It turns out that alcohol, Pokemon, and poor decisions don't mix.
Well, it appears that me and a bunch of people with varying degrees of friendship with yours truly have been --somehow-- teleported to the one place I never thought I'd see.
Or maybe we were trans-mutated. Transmogrified?
Never mind.
Now, I've got to find the other five people that had to have been thrown in here as well, all the while having to relearn even the most basic bodily functions and commands.
Fun.
Oh, and did I tell you the best part?
We're all Pokémon. Yep, as if being tossed on your rear into an alien world as a strange creature wasn't enough, now we've got to deal with the fact that no one in Equestria knows what the heck we are.
Woken from a violent and particularly unpleasant dream, I forced open an eye, causing me to wince and adjust to the brightness levels. As I waited for the brightness to turn down, I realized that my vivid dream was already fading from memory.
When the light finally died down, I was presented with trees. Trees and fallen leaves, yellow and orange and red amongst the occasional stain of brown from the earth. Strangely, I appeared to be located in a somewhat elevated position, as everything seemed awfully far away.
Where in the hell was I? Last I checked, I didn't live anywhere near a forest.
I tried to sit up, but my muscles didn't seem to be responding correctly at all. My entire body felt... not quite numb, but similar: I couldn't tell where anything was located.
I felt heavy. Heavy and sore. The splitting headache that coursed through my head did nothing to help me get a proper grasp of what kind of situation I was in, either.
I closed my eye, allowing the darkness to envelop me once more. I tried to think of why I was lying outside, dead to the world.
No ideas came. Only fleeting images, most of them strangely reminiscent from my dreams.
Mentally exhausted, I opened my eye again and took in a more detailed observation of my surroundings.
I was most definitely located above a forest: a deciduous one, to be exact, full of trees of all shapes, sizes, and colours. I tried to use an arm to feel around, but I felt only the phantom sensation of where my arm should be. Still under the effects of whatever it was that gave me a splitting headache, I suppose.
Wait a second...
Memory loss, lack of feeling, pounding headache...
Am I hung-over?
It certainly made a lot of sense. I must've been at a party or something, got wasted, and then someone pulled a trick on me, dumping me near a forest. But who was I drinking with?
I sighed. Or at least, I tried to. I couldn't feel my chest or my mouth. I had a momentary panic attack when I couldn't tell if I was breathing or not, but that quickly faded away when I realized that I was obviously still breathing, considering I was alive and conscious.
No matter how long or hard I concentrated, I couldn't remember anything that had transpired. Everything seemed to be covered in a thick layer of static: the most I could pull were abstract feelings and sensations.
I kept trying to move, and kept failing miserably at accomplishing even that. Only my eye seemed to work. I didn't even know which eye it was; whichever one was facing up, I supposed.
If I was even facing up. Directions are hard to tell when you can't feel your body.
I'm not sure how long I laid there, doing nothing but mulling over why I was in this situation. Eventually, the telltale pitter-patter of rain started falling from the sky. That meant my ears were still working.
Great, I realized not long after. Now I have to worry about hypothermia.
That thought set me off on a different line of thinking. What if I was paralyzed?
If I could feel my back, I'm sure I would've felt chills go down my spine.
Thankfully, my panic turned to relief when I heard the clip-clop of a horse nearby. A horse in a forest meant it was domestic, a domestic horse meant it had a rider, and a rider was a person! They could help me!
I wanted to do something, anything to signal that I was alive and in need of assistance, but all I could do was scan my eye across the expanse of the forest. It was the closest thing I could manage that was close to pacing back and forth, which is what I always did when I was nervous.
I waited. And waited. And waited.
The clip-clop sound gradually increased, and I mean gradually increased. An hourglass would've emptied itself in the time it took for the clopping to become just a single decibel louder.
What the hell? Did my ears suddenly get better?
It didn't make any sense, but that was the only explanation I could think of. Either that, or my perception of time had changed dramatically.
When the sound of hooves became a crashing thunder in my head, amplifying my headache to almost unbearable levels of pain, I felt myself grow unspeakably, unreasonably angry.
Angry at not being able to move. Annoyance at the horse and rider for taking too damn long. Rage at the world in general.
My limited perception view of the world became tinged with red.
I let out my unbridled wrath in a soundless scream.
And then I felt myself move.
Not very much, mind you: just enough to fall off the edge of whatever it was I happened to be balanced on.
My anger turned to stunned surprise when I felt the air around me start to move, then my surprise turned to fear as I realized that I was falling, hard and fast.
I caught one glimpse of the cold, hard ground before impact, then everything went black.
Strangely, I could hear that rhythmic cantering inside my skull change in pace. I cautiously and carefully opened the one eye I had control over once more.
I was on the forest floor, in a crater of displaced leaves and dirt.
How did I survive that? I should been broken and crippled by that fall, if I wasn't already. Was it only because of my assumed paralysis that I didn't feel anything? Were shards of bone punching through my body right this instant, and I just couldn't feel them?
I felt like vomiting, but I couldn't. I just laid there.
Laid there and waited.
The pounding off hooves inside my mental walls started to lessen. They gradually decreased until they stopped entirely.
"What the hay are you?"
The voice --a female voice-- sounded both surprised and curious. Wait, what did she mean, 'What am I'? Was I so horribly disfigured that I was now unrecognizable as a human being?!
"I've never seen something like you before," the voice continued, increasing slightly in volume as the horse adjusted its legs, probably to let the rider off. I frantically scanned the entire breadth of my vision, hoping for a glimpse, one glimpse of whoever was talking to me. I needed to let her know that I was alive, breathing, living--
Wait...
"Oh my," the voice said breathlessly, shocked at something. "You're still moving around after taking a nasty fall like that? We've got to get you checked out..."
Moving?
It took me a second to realize that she probably saw my eye fluttering back and forth. Oh, thank whatever deity decided to lend a hand!
"It's okay, little guy. I've got you," the voice said in a soothing tone. Despite myself, I felt myself relax a little bit from her words.
It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.
I barely noticed as I was picked up by something. What I did notice, however, was a lime green haze coating my vision. I blinked, but it didn't seem to do anything. Confused, I tested the limits of my vision again and saw...
I blinked and looked again, squinting through the film to double check that I hadn't gone insane.
Nope. Still there.
I could only watch from my hovering position in mid-air as the pony that was trotting along and whistling a merry tune smiled at me, noticing that I had seen her.
The pony smiled.
The pony.
What the f--?
"It's okay, little guy," she said affectionately. "You're coming home with me. I'll get you all checked out, and then you can go back to wherever it is you belong."
I frantically tried to speak and squirm. I managed to move something, but I wasn't sure what: my perspective had changed slightly, as I was looking at a different angle. I must've moved my neck or something.
I felt my mind start to go over all sorts of fantastic and improbable situations as to WHY I was in Equestria.
Lucid dream? Possible.
Hallucination? Definitely probable.
Dead?
...
The thought froze me. Was I dead? It seemed a little cliché, but I suppose there could be worse things than dying and getting sent to the loveable world of My Little Pony. I mean, there has to be some reason why the majority of pony fanfictions start off with the main character dying and mysteriously teleporting here, right?
...Right?
All the while I was having my internal monologue, the pony continued at a leisurely pace, not quite walking, not quite running: a trot. I took a few seconds to observe my rescuer.
The unicorn's coat was a soft, forest green, causing her to blend in with about a third of the fallen leaves quite well, while her mane was an almost translucent silver, flowing freely almost down to her forelegs. She had a kind face, the kind you expected to see on nurses and waitresses, but were left more often than not disappointed.
When I started looking around again, trying to get a feel for my surroundings and seeing how far we've traveled, my position shifts again.
This time, though, I figured out how to replicate the effect.
It was like rediscovering an old pair of pants that seemed to fit just right, except it was a part of my body that I had to relearn how to use. Honestly, it didn't feel like I was moving my neck: it felt like I was trying to wiggle my ears or something equally difficult.
With my newfound ability to move my neck once more, I was able to obtain a much greater degree of vision. I could see beneath me, around me, above me, everywhere!
The moment when something of yours is taken away is the moment you want it most, or so the saying goes.
I was so entranced with rediscovering the ability to see that I almost completely ignored the pony when she said, "Here we are!"
I blinked and realized that we were in some sort of log cabin. There was a wood stove in the corner, a couple of strange looking chairs, a table, and a bed. That was the extent of the furniture within the tiny dwelling.
I heard a gentle cooing sound as I felt myself being levitated further away from the pony that I now felt desperately close to, being the only other living soul that I had seen so far. I started to flail my head around, trying in vain to see where she was placing me.
It was only after I felt myself sink into a substance did I realize that the pony placed me in a bed. Her bed, as there were no others.
"There-there, little one," she whispered gently as she slowly walked forward, her hooves clonking on the hardwood floor. "You just need to rest for now. Morning Dew will take care of everything. Just rest..."
I tried desperately to stay conscious. I really did, but either I was terribly exhausted from all the recent happenings, or she put some sort of spell on me to ease me into the void.
"No," I grumbled, wishing that my roommate would leave me alone. Ryder was generally good company. That is, until he wanted you to do something. "I told you once, and I'll tell you again...
"...No."
"For crying out loud," complained Ryder as he went over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. "We haven't done anything in forever. When was the last time you even left the house?"
I stared stone-faced into my bowl of Raisin Bran. "I don't remember," I mumbled through a mouthful of cereal. "But I am not, I repeat, am not going to play a goddamn children's game with you and your other friends!"
Ryder shook his head and sat down at the opposite end of the four-man table. "Says the guy who watches a show for little girls," he murmured under his breath right before he took a sip.
"What was that?!"
"Nothing."
I glared at him for a little while before continuing to shove spoonful after spoonful of cereal into my mouth. It was almost noon already, and I was just having my breakfast. Honestly, that's earlier than I normally get up. In fact, the only reason why I was up at this hour was from being pestered by my roommate.
Ryder glared back, his eyes shining with a repressed smile as he drank his disgustingly plain coffee.
He takes his coffee black. Horrendous. Despicable. I can't stand anything other than three cream and three sugars in mine, and he drinks his as soon as it comes out of the goddamn pot.
Gross.
Ryder grabbed the newspaper that was always on our table, but was never actually read, and pretended to read it. "...Quit being such a prick about it," he finally said, his face hidden behind the moveable printed type.
I catapulted a raisin at him with my spoon. It bounced off the newspaper. You win this battle, but the war is not yet over...
"When was the last time you even played Pokémon, huh?" he continued, my bombardment not dissuading him in the least. "That game was our freakin' childhood, man! It's nostalgic!"
I studiously ignored him and continued munching on my tasteless cereal, the only good part being the occasional burst of sweet.
"Fine," he relented. "Be that way. I suppose I'll just have to tell Cindy that you have other plans..."
That got my attention. Until, that is, I realized what he was doing.
"You're fuckin' with me," I deadpanned, knowing that he was almost certainly lying to get me to go to his stupid Pokémon playthrough party. "There's no way in hell that Cindy is going to your little get-together!"
"Maybe I am messing with you," my roommate replied cryptically as he took another sip of black horror. "But could you live with yourself if I'm not? When would you get another opportunity like this?"
You dirty motherf--
"Fine," I sighed, throwing my hands up in defeat. "If your hot co-worker is attending, then I'll go too."
"Sweet! I knew that you'd--" he began, but I cut him off with a raised hand.
"But if I find out that it's a sausage fest..." I stated.
"Then there's going to be hell to pay, Ryder.
"Hell. To Pay."
My roommate gulped. "D-Don't worry about it, bro. I got it under control."
"You'd better, or you shall regret the day you came into this world."
My threats were baseless; I wouldn't actually do anything to make him regret ever being alive. Ryder and I had been friends since elementary school.
Still, that doesn't mean that I can't pressure him every now and again, right?
With my evening and early morning now planned, I went back to eating and began planning what I was going to say to Cindy.
"Really?" I asked as we walked along a dirty sidewalk. We were fast approaching Ryder's friend Seth's dingy apartment. "This is the place? I thought that this whole block was condemned a couple of years ago."
"Trust me; it's a lot nicer on the inside."
"I'll be the judge of that."
A couple of minutes and a knock on the door later, I found myself entering the not-so-humble abode of Seth.
First off, it was a lot nicer on the inside. The dark purple carpet was soft and plush, what little wall that wasn't covered by a poster was a nice, light blue, and the entire apartment seemed spotless. Suspiciously so.
It also smelled faintly of Chinese food.
Hah! I knew that there was no way that anyone was that studious of a cleaner!
Seth didn't strike me as a fanatical and overzealous housekeeper.
"So?" asked the man of the house. "Whaddaya think? I clean up nicely, don't I?"
I had to struggle to keep myself from laughing. Seth was a slightly overweight, twenty-something that worked out of his home selling stuff on the Internet. He was wearing a pair of track pants several sizes too large --he kept having to pull his pants up-- along with a white button shirt, complete with stereotypical pocket protector. His socks had dinosaurs on them.
It took me a few seconds to realize that when he said, 'I clean up nicely', he meant his home.
"Oh, uhh, yeah. Looks spotless. I wish I had your neat-freak attitude sometimes," I said uncomfortably, trying to make conversation with someone I've only heard about. "My everything is a mess."
Seth laughed, a sound that was eerily reminiscent to a mall Santa's hearty chuckle. He put a meaty arm around my neck and predicted as he wipes a tear from his eye, "I think you and I are going to get along just fine."
Great. Haven't even been here for a minute, and we're already best buds. Fantastic.
I tried to spot Ryder, but it appeared that he'd disappeared for the moment.
"So," I said as casually as I could manage while I stepped out from under Seth's friendly arm, "what's the setup for tonight?"
"Why don't you take a look?" he replied with a smile as he motioned for me to step into what I presumed to be the living room.
I nearly dropped the fragile bag full of liquor bottles that I was carrying in shock. If I smoked and happened to be smoking at that point in time, I'm sure the cigarette would've fallen out of my gaping mouth.
Six top-of-the-line computers, all working and turned on, were humming quietly on a large, mahogany table. In front of each computer was a leather gaming chair, complete with swivel and all.
I gravitated a little bit closer and noticed even more stuff. Lying on the center of the table was a literal pile of junk food.
Chips, pop, candy, chocolate... you name it, it was there. My mouth began watering just looking at the plethora of food that would end up giving me diabetes if I somehow managed to eat it all.
"Holy. Shit."
At this point, I didn't even care if Cindy showed up. It would've been a nice bonus, but I had all the love I needed right there.
Upon seeing my expression, Seth laughed again. "It's not the best setup," he said modestly, "but it should do for tonight."
"'Not the best'?" I parroted, completely sure that he was bluffing.
After Seth nodded, I asked "How in the hell did you manage to pay for all this computer stuff?" while still staring at the gently humming, black computers.
I don't have an electronic fetish, but damn are those data processing machines sexy.
"I run an online computer store," explained Seth. "I think it's only fair that I get to... test some of the merchandise before shipping it off."
Fair enough.
I heard a flush come from down the hall, followed immediately by running water. A few seconds later, I heard the squeak of hinges as a door opened, then soft footsteps.
"Ryder," I began without turning around, as I already knew that it was him. "Come check this out."
"Hmm? What's got you--"
The abruptly sudden ceasing of his words told me that he wasn't aware of how ridiculously awesome this night was going to be.
"..."
Yeah.
"...Oh my," Ryder finally said. I shared his sentiment. "Seth, you didn't tell me that you upgraded..."
"I wanted it to be a surprise," admitted Seth as he shrugged his large shoulders, "and I wanted it to be as nice as possible, seeing as how we have some... lady friends coming over as well."
I raised an eyebrow at Ryder. "Right?" was all I asked.
"Yep," he replied confidently, all traces of his former apprehension gone. "In fact, they should be here any min--"
Ding-dong.
"--ute. Oh shit, they're here already?!" Ryder finished. The confidence in his voice disappeared as quickly as it had appeared in the first place.
I stepped aside as Ryder sprinted towards the door, only pausing to make sure his hair was fully cooperating and that his shirt was wrinkle free. I couldn't help but crack a smile at seeing my friend so flustered. He never was the best around chicks.
I decided to avert my eyes from the potential train wreck, and concerned myself with unloading the alcohol.
"S'alright if I use your fridge?" I asked the big man beside me, shaking the bag of booze for good measure. "There's nothing worse than a warm beer."
"Go ahead," Seth replied nervously. "I'm going to go..." he trailed off, watching the front door intently. "...Do something else. Be right back. Tell everyone to make themselves at home."
I shook my head as Seth trundled down the hallway. Bunch of amateurs. Hopefully some alcohol would help them relax.
I never had problems with understanding women. Ever since middle school, I just seemed to grasp how the inner machinations of the female mind worked. I should probably write a book or something: guys would line the streets to know what I know.
But then again, I like being the suave smooth-talker. If every male knew what I knew, then I would simply be just another unemployed guy.
Yeah, on second thought, I'll keep my understanding to myself.
As I began stocking the relatively empty fridge with all sorts of things to keep us plastered throughout the night, I heard the front door open and a flustered Ryder fumble over his prepared speech. Thankfully, I heard a giggle or two, meaning that he hadn't managed to scare Cindy off.
I busied myself for a few more seconds while I waited for Ryder to finish making a fool of himself. After I heard the door shut and Ryder make his excuses as to why he needed to start setting up the computers, I stepped around the kitchen corner while cracking open a can of beer. Just as I was about to say my perfect, pre-thought speech, I stopped dead in my tracks for two reasons.
One, Cindy looked drop-dead gorgeous, and I was awestruck almost every time I saw her. Right then and there, she was wearing tight, black yoga pants and nothing but a thin long-sleeve shirt overtop her perfectly sized breasts that were contained --just barely-- underneath a T-shirt.
Two, because my overly-attached girlfriend grabbed me in a vice-like bear hug and started squeezing the life out of me like an old toothpaste container.
Perhaps I should clarify.
I didn't think of her as my girlfriend anymore, but she did. I'm sure you can imagine just how fun that is.
I thought that Miranda, my ex, was perfect: she was kind, funny, and sexy. One day, however, I found out that she had ideas regarding the... bedroom part of our relationship that were...
...Rather uncomfortable for me.
I don't want to talk about it.
Long story short, I told her that we should probably see other people. She chose not to hear that, so I was forced into hiding. Luckily, she didn't know where I lived. Unluckily, I had to change my freakin' phone number: she wouldn't stop calling me.
Now, almost two weeks later, seeing as how both Miranda and Cindy came here together, I could only presume that they were good friends at the very least. Which, in turn, made my original purpose in going there that much more difficult.
"I'm so glad to see you, honey bunch!" she murmured into my ear as she rested her head on my shoulder, standing on her tip-toes to do so. "You must've changed your phone number or something, because I've called you so many times..."
"Uh," I replied, painfully aware that Cindy was watching Miranda cling to me like I was some sort of stand-in for an Axe commercial. "Y-Yeah. D-Didn't I tell you?"
"Mmm-mm," she mumbled.
"Oh! Well, that was really stupid of me, wasn't it?" I said, trying to find a way to weasel myself out of this situation.
My chance came a lot sooner than I expected.
"Where's the little girl's room, sweetie? I need to freshen up," said Miranda, interrupting my mental shutdown sequence.
"Down the hall, first door on your right, I think," I replied mechanically, briefly remembering the direction of sounds back when I first called Ryder over to look at the computer arrangement.
"Be right back~" she said in a sing-song voice after lightly tapping me on the nose. Her hips rolled seductively as she strode down the hallway.
I had to literally force myself not to whine like a dog being kept from his favourite toy. Miranda had just reminded me of all the reasons why we were together in the first place.
"I didn't know that you and Miranda were a couple! You two look so cute together!"
I grimaced inwardly. That was NOT what I had wanted to hear.
Reluctantly, I turned around and faced Cindy properly, forcing myself to keep my composure. "Yeah. To be completely honest, neither did I," I said with an exhausted sigh finishing off my sentence. I looked down at the beer in my hand.
I was going to need something with a little more kick than that.
"You want a drink?" I asked as I opened up the freezer.
She eyed my beer. "Have anything stronger?"
I whimpered inwardly. This just wasn't fair...
"Yeah." I pulled out a bottle of ice-cold vodka from the freezer and a couple cans of the latest energy drink. "Booster Shots sound good?"
"Like you wouldn't believe," Cindy replied.
I grabbed two shot glasses that were conveniently placed nearby. Before I could even start pouring the bottle of crystal clear alcohol however, there was a brief knock pattern at the door.
Knock-knock knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock.
Upon my realization that I had just heard the knocking equivalent of 'Shave and a Haircut', the door opened and a familiar man sporting a buzz cut backed into the apartment, his arms full of pizza boxes.
"Sorry I'm late," he half wheezed, half called as he attempted to close the door with his foot, nearly falling over in the process. "Facade's Pizza was just a tad further than I remember it being," he continued, "and as I was walking along, minding my own business, I caught a glimpse of these two, smokin' hot--"
The nearly bald man halts mid-sentence, his mouth slightly open as he turned around full circle and noticed both Cindy and I.
Still in mid-pour, I raised an eyebrow.
"--Hot... hotdogs! Yes, I caught a glimpse of two smoking hot hotdogs on one of those hotdog carts. You know, the conveyor belt type?" he finished, putting on the cheesiest (no pun intended) smile that I'd ever seen.
I had to give Caleb credit: he could make up a story on the fly.
Caleb and Ryder had been good friends for years, almost as long as Ryder and I had been friends. I'm pretty sure I had pissed him off a couple of years ago, and I can't remember why...
Oh yeah. I stole his girlfriend. What can I say? I have a way.
Well, honestly, she stole me, but it's not like he'd be able to tell the difference.
Hoping to start off the night with a positive note, I asked him, "Up for a vodka-energy drink shot?"
"Sure, I'll take a Booster," he replied evenly. I grunted. Neutrality was better than dyslogistic comments any day of the week. With a nodded affirmation, I reached for another glass.
"You'd better get me one too!" Miranda called out before she clambered onto my back, crossing her legs across my chest and cinching her arms around my neck. "I love Red Stag!"
This was one of the few times that I resented the fact that Miranda took gymnastics.
"Might as well make one for everybody..." I grumbled as I added three more glasses to the shot line.
When I had filled each and every glass with equal amounts of liquid energy and liquid courage, I turned to see everyone present and accounted for, even Ryder and Seth.
Without a signal, all of us grabbed a glass and clinked them together in one uniform motion.
"To Pokémon!" they chanted before slamming the drinks back.
"To Pokémon," I said quietly before downing the concoction in one gulp.
I hope that I won't regret this decision, but I've a sneaking suspicion that I already have...
I woke up completely alert. It was one of weirdest sensations that I've ever felt: one moment, I was drifting in a sea of endless black, and the next, I was wide awake and ready for whatever the world threw at me.
I knew exactly where I was --a small cottage within a forest, located in the previously-fictional world of ponies.
I remembered the previous night --two nights ago rather, if my internal clock wasn't in need of a tune-up.
And last but not least, I understood what had happened, at least to some extent...
I was, for whatever reason, one of the many creatures that were colloquially dubbed 'Pokemon'.
For some reason, the knowledge that I was in one of the many creatures that had shaped my childhood didn't give me joy, nor did it make me angry. It simply was.
That train of thought make me somewhat nervous, of all things. I wasn't used to feeling so... detached from something as important as having my body broken and melded into another form, turning into a goddamn Pokemon!
Oh. That explains it: I'm in shock.
...
Perfect.
Okay, calm down; everything will sort itself out eventually. I just need to relax, take a chill-pill, and think about this.
But--!
Think!
I decided to take my own advice and just lay quietly while thinking.
Okay, I thought. Since I'm here in Equestria --if this is Equestria-- and I'm now a Pokemon --if I'm actually a Pokemon; I haven't checked yet-- then that means Cindy, Miranda, Ryder, Seth, and Caleb were here too --if they were even transported to Equestria; I don't know if they went to another fandom world-- and that means that the sooner I find everybody, the faster we can all figure out a way out of this mess.
After re-thinking and mulling over what I just thought, I came to the conclusion that I must still be in shock, at least mildly, to even consider any of that without thinking about how I got here in the first place.
Discord was the first thing that came to mind. I dismissed that with being too easy and convenient. Blame the god of chaos, he'd probably say. He certainly has nothing better to do than mess with a bunch of humans.
Plus, he had been 'converted' (I use the term loosely; he's the god of chaos for a reason, y'know) in a fairly recent episode. While I wasn't anywhere near certain that this was a current, up-to-date version of the ponyverse, I had to give the benefit of the doubt.
Trollestia came next, and let me tell you, the idea that she was behind this scared me a hell of a lot more than Discord. I didn't even like her when she came up in stories: I figured it would be absolutely terrifying to even meet her in person. Err, pony. Meet her in pony.
With two of the usual suspects down, I was forced to consider the third option: the Universe itself did this.
Now, when I say Universe, I mean the entire fabric of space, time, reality, and Pinkie Pie. It was plausible, if somewhat confusing, that the Universe wanted to have a little fun with us by dumping our sorry asses in Equestria masquerading as Pokemon.
Eh. I've read stranger things happen. Maybe we're just pieces in a board game. Checkers Game of the Gods, and whatnot.
With my... our patron(s) possibly figured out, I decided to indulge in a little bit of curiosity.
Which Pokemon did I get turned in to?
The question was easier asked than answered. My perspective was much smaller than usual, and I was obviously small enough for a pony to consider me a non-threat. The revelation saddened me a little bit: I was hoping to be something massive, something strong, something that nobody and nopony would want to fuck with.
I viciously looked around. I'm not sure how you viciously look around, but I did.
I stretched and strained, but I couldn't see a single inch of my new body. Agitated, I tried to flex another muscle, like I had with my neck, but to no avail. I still felt completely numb from the neck down, and flexing and wiggling my phantom limbs didn't do anything productive.
It felt kind of funny, though. Kind of like having your arm or leg replaced with a wet noodle.
Disturbing mental image aside, I couldn't see what I was, so I had to solve my conundrum via the process of elimination.
Sight? Check. Possibly singular eye, although there may be more that I'm unable to currently see out of.
Hearing? Double check. Amplified to work at a much higher level than normal.
Taste? Nope. Can't taste anything, can't feel my teeth. Do I even have a mouth? Hopefully: I like eating.
Smell? Negative. Haven't smelt a thing since opening that last can of Pringles.
Touch? Somewhat. While it's not really touch per se, I can feel the textures of things that my body seems to be in contact with, albeit weakly.
So what the hell am I, then? I'm pretty sure I don't need to breathe to continue on living anymore, which must make me some sort of... rock-type perhaps? Do rock-types breathe?
Y'see, these are the kind of questions I wished they answered on the show.
Before I could wonder any more regarding the status of myself, I heard the door open with a resounding creak, followed by a few hoofsteps, then an even louder squeak as the door was closed behind the pony.
I tried to look, but my vision was firmly locked to the headboard of the bed and the dark wood behind it that made up the cabin wall. It was starting to get really annoying, not being able to look where I wanted. I briefly thought that this was how a Metapod must feel, the poor green cocoon.
Oh god, I'M not one of those, am I?!
Frantically, I used every last vestige of strength at my disposal to try only one thing. Something so simple, yet it had been out of my reach since waking up here.
Move.
A small part of me that was still concentrating on the outside world noticed the smiling face of my rescuer enter my line of vision.
Move.
She began speaking. "I see you're up already, little guy. I couldn't find anything anywhere about what you were, so I had to visit a good friend of mine."
Ignore her for now, I told myself. Move.
"He wasn't able to come, but I'm pretty sure that I know how we can get you feeling better now."
MOVE.
I felt something give away. Something that I'd been holding onto ever since waking up in this world, numb and alone.
A memory; anamnesis of my old life, old habits, old functions. But I wasn't myself anymore. I was something else.
With an epiphany coursing through my mind, I learned how to move again. It wasn't a physical movement, nor entirely mental. I simply had to concentrate, to use my willpower to make myself move.
Slowly, I began to rise. The headboard slowly disappeared from my vision to be replaced entirely by the small, interlocking, dark-brown logs that had been used to create the cottage. Next, I made myself turn as ponderously as I could, not wanting to make a mistake. Crashing and burning at this stage would be a real kick in the...
Uh...
Damnit.
Anyway, I drifted lazily around until I was nearly eye-to-muzzle with the pony. She didn't look like she had moved during my entire movement process, and her eyes were wide with wonder and amazement.
"I... I didn't know that you could fly, little guy," she said, laughing nervously. "I wish I had known that earlier. You aren't the lightest... creature that I've had to carry."
Fly? I'm flying?!
The next thing I did was absolutely, completely, and utterly stupid.
I looked down in amazement. Bad idea.
I fell, quickly and straight down into the wooden floor. I must've drifted away from the bed and over the floor. I didn't feel anything from the impact, but I'm pretty sure I made quite the indent. It took me a few seconds to force myself to rise again. It took even more effort the second time, which was obviously going to be problematic if I was going to be getting around in an effective matter.
"Are... are you okay?" asked the pony. I briefly pondered if the pony had told me her name, and it came to me in a flash.
Morning Dew. That was her name.
Wobbling unsteadily a few feet in the air, I found Morning Dew's face and moved my neck up and down in an approximation of a nod. Not entirely true, but I'd rather not have her worrying about me if I can help it.
"You can understand me, little guy?" the unicorn asked, as a flash of confusion scrolled across her face, making her already wide cobalt-coloured eyes even wider.
I nodded again. It felt really strange, having my entire line-of-sight rock back and forth from a simple nod. Was my entire head made up of only one eye? What Pokemon has that feature?!
"Can... can you speak? Talk?"
I hadn't actually considered that. I'm pretty sure that I don't have a mouth, but what's the harm in trying, right?
Almost without thinking about it, I started to give off a strange hum, not dissimilar to an old, dying computer's last splutters before it bit the dust. The sound didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular; it seemed to come from everywhere around me at once.
When all was said and done, I shook my head.
"That's... strange," Morning Dew finally managed to say after a lengthy silence. "I guess that means that you don't need my help, do you? You seem to be all up and running now.
"The only question that's left is...
"What are you?"
I went over every important detail that I could think of in my head. I don't breathe, I have no limbs and one eye, improved hearing, I can fly --or at least, hover-- and I can take a serious beating.
Of all the six-hundred plus Pokemon that I could've turned into, why a Beldum? I mean, what else could I be? A Duskull maybe? A Magnemite perhaps? Based on everything I learned about weight though, Beldum was the most obvious choice.
Of course, I'm not complaining: Beldum were absolutely terrible before they evolved, but when they did... you'd better watch out, because a flying freakin' TANK would be up in your business before you could stop it. And since I was a Beldum, that meant --by logical progression-- I would become a...
Mother.
Fucking.
Metagross.
I pondered those thoughts for a while, imagining myself stroking my chin with a thoughtful expression while I did so. I wasn't actually sure if I could evolve, since the television show had been pretty adamant that it required two Beldum to meld into a Metang, and two Metang to create the psychic tank that was Metagross. Then again, videogames didn't follow that logic, so whether or not I could evolve was anyone's guess.
Heck, maybe being in Equestria made it so I can't evolve at all.
I feel that I could've --and would've-- contemplated the aftermath and backlash of coming to Equestria for much longer had Morning Dew not interrupted my train of thought.
"Come on, little guy. Let's go."
Go? Where were we going?
I tried to communicate my confusion by tilting my head and blinking. I'm not sure how well that translated.
Either I was a master at Pokemon charades or Morning Dew was simply able to anticipate my question.
"We're going to see my friend. He should be able to tell me what you are and where you belong," said Morning Dew.
I mentally shrugged. I doubt that this friend could really tell me anything useful that I didn't already know. I knew that Beldum lived in the mountains and ate minerals and metals, but which types of mountains and which types of minerals and metals?
At least, I reasoned, I didn't have any natural predators. I didn't think that a two-hundred pound, two foot long hunk of metal tasted very good.
I concentrated a little bit more, and found myself hovering at eye-level once more. Morning Dew trotted over to the door and ushered me out, closing it behind her. I was finally getting used to hovering around: it was like having to relearn a vital body function, like breathing, all over again. Once you got it the first time, your body just kinda did it on auto-pilot after that.
The unicorn pony kept up a brisk trot, one that I was easily capable of keeping pace with. Let me tell you, flying is a hell of a lot easier than walking, that's for sure. Within five minutes of traveling time, I was doing barrel rolls and loop-de-loops in my new form.
I ended up crashing into the ground more than half the times I tried, but that wasn't the point.
After only half an hour of flying, I began to hear a lot more sounds than the simple clip-clop of Morning Dew's hooves hitting the hard-packed ground. I heard the steady, rhythmic pounding of metal-on-metal in the form of a blacksmith, the turbulent splashing of a raging river, and above all, the sounds of many ponies talking, laughing, and living.
Now I just had to wait for when we actually got there. Honestly, I wasn't too happy with my vastly improved hearing: sure, it was useful, but it made telling any form of distance nigh-impossible.
Morning Dew didn't talk to me before we got there, not that I blame her. One-sided conversations are never pleasant.
When we finally arrived at the small village, the noise of the blacksmith was almost deafening. I could barely hear myself think, let alone listen to what the ponies were saying. I was on the receiving end of strange glances, but those quickly disappeared when the ponies seemed to realize that I was with Morning Dew. She seemed to be well-known and respected: ponies of all shapes and sizes chatted with her. It made me wish that I could hear what was being said.
Morning Dew spoke with one pony, a yellow earth pony with an orange mane, for longer than the others. I had the feeling that she was asking something, and by the downcast look on her face, I figured that the answer was no.
Man, having hearing like this sucks. I can't even think with all this freakin' noise! Maybe that's just part of being a Beldum...
...Now that I think about it, that might be the reason why Beldum are so rare in the wild: they hate noise, and the people that make them. I can certainly relate.
The unicorn led me to a house that was slightly larger than the others and decorated much more fancifully, yet still made from the same dark logs as Morning Dew's hut. As soon as the door was shut behind us, I felt an immediate relief when the infernal racket the town was making ceased abruptly. I wasn't sure how the house was soundproofed that well. Magic perhaps?
Anyway, we ended up waiting in that house for quite a while for Morning Dew's 'friend' to show up. I was certainly startled when the door was thrown open and a tall, gangly unicorn wearing some really freaky voodoo-type stuff barged in like he owned the place.
He did own the place, but that's beside the point.
"Second Sight!" cried Morning Dew from her position in one of the room's chairs. I have no idea how they manage to sit in them: they look about as comfortable as a piece of abstract sculpture art.
"Hello, Ms. Dew," the newcomer, Second Sight, replied as evenly as he could manage while out of breath. "I believe that discerning what your little mysterious creature here actually is..."
He pointed a hoof in my direction.
"...Will have to wait."
"What? Why?"
Second Sight took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, the necklace of tiny, carved skulls that he wore began to rotate and hum with a strange frequency. The creepiest part was when the tiny eye sockets of each skull began to glow a deep, pure blue; the same colour as his coat.
"There is a very angry spirit in a nearby cave, one that has resisted all of my attempts to put it to rest," he stated matter-of-factly as the necklace stopped doing whatever it was that it was doing. "The strangest part is that it doesn't seem malevolent; only confused. I would leave this powerful spirit alone if it wasn't so close to the village."
I just hit a freakin' gold mine of information from this scraggly-looking pony. Not only did Equestria have spirits and the like, but he was some sort of shaman, one that got rid of the things that go bump in the night.
That wasn't even mentioning the fact that this 'confused' spirit could quite possibly be somebody else that was lucky --or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it-- enough to turn into a Ghost-type Pokemon.
If I had a mouth, I would've grinned at picking up the first signs of a trail.
I was eager to head off, but Morning Dew insisted that I stay right where I was.
"No, little guy," she said softly, yet firmly when I tried to follow her out the door. "Second Sight and I are just going to deal with a little problem, and then we'll be back to find out your origins."
I tried to squeeze my way out the top corner right before the door closed, but all I got for my trouble was a one way trip back inside, courtesy of her magic. "No!" Morning Dew sternly chastised. "Bad, little guy! Stay!"
What, am I a dog now? A floating, two-hundred pound, solid metal dog?
The door closed with a resounding and final click.
Oh, no you did not.
There was no way that I was going to let Morning Dew and Second Sight deal with what could possibly be a friend (or non-friend) that was just as confused as I was, if not more so. I didn't want injured people or ponies on my conscience.
I hovered around, looking for any windows that I could fly out of. Strangely, there weren't any; just the same wooden walls. I bonked my face against the wall a couple of times, and was surprised by the solidity of the house. I ran into it a little harder...
...And bounced off, not even leaving a dent.
What the hell? Did this house serve as a jail cell as well?
Gritting my non-existent teeth, I concentrated until I felt the familiar feeling of complete and utter rage. I had an inkling regarding the random fit of anger, and if I was correct, it would be my ticket out of my prison. I held the feeling of boiling rage until my vision went red, then released it.
I shot towards the wall, straight as an arrow, looking for all the world like some sort of deadly Nerf gun bullet painted bluish grey. The instant that I impacted into the wooden logs, I felt a flash of pain twinge through my otherwise numb body.
Nobody was more surprised than me regarding what happened next.
I was trying to punch a hole through the house, but I didn't mean to cause the entire goddamn wall to turn into woodchips. A cloud of smoke had formed around me, obscuring my vision. I moved my sole opposable limb and found myself to be laying in a pile of the decimated wood. I felt extremely dizzy, and with each passing second, I could feel a very painful ache throbbing throughout my entirety.
Man, using Take Down hurts like hell.
I forced myself into hovering once more, doing so with an almost drunken swagger. I could hear the sounds of ponies slowly coming to investigate the disturbance. I didn't blame them: I would stay away from something that could cause that much damage while being so small.
With some brief concentrating, I rose a couple dozen feet higher into the air, high enough to get out of the smoke cloud. I quickly scanned in all the cardinal directions, looking for Morning Dew and Second Sight. I was only trapped in the house for a couple of minutes, so they couldn't have gone far.
I didn't see them. I looked everywhere, but I couldn't see the two unicorns. I panicked for a little while before I realized that the blacksmith pony had stopped the infernal pounding of metal on metal. I listened as carefully as I could, drowning out the rushing water of the nearby river and the ambient chatter of the confused and frightened ponies below me.
Clip-clop-clip-clop.
Eureka!
...Now, which direction?
As if answering my question, my body pointed in the direction that I knew --for some reason-- was north-west, like I was some sort of compass needle.
...
...Well that's convenient. Maybe I play solitaire too.
With a plan of motion established, I zoomed off towards the ponies, the cave, and possibly one of my fellow humans.
It may have looked like I was drifting lazily through the air towards my quarry, but I was straining as hard as I could to make myself fly faster. I still had a lot to learn in regards to the nuances of control, but for only being in my new body for a day, I was doing pretty damn good.
My head kept throbbing something awful, which was really starting to make me regret demolishing Second Sight's wall. Actually, now that I think about it, that much damage couldn't have been good for the structural integrity of the house...
*Crunch!*
I turned around, and saw that the plume of smoke and dust had only grown in size.
Shit.
Now I REALLY regretted using Take Down: the headache was bad enough, but if that shaman-pony found out what I did... I was probably going to be in a world of hurt and misery.
Focusing past the pain, I followed my internal compass to the north-west until I was floating directly above the jagged mouth of an ominous and awfully dark cave. I could see a couple sets of hoofprints in the soft soil at the mouth of the cavern, presumably Morning Dew and Second Sight's. I couldn't hear anything inside the cave, which I found strange and somewhat foreboding.
I hoped with every carbon fibre --hah!-- of my being that this restless spirit was either Cindy, Seth, Ryder, Caleb, or Miranda.
Hopefully Cindy.
What? A guy can dream.
And if it wasn't one of my fellow humans... boy, was I going to look foolish. And possibly end up dead or possessed.
B-e-a-utiful.
With a determined look in my solitary robotic eye, I began my descent.
The first thing I noticed was the temperature shift: it was significantly cooler inside the cave, which was to be expected, but I was not expecting the cold to be so... oppressive. It felt like I was having the energy sucked out of me.
The second thing I noticed was how freakin' dark it was. I couldn't see five feet in front of me, even though my eyesight had received a boost as well. My vision was so bad that I bonked my cranium on a stalagmite protruding from the ground. Or was it a stalactite?
I guess it doesn't really matter: I ended up flying into both types at one point or another.
The cave was quiet, with the exception of the reverberations I caused from running headlong into every goddamn deposit of calcium carbonate!
Seriously, I was ready to start using Take Down just to clear a path for myself. If it didn't give me a massive ache, I probably would've. I'd fly too high, and I'd hit the stalactites. I'd fly too low, and I'd smack into the stalagmites. Eventually, I decided to just stay put and listen for any signs of the ponies I was following.
Clip... clop. Clip... clop.
It was faint, but I could tell that they were cautious steps. Using every ounce of concentration that I could spare, I very carefully and cautiously waded my way through the maze of cave formations in the vague direction of the hoofstep echoes.
Even though I was concentrating on not bouncing off the rocks like some sort of oblong pinball, I couldn't help but notice a section of the cave that seemed... brighter than the others. Like there was more there. It seemed to be illuminated with a faint glow, and I found myself floating towards it.
When I got closer, I understood why that particular wall stood out to me.
There was a large vein of metal ore running through it. I drifted to both sides, contemplating why I was so drawn to the vein.
And then it hit me.
I was hungry. I --stuck in a robotic body made of metal-- was hungry. It wasn't so much a feeling in my stomach as it was a want, a need. I needed to eat. And that metal certainly looked delicious...
Yeah, I never thought I'd be the one to crave something metallic, either.
The only problem was that I didn't know how to eat. I didn't have a mouth, so how the hell was I supposed to consume... food, I guess? It's food if you eat it, right?
Thankfully, my conundrum was solved for me... when I backed up into the metal-laden cave wall and felt my ass clamp onto it.
Wow, that sounds absolutely disgusting. The sad part was that it was true.
You see, Beldum have three little claws attached to the flat backside of their body. These claws are used to burrow into the sides of mountains when the little robotic life forms go to sleep, draining the nutrients from the rock/soil/minerals that the Beldum is clamped on to while they rest.
I wish I knew that beforehand. I could feel my behind whirring like an old computer's disc drive, and I could hear crumbling noises coming from the damp cave wall behind me. I could tell --somehow-- that the metal ore was actually a vein of pure iron, something that I required to use my hovering powers. I could just imagine the low-battery icon flashing in front of me.
The weirdest part wasn't even that I could taste the iron (it tasted like a combination of medium-rare steak and milk chocolate; weird combo, I know).
No, the strangest --and most embarrassing-- thing was that I didn't know how to stop.
I didn't know how to stop my ass from eating. That has got to be the strangest thing ever.
Of all time.
I wiggled back and forth, but it was no use; my rear had grabbed hold of the wall, and it didn't seem to want to let go. Feeling defeated and dejected by my treacherous behind, I quit my struggling and slumped forward, waiting for my consuming cycle to finish.
Naturally, as soon as I relaxed, my claws abruptly let go, causing me to fall straight down onto the cold, hard, wet, and rocky cavern bottom. I bounced a good foot into the air before coming to a rest on the stone floor.
I blinked in surprise, seeing as how that was the only thing I could do to show astonishment. I felt... heavier than I did before, and more full to boot. I focused briefly, causing my metallic body to hover in the air once more. Even though I felt chunkier, I was able to control my flight better than before.
I guess eating for a Beldum recharges their flying capabilities. Awfully similar to an electronic device, iffen you ask me. Then again, Beldum and their evolutionary families were robotic, so I suppose it makes sense.
Glancing behind me, I saw that there was a neat little hole burrowed a couple inches into the most concentrated part of the vein of iron.
Moving my head side-to-side in a vague imitation of cricking my neck, I listened once more. Beyond the stereotypical drip-drip from the moisture pooling at the ends of the stalactites and falling to the cavern floor, I heard the tell-tale clip-clop of the two ponies.
They sounded a lot closer than before.
With a squint of determination, I flew towards the rhythmic hoofsteps, neatly dodging all the obstacles in my way.
When a short, sharp scream sounded nearby, I dropped all pretences of caution and barrelled through calcium deposits left and right in my haste. There was no way that I was going to let the pony that had practically saved my life face this angry spirit alone --shaman pony notwithstanding.
Crashing through the cave like a bullet, with white rock chips bouncing off of my shielded eye, I finally found the ponies that I was looking for, plus one pissed off looking ghost.
Morning Dew's normally straight mane was sticking straight up in some sort of weird cowlick, and she was currently paralyzed in what I could only assume was fear. Second Sight was doing his skull-necklace-glowing thingy, with all the little miniature skull's eye's glowing a deep, dark blue.
And --of course-- there was a big, black circle with two eyes and a mouth, with purple gases seemingly leaking from the inner circle, causing them to swirl around the outside.
A Gastly. It turned to look at me, and a flash of confusion scrolled across its features.
Before I was able to do anything, a burst of pure blue light emerged from Second Sight and flew straight at the Gastly. Turning in surprise, the big ball of gaseous material took the beam head-on, causing it to fly backwards through a wall, phasing through as if it wasn't even there.
The light around Second Sight died down, revealing several lacerations on the sides of the panting unicorn. Morning Dew still hadn't moved, aside from quivering in fear.
The voodoo pony limped over to Morning Dew, and murmured a few words under his breath. Whatever he said, it worked: Morning Dew unfroze explosively, falling to the ground in a heap of flailing limbs and a short yelp. She recovered with Second Sight's helping hoof.
"Are you alright, Miss Dew?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
"Y-yes," she stammered, swaying to the side until Second Sight braced her with a hoof once more. "I'm f-fine.
"What happened? Where did the spirit go?"
"For one, you are not fine," Second Sight chastised, demonstrating his point by removing his supporting hoof only for Morning Dew to tilt sideways. Stabilizing the poor mare once again, the shaman continued. "For two, you were... licked by the spirit, which is something I have never seen, nor was I aware that they could do that. It seemed to paralyze you."
"For three, I only stunned it: it will be back soon."
So focused was I on the ponies conversation that I failed to notice the cave wall that I was about to float into. I tried to avoid it, but all that managed to do was cause me to hit the wall harder, drawing a surprised gasp from both of the ponies present.
"Little guy!"
"You!"
I'll let you guess who said what.
If I had a mouth (backside notwithstanding), I would've given a cheesy grin, but since I didn't, I resorted to simply doing a little barrel roll at the recognition.
"Why are you... how did you escape, creature of metal and rock?" Second Sight questioned, glaring at me with his dark red eyes. When I didn't respond --not like I could, even if I wanted to (which I didn't)-- he took a step towards me, only to be stopped by Morning Dew.
"Leave him alone!"
Second Sight seemed surprised at the forcefulness of the forest-green unicorn's declaration. "Him?" was all he asked.
"I... I just know," Morning Dew said shyly, as if embarrassed. "I've always had a strong connection with animals, big or small, heavy or light."
Second Sight's frown softened to the neutral mask he seemed to normally wear. "You gained your father's natural ability, it seems," he stated in knowing tone, one that brooked no argument. "That's the only reason why you are able to live alone and not be attacked by every passing Timberwolf or Cockatrice."
Wait, what?
"Wait, what do you mean by that?!"
My thoughts exactly.
Second Sight laughed, which didn't sound creepy at all. Not even a little.
"Nopony else would be able to live on their own in the middle of the Hollow Forest, Morning Dew. The entire village of Hollow Shades relies on strength of numbers and my own... special talents to discourage unfriendly visitors."
When Second Sight said 'special talents' it reminded me that I hadn't even looked at their cutie marks yet! Hovering slightly to the right, I saw that the shaman pony's was of a rather creepy-looking, pitch black eye, while Morning Dew's was a pure white morning glory flower, covered in small dewdrops.
Oh yeah, that's why I didn't look: their freakin' names practically told me what their cutie marks were.
I was starting to wonder exactly what connection Second Sight and Morning Dew had. Before I could ponder it for any length of time however, I felt a cold feeling go down my body. I slowly turned around, and sure enough, the Gastly was right behind me.
Except this time, it spoke.
"Holy shit man! It IS you!" the Gastly said, his voice familiar, even though it echoed strangely.
I felt like crying with joy. Floating in front of me was my good friend Ryder, trapped just like I was in a strange body.
Wait, how did he know that it was me inside the Beldum?
I tried to ask the question, but that failed miserably. Thinking, I realized that I was part Psychic-type. That meant I should be telepathic, right?
I focused as hard as I could on simply transferring the thought of Hello.
"Jesus!" cried Ryder, his eyes closing in a wince. "You don't need to yell!"
Shit. Sorry, I thought back, concentrating less this time. Still getting used to my body.
"Ditto," replied Ryder in his new, warbling voice. "Uhh... do you know what the hell these... ponies are trying to do? I can't understand a goddamn word they say, and that blue one hurt me with whatever-the-fuck he hit me with."
Oh dear...
"Oh, and they're staring at us right now."
I whipped around to see the angry eyes of Second Sight glaring at me. Morning Dew was protected behind him, much like how I was protecting Ryder.
"You have a lot of questions to answer, 'little guy'."
Second Sight teleported us to the mouth of the cave before I could do so much as not utter a single word. It wasn't like a Twilight Sparkle Teleport™ when a puff of smoke and a flash of light signalled both the departure along with the arrival.
No, the voodoo pony's version seemed to bend the very shadows around us, making everything go dark for a few seconds before gradually growing light again as the darkness crept away from us and retreated back to whence it came. It was a spooky experience; it reminded me of a time when my older sister used to tie blankets around me, leaving me to stumble around in the dark. Except I couldn't struggle and break free.
Huh. Speaking of family... now that was a depressing thought: If I couldn't find a way out of Equestria, I wouldn't see my family again. I'm sure my father wouldn't care, but my mother and sister would probably be worried sick.
Christ, what about everybody else? Ryder, Seth, Caleb, Cindy, Miranda... what about their families?
Well fuck. That's not good at all.
Regardless, I still had an angry shaman to deal with. The fact that Ryder did the equivalent of fainting—his big, white eyes had the classic black spirals on them, and he rolled down the hill like a giant marble—wasn't helping my situation in the slightest. As Ryder tumbled down the sight incline, only to be stopped by an outstretched hoof belonging to a certain dark blue unicorn, Second Sight glared at me.
"You communicate with spirits that I am not familiar with, levitate while using no magical source, and somehow managed to break out of my warded house."
What can I say? Beldum are awesome.
Raising a hoof sheepishly and almost falling over in the process, Morning Dew added, "Oh, and-um, I only found him when he... fell off of Foal Mountain."
Second Sight frowned. If I was capable of projecting worry through my singular eye, I would've.
"What are you?"
A Beldum. Oh wait, I can't freakin' talk, so quit asking me!
Second Sight trotted around me, slowly, observing every inch of my sleek, metallic body. I followed him with my eye as I did so. He gritted his teeth in annoyance. As he opened his mouth to speak and probably verbally abuse my poor, defenceless self, Morning Dew teetered, tottered, swayed, and then promptly fainted.
I made to fly and attempt to keep her up, but Second Sight beat me to it. Christ, that guy was a one man show. Locking away helpless Beldum, making Ghastly faint, teleporting around like nobody's business—who the heck was he?
Second Sight gave Ryder a nudge, causing him to roll into a tree and rest in a small divot formed by two larger-than-average roots. Lifting up Morning Dew telekinetically and placing her sideways on his back, Sight winced and then spoke directly to me, with a no-nonsense tone. As if he hadn't already been using that tone, but still.
"I know you can understand me. You and I are going to have a system of communication: blink your eye once to answer 'yes,' and twice to answer 'no.'"
I blinked once. Finally! He was kind of a dick, but at least he understood my limitations of speech.
"Can you communicate in any other way besides the blinking process we just established?"
I blinked twice. I could technically 'speak' for lack of a better term, but that was really just making whatever noises my body felt like it had to announce to the world.
Second Sight seemed to think for a moment before nodding, seemingly to himself. "Is what Morning Dew said about you true?"
I cocked my head in confusion.
"About you falling off of Foal Mountain."
I blinked once. There was only one mountain that I'd seen, and I had 'spawned' there, so I figured that was the one they were referring to.
Second Sight mumbled for a little while. I only caught the words 'lowest,' 'peak,' and 'four-hundred.'
After that, he sighed deeply, looked over at the pony draped over his back like some sort of fur coat, and then back at me. He stood a little more resolutely than before, like he had just made a difficult internal decision.
"I don't know what you are. I don't know where you came from. I don't know how you survived that fall," he began. "And that scares me. You—" he pointed a hoof at my floating form— "scare me. I've lived in this forest for my entire life, and yet you are unlike everything that calls this forest their home.
"I'm going to leave and return to my village; Morning Dew is going to come back with me. And you are not."
Unbidden by myself, I rose a few feet higher and an angry sounding metallic groan came from somewhere within me. Immediately, Second Sight's horn flashed red.
"Do not try me, creature."
I didn't want to try him. Calming myself down, I lowered myself back to eye-level with the dark blue unicorn.
"All I want is peace. Peace and solitude. You and your... familiar—" he spat the word— "if that's what the spirit is, are to leave and never return to Hollow Shades. If I see you again, I will make it my personal goal to remove you from existence."
I wasn't sure how, but I shivered. It didn't feel like an idle threat. I was pretty sure that Second Sight actually could remove me from existence.
"Blink if you accept my terms."
I hesitated. Sure, not getting blasted into a million smithereens should've been a good enough deal on its own, but I had other things to think about. Like how Morning Dew was the only pony that hadn't given me evil eye—pun not intended. How the hell was I going to find everyone else on my own?
My gaze drifted to the gaseous, spherical form of Ryder, eyes still spirals.
Hmm... I guess I wasn't quite as alone as I thought. I hoped that bastard would wake up soon: I had questions that needed answering.
I turned back to Second Sight and blinked. Once.
He nodded grimly. "Fair thee well, strange one, and hope that our paths do not cross again," he said, then began walking, slowly but surely, back towards the village—Hollow Shades.
I mentally sighed and turned to look at the Gastly in front of me. Grumbling, I let myself drop gently to the ground and prepared to wait until my best friend woke up.
After spending a seemingly infinite amount of time lying on the forest floor in a pile of fallen leaves and roots, Ryder finally showed his first signs of movement ever since he'd been one-shot by Second Sight.
Blinking the spirals from his eyes, he shook his head—which had the added effect of vibrating his entire gaseous form. Letting out a groan, he asked, his voice warbled and echo-y, "What the heck happened?"
Rolling over and returning to the air, I answered with my thoughts. "You got insta-K.O.'d by an angry unicorn."
He turned towards me, as if he could somehow detect where I was, even though I was communicating via telepathy. Maybe he did know where I was: I wasn't a Gastly, so how the hell should I know?
"...You know what? I believe you."
"Good, 'cause it's the truth."
After remaining silent for a short while, Ryder rose into the air, unsteadily at first, then with gaining control. "I suppose I'm right in assuming that you know where we are, right?" he asked, his voice pleading.
"Yeah..." I replied, purposely avoiding the answer for as long as I could.
"So... where are we and why in the deities above and below are we Pokemon?"
"The mystical land of Equestria, and I have no fucking idea," I responded with a straight face. Straight eye?
I received an 'are-you-fucking-kidding-me' look in return.
I shook my body in a negatory fashion.
To be completely honest, Ryder didn't freak out nearly as much as I thought he would. Although, I don't think the tree appreciated being head-butted repeatedly.
After letting out his anger for almost a minute on the poor tree that looked like a redwood cedar, Ryder said, "So we're trapped in your fantasy pony-land, as Pokemon, for no apparent reason? Is that all?"
I casually dismissed his sarcasm. He was still probably just in shock. Well, I probably was too, but at least I had a clear head... or a Clear Body.
"Yeah. Pretty much. I guess that means you don't know why we're here either, huh?"
Ryder sighed. When he inhaled, he grew to one-and-a-half times his size, and then subsequently lost it after exhaling. "Nope. I don't even remember the last thing I—... we were doing. I remember waking up in that stupid cave, wondering what the heck was wrong with me when my everything didn't work, then wandering around for a while, occasionally phasing through walls. Christ, do you know how hard it is to float?"
I glared at him. "You're preaching to the choir, Ryder."
"Oh. Yeah. Right," he said, as if re-noticing the form I was currently occupying. "How's being a Beldum working out for you?"
I made a wave motion, approximating a shrug. "Could be worse, I suppose. I could be a Gastly..."
"Oh ha-ha. Being a Gastly isn't all bad: I feel lighter than ever, my eyesight improved, I can kinda-sorta see through things, and I look awesome."
"Pff," I thought. "You're just a floating purple and black head. You look silly. Me, on the other hand... I weigh enough to create a crater in the ground when I fall, I can hear for miles, and I think there's some sort of compass system built into me. Oh, and I look much cooler than you do."
"In your dreams, smuck."
I beamed inwardly. Man, but did it feel good to be able to talk with someone and not have the entire conversation be a one-sided affair.
"So," Ryder began, "I told you about everything interesting that happened to me. Mind returning the favour?"
I nodded as sagely as a couple-hundred pound, floating chunk of metal could.
"Well, it all started when I woke up on the side of a mountain..."
\/\/\
After elaborating what exactly I had been up to in my brief time in Equestria, Ryder had a choice question.
Out of all the possible questions he could've asked, all the questions, he chose this one first:
"Why the heck did 'Morning Dew' call you 'Little Guy?'"
If my eye were capable of emitting death waves on command, Ryder would be in a different plane of existence. "Really?" I mentally shouted. "Really?!"
"What? You're neither little, nor are you a guy."
"Hey! I'll have you know that I've fu—"
"Not like that!" Ryder asserted. "What I mean is: the Pokemon that you're currently inhabiting is genderless. I mean, of all the things to call you, why 'Little Guy?' Why not 'Heavy Metal-Thing' or something more realistic?"
If I had arms, I would've facepalmed. "We're in Equestria, Ryder. I'm pretty sure this place is a textbook definition of unrealistic." After a pause, I asked, "Any questions that aren't stupid?"
He rolled his eyes. "I don't have any questions that you can answer. Unless, of course, you figured out why we're freakin' Pokemon by any chance—"
"No."
"—Then I'm all questioned out." Ryder looked around, his ghastly form flickering and dissipating at the edges. "So, little guy: Where to?"
That was a very good question. I quickly rose up to several hundred feet and looked at my surroundings.
Stretching for miles in every direction were the tops of thousands of trees: the multicoloured leaves and somewhat bare branches informed me that it was probably in the middle of fall, if seasons were the same in Equestria.
Looking behind me at the way that I'd come from previously, I saw the mountain that I had appeared on—Foal Mountain. A little to the right, a rising column of grey-black smoke punctured the tree canopy and coagulated in the sky.
I imagined myself gulping, hoping that Second Sight hadn't found out that his home was now nothing more than kindle and firewood. Thankfully, the unicorn hadn't appeared out of the nearby shadows of the cave yet with one of his Shadowports™, so we still had some time. I hoped.
Doing a one-eighty, I faced what I instinctively knew as north-west. In that direction, a lower mountain range rolled, and beyond that, I thought I saw the glint of train tracks.
I figured that going to Celestia and seeing if she knew how to send us back would be our best bet. And besides: Didn't all train tracks lead to Canterlot?
I narrowed my eye resolutely. That was it, then. Follow the tracks, hopefully find everyone else along the way, and try to get out of this mess.
I flew back down and told Ryder what I had seen.
"Sounds like a plan to me, little guy."
I resisted the urge to use Take Down on him. After all; I'd probably just phase right through, anyway.
Zipping my thoughts shut, I hovered above the tree line and flew north-west, Ryder trailing on my metaphorical heels.
As Ryder and I flew north-west, (well, in actuality, it was north by north-west, but that's being anal retentive about it) two human males that were inhabiting a round, purple ball of gas and a two-hundred pound paperweight made of hard, dense steel respectively, the landscape below us changed drastically. The trees, once of the deciduous variety, gradually turned into spruce, fir, and other conifers that shared remarkable resemblances to their Earth counterparts.
The air above grew cold; I certainly couldn't tell the difference, but Ryder was sure to remind me as the wind was 'blowing right through him.' Har-dee-har-har. Slowly but surely, the leaf-covered ground gave way to frosted earth, and then became nothing more than snow. My vision became somewhat impaired by the snowfall. I had to strain to see ahead of me.
It was incredible: we'd only been flying for a few hours, give or take, and we had already changed biomes.
What? I wasn't a stopwatch, damnit; I was a compass.
Anyway, as we flew, the ground started to slope upward towards the low-lying mountain range. Note that when I say 'low-lying,' I actually mean freakin' gigantic; they were only small in comparison to Foal Mountain, which tells you just how big that overgrown hill was.
"Why is it so damn cold up here?" complained Ryder. "Can we stop for a second so I can catch my breath?"
I continued my steady hovering pace and answered, "You don't have to breathe, dingus. You're a freakin' Ghost. And as for why it's cold: Didn't you pass science? Higher the elevation, colder the temperature."
I heard some annoyed grumbling behind me. "I know I don't have to breathe, I was just trying to explain what my current predicament is in terms you'd understand!" he said rapidly. "Please, can we just stop for a second so I can rest?!"
Putting on the metaphorical brakes, I relented. "Fine. Are we going to hover or try to find somewhere to land?"
Ryder looked around for a few seconds, squinting is big eyes to pierce the snow veil. "Over there," he directed. I looked at him dryly. After all: neither of us had arms. "See those three trees tightly packed together?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"We'll land there."
A few moments and a snowdrift ploughed into later, Ryder and I found ourselves with our backs to the trees. They formed a sort of bulwark against the snow, and although I couldn't care less one way or the other, Ryder seemed relieved to be out of the falling snow and whipping wind.
Strangely, I felt angry at him. After all, it was his fault that I was stuck here in Equestria—in a Beldum's body no less. If he hadn't poked and prodded me into going to that stupid party of his, I wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.
"Fuck you," I thought venomously.
"What?!"
"Fuck you for being the catalyst for everything bad that happens to me."
"How is this my fault? You think I want to be stuck in your goddamn fandom's world? No, I don't! Do I want to be a Gastly? No, I don't! I'd much rather be back home, in my own freaking body!"
"It was you all along: you practically dragged me to that stupid party of yours."
Ryder snorted. Somehow. "All I did was mention Cindy's name, and you tagged along like a horny dog. Speaking of which, have you ever realized that you're an arrogant, chauvinistic, prick—"
An ominous howl interrupted our argument, sending chills down my robotic spine. It sounded like a cross between a wolf, banshee, and a really pissed off tiger.
"What was that?!"
"You're the expert here: Why don't you tell me?"
Before I had a chance at a rebuttal, two spectral forms sped by, stirring up the powdery snow and causing it to spin in a miniature cyclone around us. The cyclone span and span, growing in velocity and size while Ryder and I just looked upon it, dumbfounded.
"Why is there—?"
"How is there—?"
"What the heck is going on?!"
As if to answer our questions, another roar shattered the somewhat tranquil sound of wind and snow. If I had eardrums with my new-and-improved hearing, I was certain that they'd be shattered into a million pieces.
Time seemed to slow as my brain worked overtime, trying to put the pieces of evidence together into a cohesive idea of what we were facing and a subsequent plan of action.
Whatever they were, they seemed to have limited control over the weather. I predicted that they were native to snowy areas, considering that we hadn't come across any of them until now. My solitary eye buzzed around in its socket, rolling like a magic 8-ball to look and absorb as much information in as short of time possible.
I briefly saw a pair of glowing, blue eyes, a horse-like head, two front legs, and a wispy back end that trailed and fluttered in the wind where a good portion of the torso and the rear legs should've been. The body was white-grey, and I could barely discern it from the raging snowstorm in front, behind, to the sides, and above us.
My memories clicked into place, and I realized that we were being attacked by Windigoes.
"Ryder!" I mentally shouted.
"What the heck is going on?!" he repeated.
"We're being attacked by Windigoes!" I explained. "They feed off of negative energy! The more angry we get, the colder it is!"
"So how do we make them leave us alone?! Think happy thoughts?!"
I looked back at the whirling hurricane that had only grown longer since I looked away. Thankfully, it seemed to not be getting any bigger. I shook my segmented head. "No, I don't think that's going to work!"
"Then what?!"
I thought furiously, trying to figure out what we could do to, if not outright win against the Windigoes, at least dissuade them from screwing with us.
The answer hit me like a two-hundred pound weight.
"Lick them!"
If the situation wasn't mortifying and I had a camera, I would've taken a picture of Ryder's priceless face. Hell, maybe I have a camera feature somewhere...
"What?!"
"Lick them!"
Either Ryder understood just as well as I did, or he was desperate to escape and would follow my order, no matter how strange it sounded. He flung himself towards the blue-eyed menaces with reckless abandon, getting caught in the cyclone in the process. Ryder fought and twisted, eventually breaking free and having one clear shot at the Windigoes that were flying in a hypnotically lazy circle above.
One clear shot was all he needed.
Ryder quickly licked the closest Windigo, his big pink tongue causing an audible smack even over the roar of the whirlwind. The smack was quickly drowned out by the subsequent roar of the horse-like apparition. Not wasting a second, Ryder licked the other one, who was staring at its comrade in what seemed like surprise and confusion.
Soon, both of their howls drowned out everything else, reverberating around in my skull like an angry nest of bees or last night's hangover.
I winced, closing my eye and severing my lone sense that wasn't overwhelmed. Only after the tortured screams died down did I chance opening my eye a crack.
Calm. Silence and calm. Whatever wind was once part of snowstorm had abated with the... interruption of the Windigoes, and the snow had fallen where it had flown, creating uneven piles on the ground, spread out in a vague impersonation of a circle.
Overhead, Ryder came puffing down while the sun shined down and birds chirped amicably, as if our entire battle had been nothing but an illusion. The still echoing howls, however softly, refuted that possibility.
"Well," he said. "That went better than expected."
"Well," said Ryder. "That went better than expected."
"Took the words right outta my—uhh... thoughts right out of my... cranium." Ugh. You'd think that I'd have this whole not-in-a-human-body thing down at this point, but no.
Ryder grinned, and it didn't look creepy at all, what with his sharp, pointy teeth and big, white eyes. No-siree. Not even in the slightest. "How'd you know? With using Lick, I mean."
"Well, I-uh..." I began. "I... didn't."
"You didn't? You didn't what?"
"I didn't know: I guessed."
Ryder's grin turned into a trademark Gastly frown. "You guessed? You put my life in jeopardy on a guess?!" he exclaimed.
"It wasn't so much of a guess, really," I explained. "More like an educated hypothesis. Y'see, I knew that those Windigoes were spirits... and we both know that Ghost is super effective against Ghost, so..."
I'll be honest: my reasoning sounded a lot more sound and actually reasonable in my head. Saying it out loud made me realize how much I had bet on a simple inference.
Ryder sighed, shrinking a few inches. "...Alright. That makes sense, and I won't hold it against you. After all, those... what did you call them?"
"Windigoes. Angry horse spirits that siphon negative energy which in turn powers their storms and causes even more negative energy to be produced. It's a vicious cycle."
"Oh, ha-ha. I get it. Wind-igoes. Clever. So, what I'm trying to say is... sorry for saying what I said."
"I'm sorry too. I guess those stupid fucking spirit horses just bring out the petty and selfish sides of us, don't they?"
Ryder chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose they do." He looked up at the now-clear sky and asked, "So do you think they'll be back?"
I hummed (literally) and hawed before answering. "Probably not: I don't think they'll try that again, at least not until there's like, five of them or something. And if that happens, we'll have bigger problems."
Ryder shivered. He opened up his mouth, went cross-eyed, and let his tongue hang loose, as if to check that something hadn't stained his fruit roll-up of a tongue. "I think I left some of my tongue on that last Windigo," he said after he stowed his pink appendage away. "Those things are colder than dry ice."
I mentally burst out laughing. I couldn't help it: the sheer ridiculousness of the situation got the better of me. I was literally rolling on the ground, rocking back and forth, unable to contain myself. "Like licking a frozen pole in winter," I managed to think. "You like licking cold horse poles, Ryder?"
"Shut up!"
\/\/\
When I had sufficiently recovered, Ryder and I continued our way north by northwest-ward—the terrain remained, for the most part, the same, with the exception of the steepness gradually increasing.
A little over three hours after resuming our progress (give or take; time was still weird for me) we reached the apex of the mountain range. The sun had reached its zenith about an hour before, and was slowing making its way down. As Ryder and I hovered at the peak, three eyes looking out over the vast beyond, white and green beyond, I heard something that wasn't part of nature—voices.
I strained my hearing to the max, and was only able to pick out one word: 'Dinner.' I told Ryder.
"Dinner? What's there to eat up here? And why would there be ponies up here, anyway? There's nothing here..."
"I don't know," I replied, "but I'm awfully curious. Should we go see what they're up to?"
"Yeah: let's. My Ghost sense is tingling..."
"Oh, stop with that."
Following my impeccable sense of direction, we sneakily hovered (it's possible, alright?) across the small plateau that made up the top of the mountain. It a while, but we eventually came within sight range to a sort of bowl-shaped crater, possibly from an asteroid or a meteor, that looked like a de-facto campsite.
Inside the crater, ponies hustled and bustled around a large fire, tents and benches surrounding it. All of them were Pegasi, and all of them wore those snow goggles that were practically planks with tiny eye-slits carved out of them. I assumed that the reason we weren't snow blind was because my eye had some sort of protective covering, and Ryder's were technically dead.
"What the hell are all these Pegasi doing up here?" I wondered inside my head.
"They're preparing for something, it looks like," said Ryder. "But what?"
A glint appeared in the corner of my eye, and I swivelled to face it. Three frost and icicle covered cages stared back. Two of them were empty, but in the third one, there was a brown mass of fur that seemed extremely out of place amongst the white and occasional green.
"Ryder, look." I pointed my body in the direction of whatever was locked up in the cage.
"Dinner," I mentally whispered, remembering what I had heard. "They're preparing dinner."
"B-but... they're ponies!" exclaimed Ryder. "Aren't they supposed to be vegetarians?!"
I nodded. "They are."
"Maybe... maybe that's one of their pets," Ryder reasoned. "Maybe it's just on time out, or... or..."
He gulped.
I sighed inwardly. "I hope like hell that you're right, but I got a bad feeling about this in the pit of my abdomen. Let's go check it out."
Ryder agreed, so we slowly but steadily drifted our way towards the cages, dropping into snowdrifts or phasing into the ground whenever a pegasus came too close. I'll let you guess who did what.
The Pegasi didn't look like how I'd imagined them: instead of the delicate wings without a feather out of place à la Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, their wings were more flayed, rough, and looked like they'd seen much better days. I mean, yeah, they're on top of a freakin' mountain, but I at least thought they'd pay some attention to their wings.
Finally, after evading what seemed like every goddamn pegasus in and around the crater, Ryder and I made it to the cages without being seen.
I took a closer look at what was inside the cage...
...And immediately realized that it was a Pokemon: a Swinub, to be exact.
Suddenly, our investigation just turned into a rescue mission.
"Oi!" Ryder head-butted the cage softer than I thought possible, but still with enough force to stir whomever was trapped inside. This had the unfortunate side-effect of scaring the living hell out of the person inside the Swinub: they jumped nearly a foot high within the cage, bounced off of the metal bars, and cowered in the corner. Undeterred, Ryder continued.
"It's us, Ryder and—"
"Oh my God, you guys have no idea how happy I am to see you! Err, hear you. I can't see too well," the Swinub responded.
Well I'll be damned. By the voice, it appeared that Seth was inhabiting the furry little bastard. Instead of having strange warbles, like Ryder's, Seth's voice had actually deepened an octave or two, which was hilarious because he was a Swinub: those little piglets were practically foot-warming beanbags, and they didn't look menacing in the slightest.
And no, I wasn't even offended that Seth didn't care who was with Ryder. Not at all.
Deciding to get straight to the point, I asked, "What the hell are these Pegasi doing?"
"Peg-asi?"
"Yeah, Pegasi. Y'know, the plural of 'pegasus'?"
"I always thought those were called pegasuses," Seth remarked. "Anyway, to answer your question: I have no idea. I can't understand whatever it is they're saying. I mean, I was just minding my own business, out looking for food in the snowy forest, and the next thing I know, these two flying horses come and scoop me up!"
"And they just stuffed you in the cage?" Ryder asked.
Seth nodded his fluffy little head. "They weren't very kind about it, either: They stuffed me in here like an old plush toy."
I heard two voices that weren't Ryder and Seth slowly approach from the crater. They were constantly overriding each other, and it sounded like they were in the middle of a heated discussion. I closed my eye and listened in.
"I don't care how you feel about it," one snapped, a male voice. "What else are we going to eat up here, hmm? What—"
"Something! Anything other than this!" the other overrode, this one a female. "This is sick! We're ponies, not gryphons—"
"Don't you bucking dare compare us to those feathered imbeciles." The male voice responded in an icy tone—and I don't mean that he sounded like he was cold. "I should report you to the Captain for your insubordination."
"Insubordination?! All I said was the fact that this is sick!"
"Sick? Sick! We eat fish; they're alive, aren't they? What makes that furry brown thing in the crate any different?"
"How is it different—How is it not different?!"
"This conversation is over. If you don't want to assist, fine: do something that you think is productive. You can starve for all I care."
The female voice harrumphed. "You'll get yours, Spear. You'll get yours."
I heard the hoofsteps break apart and be no longer synonymous. Turning around and fluttering my eye open, I saw a solitary pegasus trudging its way through the snow—on a direct collision course with our little party. Thankfully, I was pretty sure that he (I was certain that pegasus was the male voice I had heard) couldn't see us: the wind, while not as strong as the Windigoes', was still strong enough to raise the loose snow from the ground, making it difficult for even me to see, and I had a computer-powered eye.
Spinning back around, I interrupted Ryder and Seth, who had been carrying on a conversation while I was distracted. I'd have to ask them about it later.
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we've got a problem."
After getting their attention, I quickly explained the situation we were in.
"They—They're going to eat me?!" screamed Seth. Ironically, his voice went many pitches higher, making him squeal like... well... like a pig. I glared at Ryder for not explaining why we investigated the cages in the first place. He seemed to shrink a little.
"Not if we can get you out of there first," I said, hoping to instil some confidence. I made to speak—think, dammit!—about how we could get Seth out of the cage, but therein laid a problem. With myself only knowing Take Down until (or rather, if) I evolved into a Metang, and the fact that Ryder seemed to only know Lick, I had no idea how we'd actually get Seth out.
"Uhh... Seth, you wouldn't happen to know any moves, would you?"
Seth calmed down a little bit (most certainly from my direct and take-control attitude) and said, "I don't think so. Actually, wait! I can... sort of control the snow around me. I mean, I can't whip snowballs at anyone—nothing like that, but I can kinda... direct it, if that makes any sense."
It didn't, and that wasn't something that seemed to be useful in our current predicament. "Why don't you Tackle the cage?" Ryder offered. "You can do that, right?"
Seth shook his head sadly. "I tried that already. All I got was a headache for my trouble."
"Join the club," I muttered. My headache hadn't gone away ever since I used Take Down on Second Sight's home, but I'd learned to deal with it. Christ, it felt so long since that happened, although in reality, it was only earlier today.
"Dammit! There's got to be a way out of this mess!" Ryder exclaimed, thinking furiously, his eyes scrolling from side to side like he did back in his old body. Occasionally, one of his eyes would go all the way around from the momentum.
I heard a crunch of snow behind us, and I whipped around, bumping into the heavy cages when I did. They were heavy enough that they didn't budge, even with my two-hundred pound form hitting them.
Staring at us, slack-jawed, was a pegasus. Up close, I could see that his mane and tail were a dull grey. What parts of his body that weren't frosted white were a sickly yellow colour. I couldn't see his eyes, mainly because of the snow goggles.
After staring at us for almost ten seconds without moving, he finally spoke, quietly, but loud enough that I could hear—and what he said would've made me gulp had I still a throat to gulp with.
While the pegasus was still looking at us, wondering what to do, I took the opportunity to fly straight into his chest (I winced right before contact, but that was only from a habitual response).
I felt several somethings crack when I made impact, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't my casing. Extricating myself from the pegasus' chest, I blinked the red mist that had settled on my visor. It would be cool if I had little windshield wipers to wipe away the blood, but that was probably wishful thinking.
After I removed myself and hovered in the air once more, I shit you not, the bastard groaned and tried to get up.
I don't care how tough you think you are: when you get hit by a two-hundred pound metal rod with the intent to injure and maim, you don't walk away from that. Add in the fact that I was probably going roughly fifteen miles an hour, you have a broken heap of bones, muscles, and blood that was once a pony.
But still, the pegasus tried to get to his hooves. What the hell was this guy made of?
Leaving the pony to himself, I turned and saw the surprised expressions of Ryder and Seth. Well, Seth couldn't really change his expression, what with all that fur, but I imagined that he was slack-jawed.
"You... you killed it! In cold blood!" Seth exclaimed.
"What was I supposed to do?" I asked. "Let him call his friends? Let him eat you?"
A haggard cough followed by a gargling sound punctured the silence that followed.
"And besides," I added, "he's not dead. Somehow."
Reluctantly, they both agreed that what I had to do was necessary. I had to convince them I didn't want to hurt the damn pony: I only attacked because I had to, not because I was a cold-blooded killer.
With more time to think of how to extricate Seth from his cage, courtesy of moi, we eventually determined that I should just fall on the damn cage to open it.
Before you ask, no, I'm not going to eat my way in. I don't care if it's a goddamn emergency: a guy has his limits on how much embarrassment he can take before throwing himself into the ocean and sinking to the bottom.
Seth scrunched himself in a corner, as far away from where I was aiming. I dropped like a well-aimed rock, landing exactly where I wanted to and smashing half the cage flat. After wiggling my way free of the bent and jagged metal, eliciting sparks when they scraped along my body, there was an almost perfectly Swinub-sized hole. Seth wiggled his furry self out, and plopped into the snow, sinking almost his entire height down.
Ryder and I both laughed our hovering bodies at Seth's plight, then quickly quietened when we were reminded of the still-kicking pegasus surrounded by blood-red snow. He was mumbling to himself, but I couldn't understand; it sounded like a mantra, or a prayer.
"Where do we go now?" asked Ryder. "Do we just... leave?"
"I'd like to spend as little time here as possible, so yeah, we should probably head off."
"Hey, wait! How am I going to keep up with you guys? I can't float, and I can barely trudge through the snow on my own," said Seth, his words mumbled from beneath the white powder.
I mentally sighed and lowered myself into the snow. "All aboard," I attempted to say enthusiastically, but it came out rather monotone. Seth tried to clamber aboard my metallic frame, but managed to slip and fall back into the snow in a shower of flakes.
Before I could make a snide comment, I was distracted by the sounds of multiple hooves and the sound of flapping wings.
"They're coming!" exclaimed Ryder.
"Hurry up!" I thought to Seth.
"I'm trying, I'm trying! My feet are nothing but stubs! It's kinda hard to climb!"
"What the buck?! Ace, Streak, and Undertow—cover the skies! I don't know which one did that to Spear, but I'm not taking any chances. Riptide—you're with me." The voice was gruff and precise; it reminded me of my old gym teacher.
It didn't seem wise or otherwise beneficial to wait while the Pegasi came after us. "Hurry up, Seth! We've got company!" I mentally shouted. After an eternity, Seth finally climbed onto me and hung on with all his short might.
I launched from the snow like an intercontinental ballistic missile with snowy powder flying off both of our bodies. The wind didn't bother me whatsoever, but I hoped that the Swinub latched onto my back would be okay. Considering his eyes were hidden beneath layers and layers of fur and fat, I figured that he would be okay.
I looked to the right and saw Ryder huffing to keep up with me, the purple wisps of his body trailing out behind him like a flag whipping in the wind.
"Look out!"
Ryder's voice wasn't warning enough: in what felt like a split second, the sound of wings beating fiercely and the sight of a strangely coloured net wrapping around me were all that I saw and heard. My momentum shattered, and my perspective changed rapidly. I saw the upside of down, the downside of up, and everything between. The world tumbled and it felt like I was in washing machine.
I felt something flop on top of me, and I was pretty sure that it was Seth. I hoped that I didn't crush the poor bastard. Blinking my eye, I looked around and saw that I was in a net, on the ground, with two Pegasi looking over me.
"Ryder!" I mentally shouted. "Don't try anything stupid! We'll find a way out!"
"I'm not leaving you two alone!" was the response.
"For fuck's sake, listen to me: these ponies mean business, and there's no telling what things they have that might capture you."
"But—"
"Go! Before they suspect anything!"
When I didn't hear a reply, I hoped to God that Ryder had done as I said.
"What the hay is that thing?" asked one of the Pegasi, making me focus upon him, for the voice was definitely male. It had a strange lilt to it, like he wasn't sure if he was asking or telling.
"It's a... umm..." began the other, another male. This one didn't have any outstanding characteristics—it was a generic male voice. "I've no idea. Where's the Sergeant? And where in Tartarus is Riptide?"
"They're coming, they're coming," the other replied. "These... things flew a good distance before we caught them—they'll catch up." After a slight pause, he added, "And calm down about your sister: I'm sure she'll be fine. Spear's an asshole, and now that he's dead, his word doesn't count for crab-apples."
The other pegasus grumbled. "He's not dead."
"What? But all that blood—"
"He's not dead. That bastard was still breathing."
"How the—" the lilted voiced pony began, but abandoned whatever it was he was going to say when he say me looking. "Hey, that thing's looking at me."
The other pony stepped a bit closer, and I looked at him instead. "So it is," was the only reply. After remaining silent for a few seconds, the voice continued, "And there they are. C'mon, Ace: let's go see what we're supposed to do with these things."
After the two groups of Pegasi united, they quickly decided to put our fate aside while they dealt with the pegasus I'd flown into: Spear. The pony known as 'Ace' was replaced by 'Riptide,' who was the same one that was originally arguing with Spear over eating Seth. Her and the other pegasus (I found out that his name is Undertow; the generic one) volunteered to deal with us.
Their conversation as they dragged Seth and I was the only thing that gave me a sliver of hope.
"Would you mind explaining what happened to that bastard for me?" asked Riptide. "I want to know who to thank."
Undertow snorted. "You're helping drag it."
"Really?" She glanced at me through the net. I tried to look as innocent as possible. Kinda hard when you're a heavy metal rod. "This thing turned Spear's chest into a bloody pulp?"
He nodded. "I didn't believe it either, Sis, but I was on watch duty I saw that this thing—" he motioned with his head towards me, "—launched straight at Spear after he approached it."
Sis? Siblings, then. That made things a bit clearer.
"The hay were you doing up there? You should've called an alert as soon as that fluffy critter's friends came to visit."
"I'm not exactly sure what I was doing," Undertow admitted. "Maybe I wanted to see how Spear would handle it. And when he got his chest caved in, I might've taken my time in reporting it. It's really chilly up there, y'know..."
Riptide dropped her end of the net and nuzzled Undertow affectionately. "Thanks, bro."
Undertow returned the nuzzle. "Thank me when we get out of here and away from these psychopaths." They both resumed walking and continued to pull the net behind them.
I wished that I could pace back and forth, tap a finger, anything other than twiddle my imaginary thumbs while anxiously hoping that these two Pegasi were different than the others. Seth was still an unconscious heap; he didn't move, except for the occasional rotation from an above-average snow pile bumping into him, but he seemed to be otherwise unharmed. Must've been the Thick Fat.
I looked hopefully to the sky for a sign of Ryder, but there was nothing save for white, grey, and the odd flash of blue. Not sure if I've mentioned this or not, but I don't always make the best decisions. No shit, right? But still: I was seriously regretting telling Ryder that we'd escape ourselves.
The male pegasus, Undertow, started speaking again, this time with the subject returning to me, and that was enough to break me out of my melancholy 'what-ifs.'
"Do you think this thing understands what we're saying?" he asked, looking directly at me. More specifically, at my eye. I blinked once.
Riptide looked back over her shoulder at me as well. She snorted. "Why don't you ask it?"
Undertow glanced back at me uneasily before resuming eye contact with his sister. "And what's it going to answer with? Thing doesn't have a mouth." I would've made a face... if I had one. "I was just wondering," he continued, "why it didn't put up more of a fight before we got it into the mercrium net."
"They say that animals can sense the difference between a good pony and a bad pony. Maybe it just knew that Spear was bad, and that we're... well, not exactly good, but that we weren't going to hurt it?"
After her brother remained silent, she asked, "We aren't going to hurt it... right?"
"No. I doubt that we could, anyway: this thing must weigh more than I do."
"Well... where are we putting these things, then?"
Undertow was silent for a moment before answering. "The Pit."
That didn't sound good. Especially so, since it sounded like 'The Pit' was a dastardly place, worthy of fear.
Turns out, it was exactly what it sounded like.
\/\/\
They dumped Seth and I (the poor guy was still out cold—pun not intended) inside a hole in the middle of the ground, then covered it with the net that had so frustrated me earlier before walking away, probably to the crater.
The word 'mercrium' was all I got in terms of a material type for the net, but that fancy word doesn't even do the stuff justice: whatever it is, it's light, extremely strong, and acts like a liquid in solid form. The silvery threads also reflected what little sunlight shined down there straight into my eye, and it was rather annoying.
I attempted to fly out and take the net with me, but it acted like a rubber band, slinging me back into the hole with more force than I had left. I barely missed Seth coming down. Next, I tried ramming through the ground that surrounded me, but frozen solid dirt was much harder than I had anticipated.
I hovered back and forth, my version of pacing, for what felt like an eternity. I didn't know what those two Pegasi were doing; didn't know if they'd be back. I'd exhausted my two escape plans. Seth was still Fainted.
I decided to gently poke my head up against the net and see what I could see.
Snow, rocks, a tiny green shrub... and a large gathering of Pegasi flying to and fro from the crater. Christ, we were practically right next to it.
Suddenly, I had an idea. It was embarrassing (oh God, was it embarrassing), but I didn't have any options left. If Seth and I were to escape and reunite with Ryder, wherever he was, I had to do it.
Grumbling to myself, I waited until I was certain that no Pegasi were close or otherwise looking in my direction. When the coast was clear, I turned around and pressed my clawed ass against the net and concentrated.
Hey! Quit snickering! It's not funny!
Just when I thought that I had miscalculated, and that the net wasn't made of some sort of metal, my behind whirred and grabbed onto the net, slowly pulling it in and processing it. My... eating process was a lot stranger this time than the last: for one, I was forced to keep myself still while my butt worked its magic. Second, there was the immediate feeling of potential discovery that. Oh yeah, and then this happened.
My body stopped whirring, so I thought I was done—and free. Unfortunately, it was at this point that I felt a strange sensation course through my circuits... and then my body began to glow pure white.
I don't recommend evolving, not even to my worst enemy. The pain and experience is indescribable, but I'm going to try to anyway.
It felt like having your legs crushed under a steamroller while simultaneously having phosphoric acid dumped onto your upper torso. My limb felt like cotton candy—and I don't mean light and fluffy; I felt like it was being mixed and pulled, stretched and whipped. The entire world went white, then red. After that died down, I saw everything in the world as a polarized opposite of what it should've been: blacks were whites, blues were reds, and so on. The world span, and span, and span.
And then, just like that, everything was back to normal. For the most part, anyway. Everything seemed better.
I could see clearly again. My field of view had increased dramatically; I could see way more than I could before. I looked down with my new eyes, and saw that I had regained arms. Big, clunky arms, but arms nonetheless. They were skinny where they connected into my brand spankin' new and circular torso, but they grew into big, beefy limbs not long after, ending in a flat base with three graspers. I'm not calling them hands, because they're not: instead of five fingers and a palm, I had three spiky digits. The spikes were arranged in a triangular pattern, providing maximum grip with what seemingly little manipulation I'd get out of them.
Strangely, there was something that seemed to be stuck between my eyes where my nose should've been. Going cross-eyed, I realized that the object in question was another long, cylindrical spike protruding directly where my nose wasn't. I face-palmed when I remembered that aspect, then flew into the air in jubilance when I realized that I actually could face-palm.
You never realize how much you miss something until it's taken away from you. Oh, the little things! I could pick stuff up! I could make gestures! I could high-five someone—...okay, maybe not the last one. Not yet, anyhow.
Perhaps my most favourite part of evolving into a Metang, besides the oh-so-glorious hands, was the fact that I didn't have to relearn everything: I could still fly, hover, twist, and turn with ease. If anything, it was easier to as a Metang.
From my vantage point high in the sky, I could see everything with crystal clarity: the multiple sets of hoofprints in the fresh snow, the congregation of Pegasi at the edge of the crater, the—
Wait a minute...
I strained my eyes and saw, to my dismay, a group of some twenty-odd Pegasi nestled together in a cluster around the edge of the crater. And they were all looking straight at me. It was eerie.
I could hear them, which was weird: Normally I'd have to... turn my hearing on, so to speak, but for some reason that I couldn't fathom, I didn't have to. It was only after listening closely to the broken tidbits of seemingly random words and phrases that I realized...
I was listening to their thoughts. It was the strangest experience, listening to someone's—or in this case, somepony's—thoughts: they weren't directed or cohesive in the slightest. Trains of thought came and went in an instant; secrets were revealed and then instantly forgotten. I did, however, glean enough from the minds of the Pegasi to understand what they were there for.
They were there for me.
Anger and a strange sense of... duty were the overriding traits among the present Pegasi, although there were two exceptions: I hoped they were who I thought they were.
I froze in mid-air, some hundred-or-so feet above the ground, and all their eyes froze with me. I could tell that they were waiting for something.
"Whoever brings me that thing, dead or captured, will get a promotion."
The voice rang with authority; like the owner deserved to be listened to. I pinpointed the perpetrating pegasus from among the crowd. He (I could tell from the voice) was standing at the front of the group, and he wore a dull grey, full-face helmet—complete with sky-blue plume and everything. I couldn't see his mane, but his coat was a surprisingly deep gold, almost like the colour of freshly baked, Belgium-style waffles.
I figured that this was the leader, so I decided to name him myself, as I didn't know what his actual name was. Naturally, I picked the first thing that came to mind when I saw him: Captain Waffles.
With the order barked by Captain Waffles, the fleet of Pegasi rose to the air almost simultaneously, with a few stragglers lifting off later. The flock came rushing towards me, all intent on one thing and one thing only: my dismemberment.
Unfortunately for them, I happened to learn Confusion.
I concentrated deep within, and felt a power respond to my call. Using my arms and will to shape it, a ball of shimmering, clear energy began to coalesce before me. When it grew large enough, I pushed outward, with a loud and angry-sounding, blaring noise that I could scant believe came from me. The effect was immediate; on both the Pegasi... and on me.
I felt a burning pain course through my head (which was technically my torso as well). It felt like a combination of a hangover and an extremely hot pepper, just inside my cranium. I clutched my head in agony (hooray; arms!) and dropped like a stone to create my own crater in the frozen ground. But, in all seriousness: you should've seen the other guys.
The Pegasi flew backwards, propelled as they were by my use of Confusion. Many of them spiralled out of control, in a style reminiscent of fighter jets, while the remainder simply dropped like bags of rocks. Each and every one of them were clutching their heads in agony; some were shivering (I was pretty sure it wasn't from the cold), some were mumbling to themselves like I couldn't hear them, and some were reciting the same mantra (I was sure that it was a mantra by then) that old Spear had been mumbling as he bled out.
As sure as birds fly
And clouds give rain
We stand united
Unity through pain
Alone, we are weak
Together, we are strong
And how time has shown
We are not wrong
We are Pegasi
Strong and free
The sky is our domain
And remain that way it shall be
It took me a second to realize that the mantra was being spoken aloud by someone moving towards me. I looked up from the center of the crater that I was laying in, and saw that Captain Waffles was taking slow but steady steps towards me, the chant being repeated by him as if he was a broken record. I tried to hover, but I barely lifted a foot off the ground before slamming back down into it.
Through two tiny slits in his helmet, Captain Waffles spotted me and froze, the remains of his chant echoing into nothing.
"I guess I'll just have to deal with you myself," Captain Waffles said, stepping closer towards me. I feebly tried to smack him with one of my oversized arms, but he easily sidestepped away.
With a sharp intake of breath, he flew into the air, flapped his wings a few times to get extra height, then dropped down onto my midsection, his entire body weight, power, and momentum concentrated on one of his hooves.
Have you ever accidently kicked a cinderblock, or something equally as hard? It hurts, doesn't it? Well, imagine that you were angry at aforementioned object, and you purposely tried to kick it, with every ounce of power you had. You might have momentum and emotion on your side, but when a force meets and immovable object, the object wins. I was that immovable object.
I heard his hoof crack and shatter, along with the roar of pain that followed. Captain Waffles let out a plethora of curses that would've made a sailor wince as he rolled on the snowy ground, causing powder to stick to his feathers and make him look like a fallen, waffle-coloured angel as he writhed in pain. I winced when I saw the bloody remains of his front, right-side hoof.
Let that be a lesson: always make sure you know what something is before you attempt to Falcon Kick something with all your might.
With Captain Waffles dealt with, or rather, him dealing with himself, I had all the time in the world to get back on my metaphorical feet and get to hovering again. When I finally had the whole floating thing down once more, I looked out and surveyed my surroundings.
From the large crater that was already there, to the one I had just created, all of the Pegasi were still out for the count, with the exception of two. Those two exceptions were on a B-line straight towards me, but I knew that they weren't hostile; quite the opposite, in fact. I held my aching head with one claw (my headache had returned, almost twofold compared to what it felt like after using Take Down the first time) and met them halfway, lowering myself to eye level.
I already knew who they were: Riptide and Undertow, the two Pegasi who were the only ones that didn't act like complete asshats to my friends and I. They looked a bit shaken and frazzled, but seemed otherwise hunky-dory.
Riptide was the colour of deep water: a specific tone of teal that seemed to get lighter and darker under certain situations. Her mane was short (it barely fell down past her head) and was a burnt orange colour, the very same that you'd see in the water as the Sun set behind it. She looked at me with a combination of nervousness and curiosity.
Undertow, however, was a stark contrast to his sister: where she was all flare and colour, he was placid and neutral. His coat was the colour of beach sand, an off-white, (which blended in very well with the snow) while his buzz-cut style mane was a clean blonde. He looked at me calmly and nodded almost imperceptibly.
Their thoughts were running, but they were cohesive at least: most of them were either considering what to say first to me, or what the future held in store for them. I decided to break the ice (oh God why) by thinking the first thing that came to mind.
"Uhh... hello. How are you two today?"
The look on their faces was priceless: they looked like a giant metal object just telepathically talked to them—
Ahem. I suppose that would be awfully unsettling, wouldn't it?
They looked at each other, wide-eyed, before Riptide answered. "...Hi. We're, umm, doing... fine?" Undertow nudged her with a wing. "Oh, I-uh, mean... we're doing great! Yeah! Just dandy."
I placed my right grasper over one of my eyes and slowly dragged it downwards. Evidently, the motion translated.
"What I mean to say is... thanks." Undertow nudged Riptide again. "Quit it!" she barked. "This is hard, alright? I don't know what this thing is, or what it wants, and it just asked us 'how we were!' How the hay am I supposed to respond?!"
"You can start by not speaking like I'm not here," I thought dryly. "I can understand your every word." I purposely neglected to mention that I could hear their thoughts as well: I was pretty sure that they wouldn't take kindly to that.
If anything, that made their eyes grow even larger. This time, Undertow replied in his token, placating voice. "I apologize for my sister and I. We didn't expect you to understand us, let alone speak our language. My name is Under—"
"I know who you both are," I interrupted, "and I know where you're coming from with the whole 'big metal thing speaks our language' deal." I was pretty sure that the only reason I could understand them, and they me, was partially because I was a freakin' sentient computer, and because our thoughts were similar enough to translate effectively.
Undertow looked at me like I had turned into a giant cactus while Riptide blinked repeatedly, her mouth hanging slightly open.
What was with these ponies? I decided to ask.
"...Is there something wrong?"
They each looked at the other, raised an eyebrow, then turned back towards me. "You don't... talk like I thought you would," answered Riptide. "For a... whatever it is you are—"
"Metang. I'm a Metang."
"—for a Metang (she pronounced it Ma-tang, rather than Meh-tang), you speak like... well, like a pony."
"I try."
Undertow opened his mouth to respond, but was forced to close it and jump back in surprise when a purple, triangular Ghost flew out of the icy ground between us.
"Holy crap, dude! You wouldn't believe what happened to me after you—"
The Haunter froze, his unattached limbs hovering at his sides, and his facial expression changing from one of joy to one of are-you-fucking-kidding-me.
I cackled inwardly: it seemed that I wasn't the only one to evolve recently.
"Nice to see you too, Ryder," I thought, directing my brain waves towards Ryder and Ryder alone. I wasn't sure if I could actually manage that, but given the fact that the pegasus twins didn't react (except for cowering a little, but that was to be expected), I must've done a half-decent job. "How'd you manage to evolve?"
Ryder paused for a few seconds, one of his hands stroking an imaginary beard. "This may sound strange—"
"Somehow I doubt that."
"—but I evolved after scaring the crap out of one of the pegasus guards that was up on one of the peaks over there." He pointed a hand eastward. "I was going to Lick the guard to make your escape as easy as possible, but it turned around just before I could. It screamed, then fell down the mountain like a snowball before it managed to fly out of it. Man, you should've seen its face! But anyway, after that, I started glowing white and—"
"You evolved into a Haunter, which hurt like hell, right?" I finished.
Ryder nodded. After floating around my entirety, a hand ponderously placed beneath his chin like he was examining some fine art, he asked, "So... how'd you evolve?"
If I still had flesh and blood, I'm sure it would've drained from my face. "I don't want to talk about it," I muttered.
"Don't want to talk about what?" asked Riptide, who was twisting her neck between Ryder and myself, unsure of who she should be watching.
Crap. I must've neglected to keep my conversation private for the last bit.
"Never mind. Undertow, Riptide—this purple, triangular thing is my friend. He won't hurt you, and I doubt that you could hurt him," I thought, directing my words to everyone present and motioning to both parties. "Ryder, these are the only Pegasi that didn't act like complete and utter dickwads to Seth and I."
Riptide made a strange, curtsy-like gesture while Undertow gave a rough salute. Ryder gave me a mean look.
"Be nice," I ordered, directing my thoughts to Ryder. Sighing, Ryder floated closer with a hand outstretched and attempted to shake their hooves. The motion didn't translate so well, and Ryder was left floating, sullen and unamused.
"Stupid ponies," he grumbled. "Won't even accept a handshake..."
"To be fair, your hand was quite far from your body. Oh yeah, also, you're a freakin' ghost, Ryder. You're scary!"
"Yeah, yeah. What are they, twins?"
"I think so: they seem to finish each other's sentences."
Ryder nodded. After looking around, he asked, "Hey, where's Seth?"
"Probably still in that hole over there." I pointed behind me. "It was the safest spot for him to be in. Hell, if he was out and about after I dropped all those Pegasi—" I motioned with my arm to the ponies cradling their heads and mumbling quiet nothings, "—he probably would've been crushed."
"Fair enough. I'm going to go check on him," replied Ryder as he soared overhead in the direction of the Pit.
With the Haunter gone, the relief on the pegasus twin's faces was extremely palpable. I let them murmur to each other for a little while before asking my next question.
"What are all of you Pegasi doing up here?"
"Hiding."
"Fleeing."
They both answered at the same time. Undertow continued. "We are the remnants of the Third Pegasi Legion, previously under control of Stormfeather the Fierce, the King of Brumesvale."
"We're in hiding," Riptide added, "because the Captain refused orders to assist the unicorns in their Range against the marauding diamond dogs. King Stormfeather discovered this, and we've been fleeing ever since." She paused before adding, "The Captain, along with his lieutenant, Spear, are extremely phobic of anything that isn't a pegasus—were extremely phobic."
She attempted to hide her smile with a cough, but it didn't pass me by.
This news was revolutionary: I'd never once heard of any of these factions or places. The strangest part had to be 'King Stormfeather,' because I was pretty sure that Celestia wouldn't be happy to hear about that.
I withdrew into my thoughts and pondered this newfound information.
Shouldn't Celestia, or one of the other princesses have dealt with this renegade Legion by now? Wait, why were the Pegasi going in the first place? To help 'the unicorns in their Range against the marauding diamond dogs?' Why would they need the help of Pegasi? And why was it 'their Range?' Couldn't anypony live where he or she wanted? My mind started reeling, grasping at all the possibilities. Some were extremely unrealistic, but others were dangerously applicable.
I had to ask a question to garner a full understanding of the situation we were in.
"Where is Princess Luna?"
The Pegasi shared a look. "It is considered bad luck to speak the Nightmare's former name," replied Undertow. "But to answer your question: she is trapped on the surface of the Moon, and will hopefully remain there for eternity." I dropped to the earth with a resounding thud, spraying both Pegasi with snow and sleet.
I was in the wrong time period. Several hundred years off, if what Undertow had said was true—but there seemed to be no reason why he'd lie. I slammed an arm into the ground in anger, making yet another crater even larger.
As if being trapped in Equestria as a Pokemon wasn't enough, it wasn't even the right Equestria! Everything I knew about it had to be thrown out the proverbial window.
Goddammit. They just don't make things easy, do they?
With my emotions reined in once more, I resumed my hovering stance. Undertow and Riptide wore expressions of shock and confusion, and were looking at themselves as if they couldn't comprehend why they were suddenly covered in snow.
"Sorry," I apologized. "It wasn't anything you said; I was just expecting a different answer."
"Oi! You done over there? We should probably head before these bloody Pegasi get to their senses!" shouted Ryder from somewhere behind me.
He made a good point: I didn't know how long the Confusion would last. Addressing the Pegasi twins once more, I said, "My friends and I have to go now. Are you coming with, or are we going our separate ways?"
"We—"
"Uh—"
They stopped and seemed to think over what to say. I could already tell from their thoughts that they were terrified of both Ryder and I, and they were trying to think of the most polite way to decline.
"Thanks, but—"
"We appreciate the offer, but—"
I smirked inwardly. Sometimes, it felt good to be the badass. "I understand."
They both sagged in relief.
"Oh, and one more thing?"
They both stood to attention again.
"Would you mind dealing with Captain Waffles over there?" I pointed to the golden brown commander of the Legion, who was desperately trying to crawl his way out of crater I had created. One of his wings was bent at an odd angle.
A glint appeared in Riptide's eye while Undertow smiled darkly. "Oh, we wouldn't mind at all," replied Riptide, speaking for both of them. "After all, you killed Spear for me, and I always return a favour."
I shivered inadvertently. Some part of me was hoping that the zombie-looking lieutenant had lived, just so I wouldn't have his death on my conscious. I didn't care if he deserved it or not: I wasn't a judge or jury, but I had somehow obtained the role of executioner.
"Take care of yourselves. Maybe we'll meet again."
"Goodbye," the twins said in unison. "May the wind be at your back, Metang."
I laughed, and a refrigerator-like hum resonated out of me. "Please: call me Little Guy," I said as I reunited with Seth and Ryder.
As the Sun set behind us, bathing us in its tranquil, orange glow, Seth, Ryder, and I continued our way north. Since Seth was the only one incapable of flight, I carried him between my two bulky arms. Ryder had tried, but when he lost concentration, Seth had fallen through, so I was left to be the pack Metang.
I learned that Seth had actually poked his head out during my confrontation with the swarm of Pegasi, but had decided against interfering, crawled back into the Pit, and promptly fell asleep. I wasn't sure if Seth had always slept this much (and it seemed rude to ask); he was asleep when we first found him in his cage, he fell asleep in the Pit, and he was currently sleeping in my arms.
No homo.
Speaking of sleeping, I wasn't sure if I actually needed to. Sure, I passed out at Morning Dew's cottage, but I was pretty sure that was directly caused by some sort of witchcraft on her part. I didn't feel tired at all.
"Hey Ryder?" I asked, thinking softly (yes, it's possible) so as to not wake Seth up.
"Yeah?"
"Have you gotten any sleep at all since you got here?"
He thought about that for a while. "No, I haven't. Strangely enough... I don't feel tired, either," he replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Just curious."
/\/\/
We continued to fly in silence after our short exchange. As the landscape began to thaw, the Sun sank beneath the mountain to our backs, and we were left in the dark. I could see almost as well as I could in day, and Ryder said that he could see even better. Gradually, we descended along the side of the mountain. I wasn't sure how fast we were going, but it was a decent pace, and the trees below us passed by with alarming frequency.
Eventually, the ground flattened out beneath the moonlit sky and the train tracks came within sight once again. Even in the middle of the night, they glimmered brightly. We followed the tracks west, since I had a hunch that east was the wrong direction. The train tracks were, for the most part, straight, only curving and turning when there was something blocking the path, such as a giant boulder. I kept looking behind me, expecting a train to be roaring down upon us at any moment, but there never was.
We followed the tracks until the Sun came up, and by that point, I was ready to take a break. Just because I couldn't get mentally tired didn't mean I couldn't get physically tired: my arms were sore from holding Seth, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to hover.
"A break?" asked Ryder when I told him about my exhaustion. "But you don't even have muscles! How can you be tired when you're basically an oversized can opener?"
"Stuff it," I replied. "You weren't carrying Seth this whole freaking time. Oh, and you also don't weigh half a ton. In fact, you weigh a fifth of a pound, so I don't want to hear it."
Grumbling, Ryder agreed to my resting plan. We pulled in to a nearby forest on our right—this one was made up of spruce, firs, and other coniferous trees, along with ferns and other bushes. After floating in the forest for a while, we came across a small clearing that was large enough to house all of us. I heard a distant crashing sound, and considering my hearing, it was probably several miles away.
I placed Seth down on the ground gently. Part of me would feel bad if I woke him up, and another part wanted to see just long he'd stay asleep for. Ryder entertained himself by making his eyeballs go in different directions, until he accidently made one fall through his head. I was pretty sure his scream could be heard for miles around.
In fact, I think it was heard for miles around, because not long after, I heard the sound of voices once more.
Ryder and I unanimously agreed that we would hide rather than try to communicate with the newcomers. For all we knew, they were as nuts as the Legion Pegasi. Ryder phased into a nearby tree, looking out of a small hole with his two ominous-looking eyes. I dumped Seth in a nest of ferns, pine needles, and moss. As for me...
I'm not sure if you've ever had to hide a half-ton chunk of metal, but let me tell you... it's not easy. Thankfully, there were other ways to hide.
I placed myself flat on the ground, pulling my arms in close to my sides. When I closed my eyes, I looked like a simple chunk of metal, albeit covered in spikes. With any luck, whomever was coming would simply pass me by.
Quickly, quicker than I had anticipated, the voices came into hearing distance.
"Are ya sure ya heard somethin'? 'Cause we haven't seen a single damned thing outta the ordinary," said a deep, male voice. Something about it seemed off, but I wouldn't be able to determine exactly what it was until later.
"Positive," replied another voice, this one female. Like the other one, the voice was deeper than what seemed to be the norm, albeit this one had a scratchy tone to it. "I know a sound when I hear it, and that sound was most definitely a scream. I'd bet ma beak on it."
Beak?
"Both a ya: Quit yer yammerin'!" ordered a third voice, this one with not as deep of a voice, although with a much more pronounced accent. It sounded almost... Midwestern. "Iffen of course, you want to scare away whoever yelped like an Ursa was attackin' 'em, then go ahead."
As far as I knew, there was only one sapient species in Equestria that had beaks...
"'Ey! What's that?" asked the third voice a little while later, being the first to break his own silence rule. "Looks like a big hunk o' metal."
The second voice whistled. "A chunk that large gotta be worth fifteen hundred notes, easy."
Great. I was being examined by a bunch of gryphons that had the intent to sell me for easy money.
I'll have you know that I am worth my weight in scrap, and then some. Foolish gryphons! If they thought—
Click. Click. Click. Bwong.
Did they just—?
"This 'ere metal sounds awfully strange. Kinda like it's hollow, but it ain't."
"If it's hollow, then it'll be easier to drag. Ya got the ropes on ya, right?"
"'Course."
Not only did one of the gryphons tap and then kick my torso, they were also planning on wrapping rope around me and drag me along the forest floor. Not if I had anything to say about it.
I focused my energy on my hovering capabilities, and prepared to launch myself at the gryphons at the first sign of contact. I could already imagine the terrified looks and scared squawking. If I wasn't waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, I would've twiddled my three spiky digits and laughed maniacally.
And then they said something that made me abandon my plan.
"I hope yer right about this scrap heap—" I vibrated a little bit, but they didn't seem to notice, "—being worth all them marks, Dirk," said the third voice. "I'm missin' the fight b'tween the bird that Roster found the other day and Felicity's champion."
"What's so special 'bout that new one, anyway?" asked the second voice—Dirk.
"'parently it can breathe fire, or somethin' like that. I'm pretty sure Roster's pullin' ma tail, but..."
"If both of ya quit yer yammerin' and tie the bloody rope already, we might make it back in time," said the first voice, silencing the other two.
This mysterious, fire-breathing bird that the gryphons were discussing had me worried. Knowing my luck, it was someone from our little group-turned-Pokemon. The fact that they were being forced to fight certainly did nothing to quell my unease. I decided to play it cool and continue to pretend to be just a chunk of metal while the gryphons dragged me to their camp. With any luck, I'd be able to save whoever was there.
Yes, as a matter of fact, I can think and plan ahead. It doesn't happen very often, but I am capable of it.
"Ryder!" I mentally shouted, making sure I was only speaking to him.
"What?!" he whispered harshly from inside the tree trunk. I chanced opening an eye, and through the tiny slit, I saw the three gryphons all turned towards the tree in question. I quickly shut my eye before they could notice.
"Didja hear that?"
"Yeah... sounded like 'Haunt,' or somethin' like that... this place ain't haunted, is it?"
"What're ya, afraid of ghosts?"
"I ain't afraid of no ghosts!" (Their thoughts told me a different story.)
"Then let's tie this thing and start draggin' already!"
When I heard the sound of something being pulled out of a bag, I thought to Ryder again. "I overheard these gryphons talking about a fire-breathing bird, and I'm pretty sure it's another one of us in Pokemon form." I didn't hear a response, so I kept going. "I'm going to infiltrate their camp and rescue whoever's being held captive. I want you to wait until the gryphons and I are a good amount away, then wake Seth up and follow us from a safe distance." Once more, I didn't get a response, so I assumed that the plan was set.
As I felt the rope slowly wrap around me, I wondered how the hell the three gryphons were going to drag me.
/\/\/
Turns out, gryphons are a lot stronger than they look. I weighed approximately four hundred and fifty pounds, but between the three of them, they were able to drag me along the pine needle-infested and moss-covered forest floor at a decent rate. I periodically opened a singular eye and looked around when I was sure that they weren't looking.
By the time we arrived at the gryphon's camp, the three that found me were panting heavily, and their back halves were sheen with sweat. I wasn't sure how that worked, because birds didn't sweat (something about not being able to fly if they did), yet gryphons could and did, apparently. The pounding noise that I had heard earlier had only increased in volume, creating a torrential waterfall of sound that wouldn't stop.
Ironically, that was exactly what was causing the noise. The gryphon camp was situated along a crystal clear lake that was fed directly from a massive waterfall that was probably eight to nine hundred feet high. The camp itself was mostly made up of a motley assortment of tents in all shapes and sizes, colours and styles, with walkways in-between pounded flat from gryphon paws and claws. All of the tents seemed to encircle two pits in the center of the camp. It wasn't a very large camp, and by the number of tents compared to the average gryphon size, I guessed that maybe twelve or thirteen of the feathered felines were living there.
"Looks like we're in time, Clave," said Dirk, who had her tongue lolling out like a dog. "Everybody's still gathered 'round the fightin' pit."
"Lucky me," replied who I thought was Clave. "Where should we drop this scrapheap?"
"Here should be good."
I heard a couple sighs of relief when they stopped pulling me along. To be honest, it was actually kind of nice, having something else move me around. Must be how people on mobility scooters feel.
"'Ey! Ya'll're back, and I see you brought... whatever in tarnation that's supposed to be," exclaimed a new voice, one that wouldn't sound out of place on a Texan ranch.
"It's a big 'ol pile a metal that somebody must've left behind," replied Dirk. "I reckon it's worth fifteen hundred notes, easy."
One of them, probably the new voice, whistled.
"Quite a profit ya'll'll turn, if the price is accurate... but I gotta ask: the heck are those two things attached to the main part? And why're there spikes all over it?"
"We've been wonderin' the same thing..."
"Ah well. Extra scrap's extra scrap. Anyhow, care to watch as my newest fighter beats the living tar outta Felicity's quote Champion unquote?"
I snuck a look and saw, much to my amusement, that the gryphon even did the air quotes along with it.
"Sounds like a plan," replied Clave as they started to walk towards the 'fighting pit' as a group.
I settled in, and concentrated on listening for any clues that would tell me that whoever was fighting was a person-turned-Pokemon—
"Ooh, a new challenger? Let's see if you can block this!"
I blinked my eyes open. That sounded like—
"Hah! I haven't had this much fun since my high school gymnastics competition!"
I swear, the Universe has a grudge against me or something, because that was most certainly Miranda that I heard. Why-oh-why did I have to find her?
Actually, no: scratch that. Saying things like that makes me sound like a shallow, pedantic asshole who would rather leave his ex alone in a strange world than suck it up and deal with her clinginess. Allow me to rephrase.
Why-oh-why did I not find her last?
There. Much better.
Now that I knew exactly who we were rescuing, and an idea of what Pokemon she appeared as, I called for Ryder, who was hopefully nearby.
"Ryder!"
"Ow! Damn, dude: you don't need to yell!" replied a voice very close by.
I opened my eyes and saw Ryder's triangular, purple form hovering a few feet away. I also saw Seth, who was shambling his way across the forest floor, struggling to make it over even the tiniest of roots that broke the surface with his stubby little legs.
"Sorry," I replied. "I didn't think you were right behind me. Anyway..."
I quickly explained what I learned from the gryphons, and whose voice I heard.
"Why do you sound so sour about finding Miranda? Isn't she your...?" Seth trailed off.
"My?"
"Your girlfriend."
"Yeah... no. Tell me: Have you ever had a girlfriend, Seth?" I asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have," replied Seth pointedly, showing as much indignation as was possible on his furry little face.
"Easy... no need to get defensive." I raised my hands to show that I meant nothing by it, but, if anything, that was probably taken as an aggressive act. "Anyway, Miranda's my ex... and she isn't able to comprehend that through her thick skull."
Understanding dawned in Seth's two eyes covered by layers of shaggy fur. "Oh. That explains a lot, actually. Where—"
Whatever Seth had to say was interrupted when a twisting spire of fire shot up from the center of the camp, eliciting an ooh from the assembled gryphons and a surprised squawk from whoever was on the receiving end.
"Time to go and save the day," I thought. As an afterthought, I added, "Again."
"Ryder, scare the piss out of any gryphons you see while I grab Miranda and crush any gryphon that gets in my way. Seth... you just... stay right there."
Ryder nodded and made a B-line for the camp, phasing through any tent that stood in his way. Seth sighed and plopped onto the forest floor, munching on some berries that he found God-knew-where. I'd have to make Seth feel less useless later: I had a clingy ex-girlfriend to save.
As I took to the air, I could already hear the screams of terrified gryphons panicking. Either Ryder was extremely terrifying when he chose to be, or gryphons were just a buncha scaredy-cats (no pun intended). With my arms automatically locked into my sides and facing the opposite way that they normally did, I flew faster than I ever had before, almost as if my arms had magically become turbojets.
Unfortunately, my brakes hadn't improved at the same rate as my speed when my arms were in that position. A gryphon was madly flapping his wings to gain altitude, loose feathers showering down, when I careened into him while I was going about fifty miles an hour. I habitually closed my eyes before impact, just like I'd done with Spear, and I was glad I did.
Where the gryphon had been was nothing but a cloud of feathers, some with bits of red still sticking to them. The actual gryphon was nowhere to be seen: I imagined he had been launched several hundred feet away. Wincing inwardly, I looked around, and saw that I was directly above the 'fighting pit.'
The fighting pit was roughly twenty feet in diameter and made up of cold, hard dirt. A rusted and pitted cover of an unknown metal was laid overtop, made up of interlocking metal bars that were welded together with no more than an inch or two of space between. I looked in and saw...
Well, I knew what one of them was, and although I knew what the second was as well, I had literally no idea how or why it was in the pit.
One of them was Miranda, who was inhabiting the body of a Combusken, and the other was a bright red and orange phoenix. Both were looking up at the grate, confused, and both had various injuries dotted along their bodies and plumage. Miranda had several scorched feathers and what looked like a gash across her cheek, and the mysterious phoenix had a few bald spots where feathers should've been, along with a limp in its step as it tried to get a better look up.
This, along with being crushed by a flying ice cream truck, were two things I never thought I'd see.
"Umm... hello?" I thought outwardly, allowing anyone to pick my words up.
The Combusken squinted up through the grate, then gasped and did a happy little two-step jig. "Honey-bunch! Is that you floating up there?" She giggled, and it came out a like a squawking laugh. "It looks like you put on a few pounds!"
Hi-freaking-larious. "Yeah, it's me," I sighed. "Who's your friend... sweetie?" My brain tasted like sour after I said that.
"Well... I don't know. Those mean 'ol bird-cat things made me fight anything they put in here, and apparently I was doing good, so they made me fight this... fire-chicken," Miranda replied.
I resisted the urge to face-claw after she said 'fire-chicken.' If anything, she was the fire-chicken.
"Who are you calling fire-chicken?!" cawed the phoenix before flapping its wings and causing a miniature firestorm to rage within the pit. When the fire died down, along with my heart attack, both birds were still standing, and neither looked all the worse for wear. There seemed to be a few more blackened feathers on Miranda, but that was all.
"Enough!"
The Combusken and the phoenix stopped their angry circling of each other and looked back up.
"Phoenix—tell me your name, and for the love of me not feeding you to a Swinub, stop fighting!"
The phoenix harrumphed and began preening its feathers. "I see someone has more common sense than this one." The phoenix motioned with one wing towards Miranda. "You may call me Philomena."
If I still had a jaw, it probably would've crushed the two occupants below me.
My moment of complete and utter befuddlement was interrupted when I heard a nervous gulp come from behind me. Three gryphons, the same three that spent the last hour or so dragging me along, stood at the edge of the fighting pit, and were huddled together, quivering.
They were all about equal height, and the only thing that truly separated them was their colouring. Dirk, the female, had tan feathers and black fur. Clave, who was the only one sporting any apparel (it was a grey, low-brim fedora, and it somehow suited him), was white feathered and tan furred. The third gryphon who hadn't had his name said aloud had caramel coloured feathers and a strange, almost purple fur colour on his second half.
"Ya—ya'll're alive!" stammered Clave, who took his hat off and held it against his chest like he was visiting someone's funeral. "But I—we—you...?"
"Thanks for dragging me along with you," I said. "It made me feel like someone cared." I waited for their confused expressions to die down before saying, "Now: run, little gryphons! Run before the Ghost gets you!"
On cue, Ryder shimmered into existence beside me with his face twisted in a psychotic smile, the kind you'd see on someone in an insane asylum after you asked them what they were in for. He raised his hands to the sky menacingly, and all that was missing was a flash of lightning. The gryphons made the wise decision, and decided to skedaddle.
As they desperately flapped away with small tufts of fur and feathers trailing off in their wake, I called, "And if you three value your lives, you'll tell every gryphon you meet that animal fights are no longer allowed!"
I heard a squawk that could've been a yes, no, or something in-between.
I turned to Ryder and offered my right grasper. "High five."
He hit my hand, producing a strange echoing noise when his ghost-flesh connected with my metal limb. I was honestly expecting his hand to go straight through; I guess he got better at controlling his powers, just as I had.
"Where are the rest of the gryphons?" I asked.
"Well," began Ryder as he began to point out directions, "some went that way, a bunch went that way, and the rest went that way. I don't think the expression 'with their tails between their legs' is any more applicable than what just happened."
I nodded an affirmative.
"If you and the... spirit are done, would you mind breaking me out of here?" asked Philomena, who went back to preening almost immediately. "I don't care if you leave the chick remains trapped within, so long as I am free."
I attempted to raise an eyebrow, but realized that I didn't have any soon after. Well, if I one day turned into a Metagross, and I had control over my moustache/eyebrow-thing attached to my face, then I might be able to convey such motions again.
"Actually, Philomena... we didn't come here to save just you."
The phoenix tilted her head slightly. "I never thought you were: I just thought you happened to be traveling nearby and pitied my condition," she chirped. Her voice, which sounded like a nineteenth-century noblewoman's, sounded incredibly strange coming from the mouth of the tall, thin bird within the fighting pit.
"Close enough. I heard Miranda—that's the 'chick' getting ready to kick you in the face, just so you're aware." I stifled a laugh as Philomena cawed and flapped her wings backward, narrowly missing a kick from Miranda's clawed foot.
"Hey! Why'd you warn it? I was going to win!" she whined.
"One: it's a she. Two: quit fighting! That phoenix—"
"Phoenix?"
"—fire-bird that can't die of old age is named Philomena, and she's not going to hurt you if you stop trying to hurt her!" I made sure to glare at the phoenix. "Right?"
Philomena puffed her chest up in indignation. "I will refrain from harming her if she halts her assault on me!"
I rubbed the side of my head in exhaustion. Christ, is was like talking to two children. Anyway, after I finally achieved the mighty goal of stopping Miranda and Philomena from killing each other, I planted my two large graspers against the metal grate and heaved with all of my might. After the sound of groaning metal died away, I carefully floated the grate off to the side, freeing the Combusken and the phoenix.
Philomena soared into the air, graceful as a swan, and three times as beautiful. She twisted and spiralled up into the air before opening her wings to their full span, basking in the Sun's heat and strength.
Miranda, on the other hand, simply tensed her legs and jumped out of the fifteen foot deep pit like it was nobody's business. She looked around, eyes blinking and unused to the brightness of being aboveground, until she spotted my hovering form flying a few feet away. With a squeal, she jumped right on top of me, making me sink a foot lower while I attempted to readjust for Miranda's weight.
"Oh, honey bunch, it's so good to see you~!" she cooed. Miranda was spread-eagled on top of me, and was holding on tight.
"Y—Yea—Yep. I'm sure it is. Uh-I mean, good to see you too..." I mentally stammered. Philomena, who had just returned from her air show, perched upon the thin portion of my right arm, the part right before my 'shoulder.' Her feet felt like two hot, iron bands.
"I thank thee, creature of metal and thoughts, for rescuing me from my prison. Wouldst thou—"
"I swear, if you keep talking like that, I'm going to lock you back up, Philomena. I was traumatized by Shakespeare as a child, and I still can't stand Old English."
The phoenix blinked several times in confusion before ruffling her feathers. "I... apologize," she chirped. "Perhaps I spent too much time around unicorns: I tend to pick up the speaking mannerisms of whomever I'm presently traveling with."
"That brings me to my next point," I thought, remembering. "Are you coming with us, Philomena? There's still two more of our group that are lost somewhere, and after we find them, we will try to gain a conference with Princess Celestia."
Philomena thought for a moment before answering. "Considering the fact that the last time I traveled on my own, I was captured by a gryphon... I accept your gracious offer...?"
"Call me Little Guy: everyone else already does."
"Really? 'Little Guy?' I don't call eight inches—"
With Miranda and Philomena added to our ranks, we retraced our steps (or lack thereof) to find our way back to the clearing where we stopped at with the intent to rest, picking Seth up along the way.
Well, not so much as picking him up as having him carry Miranda, since he managed to evolve into a Piloswine while Ryder and I were out scaring gryphons and rescuing fire birds. According to Seth, he had been periodically eating food he could get his stubby little paws on whenever he was awake, simply because 'he had to.' I understood immediately: it was similar to my own instant understanding of 'needing' to consume that fateful vein of iron in the cave where I found Ryder.
At least Seth didn't have to eat with his ass. I wasn't even sure which part of my body contained my consumption orifice in my current body.
Anyway, I managed to dispose of Miranda onto Seth's back instead of my own, which granted me immediate relief. I wasn't sure why, but having her latched onto my torso made my levitating capabilities much harder to keep up. It was like I knew exactly how much I weighed and how much effort it took to make myself hover, and Miranda's extra weight just screwed everything up.
Seth didn't complain, though. If anything, he seemed happy to be of use, for once.
We traveled at a steady pace (due to our land-locked compatriots) out of the forest, and kept going until we hit the train tracks again. I was certain that they were our ticket to Canterlot (and by extension, to Celestia), and I'd be damned if my strategy didn't seem to be working better than expected, if finding Miranda and Philomena had anything to say for my plan.
After a few more hours of steady walking and floating, I felt Philomena's claws tighten around the skinny portion of my arm. For some reason that I couldn't fathom, she had taken to perching on me rather than flying herself. I wanted to tell her to get off, because her feet felt like they were burning a hole through my arm, but decided against it: I wasn't sure how easily phoenix in general, nor Philomena herself took to offense. I mean, if I could deal with the stupid headache that never went away, I could deal with a burning limb.
Strange. I never thought of myself as masochistic before. Must be the Metang part of me talking.
"Everyone, halt," she chirped. Miranda cocked her head to one side from her perch upon Seth's shaggy, hunched back, evidently confused as to why we all stopped moving. For yet another reason that I had no answer to, everyone was able to understand Philomena perfectly, except for Miranda. I found that incredibly ironic, considering that they were both fire-wielding birds.
I followed the phoenix's advice and listened. Nearby, I could hear a family of ground-dwelling mammals digging through the moist soil. Distant, but still not completely gone was the sound of the waterfall crashing into the lake. Even farther was a rumbling sound, too far for even me to make out clearly.
"Are you talking about the vibrations?" asked Seth, his voice having dropped another octave after evolution. His voice was more appropriate in a Piloswine rather than a Swinub, but still. "I've been feeling those for almost an hour now, and I don't know what they're from."
"I don't feel any vibrations," added Ryder, "but I feel... wind? Air? It's hard to explain. Kinda like how you can feel the air resistance of something thrown close to you, but amplified."
"All I can hear is a distant rumbling."
"I don't hear anything!" added Miranda helpfully. "What are we talking about?"
Philomena began preening her feathers again, glaring at my ex with one pure yellow eye while she did so. "I don't understand why you put up with that one, Little Guy," Philomena said, putting no emphasis on 'Little Guy,' unlike everyone else. "Nothing that comes out of her beak is even remotely useful or necessary."
The fact that Philomena could understand Miranda, but not vice-versa was news to me. "I thought you couldn't understand each other," I said, directing my thoughts to the phoenix on my arm.
She ruffled her wings and folded them against her slender body once more. "Untrue. She can't understand me, but I can comprehend her just perfectly," she whispered with venom infecting her words. Philomena shook her head quickly in the variety that seemingly only avian species were capable of. "Returning to the subject of why I asked everyone present to listen," she began, addressing everyone once more, "I did so only because I believe there to be a large, angry creature following us."
"W—Really?" asked Ryder, who was trying to peer deep into the grasslands behind us. "I don't see anything."
"Perhaps it's because your eyes aren't quite attached to your head properly," Philomena retorted. Ryder stuck his tongue out at the phoenix. "I presume that I can see further than anyone else here," she continued, "and I am certain that there is something—a rather large something—following us. It is still very far away, but it's moving quickly and relentlessly."
I thought for a moment, digesting Philomena's words. What creature would be out to get us, here, in the middle of the grasslands with nothing but a train track for miles—
I blinked a few times in realization.
"Philomena, I don't think there's a creature chasing us," I said.
She cocked her head to the side. "And why do you think that? I can see it from here: a gleaming, sharp protrusion protecting its mouth, a single horn that is raised to the sky and billows black smoke—"
"Because, Philly—" I received a ruffle of feathers, but no verbal assault, so I continued with a mental smirk, "—that 'creature' (I even used the air quotes) is a train."
"A... train?"
"A big metal contraption that moves things from one place to another with great speed over long distances. They need rails like these—" I motioned to the tracks on my right, "—to move."
"Oh." Philomena's face turned a slightly darker shade of burnt orange. "My apologies: I was unaware of the existence of such a contraption. We should carry on at once then—" She stopped when she looked into the eye closest to her. "What are you planning, Little Guy?"
I looked at Ryder, and he looked back. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked.
"I think I'm thinking of what you're thinking," he replied.
"You're the only one who won't die if your plan goes haywire," was the immediate response.
"Oh yeah. Right. That."
I was currently hovering right above the train tracks, only a few feet from the ground. Philomena was perched on one of Seth's tusks, and she was staring daggers at Miranda as wisps of smoke curled up from her feet.
The plan was simple: act like as a barricade on the rails, which would force the train to stop. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy, except that I wasn't sure if the train was going to stop for me or not. Although, that shouldn't matter to me, since being a Metang should allow me to survive a collision with a jet fighter, and a train was no jet fighter.
But that wasn't why I was worried. I was worried about what would happen to the train, and the occupants of the train if the conductor didn't stop. I didn't voice my concerns, however. Nobody else had said anything, and as the de-facto leader of our little group, I felt it necessary to instil confidence by not second-guessing my original ideas. Ryder could see my anxiety, however.
"You okay, dude?" he asked, out of earshot of everyone else. They had retreated to a safe distance away from the tracks. To be honest, I wouldn't trust me, either.
I paused, unsure if I should tell Ryder. He was essentially my second-in-command, and if I couldn't trust my best friend, then who?
"Not feeling so great in regards to my current plan of action," I admitted. "I... I killed someone, Ryder. A pony. A living, breathing, sapient pony. He may have had it coming, but who was I take away his life? And that gryphon that I smacked into... was it dead, too? And what'll happen if the train doesn't stop? More death. More death on my conscience."
Ryder seemed taken aback. He was silent for a few moments, then he reached over and patted me on the back with one of his dismembered hands. His shadow flesh felt like rubber. "I didn't think that you were hit that hard by... that," he eventually said.
"I'm good at keeping things in."
"Yeah, and that's your problem. I'm not going to tell you to tell me, or anyone else for that matter, everything that's wrong or good or happy or sad in your life, 'cause that's a load of bull crap, and I know you're the kind of person that likes to mostly keep to himself."
I never considered Ryder to be a long-winded fellow, and giving advice like this was certainly as far out of his forté as me asking for it was.
"But sometimes," Ryder continued, "sometimes you have to let other people help—whether you want them to or not. We're all in this together, remember?"
"Yeah..."
"Good. Now—" Ryder looked over at the train that was steadily approaching, "—let's try another tactic, shall we?"
I wasn't too sure if I liked the glint in his eye.
/\/\/
If I had a throat, I could imagine myself swallowing nervously. Philomena, with her keen eyes, informed us that the train was of the cargo variety, and contained no more than ten segments, including the first one. Rather than hijacking the train, Ryder's strategy was to force it to slow down enough for everyone to clamber aboard. And guess who's job it was to slow the train down.
I stretched my arms and wiggled my spiky digits as if I still had tendons and ligaments. Everyone save for me was waiting further up the tracks, as close to the tracks as they dared, waiting for me to pull the train to a crawl. I saw a small, clawed hand shoot up into the air and wave at me. I waved back.
The train was close, an inexorable force that chugged and whistled as it seemingly flew across the rails. A steady stream of black smoke billowed from the single smokestack, rising into the air only to be shoved down as the wind caught it and dragged it away. The rumble of the train was a steady beat in my head, echoing and reverberating throughout my metal carapace.
In the span of a single blink, the train was upon and past me. I counted the carriages until I hit seven, then launched myself forward in an attempt to gain enough momentum to keep up with the train. I didn't time it perfectly, but I timed it well enough. The train continued to pull onwards, unrelenting, and the seventh carriage, along with the eighth and ninth, quickly moved out of reach.
The tenth was in reach, though. I latched onto the solid steel bottom of the caboose of the train, and tried to pull in the opposite direction. Nothing happened. Gritting my non-existent teeth and narrowing my eyes, I heaved with every iota of strength that I possessed, enough so that the train began to slow down.
The wheels screamed and sparked, but I didn't let go, and the train continued to slow. The train shook a little, and then it shook a lot. I let go with one hand to look behind me. The train had passed the spot where everyone was supposed to get on, and I didn't see anybody left behind. Through pure effort of willpower, I swung back around against the wind resistance and grabbed onto the train with both hands once more before slowly but surely clawing my way up. Thankfully, I had strong graspers: I left holes wherever I used the steel bottom as a handhold.
I rested my arms for a second and looked around at the caboose that I was laying on. On both sides of me were crates of something, tied down with rope, creating a sort of hallway that I was currently sprawled out in. In large, black print, two words were printed on all of the crates.
I let out a mental breath that I hadn't realized I was holding after reading the large print on the crates. I hadn't realized how stressed and worried I was about the direction of the train's travel. I mean, what if it was going in the opposite direction? Getting everybody aboard the train was a pain, and I was sure that getting everybody off of the train would be even more difficult.
With an effort of willpower, I started hovering again, then immediately regretted making that decision.
In an instant, I flew backwards—or rather, the train flew forwards. I barely had enough time to jam my spiky fingers into the floor and hold on with a grip of death before I shut down my hovering ability. As if somebody had flicked on a light switch, I fell into the floor like a half-ton weight, creating yet another crater and causing the train to squeal and shake.
I had no idea what the hell just happened: it was almost as if my hovering capabilities—anti-gravity magnetism, psychic magic, whatever you want to call it—didn't seem to work well with fast moving objects. I didn't even bother trying to wrap my head around, but instead accepted it as just another clashing trait of an alien body stuck in a foreign world with different physics.
That didn't mean that I wasn't annoyed at having to drag my heavy ass around; far from it.
With slow, ponderous drags, I eventually heaved myself across the floor of the train, leaving three-pronged holes wherever my hands punctured the steel frame. I was so entranced with putting one arm in front of the other that I was taken completely by surprise when Miranda leaped atop my chassis and wrapped her stubby little chicken arms around me.
"Oh, honey-bunch," she crooned. "When you didn't meet us on one of the middle cars, I was so worried—"
"We were worried," corrected a voice that was unmistakably Ryder's.
"I was more worried than the rest of you put together!" Miranda exclaimed. Addressing me again, she said, "What happened? And why aren't you flying?"
I explained as quickly as I could in regards to my escapade of slowing down the train and my subsequent realization that using my hovering ability would give me a one-way ticket to face planting the countryside.
"Huh. I'm glad I'm not the only one, then," Ryder said. One of his hands was missing, and only after searching furtively did I see that it was hanging onto a clump of Seth's shaggy fur. "I have to be touching something that's on the train, or else it'll fly out from under me."
"Great. Just what we need: handicaps," I thought, mostly to myself. I psychically cleared my mind (equivalent to clearing one's throat) and asked, "So what else is on this train? All I've seen are these brown crates."
"That's, well... that's all there really is," admitted Seth, absently sniffing the floor, probably for food. "We managed to hop on the third train car, and from there to here is nothing but crates, of all sorts, sizes, and shapes." He shook, making his hairy back ripple and causing Philomena, who was perched upon the hump on Seth's back, squawk in displeasure.
The absence of anything but crates was certainly strange. If I knew anything about trains, which I don't, it was that they never carried just one type of object: normally there were a whole bunch of different items and objects, right?
My curiosity got the better of me, so I asked Miranda. "Would you mind grabbing and opening up one of those crates for me? I want to see what's inside."
"Sure thing, sweetie!"
I felt Miranda's clawed feet on top of my head as she stood up and tried to grab a box. I couldn't see very much from my floor-locked position, but from the annoyed clucking noise and the fact that she was jumping on my head, I could tell that she couldn't reach.
"Seth, would you mind...?" I made a vague motion towards the jumping chicken on my back.
"Yeah, sure. No problem."
With a couple of steps that each rocked the train however slightly, Seth head butted a stack of crates with a dull thwack, causing them to tumble down and into Miranda's reach. Several bounced off of me, but they might as well have been acorns for all the distress they caused me. With a quick swipe of her claws, Miranda cut the rope around the crate and pulled the lid off, revealing the contents to everybody.
After staring at it for almost ten seconds with no soul speaking a word, Ryder broke the silence.
"Are those... bottles?"
Sure enough, there were eight moonshine-style bottles in the crate, with layers of some sort of padding between them, which explained why the contents weren't currently leaking out.
"Yeah, but what's in them?"
For some reason, Seth took that as an invitation to sheer the top off of one of the bottles with a tusk and dip his tongue into the liquid. I was understandably livid.
"Christ, Seth! Since when does asking 'what's in them' mean 'taste test?' You don't know what's in those bottles! Hell, they might be full of poison, or—"
Seth belched, which derailed my train of thought and made a half-decent attempt at derailing the actual train. "Tastes like apples," he said appreciatively before bending down and taking another couple of laps of the liquid with his small, pink tongue. "And alcohol," he added before diving in again.
I gently flicked him on the nose.
"Ow!"
"Serves you right. No more apple cider for you: you're not the most nimble person here, even when sober, and I don't want you crushing anyone."
While I thought outwardly, my mind was reeling inwardly. Were alcoholic beverages legal in Old Equestria? Was this a smuggler's train?
"Miranda... open another crate, would you?"
"Sure thing!"
She quickly dragged over another crate, this one smaller than the last, and opened it. Inside were bundles of short, red, cylindrical objects, and rolls of some sort of twine, wire, or string.
Suddenly, I was regretting the decision to climb aboard the train.
How freaking bad was our luck that, of all the trains, we end up climbing aboard the one that was carrying apple cider and dynamite?
Pretty bad, if I say so myself.
To add insult and probably death by explosion, a small amount of dust came out of the box and drifted menacingly towards Miranda's agape beak. Never before have I been so afraid of tiny, suspended particles. It seemed that everyone, even the people who had didn't need to breathe, held their breaths while they waited. To sneeze or not to sneeze; that was the question that everyone was wondering.
"Ah!"
Everyone pre-emptively winced.
"Ah!"
I heard several prayers being whispered.
"Achoo—"
Quick as I could, I put my arm in front of Miranda just as she sneezed a torrent of fire. With a rare fling of masochism, I watched with mild interest as my arm started smoking and some of the metal melted and dripped down onto the steel carriage floor, only to burn a hole straight through. The whole time I observed my arm melting like a popsicle on a hot summer day, I didn't feel any pain.
"Ohmygod! Ohmygod! I didn't mean—I tried to—I can't—!"
With a metaphorical click, I was no longer a distant observer of someone else's problem: I was the one who had the half-melted arm, and it hurt. My vision tunnelled, I could see stars, and everything else was blotted out by pain.
I once fell down a flight of concrete stairs, and broke an arm, leg, and my collarbone. That hurt, but compared to having your arm melted by sixteen hundred degree (Fahrenheit) flames, it was akin to scraping your knee on the playground.
Thankfully, Seth had a brilliant idea. He took a deep breath and breathed a stream of icy wind onto my raised appendage, cooling it and making the rivulets of molten metal cool and harden. I wasn't sure if it was because the cold numbed my limb, but the pain dropped from feeling like it was being charbroiled to a dull throb, with occasional spikes of ache.
I felt ripped off. I was a freakin' floating (most of the time), psychic heap of metal. Why in the hell could I feel pain? I could understand the head pains from using my mental abilities: that was fine. But having nerve endings in my metal body? I call bullshit on that.
"Th-Thanks, Seth," I said, gently laying my arm back onto the floor, where it was nice and safe. "That helped a lot more than I thought it would."
"I-uh—yeah, you're welcome," the big, furry pig-thing replied. "Uh... are you going to be okay? That—" he motioned with his head towards my mangled hand, "—doesn't look very good."
I twisted my arm this way and that. "No, it doesn't look very good, but there's no sense crying over melted flesh, is there?" I looked back at my arm and winced. "What's done is done, and I'd rather sport an injury than have everyone blown to smithereens."
Gingerly, I picked up the lid with my good hand and placed it back on top of the crate that contained roughly enough dynamite to level a building—or three. Everyone's eyes were on me while I did it, and by the time I was done, I was feeling mighty uncomfortable.
"I'd appreciate it you turned your sympathy into moving in that direction," I said, pointing towards the set of doors that were casually knocked down by who I assumed was Seth when they first entered my carriage. "If I was the conductor of this train, I'd be awfully curious as to why it mysteriously slowed down—"
My thought-speech was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream that set the hairs on Seth's back straight up. Even Philomena was disturbed: the plume of feathers on her chest rose before she nervously began preening and flattening them again.
"That doesn't sound like someone's having a good time," Ryder said.
"Seconded. Everyone, let's get the hell out of here. Ryder, you take point: I doubt that whatever got a response like that can hurt a Ghost. I'll bring up the rear, 'cause... well..." I motioned towards my arm, and nothing more was said about it.
With Ryder floating in front and Seth, along with Philomena, trailing just behind, I waited for Miranda to go ahead of me. When she didn't, I awkwardly turned myself around, and saw her sitting on the floor, crying.
"Hey, hey, there's no need to cry—"
Without a warning, Miranda flung herself toward me and wrapped her arms around me in a semi-crushing vice, spouting, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!"
Despite myself, I gently brought my good arm and returned the hug, albeit softer.
"It's all my fault that you—your—"
"It's not your fault."
"Yes it is! I was the one who—"
"It's not your fault."
"But—"
"It's not your fault," I said for the third and final time. "I could just as easily argue that it's my fault for asking you to open up that godforsaken box in the first place. I know you had no intention of hurting me, or anyone, for that matter, and I don't want you to beat yourself up over something that was out of your control."
I felt her wracking sobs lessen in both power and frequency. "I'm still sorry," she sniffed. "You can't make me not feel sorry."
"That's fine by me, just as long as you're sorry for me, not sorry based on guilt. I'm not going to disregard pity or sympathy like some overly-macho, self-hating jerk."
I felt Miranda's sobs lessen even more until they could be masquerading hiccups. "You're a good person, James," she whispered.
I froze. I hadn't heard my name spoken in what felt like years. Recovering from my initial shock, I said, "Good person? No, I'm just a person who doesn't like to see someone else beat themselves up over something that they didn't—"
I froze again, this time because a white light was blossoming from Miranda's chest. She hugged me tighter and whispered, "I love you," before being fully engulfed in the blindingly brilliant, white light.
You ever heard something that you simply didn't have an answer to? Well, that's how I felt when I heard Miranda's parting words. I always tried to keep Love, with a capital 'L,' out of my relationships; those three words almost always overcomplicated things.
I calmly thought all this as Miranda's form grew even brighter and taller. In a spark of concern, I adjusted her body so that she wouldn't impale herself on my nose-cone-spike-thing if she so much as twitched. Eventually, I realized that the safest—and least complicated thing—was to act like I hadn't heard her.
Yes, I know it was cruel. Yes, I know it was morally wrong. But you know what? I was in no position to be rekindling old relationships (even if the other party hadn't signed the release contract); I'd deal with my feelings at a later time—preferably one where I wasn't surrounded by explosives and a fire-wielding bird.
Seemingly on time with my decision, the light disappeared from Miranda's body and she swayed until I steadied her with a hand.
"What... happened?" she asked, twisting her neck back and forth, confused as to why her perspective was so radically different. "James?! Where are you?!"
I heard the panic in her voice, and answered quickly, "Look down."
She did, and then I saw it click in her head. Miranda spent roughly thirty seconds examining her new body before saying, "So this is what it feels like to be tall!" She snickered. "How's the view from down there? Hah! I always wanted to say that..."
As my hand extricated itself from my face, I thought, "That's all well and dandy, but we should probably catch up—"
"Oh! Yeah, you're right—here, let me drag you..."
/\/\/
I don't care what anyone says: having a girl strong enough to drag me around was certainly a nice change of pace. With the help of Miranda's six foot tall form and unnecessarily strong legs, we were able to catch up to the rest of the crew and explain (to Philomena in particular, who hadn't the slightest idea what evolution was (not that I blamed her)) what took us so long.
After that was explained, excluding what was discussed between Miranda and I (Ryder raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment), we traveled through the train cars, stopping at each one to briefly inspect the contents. The ninth and eighth carriages were full of straight-up apples; why they chose to keep the dynamite and hard liquor on the caboose was beyond me. The seventh one had a motley assortment of wood, nails, and other building material. One of the boxes containing what appeared to be some sort of jungle wood was knocked over, but nobody said it was them. I filed that away for later.
Finally, the sixth carriage held our quarry. Carefully, Miranda slid open the door and stopped dead in her tracks. I heard several gasps. Curiosity got the better of me and I pushed up with my arms, using them like a pair of stilts to see over Seth.
If I had a mouth, I'm sure that I would've gasped as well.
Crisscrossing the interior of the dark train car were strands of what appeared to be spider string, and every so often, a spark would run along the length of one before fizzing out of existence.
"What the f—" Ryder began, only to be cut off by a muffled groan.
I tried to pierce the darkness of the train car and determine where the moan came from, but when that didn't work, I opened up my consciousness and tried to listen in to the thoughts around me. Ryder, Seth, and Miranda's mental monologue was hidden from me, but Philomena's (she was thinking about cake at that moment, which struck me as odd) and someone else's weren't.
The mysterious someone's thoughts were a jumbled, incoherent mess—much like the carriage that currently had the amount of spider webs one would expect in a basement that hadn't been opened for a century. The thoughts—pleas, rather—all had one thing in common: they were terrified, and they wanted to escape. Soft whimpers permeated the air.
"Hello?" I whispered, or at least, the thought-equivalent of a whisper.
The whimpers ceased, and whatever small, jerky movements they were making subsided as well. Their thoughts were reeling, confused, and unsure of what to do.
"Where are you?"
They continued giving me the silent treatment, but their thoughts betrayed their anxiety.
"It's okay," I thought. "We're not going to hurt you if you don't hurt us. All you have to do is think about where you are, and—"
Seemingly unbidden, a thought of 'left side, in the corner' flew out of their mind before they had a chance to quell the thought and banish it to a far recess of their mind.
"Whoever they are, they're in the left side corner. Can someone—?"
"Ow!"
I glared at Miranda, who had tried to brush the cobwebs aside and received a jolt for her effort. She looked back at me sheepishly and stood back; some of her feathers were sticking straight up.
"Can someone who isn't affected by electricity please clear a path for the rest of us?" I finished, turning my attention to Seth, our resident Ground-type.
It took him a couple of seconds to realize that I was referring to him. "Oh—oh! You mean me!"
"No, I mean the other person that's immune to electricity here," I thought dryly. "Yes, I mean you."
Seth looked at the dark, dreary carriage covered in spider webs, then looked back at me. "But I'm going to get covered in it! How hard do you think it's going to be to get cobwebs out of my fur? I mean look at it!" He shook like a dog, and his mass of hair shook with him.
"We'll give you a haircut after." I glanced at the Blaziken standing to the right. She waved. "Or we could always burn your hair off if it's bothering you that much."
Seth made a gulping noise that seemed exaggerated. "I'm going, I'm going! Sheesh."
Philomena hopped down from her perch on Seth's hunched back, and Ryder transferred his hand to one of the triangular spikes protruding from my torso so he didn't get zapped.
As Seth slowly made his way through the train car, breaking every electrified thread that he could, Philomena made a comment that I had been waiting for.
"You are all unlike anypony or anyone else that I've had the pleasure or misfortune to come across. Where do you hail from, Little Guy?"
"A place called 'Earth,' located very far away," I replied. "And what are we, then? A pleasure or a misfortune?"
Philomena ruffled her feathers and began preening almost immediately, a habit I noticed her do whenever she was met by something that made her uncomfortable. "You're... strange. Not a pleasure, nor a chore, just... strange. Are everyone who live in 'Earth' as different as you four are?"
"No. Most are even stranger." She made a soft clucking sound that I took to represent a laugh.
By the time I looked back at through the doorway, the bottom three-and-a-half feet were free of cobwebs. That was more than enough for everyone present, with the exceptions of Miranda and I; she had to crawl on her hands and knees to get through, but I had to tank through. Each time I dragged myself closer, I was struck by the sensation of touched a fly zapper: not as painful as it could've been, but it was still a royal pain in my lower abdomen. Before I pulled myself out of that dark and spooky carriage, I still had one more thing to do.
I reached over with my left hand, the one that looked like a half-melted candlestick, and plunged it into the veritable nest of spider string. Ploughing through the pain of a hundred stinging sensations, amplified by my injury, I found a solid heap that resisted my movement, and pulled it free and behind me as I crawled out of that carriage and into the next. Miranda lent me a helping hand (hah), this time keeping her wrist flames to a minimum size, as they had scorched me a little bit the first time she dragged me.
Before I could take a closer look at who or what was wiggling around in the spider web cocoon and making agitated noises, something jumped on top of me and yelled, "Another one, huh?! I'll knock all of your bloody blocks off, you pony bastards!"
(24) - Said the Electric Spider to the Psychic Tank
(24) - Said the Electric Spider to the Psychic Tank
I felt a weight—not too heavy, but not that light, either—on top of my head, and heard several scratching noises, as well as saw a fuzzy yellow leg ending in a rounded, blue point.
"Take this! And that!"
I recognized that voice and accent: Caleb. I wasn't sure what he was trying to accomplish, but he stopped whatever it was he was doing after another couple of scratching sessions, with myself none the worse for wear.
"Yeah... could you get off of me, please?" I asked as politely as I could manage, given the fact that he had jumped on me.
Caleb sprung off of me, almost as if I had threatened him with a magically appearing can of Raid. "Wait a second... you're not one those ponies..."
"No shit." I looked around, but I couldn't determine where he'd jumped off to.
"I recognize that voice... James?!" Caleb called from what seemed to be the ceiling.
"The one and only," I replied.
"Where's everyone else?"
"Standing right beneath you, listening to our entire conversation."
"Oh... well, shit."
Caleb dropped to the floor lithely, landing on all sixes. He was most definitely a Galvantula, a giant spider that spun webs of electricity. While everyone said their hellos, including Philomena, who seemed to have arachnophobia, if her attitude towards Caleb was any indication, I was quite content to help the poor pony out of its electrified cocoon.
I wasn't sure if it was because the pony was absorbing all of the shock, but when I began tearing through the surprisingly strong strands of spider silk, I didn't feel any electric pulses course through me. The pony was almost entirely immobile, save for their rapid breathing. Quicker than I expected, the pony was entirely free.
I decided to issue a warning, on the off-chance that the caramel-orange and black earth pony chose to make a break for it. Yes, I know that I was on a train, and that there was technically nowhere to go, but ponies had consistently surprised me with the choices they made.
"If you run, there's a six foot tall bird that can turn you into a barbeque with the snap of her fingers, and very hungry pig-thing that hasn't eaten in a while. Understand?"
The earth pony shook his (I was pretty sure it was a 'he', at this point) head in the affirmatory way. "I understand," he mumbled.
I shuffled backwards a little bit to leave enough room for the pony to stand up. He did so, slowly and carefully, wincing and favouring his right side as he stood up fully. Almost as soon as the pony regained his footing, I heard a scream of, "Yarrrrgh!" and bared witness to a yellow, blue, and purple blur springing from one side of the carriage to pounce upon the poor earth pony.
"Stop!"
Both parties tussling on the floor, along with everyone else, heeded my call and looked to me.
"Caleb, get the fuck off of the pony."
"But—!"
"I don't care! You can resolve whatever issues you have with each other without beating each other to a pulp, got it?"
With a sigh, Caleb jumped off of the pony onto the wall of the carriage, where he remained, grumbling to himself.
"And you," I thought, directing my attention the earth pony that was struggling to get to his hooves once more. "Who are you?"
"My name's Jack Apple Daniels, but ya'll can call me Jack," he said, tipping his non-existent hat. His piercing, and surprisingly familiar, green eyes were filled to the brim with nervousness and caution. "I'm mighty thankful for your assistance...?"
I almost didn't believe that this pony's name was actually Jack Apple Daniels, because that seemed almost too perfect. A quick check of his thoughts, however, confirmed that he was indeed called that. Jack Daniels the pony. Well I never.
"James," I replied. "Or Little Guy. Or big metal thing. Frankly, I don't really care what I'm called at this point."
A ghost of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth before disappearing almost as quickly as it had come. "I think I'll call you Little Guy, just for the sheer juxtaposition your name entails. Now—" he eyed the electric spider that was currently glaring back at him, "—would you mind explaining to me exactly what that overgrown arachnid's problem is with me?"
After I recovered from the surprisingly well-spoken stallion's words, I repeated Jack Daniel's question to Caleb.
"What's my problem? What's my problem?! I'll tell you what my problem is!" Caleb exclaimed. "My problem is that these pony bastards nearly killed me three times! Three times!"
I said nothing, waiting for Caleb to elaborate.
"The first time was when they cut down the tree that I'd claimed as my own, back when I was still a Joltik. I was damn lucky that I was freaking small, else I would've been crushed. The second time was when I was very nearly turned into mush—the branch that I was clinging to for dear life was the same one that they were processing through a sawmill!"
"And after that?"
"Well, after being nearly crushed and sawed, I was promptly thrown in a bloody box—full of wood, mind you—and thrown onto this stupid train!" He punctuated his statement by spitting a glob of sparking web onto the floor of the train. "So, while I'm trying to avoid being crushed by the wood that's tumbling around in that godforsaken box, everything goes white and I end up evolving into this. But that's not all, oh no! You'd think that after I grew that much, I'd be fine, right? Nope! I spent god-knows-how-long being crushed up against both the wood and the box, until there was a big enough bump that finally knocked me down, and let me free."
"Pretty sure that was us."
"And I thank you for it! So, finally free after being compressed—oh, and boy did it hurt—I decided to take my revenge on the knob-headed ponies that did this to me in the first place!"
I repeated, to the best of my ability, everything that happened to Caleb so that Mr. Hard Liquor there could understand.
"I wasn't a part of any woodcutting crew," Jack said. "I'm a trader. All I did was load up the supplies from Manehattan to unload at Canterlot."
If my face could show expressions, it would be locked in the facial expression of 'are-you-fucking-kidding-me'. I turned to Caleb.
"Tell me, Caleb: what colour were the ponies that nearly killed you?"
"Hmm... one was neon green, another was burgundy or red, and another was yellow—just like that one right there! Actually..." He paused for a moment. "Actually, I don't think that pony's as bright as the other one... must be the fact that we're indoors..."
"Yeah... no. Mr. Jack Daniels here isn't yellow: he's coloured almost identically to the alcohol's namesake of which he's named after."
"What?! Impossible!"
"What colour am I?"
"Light blue?"
I looked down at my slate-blue arms. "I don't think your eyes are that good, Caleb." Turning to Jack Apple Daniels, I thought, "It appears your whole imprisonment was due to some unfortunate misunderstanding, Jack. My... acquaintance here can't see very well, and he thought you were one of the ponies who destroyed his home and nearly eviscerated him."
"I'll let it slide—for now." After looking each and every one of us, he asked, "If you don't mind me asking: what in Tartarus are you?"
"Pokemon, obviously. Oh, and a phoenix." Philomena chirped at her recognition.
Jack Daniels raised an eyebrow. "I... see. Well, as the trade master of this train—can I offer anyone any refreshments?"
I felt rather than heard Seth's stomach growl. "I hope you have a lot of excess food."
With Seth, Miranda, Caleb, and Philomena happily eating their fill of apples, greenery, and in the case of Caleb, some sort of meat jerky that was only being shipped by Jack Daniels because of the few gryphon emissaries living in Canterlot (apparently, to him, apples tasted like 'peppered asscheeks.' No comment), I had a chance to ask the pony some the questions that had been burning inside.
"Why the hell are you shipping dynamite to Canterlot?" I might've put a bit too much venom in my thoughts, but to Jack's credit, he answered calmly.
"Those gems deep within Canterlot Mountain aren't going to reveal themselves." When I asked him what he meant by that, he replied, "There's a massive amount of undiscovered gems there, and there's no other way to get to them besides blasting your way through."
"Don't unicorns have some sort of spell to find gems?"
Jack laughed. "They wished that they did. I'm sure that there's a whole bunch of them trying to make one, but to my knowledge, they haven't yet."
Fair enough. Rarity would probably faint if she knew that explosives were once the only way to mine for gems.
"And the apple cider?"
"Ponies gotta get their booze from somewhere. In fact," Jack lowered his voice, "half of this shipment is going to the Royal Castle, of all places."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Rumour has it that Celestia herself drinks most of it, but hey, I'm not one to judge. It must've been hard for her to lose her sister, and if the stuff I bring helps ease the pain, then I'm happy to be of service."
"That reminds me: how long ago was Princess Luna banished?"
Jack tipped his Stetson that he recovered in solemnity. "I'm not a superstitious fellow, but speaking the old princess' name brings bad luck. If I were you, I'd refrain from speaking her name in public."
"Funny... you aren't the first pony to tell me that."
I saw a sparkle in Jack's eye. "Then what we say must have some sort of merit, hmm? Anyway, in regards to how long ago the Banishment (it certainly sounded like a first-letter-capital type word) was..." He rubbed his chin with a hoof. "Had to have been a couple hundred years ago, at least."
Well, at least we weren't too far back in Equestria-time. If there was one thing that terrified me more than anything else, it was an angry and/or pissed off Celestia.
"Mind if I ask you a question?"
"Shoot." When the earth pony cocked his head in confusion, I clarified, "Go ahead."
"Why are you on my train in the first place?"
"We're going to Canterlot to get an audience with Celestia, and your train happened to be in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you look at it."
Jack frowned. "Why do you need an audience with Celestia?"
"Well, as you probably already guess, my friends and I—with the exception of Philomena, the phoenix—aren't from Equestria, and Celestia is our only way back home."
He grunted. "That's a tall order, Little Guy. There aren't a whole lot of ponies that Celestia allows an audience with—and no offense, but you aren't a pony."
"Oh, I know that. In fact, I'm counting on me not being a pony to affect her judgement." I checked my internal compass, and it told me that we were going south-west. "How long should it take for us to get to Canterlot?"
Jack Daniels excused himself for a moment while he passed through the coal carriage and went into the front car. There were two earth ponies shovelling coal into the ever-hungry furnace, and a single earth pony acting as conductor. Jack returned fairly quickly and said, "We should be heading into the Canterlot tunnels by nightfall, and the city proper by daybreak, if all goes well."
I thanked Jack and began making my way back to one of the earlier carts where everyone was holed up in. The whiskey-coloured earth pony wasn't too pleased with the three-pronged holes I was leaving in his train floor, but he didn't bother me about it.
It was less than a day until I found out whether we would escape from this past-Equestria and return to Earth, preferably in our own bodies... or be stuck here forever.
I wasn't a religious person, but I was praying for the former.
I want to say that the time spent waiting for the train to reach Canterlot was spent well. I want to say that, but I'd be lying if I did. In actuality, the majority of it was spent worrying and thinking of everything that could go wrong, rather than everything that could go right, or even what I was going to say to perhaps (almost certainly) the most powerful pony in Equestria.
The fact that we hadn't yet encountered Cindy yet in our travels wasn't helping anything either: I had a sinking feeling that only got worse with each passing mile, and for whatever reason, I had the taste of drinking orange juice after brushing my teeth, even though I had no taste buds to taste with.
As night fell, and everyone but the conductor, Ryder, and myself were asleep, I decided to share some of my fears with the apparition that was my best friend.
"I've got a bad feeling about this, Ryder. I don't technically have a gut anymore, but I still feel like I have a gut feeling that something's going to go wrong. Y'know... more wrong than shit's already gone so far."
"Considering the circumstances—" Ryder motioned with his sole hand towards himself, the rest of our sleeping crew, and myself, "—I'd say we've done pretty freakin' outstanding so far."
I had to concede that point to him. "Fair enough." I planted my arms like stilts and peeked out of one of the windows, observing the cool stone tunnel that we were currently traveling through, causing the already loud train to echo and amplify. I was barely tall enough to see out, and it reminded me of when my mother used to hoist me up so I could see above the sea of people whenever there was some sort of parade. Speaking of parents...
"What if we can't go back, Ryder?" Such a simple question with so many implications.
Instead of answering me right away, he hovered a few feet upwards, enough so that the upper portion of his body was sticking through the roof of the train car. Freakin' cheater. When he came back down, he looked rather downtrodden, which was a strange look for a Haunter: normally they were the ones to make others feel downtrodden.
"If we can't... then... I don't know, James. What can we do? Our parents will be wrecks, but they'll eventually get over it. The question is: Will we?"
"What do you mean?"
Ryder laughed, a sickly, harsh sound. "You and me—I'm pretty sure we can't die. At least, not from old age. You could fall into an active volcano, or I could run into that damn shaman pony whatever-his-name-was... but aside from some misfortune befalling us, we should be immortal."
Well fuck me sideways. I hadn't thought of that. "Then that means..." I thought, suddenly realizing. "That means that everyone else... isn't?"
Ryder nodded grimly. "If all Pokemon lived forever, I'm pretty sure they'd have overrun their world by now. I don't have a clue how long each species can live, but it's anything but forever."
"Seth can do the next best thing—if, or rather, when he evolves into a Mamoswine, considering the amount of food he eats (I checked on the apples in one of the previous carriages, and there was almost none left in one of the three-by-five bins), he should be able to hibernate for long periods of time. Wasn't there something about them waking up ten thousand years after being frozen?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I think you're right. But that still leaves Miranda and Caleb, along with whatever Cindy turned in to."
"We don't even know where she is."
"I think she's at Canterlot—call it a non-gut feeling."
I thought for a moment about how to rectify Miranda, Caleb, and possibly Cindy's mortality problems. "We'll come up with something," I promised, "if we are stuck here."
"It always works to plan for the worst."
Ryder and I chatted aimlessly for a few more minutes, avoiding the more unpleasant topics that were brought up earlier. Eventually, I decided that we should try to rest, even if we couldn't actually fall asleep.
"Can do, Little Guy," Ryder answered without a hint of sarcasm.
"See you in Canterlot."
As Ryder turned to leave, I heard an extremely faint voice—and it seemed to be calling my name.
James?
"Ryder?"
He turned around with an eyebrow raised. "Yes?"
"Did you just—?"
"Did I just what?" He looked confused.
"Never mind. See you later."
"See you."
After Ryder left the carriage that I had uncontestedly claimed as my own, I secretly wondered who had tried to contact me. I pondered it for what felt like hours, but gave up: with any luck, all the answers would be found in Canterlot.
I just hoped they were the right ones.
/\/\/
The quote-rest-unquote period flew by, and before I was ready, the train was approaching Canterlot. Although, to be honest, if I had several days until we arrived, I still wouldn't have been ready.
It was unanimously agreed upon by Jack Daniels and I that we wouldn't get off at the Royal Castle loading bay while Jack and his crew unloaded crate after crate of apple cider for one very good reason: neither of us thoughts that Princess Celestia or the current Royal Guard Captain would take kindly to five (six, if none of the ponies had any clue what a phoenix was) creatures of unknown origins strolling in through their cargo bay, demanding to have an audience with Celestia.
No matter how you sliced it, that wouldn't work out well for any party.
Instead, we were to get off at a place called Hustler's, which was apparently a prominent shipping company that delivered goods all over the mountain-bound city. I know that I was about as far away from home as was physically capable, but all I could think about at the name Hustler's was the adult-only magazine back on Earth.
As the train began to slow, I said my final words to Jack Apple Daniels.
"I appreciate everything you've done for us, Jack. I'm sure that most ponies would've kicked us off—"
He gave me a look.
"Fine. Would've tried to kick us off. But that's not the point. The point is that I owe you, and if things don't work out with us getting back home, feel free to call in any favour that isn't ridiculously outlandish."
Jack cracked a smile. "I'll have to take you up on that, Little Guy. How will I get a hold of you?"
"You're a clever pony: I'm sure you'll find a way."
He laughed, tipping his Stetson hat, and I finally realized why his bright green eyes were so familiar. Man, but I'm thick sometimes. It seems that the Apple family had its roots far-spread, even in ancient times.
Bidding Jack farewell, I reunited with the rest of the gang, and for the first time in what felt like years, engaged my floating again. Oh god, did it feel good to be able to move without having to strain and heave myself!
When Jack Daniels made it clear that everything had been unloaded, we stepped, floated, and jumped onto the cobblestone street as one. The train whistled forlornly as it trundled away, and we were left to face whatever Canterlot would throw at us.
Have you ever walked somewhere—whether out of spontaneity, a bet, or something else entirely—and immediately felt like you didn't belong there? From the open mouths and less-than-hushed whispering from almost every single pony around, I felt exactly the same way as when I accidently walked into a woman's bathroom.
Almost all of the ponies were unicorns: there was maybe one earth pony for every twenty-or-so magic wielders, and even fewer Pegasi. In fact, I only saw one pegasus, and they seemed to be trying to stay as out of the way as possible. Frankly, I wasn't all too surprised by the racial imbalance of Canterlot, considering that even in modern times, a-la Friendship is Magic times, unicorns still severely outnumbered the other two sub-species. I looked around at my peers, and saw that they noticed the looks we were getting as well.
"There's nothing to be done about it," I whispered. "Hopefully we look intimidating enough that no ponies will bother us."
"I hope you're right," mumbled Seth. "They all look like deer caught in headlights."
Cautiously, we continued moving up the cobblestone street as hundreds of heads turned to follow our every move. I wanted to yell at them to find something more productive to do, but that didn't seem like it would be conducive to our well-being. Eventually, one of the ponies, either from being nudged on by her friends or of her own accord, approached us with skittish steps.
Philomena wasn't having any of it, however. Quick as... well, a phoenix, she made to swoop at the poor pony only to twist at the last second, leaving a trail of colourful flames in her wake. The unicorn quickly retreated back to safety, only falling a couple of times. Philomena landed on the skinny portion of my arm, and despite the pain that it caused me, it was strangely comfortable having her back.
"Philomena! We're trying to not give these ponies a reason to attack us!" I chastised.
She chirped in indignation. "I meant no harm; only a fair warning." I grumbled something inaudible and let it slide for now.
While the looks we received weren't the nicest, at least we were given an open pathway to walk. As a whole, Canterlot didn't look all that different. There was a few less buildings, and a few more market stands, but all in all, it was relatively unchanged from its future counterpart. I found it strange how ponies didn't seem to change their building styles very much—if any.
We continued to move towards the castle in the distance, and as we did, I relegated myself to constantly scan the area, searching for anyone that might try to give us trouble. One unicorn in particular stood out to me, for she was one of the few ponies not paying attention to us. Her coat was forest green, and she was humming a soft tune as she observed the wares of a grumpy-looking earth pony.
I stopped and did a double take.
Lo-and-behold, in the flesh, standing right in front of me... was none other than Morning Dew.
"Morning Dew?"
She turned around and her eyes widened upon seeing me. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Thinking that she may not recognize me, I thought, "It's me: Little Guy."
Morning Dew stood still, her mouth agape, and blinked repeatedly. "L-Little Guy!" she eventually stammered. "You can talk!" After rubbing her eyes with her foreleg, she added, "And you're not so little anymore..."
A part of me wondered if Second Sight had come to Canterlot as well. Almost as if I'd willed him into existence, the dark blue shaman pony trotted out of a nearby store with a frown on his face. "Why did the street become so eerily quiet—?" He froze when he saw us, but his stare was definitely burning into me.
I said nothing and stared back.
He stared at me.
I stared at him.
Finally, he said, "Never mind: I think I know why." I couldn't tell what Second Sight was feeling: he always seemed to hold an air of aloof suspicion around himself.
"Nice to see you too, Second Sight."
To his credit, he didn't so much as bat an eye when I spoke. "I see you found some more friends." He motioned towards the rest of my group.
"Not him again..." Ryder muttered.
"You could say that," I thought, answering the blue unicorn. "In fact, we're heading to the castle to get an audience with Celestia. Feel like joining us?"
Second Sight broke out into wheezy laughter. If I was more hot-headed, I might've been offended. "Oh. You're actually serious," he said after finishing his fit. "What makes you think that the princess will hear what you have to say?"
"I'm a telepathic, floating hunk of sentient metal that doesn't belong in this world. Your argument is invalid."
Second Sight raised a hoof to counter, but slowly put it down without speaking. "I'll concede that point to you... Little Guy." I heard him mutter something about how inappropriate my name was. Louder, he asked, "And why should we accompany you?"
"Don't act like I can't decide for myself!" piped Morning Dew, who galloped over to my side. "You can do whatever you'd like, but I'm going with Little Guy and the rest of his friends!"
It was times like this that I wished I could smile cheekily.
Second Sight didn't look amused, although he rarely, if ever, did. "Fine," he relented. "I'll join your little band of misfit creatures."
"What did that pony call us?" rumbled Seth. "I could've sworn they said something less than savoury about us..."
My eyes shined. "I'd be more careful about who you called a misfit, Sight: you're the odd one out here."
Second Sight gave Seth a weary look, to which Seth replied to by making a sound that seemed to be a cross between a snort, a bark, and a growl.
"And the rest of you!" I raised my thought-voice to include everyone within the immediate vicinity, making the already quiet ponies into silent statues. "I know that you think I don't know that you're all listening! I have but one thing to say..."
I could've heard a pin drop.
"Mind your own goddamn business."
I continued floating towards the castle with everyone following in tow, and Second Sight telling me exactly how much work he had to do to fix his house that I turned into a pile of smouldering slag.
With Second Sight and Morning Dew added to our already large and varied roster, the ponies of Canterlot... while they didn't exactly ignore us, per se, they at least took it upon themselves to not look like they were as interested as they actually were. Most of their thoughts were on along the lines of 'My word, what are those despicable creatures doing in Canterlot' and 'Whatever are those two unicorns doing escorting those filthy creatures.'
To be fair, Second Sight got as many dirty looks as the rest of us did, what with his skull necklace and ragged appearance. Rather than telling everyone to mind their own business like I had done, he just gave every pony that met his glance his trademark evil eye, and they quickly looked away and returned to what they were doing.
In the illusion of peace that we moved through, Morning Dew was more than happy to answer some of my burning questions.
"What are you two doing here?"
"Well, Sight said that he needed some... um..." Morning Dew turned to Second Sight and asked, "What did you need again?"
"Potions, poultices, and other assorted ritual items. There doesn't seem to be any stores that sell any of the items I need, however... and by the odd looks I'm getting, it seems that shamanic practices have fallen out of use here."
I found that curious. Maybe if Ryder went around scaring ponies for a while, they'd return full force.
"Fair enough. How'd you get here so quickly? We traveled pretty much non-stop until we got here, yet you still beat us. How?"
Second Sight answered. "We took the train." From the not amused expression in my eyes, he said, "A train is a large—"
"I know what a train is. I'm just trying to wrap my head around how you got here by train: we took one too, and we had to go pretty out of the way to catch it."
The dark blue unicorn raised an eyebrow. "We walked to Fillydelphia and caught a train there after I realized that the store I usually purchase my goods from was no longer open."
Of course. Why didn't I think of that.
I grunted an amicable sound and put aside my questions for later: we were coming up to the castle, and I wanted to have my full concentration for whatever was going to happen.
If the rest of Canterlot looked similar to how it was in the future, than the Royal Castle was identical. The same white, marble walls shone with polished brilliance, and the same tall, grey unicorn guards stood outside the arched double doors.
To their credit, the two guards remained at their post even though there was a six foot tall bipedal fire chicken, an incredibly shaggy boar, a hovering and rather menacing looking Ghost, a giant spider, and a floating heap of metal with a majestic looking phoenix perched on one arm heading towards them with a purposeful stride. If I was one of the royal guards, I would've damned the consequences and ran like the wind.
"S—State your b-business!" the guard on the right barked. Well, not so much barked as asked loudly. I guess there was only so much you could ask from them: it was enough that they didn't up and run away screaming.
"We're here to see Princess Celestia."
"On what grounds?" asked the guard on the left. He seemed a lot less fazed than his partner.
"I am in possession of knowledge that the princess would find beneficial."
The guards shared a look. "If you tell us, we'll be sure to pass it along—"
"Nice try. Now, are you going to let us in peacefully, or are we going to have to force our way through?"
Almost imperceptibly, I saw the two guards tense. "I'm afraid that we can't do that," stated the guard on the left. "Princess Celestia is already in a meeting with two Pegasi delegates, and we're under strict orders not to let anypony in unless the Guard Captain—"
"Unless I allow them to enter," finished a deeper and more commanding voice. Both guards spun to look at the pony that had opened the doors without them noticing.
The pony in question was a unicorn, and his coat was burgundy coloured. His mane was hidden underneath an open-face helmet, and his eyes were the colour of amethyst.
Both guards immediately saluted.
"At ease."
"And you are?"
The unicorn made a bowing gesture, sweeping one hoof to the side as he bent down. "I am Guard Captain Overwatch. Princess Celestia has requested to speak with you—" he pointed at me, "—directly."
"And where will we go?" asked Morning Dew. A very good question, in my opinion.
"Everyone else—that includes you, Miss, and you, Sir—will be taken to a suite and treated as royal guests."
"Is it alright if I have a word beforehand?"
Overwatch nodded. "Take all the time you need."
Miranda didn't waste any time: she sprung towards me and wrapped me in one of her death-grips, tight enough that it made my mid-section groan.
"Can't... breathe..."
"Sorry! I didn't—hey!"
I buzzed, the closest thing to laughing that I could manage. "Hah! Gotcha. Don't go burning the castle down, alright?"
She hugged me again—softer this time. "Be safe!"
After Miranda let go of me, I addressed everybody, one at a time.
"Seth—don't eat any furniture, please."
"I don't know where you got the idea that furniture tastes good, because it doesn't."
"Caleb—I know we don't always get along, but hopefully we'll all be home in a jiffy."
He didn't say anything to that.
"Ryder—remember our discussion on the train?"
"Of course I do." He seemed affronted.
"Hope like hell it doesn't pan out that way." Turning to Morning Dew, I said, "Thank you for everything you've done, Morning Dew. Most ponies wouldn't go out of their way to help a poor little creature in the middle of a forest."
"Thank me? Thank me?! If anything, I should be thanking you!" she exclaimed. "I always wanted to see inside the Royal Castle, and thanks to you, Little Guy, that dream has come true!"
"Consider it part of my thank you, then."
I turned to the shaman beside her. "Second Sight—thank you."
He seemed genuinely shocked. "What for?"
"If it wasn't for you, I'd have never found my friend Ryder, and by extent, everyone else. So, in a way, I have you to thank for reuniting with everyone here. And besides: you were just doing your job." I extended a hand towards the shaman pony. "No hard feelings?"
Second Sight considered it for longer than I had anticipated, long enough that I was worried he'd refuse. "I'm too old for grudges," he finally said and shook my hand with his hoof. "Best of luck, Little Guy: you'll need it."
I waited until everyone turned the corner down the hallway before looking at the Guard Captain. "Shall we?"
I followed Guard Captain Overwatch down disproportionately wide hallways, turning often enough that I quickly lost track of which way was the way back. It was probably designed that way to discourage thieves and other less-than-savoury-minded individuals, but I'm sure it must've been a pain in the ass for the employees that worked in the castle.
Like the outside, the walls were still white-washed marble, but there was a lot more decoration inside: spaced out in even intervals were suits of armour made specifically for unicorns, and there were also beautifully coloured mosaics every so often as well. The floor was covered by a plush, red carpet.
When I was at the point of true and utter befuddlement as to where I actually was in the castle, Overwatch stopped in front of an inconspicuous-looking door with nothing to differentiate it between the hundreds of others we had passed. I was confused because just a little further, there was a door with two guards standing outside that I could've sworn was where we were heading.
"Shouldn't we...?"
The unicorn looked at me as if I had grown another head. Surreptitiously, I made sure that I had not indeed spontaneously grown another limb. In my defence, stranger thing had happened.
I made some vague hand motions towards the door further onward until I saw it click within Overwatch's head in regards to what I was actually asking.
"Extra security measures," he said. "When all the doors and corridors look the same, you'd think that the only one with armed guards in front of it would be the most important, right?"
I nodded, a whole body movement.
The Guard Captain gently touched his nose with a hoof. "Decoy. Only people with the need to know actually know where the princess is, or where special visitors and other delegates reside."
That actually made a lot of sense, and I was rather miffed at myself for not realizing that earlier, but I still found a hole in his logic.
"Why are you telling me this?"
He sighed, evidently unimpressed with all of my questions. "Princess Celestia doesn't believe you to be a liability, or at least, not a large one. Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I have to check if the princess and the Pegasi delegates—"
"We've just finished, Guard Captain," spoke a voice that rang with power through the door. "Please, allow our guest to enter and escort the delegates back to their rooms."
"Yes, your majesty." Overwatch grabbed the door handle (it was a very long handle, almost definitely made for hooves) and opened the door. I shuffled to the side so that the Pegasi could squeeze by, and nearly jumped in surprise when I realized that the two were none other than Undertow and Riptide.
Why did everyone get here before us?
"Good morning, Riptide, Undertow," I thought politely.
"H-Hey there, Little Guy," said Riptide. "Funnily enough, we were just talking about you..." Undertow simply nodded at the recognition.
I would've chatted longer, but the Guard Captain tapped his hoof impatiently. After squashing what anxiety I could find, I cautiously stepped inside. Overwatch shut the door behind me with an ominous click that seemed say, 'You're not leaving anytime soon.'
I felt presences as soon as I tried to feel for them. Whether I wanted to or not, the first thing—pony, rather—that I saw was Celestia herself.
Her translucent teal and pink hair waved in an imaginary wind, and she was still somehow able to look as regal as always, even though she was sitting on what appeared to be Equestria's version of a beanbag chair. She motioned a golden cusped hoof towards a similar chair to her left, smiled, and said, "Please, sit."
"Certainly, your majesty." Call me a kiss-ass, but I wasn't taking any chances with the Sun Goddess herself.
I flew over to the chair and deactivated my hovering. I tried to think about proper procedure for being within such a close proximity to Princess-freakin'-Celestia, but my mind was blank. Strangely enough, or whether by intentional design, I couldn't hear a single thread of thought from Celestia's mind.
After waiting for perhaps the longest minute in the entire history of forever, I simply thought, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess Celestia." The alicorn in front of me, who during the entire minute was silently observing yours truly, smiled warmly.
"I could say the same for you, James." I inadvertently shivered (having an immortal say my name does that to me). "From stories of you fending off an entire Legion of hardened Pegasi warriors by yourself, to scared gryphon poachers too afraid to hunt in Equestrian forests, you've certainly had your fair share of exploits in a relatively short period of time."
"What can I say? Trouble seems to follow me like a shadow."
I saw a frown flicker across Celestia's features, and immediately thought that I had said something wrong. "Yes... like a shadow," she said. To my relief, Celestia went back on topic. "I can sense a burning question within you. If it is within my power to answer, I shall."
It was then that I realized this was it: either everything would go back to normal, or this would become my normal.
"Can we go home?"
As soon as Celestia sighed gently and broke eye-contact, I knew what the answer was.
"I have already discussed this matter—at length—with one of your colleagues, and I will tell you the same answer that I gave her: I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do to return you back to your own world."
All of the implications that simple answer held—including the soon-to-be group of angry people that... that I wouldn't hesitate to call friends made me take a long while before answering.
"I suppose that deep down, I always knew that to be the answer."
"I'm sorry, James. I can't begin to fathom what it's like to wake up in an alien world."
"Don't be: I can't begin to fathom how hard it must be to banish my own sister." I felt rather than saw a great, churning wave of rage, grief, and sorrow emanate from Celestia. "And for the record? She gets out of her prison exactly one thousand years from the day you first banished her."
Celestia's turmoil deflated while her confusion grew. "What? How do you know this?"
"I'm a Metang: I don't need a reason. Oh, and I can read the future, so there's that."
While Celestia was almost vibrating with pent-up something, I called, "You can come out now, Cindy. I know you're there."
From behind a door cleverly disguised to blend into the background, the tall, lithe figure of a ballroom dancer dressed in white and green came striding forth, taking steps that never quite hit the ground.
I thought it was strangely appropriate that Cindy had been turned into a Gardevoir.
There wasn't much more that I had to say to Celestia after that, and I think that suited her just fine: I could only presume that she was still shocked by my foreknowledge of events to come, but that didn't stop her from offering myself and the rest of my group room and board in the castle for as long as we needed.
Cindy, it seemed, had already found her place: she was the personal secretary of Celestia herself. I guess being bipedal, psychic, and having hands made her the perfect candidate for helping deal with the vast amount of information that running a nation required. When I excused myself, and thanked Celestia profusely for her generosity, Cindy stayed behind and told me she'd talk with me later. That was fine by me: I had all the time in the world now. Both literally and metaphorically speaking.
Overwatch guided me to where my friends were staying, and I felt all of their eyes upon me when I floated inside the sparsely decorated room and closed the door behind me.
I felt heavy, and very, very old when I spoke.
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news..."
/\/\/
With a jolt, I opened my eyes and saw not the white room and anxious faces, but instead saw a breathtaking view of an expansive valley, blue sky, and a pegasus that might have been shivering in cold, fear, or quite possibly, both.
I really hate recurring dreams: especially ones that are more like nightmares.
With a groan, I twisted and popped my joints, rolling my legs to make sure they were still working as intended. I didn't quite get the same sound levels as when I hibernated for nearly three hundred years, but the cricks were still noisy enough to ruffle the feathers of the pegasus. I shook my massive body, dislodging a thick layer of dust.
"Can I help you?" I asked, my voice sounding like gravel being dragged over sandpaper. I coughed and tried again, but my rough voice remained the same.
"Y-Y-You're a-a-alive!" was the exclamation I received.
"What, think I was a statue?"
The pegasus quickly nodded. Or maybe she just shook more: hard to say.
"Well, I'm not, and you interrupted my nap. You have a message for me, yes?" It was surprisingly often that I had to remind the infrequent messengers exactly what they were doing up on my plateau. It's like the sight of me makes them forget exactly what they're doing there in the first place.
"Yes... no... maybe... I don't know," stammered the pony. "I t-thought I was meeting s-somepony—"
"You are. Or at least, someone, but that's arguing semantics. Message please."
The pony fumbled with her saddlebag until she procured a scroll of questionable size. The poor pegasus could barely hold on to it, for crying out loud.
I took the scroll from her grasp with a simple effort of will, eliciting a squeal of surprise from the pony. Not even telling them that I was Psychic? Tsk-tsk, Celestia. How are you training your messengers these days?
I quickly read over the scroll, and I felt a feeling in my torso, one that I hadn't felt in a very long time. Adventure.
"Well," I said, returning the scroll to the traumatized pony. "My day just got interesting."
I was sick of being a Metang. It wasn't quite that simple, but that was the gist of it.
Don't get me wrong, being a Metang was a million and a half times better than being a Beldum, but there was still something... lacking. Maybe it was the fact that I had to always be hovering: I could never just stand around and do nothing—I always had to be doing something. Or maybe it was because I was simply jealous of not being the best that I could be, while everyone else had already reached their apex. Hard to say.
Regardless, I wanted an upgrade. I wanted to be a Metagross, and there wasn't anything that could stand in my way.
Well... I shouldn't say that, because something certainly did block access to what should've been a moderately challenging acquisition of one of the rarest metals in Equestria, and instead turned into one of the most frantic fights for survival that I've ever been in.
/\/\/
It took several years of on-and-off research and pondering to figure out why I wasn't evolving. I was well aware that each of us evolved in different ways, such as Seth by being a glutton, Miranda by amount of willpower, and Ryder by—
Never mind. I forgot that we don't talk about him. Moving on...
Anyway, I knew that I evolved by consuming certain types of metals. My transformation from a Beldum to a Metang was due to consuming pure iron ore and a rare type of semi-liquid metal called vilidium. With that knowledge in mind, I searched the farthest corners of Equestria, and even forayed into gryphon territory once to obtain a sample of a very specific metal that I thought would help me evolve.
No such luck.
No matter what I ate, however, I never evolved. Of course, with me being me, I thought that I'd just have to try every single type of freaking metal that existed, and I'd eventually find the magically substance that unlocked the secret to my evolution. I had the time, I figured, so why not use it?
Eventually, through whispered word and by the helpful recommendation by a certain shaman, I found that there was a dragon older than almost any other creature in Equestria and the lands beyond. Apparently, this dragon had overseen the last three Ages, which included Discord's Age of Chaos and whatever the Age before that was called (nobody seemed to remember the name; that's how long ago it was). And, supposedly, this dragon had the last few shards of an ancient meteoric metal in its hoard—the only metal that I hadn't yet partaken in.
So, with me still being me, I threw caution to the wind and made my way to the distant reaches of the Frozen North.
/\/\/
It was really cold there. I'm serious: even I felt the chill through my metallic body. It wasn't so much a cold-cold as it was an energy-draining, lethargy-inducing cold. I felt sapped of energy the moment I entered what the ponies called the 'Deadlands,' which was the vast, empty expanse of ice located between the last of the settled land in central Equestria and the first of the Crystal Mountains.
It was aptly named: not a single living thing was present in that barren wasteland—me included, if you want to get technical.
After passing through the expanse, I floated for what felt like days searching for a massive, unnatural cave hollowed out of the side of one of the tallest mountains in the range. When I actually found the mountain, the word tall did it no justice; it was easily the single most gargantuan thing I had ever laid eyes upon, whether it was on Earth or in Equestria. I was to the mountain what an ant was to a skyscraper.
The cave itself wasn't that hard to find. Even though I was partially blinded by the whipping wind and stinging sleet, the massive, gaping hole in the side wasn't hard to miss. Seeing as how I had made it that far, I was determined to take it all the way.
I flew into the cave without a backwards glance.
/\/\/
I remember the cave being pitch black and unwelcoming. Actually, scratch that: openly hostile was a much better term. With sharp stalactites and stalagmites all pointed towards me, as well as the discarded skeletons of beasts much larger than I dotting the floor, the place screamed danger and may as well have had a sign that said, 'Turn back now if you want to live.'
Should I have turned back? Yes, absolutely.
Did I turn back? Nay, of course not.
Pushing past the pointed calcium deposits and ice-coated remains, I delved deeper. It certainly looked huge on the outside, but it was even bigger on the inside, much like some wholesale warehouse stores. Despite the size, it wasn't a complex interior. In fact, there were no tunnels, side passages, or anything of the sort: the entirety of the cave was a huge, fishbowl-shaped chunk taken from the heart of the mountain.
As I continued hovering, I felt more than saw where my quarry was. Just like all those years ago when I was but a Beldum stumbling around in a cave, I felt an attraction to the metal, like it was calling me. I eagerly accepted the siren's song.
Before long, I came to a clearing. There was a pile of gold, jewels, precious stones, and many other valuable objects that would put Xerxes to shame in a heap maybe a hundred feet tall, and probably double that wide. A chuck of meteorite with veins of glowing, silver metal was located towards the bottom. To me, it glowed like a supernova.
Naturally, there was a dragon the size of Canterlot wrapped around it, dark purple scales gleaming in the low-light conditions.
Now, when I say the size of Canterlot, I mean it: the thing could've used me as a miniature nail file.
When the dragon opened its eye and looked at me, I was paralyzed in fear. If eyes were the gateway to the soul, then the dragon didn't have one, because it felt like I was being pulled into a bottomless abyss. Was I really trying to obtain the single most rare and valuable metal in Equestria from that?! Was I mad?!
And then the dragon spoke. Its voice was like the sound of a thousand waterfalls crashing down on my head combined with the vibrations of nine-point-nine earthquake on the Richter Scale.
"WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER."
It didn't ask a question, because questions could be ignored; it ordered me to tell it what it wanted to know, and I was powerless to say no.
In the aftermath of the creature's impossibly powerful voice, my mental words were but a whisper in a hurricane.
"My name is James, and I am the one who disturbed your slumber."
My voice was working on autopilot at this point. Good thing I didn't stutter.
"WHY."
"There is a meteorite, a space-rock, that is part of your hoard. I require the metal residing within that meteorite."
I don't know what caused me to be so blatant about it. Maybe it had something to do with having nothing left to lose. Nothing attempted, nothing gained, I guess.
"WHY DO YOU REQUIRE THIS METAL."
"To become better. To grow. To... evolve."
The dragon was silent for a long time after that. During the entire wait, its eye never left me, nor did it blink.
When it did speak, however, I was not prepared for the answer.
"IT HAS BEEN A VERY LONG TIME SINCE ANY BEING HAS COME HERE. MOST SEEK WEALTH, FAME, OR POWER. NOT YOU. YOU SEEK WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY YOURS; YOU SEEK EQUILIBRIUM. TAKE THE METAL. MAKE USE OF IT. DO NOT FALTER WHEN YOU ARE NEEDED."
With that, the dragon closed its eye once more. Shaken and disturbed by what the dragon could possibly mean by such a statement, I grabbed the meteorite and left. Only when I was well out of the Crystal Mountains and back in the Badlands did I consume the metal, space-rock and all.
