Rain poured from the sky – it was an unusually dreary day for a normally happy place, but it wasn’t all bad. For some it just gave an excuse to spend all day inside and crack open a book. Twilight was one such pony, and for her, researching new spells while her adorable dragon assistant whipped up tea was her idea of a perfect day.
The book she was reading on this particular rainy day was about advanced teleportation, written for those that wished to travel farther than their own world. Twilight noticed it in the Starswirl the Bearded library wing and knew ever since she saw the worn, dark brown cover that it was meant to be read by her. Ever since her first visit to that library she has been fascinated with the knowledge contained within these books, and with Celestia’s permission she was allowed to check out books without any fuss from the guards.
“Interesting,” Twilight murmured. She had just come across a section that recounted Starswirl’s experience in a mysterious world filled with bipedal creatures that used their forelimbs to wield long wooden sticks, which they used to project small metallic balls at dangerous speeds to destroy each other. The section also described how Starswirl came in contact with one of their leaders, George Washington, whom at the time was fighting a war against tyranny. Apparently, Starswirl disguised himself as an ordinary war horse on their planet and helped George win the war with Starswirl’s magic. Although there was much more that was needed to be done, Starswirl knew he couldn’t stay in that realm. His findings would have to be recorded so that future generations would have knowledge of this planet and the many other worlds he had discovered. So with a heavy heart he left the rebels to their plans, and nopony had ever returned since.
“The book even shows me how to perform the spell. Amazing! Imagine, after all these years, nopony has had any contact with this world. So much must have changed since Starswirl’s time,” Twilight said to Spike as he entered the room. Spike laid down a hot cup of tea next to the unicorn, which she immediately started drinking from.
“I don’t know Twilight. Those creatures sound pretty violent,” Spike pointed out.
“We don’t know that Spike. What if the rebels won the war? Couldn’t there be peace if they won against the bad guys?” Twilight responded. “I just have to know, and until I work out this spell, I don’t think I’ll be able to get any sleep.”
Spike merely rolled his eyes at Twilight’s typical attitude. It was always the same with her. Once she got started on a project, she wouldn’t stop until it was complete. “Just hurry up so we can go to bed. It’s getting pretty late and you need to go to that concert tomorrow.” With that, he waddled up the stairs to catch some shut eye.
“Drat, how could I have forgotten about the Royal Canterlot concert?” Twilight said to herself. She didn’t want to look tired at the concert, what with all her friends, the princesses, and her brother being there. But, she also didn’t want to go to bed without knowing what happened to the mysterious creatures. “Maybe I’ll just pop in for a teeny sec to take a look, and once I get a view, I’ll come right back.” It seemed like a good idea to Twilight. After all, how long could it possibly take?
She skimmed through the instructions. The spell appeared to be difficult in concept, but quite simple to produce in practice. Quickly, she got up and made the necessary arrangements, drawing the symbol shown in the book and mumbling the words printed underneath. Her horn glowed, the telltale sign of a spell being cast. Everything seemed to be going according to how the book said it should go until a beam of light shot out of her horn and blasted a hole in her roof.
“What was that noise?! Did a burglar just break in?!” Spike shouted, woken up by the noise created by the destruction of the roof. Twilight gave him a sheepish grin when he appeared on the stairs, guilt written all over her face.
“Perhaps we should go to bed now?” Twilight asked.
_____________________________________________________________________________
My life hasn’t changed much since I left the New York Police Department. There were still shoot outs, drug abuse, and death – That would never change. Hell, I was even involved with some of it. After the death of Mona Sax and my ally turned foe, Vladimir Lem, things only got worse. Sure, now I was innocent in the eyes of the law concerning Winterson, but that would never wash away my true crime - The crime I commit every day by simply existing.
The beer only made my frown deepen with its refusal to dull my memories, or maybe it was just the fact my piss would’ve taste better. Bad beer really sowers my day - Maybe if I got ordered another one glass it would taste better, but that’s what I said after the last one.
“Excuse me bartender, can I have glass?” The bartender turned and looked at me with his lazy eye. He seemed like the type of person who was destined to be in an old worn out place like this. He appeared to be as old and ugly as the bar was. The type of person you couldn’t imagine ever being a child.
“Think you’ve had enough. Anymore n you’ll pass out on my counter like you did yesterday Max.” It’s true; I’ve been drinking more than I usually have recently. Maybe it was time to splash the cold water of reality on my face and make something out of my life, like my wife knew I could. Maybe if she was here, death wouldn’t be so much a part of my life. But, nothing ever gets done with maybes.
I didn’t say anything. I simply took the money out of my wallet and left it on the counter, got up and began to walk towards the exit. The bartender didn’t care, and I always left too much anyway. Life has a way of making the simplest things difficult though, even if it’s something as easy as walking out the door. I had almost reached the doorway when group of punks muscled their way inside.
“I told you, boss. This is exactly the kind of place you said you liked to hang out.”
It wasn’t too hard to see who ring leader was. If the expensive leather jacket and overly gelled hair didn’t give him away, his attitude did. “Yeah, I guess this place is pretty cool. I like how the place smells all old and rustic.” How typical of New Jersey to give a guy with refined taste such an annoying accent.
I stayed to the right of the doorway, waited patiently for them to move hoping not to bring too much attention to myself. New Jersey kid didn’t want to let that hang though. As he searched the scenic room his eyes inevitably fell on to me. Surprisingly, he seemed to know who I was, if the look of recognition he gave me was any indication.
“Look who we have here. The Legendary Max Payne - The cop who single handedly destroyed Vladimir and his gang.” He sneered in contempt. Apparently he didn’t think much of me, and to be honest I wouldn’t have either. Who’d be afraid of a middle aged man stumbling out of a watering hole? “I don’t want an old relic like you hangin around here Maxy boy. So, I think I oughta give you a fair warnin. Don’t come around my new hang out again, or else you’ll be sorry.” He didn’t need to speak twice. I just met him and I already regretted it.
I felt my pocket for my gun, just in case these boys felt like picking a fight. Luckily it was there, along with my painkillers. It would be all too easy to put a bullet in these numskulls head, and they wouldn’t have time to blink, let alone pull their own guns out, but I didn’t want any more bloodshed. Mr. Big Shot was too stupid to be anyone important, but was probably a spoiled child of one of the many wealthy crime lords that ruled this city. If I took a shot, it would be my last night in New Jersey. At least they had the decency to get out of the way when I walked through.
When you think you’ve hit rock bottom the floor seems to disappear, and you fall even further than you think possible. Here I was, standing out in the middle of especially stormy and moody night, popping pills to feed my ever growing addiction. No job, no sense of place, no solace, it made it hard to believe that I could fall any deeper into the hole I made myself. Boy was I ever wrong.
Letting the rain fall on my face, I looked up into the sky. Each drop felt like a tear, maybe an angel was crying for me. If they were, then these were tears of rage then, because the lighting started picking up. Thunder clapped and shook my foundation, telling me it was time to go home, never got the chance though. A bright light lit up the street as a lightning bolt struck my body. At the time it never occurred to me how strange it was that lightning could strike someone in a place like New Jersey when there were lightning rods built into the sky scrapers to prevent exactly such an occurrence. The pain blocked any conceivable thought though, but I’m sure if I could’ve, I would have thought, “Just my sort of luck.”
