Just another day in R.O.

In local news, Twenty-one year old Jason Dupont was found after missing for five years, after the search was given up two years ago. He was found wandering through the San Diego streets with a multitude of firearms on him, and in his tattered uniform. As some may know, the rest of his squad was reported missing as well as his two ROTC instructors. Local authorities have apprehended him in suspicion for having murdered his entire squad, and are currently questioning him on the whereabouts of his team. His parents refuse to comment on the matter...

Jason Dupont. A child raised by abusive parents, no real friends, and was always picked on in school. Now in a police interrogation room, staring at the reflective glass window, looking at his reflection, and tapping his foot against the concrete floor. The last time he was in a police station was when he was sixteen, when his parents put him there just so the could have a good fuck while he was wasting away in a jail cell, the officers not knowing what to do with him. Never had he ever heard "I love you Jason". Not once in his life. He hated them. He hated them so much he had already took up drinking. He tapped his foot faster, his boots making the tapping louder. He looked at his tattered cover, or a hat as civilians called it, at the claw marks.

A door opened, revealing a police officer in a dress shirt. Badge out, but the gun was nowhere to be found. He was Marcus Alexander, African-American, about five-eight, bald, green eyes. Chief of the precinct Jason was currently sitting in. He was there, on his birthday, talking to him. Trying to comfort him in some way, and went out and getting him some cake. He even got the rest of the officers to sing happy birthday. Jason liked to think he still made a friend that day. But today... Today it felt like he was an old man meeting death. The thought strangely comforted him.

"Jason Dupont. I haven't seen you in ages, kid." He produced a manila folder, setting it on the table. Jason smiled. It certainly felt like ages.

"Certainly Marcus, far too long. I would have visited, but, y'know. Stuff happens..." Jason crossed his legs, shrugging his shoulders.

"Stuff? Honestly, Jason. You were missing for five years!" Another shrug. "This doesn't bother you?"

"Honestly, it doesn't. Although I have a rage problem at times, no. It does not bother me. Please understand I've had years to cope with my situation." he paused, looking the police chief dead in the eye. "It's not so hurtful to me now."

Marcus opened the folder, taking numerous photographs out. Pictures of Firearms, a picture of his armed drill team in a group photo in their digitals, dog tags, ranks, some were indecipherable, and even of some cartoonish-looking land with equines smiling at the camera. Marcus splayed them out, so both occupants could see. Jason gave a ghost of a smile.

"Honestly Jason, I don't know what to make of all this." Marcus hunched over the table, obscuring some of the photos. "What can you tell me about... All of this?" He gestured to the photos. He picked one photo out of the mix. A giant scorpion tail. "Jason, this has a DNA strand we've never seen before. DNA from a lion, a scorpion, a bat, and god knows what else. What is it?"

"First I want you to tell me something." Marcus nodded, giving the go-ahead. "Do I look sane to you?" Jason leaned over, his blue eyes seemed distant, as if looking through the chief like he wasn't even there. His digital ROTC uniform tattered, dirty. His eyes wandered to his hat, or cover as the cadets needed to call them. This is a loaded question, Marcus thought. He looked back into Jason's eyes. Lonely, heartbroken, extreme loss, they practically shouted. He was sane, but tried to dig deeper.

"I don't know, Jason. What do you think?" Marcus gestured to the reversible mirror behind him. Jason chuckled.

"I didn't ask for the bullshit answer, chief." Jason bore his gaze upon Marcus once more, his lips turning to a serious frown. The chief hesitated. No. He was sane.

"Did I ever tell you about my son?" Jason pondered for a moment. Yes, he had. Micheal, his dream was to join the army, be an engineer.

"Yes. He wanted to be in the army, right?"

"Correct. And while you were wherever the hell you were, he got his dream. Two years before you got back, he was captured by the radicals up there in Iraq. He was left alive to tell the tale of how his squad mates were tortured. He was given a section eight, and now lives with me and my wife. He doesn't talk much. Screams in his sleep. He has the same look you have now. But I know your not Micheal, nor are you insane." Jason's face didn't change as he mulled over this information.

"But do I look sane was the question." Jason pointed a finger. "No bullshit this time."

"No. You look like a mental institution escapee who found a uniform and decided to take a stroll down shit storm street." Jason burst into laughter, slamming his fists into the table, his face turning red. Marcus smiled. There was the Jason he knew. After about a minute, Jason Reduced to giggles, then simply smiled.

"I wish I had a father like you, Marcus. You were always so nice to visit, your wife was hospitable, and I have no doubt in my mind you love your son. I only wish I was given such a family." Wiping a tear of joy off his filthy cheek.

"Now could you explain what these pictures are all about?" Jason nodded, sitting up in his seat. Pondering on how exactly he was going to explain the whole story, he crossed his legs. Thinking... hmm... No real way to beat around the bush...

Jason looked Marcus straight in his green eyes.

"Tell me chief, have you ever heard of a pony?"