YhaY: Judgment Day

“On other pressing matters: What are we going to do about her, eh?” Pat pointed to the naked woman, crying beside the body of her so called “master”.

“I don’t think she can understand us” Said Apollo. “Her brain waves are fully functional, yet they are very weak."

“Couldn’t that just mean that she suffers from autism, eh?” Asked Pat.

“Nope. Autistic people’s brainwaves aren’t weaker, they’re just different, hell, sometimes they’re actually stronger than normal people’s brainwaves, but that’s beside the point.”

“What is this talk about brain waves?” Sir Harold inquired, curious as to the topic of the current conversation.

“It’s a long story.” Replied Apollo

“We have time.” Said Harold “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we don’t currently have any goals in mind.”

“….Fine” Apollo sighed, “I’m part of the Olympus project. It’s this little thing that ONI put together with the goal of making robotically enhanced super-soldiers. Apart from physical enhancements and bio-robotic weapons, like the flamethrowers in my hands, the 12 of us who volunteered have small super-computers connected to our hippocampus. From there, we can send these computers requests for calculations, scans, etc. They’re also connected to our optic nerves, so we have HUDs in our sight that show us our temperatures, blood levels, energy levels and a small heat sensor map”

He had lost Harold at "ONI”.

“Interesting” Pat stroked her metaphorical beard “And who exactly funded this project, eh?”

“Miles Blackwood” He replied

“Who?”

Apollo slowly turned to face Pat “Miles Blackwood. You know, the ONI commander in chief?”

Pat had a confused look plastered on her face “No, that’s Serin Osman, eh.”

Apollo looked shocked, what was this girl talking about? Serin Osman had been dead for years!

“…No, the order of the CiCs of ONI was and is:  Margaret Parangosky, Serin Osman, Steven Armstrong, George Sears, and then Miles Blackwood.”

“… Apollo, I have to ask, and I mean it with all sincerity: Where can I get whatever you’ve been smoking, eh? Serin Osman is and has been the head of ONI since 2559 ‘till the present day, eh!”

Apollo looked at Pat with a facial expression that could be summed up with the words “The fuck?”

“And just what might the present day be?” He asked

Pat frowned “July 23rd, 2568 A.D, eh!”

Had Harold been drinking anything, he would’ve done a spit-take.

“Excuse me?!” He blurted out “‘Tis apparent that you have either received a good knock upside the pate, or have partaken in too many a glass of liquor! The present date is December 3rd, Year of our Lord 1294!”

“No, no, no!” Shouted Apollo. “What kind of crack are you on?!  Both of you have got your calendars way off track…unless…”

“You don’t think we’re from different time periods, do you?” He inquired.

“It’s a possibility, eh.” Pat had just about given up on logic at this point. Her brain could barely take in the fact that there was a dead midget unicorn inside of a hut that was ripped open by an old school space vessel.

"SETZEN SIE IHRE HANDE HINTER DEN KOPF! JETZT!"

The group turned around to see a tall, white man wearing a black uniform set and a black hat pointing a gun at them from outside the hut. A total of 11 badges decorated his lapel, he was also wearing a red armband with a black swastika inside a white circle.

It didn't take long for Pat and Apollo to recognize the outfit.

"Nazi!" Apollo spat out that one word with more venom than a scorpion has in its tail.

"ICH SAGTE-"

Apollo interrupted him before he could continue.

"Wenn Sie nicht setzen die Waffe nach unten, ich werde haben in den Arsch treten!"

The Nazi looked appalled, he wasn't expecting resistance.

"Sie sind Juden?" Asked the Nazi

Apollo gave him a defiant look. "Was, wenn wir waren?"

"Ich müsste eine Kugel in den Schädel Ketzer zu setzen!" He replied

He hated the context in which he was about to speak, but he didn't want to be shot either. "Entspannen Sie sich! Wir sind keine Juden!"

The Nazi looked the group up and down, giving Harold a longer look, and then finally lowered the gun.

"Wo bin ich?"

"Speak in English, these 2 don't speak German!" Apollo had a look of contained contempt on his face.

The Nazi wasn't relaxed, but at least he wasn't ballistic now. "Where am I?" He asked.

After a quick explanation, the Nazi looked understandably shocked, but after analyzing his current situation, he finally gave in and holstered his pistol.

"It's hard to believe, but I suppose I have no choice but to trust you" He said.

Harold kept his stern look. "What's your name, lad?"

"Johan Roehm, loyal soldier to mein Fuhrer, SIEG HE-"

"Finish that sentence and I will personally eviscerate you, then use you as a coat, eh!" Pat tried to hide her disgust towards the newcomer, but her face and words betrayed her. Horribly.

"What's with all the hostility?" He asked.

Harold seconded that. "Yes, I too would like to know why you hold a man you have just met hatred."

"It's complex, eh." Replied Pat.

The awkwardness between the group grew denser, as its four members searched in their minds for something to say. The day was starting to turn to night, and the smoke coming out of the spaceship created a makeshift beacon for the world to see. The four people next to it however, hadn't realized it yet.

"What's with the naked girl?" asked Johan.

"That is the matter we were trying to resolve before you burst in" Replied Harold

The girl was short and hairy, her long red hair reached down to the back of her knees. She was sitting down beside her "master", almost like she was mourning him, or waiting for him to wake up. She didn't know what to do, her master was now dead, who was going to give her orders now? She lived to follow orders! But now she had none to follow!

"Can we keep her, eh?" Asked pat excitedly.

"I wouldn't consider that wise, what if she's dangerous?" Johan wasn't one for assuming things, that's how people ended up dead.

"Come on! She's got the brain integrity of a dog, eh! She could make a good companion, eh!"

Pat slowly walked up to the girl, kneeled, and then snapped her collar open.

"I shall name you... Free Spirit, eh!"

As soon as she said this, the girl stood up as best as her spine would let her, and then ran off into the forest that sorrounded the hut.

"... Or you could run away, that works too, eh..."

Harold and Apollo shared a short-lived laugh at Pat's newfound misery, while Johan cracked a small grin.

Location: Canterlot Sewers

Sir Faustin woke up with a start. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was having a spiffing cuppa tea with his good friend Henry Gladstone. However did he end up in a sewer system?

"I say! It smells possitively errant in here!" He thought to himself, his nose wincing in disgust.

Before he could mentally protest any further, a group of two quadrupedal creatures approached him from the shadows.

"Will you look at that, Steel Ace! It's one of them fancy clothed humans! Must belong to some posh nobles..." Said the first of the two ponies with a low-class scottish accent.

"It certainly is, Drain Rush!" Followed up the second one. "Looks like this is our lucky day!"

"Oh dear!" thought Sir Faustin. "It seems I've gotten myself into quite the pickle!"