1 - The End Starts the Beginning

This is the new, updated version. I was not particularly happy with how short the beginning was, so I actually made it longer. Now, you'll see this as soon as the site decides it wants to update it, and I want your honest opinions, readers. That would be appreciated very much.

~See you on the flipside ~ Acheron

The train rumbled as it moved swiftly through the underbelly of the city. At that time of night, it would have been packed, but only one person sat on it that night. He moved his wrist around, flexing it until he heard it pop. He grumbled when he heard it pop, as that was the limit he could move it. Rolling up his sleeve, he ran his finger down a scar that started at his wrist, ending four inches down his arm. He rolled his sleeve back up and stared at the ceiling.

“Stupid metal plate.” Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a medical report dated to a time four months before. It detailed out the surgery that they had to do, which limited mobility of his hand. He could feel tears stinging his eyes as he read it. No, don't start now, not now. This is serious! His train of thought was interrupted by the sharp ringing tones from his cellphone. Flipping it open, he stared down at the screen, recognizing the number from a doctor at the hospital. “Hello? Uh, yes, this is Erik. N-No, I'm not working, I was just on my way home- what?” He dropped the phone as the tears came back in full force. When the phone hit the ground, the doctor on the other end of the line was frantic.

“Erik? Erik!” He let the doctor drone on as he slid his hands over his eyes and covered his face. Standing up, he turned around and slammed a balled-up fist on the Plexiglass window in anger.

“No, no no! This can't be happening!” He slid back down into his seat, pulling out his wallet to look at the picture of his father. It was torn, with several age marks. It was the only photo he had left of his father, and soon, it would be all he had left of his father. Erik slowly picked up his cellphone off the floor of the train, stuffing it into his pocket as he stared into the darkness of the city as the train passed onto a rail bridge. The train slowed down for another stop, which meant twenty minutes until a closer stop. Reaching between his legs, Erik dragged out a bag of his, fishing around in it for his journal. Finding it, he flipped through the entries for the past two weeks. As he read, he began to feel even more despondent than he had before. A voice startled him, making him look wildly around.

“I'm sorry it came to this. I really am.” Erik glanced both ways that the voice could have come from, but there was no one there who could have said that. He glanced down at his journal, and found he had opened to the previous day's entry.

“'They won't tell me what's going on with him, but I know the truth. There won't be anything left for me, nowhere, not one single iota of anything. I want to die. I want to stop the pain. I want to die.'” He flipped through five more pages, which were filled with the one line at the end of what he had read out loud to himself.

When the subway stopped, Erik could hear the engine whine down, shutting off for the night. He made his way to the open door, stepping off onto the deserted platform. Walking towards the exit, he took the stairs, coming up to street level. As he came out, thunder crashed overhead, and rain started to pound down, casting reflections on every flat surface around. Erik stared up at the sky, the rain mixing with his tears as he watched it fall down. Walking forwards, he looked up and down the street he was on. Nothing was stirring, nothing was there. The street was deserted. To Erik, it felt like everything was dead, the exact same that he felt at that moment.

“No, this isn't happening. No, I'll wake up tomorrow and my father will be sitting there with a plate of breakfast sausages and eggs for us both to eat.” He continued to mutter to himself as he slogged his way through his waterlogged trek to the hospital. The rain seemed to fall harder and faster as he kept up his pace. Come on! Move it, Erik! You can't let yourself slow down now! He forced his stubborn legs to move faster, jogging through the rain to the hospital. The grey structure of the hospital, a large, glowing red cross on the front, seemed to grow out from the darkness the rain had brought. Erik stopped for a few mere seconds to stare at it before continuing on. Streaks of water ran down his face, stinging his eyes as he continued to force himself closer to the hospital. Reaching the front door, he walked through into the blinding brightness of the lobby's interior. A nurse held her hand up and tried to make him go back out the door.

“I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to get your medical attention from the shelter, not us-” She stopped when Erik held up his hand, panting as exhaustion hit him hard.

“Just, uh, give me a minute, okay? Where's your nearest washroom?” The nurse pointed to a blue door at the end of the hallway. Erik smiled, nodding as he made his way over. Stepping inside, he shut the door quickly, locking it before bending over the toilet and retching. The sheer amount of emotions he was feeling he could not describe, but it made him sick to his stomach. Standing back up, he looked in the mirror at himself. There was dirt down his face, streaked because of the rain, and his normally unruly brown hair lay plastered to his head. He shook his head in disbelief. “I really do look like one of those people at the shelter.” He wiped his mouth, spitting what remained of what had come up into the toilet. He pulled his jacket off and threw it into the garbage can in the corner of the washroom. Examining his face again in the mirror, he snatched paper towel from the dispenser and rubbed his face until it was semi-distinguishable as something other than a mud-washed mask. He stepped out and approached the nurse again. She turned, tilting her head in a confused manner.

“May I help you sir?” Erik pointed at the front desk.

“Erik Lance, here to see the Lance you currently have residing here. Please, though. The call I got from the doctor said to get up there soon.” The nurse went pasty white when Erik asked her.

“U-Uh, right this way, sir!” She motioned for Erik to follow her to the elevator, where a maintenance worker with a sheet-covered gurney walked out, taking it in the direction of the morgue. She stepped inside, looking at the floor. “So many die here, now, and they have no family that wants to see them. What is so special about your father?”

“He's the only person who has ever cared about me at all. My boss hates me, my co-workers are agonizing to be around, and I hate... well, everything. There's nothing that I can even do for a hobby anymore.” He looked at the elevator's floor indicator counting up.

“From what your father said, you were a writer?”

“Not serious, but four months ago, an accident happened that destroyed any hope of writing stories anymore. Two weeks ago, I tried typing out a story on my old laptop.” He stared at the ceiling, trying to push the memory out of his head, attempting to flex his hand so as to not focus on the event to much. “That's when the accident happened. There was only one neighbour who actually decided to help me get my father to the hospital. She had a heart attack three days later. She's dead.” He put his hand on the nurse's shoulder. She turned to face the haggard expression of Erik, squealing a little bit in fear. “Was the surgery successful? The doctor said to come right away, but didn't explain why.” He held his hand over his face. He did not have the heart to tell her that he had already assumed the worst.

When the elevator stopped, a doctor walked out of the nearest room, shaking his head.

“I don't understand what went wrong. The surgery was a success. He should be on the road to recovery, not laying there- oh, Erik!” The doctor approached Erik, frowning. “You may want to give your final words to your father.” Erik pushed the doctor into a nearby wall in anger, holding him by his collar.

“What did you do to my father? Answer me!” The doctor held up his hands in defeat.

“There was nothing we could do, Erik. The surgery was, by all counts, a stunning success. But something infected your father, we don't even know what it is. It's unlike any virus we've ever seen. Best to say what you have to, and hear what your father has to say.” Erik released the doctor and walked slowly into the room. He knocked on the door, alerting his father of his presence.

“Hey, Dad. Came in to see how you were holding up after the surgery.” Erik grabbed an armchair from beside a nearby table and set it beside his father's hospital bed. “You've got a good view from here.” He made sure that he was in the darkness so that his father could not see his tears.

“Don't patronize me, Erik. I taught you better. I already know. Dying, it's like going to sleep, except more painful, and you don't wake up.” His father face him, showing a white-haired, hollow-faced man who looked on the verge of death. “If your mother was alive-”

“Please, just don't mention Mom, okay? Just don't.”

“I never fully got to say how proud I was of you. You persevered, even through an obstacle that made it almost impossible for you to write.” His father started coughing, making Erik leaned forward before his father slapped him away. “Don't treat me like an invalid. I deserve better, not groveling, but what really matters. A son that continues to persevere, no matter the circumstances.” His father stared at the window, looking out at the clouds. “The sun don't shine anymore, huh? Darker and darker this city became after your mother's death. It's a beacon of hopelessness now.”

“Dad, please-”

“I want to be alone now, with my thoughts.” Erik nodded and left the room, staring at the doctor. He shut the door as silently as he could. He did not say anything, but the look on his face said everything. He had lost the last thing that mattered to him, and there was nothing left. His job barely paid enough for him to live off of, and his father had no money because of the bills that had to be paid. He stared at a window and starting smiling, but the smile was not normal. No, this is all a dream. I'll wake up, and my father will be there, sitting with a plate of breakfast sausages and eggs, and we'll eat them, together, like we always did. Like we used to. He started to snicker as he moved towards the roof access. He turned to face the doctor, smiling in his state of insanity.

“Time for Erik to go now. Bye-bye, doctor man.” He starting shaking as he walked up to the roof, stepping out into the rain once more. The roof was barren, except for a railing, but no one had come up there in a long time, the weather not permitting. He staggered to the railing, staring down. He thought he saw his father waiting down there, smiling with open arms. He's waiting for me. Waiting to catch me in his arms. Dad was always protecting me. Why can't he protect me now? Because there is no more Dad. No more, as he is gone. He gripped the railing tightly, throwing his head back and screaming into the storm. “Why did you take my father from me!” He turned around, not fully comprehending what he was doing, when the doctor came running through the door, holding a syringe of what Erik, in his unstable state, assumed was something to kill him. “No, you're not going to hurt me. Not like you did my father.” The doctor advanced, now flanked by attendants, security guards, and nurses.

“Erik, I understand you're in a dark place right now, but this-”

“You don't understand!” He laughed manically into the wind. “No one ever understood me like my father did! No matter what you say, there's only one thing left for me now.” He ducked under the railing, holding on as he stared at the parking lot, where the form of his father still stood.

“Erik! Killing yourself won't prove anything! You'll be just another statistic, another body to be catalogued in the morgue! Please, just step away from the railing!” The doctor backed up when Erik turned with pain on his face.

“There's nothing left for me, anyways. Don't pretend to care about me when you didn't even get paid enough to keep my father alive.” He let go of the railing, the tears flying from his eyes as he fell. As he fell, the wind felt as if it was dying down, and he could barely feel the rain, barely hear the screaming of people as he plummeted past their windows. He smiled and closed his eyes, silently awaiting to be embraced by his father again, in his own horrific end.

An end which did not come. Erik opened his eyes to the countryside. More importantly, an untouched countryside, as if no human hand or tool had ever touched it. He smiled and stood up. As he tried to stand, he lost his balance and fell over. Feeling all over his body, he was shocked to find that there were flat objects hitting his body. Crawling backwards in fear, he looked down at his hands. Well, they would have been hands, if they had not been replaced with two dark brown hooves. Staring at his feet, he could see the same thing. Trying to think back, he simply could not remember how he had come to that place. He lay back and stare at the impossibly blue sky. In the city, there had always been storms. The sun never came out, and gloom had set in. Here, he felt he could smile without pain. As he smiled, tears fell from his eyes. Looking around, he could not understand why he could not remember what had caused it. He remembered all the pain, but he could not remember what was associated with it. Content to just lie still, he was about to take a nap when a loud, rambunctious voice came out of nowhere and startled him. Sitting up and looking around, he spotted no one around, until he looked straight up, and came face-to-face with the biggest smile he had ever encountered in his entire life. To tell the truth, it reminded him of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, one of his favourite movies.

“Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie! I don't think we've met, and I know everypony in Ponyville! What's your name?” Pinkie, as the strange... pony called itself, sat down on the ground. What puzzled Erik was not the colour of her coat, but rather, the fact that she had been floating above him. On nothing.

“I'm not giving out my name until I figure out just what is going on. I don't give a rat's ass about who you are, I just want to know what's going on!” He stared at Pinkie, who looked confused.

“What's a 'rat's ass?'” Erik startled at that, realizing he'd said something he did not mean to.

“Sorry. Whatever you do, do not repeat that in polite conversation. Or any conversation, for that matter. Anyways, ponies, Ponyville? What in the world is going on here? I... I don't know how I came here, nor why I am here.” Pinkie dragged him to his hooves, snickering as she watched him stagger.

“You're not a normal pony, Mr?”

“I said, I don't want to tell you until I get some answers!” His eyes went wide as she pushed him forward from behind with her nose. “H-hey, what are you d-doing?”

“There's no use sitting here by yourself, silly! Come on, let's go meet everypony in Ponyville!”

Erik was horrified. Pinkie had not been kidding when she said “everypony.” It seemed like the entire population of the little hamlet they had entered had come out. Their numbers did not shock him, nor did... Pinkie... anymore. The fact of the matter was, he realized he was no longer on Earth.

“What?!” He went wide-eyed at the myriad of colours around. One small little... filly, he believed he had overheard some other pony say they were, approached him. A strange orange-coloured one, with a pink mane. It reminded him of a Popsicle... for some bizarre reason. He looked down at her.

“So, who are you? What do you do? Why are you here?” She sat down and stared at him with curious eyes.

“I won't tell my name, but I'm a writer. I write stories.” She smiled, her eyes closing as she laughed. Two other fillies joined her.

“We'll be the Cutie Mark Crusader Name Givers! Let's think of a name!” The three sat down and brainstormed, all while Erik tried getting their attention, to no avail. He sat down and sighed, raising his hooves in defeat. He was still getting used to having hooves. When he got tapped on the back by a hard, round object, he snarled and backed away, thinking someone was attacking him. When he saw it was a cream-coloured pony – could not tell the gender, he had to ask how at some point – with a bubblegum-pink mane. It was weird. That pony reminded him, again... of a Popsicle. Either they would all remind him of one, or he was just- his stomach startled growling.

“Great. Hunger. Just had to strike now, of all times, didn't it?” He looked at a nearby pile of hay, and licked his chapped... lips. He did not know the anatomy of a pony. It was never something he wanted to explore. Biology had never been one of his strong points, though, it had occurred to him that the info in the class might have been useful at some point. He silently rebuked himself for falling asleep during those classes instead of paying attention. He was about to go for the hay when he stopped. “Wait, hay? Why am I feeling the need to eat... hay, of all things? French Fries, a salad, those sound good. A salad... with... bacon...” His eyesight grew dim. He could feel himself slowly fading.

Rain. He could feel rain on his face. A doctor, running at him with a syringe, a devilish grin on his face, saying something about the brightness of the world. It was like he was on the roof of a building again. A building he knew all too well.

“What's going on? Where am I? Answer me!” The doctor snarled as he lunged.

And Erik woke up. He could clearly feel the rain. As he looked up, he saw a watering can tipped over, pouring slowly out over him. With a frown, he got up out of a bed and looked around. He was in some sort of library, though whatever passed for a library would impress him a great deal. The city's library had closed down in favour of computer networks. People hated to talk to each other. He looked up the stairs to a door. It was curious to him in a way. It... seemed normal enough, but it appeared locked, even to an untrained eye. He stared at it, and then back at the watering can. Picking it up with his teeth – he could not pick it up with hooves; for him, that breached the laws of physics – he got a running start and lobbed it out the nearest window in a fit of anger. The watering can crashing through the window must have woken up whoever slept beyond the locked door, as he heard rumbling and crashing as someone, or pony, tried to get to the door.  Eventually, though, it slammed open, and there was... a unicorn, glaring at him with fire in her eyes. Erik could literally feel the colour drain from his face. He thought he knew scary, but that... that unicorn, well, she was scary beyond all reason with that look in her eyes.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I didn't mean to! The thing was dripping on me the entire night! I had to throw it out the window! Whoa, stop it!” He watched as her horn began glowing, then felt himself being lifted off the ground and tossed out the window as well.

“Did you have to do it so early in the morning?” He got up and stared around. She was right, it was pretty early. He scratched his head, confused.

“I don't get it at all. Why did she have to do that?” A window smashing. An image of a lamp getting thrown past him out a window. Bloodied knuckles, a fight. A robbery in his home. Well, not his home anymore, he could feel. He lay back on the grass and stared up at the dawn sky. It was beautiful. He was about to get up and look around when a large ball slammed into his face. Knocked backwards, he could taste blood in his mouth from the blow. He bolted back upright very quickly. “Hey, what's the big idea?” He looked around. No one, or pony, was around. There was a note attached to the ball. Two words. He did not understand what they said, but he could read them. “'Remember.... always.' What's that supposed to mean?” He pulled the note off and held it close to himself. He eventually passed into sleep again, but not before the dream again. The rain, the roof, the doctor, everything except the most important details, like where he had been, what had happened, and why. “Why. Why is always the question, isn't it? 'Why are you doing this?' 'Why am I here?' 'Why are you doing this to me?' That's the question any being will ask most of the time, just why.” Eventually, he started to snore, waking up a nearby family of chipmunks who decided to rain nuts on him while he slept.

When he awoke again later that morning, he pushed himself up off the ground, a layer of miscellaneous nuts covering him. He could see the unicorn busying herself dusting the library. Walking around to the front, he opened up the door and stepped inside, startling the unicorn. She reared up and fell backwards.

“W-who are you? What are you doing here?” She stopped speaking when he laughed.

“You tossed me out a window. The least you could do is apologize. Unless you don't want to. Where I'm from, no one ever says they're sorry, no matter what they do.” He sat down, staring at all of the volumes of books. He had not noticed the night before, but there were hundreds of books. Everything in the city had been digital, meaning libraries had no place anyways. It felt good to be in a bit of the past for him. He breathed deep and sighed.

“S-so you're the one who broke the window, and tried to rob me?” Erik stopped as Twilight seemed scared. He thought hard for a moment about a question that had been bothering him. He and these ponies spoke the same language. It made no sense.

“I broke the window, but I was tossing out a watering can. Somebo- I mean, somepony brought me to your library and put me in a bed directly below a watering can.” He stared up at the ceiling, trying not to make eye contact. “Though... something is strange about this world, and... the one I came from.” He looked back at the unicorn to see her blinking with wide eyes.

“Your world? What do you mean, 'your world?'” She crept closer to Erik, who back away slowly. Erik silently cursed about forgetting that he should be quiet about that sort of thing before he got answers.

“Nothing. Just forget I said that. But anyhow, it would be better to talk if I knew your name. I'm- well, I'm a writer, so that's gotta count for some kind of name, right?” He sheepishly smiled at the unicorn.

“I'm Twilight Sparkle. So, your name's Writer? Strange name-”

“No, my name's not Writer, I am a writer! I write stories, books, that sort of thing!” This made Twilight perk up, pushing her out of her anger and into curiosity, which scared Erik very much.

“You write? Books? Let me have some, I'd like to read them at some point!” She started mumbling to herself as Erik backed away slowly.

Just back away slowly, Erik. No need to make this... pony any more crazy than she already is. This place is screwed up. I don't give a rat's ass how interesting I am, I'm getting out of here! Erik was about to gallop away – he did not understand how it worked, but he could... albeit very poorly, with a lot of tripping – when he ran smack dab into Pinkie Pie, who had apparently been waiting for him at the door. He glared at her as she smiled.

“Hey, hey, hey! Wanna be my friend? I know you do! Everypony wants to be Pinkie's friend-” He pushed her aside as he walked past, looking back to glare. His voice was grim when he spoke.

“I don't want to be your friend, Pinkie. And another thing? Referring to yourself in the third person is a clear sign of insanity. Leave me alone.” Erik galloped away, running into a few market stalls as vendors opened up a Ponyville market full of strange and interesting wares that would have dazzled anyone besides Erik. He wanted home, and his memory of what caused so much pain while he slept. His mind kept drifting back to the dream. He felt thoughts of... death, pain, and sorrow, a need to feel free for once.

He sat on a mound of dirt outside of a large apple orchard, staring at the sun in the sky, trying to burn his retinas out so he could not see any more of the overly cheerful town. He knew that this was not natural, but a part of him said that “sometimes illusions are more truthful than any reality you face.” He sighed and lay back, but not before another pony stood over him. At least this one did not grin like the Cheshire Cat. He found that eerily creepy about Pinkie... and her lack of physics. On his way out of town earlier, he saw Pinkie pop out of a small flower pot, apparently following him.

“Rough day, eh, pardner? Ah reckon you met Pinkie Pie, right?”

“She's persistent, I'll give her that. I don't want to be here. I'm not supposed to be here. Why does she want to be my friend? No one, or pony, ever wanted to be my friend! No, all they did was-” He realized that the pony, an orange mare with a light blonde mane, was giving him a quizzical stare.

“Whaddya mean, nopony ever wanted to be yer friend? Ah think ya just need time ta adjust, that's all!” With that, she left Erik sitting with a lot of questions, starting with...

“What just happened?” He got up and followed her, sticking by her side as she trotted between the apple orchards. “Hey. I meant that I'm really not used to it. I mean, I've never had anyone to talk to, ever.” The mare turned and smiled at him. Erik had not noticed before, but she had the most curious shade of green eyes he had ever seen. They were... well, they were perfect green. No shades, no variances, just green.

“Ah'm Applejack, and this here farm is Apple Acres. Big Macintosh, Applebloom! We got a guest! Try and be nice ta him!” She left him in front of a very large stallion who stared at him with a look so calm, Erik doubted even someone who was unconscious could look so calm. A little filly with a yellow coat and a red mane stared up at him with a questioning expression. She began leaning forward to stare at Erik as he brought himself down to her level. She leaned too far, falling on top of his head.

“Mmph mph mmph mmph!” She looked down at Erik, giving him a strange look. “I said, you're on my face! Get off!” She hopped off, letting Erik breathe as he stood there panting.

“Ah, sorry! Ah didn't mean ta do that. Just got a bit carried away, heh.” Erik looked at the stallion, who still seemed utterly calm. That... actually scared him that some creature could look so stupidly peaceful. He pushed the stallion's face a little bit.

“Ah wouldn't recommend doin' that, pardner.” Applejack trotted out with a big smile, and a large apple pie on her head. Setting it down on a table beside the porch, she waved all three of them over. As they sat down, Applebloom began staring at the pie with greedy eyes, much like the younger brother of a former 'friend' of Erik's. He bowed his head, muttered something, and smiled.

“I'm definitely ready for some pie!” He had been truthful with them about everything. His dreams, however, did not leave much for explanation. He grabbed a piece of pie and lovingly munched it down, his hunger finally sated as he sat there and sighed. He looked at the others. They stared at him with strange looks, then began laughing when he belched. He was about to apologize when Applejack held up her hoof.

“I brought out this pie to celebrate a new friend, Mr?” Erik stopped eating to stare at Applejack. His mind was a blank. He glanced around, eventually at his own side. A strange mark was on his side; however, it was not what he expected. There was a sword, with two lightning bolts shooting out of the sides.

“Warpath. Mr. Warpath.” They seemed genuinely scared when he said it. “Okay... that's not my real name.” To cover up, he lied. “I... uh... don't really remember my name.” A zoom behind him had him sitting upright as a familiar voice shouted.

“What? He doesn't remember his name! Well, we can give him one! Warpath is not a name that will make you very many friends. Think, Pinkie, think!” She stared at his flank. “Your Cutie Mark is very strange-” She was stopped by Erik as he flipped around and held her by the shoulders.

“What's a 'Cutie Mark?'” She pointed at the mark on his flank and giggled.

“That's a Cutie Mark, silly! It always appears whenever somepony find that extra-special talent that makes them so special! Yours is quite unique, so your name has to be unique! How about... Storm Surge? No, too stormy. Power Swing? Nah, too odd.” It was another filly who had followed Pinkie Pie that piped up with a name.

“What about Volt Ward? A sword is not only for offence, but for defence as well. At least, that's what my daddy always tells me.” It was obvious that not even Pinkie knew this small Pegasus. She was almost jet black, with big blue eyes, and a voice that made even Erik's heart melt.  Erik bent down to the Pegasus and smiled.

“What's your name?” She backed up and hid behind Pinkie Pie, visibly afraid of Erik, now Volt Ward.

“I-I'm S-Shadow Wing.” She ran away quickly, leaving all parties present with a lot of questions. Pinkie immediately ran off to try and find another pony to make into her friend. As he looked at Pinkie zoom away in a pink-coloured blur, he shook his head. Nothing made sense. He turned back to the table. Pie made sense. The ground made sense. Applejack's family... being ponies, that was a little far, but they made sense. It was something he could anchor his mind on, prevent an early onset of insanity. He remembered many of his family members had succumbed to something like it. His father had even told him to anchor his mind to something that made sense, or else he would lose his mind. Volt turned to Applejack.

“Thanks for the pie. It was delicious. I hope I can visit again. Of everything I've experienced, you three make the most sense out of all of it.” He trotted away, still licking his lips, leaving the Apple family to ask each other questions about what exactly Volt Ward had meant.

Making his way back to Ponyville was more difficult than he had imagined. The route seemed straightforward, but it was not, in all reality. When he eventually arrived, a cerulean Pegasus with a rainbow mane came zooming down from the sky and began laughing at Volt. He could feel the hairs on his back stand on end as he got angry. He hated it when anyone laughed at him, and now a pony was laughing at him. His anger exploded, and so did something else, because a bolt of electricity arced out of somewhere and zapped the Pegasus, flinging her away.

“What? What was that just now?” Volt looked around, trying to figure out what he had just done. Finding a puddle, he looked at himself. He was a unicorn, with deep red eyes, a dark brown coat – he had assumed that since he had seen his hooves earlier – and a black mane. He was quite dark coloured, and he got some strange looks, which meant he must be some kind of aberration, instead of something different. Just ignore them, Erik- wait, I've got to blend in. Volt it is... this is going to be harder than I thought. He moved steadily, trying to gain his bearings. He was about to turn down another street when a dark shadow loomed over him from above. Staring straight up, he could literally feel his jaw hit the hard ground.

“You have got to be kidding me!”