The Syndicate - Prologue (dead)

EDIT: October
This series is being dumped. I hate the direction it went, but hey, it was my first story, so learn and move on. I have other ideas for this that I think are much better, so at some point I will likely re-write it. I will leave in some of the same characters and story elements, but the situation is going to change completely.
That being said, read on if you want, I probably won't be deleting these chapters, but just know that it won't be finished, and instead will be redone later on.

Syndicate in Equestria (name subject to change)
This prologue goes over the events leading up to Anon traveling to Equestria
Honestly none of it is important at all to the plot/story, so don't feel the need to read this

>Today was an average day for you in New York City
>You were shit-faced, outside of a club you were just thrown out of, standing on the streets during an intense thunderstorm
>A dozen or so of New Yorks finest had you surrouned, guns drawn, ready to take you in for... something
>...okay, so only somewhat average
>You don't particularly care at this point
>Nor do you even remember, honestly
>Why they stood their ground and had guns drawn, was beyond you
>Most of the time you weren't working your crummy part-time job was spent either at a club, or more often just at home, in an equally crummy appartment, watching anime and movies, playing games, etc.
>You can't seem to fathom what led up to this moment
>It wasn't like you to end up in a situation as dramatic as this
>... well, the getting shit-faced part wasn't anything new
>Hell, it wasn't even the first time you've been thrown out of a club
>Something was a bit off this evening however
>Your recent short-term memory had failed you, and for whatever reason you just didn't seem to care about the predicament you were in
>As if you had finally stopped caring about life at that point

>Lightning strikes are occuring every couple of seconds, thunder booming and echoing through the steel canyon that is New York City
>Sometimes it sounded rather ominous, as if something was going to emerge from the storm above and wreck your collective shit
>You found it rather fitting for the situation at hand, otherwise not being bothered by it
>You attention is stolen by an officer who decides now is a good time to speak up
>"Put down the weapon, and place your hands behind your head!"
>...weapon?
>You manage to stand still and upright for a moment, and look at both of your hands
>Nothing...
>Suddenly, you remember
>Checking your back, sure enough, there was a Glock 12 nestled in the waistline of your pants
>You vaguely remember a fight breaking out, and you taking it from someone
>...that's about as far as that memory goes

>"This is your last warning! Place your weapon on the ground, and put your hands in the air!"
>It's not like you to disrespect authority, but a big part of you just didn't want to comply with their demands
>You ponder the situation for a moment
>They're either about to send couple officers to flank and take you down, or they're going to shoot your ass dead
>You figure the former is more likely, only because of your gun being holstered and not waving around at them or anyone else
>Hmm, what do you typically do in dramatic situations like this?
>...Well, this is probably by far the craziest one you've been in, but your standard rule is going to apply nonetheless
>What you enjoy the most (mostly just due to the reaction of people around you), is just doing something insanely random and impulsive
>It's served you rather well on the internet
>...not so much in real life, but you figre it's worth a shot anyway

>You think hard for a second, preparing to do whatever comes to mind first
>......
>For reasons unknown to you, an image flashes in your mind of something magnificant, first brought to the world by Ireland
>Only fitting, you think to yourself, considering your current state of drunkedness
>On the random scale, you figure it was plenty good enough
>You can't wait to see the expressions on their face, when you begin
>... to Riverdance!
>You've attempted it before, but given the circumstances you have no idea how you were even remotely pulling it off
>Alas, your bag of fucks was empty
>The officers look stunned at the sudden turn of events, dumbstruck as to what they should do, spaghetti exploding from their pockets
>Lukily for you (and them), any opportunity they may have had to take action at this point is cut off
>As if your marvelous display had rustled the jimmies of Zeus himself, a monstrous bolt of lightning shoots through the raging thunderstorm above, completely ignoring the structures around you, and strikes
>It had hit you dead on
>You can just barely feel a pulling sensation, hurricane-force winds flowing past you, air getting colder
>A blurry glimpse of part of the New York skyline is the last thing you see
>For now...

-End of Prologue-