Apocalypse Quest to Equestria CH1

>”So that was how humanity died.
>By our own volition, by our own prerogative.
>No war, now virus, no asteroids, no aliens, no malevolent gods or deities.
>The mental corruption had worked its way to most of the population.
>The future minds meant to lead our race to the heavens and beyond, our generations Teslas, Edisons, and Einsteins.
>These minds were instead drawn, irresistibly, irrevocably, to the allure of the other.
>Drawn by the allure to ‘trancend’ humanity.”
>The man stoked the fire, and looked out over the edge of the decaying skyscraper, his fading vision was greeted by a green and verdant city.
>Not the usual grey of humanities creations. Rather the green of the uprising nature.
>He turned back to the small group of children, those still human without the genetic modifications.
>He would not talk to any to any others, most of the furries and ‘otherkin’ had gone too feral.
>”Great strides were made, genetic therapy, dimensional portals. Some were intent on finding a way to the world we held in our minds, rather than better the one we had.
>None were enough for us to over come the sickness and deficit of our own minds.
>We were not able to accept our hands, our fate, our humanity. So many tried to change themselves.”
>He looked back at the fire, on which breakfast of tinned meat was cooking, it did not need to be cooked, but it tasted better and humans had an affinity with fire.
>The children ate their food in silence, many the forgotten spawn of some now feral sub-humans.
>With that he packed his mess kit, an old army thing, adjusted his pack, checked his weapon (a necessity to survive the feral packs).
>He stood and looked at the children.
>”I wish you the best of luck, I cannot stay anymore.”
>One of the other children spoke up, a thin and raspy voice, one that spoke of solitude and hunger.
>”Why?”
>The man called over his shoulder as he walked to the stair well.
>”Because I too seek that world, the one others dreamed of.”
>He started walking down the stairs as he pulled out a bundle of cloth.
>He unwrapped it, showing a faded and torn ‘20% cooler’ shirt and a newspaper.
>he ran his hand over it and read those words that spurred him to live.
>’Possible Portal to Equestria Made in Los Angles’

>The man felt bad for leaving the children there, alone, but he had to continue.
>After all the children were armed with discarded police guns and riot shields.
>Humanity had fallen far, not to its death, but far enough that the world he knew would never return.
>He wasn’t a weak man by any stretch of the word, those types died out as soon as the first packs roamed the alleyways.
>However, he was a man who was reaching his breaking point, he did not know what would happen when that point was reached.
>Would he curl up and die, dry out like a raisin in the sun?
>Huh, he had forgotten about that poem, when he read it in a university library.
>Funny the things humans remember songs, art, and advertisements. None helped him in this new world.
>He checked over the notes hidden within the newspaper and shirt bundle.
>Using several papers and academic papers, all scavenged from his journey, he concluded that the portal was located somewhere in the UCLA physics lab.
>After a good long time of walking he finally hit the bottom of the stairs and proceeded into the sunny street.
>It was incredible, only five years had passed since the government had fallen, and already nature was retaking it’s claim.
>There wasn’t a car in the road, the air was fresh, it was as if all the humans had disappeared or given up.
>In the back of his mind a thought rattled ‘because they did’.
>With that he pulled out a compass and a map, out dated and old, but it served its purpose well enough.
>He oriented himself and wrote some directions down on a scrap of paper and started walking, keeping his weapon ready.
>Never know when the feral packs would strike.

>He had been walking for about six hours when something caught his eye.
>A unbroken door to an indoor mall.
>The temptation and necessity proved too much, so he delayed his journey.
>He didn’t even bother trying he handle, it would be locked as always, rather he pulled a set of key jigglers from his pocket.
>He tried each one, but none seemed to work, it was time to resort to forced entry.
>He reached into his holster and withdrew his sidearm, it was suppressed, taken from some corpse on the I5.
>He wasn’t one much for guns, never against them, just uninterested. His knowledge ended at disassembly and cleaning.
>He leveled the .45 at the lock, covered his eyes, and fired.
>Scraps of metal shot out everywhere, and the door was opened.
>He pushed his way inside, he felt like he was a criminal.
>Years of living and growing in a still functioning society gave him a reverence for places like this.
>The mall was rather small, consisting of a food court, GAP store, Hot Topic, and liquor store.
>Funny, he had never considered before how useless most of the old world merchandise was useless.
>He walked past the food court; everything was rotted in those stands anyways.
>As if drawn by some old world magic, or just his old world habits he entered the hot topic first.
>He walked right to the back row and stared at the wall. The store had been looted before, despite the locked door.
>Very little remained, but under the dust there was still something wrapped in plastic, it’s cellophane gleaming in the little slivers of light.

>He reached for the object, pulled it back, and wiped off the dust.
>Six faces looked back at him, the faces of those six.
>It was a poster. One of the newer ones before factory production fell apart.
>The colors were faded, and the plastic had let some moisture in, but the faces were still visible.
>Those six happy faces, Rainbow had a brash and challenging smile, ready to take on anything.
>AJ’s was honest and open, letting him know that while she can be blunt, she was kind to the bone.
>Fluttershy’s was hidden behind her mane, the man rubbed the picture slightly mumbling to himself.
“No worries, you should let that radiant smile light up the room.”
>His own words broke his reverie as he cautiously looked around, one hand still on his rifle. Sufficiently calmed he looked back at the picture.
>Pinkies was as ecstatic as ever, causing a chuckle to well up and out of the man.
>Rarities was simple and reserved, elegant to say the least, showing great poise and composure.
>Finally, Twilight’s was both the simplest and most telling, she was just happy to be part of the group.
>To have finally discovered the ‘magic of friendship’. Without thinking he ran his hand over the small poster.
>Doing so he disturbed the delicate balance of the ink, water, and decay contained in the cellophane.
>The picture was smudged beyond recognition, the smiles and faces gone, left in their place was a swirling mix of color.
>Panic gripped the man, only for a brief second as he forced his mind back into reality, dropping the smudged poster on the disrepair floor.
>A most unpleasant process, he forced these emotions down further and moved to check the liquor store.

>The man had been walking for another couple of hours.
>The liquor store was in worse shape than the Hot Topic, he found it darkly comical that booze was one of the first things stolen.
>He did however manage to nab a couple of bandages from the first aid kit under the counter, and a whole bag of ‘Jack Links’ forgotten in the store room.
>He kept his head up, rifle out and kept walking, and walking.
>He stopped at an intersection to check his bearings when he heard gunshots, close too.
>None of the echo usually associated with the dead streets, just the crack and boom.
>The man hastily dropped his map and compass, those things could be replaced, life could not.
>He flicked the fire selector on his rifle to auto, no knowing what would happen next.
>He took cover in a door way and peered down the wide street. There were gunshots so it was more humans, actual humans, not the abominations that people desired to become.
>He waited, a couple more shots, and waited some more.
>Finally he saw it, a figure running down the street, full sprint rifle in hand.
>The man quickly raised his weapon not knowing if the figure was a threat or not.
>That’s when he saw two feral furries chasing after him, easily gaining ground with their digitigrade legs.

>The man quickly adjusted his aim and the first closing feral and fired. Two rounds, quick burst to stay on target.
>The genetic modifications made them larger than the average human, but not by much.
>The first round embedded itself within the feral’s shoulder, causing it to crumple and tumble into itself as the second round flew clear over with a sizzle.
>The man quickly adjusted his aim to the other feral and fired. Three rounds this time, not as aimed as the first, panic was begin to grip his muscles and mind.
>causing him to shake and throwing off his aim.
>The rounds went wild, two in the pavement in front of the feral, one above.
>The feral took note and changed course, no longer worried about the human running away, but rather worried about a new threat.
>The feral closed the distance incredibly quickly. The man brought his rifle up again, but panic had taken him over completely.
>He was no soldier with nerves of steel; he was just a man who happened to have found something to keep living for, that alone could not overcome instinct.
>A hope against hope if you will.
>He tried to draw a bead on the feral, but to no avail. His rifle shook wildly, preventing him from even making the most basic of shots.
>Another crack rang out; the feral tripped and slid to a stop maybe five feet away from the man.
>The man still stood, his terror wracked mind still desperately trying to catch up to the fact that he was still alive and not some fuck toy for an ex-human.
>That’s right, the ferals don’t eat people like that, they rape them for a couple weeks first.
>One of the few hold overs from an overly sexualized sub culture, an overly sexualized culture in general.

>The other human came running up to the man, rifle still held at low ready, cautiously peering down the street at the wounded feral.
>It stood, looked at the humans for a couple moments, then limped away. It left a thin red trail behind it, smeared by its scaled tail.
>The other human gave the dead feral a wide berth, this one was furred, more resembling a wolf.
>The other human made it to the man who was still standing in the doorway.
>“Hey, thanks man. You’re a real bro you know that?”
>With that the ‘bro’ kicked down the door, the man was standing in front of, they both funneled in and ran up the stairs.
>All that gunfire was going to attract bandits or other ferals, best to hide and talk with this ‘bro’.

>After traveling up a dozen or flights of stairs at full speed the ‘bro’ came to a stop, aiming his rifle down the stairwell.
>The man took it upon himself to do the door kicking himself. Years of practice made itself known as he hit it the door in the perfect spot right next to the knob.
>It swung open and the man and the ‘bro’ filed in, immediately closing the door and pushing a faded rotted dresser against it.
>The two humans stood there for a couple moments catching their breath.
>The ‘bro’ gave the man a friendly grab on his shoulder.
>”Again, thanks man. Not often someone does something like that.”
>The man stood back up and changed out the magazine on his rifle. Only the dead carried a half empty magazine.
“Think nothing of it. You repayed your favor.”
>The ‘bro’ straightened up, seeming a little proud of himself.
>”Right on, right on… Daniel.”
>Daniel stuck his hand out to the man; the man took it and noticed a series of pendants hanging from Daniels neck.
>It was a series of cutie marks, the man could make out most of the mane six and Luna’s.
“Anon, you here for the portal?”
>Daniel blushed a little at this, apparently the shame of being a fan still existed in some people.
>”Y-yeah man, I guess the same goes for you then bro?”

>Anon nodded, before going about the business of scavving the apartment flat since the two of them were going to be stuck there for night.
>They had to stay the night as bandits often set up snipers to watch a street that had recent gunfire.
>Their efforts netted them a couple bottles of water, an unopened pack of newports, and another handgun in .380 that was held by some poor soul who offed himself in the bathroom.
>Daniel closed that door once he took all the things he could, he also took the time to stuff a towel under the door, just so they had another degree of separation.
>They set up camp, really just two blankets as the mattress was being used as another door blocker, smoked the whole pack together, and discussed their favorite old time subject.
>Best pony.
>The debate ran on until the sun set, Anon was immensely happy to have someone to banter with about these things.
>Trivial as they may be they calmed his mind more than any amount of stale tobacco could.
>Besides, it the portal is real and working then these ‘trivial debates’ might have hold more weight than expected.