• Published 16th Feb 2013
  • 2,246 Views, 59 Comments

Equestria: Infinite (Bioshock) - ThatMrSomeGuy

When Twilight finds a huge gap in Equestrian History, she uncovers an ugly truth about an Equestria before Celestia's rule.

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5. In Case of Emergency: Break Law Enforcement

To imagine a time, a place, my place, once inhabited by demons such as them. They had the same goals to seek the world we take for granted today. They had the dreams of a better future. It was their path, a path bent through the ignorance of their pride. They all sought a better Equestria, one with perfect Harmony. It became hard to imagine how my time and early Equestria's were just different faces of the same coin.

In the front of the crowd stood a motionless unicorn, already gathering everypony's notice because of his thoughts. For anypony in the crowd, there would be no hesitation. They all picked up their baseballs in pride, yearning to be the lucky first throw. Booker also had another choice, throw it at Fank. Not even two minutes after meeting Fank, Booker wanted to hit him. Throwing baseballs at others just for the laughs. But he will show Fank. All it takes is just good a old-fashioned bold no to the face. Booker started spinning the ball as his decision became clear. Then, he remembered the poster.

"The False Herder", a demon sought to be rid of in the face of Celestia's ponies. He was to them only a monster. And what good would he do to prove them wrong by assaulting a citizen. He needed not to be the pony they saw him out to be. All it takes for one to attack another is to remove the other's identity as an equal. That's how the crowd felt it was right to throw baseballs at the couple. They did not see them as equals. Do I see Fank as another pony? As vile as he may be, Booker could not replace Fank with a demon. There was no difference between the ones who cause injustice, and the ones who harm those who cause injustice. If Booker threw the ball at anypony, then how much worse is he than him?

Slowly, the ball stopped revolving and dropped on the floor.

"No," he murmured. "I won't do it."

Suddenly, two policeponies grabbed Booker's front hooves. The one on the right folded Booker's vest to reveal his flank. Several ponies gasped. Fank, being one of the observers, slowly formed a curling devilish grin.

"Where did you get that mark boy?" Fank leaned in, pointing at Booker's cutie mark, a once mostly concealed "Ω". Booker couldn't turn around anyways to look at his flank. He knew perfectly well what was going on. Apparently, not only did Clopstock predict Booker, but also his identity.

"Huh?" Fank leaned in closer to Booker, turning his voice to a near whisper. "Don't you know that you're the 'False Herder'?"

Booker's face turned to a rage, almost regretting that the ball didn't smack Fank across the face. The silent "I'm-going-to-kill-you-when-I-get-out-of-this" look ensured Fank that Booker knew of the prophecy. Fank got back up, ready to attract the crowd's attention.

"Y'all know what we do to 'False Herders' 'round here? Right boys?"

That rallied up the crowd. To them, the annual festival just gained a new flare of drama. They now had front row seats to see the "False Herder" face the wrath of the Celestial Justice System.

"Give him the sky-hook."

The sky-hook, a device used for transportation was going to be used as a torture weapon. On the left guard's left hoof, the spiraling three blades at the top of the mechanism helped Booker realize that the railways weren't the only things that the sky-hook was good at going through.

The gaurdspony eased his weapon back, ensuring that his lunge would be most unpleasant. In panic, Booker used his magic to stop the momentum of the swing, giving only four inches of air between the sky-hook and his face. Physical strength is always much more powerful than sheer telepathy. If the guard was an earth pony, Booker's face would have been an unidentifiable mesh of skin, blood, and bone. Thankfully, he was a pegasus. While his force was still more powerful than the magic, it gave Booker time to think. He let go of the magic, and ducked the swing. The guard was now mid-motion of attacking the air above his target, body exposed for a forceful charge right in the lungs. Booker bull rushed his head onto the guard's body, stabbing the stomach region with his horn. Booker quickly pulled his horn out of the left guard and used it to telepathically grab the sky-hook. Whist still attached to the pegasus's hoof, Booker swung the hook on its side, marking a clean metallic clank in the right guard's face. Both ponies collapsed on the floor after that rapid succession of attacks.

Booker looked at the results. The pegasus had a flesh stab in his body, the right earth pony guard with a swollen left cheek. The two will live, he assured himself. He had every reason to as well. A horn isn't an ideal weapon for most unicorns. Their horns are mostly blunt and round. Booker was no exception. The wound the horn made on the pegasus didn't look big enough to be lethal. As for the earth pony, his face was luckily only struck by the side of the sky-hook. Had it been the front with the blades exposed, there might not have been an earth pony left.

Booker removed the sky-hook and placed it on his own left hoof. Thankfully, the thing was retractable. The blades only emerged if his wrist was flicked. That way, he wouldn't have to constantly put the thing on and off or resort to walking on a high fourth metal hoof.

After realizing how much time had passed since he was almost killed, Booker looked around. Everypony else was gone: Fank, the couple, and the audience. They all fled in the middle of the fight. All that was left was the False Herder and the soon to be an all out ponyhunting Celestia. Booker decided he best get on the move himself unless he wanted to be surrounded by Clopstock's army.

Booker hurriedly galloped to Monument Island. To his expectations and fears, the bridge was detached, and the island was distancing itself from Booker. By now, the place was too far to teleport to. He would have to find his own route through the complex platforms of the city.

One thing about Celestia that was actually in his favor was that it had guns. Knowing that alone was very convenient. Most guns in Equestria were no longer existent. Not only did Celestia have guns, they had a LOT of guns. Booker even found one stowed in a trash can. Booker could only find pistols identical to the one he dropped on the rocket to Celestia. He took one along with another 3 half-full mags and proceeded to follow the street he ignored when Monument Island neared.

* * *

Booker had no idea where the alternate path was taking him. It was only process of elimination. The bridge was removed, staying would result in getting caught, and going back to the fair was suicide. He noticed a flier that might have helped a few minutes ago. The text read: "The Mark of the Herder Cannot be Shielded from Celestia's Eyes". The image was a black outline of a pony's back. A bright contrasting cutie mark, a capital Ω, was placed. That was how Fank called out Booker, the cutie mark.

Booker could not recall how or when he got it. He knew that sometimes, the destinies of a pony are revealed before they know what it means. That had to be the case for him. An ancient letter doesn't exactly say much.

"It's him!"

All of a sudden, shots rang out around Booker's position. He got to cover behind a newspaper stand. The three policeponies who spotted Booker continued shooting the stand, trying knock it down. Booker had only a few precious minutes before his protection was worn thin and somepony would get a lucky shot on him.


A bottle dropped onto the floor but somehow didn't crack. Booker investigated to see that it belonged to him. The "Liquid Pride" slipped from his pockets and remained in one piece. In a flash, his eyes shot open.

Fink howled in laughter. "Don't worry, the vigor is even stronger when adults use it. I'd hate to see what happens if 'that' was used on poor Booker here."

Without a plan B, Booker took the cork off of the mysterious drink and chugged it down.

The next thing Booker felt was his blood pulsing through all the muscles of his body. He could see the green rings rushing around him in the same tempo. Then, all of that energy concentrated onto his horn. At the same time, his mind experienced a surge of pride. He never felt happier in his life. It was so powerful that he made a single teardrop tap the floor.

“That’s it. I’m going in.”

“Don’t be a dumbass Bill. A firepony will be here in a minute. If our lead don’t get to him, he sure will.”

“Screw that. I’m gonna nab me a False Herder.”

Bill ignored his officer’s orders. His impatient and cocky attitude couldn’t wait that long. Booker could hear Bill’s hoofsteps slowly making their way around the left side. Unfortunately for Bill, he just became the lab rat for Booker’s new Vigor.

Booker instinctively cast the spell. The Vigor also granted a sixth sense on how to use it. As the Vigor successfully hit Bill, Booker felt the energy release as it left his horn. Unlike magic, Vigors fed on the salt from all over the body’s bloodstream. Magic was powered from mental will, leaving the caster with a headache and fatigue.

Bill had his head lowered, talking to himself.

“No! What do you mean I’m fired? I’ve been in the CPD for three years. I see how it is. You’re all Clopstock’s puppets! I don’t need you! I don’t need anypony!”

Bill now filled with rage. He placed his tooth-gripped pistol between his jaws and pointed them to his two former comrades.

“Bill! What the fuck is wrong with you? Drop your gun and get your shit togeth-“

“-No! You get your shit together! You refuse to open your eyes. Clopstock has been using all of us... So be it. If you won’t open your eyes, maybe the Lord will open the pearly gates when I bring him your soul.”

“Bill. Let’s not be too rash-“


Bill gunned down his boss. All three shots met vital parts of the body.

The remaining officer couldn't find the courage to run away. His friend had just murdered his superior. Bill turned his head to point his gun at his friend.

"Don't move you little shit!"

"Bill? Come on, its me, Dave. Put down the gun."

Bill pulled the hammer back.

"Jesus Bill, show some mercy."


Bill blew the smoke out of his gun as he dropped in onto the floor.

"Mercy belongs to the Lord."

Booker peeked around the corner and saw everything. With his mouth still open, he gazed down at the drink and threw it out of the city. Damn. That stuff is powerful. He walked down the road, making his way towards the now lone wailing cop. Behind him was an unlocked gate slightly ajar. His body was above his dead friends. He cursed countless whys to the sky. The Vigor must have worn off. I better not get his atten-


Booker turned to see Bill with a gun now. His eyes were still teary. Instead of ending Booker there, he placed the gun on the floor, aimed at his head.

"No!" Booker shouted.


The gun was out of ammo. Booker sighed in relief. That victory was ill celebrated.


The gate blasted, striking Bill on the back with the heavy metal wall. On the other side stood a soldier with a random collaboration of tin armor. His voice was altered through the metal mask on top of his face, adding an echoing effect. Though only an earth pony, his invisible horn engulfed his entire body in flames.


Author's Note:

Sorry guys. As much as I like senseless gory violence with enough blood to fill the need of four hospitals (huge fan of Tarantino), I'm trying to make my story with as little unnecessary graphic description as possible. Please do keep in mind, there will be death. That was inevitable from the start. However, a warning for those expecting it now, this is not a death-centric story. I will incorporate stealth into the tale (something that would have been nice in the game) to show that, unlike what most of our trigger-happy selves did when we picked up that controller, the protagonists are not looking to pick fights.