We Protect what We Love

by EndersonCliffHanger

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 3982

After Craft West losses his job he finds himself fighting for his new home.

After Craft West losses his job and fails his ASVAB he finds himself in a contractor job. The job leads him through a portal into an alien world. Covering Craft's life over two time periods he goes by his first name in the present and his last name in the past. This story is a non-pornographic spin-off of the Gentlemanverse. Be advised that while not pornographic the story will cover some sexual topics and contain descriptions of violent events.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-03-13 02:06:48 UTC

The Worlds He Knew

Craft finished the last few bits of his dinner, bread and beans. All his meals seemed rather simple. He wasn’t trying to save money, and he could cook well enough to make anything that he wanted, but rather he never cared much for complex flavors. Adding on that the meal was quick from cooking to eating made the meal all that more appealing. Craft lived alone in a small apartment without electricity, so keeping meals quick and silent kept him from wishing there was someone he could share it with. Craft walked up to the sink and placed his plate and fork into the single metal tub. If he was still at home he would have just used paper plates and cups, but around here those were imported and quite a bit more expensive. Not outrageously expensive but more then Craft was willing to spend; doing the dishes was just more appealing. Glancing at his glass cup he saw that it was still a quarter full of water, it was just tap water but why waste it. Swigging the last bit he placed the cup into the sink and ran the water over the plate for a few seconds, just to make it easier to wash later.

Resting his hands on the counter he leaned over the sink and looked out the window in front of him. He didn’t have the best view from his 2nd floor apartment. In fact his only view was of a cheaply cared for park that was circled by other apartment buildings identical to his own. At the center of the small park was a jungle gym that sat in a small pond of wood chips to cushion the fall of any young one. There weren’t many kids in the apartment complex but after the schools let out there were almost always a few playing. A concrete sidewalk circled the play area with paths connecting to all the buildings. A few metal benches covered with some kind of red rubber (or maybe it was green he was colorblind and couldn’t always tell the difference) circled the play area, giving parents someplace to gather while the kids ran around. The bushes created a wall around the park. It helped keep the kids inside because they could only leave the area by going through an apartment building. The bushes were kept squarely trimmed well enough, but it made the place seem less creative. It was disappointing that the apartment complex looked so much like home; most of it was imported from there anyways. Normally everything was a lot more colorful here, but today it was cloudy. The newspaper this morning stated they were planning for an afternoon drizzle. Craft didn’t mind, the smell of rain was appealing, almost as pure as smells come.

Craft dropped back to a normal standing position. Checking his cheap chrome Rolex knock off watch, he decided it was time to get ready.  Standing at the bathroom sink Craft gargled some mouth wash clearing his mouth of any leftover beans. Spitting into the sink he ran the water cold. He leaned forward and sucked some water into his mouth directly from the fosset. Swishing the water he cleared his pallet of the peppermint flavored mouthwash. Cupping his hands he gathered water then splashed it onto his face. Letting the water cascade from his face into the sink. he grabbed for the towel he always left hanging next to the sink. After drying up he grabbed his speed stick deodorant and placed an extra layer over the top of the ones he applied that morning. A quick examination of his short mid ton brown hair and lightly tanned skinned face passed the checklist for what he considered clean. The only downside to his 1 inch short hair was that he was double crowned which made keeping his hair down in the back near impossible without hair gel.

Craft’s normal night out attire was a pair of blue jeans only lightly faded at the knees held into place by a brown belt. A white t-shirt loosely hugged his body. He was averagely fit. Only a year ago his job required him to be in a fighting fit condition, but now he only attempted to keep some of his muscle mass. Craft had two pairs of hiking boots. Both pairs were identical, ranging on the orange side of light brown. Only difference is he kept one pair for work and one cleaner pair for everyday use. Heading for the door he grabbed his dark blue suit jacket from the rack. He didn’t need the heavy material that the jacket was made of anymore, he hadn’t needed it for years, but it still made him feel safe. The jacket was extremely well-made and the suit had been fitted just for him. The suit cost him quite the pretty stack of money back home, but even after wearing it regularly for many years it looked near new. If he had put on the rest of the suit he would have buttoned the front but with the more casual attire he left it open.

The front door lead out onto the walkway facing the playground. The stairs were at the center of the building where they were completely exposed to the elements except for the roof. Craft lived in a safe neighborhood, he never could recall any kind of crime in the area sense he moved in just shy of a year ago. Still caution got the better of him and he locked the door like he always did before heading for the stairs. There were no cars out front of his building. Seeing cars here was rare. The city wasn't really built for them, but built in a way that made everything you could need within walking distance. Though, if you didn't like walking you weren't completely out of luck. The most common form of none walking transportation was pony driven carts. For a few bits you could get a ride anywhere in the city you needed.

Craft lived in a major party city, but he rarely went into busy districts of Neighagara Falls. The day life of the popular districts were nice, but were swarmed with tourists with young kids running around. The tourist seasons brought a lot of money into the city, and the city officials were doing a decent job spreading the money out to keep even the simpler parts of the city looking nice. Craft just didn’t like the absurd amount of people. Night life was filled with both tourists and natives alike, all looking to down as much alcohol of any verity they could get their hands or hooves on. Craft drank often enough; in fact he was currently headed to meet his friends at a bar. He just held stricter rules about his drinking. He only drank whisky. He drank it in several ways, sometimes adding water, soda, or ice. Mainly he just drank it plain room temperature. He never allowed himself to get drunk though. His state of mind was important to him. His friends enjoyed this fact because they knew they would be taken care of even if they let the drinking get out of hand.

The bar looked like any back ally bar you would see on Earth. Everything at least looked like it was made of polished wood. The bar was built by a mare who had gone on vacation to Earth and liked the look of a particular bar. The place was dimly lit with 2 light bulbs hanging from the roof. The bar did well enough to pay for a low end solar panel to power them. The Royal family loved human technology but was hesitant to do anything to harm the environment. Being the Princesses of day and night came with some biases, so power plants were pretty much out of the question in most areas. Plenty of establishments made more than enough money to get their own green power but this bar was smaller and only served those that lived nearby, that and the occasional dad who got “lost” on his family vacation.

There were two bartenders employed at this establishment. Right now only one was tending to the drinks. A Cream colored unicorn mare with a short white mane. Her name was Fruit Twist and her cutie mark was a cup surrounded by a verity of fruits. Honestly the way she kept her main short and slightly spiked, she would probably fit better at one of the cities more hip bars. The ones that have tons of people dancing to the “Wubs”. As hinted by her cutie mark she enjoyed mixing the more girly drinks together, which she didn't get to do a lot of at this bar. For now she was new at the bartending thing and was looking for experience.

Craft was early and his friends hadn't arrived yet so he took a seat on a stool at the bar. It was short, but not too bad. Craft stood at an average 5’10” so the lower height of the stool was only mildly uncomfortable. The ground behind the bare was a bit higher than in front of it. This let Twist, who only stood 3’7” on all fours, comfortably see over the counter. Twist trotted over with a grin, half faked for the job and half honest. “Whisky again?” she asked.

Craft attempted at a poor joke “Twist, I think we have known each other for too long, you've started ready my mind.”

Twist paused and scrunched her face with a little confusion, apparently the joke missed. “It wasn't hard you know, it’s all you ever drink.”

Craft grinned and lightly chuckled. “I’m not as funny as I like to make myself think”

Twist spoke flatly in reply “Nope, and for that reason you’re getting a dirty glass.” She turned to levitate a glass from the sink and the whisky from the back counter. She was rather talented with her levitation spell. Most unicorns couldn't levitate more than one object at a time. Here she was levitating both the bottle the short octagon glass and unscrewing the lid of the bottle without pause on any of it.

“Cheers” Craft thanked her followed by a small sip. He couldn't complain about the dirty glass, he had done it to himself. When she first started working there a few months ago he had attempted to impress her by asking for a dirty glass. In the end he just made himself look weird and now he was stuck with dirty glasses whenever she felt like giving him one.

The place was near empty with only a man and a stallion sharing stories about their recent escapades with the female gender. Not really wanting to hear any of their stories he struck up small talk with Twist. “So how does a filly realize her talent is in mixing alcoholic drinks? I know there are laws in Equestria about that.”

Craft showed up to everything early so it wasn't uncommon for him and Twist to make small talk. They weren’t necessarily friends but they were familiar enough to talk about their everyday lives with one another. “I didn’t start out with hard drinks. When I was young we held a fund raiser for my school. I was running the juice bar and it just kind of happened. My mom pointed it out to me.” She played the story like it was nothing special, but she allows liked that memory. “What’s yours?”

“I’m human; I don’t have a cutie mark.” Craft understood the question, many humans who lived in Equestria would come up with a design they thought matched their personality. Some would even wear the design on jewelry or clothing.

“I mean. If you had one, what would it be.”

“I think I’d be afraid to find out.”

“Why’s that?” Twist was a little confused, cutie marks were always something to be proud of.

“I started out as an artist, went to school for it and everything” Craft kept his job title simplified because editing films and T.V. shows wasn’t something ponies really understood. “I was fired when they found out I was colorblind and couldn’t work with colors so well. After that I got into contract work.”

Twist had friends in the art field and understood it a little. “I know plenty of ponies that make a living freelancing. Why would that be bad?”

Sounding a little depressed he replied softly “Wrong kind of contracting.” Craft took another sip of his hard drink. He had been drinking whiskey for much of his adult life but the burn never faded, he just learned to ignore it. With that a dark Grey stallion featuring a standard mongoose orange mane flew into the seat to Craft’s right. This was Stone Hoof. Stone was large for a pegasus. Most, even the stallions, were small in order to keep themselves light enough for flight. Stone was big enough to put some earth stallions to shame. As his name stated he wasn't the best flyer. He could fly as well as he could walk but he found himself liking the ground better than the air. Stone Hoof worked for the same landscaping company as Craft. They were coworkers at the moment but Stone was going for a promotion. Craft was just trying to earn money to live peacefully on. Craft wasn't going to get to do what he wanted. Those days were over and there was no going back.

“Telling your story to a cute mare again huh?” Stone Hoof’s voice was deep but playful. He was joking, knowing that Craft didn't talk often about his past. “Come on, continue”.

Before Craft could respond he noticed Aden Blake walking up. Aden was an Irish man and a Pony lover. It didn’t bother Craft at all though. He had lived in Equestria for a while now and established a crush on more than one mare. Only thing that stopped him from starting a relationship was he couldn’t muster a sexual attraction to any of them. Aden was not unlike Craft in body type but with light brown hair and he stood a solid 6 feet tall. Craft would catch shit occasionally for being 2 inches shorter. There were plenty of other humans in Neighagara Falls but only during tourist seasons. For this part of the city Aden, Craft, and man in the corner were among the few, making Craft the short one. Even the apartment complex Craft lived at was mostly home to ponies. It was built by a computer engineering company that folded shortly after it started.

“Continue what?” Aden had a soft Irish accent. Not strong enough to make the girls back home swoon but strong enough you could recognize it.

“Craft was just telling Fruit here about how he came to Equestria.” Stone turned to Twist to address her. “You wouldn’t mind getting me a hard cider would you”. Stone was a nice guy, always polite to others, but a dick to his friends.

Aden plopped down on the other side of Stone Hoof and raised a peace sign into the air, announcing that he wanted the same as Stone. “Go for it Craft, what are these small bars for if not hearing all the colorful stories of the past.”

Stone and Aden had heard most of Craft’s stories before. He didn't mind talking about it if people had been interested. This time it was Twists turn to hear it. She never said out load that she wanted to hear them, but she was hanging around so Craft start.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Arizona sun beat down on Crafts shoulders as his boots made contact with the dry rock covered desert. He was in the middle of a run with his new team. They wore Plan tan BDUs. They were made from the same materiel and were cut like the US Armies old Shades of Green BDUs. For Whatever reason they had all been denied when they tried to join the United States military. Craft had been fired from his Video Editor job at the age of 21 for being colorblind. The same colorblindness denied him access to the military when his asvab scores fell just short of making medic. He could have studied and tried again but money was getting tight and this job was hiring. Now he was in a different kind of basic training. He was becoming a Security Contractor. He was part of a 3 man team. They were going to be a team both in basic and out. On graduation they would be put under a more experienced contractor till they could get on the job experience.

10 feet in front of Craft was Liam. Liam was young, 18 and just out of high school. He had planned to join the marines, but his friends convinced him to just once try hitting a bong. When he took the piss test at the recruiters he was permanently barred from joining any branch of the military. It was a tough break for a kid that had never wanted anything more then to become a marine. Liam stood 5’9 but was the fastest out of the three. In spite of his Irish first name he was German. Like everyone else his blond hair (if his eyes hadn’t been green he would have gotten shit for be a Nazi) was shaved to the scalp. It was too hot for anything but.

Alex was a 5’11” lighter skinned Mexican. You could still see it in his face but his skin tone was more of a permanently tanned white guy. His story was of crime. The bad neighborhood messed with his good mind. A few days after turning 18 he was caught trying to break into a car. He spent the next year in prison when the judge decided to throw the book at him. During his time in lock up he found he enjoyed the order of strictly enforced rules. When he went to talk to the recruiter he found out his time in prison prevented him from joining. Now he and Craft were keeping pace with each other, forever trying to keep up with Liam.

A white off road pickup truck rolled up next to Alex and Craft and an older white man with a bull horn stuck his head out. “MARQUEZ! WEST! What the Fuck are you doing in the back, He’s younger then the both of you.” If it were any other time Liam would have caught the hell for leaving his team behind. This was a speed run though so they had to keep up with the fastest. “Hofmann is gaining an inch with every step, get the hell up there.”

West pushed deep to find the strength and Marquez pushed just as hard. They caught up but it took a lot. Hofmann, who was more than close enough to hear the screaming bullhorn, tried to slow down just enough to not be noticed. In short it didn’t work. “Hofmann what the fuck are you doing.” The drill sergeants didn’t have much of a range on their angry voices. There were a lot of Fucks, Shits, and Faggots. “Get dirty, Now!”

Getting dirty was the punishment here. There wasn’t much pushup punishment. When you were told to get dirty you had to drop into the nearest patch of sand and roll around in it until your sweat stuck sand to every part of your exposed skin. Arizona’s desert was a particular rocky one so anytime a trainee had to get dirty they got back up with a new bruise that made the body extremely sore, running caked in sand would then rub the skin raw. Hofmann dropped and rolled around. By the time he was done West and Marquez were a hundred feet ahead. Hofmann still managed to beat them.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

West was sitting in the mess hall. Today was Saturday and the trainees got the half day off. Hofmann was off playing his sports but West and Marquez didn't want to spend their off time working out even more. Marquez busted into the mess hall and ran over to West. “Where is Hofmann, we’re going to war”.

West spit his coffee out back into the white foam cup. “Who the fuck with” They were security contractors in training but the company’s biggest client was the United States Government. If the jobs were more demanding then the company had bodies to fill then trainees would be given the shit jobs.

“Aliens dude, freaking Aliens” Marquez didn't like cussing but loved replacing them, and the Drill Sergeants hated that about him. He had to get dirty more than once but never stopped.

West was about to attempt a joke in response to what he was sure was a bad joke. Then an announcement came over the intercom. It called for all trainees to head for the REC room. Everyone in ear shoot of what Marquez said jumped out of their seats and more than one tray was knocked over. Those that were not close enough to hear stood up slowly and started taking their trays to the trash but paused when they saw the rush. Some put their trays on a table others just dropped them on the ground, but they all started running.

All 32 trainees in the class reached the REC room relatively close to the same time. One of the drill sergeants turned on the large T.V. to the news. On the screen was a cyan colored winged horse with a rainbow mane zipping through the air. It flew in circles around an apache attack helicopter, whose pilot was desperately trying to keep its nose pointed toward its target. The gunner was semi successful in keeping the large 30 mm chain gun pointed at the fast flying horse. West stared at the screen waiting.  Any minute the crew would get the ok to fire a burst of bullets and start a war against an alien race.

Before any of that could take place a much slower yellow winged horse with a pink mane flew close and start trying to communicate with the other. The cyan Pegasus made no sign of stopping until a purple horse with a darker purple mane hovered in the air with a purple orb around it. A few seconds later the aliens were gone. The apache’s crew, to close to tell they vanished, in major confusion kept spinning and tilting, looking for their now gone target. 15 uneventful minutes later the T.V. was turned off.

A Drill Sargent stood stoic in front of the astonished trainees. “A couple weeks ago satellites detected an anomaly east of the Philippines in the Pacific Ocean. 2 Days ago a small island appeared in that location and the President ordered the Navy’s Pacific Fleet to the area. 1 hour ago that winged Pegasus appeared and danced in the sky. You know as much as me on the rest. We currently have no orders for you, your released to what every the hell you girls do on the weekend.”

All the trainees exited the rec room but were caught in the hall by another Drill Instructor. “Which of you Faggots trashed the mess Hall?” he barked.

Marquez spoke up first “There are flipping Aliens.”

The Drill Instructor grit his teeth at the word ‘Flipping’. He roared “Marquez, get dirty… now. As for the rest of you I don’t give a shit about no flying horses. Get the Mess hall clean and report to me at the obstacle course. You bitches belong to me now.” With that the day off was canceled. With new found energy they trained hard. They might be going to war with aliens soon and they wanted to be at their best.