The Supernatural

by Veryfriedguy7

Rating: mature
Tags: Changelings, Original Character, Adventure, Violence, Profanity, Gore, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Death, Narcotics
Length: 8875

No pony takes me seriously, I'm a big joke to them. But when I get a call to hunt down the deceased it's not strange it's business as usual.

Life had its ups and downs, that's common knowledge, but what about when a life ends? What then? Many think the supernatural are just stories to scare foals into doing no wrong, to go to bed on time. But they are very real and they are even more dangerous than what those stories lead you to believe.

Many call me a fool for trying to whittle bits out of others to hunt down these threats.

"They don't exist!" They tell me.

"Grow up!" They say.

If it weren't for me... You'd learn just how real they are...

Published 2021-08-24 07:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-09-14 04:17:23 UTC

Business as usual

Author's Note

Don't read if you want to be surprised!
Okay so there will be a change in scenery ;) this is JUST the introductory to what you'll be reading later. I was playing around with this idea when I should have been writing COTE and Nioh but this was just such a good idea, to me, that I just couldn't pass it up. Things WILL get explained just give it some time and you may be pleasantly surprised. The changeling tag is purely for the main character and there will be little changeling interaction outside of them, we will also see interaction between a lot of your 'regulars' such as the main 6, the princesses and a couple others but not often enough to warrant a tag in my opinion.
This story contains supernatural elements. If you aren't a fan of such things, this story is definitely not for you.

Business as usual

The rotten wooden boards creaked as weight was reintroduced to them for the first time in years, the dark halls were disturbed as a flashlight revealed dust falling from the floor above. A soft groan was the only sound that dared disturb the cacophony of crunching and cracking of the brittle bones of ponies ages past were broken under the weight of another. But he was not to join them.

He neared the stairs to the second floor as the boards threatened to give under his weight with a loud creak, the second floor was still a welcome change to the basement.

A normal pony would be shaking in their skin at the unnerving feel of the abandoned, broken down house but it's latest occupant was far from normal.

The black chitin and blue compound eyes were a testament to his species usual home in dark hives so why was he here and not there? He was on the job.

You'd think him crazy for believing that the things he hunts were real but a quick look at his RV would change that to thinking him insane. They're only stories! Legends!

He knows they are anything but.

Ghost hunter extraordinaire, the demon of demons, a name that all from the afterlife shiver from hearing...

...Gary.

He had been hired to check out this building in the middle of nowhere, clear it if anything made it home so it can be turned into a haunted house, well... a fake haunted house for y'know... foals.

An hour was spent going back and forth between equipment, trying to identify what it was, if there was something here. It was just his luck that the pony he was doing this for decided to come along, impatiently tapping his hoof, threatening to not pay and generally just not understanding that one mis-measurement could end up in an incorrect identification, bringing gear and weapons that would be ineffective or flat out useless and thus turn a hard and dangerous job into basically suicide.

It's happened before due to ignorance and he paid for it, the massive scar on his neck burned every time he was kicking off an extermination. The voice therapy afterwards cost him a fortune in repeat visits as sometimes you need to vocally antagonize your prey or fall into a trap of some kind. He's had experience with that too.

He began to ascend the staircase after a quick scan with the 'see-it' goggles that sat on his head, just under his horn.

These exterminations would be a lot harder if it weren't for that loony unicorn Fix-it. He had made and named, much to Gary's chagrin, pretty much all his gear. These goggles were no different.

While his natural compound eyes had excellent night vision, his prey made that advantage inoperable. Through means he will never understand, although Fix-it likely tried to explain, his NNV (Natural Night Vision) was always taken away when hunting spirits of any kind. So the flashlight strapped to his wither was mandatory, for this particular spirit, so were the See-it goggles.

After scanning, testing and retesting he had determined there was in fact a wraith in here... Somewhere...

They're hard to find but actually quite harmless, if it weren't for a few factors. At roughly midnight to 2AM the wraith will become more active, like it was on the hunt for those on the other side of life, namely Gary. It was 1:23AM after all. If he doesn't get it tonight he'll have to camp out until tomorrow.

He doesn't want that.

Now on the second floor two things became apparent. It had become a great deal colder, causing him to shiver slightly, and it had got rather darker. It would have gotten quieter but silence is kinda hard to top.

The wraith was now on the hunt, Gary was in the danger zone. The wraith was vulnerable now.

He quickly brought the See-it over his eyes while readying his sidearm, loaded with 'uncorporeal' rounds... damn it Fix-it, and began to slowly trudge backward with his sidearm in hoof, ready to dispense extermination.

They can phase through walls yes but they cannot leave the place to where they are bound, on the other side of the wall that Gary backed into was outside so it would be impossible for it to attack him from behind, to his left is the staircase so it is highly unlikely to attack from there since it is bound to the second floor. His immediate right was a wall and in front was a long hallway.

Pointing his sidearm to the wall on his right, he kept an eye on the hallway while listening for soft wind to his left.

Why wind? Spirits, while incorporeal will emit a soft wind sound around them while moving, it's quiet but it's there. Speaking of wind...

Ripping the sidearm's aim from the wall he unloaded three shots down the hallway and quickly ran to chase it down, remember, wraiths are weak to head-on attacks.

Relying on the flashlight to see and the See-it to find the wraith he ran down the hall to follow the now louder wind, a sign the wraith was moving faster than normal.

He made a sharp right at the end of the hallway and into a filthy bathroom, to see the wraith winding up a swipe.

All spirits are transparent, the level of transparency often depending on it's type and current activity. Since the wraith was 'on the hunt' and had been presumably shot with uncorporeal rounds it was almost opaque, not transparent anymore. It was a type 1 wraith. Long, bipedal, no legs and covered in a tattered black cloak.

Since it retreated to the bathroom Gary could assume that was the 'bound room', since it was a type 1... that's where it's corpse would be.

While you can determine the kind of spirit it is using specialized equipment, courtesy of Fix-it, you cannot determine the type to understand it's most likely behavior pattern.

That was an on the spot kind of thing.

Out of the 4 types the type 1's are usually the easiest. They aren't bound to the room, so to speak, like the other types. They are bound to their place of death and the strength of a spirit is determined from their grief and sorrow at time of death, suicide usually bears the strongest out of the type 1's but they are still the weakest type. Anger and resentment determined their aggression not strength, a common misconception. A good hit from them is still lethal regardless.

Breaking his run Gary dove to the ground to avoid the swipe while turning his body towards the wraith, landing with a heavy thud that he will feel definitely in the morning.

With Gary on the ground the wraith attempted to pounce on him and violently tear his body apart, Gary's sidearm had other ideas. He fired four more shots, each specialized bullet landing in the wraiths form and tearing it apart. Whatever Fix-it puts in these bullets make their intended target really feel it.

With a count of seven shots fired the wraith's body was missing pieces of it's main torso and slowly fell to the floor while the rest of it's body evaporated into a black mist that cut off the flashlight's beam of light, the continuous strained exhale signaled the wraith's second death and Gary pushed himself to his hooves with a groan.

He began looking for the body that the wraith had departed from and found it in the bathtub.

Sitting in the bathtub was the skeleton of a unicorn mare with a mostly broken skull, likely due to the Colt Single Action Army Revolver sitting at her hind legs. She'd been here a while.

Gary cradled her head and upper body as he laid her down in the tub, moving the old revolver to her chest he took off a bottle from his vest and threw it into the tub, accidentally breaking her ribcage, and the oil contained within spilled all over the skeleton.

He tore off a piece of paper from the contract he accidentally took with him, and brought out his well used lighter which was tucked under his vest for safe keeping.

He lit the paper and dropped it in the oil, which lit ablaze.

His job was done and he quickly left the bathroom and descended the stairs to leave the house, boards creaking the entire way. With the wraith gone and it's body incinerated the house also rose in temperature though that could be the fire.

He walked through the doorway, he kicked it off earlier, and approached his fuming, well-dressed earth pony client.

"Do you have ANY idea how much your little joke is going to cost me?! There's having a joke business and there's damaging MY PROPERTY!" He all but screeched in Gary's face who wore a neutral expression.

"You were dealing with a type 1 wraith, that's gonna cost you two hundred fifty bits. It's gone, so is it's body, so you can go make your haunted house thing or whatever." Gary calmly replied, his gruff voice showing how severe the scar on his neck once was.

"It's a museum you stupid bug! You probably filled it with holes with that firearm of yours. I should be charging you!" The stallion continued.

Gary had seen this before, ponies hiring his services because they think they could get a laugh out of it or something and becoming outraged when he actually charges them. He often should just let them find out if the spirit is real when he finds one but he can't because there is a chance that they'll cough up the bits. It's better to forgo the pay if he can avoid them calling the police, they wouldn't take him seriously either and arrest him on the spot.

It's refreshing to know that every once in a while that a pony actually sees the spirit, survives, gives him a ring and he can actually function as a business. Those calls are unfortunately few and far between.

"Regardless of what you think Sir High and Mighty," Not his actual name but it would be fitting. "You signed the contract and it states that you acknowledge the risks of property damage and WILL pay what is owed, don't pay, I dare you. It'll look good to your 'friends' to be sued by a lowly changeling." Gary challenged him, lowering his voice to sound more threatening than he already did.

"Contract?! What contract?!" He demanded, probably going to rip it up to try and get out of paying, it happened once and now Gary always prints additional copies. He wasn't going to go hungry for someponies amusement. Not again.

Pulling the contract out of his vest and showing it to the still fuming stallion. "You signed right here-" Predictably the stallion took it from him and somehow managed to rip it into pieces with hooves.

"See? What contract?" He asked again, smugly. Happy now that he no longer owed anything.

"What kind of business would I run if I didn't have copies? I expect the two hundred fifty to be forwarded within the week or I'll be seeing you in court." He flatly replied. The stallion stood there with a reddening face, likely from a welling fury. Imbecile.

With nothing else to say Gary walked past his former client and got in his large RV which sat behind him.

The now furious stallion started kicking at the RV while Gary turned the key, shouting things that no true well-dressed stallion in their right mind should use as Gary drove off.

"Didn't take it seriously?" A voice called out from the back of the surprisingly spacious RV.

"Nope." Gary replied calmly, taking out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth using his limited magic. The owner of the voice emerged from behind curtains at the back, revealing an even bigger space, one that should by all means not be there.

"Thanks." Gary said when his cigarette was lit for him, allowing him to focus on driving to the next destination.

"Where to next Gary?" The unicorn stallion asked while sitting down in the passenger seat.

"Next client is in Appleloosa." The stallion cringed.

"That's quite a ways away."

"C'mon I thought you were a stallion Fix-it. We'll get there." Gary replied while looking at him with a smirk.

That made him chuckle. "Shut your trap." Fix-it retorted, making them both laugh.

Appleloosan anomaly

It had been a fairly long drive but they had eventually arrived in the city of Appleloosa. Fix-it had slunk back behind the curtains to finish modifying Gary's M4 Carbine though not without a grilling on not letting him know first, he was hesitant to take down that wraith but it wouldn't be the first time he had to go without since Fix-it deciding something wasn't up to par and snatching it to make sure it was has happened before.

Unfortunately for Gary Appleloosa was one of the anti-changeling cities that have been growing in number as of late. He isn't sure what's causing it, unrest maybe? It's hard to tell with ponies sometimes.

Racism aside he had gotten a call from one of the residents near the city center and he'll be damned if he misses out on a chance to make some dough after the last couple calls cost him a fair amount in travel and turned out to be more ponies calling for a laugh. He'd hurt them but that could be bad for future business and get him arrested which wouldn't turn out well due to the limited number of changeling rights as of late.

So Fix-it is going to be sealing the deal while Gary guards the RV from anypony that might have a good time destroying some changeling owned property. Due to Fix-it's complete and utter lack of social skills Gary had strictly told him 'Don't offer a price now and don't take one. We do that when we figure out what we're dealing with and go from there.' So imagine his surprise to find Fix-it coming back and saying that they're clearing an old mansion on the other side of the city for one hundred bits.

Gary treasures the little dropkick but he can't help but get angry when he ignores his instructions.

Old mansions are cliche especially due to all the trashy ghost movies that have come out in the past decade and usually contain the most annoying/dangerous spirits to come face-to-face with. The irony is not lost on him either.

So now they're driving through the heart of the city, Gary getting dirty looks from everypony who sees him and Fix-it eventually retreated behind the curtains, unable to take the staring anymore. Somepony worked up the courage to throw an egg at his windshield and due to pony herd mentality it sprung every other pony to do the same. As long as they don't break anything he couldn't really care, it's been long enough for him to grow numb to it.

He parked his mobile salad in front of a predictably worn down mansion that sat on top of a steep hill. Changelings at least keep a house in order when they don't want to live in it anymore, for sales of course. Bloody ponies making his job harder.

With his destination reached Gary turned off the RV and got out of the driver seat to start the readings.

A large military issue strong box located next to the refrigerator contained the equipment necessary, all created and further modified by Fix-it. What he lacks in social skills he makes up for in anything machinery related. If he wasn't a loon he'd be a national treasure.

Opening the strong box revealed a bunch more boxes inside only these ones had dials and lights on it. One of them being an EMF meter.

Unlike the other EMF meters sold from stores and online websites, which were small hoofheld devices and went up to five, the one that Fix-it had created was a bulky box that went up to twenty. It read the same amount of electromagnetic frequencies but it allowed for much, much more precise readings. Certain spirits liked to be near certain amounts of frequencies while others actually emitted them. The best part about Fix-it's creation is that Gary doesn't have to risk himself by going inside the danger zone to get a good reading, he can do that from outside.

Opening the door he trudged over to the edge of the property with the meter loosely balanced on his back before setting it down to get his oh so important reading. At least that was the plan.

Upon turning on the meter it started going bonkers, dancing from three to nine and even down to one just to bolt back up to twelve. It was extremely alarming when it shot up to twenty and stayed for a solid second before sinking back to fourteen.

"FIX-IT! GET OUT HERE!" Gary shouted, not prying his eyes away from the meter after it went back to twenty for two seconds this time.

The black furred and snow white manned unicorn stepped out of the still open door, looking kinda miffed.

"What do you want Gary? I can't finish on your M4 if you won't let me-" Fix-it couldn't finish his sentence as Gary turned around, gripped the unicorn by his mane and dragged him to the meter, shoving his face into it.

"Why's it doing this?! You made the fucker so why is it playing up?!" Gary demanded while straining his voice, there was a reason he never shouts and his voice was now paying the price of his panic.

Judging from his prolonged staring, he had no clue.

"Uh... We have a regular EMF reader from Coltslist that you could use while I see what's wrong with this." Fix-it offered while he picked the meter up in his aura.

"Are you crazy?! I'm not going in there with that piece of plastic!" He shouted again, showing his distress at the thought.

"Why? Chicken?" Fix-it mocked with a smirk while looking back at Gary.

"You know damn well why I'm not going in without knowing first! Don't you remember what happened last time?!" Gary's voice was turning into a croak and judging from Fix-it stopping in his tracks and staring guiltily at Gary's iconic scar, he remembered all too well. It wasn't the only one either.

Many nights of sleep were lost from Gary reliving Fix-it's error in his dreams and just as many were lost from Fix-it dreaming of making a similar error which ends up in a worse situation.

Ignorance is a cause of many deaths in spirit hunting and since ignorance seems ingrained in pony genes, Fix-it included, it effected them more often than they were comfortable with, always at the cost of Gary's well being.

Fix-it was never at risk from these hunts and offers to join when the guilt starts to arise but Gary never lets him, telling him he won't let harm come to him, even at the cost of himself. A testament to the bond they shared.

A bond Fix-it sometimes takes for granted.

And it always makes him feel like shit when he inadvertently hurts his only friend. Accident or not.

A defective changeling with an attitude and a backwards unicorn with no cutie mark. An odd pair that won't be parting ways anytime soon.

Gary and Fix-it sat in the space behind the curtains which was easily the size of a house, a mix of changeling and pony magic developed, refined and applied to material. The RV was a prime example of the advantages of changeling-pony cooperation. Designed and created in only Trottingham. It was expensive but that didn't deter either species from getting one. The fact that ponies helped create and even own a few didn't stop other ponies from thinking changelings buy it as a point of pride since they had a hoof in creating it.

There is no pride it's just really handy to have the space of a house in the area of an RV.

The center of the room had a number of leather chairs, artificial of course, with a low standing table at the center and Fix-it's contribution to this particular area was a stand that hung from the ceiling with four televisions facing outwards, you could sit anywhere in the 'curtain room' and still have a good view. Fix-it may be backwards in some regards but you just can't argue, guys a fucking prodigy.

To one side sat a bar that they managed to make off with for seventy five bits, which was a steal, and gave Gary a reason to drink more often and the other side belonging to a miniature gym, you need to be in top condition to avoid the lethal workplace risks of their occupation. The back housed 'Fixer's palace of mechanical wonders' as Gary loved to put it but it was just a simple workshop.

There was a set of stairs between the bar and the workshop that led to bedrooms, a colt needs his privacy after all.

Fix-it sat at the worktable in his workshop fiddling with his EMF reader while Gary sat at the bar reading a history book while drinking a glass of bourbon whiskey, while drinking on the job was frowned upon by pony and changeling alike, Gary would just raise his glass. This is his business and if he wanted to be wasted on the job that is entirely his choice and problem. He always liked history as well, reading up on the last element bearers and the industrial revolution after Princess Twilight's passing.

Her achievements as Equestria's only princess was more than admirable and will be remembered to the end of time. Actually her entire life, and those of her fellow bearers, are on paper for all to see. He honestly just liked reading of the times when changelings co-existed peacefully with ponies. Those days are long gone however.

Gary usually wore a black shirt to cover the scars that littered his chest and barrel but he'd since taken it off and they were exposed to the cool afternoon air. Chitin normally makes scars impossible but if the wound is serious enough, no matter how many times he sheds his old chitin it'll still be prevalent. They won't age nor fade, they'll stay for life.

The only one that didn't look like he had a run in with a manticore or got acid thrown at him was the big one on his neck, it was unique, and it was the only one that still burned.

"Hey!- Oh. Y'know what? I'll do the measurements, enjoy your drink." Fix-it said hastily and soon zoomed past Gary with the EMF reader in tow.

Fix-it was always uncomfortable when Gary didn't wear anything, if only he knew that he only wears stuff as often as he does because of that uncomfortableness.

Whenever Fix-it offers to do something in terms of hunting the spirit, measurements or otherwise, he's feeling guilty. Even without the built-in emotion detector, he's known the unicorn long enough to know his tells, to the point where Gary wouldn't hesitate to call the unicorn his brother. He just doesn't know how much Gary relies on the advantages he provides. That wraith from early this morning would have gotten him easily without the See-it.

It had taken Fix-it a fraction of the time Gary takes to get measurements which is probably due to his knowledge of them, upon his return he told him it should be a Blight. A recently discovered kind of spirit that emits a cloud of toxin's that could be either damaging to the lungs or just highly nauseating, it could also spit globs of acid because gas wasn't bad enough. Bad in all cases.

There once was an expert hunter who exterminated his first Blight only to die a week later due to the lasting effect of the toxins, they are no joke.

Gary wrapped a rag around his mouth and held his breath when it came to his first Blight, it worked but he almost passed out due to oxygen deprivation, and Fix-it used the same rag for samples to develop his next cheekily named gadget. An enlarged re-breather that he had named 'Breathe easy'. Normal re-breathers were just a tube that is attached to the mouth, using magic to recycle oxygen but only to a degree. Fix-it's breathe easy wrapped around the lower part of Gary's face with two self-made filters that sat on his cheeks.

After being informed of the spirit Gary sat up and marched over to what used to be a closet and another strong box that sat to the right of the workshop and next to the gym.

It was large, black and green and made out of metal in a way that reminded many of a safe. One of the only non-gadget inventions Fix-it ever produced was a storage cupboard that could survive a bombing and, through retinal scanners, would only unlock for Gary. It would be considered overkill if it weren't for what it contained.

Opening the cupboard revealed it to be Gary's arsenal. Many hunters thought one gun was enough, a shotgun usually. Gary couldn't agree any less.

At the top in gun racks was a Remington 870 and a KRISS Vector, waiting patiently for a chance to see use, there was one where his M4 Carbine usually would be as well. In the back was a Barrett M82 without the scope. He'd only ever used it once. Lining the left side was a series and plethora of grenades for when guns just won't cut it, all specially made with chemical compounds that spirits don't seem to be a fan of, spirits that aren't incorporeal can be harmed from just about anything, especially certain chemical reactions. It's just getting them there.

Set in place on the right side was a lightweight hatchet, with a blade made of diamonds. Not many know that changeling magic can be used to change the properties of certain materials, diamonds can be used to intensify certain chemicals and enhance reactions, plus diamonds are just really sharp. In a stand under the hatchet was a selection of black bottles, filled with oils specifically made to bring the hurt to spirits.

The bottom of the closet was home to a variety of rings, big enough to comfortably sit on Gary's head like a crown if it weren't for the glass in said rings. They were traps with all different purposes and functions. The traps sat on top of a drawer that was filled with Fix-it's inventions. The See-it and the Breathe easy were among them but he only had his eyes on one, but that came after his most vital piece of equipment.

Hanging on a couple of hooks in the center of the closet was a black vest that depicted a wilting rose just under the neck with a sentence stitched on next to it. It was simple and small but it had meaning, of Gary's own design.

'Death isn't here yet, let's go out fighting.'

He never said it was good but it is rather accurate, at least his numerous brushes with death says so.

Blight's aren't particularly fast but you can't get near them and they'll try and get close while spitting acid at you, try to lure you into a corner so it can show you why every hunter keeps their distance.

Grabbing the vest from the hooks, he slipped it on and them pushed himself up onto his hind legs to get his Remington.

You'd think bringing a close range weapon is bad because of the gas but many hunters don't know that a blight's gas, it's best weapon, is actually it's biggest weakness.

It remains the only spirit that can be exterminated with one pull of the trigger.

The gas is extremely flammable and the Remington is the only firearm that Gary has incendiaries for, it'll be a five minute job. Four of those minutes will be looking for it at most.

After opening the drawer and putting on the breathe easy he shut the closet which is actually the armory, they spend so much on equipment so they couldn't actually afford a big enough big safe, and then moved to the strong box next to the budget armory.

It was a big box and when it was opened it revealed why. The bottom of the lid was home to filled three holsters, a colt 1911, an M9 Beretta and a 44. Magnum revolver. Below the sidearms beheld rows upon rows of magazines and boxes of shells, all with a specified purpose. Using his magic he retrieved a few incendiary shells, he wouldn't need that many.

Satisfied with his equipment and armaments, as if his standards were that high anyway, he shut the strong box, made sure the armory locked itself and then turned to exit the curtain room to start his work.

Gary couldn't stop his chitin from crawling.

He already dispatched of the blight, it was one of the few quadruped spirits and it was covered in orange and green pustules, nasty looking things they are. So if he already cleared this place then why couldn't he shake this feeling? Part of him wanted to find out what was causing it but it had rattled him so badly that he just left, confident that his work here was done.

He went back into the curtain room to do two things and two things only. Put everything back and get a six pack.

So here he is now, sitting in the driver seat simultaneously trying to claim his beloved alcohol and tear it away from it's brethren. Until Fix-it emerged from the curtain room for some reason.

"Hey Gary do you know why the power's... off..." Fix-it trailed off.

Gary looked up at his friend. "What's up?" He only got a shaky hoof pointing at the windshield in response. He turned.

He stared straight into a pair of purely white eyes that was backed by an impossibly large, impossibly flawless smile on an impossibly black face. It was the worst thing imaginable.

A Jester.

The name is misleading, Jester's are the most twisted, sadistic and destructive spirit ever discovered. They are rumored to be born from the grief Discord emitted when he lost Fluttershy but that fact is entirely irrelevant when staring one down. Unlike the harmless trickster, Jesters were 100% lethal and their sick jokes often causing their victims intense pain before death, probably enjoys hearing them cry out for mercy. Unfortunately for hunters the Jesters inhabited many traits from Discord, one of them being the tendency to not play by the rules.

They are not bound anywhere.

They roam freely.

And that only makes them all the more dangerous.

Gary didn't even have time to react when the Jester brought a lengthy arm into view, only to slam it into the side of the RV and sent it rolling down the hill, bouncing occasionally.

Gary got a glimpse out of the broken windshield when it somehow turned back to the mansion, only to see a ball of black careening towards them in the afternoon sun.

Author's Note

Kinda rushed the ending but there isn't really an interesting way I can put "He walked into the broken down mansion, walked around a bit, shot the blight, it exploded and fucking died."

The wrong kind of court jester

Twilight was in tears as the crowd cheered on their newest princess. Cadance and Luna watched with happiness in their eyes as Celestia placed the crown upon Twilights head.

She was now being crowned as a true princess and her friends were right there with her. She didn't ask to be a princess or even an alicorn but she would do her very best! Like she always had.

She had done a lot for her fellow ponies and asked for nothing in return. This was her moment, that she bashfully endured.

Unfortunately the moment was not to last.

An explosion shook the castle to it's very foundations as everypony present was blinded by a flash of light, causing them to rush to the sides of the hall. The ringing caused by the explosion was deafening but it soon began to subside and, one by one, ponies began to open their eyes. A rift of blue and orange sat in the air above, a bit above the ground.

The castle shook again as a second explosion emanated from the rift as mist swirled around it and flashes of light blue began and quickly became more frequent as it grew slightly. Twilight readied her magic and her friends quickly ran to her side as the other princesses also readied their magic.

The rift quickly drained of all color, leaving it a pure black, as it expanded in size and something large and rectangular spewed out as the rift shrunk and returned to it's previous state, color included.

Thankfully all ponies had already moved out of the objects way as it crashed into the floor, cracking the marble, and began to tumble towards Twilight and her friends. Thankfully Luna was quick on the draw and erected a deep blue magic wall, a bit before the stairs, to stop it, which it crashed into before settling before Luna's wall.

The hall was silent as they all beheld what just transpired.

The silence continued until something fell off of it and revealed an unkempt, unconscious pony, causing many to gasp and begin to move to help the poor soul. The sudden masses of movement died off as quickly as they began as something else appeared out of the strange object and elicited a few harsh glares.

Gary's ears were ringing, his eyes stung and could barely feel his limbs as they were sprawled out with his Remington to the side of him as he lay his head on the floor.

It wasn't the worst thing he's woken up to but far from welcome.

Upon opening his eyes he quickly decided it was the worst thing he's ever had the displeasure of waking up to.

His RV was trashed.

The windshield was fucked, the miniature kitchen was no longer found in it's usual place, the fridge was missing, the strong box that held the vital scanning equipment was... mostly intact, near every window was broken, even the one on the door and the roll of bandages he saw on the floor didn't say anything good for their medical supplies.

He tried to get his hooves under him but was met with minimal success as life was only just beginning to return to them. He struggled and grunted as he tried to force his hooves under him, deciding the floor was no place to be. Honestly he didn't want to lay in all the broken glass and wasted alcohol. He was fine with drinking but being covered in it was a no go. Shit faced or not.

With no small amount of effort he had gotten onto his hooves and looked over with a tired expression as the door fell off. Still strapped with all his gear and gun in hoof, he made for the door to assess the damage to the RV itself hoping it wouldn't cost a fortune.

The moment he saw what... who was outside he just about had a heart attack. Fix-it was laying on top of the door looking a lot more bloody than usual. Gary rushed to him, he dropped his gun in his panic to see to his injured friend and paid no attention to his environment. The floor being made of marble was entirely lost to him.

Fix-it was a fragile stallion but Gary often forgot just how fragile. The crash had given Gary a mild headache at most but the black stallion was a different story.

Blood was matted to his white mane as blood leaked from the side of his head, his lips and nose were bleeding, the tip of his horn had been chipped and his body was covered in bruises and blemishes that was visible through his black coat coat.

He was about to lay his friend down and go find the first aid kit but the sounds of a crackling storm made him turn around and see the still present rift. He didn't think much of it at first, assuming that they had been teleported or some other magic mumbo jumbo, until it turned completely black. And grew a white, toothy smile.

Gary watched with growing unease as he watched the Jester slowly crawl out of the rift, never looking anywhere but at Gary with it's unwavering white iris's. It's long skinny limbs were a pitch black which ended in four long claws on the fore arms as it settled onto all fours, it's back legs seemed to just be stumps but held it's form evenly and easily, it could stand on it's back legs but seemed to like crawling around to cause more distress in it's victims. The black around it's body wasn't conent with being stuck to the body and seeped off of it like a gas in all directions before dissipating a few inches away from the body. He considered getting Fix-it and getting out of there but a look around gave him pause.

He saw the ponies lined up on the walls of the hall as they stared at the Jester with fear as it continued to crawl out of the rift, he looked back to what looked like a balcony that numerous ponies were standing at, also staring at the Jester's progress with growing terror. He felt like he should recognize them. He turned to the remains of his RV, while he could get a new one he had grown attached to this particular automobile, many memories, good and bad, were housed within. He glanced to his discarded firearm as it sat next to his friend, he stared at his friend's face as it was locked in an expression of pain. He glared at the cause of this scene as it finished crossing over, never faltering in a glare of it's own.

His face began contorting into an expression of rage as he sat his friend down and picked his shotgun back up by the pump and chambered a fresh shell with one hoof, tossed it in the air for flair, then caught it it by the grip with his hoof on the trigger guard. His magic was limited but it was enough to pull a trigger and that was all he needed of it.

Gary isn't the smartest ling but he isn't stupid, at least that's what he likes to believe but when he charged at the most dangerous spirit that clearly wanted him dead, badly, head-on with no plan while being armed with a firearm he doesn't remember reloading, he should really re-evaluate his intelligence if he survives this bout of stupid suicidal rage.

The first shot that was fired startled everypony but Gary and sent them all running, their building fear and terror finally boiling over, it didn't help that they kept bumping into Gary, throwing off his aim and causing the next fired incendiary to be sent into the crowd and lighting the ones hit on fire and bowling them over from the force of the pellets but that didn't concern Gary in the slightest, they caused that to happen by running into him, but it wasn't the worst thing to happen to them either.

The Jester seemed to finally notice the other ponies and diverted it's attention, something Gary's shot to the face couldn't do, to the fleeing crowd of ponies. It seemed to embrace the situation wholly and lifted itself into a standing position to free up it's clawed forearms.

To swing into the crowd with sadistic glee.

Ponies were flayed alive as the Jester swung as fast and hard as possible, to get as many as it could. Gary stood frozen to the spot as he watched the carnage no more than five metres in front of him.

Despite all his experience, all the technology, knowledge and firepower. He was powerless to stop what he was watching. He was powerless to change what he had done, even if it was an accident. Despite not caring about them, the mass loss of life hit close to home.

His head snapped back to Fix-it. He’d hate him right now if he were awake. Not in the fact that they died to the Jester, not in the fact that he had killed a good three ponies on accident, he would hate him for doing nothing to stop it, for watching as they lost their lives. His eyes drifted to the RV.

If he was going to die to a Jester, he'd take it with him at the very least. Three malevolent spirits in one day sounds like a good job if he ever heard one.

He ran straight into the ruined RV and through the ripped curtains. He scanned the room, the couches and TV's that were in the center were either broken or misplaced, Fix-it's workshop was littered with tools and most drawers that were built into the worktable were open, everything within strewn about. The gym had holes in it, likely due to the weights hitting the walls and floor at uncomfortable speeds. The bar, oh god no the bar. The bar was covered in broken glass and wasted alcohol, the alcoholic in him wanted to cry or pounce the bar and try the lick up all the liquid gold he could or both.

He forced his eyes away, but that didn't stop a tear of pure sadness to seep from his compound eyes. He approached his armory, on it's side, and leaned down to let the retinal scan to open it for him.

He rolled his withers as he heard a Click and pried open the doors to gather his instruments of pain.

It was a mess because of course it was. The weapons were all laying down on the wall of the locker that hugged the floor, that bothered him little. He dropped the shotgun and his drifting mind thought the bang! that rang out around the RV belonged to his discarded firearm but he quickly discarded the thought before it could really form.

He pried his hatchet out of it's holder and attached it to the end of his vest by a small clip at the end of it's handle and picked a vial of oil at random, not like the type would matter much on a spirit who's weaknesses weren't known. He picked a few grenades at random, the type of grenade inconsequential as long as it hurt. Badly.

After putting the grenades through the loops on the left side of his vest he looked to the trap rings. The glass had shattered on all but one. The experimental one.

Fuck...

Gary gritted his teeth while strapping the only trap ring to his waist and reached for the Barrett which lay on the lockers wall like the other weapons. He dragged it out by the barrel, not caring that it pointed at him, he unloaded every weapon after use. If there was ever a time to use this monster, it was now.

He heaved it onto his back as he wandered to the strong box that had managed to stay, roughly, in it's original place. He opened the latches on it and pried the crate open, the ammunition was scattered everywhere so finding ammo for a sidearm was out of the question but thankfully the .50 was a very distinct round so sorting through it all wasn't much problem.

Gary stored his ammunition as if he could be caught in a firefight at any moment, the crate wasn't the only place that had a full magazine of ready-to-use bullets but it was the highest concentration of them. He leaned into the crate and retrieved four magazines of ten bullets each. Forty didn't sound like enough but it'll have to do, any more weight and he'll be compromising his ability to dodge which would be suicide in this situation. An idiot he may be but might as well be the second coming of Twilight Sparkle when it came to prepping for a hunt. He knows how much he can carry, he knows what gear to use, he knows the most efficient means of attack, he's memorized the attack patterns and strategies of different spirits. But his short comings barely make all that worth it.

Another bang! shook the RV and nearly turned it on it's side. That definitely wasn't his gun, It wasn't the first time either.

He stuffed the magazines into the pouches that sat on his vest to the best of his ability as he stumbled out from the curtain room and looked for the cause. There!

A purple alicorn was flying around and using it's magic to try and subdue the Jester. What the fuck?

Gary's eyes followed the alicorn as it flew around the hall, it looked exhausted. He squinted his eyes at it and... Holy fuck.

That's Twilight Sparkle.

His mind went reeling as recognition when over his face, trying to understand how he is currently looking at the Princess of Equestria fighting the Jester. She passed away before he was born and now he's in his mid twenties, staring at the purple alicorn with his own eyes. The alicorn that's supposed to be dead. He should of went outside and started helping but he something in his mind, the disbelieving part, forced him back into the curtain room and to start frantically looking for his history book. There it is!

He picked up his book and quickly opened it, scrambling to the right page he saw in big bold text.

The end of Princess Twilight's reign.

The date of her death and the time of her burial were all written down before his very eyes. This book just went from a book to a dangerous item if the wrong ponies saw it. That's what his mind told him anyway, probably the part that absorbed all those TV shows he watches from time to time.

Dangerous, just a book or otherwise, he didn't want to take a chance and choose incorrectly so he went back to his armory, opened it and stuffed it in there before locking it and rushing back to the front of the RV.

He searched for Twilight, the sounds of volatile magic projectiles was encouraging but he couldn't see her anywhere. He looked back to the balcony and saw who he assumes is the element bearers standing in front of the Jester, with Twilight behind them in a heap. Bugger.

He could admire their determination to protect their friend but Applejack's lasso and Rainbow Dash's hooves aren't gonna do shit. The party cannon, which Pinkie just ripped out of nowhere would have been useful if it weren't filled with confetti, at least that's what history said she put into that fucking thing. If Twilight's magic didn't do anything, her being a magic juggernaut, Rarity, a fashion designer, would be less than nothing and Fluttershy... A stare that makes something feel guilty and upset won't do anything to something that revels in the death it causes. There were also royal guards standing in between the bearers and the Jester that was causing the sounds of magic he was hearing. There weren't many left.

He looked at where he left Fix-it and didn't see him, he immediately went from window to window looking for a sign of him as he began to panic, he eventually spotted him also behind the element bearers and began calming down, somewhat. No more stalling then.

Gary crept out of the RV, seeing that the Jester was almost upon them, he looked for something to throw, that wasn't a grenade, to get it's attention. A single leg that had been torn off a pony lay next to him, being his only easy option within reach unless he thought he could throw a piece of his RV that far, he didn't think so. Morbid but it'll do.

Grabbing the leg he threw it with all his might, hoping it would hit and hoping it'll go for him. He saw that leg sail through the air and bounced off the back of the Jester's head and it turned it's head to him.

"Heeey! Remember me? Yeah unless you're to pay for that," He pointed to his RV. "I'm gonna have to pull a mafia on your ass." Gary spoke confidently and loudly, straining his voice and internally shitting himself. He got no verbal answer but the Jester turned fully to him and shot towards him like a dog at the races.

Gary had to move quickly to avoid the lethal swipe that was aimed at him, center mass.

Thankfully he didn't have a full meal before now or this would probably cause him to throw up. He might throw up from the stress he's experiencing anyway.

Despite the weight strapped to his form he managed to jump over the clawed appendage and landed, thankfully with no lost or broken equipment, like one of those old rodeo ponies.

He took a grenade off at random, pulled the pin and dropped it as he was mid-air and quickly scrambled away, through the Jester's legs. He dived into a roll to avoid having to take the Barrett off normally, since it lacked a strap, he let it fall off his body as it was already pointing at his target, caught it and aimed at the Jester's rear.

Click

He'd forgotten to load it.

Now panicking he took a magazine out of one of his pouches and hastily stuffed it in, pulling back the bolt to chamber a round, he was ready to shoot.

The grenade he dropped exploded in a bright blue explosion of electricity, he can never understand how Fix-it puts this stuff in the grenades, or anything he uses. The Jester locked up and brought it's head skyward as blue danced with black.

The electricity forced the Jester to become corporeal so he wasn't wasting rounds. The Jester's actual body was, for some reason, a pure white. He didn't question it, his magic surrounded the trigger as he held the rifle firmly in his grasp.

Boom!

He'll never get used to the sound and recoil of the Barrett, nearly sending him on his ass as the bullet went straight through the Jester's body, tearing it apart. Not really. The bullet made contact and tore a piece off the Jester's body but the amount of damage was underwhelming compared to what he was expecting. There was no huge gash, there was no loud screech and the Jester barely budged from the impact.

Instead it snapped it's head back down, turned and glared at him before charging. Got one might as well use it.

Gary didn't panic, much, he ripped the trap ring off of his waist and set it on the ground, used his magic to set the trigger hidden within the ring itself and jumped back as the glass took on a red hue around the edges near the ring. He planned on getting further away but didn't keep track of how close he was to the stairs and tripped on them, falling on his ass.

He looked at the Jester as it was rapidly approaching, he didn't have time to move so he simply said.

"Fuck."

It tripped the trap ring and--

Of all the things he was expecting the experimental ring to do, it fucking exploding with that much force was the last thing on that very short list.

It had enough force to launch Gary up the staircase and off the balcony.

Author's Note

If you think about it, he only shot once in that confrontation.

The experimental one.