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             Worlds Collide: The Clash of Fate             
                      -by WordShock-                       
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                Prologue: One Bad Morning.                 
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Prologue: One Bad Morning.
Sweat dripped from his brow. He rounded the corner, his feet skidding against the curve as he had taken a right turn as he ran. Wheezing, panting, he turned his head looking behind him. Hope entered his eyes as he saw his apartment complex on the horizon. The familiar red brick building had never looked so good to him before.
His vision had begun to blur, but kept up the pace. He noticed the crimson pool forming on his stomach. The droplets of the fluids fell onto the ground as he ran. It came from creature in his arms. He pressed it against his chest tightly to lessen the bleeding. He didn’t know what this creature was, but given what he had just seen that was the least of his problems.
He should have left her there. He could have just ran away, but something in his mind won’t let him do it. She lifeless in his arms. The large gash on her chest was the source of the bleeding. She was some kind of purple pony thing with wings and a horn. A strange mark was on her hind quarters. It was purple star with white tiny stars all around it. Her right wing was bent in multiple places.
The only luck he was having at this point was that the streets were empty. It was still early in the morning. He could see his breath as he ran his lungs were beginning to hurt as he ran towards the building. He saw the black staircase that always walked up. He rapidly ascended his feet slipped against a step crashing his knee into the metal step in front of him.
“FUCK.” He cried out almost.
He lost his grip on the creature in his arms. He got back up on his feet shaking off the pain. The adrenaline pumping throughout his body helped with that. He got back up to full speed again as he rushed through each staircase until he was on the top floor. His eyes almost missed his apartment number. The brown door with the black numbers 310 was quickly bashed against.
The door didn’t budge. He recalled that he had locked it when left this morning.
“FUCK.” He swore again.
As held her with his left arm against his chest, the warm of her blood was seeping into his shirt. He fished the keys out his pants pocket. He fumbled with them for what felt like an eternity, until finally got hold of the house key. He struggled with fitting to get the key in the lock for a few moments. Finally, he was successful and unlocked it. He pushed the door open as it slammed against the wall. He made a dash towards the small dining table near the kitchen.
He placed her gently down on the table. He stared at her for a moment. His mind went blank erasing any reason or logic that was once there.
“Now what…” He thought.
He realized that he should be doing something. He couldn’t think straight as he ran into his kitchen looking around for anything that could help. He remembered the first aid kit his mother forced on him when left the house. He flung open the cabin doors at the bottom of his sink in the kitchen. He desperately searched through mess until he had found the box.
He dashed back over the creature. Snapping the small white box open. He took out the gauze, the first aid spray and medical tape. He gazed at her puzzled. That’s when he recalled he didn’t have any first aid experience for repairing a wounded wing. He reached for his smartphone quickly hitting the internet app. The page slowly began to load in.
“COME ON, COME ON.” He mumbled.
The search bar finally loaded and he quickly googled how to bandage a damaged wing. He found a website that would lead him step by step on how to do so.
“Ok. Ok. Step one, disinfect the wounded area.”
He lifted her wing up to get a closer look at the wound on her chest. She winced in pain. The wound didn’t look deep, but it was long against her small frame. He picked up the disinfecting spray it shook in his hand. He pushed down against the nozzle as the liquid sprayed against the open wound in a swiping motion.
As spray made contact with her wound, the pony wince in pain again. She let out a deep gasp as her horn began to glow a transparent purple. The man looked down at the strange glow that shined brightly. He stumbled down to the floor with his expression bewildered. A thin purple beam shot from her horn that blast against the fair walls of his apartment leaving blacken mark.
He turned his head slowly to the smoking hole on his wall. Then he looked back at the creature who had settled back down.
“Ooo…Ooo…this is bad. THIS VERY BAD.” He murmured to himself picking up the medical tape.
He would slowly put tape against the wound pulling it together. The whole time he was eyeing the horn for anymore glowing. He followed the set of instructions on his phone carefully wrapping her wing against her side along with the chest wound. He would tape the gaze to itself making sure it was tight, but not too tight as to cause pain. He managed to stop the bleeding, but he looked down. He noticed blood was all over his chest, his hands, and the table.
He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. He let out a deep breath. He decided to walk down the long hallway turning to the first door on his right. The somewhat cracked marble walls welcome him. He stood in front of the sink. The mirror above it was now staring back at him. He didn’t look at it. He just shakily squeezed soap into his hands, running warm water over them. He stared at pale red water as it drained into the sink. The blood continued to remain stained on his hands. It was almost as if he couldn’t wash it off. It wasn’t coming off quick enough.
He held the sink for a moment before looking up into the mirror. Sweat dripped from his tanned skin. Brown eyes frantically darted his surroundings. He took a towel from under the sink and wiped his hands off. Then he would wipe the sweat off his face. He let out another breath standing there for a moment. Steeling himself against his emotions.
He took the towel away from his face, running his red stained hands through his shadowy locks. He looked at the blood-soaked black shirt he was wearing. He quickly exited the bathroom stepping back out into the hallway, before entering his bedroom.
It was just a tiny space with his bed, TV, computer and dresser. He B-lined for the dress rapidly disrobing, throwing the shirt onto the pile of clothes that was in the corner of the room. He would slip on fresh brown shirt. He swiftly walked back into the living room. He spotted the creature still on his table. She was still breathing, that gave him relief.
He was really hoping that this was some kind of a fever dream. He paced back and forth in his living room. He glances over at pony from time to time. Nothing was coming to his mind. He was drawing blanks. He ran his fingers through his hair and began pulling on it.
He paused as he looked down at the trail of blood on his floor. He darted back into the kitchen grabbing a mop, he soaked in some soapy water from the sink, before beginning his work. He mopped up the trail to his door. He heavily swallowed, his hand reaching for the knob, before slowly opening the front door to his apartment.
He glanced from side to side. There was no movement in the hall. No sign of life. He took his mop while carefully, but swiftly, cleaned away the trail of blood that lead from the top step of the staircase to his apartment. He hastily ran back into his apartment. He shut the door and locked both set of locks.
He turned his head towards the glass sliding door that lead to his balcony. He dragged his feet while he inched his way towards it. He would gently move the blinds out of the way to look outside. The balcony gave him perfect view of the parking lot. There was nothing there. He let out a sigh of relief as he locked the sliding door.
His attention was back on the pony like creature still on his table. He would carefully pick her up and carry her to his room. Opening the door with his foot, he gracefully put her on the bed.
“Alright don’t move. Stay there. No more blasting things please.” He said to her.
She was out cold; Her breathing was shallow from what he could see. He retreated to his door, keeping his eyes on her as he exited the room.   
Entering his living room, he sat down on his small brown couch. He staring off into the empty void that was the off screen of the TV. He didn’t turn it on, but he just stared at it. He reached for his phone. The cracked screen of his smartphone welcomes him to the decision he had to make.
Should he call the cops? Should he call anyone? Would anyone believe he had magical wounded creature in his bedroom? What if they got here and it was gone? Perhaps, he had gone crazy and he was just imagining shit. He peered at the phone for what felt like hours. Even if all of this was real, he knew if he called the cops, the government would get involved. They would take them both away to never be seen again.
An idea clicked in his head. He went through his contacts before pausing at a certain number. He pushed the call button. It began to ring. He shifted from his seat, beginning the pace from before. Finally, he heard the sound of someone on the other end.
“Ciao, this is Caesar.” The voice came through the phone.
“OH, THANK GOD CAESAR! I NEED…” He stated before he was cut off by the rest of the message.
“Currently, I’m busy attending to some business. If the matter is urgent, leave a callback number and I’ll get back to you as soon as a can. Signorinas, specifically.” The voicemail said.
He threw up his hands gritting his teeth. Out of all the times he needed him, he wasn’t there.
“GODDAMMIT!!! CAESAR THE ONE TIME I NEED YOU PICK UP THE PHONE. EVERY OTHER TIME YOU BUG THE SHIT OUT OF ME!! WHY ARE YOU NOT PICKING UP THE PHONE? I NEED HELP!!!” He shouted into the phone as he ended the call.
That was the only idea he had. He couldn’t give up. Caesar was the only person he can rely on for help. He quickly went to his text messages. His fingers flying as he typed up this message.
“CAESAR. NEED ASSISTANCE. SEND HELP. IN BIG TROUBLE. HELPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!”
He sent it; all he can do is wait. He placed his phone the table, then headed into the kitchen and fixed himself a glass of water. He finished in a single gulp, letting out a large gasp when he was done.
He headed back to his room. Gradually, he opened the door. The pony was where he had left her. She let out whimpering noises as he entered the room again. Her face drowning in sweat and a little flushed with red. He raced over to her, resting the back of his hand against her head. She burning up.
“Fuck.” He grumbled as he exited the room. “If it not one thing today, it’s another.”   
He rushed back into the bathroom , flinging open the cabinet doors. He spotted what he needed. It was genetic brand of fever reducer. He didn’t know if this medicine would even help her, but he didn’t want her to just run a fever and die. He raced back into the room with a cold wash rag in hand.
He lifted up her head, before slipping the water and pills in her mouth. She was at least able to drink, as she was able to swallow the water and pills. Folding the rag up, he placed it on her forehead. He didn’t know if it would be worse or better if she killed over. But, at this point he had already suffered enough if he was going to just let her die.
He was going to let her rest. Maybe if she woke up, she would able to tell him what was going on. Hopefully, Caesar got his message and he could help out. He was just gonna wait it out. It was the only rational decision he could make at the moment.
He walked back into his living room his heart still racing. “Calm down, Jack. Calm down.” He tried to reason himself.
He decided to turn on the TV. Maybe watch a movie. That thought was suddenly robbed from him as he heard it. A tapping sound. He paused for a moment just listening as the tapping repeated itself. He swallowed as he searched in the distance of the noise was. It was coming from his balcony.
He slowly turned his head towards the blinds. There he saw a silhouette, a humanoid silhouette tapping against the glass of the door.
TO BE CONTINUED…