Chapter 1

The Storm

Well there I was on another beautiful Sunday afternoon sitting inside like a bump on a log wishing I was—*pfffhahahahahahahaha*—oh shit I couldn’t even say that with a straight face. Woo! Well it was a Thursday night and it was storming like a motherfucker outside. Just the way I like it too.

I’ve never been one for going outside in nice weather anyways. Not since the accident that is, but that’s another story to never tell. I hate the sun. I trained myself to be nocturnal by nature even. In fact: I was just getting up around this time. Yep. 8:00 PM.

The storm almost put me back to sleep. Something about the blast of air slamming back together after seeing it get split by lightning soothed me. Probably that thought that if anyone was fortunate enough to get almost hit by lightning, they would likely go deaf from the following thunder…yeah I’m a cruel person.

Then there was a knock at my door, so I grabbed my baseball bat—the aluminum bat this time. I waited to see if they would just go away for a minute.

“Ah can see the lights on! Ah know yer home, and Ah ain’t leavin’!”

I groaned in annoyance. This wasn’t exactly new to me, but I still didn’t like telling the cops or whoever to piss off whenever this happened. They were just so damn persistent.

Anyways, in one motion I opened the door with my left hand and brought my bat done on the girl’s head with the other hand. I've got a more than pretty good build on me, so it was more than enough to knock her out. She hit the ground pretty hard. I dragged her by her hair and shut the door behind me. In my defense I was pretty sure she wanted to come inside…*pfffhahahahahahahaha* can’t say that with a straight face either!

Yeah so I grabbed the duck tape off the coffee table and got her restrained real nice on the couch. This was when I took the opportunity to take a good look at her. Well for starters she was a blonde—long blonde hair that nearly reached her ass, tied up in single band at the end of it. Her clothing was anything but normal for these parts. She wore tight denim jeans with a thin brown leather belt and a pair of cowboy boots to match. Her shirt was an orange working shirt with the sleeves rolled up, only halfway buttoned up, and tied at the bottom.

I could see her navel and her bra. Ding-ding we have a winner. I was mostly surprised that it wasn’t another nun—don’t ask. I looked over by the door and noticed a Stetson hat, which had to be hers since I didn’t own one. Come to think of it I’d never seen one in this whole city before that night.

I picked it up and set it on my head. It was a bit small for my head, but not by much. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed one of my cleavers, then walked back out where sleeping beauty was still unconscious on the couch. I noticed she was stirring slightly, trying to wake up. Impressively strong willed I have to say. I waited until her eyes started to open a good ten minutes later and threw the cleaver down on the table.

“Alright girly you’ve got ten seconds,” I told her, “Impress me.”

When the cleaver hit the table she jumped, despite the restraints. “Who in tarnation are you?!” she screamed.

“The ass that knocked your ass out with a baseball bat to the head,” I told her, “You're lucky the storm put me in a good mood or I’d have used the wooden bat with a lead core. Translation: you’d be dead.”

“What’s wrong with you?!” she demanded, “And untie me!”

“You’re not in any position to be making demands, but I’ll extend your time since you’re clearly disoriented,” I conceded slightly, “Now what’s your name, where are you from, and who do you work for?”

“Applejack, none of yer business, and what?” she answered.

“’Applejack’?” I parroted in disbelief, “I do believe I’ve just been insulted. THE FUCK KIND OF CODENAME IS THAT?!”

“It ain’t no codename—it’s mah name!” she snapped back.

“Man your parents must have some drunken redneck hicks if they named you that,” I said with a shake of my head.

“YOU LEAVE MAH PARENTS ALONE!” she screeched.

That surprised me. Obviously it was a sore subject, so I left it alone. “How’d you get here?” I asked.

She calmed herself down after a minute of shaking, and segued into some story about how she’d been wandering around all day. After about five minutes of rambling I pulled a gun out of my jacket and fired a shot down the adjacent hallway. That was my blank gun though, which I used as a scare tactic. She suddenly jumped and shut up.

“Oh I’m sorry did I break your concentration?!” I yelled.

She stared at me like I was…well, a psychopath.

“Oh I was just getting a fly on the wall, please, continue,” I said sweetly with I pointed around with the gun like I would have just waved my hand.

She never took her eyes off the gun and kept her mouth shut.

“What’s the matter?” I asked innocently, “Oh you’re done! Alright then. My turn to talk.” I pressed the barrel of the pistol on the coffee table and pulled the trigger. At close range like that even blanks could do some damage, so a couple splinters flew for added effect. “I told you to tell me where you’re from! I didn’t ask how your morning went! NOW TELL ME WHAT COUNTRY ARE YOUR FROM?!”

“What’s it even matter?!” she asked in a panic.

“I’m asking the fucking questions not you!” I snapped, “What is your name?”

“Ah told ya’ll it’s Applejack!”

“How did you get here?” I yelled at her.

“Ah don’t know! I don’t remember!”

I pried the knife off the table and held it to her throat. She shook in fear—on the verge of pissing herself I think—for a few seconds without saying anything. I just gave up and threw the knife down on the ground, cutting the tape binding her legs. I ripped the tape on her hands myself.

She scrambled to the other edge of the couch without daring to move any further without permission. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“I decided I believe you,” I told her flatly.

“You son of a bitch!” she yelled as she jumped at me.

I grabbed her in mid-air and threw her over my head with ease. I took off my leather jacket as she picked herself up, and proceeded to rip off one of my limitless plain black shirts. “Listen ‘Applejack’—if that is your real name—I wouldn't try that again if I was you. Look at the size of me. Do you really think you have a chance?”

She glared fiercely at me. “Gimme mah hat back,” she demanded as though she were in charge, “Ah ain’t askin’.”

I picked the hat up off my head and twirled it in my fingers before tossing it to her. “Keep it. I don’t like wearing hats anyways.”

She flipped it back onto her head and leaned up against the wall, still glaring at me.

I kept quite for a minute while I ran through the last few minutes in my head. She was putting on a brave face, but I really did have her scared stiff. I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for braining her like that. "I…listen," I sighed, "I'm sorry I bashed your head in like that. It's just…I've got a lot of people that want to kick the crap out of me for a lot of things."

"So ya threaten to kill 'em?" she asked aggressively.

"Well..." That did sound pretty bad I admit. "Not only that, but I'm kinda being watched by a lot of government types who think I might be a terrorist or something like that. To make matters worse there's a lot of people that want me outright dead for things I'm definitely not gonna tell you about. To be completely honest that bat has saved my life a few times." Maybe overexaggerating just a bit about the saved my life bit, but the rest was true.

"Sounds like ya kinda got the shit end of the stick," she said pretty apathetically. I might have just been hearing things, but she almost sounded like she felt sorry for me for the breifest moment.

"I am sorry, and I don't ever say that," I told her seriously, "I..." I mentally kicked myself into saying this, "Is there something I can do to make it up to you?"

She still looked pretty mad at me, but I could tell she at least believed me. “…Ah need a place to stay,” she grumbled finally.

I raised an eyebrow for a moment. She looked away so I assumed I heard her correctly. “You can stay in my room,” I said as I waved a hand dismissively and plopped down on the couch, “I sleep here anyways. Bedroom’s down the hall thataway. Break anything and I break you.” I was just joking of course, but she wasn't quite as amused.

“You little—“

“Little?” I asked coyly with a raised eyebrow.

She glared at me a moment longer and just gave up. “Thanks,” she muttered as she marched past me.

I glanced back at her and took a look at her ass. Perfect round ass; enough that there is an ass, but not so big that she’s better coming than going. You could play that thing like a bongo. Hell, you could play quarters off that thing. I pushed the thought out of my mind…with some difficulty.

Oh that thing would be perfect to slam into.

Shut up already.

Yeah, cause saying that worked so well the last time.

I’m not gonna rape her.

Now who’s the sick fuck? I never said anything about rape. I was gonna say you should seduce her.

Yeah, because women are totally hot for a guy that bashes her head in and ties them up when they first meet in the middle of the night. Aren’t I just a charmer?

Eh…okay yeah, scratch that idea. It ain’t happenin’.

No shit sherlock.

Call me crazy: I argue with my own thoughts.

Since she wasn’t working for anyone anyways I guessed I wouldn’t have to worry about the cops asking questions. Unless her family knew where to look and they came to take her off my hands. If that was the case I'd just send her off with them. Not like I was holding her against her will or anything.

I decided to flip the television on. Sixty-inch flatscreen 1080p—just the way I like it: top rate. I scanned my movies on the shelf and settled on “Blade Trinity”. Okay, sure, the Twilight Saga effectively killed the last bit of credibility vampires had, but the stuff before that is still good…mostly.

I always loved Dracula’s true form in the movie. Not to mention Wesley Snipes did a great job in all three movies. He’s one of those black protagonists that doesn’t have to be “gangster”. That alone is worth a hundred points. The character’s anger, bloodlust, sadness, dedication, and just plain being a badass is all brought to life. Too bad about that tax evasion scandal.

Vampires…if only life were that simple, but it never is. It never will be.

I finished the movie and watched through the credits, just bored out of my mind since the film finished. I shut the TV off and headed down into the basement. I’d have used the punching bag to let off some steam, but that shook the floor. I didn’t need any more arguments from the cowgirl upstairs. I could tell she’d end up being a headache if she stayed for too long.

I had a slightly older bowflex that required you to put a metal pin below the amount of weight you wanted to lift. I needed to order a second one and scrap it for parts to double the two hundred pound limit. Then I needed to rig up the spare pulleys and chords so they didn’t snap. It was a bit of a hassle, but worth it.

I set it up to four hundred pound immediately and got going. I think I lost count around one hundred fifty, so I switched to legs, and eventually abs. Needless to say I was a bit tired after all that, so I went up on the couch and took a nap.

***

I awoke to a scream of pain. I looked over and saw "Applejack" holding her shin as she hopped out of my bedroom with her hair slightly wet. She'd made herself at home and used my shower...great. I wasn't quite sure what it was she banged her shin on though.

I picked myself up and walked around the island into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and grabbed myself a venom energy drink. I downed about half of it in one go. “Need a morning pick-me-up?” I offered.

“Oh, now yer all nice and sweet?” she shot at me as she sat down on one the the stools I had set up for mostly decorative purposes, since I wasn't exactly social.

“I slept well,” I answered simply. I tossed her my half empty can and she failed to catch it. Good thing I left the cap on.

She picked it up and took a hesitant swig of it, and apparently liked that flavor. “Now that ain't bad,” she remarked with a smile.

I glanced at the clock. 8:00 AM. Well that’s gonna screw up my sleep schedule for a while. I sighed, “Well I’m headed downtown to get some supplies. You coming?”

“Ah ain’t even had breakfast yet!” she snapped.

“There nothing to make for breakfast,” I informed her, “I haven’t gone shopping for over a month.” Translation: I don’t live well, though not for lack of money believe me. “If you’re going to live here then you’ll want a say in what I get.”

“Ah ain’t stayin’ here another day!” she snapped at me, “Ya’ll nearly killed me last night! Apart from that ya knocked me out with a bat!”

“True, and true,” I mumbled with a nod, “But, the fact of the matter is that you have no idea where you are and you have no idea how to get home, correct?”

“Yeah,” she said with a stern look, “Why?”

“Well in this city you don’t get by unless you know someone,” I told her, “Truth of the matter is: I’m the meanest guy in this city, but I’m your only hope of gettin’ out of here. Alive anyways.”

“Great.” She slumped down on the breakfast bar and pulled her hat over her head. I could tell she was mumbling something obscenely angry, but it didn’t matter. “Aight, aight,” she said as she picked herself back up, “Ya got a way into the city?”

“Yeah. Just let me take my morning shower.” I walked off to my bedroom saying, “The remote is on the coffee table; entertain yourself.”

I heard her muttering something to herself along the lines of “how the hay does this thing work” while I set my clothes out. I noted the odd behavior and hopped in the shower. I turned the heat up as far as it would go and basked in the blazing heat. It wasn’t as hot as it could be, which I figured was because Applejack already took a shower while I was napping. I’d been using the Anarchy scents of Axe recently, but I still had a generic bar of soap for use too. I assumed that’s what Applejack used.

I got out and pulled a quick shave, applied deodorant, and sprayed on a little cologne. That was an old habit my father got me in as a kid. I put on a replacement white shirt and my leather jacket, along with a pair of blue jeans. I left my jacket half zipped and dried my hair.

My hair had been jet black for nearly as long as I could remember, but I know for a fact I’d been born blonde. My eyes had been called emeralds by some girls I’d “met” over the years…kind of like Applejack’s eyes. Then there was my last notable facial feature: the large misshapen “X” on my left cheek that ran over the bridge of my nose. It wasn’t an interesting story, but I feel it helps me stand out—as if I needed help with that.

“Alright I’m set to go,” I said as I walked out to the foyer where Applejack waited for me.

“Y’know, Ah never caught yer name,” she told me.

I realized she was right. Of all the things that happened last night I never gave her my name. “It’s Greg,” I told her, “Greg Masters.” I walked out to the driveway and to the garage door.

“Well what’s that mean?” she asked me.

“What, my name?” I asked, “It’s a name. It doesn’t mean anything.” I noted that too and threw open the garage door, where my one and only love waited for me.

“Ya’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” Applejack deadpanned.

“1980 wide-glide fxwg 1340 shovelhead?” I asked her, “I never kid about my baby.” Harley Davidson Motorcycles has made the best things to ever hit the road. Ever. “This yellow beauty is a collectors item, passed down to me by my father—rest his soul.”

“He’s…”

I nodded simply. “Back when I was a kid,” I told her, “It’s not a secret. My mom too. The state said I couldn’t have it until I was eighteen, so I ‘stole’ what was rightfully mine as soon as I was old enough to pick it up.”

“How do ya steal what’s yours?” Applejack asked me with an odd look.

“Well,” I answered awkwardly, “The thing is that a lot of inheritance in the US can only be legally transacted once the receiving party is eighteen. Mostly with money and motor vehicles I think. I’m not a lawyer. Until then it belongs to the state or some crap like that.”

I hopped on the bike and stood it up. “You gettin' on or what?”

“I wanna say ‘or what’,” she replied.

“Oh you act like you….” Then a thought occurred to me and I smirked. “You’ve never even seen a motorcycle before have you?”

“…No,” she pouted.

Another thing to note. “Don’t worry,” I said condescendingly, “I’ll protect you.”

She glared furiously at me. “Ah don’t need no protection! Ah can take care of mahself!” she snapped as she got on the back seat, “Now git’ goin’!”

“As you wish,” I said darkly. I started up the bike and roared the engine, causing her to cling to me for dear life. “Hold on tight cowgirl. I don’t ride slow.” I pulled a burnout leaving the garage and swerved into a right turn out the driveway. Applejack yelled the whole way, clinging to me with one hand and holding onto her hat for dear life with the other.

I looked off into the distance with fierce determination. I had a gut feeling about something, but I wasn’t sure what exactly. All I knew for certain was one thing: there was a storm brewing, and this one wasn’t going to be the flash and bang kind.

Author's Note

Just a quick heads up: I decided I wanted a story with a pony coming to our world and meeting a person that they first hate, but eventually come to like. The problem is that my stories evolve.

The story you are about to begin is my “no limits” project. It will contain romance, violence, light gore, monstrous designs, a complex backstory, and terribly sad pasts. Also fucking. There will be heavy sex in a couple of the chapters.

Honestly I think this may be some of my best work simply because it came so naturally to me. You’ve been warned though: this is not for the squeamish.