Where Am I? A Road Warrior in Equestriaby StickyfingazwhiteyChaptersPrologueWhere the hell am I?What the hell are you?PrologueMy name is Michael Pretorius, I'm 27 years old and i've always been more of a loner. Never had many i called 'friend', never was very close to anyone, always preferred to keep to myself and always was finding some new way of keeping a distance between me and everyone else. I never saw this a bad thing, frankly I enjoyed my privacy and I like silence. Peace and quiet was all i ever really wanted from life. Well, that and a V8. Oh my V8... My shining steel angel, my only true and reliable friend in the world. My adoration had stemmed from the Mad Max series, ever since i saw the first movie with Mel Gibson, i knew i needed something with a V8 engine. So I set myself to the task, taking years to assemble my masterpiece; my Magnum Opus: a 1973 Ford Falcon XB GT coupe with a Weison supercharger, modified V8 engine and side exhaust system, spoilers on the hood and boot, 8 pipe side exhaust system, nose cone, slanted headlight covers and topped off with a glossy black coat. 5 years it took me to finish that car, and quite the hefty amount of money, but it was all worth it in the end. At the time I had just graduated from community college, majoring in history and decided to take some time to myself to travel the United States starting from Washington- my current home state, but not my real home. My true home was my birth country of South Africa, my town was Krugersdorp. I don't remember much of it, having never travelled back since my family came to the states, but still I retained my accent. Not an aussie accent, but close enough- at that point along with an injury to my left knee from being hit by a car ( bloody Indians.. can't speak English or drive ) I was already halfway finished, so I bought the full 1981 Mad Max Road Warrior outfit, boots, jacket, trousers and all, constructed my own electrically powered knee brace; for aided movement, and set out where the road would take me. I hadn't been travelling for long, having only made it down to the coast of Southern California when i realized despite my modifications to the engine for a better fuel economy, gas was becoming a problem. Not in terms of price, more so in availability. So after much internet browsing on my cracked and dented smartphone, i came across a machine shop in L.A. which could install two petrol tanks in the back of my car for a fair price. Not much to my surprise, there was a gun store just down the way from the machine shop, it was L.A. after all. Having time to kill, i walked in and immediately was enamored with several pieces in the collection. Specifically the old Russian SKS, the Smith and Wesson 19 and Browning BDM with wooden grips. So one week and several thousand dollars later, i was again away- my car complete, my tanks full and my guns with ammo stored in the back. Little did i know as i drove into the desert of the odd turn my life would take.. and the lesson I would learn on how to be Human, from creatures somewhat inhuman themselves . Where the hell am I?All I remember was this bright flash of light.. The desert. I was driving through the desert and suddenly there was this great blinding purple light. Just like that everything went dark. I woke with a start, gasping and breathing heavily. Immediately i reached for the homemade over/under double barrel i kept at my hip, comforted by its familiar heft. The next, most alarming detail however was that i was outside of my car.. outside altogether. Laying in the sand, cooled by the night air. I looked around and saw nothing but the wide open, stretching for as far as i could see. It was night, but the faint light of the sun was creeping over the horizon. This wasn't looking so great. "Where the hell am I" i asked myself inwardly. More importantly where the fuck is my car?! Okay, let's consolidate what I do know: What's my name? Michael Pretorius. How old am I? 27. I'm in the middle of a god damn desert with no water, no food and not much time before the sun comes up and worse yet- no wheels. I sighed, picked myself up and took a moment to again scan my surroundings. Dry sand, tall spires of rock, nothing else. Wonderful. At least i still had my clothes, the modified MFP patrol uniform. Better than waking up stark naked. I had my shotgun, fully loaded, a knife strapped to the back of my belt and a few spare rounds i kept in a shoulder pouch, just not too sure how much good that will do me out here. Without any further options, i began walking in a general West direction, judging by the position of the rising sun. My car was my life, and my way out of this place; i must need to get it back. All i have to my name now is the clothes on my back, my gun, a crappy smartphone and a very bad mood. Whoever blinded me, ran me off the road and took my car is gonna bleed, slowly and painfully at that. I am really fucking peeved to say the least. With that goal in my mind and an aimless direction guiding me, i proceeded on foot in hopes of finding the nearest town, and if possible a drink. Water or whiskey, either would suffice. One would quell my thirst, one would quell my rage. Or if i find the fucker that took my car, he'd suffice. Whichever came first. What the hell are you?After some time walking, I was starting to lose a sense hope. How long had it been anyway? An hour, 3 maybe. The sun had peaked across the sky now, and the soon to be unbearable heat of the day was beginning to set in. "How the blue fuck did Mel Gibson and Tom Hardy do this?!" I thought to myself. Walking around in the outback wearing tight fitting black leather was nothing short of torturous; if it wasn't so damn dry, i'd have the worst case of swamp nuts known to mankind. Speaking of annoying, I'd yet to see a single road, no less a person. How deep into the desert was I? There was a series of canyons not far from where i walked, maybe that could at least provide some shelter from the sun, so i set out in that direction with hopes of at least finding some higher ground to get a lay of the land. So after what seemed like a sweaty eternity of skirting and climbing rocks, i finally made it to the plateau of the canyons and they ended into a great cliffside, offering a panoramic view from up high and at long last some notion of salvation. I could see in the distance what looked like a town, however blurred and distorted by the heat but i could still clearly see what looked like some sort of orchard to the side- a damn big one at that, almost as big as the town if not even bigger. A faint line that looked like railroad tracks ran parallel to the town. "Good, at least there's some way out of the god forsaken wasteland" I grunted lowly. Now i just needed to climb back down and make my way towards the town that looked formidably distant, but not impossible to reach. It was the only place for miles, if my car was anywhere- it'd be there. Soon i'd likely have back my ride and i'd be on my way again, far away from this goddamn place. If I was really lucky however, I'd find the douche muffin who stole my car and introduce his kneecap to the business end of my double barrel. Yeah, I'll have a real blast in this place. Wherever the hell it is anyway. Some 2 or 3 hours later I was only a short distance to the town, walking amongst the orchards which surprisingly grew apples.. "Odd. I didn't think apples were grown in Southern California" I thought to myself. Nonetheless, i abandoned that query as the orchard ended and the town began, i breathed a sigh of relief having found a respite from the wasteland. As I walked closer still, i looked on in confusion and disbelief at the locals.. The sun must have beat down on me for too long, because this was obviously a hallucination. They were Human, somewhat. They were all various hues of bright pastel colors, standing upright on two legs that ended in wide, flat soles. They were all clothed in what appeared to be 19th century American western garb, and talked amongst each other.. Talked?! These weird, equine like creatures with pointed ears and long snouts, big wide eyes.. Not even California is this odd. Where am I, and what the fuck are these things?!
PrologueMy name is Michael Pretorius, I'm 27 years old and i've always been more of a loner. Never had many i called 'friend', never was very close to anyone, always preferred to keep to myself and always was finding some new way of keeping a distance between me and everyone else. I never saw this a bad thing, frankly I enjoyed my privacy and I like silence. Peace and quiet was all i ever really wanted from life. Well, that and a V8. Oh my V8... My shining steel angel, my only true and reliable friend in the world. My adoration had stemmed from the Mad Max series, ever since i saw the first movie with Mel Gibson, i knew i needed something with a V8 engine. So I set myself to the task, taking years to assemble my masterpiece; my Magnum Opus: a 1973 Ford Falcon XB GT coupe with a Weison supercharger, modified V8 engine and side exhaust system, spoilers on the hood and boot, 8 pipe side exhaust system, nose cone, slanted headlight covers and topped off with a glossy black coat. 5 years it took me to finish that car, and quite the hefty amount of money, but it was all worth it in the end. At the time I had just graduated from community college, majoring in history and decided to take some time to myself to travel the United States starting from Washington- my current home state, but not my real home. My true home was my birth country of South Africa, my town was Krugersdorp. I don't remember much of it, having never travelled back since my family came to the states, but still I retained my accent. Not an aussie accent, but close enough- at that point along with an injury to my left knee from being hit by a car ( bloody Indians.. can't speak English or drive ) I was already halfway finished, so I bought the full 1981 Mad Max Road Warrior outfit, boots, jacket, trousers and all, constructed my own electrically powered knee brace; for aided movement, and set out where the road would take me. I hadn't been travelling for long, having only made it down to the coast of Southern California when i realized despite my modifications to the engine for a better fuel economy, gas was becoming a problem. Not in terms of price, more so in availability. So after much internet browsing on my cracked and dented smartphone, i came across a machine shop in L.A. which could install two petrol tanks in the back of my car for a fair price. Not much to my surprise, there was a gun store just down the way from the machine shop, it was L.A. after all. Having time to kill, i walked in and immediately was enamored with several pieces in the collection. Specifically the old Russian SKS, the Smith and Wesson 19 and Browning BDM with wooden grips. So one week and several thousand dollars later, i was again away- my car complete, my tanks full and my guns with ammo stored in the back. Little did i know as i drove into the desert of the odd turn my life would take.. and the lesson I would learn on how to be Human, from creatures somewhat inhuman themselves .
Where the hell am I?All I remember was this bright flash of light.. The desert. I was driving through the desert and suddenly there was this great blinding purple light. Just like that everything went dark. I woke with a start, gasping and breathing heavily. Immediately i reached for the homemade over/under double barrel i kept at my hip, comforted by its familiar heft. The next, most alarming detail however was that i was outside of my car.. outside altogether. Laying in the sand, cooled by the night air. I looked around and saw nothing but the wide open, stretching for as far as i could see. It was night, but the faint light of the sun was creeping over the horizon. This wasn't looking so great. "Where the hell am I" i asked myself inwardly. More importantly where the fuck is my car?! Okay, let's consolidate what I do know: What's my name? Michael Pretorius. How old am I? 27. I'm in the middle of a god damn desert with no water, no food and not much time before the sun comes up and worse yet- no wheels. I sighed, picked myself up and took a moment to again scan my surroundings. Dry sand, tall spires of rock, nothing else. Wonderful. At least i still had my clothes, the modified MFP patrol uniform. Better than waking up stark naked. I had my shotgun, fully loaded, a knife strapped to the back of my belt and a few spare rounds i kept in a shoulder pouch, just not too sure how much good that will do me out here. Without any further options, i began walking in a general West direction, judging by the position of the rising sun. My car was my life, and my way out of this place; i must need to get it back. All i have to my name now is the clothes on my back, my gun, a crappy smartphone and a very bad mood. Whoever blinded me, ran me off the road and took my car is gonna bleed, slowly and painfully at that. I am really fucking peeved to say the least. With that goal in my mind and an aimless direction guiding me, i proceeded on foot in hopes of finding the nearest town, and if possible a drink. Water or whiskey, either would suffice. One would quell my thirst, one would quell my rage. Or if i find the fucker that took my car, he'd suffice. Whichever came first.
What the hell are you?After some time walking, I was starting to lose a sense hope. How long had it been anyway? An hour, 3 maybe. The sun had peaked across the sky now, and the soon to be unbearable heat of the day was beginning to set in. "How the blue fuck did Mel Gibson and Tom Hardy do this?!" I thought to myself. Walking around in the outback wearing tight fitting black leather was nothing short of torturous; if it wasn't so damn dry, i'd have the worst case of swamp nuts known to mankind. Speaking of annoying, I'd yet to see a single road, no less a person. How deep into the desert was I? There was a series of canyons not far from where i walked, maybe that could at least provide some shelter from the sun, so i set out in that direction with hopes of at least finding some higher ground to get a lay of the land. So after what seemed like a sweaty eternity of skirting and climbing rocks, i finally made it to the plateau of the canyons and they ended into a great cliffside, offering a panoramic view from up high and at long last some notion of salvation. I could see in the distance what looked like a town, however blurred and distorted by the heat but i could still clearly see what looked like some sort of orchard to the side- a damn big one at that, almost as big as the town if not even bigger. A faint line that looked like railroad tracks ran parallel to the town. "Good, at least there's some way out of the god forsaken wasteland" I grunted lowly. Now i just needed to climb back down and make my way towards the town that looked formidably distant, but not impossible to reach. It was the only place for miles, if my car was anywhere- it'd be there. Soon i'd likely have back my ride and i'd be on my way again, far away from this goddamn place. If I was really lucky however, I'd find the douche muffin who stole my car and introduce his kneecap to the business end of my double barrel. Yeah, I'll have a real blast in this place. Wherever the hell it is anyway. Some 2 or 3 hours later I was only a short distance to the town, walking amongst the orchards which surprisingly grew apples.. "Odd. I didn't think apples were grown in Southern California" I thought to myself. Nonetheless, i abandoned that query as the orchard ended and the town began, i breathed a sigh of relief having found a respite from the wasteland. As I walked closer still, i looked on in confusion and disbelief at the locals.. The sun must have beat down on me for too long, because this was obviously a hallucination. They were Human, somewhat. They were all various hues of bright pastel colors, standing upright on two legs that ended in wide, flat soles. They were all clothed in what appeared to be 19th century American western garb, and talked amongst each other.. Talked?! These weird, equine like creatures with pointed ears and long snouts, big wide eyes.. Not even California is this odd. Where am I, and what the fuck are these things?!
