An Unexpected Journey, Discovery of the Heart

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic © Hasbro & Lauren Faust

An Unexpected Journey, Discovery of the Heart

Written by: TOOS0BER

Chapter 3: Hard Landing is Hard...

Accuracy.

The red cross hairs of the modified .308 rifle rested just above the man's chest, a fraction of an inch above his collar bone. He was difficult to make out in his dark armor and the waning moon night, but he was definitely there; evidenced by his slow, cautious walking. Like a shadow moving amongst shadows.

“Target spotted,” a deep voice called out monotonously to my right.

I gave a nod, and added, “Firing for a fact.” I squeezed the trigger.

The long ranged rifle gave a quietsnip instead of a crackingboom. A fraction of a second later, my target's head disappeared as the armor piercing round punctured the crude helmet that he wore. Another fraction, and the body joined the giblets on the ground next to the rest of the fresh corpses that I knew were there, hidden just out of sight by a nearly flat hill. I blinked, and then there were no more targets.

“That should be the last of them,” Boone stated casually.

“Confirmed,” I added, “no further targets. Looks like we did it.” Even as I said that, there was no mirth in my voice; no sense of satisfaction, no righteous globe throbbed in my chest. It was just another tally mark on my weapon. Another spent cartridge. More carrion for the wildlife of the Wasteland. Simply no change whatsoever.

Despite the waning heat of the previous day that persisted into the night, I felt cold.

Boone and I packed up what little equipment we deployed for the improvised sniper's nest we'd set up outside Bittersprings, and settle down for the night. Neither of us were big on talking. Whatever needed to be said could wait until the morning, as I drifted off to a dreamless, uneasy sleep.

Some time later, I heard the rapid beating and fluttering of wings.

I opened my eyes. The morning sun was just cresting the horizon, painting the sky a collage of reds, purples and grays with the various clouds in the sky. There was also orange, with black.

I blinked several more times as the picture began to register in my head. Floating just above me, and descendingfast, was a monstrously sized Cazadore – an incredibly dangerous, poisonous insect mutated by radiation of the apocalypse some two hundred years ago.

“Shit!” I shouted as I scrambled for the revolver that perpetually stayed at my side.

The over sized bug was nearly upon me, its two-foot long stinger pointed menacingly in my direction, intentionspainfully clear. I brought up the .45-70 gov't hunting revolver, and sprayed away. It didn't matter that two bullets, or even one if I had the presence of mind to use the supercomputer on my wrist, would have done the job just fine; my body, in cold panic, acted of its own accord and emptied the chambers. Each round hit a variety of marks. Gouging holes formed in the thorax, which spouted dark green ichor. A wing was sheared off, and the creature shrieked when one of its eyes exploded. The extensive damage caused the predatory animal to nearly fall apart. It was dead before it hit the ground in a crumpled heap.

Fuck! Where the hell did thatcome from!?

My body remained calm, and the panic in my head – which was little more than being startled – subsided quickly. Or at least it did for a moment until...

“Auugh!” I heard a human scream.

Boone was being assaulted by another of the hideous insects. I turned my head just in time to watch the stinger penetrate his gut. My mind went numb, and I jumped up and charged on instinct, two combat knives drawn immediately. By the time I had closed the short distance between the Cazadore and myself, it had withdrawn the stinger and started to turn in my direction.

But it was too late.

I tackled the thing, wedging the blades like a pair of scissors to the base of its 'neck' – if insects even had a neck. Regardless, it worked. The thing's head separated from its body, the hard exoskeleton giving way to my knives and momentum.

And now my plans went how they usually go...

In my haste, I neglected to consider the short bluff we had camped out on, and plummeted over the edge...

(-0-)==========<[0]>==========(-0-)

I woke up to the feeling of unfamiliar, chaotic momentum. Every few seconds something jostled the... whatever I was in, while a resounding boom roared a few scant yards away. It was a sound I recognized somehow; but like everything, my mind drew a blank. That was getting annoying, even if it did result in a headache. I wanted to move...

… and winced.

My chest burned with a fire, and my lungs had a hard time providing me with breath so desperately needed. The sensation of moving was felt everywhere, like I was inside one of the NCR's vertibirds. I'd only ridden in one once, and did not enjoy it at all. The one time I did, I re-decorated the floor with breakfast. Since this felt almost exactly like that, and the regrettably familiar nausea assaulting me, I assumed I was flying; falling felt very different.

I opened my eyes.

I was inside a cramped compartment. It was bright and colorful, decorated with lacy furnishings; obviously meant for those that thought they were better than others. There were windows, but the curtains had been drawn and fastened into place, denying me any information of what was outside. Sound was muffled, but the reverberating boom of explosions could be heard through the door; I assumed that whatever I was in was still over the city.

Purple movement caught my eye, and I looked over to see Twilight standing on one of the cushions with an intense look on her face, and those wings splayed high. Somehow she had sensed that I was awake, or she saw my head move in her peripheral vision, and turned to face me. The pony grinned at me, her eyes scowling.

I blinked, about to ask her what the hell happened...

… when her eyes suddenly flared green.

Oh, I thought, another major panic forming in my chest as my eyes widened.Not Twilight. Not Twilight!

That was definitely confirmed when her entire, wickedly smiling, body was engulfed in searing green flames that –somehow – didn't catch the delicate fabric ablaze. A mere two seconds later, and the purple pony was replace by a black creature with insectoid wings and a horn that was pierced with multiple holes.

Well, I thought,now I know why they're called 'Changelings'. Go figure.

I forced myself to lean against the opposite bench, and readied for whatever attack that must have been coming. The changeling snarled at me, just like the first one, and lowered into a crouch. I already knew what was coming, and prepared.

It launched itself at me, forehooves outstretched, with translucent wings flapping rapidly to give it more power.

The angle and power forced me from the base of the bench, and up against the carriage wall. I had my gloved hands in a deadlock with the changeling's holey hooves; our limbs trembling as we tried to overpower one another. My right forearm began to strain and burn, reminding me that I had a semi-fresh injury there. But, damn it, there was no time for that in a life-or-death struggle!

The changeling figured out that its strength wasn't enough to overpower me outright, and began to beat its wings again to gain more ground. My elbows bent, giving way slightly and slowly, my back pressing more against the wall, that fiery burn increased ten fold, and I grit my teeth.

Any thought process I had going was interrupted when I had to weave my head back and forth to dodge the thing's, apparently verysharp, horn. The changeling, its wings bringing it closer to my face, was trying to impale me with the appendage on its forehead.

After several near misses, one even came so close that my left ear was now bleeding, it snarled again in frustration... and its horn wrapped in an eerie green glow.

My eyes widened, I was certain that whatever the changeling was doing was going to end badly –for me. Although as luck would have it, whatever weapon it was trying to deploy needed time and concentration. Tensing, I flung my arms out to the side, knocking the chitin covered hooves away. The creature balked in surprise, its lifeless blue eyes widened, not expecting my sudden counter-attack as it stumbled forward.

I reached out with my left hand and grasped the glowing horn tightly.

A tingling combination of burning fire, crackling electricity, and a freezing chill ran through my entire arm. I screamed out in pain, but kept my hand firmly gripped on the horn-thing. I looked directly at the changeling through wet eyes, its face was contorted in shock and fear, the jaw that held so many fanged teeth hung open. My opponent tried to scurry away on its hooves and wings, but only succeeded in scuffing the wooden floor of the carriage. That movement also began to cut through the material of my glove, and flay my hand as my blood started to drip down the horn.

A manic grin crossed my mouth. I'm not one-hundred percent sure, but I think the changeling knew what I was about to do, as it started shaking its head rapidly – not to try and get loose, but pleading with me not to do what I was about to do. This was pretty much lost on me with the adrenaline, and then I twisted my wrist, hard.

All at once the pain stopped, and the sickly green aura that surrounded the horn disappeared in a mild explosion of force, causing me to bounce lightly off the carriage wall. The changeling, however, was flung towards the opposite, and bounced unceremoniously back in front of me with a loud thud. I had no idea how much pain it must have been in, but I could guess. It pawed at the jagged stump on its forehead with forehooves, the wings and rear legs flailing wildly while its mouth gaped open soundlessly, tears flowing from its soulless eyes.

I can't believe I'm saying this, I stared at the changeling.I almost feel sorry for it.

Again I scoffed at my own thoughts. This creature was ready tokill me. I may not have known exactly what it was doing with that horn, but it wasnot trying to give me a present, that was for damn sure. A part of me – a part I was steadily beginning to not like – wanted to leave the thing there, writhing in agony.

I winced.No, I was never that heartless... or at least I don't think so. Either way, I'm not going to be now...

Wordlessly, I clutched the changeling's jaw, and its head by one of its ears. It didn't acknowledge that I was making contact, its senses blocked by intense pain. I frowned, and hesitated for only a moment, uncertain of whether this was the right course of action. I wasn't sure whether or not the changeling could die from this sort of injury, nor did I consider that the horn might possibly be re-attached. Although, if I were in this situation, a mercy killing is what I would have wanted right now...

I was frozen. Caught in a crossroads of what to do. Conflict between myself: one side wants to end its pain, let the changeling rest in peace... a mercy killing. Another wants to help it, give it painkiller and tell the thing to hang on. The last also wants to kill it, but...

With another jerk, I snapped its neck. The changeling's head went limp in my hands, and its body ceased its quivering on the floor.

A red hot needle jabbed in my brain, and I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

That was nothing compared to the headaches earlier, but it had me rubbing my temple nonetheless as I stared at the fresh corpse.

A jarring movement almost sent me careening into the wall, my left arm prevented me from slamming my shoulder.

Now to deal with the 'ponies' driving this thing.

Once more I reached for my ranger sequoia and checked the load: half empty. Most of my extra ammo was in the bag that came through with me, but I also kept a few reloads worth on my person. Exchanging the three empty shells for press ones, I then pocketed the spent brass. With any luck, maybe they can be reloaded for later; although that seems unlikely if the weapons the creatures used were any indication. There was a possibility I may have to learn how to use swords and bows... that'll be interesting.

I stood on my good leg, and braced my good arm on the ceiling, and was hunched over uncomfortably as a result. Clearly this thing wasn't designed with humans in mind. My crooked, still steadily bleeding leg had long ago gone numb – thank God. I aimed the revolver near the front, or what I assumed was the front from the way the momentum felt. From what I saw outside, I made an educated guess of where the drivers were.

Bang! Bang!

Two rounds tore through the left side, the I swiveled the gun to the right.

Bang! Bang!

Another pair of identical holes appeared on the right.

For a moment, the ride leveled out and went smooth...

… then started to slant away from me... downward.

With a chilling realization, what was happening hit me like a sack of bricks.

Oh shit...!

How could I have been so stupid!? Carriage flying through the air, kill the drivers and it falls! Nofucking duh! How could I have known that the drivers werealso the engine!? Oh stupid, stupid, stupid! For each 'stupid' I thwacked myself with the revolver's spine for emphasis.

For whatever reason, I emptied the sequoia and reloaded with fresh rounds, again pocketing the spent casings out of sheer habit. The dawning realization had a cold sweat form on my brow, and I braced as firmly as I could in the cramped carriage interior. I was almost vertical with the ground, and could feel the velocity building.

Ugh, I'm going to die... again!

I imagined the carriage, what little I saw from the outside before I became a sandwich, splattering into the ground. Ironically, in the exact same place I crashed in to earlier.

The thing suddenly lurched, and began to spin wildly. I felt like I was now in a blender, my body spinning one way while the carriage another. Every impact of my body hitting some random surface – the bench, the ceiling, the floor and back – knocking me about like marble in a sack.

“Oof!” my back hit the wall.

“Ack!” my good leg hit the bullet ridden wall – which cracked and splintered alarmingly.

“Why did I –ouch – have to –damn it – shoot the pilots!?” I cursed my idiotic actions over and over again as I tumbled inside the 'egg'.

I heard something snap, and then the whole ride came to a sudden stop. Something hard whacked the back of my head, and all I saw was black, and heard nothing but silence.

(-0-)==========<[0]>==========(-0-)

“Ooogh...” I groaned.

My head hurt more than ever right now; worse than that headache, it felt similar to the hangovers I would get at the Atomic Wrangler. The sun beat down on my face again, and I felt relieved. At least that meant I wouldn't suffocate under debris. Every breath I took was labored, there was a lot of something heavy just sitting on my chest. It was just that sensation that something was there, no pain along with it.

In fact, my whole body felt numb.

Oh... not good. It seems that consent was becoming a theme today, as I cracked my eyes open.

The world was tinted in red – blood from my forehead had seeped into my right eye – and I tried in vain to clear my vision. The carriage I occupied just moments – or maybe hours, I had no way of knowing how much time had passed – was in chaotic ruins around me. Splintered, broken wood, torn, shredded fabric surrounded me. The 'roof' of the ruined carriage had collapsed onto my chest, pinning me to the floor.

First order of business, I needed to get out from under this debris.

My arms were just as pinned as the rest of me. Although my body was numbed from pain, every time I tried to  pull out my arms, I couldfeel something snagging, tearing with each tug. I grimaced, and thought about what that would mean. At best, it was just my sleeves getting caught by the wood. At worst... well, at worst my arm was shredded hamburger meat getting perforated by jagged wood spikes and twisted metal. Right now I wasn't sure which idea made me sicker – flying, or the mental image of another maimed limb.

Just then my face was peppered with dust and small debris propelled by a powerful gust of wind. An explosion blew up almost right next to me! The dust stung in my eyes, and I blinked rapidly. I brought my arm up to rub my eyes...

Wait, my arm? I stared at my left arm, the sleeve was indeed shredded, several shallow gashes and cuts decorated its length, but it wasn't the visceral tendrils of destroyed meat like I thought it'd be. I looked down at my chest with my burning eyes. The force of the nearby explosion had tossed the carriage roof off of me.

Slowly, unsteadily, I grabbed onto some of the more sturdy looking debris and tried to pull myself up. Every muscle screamed in protest, and at any second it felt like what meager strength I had left would just evaporate in an instant. I nearly fell when I almost tried to stand on both feet. I froze myself, aware that my leg was useless.

Fuckin' son of a...

I groaned, and punched a nearby beam – and nearly yelped whenthat arm complained loudly. My left fist was mangled – not twisted and malformed like my leg, but I knew I must've broken at least a few fingers. Not only that, but there was this odd... feeling, right in the center of my palm, and spread halfway up my fingers. It was the same hand I used to snap the changeling's horn off; the same one that got brutalized by that thing's sharpness, decorated in more gashes and cuts. I breathed a sigh, and my chest tightened...

Oh boy... I think one of my ribs was broken now.

A sense of urgency took over, and I turned my wrist to look at the pip-boy. Pain was currently absent of consciousness, but the computer could visibly tell me what was wrong with me. Everything from mild scrapes and bruises, to broken legs and crippled arms. Somehow it could also calculate that damage into an overall point system.

Or at least it would have... if the screen wasn't currently dark.

“God fuckingdamn it!” I broke out into a brief litany of curses as my predicament got that much worse. Could my luck getany worse today!? Everything I've been through, and the damned thing breaksnow!?

I examined the damage a bit more closely once my head cleared. At least a little bit of credit had to be given to the device. The casing was only dented, not cracked or shattered; same for the display screen with only a small half-inch crack near the bottom left. Some circuitry on the inside must have been knocked loose. Or Ihoped that's all it was, as anything more complex than that would be beyond my ability to fix.

Damn it, I mentally cursed while shaking my head.

Worry about that later. Sound began to return to my tortured ear drums, and the world around me started to come back into reality. Activity flooded my canals, familiar noise that I became more and more acquainted with over time; the sound of battle.

Combat was recognizable in all forms, even though the creatures of this world lacked the roaring noise of guns that cracked in the air. I heard battle cries, the glorious shouts of those that readied themselves for an attack. The clang of metal on metal as weapons made contact with armor perforated repeatedly in an unorganized, chaotic sequence. The occasional explosion joined in, and bounced off the city's blackened towers, which made it seem to come from everywhere at once.

Although I couldn't see it. The crash of the carriage had dug a crater deep enough that I would need to climb out to observe. I found a long piece of wood looked safe enough to use as a crutch, and slowly hobbled my way up the, blessedly, not very steep slope. At least that was going my way...

If there were any doubts that I wasn't involved in another war before, they just evaporated at the sight before me. Just as the sounds before told me, I was surrounded by conflict. The various races of ponies, most of them bound in the same armor as the guards before, were battling hordes of changelings. At first it seemed like the ponies outnumbered the changelings by at least three to one, but that was disproved quickly when I noted that some battles were between armored guards. Three pony soldiers were fighting a trio of eerily similar figures – perfect mirror images, I soon realized.

Well, that complicates things, I thought dourly.

Movement caught my attention, and I turned my head just in time to catch one of the pony creatures charging me, a long, sharp spear thrust from his mouth. I jerked by back and my head, avoiding the spear's path by inches as the armored pony rushed past me. I staggered back on the crutch, always keeping my bad leg in mind.

The pony skid to a halt some ten yards away and paused to stare at me – or at least I assumed he was staring at me; his helmet was fully covered except for the mouth, with only dark slits where the huge eyes would be. His armor matched along with the others, with a few plates added here and there. The forearms, left bare on the others, were covered in gold plates trimmed with silver; along with heavier shoes on the hind hooves while the rear legs were bare, revealing yellow or gold colored fur. Larger pauldrons on his shoulders, as well as a small shield or buckler was attached to his left forearm. In the way the stallion stood he carried an aura of authority and force, a veteran and possibly a leader among the ponies.

I blinked as he lowered into another combat stance.

Definitely higher ranked, I thought as my eyes notices a small detail on his chest. An inset gemstone shaped like a five-pointed star trimmed in some kind of blue metal, a pair of identical, smaller stars flanking it.

To my horror, the stallion scraped the buckler forehoof on the ground repeatedly – a sign that he was about to charge a second time. This wasn't good! I wasn't in any condition to fight, it was a miracle in and of itself that I was still standing at all!

“Shit...” I muttered under my breath.

He charged, the spear thrust out in front of him, intentions clear.

I tensed, and watched his approach carefully, my eyes locked on that pointed tip. All my concentration went into timing this right. Damn it, the blood still seeping from whatever wound was on my forehead wasn't doing me any favors either, and made the task that much more difficult. When he got close enough, and the moment felt right, I acted.

I balanced on my good leg, and lifted up my impromptu crutch to swing it like a club. The armored stallion himself wasn't my target – a stick wasn't very useful against armor – his spear was though. Timing it right, the club made contact with the shaft of the spear just under the metallic tip, knocking the point away, as well as the pony's head.

Continuing the flow, I brought the pole back down with the intention of whacking him on the back. It wouldn't do much better than stun, but if I could pin my opponent, then maybe I could convince him I was on his side. Mid swing, though, he surprised me.

Shortly after I knocked his spear away, negating his charge attack, he must've predicted what I'd do next. My opponent stopped next to me, crouched low, and used his legs to jump away to the side. Despite that heavy armor, and the forward momentum, he was able to perform such a maneuver to avoid my attack entirely, and as a result my crutch-turned-war club smacked harmlessly into the dirt.

He rolled out of reach, and quickly got to his hooves and faced me again. There was a pause, and he didn't charge immediately – which gave me the time I needed to right myself, which wasn't something easily done, what with a bum leg.

“Impressive,” the stallion spoke after stabbing the pointed spear into the ground to speak. As suspected, his voice carried the same deep authority that his confident stance held. “your injuries are great, but you can still stand your ground changeling.”

“I'm not a changeling,” I replied with a slight rasp in my voice – breathing was getting more difficult, despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I can't keep this up for too long.

“Sure you aren't,” the stallion tersely responded, clearly not buying a single word. “there are no other creatures like you that I am aware of. Some new trick by the changelings to confuse us,” he thrust out an accusing armored hoof at me, and his volume rose, “and it won't work! Your trickerydies now!” With that, he picked up the spear again; only this time his mouth gripped more in the middle of the shaft, rather than the very base.

There wasn't a point in trying to convince him now. The conviction in his tone was evidence enough that he would not believe anything I could possibly say. Somehow I'd need to prove to him I wasn't one of the changelings, and I could think of only one way...

With my left arm I drew one of the two combat knives I had, and held it hilt down.

Awkwardly, thanks to the improvised crutch, I steadied myself in a combat stance, ready to reluctantly fight.