Chapter 1: Atomic

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He pulled the trigger.

The fucking idiot pulled the fucking trigger.

THE FUCKING IDIOT PULLED THE FUCKING TRIGGER AND NOW MY FUCKING CUPBOARD HAS A FUCKING HOLE IN IT.

Alright John. Calm down, it ain't your cupboard.

...

Okay, that was a little morbid but the point still stands!
My entire body was racked with the overall shock what just happened, and i sat there, mouth still agape as i watched his vexed face behind the smoking gun start to turn into a small smile, then a beak splitting grin, and even further into a full on chuckle.
"Works ere' time, heh" he stuttered out though the subdued laughter. Lowering his shotgun, he finally came down from the door onto his more natural standing position on all four of his claws.
"Now that weren't too difficult now! was it!" he said strutting up to me, his eyes lit up with the same curiosity that they had before. In an effort to try and get away from the fast approaching Griffin I dived to the left, my face passing the now new addition to the cupboard door. My escape was ended in an abrupt manor, as his right claw slammed into the wood right in front of my face, and his left claw to hold up that same shotgun to the back of my head, the still hot barrel singing some hair as it got maybe just a little too close. "Ah Ah Ah" he spoke in a sing song tone "You aint goin' nowher'"
He further emphasized his point by digging each of the sharpened digits on his claw in the cupboard and saying "Now jus' turn that head to me... and I wont have to reconsider not having a meal tonigh'"

I followed his command and twisted my neck to view him fully and by now he had gone from moving too me, to outright on top of me. His hind legs on either side of my outstretched limbs, His claws on either side trapping me on one side and threatening me on the other, and his grin broken beak a couple of inches from my nose. "Now if I am not correct, you just spoke. Di'nt ya?"
I nodded.
"Good... Good. That means unless I find a good reason too, I wont shoot you. Got it?"
Once again I couldn't stop the rapid nods.
My tear filled eyes wandered down to the still hot shotgun and looked at it with a little more scrutiny. If the jagged end of the barrel gave anything away, it was that he had cut it off to make it shorter and considering i hadn't seen a holster on his body or on his armour made it seem more and more like this was meant to be weapon that no one saw coming. Explains why it just suddenly appeared in his claws then. Moving down his arm and onto his body I saw that the leather on his armour wasn't all what it looked like, with several ribs of metal forming a cage across his chest and down to his stomach which was covered by a piece of leather, which in my opinion looked way past the point of simply being worn and torn. His legs were encased down to the ankle in form fitting cloth wraps, with a pad of some other material I couldn't pin point.
My thoughts were once again interrupted by him again "So. Git. Answerin'! what ar'ya?!"

The gun being jabbed closer to my cheek gave me the incentive to answer him.
"H-Human!" to which he chuckled at my obvious fear "Humayn huh? t'aint heard of them befo'. You look more like a.... like a... well, you don't look like nutin i ever seen befo' either!"
I locked eyes with him, his giving some sort of a glare mixed pure glee.
"Now" he said abruptly "I am goin' ta lower my claw from the door. Make a move and the wall behin ya' gets a whole new shade o' red. Understood." That definitely wasn't a question and I nodded quicker than I have, the back of my head tapping lightly against the cupboard behind me.
"Good lil' Humayn..." as said he lowered his claw from the wooden door next to me, the holes showing through into the inky black space.

The urge to knee him in the stomach was oh so tempting, it would be quick and I could ju- No. I can see that he will carry out his threat with no care at all. Do exactly what he says.
With that thought echoing in my head I averted my eyes from his gaze and simply looked down.
"K', now I don't have to worry 'bout wastin' a shell" He said to himself a little too loudly in my mind, and rounded off the statement by laughing quietly and backing off of me to lie down across from me. He scooted up against the door again, this time still sitting down on his hind and rested the Small Shotgun in his lap. His feathers ruffled a little in a breeze that was in the room, and I looked to the large window expecting see it half open like it usually was in spring, my mum being obsessed with circulation and a good air flow. What confronted me however, was the complete and utter destruction for the 2 and a half metre window completely and utterly destroyed.

Well, that explains the glass I've been sitting in for the last 5 or so minutes.

"yeah... I couldn't really find a lock so..." The unmistakable voice of the Griffin drew me once again to him and an what appeared to a almost smug look on that face of his.

"This has to be a dream..." I couldn't help but say to myself in wavering hope. His smile dropped a little at my voice and the words that spoke with it.
"A dream huh? we'll, yer' window and Closet are purty much done fo', so this is one hel'ova detailed dream!" He ended with a small chuckle before it died down all to quickly as he seemed to eye my torso. What? have i got something on me? maybe its my shir-
Oh.

There's a shard of glass in my stomach.

Then the pain started to kick back in. God this hurt, it was like someone had punched me right there where the glass was, and not only kept his fist there, but was poking his fingers through my skin. It didn't look too bug, but it hurt like fuck so let's get it out real quick.
To say that was an easier said than done situation would be the biggest understatement of the year. Grabbing the flat edge of the shard, I attempted to pull but as then the real pain began. Every centimetre that it moved, I could feel it griding against my lower rib and slicing more and more through the tissue that was there and I couldn't stop the ensuing scream of agony.

Once I had stopped attempting to pull the offending source of pain out of my stomach I looked back to the Griffin only to see him coming back to me.
"N-No no you get the fuck away. from. me..." I said with building anger, in an effort to stop him in his tracks. He kept coming at me.
Trying to scoot away I felt the shard start to move around in side me, sending spasms of agony throughout my torso and effectively paralyzing me "Now Whut did I say about movin' away boy!" he scolded, moving to my left side in front of the corner cupboards "I'm gonna' count'a three, then" He continued after grabbing hold of the glass, making me wince and moan out "I'll pull this out, don't want you dying on me and I don't think you wanna be food"
Before I answer him he started counting down once again. "One..." Ok pretty simple, at least I he's going to do now a-MOTHERFUCKER HE PULLED IT.

The flurry of obscenities that flooded from my mouth were not directed to him, but more just anything in general. Too him partly of course, but also to the fact that this wasn't a dream, and my parents were really going to kill me because of my new house guest and to be honest this whole fucking thing was just going down and down.
As my screams died away, I could feel my arms being lifted up and I hate to admit that it took me more than a few seconds to realize that he was lifting off my shirt "Heh, now I know you aint a fighter, specially with a belleh like that!" the subsequent poke to my stomach reinforced his point. Great, he of all people or Griffin are what ever, going to make little pushed and pokes about that now isn't he?
What surprised me next, was him pulling a roll of bandages out of a pocket on his hind leg, and started to not so gently wrap them around my torso, concentrating on the region where the glass had been.

This couldn't be real. I cant honestly believe this. I know my dreams can get a little weird sometimes but this is completely off the hook.
A Griffin. A god-damn Griffin. Not only had it threatened me with a gun, scaring me half to death and to the point of tears but it was now patching me up, its smug smile completely gone and replaced by the emotionless stare it was giving the wound.

"Name's Stubbz bah the way, whats yours?" I looked at him with a little bewilderment, expecting him to have that same smug grin on his face but no, his face was the epitome of serious as hes front claws continued to tightly wrap the bandage around me. He looked up at me, no emotion readable on him "So, what is yours?"
"J-John... My name is John..." to which he went back to finished the wrap. "Odd name" he said out to himself, finishing the bandage by pinning the end.

"I didn't really have a choice in the matter" I tried to counter "I like to think that it fits me"
He let out a small huff and scooted to the spot on my left, resting his head back and taking a particularly long drag from his cigarette. I couldn't help but comment "Never, thought I'd see a gun toting, ciggy smoking Griffin any time soon"
Turning to face me, his face was one of amusement "Really now? well I didn't have 'meet a brand new species' on mah list of things to do either, hehe" he chuckled out, and I couldn't help but join him.
As we finished our laughter I looked at him with a small smile, to which he returned the same "So, What do you think of London?"
It was at this that the look of confusion adorned his face "Lon... Don?". I laughed a single note "Come on! you end up in my house and you have no idea what city you're in?"
He blinked.
"London"
Nothing.
"Where I live"
Nada.
"Where we are sitting right now!"

Stubbz rubbed the bridge between his eyes "Ok Jawn. Go to the window" Odd request but ok. Standing up, and with a constant eye on him to see if the shotgun was going to be used again, I got to my window, and with a little curiosity drew my eyes away from the smoking griffin to my window. What. The. Flying. Fuck.

Let me give you a little background on what usually happens when I look outside the kitchen window.
I am greeted by the soft blowing of the wind through my hair as my house is around 4 floors up off the ground, a nice 20 foot drop. Aside from the cracked pavement and the curling, twisting trees that adorn the path ways a single one way road dissects my street directly in half, and my house is mirrored on the side by the ten to twenty conjoined maisonettes.
Each on of these buildings was originally a single home to a richer than normal family. This was around 150 years ago, and at this time London hit a population explosion, therefore housing was needed and most of the homes in north London were cut into tree separate apartments, or Maisonettes for the fancy folk. I Lived on the top floor of said Maisonette, a as stated before, my house was a solid 20 feet off the ground. Essentially, I lived in a two-story flat.

What I had been doing before was looking directly at the window, not caring for anything else. Now that I had a grand view of the outside, let me tell you that what greeted me at the window however was a bewildering sight. I was... on the ground?
Or at least ground level by the looks of it. The area that now inhabited my field of vision was what appeared to be at the bottom of a small ravine, the walls themselves being made of moss covered sandstone, though on how healthy that plant looked could be debated. In front of me I could see what looked like some sort of Savannah, the long reeds stretching up easily past my waist in height, but a low lying fog was clinging to entrance (or in my case exit) of the ravine, only giving some semblance of a view into the distance. I placed my still bleeding palms onto the window seal itself and leaned my head out, peering up to get a good view of what this all was. The ravine walls easily stretched up above my house by at least a couple of metres, and instead of the drop I was now firmly situated at ground level.

"If this is London!" Stubbz remarked, making his way over and placing his claw on the seal like I did "Then sorry son, but t'ain't no grand city, its a shit'ole"

Cogs were turning in my head as to what the hell was going on. The destroyed cupboards, the all too real sound of a gun, the fact that less than a minute ago I had a rather large and unforgiving piece of glass embedded just below my ribs, and even further the shotgun wielding Griffin who threatened me with death and further consumption.

I retreated my head from out of the window and stared blankly ahead at the entrance to the crevasse. The only words that I could utter from my mouth were along the lines of "Sweet fucking Christ...". This wasn't London, this wasn't my street and by now I had figured out that this was far from a dream of any sort.
I winced a little as I felt a hard slap on my back "So... Is this London?" my reply to him was, in my mind, the deadpan of the century. "What? just trying to lighten the mood." at this my vision started to narrow a little, the world around me becoming a swirling vortex "Woah there, you don't look too flash...". My legs became unsteady, feeling like the numbness from a long sleep was returning. I felt another claw on my front "O-ok, maybe you need to s-"

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I shot up out of my sleep, and cast weary eyes onto my surroundings. The living room was dark. Darker than usual, the only spots of light in the room were the flicking candles that idly sat on the cabinet against the large window, and the low hanging cupboard by the wall opposite me.
My front room was as large as the kitchen, being around 5 metres across at its widest and with two matte black leather sofas (One being a two seater and the other designed to fit three). The floor was made completely of oak planks, each one shined to perfection. In the furthest corner, opposite the entrance which sat at my head of the sofa, stood a well worn desk adorned with a Macintosh computer for the whole family to use. Trailing my eyes right along the wall, there stood my fahters pride and joy, his Flat screen T.V, to which he would mention when he could.

Said pride and joy was being prodded and poked by my new Griffin friend. God, that going to take some getting used to. He sat directly in front of the screen poking it with his claw and muttering the odd thing like "wha..." and "I don't...".
Giving out a forced cough I got his attention, those orange and green locking onto mine with the same abject curiosity as before.
"Aha! you're awake!" He said, his voice raising from his mumbling "Got a'lil worried there and thought that you had popped your clock!"
"Sorry mate, I'm not that easy to get rid of..." I trailed off as he began too approach me, still a little in shock that he existed and that he wasn't devouring me at will. "H-how... How long was I asleep?" I began as he took his spot just next to me on the floor "Well I dont think that 'asleep' is the correct term, more like knocked out harder than taking a shot o'bad booze" he rounded off with a chuckle "But i'd say you were out about... 5 hours... maybe 6"

Throwing my head back onto the pillow i stared up at the ceiling, the swirling white patterns giving my some thinking material. This isn't London, that was clear enough already. So if not London, what is this place? Where am i?.
I had to place my now bandaged palms onto my forehead in an effort to calm the ensuing headache, that was sure to rear its ugly head any time soon. "So, I'm guessin' you ain't from 'round these parts"
Headache levels rising...
"So, as your brand new 'pal' in this pit of Tartarus that I like to call home, I'm just gonna go ahead and cordially welcome you to the grand Equestrian Wasteland!" He spread his arms, and to an extent his wings, widely.
I grimaced "First of all, 'Pals' you threatened to kill me! and secondly, Equestrian wasteland? so that's where I am?"
Wasteland? sounded odd...
"Pssh, I was just messin' wid'ja! and yeah we ain't in no fancy shmancy city like you said. Te' only place that I would say resembles a city is the ruins of Neigh Orleans! and tat's only up the road a bit"

Finally getting the strength to sit up I gave him a humorous smile "Neigh Orleans? really?"
His grin confused me "Yeah!, only the biggest fun house in the wastes!" Again with the 'Wastes', I was going to have to bring that up sometime.
"Ok, i'm interested about this 'Neigh Orleans' (god that hurt to even say) so humour me" Crossing my arms for effect I awaited his reply, him trying to formulate a response in his head.
"Now!" That was quick... "Neigh Orleans is on the south east side of the Wastes, and as of right now, its starting to returning to its pre-destroyed state as a fun hub and relatively almost safe!" The grin wasn't helping my worries "Befo' the war, from what I heard, it's where er'body from all over Equestria went to have fun. Y'know, chill out, relax, get some tail!" Smooth Stubbz, smooth.
"Then the mega-spells hit and like everywhere else, it weren't purty for a while" Mega-spells? The fuck? "But now! its comin' back! and stronger then ever thanks to the Queens! especially with all the stables being found now'a'days, my business as a Merc is boomin'!... uh... maybe I said to much...." the nervous scratch of the back of the head confirmed that statement for him.

Obviously I had some questions.
"Wait wait wait hold up! Equestria? Mega-Spells? Stables? Stubbz, you're speaking at a mile a minute. Slow down and explain it all, remember 'I'm not from round these parts' as you so eloquently put it" His huff of annoyance gave way to a lengthy explanation to what the hell was going on.
Apparently, according to him, this whole land known as Equestria was peaceful and to be honest sounded like a children's book. What didn't help was the fact that it was inhabited by Griffins, Minotaur's, some other beasts that he said and for the love of all that is holy, Ponies. So like how earth is getting, Equestria was running out of space and fuel. Therefore, arguments broke out over who should get the last nibbles of whatever they consider fuel (probably fucking rainbows by the whole idea of the place) and even furthermore wars broke out, and as wars do what wars do best, they escalate. This one escalated into what by human standards, was nuclear fucking holocaust. Of all the places it could happen, not Earth, not some distant war consumed alien world.
But a land of magic and fucking mythology.
He went onto describe Stables. These were places in which Ponies, and only Ponies by the looks of it, could escape to and live out until the magical radiation had cleared up a bit so they could come out skipping and dancing into a brand new world full of death, decay and absolute destruction. Moving onto the subject, he explained that he was a Mercenary, and his Pa was a Mercenary, and his Pa's Pa was a mercenary and so forth. The twinkle of pride in his eyes as the Stubbz family speech was rehearsed to me was one akin to a Red-neck, brewing his first batch of moonshine and naming it 'Bessie' in backwards spelling letters.

Avoiding the giggle at the thought, he caught me up with the last couple of years or so in Neigh Orleans culture. So after the species of Equestria came back for some reason, it started to regain its reputation as 'the home of gettin' a room and a fuck for only a few caps!" Caps being the currency.
He was part of the Mercianaries hired by the top dogs in town to find Stables, open them and get the info, ponies and tech out of them before the other gangs roaming the city did.

After all of it, lets recap. Magical land of happiness, love, friendship and hippies descended into pseudo nuclear war and now I was just south of the biggest whore house, bar fight and scavenger hunt in the wasteland.

Fucking Mondays, man.

Fucking Mondays.

Author's Note

Second chapter! and guys once again criticism is welcomed.
I know I'm tackling a subject which is less than savoury, but I need some feedback. Anything to help get this story to become any better.
Quick note, I aim to have the first few chapters be small hits and have the long sluggers incoming.