Chapter 2

9-11-13, 9:30 A.M.

When Jeremy woke up, the first thing he was aware of was that he couldn’t hear the muffled sounds of the My Little Pony episodes in the next room. He dragged himself out of bed, got dressed, and slowly and silently headed downstairs to breakfast – he was not a morning person. At least it was the weekend - though he'd probably be taking a week off of school to rest and recover anyway. To his surprise, Luna was already sitting at the kitchen table, eating toast and jam and lacking her usual black and blue armor. Jeremy raised an eyebrow as he approached, and began cooking his own breakfast, carefully choosing vegetarian ingredients so as to avoid potentially enraging her. “Aren’t you nocturnal, anyway?”

Luna finished her mouthful before answering. “We are, yes. But judging from what we remember, this world seems to be twelve hours behind ours - or perhaps ahead, depending on one's perspective. Therefore, we have decided to experience the day." Jeremy absentmindedly unwrapped an old bandage around his arm, discarding it in the garbage. Princess Luna looked over, concerned. “We noticed bullet wounds on thy person when we… healed thee… Didst thou engage in a gun-fight?” Luna asked curiously.

Jeremy looked over at her, alarmed. "...How do you know what a gun is?" he asked suspiciously. To his surprise, Luna gave him an equally suspicious look.

"That is not thy concern - answer our question," she flatly replied.

Part of Jeremy was still pretty scared of her, but this statement riled him - didn't he have a right to know? "Fine. Yes. I shot at people. A lot of people. They shot back. Anything else you want to know?" he rudely retorted. Realizing what he had just said, he looked away, only to return his gaze to Luna - she looked oddly apologetic.

Finally, she spoke. "We... apologize for prying. We will not do so again." Jeremy sighed and placed a hand to his forehead, taking a seat across from her.

"It's... fine..." he tiredly answered - he just wanted this conversation to be over.

Princess Luna appeared to acknowledge this, and went back to her food - but every so often, he would catch her staring at him, as though sizing him up. Feeling uncomfortable, he put his plate away and headed back upstairs, hoping for a day of relaxation. He could hear Luna rummaging around downstairs, but wasn’t too concerned until he heard a shotgun blast right outside his house. He immediately ran out and around to the backyard, foregoing shoes in favor of his bare feet, to find Luna with a rectangular bruise on her face in the backyard. "Princess Luna, what are you doing?!" he called out, running over. She started guiltily, and looked over at him like she had been caught stealing.

“We... we must learn to use this!" Luna asserted, levitating the shotgun so that it pointed off to the side.

Jeremy looked at her in horror. "Why?!" he asked angrily - the thought of Princess Luna with a SPAS-12 in hoof made him think of all sorts of Equestrian post-apocalyptic scenarios. He marched over and snatched the gun from her magical grasp, and unloaded it with a practiced rigor. "Okay, first of all, don't steal stuff you don't know how to use! Second, what do you need this for? Are you going to shoot me for insubordination? Is that what this is about?" he asked, part sarcastic and part hysterical. Luna clapped a hoof to her mouth.

"Is that... what thou think of us?" she asked, lower lip quivering. Oh, fuck, Jeremy thought. The image of Princess Luna crying was enough to snap him out of his tirade.

"I..." he tried to answer.

Princess Luna lowered her head, on the verge of tears. "It is true we are inexperienced at making friends. But that is what we want to do! We want to befriend thee, not harm thee." She looked away as though she expected him to attack her.

Jeremy approached her cautiously, dropping the shotgun onto the lawn. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," he mumbled. Luna sat down on her haunches, seemingly not even caring about the dew, and after a moment's hesitation Jeremy took a seat beside her. Finally, she looked over at him, still sad but now with a hint of uncertainty.

"May we... May we start over? I never did... get thy name," she asked. After a moment, he nodded, and Luna tentatively held out a hoof. "Luna," she greeted, and Jeremy gave a small smile as he clasped her hoof in his hand and carefully shook it.

"Jeremy," he replied, and she smiled. He let go, and they both stood up. "Now... we believe we owed thee an explanation," she mentioned, and Jeremy looked at her in confusion before he remembered what she was talking about. They headed inside first, as Luna claimed the story was somewhat lengthy. Along the way, Jeremy picked up the shotgun and ammo, setting them carefully down on the table and taking a seat across from Luna once more. She took a deep breath before beginning.

“By now, we are certain thou art aware of the existence of the changelings, insectoid creatures who can take the form of any they see. A short while ago, the queen Chrysalis was defeated by the combined efforts of the Elements of Harmony, Princess Mi Amore de Cadenza, and her groom Shining Armor. She has since gathered her forces, preparing for a new attack.” Jeremy nodded, intrigued. “This time, Chrysalis has amassed enough changeling troops for a direct invasion, and has started in Ponyville as it was the closest town to where she lives.”

Jeremy looked up. “Incidentally, where does she live?” Luna thought about it. “As far as we can tell, inside the Everfree Forest. No pony has ventured near enough to the changeling lair and returned alive to confirm this.” Jeremy nodded, and waved a hand for her to keep going.

“At first, Princess Twilight was confident she could overcome the changeling hordes with her magic, but was quickly coerced to surrender when the changelings presented similar weapons," Luna continued, pointing at the shotgun. Jeremy's eyes widened - changelings with guns? What the hell! Luna cleared her throat nervously. "We... have not heard from Princess Twilight since." Jeremy was by now officially worried - his first thought had been to wonder why Twilight hadn't just used her alicorn powers to wreck the army. "Thusly, we were called upon to act while Celestia stayed in Canterlot to oversee evacuation and war strategies. We were ambushed by a squadron of changelings and their weapons, and before we were about to die, we cast a spell in desperation to take us anywhere else. And, by some act of chance, it took us here," she finished.

Jeremy winced. “And you promptly got hit by a car. Sorry about that.” Luna graciously accepted the apology.

“Equestria has never seen extensive use of these ‘guns’ – ponies could not use them, due to our lack of additional appendages. It has taken our armies completely by surprise - not that we have much of an army anymore. We swear, if this were the old days..." Luna grumbled. Jeremy forced back a smile at her griping expression.

"So, you're just going to suddenly learn how to use guns, and go to town on them?" he asked, grinning at her.

Luna embarrassedly laughed. "Now that thou put it that way... nay, that will not work. But... the only other option we see... is for thee to take our place."

Jeremy stared. She was asking him, after he had just gotten out of the hell that was war, to jump right back in. Against changelings. He quickly shook his head. “Oh, hell no. No, no, NO! Once was enough – I am not fighting an army again. I don't care how important you think this is, just no. Not this time!” he shouted, holding his head in his hands and shaking slightly. Luna appeared to be unsure how to respond for a moment, then pushed his hands away with her hooves, forcing him to look at her through furious, tear-stained eyes.

“Jeremy, if thou should refuse to help us, our people will surely die. These are innocent, civilian lives at stake – and if anyone can save them, by all rights it could be thou. After all… the shot-gun was not the only gun we saw in the back of your motorized carriage.”

Jeremy glared at her stubbornly, and she shifted a bit. "Yeah, how about no. You watched the episodes: Twilight Sparkle will get lucky, pull some sort of deus ex machina to save the day, and everypony will go home happy, safe and sound. That's how it works, right? Destiny and all that?" he rhetorically asked.

Luna uncertainly nodded. "But... if you put so much trust in the workings of fate... then why, pray tell, am I here?" she rebutted, and Jeremy considered this.

"Well... still! I'm not helping. Just... no," he flatly answered, feeling somewhat nervous behind his anger - this was Princess Luna he was denying. She could easily force him to comply if she so chose, and Jeremy thought she might not have a problem with that if she were this desperate.

“Look... we promise to reward thee as thou see fit. Just... please...” Luna whispered. Surprised at her tone, Jeremy stopped his own train of thought to reconsider. Clearly, she was desperate - he had expected the Canterlot Voice treatment at every step and she was actually begging him for help. Did she really consider him that much of an advantage? Why? He had gotten lucky last time - the only things he had known when driving to school on that fateful day was minor knowledge of guns from Boy Scouts and a very, very small knowledge of self-first aid from the Internet.

Jeremy placed a hand to his forehead, grimacing as he said words he had never wanted to say again. "Okay... okay. I'll fight for you guys. Just... after this, I'm done. Forever. That'll be my reward - peace, quiet, and an utter lack of gunfire in my vicinity. Got it?" Luna nodded solemnly, her expression giving way to a tentative smile as she swept him into a surprisingly strong hug for her size.

"Thank you," she whispered, before nervously stepping away from him, looking away in embarrassment. Princess Luna cleared her throat awkwardly, Jeremy still taken aback by the sudden emotions. "We thank thee most greatly... and on our word as Princess, we will honor thy deal," she replied, holding out a hoof. Jeremy shook it gently, and stood up, sighing with discomfort.

"So... might as well teach you how guns work, if you're so interested to learn. Come on, I'm not doing this inside," he remarked irritably as he walked over to the garage, slipping into a pair of shoes. Walking over to his car, he pulled out the keys and unlocked it. For a moment, he stared at the guns within, as memories began to flash through his mind. Another fake throat-clearing noise from Luna brought him back to reality, and he started nervously for a moment before remembering where he was. "Right, right..." he muttered, tentatively reaching a hand out and scooping up a heavy armful of iron and lead. Princess Luna levitated the rest along, and they marched off to the backyard.

"This is an assault rifle," Jeremy said, holding it up. "Out of all the ones I have, this was the most useful - it outputs a lot of bullets in a short time, but isn't a 'burst' fire like the shotgun." Demonstrating, he shot at a tree, the stream of bullets making the usual loud "pchchchch" sound, causing Luna's ears to noticeably twitch - Jeremy noticed that unlike a human's ears, hers could swivel and move. She was watching from the sidelines as Jeremy pulled out each gun he possessed. Most of the small arms had been discarded as "too weak" in her opinion, but Jeremy had insisted he keep the revolver he had obtained. So, his total gun count was three: A SPAS-12 shotgun, an M-16 assault rifle, and a Colt .357 magnum. Jeremy wouldn't normally know the names, but he had actually asked a teacher at his school who turned out to be amazingly helpful with guns.

9-11-13, 1:07 P.M.

Was Jeremy a hero for his actions, or a mass murderer? He wasn't sure, and probably never would be. Sure, he’d been there the day the mysterious terrorist group attacked his high school. After taking a moment to ascertain whether something that stupidly unlikely was actually happening, he’d grabbed a piece of steel pipe and fought back, later switching it out for an amassment of guns he had looted from various corpses. And yes, after a long and protracted series of battles up and down the halls of his school and sometimes in the outside parking lots and recreational areas, he’d killed enough of them to turn the tide in his favor, all without a single student death due to the combined efforts of him and his erstwhile teachers. For just coming back to school, they were surprisingly prepared – most knew how to fire a gun, lock doors, hide, and everything else they would need to survive. After it became clear he was in it for the long haul, Jeremy began stealing food from the kitchens and stockpiling it in the gymnasium where the rest of the students were holed up, with his teachers' aid. About midway through the week, the group had managed to send him a message over the intercom that they would kill his parents if he didn't stop. Jeremy ignored them, and sure enough, he received news that his parents were dead. Stupid, stupid. He had assumed that the police were blockading the area, preventing the terrorists from getting through - and they were, but that didn't stop a dedicated group from escaping and managing to shoot them before being messily dispatched by the local police.

Eventually, the military arrived at the scene, only to attempt to negotiate with the hostile party: Jeremy’s life for their leaving without taking a single life. Jeremy didn’t take too kindly to that, and after a single tossed grenade, Squad 15 and the negotiating party was only so many body parts. That in particular was one of his most regretted actions – it would have been far better to kill only the original terrorists, without harming a member of the military. Of course, after that, it was a simple game of rounding up the rest of the group, and leaving none alive. After a week of running, shooting, and desperately clinging on to life by the tips of his fingers, Jeremy had finally managed to come out alive and relatively unscathed. The rest of the students, trapped in the facility until his intervention, only escaped at the very end, when he lured all the remaining terrorists into a rooftop battle which he only barely survived and won. Thankfully, all of the terrorists had stayed in the high school buildings until the very end, trying desperately to scrounge a victory and kill Jeremy as he managed to kill more and more of them. Were they really terrorists? Jeremy had always been unsure of their goals, and simply presumed that they wanted to kill children to show the world they could. Besides, he had no other word for them, except perhaps 'attempted murderers' - every time he thought of the word 'terrorist', it reminded him of the Red Scare, but he couldn't think of a more accurate term.

Jeremy ruminated on this often, now that he was left to his own devices. Another thing that struck him was that he didn’t feel any grief, either for the deaths of his parents or the slaughter he had already committed. This was certainly inhuman, as Jeremy was under the impression that he was supposed to be crying his eyes out – all he could feel was a dull ache every time he thought about it. Was this post-traumatic stress disorder? He didn’t know enough, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask – after what he had been through, he was almost definitely a unique case. Still, once in a while he tried to feel sad for their deaths, and every time he simply could not manage to do it. It wasn’t sadness or guilt that defined his feelings, Jeremy decided. It was emptiness. He’d been bled dry of guilt, sorrow and grief, and all that was left was a dull ache where his heart should be telling him to stop, slow down, maybe shed a few tears for all that had happened. Anger, too, was gone: Initially he had been blazing with fury at the newcomers, terrorist and military alike, and had cut them down without a second thought.

He looked down at his backpack, stained with blood and emptied of textbooks and papers in favor of ammunition cartridges and medical supplies (most of which had been used last night). Was it possible to clean it? No, he’d simply have to switch to a new backpack, as this one had been ripped and torn from its extensive use anyway. He went and found another backpack, this one usually only for day trips and vacations. He neatly packed all the ammunition he had in the new backpack, as well as the remaining morphine ampoules and gauze. He then went outside to gather the rest of the ammunition for the shotgun and the other large guns, which for obvious reasons couldn’t be stored in the backpack. Luna was still out back, but he wasn’t hearing anything. He went around to the backyard to investigate, to find her still firing guns – but with no sound, evidently the result of magic on her part. She looked tired, but satisfied.

As Jeremy entered her vicinity, she stopped, pausing a moment to disable the spell and wipe the sweat from her face. “So, we’re just straight-up murdering a bunch of changelings?” Jeremy asked to confirm his thoughts. Luna nodded her head by way of greeting, and then thought about it.

“Actually, we are not sure they would die from such weapons – their form is already so amorphous that a bullet would do little more than irritate them in the long run. Still, they do feel pain when it penetrates their exoskeletons, so if thou can hit them with thy bullets enough times, they should pass out from the pain alone. We have been attempting to use these weapons, but we are not accurate enough to face the tasks ahead. Thou, on the other hoof... thou hit what thou aim at.” Jeremy considered this. On the one hand, he wasn’t committing mass murder again, which could only be a good thing. On the other, wow that would hurt them – most humans died after a short burst of rounds due to organ failure, whereas changelings would apparently keep going until the pain cut them off from consciousness. Luna went inside to wipe the gunpowder and sweat off of herself, and Jeremy followed, finding a towel for her. Then, they discussed a battle plan over dinner.

9-11-13, 8:37 P.M.

“Would that we could modify the weapon to only affect changelings,” Luna sadly remarked as she stared at the assault rifle laid on the table.

“What if I wore armor?” Jeremy queried. Luna shook her head.

“We have tried. Steel armor is simply punched through by these bullets, and we have no other material which can withstand their force, never having needed any.”

Jeremy smirked. “Thankfully, we’ve had to deal with firearms for over a thousand years, so humans have made some good steps in modern armor. First, multiple layers of nano-ceramic plates linked together like chain mail is the current bulletproofing used by our military, and it’s more effective than Kevlar – a similarly designed fabric that dampens the shock if thick enough. I was wearing Kevlar... last time... and it didn't work so well against higher-caliber bullets, and I had a full-body suit on.” Luna took notes on a notepad she had managed to find. “As for melee weapons, simple rubber padding is enough to stop most of that, and we recently invented a sweet new material called sorbothane – a derivative of polyurethane that absorbs shock insanely well.”

Luna looked up. “But what of cutting weapons? Surely a material designed for shock and impact would not withstand stabbing?” Jeremy brought over a laptop and entered a Google search.

“I once researched this as part of a pipe dream for a suit of armor - nothing I could ever actually build, mind you, just as something that would be really cool to have. Stabproof fabric is possible too – but I’m thinking it has to be a separate layer.” He pulled up a site, and together they read about nano-silicon dioxide particles mixed with a shear thickening fluid such as polyethylene glycol, and applied to a fabric such as Kevlar or even nylon. “So… what we could do to tie these all together is alternate a few layers of each, until we have a thick, padded layer of armor – plus, each one is relatively lightweight. It’ll be like wearing a particularly heavy shirt,” Jeremy mused.

“Where would we get all of this?” Luna wondered.

“I can definitely pick up some polyethylene glycol as antifreeze, and after a distillation with oven-dried salt it should be free enough of water to use. We already have the nanoparticles of silicon dioxide – it’s used as a spill cleanup, and it’s soft enough to put in the coffee grinder to pulverize it. As for the sorbothane, Kevlar and nanoceramic, those we might have to create magically – even if I placed an order for them online, it might take days or even weeks, which we probably don’t have. Speaking of which, how long do we have?” Luna considered this for a few solid minutes.

“Hmm. Given that Shining Armor has been reinstated as commander, and his troops are battling the changelings in the streets of Canterlot as we speak, and my own sister has been directly engaging the troops and knows of their weapons, we estimate we have two more days before they will presumably overrun us. As for creating those items magically, if thou can show us how they are made than we will make them – we have recovered greatly after healing.” Jeremy nodded.

“Then let’s spend tomorrow getting all of this ready, and get back there as soon as possible. You do know how to get back, right?” Luna nodded.

“Finding our home universe is easy - the spell is normally quite specific. We can send both of us back at any point, but we will be exhausted for a short while afterwards.” Jeremy grimaced.

“Then you’ll have to teleport us a distance away from any actual battle, so we can find you a place to recuperate while I go clean house.” Luna agreed, and they went upstairs to get ready for bed.

Jeremy decided to play some first-person shooter video games, to better get himself in the mood for the upcoming fight. Luna fascinatedly watched as he shot his way through scores of virtual enemies. “Canst thou replicate such performance in the real world?” she asked.

“I wish I couldn’t,” Jeremy replied. Next Chapter: Chapter 3 Estimated time remaining: 12 Hours, 57 Minutes