letter.)

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to patronise you. I'm actually impressed, if you really taught yourself that much on your own. If what I've seen thus far is an indicator, I'd say you make fewer capitalization mistakes than some of my pals. If you have questions you want to have answerd, or if you need help, send 'em my way, and I'll look into it.

Back to the topic of the story.
Jericho's confusing me. Sometimes I think he's downright a jerk, and sometimes he's downright nice (in his own way). His thoughts are just hilarious though. He may think some nasty things but he doesn't akt them. Does that make him a good pony? DAMN Crushric, you're crewing my brain at this late hour (22:53).
I wonder when (or if) Cards and Dust will somewhen start calling Jerico by his actual name, and if Jericho will acually start using the term 'friend' for Cards and Dust.

Ahh and a last question. How long will this fic (approximately) be? I'm curious because we haven't met Luna yet (like I think we will, because you selected her icon above).

[Crushric]

2658169
Yeah, I worded it archaic like that on purpose. I was just feeling archaic when I wrote it, so I figured that Jericho was also feeling unnecessarily dramatic. Given that I've had to teachers, I'm a bit more... liberal with how I use archaisms and accidentally poetic language. (To this day I seem to refuse to use the word "Körper", preferring to say "Leib".) And now by offering to help, you've opened up a can of worms. Who knows when I could randomly ask for help, eh?

Ah, yes. The issue of whether or not Jericho is a good guy or not. That decision is entirely up to you—that's right, you—whether or not Jericho's a good pony. Jericho's just one of those characters, you see. I thought it'd be more fun to write then him just clearly being one or the other.
We'll see if the girls ever use Jericho's name.

As for the story's length, assuming that Jericho's chapter will be about as long as they are (they will be, I guarantee), Act One is scheduled to be maybe 16 or so chapters long, so take it from there. Story's overall length is currently set to "Doorstopper."
Ah, and your comment about Luna means that I was subtle enough about her. Good... Continue to think "yet".

[MessoriaAQ]

2658417
Being conservative with the language is better that speaking slang, methinks.
Modern German (slang) Syntax:
Subject + Insult + Object [+ Time + Location] (the last few are interchangeable)

So now I stop horsing around.

Subtle enough? Oh man am I reading a crime thriller? Does that mean she's played a role all along till now? *fangirl squeal*

And 16 chapters for Act One (If thou speakst of acts, does that mean thou wilt write 5 like in a classic drama?) that gives 170592 words plus/minus a few thousand.

Ahh and for my worm-can... *takes can and eats content. And the can*
What? The voice in my head said I shall eat it, ay!

[Crushric]

2660807
Conservative is better, yes. But, really, as a Southern (US) gentleman, I fully acknowledge that my use of English is a different than many, as my editor from Denmark points out, and even as my mates from around the States have noted. (I tend to use me the archaic English dative that only Southerners use, for one example.) And, so logically, it stands to reason that Jericho wouldn't always speak proper Hochdeutsch, using a few colloquialisms here and there (and, like I, loving the Bavarian servus). [Although over the internet, I have no idea whether or not I use should du or Sie, since I've seen both used here. And because my 2nd language is Spanish, my idea of when it's appropriate to use du is more lax, as it is in Spanish.]

Regarding Luna, all I'm saying is, she's doing things in the background. Jericho is a bit of a thriller when the plot wants to be. I won't say more, but you'll know you've seen Luna when the topic is brought up in hindsight later. After all, I'm going to avoid having the Mane 6 for as long as I can get away with, preferring me some Luna.

I doubt I could write more than five Acts. As it stands, Act 1 is going to be a fair bit over 100,000 words. After all, we're talking about an (hopefully) epic adventure here, hmm? [The worms must be fed t'thee, good sir.]

[MessoriaAQ]

2660865

Dative you mean something like Jack gave me that instead of Jack gave that to me, or Jack made me my homework as opposed to Jack made my homework for me (he's a nice guy, isn't he)? If I haven't produced complete nonsense here, I can see why it isn't used anymore (sounds strange to me).

That would be 1:1 german if you look into it.
Jack gave me that.
Jack gab mir das. (Hmm it's a Dativ )

Teehee

[Crushric]

2660974
Well, "made me" sounds wrong here. You'd say "Jack did me my homework." One does not "make" homework, one "does" it. But it's often a construction of some Southern future tenses. "I'll take me that"—same as in some German, "Ich hol mir das". We had it as a Subject + verb + dative + accusative object. But because the English future tense is... more compact than German's, that construction is really only found here in the American South. Sometimes in other English, you'll see something like it, but it's constructed with a reflexive (myself, herself). "I made me an omelet" vs. the more proper "I made myself an omelet". Make sense (You mention having a German teacher; you're not a German yourself, then?)

[MessoriaAQ]

2661037
Ahh damn, I guess I was in the wrong language mode there. One does usually avoid using do in german (because you'd sound dumb saying something like: Er tut dir deine Hausaufgaben machen) I guess I use that what I know is definitely right. AND I WILL BE HAPPY WITH THAT. YOU HEAR THAT BRAIN!!

Oh, I am german, and german is a subject at every german school. The fact that one speaks the language doesn't necessarily mean one knows how it works. In the first 8 grades, you learn the language's basics, in the 9th to the 13th grade (I'm in the 11th), you got to do stuff like analyzing texts, dramas (german Shakespear sounds like my grandma), poetry, prose.
All that stuff leads to lots of writing, therefore it isn't most peoples favourite subject.

I curious why you ask though. Do you not have your own language as school subject? (maybe we should shift this conversation to PMs? I guess we're not exactly talking about the story anymore).

[Crushric]

2661476
Oh, we have it as a subject, alright. It's "English" class; it didn't click for me when you called it "German" class. Our English classes does much the same, though they've had less success in my life. Most everything I learned about how to use English I learned on my own. Ditto for everything I know about languages like German & [Modern] Greek. Analyzing texts taught me why I dislike those classics (Great Gatsby, I'm looking at you and your hate of proper pace).

[SIGAWESOME]

What an interesting story. I love most it so far. Jericho's character brings to mind a pleasant blend of Van Helsing and an amoral Dr. Who with his worldliness and genre savvyness.

I do have two issues with the story so far. Admittedly these are probably as asinine as Emperor Joseph Mk. 2's complaint that Mozart's Seraglio had "too many notes", but they disrupted the story for me in much the same way that popping a toe with a dropped SCUBA tank would disrupt a vacation holiday... (Worst two weeks of holiday ever)

1. What exactly is this story about?
I recall at the beginning Jericho was on his way to Canterlot to deal with something..., but then he got waylaid in Ponyville and left to go to some little village to do... something I cannot recall. Now he is fossicking through abandoned houses, getting lynched by an angry village, and getting messily involved in Huckleberry-Finn style small town intrigue over something I completely missed. I feel like I missed some important plot points somewhere. It feels like the story is expanding fractally rather than advancing, expending more and more detail over a smaller and smaller scope. I dunno. Maybe I just need a solid smack about the head with a Clue-by-Four...

2. What is the deal with Cards?
Jericho kills her only friend and suddenly she is okay with that and decides to follow him around? I know other people have mentioned this, but I cannot help coming back to this every time she is mentioned. I want to gaily follow after the storyline over the Willing Suspension Bridge of Disbelief, but this keeps obstructing my way like a spike strip on the motorway. Did I miss a key plot point/piece of dialogue/scene/something where this is explained? (See point #1 above)

Sorry for the pinheadedness of all this (I blame all the little green antihistamines I have been munching away on this weekend; bloody allergies), but I really love this story enough to be bothered by the whole lot.

Looking forward to the next chapter!

[Scarheart]

Dust took a huge bite out of her chocolate bar and munched. As she finished it, she threw it off into a bush. Before she could finish chewing, I sighed, “Somewhere, Dust, a buffalo is crying.” I trotted back and grabbed the wrapper, stuffing it into a pocket.

[Ver0Nightmare]

And another Hellsing Abridged reference!

[Zero Moment]

Is that maybe a Red Dwarf reference I spy?

[CMDR Kovacs]

2661598 I have barely finished reading the conversation between you and Messoriah, as well as Chapter 7, but I'd like to point out that I've barely figured out Luna's role.

Spoilers! Don't read if you don't want to have the fun ruined for you!
Luna was Selena. The story's image kinda gave it away, not to mention the names.

[ChaosDX1]

Every time people think he's lying Jerico is telling the truth. It's when he's lying that they believe him.

[Gyro Steambass]

2633505 Thanks for putting it in! I like little references like that.