Novaya Equestria

When Grigor woke up, he was welcomed by a regular bleeping and the sound of a breather. He instantly recognized where he was: he was in a hospital. He had had a good rest, uninterrupted by anyone in days, and he wasn't in danger... at last.

Grigor opened his eyes, took off the breathing mask carelessly, and took a quick look of his surroundings. He was in the standard hospital room, but something seemed... wrong. The door didn't seemed designed for an adult man: it seemed, instead, made for kids not much older than eight, and above his bed there was a strange symbol, representing a waning moon merging with a sun: an odd combination that resembled some pottery artifact that Grigor had once received from an Italian criminal as a sign of surrender, years and years ago.

Then, Grigor tried to determine how much time had passed since he fell asleep, awaiting his death, but in vain. Obviously, he didn't have the spare time to see how long it had been since he was “killed” in Volgograd, nor when he had landed in the orchards... but maybe, since it was a near-death experience, he couldn't have done it anyway, even had he wanted to.

After some time, Grigor rotated his head and saw... a horse with a pink mane, tied in a bun and wearing a nurse cap?

No.

This can't be real.

This couldn't be: it had to be a hallucination caused by the painkillers, something non-existent.

The “Crocodile”, however, kept his calm, and said, “Good morning, nurse.”

The horse answered, to Grigor's surprise, “Good morning.”

“I'm suffering a hallucination caused, I suppose, by the painkillers... I'm seeing you as a horse. Any suggestions on how to make it pass?”

The horse neighed in dismay, and said, “What are you talking about ? I am a pony !”

Grigor frowned at the white equine, and said, “Weird. Where am I?”

“You are in the Ponyville General Hospital.”

Grigor punched the air, and said, “Damn. I'm quite far from Volgograd, right ?”

The horse with the pink mane looked askance at the man, and said, “Volgograd ? Sorry, never heard of it. You were found at the base of a tree in Sweet Apple Orchards, in Ponyville's outskirts.”

Grigor sighed in annoyance, and thought of punching himself on the arm, hoping to wake up, hoping not to see that white horse again. Grigor punched his left arm and... nothing happened.

Everything but the arm was still the same as before, nice and tidy.

The equine nurse said, “Alright, please, calm down, and let me ask a question. What are you? I've never seen anything like you in all my years...”

Grigor sighed, saying some pieces of gibberish at a low voice, preparing himself to speak with a talking horse from some foreign world.

The “Crocodile” spoke up with a calm voice, “I am Grigor Stoyanovich, aka “The Crocodile”. Once, I was a famous criminal amongst the various criminal organizations all over Russia, my home country. During my life as a criminal, I was always on the verge of death either because of traitors, or because of other mafias; however, I easily kept them at bay. The authorities always turned a blind eye to my actions... until I tried to get elected as Premier, and failed to do so.”

Grigor noticed that the equine kept on listening to him, though she did a emit a small whinny of doubt upon hearing the words, “elected as Premier”. It seemed as if she didn't know what a “Premier” was... maybe there weren't any elections here at all, and some king or emperor controlled the place.

“Then I began to reject the state, and tried to form my own nation. It didn't end well: after a long retreat from the major cities and some failed coups, I was attacked in Volgograd and beaten for good. I was going to be killed... but instead, I got teleported to the base of that tree back at the orchards. I don't know what happened. Now, about you... who are you ?”

The nurse kept its mouth hanging for a good minute before speaking. “Your story is.... interesting, I have to say. My name is Nurse Redheart. As you can see, I work here in the hospital, taking care of the wounded and the ill ponies of this town. That's all I have to say about me, since I don't think that anything else in my life would interest you.”

Grigor answered, “I understand, my dear nurse. Now, about my wound... what's the damage?”

Redheart blushed. “Oh, I forgot! Give me a minute...”

The white equine was just about to exit when she was stopped by a little horse. Grigor remembered her as that pony he glimpsed before blacking out. On its face, puppy eyes gazed at the nurse.

The two equines shared a little talk with each other before the small horse finally entered. It said, “Hi, Mister! I'm Sweetie Belle!”

Grigor watched Sweetie Belle for a while, then said, “I recognize you - you found me earlier on the base of that tree. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important.”

Sweetie Belle blushed and said, “No, you didn't interrupt anything. And besides, how many times do you find a mythological being at the base of a tree ?”

Grigor widened his eyes. “Mythological being? Really?”

Sweetie Belle said innocently, “Yes, your race is a myth here: members of a civilization theorized by some ponies as the creators of this world. Other ponies think that your race is very inclined towards war, but I don't believe it, as I feel that you're quite gentle.”

Grigor sardonically smiled and said, “Well, the ones that say that we are inclined to fight are quite right... but don't worry! I don't hurt anyone, as long as they don't stop me from realizing my objectives.”

Meanwhile-

Molotov was surprised by the place in which he found himself. A circular library? Occupied by a purple horse with a horn and wings? Sergei already knew that he wasn't in Volgograd anymore... or on Earth, for the matter. He was in a whole new dimension. But where?

Molotov asked, “I am Sergei Molotov, general of Novaya Russia. Who are you? Where am I?”

The equine spoke. “I am Princess Twilight Sparkle, but you can call me Twilight Sparkle. You are in the nation of Equestria, ruled by Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, two goddesses. One raises the warm Sun, and the other raises the Moon.”

Sergei thought about this. A rather elaborate absolute diarchy, ruling through divine right: the God-Rulers responsible for the daily happiness of their subjects... it was an idea more typical of primitive societies. But Molotov wanted to avoid conflicts right now, and accepted the description. He said, “Alright, Twilight, can you tell me why I am here ?”

“I tried to do a summoning spell...”

Molotov showed unabashed surprise. “SUMMONING SPELL? How could that be ?”

Twilight placed one of her hooves on her face. “Oh, right, I forgot that in most of the mythologies concerning other worlds, humans don't use magic, and consider it something impossible... anyway, I somehow called you here by that particular means. But then, you humans shouldn't have half your body replaced by a machine... ”

Molotov showed even more surprise. She could use magic, and the humanity here was a myth...

He asked, “I get it... but why did you summon a mythical creature? What's the big threat that pushed you to call from the fogs of legends me, this “fantastic” creature?”

Twilight lowered her head, and said dramatically, “I have read, in a book of prophecies, about the arrival of a new “enemy” into this land... this “enemy” isn't a flesh being, but a strange mass of inanimate objects, powered only by the will to conquer. The only way to beat it, says the book, is to summon an intelligent bipedal being only known from the legends. And after some long hard research on the topic, I found you “Humans”! I channeled the summoning spell to summon you... and now, here we are.”

Molotov saw in the description of the “enemy” a familiar opponent: Grigor II, an AI that , he remembered, was for all intents and purposes, powered by lithium and violence.

But he also knew that it wasn't likely that Grigor II was in Equestria.

He said: “I don't know who you're talking about... but since I am stuck here, I will do my best for you and your kind.”

Twilight bowed her head and said, “Your help is appreciated. If you wish, we can talk about my and your history downstairs.”

Molotov accepted gladly. After a year of near-constant war, it was a relief to relax and talk with someone, even if that “someone” was a talking colored equine.

In the other part of the city, Grigor had been receiving only good news ever since he had woken up in this hospital run by equines. He had been treated almost as if he were a normal citizen, instead of being ignored like a pile of unwanted trash or worshipped like a glass statue. Furthermore, he was going to be dismissed tomorrow.

During the day, Grigor met two quite kind horses, Nurse Redheart and Sweetie Belle, who helped Grigor to understand where he was, and in exchange, he told them some tales and traditions from his world.

It was five o'clock, and the visiting times had just ended. Grigor said good bye to Sweetie Belle and asked if he could check if his possessions found on him at the base of the tree were still intact. There was his gun, two magazines for the said gun, his coat, his now-unusable shirt, his trousers, his portable icon and his official cape with the Golden Novaya Cross emblazoned on it.

He looked closely at each possession, and thought about what they meant for him: his gun, an old semi-automatic sidearm, was in perfect condition, despite what it had seen on the battlefield and out of it. His cape was a bit dirty due to the terrain it had been through, but it wasn't anything serious.

The most damaged item was the icon: the face of the Madonna had been gravely damaged and was now almost unrecognizable. The planks that had made the two parts of the icon had fallen off and broken into four pieces - indeed, an artistic and religious loss.

Grigor cried briefly for it, but soon regained composure, and started to think about his future life outside the hospital. First, deconsecrate the icon, then sell the raw materials for some money. Use the money to pay for food. Then, squat in an abandoned house, and try to find a legal work within the town. It wasn't a complicated plan, even if he was a mythological freak in the eyes of the inhabitants. The prospect of finding a decent job was something that he waited years for: he had always been beyond the reach of the law, and to return within in it, for once, would be something new. After all, being in danger for most of your life causes you to see what others regard as the most mundane things as pieces of Heaven.

When Grigor finished thinking about these things, he found himself without anything to do, so he tried to go back to sleep on the comfortable hospital bed.

Meanwhile, Molotov was describing his past as soldier, not without some horrified expressions from Twilight, who swung between being amazed and shocked. Surely those conquering wars, carried out by Grigor Stoyanovich and his robotic successor, were simply beyond the imagination of ponyfolk, who had never seen full-scale war. The fact that the humanity could come to do the same tasks as the ponies could, substituting magic for technology, was also something incredible.

When Sergei Molotov ended his tale, Twilight raised some questions. “So... the humans aren't united under the same ruler, but they are divided in various nations not bonded with each other ?”

Molotov said, “Well, yes. While you are ruled by a diarchy of physical goddesses; we are shattered and ruled men who either were chosen by the people... or they chose themselves.”

Twilight said, “And this divisions brought war... so, to me, the goal of Grigor II seems just. Unite a shattered world under one leader...”

“But it wants to kill everyone who is opposed to it ! I know that you are used to your benevolent leader Princess Celestia, but I'm certain that somewhere in the past, someplace, a tyrant had to have existed, even here!”

Twilight said. “Well, alright, King Sombra. But he was a particular case, since he subjugated the Crystal Empire alone, without an army behind him, thanks to a regime of pure terror...”

Molotov giggled. “If Sombra would be a man, I'm certain he'd be just another leader between the very worst and the average. Anyway, do you have other questions?”

Twilight said, "No, that's enough for today. If you wish, there's something to eat in the kitchen... though I don't know if you can eat what I have. It's mostly hay, grass and carrots.”

Molotov slowly did a gesture of “no problem” with the arm cannon and said, “If it's edible, it's fine for me.”

Then the cyborg entered in the kitchen. Only to be welcomed by a familiar sight lying over the floor.

“Molly ? Why are you here ?”

The agent placed her helmet back on the head, shook her head and said, “I have no idea, as you can guess. Perhaps, since YOU are the one near that purple horse with impossible appendages, you can tell me.”

“We are in the nation of Equestria, ruled by two queens claiming to be goddesses.”

Molly got up, and sat on the table, which creaked under her weight. “Typical sign that the society isn't very developed. I don't know if we can still continue with our mission of finding the flesh Grigor.”

“Molly, a question, since it might be important... did you arrive here through something similar to a time vortex ? Because when I tried to kill Grigor, we both got engulfed by two electrical spheres. If you had arrived here by the same means, well... we might have still a job to do.”

Molly Ryan said with a chuckle. “Yes, I arrived through an electrical vortex. And yes, I think we still have a lot to do, but for now, let me make some formalities with our host...”