• Published 25th Jan 2013
  • 6,431 Views, 229 Comments

Someone Came With Her - chromewasp

You keep sayin' somethin' about bein' male and "human" before you showed up in Appleloosa...

  • ...


Taking a swig from your water bottle, you trudge onward. Already you're sweating fiercely. You drink in the sights around you, fascinated by the town's post-apocalyptic atmosphere.

From what you had heard, Sawgrass was evacuated a few decades back due to the discovery of dangerous pollutants in the soil. Back in its heyday it had a few dude ranches and a reputation for horse breeding, but now it's just a sad little cluster of nothing.

It's a great place for photos, though. Especially if you're a fan of horror movies. It looks exactly like a place where mutants would lurk, or where your worst Freudian fears would suddenly come to life.

Idly kicking a poor rock that was just minding its own business, you mull over what to do next on your trip. The Grand Canyon is a must. You also heard--


You pause for a moment. What was that?


It's a low, throbbing hum, sounding like some sort of massive machine. You can feel it in your teeth and deep down in your gut. It's coming from somewhere behind you.

Half-expecting to see a flying saucer, you turn around. Nothing looks out of the ordinary at first. Just a few old buildings and a radio tower.


A strange blue glow is starting to build on the top of the tower, like St. Elmo's fire.


What the fuck...

Just when you think disaster is about to strike, the glow vanishes and the noise subsides. The pitiful breeze abruptly dies, leaving you in eerie stillness and baking heat.

Huh. What the hell was that? Some sort of atmospheric anomaly? Okay, so that's a pretty weak explanation, but there isn't much else you can think of. Whatever the case, your curiosity is piqued. Maybe there's an opportunity here. If that weird stuff starts happening again, you could take a video of it. That shit would go viral, no doubt.

But there is another factor that urges you to the radio tower, something that you can't quite explain. You feel a slight surge of the anxiety you felt earlier in the morning, but quickly ignore it. Your gut instincts don't have a very good track record, if that incident at Red Lobster last week was any indication.

As you approach the radio tower, you notice that a dusty black sedan is parked nearby. It seems you're not the only tourist here.

The base of the tower is boxed in by a rusty fence, preventing you from reaching the ladder. No matter; you're not one of those idiots who needs to climb everything taller than ten feet. You just want to get close enough to get a good photo in.

As it turns out, there's more than enough opportunity for a picture, but not in the way you expected. As you get closer to the tower, you see that numerous odd items have been arranged in a circle around its base. It's a motley collection of masks, bronzeware and small sculptures.

Some weird guy's art project, perhaps?

You hear a rush of air off to your left, and turn to see a tall man wearing a glossy black coat. He is peering curiously at you, as though you're yet another strange little artifact.

“You are an intruder,” he says. There is little emotion in his voice. His eyes are a dull black, the same color as his matted hair.

“Look man,” you start. “I'm not looking for trouble. I just wanted to see what was going on, that's all.”

“Are you one of them?” he asks.

“I'm sorry?”

“One of them.”

“I don't know what you're talking about...” Your heart is starting to race faster. You suddenly get the image of this freak burying your corpse in the desert sands.

“I am not a murderer,” the man says. “And I have much better ways to dispose of...unwanted things.”

Okay, so apparently now you're dealing with a psychic psycho. Panic is starting to grip you. You stare at him, wondering when your legs will decide to stop locking up and let you run far, far away.

“I am going to ask again,” he says. Now a smile is finally creeping onto his gaunt face. “Are you one of them?”

Fight or flight? Flight, you decide in a flash. Without another word you turn and run, hoping that the bastard's black coat will give him heat prostration if he tries to chase you.

Suddenly it feels as though you've slammed your shins into a concrete block. You tumble over, crying out in pain.

“You are wise to be frightened of me,” the man says as he paces up to your rolling form. “Have I introduced myself? My name is Maximilian Trask. I am the last and greatest sorcerer on Earth.”

That sentence would have made you chuckle in the past. But here, out in the desert with no one but you and this madman, it is the most frightening thing you have ever heard. As if the situation wasn't mind-rending enough, you can't shake the feeling that some small part of you had expected this.

“You caught me in a good mood, so I will give you one more chance to answer the question. Are you one of them?”

“Stop right there!” a familiar voice cries out.

You roll on your side, still in too much pain to stand up or even talk. It's that jerk from the bar! He's standing about twenty feet away, his face set in a scowl as he trains a chrome revolver on Trask. A young guy is standing by his side, looking distinctly worried despite the taser he's holding.

Slowly and mockingly, Trask holds up his hands. “Ah...so he was the bait,” he says. “Your timing is a bit off, though.”

“Shut up!” the jackass-turned-savior snarls. “Now listen real close, twinkle toes. I want you to pack up those little knicknacks of yours and get the hell outta my town.”

Trask gives him a thin smile. “Such a performance. I almost believe you really are just a backwater squatter, Aaron. Would you like to explain to these gentlemen why you're so interested in the portal? Or why--”

Looking about as friendly as a rabid wolverine, Aaron cocks the hammer on his revolver. “I ain't in much of a talkative mood, you see? And if you're smart you'd do a little less talkin', too. Now get to work before I blow your goddam head off.”

Your head is spinning, and it's not just from the pain or the heat or even the fear. The nagging sense of deja vu has become almost unbearable. It seems to erode your sanity, scattering your thoughts like leaves.

“This is getting tiresome,” Trask says, yawning. He glances up at the bright midday sun. “Ah, it's time.”

“Time for what?” the young guy asks.

Time for our departure!” booms Trask, his voice deep and inhuman.

Through the fence at the base of the tower you can see a pitch-black sphere materialize. Despite emitting no light, it leaves a searing bright afterimage in your vision.

This all happens in less than a second. Aaron and his companion look every bit as wide-eyed as you are, and Trask doesn't let the distraction go to waste.

“Let the broadcast begin!” he laughs. Blue streaks of lightning leap from the tower's metal frame, stabbing into the dark sphere. The wind howls like a hurricane, nearly deafening you with the sheer noise.

Gravity shifts, dragging you towards the sphere. It's sucking everything in! You desperately try to dig your fingers into the dry soil as your legs start getting pulled into the air.

The fence groans against its posts before its links snap explosively. In an instant the black hole consumes it.

“I will see you soon,” says Trask, strolling gracefully into the rift.

Helplessly you look over at Aaron and his friend, who are both fighting a losing battle in their struggle to hold on to the ground. Suddenly Aaron's buddy is airborne, his slight form shooting through the air like a dart. His scream is abruptly cut off as he vanishes into the darkness.

“Daniel!” Aaron howls. The stricken look on his face is a shocking contrast to the impression you had of him from the night before. There's none of the cockiness, none of the ignorance: just pure human anguish.

Now your grip is giving out. The muscles in your hands burn with pain, begging for rest. You manage to last only a few more seconds before you're suddenly rocketing backwards, pulled free by the black hole's irresistible force.

You feel much more resigned than frightened now that your fate is out of your hands—literally in this case. Whatever happens, you just hope it will be over soon.

The darkness swallows you. There is an overwhelming assault on your senses as your brain scrambles to understand your surroundings. Flashing lights and alien sounds, hallucinatory smells and phantom sensations. You spend an unknowable amount of time in this blind and maddening state, and it is with great pleasure that you realize that all is finally still.

Your face feels blistered and hot. Groaning, you slowly open your eyes.

The landscape you see is at once alien and familiar. You're in a desert, the sun brutally beating down on a parched landscape populated only by tall brown cacti and dry shrubs.

What causes your jaw to drop is the fact that everything appears to be cel-shaded. As your vision clears, you start to notice other oddities. The exaggerated hills, the ludicrous rock formations, the spirals in the clouds...wait.

You know this style. Holy shit, you're in Equestria!

You're pretty sure that if you shared the same cartoonish qualities as your surroundings, your jaw would have crashed through the ground and plunged into the center of the planet.

Your mind races. How did you get here, again? Something about a creepy sorcerer guy and a portal and--

Clearly that was utterly fucking crazy. Your heart sinks a bit at the conclusion that this must be an elaborate dream, and you're still snoozing away at that one crappy motel.

“You're not in a dream, my friend. I'm afraid this is all quite real.”

Shit, it's him again! You whirl around to see Trask smiling wickedly at you, and your throat goes dry.

“Perhaps this would help convince you?” he asks. Instantly you feel as though you've been stung square in the back by a hornet, and you let out a yelp of pain.

“I've been wondering,” says Trask, assaulting you with another jolt, “what do you little white knights get out of meddling with my plans, anyway? You're not Equestrians. You fellows don't owe them anything.”

He steps closer. Another jolt. But now you're starting to get used to his spell. A plan forms in your mind. It's an insane one, but it's a plan nonetheless. You pretend to be crippled with pain, kneeling down and sobbing for mercy. Once he gets close enough, you're going to kick his gaunt ass. Ooh, unpleasant image, you realize.

There's still the matter of his telepathy, though. What was that one trick you saw in a movie once? Something about imagining a brick wall?

He's only one step away now. You bunch up your muscles, ready to swing at him.

Then he laughs. “I see. You want to fight me, don't you? I suppose I can't blame you. Clearly, trying to run didn't work out so well the last time.”

You sigh and stand up. Clearly, there's only one other option...

“I give up. I pledge my allegiance to you. Do what you want with me, master.”

For once, it's his turn to be surprised. You have to admit, it's pretty weird seeing him look astonished for once.

That's when you knee him in the balls.

He cries out in pain, collapsing to his knees. You're not a sadist, but...damn. Trask deserved it a hundred times over. The sheer catharsis of the experience takes you to the top of Mount OhFuckYes.

“That was not very polite,” he scowls. You respond by punching him in the face. Sadly, it seems to hurt your fist much more than it hurts him. You clutch your hand, moaning.

The bastard is starting to smile again. “You can't do this very well, can you? Not with those fluffy little hooves.”

Baffled, you stare at him for a moment. Then you notice something strange about your hands: they're unnaturally pale. You look closer and see that they're covered with a layer of short snow-white fur.

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