A New Beginning

"It'll be okay, I promise."

Ever heard of Murphy's Law? According to the old adage, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. For those of you that don't understand this, don't try to. Enjoy every living moment of peace and tranquility you can while it's still there for you to take.

"It'll be okay, I promise."

No matter how hard we try to stop fate, to change our clear-cut destiny, we always get drawn to that one inevitable moment when life comes crashing down around us. We get to watch, helpless as time and space itself comes to a grinding halt. The gears of reality begin to screech as they tug against one another, unable to maintain the balance and tranquility of life itself.

"It'll be okay, I promise."

In the grand scheme of things, nothing is ever really left to choice in our lives. We take it all for granted, assuming that just because the last seven thousand days of our lives have gone by undeterred that life will inevitably continue on in this manner ad infinitum. This statement is false. Life is like one big, billion-sided die with the vast majority of sides being stacked either neutral towards us, or in our benefit. Anyone who understands probability, however, also understands that no matter what was scored on the previous rolls, the next roll might as well be the first.

"It'll be okay, I promise."

That's what everyone said to me, what everyone tried so desperately to drill into my thick head. They always tried to console me, to tell me that it's all going to get better, that the pain will eventually fade away. But it never gets any better. All I see around me are shades of grey, a listless, lifeless world deviod of hope or colour. They always tell me that life will move on, that regardless of what happened in the past, the odds of history repeating itself is unlikely.

They're wrong.

Their theories on life, on the manner in which we tread through our pitifully short existence, are merely the speculations of people who are but finite beings in a world that is utterly incomprehensible to them. No matter how much we think that we're somehow right, life always comes back to haunt us.

It'd been three days since my mother had finally passed away. My life started to close in around me, the thoughts and emotions buzzing in my head slowly driving me insane. Perhaps it was a bit selfish of me, but the thought of her not being there to care for me left me feeling hollow inside.

Two years. For two years, my mother sat there on her deathbed, slowly waiting for the brain tumor to take her. Like a true champion, she'd fought on even after the doctors told her that there was no hope. She held fast for me, always waiting for when I'd come in and visit her after school.

"Mija, did you finish your homework?" she asked me. I set my bags next to her bedside, reaching down to hug her close.

"Yes, Mom," I always replied. I knew that she wanted the best for me, that she wanted me to have a future.

The days flew past us, fall to winter and winter to spring, and I would drop by every afternoon to show her my grades or to tell her what was going on with Liga MX at the time. It was fairly trivial, really, but we both enjoyed one anothers' company.

There were days when I'd not be allowed in to visit her, days that the doctors did their handiwork. They really put a damper on my day, but they were thankfully pretty rare. Most days were the sort where nobody bothered to interfere with us. My mother and I could converse all we wanted during visiting hours, our bond as strong as ever.

"Mija?" she asked one day.

"Yes, Mom?"

"What do you want to be?"

"I don't know," I said, lost in thought. I honestly didn't have the slightest clue what I wanted to make a profession in. There certainly wasn't a strong desire for marriage yet, but that didn't mean that I had a specific career track in mind.

"Mija, listen." She pulled me closely, her face only inches from mine. "Don't do what I did. You're too restless to be a homemaker, Shiloh. Go out and see the world! If you find yourself a man, don't marry him unless he wants to see the world too."

"Alright, Mom."

"And Mija?"

"Yes?"

"Did you do your homework?"

"Yes, Mom," I chuckled.

The days where I couldn't see her eventually started to grow more frequent. I'd sit patiently outside of her room, working idly on any future assignments I knew would eventually be due. The times were boring and tedious, but there wasn't any choice in the matter.

"Mija," she'd say, watching me enter the room. She came to look so tired, but I could still see that same fire in her eyes. The same kind of fire that told me that death hadn't yet touched her, that it was always kept at bay by her pure obstinance. It was that fire that told me she was still there.

"Hey, Mom."

"Did you do your homework?"

"Yes."

"What do you want to be?"

"I don't know yet."

"Hurry fast, child. Take your life into your own hands and choose what you want to be before life chooses for you."

"I..."

"Mija."

"Yes, Mom?"

"I love you."

I looked down at her, the words catching in my throat. A part of me wanted to say that I loved her too, that I loved her more than anybody else in the whole wide world. I'd told her that many times when I was little, and it always made her smile, that same-said smile that I strived so hard to see in her.

"I..."

She frowned at me, waiting for me to say it. I stood there, unspeaking as I tried to put voice to my words. We had just each other, just me, her, and Dad. Why the fuck couldn't I just say it?!

"I..."

"It's alright, Mija," she said, looking suddenly tired. "I'd like to rest now."

There was a week when I wasn't allowed to see her at all. I grew very anxious, wondering whether she was going to make it or not. I sat there, thinking endlessly about it until I remembered that Death wasn't strong enough to take her. Not while those eyes still held that fire.

It was a Tuesday morning when I walked in, looking down at her bedside after coming in from school. She looked so frail, a mere shell of what she used to be. It broke my heart to see her there, looking like she was held together with nothing but thin strings, the puppeteer waiting above with scissors ready to end the show.

"Mija..." she started, looking at me lovingly. "Did you..." I watched as a confused expression crossed her face. "Did you..."

My mother sat there for a moment, utterly baffled as to what she would normally be asking me. A piece of my inner strength died when I saw the fires finally smolder and die in her eyes.

"Yes, Mom?"

"I...I can't remember."

Three weeks later, and she was gone.

All of those close times, all of that care and love came to a close so abrubtly. I spent the next few days looking into the mirror, wondering why I could never tell her that I still loved her. Was it me that killed that fire in her?

I'd always hoped that she'd pull through. I knew pragmatically that this wasn't the case, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd failed her somehow, that there were words that went unspoken that were meant to be said.

Three days and one funeral later, and I was standing outside of the Greenlawn Cemetery. Just like that, my mother was gone.

"It'll be okay, I promise."

I looked up at my uncle, brought out thought by the same words that everyone told me. I tried to hide the pain inside of me, but I might as well have been an open book. No matter how strong I tried to be, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that I was, I knew the truth of it. I hadn't asked for life to pull down my panties and buttfuck me. It seemed that life didn't really care about that fact.

I'd thought that knowing what was about to happen would somehow dampen the effects it had on me, but I was wrong. I thought that a stiff upper lip would be the solution to everything. I couldn't have been more fucking wrong.

My mother's death had been hard on me. At least in my father's case, a swift death in a street mugging came as a surprise, much like ripping a band-aid off of a latent, gaping wound. It stung, sure, but the shock of it all hadn't meant the end of me.

Instead, I got to sit by my dying mother's bed day after day, coming in every day after school just to watch her slowly drift away. Where the one was a swift punch to the face, this was the lingering effects of a weak poison, slowly pulling away from me the last remnants of my tattered life. I was about to graduate high school and my "Welcome to Adulthood" present was the death of both of my parents, tearing apart my entire world in a matter of months.

"No, it won't."

"Shiloh..."

"You know it won't."

"Just have a little faith."

Just have a little faith, Shiloh. The future is looking up at you, smiling down at you from the heavens on high! Yeah, sometimes there are some bumps in the road, but that doesn't mean that life isn't still good and beautiful!

Fuck that.

"What the fuck do you know?!" I snarled. "You weren't there when she was dying, were you?"

"That's not fair, Shi."

"Life's not fair!"

"Calm down."

"Like you even care!"

"She's my sister! I damn well cared!"

"I showed up every day after school just to watch her slowly wither and die! Where the fuck were you?"

"I was...I-"

"In your basement, wasting away with your pathetic videogames, that's where."

I watched as he flinched back, looking like he'd been slapped. He stared at me with hurt for a moment before his eyes hardened.

"You think it was easy for me?! She's the only person I know that matters! I couldn't sit there and watch while the only person I care about died!"

"You piece of shit, how dare you-"

The sharp sting of a strong backhand burned across my face. I looked back at my uncle wide-eyed as his sides heaved from exertion. My hand drifted unconsciously to my face as I rubbed the mark he'd left.

"Don't you ever fucking talk to me like that again, you pathetic cunt." He sneered at me. "You're nothing but a two-bit bitch that some pimp will pick up and sell for chump change. You're a filthy little pig and it shows. Your mother was never like that to me. She'd be ashamed of you."

"Go fuck yourself," I said. "You're just a looser who sits around on disability you didn't even earn. If you love my mom so much, why don't you go join her?"

There were things I'd done and said that I wasn't too proud of. The first time I got laid in the back of a ratty Skylark was one of those times, and that day when I'd beaten the shit out of my former best friend when I'd blown my fuse was another. None of that rivaled how much regret I have for what I'd just said.

"Y-you..." he started. I could see his eyes tearing up, knowing that both of us had said things that we wanted to take back but never could. The shots had been fired and that was that. I kept my face hard, even with how much I wanted to take it all back.

"Go," I said. My voice was so cold and dead that it sent shivers up my own spine. "Live your worthless life in your smelly little appartment. Fap to girls who you'd never have a chance with and feel like you're amazing when you unlock another World of Warcraft achievement."

No, stop.

"Feel satisfied in what a great man you are, knowing that you'll conquer the world from your armchair."

Please, just stop.

"Just stay the fuck out of my life, you creepy pervert. I don't care if you beat off to images of girls my age, it's no longer my concern."

Shiloh!

"I'm surprised Mom ever saw anything in you."

I turned around, walking away without even bothering to look back at him. I didn't need to see with my own eyes how much he was hurting. I didn't need a psychiatrist to tell me what a monster I'd just been.

"You play with fire, you get burned," I muttered to myself as I slammed the door behind me. My face darkened; I probably would've given just about anything to have an excuse to let off some steam. Sometimes getting your wishes isn't such a good thing.

I was walking down the hall when a man wearing a nice, snazy tux walked up to me. I was exiting the cemetery when tried to hand me some milk-white little card from his clean, well manicured hands.

"It's hard, losing a loved one. Do you know what's even harder?" he asked. "Having to bury them without money! Try our new life insurance policy in the eve-"

I slammed my fist into his mouth, throwing my full weight into the blow. The man fell down on his ass, and I snarled as I grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him up against a wall. His beady little eyes were wide with apparent fear of me. Good, motherfucker deserves it. I grabbed his jacket and pulled him right up to my face, breathing into it as my eyes met his own.

"Do you know how pissed I am right now? I don't even think the fucking dictionary has a word cut out for what I'd like to do to you! My parents are dead, you slimy little bastard, and you ask me to buy life insurance?" My voice cracked at that last bit, and I started to feel my tears welling up. "You're the worst kind of greedy, self-interested little shit."

Irony, your name's Shiloh.

The dude was practically pissing himself as I moved my face within millimeters of his own. My eyes seemed to peer deep into his soul as I sought for the words to say. "Oh, I want to hear you scream at night, the way I've been for the last three, to feel your heart burst as all that matters in your life is taken right in front of you." By now, the dude was starting to breath heavily. "But I'm. Not. You. I won't stoop to your level and take pleasure out of exploiting others' misery. So get the fuck out now, before I change my mind."

I threw him to the ground, stepping back as I watched him scramble to his feet and run away. It was only in that moment that I noticed that my uncle had come outside. He didn't say anything, only looking sorrowfully at me, his eyes looking utterly pitiful. I tried to meet his gaze, but I just couldn't.

I left him standing there as I walked over to my car, hopping in and turning the key without another word. I felt the engine come to life, and I didn't hesitate to drive off. Running away from the problem had never been easier.

I didn't actually enter the front door to my house until well after midnight. It really didn't matter what time I walked through the front door anyways; it wasn't like there was anyone home to ask why I was out so late. The hallway was dark, casting an eerie shadow along its length from the moonlight. I walked towards my bedroom, barely managing to resist the urge to visit my parents' room to say goodnight. I knew that the habit would fade away in time, but for now I had to work to break it. As I entered my room, I paused in the doorway.

"Goodnight, Mother. Goodnight, Father," I said, wishing that they were still there to reply. It was rather odd, not having anyone around to love or to be loved by. The the house I resided in was just an empty shell, a shadow of the place I grew up in. I knew that it would probably be best to move away from there eventually, but for right then graduating was my top priority.

I stripped down from my day clothes and hopped into my bed, not bothering nor caring to wear anything. It wasn't exactly like anyone would be there to see my womanhood or anything. Sleep came soon enough, and with it a moment of peace. All in all, sleep is really the only peace that anyone can truly know.

"It'll be okay, I promise."

I woke up to the sound of a light rapping on the front door to our...my house. I got up slowly, still rather groggy from the little sleep I had actually managed to receive. Without further ado, I walked over to the door, muttering, "can't let a girl sleep."

"I'll be right there!" I shouted before flipping the deadbolt. "Just a sec."

I opened the door to find a pair of officers standing outside.

"Miss? Is your name Shiloh Johnson?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

Both the cops were staring at me. It took me a moment, but then I remembered what an interesting wardrobe I typically used when I slept. They seemed to notice too, and my birthday suit didn't go unappreciated.

Shit...

"Um...ma'am. Uh.."

"We're here regarding your uncle, Michael Hernandez," the other cop replied, somehow managing to keep his cool despite the obvious blush and boner he was sporting. I really should've been more careful, to be honest. "He, well, I think you should come with us. After, ah, getting dressed, of course."

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the front of the city's morgue. I knew immediately that there was something really, really wrong. My mind did its best to hide it from me, but inside I still knew. As we walked through the front door, I tried to feign ignorance to myself, and managed somewhat successfully.

The mortician walked up to greet us, talking in the same quiet, comforting tone that seemed the hallmark of those that worked day in and day out around bodies. It was rather unsettling, but I'd unfortunately grown rather used to dealing with them in the last year. I already knew that this guy's name was Keith Hughes.

"Please follow," he almost whispered, calm and reverent in both his tone and movement. We followed behind him as he lead us farther in. "I know that it will hurt, all things considered." He opened the door to the inner part of the morgue, the place where the bodies were regularly stored and packed like meat in a deli. There was a table sitting in the middle of the room, a blanket shrouding a body as it laid there.

He lead me up to it, and pulled the covers back. The body sat there, the head obviously destroyed by a powerful blast from what I assumed was a shotgun. The skin was rather tan, fitting the description of a man who was probably of mixed race, part hispanic and part caucasian. My breath left me as I noticed the green celtic cross tattooed over the left side of his chest.

Oh my God...

It had taken up to that point for it to really hit me. Sure, I'd known what had happened as soon as the officer said it, but I didn't want to believe it. There was no denying what sat right in front of my face, however. I started to back up, shacking my head as I leaned back against the wall.

"No..."

"I'm sorry, Miss Johnson. I know that so soon after your last loss, this must be very hard on you."

"Oh God, please..."

"He was found dead inside his home last night after the neighbors called regarding a gunshot in the middle of the early hours. We found him dead in his home in this current state. This is in fact him, isn't it? The DNA results will show up soon enough, but we'd prefer to know sooner."

"Michael..."

"This note was found on his body," the mortician said, handing me a scribbled note with a speckling of blood on it.

Dear Shiloh,

You were right.

~Mike

I backed up, dropping the letter as the dam finally burst. Tears rolled down my cheeks unabated as I wept openly in front of them. I knew what had happened, and I knew why it had happened. The only thing that was on my mind was the one simple, horrid truth: I killed him.

"Keep her under watch. We don't want any repeats of this."

Life is a cruel, merciless master with no concept of empathy or love. I've always known this, and the last few months only heightened my understanding of it. The world is a fucked up place, and no matter how much we might want it not to be, it still is. I could cry over it, curse life over it, or do nothing but ultimately the results would remain the same.

I was sitting on the generic white bed in the padded room as I waited for my food to come. Many thoughts flew through my mind, but there was one that kept cropping up time and time again.

"Why?"

Because you're a useless, worthless, selfish little bitch who only considered her own pain.

"How was I to know that he'd do this to himself?"

Does it really matter? Your hands have his blood. If you'd known that he'd go through with it, would you have said something different?

"Yes."

Then you're a horrible, horrible person if the only motivation you have to stay your tongue is to keep him for yourself. That's selfishness, not compassion. If your only reason for taking care of those you 'love' is that they'd be taken from you, all you are is a greedy little cunt.

"I didn't know!"

Yes, you did know. You can hide from it, say it wasn't your fault. But you and I both know that it was. Hell, you made this! He was probably close to the edge as it was, and instead of helping him through you told him to go through with it.

"I didn't mean it like that."

It sure as hell came off as if you did. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that it's true.

"Okay, then what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Well, I would say for you to jump off of some bridge and drown yourself like a sake of worthless blind kittens, but unfortunately, you can't do that. By the time they release you, you won't be hearing me anymore.

"So then what?"

Just shut the fuck up and go to sleep. It'll be better come tomorrow...

I couldn't argue with the logic of it, so I said goodnight to my alter-ego and curled up in the bed they'd provided me with. As an afterthought, I ripped my clothes off and tossed them aside for no particular reason. Why the fuck not? Not like they could stop me, and it was my only form of rebellion for placing me in a padded cell. Let's see how many boners they could grow. It's not like I'm an exhibitionist or anything.

At that, I drifted from consciousness and entered the wonderful world of fucked up dreams.

The surrounding dreamscape seemed rather odd. Everywhere seemed to be centered around the mass of random objects and landscapes. Everything was rather dark and twisted, much like a darker, more depraved version of Wonderland (eat your heart out, Alice), it seemed. I would've been rather surprised if the Cheshire Cat didn't show up at some point soon. I wasn't actually that far off.

"Greetings, Shiloh."

I wheeled around, trying to distinguish the source of the voice from the surrounding ethereal chaos. "Hello?" I asked, ignoring the fact that I was probably just asleep and talking to my self, my new friend 'Mr. Straight Jacket', or something else as utterly stupid as that. Oh, it would be really entertaining to watch a hot eighteen-year-old writhe in her sleep completely butt naked while she muttered pleasantly at nothing. (Yeah, I know what you're thinking you pervs.) Everyone's heard that that's the first sign of madness, but I really could care less about it at that moment.

"I've been waiting for you, Shiloh. I've been watching you for quite a while now, and at long last we have met."

I basically just ignored the fact that he just admitted to watching my body for the last few hours. That voice sounded oddly familiar, like something I'd heard on Star Trek before, and while it may belong to just another stalker, my curiosity outdid my sense of propriety. Not like I really had any anyways. Deciding not to make any assumptions, I tried my best to locate him. (I was pretty sure it was a him.) I think I pinned it as reminiscent of Q, though. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but I might as well have followed along with it anyways.

"Okay, but what exactly is it that you're wanting with me?"

"Straight to the point, I see. That's something I've always liked about you. You never bother with all the fluff and hype, simply reacting to the situation with the best of your skill and cunning. It somewhat reminds me of myself, at least in my younger days. But those times are long past and gone now."

"And it's that same cunning that lets me know that you're stalling. Can you cut the shit and show yourself?"

"Oh, so you still have some fire in you! I like that, among other things."

"Can it, Casanova. My tits aren't that spectacular."

"You're such a spoilsport sometimes, you know that?"

A tall strange-looking creature descended from a nearby staircase that I could have sworn had not been there only moments prior. He seemed almost like a patchwork concoction from the left over parts that God hadn't been able to use anywhere else beforehand. Seriously, it was like he got sloshed and decided to slap together everything from the lost and found box. There were many draconic features on his body, but it seemed largely smoshed with equine parts and a goat's antlers. Seriously, who the fuck came up with this thing?

"Forgive me, Dearest. I sometimes forget that you are unaware as to what I am. Most people would recognize me much quicker, but I suppose you don't exactly have any experience in my world. My name is Discord, milady."

With a courteous bow, he took my hand in his grip and gave it a gentle kiss. I didn't know who this creature was, but he seemed to be a bit of gentleman, to me at least.  He was certainly a flatterer, which as long as it was directed at me was rather good in my book. He slowly rose from his kneeling position, and met my gaze evenly. There was something rather noble in his eye, and something seemingly half mad. It was almost like talking to the saner side of Sheogorath.

"You still haven't answered my question, Discord. What are you doing here, why do you know of me? What do you need of me?"

The draconic lord peered into my eyes, taking in everything, perhaps even my thoughts and soul. It would almost have been disturbing if I hadn't felt somewhat trusting towards him. He was a stranger to me, I knew that, but at the same time there was almost a sense of familiarity between us, as if we'd known each other for ages.

"I suppose I'll answer those in a more maneagable order. I know of you because I've seen many humans in my time as stone. One of the people I saw was a young girl who had a rather interesting life and an inquisitive, judging eye to the world. She was like many other children I had seen, and yet there was something about her that drew me to her. I'm sure you understand perfectly well who I'm referring to. As for the second question, it's a little more complicated than that.

"My role in my world is to maintain a sense of order to the chaos of the world. I am, in a sense, the Lord of Chaos, and it has ever been my task to balance off the sense of order that others have needed to create. View it as a sort of organized chaos, as it were. Someponies have hated me for it, and others have viewed my mischievous intentions as paramount to evil. But that is neither here nor there, I'm afraid to say. The real issue is not about me, nor Equestria, nor anything else of my world, really.

"I've felt a disturbance in the order of my world, and it feels truly evil. I'm not speaking of mere rapists, murderers, or zealots. They all have their reasons, and there's still good mixed in with the bad. Even King Sombra had some intentions other than pure butchery. No, I ran into this being myself at one point. I couldn't see it, nor could I sense what it really was. But there was one thing I felt there, one simple flaw. It was viscious, it simply oozed malice and hatred. I was afraid, Shiloh, frightened in a way I'd never been before."

The creature looked into my eyes imploringly, like something grasping desperately for straws. I'd heard of this state before, even seen it myself once or twice. It was like a man about to fall down into a deep chasm with only a tuft of grass to hold onto. There was only one word to truly sum up what he seemed to be: Desperate.

"That is why I'm here, Shiloh. I've been looking for someone to help me, anyone. And you were the first one that came to mind. My world lives in a constant state of black and white, never erring from the directed path. I need someone who has a bit of perspective in dealing with the unseen."

"But what makes you think I'm equipped for the task?" I asked. It was rather flattering to think that he might be looking for me as a solution to his problems. Or just too damn desperate to do otherwise. Besides, how do you know that he isn't just a figment of your imagination? I decided to stifle the thought. Maybe it was true, but I wasn't going to let a potential threat to good people go unstopped because I wasn't certain it was real. What defined real anyways?

"So where do I come in?"

"I need you to mold into Equestrian society, to try and spot any such entity wherever it is. I would approach another established pony from my world, but they have no experience in spotting domestic threats. It's been a long time since the last execution due to treason for a reason. I need your help, not theirs."

"But aren't there better qualified people than me to do this?"

"Yes, but they all lack something you have. I can't quite place a finger on it, but there's something in you that I have yet to see anywheres else. I would explain the whole situation to you, but I know basically no more in this matter than you do."

"So let me get this straight, you want to take me to this world of yours and look around for something that neither of us understand and somehow blend in while doing so?"

"Yes."

"And how do you plan on making me fit in?"

"By turning you into a form that already exists in my world, of course."

I pondered this for a few moments. Was this really a good idea? No. Of course, was there really anything left to leave behind either? I didn't bother answering that. Besides, this may well have been a dream, right?

"Okay, I'll do it."

"Good. You have no idea how happy that makes me feel."

Maybe I don't want to...

"Now hold still, this will hurt a lot, I'm afraid."

He couldn't have been farther from the truth. It didn't just hurt. I felt my very essence tearing apart at the molecular level, and there was no anesthesia to lessen the agony that flowed through. I could almost feel the spiders crawling down my throat as I drowned in a pool of arachnids as they tore my innards into beef shavings. Let's just say it hurt like a bitch. With that, everything mercifully faded to black.

"C'mon, Shiloh!"

We ran through the grass at Madison Square Park, the cool morning dew brushing against my young feet as we ran barefoot. It was a rather nice Saturday morning, and spending time with my parents was always a pleasant break from the monotony of daily life in the major city.

Playing tag with your parents is very enjoyable to any eight year old girl, and this was no exception. We ran through the grass, enjoying every moment we had together. Time was in limbo, ignored by all parties for the sake of simply enjoying the gentle breeze and affectionate relationship transpiring.

As the day passed by, we enjoyed every moment as it passed by, leaving a trace of joy on our lips even when we left the park. It was one of the finest days in my life, and it held with me ever since. There was no way to forget what true joy and love is, and no reason to.

"Can you pass me the screwdriver, Shi?"

Without taking the time to answer, I handed my father the flathead he needed. The red-handled tool found its way into his big greasy hands from underneath the car. We had been working on it all morning, and were now both sporting gritty hands and clothes, but that didn't matter. My father and I had always enjoyed working on the older classics together, and over time we'd formed a bond from it that words can't really describe. I turned my attention back to the distributer I was fitting so that the firing system could work properly again.

This particular model was a 1969 Camaro Z28, both his and my personal favorite. We'd been working on classics for a while now to keep food on the table, and there were many opportunities to take a look at different classic cars. And yet that particular model was still as enticing as it had been when I had first worked on one at the age of eight, a good ten years ago. I sighed contentedly as I finished placing the distributor in place.

"Hey, Dad?"

"What, Shi?"

"Do you think..."

"Hmm?"

"Do you think we can maybe start saving up to, I don't know, keep one of these?"

He laughed good naturedly at that remark. I started to move on to the carburetor when he said, "Sure, Shiloh. Maybe some day we can save up enough to both get one, and then we can have a little drag race down old Greenville Road, eh?"

My heart started to pick up pace at just the mere thought of all the exhilaration of driving down that clear road in a bucket seat, clutch in hand, the good old Chevy 350 roaring as my foot slammed the pedal to the floor. There would be a moment of waiting as the car burned rubber, accompanied by the smell that goes with it, and then I'd be off, picking up from 0 to 100 mile per hour in mere seconds...

"Um, Shiloh?"

"Huh?"

"You're drooling."

I looked down at my work shirt, spotting globs of slobber running down from my chin to stain said shirt in a rather embarrassing manner. "Uh...hehehe. Sorry."

"Nothing really wrong with that. I did the same thing before my first race. Man, that was a long time ago."

I noticed that he'd pulled himself up from under the car, and realized that he'd probably finished changing the brakes. It was good enough timing, considering the fact that I was just now putting the air filter back on. Wiping my hands on a shop towel, I carefully closed the hood. Taking a step back, I looked at the regal beauty before me.

The Camaro had a beautiful finish over it, a sleek silver coat with twin black racing stripes over it. There were black bucket seats inside to help the aspiring dragster to speed down the highway, and the entire vehicle had the look of great care and maintenance. But that wasn't what really mattered.

Underneath the hood sat the monster that we'd just spent the last ten hours fixing up. The Chevy 350 may be a small block, but it sure was one hell of one. With the gearing and trany that we'd installed, this thing could easily hit 160, if not better, in mere seconds. The gas mileage probably sucked, but who gives a shit anyways?

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"That's fucking beautiful."

"Yeah, and it's yours."

If there'd been any water in my mouth in that moment, I'd have taken a total spit take. As it was, I was probably going to pass out from the oncoming orgasm at just the idea of it. The world started to spin at the awesomeness that stood before me. And it was mine, all mine. Not to lose my head about it, I still managed to go through the motions.

"What?"

"It's yours, Shi. You don't think I'd really let your 18th birthday go by without a surprise, do you?"

Without even thinking about it, I rushed forward and literally glomped him in the biggest hug I could around his neck, pulling him tightly and almost screaming into his ear, "Oh thank you, Daddy! Thank you, thank you!"

I pulled back, looking up into his now tear filled eyes. "Anything for my girl," he said, meeting my brown eyes with his soft blue. There was a joy brimming inside my chest at that moment like nothing I'd ever held. In a way, I wished that that moment would never pass. But it did, as all things do. Or more accurately, as all men do.

"Psyche!"

"What?"

He suddenly keeled over laughing as he drew away, his sturdy frame shaking with mirth. "Oh Shily, I can't believe I caught you with that!!" Suddenly, my chipper mood faded like oh so much broken glass. For a moment tears started to fill my eyes, but the sadness quickly gave way to annoyance.

"Ah, you fucking cunt!"

Gasping for breath, he looked up at me with tears from the sheer pain of his incessant laughter. "Chill, Shiloh. It's not like we can exactly afford to just keep one of these. At least, not quite yet. Don't worry, as soon as we can, we'll get ours."

Standing back up, he moved over to the nearby workbench and sat down, picking up the glass of water he had sitting nearby. I tried to keep a strait face the entire time, but that man had the ability to be a total prick and still somehow make me smile. I started laughing too, and that kept him at it for a few more moments before we finally calmed back down.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't you ever change."

"Changeling!"

The sound was odd to my ears as I heard gasps coming from around me. Slowly trying to rise on my legs, I attempted to shrug off the stupor from the transformation I had probably just gone through. What I didn't understand was why everywhere around me I heard screams as if everybody was being attacked.

I didn't expect the sudden sharp pain to rap against the back of my skull. The first thing to hit my vision in this world was a group of dancing stars, I shit you not. Taking a moment to clear my head I looked around, only to find myself surrounded by a group of stallions as they drew closer. I wasn't particularly expecting a society run by ponies, but what really surprised me was the manner in which the approached me. They were looking at me angrily, as if I were some sort of beast or monster.

Rather than waiting to get hit with something else, I did the only thing I understood how to do. I tried to run. I made it an entire four feet before promptly falling on my face, a bitter, coppery taste filling my mouth as I bit down on my tounge. That was all the chance the stallions around me needed before they managed to tackle me. I felt immense pain as the pummeled me mercilessly with their hooves. I suppose this was a good "Welcome to our World, Bitch" greeting if I ever saw one.

I was in a daze as they dragged me into some type of building. It was odd, feeling both near and far off at the same time. I was in pain, there was no denying that. But it felt distant, more like someone else's suffering. That's all I could really think about that. It was really strange, all considered.

The pair of stallions that had so unceremoniously dragged me into the building dropped me in just as much of an uncaring manner. Well, I supposed that I'd entered world not really that different than mine. Just my luck, I supposed.

"Triumvir, we've found another one of these bugs inside our walls."

"I noticed."

"What should we do with it?"

"Dispose of it, immediately. I wanted those things erradicated months ago. I thought you said the attack on the hive was successful?"

"As you wish, my Lord."

With that, the pair of stallions heaved me up rather roughly before I could even take stock of where I was. If I hadn't been nearly delerious from the prior beating, I would have been worried at what they intended to do with me. As it was, I was rather unconcerned with my own fate at that moment. They pulled me towards the door, my limbs dragging on the ground in a rather demeaning manner.

"Wait!"

"My Lord?"

"Bring it over here."

They did as instructed, and I soon found myself slumped over in front of yet another blob of a stallion. He seemed to be assessing my physical state when he suddenly stood up and directed his underlings to leave the room. They complied of course, leaving me alone with the man, or in this case stallion, that had nearly wished me dead.

After several moments, my vision started clearing, and I took stock of my surroundings. There was a simple desk nearby with some archaic scrolls sitting on top of it. It was rather plain, and seemed to fit its use well. Nothing much aesthetically, but it was useful. My gaze drifted over to the stallion, my eyes focusing at last. "Who are you?" I muttered.

"I am Lord Lucius Vorenus, Triumvir and leader of the Northern Legion of Equestria. Perhaps the more relevant question would be who are you?" the stallion asked. He seemed to be aged somewhere around his middle years, though it was hard to tell considering what species he was. He had a lightly colored alabaster coat with a black mane that cascaded loosely down the side of his neck, cropped suddenly somewhere around the shoulders. A sloping horn topped his head, which was more than enough to state as to what exactly he was. The stallion held himself well, he was obviously trained for war.

"You can call me Shiloh, my Lord," I replied, lowering my head in a submissive way. It would take an idiot not to recognize power when you saw it, and I was no idiot. "I still don't know how I got here, and I apologize for any manner in which I have offended you."

Lucius seemed to lighten up some at that statement. He seemed to gaze over my body for a few moments obviously sizing me up much as one would assess a potential threat. After a moment, he seemed to relax, coming to the conclusion that I probably was in fact benign.

"While as a leader of my station, it would be foolish for me to trust you, you in no way act as others of your race have. Please, sit," he said, moving to behind his desk in a relatively lax manner. And by lax, I mean that he didn't look quite so ready to rip my head off at the shoulders as he had a few minutes ago. He took a seat, motioning for me to sit across from him.

"Most of the subjects in this Empire would be more hesitant to trust your kind, but I have long ago decided not to judge by appearance. Celestia knows, I learned that the hard way. Tell me, what exactly are you doing so far from your hive?"

"Hive, sir?"

He looked suspiciously at me for a moment, before chuckling lightly. "I would have pinned you for a spy were you not so blatantly horrible at it. Your pretending to be ignorant as to what a hive is makes it quite clear to me that you are in fact sincere. No spy worth his or her salt would ever try to feign ignorance to such common knowledge. Besides, you don't look quite like most Changelings. So I'll tell you this now, who are you really, and what exactly are you doing here?"

"If I told you, sir, you'd never believe me."

"I beg to differ. Besides, I have a lie detecting spell. You just tell me how, right at this moment, and I'll know the truth of it. No matter how improbable the truth, I'll believe it more readily than a plausible lie. Now, please, do tell."

I was already beginning to like this guy. Perhaps he was a little bit crusty around the edges, but no matter the case, he was at least up front about this. With that, I began to tell him as to what I really was, and why I was there. At first, he smirked, thinking it nothing but a fairy-tale. After he checked me with his horn, searching for the lies, his amused expression quickly changed to one of shock, before turning to that of neutrality. With that, I told him the rest of the tale, his face remaining stony and firm the whole time.

"That...is not what I was expecting."

"I didn't expect it to be."

"You're right, Shiloh, I wouldn't have believed a word of that without this spell...To think, such mythological beasts really have roamed the Earth." He looked up at me, his bright blue eyes meeting my own. He seemed to ponder as to what to do next for a moment, before promptly drawing a conclusion.

"I trust you, Shiloh. I don't know why, but I do. As to what the next step shall be, I need to send a message to her Majesty and see as to what she wishes done with you. For now, you are to remain on these grounds, confined to your quarters for the time being. "

"Quarters, sir?"

"As you have obviously done nothing wrong, I shall not keep you locked up unjustly. We need to detain you for the sake of security, but as long as you comply, I see no reason to keep you in a cell. I'll have my steward place you in a room for now, and we shall see how the Princess reacts," he replied, looking at me impassively. "Don't get your hopes up yet."

With that, he led me to the door, opening it and motioning me to leave. He directed one of his guards to lead me to a room, and turned around to head back into his office. Lucius looked over his shoulder for a moment, meeting my gaze before closing the door behind him. The soldier led me down the corridor, straight to wherever it was that the Triumvir had directed me. As I entered my new room, I knew that I was in for a long wait.