An obnoxious hum resonates around my mechanical binds, a sound that scientists would consider melodic but an annoyance to me. Around me lies an array of complicated pieces of technology from what I believe is from an unknown origin, shifting with ease along the bolted walls that makes up my confined room. The binds of which holds me down are clasped around my hands and mid-forearms, two large cylindrical devices tightly wrapped around each arm respectively and connected to a very intricately designed platform I have been kneeling on for the past few hours. The bright lights coming off of all this machinery are glowing in neon-blue, helpfully telling me that the controls are still active and are sapping me of my strength without giving any moments to rest.

To ensure that I am completely immobile, I gave a few experimental tugs on the bulky metallic cylinders of which keep me at bay.

… Damn it, I mentally cursed. I’m never getting a break, am I?

Sure enough, they are working just as according to design. The effect of the mechanized strength draining continues to rob me dry, fueling my anger more so than before. I was really hoping that the machines were malfunctioning so I can break free from this steel cell.

I ceased my struggles to glance up for a moment, and what I glanced upon was the only exit I can see – a narrow steel door. From two-thirds along the center of the door’s length, from bottom to top, a small tinted window can be seen. Next to the door is the control panel that’s providing power to my binds. Buttons, knobs, levers, and keys are splayed out before the monitor’s extended pad. The controls are unrecognizable, the symbols on the control panel being very much foreign. Any attempt to glimpse the outside world is absolutely futile to any inhabitant in the room, one of the few reasons why my current position brings forth more sadness and frustration to my psych.

After my pointless examinations, I frowned angrily and brought my head back down, staring at nothing but my free legs. To be honest, I cannot understand why these people would only shackle my arms and not all my limbs, but I suppose they were just trying to preserve resources. I would too if I was on a budget, like throwing change instead of bills at a very promising club as an example.

I took this moment of being alone to reminisce on my past, remembering all the memories I had with my family before… my life changed.

I remembered the times I was playfully bullied by my two brothers; being the middle child pretty much assigned me as the target. And after they get scolded at by my mother, I would instigate them from behind her back. Later on, they would antagonize me again. Even though they have a different way of expressing their form of care for me, at least I know I was being loved at all.

In relation, I recalled kids from my younger years taking what they had for granted and not acknowledging what they wanted was right in front of them all along. Their families aren't being a pain; they’re just… caring for their members in their own fashion. Everybody has their own quirks.

Nevertheless, those were the good times, especially the bonding moments I had with my stepfather. From taking care of me since I was two years old, he would always give me words of wisdom in what to do in life, even if it sounded blunt or… How should I word this, barbaric?

I sincerely miss them so much. I just want to embrace and tell them how much I love each and every one of them right now. But due to my current predicament, I can’t. There are, in any means, no way to notify them of my whereabouts.

Of course… there is the also the notion of them being dead; I really don’t have a damn clue what could or would have happened to them during my absence, but I feel like that is a possible outcome. My family probably thinks I’m dead as well.

As I remembered the sad memories and thoughts, the dark ones emerged. I clenched my eyes shut to block out the visions from creeping up to me. Simply thinking about the scheduled tests and constant experiments has made my body twitch randomly starting from the fingers to chest. I tried to ignore them all out by staring off into space, praying that they would leave me be so I can fuel out my anger in partial silence.

My stare into empty space lasted for quite a while until my attention was caught by a sound resonating on the other side of the room’s entrance. I stood up from my irked and depressed stature, attentively waiting for my visitor to enter my metal prison.

Their purpose to visit is lost on me; I cannot fathom a reason why they would take the time to see my faded grey, once chocolate brown face. Are they going to ask me questions, or are they only attempting to piss me off even more as if I am an animal at a zoo?

My money is on the latter. I don’t know why, but I just do.

There’s only way to find out for sure, and that is to stand back, try to relax and not look like I just shit myself from incredible amount of stress with no means to clean myself.

… Yeah, I’ve been there.

The door to the room hissed open to reveal a middle aged soldier. Judging by his uniform, I can make a wild guess to say he is in the Marines – what with the color scheme. His face bares a seething scowl, along with a clenched jaw and squinted eyes. The weapon he carries, I assume is a M4A1, is being wrapped possessively by the man’s large arms. What I find completely unnecessary about the man’s appearance is his opened bullet-proof vest and shirt, revealing a grotesque amount of hair from his chest. Seriously, no one wants to see that furry mess – it looks like a bush of clustered pubes glued below his neck.

Dear Lord, I thought to myself. How can he operate without shaving that monstrosity?

My eyebrow rose as he marched his way over to me, boots clinking loudly against the steel floor – of which – effectively ends my mental musings. When he reached me, I noticed he was a head taller, probably six-foot six from what I can guess by my own height, five-foot eleven.

The soldier’s scowl deepened as he looked down at me.

“The fuck is your problem,” I asked in a perturbed tone, my voice sounding like if I was trying to talk with gravel in my throat. I internally winced once I heard it, because it certainly has been a while since I last spoke, proving that being poked with needles and shocked regularly can change a guy’s voice from regular to hoarse.

Would it really be all that much of trouble to get a brother some water?

The Marine didn't say anything to my spoken question, but he did reach behind himself and pulled out what looked like a small granola bar. Bringing it to my face, my stomach growled loudly from the sight of it being this close to my mouth. The sound and vibrations coming from my empty gullet reminds me of how long I went without eating anything.

At an attempt to bite the cheap snack, I stretched my neck out desperately with a grunt. As I was about to take a chunk out of it, the soldier pulled it back and took a bite out of it himself. The scowl he once had is now replaced by a shit-eating grin full with mischief. Just by seeing it makes me want to deck his face off more so than from the beginning of his entrance.

Teeth grinding combined with an anger boiling beyond recognition, I couldn't help but sound spiteful. “You… are a complete asshole.”

The small grin on the soldier’s face grew ever so slightly as he bent his knees down to my height, his uneven teeth showing a golden hue at each end and all betwixt crevices. Now that he and I are eye to eye, I can unfortunately note that his breath is most unpleasantly evident of smelling like an unabashed whore. This piece of information confirms my opinion about him, from the militant bum probably smelling like complete shit to actually smelling like full-blown shit. It almost brings a tear to my eye, all of this atrocious odor coming at me at once and me not being able to do anything about it.

“You’re damn right freak, I’m a motherfuckin’ asshole,” he spoke with a dark chuckle. Seeing my disgusted face, he leaned closer to me, much to my dismay. “What’s wrong kid?” He sniffed the air briefly, overly exaggerating his intakes before asking, “Can’t handle a little stench?”

“Not when you smell like you had a lay with a STD infested slut.” I immediately smirked when I then said, “Speaking of which, how is your mother? Did she treat you right with a morning breakfast after your late night session? I hope she enjoyed herself.”

The Marine growled loudly as he winded up his fist, quickly punching me in the face a split-second later. The action did little in perturbing me, my augmented skin and muscle tissue had softened the blow from agonizing to a tolerable pain. To my amusement though, he pulled his fist back as fast as it came, surely indicating he had just hurt himself.

“Don’t be a puss, try again,” I taunted. “I’ll let you know when it actually hurts.”

He pulled himself together as he straightened his posture, the look on his face changed to portray an undeniably mask of fury. Stepping back a step, he embraced his rifle tighter than before he entered my room. I can clearly see that the seasoned training in the military had surfaced from within him, his senses converting to alert and ready for any dangers. I suppose he doesn't see me as a little bitch anymore.

And to think Rambo’s twin came over here to frustrate me when he’s the one whose almost about to blow his top. Maybe I can use his uncontrollable frustrations to my advantage, making this a golden opportunity to escape.

I discreetly tilted my head to the side, peering behind the officer to make sure he is in the right position for my just formulated plan to take action. Seeing that he is standing right in front of the control panel, I softly nodded in confirmation, the other occupant being completely unaware of my actions. I then drove my attention back to him at about the same time he disdainfully spoke.

“You’re lucky that I didn't shoot your ass instead, freak.”

I was going to make a snark remark, as was part of the plan, but I took notice of his current posture, being surprisingly lax compared to a few moments ago. He must have calmed himself during my brief analysis. Why is that?

So I voiced my question, “Why didn't you? … Am I boring you already?”

Again as before, he didn't answer my questioning but removed another object from his array of pockets. Settling it in one hand, he now possesses a rectangular device, a remarkably thin, see-through glass. Upon closer inspection, one side of it is brighter than the other, words scrolling aimlessly horizontally and vertically.

Tapping it once, the soldier opened up a file that read:

United States of America Priority

Transmission 02376R – 21

Encryption Code: Red

Public Key: File / Excised Access Theta /

From: Colonel Richard Thax, Chief Experiment Director of USA Research Facility Liberty

To: Lieutenant Brian Williams, Black Typhoon Leader (Service Number: VB 35 441 890)

Subject: Disposing Test Subject #451, "Liberty’s Juggernaut", to designated drop-off zone

Classification: RESTRICTED [BH (Best for Humanity) Directive]

/ Start File /

Lieutenant Williams,

You and your team have been chosen to complete a task of absolute importance. Your mission is to dispose the package to the barren waters of the Pacific Ocean. Any inquiries that relates to the Subject will not be answered. Get the job done swiftly with no questions asked, and you (the entire team) will be awarded with a thirty day full paid leave. Follow through, Typhoon.

-- Colonel R. Thax

Colonel, you son of a bitch, I internally raged. Just wait ‘til I get my hands on you…

“… What a remarkable story you have there, good chap. I would have expected such an extraordinary venture to be from a well known publisher.”

Keeping my cloak’s hood from uncovering my face, I glanced at the British talking equine behind the bar table in front of me. “It’s a work in progress,” I spoke hoarsely. I took a small sip from my glass of water before continuing. “Although, I was really hoping it would end at some point. But just like every other life, it has to keep moving on.”

The stallion lazily rested his head on a cobalt hoof as he asked, “I do say, was all what you spoke of in truth?” I answered him by bringing my drink closer to me, sipping away as I slowly nodded. “You have to admit, such a story is very difficult to believe…”

I pushed the now empty glass towards him. “What I just shared was in honest truth, sir…” Reaching into one of my hand-stitched pockets, I tossed another golden coin I recently found outside onto the table. “To this day, my body is beyond sore after that altercation, along with a few muscle spasms from a later harsh impact. And don’t get me started about the stress I have been going through.”

Sliding a new glass of water to me, the brightly colorful quadruped – which I learned were called ‘ponies’ a few years ago – remained confused by my tale as well as expressing a tinge of sympathy for my pain. “I do sincerely apologize for any of your misfortunes, but I still find the story utter nonsense. I mean, talking humans? Who would believe such rubbish, especially well spoke ones?”

I couldn't help myself from smiling underneath the hood, my amusement hidden from the stallion’s eyes. I do agree with him at some points, mostly the ones where he calling the humans I dealt with not being well spoken. Lieutenant Williams, that asshole of a Marine, pretty much sealed it. “Well… there’s more to the story than that, and let me just say, I soon learned that shit can happen in the craziest of ways when you least expect’.” From my peripheral vision, I saw the bartender visibly wince by my use of foul language. “Hehe, sorry about that… Old habits die hard.”

“No no, it’s quite alright. I too babble in an uncouth manner from time to time, but I recommend real words in a civilized conversation.”

“I couldn't agree more.”

“Also…” He closed his large expressive eyes when he then added, “I would have expected such from a minotaur like you.”

I chuckled nervously to his assumption of my species. “Heh, minotaur, right…”

The conversation ended as we both became quiet, silently basking in the peace and tranquility you would find at any old, creaky bar. Other patrons in the establishment are pretty much keeping to themselves with cards, alcohol, or just loitering about. Some of these patrons are ponies, a lot like the bartender, but distinguishing features are noticeable from this distance. Several of them have wings or horns, a little bit normal looking ponies being seen here and there as well. Each and every one of them is colored in an array of blues, reds, and yellows – either mixed with their coats and manes, or settled separately. Bellowing laughter can be heard at one side of the room by these vibrant equines, clearly a joke was shared between friendly companies. Beyond the loud cackling, normal conversations are carried, ranging from everyday talk to personal gossip.

One gossip in particular, which has been emitting right behind me, had my full attention out of all them. “So I've heard the new princess has gotten a human a few months ago, but not like any other human…”

“What do you mean, Thunder Clap?” A young voice asked. Shifting to the left, I see it was a green Unicorn who has asked the question, his wavy golden mane covering both his eyes lazily but flicked when he moved his head forward to listen more clearly to his company.

“What I mean is…” Glancing from the unicorn to his front, I spy a surprisingly large Pegasus, guessing to be the so called Thunder Clap. “That this one human is very special.”

“How special is it?”

Bringing a hoof to the side of his muzzle, the Pegasus stallion led out an ironically loud whisper. “So special, it actually thinks like a normal pony does.”

“No way,” The green pony groaned. “That’s a load of horseapples.”

“I’m not lying, Seashell. This piece of info came from a very reliable source.”

The Unicorn dubbed Seashell asked, “It was from Copper Barrel, am I right?”

“… No.”

“Thunder, seriously? You actual believe the crap that comes out of his mouth? He lies, like, all the time!” Seashell crossed his hooves and whipped his head to the side. “I bet you’d also believe him if he said he rutted my marefriend.”

“…”

“… He did, didn't he?”

Thunder Clap moved his large electric blue eyes around, trying not look at the golden mane pony across from him. “What if… what if I said ‘maybe’…?”

Quickly ignoring the upcoming argument between Guy-Code and romance, I returned to my refreshing water glass. As I stared into the liquid refreshment, I contemplated whether the rumor about the princess’s human is true or not. I have been on this world for a long time, and I've come to learn that the indigenous humans here are not exactly the same as mine back home. In this place, humans are mindless animals, dangerous even. The idea of an actual sapient one living around in this land is extremely hard to grasp. Those guys behind me are probably spewing bullshit. Although, perhaps I should investigate this matter further with some questioning.

I captured the bartender’s attention by tapping on the counter a few times. When he finally turned towards me, I gave him my question. “Sir… do you know anything about the latest royal and her… human?”

Bringing a hoof to his chin, the blue coated alcohol provider took a moment to think before answering. “Quite, but what I know are rumors…” I waved my four-pronged glove in a circle as a sign for him to continue, which he did. “I have heard lore from the townspeople saying that the royal human has shown astounding intelligence. From surviving a fighting pit to saving several locals from the Everfree Forest, this unique human has expressed actual thinking capabilities.”

To say my interest was piqued is an understatement. “Do you happen to know where it is right now?”

“The Princess of Magic’s home residence, I believe. The settlement situates at the quaint little town called Ponyville up north from here, which is conveniently close to the city of Canterlot as well.”

I slid the half-empty glass towards the bartending pony as I got up from the barstool, tossing a few more golden coins on the counter afterwards when I fully stood and gave my quick thanks. The equine bartender paid no heed to ask why I decided to leave, obviously too busy counting the coins I gave him for the drinks to even bother.

What a greedy bastard.

Shaking my head from his slowly growing smile, I made my way to the connecting arcade that resides in the bar, its bright neon lights helpfully providing me its location. Every footstep I took made a loud, floor rumbling thud, involuntarily making me the center of attention as I walked. Patrons from all directions gave me a quick glance before returning to their devices, only a few actually stared as if they were hit by a spell – probably finding it confusing to why someone of my size is causing such a disturbance.

I silently chuckled to myself. It’s always nice to know that every step I take makes me feel unbelievably fat.

When I finally arrived at the arcade, I began to search for a certain bat resembling pony. I made a quick scan until I spotted the back of a petite, brown to gray filly. She is currently preoccupied on what seems to be a knock-off version of Tetris, roughly bashing the buttons as she plays.

Somewhat regretting in disrupting the preteen’s game time, I made my presence known as I walked towards her. “Sweetheart, we’re leaving now.”

Without giving any consideration in turning around, the bat-like pony answered, “Give me a minute…”

“I’m sorry little one, but we have plans. So please, end the game playing, and let’s go.”

She started to slow down her movements on the videogame; however, remained where she sat. “But- but- I’m almost done!”

“I’m asking one more time, Chilla.”

“…”

I didn't want it to come to this, but the aged filly left me no choice. When it gets to a point like this, I have to raise my voice. “Chilla,” I angrily exclaimed her name, my shout quickly ending her movements completely, “Ven aquí ahora!”

The game now no longer being her main attention, the filly abandoned the arcade game and meekly trotted over to me slowly, her tuft ears splayed down against her head in shame. Once she had reached me, I bent down and picked her up like a cat, underneath her belly and between her two front legs.

Bringing her to an acceptable eye level, I softened my features so I could speak to her without making her feel too bad. “Lo siento, Chilla…” She drifted her lowered head to look at me, her golden eyes beginning to be filled with tears. “I shouldn't have raised my voice at you, but you should know that not following directions and talking back is very disrespectful.”

“I’m sorry, papi,” she apologized.

I softly hugged her. “It’s OK… You were just too wrapped up on that videogame, that’s all.” As I said this, I felt her hooves wrap around my neck, embracing me in her own hug. “Let’s go, alright?”

I couldn't see or hear her response, but I felt her head go up and down in one short nodding gesture. Accepting her response, I walked out of the arcade and started making my way out of the bar. Once again, the other patrons quickly glance at me before I reached the door. I think the only reason why they notice me again is because of the batpony I am carrying and not just my heavy footsteps. My only assumption is that her type of species was rare around these parts.

Walking out of the bar, I briefly asked a nearby trotting pony on which is the proper and safest way to what I just learned was Ponyville. Giving me directions with no questions asked, I left the pony to his own devices, briefly thanking him for his help.

As I made it to the archway taken to enter the town, Chilla innocently asked, “Where are we going, papi? You didn't really tell me…”

Mentally sliding away my formulating plan on how to go about encountering the princess and her human, I respectfully answered my daughter in my arms, “We are going to see if there’s family in the next town.”

Spreading her leathery wings, the batpony flew out of my embrace and hovered next to my head. “Family, like Tío Enrique and Tío Daryl you told me about in your childhood stories?”

I side glanced her two fanged smile as I elaborated, “No… not that kind of family.” I saw her happy face shift into a more confused one. “We are going to visit family that came from my home… my old home.”

“Oh,” she muttered, leading out a small sigh afterwards. Turning to her again, I noticed her shoulders had slumped a tad as her flying slowed. I don’t blame her for acting sadly so suddenly after I mentioned Earth, the stories I tell her about the people who treated me like a science experiment have been very much believed. She is a smart filly, and she understands perfectly on what I went through.

“Do you think he or she is going to be the same ones who mistreated you?”

I brought my hand towards her as her cheek was within my reach, rubbing it gently to comfort her and to melt away her worry. “We will soon find out, sweetheart.”

After that short conversation, silence befell the two of us as we trekked through the forest of Whitetail Woods. During some time, the wildlife was fortunately leaving the two of us alone as we both hoped something positive would come at the end of our journey. The silence was soon broken however when my daughter began to hum beautifully, prompting me to smile in her direction.