Jack-In-The-Box

by Bobby Charlton

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Human, Crossover
Length: 3128

When you wind up Jack-In-The-Box, he jumps out screaming and flailing. Why is Jack so angry? Does he not like being cooped up in the box? Maybe it's strange faces he doesn't like. Some people are like that, Mr. B. They don't like anything new.

Having a fully-grown stallion teleport on top of you while one is half-asleep is never a good way to wake up. Nevertheless, that is what happened.

After being unconscious for a day and a half, he's waking up. Princess Celestia hopes that he can explain why he abruptly arrived with a saddlebag full of mysterious canned food, overly large needles, and illegal weapons.

And, hopefully, he won't wake up and reveal himself to be a mutant homicidal maniac. But that would never happen in the magical land of Equestria.

Rewrite!

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-02-05 09:54:14 UTC

Dr. Atlas, I presume

Dr. Silver Shoe hated two things: his species' habit of naming their offspring after nouns and adjectives (which seemed to be particularly prominent in the earth pony breed), and unauthorised personnel in his workstation. It was shiny. It was neat. It was a bleached and brilliant white. The last thing that Dr. Shoe needed was some interloper tracking their dirty hooves onto his pristine floor. And this was why, when he heard a voice by the door that he did not immediately recognise as one of his subordinates, Dr. Shoe reacted the way he did.

"Good morning, Dr. Shoe." And then came the storm.

"OUT!"

"I beg your pardon?

"Out, I said! Are you incapable of hearing as well as reading? The sign on the door very clearly states that nopony may enter this area without either being part of my staff, or first booking an appointment with my secretary, which I do not have! I have a rather abnormal patient who is under very careful observation, and therefore I do not have time to deal with interfering ponies such as yourself! So please, if... you... may... " Dr. Shoe trailed off as he turned around to deliver the fullness of his wrath upon the newcomer.

"Ah. Um. Er... "

"Dr. Shoe, I can see that you seem to be under a lot of stress. Do you think that maybe you need to reconsider your answer?" asked Princess Celestia. The doctor appeared to be undergoing a state of mental turmoil - clearly not used to having visitors of the royal persuasion - and so Celestia decided to make things a little easier for him to reply. "I say again, good morning."

"Ah, good morning, Your Highness. I, ah, trust you, uh... slept well?"

"Indeed I did. My apologies on dispensing with the pleasant conversation, but how is the patient?"

"The patient?"

"Yes, the patient," replied Celestia kindly. "Do you remember? You were entrusted last night with monitoring the patient's condition after his proce- "

"Of course I remember!" snapped Dr. Shoe. "I'm not as stupid as some ponies he- " Something made Dr. Shoe break off, and turn rather pale. This was likely due to the fact that he had realised he had just interrupted, and possibly insulted, his reigning monarch. A monarch who happened to have the power to do things like send an offender to someplace suitable for incarceration with a single thought. Like the sun.

And she was smiling at him.

Please don't banish me, please don't banish me...

"Don't be ridiculous, Dr. Shoe. I won't send you anywhere. Please stop covering your face with your hooves."

Ohnononononoshe'sgoingtoturnmeintostone...

"Dr. Shoe. I am not going to petrify you! I am not going to banish you. Please stop cowering."

Ahhhhhhhhshe'sgoingtosendmetothesunIknowitohpleasenonononono...

"Dr Shoe!"

The pony in question peeked out from behind his hooves.

"Y-yes?"

"I am not going to do anything to you. Nothing bad is going to happen. I understand that you may be a little stressed due to the suddenness and nature of this task. Now please, answer my question: how is the patient?"

"Oh! Ah... the patient has just woken up. If you would, uh, like to see it - him! I mean him, of course - then please feel free... " Dr. Shoe gestured with a hoof towards a door opposite to the one the princess had come out of. "Not that I'm in any, ah, kind of hurry to get rid of you or anything. Uh, did I say that the door was over there?"

Celestia stepped forwards, causing the doctor to shrink back with an eep.

"Well, Dr. Shoe," said the alicorn, her horn glowing. "Thank you for your time."

And when he heard the click of the doorhandle, the doctor fainted clean away.

Princess Celestia stepped through the door, into a second pristine room which comprised of four white-coated ponies seated around a table. From the looks of things, some kind of game was about to start, and a small pile of bits lay in front of each player. Mildly annoyed that her arrivals seemed unnoticed that day, Princess Celestia cleared her throat.

"A-hem."

"Yeah, yeah, just put the drinks over there," said an earth pony with his back to the alicorn, waving a hoof in the direction of a series of delicate equipment. The other three ponies, who could see what was happening, started sniggering. The pony in question, oblivious to his friends' gentle chuckles, continued talking. "Hey, Atlas, was that the new intern? 'Cause her voice is as sweet as her fla... " He trailed off as he tried to catch a glimpse of the intern. What he got instead was a good look at Princess Celestia, who was standing right behind him.

"Oh. I... I will just see myself out to smash my head against the wall in peace, agreed?" The other three stallions nodded, grinning broadly. As he sheepishly departed the room, one of the other white-coated ponies, a pegasus, stood up.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. My name is Dr. Open Atlas, and I heartily apologise for the slight blunder that has befallen my colleague Dr. Rock Solid. The two unicorns seated around this delightful little card game are the equally delightful brothers Dr.s Poke and Prod, the latter of whom will kindly refrain from stealing the bits when my back is turned." Dr. Prod sighed, and put Open Atlas' bits back on the table. "Forgive me for asking, Your Majesty, but why are you dropping by to visit us poor little scientists?"

"An excellent question, my dear Dr. Atlas. I wish to discover whether you have discovered anything about this pony, his arrival, or the items he was carrying with him."

"Well, I can certainly see to it that your requests will be answered, Your Majesty." Open Atlas turned to the two unicorns, scooping his bits into his pocket as he did so. "Poke and Prod, would you kindly go and do doctorish science things while I speak with the Princess?" As the ponies scurried off, Dr. Atlas guided Princess Celestia over to a large window. "Would you like to take a look, Your Majesty?"

Celestia did so. Through it, she saw a small white bed in a small white room, with a grey earth pony sleeping on it.

"That is the patient, correct?"

"That's right. He has not woken up since he arrived yesterday morning. We have been able to take some magiomedical and physical scans, though. No residual teleportation magic, which is unexpected seeing as all non-user-cast teleports leave small traces of magic for between four days and a week. He has a number of scars and broken bones which have healed over rather nicely between the time that he got them, whenever that is, and now. Other than that, though, he is in rather good physical health.

"Of course, I'm just repeating what Dr. Prod and Dr. Rock Solid have told me. I'm not actually much use with biology. In fact, I'm a psychologist and I really have no idea why I am here to watch over a patient who has been unconscious for over twenty-four hours instead of somepony who's qualified to do that sort of thing. Honestly, sometimes I think that my entire role on this team is to explain things to the Princesses and give orders that I don't fully understand because nopony bothers to check which member of staff has any kind of scientific skill whatso... oh. Okay, then. Just walk away while I'm talking. Augh, sometimes that pony makes me feel like I'm about to explode."

He followed Princess Celestia through the corridor.

"Dr. Open Atlas, may I ask a question?"

"But of course, Your Majesty."

"Doesn't one-way glass have to have the viewing side darkened? That room you were in was rather bright, I thought."

"You are entirely correct, Your Majesty. But that was not one-way glass. That was, in fact, a semi-portable non-transient ocular rift. Or, to be more exact, a magical hole in the wall by which we may see in but the subject may not see out. One-way glass minus the limitations, if you will."

"However did you manage to get permission for those? I would have thought that the scientific budget wouldn't have coped with such a request."

"Well, somepony signed for them, and it was definitely one of the Princesses."

"Ah. I do believe that Luna handles that sort of paperwork. You know she was anxious to remodel the Third Dungeon of Shadows and Torment after the whole Nightmare Moon incident." Dr. Atlas nodded.

"At least something good came out of her reign of terror that nopony except you and her can remember. The Royal Protective Facility has proven to be quite useful." Open Atlas paused. "You know, you should really consider seeing what's in the other five Dungeons."

"It may well not be the best of ideas. There was a live container of Chaoruption in the Third Dungeon. Who knows what we could find in the rest?"

"I hate to change the subject, Your Majesty, but, ah... do you know where you are going? You wandered off down this corridor without telling me what it was you wanted to see."

"Oh. Well. Now that I come to think of it... "

"Don't worry, Your Majesty," said Open Atlas, stopping beside a door. "This is where the objects that the pony arrived with are held." He opened the door, and they stepped inside. On a large bench in the middle of a sterile (and white) room lay a variety of objects.

"What exactly are these?"

"Come over to the bench, and I'll explain what we know." Dr. Atlas pointed at an oddly-shaped saddlebag. "This is an oddly-shaped saddlebag. It's what the items were contained in." Next on the bench were a small pile of round tins, with images of fruit and vegetables printed on them. "Tinned food, Your Majesty. None are Equestrian brands, however. You can pick them up and have a look if you wish." Princess Celestia did so.

"C.J. Greens? Gaynor Peaches? Fontaine... Atlantic... Sardines? Whatever these are, our mystery pony had quite the varied diet. Fish as well, it seems. Earth ponies are not renowned for their taste in seafood, are they?"

"No, Your Majesty. That tends to be more of a pegasus thing."

"Ah. And what's this can? Beef-E? Whatever can that... " Princess Celestia ceased talking, a greenish tinge appearing on her face. "Oh."

"Yes, we thought that, too."

"Can we move on to the next item?"

"Why, certainly. These are first-aid kits, very conventional except for a couple of syringes filled with some kind of fluid. We don't know for certain what kind of effect they have on a pony's body, but given that they were in a first aid kit then we can probably get it in three guesses. And speaking of syringes... " Dr. Open Atlas held up a bulbous hypodermic needle, its tip covered with a cap. It was filled with a sapphire substance that gave off an eerie blue glow.

"We don't know what that's for either, Your Majesty, but we found quite a few of them in his saddlebag. In that number, they're either medicine, or some kind of drug."

"Is that a picture of an apple on the front?"

"Yes. We don't know what that means, either." Dr. Open Atlas picked up the next item.

"A crossbow."

"That's right, Your Majesty."

"Diamond dogs use them, don't they?"

"And minotaurs, yes, although obviously their bows are larger."

"It's not that well made, is it? A ruler, a length of wire, a cigar tin... "

"Le Marquis D'Epoque, Your Majesty. Another unknown brand."

"Ah, Prench. The Modern Male, I do believe." Celestia sighed. "Oh, how I remember Prance. Nopony goes there now, of course."

"I have never been there myself, although I have heard it's a wonderful place."

"Few ponies have, Dr. Atlas. Few ponies have. Alas, they cut themselves off many years ago. But I digress. I presume this is a container of crossbow bolts, doctor?"

"That is correct. Steel-tipped, very nicely made, and ones which end in a small container of some incendiary substance. Here is a tin-opener, similar to a diamond dog design. But the strangest device is here, see." Open Atlas gestured, and Princess Celestia leaned in closer. She picked up the object with her horn, bringing it close to her face.

"What is this?"

"It appears to be a miniature, home-made cannon. You see that small lever on the side? Press it down, Your majesty." Celestia did so and the object snapped in half, connected only by a strip of metal.

"Was it meant to do that?"

"We certainly think so. That seems to be how the cannon is loaded. Here is a metal cylinder which has been cut down to size - see the bits of jagged metal at the end - and can rotate. Give it a spin." The cylinder gently rotated. "There is another lever on the underside, which triggers a small hammer to emerge and strike where the ammunition would go. This is probably the firing mechanism. You see how there is five holes in the cylinder? Well, that is where the ammunition is held." Dr. Atlas held up a box full of smaller cylinders, some red and some blue. "These fit in rather nicely. In short, this is a very small cannon that has been adapted for handheld use by diamond dogs. It's a perfect fit for one of their paws. It fires a kind of grapeshot, you see."

"Grapeshot? Isn't that... "

"Outlawed by pretty much everypony in every government on the continent? Yes. That's probably why the diamond dogs would have made it."

"Well, the fact that our mystery pony was carrying diamond dog weaponry may well go some way towards explaining why he appeared in my bedchamber. He may well have been fleeing them."

Suddenly, another pony - Princess Celestia recognised it as Dr. Poke from the viewing room - rushed in.

"Dr. Atlas! Oh, and Your Majesty, of course. The patient is waking up!"

Inside the Box

He woke up on a bed. A lovely, warm, comfy bed. So soft, so cosy, not a single mark on the pristine sheets and not a tear in the mattress. At least, that was the picture he built from the information his hind parts were telling him. He couldn't actually see the mattress. Because of the sheets, you see.

Now, why could that be? Not a single clean piece of fabric existed in the city. He certainly didn't have time for washing, and all the water he had was either salty and lumpity-full of fish, or clean and drinkable. His desalinator had broke down a week ago, and he had been subsisting on Old Harbinger and the occasional thermos of coffee ever since.

A bed. White walls. The smell of clean. Short ceilings. Hospital.

Hospital!

No. Hospital was bad. Very bad. Hello, Steinman! Come to visit me? There's someone at the window, anyway. When is a window not a window? When it's a wall! And there were people moving on the other side of the wall. The shadows didn't line up right. Time to investigate!

He hopped out of the bed, getting unsteadily to his feet. Shoes. Legs. They didn't feel right; they were legs and not-legs at the same time. Was not-legs a word? No, it was two. He teetered, struck by the sensation of unease one gets when one's untucked shirt trails like a tail at a formal occasion. How embarrassing, to have a tail. There was an injection for that, wasn't there? There was an injection for everything nowadays, including musicians. He hated sell-outs, all so eager to grab a bite of ol' Franky Fonty as well as the big dollars. No more Eve's Garden for them, right?

Feet. Left. Right. Walk. His legs were the wrong size for his body, like some kid's doll. The fake kind, not the metaphor. Though that would also apply if Steinman was around, yes indeed. Left. Right. Left. Right. Up to the window. Knock. Extend an arm, extend a fist. Funny-looking fist. All clenched up and shiny.

"Knock. Knock. Knock. Open up, mister doctor."

There was scurrying on the other side. Rats?

"Open up, mister doctor. I can see your shadow there."

More scurrying. Nasty rats. Break the window? Break the wall? He hadn't taken the right needle for that. Ha! How many had he had? Far too many. Three too many. None too many! Never enough needles for himself. It was always locked away in those girls, the lovely little girls.

Could he cloud inside? Explode in a shower of rose petals and ash? Do a little vanishing act?

The window opened before he could decide. One moment a wall with a hint of window, the next moment a window with a hint of wall. How strange. There was a face there too, with several little faces clustered beside. Mind your manners, now. This big one looks posh. Lady Smith posh, with more to spare. Maybe some blue, maybe some red if he played his cards right. They always had some to spare, right? Might just call the buzzy-bots, but it was easy come and easy go. He'd handled worse. He scratched his head with a fist. They didn't seem to want to come unstuck today. Too many needles?

Lady Smith sure did look off today, though. Whinny, snicker. Ride too many ponies and you turn into one, as the saying went. Manners!

"Can he see us now?" she whispered. Rude, wasn't it? Whispering in company? There was another voice. "Ah. I see." She coughed.

"Dear pony, welcome to Canterlot Castle. You have been resting here ever since you arrived. I apologise for the quarantine, but your arrival was far from ordinary. I am Princess Celestia, ruler of the land of Equestria. May I enquire as to your name?" He smiled. Blue or red, it didn't matter. He and the missus were going to get along just fine.

"Step inside the room, Lady Smith. The screen's always so impersonal! Come and talk, and don't be shy," he said to the image. And then, the wall returned. Nothing but shades of window-light marked where the image had stood.

Visitors! To his room! Which, it had to be said, he didn't have prior to waking. Good! Hiding would be more of a challenge. He stood in front of the bed, and stood still. Mister Chamaeleon, that's who he was. They can't see you if you don't move. And then they'll be the ones who don't move. That's logic!

As Dum and Dee once said.