A Sample of Banish! · 12:24am Apr 5th, 2016
My name is Gilda. A lot of people say to me “Where the hell did you come from?” and that really itches my gizzard because I’m from a little town called Griffonstone which firstly sucks and secondly doesn’t exist right now because of the big glitch, so I don’t want to talk about it. It’s the ponies fault, but good look getting those shiftless pastel weasels to do a damn thing about it.
...I’m getting sidetracked.
Okay let’s try this again. My name is Gilda, Gilda Redbeak. Discord cast some quantum endongler spell on my brain to let me record my thoughts so I can play them back, and apparently that’s important with all of these universes collapsing against each other so we don’t forget which one we’re from, since the one we’re from technically doesn’t exist right now. I don’t understand any of it, and I don’t see what I can do to help, but since that whole ‘collapsing universes’ thing I just said about turned my pastry cart into a quantum speck, I’m officially unemployed. I have nothing better to do, and I’m just along for the ride.
Right now I’m in the back seat of an F-14 Tomcat fighter jet armed with twin autocannons, air-to-ground missiles, and a burst laser. I’m controlling the human pilot with a mind worm, and he’s just broken off from his fighter jet formation to intercept an air convoy made up of an Airbus A390 SkyLab flanked by four AC-130 gunships all flying at 30,000 feet. I’ve got to get into the SkyLab and rescue Trixie and Discord before either a radical pro-pony terrorist group shoots me down, the human commander takes remote control of this fighter, zombots hijack the plane to gobble the passengers, or all those things at once.
If you had talked to me a week ago, I’d have said that at least half and maybe all of the words I just said were made up, and I’d have been much happier for it.
A voice crackles through the radio. “Captain Barnes, you are not cleared to approach the convoy, change course immediately, I repeat, change course--”
“Don’t listen to any of that,” I say, switching it off with my non-mechanical arm, “keep going forward, just ram this thing straight into the docking bay on the big one. Get real close and blow the doors open.”
He might even make it. The Skylab is a big bastard. I’ve seen smaller battleships. I just need to get close enough for my grapple pistol to hit. Between that, my wing boosters, and Sick Sour, I can take care of the rest.
Something goes clonk against my fighter, punching a watermelon-size hole in the wing and sending us into a sidespin.
“You know what?” I tap the pilot on the shoulder, “Screw what I just said, take evasive maneuvers and then go straight for whichever one of those dorks was dumb enough to shoot at me.”
“Roger that, ma’am.”
He banks and then turns to the closest gunship as red-hot tracer rounds cut a path through the air towards us. In seconds, we’ll be too close to the gunship for the others to fire on us. Two more rounds cut through us, one into the body of the fighter. Alarms screech on the cockpit panel. The pilot takes a dizzying spin, flying upside-down above the gunship. If I’m a second too late, I’ll miss, and I won’t get another go. I look down, and see the cockpit of the AC-130 below us.
I press ‘Eject.”
We scream into the gunship cockpit in a flash of rocket boosters and shattered glass, my pilot crunching into their pilot and killing them both, only saved myself by the last of my shield charms, and as I grab the co-pilot with the robotic limb where my left arm used to be and level the Sick-Sour at his helmeted face I cannot hear the words I’m shouting at him over the howling of wind and flames.
The cockpit glows orange as the high-energy shields burst into life over the shattered windows, restoring the pressure.
“Where the hell did you come from?” he screams at me.
I pistol whip him and spin him around, choking him from behind. “You’re getting me on that other airy-plane, or I’m gonna blow your head off!”
“What are you?”
“This is my gunship now, and we’re going to fly it onto the SkyLab!”
“That’s impossible!”
I pistol-whip him again. “Shut up! I eat impossible and crap misfortune! You’re gonna come out into the plane with me and tell your humans that if they don’t blast open that SkyLab docking bay with their big-ass cannons, I’m gonna put a bullet in their pilot and send this whole thing crashing into the sea!”
He tries to protest but I push him forward and force him to open the door out into the cabin. “Alright, assholes,” I say, pushing the gun into the pilot’s temple, “here’s what--”
The cabin is a bloodbath. Half a dozen corpses are spread across the floors and draped on the walls and gun emplacements. There’s five creatures still alive in here, all decked out in red.
Two are ponies.
“Hey, you’re the other assholes.”
Oh chuckie, you've been missed.
My reaction to this excerpt is best summarized thusly:
derpicdn.net/img/view/2012/12/19/187223__safe_pinkie+pie_animated_smiling_filly_sonic+rainboom_the+cutie+mark+chronicles.gif
...
Okay, that has my interest.
I wonder if Gilda will pilot a Gullfire over Stalliongrad?
I am not really one for all that MLP + human palaver, but as 3848713 mentioned, I certainly am intrigued.
derpicdn.net/img/view/2012/6/24/18612.jpg
/me sees title of blog
dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/37540750/_ponies/omgomgomg.gif
/me reads blog
dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/37540750/_ponies/scoots%20wtf%20am%20i%20reading.jpg
/me after reading
dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/37540750/_ponies/derpy%20muffin%20basket.gif
dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/37540750/_ponies/dash%20swag%20camo.gif
dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/37540750/_ponies/fluttershy%20unsure.gif
dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/37540750/_ponies/fluttershy%20woohoo.gif
dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/37540750/_ponies/nigel%20changelings.gif
PS - ABOUT FUCKING TIME.
golly.
Is that Gilda trying to take down one of the nastier TCB-flavor invading ponydoms, or what?
3849130
Precisely that, actually. Well guessed!
You know, I don't think I've ever needed something as hard as I need this. And, I mean, let's be honest, I need a steady supply of air and food just to survive. So that is saying something.
I have no idea what is going on, but I am intrigued.
It's crazy shit like this that makes the Internet great.
Oh, the other assholes.
They're the worst.
I didn't know I needed this story until I read this. But I do. Very much.
this is like totallynotabrony on crack.
May I have more please?