CH1: Quicksy Beats

Quicksy Beats, a seemingly normal 18 year old southern colt hated being just that. His anguish for something more exciting in his life to happen was only known to him and nobody else. Quicksy was a slender, somewhat muscular and rather handsome earth-pony colt with pure white fur and a green colored mane and tail that could have any mare he wanted and he knew it. For a while he did just that, tried taking advantage of fillies in his school but found no pleasure in it, so he began thinking about the future. He kept his true thoughts to himself so people wouldn't have him locked up in a padded cell somewhere. He was a in his mind capable of so much more than just getting a job and living the rest of his life with someone he thought "loved him". He had ideas; ideas that would make any sane person cower in fear. Though these thoughts of dismay and torment shattered his conscience long ago he still had a very tight grip on reality, or what was known to be reality.

He stood in front of his glass door that showed him the normal and pristine place he called his back yard. Taking a bite of a small loaf of bread that others would find distasteful he just stood there and stared into the bright evening sky through the glass panes. 'Such peace' he thought to himself as he took another bite. "It disgusts me". Quicksy had accepted that he didn't want friends a long time ago. He liked the company of others but it wasn't enough for him. He needed a different type of attention, but didn't know what it was until one day it just hit him like a sack of bricks being thrown from the sky; he needed power.

Walking back from the living room where he stood grimacing at the sight outside of the window, Quicksy thought to himself: 'I don't understand where I'm going wrong', these thoughts flowed through him day in and day out. He hated being a 'normal' pony. Even being a person in its self was annoying to him. He had tried consulting with others before but only found that they were only going along with what he told them for the pleasure of role playing. Quicksy would easily catch onto what they had to been doing shortly after he started a conversation with them and would carefully word each sentence to make the opposing talk of themselves in a bad way. Quicksy found joy in being able to use words to his advantage, but words wouldn't give him everything he wanted. So eventually he tired of the games he would play on others and just leave them with some lame excuse he had to pull out of the blue.

Lying on his soft bed made up of black sheets and zebra stripe blankets and pillows Quicksy soon found himself asleep and dreaming. He would hardly dream, but this one stuck with him. For a while after he had woke from his slumber. It was the same dream he had been having on occasion for years: standing atop a green grassy hill he would simply start running. Once his speed was up and the cool summer's breeze blew between his hair he would jump and notice that he wouldn't fall. Realizing soon after the jump he had just used, he was flying. Flying with an intense sensation of happiness flowing through his entire body, but nothing lasts forever. In the same set of events that haunted him whenever he had this dream he started to fall towards the ground, and fast. Not being able to respond before hitting the ground his eyes shot open and realized he was still lying in his bed. "still grounded" he muttered and he closed his eyes, and with an aggravated sigh he was asleep again.

Quicksy knew what he wanted but could never wrap his hooves around a way to make it happen. He wanted to be a Pegasus in the cloud city of Cloudsdale. Knowing there was no magical way to grant him wings Quicksy saw fit to think of the one thing that princess Celestia had outlawed in the new century: inter-species surgery. Living in the late southern Philiedelphia he knew he couldn't get an underground surgeon, but there was one place he had read about once with such a practitioner: Ponyville! It hit him hard when he didn't think of it sooner, he had read about a mare that could surgically implant the body parts along with the necessary nerve endings to make them work that anypony wanted for a fair price! After a while of desperately trying to remember the mares name he fell against his bed and saw the very newspaper from which he saw the exact article he had been searching for! Scanning for anything useful he found the name of the mare in question and gazed at her ridiculous name… Pinkemena Diane Pie.