The RED Cataclysm

Chapter Two: Well, Here We Are Again

Of course, at the time, I didn’t know any of that. How could I? I didn’t know there were other universes. Nopony in Equestria did. Hay, nopony on Equus-HOA1-Prime did. But then, I don’t exactly get out much. I don’t suppose you’ve ever been imprisoned in stone? Knowing this universe, I wouldn’t put it past you. And yes, I know the Engineer has a magic wrench that turns people into gold, but that doesn’t count. That kills you right away.

But anyway, on the early morning of June 26th, I was just sitting in the Canterlot Royal Statue Garden, like I always did. Everypony has a hobby. As for me, I’ve been trying to invent and perfect my own personal style of martial arts. I started thinking it up about 250 years ago. I call it “Subversion of Order.” At the time, I was trying to work out the kinks in this complex sword form I’d been working on, but my heart wasn’t really in it that night. I remember thinking to myself, “I’m so bored. I wish something unexpected and exciting would happen.”

And all of a sudden, I felt a hurricane blowing in from the south. That’s weird, you might be saying, since I didn’t have a nervous system with which to feel a breeze at the time. Well, what really happened is I felt a huge surge of chaos energy coming in. It’s a metaphor. Work with me. Anyway, I took a big, deep, metaphorical breath, and using that power, I was able to figure out where the disturbance was coming from. It turned out to be this charming little town called Ponyville where, as it just so happens, six out of… nine? No, ten of my arch-nemeses live. So, using the chaos from Ponyville, I shifted my gaze—I think in this universe, the technical term is clairvoyance—over there to see what was going on.

You can imagine my surprise when I saw a ball of black light about as big as me hovering in midair behind that giant tree that one of my nemeses lives in, giving off some seriously gale-force winds. You can also imagine how surprised I was when I saw three crazy humans standing in front of it, yelling at each other! And yes, I did know they were crazy. I can always tell. I’ve always had a special connection to the insane. Making crazy ponies hear voices in their heads is much easier than making sane ones hear them. Plus, they’re ten times more likely to listen! And crazy ponies are tons of fun to talk to, as well. I know this one mare in Ponyville General Hospital who thinks she’s a dog. She tells the funniest jokes.

But where was I? Oh, right, the humans. Well, I’d never seen anything like them before. Not in person, anyway. I didn’t know anything about them, like who they were, what they were saying or why they were dressed so oddly. But later, I was able to project myself into their minds and figure all that out, so I know their conversation went something like this.

“He’s a damn ghost, in case ya forgot!” shouted the Engineer. “An’ that was his home at that point! Takin’ ‘im on ‘is own turf was suicide!”

“Vell, whose bright idea vas zat, again?” the Medic shot back angrily. “Oh, zat’s right—it vas yours!”

“Rrr, grrysh?” the Pyro said, looking around nervously and rubbing its rubber-clad hands together.

“Look, I panicked, okay? I already said I’m sorry!” the Engineer snapped. “I’m just sayin’, I might not a’ panicked if we hadn’t used Scare Tactic 14! Ya know how much I hate that damn song!”

“Vell, ven ze hell else are ve goink to get ze chance to hear music zat isn’t sanctioned?” the Medic scoffed. “I’m just sayink, I get a little tired of La Caballa Gitana after ze first million times I’ve—”

Suddenly, the Pyro shoved its way in between the two bickering mercenaries and clapped its rubber-clad hands over their mouths, silencing them. “Grrysh,” it said. “Plrrsh shtrrp rrgrrwrrng. Wrrr rrn thrr rrtshkrrtsh rrff rr ffrrlrrj. Yrr crrd wrrk shrrmwrrn rrp.”

The Engineer and the Medic took that opportunity to look around. It was the middle of the night, just like it had been in VC8-Prime when they left, but that couldn’t hide the fact that the Pyro was right. They were indeed on the outskirts of a village, with thatched-roof cottages and everything. The difference was, all the buildings seemed to be a smidge smaller than they would’ve been on Earth. That, and the portal was hovering just off the ground right behind a giant tree, but that’s not completely unheard of.

The Medic slowly removed the Pyro’s rubber-clad hand from over his mouth. “Ve’re stuck in ze middle of a town of midgets again?” he observed. “I hate it vhen zis happens.”

The Engineer took a deep breath. “All right, Pyro, fair enough,” he sighed. “Y’all know the drill. Run the inventory.” He reached into the small pouch around his waist. “I have a Frontier Justice with ten shells, countin’ the three I have loaded, a Wrangler, a Jag and…” He retrieved a small PDA from his pouch and pressed a few buttons on it. “…oh, thank God. A hundred an’ twenty-one metal. Phew. I was afraid I wasn’t gonna have enough left t’ build a dispenser,” he added, tucking the PDA away again.

“Ja, zat vould be a minor inconvenience,” the Medic scoffed. “I haff a Blutsauger vis… seventy-von syringes, a standard-issue Medigun, and a Solemn Vow. Pyro, your turn.”

The Pyro, under the cover of its mask, winced. “Rrr hrrff… rr shtrrndrrd rrshrrw f-flrrmthrrwrrr wrrth trrw hrrndrrd yrrnrrtsh rrf fyrrl, rr flrr grrn wrrth frrftrrn flrrsh, rrnd rr… Shrrprrnd Ffrrlkrrnrrw Frrrgmrrnt.”

“We’re in business, then,” the Engineer quipped. He quickly reached a pouch around his waist and retrieved a small, rectangular PDA he’d brought with him in case Merasmus was drunk, crazy or stupid. “Okay, lesse what we got ‘ere…” he mumbled, pulling out its retractable antenna and pressing a few buttons. The PDA quickly began beeping and blooping. “Ya did bring our medications, right, Doc?” the Engineer added.

The Pyro crossed its fingers behind its back.

“Of course I did,” the Medic answered, patting a small cloth satchel he wore on his belt.

The Pyro snapped its fingers and stomped its foot. “Drrm rrrt,” it spat.

“It’s for your own good, Pyro,” the Engineer said gently, placing his hand on the Pyro’s shoulder. “I know ya don’t like your meds, but trust me, it beats the alternative.”

The Engineer’s PDA suddenly let out a series of melodic bleeps. “The analysis’s done,” he said, fiddling with his goggles.

“Give it to me,” the Medic said suddenly, holding out his hand. The Engineer arched an eyebrow and looked up at the Medic. “I vant to interpret ze data zis time,” he said. “You alvays get to do it. Let me try for vonce.”

The Engineer considered this for a moment. Eventually, he sighed. “All righty then,” he agreed, handing over the PDA and trying very hard not to smile. “Good luck.”

The Medic noticed the Engineer trying not to smile. He snatched the PDA away, scoffed and rolled his eyes. He looked over the data on the screen, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “Vell, like Merasmus said,” he began, “ve’ve been sent to a universe wizzin anozzer dimension.”

“Aw, dammit,” the Engineer groaned, snapping his fingers. “I was hopin’ he’d accidentally send us to some parallel universe again.”

“I hate it vhen he does zat,” the Medic said, rolling his eyes. “You remember Earth-VC8-63, don’t you?”

“The one where the robots gained sentience an’ ‘ad taken over the world by the year 2000?” the Engineer asked, scratching his head.

“No, zat vas Earth-VC8-61,” the Medic answered. “63 vas ze von vere all ze men vere vomen and vice versa.”

“Oh yeah, that one,” the Engineer said, chuckling nervously. The Pyro shuddered.

“Anyvay,” the Medic continued, “zis dimension is designated HOA1. It’s virgin ground, makink zis universe HOA1-Prime.”

“Rrch-rrw-rry-wrrn-Prrrrm,” the Pyro repeated, trying out the “feel” of the new universe’s name. “Rrr lrrk thrrrt. Rrllsh rrff thrr trrng.”

The PDA beeped again. “Laws-of-Nature diagnostics complete,” the Medic said, smiling and adjusting his glasses. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, and his smile slowly faded. “…Uh… accordink to zis data… um… zis universe’s… laws of nature are…”

The Engineer smirked and extended his hand, palm up.

Eventually, the Medic rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Fine, you vin,” he grumbled, slapping the PDA into the Engineer’s hand. “Tell us vhat ve’re up against, Herr Expert.”

“Much obliged, Doc,” the Engineer chuckled, quickly running his eyes over the data. “Okay, it looks like just about ev’rythin’s the same, in terms a’ the laws a’ reality. Gravity is still gravity, physics is still physics. Thermodynamics are still thermodynamics, buoyancy is still buoyancy, the laws a’ conservation a’ matter an’ energy are still—”

The Pyro cleared its throat. “Crrd yrr grrt trr thrr prrnt, plrrsh?” it asked politely.

“Right, sorry,” the Engineer said quickly. “Based on the initial scans, all the laws a’ nature are identical t’ those a’ VC8-Prime…” His eyebrow suddenly shot upward. “…‘cept for one.”

“Wrrtsh thrrt?” the Pyro asked.

“Magic,” the Engineer replied. “Accordin’ t’ this, magic’s twice as strong in this universe as it is in ours. Or at least, on this planet, it is. In fact, if I’m readin’ this correctly, magic has some kinda influence over this planet’s day-night cycle. In fact, I’d be willin’ t’ bet that portal’s gonna turn white when the sun comes up.”

“How do you do zat?” the Medic asked, his arms hanging limply from his shoulders and his jaw hanging open loosely.

The Engineer chuckled. “I could teach ya, if ya’d like,” he offered.

“No,” the Medic responded quickly, snapping out of his dumbfounded state. “I vant to figure it out on my own. And von of zese days, I vill.”

“Just not t’night,” the Engineer chuckled. The Medic scoffed.

“Rrkrry, shrr hrrw lrrng drr wrr hrrff trr shtrry hrrr?” the Pyro interjected, crossing its arms. “Wrrr nrrt grrnrr mrrsh thrr Frrrth rrff Jrrlrry rrgrrn, rrr wrr? Yrr nrrw hrrw mrrch thrr Shrrldjrr hrrtsh thrrt.”

“It should take about five days for our bodies t’ get used t’ this dimension’s rules,” the Engineer answered. “So, we should get t’ go home on the evenin’ a’ the thirtieth. Thursday. So no, we won’t miss the Fourth a’ July.”

That’s one of the laws of inter-dimensional travel, of course. I think how it works is that portals only work on material they recognize as native. Don’t ask me how they can tell the difference. I spent five days in the Engineer’s brain and I still don’t know. But anyway, when you visit a new dimension, there’s a brief period where, if you try to go back home, you’ll bounce off the portal and break your neck slamming into whatever wall happens to be behind you. How long it takes for that not to happen depends on a lot of things I can’t be bothered to remember.

The Engineer sighed and uncrossed his arms. “We’re gonna miss almost a whole week a’ work,” he grumbled, tapping his foot. “It’s not gonna be fun ‘splainin’ this one t’ the boss.”

The Pyro shuddered again. In a single fluid motion, it tapped its forehead, its stomach, and each of its shoulders with one hand. You know, I still can’t figure out why people do that. I mean, eugenics are in an upswing, alien invasions happen every other week, and I don’t think there’s ever not been a war going on here since the Renaissance. I don’t know why you people bother with faith at all, let alone something as obsolete as Catholicism. But hey, that’s just me.

The Medic shuddered, too, but didn’t cross himself. “Ve’ll deal vis zat later,” he said, failing to hide a tiny little quiver in his voice. “For now, ve need a place to camp zat’s a good distance avay from zis village.”

“Hrry, thrrsh rr brrg sprrky frrrrrsht rrvrrr thrrr!” the Pyro said, pointing to a big spooky forest across a river behind them.

“Works for me,” the Engineer said simply. And without another word, he and the Medic took off for the forest.

“Wrrt, Rrr drrdnt mrrn wrr shrrd crrmp thrr!” the Pyro shouted frantically, waving its arms and charging after them. “Grrysh? Grrysh! Crrm brrk!”

The walk there was generally uneventful, once they managed to convince the Pyro it was a good idea. After a few minutes of the Aperture Science Leg-Based Locomotion and Stamina Deprivation Technique—you like that? I came up with it myself—they came across a quaint little pile of dirt with a path leading up to it and a mailbox out front, located right at the mouth of the forest.

“Aw, look at that,” the Engineer observed. “Ain’t that cute? It’s like a giant rabbit’s burrow.”

“For all you know, it is,” the Medic grumbled, rolling his eyes.

The Pyro said nothing, enraptured by the sounds of thousands upon thousands of small critters who inhabited the area. It kept on moving with its team, but it clearly wanted nothing more than to charge over to the field and frolic with the woodland creatures that were still awake. And really, who can blame it? There’s some fun to be had in a good old-fashioned frolic.

But I digress. The team kept moving, and quickly entered the forest. They noticed a path and went out of their way to avoid it, burying themselves in the dense, dark vegetation. The sounds of woodland creatures quickly gave way to decidedly spookier noises, like branches snapping and mysterious growls. The Pyro glanced nervously around as it walked and strayed as far as it could from every particularly dark shadow. The Engineer and Medic weren’t afflicted by the Pyro’s crippling nyctophobia, though.

That’s a fairly big word for you.

Hey, I’m immortal. Why wouldn’t my vocabulary be big? Anyway, after a long and boring walk, they happened upon a small-looking cave in which they could easily rest.

“This looks like as good a spot as any,” the Engineer remarked. The Pyro, obviously nervous, began to pace around the general area, keeping its eyes on its surroundings.

“So, let’s get all zis straight now,” the Medic said as he and the Engineer entered the cave. “Vat do ve know for sure about zis universe?”

“Its laws of nature are almost identical to ours,” the Engineer answered. “It prob’ly ‘as some kinda intelligent life. Magic’s stronger.”

“It’s in anozzer dimension,” the Medic continued. “It’s virgin ground. It’s a Prime.”

“And we hafta stay here for five days, at least,” the Engineer finished.

“So,” the Medic concluded, counting on his fingers, “zat’s von for laws of nature, two for magic, zree for intelligent life, four for anozzer dimension, six for a Prime, eight for virgin ground, and von for every day ve haff to stay here, vhich puts us at zhirteen.”

“Great,” the Engineer said. “Didja bring the whiskey?”

The Medic’s smile faded. “No, I zought you did,” he answered.

The Engineer slapped himself in the face. “Dammit…” he groaned. “Well, here’s hopin’ the natives have alcohol.”

“Ve live in hope,” the Medic chuckled, removing his backpack full of healing juice and laying down. He sighed exhaustedly and rested his head on his backpack. “Vell, good night.”

The Engineer quickly exited the cave and looked back at the Pyro. “Pyro, bedtime,” he said.

The Pyro hadn’t been moving for a while, instead looking around the clearing nervously. It looked to be shivering. “Shrrmthrrngsh nrrt rrrt hrr,” it said.

“Don’t be scared, Pyro,” the Medic said from inside the cave, as coolly and calmly as he could. “Zere’s nozzink to be afraid of here. Zat ve know of, anyvay.”

“Rrrm shkrrd,” the Pyro said. “Shrrmthrrng frrlsh… rrng rrbrrt thrrsh rrnrrvrrsh. Lrrk thrrsh srrmthrrng thrrt drrshrrnt mrrk shrrnsh, brrt Rrr crrnt prrt mrr frrngrr rrn wrrt rrt rrsh.”

“There’s nothin’ t’ be scared of, Pyro,” the Engineer said warmly, going back inside the cave and plopping down on the ground. “C’mon, it’ll be fine.”

“…Rrrm nrrt shrrr rrbrrt thrrsh yrrnrrffrrsh, grrysh…” the Pyro said nervously. “Rrr hrrff rr rryllrry brrd frrlrrng rrbrrt thrrsh.”

“It’ll be fine, Pyro,” the Medic sighed. “Vhat’s zhe vorst zing zat could happen?”

I love it when ponies say that.

So they went to sleep. As far as the mercenaries knew, the night was pretty uneventful. Nothing attacked the camp, that is. But I was busy getting a good look around their minds that night. Accessing their memories, establishing psychic links, all that jazz. Now you have to keep in mind, normally, that would be like blowing on a windmill hard enough to turn it. From three miles away. Through a straw. But the portal’s basically like a hurricane, remember? By sucking up all the wind from that, I could turn that windmill no problem! It was like winning the chaos lottery! …Uh, wind lottery. Chaotic wind… lottery… Hang on, where the hay am I going with this? Ugh. Metaphors are hard. Anyway, I spent most of the night poking around in the Pyro’s psyche, but I’ll get into that later.

As usual, the Medic was the first on his team to wake up the next morning. His biological clock was finely tuned to wake him up at exactly 8:30 in the morning every day. Given his dreams, he hadn’t had a particularly good night’s sleep, but that wouldn’t keep him from his duties. You see, being a doctor, the Medic’s normally in charge of making sure his teammates took their medications on time. So naturally, the first thing he did when he woke up that morning was put his backpack on and open up the satchel he wore around his waist. Normally, that satchel was filled with ammo for his syringe gun. It still was, of course, but today it was also filled with two prescription pill bottles and fourteen small, glowing green syringes.

He quickly took out one of the two pill bottles, opened it, poured a red-and-yellow capsule into his hand and dry-swallowed it. After a few seconds, his body began to slowly go numb, as it usually did. He sighed, screwed the bottle shut and put it away. Then he picked up a glowing green syringe, uncapped it and flicked it a couple of times.

He glanced over to the other side of the cave and saw the Pyro snuggled against the Engineer like a big, Texan teddy bear. Moving slowly and gingerly, taking extreme care not to wake either of his sleeping teammates, he stalked across the cave to the Pyro’s sleeping body. As usual, the Pyro was sleeping on its side, which made what the Medic was about to do incredibly easy.

The Medic took a deep breath and knelt down. He gently planted his hand on the Pyro’s back, then stabbed it in the back of the neck with the syringe. The Pyro, naturally, woke up, crying out in pain and alarm. The Engineer’s eyes snapped open and he shot upright, sending the Pyro’s arm flying at the Medic. The Medic expertly dodged the flying limb and pushed down on the stopper, injecting the glowing green liquid into the Pyro’s body. After a few seconds, it let out a soft sigh and slowly passed into unconsciousness.

The Engineer put his gloved hand on his chest, panting heavily, and slowly got to his feet. “Well, that’s a fine how-do-ya-do,” he muttered. He looked down at the Pyro as he picked up his goggles and hard hat. “Why does ‘e always do that?” he sighed, slowly standing up.

“Guten Morgen, Engineer,” the Medic said, not as cheerfully as he would’ve liked. “Did you sleep vell?”

The Engineer yawned loudly as he snapped his goggles back on. “Not really,” he replied. “I had… weird dreams.”

The Medic raised an eyebrow and stood up. “Veirder zan usual?” he asked.

The Engineer put his hard hat on, glancing quickly around the cave as he did so. “A little bit, yeah,” he answered. “A monster was chasin’ me through an endless, foggy void… I heard whispers in an alien tongue… I saw scenes from the… well, Incident Oh-Six.” The Medic said nothing, but nodded in understanding. Cringing, the Engineer glanced behind him again. “In fact, I-I still kinda feel like I’m bein’ watched… There’s nothin’ in here with us, is there?”

“Did you take your medication?” the Medic asked.

“A’ course not,” the Engineer replied, not making eye contact with the Medic. “I just woke up.”

“Here you are, zen,” the Medic replied, removing the second pill-bottle from his satchel and tossing it to the Engineer.

The Engineer caught the bottle with remarkable skill, unscrewed the top, poured a small, brown, circular pill into his hand and popped it into his mouth. “‘Preciate it, Doc,” he said, screwing the cap shut and tossing the bottle back to the Medic.

The Medic snatched the bottle out of thin air and shoved it back into his pocket.

“Nice catch,” the Engineer remarked.

“Danke,” the Medic replied, removing his universal PDA from his breast pocket and setting it down on the cave floor. “Now, you stay here and keep an eye on ze Pyro ven he vakes up. I’m goink to scout out ze area and see if I can find us some breakfast. Don’t lose ze PDA. Ve might need it later.”

“Shouldn’cha leave the meds here, too?” the Engineer asked, tapping his foot. “Y’know, just in case ya hafta respawn. We wouldn’t wanna lose those…” He glanced behind him again.

“Ah, yes, of course,” the Medic quickly, opening his satchel and dumping the medications onto the floor of the cave. “Vhy didn’t I zink of zat?” he said to himself, scooping the medications up and handing them to the Engineer. “Here, you hold onto zem until I get back.”

The Engineer took the medications and tucked them into a pouch strapped to his belt. “All righty then. Come back in an hour,” he ordered.

“Jawohl,” the Medic replied, giving the Engineer a thumbs-up. With that, he stepped outside the cave. Not even two seconds later, he spotted a bizarre-looking creature staring at him. It was about the size of a chicken, and it basically resembled one. Except for the green scales, leathery, reptilian wings and glowing red eyes, of course.

“Ah! Hello zere! You’re not edible, are you?” the Medic said, kneeling down to get a closer look at the creature.

In response, the creature craned its neck upward and stared right into the Medic’s eyes. If the numbness associated with his daily dose had worn off, he would have felt like he was being dunked in the Arctic Ocean. Then he would’ve felt normal again, and then he would’ve felt an immense heat sliding up his body, starting at his feet and working its way up. But his medication made him numb, so he didn’t feel any of those things. He should consider himself lucky. No, I’m not bitter or anything.

The Medic chuckled. “Aren’t you cute?” he said, rather condescendingly. “Look at you, tryink to intimidate me into leavink your territory. Aren’t you just adorable? Who’s a cute little chicken-lizard? Yes you are, yes you—”

Suddenly, the Engineer charged out of the cave, screaming inarticulately, and fired his shotgun into the air. The chicken-lizard started and darted away into the woods, clucking like a startled chicken.

“Hey, vhat vas zat for? You scared off our breakfast!” the Medic said indignantly.

“Doc, I don’t wanna panic ya, but look down,” the Engineer replied.

The Medic looked down. I was kind of expecting him to be terrified and/or shocked to discover that half of his body (the lower half) had been turned to stone. Concrete, specifically. He wasn’t. “Oh,” he said simply. “Zat vas a cockatrice. Vell, don’t I feel stupid?”

“Ya ain’t lookin’ too good, Doc,” the Engineer observed, wincing.

“And I’m sure I’m not going to feel too good vonce my Empathol-induced numbness vears off,” the Medic replied, rubbing his chin. “Did you bring ze anti-petrification serum?”

“They don’t give us anti-petrification serum anymore, Doc,” the Engineer replied sternly. “Not since last Smissmas.”

“I said I vas sorry!” the Medic blurted out indignantly.

“The United Nations tends t’ hold a grudge,” the Engineer deadpanned, shrugging.

The Medic let out an annoyed sigh. “Vell, I guess zere’s only one zing for it, zen,” he said.

“Hold on, this is a separate dimension, remember?” the Engineer interjected quickly, planting his hand on the Medic’s shoulder. “No one cast the RLO spell on ya. Ya’d spawn back at the portal, and the portal’s right outside a village!”

“Do you haff a better idea?” the Medic asked.

The Engineer hesitated. Eventually, he cringed and stood up. “No,” he replied, scratching at the ground with his foot and wringing his hands together.

“Exactly,” the Medic said, smirking. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m goink to go make first contact. Vhich puts us at fifteen, by ze vay. Cyanide capsule, bitte.”

The Engineer patted his pouch and his pockets. After a few moments, he cringed. “I… musta left the cyanide capsules in my other pants,” he muttered.

The Medic sighed heavily, burying his face in his gloved hands. “Zat’s sixteen,” he mumbled.

“Sorry, Doc,” the Engineer muttered, pulling his Frontier Justice out from behind his back and extending it to the Medic. “Here, lemme make it up to ya. Ya can borrow my shotgun.”

The Medic took the shotgun and let out a soft sigh of relief. “Danke,” he said.

“Take all the time ya need,” the Engineer said, crossing his arms and looking back into the cave.

Nodding once, the Medic opened his mouth and inserted the muzzle of the shotgun. He squeezed his eyes shut… and hesitated. He held that position for a few good seconds, unable to pull the trigger.

“No hurry,” the Engineer said, glancing back into the cave.

The Medic took the shotgun out of his mouth before replying. “I don’t like shootink myself, Engineer,” he scoffed. Which was fair, if you ask me. “Give me a minute, vould you?”

“Hey, I didn’t say anythin’,” the Engineer replied, raising his hands. “Look, it’s just the head, right? If ya angle it high up enough, ya might not even feel the pain ‘fore your brain gets blasted out.”

The Medic’s eye twitched, and he let out a fierce growl. “You’re not helpink, Engineer!” he spat.

“All right, sorry,” the Engineer said, stepping back into the cave and wringing his hands. “See ya on the other side, Doc.”

The Medic stuck the shotgun back in his mouth and shut his eyes again. His finger was on the trigger, and all he had to do was pull it. But, as always, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do that. The instinct of self-preservation was something he just couldn’t get past, despite sixteen years of employment as a mercenary, suicidal charges and general death.

So it was a good thing I’d established a psychic link with him last night. “BOO!” I shouted.

The Medic, being the only one who heard me, gasped in shock and leapt three feet into the air. Or he would have, anyway, if his legs hadn’t been turned to stone. But his arms did jerk around in his shock, and in his panic, he accidentally pulled the trigger. There was a surprisingly loud bang, and the back of his head suddenly realized it had somewhere really important it needed to be.

The Engineer let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, stepped back over to the Medic’s half-petrified corpse, and pried his shotgun from his hands. Then he stepped back into the cave and pulled a PDA out of his pocket. His hands were quivering slightly as he pressed a few buttons on it. But eventually, a bright red toolbox materialized in his hands, courtesy of… uh…

I pause and stroke my beard. “Now that I think about it,” I say, “where does he keep those toolboxes? I thought Pinkie and I were the only ones who could just pull things out of nowhere like that. How does that work?”

“Magic.”

One of my eyebrows flies up of its own accord. I turn to Helen, who’s staring at me with a decidedly bored expression. “Magic?” I repeat.

Helen scoffs. “Yes, magic,” she says. “Specifically, a complex type of magic invented in the year 1938 called Pocketmancy.”

Both my eyebrows shoot up, and I snap my fingers. “Oh, THAT kind of magic! Why didn’t you say so?” I say. I turn back to my monitors and absentmindedly flick a switch labeled “LOST DRACULA.” “So yeah, the Engineer Pocketmanced up a toolbox and set it down on the ground. ‘Dispenser goin’ up,’ he said, more for his own benefit than anyone else’s. The toolbox opened automatically, and it began automatically assembling itself into a red, metal machine.” I turn back to Helen. “Is that magic, too, or is it science? I always get those two mixed up. Eh, guess it isn’t important.”

Anyway, fifteen seconds after the Medic’s head got blown off, he materialized out of thin air a few feet in front of the portal with a mechanical, alien click, holding his syringe gun in his hands.

“Whew,” he said, tucking the gun back into its holster. “Vat ze hell… vas… Oh. …Didn’t see zat von comink.”

The Medic had considered the possibility that he’d be surrounded by natives when he respawned. After all, a portal into another universe isn’t something that just showed up every day. Unless maybe you were a mercenary employed by RED or BLU, but I digress. The Medic hadn’t considered, however, that the curious natives would be brightly colored horse-like creatures the size of a large dog (ponies, actually, not that he knew that), nor that they would completely surround the portal and, by extension, him. It was jarring. That, combined with his strange dream and the shock of hearing someone else’s voice screaming in his head, put him so on edge that he completely forgot what he was supposed to do in this situation.

“…Uh… hello!” he said awkwardly, rubbing his gloved hands together. He glanced nervously behind him, only to see the portal hovering there, exactly as white as the Engineer had predicted it would be last night. He barely noticed that at the time, though; there was still the issue of making first contact. “I, ah… I come in peace!” he continued, turning back to his audience. “…Ah… vell, zis is awkvard.”

None of the ponies moved. The Medic noticed that they were looking at him like he was some kind of horrible science experiment gone horribly wrong. It was not a look he was unfamiliar with. After a few tense moments, one of the ponies stepped forward, looking incredibly nervous. She was a nice shade of lavender, with a purple mane and a horn protruding from her forehead. The Medic didn’t know this, of course, but her possession of a horn made her a unicorn pony. Walking close behind her was a small, bipedal reptile with scales a slightly darker shade of lavender who looked just as nervous as she did.

The unicorn also just so happened to be one of my arch-nemeses. Just so you know.

“Hello zere,” the Medic said, kneeling down for the second time that day and smiling nervously. “You can understand vat I’m sayink, right?”

The unicorn just stared at the Medic for a while, allowing him to get a good, long look at her. Her eyes were a lovely shade of purple, he thought. He also noticed a strange marking on her hind flank resembling a six-pointed star. He briefly wondered if it was some kind of tattoo. After a few moments, though, the pony spoke. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she spoke in Equestrian, which sounds suspiciously like a series of snorts and whinnies, and not in English as the Medic expected.

“Ah,” the Medic said, snapping his fingers. “You don’t speak English? Vell, zat’s two shots I don’t haff to take. Hm. I guess ve’re going to haff to try some nonverbal communication, zen. Let me see, vat’s a good signal for peace…”

Before the Medic could figure out how to communicate with the ponies, though, the unicorn closed her eyes, and her horn began to glow with a dark reddish-purple aura. The aura was unmistakable, as was the ever-familiar sound it gave off. That was the sound of magic. It was a few octaves higher than what he was used to, but it was still magic.

Before the Medic could go any farther on that particular train of thought, everything started getting brighter. Much brighter, in fact, to the point where he had to squeeze his eyes shut and shield them. The sound of the pony’s magic grew steadily louder, as well, and before long, it was loud enough that he had to stop shielding his eyes and use both his hands to cover his ears.

And then, within a few seconds, it was over. The Medic opened his eyes again to see everything back to normal. He quickly shook his head and stood up. “Vat ze hell vas zat?” he wondered aloud.

The unicorn in front of him blinked in obvious surprise. “That was easier than I thought,” she remarked in a female, decidedly intellectual voice. In English, mind you, with no accent to speak of.

The Medic’s eyes shot open. “Ah! Linguimancy!” he said excitedly, clapping his gloved hands. “Vonderful! Ze von sure sign of civilization. And an extra shot.”

The unicorn blinked. “Linguimancy?” she repeated. “Is… that some technical term I’m unaware of?”

“Jawohl,” the Medic replied. “Ze suffix -mancy means magic. You know, like Pyromancy, Intentionmancy or Haberdashomancy?”

“…No,” the unicorn replied honestly.

“Vell, basically,” the Medic explained, “a Linguimancer manipulates language.” He grinned and gave the unicorn a confiden thumbs-up. “Take it from me, kid. As long as you’ve got Linguimancy and runnink water, your civilization’s all right in my book.”

“…Um… well, okay,” the unicorn replied slowly. “That’s… good to know, I guess. Um… So, with… that out of the way, allow me to introduce myself.” She placed her hoof on her chest and softly cleared her throat. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. Who are—”

Suddenly, the Medic realized something. “Vait vait vait, hold zat zought,” he interrupted, raising one hand. “Did… Did you just channel magic zrough your horn?”

“…Yes, I did,” Twilight replied hesitantly.

“Hmmm…” the Medic murmured, stroking his chin and kneeling down. “Zat’s very interestink…” He slowly reached out toward Twilight’s horn, but stopped his hand halfway. “May I?”

Twilight leaned back slightly. “Uh… I guess?”

The Medic gently placed the tip of his finger on Twilight’s horn. After a few moments, he began sliding his finger slowly and gently up and down its length. “Hmmm…” he remarked. “It feels like… bone…?”

“Um, if you don’t mind, I appreciate you wearing gloves,” Twilight cringed.

Suddenly, the Medic’s eyebrows shot up. “No!” he blurted out. “Not bone… alicorn! Alicorn vis a zin layer of skin over it! You haff a magic vand growink right out of your forehead!”

Twilight opened her mouth to say something, but the Medic leapt to his feet before she could get the chance. “Zis is incredible!” he said excitedly, clapping his hands. “Your entire skull must be composed of alicorn, maybe even your whole skeleton! I vonder…”

Oblivious to the way the ponies around him were beginning to slowly back away, the Medic suddenly gasped and clasped his gloved hands together. “EUREKA!” he pretty much shrieked. “All I haff to do is replace a human skeleton vis an alicorn replica, and I’d haff ze ultimate mage! Ze Unicorn Man! Nozzing can possibly go wrong!”

He placed his hand on his chin and began to briskly pace back and forth. “Of course,” he muttered, just loud enough that the ponies could hear him, “I’d haff to figure out if zere’s any ozzer physical attributes of zese creatures zat aids in ze process of channelink magic. I’m going to need to dissect von of zem, probably. Or two. Vell, at least a male and a female… vhy don’t ve call it five each, so I can get a decent sample size? No, zat might be a little optimistic… Vell, ve’ll start vis von and see vhat happens from zere.” He grinned like the madman he was as he reached down to his hip and retrieved his melee weapon from its holster. Only once he got a good look at it did he remember that it was actually a marble bust of Hippocrates.

“Oh, vait, I didn’t bring my bonesaw,” he said, his expression falling. “Can’t do an autopsy vis a Solemn Vow. Damn it. Oh vell, guess I’ll just haff to improvise!” He put the bust back away, clapped his hands again and grinned excitedly at the crowd. “Okay! I’m goink to need von-to-ten volunteers and somezink really sharp. Now who vants to do some science vis me?”

Author's Note

The plot thickens, as they say. Again, thank you for reading this impromptu collection of words I've been coming up with. And again also, if you hated, loved or tolerated this story, I encourage you to leave a comment telling me why. This is the kind of thing I live for.