Ponyville Zero

"My name is Alex Mercer. I'm the reason for all this. They call me a killer, a monster, a terrorist... I'm all of these things."
―Alex Mercer

Blacklight. That’s how all this started. One measly, insignificant little vial containing a highly infectious, self-sustaining virus. A virus with the capability of bringing an entire landmass to its knees within the span of a few months. A city in just a few days.

Perhaps it wasn’t as insignificant as previously stated, but sometimes one just can’t help but feel that way. How do these things happen? Looking back, it truly is astounding how a few decisions can impact one’s life so heavily. Take, for instance, a decision to use a deadly virus to infect the entire world and create a new race of human beings. One that doesn’t know war or violence. One where individuals don’t exist; where everyone is connected to the whole. A world that is connected to everything. A perfect society, so what does it matter if the means to get there is a bit extreme? If the utopian society humans have been searching for over the course of recorded history can only be obtained by forcibly robbing every last person of their free will, then why does it garner such a strong resistance from something so inevitable?

Mercer coughed violently, a spray of blood shooting from his mouth. The sudden action caused an eruption of pain throughout his body, reminding him of his current predicament. Memories of what had happened began flooding into his mind, and he felt his anger begin to rise more and more at each one that surfaced. He had had his arms ripped off, multiple times mind you, by a man who he had personally given new life to. He had begun creating a new world in a new image, and graciously allowed Manhattan to be the first step in his plan to create this world. He was a visionary, who only wanted to better the disgusting filth these mongrels so foolishly called their lives. And yet where did that leave him now? Lying on his back, armless, eyes shut tight to the sun shining down from above. Which only begged the question: Where was he anyway? It never got this bright in New York. There was always at least a thin cover of clouds hanging above the city. Where was all this sunlight coming from so suddenly?

He tried opening his eyes, wincing at the pain from the harsh light. He tried again, this time looking around him in an attempt to figure out where he had ended up. He slowly rolled his head to each side, seeing nothing but trees and foliage surrounding him. Had he ended up in the park somehow? He was definitely in a clearing, that much was for sure.

A bird flew down and landed not from where Mercer lay, pecking at the ground and hopping from one place to another. He watched it for a moment, waiting until it foolishly got close enough so he could consume it for some much needed biomass. He began inching a tendril towards the bird, gritting his teeth at the immense amount of effort it took just to produce it. The bird took no notice of the snake like object now mere feet away from it, continuing to hop from one place to another, pecking at the ground and growing ever closer to its doom.

Just as Mercer was prepared to strike, the birds own efforts to find sustenance was rewarded by a long, fat worm it then began pulling from the dirt. As soon as Mercer’s tendril lashed out to grab the unsuspecting creature, it spread its wings and took off, oblivious to the fact it had just narrowly avoided death by a fraction of a second. Mercer glared at the bird as it flew out of sight, angry that it seemed as if he was being defeated by every weak and pathetic creature that refused to do as he commanded. Speaking of weak and pathetic creatures…

“Heller…” Mercer managed to growl out. That’s right. James Heller. Just the sound of that name was enough to get his blood boiling. That ignorant, simple minded imbecile. He had no idea what he’d done, most likely still doesn’t. He defied Mercer at every turn, foiled his contaminated Whitelight plan, and convinced his own sister to betray him. All to protect his daughter. It was sentimental crap like that that caused Mercer to give up all that made him human in favor of a more higher consciousness. If Heller had only allowed him to use his daughter to mother the next generation of Evolved, he would have been closer to her then he ever would under normal circumstances.

Mercer sighed. It was just too bad. Heller would have been perfect as his second in command had he only let go of his illusion of humanity. Just as Alex Mercer had died to make room for the man who was currently lying in a grassy clearing with no arms, so had James Heller died to create the man who took said arms. Why could Heller just not see that he was no longer one of them? He was greater, as was Mercer and every other Evolved he had made to further his cause.

He coughed again, bringing about another pain induced spasm, as well as more blood. This was ridiculous. He refused to accept this as his fate. He would not come this far, only to die in the middle of Central Park. He lifted his head, ignoring the pain it caused, and attempted to stand. The attempt failed, but it made him realize something he hadn’t noticed before: his body felt different. Not different like he was used to, what with his ability to change the shape and structure of his body at will, but in a way that when he attempted to bend his knees, it felt like they were bending in a strange way. Not necessarily wrong, just strange. He pushed that thought out of his head and tried again to stand to his feet. He managed to roll over onto his stomach and maneuver his legs underneath himself, picking his upper body off the ground. Unfortunately, his balance was off for some unknown reason, and once he did manage to get upright, he found himself pitching forward. He hit the ground with a thud, groaning as the pain made him lose his breath for a moment.

‘What did Heller do to me?’ He thought angrily. He could remember the fight he’d had with Heller as clear as day, how Mercer was able to best Heller easily, but was ultimately unable to stand up against his sheer power and strength. Then came the part he wished he could forget. The pain of his right arm being sliced off, twice, before having them both simply ripped away as if he were a ragdoll. Yet as much as he could remember from all of that, he couldn’t remember Heller ever doing anything to his legs. So why was it that he was unable to do something as simple as standing up?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a branch breaking and leaves being trampled. Mercer tried once again to stand up so he could face whatever beast was heading his way, but fell back down to his face, something he was beginning to grow annoyed to. Cracking sounds filled the clearing, followed by a small tree falling and slamming to the ground. Mercer froze in his next attempt to stand, fully aware of the presence of the large creature currently staring directly at him from the edge of the clearing.

He chanced a look, immediately regretting it. The creature standing there looked nothing like anything Mercer had ever seen, and when some of the creatures he has seen include Hydras and Goliaths, seeing one new most likely isn’t good. It looked like a mixture of different animals, with the body of a lion and a tail like a scorpions. It also possessed two large bat wings on its back, with a span that appeared capable of allowing it to fly. It was a dark yellow color, with a deep red mane around its face. However the expression it was currently giving him wasn’t of anger or aggression, it was more like one of curiosity. It approached him slowly, taking each step tentatively as if prepared for Mercer to attempt something should it drop its guard. When it got directly in front of him, it began sniffing him loudly, passing its nose over every part of his body that was exposed in his position. When it had satiated its apparent curiosity for what he smelled like, it placed one of its large paws on his back and roughly shoved him to roll him onto his back. The sudden action made Mercer grit his teeth and let out a groan in pain. The beast recoiled, not expecting the sudden noise from the creature it had originally thought to be dead. It stared at him blankly, waiting to see if he would make any other noises.

Mercer glared at it, wishing his powers included shooting lasers from his eyes. “Why don’t you wipe that moronic look off your ugly face and get the fuck out of here you disgusting monster!” He growled out, putting as much venom into his voice as he could muster. The effect of the insult worked a little too well, as the “monster” seemed to be able to understand his words. Its demeanor changed from curious to angry, raising one of its paws into the air and letting its claws slip out to their full length, before bringing it down full force onto Mercer’s vulnerable form, knocking him across the clearing and leaving three deep gashes along his chest. He gasped, the pain he was already experiencing coinciding with the new injury, causing his vision to blur around the edges for a moment. Crimson flowed from the fresh wounds, spilling onto the grass and staining the blades red. The beast didn’t leave any time for Mercer to recover, quickly covering the distance it had created by knocking him away and grabbing one of his legs in its teeth, spinning around and launching him back across the clearing to the far side and right into the trunk of a tree. He hit the trunk hard enough to crack the wood, the rest of the tree groaning and swaying as its only support began giving out. The wood cracked and popped, falling in towards the clearing. Mercer hoped the creature would get hit but was disappointed when it nimbly dodged the tree, flapping its wings to gain a little height to avoid getting hit by the branches.

The beast never took its eyes off Mercer, taking slow steps towards him, as if threatening him. Mercer couldn’t move, the beast was extremely powerful, and just with that first strike it rendered him even weaker then he already had been. It seemed to realize this, relaxing visibly and taking each of its steps even more deliberately, prolonging the suffering it had inflicted on its prey. When it finally got right up to Mercer, it decided it was now done playing with its food. It placed its paw right on his chest, pressing down on his wounds before picking him up and looking him dead in the eye. It almost seemed to smile as it opened its mouth and began to bring his head towards it.

Time slowed down for Mercer, all the thoughts running through his head coalescing into one simple desperate realization: he’d come too far, done too much, just to become dinner for some nature reject straight out of a horror film. He had survived a nuclear explosion, and yet this was how he was ultimately going to die? He summoned whatever strength he still had, feeling the pressure build up inside his chest as whatever biomass he had left shifted throughout his body in preparation for his most powerful attack, unleashing his power in an explosion of tendrils that shot out from his body in every direction. The tendrils tore through the beast’s body, ripping through bone and flesh as easily as driving a nail into a board. Mercer felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he felt one of the tendrils pierce its heart, tearing it to shreds as it continued on through without even slowing down. A moment passed as his Devastator power reached its peak where everything stood perfectly still. The creature, although now dead, remained upright, supported only by the tendrils that had turned it into a very fluffy pincushion, until they began to retract back into his body. As quickly as it had started, it was over, and the victor was Mercer. And as they say, to the victor, go the spoils.

Mercer wasted no time in releasing two more tendrils out, slowly snaking them around the body of the beast so as to consume as much of it as possible. He felt the pain in his body begin to recede as the flow of biomass renewed his strength. His natural regenerating capabilities kicked in, stitching the lacerations on his chest closed as well as mending the other wounds he had received from the fight against the beast. As his arms began reforming, he pulled his head out of what remained of its mouth, instantly falling to his knees and grabbing his head, the familiar feeling of the creature’s memories becoming his own washing over his mind.

As if he had lived them himself, the memories of its life began playing in his head like a movie. Early years spent hunting and traveling with his mother, learning to survive on his own. He felt the rush of adrenaline he got from stalking his prey, and the satisfaction it gave him to finally feel that last breath leave its throat he had his jaws clamped tightly around. He saw the cave he had chased another male out of that he now called home, and claiming the female that he had fought the other male for. Then a peculiar memory appeared, he saw six small horses walking along a path, before a sharp stinging sensation in his paw made him angry and jump out at them. Mercer found it odd that they were all abnormally colorful, one even being completely pink, and that most of them had either wings or horns. He took the initiative while they were frozen with fear, jumping at them and swiping his claws at a white one with a carefully styled mane and a single horn on its head. It dodged him swiftly, turning on its front legs and kick out with its back, knocking him backwards slightly. It yelled something at him, he wasn’t completely sure what, but he took it as a challenge and roared his rebuttal back at it, the force of his roar mussing up its mane. As it ran away from him he felt another one jump on his head, so he began shaking back and forth while jumping around to rid himself of the horse. Suddenly one of the winged ones, a cyan colored one with a rainbow mane and tail, began flying in circles around him, creating a colorful tornado that only succeeded in confusing and infuriating him further. He raised his tail and smacked the horse away, before lowering his body and readying himself for the others as they began to charge. Just before they got to him, a yellow one with long pink hair and a pair of wings on its back jumped between them, stopping the charge. He remained wary as it began talking to him, not sure what the words it spoke meant but feeling himself be calmed with every one spoken regardless. The horse gestured for him to show it his paw, which he did, revealing the source of his original anger: a large thorn, which the horse then plucked out carefully, much to his relief. He then showed his appreciation to the horse by licking it gratefully.

The memory shifted, coming to the most recent ones the creature had. He was walking through the woods on his way back from a hunt, when he came upon a strange sight. In the middle of a clearing lay a dark colored horse similar to the ones he had seen many times before over the years, only this one appeared to be very hurt. He didn’t feel endangered by the horse because of its weak looking state, but still stayed wary as he approached it, the only thing keeping him from running up and digging in being the memory of the kindness that yellow one had shown him in the past. It took Mercer a moment to realize this memory was the beast’s point of view of the events that had just transpired. He focused on the image of himself lying on the ground, finally realizing why he had had so much trouble standing earlier. Somehow he had been transformed into one of those horses, and thanks to his change in balance of course he was no longer able to stand up straight.

His eyes rolled back from inside his head, the entire painful experience of absorbing all those new memories having only lasted a few seconds. As he steadied himself on his knees, he looked at his newly regenerated arms-No, not arms. Legs. His front legs to be exact. He stood up carefully, his legs wobbling a bit at first but still able to support his full weight. He craned his neck around to look at the rest of this new body, surprised at how much different he looked compared to the horses he had seen in the beast’s memories. They had all been bright and colorful, but he was a deep midnight blue in color, his tail a dark brown. He couldn’t see his mane but he could only assume it was the same color as his tail. On his flank was a strange tattoo, what looked to be a strand of DNA. He smirked, chuckling to himself at how much it fit his own abilities. He vaguely recalled the other horses having similar marks. Perhaps this was how they identified themselves in this world. This strange world of technicolored horses.

No wait, that wasn’t right. They looked too small to be horses…Ponies. Yes, that sounded right. Small horses were called ponies. He was a pony. He chuckled again at that thought. A pony. Alex Mercer was now a pony. Oh what sort of morbid joke had he become a part of. As he continued to admire his new body, a thought occurred to him. If his form had changed to that of an equine, had his powers somehow been affected as well? He looked down at his hooves, willing them to change shape to something a bit sharper. He felt relieved when his legs rippled as the structure of his biomass shifted, four massive and long claws jutting out from the ends of his forelegs, the sharp tips resting on the grass. He picked his hoof up, examining the claws as they hung limply as if on hinges, swaying slightly in the breeze. Mercer frowned. Normally his claws were just extensions of his fingers, allowing for easy enough control. Seeing them hang so uselessly had him wondering if his powers could adapt to such a radical change in shape.

To test them out, he walked over to the nearest tree and swung his claws at it, feeling new specialized muscles in his limbs constrict, holding the claws tightly in place so when they met the hard wood of the tree they easily sliced through without much difficulty. Once Mercer confirmed that not only did his claws still work, but his powers apparently did have enough capability to adapt to something this strange, he focused more biomass to his forelimbs, the appendages swelling to incredible size, forming two wrecking balls on the ends of his legs. Nice to see Hammerfist hadn’t needed any kind of adaptation. He gave each one a practice swing, hitting the ground with enough force to make six inch craters and convince every little critter within earshot to evacuate the area immediately. As several birds flew past him he took the opportunity to test out his long reach, spinning around and lashing out with Whipfist, catching more than a few of the winged vermin inside of its deadly arc. At this point he was grinning maniacally, having more fun with these powers then he’d had for a long time.

He shifted his biomass again, thick chords of muscle-like formations growing out of his legs, which didn’t look much different than normal other than a change in color. He walked over to the tree that had nearly crushed the creature from before, placing his hooves under the trunk and lifting it over his head with ease. Balancing on his back legs for a moment, he hefted the tree across the clearing, watching as it took out several of its still standing brethren before coming to a stop. Saving the best for last, his grin grew ever bigger as his right foreleg shifted into what he considered the ultimate man-killer: a single, surfboard sized blade coming out from just underneath the bend in his knee. It was big enough that it allowed him to keep his knee bent and yet still stand at full height. He swung it in wide circles, enjoying the sound of the wind whistling off the edge. He gave his imaginary opponent a few quick jabs with the blade before returning his leg to normal. He surveyed his surroundings; admiring the damage he had done to the clearing. He looked up at the sky, noting that the sun was on its downswing. Even though he could obviously take on any creature in this forest, it still didn’t make the concept of spending a night in it any more favorable.

He willed his biomass around his body, wrapping himself in thin layers in order to mimic clothing. In no time he had on a slightly modified version of his leather jacket and hoodie, his hood pulled over enough to partially conceal his eyes. With that done, he set off towards the nearest exit, using the memories he had absorbed from that beast as a guide, following its knowledge of the layout of the forest and the simple tricks it used to find its way through it. As Mercer grew farther away from the clearing he began losing the light fast, which made him notice just how thick the canopy was. If it weren’t for his thermal vision and unmatched sense of hearing he could see himself taking each step as if it were his last.

He walked for hours, thinking to himself that had he not been a Prototype he would be extremely tired by now. The forest seemed endless, and he had begun to notice that some of the trees appeared to be watching him, almost as if the whole place possessed some sort of power that gave it consciousness. ‘Perhaps it is conscious’ he thought. He wasn’t a stranger to large networks of mentally connected organisms, seeing as how that was how the infected operated back in New York Zero. A hive mind powered by pheromones. Mercer theorized that if the forest was anything like that, it would most likely be physical connections between each tree. Nerve like roots relaying impulses and messages as fast as a telephone line…one super-organism with a contained ecosystem capable of sustaining it indefinitely. His eyes twinkled at the thought. That was his plan for the world he came from in a nut shell. To infect everyone with Blacklight, harness the power of the hive mind and unite them all as one individual.

When he was reminded of his old plan, he scowled, the memory of his failure souring his mood instantly. He pouted for all of two seconds when a light caught his eye. Up ahead the trees parted just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through. Mercer continued on towards it, feeling almost reluctant to leave the forest after his revelation on its inner workings. Nearing the tree line, he began pondering what this world held in store. If those memories he received from the creature he consumed were anything to go by, the ponies it had encountered before seemed to be as intelligent as humans. The yellow one at least, seeing as how it spoke and showed compassion. And why else would Mercer be turned into one if they weren’t some form of advanced life?

As he exited the shelter of the trees, he found himself standing on top of a hill, looking down at a large plain at the base of a range of mountains. The sun was already beginning to set, shining its last rays on the plain, highlighting the thing Mercer had his sights currently set on. Nestled right in the middle of the plain was an old looking town, the buildings built with what looked like timber frames and thatched roofing. From here he couldn’t quite see the other edge of the town, giving him the impression it was home to a number of occupants, many of which he could hear but not see. In the middle of the town was a large clearing surrounding the tallest building, and it was in that clearing he was able to see several forms loitering about. All of them were standing on all fours, confirming his earlier theory that the dominant species in this world were in fact ponies. He watched them for a moment, noticing the similarities between their behavior and that of humans. They conversed amongst each other, making their way through the town in small groups, adults and children alike going about their business. He could see some of them lined up at stands, what he could only assume were shops. He could even see quite a few wearing clothes. He pulled at the jacket he wore himself; glad he wouldn’t have to give it up to avoid suspicion.

Looking down at the town, he couldn’t help but think that all of this couldn’t be coincidence. He failed at his attempt to create a better world, being killed by a man whose powers came from Mercer himself, only to wake up as a pony in a different world. And to top it all off, the world he was now in contained other ponies that acted similarly to humans. Why would he just suddenly appear here for no apparent reason? What could this possibly mean?

He smiled as he the answer dawned on him. He wasn’t here by accident. By whatever force or power at work here, he had been brought to this world for a second chance. Perhaps to change his ways, and his outlook on life. See the good in the world instead of focusing on the bad…Or maybe it was to give him another shot at finishing what he started. He had already seen the worst humanity had to offer, why would a world with humanized ponies be any different? If they acted like humans, they were obviously poisoned like them too. He was being given a second chance, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste so he could learn some stupid lesson like being kind or the magic of friendship.

Mercer’s smile turned into a smirk, the last rays of the setting sun fading away as he focused his blue eyes on the entirety of the town. If he had anything to say about it, it would be in flames by the end of the week.

Welcome to the future sight of Ponyville Zero.