Cry had always compared the early-morning light to egg yolk, transformed into a gas, with sparkles in it. This time, though, it wasn't quite the same. It was a different light that penetrated his eyelids this time. Synthetic lights. And not even the good kind, the yellow kind that hurts your brain if you stare at it for too long.

   He reached an arm up to his mouth and coughed - before realizing that he couldn't come into contact with his nose. He opened his eyes tiredly, vaguely remembering putting his mask on for shots and googles the night before, and shook his head. He smirked at his own random stupidity as he slipped a finger under the mask.

   But something interrupted him. Suddenly, his heart paused. Just for a moment. He felt beneath him with his free hand. It didn't feel like Egyptian cotton. That made sense, considering he didn't own any Egyptian cotton, but he did own a mattress, which he was sleeping on. And he couldn't feel it.

   He heard a clatter - like wood on stone - coming from his closet area. His first thought was gremlins, but that was due to him watching Gremlins the week before and the fact that movies stuck in his mind for unreasonable amounts of time.

   He inhaled deeply through his nose. It was a good thing that the mask was made of that cool Underarmour stuff, or else he wouldn't have smelled it.

   Quesadilla.

   Quesadillas were the prime example of breakfast foods. But he lived alone. He descended immediately into total panic mode, and sat up in... 'bed', blinking his eyes rapidly to clear them up since rubbing was out of the question. He reached across the mask and proceeded to tear it off - or try to.

   He let out a cry of shock when his flesh moved along with the mask, like it was a really, really adhesive band-aid. He reached across again, screwed his eyes shut, and pulled once more. Another short cry, one of pain, as nothing moved. He sprung out of... 'bed' and looked back and forth, his vision clearing.

   This wasn't his room.

   He gasped, and shuddered, before taking off at first instinct through the rather low doorway. It was a good thing he was more 'Captain Kirk'-sized than 'Stephen Merchant'-sized. However, as he took his second frenzied step, he was stopped dead in his tracks by something in the middle of the hospital-like corridor.

   He let out a squeak of confusion. In front of him was a small... thing... coloured orange, with golden yellow hair and a tail the same colour, staring at him with huge golden eyes. Then, he noticed the symbol on its arse and put two and six together.

   He sighed, regaining a bit of his sanity. It was just some odd-looking cattle. Brand and all. It was cute, but he must be in some kind of Russian lab or something. It was nice for an underground lab. He continued past it, more briskly walking and less running, all the while trying desperately not to look into its unearthly big, shiny eyes.

   "Wait!"

   He stopped dead in his tracks again, his blood freezing again. It had not been a good morning. He turned his head slowly, begging himself by this point that he'd died and gone to wherever and that this wasn't real life. "D-" He stopped himself, and cleared his throat. "D-did you... say something?" he asked haltingly.

   "Well, of course! I've been wanting to talk to you all -"

   It wasn't able to finish its sentence. Cry collapsed on the cold tile floor, opening his mouth to scream even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to. "B - guh - n -" he stuttered. "Th- the Russians - I have t - to report this - wh-where's my phone? I need Panetta's number -"

   "Are you okay, uh, ma'am?"

   "I'm a sir!" he replied indignantly, wincing as his voice broke. "I... oh, God, I'm talking to a thing. It's not human."

   "I'm in earshot, sir," it replied, scoffing. "You're supposed to save Equestria? Fat chance."

   He gave up briefly. Get accustomed now, understand later. Basic infiltration, chapter 2. "Wh - where am I, did you say?"

   "Equestria. Boy, do you need to catch up."

   "Boy, do I," he agreed quietly, sliding over to the wall and covering his crotch with his hands as well as he could. Well, if there were sentient cattle about who could speak the King's English, was it really important to cover up your morning wood?

   He was still debating this dilemma when he heard more clatter, like from earlier, to his right. He looked over, already exhausted of the insanity going on around him. He was barely surprised when he saw another one of the things, a bright purple one, in a little coat like it was tailor-made for... whatever species it was.

   "What the hell do you need?" he asked in an almost pleading way as it approached. "You gonna probe me? Clone me and take over the world? Go ahead. I don't even care. This is all a dream, or I'm insane, or something like -"

   He was interrupted. Whatever it was hadn't said a word, but instead had leaned down and hugged him. Or something. The first thing he noticed was that it had hooves (so that's what they were) and, oddly enough, a little doinky horn nested in the middle of its streaked hair.

   He patted its back and pulled away. "Was that it?" he asked, closing his eyes and trying one more time to rip off his mask. "God, I feel like crying."

   "What? No, I'm sorry," it said, in a nicely-female voice, and wiped at its (her?) eyes. "S-sorry. I'm having a bit of trouble today. It's just - you're here, and you're different, and you can help -"

   "Oh, really?" he interrupted condescendingly. "You're having a bad morning? Someone took me from my bed and brought me somewhere where there are sentient cow-things." His voice rose a bit, before he sighed. "I'm sorry." Why am I apologizing?

   "No, you're right to be angry. I'm truly sorry this had to happen, but it's an emergency. Can I sart from the beginning?" She asked.

   He looked away, but a stole a glance into her eyes. This is so messed-up. "... I have time."

   She smiled. "Thank you. My name is Twilight Sparkle, and you're currently in Equestria. We're called ponies, and... well, I -"

   "Pause," Cry interrupted her, lingering a bit on the 's'. "You're...  a pony?"

   "Yes. Why? Do you have us wherever you're from?" she seemed genuinely excited.

   "Uh... kind of. I'll tell you later. What were you saying? 'And, well, I'?"

   "Yeah. That's really all that's important. We brought you here because..." she trailed off. "You're one of seven beings in the universe that we can call on to save us from destruction. See -"

   "Hold - woah! Woah, woah. Hold up. I'm not a saviour. I don't save. I fight, I persuade, and I read creepypasta for extra cash on the Internet. That's it. I'm not a rebel or anything."

   "It's not a rebellion!" Twilight said, her voice rising. "Most of our country was destroyed by something."

   "What the hell is a something?"

   "We don't know!" she practically shouted, visibly tearing up.

   Cry sat back. "I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he stopped. "How bad is it?"

   "They came from the sky yesterday morning. We fought them for an hour with everything we had, but they annihilated us. We... really need your help," she finished, wiping at her eyes again. "You're our last hope. The only other pony who could cast the spell is... missing."

   "Magic?" he replied, a bit over-excitedly. "Hells yeah! I can have, like, fire and sparks coming out of my hands and -"

   "Well, not really. That's only for unicorns. But we can equip you with -"

   "Unicorns?"

   "... armour and such," she finished with a sigh. "Yeah. I'm a unicorn, for example?" she said, pointing her head towards him and accidentally poking his forehead. "Oops. But, yeah, we make up about 26% of the population."

   "I... can't wrap my head around this."

   "You don't have to. We'll let you recuperate here for a while, and deal with... everything that's new, and then you need to make a choice."

   "A choice?" he asked, suddenly dropping his voice. Reality had hit him again. If this was real, he'd have to deal with it. "What kind of choice?"

   Twilight sighed heavily. "...On whether you'll lead us into battle."

   Cry looked up at her, his vision fading a bit. "Battle..." he murmured. "... Can I have a quesadilla?"