Jingoistic Sentry’s cutie mark was in microbiology, an exceedingly useless talent in a world where higher education was a thing of the past. A world turned into a mammoth wasteland, eons ago, by the climax of a war between definitive good and evil.
So poor Jingoistic’s special talent had been left unfulfilled, as the stallion had never graced a university, or stepped hoof in a proper laboratory, or even really understood the term microbiology fully.
Actually, he was pretty sure that he was illiterate. However, that was the norm for a world which didn’t have room for literate individuals.
Instead, he was just that weird stallion who had a science-y cutie mark but couldn’t actually do science.
This had left a pretty large, and metaphoric, beaker-sized hole in his heart. And in a desperate attempt to fill it, he had strived to do all kinds of science-y things.
First, he had tried to calculate bullet trajectories. However, that was physics, and his poor accuracy, both with a gun and a spreadsheet, killed many lab assistants.
Next, he had tried his hoof at making chems. However, that was chemistry and apparently making drugs took a lot more etiquette than just mixing Med-X and Radaway. Sadly, he hadn’t realized that until a swarm of test subjects had been lost to his trial batch.
Finally, he had attempted to conduct a case study on deathclaws. Unfortunately, that was just plain old biology, and of all his attempts, this one finally ended his dreams of becoming a scientist. But only after he was finished burying a rather large collection of junior researchers.
Still life wasn’t too terrible. His years of wandering, and attempting to recruit lab assistants, had given him a pretty good grasp on the art of bullshitting. With this, he had managed to land himself a pretty sweet middle management position at a niche firm which did a lot of local consulting work.
Oh sure, the firm in question was a raider gang, the middle management position was that of gang boss, and the consultant jobs usually involved him shooting something. But hey, work was work and somepony needed to put food on the table.
And it turned out, that in a world like this, that was the next best thing to fulfilling your destiny.
Plus, not all the jobs were so bad. For example, today had him leading a small team of go getters and dynamic individuals on an inspection of a recently acquired stable and its talent.
“Gods, I hope that freak is in here,” Knife’s Edge said. “I’m starving.”
So what if some of those go getters just happened to also be cannibals. Everypony had their flaws.
Actually, now that Jingo really thought about it, a lot of ponies had that specific flaw, himself included. Though, who didn’t like to dabble in taboo every once in awhile?
Jingo’s gaze was fixed straight ahead, staring down the long corridor his crew traversed. It was humid in here with the whole place reeking of moisture and mold.
This was his first visit to one of these facilities and he found it incredibly eerie. It was just so quiet with only the sound of marching hooves and rattling saddles providing noise. Occasionally, this monotony would be broken by the creaking of metals and ceramics that were in desperate need of maintenance.
On top of that, all the lighting had been dimmed from ages of use, casting the whole facility in this pitiful glow which seemed to elongate every shadow and turn them into twisted and darkened monstrosities.
The LSD in Jingo’s system wasn’t helping with this imagery in the slightest.
Look… Jingo might’ve had a couple of vices. Ok?
His crew passed through yet another door, and like all those before, it slid open on its own, crashing against its frame and revealing yet another empty storage locker.
Even though literally every other door had done this, it was still enough to make Jingo scream and leap away in surprise.
And just like every time before, his crew laughed at him for it.
“Jumping at shadows, Jingy?” Nine Millimetre asked.
“You’re such a pussy,” Knife’s Edge chided.
Jingo merely grunted and took note of their abrasive language. He’d have a word with HR when he got back to the office. This type of language could not be tolerated in a modern working environment.
Somewhere up ahead a can hit the floor and his entire team immediately stopped. It would seem that Jingo’s fears were contagious as five well armed ponies stared ahead, daring the emptiness to take action.
Instead, the darkness remained motionless and, for several horrifying seconds, only the sound of panicked breathing accompanied them.
Eventually they calmed as a few relieved chuckles rippled through Jingo’s unit.
Nine Millimetre snorted. “Look what you’ve done, Jingy. You’ve got us jumping at our own fucking shadows now.”
Albion Tyranny threw back her head and laughed. “Look, if I had a shadow as big as yours, I’d be jumping at it to.”
Jingo winced.
As if on cue, Nine Millimetre wheeled around and growled. “Want to say that again, asshole?”
“Oh, I forgot that you’re stupid too. I’m trying to say you’re fat, you fatass.”
Nine Millimetre cocked her rifle. “One more word and I’ll kill you and your entire family.”
Albion grinned. “You’re literally married to my brother. So go right ahead, you fucking idiot.”
Jingo stepped forward and used his magic to shove both of his employees apart. “Look ladies, I know this whole inspection has us on edge. But can we please just try and stay professional here? Let’s just get the job done, finish writing up our reports, and be back home in time for happy hour.”
The two mares glared at each other, standing on the precipice of full-blown conflict.
“First round of drinks are on me?” Jingo desperately offered.
This actually seemed to work as Albion turned away, diffusing the situation immediately.
Another dispute successfully handled by the wasteland’s best middle manager. A pony who showed as much tact for interpersonal issues as he did with his machine gun. A pony whose affinity for reports was…
Nine Millimetre’s rifle barked as the back of Albion’s head exploded into a hundred tiny giblets which flew in a dozen different directions, spraying the hallway with a Tarantino-level of blood.
Everypony just kind of stood there, watching as Albion’s body crashed to the floor in a heap of twitching limbs and gore.
“Whoops,” Nine Millimetre muttered, wiping a piece of grey off her face. “Guess my fat must’ve triggered my battlesaddle.”
Ok, sometimes interpersonal problems ended in layoffs. Jingo didn’t enjoy firing anypony but he prided himself in being able to make these tough decisions when they cropped up.
“Alright crew,” he said. “Enough gawking. Let’s try and keep our eye on the prize.”
The remaining raiders nodded, and together, they ventured deeper into the stable.
Why were they even in a stable?
Well news popped up saying that a strange creature had been spotted near here. Something that wasn’t equine, gryphon, or a member of any known race. Yet, it showed a certain exotic intelligence.
Now Iron Resolve, Jingo’s employer, prided himself on being a forward-thinking individual. So, he desperately wanted to acquire this creature and make the mother of all diversity-hires.
Something about reserving a special spot at the dinner table for this fellow. This was pretty high praise, considering the type of stuff Iron had at his banquets.
The four raiders exited the corridor and entered into an atrium. The room was filled with piles of rubbish and rubble, formed into mounds of debris which made travel difficult. Adjacent to the atrium were a series of others rooms, each paired with a window which allowed the crew to look inside. The rooms included a medical facility, bar, common area, and some type of shop.
The sound of another can clattering to the floor echoed from deep within the bar. The raiders quivered at the sound, growing increasingly tense with each passing second.
“What do you think this thing is?” Lilac Pedal asked.
Jingo shook his head. “No idea, but if Iron wants us to scout this guy for a position, I’m not telling him no.”
“Scout him for a position?” Knife asked, looking to Nine Millimetre.
Nine Millimetre shrugged, and circled a hoof over her ear.
With that, Jingo turned away from them and forced his way into the bar.
Behind him, he heard the murmur of his employees. They were talking about somepony who was abusing drugs and losing their grip on reality.
He felt sorry for whatever poor sap they were talking about. Maybe he’d try and put together an intervention when he got home. He was pretty familiar with the process. After all, he’d been to quite a few himself.
As they delved deeper into the bar, they found the place in an obvious state of use. A small fire had been lit in the centre of the room, fueled by whatever flammable material was present.
Besides the flames, there were other signs of a recent occupant. A half-finished glass of brownish alcohol rested upon the bar, with an ashtray beside it. In this ashtray was a recently smoked cigarette with tiny wisps of smoke pooling out of its still glowing tip.
The scent of cooked meat mingled with tobacco and stale piss, giving the room a particularly downtrodden vibe. This was surprising, considering that the rest of the stable had been left in rather sterile condition, even with all the damage done.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Lilac sang.
“We don’t want to hurt you.” Nine Millimetre chuckled. “We just want to chop you up, boil your bones, and put you in a stew.”
Knife’s Edge grinned hysterically. “And rape you!”
An uncomfortable silence settled into place as everypony stopped and stared at Knife.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jingo asked.
Knife looked defensive. “W-what?”
Nine Millimetre rolled her eyes. “Every time we go on one of these things you always mention rape. It’s really fucking weird, dude.”
“And it kind of makes me uncomfortable,” Lilac added.
Nine Millimetre nodded in agreement.
“Oh, come on, we’re raiders,” Knife said. “You were literally just talking about cannibalism.”
Jingo snorted. “Yeah and even we still have a pretty firm grasp on the basics of consent. So, please try and grow up.”
Knife’s ear drooped. “But…but my tragic backstory.”
Lilac groaned. “Here we go again.”
“When I was a colt, growing up in…”
A door at the far end of the room slid open, squealing against its rusted frame.
All four raiders whipped around to face it, leveling their weapons upon the figure who entered.
To call this creature strange would’ve been an understatement. For starters, it walked upon its two hind legs and stood several feet higher than even the largest of ponies. Its frame was thin, supporting a body which looked incredible fragile and lanky. The only fur upon it was a tuff of curly brown hair on its head, while the rest of its body was covered by waxen skin
What it lacked it fur however, it made up for in clothing. Jingo could remember working for a cartel of high-society ponies, and not even they wore this much attire.
From the neck down this creature was covered, with the main articles being a pair of battered blue jeans and a brown bomber jacket. The jacket was popped open and underneath was a baby blue undershirt with text upon it.
Sadly, Jingo couldn’t read.
Thankfully, Lilac could. “Honk if you want me to re-release Skyrim?” She blinked. “What the fuck does that mean?”
The figure studied the four raiders through its cold hazel eyes.
For a second, neither party moved. The raiders were shocked by the oddity of this creature, and the creature must’ve been shaken by the sight of eight guns aimed at it.
After a few awkward moments, the creature spoke. “Did you know that these vaults were never meant to protect people?”
Its language was Equestrian, spoken without a hint of an accent.
“I mean, some of them did, but the vast majority were test beds for social experiments. For example, this vaul-…er…stable was used to test the possibilities of making ponies believe in a monotheistic religion. They rioted and tore up the place after ten years. The idea was so crazy to them that they would rather die than succumb to their new belief.”
The creature shook its head and chuckled. “It’s funny, considering that Stabletec was actually right on this one. There is only one god.”
“Who are you?” Jingo asked.
The creature’s lips turned upwards into a devilish grin. “Todd. Todd Howard.”
What a weird fucking name.
Nine Millimetre cocked her gun. “Well pleasure to meet you, Todd. Now, how about you come with us?”
He looked at Nine Millimetre for a moment, studying her.
“No,” he calmly stated.
Now, Nine Millimetre wasn’t a pony who really took no for an answer. So, she blasted a hole in Todd’s shoulder. However, he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, the raiders watched in horror as the bullet hole slowly closed before them, returning to a perfectly untarnished shirt within a matter of seconds.
It was now Todd’s turn to react as he raised a hand, aiming it at Nine Millimetre.
“Noclip,” he said.
Jingo watched in horror as Nine Millimetre slipped through the solid floor, screaming in terror as she fell.
“How did you do that?” Jingo frantically asked.
Todd looked to his hand, then up at him, his face now an emotionless mask. “Console commands.”
“What?”
“Well let me put it this way, the game was rigged from the start.” Todd winced. “Wait, shit, I didn’t write that one.”
“Write which one?” Knife asked, shaking his head. “You don’t look like you can write shit.”
Todd snorted. “Tell that to the tens of millions still playing the Elder Scrolls Online.”
Lilac stared agape at the floor. “Nine Millimetre!” She growled, whipping around to face Todd. “Bring! Her! Back! You need to bring her back!”
Todd shrugged and snapped his fingers.
Reality itself seemed to just pop as a bundle of gore and dismembered limbs fell from the ceiling, crashing to the floor with a wet meaty thomp. Red flew in every direction, coating the surviving ponies in viscera.
Somehow the mess managed to avoid Todd.
Lilac’s eyes widen. “No! No, no, no, no.”
She levelled her guns. “I’m going to make you pay for that!”
Jingo winced. “That’s obviously not going to work, Li-”
Her twin machine guns burst to life, slamming round after round of hot munitions into Todd Howard’s body. For his credit, Todd now actually flinched at every single impact. However, when Lilac’s guns ran dry, he was still standing.
Then slowly, his swiss cheese body began to recover. His wounds all snapped shut and healed simultaneously. Within a minute, it was like nothing had even happened in the first place.
“H-how?” Lilac stammered.
Todd bitterly chuckled. “I’m a plot essential character.”
He now looked downright pissed, as his eyes began to glow a hellish red.
Obviously, the raiders didn’t know this, but this was a look Todd usually reserved for people who mentioned Hideo Kojima in his presence.
Twin laser beams erupted from his vision, each aimed at Lilac. She stood motionless, frozen with pure terror. However, Todd proved merciful as his beams instead hit her guns, turning them to molten slag.
“Do you mortals honestly think you can harm me?” he asked.
It was not the voice of a man but that of a god, echoing through the entire fabric of reality, traveling upon the strings which held the universe together.
Todd raised his hand again, and this time, Knife began to float.
He panicky flailed his limbs about, trying his best to catch leverage and pull himself free. However, this proved futile as he remained firmly in Todd’s grasp. He stared at this god in absolute terror, pleading with his eyes.
Todd hummed and hawed, examining his captive closely. Then he began to toy with Knife.
It began mercifully enough, as he simply started to vibrate Knife. Yet these vibrations soon began to mount, growing in intensity and soon beginning to affect Knife’s whole body, as his limbs started to stretch and contort. Soon, he began to scream in agonizing pain as Todd stretched him further and further.
However, Todd wasn’t letting him die, instead keeping him alive in order to subject him to a level of torture that no living soul should ever have to bear.
The vibrations continued to grow, becoming more and more intense, until Knife was unrecognizable. He was now just a series of stretched muscles and sinew morphed into a ball of physical impossibility. A gurgled wheeze was the only sign that he was still alive.
Todd then eased his grip, and that’s when all hell broke loose.
The ball, formally known as Knife’s Edge, flew around the room. Random spears tore off his flesh and collided with objects, sending them zooming through the air. This sphere moved sporadically and collided with everything that wasn’t bolted to the ground. Bottles went flying, stools careening, and it even hit Lilac, sending her arcing through the air.
She landed hard upon her neck and there was a sickened crunch as something snapped. When her body finally came to rest, it was now motionless.
Jingo threw himself hard to the floor, prostrating before Todd. He was quivering, shaking with fear.
“Please,” he murmured. “Please, let me live.”
When he looked up, Todd stood over him, laughing maniacally.
Todd then raised both hands over his head and from them spawned a single cabbage.
It landed hard upon the floor, bounced, and rolled out of Jingo’s vision.
Then there was another, and another, and another, and…
Suddenly, a whole sea of cabbages came spewing from Todd’s hands, filling the room rapidly with leafy greens.
However, as more cabbages came into reality, Jingo noticed something bizarre.
It was as if reality itself had turned into a slideshow. The usually smooth 23 frames per second, that was reality, now chugged, flashing random still images of green terror every couple of seconds.
All the while Jingo screamed. He screamed and screamed.
Until finally, the world went black.
Chapter 2 - Crash to Desktop
As Jingo awoke, he was momentarily startled by just how green the world was. He felt a panicked yelp bottled up in his throat, as fear began to claw at him. His encounter with the cabbages was still fresh in his terror-stricken mind.
However, his nerves rapidly settled when he realized that this wasn’t the accursed vegetable but something else.
Was this grass?
He had never seen grass before, but he remembered stories of it. Tales from the past when the world literally grew food out of the ground and not everyone resorted to cannibalism.
It was a fantastic sight, but also oddly peculiar. Something was strange about this place. And not just the alienness of it.
It took Jingo a moment to realize what it was. This landscape may look beautiful and lively but it was even deader than home. There was no sound here, no wind, no insects buzzing, not even the sound of his own breathing.
Was he even breathing?
He attempted to inhale and nothing entered his lungs.
Was he dead?
He didn’t feel dead.
Jingo took a closer look at his surroundings. Grass filled the immediate area and the only distinctive feature was a nearby hill. The grass was tall and unkept, reaching up to his torso.
Yet there was no sensation of it upon his flesh. Jingo was notoriously ticklish, yet the grass against his sensitive stomach couldn’t so much as illicit a stifled giggle.
Above him was a clear blue sky, with fluffy white clouds frozen in place. Yet there was no sun, even though it was daytime. Even with this oddity, the climate here still beat the hell out of the dreariness back home.
Lastly, there were mountains in the distance, these purplish snow-capped peaks far away. However, they looked more like an image, with no distinctive shape or definition to them. It was like someone had stretched a picture of mountains over the horizon.
This was his reality now.
“Jingo,” a voice called.
Not quite called. It spoke to him, bypassing his ears and going straight into his brain.
“Who’s there?” he asked.
His voice was silent, his vocal cord failing to produce noise. Yet, he still replied on some subconscious level.
“Look up.”
He did and the sky now bore the ever-present face of Todd Howard, looking down upon him. Even without the sun, there was a heavenly glow around his face.
“Todd?” Jingo asked.
“Please, Todd is so formal. You may call me God Howard.”
“That… somehow feel more formal.”
“Shut up.”
And Jingo did.
“Now, I have decided to take mercy upon you. You were not like those other raiders. You have dreams, ambitions. Tell me Jingo, what do you want from life?”
That was an interesting question. Happiness? Love? Comfort?
All of those were good answers, but they weren’t really what Jingo wanted.
“A corner office,” he finally said.
God chuckled. “And I can give you that. Maybe even one with a nice view.”
“Can I ask you a question, God?”
“What is it?”
“Why were you in that stable?”
God’s expression turned serious for a moment. “I have heard about your universe in the past. At first, the concept amused me. So, I dabbled in it, wrote a little story called Project Horizons.”
“Wrote? You’re telling me that my entire world is just some story?”
God nodded. “It is. A story which I think could be commercially successful if it was properly altered and adapted. I could see it now, a PS4, Xbox, and PC release.”
Jingo was silent. This was some heavy stuff.
“Now why was I in that stable?” God asked. “Well I wanted to experience your world first hand. To get a personal feel for it. And I must say, the story-tellers who craft your reality would be a perfect fit for writing for Bethesda’s games.”
“Huh,” Jingo said.
“Now about that corner office.”
“What about it?”
“I can only promise a corner office to senior management. Do you think you’re capable of that level of responsibility?”
Senior management!
It was a dream come true for Jingoistic Sentry, the soon to be former middle manager.
“Of course,” he beamed.
God smiled. “Then I need you to do one little thing for me, to prove it. It’s a bit of hazing ritual I’m afraid.”
Unseen fingers snapped and once again darkness graced Jingo.
The last thing he heard was a horn honking in the distance.
