The Storm

Chapters

Goodbye, Piccadilly!
The Baldwin Has Landed
Disguises, disguises...
The Fight To Ponyville
Introductions and... A Party?! (Well, Not Yet)
John attends a Frivolous Social Event
The Big Reveal
Gerhart's Desert Adventures
Story Update
Gerhart's Desert Adventures 2 And John Gets Excited
An Unintentional Death Ride
John Goes Shopping, and Nothing Much Happens
New Arrivals
The Dream Sequence
And Now, A Message From The Author
More Introductions...

Goodbye, Piccadilly!

It was a dreary grey March morning at RAF Needs Oar Point, and large, grey clouds hung in a pensive and menacing silence over the rows of neatly parked Hawker Typhoons, bristling with cannons, bombs, and rockets. A light shower was falling, which made the air refreshing but the quiet thunder that boomed overhead gave an unusual sense of foreboding.

The light sound of small raindrops tinkling against metal and low thunder is what awoke Wg. Cmdr. John Robert Baldwin. He was a highly respected pilot, having been awarded the Distinguished Service Order, the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Force Cross, the Croix De Guerre, and the Order of Orange Nassau. John soon found himself quickly scrambling out of a small, but albeit warm and cozy bunk cot, and into a cold, slightly scratchy flight suit. As he slipped on his clothes, John could hear rain PAT PAT PAT PAT against the tin roof of the bunk house. “Odd, I thought it was supposed to be clear and sunny, not drizzly,” he thought. In a flash, John remembered that today he had to lead a large mission to clear out German coastal defenses.

He hastily scrambled out of the bunks and into the mess where a few other airmen were eating quietly. The smell of canned food and aviation fuel was surprisingly relaxing, and he ate his breakfast just fast enough that he wouldn't choke. John glanced at the clock nervously; the black hands read 8:05. Upon disposing of his dirty utensils and cup, he ran out of the mess and to a tent where he could see the rest of the wing had assembled. A projector was just beginning to roll a tape, and John burst in just as the film began to roll.

“Ah, look who’s awake!” said the Sqn. Ldr. of No. 197 Squadron.

John muttered something inaudibly as he walked up to the screen. “Ok, chaps,” he said, turning to the assembled pilots. “Today, we'll be destroying the German defensive bunkers and posts of Gold Beach. Our job is to take down enemy placements on the coastal cliffs, here… here… and here.” John pointed to a reconnaissance photo, specifically at several bunkers and engraved trenches which were placed tightly on the occupied French coast. “No. 193 Squadron and No. 197 Squadron will be in charge of taking down enemy bunkers. No. 257 Squadron and No. 266 will be in charge of keeping anti-aircraft weapons, infantry, and artillery in check.” John paused a moment before saying,

“But watch yourself, there have been reports of interceptions over the channel. The last flight that went over there was ambushed by 190’s.”

An uneasy silence settled over the assembled pilots. The pattering of the rain and the clicking sound of the projector suddenly seemed too loud, and flickering of the projector seemed too bright and distracting. The Focke-Wulf Fw 190 or Fw-190 was a vicious German one man fighter that could beat the Hawker Typhoon in a race any day. It could fly faster and farther, and facing an entire squadron or two of those was not a fun prospect for the pilots.

“So, in short, blow up anything that is German and could harm our boys, and watch your backs for German fighters,” said John.

The congregation of pilots nodded in a solemn silence, each wondering who was not going to make it back. The sound of rain tapping on oiled canvas was all that could be heard for a moment, as well as the loud projector.

Suddenly, John glanced at his watch and said, “Time to fly!” as he turned of the projector.

The assembled pilots quickly got out of their seats and ran through the wet dewy grass and climbed into their planes as another burst of thunder rumbled overhead. They rushed through the rain to their craft, which were armed with either two 500 lb. bombs or eight RP-3 air-to-ground rockets, four mounted on racks on each wing. Also within each of the Typhoon’s wings, were four 20mm Hispano cannons, two in each wing; which could deliver a considerable amount of damage to anything that crossed into its sights. All in all, it generally wasn't a good idea to be on the receiving end of the Hawker Typhoon.

As soon as all the pilots had gone through their pre-flight checklists, they started up their planes which had just been fully refueled.

PRT PRT PRT PRT PRT PRT PRT… VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The familiar and reassuring steady drone of the Napier Sabre IIB engine was a joyful noise to John’s ears. He and the rest of the squads taxied out to the main grass airstrip, which was a bit muddy and slick, but it posed no great danger to the aircraft.

Suddenly, mission control crackled into John’s radio headset. “Wing Commander, this is mission control, you are clear for takeoff. Also, there is an advisory for some light fog over the coast.”

“Rodger, mission control, advisory noted,” replied John.

“No problem. Have a safe trip, and shoot a few Nazis for us, will ya?” replied the man at mission control.

“Yes, sir! Will do!” said John as the engine roared and his plane barreled down the airfield, the rest of the planes systematically following suit.

The Hawker Typhoons took off in perfect synchronization, the landing gear retracting and fading into the black and white ‘invasion stripes’ painted on the aircraft’s fuselage and underside. The planes flew stoically into the distance and to the English Channel, which was veiled in a thick, spooky fog.

“And this is light fog?” said one of the pilots sarcastically.

“Steady, Officer, just keep eye contact with one of the planes ahead of you, and you'll be fine,” responded John. “The fog is supposed to lift as soon as we reach the open channel.”

However, as time passed, a sense of dread and fear began to bubble up inside of John. He looked outside of his cockpit, and he could see his squadron still, but he felt that something was off, like… and that’s when he broke visual contact. He started to panic and grabbed his radio speaker, “This is Wg. Cmdr. John, come in, please? Can you hear me?” Suddenly, a chorus of concerned pilots flooded into his headset, and he observed that he had just flown into a particularly large and thick cloud. John sighed in relief and rejoined the group. However, he saw something about a thousand feet ahead and below them. It was… a squadron of airplanes. “What are you?” John thought. Suddenly, they reached a clear spot in the clouds and John could instantly recognize the Iron Cross of the Luftwaffe emblazoned their wings.

“Contacts, directly ahead, 190s,” said John.

“Oh joy,” said one of the pilots.

“Do not engage, I repeat, do not engage!” said John. “Maintain your course. Do not engage unless fired upon.”

The pilots responded with a chorus of affirmatives. John looked ahead and saw land, the coastline of France, to be exact. “ETA to target: five minutes,” said John.

Suddenly, the distinctive sound of gunfire that rattled through the air.

“190’s, SIX ‘O CLOCK!” yelled one of the pilots.

“ABORT FORMATION! ENGAGE THE ENEMY!” said John.

The next few moments went by like blur. The Typhoons split up into small clusters of two or three, and chased after the 190s.

No Typhoons were lost in the first round, but then another wave of 190s showed up.

“GAHHHHHHHHHHHH!” a pilot yelled as one of his Typhoon’s wings was blown through by Focke-Wulf Fw 190 cannons. The pilot bailed successfully and the plane spiraled down into the coastal waters, where it exploded in a huge splash of white water, the pilot drifting down slowly towards the dangerous beach several thousand feet below.

“FIND YOUR TARGETS AND GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT! SHAKE ANY FIGHTERS YOU CAN SHAKE!” yelled John frantically as he tried to shake a German fighter that had latched onto him.

A few Typhoons immediately broke off from the Focke-Wulfs and released their bombs on some German bunkers. The bombs exploded in a massive orange fireballs and mushroom clouds and the bunkers were destroyed.

However, that's when the artillery kicked in. Explosions suddenly dotted the sky as various guns attempted to take down as many Typhoons as possible.

A few guns were successful and three more Typhoons were sent spiraling down to the beach.

"Agh, take out that Flak!" said John. "It's going to rip us to shreds!"

SHHHHHHHHEW!

BOOOOOOOM!

Two RP-3 rockets hit their target, and a Flak gun was no more.

“YEAH! TAKE THAT YOU NAZIS!” yelled a pilot.

However, a few more Focke-Wulfs had come to join the fight as well.

John commenced a steep dive and the four 20mm Hispano cannons roared, tearing apart the wing of a 190. A few bullets also made contact with the engine, whereupon flames and black smoke started coming out. John saw the pilot bail, and, the plane unintentionally went kamikaze and crashed into a bunker, destroying both in a Hollywood-worthy explosion. John pulled up and looked for another target to engage.However, the last of the Focke Wulfs had been shot down or had flown away, presumably other targets. “All remaining planes follow me,” said John. Suddenly, he felt dizzy, and a terribly painful pounding headache racked his head, but he pushed it aside. He eyed the artillery, which were concentrating their fire on them. John then swooped down low, so low that he nearly buzzed the tops of the placements and could see the stunned expressions of the soldiers below. “FIRE!” John yelled, as he released his rockets.

SHHHHHHHHEW! SHHHHHHHHEW! SHHHHHHHHEW! SHHHHHHHHEW!

A volley of RP-3 rockets flew down into the gun placements and trenches, instantly hitting seven Flaks and destroying them. The rest went high or low and decimated any unlucky soldiers that were within the range of the rockets.

After a few more passes, the vicious Flaks had been silenced and the rest of the bunkers were kaput. However, there were still a few large guns, which were attempting to hit them, but were so far failing.

“Good work, squadron! Circle around and get ready to fire another volley, we've got to finish off those placements!" said John excitedly. Then, a wave of nausea flooded over him. Suddenly, to his horror, he realized that his oxygen mask was off! “It must've slipped off while I was fighting those damn 190s!” thought John. He quickly tried to put it on, but he could feel his grip on the throttle loosen, and the plane veered downward rapidly. As his consciousness faded and the voices of his fellow pilots grow faint, he thought he saw dark grey clouds surround his plane, but John dismissed it as a hallucination from his Carbon Monoxide poisoning. Death was only minutes away, and in his final moments on earth, he said, “Win, Britain… win. God… save… the King…”

The Baldwin Has Landed

John slowly drifted back to consciousness, and when he awoke, he found himself inexplicably back at the controls of his Typhoon. “Am I dreaming?” he thought. “This is just too strange, too strange. For all I know, I should be dead, crumpled up in my burning fighter somewhere on Gold Beach in occupied France, with symptoms of Carbon Monoxide poisoning.” He felt alive, but something was still amiss. John turned around and saw that everything was normal. He looked down and saw only forest, which had small misty white clouds hovering above the treetops lazily. His eyes widened in amazement when he thought he saw the ruins of what looked like a medieval castle. “That’s really weird, I was fighting just a few miles inland from the coast… not above forest, with a castle in it,” said John, taking a quick look at his fuel gauge. It indicated he had a full tank of fuel. John was confused but pleased with his discovery; so he just shook his head and curved off to the right. There, he saw a town, which looked very similar to 14th century houses, with thatch roofs, timber framed walls, and overhanging second floors. However, the clocktower was a bit inconsistent with his assumed time period. “Ok, what’s next? Technicolor ponies with horns and wings?” said John, laughing aloud. Suddenly, he saw something ahead of him.

As he came closer, he saw, much to his amazement, that it was a pony-sized blue pegasus, with a rainbow mane and tail. Also, on its flank, there was… what looked like a tattoo of a red, yellow, and blue lightning bolt coming out of a white cloud. But, what surprised John most of all was the fact it was... sitting on a cloud?! Its purple eyes suddenly widened and John pulled a hard right. He could only sit, mouth agape, as the pegasus,hovering in midair, looking just as amazed as he was, vanished into the distance as he flew further away.

“WHAT THE...!?!?” thought John, who was starting to question his sanity. “I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! I SWEAR IT’S LIKE SOME BLOKE MADE ME SAY THAT! IT’S JUST TOO IRONIC, AND WHY THE H*** DOES THIS PLACE LOOK LIKE A WARNER BROS. CARTOON?!?! PONIES SHOULDN'T EVEN BE ABLE TO SIT ON CLOUDS!” However, he just shook his head and looked for a safe place to land. As he did so, he turned on his radio and said, “This is Wing Commander John Robert Baldwin, No. 198 Squadron RAF, come in, please!” The only thing that responded was overwhelmingly loud static. “Damn!” said John. “The radio is useless, and I doubt there are any other humans here, let alone RAF planes or pilots. I guess I should be grateful my plane is still in one piece.”

He decided to land in a nearby empty field next to what appeared to be an apple orchard, filled with many large apple groves, which had apples of all shapes, sizes, and colors. He also spied a series of small sheds, and a large red barn, and even a farmhouse, which reminded him of the stereotypical American Midwest (so John assumed he was somewhere in America, but last time he checked, America wasn't inhabited by Technicolor ponies). He also noticed a treehouse in a large apple tree, about a mile or so from the farm.

As the landing gear of his Hawker Typhoon lowered, John noticed a few ponies without wings moving around at the farm. He saw an orange one with a blonde ponytail mane, ponytail, and it was also wearing a cowboy hat; there was also a red one with blonde mane and tail. He also noticed that they had tattoos on their flanks as well, the orange pony having three red apples and the red pony having green apple that had been cut in half.

They looked up at the plane, but even though John couldn't see their faces clearly, he figured they were looking up in surprise. A few momentary thumps signified that his landing gear had made contact with the ground and he slowed the plane to a halt. He then heard a dog bark, and saw what looked like a white and brown Border collie running up to the plane, wearing a red collar with a gold name tag.

“WINONA! YA GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT, YA HEAR?!” yelled a feminine accented voice.

“My cover has been blown!” thought John. He quickly grabbed his survival supplies and his Enfield No.2 revolver from the plane and closed the canopy, before leaping off the plane and running away towards the cover of a nearby cluster of thick bushes. He only hoped that the dog couldn't smell him out, or that

John saw the orange pony he had seen earlier run up to the dog, Winona, and say, “WINONA! IF AH EVER…” the horse suddenly noticed the Hawker Typhoon. Its jaw dropped (and so did John’s upon realizing he had heard the orange pony speak) as it stared in amazement at the aircraft. “What in tarnation…?” it muttered in silent awe. It walked around the craft, tapping it cautiously and reading off the markings on it. “JB, what does that stand for?” John heard it mutter. “P…O…521? And what is that? A target?” the orange pony said, tapping on the RAF roundel painted on the Typhoon’s fuselage. it continued inspecting the Hawker Typhoon, and while doing so, John was able to get a better look at the orange horse. It had freckles on its face, and had bright green eyes. John started backing away, but the dog, Winona, turned in his direction, sniffed, and growled. “What’s gotcha all riled up, Winnie?” asked the orange pony.

John acted quickly and threw a stone over by some other bushes. It broke a few twigs, which prompted the dog to run in that direction, braking furiously.

“WINONA!” the pony shouted in exasperation as it ran after the dog.

John ran as far as he could in the opposite direction and eventually came to the treehouse had had seen. Inside, he could hear children’s voices.

One sounded high-pitched and girly, “So, what haven't we tried today to get our cutie marks?”

“Cutie marks?” thought John aloud. He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth and silently pressed up against the trunk of the tree.

“Did you hear something?” the girly-voiced one asked.

“No, you're still a scaredy-pony after we tried to get our cutie marks in ghost hunting,” said another girl voice, but it sounded a bit more tomboyish.

“Ya know, ah think you’re just hearin’ things,” said another voice, with an accent resembling the orange pony’s accent.

“Whatever, Applebloom, I'm sure I heard somepony say something out there,” said the girly-voice again.

“That’s what you said last time, Sweetie Belle,” remarked the more tomboyish voice.

“And the time before that,” said Applebloom.

“And the time before that,” said the tomboyish voice.

“Alright, Scootaloo! I get it already,” said Sweetie Belle. “Anyways, what did we try? Oh yeah, we tried being cooks, farmer, bakers, confectioners, grocers, salesmares, bankers, pro-bowlers, ghost hunters, astrologists, physicists, mathematicians, chemists, alchemists, wagon repair mares, realtors, receptionists, musicians, clothing designers, artists, fishermares, pro-water skiers, pro-tennis players, pro-golfers, pro soccer players, pro-hoofball players, hobos…”

The list went on and on, where everything from ‘Patton Clerk’ to ‘Used Carriage Salesmare’ was listed. John only stood in amazement; all the jobs listed either existed on earth, or were close parodies of them. Suddenly, he heard footsteps, and the sound of a door opening. They were outside! John was taken by surprise and before he could move, three small ponies without tattoos on their flanks came down from the treehouse.

One was a cream yellow, with a bright red mane and tail, wearing a big magenta bow in its mane. The next one was white with a small horn growing out of its head, and its mane and tail were purple curls of hair with pink ends. The last one was a pegasus, and it was kind of a light chestnut color, with a magenta mane and tail. the three young ponies clambered down out of the tree house and onto the ground before John could react, and soon all three were staring at him with wide eyes.

John opened his mouth to speak, but the three young ponies let out high-pitched ear-piercing shrieks of terror. “Nononononono, it’s okay, I'm not going to….” said John, but the young ponies ignored him and only screamed louder, which made John go temporarily deaf.

“IT BUCKING TALKED!” Scootaloo yelled.

“LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!” said Sweetie Belle.

The three ponies ran away, still screaming.

John let out a frustrated grunt, now knowing that the ponies would be permanently alerted to his presence and walked on. After a while, he came to the outskirts of the town he had seen in the air. Unsure how the inhabitants would react to him, he skirted along the edge of town, where he saw many ponies walking about and talking. They came in all sizes and colors; and some had horns while others had wings, and some didn't have any horns or wings at all. Suddenly, John bumped into something and fell onto his back with quiet thump. When he has back on his feet again, he saw a zebra, wearing large gold earrings, several gold bracelets on its left foreleg, and a few gold neck-rings on its neck. He also noticed a pictograph-esque like sun on its flank. It looked more curious than alarmed. John drew his Enfield No.2 and began to say, “If you even…”

“Talk, I will not, but if you speak, you will get caught,” said the zebra with a feminine African accent. For some reason, everything she said rhymed. “If you follow me, then no one will see.”

Unsure what to do do, John decided to try and befriend the black and white equine and followed it into some thick bushes. John uneasily holstered his Enfield No.2 and asked quietly, “What’s your name?”

“Zecora, that’s who I am, and you sound like you’re from Trottingham,” said Zecora in the same quiet voice.

“Oh, no, I come from a place called Bath, in Somerset England,” said John. He didn’t know why he was giving away such intel, or why his volume went from super soft to normal, but he had to trust someone or… somepony in this case. She seemed trustworthy anyways. Besides, it wasn't exactly anything they could use to their advantage, except maybe against him.

“You come from a place named for a device of washing? Now that will get someone talking,” said Zecora.

Then, an idea came to John’s mind. “Can you disguise me? I don't think your kind has ever seen a human before, and causing trouble isn't high on my list of priorities right now, and God knows what the h*** these things, sorry… ponies could do to me if they got pissed at me.”

“I can give you a disguise, but be warned, it will demise,” said Zecora.

“Is this gonna become a regular thing with her?” thought John as he followed Zecora into the woods.

Disguises, disguises...

John had to admit, the place Zecora called Everfree Forest was somewhat beautiful in an unkempt and wild way. The trees vaguely reminded him of willows, and everything smelled of moss and dew; green ferns and shrubs lined the dirt path, a surprisingly pleasant experience, it almost made him forget he was in another world. But what unnerved him was that he got the sense something seemed to be following them, and, the fact that the woods were very thick and he could hardly see beyond ten meters, helped to bolster his sense fear. Occasionally, if he turned around at just the right moments, he could catch sets of bat-like glowing eyes staring at him before they vanished instantly, and he could've sworn some of the trees had faces on them. He also heard wolf-like howls, and John drew his Enfield No.2, in case something tried to ‘tango’ with him. Nonetheless, they soon reached a tree… with a door and windows. John facepalmed and drug his hand across his face. “Why didn’t I see it coming?” he thought.

Hanging from the tree’s lower branches was a couple of corked flasks and vials were swinging idly, and what appeared to be a large African mask was leaning against a big tree root. Zecora pushed open and walked in, holding it open as John squeezed in. inside, there was enough room to stand, but only that. In one corner, there was a small cot like bed with a single white pillow and a faux leopard skin blanket. In the middle of the room was a large black cauldron, where something was boiling and bubbling. Hanging on the walls were a few more masks, and more flasks and vials were hanging down via ropes and strings. John closed the door and sat down on the bed.

“Watch and you shall see, how naturally potion making comes to me,” said Zecora. She walked around, grabbing various flasks, vials, and herbs, and then putting them into the cauldron in the middle of the room. After putting the various ingredients into the cauldron and stirring the surprisingly familiar scented brew, a satisfied looking Zecora walked over to the cauldron and checked the contents. She then grabbed an empty flask and dipped it into the cauldron, filling it about halfway full of the strange elixir.

She then turned and handed it John, who took it and sniffed the potion. It smelled like… aircraft fuel… and Irish coffee? John shrugged, turned to Zecora and said, “Cheers!” He made a toasting motion with the flask, and drank the brew. At first, John expected it to taste unpleasant. Much to his surprise, it actually tasted like Irish coffee. John drained the whole flask, which made Zecora’s eyes widen in alarm.

“Ah, that was jolly good,” said John. As he sat for a moment, he felt a light burning sensation start from his stomach and spread through his body. He then started to convulse uncontrollably, and he dropped the flask, which shattered into dozens of brown clay shards. Before he went black, he could see Zecora scrambling around, grabbing more herbs and vials. John felt a surge of numbness, and blackness silently washed over him.

He remained unconscious for some time, until a floating feminine African accented voice said, “Wake up! Or else you’ll be staying for sup!”

John bolted upright, and saw Zecora staring down at him.

“Thank goodness you’re awake, I thought something much more serious was at stake,” said Zecora.

“Ugh… god… what happened?” moaned John, rubbing his forehead with his hands. He then noticed something very odd about his hands: they weren’t hands! They were shiny black hooves! Then, it hit him. “HOLY… You turned me into a pony?!” said John, his jungle green eyes wide with amazement behind his goggles.

“You’re correct, and your reaction was one I did not expect. However, to Ponyville, that’s where you should go, I think there are some ponies you might want to know,” said Zecora.

John just sat for a moment, like an idiot. He tried to say something, but he just kept opening and closing is his mouth like a goldfish. “Of course she turned me into a pony! That’s what I wanted her to do! I’m such a silly git!” thought John.

Zecora put a hoof to John’s mouth and said, “Come, look here, there’s nothing to fear.”

John slid out of the bed and onto his hooves, before promptly falling on his butt. Zecora helped him up and after a minute of walking around the room, John felt sturdy enough to walk over to a mirror.

When he saw what was reflected back at him, John didn’t faint or collapse, but just smiled. “I’m a pegasus! That’s just neat!” said John, flapping his wings. He also looked at the clothes he was wearing. “It looks a lot like my uniform! I even have my rank patch and brevet and holster!” John felt around in his holster, and much to his surprise, he could feel his pistol inside the holster. The seven year old part of John thought this was FREAKING AWESOME. (He used to read Greek myths, and he really liked the story of pegasus, it was his favorite of all the myths, and he always wanted to be pegasus. He’d even pretend he was pegasus, soaring around and carrying thunderbolts for Zeus.)

“I am glad you like your disguise, but be warned, it will demise,” said Zecora.

“Wait, are you telling me that on the strike of twelve or something, my epic pegasus disguise will vanish and reveal that I’m… human?” said John with a concerned voice. He was also confused about using the word epic to describe his disguise, but he dismissed his odd behavior as part of the side-effects of the potion.

“Yes, this warning I will digress: at the twelfth hour, you will have spent all of potion’s power,” said Zecora.

“Oh, man, this is heavy,” blurted out John. He shook his head and thought, “Wait, what did I just say? Ugh, never mind. It couldn’t have been that important anyways.” After thanking Zecora and saying goodbye, John stepped outside and into Everfree Forest and sighed. It felt strange walking on four limbs, and not to mention hooves. He started at brisk trot, the dirt road feeling somewhat more firm to his feet. Suddenly, he heard more howls, which caused him to stop in his tracks.

The ferns and underbrush shook violently, and from it emerged wolves… but with glowing green eyes and made out of assorted pieces of wood!

The Fight To Ponyville

John instinctively flapped his wings and, to his surprise, he found himself hovering about three meters off the ground. John counted seven wood wolves below him, and they looked pretty hungry. “I don’t want to become leather-wrapped wood wolf jerky strips,” though John. “Oh! How could I be such be such a dolt, I have my pistol with me!” John, with great difficulty, managed to reach his holster and extract his Enfield No.2 Revolver. He didn’t know exactly how he managed to get his hoof inside the trigger guard, but it somehow magically worked out.

BANG! BANG BANG BANG!

Four .38 caliber bullets flew from the Enfield and towards a wood wolf, which was soon replaced by a wolf-sized pile of wood chips. The rest of the wolves weren’t too happy in seeing their buddy turned into landscaping material, so they lunged at John.

BANG!

Another wood wolf was shot as it jumped up to reach John, but all that came down was another wolf-sized pile of wood chips.

“Two down, five to go,” thought John. He opened his pistol, and dumped five shiny yellow brass cartridges onto the ground. He then (somehow) reloaded his pistol with some again magically placed spares in his flank pocket. “Let’s dance!” he said. Another wood wolf leaped at John, but in about three seconds it also became landscape material.

One of the smarter wood wolves had circled behind John, and was preparing to pounce. It snarled and leaped into the air, successfully grabbing one of John’s hind legs.

“AHHHHHRG!” John yelled in pain. He was slammed to the ground, but he seemed relatively unharmed. His legs and wings didn’t feel broken, but the one leg that had been bitten into was bleeding profusely and was full of splinters.

The smell of blood stirred the wolves into a blood-lust, they wanted to have meat. They paced, unsure about what to do with their wounded prey. If it went anywhere, they could track it and finish the kill later.

John decided to capitalize on the moment of hesitation on the wood wolves’ part and shot at the remaining wood wolves. Two instantly were converted to fresh wood chips, but the other two were lucky and the bullets missed them. They snarled in retaliation and pounced on John before he could reload. “NO!” thought John as his empty pistol was sent flying across the road.

The wolves attempted to bite at his wings, but John did what ponies do best: bucking. One wolf was sent flying into a nearby tree and smashed into splinters upon impact. The other tumbled into the road, one with a broken jaw and the other bleeding tree sap in multiple places. He lunged for his pistol and managed to get three bullets into it before a wood wolf pounced on him. “Don’t think so,” said John, pulling the trigger.

BANG BANG!

The wood wolf’s eyes grew cartoon big and it whimpered as two bullets went through its chest and it became a pile of sap covered wood chips.

“Ack, stupid sap,” thought john, carefully stepping around the sap so as not to get his hooves sticky. He then turned to the last wolf, which let out a painful whimper as it turned and ran. But before it could go anywhere, one more BANG echoed through the forest, and the wolf whimpered in sheer agony as it burst into mulch.

John mumbled contentedly, reloaded his pistol, holstered it, and picked up the casings, which he put in one of his vest pockets. He looked at his wounded leg, which was now a purple-ish color. John quickly galloped down the road and came out of the forest, and into Ponyville. The first reaction was strange looks, which were directed towards his leg.

“What happened to him?” mumbled a white pegasus with a pink and green striped mane. On her flank was a large five-petaled pink flower and small blue five-petaled flower.

John ignored the ponies’ strange looks and comments continued walking, and more and more ponies began to take notice of him. He wandered around the town for a while, taking in his surroundings and noting stores and restaurants.

Suddenly, he saw the one orange pony, wearing her cowboy hat and talking to some other ponies, including the rainbow-haired pegasus he had seen earlier, along with some other ponies he hadn’t seen before. One was a white unicorn with a purple styled mane and tail, and on its flank were three whitish-blue diamonds. Another one of the ponies was pink with a pink mane and tail that was really curly, and the mark on its flank was three balloons, one yellow and two blue. The pony standing next to her was a small horned lavender unicorn with a tri-tone purple mane, and it had a large pinkish-red star and two smaller white stars on its flank. Next to the lavender unicorn was a butter-yellow pegasus with a long pink mane and tail with long curls. On its flank were three pink butterflies with blue thoraxes.

As John came within earshot, the orange one was saying with its prominent accent, “So there I was, standing ‘round, talkin’ to Big Mac, when all of a sudden, I hear this weird buzzin’ noise above meh, so I look up and I see a big bird flyin’ waaaaaaaay up high, and it flew pretty fast. Me and Big Mac watched it turn, and fly down into nearby field, legs outstretched, and then Winona took off like a pony out of Tartarus and run towards the big bird that had landed. I tried to call ‘em back, but he wouldn’t listen so I ran after ‘em and I saw the bird up close…” the orange pony was suddenly interrupted by the pink pony.

“Ooooooh! What did it look like?!” said the pink pony, bouncing on its hooves.

“Well, it was all green ‘n gray, an there were letters and numbers on it, Like ‘JB’ an ‘PO521’. It also had four blades where its beak should ‘a been, and its mouth was open slightly. On its wings were big metal racks, and on those racks were huge arrows. There were four racks on each wing,” said the orange one. “There was also what looked like a target on it. Why in Equestria a bird has a target on it I don’t know. But… I don’t think it was a bird," said the orange pony.

The rest of the ponies held their breaths, awaiting an answer.

“I think… it was a machine,” said the orange pony said slowly.

The ponies (excluding the blue one, the lavender one, and the orange) let out a collective gasp of surprise and shock.

John, who could no longer remain silent, said, “I think your orange friend there is right.” Again, he mentally face palmed. He knew it wasn’t wise to hint at his presence, but, for some reason, he just couldn’t help himself. Again, he blamed the potion.

The ponies whipped around and saw John, standing there, his fetlock stained with blood. The yellow one saw John’s bloody leg and let out a small gasp, and zipped over. “Are you alright?” it asked in a light, feminine voice.

“I’ve been through worse,” said John. “But those wood wolves sure do bite like h***. I'm surprised I even managed to defeat all seven of them.”

“T…timberwolves, you mean?” asked the yellow pegasus in a voice barely audible.

“Such language!” scolded the white unicorn. However, her face suddenly switched to one of curiosity. “But, did you really fend off seven of them?”

“My apologies,” said John. “I’m… just… new around here. Forgive me. And yes, I did miss. I really did fight of seven Timberwolves. How else do you think I got the bite?”

The white unicorn looked at John, eyes filled with amazement, as did the others.

However, the lavender unicorn snapped out of its amazement, stepped forward, cleared its throat, and said, “Hello, sir. I’m Twilight Sparkle. And you are?”

John thought for a moment, before a slight smile crept up his face. “You can call me Blue Typhoon.”

Introductions and... A Party?! (Well, Not Yet)

“Nice to meet you, Blue Typhoon,” said Twilight Sparkle.

“The pleasure is all mine,” said John.

“HiBlueTyphoonmynameisPinkiePieandIthinkyouareawesomeandIlikeyourunifrom!I’mgonnabebusythrowinga ‘WelcometoPonyvilleparty’, soifyouneedmetelloneofmyfriendsandthey’llhelpyououtbye!” blurted the pink pony before zipping away, which kicked up a small dust cloud.

“What the… I mean, I have no idea what the pink one just said,” said John, who was literally in the dust.

“She said something along the lines of, ‘Hi Blue Typhoon my name is Pinkie Pie, I think you are awesome and I like your uniform! I’m gonna be busy throwing a ‘Welcome to Ponyville party’. If you need me tell one of my friends and they’ll smell you out.’ Or was it ‘help you out?’ Pretty sure it was the second one,” said Twilight. “Anyways, that was Pinkie Pie.”

“Okay,” said John, his mind still spinning. He turned towards the orange pony (which he had seen earlier) and said, “And your name is?”

“Applejack, mah name is Applejack,” said the orange pony with her prominent accent.

“Got it, you’re Applejack. And your name is…” said John, turning to the white unicorn.

“Rarity, darling,” the white pony replied.

“And, let me guess, you’re Rainbow something, right?” said John, turning to the blue pegasus.

“Rainbow Dash, to be exact,” it said with a tomboyish voice. “Fastest flier in Equestria! Weather changed in ten seconds flat! I’m twenty percent cooler than anypony you’ll ever meet!”

“Right, so that leaves you,” said John, tuning to the yellow pegasus.

“I’m F…Fluttershy,” the yellow one whispered inaudibly.

“Come again?” said John.

“I’m Fluttersh… y,” the yellow pegasus said again, more audibly this time.

“Fluttershy, what a nice name,” said John.

Fluttershy suddenly became as red as a Coke label.

“You'll have to forgive her, she’s just a little… well, shy,” said Rarity.

“I understand,” said John. he looked at his leg and said, “I don’t mean to be demanding or anything, but could one of you take a look at…”

“OH! Of course! Here, stand still a moment,” said Twilight.

John stood where he was, and suddenly he saw Twilight’s horn began to glow and saw a pink aura surround it.

John’s eyes widened in surprise as he was enveloped in the same aura and suddenly appeared in what looked like a hospital. He also felt somewhat embarrassed to be surrounded in a glowing pink field.

“Miss Sparkle!” said a white pony with a bubble gum pink mane and tail trotting over. On her flank was a medical red cross surrounded by tiny pink hearts. The same symbol was on the the nurse’s hat.

“Nurse Redheart, I have a Pony here by the name of Blue Typhoon, he’s been bitten by a Timberwolf in one of his legs and he might need a…” Twilight was suddenly interrupted by a sudden shout.

“Medic!” yelled John.

Twilight, the nurse, and a few other ponies there all looked at John with confusion and slight annoyance.

“Sorry,” said John, grinning sheepishly. He’d always wanted to do that.

“No worries, Miss Sparkle, we’ll clean and patch him up, and then he’ll be on his way,” said Nurse Redheart. She noticed John’s bloodstained leg and said, “Oh, a real doozy of a bite. But I’ve had to treat worse. This way, please, Mr. Typhoon.”

John followed Nurse Redheart into a room with an examination table. John immediately sat down on it as Nurse Redheart grabbed some alcohol and cotton pads. John gritted his teeth as he felt the burning sensation of alcohol against raw flesh. After the wound and surrounding area had been sterilized, Nurse Redheart produced a pair of tweezers and started looking for any splinters of wood in the cut. After removing a sixteen small splinters, Nurse Redheart then stitched the wound and wrapped a little bandaging around it. She then turned to John and said, “That should do it, Mr. Typhoon. This way, please,” said Nurse Redheart. After signing some medical papers, John and Twilight left the hospital and headed towards large treehouse (More like a house built into a tree), where a sign on the door read: Golden Oak Library.

“Nice,” said John.

“Why thank you!” said Twilight. She pushed open the door and they walked in. “The main floor is the library, and upstairs is where I live. I have a spare bedroom, which you can use, if you want.”

John nodded as his eyes swept around the library. “Do you have any books on geography?”

“Of course, dozens; what were you thinking about?” said Twilight.

“Well… I’m new around here… and I really don’t know the land too well, so I thought I might want to inform myself, if you didn't mind,” said John.

“Oh, well, that’s no problem! I’m going to be upstairs for a little. If anypony comes by or you need something, come upstairs and knock on my door,” said Twilight. “But let me get you a few books to start on, first. But, wow, you sure are one curious pony!” Twilight’s horn was suddenly surrounded in a purple aura, and a few large books, covered in the same purple aura, floated off of a shelf and onto a nearby table. She then turned and went upstairs.

John immediately went to work, despite the sight of levitating books. Much to his delight, the books were written in English. He flipped through the maps, graphs, and charts until he could name every single country, capital city, and sea in Equestria, as well as other far away countries and lands. Somehow, he managed to read two more books before his brain screamed for mercy and John stopped. He looked out a window and saw the sun had dipped a little towards the east, so he estimated that about an hour and a half or two hours had passed after he had begun reading.

Suddenly, he heard footfalls and he turned around to see Twilight and a purple and green lizard following Twilight as well coming down the stairs. “Blue, there’s somepony I’d like you to meet. Spike, this is Blue Typhoon. Blue Typhoon, Spike. He’s a dragon,” said Twilight.

“Hi,” said Spike calmly. He held out a clawed hand and John held out his hoof and they shook hooves, and hands, in this case.

“Huh, I always thought dragons would be, more… intimidating, breathing fire and flying around, like Smaug,” said John.

“Smaug?” said Twilight and Spike at the same time.

“We’ve never heard of him,” said Spike.

“Err, he was a dragon… in a book I read…” said John.

“Oh, that explains it. What’s the book called?” asked Twilight.

“Erm… I forgot,” said John. He didn’t want to go into explaining The Hobbit, which (he assumed) obviously didn’t exist in this Equestria place.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Sounds like a good book,” said Twilight.

Suddenly, there was a loud rasping at the door.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Anypony HOOOOOOOME?” yelled a high-pitched voice.

“Ow, I used to have eardrums,” said John, his ears folded back against his head.

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it,” said Twilight. She walked into the door whereupon its opening Pinkie Pie rushed in and tackled John.

“Youhavetogottocometomyparty! Ifyoudon’tyou’llbemakingabigmistakebecuase…” Pinkie Pie was cut short when John stuffed one of his

hooves into Pinkie’s pie hole.

“Slow down! For Chri… just slow down!” said John after removing his hoof from Pinkie’s mouth.

Pinkie Pie frowned, took a deep breath and then, almost trying to mimic slow motion, said,”Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyouuuuuuuuuuuu haaaaaaaaaaaave gooooooooooooooot tooooooooooo…”

“Okay, just stop. You threw a bloody party for me and you want me to come,” said John.

“Well, not a bloody party, but I guess I could…” but Pinkie Pie was cut short again.

John face hoofed and said, “It was just an expression. And yes, the answer is yes, I will go to your party. When does it start?” said John.

“Seven ‘o clock, sharp,” said Pinkie Pie.

“I’ll be there,” said John.

Pinkie Pie beamed happily and then dashed out of the library. “IT’LL BE AT THE SUGARCUBE CORNER…” yelled Pinkie as she ran out.

“Sugarcube Corner?” said John.

“It’s a bakery,” explained Twilight. “It’s where Pinkie works.”

John nodded in understanding. “Tonight is going to be a long night…” he thought. John suddenly realized how beautiful how Twilight looked. The light seemed to show off her slight curves, and her eyes, they were like amethysts, sparkling and bright. Her mane and tail were very silky and always had somewhat iridescent sheen to them. If he kept this train of thought up… other more (R-rated things) might surface. “Stop it!” John’s rationality scolded. “This is not how an RAF FIGHTER PILOT behaves!” John just sighed inwardly and mentally slapped himself multiple times on the face and snapped himself out of his fantasies. He even felt a little weird for being attracted to a pony. For the third time, he blamed the potion.

Suddenly, Twilight’s voice snapped his train of thought, “Could I ask you a few questions?” said Twilight. Her horn lit up, and piece of paper as well as a quill floated off of a desk and hovered in midair. “It’s just… you seem… different, with your R-A-F badge and those stripes on your sleeves.”

“Sure, if you’ll let me ask you some questions,” said John. He was very nervous, but he hid it and put on a straight expression.

“That’s fine with me,” said Twilight. “Firstly, what does your badge stand for?”

“Regional Aeronautics Flyers,” said John, hoping Twilight would fall for it.

“Are you sure? It looks like there’s a crown on it. Like something to do with royalty,” said Twilight.

“Positive,” said John.

Then she scribbled something down and Twilight asked John another question, “What do the stripes on your sleeves mean?”

“That’s my rank. I’m a Group Leader,” said John. He didn't want appear cold or uncaring, so he just fabricated answers with a straight face.

The quill jotted down something quickly and Twilight said, “You said something about how you thought Applejack was right in her assumption that the grey and green ‘bird’ the landed in Sweet Apple Acres was actually a machine. Have you had experience with any such device, if that’s what it is?”

“No,” said John.

The quill moved again, and then floated back to the desk. After that, the piece of paper rolled itself up and floated over next to the quill and sat down beside it.

“Okay, my first question is how do you manipulate objects with you horn? Magic?” said John.

“Yes, Unicorns and Alicorns are the most magically gifted out of all the ponies,” sad Twilight.

“What’s an Alicorn?” said John.

Twilight looked surprised, but answered, “They possess the traits of a unicorn, a pegasus, and an earth pony. Not many Alicorns exist, they’re very rare; but when one is born, they have great talent and possess great magical capabilities. Currently, two of them rule Equestria.”

“So earth ponies must be the normal ones,” noted John. He then said, “Okay, one last question: who are the rulers of Equestria?”

“Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, both are Alicorns,” said Twilight. “And, just to let you know, I’m Princess Celestia’s personal student.”

“Alright, that helps. Do you have some books on Equestrian Government? Where I come from, Princesses don’t have the final say,” said John. From now on, he knew to keep his behavior at its best.

“Really?” said Twilight.

“Yes, we have a thing called Parliament,” said John. He explained how Parliament and the British government worked and how the Queen was more like a figurehead for the people, or ponies, in order to remain true to his guise. He then mentally slapped himself in the face for revealing his country's governmental system. “But what’s done is done,” he reminded himself mentally. “No use crying over spilt milk.”

“Amazing, this ‘England’, so where in England do you hail from?” said Twilight.

“Bath, in Somerset,” said John. Now he knew he was getting a little too lenient. But how could he to find a way out? John looked at the clock and said, “Oh my, look at the time!” He suddenly walked upstairs to the spare bedroom, leaving Twilight before she could object, and, leaving her to comprehend all the information he'd just given her.

At five till’ seven…

John straightened his clothes and sighed. He’d never been to real party before, and, he was nervous.

“Typhoon, you ready?” said Twilight from outside his bedroom door.

“Yeah, readier than I’ll ever be,” said John.

He and Twilight exited the library, and walked out onto the street. The moon had just risen, and its pale rays lit up the street. They walked among the thatched-roofed buildings until they came to a literal gingerbread house that would put the house from Hansel and Gretel to utter shame.

John knocked quietly. No response. He sighed and said, “Let me guess, she’s a real fan of surprise parties.”

“Yeah,” said Twilight. “And I mean a HUGE fan of surprise parties.”

John, preparing himself for the surprise, opened the door and stepped in.

John attends a Frivolous Social Event

“SURPRISE!” said a myriad of voices. Suddenly, the once dark pastel interior was full of light. A multitude of earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi were standing all around, with large smiles on their faces. A large banner hanging from the ceiling read: Welcome to Ponyville, Blue Typhoon! Clusters of blue balloons were taped to the walls, and off to the right was a large dessert buffet. Off to the left were cafe tables and chairs, and, in the middle of the room, a set of large speakers and other strange equipment that didn't quite fit with the tech level was set up. A white unicorn with a blue two-tone mane, wearing sunglasses with purple-lenses, was sitting silently behind the equipment.

“What do you think?!” said Pinkie Pie, bouncing up and down in anticipation.

“I think…” said John, deciding to mess with Pinkie. “That pastel colors are overused in the interior decorating.” John’s smirk crept a mile wide as he saw Pinkie’s smile turn into a frown.

Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes and said with an exasperated sigh, “I meant about the party!”

“Oh, its wonderful!” said John. "I can't honestly believe someone would organize all this for me..."

Pinkie’s smile returned and she hopped off. She then turned to the pony at the speaker set and other various gear said, “Vinyl Scratch has a song for the awesome pegasus, Blue Typhoon!” Vinyl Scratch hit the play button and a heroic march song issued from the speakers.

John actually liked the march, it somehow felt right. It hit his nostalgia nerve on the head and reminded him of the good old days, where it was only him and his Typhoon, slugging it out over the skies of France; shooting the Luftwaffe down, one plane at a time, and blowing Nazi soldiers sky high. It was his party, after all. After a minute or two, the march was finished and the ponies all just sat around, chatted, or played a few of the party games that had been set up. Some danced slowly to the music that Vinyl was playing, and it sounded very familiar. John could’ve sworn it was a song form Earth, be he couldn’t be sure. And then something weird happened. He suddenly found himself standing up on his hind legs, grabbing Twilight’s hoof, putting his right foreleg around her waist, and they started to dance. Maybe it was just his imagination, but, somehow, the lights had dimmed, which made it very romantic. Then everything else became distant and fuzzy, and the only thing John saw was the girl his hooves.

Twilight was blushing profusely. “John!” she said, her tone and face clearly indicating dis-comfort.

“What?” John asked softly and tenderly as they waltzed slowly.

“I’ve never danced like THIIIIIIIIIIIIS!” Twilight yelped as John spun her around.

The rest of the ponies didn’t seem to notice their dancing, they were too busy dancing or doing other things themselves. Twilight kept tripping (especially when he spun her), but John's dancing skills were good enough that he was able to save her and transition smoothly back to dancing. For the entirety of the song, John and Twilight danced, and Twilight became more comfortable as they waltzed slowly. When the song was over after a few minutes, John and a dazed but happy Twilight sat down.

“That was… different,” said Twilight. She had never danced like that, and the bipedal dancing... it seemed familiar to John, which she found very weird. But she also knew not to judge ponies by their dancing, so she ignored it entirely.

“Yeah, but it was… nice,” said John. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d danced with a girl, and this time seemed better than any other previous times.

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie rushed up and said, “WHOA! Where did you learn to dance like that? I'm not sure if even Dashie could do that!”

"HEY!" yelled Rainbow Dash from somewhere in the crowd.

John blushed slightly and said, “Well, I kinda taught myself, but some of my friends gave me some help, too.” Suddenly, he had another crazy idea,which he blamed on the potion. "Wait, why do I keep blaming the potion for anything that I think is weird, is it like a running gag or something?" thought John. Nonetheless he turned to Pinkie Pie and said, “Hey... would you mind if I sang a song?”

“Of course not!” said Pinkie. “Here, use this!” Suddenly, a microphone on a stand appeared in front of John.

“Uh, but on second thought…” said John, but he never finished his statement of protest. “And how in GOD’S NAME did a microphone just appear out of…! I give up,” thought John. “The more I try to understand this place, the harder it is to understand.”

“Hey everypony! Blue typhoon has a song to sing for us!” yelled Pinkie, somehow getting most of the crowd's attention.

All the ponies cheered and clapped, and saying encouraging things to John.

"A… alright, this one goes to the doll over there,” said John, grabbing the microphone and nodding towards Twilight, whose cheeks were a bright right red. John cleared his throat and began to sing a song he had heard one of the American pilots sing once, “The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. But when I woke, dear, I was mistaken, and I hung my head and cried. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.

I’ll always love you, and make you happy, if you will only say the same. But if you leave me, to love another, you’ll regret it all someday. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.

You told me once dear, that you really love me, you told me no one else could come between. But now you’ve left me, and love another, you have shattered all my dreams. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” John then exhaled deeply and said, “And there you have it. The song is called ‘You Are My Sunshine’.”

Many of the ponies were silent, some cried lightly, others applauded, but it was obvious: John had rocked the house. “Thank you for hearing me out,” said John. He then sat down, and the party turned to normal.

Pinkie Pie cave over to John and said , “That. Was. One. Of. The. Best. Songs. Ever!”

“Well, maybe, but I don’t want to pat myself on the back too much,” said John. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Ten thirty, why do you ask?” said Pinkie Pie.

“No reason, just like to keep an eye on the time,” said John. He suddenly spied the buffet table, and suddenly noticed how hungry he was. And his stomach grumbled in agreement to the prospect of some dessert.

John got up and walked over to the buffet table. On it was one of the most varied and best dessert bars he'd ever seen. Cakes, cookies, pastries and other dessert items were lined up and filled every inch of the table. He felt a tad bit guilty while loading his plate; his mother had forever burned into his skull that 'If you don't eat your meat, you can't have your pudding.' But then, he realized his mother wasn't there, which he realized sounded like a really stupid and typical childish excuse, but... it worked. John came back to Twilight's table with six oatmeal cookies, six chocolate chip cookies, a slice of red velvet cake, a dozen cherry cordials, a dozen various truffles, a cupcake, and a brownie.

“Yikes… when was the last time you had desert?!” said Twilight, looking at John’s heaped plate with slightly wet eyes.

“A long time, miss, a real long time…” said John with a somewhat wistful tone as he sat down. “I want to thank you and your friends for your hospitality. It’s made me feel really welcome. So I guess I should return the favor and say…” John paused to eat a bite of red velvet cake. “Say that… I… I…” John was now seriously debating on whether or not to tell them who he really was. They had just thrown AN ENTIRE PARTY for him, after all. But it also went against everything his military mind was telling him. He sat there his eyes flickering back and forth, starting to sweat as he began to attack his desserts, his thoughts conflicting like a dogfight between a Bf-109 Messerschmitt and a Supermarine Spitfire.

“You what?” said Twilight, starting to become a bit suspicious. Even though she trusted John, something seemed to be off. His clothes were… different to say the least bit and he seemed to be a bit nervous at times. And right now, he seemed very nervous, eyes darting back and forth.

“Love you!” exclaimed John. This was true. John did have feelings, but it was impossible for him to describe. And, he felt it was better than saying, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m not a pony, I’m a human in disguise as one, just so you know.’ And, he did know, that, for some reason, he really liked Twilight.

Twilight gasped and put a hoof over her mouth.

“There,” said John, actually somewhat embarrassed and flushed, but strangely relieved as well. “I… kinda just… well… you know…”

“Oh, Blue, I… I don’t know what to say!” said Twilight. She was surprised and actually very flattered, but, at the very darkest recess of her head, the ever-present voice of suspicion kept nagging at her. But she also felt there was sincerity and truth in Blue’s words, so she ignored her suspicions completely.

“Neither do I,” said John.

Then, they both pulled each other and kissed. Both were somewhat slightly surprised, but they soon melted into it.

Sure, John had kissed other girls before, but this was different. The way she kissed, it seemed right, as if it was his mom kissing him while telling him goodnight, but more… loving. It was almost indescribable for him. It just possessed that affectionate quality that could quiet down anger and relieve tension, that kind of miraculous healing power that the right woman seemed to have. After what seemed like an eternity (which was actually only a few seconds), they pulled a part. He found, much to his discomfort, that Pinkie was staring at them with an un-naturally large grin.

“Oooooooooh, looks like Twilight has her special somepony,” said Pinkie.

“Pinkie!” said Twilight, her cheeks becoming red again.

“Hey, bug off! How’d you like it if I poked my head while you and your special somepony were snogging?” snapped John.

Pinkie winced, but her smile didn’t vanish. “What’s snogging?” she asked, suddenly dropping her grin and looking very confused.

John face hoofed and said, “Kissing.”

“Oh, now I get it,” said Pinkie. “Sorry. Guess I was a bit rude.”

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have snapped at you anyways,” said John. “So, did you make these? I know you work here at the bakery, but, wow… these cookies are really good! These rival those of my mother, and she made some good cookies!” John attempted to change the conversation to something more publicly appropriate. And it worked.

After an hour of talking, playing party games, dancing, eating deserts, and having some hard cider, which John really liked, he and Twilight left Sugarcube Corner, walked back to the library, and sat down together on the couch.

Fifty minutes later…

“What time is it?” asked John.

“About ten ‘till midnight, why do you ask?” said Twilight.

“S***!” John swore mentally. He suddenly got up, put on his clothes (which were nearby on the floor) and ran out of the library.

“WAIT! Blue, Where are you going?!” yelled Twilight.

The Big Reveal

It was hot, very hot in Lebna, Tunisia, in northern Africa. Ju-87 B Stukas dressed in desert tan and brown wavy stripes were parked in neat rows, sweltering heat rising in large waves from the scorching hot African ground. Oberstleutnant (Wing Commander) Gerhart Hirschfield, decked in khaki uniform and wearing a standard-issue Tropenhelm, jogged past a fuel truck refueling a Junkers 188. More than anything, he wished to go to the beach and swim in the crystal clear blue waters, but the Fatherland needed him more than the beach did. He rushed into a tent and said, “Hauptmann Karl, steh auf! Sie können Spitfires nicht zerstören mit Ihrem Schnarchen! (Captain Karl, get up! You can’t destroy Spitfires with your snores!)”

“Verdammt, Gerhart! Warum ist es immer Sie... (Damn it, Gerhart! Why is it always you…)” said Karl as he moaned and swung his feet over the bed to get up. His full name was Karl Straffer.

“Über Zeit… (About time…)” muttered Gerhart.

Gerhart stood patiently as Karl changed into his uniform and Tropenhelm. “Bereit einige Briten bombardieren? (Ready to bomb some Brits?)”

“Sie bombardieren, werde ich sie zu erschießen! (You bomb them, I’ll shoot them!)” said Karl, grinning and laughing.

“Das klingt wie ein guter Plan (That sounds like a good plan),” said Gerhart.

“Ja (Yeah),” said Karl.

Gerhart and Karl exited the tent, lowered their anti-glare sunglasses and into the wrath of the hot African sun. As they walked across the baked earth to their Ju-87 B, they saw some of the other pilots looking at them or making jokes about Karl sleeping in. They called Karl the ‘Vormittags Schützen’ or ‘Midmorning Gunner’, because that’s when Karl shot the best. Once Gerhart and Karl were in their Stuka, the rest of the pilots got into their respective planes.

“Guten Morgen allerseits, heute werden wir bombardiert eine britische Panzerkolonne. Halten Sie Ihre Augen für Spitfires und nicht verloren gehen! Gott weiß was passieren wird wenn Sie... (Good morning everybody, today we’ll be bombing a British tank column. Keep your eyes out for Spitfires, and don’t get lost! God knows what will happen if you do…),” said Gerhart through the radio.

The pilots chuckled nervously and responded with a chorus of affirmatives.

The squadron, led by Gerhart’s plane, taxied out onto the runway.

“Dies ist Aufgabe Kontrol, müssen Sie Abfertigung für den Start haben Sie. (This is Mission Control, you have clearance for takeoff.)” crackled a voice into Gerhart’s headset.

A few moments later, the Stukas barreled down the dusty and cracked dirt airstrip and soared into the blue windswept African sky. For some time, the proudly soaring Stukas encountered no resistance as far below the landscape changed from seaside and plants to a seemingly an endless sea of sand dunes, with the occasional and very rare shrub or plant.

Suddenly said one of the pilots radioed, “Herr, schau! Es gibt einen Sandsturm steuerte direkt auf uns! (Sir, look! There is a sandstorm headed straight for us!)”

“Scheiße, fliegen über sie! Passen Sie Höhe auf 6.4008 Kilometer! (S***, fly above it! Adjust your altitude to 6.4008 Kilometers!)” said Gerhart.

The rest of the Stukas were able to correct, but for some reason, Gerhart wasn’t able to. “Die Hölle?!?! (The H***?!?!)” said Gerhart. He tried to correct, but the controls seemed stuck.

Suddenly, the plane flew into the sandstorm. For five minutes, the pilots were blinded by an impenetrable wall of sand and dust. When they emerged out of the storm, however, It was night, and the stars shined like diamonds. A crescent moon hung in the sky, and pale white moonlight lit up the Stuka and the sea of wavy sand dunes below.

“Was zur Hölle?!?! (What the H***?!?!) Es war heller Tag, als wir in den Sandsturm flog, aber jetzt ist es Nacht?! Das ist sehr seltsam, Karl. Und ich habe das Gefühl, dass in Afrika nicht mehr waren… (It was broad daylight when we flew into the sandstorm, but now it’s night?! This is very strange, Karl. And I get the feeling we’re not in Africa anymore…)” said Gerhart, alarmed.

“Gerhart, ich habe keine Ahnung, was los ist, ob dies alles nur ein Traum oder eine das Trugblid ist, weiß ich nicht. Aber, um ehrlich zu sein, ich habe Angst. Nichts in der Ausbildung darauf vorbereitet uns (Gerhart, I have no idea what is going on, whether or not this is all just a dream or an illusion, I don’t know. But, to be honest, I’m scared. Nothing in training prepared us for this),” said Karl. He couldn’t believe he’d admitted he was scared, but he then realized he had a right to be. It’s not every day a Luftwaffe pilots goes through a mystical sandstorm and is suddenly teleported into another desert.

“Ich verstehe, Hölle, ich bin ein wenig Angst mich selbst, wenn wir zusammen bleiben und zu überleben, wird Hilfe zu kommen. (I understand, h***, I’m a little scared myself, but just remember, if we stay together and survive, help will come.),” said Gerhart.

“Ich glaube, Gerhart (I believe you, Gerhart),” said Karl.

“Ich werde versuchen, einen Landeplatz zu finden. Nur hängen dort, wir werden es schaffen (I’m going to try to find a place to land. Just hang in there, we’ll make it),” said Gerhart. he flew for a few minutes, and noticed a flat spot in the dunes, just large enough to make an emergency landing. He maneuvered the plane towards it, and started decreasing speed. Both Gerhart and Karl were relieved at the familiar vertigo feeling of landing, and several hard thumps indicated the landing gear had made contact with the sand. The Ju-87 B sputtered to a stop parallel to a dune that was just tall enough to hide the aircraft from direct view. Gerhart and John climbed out, their boots kicking up small spurts of white sand. A cold wind blew, but the pilots were relatively warm thanks to their sand dune. Karl shivered and Gerhart raised his field glasses to his eyes. Nothing, just sand dunes bathed in white moonlight, as far as the eye could see. “Ich sehe nichts. Kein Feuer, keine Menschen, keine Pflanzen, nichts (I don’t see anything. No fire, no people, no plants, nothing),” said Gerhart.

“Verdammt, ich denke wir sind ganz allein hier draußen. (Damn, I guess we’re all alone out here.)” said Karl.

“Ya, lieder… (Yes, unfortunately…)” said Gerhart. “Lassen Sie uns etwas Ruhe. Morgen werde ich nach einer Oase, Nahrung, Wasser, alles, was wir bekommen können suchen. (Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow, I’ll look for an oasis, food, water, anything we can get.)”

After retrieving and unrolling their eider-down sleeping bags, Gerhart and Karl stared at the countless shining stars and constellations in the deep, dark desert night sky, thinking about what tomorrow had in store for them.

Elsewhere…

John ran as fast as his hooves could take him. Only ten minutes until the potion’s effects wore off. John increased his speed, but, much to his surprise and horror, Twilight was following him.

“HEY! WHAT’S WRONG?!” John heard Twilight shout.

He ignored her and continued galloping at full speed. Suddenly, a burning pain shot through his body. He let out a scream of pain and collapsed onto the ground. He was convulsing violently, and Twilight had caught up with him. He tried to move, but it was no use, that pain was paralytic. Suddenly, the world turned fuzzy and everything became blurry and distorted. Hot, searing, excruciating pains shot up all over his body, and he screamed his lungs out. Even among his suffering, he thought to himself, “God, this is just too cliché.” Finally, his vision returned to normal and the pains immediately ceased.

“Blue, stay there, I’ll get…” Twilight never finished her sentence, because Blue Typhoon was no longer a pony! Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped like an anchor.

John blinked for a few moments, got up, dusted himself off, and held out his hand. He flexed his fingers, and looked around. He then saw Twilight, standing wide-eyed and mouth agape. “D… OH S***!” exclaimed John in surprise and fear.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH BLUE!” said Twilight angrily. Her horn flared up in magic and she picked John and held him in the air.

“NOTHING! I DID NOTHING TO HIM! I AM BLUE TYPHOON!” said John, feeling the magical pink bubble crushing him ever so slightly. He suddenly fell to the ground, and his face stung when he got up.

“No… it can’t be!” said Twilight.

“Think…” said John, rubbing his jaw. “Someone whom you’ve never met suddenly appears after a strange machine arrives, and you don’t even bat an eyelid! You didn’t take moment to connect the dots, raise an eyebrow and say, ‘That’s strange. Coincidence… I think not!’ Of course, you did ask me questions…”

“And you lied, no doubt! And that time at the party, you were debating about reveling your true identity, weren’t you? But then you covered by using my feelings just to cover up the fact you were… whatever you are! You didn’t care about me, or how I felt! You just…” ranted Twilight angrily.

“THAT’S NOT TRUE!” yelled John, cutting off Twilight. “I DID CARE ABOUT YOU, BUT I DIDN’T KNOW WHETHER OR NOT YOU COULD BE TRUSTED! I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HOW YOU WOULD REACT! THE FIRST PONIES I MET RAN AWAY SCREAMING IN TERROR! Okay, they were young, I’ll admit, but still…”

“Did their names happen to be Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Applebloom?” said Twilight, losing most of her anger, thinking about how it was always those three who always seemed to cause trouble.

“Yes, now that you mention it, I think they were,” said John, calming down a little.

“That explains why they were so uptight earlier,” said Twilight, regaining a cool head. “If you hadn’t scared them, would you still have disguised yourself? Or would you have introduced yourself the way you are now?”

“I still would’ve disguised myself. I just didn’t know what to expect, and I didn’t want hostile reception,” said John.

“Well, using deceit and a disguise to hide yourself might not be considered friendly actions in some pony’s eyes,” said Twilight. “I guess… you do have a bit of a point with that last statement; but, John… why didn’t you just tell us earlier?!”

“Well, I….” said John. For a few uncomfortable moments of silence, he and Twilight stood in the forest, not moving a muscle. John broke the silence, “I’m sorry about lying and deceiving you, it might not have been the best approach; but try to put yourself in my position. I didn’t know what you would’ve done if I had just walked in and said, ‘Uh, hi, my name is John Robert Baldwin, and I got stranded here somehow. Can you help me out?’ ”

“Well, if I think about… I can understand,” said Twilight. “Arriving in a strange world full of strange beings that speak in the same language you do… must be quite an experience. But, John, we wouldn’t have freaked out! Well, okay, maybe a little… but we wouldn’t be angry with you! Wherever did you get that assumption, anyways?!”

“Believe me, it- wait, what did you say?” asked John.

“We wouldn’t have been upset with you! We wouldn’t have been angry with you! You’ve done nothing wrong, so far, and… well… it would’ve been alright,” said Twilight.

“Thank you,” said John, almost approaching the ‘I think my eyes are starting to redden’ stage. “I’m glad you accept me for what I am. That’s what I wanted in the first place.”

Then, something happened the John didn’t expect: Twilight walked over and hugged his left leg. “Uhhhhhhh…” mumbled John. He didn’t quite know what to do, so he then bent down (accidentally causing Twilight to let go of him), and opened his arms. “If the boys saw me now…” he mumbled to himself as he hugged Twilight and began petting her.

Twilight was surprised at the sensation of being petted. Whatever John was doing, it felt very nice, in kind of weird way. “We should head back into Ponyville; I think there are five ponies that you need to talk to. I also need to let the Princesses know what’s going on. And I still want to know what your badges stand for,” said Twilight, breaking from John's hug.

John agreed and they exited Everfree Forest, both feeling a lot better, now that the truth had been revealed. They both felt as though someone had removed a large pack of their backs.

As John entered the library again, he got a firsthand experience as to how disproportionate the door was.

BANG!

“OW! That really bloody hurt…” said John as he caressed his forehead. But it was nothing new. He and door frames had always had a bit of a reputation, anyways.

After Twilight wrote a letter to Princess Celestia about what had happened, she and John went to their bedrooms and immediately crashed.

Gerhart's Desert Adventures

It was still night in the desert, and Gerhart couldn’t fall asleep. He tossed and turned in his sleeping bag. He then sighed and unzipped it. He slipped into his boots, and walked around to the other side of the plane, and tinkled briefly. After he was finished, Gerhart walked back around and stared at the stars, trying to pick out familiar constellations or locate the North Star. Suddenly, he yawned; even though his mind was awake, his body wasn’t. At the pace of an Egyptian mummy, Gerhart shuffled back to his sleeping bag, took off his boots, and snuggled back into his sleeping bag.

A few hours later…

“Guten Morgen, Gerhart. Bereit für einen Tag in den Dünen? (Good morning, Gerhart. Ready for a day in the dunes?)” said Karl.

“Nein, bin ich nicht. Haben wir eine Notlandung? (No, I’m not. Did we make a forced landing?)” said Gerhart.

“So’ne Art… (Kind of…)” said Karl.

Gerhart bolted up and said, “Warten… das Sanstrum… und dann… ich erinnere mich jetzt. Wir sind in diesem anderen Wüste (Wait… the sandstorm… and then… now I remember. We’re in this other desert.)” Gerhart unzipped his sleeping bag, and slipped into his boots once more. He climbed up into the Stuka, and pulled out a case. Inside was a three barrel firearm, known as the M30 Luftwaffe Drilling. It fired 12-gauge shotgun shells and also 9.3x74mmR rifle rounds, and it was designed for situations just like these. Gerhart closed the canopy and climbed off of the Stuka. He opened the case, assembled the gun, and took some ammunition and loaded the Drilling. “Wünscht mir Glück, ich bin Position heraus. Bleib hier, und sicherstellen, dass sich das Flugzeug nicht in Feindeshand fallen. Sie haben eine Pistole, ein paar Zeitschriften und einige Gehirne. Alles wird gut, (Wish me luck, I’m heading out. Stay here, and make sure the aircraft doesn’t fall into enemy hands. You’ve got pistol, some magazines, and some brains. You’ll be fine),” said Gerhart. With that, he poked his head above the dune, and after feeling it was safe to move, crawled over the other side of the dune. The sun seemed as relentless as the African sun. Gerhart could feel himself sweating hard; his clothes and Tropenhelm were already becoming damp and smelling musty. He clutched the Drilling for dear life, and its barrels were heating up quickly, which made holding it become more and more unbearable for every minute that passed. But Gerhart remained vigilant, trudging over sand dunes and always keeping a sharp eye out for Brits or Americans, pausing for a split second to wipe his brow or adjust his Tropenhelm. At one point, Gerhart saw an eagle soaring high above him. He thought about shooting it for a moment, but then he remembered that the eagle was the symbol of Germany and the Luftwaffe. Gerhart just continued until he saw it, the one thing he never thought he would see…

“Wasser! Endlich! Wasser! (Water! At Last! Water!)” said Gerhart. With a new found burst of energy, he ran towards the large oasis.

The oasis was surrounded by small shrubs, flowers, and palm trees, like something out of a storybook. When Gerhart was close enough, he bent down and drank some of the water.

“Ich danke dir, Gott, ich danke Ihnen! (Thank you, God, thank you!)” Gerhart shouted after drinking his fill.

Then, a sound Gerhart did not want to hear rang across the oasis: someone speaking English: “Did you hear that?”

“Scheiße! (S***!)” said Gerhart. He took off at a dead sprint from the edge of the oasis ran behind the nearest dune. He sat crouched below the crest of the dune, just out of eyesight.

He could hear the same voice speak again, “There’s tracks here. They aren’t pony tracks, and it looks like whatever came here… went over that dune over there. At least it left. But we'd better be careful, who knows what vicious creature could be living in this desert.”

Gerhart became increasingly worried. He cursed himself for being so stupid. There were probably British soldiers there, encamped. There even could’ve been an airfield or command post, and Gerhart knew English very well. But what threw him was the way the person spoke. “Englisch sprechenden Einheimischen, die Ponys zu erhöhen? (English speaking locals that raise ponies?)” thought Gerhart. Nonetheless, Gerhart remembered the number of dunes from where the Stuka was to where the oasis was as he was walking back to Karl, which gave him directions. Miraculously, he didn’t get lost while trying to find his way back. When he arrived, Karl was laying the shade of the Stuka’s wing, stripped down to his pants and his Tropenhelm tipped over his face.

“Was gibt es Neues von der Front? (What news from the front?)” said Karl, pushing up his Tropenhelm to reveal a grinning face.

“Die gute Nachricht: Ich fand Wasser... und Menschen (Good news: I found water... and people),” said Gerhart.

Story Update

Guten tag, Mein Freundes! Chapters will now be coming out, slowly but surely. More excitement lies ahead, and new characters are in the making! I can confirm that there will be a US Navy pilot and plane, as well as a Imperial Japanese Navy pilot and plane. I'm stoked to be finally get working on the main story again, but there is still some cleaning to do with some of my other chapters, but one is coming up in the next few days FOR SURE. I love the feedback and encouragement I've been getting, so, here is one of my favorite German marches for you guys to listen to!

Without your encouragement and your eagle eyes pointing out the occasional errors (BTW I went through all the chapters and fixed a few more errors, many kudos to those who pointed them out), it surely would not be as it is today. Please keep up the encouragement and error-spotting. Thank you for putting up with my silly one-day hiatus,

WehrmachtPony

Gerhart's Desert Adventures 2 And John Gets Excited

John yawned, stretched, and rubbed his eyes. He swung his feet over to the side of the bed, and groggily walked downstairs.

Twilight was sorting books with her magic. When she saw John, she paused and said, “Good morning! I thought you might come down here, if you’re quick, you might catch the tea while it’s still warm.”

John perked up visibly at the mention of tea. He walked over to a table where a kettle and teacup and saucer were sitting. He immediately poured the tea, and sipped. It was lukewarm, but still acceptable. He tasted a strong hint of tart punch, but with the consistency of apple juice, and he was very satisfied. He swore he could feel his body getting more energy by the sip.

“That’s Zap Apple tea, if you’re wondering,” said Twilight. “Very good for restoring energy and waking up. It also just tastes pretty good in the morning.”

“Really? It’s good, better than most tea I’ve had,” said John. “I could do with some bangers and mash, though.”

Twilight opened her mouth to inquire what ‘bangers and mash’ were, but, suddenly, there was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” she yelled.

“Ya know very well who it is,” replied Applejack’s voice.

John got up, walked over to the door and opened it. “Morning,” he said in the most casual, nonchalant voice possible.

“Mornin’,” said Applejack, who apparently didn’t realize who she was talking to and ignored him. “Now Twilight, have you seen Blue? I thought I…” Then, Applejack spun around, a mix of surprise and touch of fright on her face.

John smiled politely and waved at Applejack.

“Oh mah stars…” said Applejack quietly.

“Don’t be alarmed. Applejack, this is Blue. Well… not as a pegasus anyway. He’s a… Human, right?” said Twilight, looking at John for confirmation.

“Yes miss, one and only,” John.

“Uh, Twi, If Blue Typhoon is his pegasus form, then what’s he called as a Human?” said Applejack.

“I’m Wing Commander John Robert Baldwin, No. 198 Fighter Wing, RAF,” said John.

“R… A… F?” asked Applejack.

“Royal Air Force,” explained John.

“But how do you… fly if you’re in an air force?” said Twilight. “You don’t have wings! At least, not as a human…”

“Just because I don’t have wings, doesn’t mean I can’t fly. Think for a moment, what was the first sign of my arrival?” said John. He already knew Twilight really liked to know about stuff, and she’d interviewed him before, but, come on... she must have some amount common sense somewhere in her head.

“No… do ya mean ya really fly that green and grey contraption?” said Applejack, figuring it out before Twilight could.

“Really; and your description of my plane was very amusing. It just quite doesn’t do it justice, though,” said John.

“Plane? Is that what you call it? Interesting, perhaps we should have a look at it,” said Twilight.

“I’ll do you one better,” said John. “I’ll give you a demonstration.”

“That I’d like to see,” said Twilight, excited at the prospect.

“Come on, then, let’s move out!” said John. He, Twilight and Applejack exited the library and walked to Sweet Apple Acres. John was out of his mind in delight. He could finally fly again! After walking out to the field where the Typhoon was parked, John ran over to the plane and said, “This (John patted it twice, both pats filled with love and respect) is the Hawker Typhoon. It has a Napier Sabre IIB engine, giving it a top speed of 663 Kilometers an hour. Armament consists of four Hispano MKII 20mm canons, two in each wing, and eight RP-3 air-to-ground rockets.”

“Impressive,” said Twilight. “If I even knew what half that stuff was, anyways…”

“The rockets would be the black arrow like things on the bottom of the wings, and the cannons are like little rods poking out from the wings,” said John, trying to end anymore confusion in terms of weapons.

“This’ll be fun!” John chuckled as he climbed into the cockpit. “Well, for me, anyways. Oh, and, please move out of the way, unless you want to lose a limb…. just saying.” Twilight and Applejack backed away as John yelled, “CLEAR!”

PRT PRT PRT PRT PRT PRT PRT… VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The Napier Sabre IIB engine started up and the Hawker Typhoon was ready to fly. It slowly rolled down the field, gaining speed as it went. As the plane went faster and faster, it started to lift up off of the ground and soon took off into the air, the landing gear folding into the black and white 'invasion stripes'.

As he flew, he could see Twilight and Applejack look at the plane as it soared around. He circled around Sweet Apple Acres twice, and then flew over Ponyville. John could see the ponies look up at the plane, and he was trying to imagine what they were thinking. After flying over Ponyville, he turned and flew back to Sweet Apple Acres. He spotted a large stack of hay bales, and decided to give a brief demonstration of of the power of the 20mm Hispano cannons.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!

In a series of loud bangs and flashes from the plane’s wings, the hay bales were decimated by a seemingly invisible force.

“Whoa!” said Twilight.

“Gosh darn it! Ah spent two hours stackin’ that!” yelled Applejack.

The Hawker Typhoon made one circle around the farm and the landing gear popped out from the black-and-white ‘invasion stripes’. The Typhoon landed in the field and slowed to a stop a few feet in front of the ponies. John climbed out and said, “So? What do you think?”

The two equines were speechless. The craft was completely artificial, but it had flown just as good as any pegasus, except Rainbow Dash. But even Rainbow couldn’t destroy objects like John’s plane did. They could only stare in a amazement.

“Well, I suppose you’re too wowed to answer,” said John.

Meanwhile…

The desert sun’s rays beat upon Gerhart and Karl mercilessly, who were already debating which one had to go back to the oasis to get water. Karl suddenly reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a shiny 5-Reichsmark Coin. The pressed face of Paul von Hindenburg seemed to glare and stare back at him as if to say, “Sie nicht nur herumsitzen und sieh mich an. Ich bin praktisch nutzlos! Was wirst du tun, erhalten Sie Ihre Kartenspiel aus, starten Sie ein Pokerspiel, und verwenden Sie mich als Mittel? (Don’t just sit around and look at me. I’m virtually useless! What are you gonna do, get a pack of cards out, start a game of poker, and use me as funds?)”

Karl turned to Gretel and said, “Gretel?”

“Ja? (Yes?)” said Gretel.

“Hier habe ich eine Reichsmark. Wer Seite landet nach oben hat, um Wasser zu bekommen.

(Here, I have a Reichsmark. Whoever’s side lands face up has to get water.)” said Karl.

“Warum muss man immer drehen, um alles zu lösen? (Why do you always flip to solve everything?)” mumbled Gerhart.

“Was? (What?)” said Karl. He just shook his head and tossed the coin. He caught it, and quickly slapped it against his arm.

“Nun? (Well?)” said Gerhart.

“Es sieht aus wie Sie, um durch die Wüste ... Pech gehabt zu Fuß! (It looks like you get to walk through the desert... tough luck!)” said Karl with a grin that clearly indicated pleasure.

“Glückspilz… (Lucky bastard…)” mumbled Gerhart. He got up and grabbed the Drilling and both canteens, (which were sitting on his lap) and started back to the oasis. After crossing a few dunes, he began singing Wenn Die Soldaten, serenading the dunes as if they were a crowd. “Wenn die Soldaten, Durch die Stadt marschieren, Öffnen die Mädchen, Die Fenster und die Türen. Ei warum? Ei darum! Ei warum? Ei darum! Ei bloß wegen dem Schingderassa, Bumderassasa! Ei bloß wegen dem Schingderassa, Bumderassasa! (When the soldiers are marching through the town, the girls open the windows and the doors. Hey why? Hey because! Hey why? Hey because! Hey merely because of the ringing of the brass, beating of the drums. Hey merely because of the ringing of the brass, beating of the drums.)

Zweifarben Tücher, Schnauzbart und Sterne, Herzen und küssen, Die Mädchen so gerne. Ei warum? Ei darum! Ei warum? Ei darum! Ei bloß wegen dem Schingderassa, Bumderassasa! Ei bloß wegen dem Schingderassa, Bumderassasa! (Two colored scarfs, Moustache and stars, Hearts and kissing, The girls so gladly. Hey why? Hey because! Hey merely because of the ringing of the brass, beating of the drums. Hey merely because of the ringing of the brass, beating of the drums.)

Eine Flasche Rotwein, Und ein Stückchen Braten, Schenken die Mädchen, Ihren Soldaten. Ei warum? Ei darum! Ei warum? Ei darum! Ei bloß wegen dem Schingderassa, Bumderassasa! Ei bloß wegen dem Schingderassa, Bumderassasa! (A bottle of red wine, and little piece of roast meat, the girls toss to the soldiers. Hey why? Hey because! Hey merely because of the ringing of the brass, beating of the drums. Hey merely because of the ringing of the brass, beating of the drums.)”

Despite walking through the desert, Gerhart couldn’t help himself and he started marching as he sang. Despite multiple attempts to stop himself, he sang as he collected the murky water at the oasis and filled the canteens.

“Is that… singing?” a voice asked from somewhere across the oasis.

Gretel suddenly stopped and became dead silent. He closed the canteens and did a wind sprint to the nearest patch of cover.

He thought everything was fine, until he realized he had set down the Drilling and hadn’t grabbed in his attempt to hide himself! “Ich bin so ein Idiot… (I’m such an idiot…)” thought Gerhart. He mentally facepalmed and banged his head against the palm tree. Like something from a cartoon, a coconut fell from it and hit the ground with and extremely loud and exaggerated THUD. He let loose another quiet profanity, and waved his arms around in short, jerky motions.

“What was that?” the voice asked, much closer.

Gerhart could tell it was feminine, and that whoever was speaking was coming over to investigate.

He heard muffled footsteps and the girl spoke again, “What is this? It’s like a stick… but with metal? What does it do?”

Gerhart had to clap his hand over his mouth so as not to exclaim another profanity as heard the girl mess with the loaded Drilling. Last time he checked, the safety was on, but if she somehow turned it off and pulled the trigger while pointing it in her direction… well, he already knew too well what would happen. Somehow, in his unconscious nervous shuffling, he stepped on a dry palm frond, which made a loud crunching noise. He cursed himself once more as he heard footsteps drawing nearer to his hiding place. Just as a limb reached through the brush, he sprinted out to the Drilling, picked it up, and began sprinting out of the oasis.

“WHAT THE?!?!” he heard the girl’s voice say. Curiosity getting the better of him, he stopped, whipped his head back and saw… a tan pony with wings, a black mane and tail and magenta eyes?! And also wearing clothes and a sun helmet?! Even weirder, it looked shocked or surprised, as if a ghost had just pinched it on the butt. Knowing that he didn’t have time for wondering if it was real or not, Gerhart turned his head back and ran. He thought he heard a camera flashbulb go off, but he just ignored it and continued sprinting.

Meanwhile…

Daring Do, a tan pegasus with a black mane and tail, wearing an olive green button-up shirt and sun helmet, stood in complete shock. She shook her head and quickly turned to a tall, Saddle-Arabian pony and said, “Did you get a picture of the thing?”

“Yes ma’am, you can’t see much of it, but it’s in the photo,” the Saddle-Arabian pony replied. He handed Daring Do a photo, which, when she inspected it, she could see bit of the creature’s body and it’s helmet it was wearing sticking above a dune.

“This is serious. I need to send a letter to Prince Tresed Al-Hayar immediately,” said Daring Do. She immediately went into her tent, taking the photo with her, and she began composing a letter.

Meanwhile…

John was tired. For most of the morning, he had been busy informing Twilight’s closest friends about his true identity. He didn’t realize how much walking was involved, or the fact that ponies really hated anything that was morally wrong. He wished he could’ve just flown. Needless to say, the first thing he did was going to his bedroom and beginning to nap, like a cat. For about two hours, he only knew of sweet ignorance.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

“John? You awake?” asked Twilight from outside in the hall.

“Yes sir… I mean, Ma’am!” said John as he bolted out of bed. He looked at his flight suit. And boy, was it a mess. it needed to be washed AND ironed. John then decided that perhaps he should try a get a couple more sets of clothes, or at least get his flight suit washed. Because one could only wear the same outfit for certain amount of days, and the flight suit was starting to smell a little.

“Well, I have a letter from Princess Celestia. You might want to have a look,” said Twilight.

John stepped out of his bedroom and followed Twilight downstairs. Right away, he noticed a letter in a fancy cursive font on a piece of parchment. He picked it up and began reading it aloud, “Dear Twilight, thank you for informing me about John. I would like you to inform John that he and you ONLY are to come to the Royal Palace at Canterlot (John grinned and chuckled at apparent or unapparent Camelot pun) tomorrow. Bring the “Hawker Typhoon” that you described as well, a special train is being sent as you read this. It will arrive at 12:30 in the morning. Be ready to leave then, NO EXCEPTIONS. John, if you happen to be reading this, know that we are only curious and wish to know more about you, you need not feel threatened or afraid. However, there is another thing; shortly after this letter was sent, I and Princess Luna recived a letter for Prince Tresed Al-Hayar of Saddle Arabia. In said letter, the prince wrote that one of my ponies had a photo of a mysterious creature that had, according to my subject’s account, walked on two legs, sang a song in a foreign language, wore tan clothing as well as a sun helmet and goggles, collected water into canteens, and ran when it was spotted. It also was carrying strange wood and metal stick, about 4 feet long. Twilight, I think it’s very possible that from your description of John, it could be another human. Currently, I have not sent any response to the prince. I want to know your and John’s opinion about this. It is also very likely you will be going to Saddle Arabia to speak with Prince Tresed Al-Hayar. Be prepared for a very long journey. Yours truly, Princess Celestia.” John was stoked at the prospect of another human in this world. He was very excited and could barely hold it in. He just felt so… alone, and bored here. Sure, there were some things he could do, but it all was just to peachy and happy to make him actually feel comfortable. He flung the parchment and began skipping around the room. “ANOTHER MAN! ANOTHER HUMAN! It’s like a dream, a dream I’ve wanted to come true!” said John, truly happy for the first time since he arrived in Equestria. He went over and nearly crushed Twilight in a hug. He then let go, a bit embarrassed but still happy, and then, ran out of the library. John was so happy he decided he was going to fly a victory lap around the town.

“John… I… JOHN!” said Twilight, desperately trying to get the RAF pilot’s attention. “John, come back! This is serious!”

John ignored her blissfully, loudly singing It’s A Long Way To Tipperary as he ran out of the library and towards his plane, which he had parked closer to the edge of town, “Up to mighty London Came an Irishman one day. As the streets are paved with gold, Sure, everyone was gay, Singing songs of Piccadilly, Strand and Leicester Square, Till Paddy got excited, Then he shouted to them there: It’s a long way to Tipperary, It’s a long way to go! It’s a long way to Tipperary, To the sweetest girl I know! Goodbye, Piccadilly, Farewell, Leicester Square! It’s a long long way to Tipperary, But my heart’s right there! It’s a long way to Tipperary, It’s a long way to go! It’s a long way to Tipperary, To the sweetest girl I know in Tipperary! So it’s goodbye, Piccadilly, Farewell, Leicester Square! It’s a long long way to Tipperary, But my heart’s right there.

Paddy wrote a letter to his Irish Molly-O, Saying, ‘Should you not receive it, Write and let me know!’ ‘If I make mistakes in spelling, Molly, dear,’ said he, ‘Remember, it’s the pen that’s bad, Don’t lay the blame on me!’ It’s a long way to Tipperary, It’s a long way to go! It’s a long way to Tipperary, To the sweetest girl I know in Tipperary! So it’s goodbye, Piccadilly, Farewell, Leicester Square! It’s a long long way to Tipperary, But my heart’s right there! It’s a long way to Tipperary, It’s a long way to go! It’s a long way to Tipperary, To the sweetest girl I know in Tipperary! So it’s goodbye, Piccadilly, Farewell, Leicester Square! It’s a long long way to Tipperary, But my heart’s right there!”

“JOOOOOOOOOOOOOHN!” yelled Twilight.

John, who was still enthralled at the idea that there might be a fellow pilot somewhere else in the crazy world he was stuck in, paid no heed to Twilight’s cries, or anything else for that matter and belted out It’s A Long Way To Tipperary (earning him a variety of odd looks from some ponies) as he ran out of Ponyville and towards his plane, until…

An Unintentional Death Ride

PRT PRT PRT PRT PRT PRT PRT… VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The familiar and re-assuring steady drone of the Napier Sabre IIB engine was a surprise to John’s ears. He picked up his pace and saw, much to his horror that the three ponies, Applebloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle that he had met previously had somehow managed to get into the cockpit and start up the engine! The three fillies, John remembered Twilight calling them, simultaneously exclaimed “Cutie Mark Crusaders Metal Bird Flyers!”

“What’s this do?” he heard Sweetie Bell squeak inquisitively.

He saw her tiny hoof reach for the trigger.

“OH SHI...!” said John.

Without any warning, the four 20mm MK II Hispano Cannons suddenly discharged, gunfire cracking loudly through the air.

John leaped away as clods of dirt were blown loose and nearby stack of barrels were completely demolished. Cider, wood, and steel chunk pieces rocketed everywhere like shrapnel, and John was relieved none of them went towards the plane. He then prayed to god that they didn’t arm any rockets. He then decided to what any RAF pilot would do: run up to a moving plane that was armed and very dangerous, climb up on the wing and into the cockpit and seize control of the aircraft! Feeling like a real bloody idiot, John ran over to the craft and grabbed onto the safe to step portion of the wing with his hands. Suddenly, the aircraft gained even more speed. He was now holding on for dear life as the plane rapidly accelerated to takeoff speeds. Miraculously, he managed to haul himself onto the wing and climb in to the cockpit, which was now very crowded and cramped. However, John was too late; the plane had gone airborne and was on a collision course to the barn at Sweet Apple Acres (as he’d learned it was called). The three fillies screamed and partly-deaf John who was also screaming, managed to fly the plane through the barn! This resulted in scaring the living daylights out of the one red pony he’d seen earlier, who was just outside. John quickly ascended and shut the canopy so he or the ponies wouldn’t fall out. He didn’t even know how they all fit in the cockpit, but he really didn’t care, he was too amazed. He had just flown through a bloody barn!

“Hey, lemme help!” said Sweetie Bell, grabbing the joystick.

“NO!” said John as Sweetie Belle somehow managed to get control of the joystick. The plane somehow did a series of amazing aerobatic maneuvers (Loop de loops, barrel rolls, aileron rolls etc.) as John and Sweetie Belle fought for control of the joystick in a slapstick fashion, each one attempting to block our outdo other. At one point, the plane leveled out and buzzed the Ponyville market. Scootaloo, while trying to assist Sweetie Belle in grabbing the joystick, accidentally tapped the trigger. Multiple stalls were instantly destroyed, and a large blue pegasus stone statue lost its head to the four 20mm Mark II Hispano cannons, which seemed more like a disturbing omen to John. Ponies screamed and dove for cover as the fighter soared over shocked and scared shoppers and stalls were blown over. Some ponies looked and pointed as the plane barely a three feet from their heads while others stood still, paralyzed by mixture of fear and awe. One pony even took a picture with his camera. After pulling out of the market and putting on another airshow, John finally regained control and immediately put it down in the street (which was conveniently long enough and wide enough to serve as a runway), where it rolled to stop next to Twilight’s library.

An amazed Twilight rushed out, and looked at the plane parked next to the library with her already large eyes reaching ludicrous proportions.

“Good GOD! Are those eyes?!?!” thought John, his brain temporarily distracted by Twilight’s ridiculously proportioned peepers. Normally, he would’ve laughed until his lungs were devoid of oxygen, but he was too furious to do so at the moment.

First to come out where three very guilty looking fillies, and then came John. His face was a mix of livid, scared, surprised, accusing and rage. He was shaking with anger and the corner of his mouth was twitching.

“Uh oh…” said the three fillies at the same time, slowly trying to back away. Of course, in a few minutes after they came out of the plane, Rarity, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash were there (after receiving letters from Twilight), and they were very unhappy, to say the least.

Twilight, judging from the look on John’s face, prepared for a verbal bombardment.

“YOU THREE, WAIT RIGHT HERE, NOW!” yelled John, pointing to a spot just outside Twilight’s library. “MOVE IT, OFFICERS!”

The three fillies winced at John’s words (and so did their parents), but they followed the instructions as told.

The the five went inside and John unleashed the verbal equivalent of 10 volleys of RP-3 rockets and 20mm Hispano cannons, as well as dollop of profanities mixed in. He ranted and raved about how why the h*** the bloody fillies’ parents let them get into these kinds of really dangerous situations and why the h*** they didn’t try to stop them or take precautionary measures. He also talked about how the plane’s weapons were very dangerous and designed to kill, which he actually found somewhat disturbing for the first time. His rant went on for 20 minutes until he finally ran out of breath.

Rarity nearly punched John about his way of speaking about her and Applejack almost kicked him. Rainbow also didn’t appreciate his labeling, either. However, the two mothers and guardian were more upset with their children. And they also did think about John’s advice, albeit profanity-filled.

After another five minutes, John finally had cooled down and let out a deep breath while sitting down on a comfortable green couch. “I have a question… just HOW bloody often do those three get into situations like that?” He asked, eyeing the three ponies with a gaze that could pierce tank armor.

Silence. Rarity suddenly found the floor quite diverting and Applejack said nothing, but kept eye-contact with John. Rainbow, hovering pointlessly, searched the room for… something other than John.

“Right,” said John, guessing the answer was ‘all the time’. “I apologize to you all for my rant; no good gentleman swears in front of a lady. However, the plane is to be forever more off-limits to those three, no exceptions! I don’t know what to say about damages made to the town… a statue and some stalls were destroyed… but, I want them to know it wasn’t my fault and that I will not be held liable. Had I not managed to get in there, there probably would’ve been more damage than there is. Someone could’ve been seriously injured or even killed! I know that maybe parking it next to an inhabited village wasn’t the brightest idea either, but I still find their actions inexcusable! Did they even have any kind of permission, regardless of me knowing or not, to look at or be near the plane?”

“Well, Sweetie Belle I know certainly didn’t. I didn’t tell she could or couldn’t go and see either… so…” said Rarity. She felt quite guilty; she’d heard the part about the plane’s weapons and she was quite relieved that no one was hurt or killed. But Rarity also knew that things could’ve gotten much worse.

“And ah CERTAINLY didn’t give Applebloom any kinda permission to be ‘round your Hawker Typhoon,” said Applejack. She, also felt a bit guilty, but, she also knew her main problem was Applebloom and what happened to her after she was done conferring with John.

“And nobody ever told Scootaloo she could see the… whatever it was,” said Rainbow Dash, finally returning her gaze to John.

Things quieted down again and, after some time had passed, John turned to Rarity and said, “You’re a tailor, correct?”

“Tailor? Yes, I am a tailor and fashion designer, darling,” said Rarity, turning to John. She ( and the other two ponies) were a bit confused at the sudden change of tone in the conversation, but she ignored it and listened.

“I… don’t quite know how to put this, after raving and being angry and all, but…” but John was cut off.

“You need some clothes other than your uniform. Of course! I can put some things together,” said Rarity. Although she didn’t quite know John’s clothing status, but she figured he was wearing the only clothes he had. She was also glad that John wasn’t holding anything against her.

“Good, can you do it in a few hours?” John said. “I’ll stop by later to run over another uniform, since I’m stuck here I might as well have something formal.”

“Well, of course! I can have quite the wardrobe done in about five hours’ time!” said Rarity. She actually felt better being asked to tailor something… but she’d get to work on that after she’d talked to Sweetie Belle.

John noted how Rarity looked excited at the prospect of making some clothes, and he didn’t mind. Then, another thing hit him. “How much would it be?” asked John, cringing nervously. He didn’t have his wallet with him; it was back at Needs Oar Point.

“John, is something wrong?” asked Twilight.

“Well… usually, I have money… However, I didn't bring my wallet... and… I’m flat broke!” said John.

“Free of charge,” said Rarity. “Small token to the only human in Equestria. I'd have done that same even if you had money, dear.”

“Uhm… thanks miss, that’s very kind of you!” said John, relieved. He then turned to Rarity and whispered, “Can you make me a uniform? It would be somthing for formal occasions. I’ll describe it to you.”

After John had done that, Rarity nodded and said, “Okay, got it! I’ll get everything done shortly!” She then left John and the others and headed back for her shop, thinking about what size John was. and making measurements in her head.

“Alright, I’ll be getting my… things… around. Oh, wait, I don’t have anything to put them in, if I even hand anything to get around.” Suddenly, a small cloth bag tied together with some thick string floated into John’s lap, surrounded by Twilight’s purple magical aura. ”How’s that supposed too help?” he said. He picked it up and shook it, and the sound of coins clinking against each other could be heard. He opened the bag and drew out a solid gold coin, about the size of an American 50-cent piece. On the front was a stamped image of who John assumed was Princess Celestia (his cue was the sun on her flank, as well as her tiara) and on the back was Princess Luna (again, the cue was the moon on her flank and her tiara). “Wait... are these... 24 karat?!“ said John. He bit into one as hard as he could and when he stopped biting, a small indent was left in the coin. Just one of the coins he had was wroth several pounds, at least. And to think he had 150 of them! He could be rich when he got back, if he held onto a good portion of his coins.

“Yep, purest there is. There are 150 bits in there, enough to cover anything you might need to get,” said Twilight.

“What are these?” John suddenly asked. He pointed to the moon on Luna’s flank.

“Oh… I should’ve told you about those sooner. That’s a Cutie Mark, something a pony gets when they discover their life purpose,” explained Twilight.

“So, when I was a pegasus, there was a tattoo of my plane or an RAF brevet or something on my ass?” said John.

“Ah…” said Applejack. “What’s a tah-too?”

“It’s basically an image carved into a certain part of someone’s body, commonly on their arm, with a needle filled with ink. It’s kind of like a Cutie Mark, only it hurts… because it’s being literally carved into your skin,” said John. “And from what I gather, Cutie Marks just appear in a poof of magic or something... right?”

“Yeah, that’s basically it,” said Applejack. She shuddered a bit at the mental image.

“Anyways, I’m going to go shopping for some necessities and get some dinner,” said John. He left the three ponies to go do his errands before the train arrived.

Outside, the Sweetie Belle, Applebloom, and Scootaloo quaked with fear as John passed by. They trembled even harder when John backtracked to them and stood still, towering over them menacingly with a hard, uncaring, frowning face. Suddenly it lighted and he bent down.

“Come here,” said John softly, trying to sound as nice and kind as possible. He made a ‘come closer’ gesture with his hand, and the three fillies rather hesitantly obliged. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier, I was angry and it wasn’t fair. That still doesn’t excuse your actions, but… I forgive you. There will be consequences for sure, but, know that I won’t hold It against you. Well, maybe a little… No, I’m just kidding, but don’t ever do anything like that AGAIN. It might help with keeping out of trouble. Just my free words of advice.” The three fillies nodded, amazed and somewhat un-surprised at what John had said. John patted all three on the head, scratched them behind the ears, and then finally went off to do his shopping.

John Goes Shopping, and Nothing Much Happens

John exited the library and a random passerby waved. Although John’s presence was supposed to be a secret, Pinkie Pie kind of told everyone in the town about him, and they all kind of knew him after the party, so he was accepted and treated as an equal. And John actually found this a bit odd; from the way Twilight had talked about the townsfolk, he seemed to pick a sense of xenophobia from her description of them. However, John was glad and didn’t really care about the details. He first went to a store named Quills and Sofas, and, from what John could see, it sold just that. He merely shrugged and walked in.

A tan stallion with a neatly kept brown mane and tail, wearing a blue vest and white shirt with brass buttons, and sparkling apple green eyes was behind a counter. The smiling stallion quickly got out from behind the counter and said, “Good Evening! Welcome to Quills and Sofas! Can I help you?” A small shiny brass nametag pinned to the stallion’s vest read: Davenport: Owner, Manager, Cashier, and Salespony. Davenport’s Cutie Mark was a small inkpot and an unraveling blue parchment roll.

“Yes, I’d like to buy a quill and a journal,” said John simply.

Davenport’s eyes gleamed and he said, “Of course, right this way!”

John followed, noting how professional and enthusiastic he acted. “I wonder if he’s like this all the time…” thought John. He chuckled at the various funny scenarios running through his head.

“And over here, a fabulous newly re-stocked selection of quills! And don’t forget our wonderful array of fine quality sofas! Because nothing else says relaxing writing environment more than a sofa,” said Davenport. “But please, don’t feel rushed; take as much time as you want!”

John began inspecting the wares intently. He stopped on one item. “What’s this one do?” said John. He was looking as a quill with a gold point and a large purple feather.

“That’s the Deluxe Canterlot Writer Quill Pro Series Mark IX. It never runs out of ink, never needs new ink, fixes any spelling and grammar errors, and the feather can erase any words off of any standard parchment without leaving any marks,” said Davenport. “They are very rare, but it can be yours for just… (a drumroll sounded out of thin air) thirty bits thanks to the super-amazing Spring-Cleaning Clearout Quill Sale!”

John inwardly chuckled. They way Davenport said things, it made him feel like he had won a carnival prize. “I’ll take it,” said John. He grabbed then quill and then went over to a small rack of journals. A sign read: Deluxe Canterlot Writer Pro Series All Conditions Journal! Waterproof, fireproof, tear proof, smudgeproof and can fit in any bag snugly! 20 bits. However, a small label on the sign read 50% off. John grabbed a plain brown covered-journal and walked up to the counter with his purchases.

“Forty bits, please,” said Davenport.

John pulled out forty bits from his sack and stacked them on the counter. The money was put into the cash register with a loud CHA-CHING!

“Thank you for shopping at Quills and Sofas. Is there anything else you are interested in?” said Davenport.

“No, I’m good, thank you for offering,” said John.

“You’re welcome! Have a nice day!” said Davenport as John exited the shop.

“Hmmm… I should get a bag for all this,” said John. Spying a carousel-shaped building, John walked over and entered. A bell rang as he entered the boutique, and Rarity’s sing-song voice sounded, “Coming!” When she appeared, she looked a bit surprised and said, “Oh! John, You're here. Did you come to go over what you had mentioned yesterday?” Rarity said with excitement in sparkling her eyes. John nodded and was about to say something before Rarity cut off. “HOW WONDERFUL! Just let me look for my sketch pad and measuring tape!”

John quickly grabbed her attention before she could walk off. “Actually, Rarity... do you happen to have any good, durable bags that aren’t hot pink and have good capacity?”

“Well, in that case, suitcases, briefcases, and travel bags are over there,” said Rarity, pointing to a section of the store where various travel bags and accessories were being displayed.

After looking carefully, John finally zoomed in on a plain navy blue duffel bag, which according to the sign, had extra capacity and was very sturdy. Soon after Rarity returned holding a notepad and measuring tape in her magic.

“Alright, dear, now I just need some measurements and then you can tell me what you want. So, if you could, please stand over here and do as I ask?” said Rarity.

John obliged, and after standing still and moving in more different ways than he thought could be possible for half an hour, Rarity was finally done.

“Now,” She said as she put down the tape “What was this other thing you needed?” It took John a few minutes but he finally had the image in his mind. “What I need is a navy blue four-pocket wool tunic with a matching tunic belt of same material and fitting proportions with a brass buckle. All buttons should be brass, two higher up and one lower, leave about 4 inches between the buttons for the belt. About 4-5 inches from the cuffs, there should be three bands on each sleeve, mint blue in the middle with thick black borders. The middles should be about and inch wide and the borders a quarter inch wide. There should also be matching pair of pants, same material as vest and belt.”

After writing down everything, Rarity asked, “Is that all, dear?”

“That will be all. Thank you very much,” said John. After paying for the bag, he went to other various stores, buying things such as a shaving razor that never got dull and shaving supplies, and a finally some generally useful and somewhat pointless things.

Such as an instant bed that was just big enough to fit him complete with pillows, quilt, comforter, and mattress. John also bought a somewhat small wristwatch that glowed in the dark and automatically adjusted to time zones. He also got a compass, some cologne, de-odorant along with other necessary toiletries, a canteen, and a set of matching bathing and washing towels. After his little shopping spree, he went to a café that he had passed by earlier and ordered a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll. John sat down at a table next to a window, looking outside at the crescent moon and stars. After ten minutes of placid coffee drinking and nibbling, John finished his roll and coffee and went back to the Carousel Beautique (as it was called) and to pick up his clothes. Much to his pleasure, they were finished and he had quite a wardrobe, as Rarity promised. There were plenty of casual clothes, undergarments, a formal dress suit and ties, and even some pajamas with cloud designs and a matching nightcap. She’d even made an RAF Officer’s uniform, matching his rank as well. He also bought a pair of regular shoes, thanked Rarity and, after which, Rarity turned in for the night. He put the clothes in his bag and went back to the library. After changing into his pajamas, he closed his eyes and slept overtook him. But this time, something was waiting for him in dreamland.

New Arrivals

It seemed like any ordinary day in the south pacific. The waves were crashing softly against the steel hull of the aircraft carrier USS Essex and Cmdr. David McCampbell was enjoying some of his downtime in his cabin. The gentle rocking of the ship reminded him of the time he was on the Wasp... That name, it triggered so many memories...

(Flashback)

It was the seemingly innocent, sunny afternoon of Tuesday, September 15th, 1942. And nothing seemed off. They had a run-in encounter with a Jap flying boat earlier that afternoon, but it was still an ordinary day in the south pacific. According to what he had heard, they had come looking for some planes that had gotten separated from the carrier. His thoughts were snapped by the sound of a sailor announcing the planes were returning.

“Ready to play two hand tennis?” said George as he got up off of the warm steel of the flight deck.

“Who’s flagging em down this time?” said David as he got up from alongside him and hustling towards the small dark green screen they stood up against for signaling.

“You, I did the honors last time,” said George, handing David the paddles.

“No you didn’t!” retorted David, a grin on his face as he took the paddles.

“Yes I did!” protested George, also grinning.

“No you...” David was cut off by a glare from George.

He, along with George, guided the planes in, and, after that, everything was calm again. However, even after all the planes had landed and had been safely stowed away on the once barren flight deck, David couldn’t help but have a gut-wrenching sense of dread.

George noticed his troubled expression and said, “Dave, what’s bugging ya? You aren’t usually like this.”

“You ever heard about how some guys... get a kind of... inexplicable feeling... before something bad happens? I... I think I’m feeling that,” said David.

“Oh, come on, we’ve all felt that way. Your head is just giving you crap and you’re just overreacting. I’ve heard many statements like that, and, nothing ever happened,” said George, trying to comfort his friend with his reasoning. “What makes you think it’ll be any different?”

“I dunno know, George, I dunno... ” said David. As he stared out at the blue waters of the pacific, he felt something was out there, following them. Chasing them, an unseen menace lurking beneath he waves that threatened the carrier.

After that short exchange, several hours passed and David roamed around the edges of the flight deck, pacing with a large wad of anxiety, fear, dread, and a strange heavy sagging feeling, inside of him, growing as the long minutes passed. It was now late in the afternoon, and the south pacific sun gleamed against the parked Wildcats and Dauntless that filled the hot flight deck, and many of the deck officers had taken off their shirts and upper garments to try and keep cool, others retreating into the ship to avoid the sun’s harsh rays. Suddenly, a piercing shout broke through the waves and the humming of the engines.

“Three torpedoes... three points forward of the starboard beam!” shouted a lookout, binoculars in hand.

A few moments later, the ship was thrown into chaos. Fire was everywhere, and explosions racked the ship. David was knocked flat and so was George. The planes then fell apart, crushing and killing many sailors and injuring many more. Huge fires then sprouted from the inside of the ship. Many men were screaming in pain, some sailors with flaming garments jumped overboard, and others in better shape were gathering the wounded and trying to tend to them. Other sailors were trapped under twisted wreckage: and David could only try to help the other sailors the were wounded. While he was watching George, who was covered in 2nd degree burns, a Dauntless fell from the deck and into the water. David watched, and saw, to his horror, that the Dauntless was headed straight for other sailors that were trying in vain to swim away from their impending death. He turned away as he herd the unbearably loud splash as the plane crashed into the water.

“They didn’t make it...” mumbled George. “Poor bastards... rest in piece.”

Shortly after a few more explosions, the order was given to abandon ship. David, George, and other sailors were eventually crammed into a small obnoxiously yellow life raft and they slowly floated away from the burning, listing wreck of the Wasp.

(End of Flashback)

David was snapped out of his thoughts because he heard the following message from the intercom speakers, “All pilots report to the flight deck immediately!” He sprang out of his chair, and rushed up to the flight deck. From there he sprinted to his F6F-5 Hellcat, Minsi III, and prepared for the mission ahead. After he had crawled into the small but surprisingly comfortable cockpit, the control tower relayed basic mission information to him. His orders were to escort a squadron of Helldivers and Dauntless to their target, the Japanese carrier Shōkaku, and to join with Task Force 58. David acknowledged and soon his group, Air Group 15, were airborne and awaited to join what promised to be one heck of a fight. As they began flying to meet up with the task force, David noted a distant wall of grey clouds, about 20 miles away from the location of the Japanese fleet. “See those clouds? It’s odd, I thought there were no storms in the area.”

“Well, looks like a typhoon that will to be rolling in sometime soon. We’d better hope it’s not going anywhere fast so we don’t get stuck in it,” radioed another Hellcat pilot. “Out of all the damn times for bad weather, it had to be now...”

David agreed and returned his focus to the controls. They quickly met up with Task Force 58 and soon they headed for the carrier. When they arrived, what ensued next David was sure would never happen again. The Shōkaku, having recently launched it’s compliment of planes, which engaged the oncoming American force. David gunned down five Judy dive bombers himself, and the other Hellcats managed to quickly make a dent in the enemy fighters. Occasionally, the dive bombers would would pick off any fighter that got too close. However, David found the Japanese resistance laughably poor. They were probably shooting down young men who probably barely had learned to fly. Now stripped of it’s aircraft, the Shōkaku had only its guns to rely on. And, it went down faster than you could say hit in a game of Battleship, the Dauntless and Helldivers bombs and torpedoes all hitting their mark. Then, the weather came up. David was a bit alarmed at the sound of heavy rain hitting his canopy and thunder rumbling like the angry voice of God.

The storm’s sudden arrival caused quite an uproar of concern among the pilots, all noting about how it seemed the storm had moved very fast. Nervously, they decided to fall back before the tropical storm could reach their carriers.

David agreed, and ordered all Group 15 planes to form up and fall back to the Essex.

“AMBUSH!” yelled one of the pilots. About 18 A6M3 Zeros, or colloquially known as Zekes by the allies, swooped down from the thick grey clouds and sheets of rain, and rained their own metal storm upon the squadrons.

“God dammit!” yelled David. “Alright, all fighters break off and distract the Zekes. Save the bombers! Use the Thach Weave to keep a hand on them!”

In movement more synchronous than clockwork, the Hellcats broke off and began distracting the Zeros.

David singled out a slower Zero, gave chase, and when he felt confident, fired.

The Zero went down in flames, the showing the Japanese recruit’s skill level was far below David’s.

However, just after gunning down another Zero, he pulled a hard left to avoid a strafe from behind. As the Zero flashed by, elusive as a lighting bolt, David caught the tail number: 105. David immediately went into pursuit, determined to bag another one. However, just as things lined up, the Zero went into a steep climb. David followed, but, then the Zero dived to his left faster than he could blink. he followed, but... he couldn’t spot it, it had vanished. David tried to look through the walls of heavy rain assaulting Minsi III, the winds causing turbulence like he’d never felt before, and it was exhilarating. “He’s no rookie, no rookie could ever do that,” mumbled David. Suddenly, gunfire from behind him advised him to pull up. “Oh, so that’s how you want to play it, eh? Well, two can play at that game,” said David, clearly knowing he was up against a pilot of his level. He then decided to disappear, vanishing into the thunderheads. For awhile, the Zero didn’t seem to catch on. Then, roaring like the thunder around them, he dove down, all six M2 Brownings spitting bullets.

Hiroyoshi Nishizawa was impressed. This American fought very well, and he was proud to be facing a worthy adversary. However, the gunfire and swooping form of the American plane forced him to move away and then return fire. However, like the last attempt, the American was able to dodge! “This might be one of the best pilots they have, if so, it explains the long fight. Truly, it is an honor to be against such an adversary,” thought Nishizawa. However, he knew that his fuel would run out, so he would try to finish off the American or turn back. But there was no turning back... yet. However, before he struck the final blow, he wanted to honor the american for the fight. So, he pulled alongside the American’s plane, their planes wingtip to wingtip.

David was surprised when the Zero pulled up right beside him. The pilot turned to him, saluted in a dignifying manner, and nodded. David saluted in return. He figured that this was a Japanese Ace, trying to honor him and respect him before he shot him down. However, the prospect of round two was cut short when a bright white flash blinded David and he suddenly felt as if the world was warping around him. He swore, even before he passed out, that the grey clouds were twisting to form a hole big enough for the two planes to go through. Then, whiteout.

Sometime later...

David was jarred back to consciousness when a crack of thunder sounded. “Ooooooh... where am I?” moaned David, putting a hand to his forehead. “Where’s that Zero I was chasing?” David looked to his right, and, the Zero was cruising alongside him. Normally, he would’ve been alarmed, but, for some odd reason, he felt relieved. He could tell the Japanese Ace was also in a similar predicament, for he looked at him with a confused face. “Something feels off,” said David. “This can’t be right. I know something is wrong, just what...” Then they came out of the storm, leaving the rolling thunder, grey thunderheads, and turbulence behind. What shocked David was that they weren’t over the ocean, and that it was night. In fact, his Hellcae was cruising next to some mountains, and, a mountainside city that had a waterfall next to it, which gleamed in the pale moonlight. “WHAT THE H***?!?!...” exclaimed David. “Okay, I have to be hallucinating. It will all go away if I just tell it to.” David closed his eyes and wished for the mountains and mountainside city to vanish and become the blue waters of the south Pacific, but, when he opened them, they were still there. “Well, I guess this is real.” He turned to the Zero, and he could see the pilot was having the same reaction.

Nishizawa was amazed. One moment he was in the south Pacific, next he is near a mountainside city at night. It looked rather odd, like some sort of fairy palace. Even in the low light, Nishizawa could tell it was all golden and pink and purple, like a guilder’s daughter had designed it and painted it. He couldn’t make out details, but Nishizawa was very sure no cities on earth looked like this one. It seemed... girlish in an odd, over the top way. Suddenly, he remembered that the American had made it as well. He made a quick glance and saw the American was making motions with his hands. First, the American pointed at him, then made a two fingered gesture that meant, “see”, then he pointed at the city, then to himself, and then made the “see” sign again. Nishizawa was able to piece together a logical sentence, filling in the gaps in his mind, “Do you see what I see?” Nishizawa responded by making a series of hand signals that indicated he did. Then the American made more signals, first pointing at Nishizawa, then at himself, then making fists and doing a few punches, and then making an X with his hands. “He wants a truce...” thought Nishizawa. “I can’t be sure... but... I feel the same way. Peace for now.” Nishizawa turned and gave a respectful nod to the American.

David felt like he’d made it to a major milestone when the Japanese pilot had agreed to his truce. Just maybe... things would work out.

The Dream Sequence

It was also night in Saddle Arabia, and Gerhart, after telling Karl about his strange encounter, had laid down into his sleeping bag and looked at the stars. Before he knew it, he had slipped away from reality and into the subconscious as he began sleeping. However, something was off. He felt a very distinct feeling of… awareness, and saw, to his surprise and terror, that he was looking down at himself sleeping! “What the…” said Gerhart. “The H***!?! Why am I speaking English!?!” He had no time to ponder further as he suddenly felt like he was going a billion miles an hour. Gerhart then experienced a series of indescribable feelings, and when the world had stopped spinning, he found himself in an unlit bedroom. He could feel a cool, gentle breeze coming in from the opened windows. Even in the dark, he could clearly see a suspicious looking shape in an unusually small bed, which was next to an even smaller nightstand, and, on it, an even smaller kerosene lantern. Gerhart, unarmed and somewhat afraid, quietly approached the bed. His steps were soft but heavy; with every footfall, Gerhart expected the person to wake up and beat him to death. At last his crescendo of horror reached its climax and, he gently pulled aside the overs to reveal... a man, wearing blue pajamas with plane designs on them and a matching night cap. Gerhart’s fear was suddenly replaced by overwhelming excitement. Another human, other than him and Karl, it was a thrilling discovery! But… then he stepped back, and fear seized him again. Where was this place? Could this person see him? What would he say?

John eyes suddenly fluttered open. He felt a presence in his room. A human presence. “Okay, mate, I know you’re in here, and don’t give me any ghost crap, Just come out where I can see you.” To prove his point, he got out of bed and grabbed his pistol, and inserted a bullet, and closed the chamber with an audible CLICK.

“Light the lantern,” said a disembodied voice, next to his bed.

John felt around, found the bedside lantern, turned the switch, and light sprang forth into the room. “I think ‘let there be light’ would be to cliché to say,” thought John. When he turned to see where the voice had come from, what greeted his sight was unbelievable.

“HOLY S***!” John swore aloud.

“Easy, there, let’s not get off on the wrong foot,” said a man wearing a tan desert uniform.

“JOHN? Are you alright?” Twilight’s voice rang.

“Twilight, Get in here! There’s another man in here! I can see him! He’s wearing a desert uniform, a sun helmet, with goggles, and, I think he’s another pilot!” said John.

There was the sound of galloping and Twilight burst into the room. “What human? I can’t see him!”

The man in the khaki uniform said something that sounded German and jumped back a foot, eyes wide with shock and fear.

“WHAT?! He’s right there… or… he was… wait… where’d he go? God dammit! He was right there! RIGHT THERE! Clear as day!” said John, frustrated as he pointed to where Gerhart had been standing.

“John, I don’t know what to say, just get back in…” Twilight never finished her sentence and suddenly, the whole room went black and John bolted upright, no Twilight or man in desert uniform present. He could feel a cool, gentle breeze coming in from the open windows.

That is, until there was quiet knock at the door. “John? Are you okay? I heard you yelling in your sleep. I thought something was wrong,” said Twilight’s voice.

“No, it’s nothing, but I’m a bit shaken. It was all so real… could you come here for a minute?” said John. He felt like a five year old, but to be honest, he didn’t care.

The door slowly creaked open and Twilight came in, slowly walking over to the bed.

John sighed, before patting the mattress next to him.

Twilight climbed in the bed and was assaulted by a surprise hug.

John let go after a minute and said, “You’re not telling anyone, got it?”

“Fine with me,” said Twilight.

“I think I have lost my dignity to be snuggling with a unicorn,” mumbled John.

“You haven’t,” replied Twilight.

“Good,” said John. He and Twilight sat for a moment.

“We could…” Twilight began.

“No, not now,” said John. He propped himself up against the headboard and began, “You know, when I was just a little boy, I used to pretend I was Pegasus.”

“Pegasus? Don’t you mean a pegasus?” said Twilight.

“No, just Pegasus, we only have one famous winged horse where I come from. It was a pure white stallion that came from the monster Medusa’s neck after she’d been decapitated by the hero Perseus. After being born, Pegasus was eventually found by the Nine Muses and they tended him. However, a man named Bellerophon, a great tamer of horses who wanted to ride Pegasus, fell asleep one night in Athena’s temple. He dreamt that the goddess… Athena… had given him a golden bridle which would allow him to ride Pegasus. When he awoke, he had the bridle, and after finding the winged horse, he mounted it and they rode like no other horse or rider had ever ridden. They soared as fast as the wind, over land and sea, and they went off to fight the hideous monster Chimera, which lived in the land of Lycia in Asia Minor. It had the head of a lion the head and body of a goat, and her tail was a serpent, and she could breathe fire. She also had an impenetrable hide that no weapon could pierce. However, this didn’t stop Bellerophon. As Pegasus swept down, he thrust a lump of lead into he creature’s mouth. Chimera’s flames melted it, and the lead trickled into its stomach, killing it. After Chimera was defeated, the people then came out of hiding, and praised Bellerophon for his heroic deed. The king gave him the land as thanks for killing the beast and Bellerophon became king when the old king died, and all was well for him. However, his power got to his head and, he thought himself a god, equal to Zeus, even. So he mounted Pegasus and tried to enter Olympus, the home of the gods. However, his pride led to his downfall. And I mean that in a literal sense, because Pegasus threw him off, whereupon he fell and sustained great injuries. He then became a beggar for the rest of his life and then died as one. Pegasus, however, made it to Olympus and Zeus made him the carrier of his thunderbolts.”

“Wow… is that the story of Pegasus?” said Twilight. “Its so exciting... and.. violent...” She trailed off, realizing some of the more disturbing content the story had.

“Yes, it’s one of the shorter Greek Myths, and my favorite one of all. You probably didn’t understand much of it, but, it was one of the major things that inspired me to becoming a pilot,” said John, sighing wistfully, a look of longing and nostalgia on his face. “I spent hours as Pegasus as a kid, fighting the evil Chimera or flying around, shooting thunderbolts at anyone who came close. I always imagined that there was a Pegasus out there, and, when a first arrived here, that’s what I saw… but not the one I was expecting.”

With that, he slid down into the bed again, he snuggled up to Twilight, and fell asleep, no longer plagued by bothersome dreams.

However, Gerhart’s midnight expedition wasn’t quite over yet. He felt himself going about a billion miles an hour again, and this time, he was in large mountainside city with cobblestone streets and medieval buildings. But the most amazing part was the castle, which Gerhart felt compelled to visit. He suddenly found himself inside the castle, probably where shouldn’t have been, but here was there. Moonlight flooded through the large windows, and palely lit a large hallway with very expensive and antique looking furniture, vases, and portraits, all the typical things Gerhart would expect to find in a place like Neuschwanstein. His footfalls echoed faintly throughout the halls, and he quietly strolled past the large windows, hardly making a sound. At some point, he reached a set of spiral stairs in the pitch blackness of an unlit corridor and climbed up to what appeared to be at the top of a tower. There was a set of doors with two guards, who were, fortunately for Gerhart (and unfortunately for them), asleep. Gerhart managed to slip through the door and past the guards until he was in large and spacious bedroom; suns were everywhere, on the wallpaper, on the pillows and interior. Gerhart was careful not to move past a large window that let in an ample of amount of moonlight. He then perceived light breathing in the corner of the room. Turning, he observed a large canopied bed in which a pony was sleeping in. He very quietly crept over, and saw the bed’s occupant. The pony was a little over a meter tall, had a long, transparent rainbow mane and tail, and was a pure white color, whiter than a cloud on a summer day. On a dresser/nightstand next to the bed was a golden tiara with diamond shaped purple amethyst in the center of it. Gerhart was by no means a jeweler, but he estimated the the tiara was probably worth 10,000 Reichsmarks if sold to the right buyer. It was tempting, but he left it, knowing better than to steal from royalty, it would basically be like stealing from Der Führer.

Suddenly, the pony stirred, and opened its eyes. He could only stand there, frozen in shock as the pony’s deep purple eyes swept over him. The pony seemed more curious than scared or surprised. Suddenly, it just turned over and and faced away from him, as if he was just an illusion.

Gerhart suddenly got the feeling of going a billion miles an hour again, and was gone.

Meanwhile...

It was about 12:45 when John was awakened by Twilight. “John, fifteen minutes until the train arrives,” said Twilight, out of bed with a small suitcase next to her.

“Hmmmm… wha… what’s that you say?” said John groggily.

“Fifteen minutes until we have to leave!” said Twilight, a bit more urgently.

John snapped up and immediately grabbed his clothes bag and said, “I’ll be right back.” After a quick shower, usage of the toilet, and change into some casual clothes, John was ready to go. After Twilight wrote a note to Spike and the rest of her friends, the two left, all packed and all ready for the long trip that awaited them.

When Gerhart awoke, the sky in the east was not yet pale. He did feel refreshed, but it was off: he expected himself to be exhausted or still a bit tired, but he wasn’t really sure what to make of his experiences last night.

“Sie wachte auf. Das ist ein bisschen zu früh, auch für Sie, nicht wahr? (You woke up. This is a bit early, even for you, isn’t it?)” said Karl.

“Ja, es ist, aber ich hatte das seltsamste Traum... (Yes, it is, but I had the weirdest dream...)” said Gerhart.

“Wirklich? Erzählen. (Really? Do tell),” said Karl.

Gerhart exhaled and began telling Karl about his strange experience.

And Now, A Message From The Author

Guten tag! It ist me, WehrmachtPony, and I feel that some kind of update is in order. As of now, I currently am on vacation (for one more day) in Fabulous Charles City, Iowa! It sounds lame, I know, but hey, there just so happens that the nearby Prairie Fossil Park (just an old gravel pit full of fossils) is one of the few parks in the entire United States that allows the public to collect fossils. It may not sound amazing but I sure like it. But enough about me, let's talk about the story! There is another chapter going, but it's going to be a big one, and, well uh... remind me... what is the word you people use again when details about un-revealed content might be revealed? Spoilers, you say? Well, spoiler alert, then. It just has to do with most of the main characters meeting up and getting to know each other. With that out of the way, I haven't got to it yet in a while, and I guess I should say, if you're reading this, hang in there. I'm going to start an initiative and get the story moving, if only a few inches. Sorry for no updates in a while, I had most of the previous parts of the story written before I became a member of the site, so that's why the updates were so fast at first. I'm going to try and get things moving again.

Have a guten tag,

-WehrmachtPony

More Introductions...

David decided he’d start the conversation this time. He signaled that they should go to the city and investigate, which the Japanese pilot agreed upon.

The Hellcat and Zero adjusted and flew straight for the city.

Nishizawa became even more confused and surprised as he and the American flew over the city. Far below in the streets, he could see what appeared to be... miniature horses, or ponies, were milling around freely. “Have the farmers lost their minds? Doesn’t anyone here notice that the livestock has come loose? Now that I think about it, those are strange horses...”

David was just as puzzled. “Signs of civilization: check, people... none,” he said. “That’s odd, where is everybody?” He signaled the Japanese pilot that he couldn’t see any people, and the Japanese pilot signaled back the same thing. “That’s not good... No, they have to be here... maybe they’re... all indoors?” thought David. As hard as he tried, his mind came up blank. No logical answer could explain why there were no humans present. “Wait... that palace... maybe it could have some answers?” David signaled his idea to the Japanese pilot, who gave him an uncomfortable look, but slowly nodded in agreement.

The two planes then flew over to the palace, and began circling around and looking for a place to land.

Meanwhile...

It was very late, and Princess Luna knew that in a few hours, the human Twilight found, John, would be coming to Canterlot. She had conferred with Celestia and they both agreed that it should be a quiet affair, strictly kept private within the walls of the palace. She sighed, knowing that the coming morning would be dragging a long day behind it. Deciding that a step outside might help her relax, Luna made straight for the gardens. The cool night breeze was wonderful, gently ruffling her fur as she walked past the pretentiously maintained gardens. All manner of flowers, trees, bushes and shrubs were blooming, though their rainbows of blooms were faded by the darkness. Luna’s footfalls were silent and slow. She took her time, trying to pace away all the troubles and concerns she had. Then, she stopped. Luna looked up at the moon, which was shining brightly. What many may have considered beautiful, Luna hated. Even though it was her duty to raise and lower the moon every night, things always seemed to go downhill for her after the incident. Everyone hated her just after she came back, and even Celestia seemed to have forgotten her a little. “This isn’t the time to be sentimental and worry,” thought Luna, scorning herself. “Surely nothing else can go wrong...”

That’s when she heard it. Luna paused, confused. It was a tiny buzzing sound, but it was distinct. It seemed to be like a loud bug, buzzing around in a circle. No, there were two loud noises. Luna now became intrigued, and watched the night sky intently. Her efforts were rewarded when she spotted two large bird-like shapes fly across the moon for a few seconds. The shapes drew closer with every loop, and the buzzing grew louder until she saw the extend they weren’t birds. They were, according to the letter they had received from Twilight, planes! Luna then pieced together that they were going to land, and in the palace, nonetheless! She followed, galloping at full speed, noting how some of the sleeping Guards had woken up and were following her. Already she could hear that the buzzing had stopped, and that shouts were ringing across the courtyard. Luna finally arrived at where the planes landed and was amazed. There were two, parked closely together. One was large and a dark blue color, and also had more square and blunt angled wings. It also had strange markings, consisting of a single white star in a circle, and short, thick white bar running behind the star on the body of the craft; the marking was also on the wing. When Luna squinted, she could read text spelling out the words Minsi III on a higher part of the body. Below it were a series of indistinguishable markings. The second was smaller and had more rounded wings. Its markings were simpler, with a thin yellow line on the front edge of its wings and a white square with a red circle on the body of the plane, which were also on the wings.

David knew things were getting to insanity levels when ponies with gold armor, yelling things in English, somehow brandishing swords and spears began surrounding Minsi III and the Zero. David then decided that if he was getting a hostile reception, that he might as well be prepared. He hesitantly inserted a clip into his M1911A1, hoping no bullets would have to be fired. He then opened the canopy and stepped out. This was met with an intense lash out by the armored ponies.

“Surrender!” one yelled.

“Stop in the name of the Princesses!” another yelled.

“God, this just feels so wrong... on many levels... and... princesses? No time for debate, I have to do something,” he thought. David did a quick headcount and counted twelve ponies in armor. Regretting the decision already, he then drew his pistol and shouted, “STAND DOWN! This is Cmdr. David McCampbell of the United States Navy! If you do not comply, I will use lethal force!”

The guards didn’t seem to buy it.

“They had to make it this way, didn’t they?” he thought as he turned off the safety. He carefully took aim, and fired.

BANG!

“MY HOOF, OH BUCK, MY HOOF.... the pain!” an armored pony yelled and sobbed. It was now on the ground, his hoof suffering from the .45 caliber bullet that had pierced it. It was cracked severely and bleeding very hard.

This only served to upset the guards more rather than deter them. One then charged forward, spear in hoof.

David aimed and was about to fire again, but then a loud female voice off to his left rang out, “HALT! Enough of this mindless violence!”

He and the pony turned and saw a much taller pony, dark blue with a strange lighter blue mane and tail, flowing in an invisible wind, with what appeared to be... stars in them. It also had large black horn, and, a set of wings folded up against its sides. It slowly walked forward, until it had reached the wingtip of Minsi III.

“Guards! You not to threaten the guests, is that understood?” said the larger pony.

“Yes, your majesty. But, how could these be...” but the guard was cut short.

“Leave us... now!” said the larger pony.

The guards left reluctantly, some directing evil glances to David.

“David, why did you feel it was necessary to inflict pain without cause?” said the larger pony.

“Without cause?!?!” David yelled, trying to get past the fact he was talking to what Mickey Mouse might keep in his stable, and that she was royalty. After a moment, he calmed down and said, “Highness, I thought that I was being treated as a hostile and so I intended to defend myself and my life as such. There was a reason why I told them to stand down. If I had chosen, I could’ve killed five ponies before you could blink.”

Luna was a bit disturbed at the last remark, but she hesitantly ignored it. “Well, your arrival was unexpected. But please, put down your weapon so that we may talk in a more peaceful manner.”

David reluctantly holstered is pistol and said, “Princess, I...” He was interrupted when he saw the Japanese pilot suddenly walk in.

The pilot turned to the princess and bowed, then the pilot turned to David and said, “I apologize for waiting. It was dishonorable, I should have fought with you, instead of hiding like a coward.”

“Wait... when did you learn English?” said David.

“Just now... I cannot explain,” said the pilot.

“Okay okay... if I may, let’s take this from the top,” said David, raising hand to make a halting gesture. He turned to the pilot and said, “You’re...”

“Ensign Hiroyoshi Nishizawa, Tainan Air Group, Imperial Japanese Navy,” said the Japanese pilot.

“And I am Princess Luna, I rule this land alongside my sister, Princess Celestia,” said the pony.

“Wait, did that horse just speak English?!” said Nishizawa.

“Two things: one, in case you didn’t hear, I’m David McCampbell, Commander, USN, Air Group 15. Two: Ensign, I’m just as clueless as you are,” said David.

“I am afraid that I have no time to answer your questions in detail, surely we will be able to continue this discussion later,” said Princess Luna. “Please, follow me, I believe there are some guest rooms available. There will be another of your kind arriving soon, and I must be off to see him.”

“What? Are you saying there’s another human here?” said David.

“Yes...” said Princess Luna simply.

David was a bit confused about why the Princess was so uptight and hesitant about the matter. But he also knew that if two ponies had stumbled onto the White House Lawn, he figured they would have gotten a very similar reception.

The two pilots were led to their rooms, and both were glad they had a chance to rest.

Meanwhile...

John was still very groggy, and he said, “I hope the plane’s already on the train. I don’t want to push it all the way to the station.” The train was composed of a steam engine and tender, to sleeper cars, a flat-bed car, a passenger car, and a caboose. The strange thing about it was the whole thing was painted in black with white moon symbols surrounded by little patches of purple night sky. John suspected the passenger car was filled with guards or soldiers, and the flat-bed car is where John assumed the plane was supposed to be put. He sighed, knowing he’d have to roll the plane to the car, somehow get it onto the car, and secure it.

However, this was not the case as the Hawker Typhoon suddenly appeared on the car, the magical pinkish glow of Twilight’s magic encasing it for a second. Next to him, Twilight almost passed out. He pushed her up again as a group of creatures that looked like the offspring of a pony and a bat that attempted to pursue a much deeper relationship and succeeding began tying down the plane. John found them somewhat… unnerving to say the least. Attempting to wash away the mental image of a bat and pony trying to reproduce, he and Twilight just climbed into a sleeper car and closed the door behind them. After dropping their bags they both took to the nearest bed. John found that the bed fit him well, much to his delight. He soon had curled up and fell asleep as the chugs of the train and the clacking of the wheels lulled him into sleep again, the lush pillows and covers making him feel like 1000 kg. of lead. For some reason, he thought of another song that he had heard a while ago. It was fittingly about a train, and he began murmuring lyrics.

“What?” asked Twilight. No response from John, except more mumbles and garbled humming. She tried to make sense of them. There was something about a train, track 29, and a word that kept getting kept getting repeated was Chattanooga, which sounded like some kind of onomatopoeia word.

About four hours later, John was awoken by Twilight tapping on his shoulder.

“We’re here,” said Twilight. “It’s five in the morning, so nopony’s going to be out to see you.”

John got up, stretched, gathered all of their bags, and stepped out onto a large platform. It was still dark out, but John could see hundreds of houses and shops, some with lights in the windows. He could also hear the roar of a waterfall in the distance, which made him think that it was a riverside city.

“Are there any rivers nearby? I hear a waterfall, so I assume there’s…” said John.

“No, this is Canterlot. It’s a mountainside city, about 100 feet above sea level,” said Twilight.

“That’s why the air is so much thinner here,” said John, actually noticing the thin air for the first time.

Suddenly, a fancy and very ornate carriage pulled up, painted in a similar fashion to the train. A small door swung open, and, a nearby pony/bat hybrid said, “You are expected by her highness. I advise you do not keep her waiting.”

“Of course,” said John. He wished he’d changed on the train, but he chose to sleep instead.

He and Twilight walked over to the carriage and got in. The door closed and the carriage slowly went down the street. Inside, sitting across from John and Twilight, was Princess Luna herself.

John bowed his head and said in a very respectful and polite tone, “Your majesty,” as Twilight did the same.

Luna turned to John and said, “Thou needn't not to humble oneself. You and Twilight are to be me and my sister’s guest.”

John noticed two things about the Princess. One, she really liked Ye Olde English, and number two, she was… well… John struggled to keep his thoughts clean as he took in the beauty of the moon Princess. He was really considering seeing a psychologist when he got back to Earth.

“We were informed of thou arrival when sister Celestia received Twilight’s letter. Since she would be sleeping, she doth told me to greetest thou and Twilight,” said Luna.

“With all due respect, mum, could you drop the Shakespeare?” said John.

Luna looked somewhat annoyed, but she switched and said, “Is this better?”

John nodded and said, “Where are we going? The palace?”

“You are correct. You will see my sister, and ruler of Equestria, tomorrow,” said Luna.

“Oh, joy…” mumbled John.

“What?” asked Luna.

“Nothing,” responded John. He could tell that tomorrow was going to be a long day...