Aiden was old, his story was supposed to have ended. Fate seemed to have other plans.
Aiden Pearce had gotten old.
With so many years under his belt after humble beginnings as a simple contractor and hired gunman, to his time as the vigilante in both Detroit and London- even his part in the murder of Olivier Garneau, it would be a no-brainer that as he was inching closer and closer to his golden years -to unofficially retire to the safehouses he knew in Detroit.
Now with almost no reason, he finds himself in Equestria, struggling to adapt, let alone put the past behind him as it slowly makes its way to surface once again, following set-back after set-back, an older Aiden turned young again still lacks his wisdom, yet not his smarts, as they carve out a new path in Equus.
Tired, violet eyes glazed over with sleep and restlessness glossed over an old book. It was an old book about fairy tales and myths, one quite similar to the same one that had foretold about Nightmare Moon's return. Though its cover was hardly as ornate, it was still embossed with gold thread and a silver-lined back, the magically infused stiff linen that made up its pages seemed to guarantee its durability in any weather, and if the enchantment were to run out, the pages were sturdy since they weren't paper.
Sure, she didn't really find anything useful about it now, she'd likely read it a few times already during an organization session that she had done herself, (rather than let Spike deal with it). Twilight Sparkle's horn flared, and the pages began to turn, essentially just skimming to see what she might've missed or forgotten, to try and ease her mind into some very much-needed sleep, thank you very much. Such was the toll for drinking far too much coffee again.
Her horn stopped on an interesting diagram of sorts, or at least it looked like one. A professionally sketched depiction of a fox on two legs, if its angular snout and tipped tail were of any indication, wearing a robe with a hood down. Twilight stared at it in confusion, she didn't remember this in the copy back at the Canterlot Library. 'Maybe something added after publishing? She thought. The title for this section of myths and fairytales was simply titled "Volpe" in bold, neatly written cursive. Underneath it was the sub-title "Cossidore Volpe", an ancient word that when translated to modern ponish was something called a Weaver Fox.
"While modern foxes walk on fours and can commonly be seen harassing farm animals at times or stalking your local forests, these did not. Legend states that they were the ones to have taught the unicorns how to spellcraft, using their knowledge of reportedly being able to weave ambient magic, and refine it into unique spells for any application. Objects recovered from alleged Volpe campsites and ancient towns are few, but seem to be magic given form, like this tapestry. (Fig. 1)
It is unlikely any living being will ever see them again, as they were believed to have vanished after Canterlot was frozen in hateful ice by its ethereal predators, the Windigos.."
Twilight shut the book, she could have more time to read this page later. For now was sleepy time, because she didn't want to be chided by Spike again for staying up all night. He already did enough around the library without her carelessly spending a night up studying another book.
Figure 1: Various hand-drawn sketches and renditions of objects, one is a tapestry with no faded color, the other a journal of some kind with a cover made of wood, clothing. All of which were skillfully crafted out of natural materials, and also thousands of years old and definitely not supposed to have withstood the test of time.
It'd been several years after the Merlaut job, before that, he spent his time as a fixer and assassinated the CEO of Abstergo at one point. (A job where he didn't get much in the way of details) and even more years after that, he spent some of his time spent in London, and yet even more time once his temper had cooled off a little and his age started impeding his status as The Fox. (Just a little bit).
He was in his late seventies now, but with all the training, conditioning, and non-stop gunfights he was in more or less peak condition, still being able to beat down someone with his faded baton, though his movements were less flowy and an iota stiffer.
Aiden sat in an old, cushioned chair in the console room of the Bunker. An old, abandoned Blume facility, once used by him and a few other allies during the incident with Damien Brenks.
In his old age, he found it funny how when one person wrought havoc using CTos connected systems and devices, they just decided to rebrand themselves and connect [ieven more/i] things to the CTos network. Like that strange, Optik thing that had come out in (not so) recent years. While he sat he contemplated what to do as he drank from a coffee mug, the brown liquid steaming hot as it warmed his cold bones. He wasn't quite the same man he was thirty years ago.
Looking around he spotted some (likely expired) pill bottles, the same that he had used to keep his focus sharp and his wits tough during prolonged gunfights. Sure he didn't need them, but they helped. Not like he was planning on taking some anyways. Maybe he could try one of his old digital trips?
While he would never do another playthrough of Alone, the thought of just piloting a Spider Tank, or beating his old high score on Psycadelic! was tempting. Firing up his old save data of Alien Invasion (Titled NVZN for short.) also seemed tempting, but despite this, he didn't quite want to invest all his time in simple games.
Another sip of his coffee was taken.
It wasn't like he could do much else, he was for the most part retired, not much to do as an ancient fixer, much less one with his... Notoriety. Discovering memes was confusing, a lot changes when one isn't busy exchanging full metal jacketed "Fuck you"s to each other. Well, not like he was going to put that knowledge to use.
'Remember to tend to the suppressor later' he noted, mentally reminding himself to check the baffles of the suppressor on his Spec Ops 1911. The appearance was dated, a .45 Colt that had a special, more efficient suppressor, which had eliminated the need for subsonic munitions.
Not that he didn't use them though, it made it quiet as a mouse when he did, except for the noise caused by the slide.
"Argh, fine. One last game for the road." He thought aloud, finishing his coffee as he started pulling out his phone, and then later inserting something similar to an earbud in his right ear, he selected the NVZN app and started from level one. In almost no time at all he was taking precise shots through hordes of tiny polygonal aliens with a simple blaster one moment, and then clearing out bigger ones with a shotgun the next, with him occasionally needing to run around the room to grab more ammo, or "health".
By the time level 9 arrived he felt himself panting a little, not rusty per se, just his body saying it was time to take a break.
Then again, each level was about five minutes of moving and shooting, so he'd been at it for quite a while. Powering through this level, by the time he had completed the game he was utterly drained, and slumped back down into his chair, tempted to reach for his mug of coffee (though it was already empty).
He might be just a tad sore tomorrow, it had been just a little under a year till he had properly retired from his "career", though he still occasionally dealt with back alley crime that showed up on the Activity Monitor, handy little thing cobbled together with CTos code to use GPS and stolen CTos software information to determine their location, and if a crime was in progress. A "Less Than Lethal" gun he had picked up in London made it somewhat less dangerous, for the aggressor anyways (he still had a habit of going for headshots).
He'd first doubted them, but at least they worked and were decently effective.
Now if only he remembered to use it.
After a minute of rest, he pulled his gun from his holster, unloaded it, and checked the slide before he set it on the counter to prep it for maintenance, pulling a large plastic bin that he poured chemicals into where he placed the gun (sans silencer).
As Aiden finished drying off his gun, and adding a fresh new barrel to it, his thoughts wandered to its history. Unfortunately, it was almost always about his niece. Sure, everyone else might've moved on, but he didn't get the memo. Even now when there might not be a body in the grave anymore.
Thoughts drifted about his nephew. Likely a grown man by now. Despite him being responsible for being kidnapped along with his mom, it seemed he didn't hold it against him. Or at least he never showed it. Either that or he made it up to him by showing off the Bunker. It was long enough that he was certain neither Blume nor CTos cared about him anymore.
Despite how much trouble he could cause and how much he could set them back, there would eventually come a time where he simply wouldn't be able to. He was a temporary solution, to CTos, a temporary problem.
Though likely others were doing the same too.
Maybe he should've just gone for a digital trip instead. Perhaps tomorrow? He didn't bother to check the time, but he figured it was night. Brushing a hand across his face he felt one of his cheekbones, feeling it sink in around the eyes. He really needed to get out more during the day. Sitting up he stretched and got up, bones audibly popping into place. He grabbed his gun and placed it in its holster as he went to an old mattress to rest in, back from the days when his motel hide-out was blown up.
Right as he was about to lay down, he paused mid-way as his breathing felt a little funny, and his chest seemed to have a dim ache. Ignoring it he set an alarm on his phone for ten hours, laid down on the hardly used springs, and went to sleep. He was surprised by how cushy it was compared to a fancy modern one, but besides that, he couldn't shake something, was it just him? Or was the ache in his chest starting to hurt a little?
He was able to get what felt like three hours worth of restful sleep before the pain started kicking in.
Coughing sharply and loudly, the pain would scamper off before shooting back in with a vengeance, his chest feeling like it was being shredded in two with bullets. He stood up to try and search for medicine, his mind running over time in his memory before he kneeled, the pain stopping him from going any further as he stumbled his way back onto the mattress.
Heart attack, he was having a heart attack. So much for sleeping today.
Twilight Sparkle stood up in her library, staring up from her book at the sigils and glyphs she'd poured on the wood floor, made of coarse salt. She would probably be stuck cleaning it up later since Spike was out with the Apples, (plus it'd be rude to leave work out waiting when someone goes on an outing!)
Plus... Now that she looked at the massive scrawling of lines on the floor, it was better off with her dealing with it rather than dropping the workload off to her Number One Assistant.
The spell mentioned in the book wasn't anywhere near strong enough or structured enough to even do its intended purpose, though the glyphs, which were likely ancient ponish words, were a constant step despite her trying to eliminate it. So about an hour of intense work over some curiosity, she'd adapted whatever magical spell that was in the book she had read last night, the one with the entry on Volpe, to something that a unicorn could cast.
"Seriously, with that little structure in the spell, you're more likely to just shoot a beam of magic into the air." She thought to herself, sneezing a little and almost ruining one of the glyphs. Treading carefully she made her way to the center, where she could start casting the darn thing.
A spell that would supposedly cause the Volpe to return. Normally, she wouldn't be so reckless, but it was an old book with a supposedly old and legitimate spell she'd adapted to work! (She wasn't the element of magic for nothing!) And there was a high likelihood that said species didn't exist! So, throwing foresight out the window she was in the clear.
Besides, what was it going to do? Materialize an entire colony, pack, or however a group would be called of them in her library? Doubtful, it didn't ask for an open field.
Maybe it just sent a message out? Like an "All Clear", no more Windigo threat to deal with.
The curiosity in her chest burned even higher, along with the rising chances of something going wrong. Nothing was stopping her from backing out and clearing away the salt, but shoving aside her fears she straightened her back, took a deep breath, and focused magic at the tip of her horn, sparking faintly in violet hues.
She had spent way too much time working to back out now.
He had a desire to reach out for a glass of water.
The downside was, he didn't remember if that was something he should do after one.
The pain was still there, just not as bad, a dull ache deep within. The worst of it seemed over, for now, so he fumbled around as he picked up his phone and turned off the alarm. He doubted he could go back to sleep.
He was getting really thirsty though, and his head felt fuzzy.
Magic sprouted from a brightly glowing ball as luminous tendrils of light and Harmony flowed all around her, focusing on the glyphs she had created from simple, coarse, sea salt.
She couldn't help but let a tiny smile creep up her face, that worked!
Well. Only one part of the spell worked, she still needed to push a little bit more.
The lines and arrays around her glowed with magical energy, bobbing and weaving to connect and interlock as her focus increased...
Deciding it was best to get it over with, Aiden Pearce had made a careful dash to a water bottle and quickly took a sip, not waiting for his heart attack to get a second wind while he had to chance to choke. He was dizzy afterward but he'd suffered worse, he could get this done even in his older age. Or so he believed.
For a moment, he thought he felt a knot tie around something deep inside him. Far beneath skin, flesh, or bone. Like something was grabbing onto his soul.
He chalked it up to a side-effect of the heart attack as he groaned. (Or during.)
Physical focuses of magic were usually unheard of in modern times, only really in powerful artifacts such as the Crystal heart, or the Alicorn Amulet that had caused Ponyville a fair amount of grief for a day. Being used in a spell was even less so, not since the early days of unicorn magic and even less so outside of tracking spells.
Especially not when the lines of salt dust had melded to create perfect strings of faintly glowing violet energy, all interlocked in a cascade of circles, lines, and glyphs.
"Woah... Okay. Now just for the next few steps." She had a list on hoof, so now it was supposed to find a target...
Treatment. He had to find some medicine for this. Nitroglycerin? Did he have any in pills?
No. But he did have some in cold storage.
Sometimes you can't have all the ingredients for a standardized IED, at least the ones he used as grenades. So when he needed a better bang or was out of his usual chemicals he had a small amount of the liquid in a locked icebox. Just a few bottles.
But then it started hurting again, sharp pains in his ribs as he gasped for air, feeling his chest burning and feeling like it was splitting apart he clenched his teeth and crawled. A reckless idea, but it was probably dumb enough to work if he didn't overthink it.
The sigils and symbols glowed brighter, the spell that it was supposed to represent was some sort of tracking spell, designed to lock onto the magic? Energy? Of a species, it was a little complicated to get working, a fair amount of it was simplified and streamlined. It glowed, brighter yet brighter, the light cutting deeper into what few shadows remained in her library until it suddenly focused up into the sky- ceiling, of her home. Twilight's eyes widened. 'I should've done this in a field! She didn't want to stop the spell casting right now so she focused on concentrating her magic, a tiny part of her quietly hoping it didn't burn holes in her roof, lest every other room upstairs come crashing down- THIS WAS A BAD IDEA!
'It's okay, just focus- We can do this!'
The light thinned to tiny streams flowing up through her home, sighing relief.
Grab it.
Unlock it.
Fumble.
Failing to open the lock, he slumped down in agony as he clawed at his chest loosely, it wasn't burning anymore, but instead was a mix of cold and hot, or as he'd aptly call it- Hellfire. if he could speak.
His tongue was dry and his mouth felt like chalk as he coughed and choked, struggling as his vision flashed. White, Void, Chaos, a colorful forest, the shadows of night, white, void, chaos... Determined as he was, the exhaustion had already caught up with him.
The violet streams of light bent and flowed, her eyes were wide again, not in fear, but amazement, she wasn't in control of this part of the spell, it was automated. What was this? What did it mean? Was this the energy of the surviving Volpe? What was she supposed to do?
Think- Think, this is probably being fueled by the magic in the circle, so I have some time. Maybe I'm supposed to tug on one? Like pulling on a rope three times.
She looked around, there were many, but one caught her attention. Another line forming, the process looked like it was drawing out magic from thin air and growing, but something was going wrong with it, getting caught in knots and sparking magic out of it, looking like frayed rope. What if that creature is in danger? What's wrong with that line?
Her hoof reached out subconsciously and she tugged firmly, the line's knots seemed to suddenly smooth out and finish connecting with the circle before the others suddenly vanished. The circle glowed brightly before dispelling in a gentle careening wave of magic, flowing over the ground and far out of Ponyville in every direction.
Nothing came... Did she do something wrong? Was that it? What happened? So many questions...
Well, at least two were answered. She didn't have to clean up, the components were used up entirely and vanished with the magical wave, and her home wasn't in shambles from a collapsed roof. But that line... That line showed her flashes, of a room with glowing plates on walls, explosions, heartache, all through the perspective of somepony else's eyes.
Too. Many. Questions. Not. Enough. Answers. And nothing to ease her worry.
Today marked the third day of his short time in this... Psychedelic knockoff. At first, he might have been just a little startled, confused, frightened. But of course, nobody has time for that.
Especially if you can think about not having time for panicking.
He let the thoughts scatter for a moment as he etched in a mark in the bark of an oak tree using one of his clawed hands. That had taken a while to get used to, and he still wasn't used to it either. The last time he had to pull his personality and life up by the roots was when he first started being called the Fox. And part of him was sour on how exactly he managed to wind up in a forest of all places after a heart attack. His main theory was he was probably stuck in a haywire digital trip until the effects wore off, and time was speeding up because of how "trips" would always be as long as you wanted to be, they worked partially by affecting the dream state. And by knocking you unconscious. But that was sketchy, and iffy at best, too many illogical holes in that. The second answer was he died, and this was heaven. But he certainly didn't feel worthy of anything like this, and his transformation into a bipedal version of his moniker wasn't helping at all. Unless this was hell and was about to make itself look and feel a lot more like what it should look like.
If he died though, he was going to be annoyed that a heart attack had done him in and not the various bullets that had been thrown at him or shrapnel from IEDs thrown at him and by him.
Always the littlest things that do us in, ain't it?
Having to think illogical when handling topics and code that worked on logic wasn't doing it for him, so instead he thought of the next best thing, ditching any pre-existing notions of this world and starting from the ground up. There had to be a method to the madness, he just had to find it.
He was currently living underneath the roots of an oak tree, out in some plains. Body-type? Built lean, gray pelt, white-tipped tail, green eyes. Fox ears, head, paws, claws. Fortunately, the ability to grab objects and opposable thumbs, and all the scientific knowledge he needs to get back on his feet.
Which, were annoyingly not familiar to humans, and almost exactly to that of a real fox. (That had cost him a whole day of learning how to walk again)
The only thing that had brightened up his past three days here was that his jacket had come with him too, fitted for his new form. The gray trenchcoat with an orange highlight on the insight was a mild comfort, no matter how many more questions it raised on how it came to be. He was simply grateful he had something to wear and pockets to hold things with.
One of many in a long list of things was an apple for today. Not the most exciting breakfast, but probably healthier than what he's had in a while. Beats going hungry, but the lack of a gun, or phone, wallet, tools, having none of that at his disposal was a huge issue he was going to correct as soon as possible.
He could speak, and other animals he'd spotted seemed non-sentient, which made him unique and the exception from the rabbits and bears. This raised another question, what kinds can speak back? Were there societies in this world? Likely yes, and as soon as he found a town it was off to stealing all the tools he needed. Yes there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that it was morally wrong, but the reality to that was that he'd done worse before, and he was flat broke with nothing to trade with aside from food he needed, if he ever found a town, and a job might raise some questions that he couldn't answer. A name for example. Yes, he could keep his birth-name Aiden Pearce in this strange place but it was a chance he could stand out.
Old habits die hard, much like him.
Planning. Breakfast was done, now usually comes planning. He'd learned how to walk, and that he was an omnivore so apples were fine for now. He had no plans, except maybe that thought about a town. It wouldn't have been the worst idea he's had. Either he found something worthwhile or he'd set up a new campsite right wherever he was when it was dark, or just keep moving. The night vision was a nice bonus that could keep him moving around in the dark for longer. High reward, low risk. Never that easy, but in this situation, it would be.
It was morning light now, he'd always woke seemingly a few dozen minutes before daylight, so he always watched the sunrise. It was just a coincidence though, and now that light was coming up, he had to find civilization. If there is one. The worst thing that happens is his camp abruptly moving, and him being discovered as something abnormalUnlikely, but...
The Fox calmly took the leaves of a fern and a vine, and calmly worked on producing a hood.
It had been three hours since his trek away from his camp, which he wasn't concerned about in all reality. Everything he actually needed was on him, since he had nothing of value to him in his hideout aside from shelter compared to the various others he'd been in over the years. The motel would be really nice about now, that was one of his more pleasant ones, it was a shame it had been blown right to pieces that night. The warming sunlight told him he might have been walking around for a few hours more though, possibly around mid-day. There still wasn't any evidence of a town, but he could search for a river and follow it downstream instead of wandering in one direction until he hit one. Any fledgling settlement would have started near water first, at least in an age where freshwater would be hard to come by.
He closed his eyes, letting the shadows drape over his eyes and block out the colorfully bright world around him and focus on the sounds. The hum of tinnitus from previous gunfights hadn't followed him here, just peace and the sound of wind rustling through leaves carrying some moisture as he heard the faint sound of running water.
Guess I'm stuck walking.
It'd been some time since he'd seen this much green on a consistent, day-to-day basis. Chicago was fairly drab, but there were trees and patches of grass, but not much to admire or time to enjoy it as a result of his job. London was even worse, with metal screens and holograms, concrete buildings everywhere, several stories high, complicated roads, buzzing drones. Just about every place he went it was metal and dim, so actually being out in the sunlight with nothing but the forest was a change of pace, a surprise for sure for the retired Fixer (1) but a welcome one. Certainly beats having to squint in a dark nightclub with nothing but neon lights to light your way, which Aiden Pearce noticed that he was actually squinting a little bit still, sure this body and its fresh new eyes were long used to the light by now but it was still a subconscious force of habit to squint a little. It's what gave him an intimidating glow whenever his bandana was on during jobs.
Guess that was one little bit to be thankful for here, not being stuck in an old body. God knows he wouldn't have been walking this far out anywhere in his old age, especially not for almost half a day unless he had absolutely no other way to it and no cars to use. He felt like he was back in the prime of his life, twenty, with about the same wisdom and just a slightly less darker outlook on life as a whole compared to back then.
Now that he thought about it, there was a lack of noise now in the forest, aside from the river he'd come to find. The trees had thinned out significantly near it, and it was clear, clean and just faintly blue as it reflected in the mid-day sun. Good thing he'd fashioned a bottle out of wood to store it in. The lid was kept in place by slamming it on and tying it to the bottle with vines.
He took a drink from the streams edge and thought about what to do next. Yes, civilization took priority, but then again he'd need to find a place to set up camp if he didn't find anything at all and it turned out to be a waste of time and nothing more. Nothing more than a complete, utter waste of his valuable time, an absolute, disappointing failure. Sighing, he didn't notice the faint arcs of electricity that sparked from his finger tips that withered away along with his anger and frustration. Stay focused.
Refilling the bottle and sealing it, he got up and started walking, following the river downstream. Keeping his head for the most part clear. Maybe he'd find a town before nightfall if he hurried up, but he'd be exhausted afterwards.
Running through the forest and fields, tearing up grass underfoot and breathing hard, The Fox was a reminder that older did not mean wiser.
Dark. Darker, yet darker.
The shadows cutting deeper.
Night-time had arrived, and the fox came just a few minutes before the twilight faded and blanketed Ponyville in darkness, the moon covered up with clouds as a result of the weather management pegasi. Aiden Pearce, exhausted, rested in a tree top at the towns outskirts observing the town as the ponies seemed to start heading home for the night and what few that had forgotten about the time were already finishing up their idle talks and cheerful discussions for the day, waiting for activity to die down as he fought the need to sleep, blinking, before he entered the town through a bridge crossing, hardly anyone walked the streets, which were almost entirely empty. He stayed out of the way for the most part, skulking and observing in the shadows. Everything seemed familiar, but it felt like he was pulled into something from the old ages with the white, claystone walls and thatch roofing, no humans to speak of, just the technicolor horses that roamed around that he could understand.
Nothing here made sense, and he was growing more confused by the second. Electricity, but no houses that resembled anything modern, with some buildings clashing heavily in style, the purple coloured tower of patterned cloth and simple yet ornate decorations was one that stood out. But what drew his interest was the stocky tree in the middle of nowhere in the town, he was almost about the pass it off it weren't for the fact it had windows, and more interestingly a sign of an open book on it. Library. I can find some answers here. It was closed, probably. So... Maybe a little bit of a break in.
It would seem he'd have a personal job to do soon.
Fixer - A job title for handymen proficient in firearms, hacking, data recovery. Screwed beyond belief? Need to find someone, kill someone? Or just have a job that needs one of these three skills, then you call a Fixer.
He'd thought about it for an hour as he walked around the town, taking in the sights.
On one hand, he'd be in some hot water with the law for breaking and entering, burglary. On the other, answers.
Another part of his mind that was less quick to jump the gun wondered why he wasn't just going to sleep and going in the morning, and another was quick to rebuke that he was the only bi-ped and non-technicolor pony in a small town. If he knew anything that could apply to this bright world, is that everything has a dark underbelly, and he was not about to be falsely accused of being a delinquent for his appearance, not until he did something here. Which he was about to.
Planning. In terms of planning, everything had to be done the old-fashioned way, no CTos (2) networks, and no hacking with his phone, just his luck that there was an unlocked window. It was long enough that everyone should be asleep, at least according to the clocks he'd spotted around the town. 1 AM. Must have fallen asleep in that tree when I blinked.
Old fashioned way? There's hardly anything to work with aside from the claws he had, a bottle, and the reflexive impulse to reach for a baton right about now. He was seriously about to attempt a break-in with very little at his disposal aside from sheer
Right, no weapons. So, time to plan again. Unicorns, that was something he'd spotted while looking at the town. While he hadn't seen many, no doubt a horn could be used as a weapon alongside the hooves of any horse that lacked wings or horns. He wasn't sure what wings could do in a fight, speed was about the only thing he could think of as being affected by them. As he thought, he quietly snapped a long, narrow branch from the oak tree with both of his arms. Sturdy, slightly bending and better than nothing. But the grip of it left something to be desired, maybe something less painful than the tree bark, which he promptly fixed by sacrificing the vines on his bottle for his newly made baton, wrapping it around, and tying it off.
The wood bottle was discarded after a short drink of its contents since it both didn't carry much and also seemed unnecessary since he found a town. No more camping out in the forest anymore, now instead wandering to the road to the closest city, if there were any in this world. All he'd need to worry about now would be supplies for the trip and fire, not foraging, which he was lucky to not accidentally eat something poisonous because his skills at that were terrible. It wasn't something he'd picked up. But now, he could gain some ground without worrying about wilderness survival, instead gain a foothold in this new world the second he hit the road.
Just as soon as I figure out where I am.
Baton. Check. Book-Storage? The stolen sack has that covered. Never would Aiden Pearce think he'd ever feel subconscious about how he looked, to say the least, he felt like a stereotypical cartoon robber in the middle of the night. If the robber had the skills of putting several people in the ground, and none of the cartoonish shenanigans. He just wanted some answers, in the form of an unexpected book check-out after hours. Flexing his paw-hands and wincing a little as his unused claws extended, he balanced himself on the ledge of the windowsill and the thick bark of the library oaken exterior, forcing it up quietly with a gentle shnk at the beginning before sliding it up in complete silence. Turning to his left, he spotted an empty perch of sorts. Bird owner? Well, this was unexpected, now he had pets to watch for if they made noise.
Thankfully, there was nobody home. At least, not on the first floor, glancing around he spotted a stair-case, which he was going to stay away from entirely, the first floor already had all the information smeared on the walls he needed, and exploring was an unnecessary risk with little to no extra pay-off if he went through with it. Carefully stepping around on the carved wood floor, he made his way to a bookshelf. Wait. What if I can't read them? An intrusive thought called out, just as he started to pull out one of the thinner works, holding it up to himself and turning it over to find the cover. I ought to count my blessings by now. The book, didn't seem to hold any value, it was just some bedtime story, but the fact he could read the cover was valuable to him, it meant wherever he was at least used, or looked like English.
He moved up on the shelf, checking covers, opening up to the middle of the book to see what it was about. Since the next book seemed to be another short story of some type he completely skipped that part of the library and moved on to the next bookshelf and the next. Passing by some novels of Daring Do, to an interesting book on gardening. Gem identification, a guide to origami with hooves of all things. (The methods of which he struggled to understand how it should be possible.) The way he worked was slow and almost made him worry, if he took too long he'd be discovered by daytime, if he worked too fast one of these infuriatingly perfectly aligned books would clip against the other one just right and send them toppling down and wake up the person living here, and he'd either flee or fight someone. The next series of books were plain covers, solid covers, and drawn pictures. A History Of Equestria, Vol I, A Brief Summary seemed to be exactly what he was looking for and were quickly placed in the bag alongside Gems And You, Wildlife of Equestria, and a random book on geography. Seeing as he'd found the aisle dedicated to the history and otherwise important things, a book titled The Elements of Harmony with an ornate gold inlay of a unicorn on the front and small gems, immediately went into the bag as well. If it wasn't important, it'd be harvested for the gold and gems, if they were real and worth anything.
Unicorns...
Something about that was bothering him, like he'd noticed something about that and just didn't keep it in his memory long enough for it to stick. Moving onto a different part of the library he suddenly pulled out a book titledMagic And You - Intermediate Spells
So that's why, magic, in this new world magic was real and as far as he knew, only accessible by unicorns. Which bumped them up higher on the threat list alongside Enforcers (3) because not only did they have horns to deal with but magic that could do... Whatever, He didn't know yet, at least not until he gets a chance to properly read this book. Maybe bind him in place or something. The book was promptly thrust in with the others.
'So, I've got intel to read later, a weapon, no money, and-
His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden THUNK of a heavy tome falling to the floor, Spellwriting 101 was promptly added to his inventory of books to read later, though he felt his ears droop as he realized just what was going to happen after if just one fell.
The shelf rumbled for a second, and it was enough for him to take his bag, dive out of the way and hear the cacophony of noise erupt behind him, waking anyone nearby. 'Books to read, no money, a weapon, and it's time to get moving from a botched job. Pausing to tie up the bag in a knot he dashed over to the window, seeing a violet glow around the corner of the staircase. Unicorn magic. Shrugging, he cracked the window with the force and speed he'd put into the movement, bumping against it as he successfully escaped the library. The window shattered shortly afterward.
"Time to run."
Twilight Sparkle awoke with a start, hearing things fall and crashing, and glass cracking. The one time she'd actually fallen asleep on her own without any help from her Number One Assistant and something had to show up and ruin it, glancing around it looked like said assistant was still blissfully asleep. Twilight hoofed it down the stairs, charging gup some light in her horn to see better, seeing her bookshelves in disorder made her pause, but what made her stop dead in her tracks was the shape in the middle of all it, with a bag, just before it hopped through her window. And then broke it.
Casting a spell, all the books in her vicinity were swiftly put back in place before she did a short-range teleport outside her home in a flash of bright light. Sure, she was angry that someone had broken into her home, but even more so when she realized that whatever it was was bipedal, and not a pony judging by what she could see before it fled. Where was it- Aha! Found you! Galloping after the running form she shouted, feeling the wind rush around her form "Get back here you thief! Return my stuff right now!" Speeding up as she turned the corner of a road, tailing them just twenty feet away, as she started to speed up down a straight road closing distance as quickly as she could, she didn't have the agility of Rainbow Dash or the speed of Applejack, but she had magic.
'Wait, why didn't I just cast a spell from the beginning!?!'
Charging up magical energy into her horn, she felt it be pushed outward and focus on the running thief, wrapping them up in a levitation spell to drag them towards her. A thief, breaking into her home, staying only in the library and probably knocking down everything by grabbing a book. Why break-in at all? She didn't charge for it unless it was overdue. They struggled and kicked, revealing they had some sort of trench coat on as she brought them closer to the light. She noticed them suddenly pause, take a clawed, furry hand, and swipe at the aura of her spell. Maybe I'm overdoing it...
"You can't break a spell like that. So why not just give up and tell me why-" She could feel her magical grip being suddenly severed, like the fabric that made it up was being unraveled and warped as she brought them closer, her eyes widening as she saw that the aura was physically being cut with claws, and the thief slipped away, running even faster on two legs. "Wha- How'd you do that! Get back here!" Her anger was replaced with curiosity and a desire to learn, at first, maybe she thought a diamond dog had broken in since they were the only fluffy bipeds she could think of with claws, as much of a stretch it would be, but they couldn't cut through magic with claws, nothing in Equestria could! "Tell me!" She cast another levitation spell, but they used it to grab hold of a high ledge, and cut through it faster than last time again, the thief grabbed onto the ledge and hoisted itself up, finding nooks and crannies to skillfully climb its way onto the roof of a building and run off into the distance.
Foalishly she tried to run around, teleport, whatever she could to travel around town on hoof before coming to the conclusion she'd absolutely lost track of her mysterious thief, and whatever they had stolen. She felt downtrodden, losing both the culprit and scientific mystery. Just what exactly enabled them to cut spells on the fly just like that, with a flick of the claws.
And then she realized she had also been robbed and that seeing whatever had been stolen, was probably just a few dots higher on the 'List Of Things To Do After Being Robbed' she'd come up with in her mind. Groaning, she charged up another short-range teleport spell to get home. All the careless spending of her magic was absolutely going to make her feel terrible later.
So, that could have definitely gone a lot better. I must have had a lapse in focus once I saw the book on the Elements Of Harmony, if it weren't for that I would've gone off scot-free with the supply of books from the library. Looking back on it, a lot of things could have gone worse, a bird could've been woken up, or a pet. Or been met with deadly force while fleeing, and if it weren't for some dumb luck on my side that this new body of mine could cut magical energy, I would've definitely been caught by that unicorn. So, right now if I ever have to fight one again I'll have to deal with them similar to an enforcer, blunt force to the head, more accurately to the horn, not dumb enough to take one head-on so I'll have to get the drop on one first. At least they don't have the annoying bullet-proof armor, but magic might as well be its equivalent.
Magic... Magic is something that eludes me, and I honestly don't want to call it that personally, it's an illogical force to me. But, if a friendly encounter with the locals is ever on the table again, I suppose ill have to refer to it as such if I want to get any more answers, and as much as I dislike the name it's what best describes it.
If he could cut it, then it meant it was a physical substance- or that he could tap into it somehow, so getting those books on magic was going to be far more helpful than simply gaining intel on what was possibly a spell to watch out for, if he could find the logic, find the reasoning and how it worked, then maybe he could use magic in his favor and level the playing field. And the book on the elements was something he was looking forward to investigating.
Alright Equestria, what do you have in store for me?
Enforcer (2) - A gunman commonly dressed in what appears to be military-grade armor on them, which covers the whole body, gloves, boots, a helmet, and a face mask. Typically heavily armed as well. During gunfights, Aiden Pearce's Profiler indicates them with a red shield icon.
Aiden had come to a change in his sleep schedule to account for his newly added infamy, currently known as the thief of Golden Oaks Library, who stole nothing but books from Twilight Sparkle. That was what he had heard around town while doing his best to blend in among the background, his best consisted of hiding in plants, or far away, and seeing how far his ears could pick voices up with clarity. What little he gained from these daytime excursions had been a name for where he was, a few names, what money was called, and the location of a "Ponyville Express", a train station he could use to get around. He'd gained far more by briefly skimming the few books he had stolen, the world was called Equus, and the land he resided in was Equestria. Not so recent events included a history of how the nation was founded, by settling a hatred between the three types of ponies that had caused a snowstorm, created by Windigos feeding off the mutual hatred of everyone. The rulers, were Princess Celestia, and Luna, though one had been banished to the moon. The two sisters were virtually gods, apparently being immortal and having the ability to raise the sun and moon, another thing he learned, was the sun and moon had to be manually raised because some magic caused by a being named Discord had permanently damaged the natural order of a few things. Oh, and something about elements of harmony being used to defeat Nightmare Moon and Discord.
Of course, since pegasi could control the weather, he had a feeling what ponies considered the natural order to be far different than what he thought. Moving on with his train of thought.
Up next came the list of problems, the first one, was no bits. Even if he were to flee, he had nothing to pay in, and he would prefer not to steal purely to keep his notoriety down, not because had qualms about having to pickpocket it the old fashioned way, his morals frankly didn't care as long as he did it similarly in his old world, by stealing small amounts from various bank accounts back in Chicago, in this case, ponies in Ponyville. But keeping his damage to the public low at this age would be difficult. Second, no place to stay and no place to go, the geography book only covered a few key locations and formations, not routes and trains. Probably outdated. Three, he wasn't equipped for a fight, especially if it involved magic. Sure, a day around this town showed they weren't all that hostile, but he preferred to be on the side of caution. Besides, it gave him the excuse of trying to learn more about magic, which while he was searching, resulted in him knowing nothing about the fox form he'd been given, everything was purely about unicorns, even the glance on magical theory was keyed around horns and already having a basic grasp on magic, as in having known to at least be able to pull on it since birth. The book on magical theory was somewhat helpful, but it was going to take a long amount of reading for him to make a breakthrough.
And fourth, the pony he stole from was officially on the search for him. It'd taken two days at the most for it to reach his ears, but word was that Twilight Sparkle was up at night searching for the thief, trying to track her books down, likey involving him being reported to the authorities, but there was an unusual note about going "full egghead on them" according to a boastful rainbow-colored pegasus.
At least that was the list of it so far, fortunately having a hide-out was sorted quickly as he had taken a liking to a pine tree on the border of Ever-Free, closest to Ponyville. His home-for-now was a spacious burrow leading to a squared-out room, with an emergency back exit dug as well in case he was discovered. He wasn't entirely used to digging with his hands- paws but it was a lot easier than his first hide-out in this world. In a corner, he had his sack of books, ready to be taken at a moment's notice if he felt the need to escape with them as well, in another, a few pilfered apples and a map nailed to the wall with toothpicks.
He was debating if this was better than, or worse, than most of his usual hide-out scenarios. A lack of running water or light at night time ranked this one lower than his car.
Groan...
Another thing to pile onto the list, getting a breakfast that isn't just apples.
...
As tempting as it was to go and hit the closest general store at night, Aiden knew that if he continued to be such a prolific thief of anything more than the occasional apple and scrap of paper, he'd get noticed, which meant having to deal with the purple unicorn. Something about that pony felt off to him, first impressions gave him the weird feeling of a suppressed serial killer. The look in her eyes when he cut through the magic air around him was a large factor in that.
Taking a shortcut around the border of the town, the fox had finally reached a bright red barn, next to it a great orchard of apple trees. Now normally, he'd take a single apple from one of the crates they had inside at night or the trees, and leave, but this time he was going to be tailing an orange pony wearing a Stetson. The reasoning was that they were a farm, and unless the closest shops had an excessively high demand for fresh apples, someone around here had to deliver them to a bigger spot, a farmers market, anyplace where he could show up and leave undetected. Black on green stands out far too much out in the open, clinging tightly to the walls he was able to be passed off as a shadow as Aiden tipped his ears every which way, getting the sounds of idle chatter in the household. One 'Applebloom' being scolded by a 'Granny' for not washing her hooves before breakfast, something heavy moving around... If he was any less attentive he'd have complained about this being a boring job, and if he had any less patience he'd have just stolen another apple. Didn't matter if it took another ten minutes of waiting, he had to figure it out, if not from here, then somewhere else.
Letting his thoughts drift for even a moment though would remind him that keeping himself busy to ignore his new body wasn't working very well.
His ears perked up at the voice of Applebloom loudly asking if she could help with an apple stand today. Bingo, Stands meant a free market, pawnshops, thrift stores, swap-meets. It was decidedly easier than dealing with all the hassle of cryptocurrency when in London or doing everything online.
Yes, it was convenient to buy from, but it's always going to be convenient to just buy things right then and there if it isn't something hard to find. He could make an explosive from some household products and department section chemicals in an hour if he needed something more advanced than a grenade. His cheap grenades were nothing to scoff at despite being a bundle of electronics and nails strapped to crudely made explosives in a plastic bag.
When did I start sounding like an old person?
Back to the situation at hand, a market meant being able to barter and steal. Assuming he could rip out any mentions of the Golden Oaks Library in those books, he could sell them as soon as he was finished with them. They'd find their way back to Ponyville, he was certain of it.
He'd have to look convincing and be as out of town as possible. A vagrant with no real reason to stay except trade... But trade what exactly? He was decent at working with his hands for sure, but he had his doubts about what he could offer with zero reputation as an outsider, and possibly a negative reputation should he be discovered.
Maybe he should move, put distance between him and Ponyville in the event of discovery and be closer to the market to hawk his wares and barter with the locals.
Rope? Cordage? That should sell for something, though his bushcraft was sorely lacking he did pick up a few things over the years, jokingly called old man wisdom by some of his partners. Well, he never did get any wiser. Of course, if he did end up spending his day making rope, he'd be better off making a bag of some type with it rather than hauling things in a sack.
A sack that he didn't have on him, making vending moot. Damn it, How did I forget?
The distant sound of small bells in the distance and the dull thud of a mass of hooves moving told him all he needed to, so he stopped shadowing Applebloom and her assumed sister and ran off to investigate.
With plenty of distance between him and a possible witness Aiden Pearce ran his pockets again. He had his jacket, and a lot of pockets to go with it, but nothing to sell. It meant doing a lot of window shopping.
On the bright side, he'd at least found an alternative route to the market, one that leads in from out of town. So there he sat on a treetop, trying to figure out what he could do.
Tea? There were plenty of wildflowers here, but he couldn't dry it in an instant, let alone not poison someone.
Labor? He was a book thief, and him even considering waltzing into the area was idiotic. He was missing the days when dressing up as forgettable as possible was the peak of public camouflage, both against Fixers, CTos, and anyone you really didn't want to be discovered by.
This fox form is limiting.
He absent-mindedly nommed on a black clustering fruit. It was tart at first but quickly turned into a pleasantly sweet flavor, though it had a stem at the center of it that was typically spat out. It looked somewhat like a blackberry if blackberries grew on trees.
Assuming he didn't get caught seconds after showing up, he might have a bright idea. Right after he had just another one of these things.
Aiden Pearce had been running on fumes for three days now.
Psychologically, he was used to not eating properly. Hell, when he and his nephew met for the first time in years he was stealing his snacks and dumping stressful information on him instead of pausing to eat something and connect.
That was a dick move, now that I think about it.
Physically though, his body was highly maladjusted for such a lifestyle and very much hurting for something more filling than just apples and strange black tree fruit. More than once he'd wanted to have stolen something from the local bakery, a "Sugarcube Corner", and quickly found himself sprinting away because of the errant twitches of an increasingly clued-in bubblegum pink pony. Most of the other restaurants didn't have anything that would be out in the open or ready to break into with ingredients he could use. Dumpster diving was out of the question, both because he had fruits he could pilfer, and rotting hay in the shape of fries does not sound appetizing. He did, however, eat an entire stick of butter.
He had rushed to finish a more proper hide-away since he discovered what he dubbed the Shopping District and since finer pieces of soil had been digging into his fur (A growing nuisance he had yet to know how to tend to) and his jacket. (A much easier thing to wash)
His new home was painstakingly dug by hand, he was even forced into making a crude stone ax that was used as a shovel, and his claws were dulled from using them as tiny little saws. Branches had been cut, clay dug and watered, stones pilfered from the riverbed, and moss and grass were taken from fields far away to disguise his home.
It looked like a mound of raised earth supporting the trunk of a dead oak, but upon a closer look, one could see the stones suspiciously stacked like a chimney, and a tiny burrow-like entrance behind a door made of branches. Everything was heavily coated with live foliage, a feat he saw fit to revel in considering he never really had a green thumb.
Pride, however, fills neither stomachs nor wallets, as reality lovingly reminded him of this fact with a loud groan and an agonizing pain in the gut. He'd been trying hard to not turn his merchandise destined for sale into food, since that'd leave him with the rudimentary dolls he'd made as the only thing to sell. Ironic, he was avoiding eating so he could have money to buy things to eat later. His hunger-addled mind wasn't the sharpest, no matter how much he focused it took time to operate in its fog. He mulled over his situation again as he chewed on a particularly thin branch, even if there was a bit of irony in selling food for money for more food, that money, bits as it was called in this strange new world, could be used for more important reasons.
Medicine, he wasn't a medical graduate by any means but new body parts meant new and possibly different ways to take care of one's body, he was technically bipedal but had no idea where and what injuries would be fatal, what his body could heal and what would never heal the same way again. Human ankles would sprain and break, and took ages to heal and to learn to walk and run on the mended thing, and the way he saw it he was lucky not to have fought the timber wolves one of his books mentioned. That, and he was almost entirely sure he didn't have an appendix, so his organs were likely different.
How easy is it for me to go deaf? He thought, tentatively touching his left ear.
He thought of another use of money while hopelessly starting a fire, the chewed-up wood devoid of its barely nutritious sap now smoldering. Medicine was an important thing, but what about tools? He was entirely limited to the stone age unless he opened himself to the economy that sat just beyond that wooden door, it was going to be highly unlikely that he could machine a rifle, or even a pistol, out of stones and sticks. Beyond his favored weapons, tools made things easier, cutting wood, refining things, compasses, maps, writing, everything he'd need to get properly started on his feet required some level of interaction and technology he lacked. The glass jars he'd carefully sterilized were proof enough of that.
How have I not dropped from hunger yet? Aiden Pearce calmly stirred two pots, one in his head and the stolen one in front.
Interaction - He hadn't a clue how society out here worked, relations, goods, and evils. His old-world involved lots of killing in the dark underbelly of a modern world, sometimes even finding the victims of those unfortunate enough to just get caught in the crossfire. They didn't always survive. Neither did the victims of human trafficking in the year two thousand twelve.
As far as he knew, he might be the race of a sworn enemy of the ponies. Unlikely, of course, but it's usually safe to assume prey don't feel comfortable around predators. The recording of a mule kicking a coyote to death suddenly brought itself to the front of his mind as he poured the viscous liquids into its crystal storage.
As he let the jars of condensed fruit cool, he came to a realization. He was alone, and entirely on his own. There would be no phone to guide him, no Damien Brenks, and no missing persons. There would be likely no aid for his injuries in a land that catered to ponies, which meant that just like in the old days he'd have to put himself back together in his hideout. A distinctive setback of being a well-known vigilante was that the hospital was more or less off-limits.
He was alone, but free. No Damien Brenks to keep his remaining family hostage, no affiliation or association with his previous dirty jobs or DedSec meant that he had nothing to bite him in the ass later. He was free of every chain except for his morals, the only chain he'd prefer to hang on to.
He took a deep breath and sighed, chewing idly on another branch as a faint green glow went unnoticed. With his time of clear and level-headed thoughts done, for now, he checked the temperature of the jam and found it unsuitable. The fire crackled gently behind him as he wondered if he could roast an apple over it, something as simple as a knob of butter over an apple would probably be good eating in his situation, had he not exhausted his supply of cooking fat already. His jacket, while dusty, was, for the most part, clean and he checked its pockets again, the same as he did every day, hoping that maybe this world would throw him a bone (in this case, his phone and a gun.).
He didn't need his phone, he'd doubted it would work in what looked like the medieval ages, but it was just something that was comforting to have, much like his jacket. The gun would be very useful, even if it didn't come with much ammo to spare.
'No point in stalling for time, Aiden' Aiden Pearce slipped his jacket on with little fuss, dusting it off before taking some leaves and tying them on, giving him a naturalistic look if he'd ever thought of something like it. The leaf fabric was a pitiful attempt at making bags, so he settled on wrapping the sack to his torso and tying the jam jars together like strange six-packs of beer, which had the added benefit of making them not directly touch each other and hopefully less likely to break. That was the idea at least, he had no clue what this did outside of also making them aesthetically pleasing and making the jars easier to take out.
With his merchandise set up, and the last-minute addition of a hastily made vine mat, he finally felt ready to hit the market. Legitimately.
As he made his way down an unseen path in the shrubbery, Aiden Pearce was unable to shake the disturbing thoughts that came to his mind. He felt unusually paranoid, and he assumed that this was hunger catching up to him. Lacking a mirror he hadn't a clue how he was built, but he felt slightly lankier than he should have been in his prime. The sun wasn't beating down on him as much as it did usually, the cloud cover being welcome relief since he had both fur and coat on.
Aiden Pearce had found his way to the very end of the open-air market, having avoided detection so if he were to be recognized, he could hopefully play it off. His plan of attack was to make his way from the bottom to the top of the market, the topmost section being the closest to Ponyville, which would make an obvious route backward for him to take in order to once again avoid being recognized, and more importantly, followed. Old habits were coming in handy today. Possibly not. He was flip-flopping on whether or not this was a good choice, already he was feeling exhaustion creep into his bones from carrying what he felt was possibly the absolute minimum he'd packed with him. "How the hell can I handle building but not a damn trip to the market? Cursing inwardly he shifted the weight around trying to relieve the growing pressure on his back, but it was for nothing. He saw the market come into view and had another glaring realization.
Did taxes exist here? Was someone charging the ponies who used this plot of land? He hoped this spot was free game, he was already here with his equipment and would prefer to run than have to pay up his measly six bits that he'd found on the ground at night. The little golden coins would always glint sharply in the moonlight, making them easy pickings when nobody was looking. First, he let down the mat, realizing that presentation likely meant a lot to the ponies with fancy houses and gaudy buildings, pastry or otherwise. He hoped that it'd be enough to attract a single customer, despite his species difference and being at the far back of the market. Or is it the start of it? With the mat out, he took his bag off and set it down, opening it up to reveal its contents. Six jars of jam, and six little dolls made from dried cordage which had been shaped into a pony. It was harder than the traditional humanoid form, but with hands and time, there was virtually nothing you couldn't accomplish. How do ponies even make things with hooves?
He was fortunate enough to remember to pack the dolls at the last minute, his forgetfulness was starting to make him concerned. Hopefully, with a half-decent payday and food in his system, it'd be resolved quickly, easily, and without fuss. Especially if the purple unicorn that tried to catch him didn't show up. Aiden Pearce fidgeted with his shortened claws as he thought about how to even deal with customers. If his schedule he made from eavesdropping around the town was correct, he could expect Applebloom to show up, or just about any kid for that example. They were curious, hardly afraid, or incredibly foolish judging by all the times she's been scolded for wandering into the woods. Kids also carried bits!
The dolls were set up in pairs seated next to each other in a neat row of two, similar to the jars. His bag was next to him, which also held inside it a baton, a fanciful word for a flexible tree branch. He'd rather not have a weapon in a market, but he preferred to have it and not need it. His preparation for the worst situations got him out of them quickly. The gray fox hummed a low tune as he waited for customers, the lightly shaded sky was pleasant and meant he wouldn't be getting overheated any time soon so long as it stayed that way. He hadn't packed water and had no idea what things were valued at. Was a 'Bit' like a dollar where it could be broken down into smaller denominations? Or was it like yen? He rubbed his face in frustration. 'Damn it Aiden.' He waited, the first ten minutes were that of peace. His hearing only picked up distance foot- hoofsteps, and he passed his boredom by trying to hone his hearing better, struggling to discern if he heard two ponies, or four. Another ten minutes passed, and occasionally he'd hear a word or two of conversation in the distance, the number of ponies in the area slowly rising as more and more started showing up to his part of the market. The rare few that spotted him said nothing and just gawked at his form before quickly scampering off, it left him irritated, but he was damned if he left without some sort of success today.
Thirty minutes passed, and for once he heard steps that were coming towards him. One set of heavier steps compared to a smaller one, trailing off behind the smaller one ten, or fifteen feet away. He didn't dare to look at them directly even if he knew there was one incoming, lest he frighten a buyer and go home without coin in his pockets.
It would also be far worse if he ended up with a ribcage kicked in just for being part of a predator species.
Oh wait.
"Thanks AJ!" He heard in the distance. So, someone was off of chores today, at most five bits profit if by some chance she showed up. His ears tilted as he heard the hoofsteps get lighter and all was quiet once again, until someone else showed up.
A grey pegasus with a blonde mane appeared, a lady probably. Previous realizations were keeping him from making direct eye contact right now in an attempt to not possibly frighten anyone. "' 'Scuse me, how much for one of those dolls you have?" She asked in a bubbly voice. The voice sounded familiar enough, if he was right, then he figured it might be the mailman, mail mare? He wasn't sure if the name was Derpy Hooves or Ditzy Doo, but it was something along those lines. "Just doll?" Aiden Pearce tilted his head to get a better look at the mare, his eyes had been narrowed to the point of appearing closed, but oddly enough he could see relatively fine. He just hoped he was giving an inoffensive and non-aggressive expression to his customer as he was slowly confirming to himself that it was the lazy-eyed mail pony he had spotted flying and trotting around the town. The mail pony nodded with a light smile, so he shrugged and gave a narrow, toothless smile and spoke again. "Three bits."
"Alright then, here's yer money, mister!" The gray pegasus fished some coins out of a bag on her back that Aiden hadn't noticed, spilling them onto the mat haphazardly. They looked to be the standard gold bits he kept seeing around, judging by the color and shine that wanted to blind his unusually sensitive eyes. With a pawed hand he offered the doll gingerly to the pegasus, which was taken without much fuss and was placed in the saddle bag before she trotted off somewhere before he later heard the sound of wings flapping away in the distance. Suddenly, he wasn't so sure if he wanted to have the little sister of the farm pony show up. The fact that he had overlooked something so obvious made him want to shoot himself to see if maybe having a second death experience would unscramble his brains and reroll his body into something less like his moniker. The fact he had opposable thumbs made it oddly worth the trouble though.
Back to his main thoughts, if Applejack was any bit as protective of the family as he was, -continued to be, then it was likely he could expect a violent outburst or a barely controlled remark followed by an attempted beating. In theory, his skill at hand-to-hand take-downs would come in handy, but without proper nutrition, he wasn't so sure about his ability in taking down a horse that kicked trees for a living. Sure, he could take down enforcers in their heavy ballistic armor, but that was typically with the element of surprise and having plenty of energy to burst in, strike the gun away, then continue with another flurry of strikes with his trust-worthy baton.
And then Applebloom showed up right as he was busy thinking. One of Aiden's ears flicked nervously as he put the three bits into a neat stack to his right, his eyes still close to being shut as he decided the supposed neutral expression was still the safer option. Just in case. The fox tried to distract himself with finances as the foal started getting closer, if he had six bits previously from last night, and had three today from one doll, he had eleven things to sell, if he sold twelve objects for three bits then he would get thirty-six bits plus the six bits he already had. If he sold the jars for four bits, and the dolls for three, he would still have thirty-six bits- "Howdy, uh. Mister Fox? Ya are a mister, right? You awake there mister?" He felt a hoof bump against his side as the kid he was originally hoping showed up was trying to get his attention in the most incessant way possible.
It almost reminded him of his niece. Those were dark times to think about on an empty stomach.
"Mhm, did you need something?" He said impassively, though not aggressively. "Yeah! So, those are mulberry leaves right? On the jars? Granny Smith was talkin' bout our cousins who farmed 'em once but that's not important, I always wanted to try some, so how much would it be for a jar o' jam? Also, are you a Diamond Dog? One o' my friends Sweetie Belle said Rarity got kidnapped by a bunch o' mean dogs but you don't look like a dog. Are ya mean mister?" Aiden Pearce raised a brow at this information, but gave a friendly smile instead of a shrug.
"I don't think dogs and foxes get along, kid. I'm definitely not a mean Diamond Dog, I'm just a fox selling some things. The jam is three bits a jar, by the way." he added absent mindedly.
"Three bits? Yeah! I got three bits!" Applebloom bounced around about as much one could in place as she fished out three coins from somewhere, placing them on a neat stack next to her before she went to grab a jar. With the coins out, Aiden moved forward slightly as he reached out his arm to move the stack next to the small growing pile of money. "So, do you have any interesting stories Mister Fox, see me an' my-"
Aiden flinched and screwed up his face at the sudden volume, the soft features he'd carefully crafted on the spot now swiftly molded into a steely gaze of opened eyes with a deep scowl. Applebloom gasped softly in fright as a result of her sister's shouting, turning around she started hopping up and down to get her sister's attention, seemingly trying to stop the fight before it started. "No! Wait! Applejack he's jus' a store-fox! He ain' gon' hurt-"
"I know what he is! He's probably related to that fox that robbed Twilight some nights back, pawning off stolen goods ain't ya!" Applejack's accusatory tone brought more attention to him, and this time he was in broad daylight in the middle of public eye. Attempting to predict her next course of action Aiden used what he interpreted as showboating to the beginnings of a crowd to take his coins and jams, letting the shiny bits slide into a coat pocket on the inside and the jams in the sack he'd tied to his waist. "He might not be a brute like them Diamond Dogs, but just cause he's crafty doesn't mean he's a good pony! Jus' look at him! Same tail and color!"
Fortunately for him, the crowd was relatively small. He wasn't actively being surrounded, most ponies had kept their distance and what few shopkeepers neighboring him had decided to keep their heads down instead. The group was made up of maybe six or more random shoppers, plus whatever crowd might be forming up behind them wondering what the heck was up with all that commotion. Sunlight glared into Aiden's hardened eyes as he tilted his head down, seeing through his eyebrows. "I ought to lay you out before I send ya to Tw i l i g h t s-"
The whole world slowed as Aiden took a deep breath and focused, the option to end a fight before it started was clearly beyond him right now, he doubted he could reason with someone working with a literal racial bias and likely genuine knowledge on who he was and what he did. As he saw the wind up of Applejack's first strike, a forward buck or kick of some kind, Aiden poised himself to hop out to the right and then follow up with the baton he had stowed in his jacket. Except, the wooden club he called a baton wasn't there. Cursing inwardly he realized that he hadn't brought it with him and had instead come up with an empty claw before things started speeding up as his focus was lost and all he had succeeded in doing was dodging the initial assault. He was back on his feet hopping away from another kick, this time from the hind legs. All he was able to notice was the crowd had backed off significantly, and Applebloom had apparently vanished along the way. 'Crap, where'd the kid go?'
Next, he tasted metal in his mouth as a simple headbutt caused his head to pound and his heartbeat ring loudly in his ears, coughing as he lifted himself up. Gritting his teeth he cursed his body's weakness as he realized just how much of an impact his deteriorated state had on an unaccustomed body. With just one strike and he was already just another hit away from getting knocked out. Him. The Scourge of CTos and all the other fanciful titles previous employers and fixers had given him along his long-lived life, once able to tank pistol shots and swerve out away from rifle gunfire and ignore the pain, now a mortal capable of being struck down by just a headbutt. Aiden lacked any time to actually be angry about it though as the smug pony attempted a follow-up strike as Applejack started running directly at him, kicking up dust in the process as the distance closed rapidly. Waiting until the last second, he jumped as high as he could, managing to hop up on Applejacks head and veer them off course as he rolled right off of her back relatively unharmed. If he were an idiot, he'd have tried to rodeo the pony, but he wasn't.
He glared at the pony and suddenly found himself in the gloomy and rain-slicked streets of his home state, Chicago, staring down a trio of people in hoodies and sagging pants. His hand swiftly flew to a pistol concealed and always carried on the inside of the left side of his long trench coat and aimed dead center at the heart of a red-shirted viceroy gang member, squeezing the trigger there was a light pop as the man fell to the ground, dead.
Except he had no gun.
The urge to cough won out and Aiden once again tasted liquid iron in his mouth, glancing forward he saw the form of Applejack crumpled on the ground some odd feet away. Staring at his paw, it was in same position as if he were holding his old Spec Ops 1911, and yet he found no gun in hand. All there was, was his pointer finger smoking at the tip with the rapidly sparks of white 'magic'. For a moment he was in awe of the anomaly he'd just committed, shaking his right hand in disbelief.
His vision turned to the farm pony again as she was deathly still for a moment before an audible groan rang out, and she staggered herself back up on her hooves, her Stetson hat having apparently fallen off somewhere during the process of being thrown back forcefully by a magic finger gun. Said stetson was picked up and worn with a scowl and all the clear signs of anger plastered on her face, but she was hesitant to continue her attacks.
Aiden Pearce counted his lucky stars when it turned out he hadn't killed someone. It would look even worse on his already tarnished fresh start. "Back off Applejack. You don't want this." He said sternly.
"Ugh, what in the hay? Sheesh, you're a tougher cookie than you look." Applejacks head shook before continuing in her southern drawl. "But'cha right, I can't beat ya at a distance. But I don' gotta."
There was a sudden pop and flash of light before Aiden Pearce rolled out of the way of whatever was likely coming. His instincts were correct as he avoided some type of spell that was fired his way. That damned purple mare had somehow shown up instantly. Teleportation most likely, didn't need to be a genius to figure it out, just use Occam's razor on a magical pony land. "It's you again!" She cried. "No wait! He was jus' tryin to sell-" Aiden Pearce had to cut the dialogue short as he bolted into a dead sprint. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't impressed at being outsmarted, the trouble was he hated being outsmarted and technically outgunned.
There was a moment where he tried to fish around inside his trench coat lining to see if he could pull off a similar trick with something else, cutting free from a weak telekinetic grab as he was still in the unicorn mare's line of sight. Somehow he and Twilight Sparkle were running into the town, or at least onto the road leading straight into the more populated sections of it. Aiden swerved around the corner of a building, wondering if there was anything else he could do.
When the unicorn popped her head around, he of course tried the finger gun again and with some straining of the mind, the world slowed as a pure white magical bolt was sent her way in a decisive shot. In that split second after, she was able to teleport in front of the projectile, dodging it while muttering in pain. Not needing to try and take down another pony, Aiden continued running through back roads with his back hunched over slightly, his head kept low as his coat tails trailed. It felt just like fleeing from the police on foot, taking as many backroads and hops over fences as one could possibly do until your lungs burned and your legs felt like they'd give out. The police of Chicago were none too dissimilar to Twilight in the sense of finding people and being notoriously difficult to give the slip, often scanning for devices of the suspect in highly localized areas.
He tried to lose Twilight in a small crowd of ponies, but they tended to back off and let both him and the unicorn chaser through without issue. He had to intercept her somehow.
Reflexively he pulled out his phone and attempted to raise traffic pillars, explode a transformer in the ground or blast noise in the opponents earbuds or radio systems. He heard a chime in his mind as the memory of being in Chicago faded as he made eye contact with an all lime green unicorn with a white streak in her mane, then he saw the unicorns horn light up, completely unintended judging by the ponies reaction, as a flare of magic zipped out and hit Twilight Sparkle squarely in the front legs.
Drained even more so by that sudden action, he felt like he was going to pass out soon, and escaped by hopping a fence and weaving through twisted streets, aided by the mare holding up Twilight with apologies, until Aiden finally reached the safety of a hideout.
Finally crawling into his den and slumping on a wall, It was then that exhaustion made itself known and overtook him as everything was slowly shrouded in an inky black, and the world became dark as he slipped into another dreamless sleep.
MemLog_user*null:return_filename: Sometimes You Still Lose
This was not a bad thing, nor was it particularly odd these days. It had been odd initially, even frightening at first since she had returned from her banishment a thousand years ago, but in the new era of Harmony that had been ushered in in her absence the void of the dreamscape was nowhere near as noisy and aggressive as it was once was. The vast majority of nightmares were mere warnings of the mind to lay off the cake, to rethink decisions, and the dreams remained pleasant experiences as usual.
Still, only because there was slightly less intensive work in the modern era did not mean that there was no work to be done, the dreamscape still required tending to, weeding out the constant lesser nightmares so that they would not fester. The dreamscape was never supposed to be uniform for long as minds would constantly be in flux with their emotions, with static dreams and nightmares almost always being indicators of something worse possibly coming into play. A nightmare was typically worse.
A nightmare was what she was looking at. Or so she thought, initially. It shared the distorted, chaotic nature of nightmares that she once saw so often once upon her time, but it was also highly unstable, vaguely having the signature of an old memory as well. Her best bet that it was some type of fever dream that was taking elements of old, possibly traumatic, memories. Magic flowed from her horn as she shaped the miniscule dream with her hooves, attempting to slide into the anomaly to investigate. Whatever it was, was not a pony either. It did not feel like any sort of dream or nightmare she had entered before.
Entering the dream she stumbled on the fabric of its reality as she saw grand cities surrounding her, similar to Manehatten, the modern sprawl with towering buildings everywhere as far as the eye could see. It was almost repetitive. In fact, she could not see anything very far in the distance, everything would end in a corner that would cut the field of view. This was a common trick of the mind to avoid needing to bring up unnecessary detail, and was equally common in weak dreams or weakened minds. In theory, all she would have to do is trace back to where the most detail was, and she'd find her mystery creature along with the source of the anomalous dream.
Aiden opened his car door and fell right into his chair. He was dressed up in his old trench coat and black ball cap get-up. Pulling out his vibrating phone he answered the phone call of a fixer, Jordi Chin, an Asiatic man with a few screws loose with an affinity for silenced weaponry and fancy white suits. Aiden wasn't entirely sure what to make of him after he had thrown him off a lighthouse, ignoring the fact that Jordi had also survived that fall. Someone had paid him big money to take him out during that, but somewhere along the line after that fiasco, it was back to business with the psychotic Fixer.
"I'm bleedin' here, you?" Came the tinny voice from his cellphone, Jordi spoke in a lightly gruff and swift, blasé voice, just another day at work for him. At least he wasn't whining about Maurice this time.
"I'm holding up" Was Aiden's equally neutral response.
"Maurice finally gave in. Suddenly he was all talk. I'll give you a location then you can figure it out yourself."
"That's business, huh?"
"Yeah, that's right. It's all business." The phone went silent as Jordi hung up on him. 'Snappy.'
He turned a corner on the road, driving around a district of Chicago known as the Mad Mile, both by CTos data repositories and colloquially. The streets blended together as his smooth driving sped up as he made his way through backroads and highways, the late-night traffic oddly thin. Stopping at a street light at an intersection of nowhere important, Aiden heard a little voice that he only half-mindedly paid attention to. There were no pedestrians walking, and he was sure that there might be another car incoming from the left.
'An odd method of speech. Is he a friend of yours?'
'Jordi's like that. Tidy fixer. Keeps the loose ends clean.'
'So then. Why is it that you are the one he sent for?'
'Maurice is one of his loose ends. And he's ultimately my problem. He's the one who shot my car. Killed my niece...
'Is that all it is? One final act of revenge? Or is it justice?'
'I want to say we're different. But I don't know anymore. How many people have I hurt? Killed? Who deserves that? Who deserves to die?'
The car stopped abruptly in front of a garage somewhere in the northern Mad Mile of Chicago. It was the only thing that could be made out of the blur of grey buildings looking the same as usual, towering and full of lights. Squinting, he looked at his phone screen and initiated an exploit that caused the door to open up, shakily and slowly the door rattled as a result of its improper usage.
Blinding light flooded in from the headlights of his car, shining judgingly on the man before the gate came down, smoothly this time. Inside were a few shelves stacked with cans of something, likely paint, with a reed propane canister in the corner alongside some dried blood on the floor and cardboard mats darkly stained with oil or water, one of the two. His gaze now returned to the bloodied man, stumbling over his words and repeating a string of nonsensical numbers. The muttering of 'one, two, three, five,' was almost annoying enough to get him to take Jordi's previous advice of just popping him and being done with it.
Almost.
"Hey-"
"Fucking shoot me! Come on. Make you sleep better at night. Killed the guy that killed your niece. Good for you, you selfish fuck! ...Yeah I deserve it, but it doesn't change anything. Nothing... ever changes" Maurice blurted, snapping from the prone position to hunched over in an instant with unnatural speed.
This wasn't right. This wasn't how it went.
Maurice was a coward who put his reasoning into audio logs as some type of indirect confession. He didn't even have the balls to ask to die this early on in their talk. Not until after he was done warning him of something. He used to have this dream a long time ago for a very long time and had every single detail of it burned into his mind. It wasn't until fairly recently when he'd tried putting things aside to work past the fallout of chasing the coverup of his niece's death had become, did he finally stop having that dream. The entire conversation was burned into his mind.
Because he chose mercy. Maurice was living his own personal hell, as a victim with blood on his hands, as a failed family man, whose wife was kidnapped by viceroys and sold off somewhere in one of Lucky Quinn's auctions.
He was a failed version of himself.
So he shot him. And he turned his aim to the only visitor he'd hate to see.
Princess Luna, the Princess of the Night. Princess of Privacy Invasions too by this point, this was a very personal dream. "Get. Out." He growled. He didn't care for what reasons she showed up, his brain was sacred, and he didn't care if this was reality or the result of a machine digging around in his consciousness again, he would blow her brains out and get charged for regicide if that's what it took to get her out of his head. She stared at the unmoving form of Maurice, who stood stock still in his cowering state, not even registering the fact that he had been shot in the head. Where blood and gray matter should have been splattered on the concrete, there was just a little spurt of red liquid pasted over the concrete and an equally unimpressive illusion of a hole in Maurice's forehead. A memory as powerful as this one could not be manipulated without skill and impressively strong magic, alongside an in-depth understanding of the mind.
"What are you...?" Luna whispered hoarsely. Aiden's gun was still trained directly at Luna's head, or perhaps just a little off to the side. The slide of his pistol snapped backward loudly as a hole was made into the wall next to her. "Last warning. Get out. Before I make you."
And then Aiden was sent through the wall of his own dream and onto the empty streets of Chicago. "NAY KNAVE! WE SHALL NOT BE INTIMIDATED IN OUR REALM. YIELD AND DIVULGE YOUR ORIGINS AT ONCE!"
Aiden Pearce started shooting back with his gun, his Colt 45 Long Slide had suddenly turned into some nine-millimeter handgun. He couldn't tell if it was the Sig-Saur P9MM he used once or a (once upon a time) fancy Glock, the two were mashed together in some way. Sometimes it looked more like the P9MM than the Glock. At least a dozen shots were fired directly into the face of the Lunar princess in what felt like a second, then his phone pinged, and she was tagged with the mark of a simple, red shield, superimposed over her in his vision instead of his phone screen. The mark of an Enforcer. Fuck.
That really only left him with two viable options in a desynchronizing dream. Option one, face Luna head-on and attempt to perform a physical takedown on her-
"HOW DARE YOU STRIKE ME!?"
Or just use an overwhelming amount of firepower from a distance. It was a good thing he was making distance already as in the time it took for her to shout, Aiden had already run off to the back of a car for cover. His pistol wasn't going to cut it, (though he did use one to take down an Enforcer, it was really only the one time) so he swapped out for something heavier.
But first.
"MY BUCKING EARS!"
A quick-hack intended for unsecured comms went off, shorting electrical equipment and the headset that would typically be on an enforcer. In this case, it sent an overload of signals to the mind that were interpreted as the loudest, most ear-bleeding screech you could ever imagine.
Aiden was happy he never wore earbuds, and as such never had this problem. Instead he had the problem of having his fucking ears feel like they were going to burst if he didn't shut her up soon. He had maybe a second or two to keep rummaging around the inside of his jacket, usually, he could have a minute before the effects wore off or the victim ripped off the gear, but he was playing it safe and overestimating his opponent for now. He felt his hands brush up something he owned a long time ago. He wasn't sure how he got his hands on it at a pawn shop of all things but-
He had a grenade launcher, and just a little bit of a plan to go with it. A four part plan with bombs for throwing at her.
Step one.
"AGH!"
Start bombing, immediately. His revolving launcher gave an intimidating thump before Luna was expectedly knocked back by the force of a forty-millimeter grenade directly impacting her in the chest. In the real world, it was likely to have embedded itself in her chest instead of triggering the impact fuse, but this was a dream, and he decided the rules of physics here. Since Luna was temporarily out of the way he opened the car door of something red and sleek looking and hopped right in, grenade launcher on his left hand. Worst case scenario, the dream ended right after he got caught by some nasty spell, best case scenario, he would kick Luna out, and promptly figure out what was up with this dream.
Step two. Start driving, immediately. The engine roared to life as his wheels skidded along the pavement, burning rubber as he forced Luna to come looking. He was in the actual prime of his life here, and he didn't have something like poor nutrition in the way of his strength. He checked the rearview mirror and saw nothing approaching, for now. The roads looked too familiar, an odd mix of Pawnee and The Loop and the Mad Mile. Maybe if he could focus on the upcoming underpass he could... He didn't know, but maybe if he changed location enough times it would kick her out. This was new terrain.
"Cease thy efforts at once! You cannot escape from us in the dream realm!" Luna suddenly materialized right next to his car's driver-side window. Slamming on the gas, he lowered the window with a precariously placed elbow as he maneuvered the launcher out and back at her, firing twice. The recoil and weight were negligible, but the fact remained that it was still incredibly cumbersome. Didn't I see a pump-action version of these things at one point?
Luna blew up again, but Aiden couldn't confirm it on account of the smokescreen provided by the second blast. He brought his arm back in, ditching the launcher for the time being as he imagined a smaller, more maneuverable single-shot grenade launcher to his left, right where the pedals would be. That was how lucid dreaming worked right? You imagined things and they would come up into existence.
Aiden groaned to himself. When the hell did dreaming get complicated? The only time it ever got weird was during a digital trip, and those things went underground when he left Chicago. How much longer was it to get out of this tunnel? Time moved differently in your sleep right? In any case, there wasn't any traffic, the roads were entirely clear of anything except a few barrels of sand.
So why were there motorcyclists approaching...?
That fucking- It's not real. It's not real. Speed up and don't look back. Don't look at the car seat. You've moved on. You don't look back. You've moved on.
His right passenger side wheel went, a bullet fairly ripping through it as the vehicle was suddenly overturned. Glass broke and sprayed shards everywhere, and the motorcyclists were gone. His hand punched through the glass with ease, his fists trembling as he clawed his way out. Uninjured. But someone didn't make it out that night. Aiden kept his eyes away from the little lamb doll on the road, never look back. Those times were over.
"You've got a lot of nerve digging around in my head like that so I just want to make one thing clear-" He snapped onto Luna's position, startling the mare of the night. She seemed shocked, but not at the fact she'd been detected. The world was distorted, quite literally glitching in and out a few feet beyond the gruesome memory. "You might think you play a beautiful game digging around in dreams, easing nightmares or whatever- but sometimes?"
"Sometimes you still lose. Now get the hell out of here." A gunshot rang, and this time Luna couldn't just tank it. She rag dolled and went flying for a foot or two before simply dissipating into nothing. Not having the energy to deal with it all anymore, Aiden simply let himself fall onto the concrete road below him.
He then woke up having falling onto the dirt in his hideout. He felt exhausted, his muscles burned from having pushed himself so hard yesterday, and his head was killing him.
'Oh. Damn it. I've messed up this time, haven't I? Where the hell do I run to now?'
Luna awoke in the morning with a pounding headache, her hooves jumped to her face in some vain attempt to ease the pain in some capacity, but it was agonizing. Even with her alicorn strength, the pain of having caught something which then proceeded to tear straight through her head and out the back, was not something anycreature could so easily shrug off.
She was a fool. That wasn't a nightmare trying to form, it was a mind trying- almost winning against the creation of a nightmare. And she'd made it real. By getting frightened by something new, by getting proud... By her mothers name she fought someone innocent in the respit of dreams.
Petty thievery, Battery, Assault. Granted that last part was happening- happened in a dream and he had no idea if that would count against him or not. Still, pissing off a princess was probably a fast route to prison.
He'd thought of the place of medieval, but really that was inaccurate. They had refrigeration, plumbing, electrical lighting, and magical lights too. Even primitive radio. Certain things were modern while others were weirdly behind. He'd seen modern speakers and studio lights alongside things like the gramophone and vinyl records, everything was just completely backwards. Though, it did give him some hope that he could continue his previous exploits of hacking. Anything that needed to be programmed would always have a vulnerability, it didn't matter the advertising or the packaging, if it lit up and connected to anything in any way, it could be hacked.
'Well. So much for selling food.' At least he had some. He tried to chug the jar, but it didn't quite work out. It was too thick and didn't slide around at all. Begrudgingly, he got into it with his snout and started licking at the insides. He was hungry. Under typical circumstances he probably would've thrown up from how sweet the blend was, reminding him that he didn't taste it before selling it, but he couldn't afford to waste it. It probably would've tasted better if he had bread to go with it.
With something that was either going to make his headache infinitely worse or way better, he got to thinking now that his stomach wasn't trying to kill him before his head did. Aiden Pearce was going to get arrested. That much was a fact.
Between breaking and entering, an arguable attempted regicide and a self-defense case likely to be considered assault, there were quite a few reasons for him to be thrown in jail. In hindsight, he had taken his chances for a possibly quiet and serene life and shot them twenty-two times in the stomach, then given it the mobster treatment with concrete shoes.
And he didn't quite care either.
Peace wasn't really for him. There were moments of peace, the quiet. The brief moment where he could enjoy something simple. Baking, only once. A strawberry milkshake that some AI made fun of him for. Time with his family, his niece, his nephew, his sister.
...He'd promised a long time ago to not look back, and now what was he doing? Looking back at everything now that it had no way of reaching him ever again.
Aiden sighed and flexed his paws, feeling the way the muscles rippled and twitched in the new body. It was fresh, uninjured, and unharmed by the stains of time. Then he stared at his jacket, his trench coat that was left in a slumped heap in a corner of the room. Nothing beneficial about it except pockets, memories, and an air of intimidation.
And for the time being, he was going to try bury everything that came with it. He was going to open his world, and reintroduce himself to it with a new look. He focused properly, taking in the dust that would still fall lazily from his ceiling and the way the jam had thoroughly stained his muzzle. The same way it stained the fur that clung to his skin, he thought, the same way it could stain the stolen sack.
His fur wasn't orange, though it was the typical coloration for foxes. He was gray, white highlights on his tail and muzzle. Orange wouldn't take to dying very well, he'd need lots of it. But gray? It could take on as much color as he wanted, all he needed was patience.
Patience, jam, water, and a stolen bit of needle and thread. With a royal purple cowl fashioned from a stolen apple sack and the remnants of his forgotten leaf hood salvaged and repurposed into wraps for his torso, he would reintroduce to the world a new... Person.
With a purple colored expression only vaguely resembling trepidation, Aiden Pearce walked out of his hideout dressed in prettied up peels and scraps, and headed for the only place where a limited amount of bits could anyone anything decent.
Sugarcube Corner.
The Joke Chapter That Blew The Story Up Apparently
I'm serious. Go home, pick a different story, I'm on break.
...
What was that? Sorry can't hear you, you must be breaking up. Y'know most people consider it impolite when you barge in on their lunchbreak. Between dying in someone elses fic, dying in this one to get the story started, and then getting in a coma in the third game, I'm pretty sick of getting tossed around, so go find a different story. I swear, after the first time I showed up everything just got weirder and crazier.
I'm pretty sure I'm going to get arrested again too if this author knows how to write a story properly. But again, quit staring and buzz off.
...
...
...
...
...
Are you seriously still standing around? Let me enjoy my smoothie in peace, you're almost as bad as that damn AI they saddled me with in London.
Great. I think the horse stuff is rubbing off on me.
...
...
What do you want? You're more persistent than the fixers, and they actually get paid to chase me around. What, you want to know my thoughts on the story?
...
I'm not a fan of being a furry. Now screw off, my breaks almost over.
He had looped around Ponyville, taking the long winding road that came in from Canterlot if his memory was correct. There really wasn't much to say about the small town, except for it wasn't nearly as small as everyone believed.
Sure, the town had a few very obvious points of interest, Sugar Cube Corner, The Library, and Applejacks farm, but there were also sprinklings of places that he could use as new bases of operations. If only he had money.
There were also places that simply weren't as flashy. An alcohol distillery and shop was hidden at the edge of a residential area full of houses and gardens, probably providing some relief to hardworking Ponyville locals and methods of expanding the culinary repertoire for those who cared in alcohol for cooking. It was a shame, he had thought, that were no drinking games in that place or in any other region he'd went. The only other location was known for its salt-licks, and while salt was something else to add to the rising list of nutritional deficiencies, drinking nothing but salt was not his idea of a good drink.
Ponyville had an extreme lack of games or gambling that he had become very used to in his life. Drinking games, cup games, all that payed well when he was bored. He wasn't much for illicit gambling, but on rare events he could be found at a poker table. If he wanted to game for his money, then really his only chance was at the market area that he was avoiding for obvious and particular reasons.
All of that thinking was really just a distraction from the real reason he came here anyway. To reintroduce himself.
He'd stained his muzzle purple, then washed as much of it out as he could to see how much had actually sunk into his fur. The result was that those berries were very, very staining. Despite the sweetness in the mix he'd made, there was no sugary residue left behind on his fur, in fact his fur felt softer and looked healthier. Whether or not this was because of the fruit or a thorough wash, he didn't know.
He had refrained from maximizing his use of purple. Aiden wasn't much of an artist, in fact, he was already loathing the use of purple already. It was his only color, and green from grass stains would absolutely not match, lest he incur the wrath of an insufferable white pony. The purple had kept to highlighting his hands, his snout and mouth, the tips of his ears and tail, and in lines that looked like they had a purpose, reminiscent of printed circuit boards.
Aiden had also had some last-minute changes to his wardrobe. The rough, purple-dyed cowl was repurposed into a mask, not too unlike a bandana or a neck gaiter. The extra fabric that remained was allowed to cling to his chest and drape downwards like robes that were vaguely reminiscent of a shemagh. He had considered taking his coat and simply flipping his coat inside out, so it would look orange, but that would probably burn his gambit into the ground. No, he'd save it for something else.
Then again, while some of these ponies were bright, a few were less than attentive.
He was now halfway to Sugarcube Corner. His routes were careful, exact, and looked just like a regular old walk. His path avoided the hot-headed rainbow pony and a majority of the town locals, at least up until this final stretch where almost any pony could get a good look at him. The most he ever did was glance their way with closed eyes and kept walking. It seemed to work, after all.
He'd never admit that it might look cute, only that it was an effective tactic at being disarmingly non-threatening.
Sugarcube Corner's candy-coated rooftops were in the distance now, and his stomach was growling. Forty paces. Thirty. Twenty-five, fifteen, the distance was closing by the minute until he met the glass door, and briefly saw his reflection before opening the door, a bell ringing behind him. A little loud, but he figured it was just him getting used to having good hearing again.
His footsteps were silent as he walked up to the counter, completely ignoring the shocked looks of a group of ponies in a booth, orange, rainbow, and purple respectively. They weren't bothering him, they didn't recognize him, and he certainly didn't know them. All he needed was to introduce himself, grab a cupcake, find some quick work and a train ticket out, in no particular order. Starting a brawl was absolutely not in his plans.
A minute passed and he rang a silver bell on the counter, and thought more carefully about the cupcakes. He'd honestly prefer something to drink inst- "HEYA! How ya doing! You must be new! What can I get you? You looking at the cupcakes? They're super yummy and freshly made, I recommend chocolate and strawberry."
Aiden tensed up a little bit in surprise at the bubbly voice but refrained from freaking out, he was quickly and calmly composed, food first and antics later. "...Just the strawberry cupcake. Actually. Two, and something to drink." He asked politely. Pinkie Pie just smiled and reached out somewhere and came back with two pristine cupcakes. Strawberry slices and light pink frosting, it reminded him of strawberry shortcakes. "Oki-doki! Here we are, and something to drink? Well we've got coffee, toffee coffee, Irish coffee, sodas, snow-cones but only sometimes- milkshakes, juice, smoothies, a-"
"Just the milkshake. Strawberry." He said, firmly but still politely. Food first. Antics. Later. If it weren't for his previous experiences with Jordi he might just be saying he was running out of patience with her ramblings, but at least it was easy to get a word in. Strange, but he wasn't complaining.
Pinkie Pie had bounced off somewhere to find scoops for ice cream, and Aiden chose that moment to discretely look around the bakery, take in a few details. It was mostly empty, plenty of booths were available so he could eat in relative privacy, except for one being occupied by three mares. He relaxed his shoulders as he waited for his milkshake, his ears swiveling as he could hear bouncing, blending, and not-so-hushed whispers. He tuned in on the talk with his eyes closed as he waited, having forgotten to even take the cupcakes over to his booth, or even pay for that matter.
"...So, we're not gonna talk about the walking fox that looks a lot like the one that robbed Twilight or...?"
"No Rainbow, we were just gonna keep chattin' about the weather. Of course we're gonna mention him! Twilight that there is another fox, darn near identical to the one that-"
"That you aggravated. Girls, I appreciate that we're all on the same page of our mystery fox, but I really didn't expect you to be the one to throw the first punch. I expected that from Rainbow Dash, not... Well, not really you."
"Yeah! Hey, what's that supposed to mean?!"
"No offense Rainbow, but yer alot more aggressive than anypony else in our group. Ya could rival a griffon with yer attitude. But Twilight, how come we aren't just stopping the fox right here and now? What other foxes do we know?"
"...Believe me, I'd love to just catch them and start asking questions, but he doesn't look at all like the fox I remember breaking into my library, and the one you saw was definitely not a fan of the color purple."
"Ah guess that's true..." was the last thing Aiden heard from Applejack before Pinkie Pie had sprung over to his table with his plate of forgotten cupcakes and a deliciously cold milkshake, set down in a split second right as his eyes opened.
"Here you go, mister! Two cupcakes and a shake, on the house! So... You're kinda new! How's it been? Have I seen you before? Purples not your color, you could try orange! Ooh, maybe dark purple? You seem like you like dark colors. You have kinda broody eyes, like Maud Pie sometimes, do-"
Aiden Pearce politely cut Pinkie Pie off as quickly as he could, clearing his throat for the moment. "That's a very big thank you from me miss, uh. Your name?"
"Pinkamena Diane Pie! Pinkie Pie! Over there we have Twily, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash sitting. Oh! Ooh! You could sit with them? You seem like you could talk to someone, here, let me move you over there!" She shot off excitedly.
Aiden cocked an eyebrow and scooted an inch away. "Now wait a second, Pinkamena I don't think that's- Woah!" He was lifted off his seat in one hoof, his food was in her other hoof, and she just placed him back down in a split second with the group he was supposed to be avoiding.
This was the day he was getting arrested.
"Okie dokie, have fun, bye!!" Pinkie Pie said, bouncing off before he could get a word in. So then, that was that. He'd been stranded next to two ponies who would no doubt have the highest chance of recognizing him, and sending him off to jail, or he'd manage to smooth-talk his way into finding proper work. His only issue with this event was that the plan was moving without him, but one way or another he'd be out of here, and he had nothing to lose.
"So... Does she do this often?" He said, sighing a little bit before taking a bite of the cupcake. Too sweet, even with the tartness from the strawberry slices. There was a chance it only tasted too sweet due to his inconsistent supply of food, and he hoped it would turn bearable after a sip of the milkshake. At least he would be lucky enough to escape the headaches sugar gave him when he was older.
Regrettably, he had the same problem with the milkshake.
"Uh, Nah. Pinks doesn't really get- well, okay she does but she doesn't usually get all touchy like that. Usually, it's just a surprise party that we all get crammed into." Rainbow started casually. She looked bored and squirmed a little in her seat. "So what's with the get-up? You look like a broke wizard, I mean come on, no big pointy hat? I thought that was standard wizard stuff! Back me up on this girls."
"I... I think that's a bit rude, Rainbow." Twilight said quietly, briefly glancing over at Aiden. He took another bite of the cupcake without much fuss, as it had begun to taste slightly less sweet, more palatable, more flavorful. To his right sat Twilight Sparkle, and right in front of him was the local speed demon and weather pony, Rainbow Dash, and next to her was Applejack. "But... You do look almost like a druid." Twilight continued.
"I woulda said bandit." Applejack cut in, giving a few indiscrete glances his way. For a brief moment he'd made eye contact with her, and he could've sworn he saw a familiar fire in those eyes, but it was gone just as quick. "...But you don't even look fit enough to throw a punch." Applejack finished in a softer tone.
He'd glanced at himself a little more closely, and the others did too. Beneath the freshly fluffed fur were the outlines of his ribs, and while he was fortunately not entirely emaciated and rawboned, it didn't mean that his haggard and matchstick form was healthy. He took another sip of his milkshake as he played with the fabric, trying to get it to drape down just a little bit more. Weakness was something he couldn't show. It simply wasn't something he did.
Aiden cleared his throat with a short cough. It would seem that he'd be the one carrying the conversation for the moment. "If that's all, then I'm sorry to have interrupted your conversation. I'll just be going if you'll let me move miss...?"
Twilight perked up a bit before speaking, starting to begin a shuffle out of the booth. "Oh, of course! My name is Tw-" "Y'a can call her Twilight Sparkle." Applejack interrupted abruptly. It earned her a stare from everyone else in the booth. From Aiden, all it got was the faintest frown. Twilight on the other hand seemed confused, and just a bit annoyed. "Ah'll explain later. Twi. And you can call me Apple Jack, and to my left here, you can call her Rainbow Dash." The southern pony said, gesturing to them all in order as she mentioned them.
"So, what has ya visiting?" Applejack asked, taking reign of the conversation as she seemed to lean forward slightly, taking a sip of previously unseen juice. Twilight however, decided to stay quiet on an unvoiced request by Applejack, and Rainbow Dash...
Well, Rainbow Dash just kept stuffing cookies in her face. High speed flight required lots of energy, as it would seem.
"I'm looking for something. That's all." With a single sentence, he had set the bait. Now all he waited was for somepony to take it.
"Like what?" Asked Twilight Sparkle. She was quicker on the draw than Apple Jack this time, who seemed to be quietly seething at her suddenly retaking her conversation. "This wouldn't happen to involve anything... Magical? Would it?"
She was nervous, that much was certain. Pausing, he finished off one cupcake, and took another sip of the milkshake. The flavors seemed more balanced this time around. "Don't know." Aiden deflected. "I thought there would be something for me here, but there isn't. Thing's are more different than I had expected."
"Yeah, ah'll bet. So, how long are ya staying here? You got more company?" Interrupted Applejack. In response, Aiden shifted his neck gaiter around and withdrew a series of bits. His last-minute change had allowed for a makeshift hidden wallet, and having a hidden stash was something he particularly enjoyed. He deposited six bits.
He gestured to the golden currency, and asked. "I don't know these lands, and unless six of these is enough to travel, I'm staying until its time to go."
"Fourteen, yer fourteen bits short. At least if you go one way by train." Applejack mused, staring at the coinage in thought. "I'll loan you them if it means you get out of town quicker."
Twilight raised herself from her spot in the booth. "Applejack?! I understand you don't trust him on account of what happened at the market but-" "That ain't it Twi. Listen, I get your kind are used to making deals. If I deal you in on some work, will you take thirty bits as payment and leave? Whatever you're good at, I just want you gone. It's nothin' personal."
The table went quiet as Aiden Pearce stuffed the last cupcake in his mouth, and promptly finished his milkshake in less time than one would think possible for a starved man with a small stomach. Six bits. Thirty-six if the work is done. Thirty-one if he spent five bits for food and didn't ration out his jam jars. Things would go in his favor here. He'd already decided his choice.
With a simulated look, Aiden pretended to mull it over. "We can meet here again tomorrow. I'll do your jobs, and I'll get thirty bits for everything one I do. In exchange, I use that money to leave. Is that all?"
"That's right." Applejack said quietly. The conversation reached a dip as Twilight sat there, processing everything that had been said while Rainbow Dash had only just now tuned back into the conversation, taking a massive gulp of a tall glass of orange juice.
"If that's all, Twilight, may I please leave? You're in the way."
Twilight snapped to attention and shuffled out of the booth. "R-Right! Of course. Erm. If you don't mind, would you please stop by the library before you go? I believe I can help you with learning about the land" She glanced back to see Applejack glaring at her with a look that could cut straight through steel "after tomorrow of course!" She tacked on hastily.
Aiden Pearce gave a relatively disinterested nod, took his dishes with them, left them at the front counter, deposited a single bit as a tip, and left.