Nuked Files

Big Mac got up from his bed, he unravelled the bandages his head; covering most of his head, he then straightened it out and wrapped it back around his head, making a sweat band of sorts. As he walked from the bed, he moved away the rest of the curtains, seeing the thing.

That thing is just butt ugly.

We agree, but you aren't killing it.

Why not? I have control of your body.

Don't kill it!

I'm ignoring you now.

As he studied the sleeping thing, it looked less ugly from his bed; the bits were more bloody and darkened; it's eyes were more sunken in with large black bags under it's eyes; it's ribs were gnarled, crooked with many different holes.

The thing looks like it's been hit with a ton of spears.

Yeah, maybe it was a fender bender.

I have never seen whiskey and cider do that.

You haven't had enough of it.

He walked over to the wall; a fire extinguisher hung there, swaying slightly on it's fastenings, it's screws were loose and anything stronger than a light punch would knock it off it's wall.

Blunt, has firing mode, might be low on it's ammo though.

You are not planning to do it!

You don't know me very well.

He wrestled the fire extinguisher of the wall, the steel fastenings and screw came with it; rattling around as he walked back over to the bug.

Dude, come on; leave him alone.

Look at that face; I ain't leaving it not mushed.

Leave it!

It's an "it" now? You just called it a "him" a second ago

**Leave him... or it, it doesn't matter! Just leave the thing!

Again; you don't know me very well.

Big Mac sprayed the head of the insect, it tried to scream but it was frozen by the liquid coming out of the fire extinguisher; frozen in time, it iced over; sparkling in the evening light, the fire extinguisher coughed and spluttered.

Out of ammo.

No shit, you can' kill it now though. HA!

It's already dead, but I just want to smash it.

He raised the fire extinguisher and it came crashing down on the bug's head; went off like a water balloon; The bones had cracked in a sound like thunder and a muted scream, blood sprayed at all angles; squirted over the bed, thick clots scattered over Big Mac, leaving his mane covered in red blobs and leaving his face to be covered in runny blood. Vile and vomit flew onto the bed; his brain smashed into his pillow, fragments of his skull lying around.

Shit. I might want to change my clothes; but with who?

Alien boy?

The shirt's fine, it's the trouser.

Opposite with alien, switch-a-roo

Clever boy.

He switched his trousers and went back to sleep.

Night, Big Mac.

Night, bastard.

"ARGHHH!" A shrill scream awake the whole ward.

What? It ain't a cockerel

No shit, bastard.

"He's been murdered!"

Well, that explains it.

Yeah, that dude you murdered.

I'm going back to sleep.

Let's.

He pulled back the covers and went back to sleep.

Big Mac awake at noon, the sun hung in the sky; high and mighty, burning through the glass, making all the beds burn with it. He got up and went to the books-on-wheels and picked up a book and came back to the bed.

He muttered to himself as he read "A walk in the Everfree Forest... by DashieLives, odd name" he shrank done into his bed and continued to read;

"It was a nice morning in Ponyville, everypony starting to wake up, get an early walk, as for me, I went to check my backyard. Oh the usual, checking my garden. Just looks perfect, I thought to myself, maybe I would sell these plants and flowers!" he muttered quietly...

Haven't you read this?

I remember it...back you go!

He threw it and it landed perfectly on top of the books-on-wheels, as he trotted back over, he scanned the book names, still muttering;

"Trixien Appleloosa Sheriff by Einhander..."

What is that? A fanfic about the great and stinky Tricks?

Maybe, maybe

"Equestria Rim: Elements of Destruction by MerlosTheMad..."

Sounds...science-y

Indeed it does.

"Heavy Baggage by Dotterall..."

That sounds like they are gonna bone.

Eeyup.

"Love Them While You Can Still Have them by FictionFreek..."

Sounds, again, like they are gonna do it.

Yes, yes it does

"Ponies Of Grimerock by Homage..."

Sounds like fantasy bull-crap

Indeed it does, Big Mac

"Flying Low by Gardian..."

Sounds like a flying manual.

Again, it does.

"A sorrowful man and a bitter mare by cobra..."

Sounds like a cheesy love thing.

Again, you are right.

"A fear of needles by...I can't read it"

Sounds better than the others.

Fine, we'll read that one.

He grabbed the book and walked back over to his bed;

"The labyrinth was filled with stone statues and charred wood, the walls blackened by fire. A dim bluish light flooded the dim walls. Blue-glowing torches in rusty iron chains and lavender-glowing moss cling to the ceiling and spread across the floor. Small spiders creep down and up each wall. Stinking smoke wafted up from canisters made of skulls set around the edges of this room. The walls bear scratch marks and lines of soot that form crude pictures and what looks like words in an odd language, not even know to existence." He mumbled, eyes scrolling the pages.

"The mare that walked through had a white coat and spiky hair which had two shades of blue." He muttered.

"She pushed a door open, which made the hinges creak louder than the sound of bubbles emitting from the boiling flasks. Before her was a room which had been a professor’s dream. Three tables bent beneath bottles of liquid, all connected by glass piping. Several bookshelves had been stuffed to with an array of books, jars, bottles, bags, and boxes. The professor who set this all up doesn't seem to be present. But a beaker of green liquid stood burning on one of the tables. Burning torches in iron strips line the walls of this room, illuminating it brightly; they perfectly lit the shelves, lined with jars filled with head." He murmured.

"The heads were all the same, white faces, blue hair and purple sunglasses." He smirked.

Haven't we read this?

No.

It's sounds familiar.

I know, put it back. Sleep? Kill in morning?

You have control of my body, why should I care?

I don't want to damage it.

How sweet of a psychopath!

he walked back over to the book-on-wheels and placed "Fear of Needles" back.

That was a good book.

Shut up! Go to sleep!

Fine.

He lumbered back over to the bed and sort of half fell and half collapsed onto it.

Night, Big Mac.

Night, bastard.

You know it's like two in the afternoon right?

Fine, 'nice nap, bastard

Touché

Big Mac got up, shaking his head and looked around.

No bugs, all is well.

What about the other wards?

More buggy bugs?

There may be a few.

Time to go metal slugging?

Fine, fine; but the fire extinguisher has been removed.

Club?

Where are we going to find a club?

Medical tools.

Ah, a mallet.

Yeah...that thing.

He watched a few doctors walk past, I say walk it was more like "scramble". He watched a few doctors scramble past, dragging a cyan mare with them, she was talking gibberish and had a pan on her head?

That was Rainbow Dash.

Can I?

If you want to have dirty thoughts at this time, then yes, yes you can.

Dude, I would wreck that chick.

Done?

Very much so.

Good.

Going?

You are the one in control.

Just asking.

He slipped out of the ward and saw the long hall that he must of been dragged through a few days earlier, as he looked around, at the very end of the hallway; there was a doorway marked 'Medical Tools' he charged down the hall, trying to be as quiet as possible; though his hooves did make loud clicks on the floor, though none of the doctors took notice, they most likely thought it was another doctor, running to the terminal section.

What are we doing?

Sliding in!

Big Mac tucked in his hind legs; skidding across the floor like a rock star, as the door came closer; he closed his eyes. Then...bump.

Uh?

He fell flat on your face, you didn't go far enough.

Damn it.

he raised to his feet, he was only a meter away from the door; he walked up to it, seeing a padlock. He just punched it, a crunch and a clank later, the door slid open; the weapons and Big Mac's eyes both glimmered in harmony with each other.

Mallets, scalpels, more fire extinguishers, needles, hammers, bedpans, gas cylinders, oxygen masks, chisels, knifes!

Now, don't faint.

I won't, but which ones?!

Find the right gas cylinders, something that kills with a couple of oxygen masks.

Big Mac's going crazy like I am!

Being with you this long makes me crazy.

I know, I know.

Try oxygen.

Oxygen?

Yeah, too much oxygen can kill you.

Quiet killings, good, good.

He placed two canisters on his back and hang a few oxygen masks around his neck, he walked back out the room; looking in all the different wards, a lot of the aliens were in the hospital but so were a lot of doctors; as he looked through the all the wards, he found one; the one with one alien, the one with no doctors, the one were everyone else was sleeping or napping.

Easy, easy as pie.

Amen.

He attached the mask to the canister, it made a little pop as it did; the pop made Big Mac smirk like a maniac. He walked over, dragging the canister across the floor, making little indents as it went; scratch, clink, scratch, clink, clank, scratch, clank, the green was scrapping of the bottom of the canister; he went closer to the bed and set the other canister down on the end of the bed. He walked the rest of the way and sat the canister down on the chair near the bed.

Looks more damn disgusting then before.

Indeed it does.

Big Mac placed the mask over the alien, it's eyes flutter open; it was about to scream.

Damn!

He lashed it in the face, it's eyes widened quickly.

Damn it!

He punched it straight down, making a slight crack when it came down; the thing's eyes fluttered shut.

Knocked out cold.

Time to die cold.

He turned the value up until it wouldn't go any further, the head swayed back and forth, until it stopped; the condensing stopped, the turned the value back off.

Dead and deader.

What's with the other one?

Cover up.

As he walked past the other canister, he turned and struck the value with the bottom the canister. It tilted to the side, he flipped the canister over like a cricket bat and smashed it again; the value shot up, the oxygen escaped the canister and Big Mac left the ward and back to his own; as he went back to bed, he threw the canisters under another patient's bed.

Night Big Mac.

Night, Bastard