Author's Note

My first try at a mature story! Hope you enjoy! Find any mistakes, or misspelled words, let me know and I'll do my best to fix it. If you dislike the story, let me know why, or just do the smart thing and stop reading. Constructive criticism, as always, welcome within reason, and I'll see you in the comments section!

The hit

The sky was cloudy today, almost like it was gonna rain, the wind whipping my shoulder length white hair around in erratic patterns. My partner, Flossy, was sitting out on my front porch with me, smoking a cigarette. Even without the sunlight, what dark brown skin wasn't covered by his wife-beater was gleaming slightly. I'm not really surprised, the boss just gave us a call an hour ago with a job. My kinda job. Say what you want about tough ol' Flossy, he ain't a killer. I, however, am. They don't just call me Frosty because I'm an albino. He takes a drag, then looks over at me.

"Boss really want me to do this with ya? I mean, I ain't the kinda nigga you are, no offense. I ain't a killa." he asks, the cigarette calming his nerves a little. I whip out the butterfly knife I always carry with me in my pocket. I spin it open with a *whir* *whir* *chink!* and start cleaning my nails with it.

"Don't worry so much, Flossy. You'll get cold feet," I respond indifferently, "And yes. Apparently, this dude's a nutcase that won't pay protection." I continue, switching hands to clean the nails on my right hand. He takes another drag, then drops the cigarette, stamping it out, and gets up. I flick the knife closed and head inside to arm myself. I may be hell with knives, but only an idiot brings just knives for a hit. I walk into the smoke scented living room, over to the end-table. On it is my trusty M1911 with a full clip. I smile as I check the safety, then pocket the weapon. Looking at the coffee table, I find Flossy's revolver, forgot what model it was. I bought it for him years ago and all he ever did with it was clean it. Never fired the thing himself. How did he make in the gang if he doesn't even shoot his gun?

I pick it up and walk back outside, Flossy starting the silver 2014 Kia sorento, and hop in the car. I hold the gun out to him, raising an eyebrow, and he takes it. The sky darkens and the wind picks up, but I keep my window rolled down. Flossy starts driving down the street.

"So where' this nigga live, Frosty?" he asks me, not taking his eyes off the road as we hit the somewhat empty highway going 76 mph.

"Lives just inside the city limits, south of here." I explain. He takes an exit going south and, seeing the empty road, speeds up to 85 mph. I pull out my M1911, and inspect it.

"Yo Flossy, you still got that polish in the glovebox?" I ask, eyeing the somewhat smudgy gun.

"Yeah, go ahead." He answers. It starts to rain as I pull out the polish and rag and start wiping the gun. I look over at Flossy, who's concentrating on the road, and sigh.

"Stop being so nervous, man. This ain't gonna take long at all, I may not even need your help. 's just nice to have backup." I say reassuringly. He seems to relax a little.

"Sorry man, I just ain't the type o' guy go in and...cap a nigga. That's yo job." he admits, somewhat reluctantly. I smile at him, patting his shoulder.

"Tell you what, I'll cap him, you just watch my back, alright? I ain't gonna make you kill nobody, old friend." I suggest. He gets a thoughtful look, then replies.

"A'ight, thanks." he smiles, giving me a sidelong look.

"What's a brotha for?" I laugh. He gives a snort.

"Dude, you may be a brotha, but you so white I'd lose you in a crackhouse." he laughs. I laugh as well, that was our favorite joke.
I see a trailer coming up, white painted walls going yellow with age and neglect, and point to it.

"There's the place." I explain, putting the polish back in the glove box and flicking the gun's safety off. He slows down, pulling over to the side of the road, and parks the car. I open the door and get assaulted by wind and rain, thunder booming in the distance. If Flossy was nervous before, he's on edge now. Shielding our eyes from the rain, we cautiously approach the trailer. A neglected, double wide on dirty concrete blocks.

I walk up to the door and kick it down, gun at the ready. The inside of the trailer was dirty, papers and filth scattered on the floor, lit only by orange and red candles. In the center of the floor was, what seemed to be, a chalk drawing of some kind. It was cut off into six, pizza slice shapes, with different symbols in each section. In the very center were two fist sized circles I recognized as the sun and moon. One section of the circle had the chalk outline of three butterflies, another with three apples, a third with three diamonds, the fourth with three balloons, the fifth with a lightning bolt from a white cloud, and the last one with some kinda sparkle looking thing.

"The hell's this dude been smokin'? And where can I get some?" Flossy chuckles nervously, looking at the circle.

"When I find him, he's gonna be smoking lead." I laugh. I hear a shuffle to my right, and immediately spin around to face whatever it was, gun raised.

"Alright, freeze bitch!" I say, gun pointed at a figure in a dirty green pullover and torn Calvin Cline jeans. The figure stops and raises his hands in a submissive gesture. He turns to look at us...

...And I pull the trigger, shooting him in the head. What's left of his head is now splattered against the wall. His knees give out and the body falls forward. Flossy looks like he's gonna be sick.

"Damn..." his eyes were wide. I flick the safety back on and turn to the door.

Just as I start walking, I see a bright flash and cry out in pain, falling to my knees. I'm blind! I hear Flossy cry out as well, and I slowly lose consciousness.

++++++

I slowly wake up to the feeling of... weightlessness. My limbs were still asleep, a pins and needles sensation the only feeling I get from them. I hear...voices. They sounded like women, can't be any older than 19. My ears also pick up some kind of *clip* *clop* noise as well. The hell just happened? I capped the nutcase then....don't remember anything after that.

I hear Flossy gasp beside me. The talking and clopping noises stop.

"One o' them's awake, Twi!" I hear an unmistakeably southern voice say. Twi? The hell is that? Reluctantly, I open my eyes.

Horses. Small, technicolor horses with slightly big ears gaze back at me. A yellow one with wings and a pink mane, a blue one with wings and a rainbow mane, a purple one with a horn, a white one with a dark purple mane and a horn, a pink one with a darker pink mane with neither a horn or wings, and a orange one with a blonde mane....wearing a stetson.

"Yo Frosty, look down!" I hear Flossy say beside me. I do so....

...I'm freakin' levitating! And covered in purple! "Flossy, dawg, tell me you see this too." I respond with a deceptive, calm tone. The horses' jump in surprise as they hear me speak.

"Yeah man, I see it too! That means we're either trippin' or I'm knocked out and dreamin'!" He sounds nervous. Okay, I'll admit this is a little strange... okay, REALLY strange, but I still don't get why Flossy's so nervous. I've known him for years, and I still don't-

"They speak equestrian!" the purple one, probably Twi, says suddenly, breaking my reverie.

"Hehe, the darker one's acting funny!" the blue one says, pointing to Flossy. I couldn't turn to look at him, so I couldn't see what was so funny.

"Look, I ain't gonna hurt you gu-er, ladies, but you think you can put me and my homie down?" I hear flossy ask. Soon, we're lowered down to the ground, and feeling returns to my limbs as the purple aura went away.

"There you go! I'm Twilight Sparkle!" the purple one introduces herself.

"I'm Rainbow Dash! And I've got my eye on you two!" The blue one says, flapping her wings so she was at our height.

"Sorry about our rash friend here, darlings. I'm Rarity" The white unicorn gives a slight bow, after glaring at Rainbow Dash.

"I-I'm F-Fluttershy..." I just barely hear from the yellow...pegasus-there we go- hiding behind her pink mane.

"HiI'mPinkiePieandIwanttobeyourfriend!" The pink one says in a rush.

"And I'm Applejack." The orange one says finally.

God, some of those names are so girly I wanna puke, real talk. I give them a smile, not showing teeth.

"You can call me Frosty. And that's my homie, Flossy." I say, pointing to me, then turning around to him and pointing at him. Who knows? If this is a dream, may as well go along with it. Might be fun.

"H-How y'all doin'?" Flossy asks nervously. I roll my eyes at his nervous tone. I swear, sometimes you'd think he was really a high school chick.

"Now, where exactly are we?" I ask politely. The purple one takes a step forward and explains,

"You're in Equestria! Just outside Ponyville."

Now I stop and take in my surroundings. We're by a green hill, a rustic looking town about a mile from where we're standing. I suddenly feel a pinch on my arms, and turn back to look at Flossy. My eyes widen in realization and shock.

This isn't a dream....

...Damnit!