Wait I'm a what...?

Chapter 2: Natural Abilities

I sat there; or rather I stood on my fore hooves and sat on my haunches. The jaw of my muzzle hit the floor of True’s bathroom as I looked at my reflection. I couldn’t possibly stand up at the awesomeness that held me down.

“I look so…AWESOME,” I half shouted down the hall to True.

And I do look awesome being a flaming pony and all that. True and I learned quickly that my mane and tail were like living flames. Basically everything about my new body referred to some element of fire: My coat is of a magma-orange completion, my mane and tail were fire like, and my eyes… my abnormally large eyes were a playful blue flame color. Finally the thing that pulls it all together is…my horn. Yep, I’m a unicorn “Deal with it”

Recovering from my stupor, I raised my front hooves and gently rubbed my ear as it was still recovering from the ringing. “I can’t believe you almost shot me,” I yelled down the hall. I shakily stood up and headed for the door. As I made my way into the living room clumsily I tripped over my own hooves.*Thump*

True was staring at me as I laid there on the floor. “I thought you were going to roast me alive, so technically, it’s not my fault,” he said as he held back the laughter of my clumsiness. "At least the cop is gone."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Perspective: True

“Dumbass” A quick retort was sent to Alex as he picked himself up. It seems he’s still trying to get used to a four legged body; doesn’t help that the only magic trick he can pull off is frinken’ fire either. I mean, really, think about it. Unicorns have the ability to fabricate magic and manipulate it to their will. They can levitate objects, teleport; create spectacular fireworks or colorful spectrums. But this ass, (Get it? Ass?) nearly burns my trailer to dust. Hell of a talent.

Ok, let’s go back thirty minutes. After Alex pulled back the flames in my room and I told him he was a pony, he bobbled around, full of excitement. I sighed and relaxed a bit, seeing that my room was no longer ablaze; and even better, that nothing was burned. But then the bastard sneezed. Flame flew from his muzzle, and burned the hell out of my hand, my body reacted, and I felt the familiar squeeze, then click of my Glock. A 9mm round was sent straight at Alex’s head. You can’t dodge a bullet, but you can get very lucky. The round missed and grazed the tip of his ear.

Some time had passed, and blue and red flashing lights fallowed by loud sirens blasted throughout the trailer park.

“Shit! Neighbors must of called the cops!...Alex!”

Alex looked at me confused,”What?”

I twitched before speaking, “You’re still a damn pony!”

Alex looked at himself, the realization setting in, ”Uhhhhh…umm…oh no…”

The loudest beating on I door I have ever heard, rang all through the trailer. I mean he was BEATING that thing. I wondered if it pleasured him to beat on doors…

“Well fuck” I quivered, ”Uhh…just don’t move!”

Alex only nodded. Good thing to, because the cop was getting impatient.

“Open the door, MPD!” came a commanding, muffled yell from the door. I ambled over to the door, took a short breath, and proceeded to open it.

“Can I help you officer?” Before observing any features the man held, I immediately noticed his hand on his revolver. I knew the model too, Smith and Wesson Model 28-2 Highway Patrol .357 mag.

A well dressed uniformed cop with brown eyes, a thick beard and gruff voice began to speak, “My name is Mark Freeman, I got a report that a weapon was fired off in this residents. I don’t see any bodies, but I still need to check things out.” Freeman looked to be in his early 30s, maybe 5’11’’ or 6 feet. He was a big guy, the kind I don’t want to piss off.

I know that cops are given the M9, .40 cals, and even some .45 Glocks, but not a goddamn .357. Revolvers are usually reserved for sheriffs. Revolvers are obsolete, which begs the question- what is he doing with a relic? This guy was really something.

I chuckled a bit, “I’m sorry officer, I accidently fired off a blank from an old horse-race revolver. It’s a M1873 9mm blank firing revolver. I dint think it was that loud.”

I led the officer in my living room/kitchen area. It was cool inside, the air-conditioner, just now kicking on. Alex was standing next to one of the vents. He looked like a life sized plushy. Wind pushed his magma colored mane into his nose. It was probably irritating him. As Freeman stepped in he noticed Alex almost right away. A pony is pretty damn big.

I thought of a quick lie, “It’s a toy for my sister…anyway; I’ll take you to my gun cabinet.”

Freeman almost reached back to his gun. “Gun cabinet? What the hell are you doing with a gun cabinet?” His attention was off Alex at least. I was confident that Freeman would probably shoot a pony if he saw it move.

Freeman followed me back into my work room, right past the room where I fired off the Glock. I was worried about the smell of gun powder getting to his nose. But the smell was absent, most likely due to Alex sucking in the fire as well as the smoke.

My dank work room had the smell of grease, oil, and most notably, gun powder. I flicked on the room’s light switch and allowed the light to flood in. The room wasn’t big, but in Freeman’s presence, it felt especially small.

I opened my weapons cabinet and stepped back. In the steel cabinet, there lay, in perfect condition, my Glock 17, Beretta M9, Sig Sauer p229, Walther p-22, the revolver that fires blank rounds, and to top it all off, my grandfather’s Colt M1911 .45. The cabinet was built to hold larger firearms, (e.g. Rifles, shotguns) however, the handguns and a small bit of ammo, are the only things that take up any space.

“Do you have any permi-“

“Already expected that sir,” I interrupted as I presented him papers of my weapons, verifying that I am legal to own them. The cop looked at them with a stern look and glance around my room.

“Why do you have so many weapons in a small trailer like this,” He said, looking back at the papers, flipping through them.

A quiet thud could be heard throughout the trailer. I knew it had to be Alex. Before Freemen could ask, I quickly spoke up.

“Preparation sir! I’m going to be a Marine.”

This caught his attention. He set the papers down and gave me a look over.

“A Marine, huh? I served in the US Army for 25 years. My brother is going to retire an old Gunny Sergeant come this January.”

This was exactly what I needed - a distraction, or rather a justification, for the weapons. We chatted about our families fighting in the Second World War, ‘Nam, Gulf War and today. He told of his experiences of being in the Army, as a Sergeants Major. I tugged on the old, ’It’s an honor sir.’ and flattered him.

After about 20 minutes or so, after making it back to the living room, Freemen finally let loose. “Weeeelllllp, ahhhh…looks like I better be on my way.” Alex looked very convincing as a plushy. Hell, even I forgot about him for a second.

“Thank you for stopping by, sir.”

“And it was just a blank?”

“Yes sir.”

I escorted Freemen to the door and bid him good bye.

Alex didn’t move until the cop’s car was well out of hearing range, and let out a long breath.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Alex’s Perspective

*phew* “That was close,” I exclaimed, wiping my face with a fore hoof.

“No shit,” True said with discontent clear in his voice.

I started for the fridge, “Boy was that agonizingly BORING, and man, I’m thirsty.” I rifled through the fridge for a beverage. Whatever I grabbed didn’t last long as I gulped it down.

I look over to True to see him deadpan. He says in a calm low tone, “Alex, you do realize that’s hot sauce right?” I look back at the bottle in my hoof. “heh, that’s weird it tastes like Pepsi to me,” I say nonchalantly as I throw the now empty bottle. That’s when I felt a tickling sensation in my stomach that slithered up my throat and out my mouth.

*BUUUURRRRRRPPPPP*

Ducking behind the counter, True barely managed to dodge the insane flames that escaped my mouth. He hesitantly rose from his now scorched cover with a dangerous scowl written on his face. “Dude, what the Fuck!” he then sighed, calming down a bit, “This is going to be on hell of a weekend.”

I went on to the bathroom to get a look at myself, "I look so... AWESOME!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Perspective: Mysterious Men

“We have reason to believe a nuclear device is in the US. Hurricane Isaac was probably used for cover to get it in the states.”

“Where?”

“Satellites are showing signatures in the south, west Mississippi; it’s here on the charts. Large groupings of radiation and immense energy, it may be a new type of bomb.”

“Check the local police reports, anything major in the last 48 hours?”

“Yes sir. A weapon was said to be fired in the dead center of the signature, and an officer was dispatched to check it out. Turns out it was just an accident; a blank was fired.”

“What’s the officer’s name?”

“Mark Freemen.”

Author’s notes-

Alex- Sorry for the lack of writing :( We've been busy catching up with school work since H Isaac has set us back. We'll get back to writing though! By the way, MPD means - Madison Police Department.

True- So yeah, the new chapter is here. It’s a little more spread out with the “Perspective” thing. And as you can see, I’ve gone from editor, to co-author/editor, to now, writer. Come on Alex, write a bit more! Anyway, this is the first time I’ve really written anything major. Well, I hope you enjoyed reading. And look, we already have a plot! (Get it? Plot?)