Cold

I was currently sitting on the couch next to my homie, Flossy, just across from the chairs Lyra and Bon Bon were sitting in. They keep eyeing me, Lyra in fascination, Bon Bon in raised suspicion. Earlier, they saw me walk out of the bathroom, my tooth oddly back in place, and Lyra figured it was a good idea to start the questions she wanted to ask.

"So, let's begin!" Lyra says excitedly, her horn glowing a faint mint green as a notebook and pencil float towards her from the end-table.

"What is the name of your home?" she asks, not seeing Flossy give a slight wince.

"Earth. We lived in a country called North America, in the city of San Antonio." I answer, kinda expecting that to be her first question.

"Is there any magic on earth?" she plows ahead, this time making me wince, though mine isn't a little one.

"Well, otha' people would tell ya nah, there ain't no magic on earth. But there is..." Flossy says, as I shift uncomfortably. I can't believe we're talking about this.

"Care to explain?" Bon Bon asks, raising an eyebrow.

"We've had a run-in with one type of magic back home years ago...it never fully wore off..." I start, remembering that day everything Flossy knew about "fiction" came crashing down around his ears.

The day he met me.

+++++

Twelve years ago

The sun was glaring down on San Antonio with a vengeance today, the temperature reaching a hundred and three degrees outside. Flossy was fine, though it was the middle of July, having lived there since he was three. Having turned sixteen a week ago, his homies decided to take him along on a job.

They were all in a little known gang called "The Jacks" and have been doing jobs for "the boss" for a while, but it was mostly drug-dealing. Specifically LSD, though they managed to get their hands on some marijuana plants a couple months back. One of their usual buyers skimped out on three payments, and they were being sent to "Teach him a lesson."

Now, nobody thought to give Flossy a gun at the time, thinking he would be covered by monkey, metal-man, and rolla' just fine, and therefore didn't need one (If he was given a gun, this would've ended very differently.) Him and his homies piled into their vehicle, a tan Isuzu trooper, and started the engine.

"Alright, da' boss wants us to really fuck his shit up, break a bunch of stuff, do a lotta' damage to 'is house. That'll show him not to try and fuck us ova'!" Rolla, a light brown skinned teen of about seventeen years explains as he backs the truck out of the driveway of the abandoned one-story they always met up at.

"A'ight, coo'. What if the nigga fight's back?" Metal-man, the group's only Hispanic member (and the tallest one there) asks, his green eyes showing concern. "If he's got a gun, we could get in some deep shit for startin' a firefight."

"He fights back, shoot him in the dick!" Monkey exclaimed with a goofy grin. His long, really dark brown hair braided in dreadlocks going down to his neck. He lived on an indian reserve before moving here. He was Native American. Specifically, his mother was Comanche, though he didn't act like he cared.

This remark caused everyone to laugh loudly, save for Rolla', who was focused on the road ahead of him. Finally, Flossy speaks up,

"Well, what do I do?" he asks. Monkey and Metal-man look at him, an odd look on their faces.

"Help us get in and wreck his place. Pro'lly hold the nigga down if you can." Metal-man says, shrugging.

Monkey pulls out a pack of cigarettes, giving one to everybody, and soon the smoke was being blown out the windows.

"How much longer, Rolla'? 's gettin' borin'." Metal-man half asks-half complains.

"We'll get there when we get there, dawg." Rolla' replies, the barest hint of irritation in his voice.

After leaving their neighborhood and driving for almost forty minutes, they come across the two story house of the buyer. His car wasn't there, so he must've been out. The gang quickly hopped out of the car, the ones with guns flicking the safety off.

"A'ight, Let's roll!" Rolla exclaims, taking his double-action Bren Ten out with a smile. Monkey pulls out his Ruger Redhawk, checking the ammo. Metal-Man never uses handguns. Instead, he brought his Heckla & Koch FABARM FP6.

Metal-Man approached the door, his shotgun in one hand, and motions for the others to follow. Once everyone gathers at the door, he kicks it down with a loud *Crash!*-

+++++

-*Knock* *Knock*

Me and Flossy were interrupted by someone knocking at the door. Lyra and Bon Bon look at each other like "Who could that be?" Bon Bon gets up, walks over to the door, and answers it with a "Yes?"

Twilight Sparkle and her friends were standing at the doorway. Twilight seemed determined, Applejack had a smile on her face, Rainbow was eyeing me suspiciously, Pinkie was....Pinkie, Rarity was checking her hoof, and Fluttershy was hiding behind her mane.

"Hi, Bon Bon. My friends and I were wondering if we could ask the humans some things..." Twilight explains, losing some of her resolve.

I look over at Flossy, my eyebrow raised. He shrugs.

"Well, come in then! They were just telling us a story." Lyra calls to them, a smile spread across her face. She is too happy for this story.....

"Thank you." Twilight says, stepping inside, closely followed by her friends. Lyra goes into the closet just down the hall and grabs some pillows.

Soon, all ponies present were seated around me and Flossy.

"So, you were saying?" Lyra urges, excitedly. I honestly felt just a twinge of nervousness as everyone-er, everypony, I guess- turned to look at us.

"Okay, so my homie Metal-Man kicks down the door...."

+++++

As soon as the door was open, the gang piled in, guns raised. The entrance was empty, save for a couple vases on shelfs and pictures. Monkey shoots one vase, knocking another off with his fist. Metal-Man went further in, and they heard glass breaking. Flossy stuck with Rolla' as they moved further in, finding the winding stairs leading up to the second story.

"A'ight, just stick with me, Floss'." Rolla' says as he cocks his gun, then starts going up the stairs two at a time. Flossy follows close behind, adrenaline pumping through his body as he took in everything they were doing.

They reached the top of the stairs, the hallway they led into was dark with only one light on. Just as Rolla' turns to find a light switch, they hear a groan. Not the groan you hear from some "thug" that just got his ass kicked, but the kind that makes your hairs stand on edge.

The kind that you hear in a graveyard down in Louisiana.

Instantly, Rolla's on edge, looking around for what made the noise.

"Da fuck was dat?" Rolla' says, his Bren Ten shaking slightly in his grip. Flossy didn't know.

"I don' know, nigga." Flossy replies. They hear a startled *gack!* from downstairs, and a gunshot. Metal-Man's gunshot.

"Somethin' got Metal-Man!" Rolla' says, then takes off down the stairs followed closely by Flossy. His heart was pounding in his ears. The house was supposed to be empty!

When they make it to the bottom of the stairs, they clearly hear Metal-Man being choked in the kitchen. Flossy and Rolla' burst through the kitchen door.

It was a medium sized kitchen, a stove, oven, walk-in pantry, the once white tiles now yellowed slightly. At least, what tiles weren't stained in blood were yellow. The pantry door was open, and in the middle of the kitchen stood Metal-Man. His knees buckled, but he was being held up by his throat by....

A boy, probably about fourteen and was almost as tall as Metal-Man, had said gangster around the throat. His hair was completely white, as was his skin, his glazed pink eyes staring at Metal-Man with no emotion. This boy was bleeding profusely from his stomach and just below his chest.

Yet he continued to squeeze Metal-Man's throat. He was on the verge of passing out from lack of oxygen, and he forgot his shells in the car. Rolla' started firing at the new kid, almost every shot aimed at his chest. Most of the bullets hit, but he didn't even flinch. Metal-Man was going limp, and the albino growled.

Flossy, in a fit of panic, grabbed everything he could get his hands on and threw what he had at the kid. A bottle of beer, a candle, a meat tenderizer, a knife. Nothing was working. They didn't want to get too close, or this thing would grab them too.

Finally, Flossy grabs a glass container and chucks it at the white haired kid. It breaks over his head, covering him in what appeared to be salt. A couple seconds later, Metal-Man falls from his grip, and sizzling is heard. It was coming from the wounds.

Metal-Man was clutching his throat, gasping and wheezing, as he scrambled away from the now stunned white kid. His wounds were closing. Finally, after all that's left of the wounds were scars, he passes out.

"Jesus, that fucker didn't even blink!" Metal-Man exclaims, having finally found his voice again.

"The hell happen' in here?" Monkey asks, before noticing the blood, the salt, Metal-Man wheezing, and the albino on the floor.

"Nevamind, I don' think I wanna know."

+++++

All ponies present were now looking at me. Some in horror, some in shock, and others disbelief.

"Hold on partner, let meh get this straight..." Applejack starts, looking at me "That thing that was choking yer buddy was you?"

I sigh, "Yeah, that was me. I didn't even realize I was doing it at the time, though. Then, after they got me off of him, they did some more snooping and found a jar."

Rainbow dash, the second of two ponies that weren't eyeing me fear, raises an eyebrow, "What's that have to do with anything?"

Flossy sighs this time. "After I saw the jar, knew wha' happen'. It was somethin' my uncle used down in Haiti. 's called zombie powder." At the name "Zombie powder" everyone in the room looked even more nervous.

"D-Does it do w-what I think it does?" Twilight asks, her voice shaking slightly.

"It's used by voodoo practitioners to turn people into zombies. The other zombie powder is a drug like devil's breath, but I got hit with the real deal. I was a zombie." I finally admit.

To say the following silence was deafening was an understatement.