Cold… Cold was all he could feel, as he floats in a seemingly endless void. Like icy fingers moving about, caressing his weightless form. All his stress, his sorrow, his despair, his fear seemed to vanish as a blissful sense of calm washed over him. Memories of pain, and loss seemed to disappear and give way to memories of love, happiness, and victory. Floating in the forgiving void he felt… warm… on the inside, and yet he could still feel the inviting, icy fingers guiding him through the blackness. He felt himself starting to lower, sinking deeper into the nothing. He felt the blissful calm start to give way to a sickening, empty feeling. The memories of love, happiness, and victory began to vanish leaving nothing but the hollow shell of a soul to float in eternal solitude. Suddenly, he dropped, spiraling downwards at an impossible speed. He felt electricity coursing through his non-existent body, and just as quickly as it arrived, it vanished. The speed of his travel began to slow, and he felt himself enter existence once again.
He slowly awoke, feeling the howling wind dance over his motionless body, and the tongues of the soft grass tickle the back of his neck. He slowly sat up, rubbing at his tired eyes, the opened them, trying to get a good look of his surroundings. He was instead greeted with a non-inviting darkness that hindered him from trying to get a look at where he was. He cast his gaze upwards, only to find the beautiful night sky, twinkling with hundreds; thousands of bright stars. He also found the bright, enticing moon, much bigger than he remembered it to be.
He caught sight of the canopy, filled with beautiful, lush trees bearing exotic fruits he had never seen before in his live. His sense of calm was short-lived, as an icy chill attacked his heart, and shivers flew up his spine. His heart race soared, and adrenaline shot into his blood stream as his had shot to the sword mounted on his back. He quickly drew it out of its scabbard, and dropped into a defensive position. He quietly scanned the lush brush that surrounded him, making note of any small movements the vegetation seemed to make.
Leaving the sword in his left hand, he felt his right thigh holster to make sure he had not lost the .38 he carried everywhere he went. It was loud, powerful, messy, but it handled the job. It rested snugly in its thigh holster, and showed no signs of coming loose. He sighed happily, knowing his father’s weapon was still with him. He slowly calmed himself down, taking deep breaths, slowly letting them go, and remembering rule #1; never panic in a dangerous situation. A rule that has save him more than once in the past. He slowed his breathing, and tried to listen to the sounds of the forest. Any shrieks, growling, thumping, flapping, moaning, anything. Luckily, he was graced with a big fat nothing.
Silent, save for the rustling of the leaves in the trees, and the occasional chirp of a bird, but quiet nonetheless. He slowly started to drop his guard, but reinforced it when he noticed something else. It was too quiet. It felt alien; he knew he was missing something. Not one thought of it, until now, where the realization hit him like a train. His breathing picked up, and he started looking about franticly in search of his missing party.
Still looking around with wild eyes, he licked his dry lips, and whispered in a loud, raspy voice
“Jane? Mike? Davis? Danny? Joseph? Michelle? Is anyone from Scavenger Squad here?” He waited for a few seconds, before calling again. However, he only gained the same results. He was starting to get frustrated, knowing what this meant. He had lost his group. He had lost his fucking group. One of the major rules in Scavenger Squad, was never to lose your group. ALWAYS know where they are located. He broke one of the most reinforced rules and now alone, with no clue in the world where he was. He might as well be dead.
Okay, remember what you did to get here. He racked his brain for memory on how he ended up in a forest, missing his group, with no memory on how he woke up in a forest, of all places. He thought back to the day before, when he had guard duty at the walls, then to earlier this morning when he went out with the squad to gather more supplies on a med run. He remembered all these events clearly, but what happened not twenty fucking minutes ago was a blank draw.
He retraced his steps repeatedly, but no memory of what had happened even came close to him. He was starting to get frustrated, and before he could hold his tongue, he threw his arms, sword in hand, into the air and yelled, “OKAY! I left base this morning with my group on a scavenge trip for medical supplies. We took a shortcut through the forest in the Rockies, thinking it would get us to the hospital faster. We found this stupid fucking temple looking thing in a giant clearing in the middle of the forest. Our adventurous sides got the better of us, and we decided to have a good look around. In what looked like the main room was a giant fucking sacrifice hole, I wanted to get a better look at the bottomless thing, got a little too close, and the old floor gave way underneath me my stupid ass, and… I fell… in… huh.”
How in the glorious fuck? He sighed, shook his head, and froze once again, realizing the horrifying mistake he had made. He dropped into a defensive stance, and listened for shrieking. Nothing again, just like before. “No Shriekers sounding off, and then attacking me all at once for yelling? What in the hell… I should be happy, rejoicing, dancing happily, and chugging cheap beer like the world was ending a second time due to the fact that I’m not dead yet, but it’s just unsetting knowing that I’m most likely not in my world anymore.”
He began to put his sword back in the scabbard, when he heard soft thumps in the distance, growing in volume, as they got closer. He tensed once again, each thump bringing an icy feeling to his spine, and chills down his arms. The thumping grew closer, and closer, louder with every second that passed by. He slowly started backing away, fear freezing each one of his limbs, preventing him from running. He finally turned and started to jog away from the source, not sparing even a small glance behind him. If that is what I think it is, then I have NO business standing around and waiting for it. He began to sprint when the next thump came with the sickening crack and crash of a falling tree. He ran for what felt like hours, when he began to feel tired. However, he did not stop until the horrifying thump in every step was finally gone.
He continued sprinting long after the thumping had faded, and was now gasping for air. He looked around for a place to stop and rest, and think more about his confusing situation. He slowed his pace, and came to a complete stop, then founded a nearby tree to rest on. While he was panting like a dog in heat, he brought his hand up to his shirt, and started fanning himself. Using his other to pick the black Stetson off his head and use that to fan himself as well. Okay… If that was really a Strong Arm, then why the hell would there only be one? The usually travel in groups of four or five. I have NEVER seen one alone, even when it was injured. The whole thing didn’t make sense to him; why would one Strong Arm go after him, if no Shriekers attempted to devour him after yelling, and making noise? Even more confusing, why were no hordes of infected running after him after making noise like before. No Razor Wings, and thank whatever god is out there there were no Arrow Tongues. So why would a giant pack predator be alone?
Unless, that wasn’t really what he thought it was that made those noises with every step, which terrified him even more. What the hell was that big, and broke down even bigger trees like there were nothing. Unless… no… that couldn’t have happened! What if the virus mutated AGAIN?! It would make sense. But that still doesn’t explain the absence of the other mutants. OR the absence of infected.
He sighed, ran a hand through his short brown hair, and then down his face. He placed the hat back on his head, then sat on the cold, soft grass. He calmed himself, and was now resting against the hard bark of the tree. He removed the backpack that rested of the sheath of his sword, then removed it too. He sighed, and tapped his .38 with his index finger. He was thinking of what to do next, if he was going to run into another, whatever he thought it was, and what the fucking time was. Wait… he reached into his pocket, felt through the ammo for his .38, and pulled out a watch.
2:14 am was the time. He looked for the position of the moon, but couldn’t find it under the dense canopy. He put the watch on his wrist, and looked around for a place safe enough to sleep. While he was looking about the darkened forest, he heard a very muffled roar. It was constant, and sounded slightly like a waterfall. It was to his left, beyond the tree line deeper in the forest. He started to make his way towards the noise, watching his step in the dark, making sure not to slip, or trip on any roots jutting out of the ground. After about half an hour of walking in a dark forest, following what he thought was a river, he soon came to a path. A man made path, that looks like it had been traversed many times. It appeared to be located in the middle of the forest, and could see what looked like a cabin in the hillside at the end of the path to his right. However, he paid to attention to it simply because it seemed abandoned, and over grown. In addition, when the path HAD been crossed, it looked like it had been by… horse.
Those were definitely hoof prints. Although, the prints were not spaced out enough to be that of a full-grown horse, but maybe that of a pack mule, or a small pony. He felt a little relieved know that there were people somewhere around here, possibly surviving just as he had. However, he wasn’t too keen on finding out whether or not there WERE actually people here, out of fear they might attack him for supplies. He did not want to go through that again, and he still thinks of the the time he learned that lesson the hard way. He looked around the area a bit more, before continuing once again towards the water.
When he arrived, it was just as he imagined. One big river, about fifty feet across, and ended in a waterfall to his left. However, the waterfall was about football field’s length away from his current spot. The area above the river was void of any trees, and gave him a clear view of the shimmering stars high in the night sky, along with the unusually large moon. With no signs of light pollution anywhere, the view was spectacular. Even with the beautiful view, something seemed… off. Like, this wasn’t his own night sky. He couldn’t see Orion, or the dippers anywhere. Nor could he see the magnificent core of the Milky Way. However, mixtures of purple, blue, and slight red graced his vision as the core of a different galaxy. Whatever thoughts of him being on the same disease ridden plant were thrown far behind him, as he continued to gaze at the different night sky in wonder.
He slowly sat down, keeping his eyes on the sky, and leaned against a tree about seven meters away from the waterline. He removed his backpack, and then placed it next to him. Next, he took off his black Stetson, and put it on the backpack. He left his boots on, removed the sword and scabbard from his back, and leaned it on the tree next to him. He left his .38 in its holster on his thigh, and his 13’ bowie knife on his belt located on the left side of his waist.
He was taking a risk by sleeping here out in the open, but with his current theory, he decided that it was safe enough for him to spend the night here. He slowly stood up, stretched his arms, and walked to the waterline. He cupped his hand, dipped it into the water, and then splashed his face, attempting to wash it. He ran both hands through his hair, then down his face, letting the water runoff his goatee. He sighed, turned, and walked back to the tree.
He grabbed the backpack, and laid it down against the base of the tree to use it as a pillow. He then grabbed the Stetson lying on the ground, and placed it on his face. He took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. He was going to find out where he was tomorrow morning, and he will find people to help explain to him. However, until then, he needed to rest.
And so he did.
~*~
Images… horrific pictures of mutated humans beings, and creatures who were once men. Howling, feasting, chasing, fighting to devour the flesh that rest on the bones of survivors. The survivors that fought this horrifying beast. The ones that fought for their children, for their friends. For their families.
“COME ON XAVIER! WE HAVE NO TIME LEFT! WE GOTTA FUCKING GO BEFORE THE HORDE REACHES US!” Jordan was standing in the back of an old Toyota pickup truck that his team used for defending the other trucks that carried the actual supplies. He was currently slamming his hands on the side of the truck, trying to get his childhood friend into the vehicle.
Xavier was trying to hold off the mutants and the infected from reaching the supply cache, making extra time for the squad to get to safety. Using his brother’s modified Benelli, he was popping heads left and right, but it wasn’t enough. He began to run to the truck, which was now moving at about 15 mph. Jordan saw this, and dropped the tailgate before the truck began to move at full speed. He held out a hand for his friend to grab when he began to get close. He turned and, with his other hand, opened the small window that connected the bed of the truck and the cabin. He shouted at the top of his lungs, over the shrieking and roars of the mutants along with the rest of the horde, for them to keep keep a steady pace so that Xavier could make it to the bed.
The other three trucks had left for base already, with supplies in tow, and spared no time waiting for the defense truck. Jordan tore his line of sight away from the cabin, and back to the end of the bed, trying to spot Xavier. Seeing that he had made it to the tailgate, Jordan held out his hand, beckoning Xavier to grab it. Seeing this, Xavier wrapped his hand around Jordan’s, letting him hoist him into the bed of the truck. Once Xavier was inside, Jordan turned towards the cabin, slammed his palm onto the roof repeatedly, screaming, “GO GO GO” as the truck sped up at his command.
He turned to Xavier who was laughing hysterically, grabbed him by the shoulders, and stared intensely into his eyes with a serious look. He then grinned like a mad man, and pulled his best friend into a bone-crushing bear hug.
“Don’t you EVER pull that shit with me again, X. We couldn’t afford to lose you, and I don’t know what I would do if I did. You crazy bastard,” Jordan pulled away from the hug, and lightly shoved Xavier, who was still laughing insanely.
“Shit, man. You thought that I was gonna fuckin’ die?! The Great and Powerful Xavier! Master mutant slayer, and greatest at making his best friend shit his fucking pants?!” Xavier fell into a crouching position and raised his hands into the air, and stared at Jordan with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Was there ever any doubt?” He laced his fingers, and rested his hands behind his head as he leaned back into the wall of the bed.
Jordan sighed inwardly, and sat down across from Xavier, “You know that attitude is gonna get you killed one day, right?” He looked up at Xavier, who was still grinning. Xavier slowly stood up, stretched his arms, and sighed happily over the passing wind. He looked down at Jordan, still wearing that stupid grin.
“I know. However, it hasn’t killed me yet, has it? And the day it does, I’ll right down there with Satan, making him laugh, and sharing a beer with him.” Jordan smiled softly as Xavier sat back down in the bed of the truck.
“When you do, just make sure that it isn’t one of those watered down piss in a can beers.”
“Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll make sure it’s good Texas beer. But until then, I’ll share them with you.”
Xavier leaned back against the wall of the bed then laced his fingers behind his head once again. Jordan looked at him for a few seconds before breaking into deep voiced little giggles, before leaning back in his side of the truck.
“You fucking better, X.”
~*~
Jordan slowly awoke, feeling the grass beneath his body, and the backpack beneath his head, he slowly opened his eyes to see… black. He grumbled in sleepy stupor, and removed the hat from his face. He blinked at the brightness of the morning, and covered his face with his hand until his eyes adjusted to the sudden light. He got up from his sleeping spot, removed his black t-shirt, took off his boots, socks, holster and gun on his right thigh, removed his belt with bowie knife, took off his jeans, and then removed his boxer briefs. He turned, reached into his backpack, and searched around for about a minute. When he pulled out a small hotel sized bottle of shampoo, he grinned, and made his way back to the waterside. He looked around before jumping in to try to spot any survivors, and when he did not find any, he dove into the water, shampoo in hand.
He surfaced, and poured about half of the small bottle onto his head. He was eager to get all of the dirt, dust, and grim off his body. While he was scrubbing his hair with his hands, he stood, and was about waist high in the water. With his other hand, he poured the rest of the shampoo, and then chucked the bottle onto the shore. He intended to get it back, of course. With the shampoo in his left hand, he started lathering his chest with both hands, under arms, abdomen, and even lifted his legs out of the water, one at a time, and washed those too. When he was soapy still, he grinned goofily again, then back flipped into the water to rinse himself off.
He then swam to the shoreline, and lightly jogged back to his sleeping spot. He reached into his backpack with wet hands, and pulled out a hand towel. It was small, but it got the job done as he dried himself off. The summer sun helped with that as well. Satisfied, and completely dry, he began putting his clothes back on.
He set the holster, and .38 on the right side of his thigh then shook said thigh to make sure that holster did fall. He shook his waist to make sure that his bowie knife didn’t shake, or fall off. It didn’t. He smiled, put the sword on his back, the Stetson on his head, and the backpack over his sword. He started walking alongside the river, knowing if there was a fresh water river like this, there had to be a town nearby.
After about thirteen minutes of silent walking, he came upon a bridge, linking both sides of the river. He scanned the other side of the bridge, and spotted what looked like... an apple orchard. After a minute of not really thinking, he decided to cross the bridge, and talk with the farmer of the orchard about where he was. While he was crossing the bridge, he looked to his right, and noticed a small town. He mainly saw houses with thatched straw roofs, and thought about whether or not he should make his way to the town. He thought for a few minutes, then decided against it. Choosing to go through with his plan to speak with one or a few farmers, rather than being an outsider asking around a relatively big town. He shrugged, crossed the bridged, and continued to the orchard.
He was no longer in the thick forest, and was now walking among a relatively clear area, save for a few trees located here, and there. He continued traveling about, when something in the near distance caught his attention. He squinted; trying to make the image clearer, and saw what he thought was a tree house. He looked around for anyone else, or any people in the area who might own the house. When searching the area for any other people failed him, he decided to make his way to the tree house for inspection. After jogging for about minute, he came upon the building that caught his attention not too long ago, and began circling it. The first thing he noticed was that the structure was relatively new, and near the door, a sign read “CMC CLUBHOUSE”. He circled the house one more time before climbing the ramp leading to the entrance. When he got onto the balcony, he circled around to the side of the building, trying to look through the windows.
Much to his chagrin, the windows were covered with curtains preventing him from getting a good look inside the building. He walked around to the only door to the ‘clubhouse’ and knocked a few times. When no one had answered the door, he backed up a few feet, and then kicked the door in. He drew his .38 and had it at the ready while searching the room. He noticed that it was, in fact, just a little girl’s clubhouse. Nothing of value and nothing he could use. That is what it looked like, at least. He sighed, turned, and made his way out. He glanced at the doorframe and winced when he saw that he had torn at least half of it off the building it’s self, and knocked the door off its hinges slightly.
He leaned against the railing, and looked around once more at the barn in the distance, and at the small town that was not so far from the farm. He looked toward the orchard again, and began studying the barn he had spotted before. Big, red, fan- oh what in the hell is that fucking thing? He jumped back slightly as blue blur with a rainbow trailing behind it suddenly flew from the forest that was located at the edge of the orchard. He turned, and ran down the ramp he used to get up in the first place, and began moving towards its general location. It was moving at an impressive speed, and before he knew it, it had dropped down into the trees about a hundred yards from him. He had his sword drawn, and was sprinting toward its landing sight, hopping it wasn't anything hostile.
He stopped when he made it to the edge of the tree line, bordering on a lake. Nothing too big, he wouldn't even call it a lake. More like a pond. It was a good seventy feet in diameter, and was crystal clear from what he could see. There, playing in, and outside the water, he saw five ponies?! His mind shut down as he stared at the group of ponies laughing, playing, and swimming in the water. That five soon turned into six, as a cyan blur with a rainbow trailing behind it landed in front of the white one with the purple mane and… Is that… a fucking horn? And the cyan one with the rainbow mane has wings? What in the fuck? Well I guess I’m not allowed to be surprised at anything anymore. Seeing that my world was infested with a mutating virus that caused an apocalypse, killed millions of people, and leaving less than fifteen thousand alive surviving alone, only to be killed by a desperate man looking for supplies, or a insane amount of infected chasing you down into a dead end, then eating you alive. He sighed and frown slightly, then removed his hat, and ran a hand through his hair. He placed the hat back atop his head, and continued watching the scene. Such is live on planet Earth.
He watched as the orange more with a white peach mane, wearing a brown Stetson started twirling a lasso while hopping through the holes she made in the rope to entertain the fillies. They all appeared to be related in one way or another. He knew well that there were, in fact, friends. However, he felt as if the Blue one and the orange filly with a fuchsia mane were sisters. Same goes with the Orange cow mare, and the small yellowish filly with red hair, and a pink bow. He then glanced at the white, marshmallow looking mare with a purple mane, and a horn. I guess I should just call her a unicorn. His gaze traveled lower, as he noticed the light blue diamonds gracing her flank. Oh… okay? I guess these ponies get tattoos on their ass? I didn’t even notice the blue one’s cloud… lightning… bolt… thing until now. Same goes for the orange one’s three apples. He slowly shook his head before he noticed another thing. The little ones don’t have them either… I guess you only get them at a certain age? I have no fucking clue. Doesn't matter though. I guess I find out about those ass tags soon enough.
He heard some conversation coming from the group, and he was getting eager for some information. He wasn't sure whether or not he was going to get names of other pe- er… ponies, or the names of cities. He sighed inwardly and leaned against a tree that was near the three-foot drop. He turned his head, and cupped his ear to try to get a fix on what they were saying.
“COME OOOOOOOOOON, RARITY! You promised! Will you at least play Frisbee with us?
“Ohhh I don’t know, Sweetie… Oh, fine. Anything for my little sister. I just got to make sure I don’t get any dirt in my mane. Or my hooves… Or… anywhere.”
Jordan slowly backed away from the tree line, and tried to ignore any speech that came from the pastel color ponies. He looked over again, and watched as both older and younger sister played, without a care in the world. Save for the older white one trying her hardest not to get dirty. He smiled softly, as his vision became blurred. Memories of him and his sister began to surface. He began to frown as he remembered he would never share the same joy as the the oblivious ponies down below. He would never feel the feeling of playing games, teasing, and adventuring with his only sister anymore. It was all lost to the past, and was slowly crumbling away with time.
However, no matter how many great thoughts of even greater times surfaced, or how many bad times came, and they both overcame those challenges. No matter how much good came, the one thought of that horrible day. The one day where he thought he would end it all came to mind.
~*~
“ASHLEY! Oh god no, hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay. I’ll get you out of here, don’t worry”
Jordan began lifting Ashley off the ground, both bloody and beaten, covering the getaway for the rest of the squad, however, she protested. Ashley twisted her body, and tore herself out of his grip, and fell to the ground
“Jordan… Don’t try to save me… He… he got me… if you take me back now, I’ll only be a liability… please… for the sake of the others… leave me…” She coughed a little at the end of her statement, sprinkling blood all over her already bloodied body. She was shaking, clearly in pain, but putting on a brave face for her big brother. A chunk of her thigh was missing, along with her shoulder. Both of her legs were broken, and her right hand was gnarled into a mess that couldn’t be saved. Jordan looked down at her, a horrified expression etched onto his face. He slammed his eyes shut, and shook his head violently.
“No! I can’t just LEAVE YOU HERE! Are you fucking CRAZY!? You’re my little sister, Ashley, you’re all I have left! Mom, Dad, they’re both GONE! I don’t wanna be left alone.” Jordan fell to his knees next to the fallen woman, and gripped her hand in his. He looked deep into the beautiful orbs of green. Tears were streaming down his face, and he started to sob lightly over his sister.
“Hey… Jordan… I’ll never truly leave you. You know why? Because,” She raised a shaky finger, and placed it on the left side of his chest. “I’ll always be with you in here. Remember your own words. A man never truly dies until he is forgotten… I’m your little sister for God’s sake. You’re my big brother… You’re supposed to be consoling me, not the other way around.”
Ashley moved her hand from his chest up to his face, lightly placing her palm on his cheek. Then, used her thumb to wipe away the tears below his eye. He gripped the hand on his cheek with both of his, and squeezed tightly. He lightly kissed her hand, and looked at her with misty eyes.
“I don’t wanna be alone in this w-world. Not without y-you.”
Ashley smiled softly and spoke quietly, “You’re never truly alone. As long as you’ve got people you love… people you trust with your life… You have to remember… family not only rests in blood, but also in the ones that will never turn their back on you. Now please,” She started sobbing alongside her brother, barely able to finish the sentence. “PLEASE STAY ALIVE FOR ME! Please… I want you to live on… Please consider this my dying wish. Stay alive for Mom, for Dad, for ME! FIGHT! Never give up… I don’t want you to end up like me. One of us has to survive somehow, and it looks like it’s gonna be you, goof.”
Jordan looked down at Ashley, and smiled warmly. He put a hand on her cheek, and wiped away the newly formed tears. He leaned down and embraced her in a hug. They were silent for a few seconds before the younger broke the silence.
“You have to kill me… Before I turn…” Jordan sat up and looked at his younger sister. Even when flying towards death’s embrace, she was beautiful, with big green eyes that met his, he started to sob lightly again.
“I… I understand… I just wanted a few my minutes with my sister…” He leaned down, and softly kissed her forehead. He then sat up slightly, peering deep into her pools of emerald, and her into his bright sapphire orbs. “I love you, Ashley.” He started choking up again, but quickly stopped it. He wasn't going to look weak in front of his sister. Not again.
“I love you too, Jordan. You stay strong.”
Jordan stood his full height, drew his .38, his Dad’s, and pointed point blank at his only sibling. Ashley gazed up with a smile, and with the rest of her strength, uttered one final phrase
“I’ll miss you, goof”
It took everything Jordan had in him not to break down and wail, but he stayed strong for his sister. For his Parents. For his fallen friends.
“I’ll miss you too, gumball.” He closed his eyes as he squeezed the trigger
BAM!
~*~
Jordan tore himself from thought, not wanting to relive the memory of the night he had lost his sister. It wasn't something she would want him to dwell on. He sighed softly, and once again looked upon the group of miniature equine playing Frisbee near the bank of the pond. He smiled at the scene, now appreciating their dumb giddiness. He pulled his hand up in front of his face, and used his middle finger to slightly push his hat up wards, letting get a bigger view of the area in front of him. His small smile turned into a small grin, as he began to giggle slightly every time one of the small ponies made a mistake, or did something goofy, while the others laughed at her expense. You know, these ponies’ careless giddiness really gets to you after a while. He continued to smile, but the mirth in his heart soon died as he hear rapid thumps coming from behind.
He heard the thumping cease, but at the same time that’s when he heard a deep roar from behind him.
Turning quickly, and attempting to draw his sword at the same time, a lion’s paw met with his chest and sent him flying through the tree line, down three feet, and at the hoofs of six shocked ponies looking in the direction of the noise. The impact forced all of the air from his lungs, and sent aches across his body. He grunted, quickly stood, threw off his backpack, dipped his Stetson, and drew his sword. He reached for his .38, but found it lying behind the manticore. With the ranged weapon out of his reach, he was forced to face the beast with his sword. He started to run forward to attack the creature, but felt a dull sore in his chest. Feeling that the creature may have left a huge bruise for him to find the following morning, he gripped his chest, and coughed lightly. Each breath he took felt like a stab to the chest, and he began to feel the damage was more than he thought it to be. However, he was thankful the attack was more of a sweeping motion, rather than an actual hit.
The beast roared, and pawed at the ground; signaling a charge. Jordan dropped all of his weight into his right leg, and got ready to dodge right, expecting it to lunge to left, or directly at him. However, he manticore seemed to have noticed this, and, when it charged, and then leaped, it was at Jordan’s right side. Seeing this, he quickly dropped all of his weight onto his left leg, and dove left. Happy that he was NOT pinned under the mythological creature, he began to get out of the dirt, and end the fight quickly. He wasn’t even in a sitting position before watching that manticore, extend its claws, digging them into the ground, and causing it to pivot, making it face him. It leaped once again, as he began to look about franticly for a away to slow it down.
Jordan only had seconds to react, as he settled on the large patch of dirt, grabbed a handful, and threw it into the creature’s eyes. The manticore roared, and fell right in front of Jordan. It was blinded, but that didn’t stop it from swinging its scorpion like tail wildly until it hit something. He was still laying down, and brought his sword up to protect him. Once again, his luck ran against him as the manticore’s tail knocked the sword from his hands and behind him, in the direction of the ponies.
It drove its tail’s barb downward, trying to skewer its prey. Finally, luck ran in Jordan’s favor as the tail struck the ground in between his legs, and one inch from Jordan Jr. While the manticore’s tail was stuck, Jordan drew his 13’ bowie knife, and sliced the tail’s barb at the joint. Freeing the beast, but leaving it without the end of its tail. He sheathed his knife, and ran to grab his sword.
He got the sword, but he also got an extra angry manticore. When he turned, he saw that the manticore was no longer blinded, and was getting ready to leap once again. When it started to charge, so did Jordan. Running towards each other, on a collision course, he was not so sure that his stupid plan would work at all. “BALLS DEEP!” Jordan had screamed before hitting the ground, performing a slide, while at the same time, the manticore leaped. It had cleared him, missed, and now Jordan was behind him. Before the manticore could turn, Jordan slammed the blade of the sword into the tendon on the back of the manticore’s left leg.
It fell on said leg, and wasn’t able get up using it. It roared in pain, then anger, and tried to turn again. However, with its left hind leg useless, its attempt to turn was less coordinated, slower, and gave Jordan time to attack again.
“Oh. No. You. DON’T!” Jordan slammed the blade of the sword into the other tendon, incapacitating it, and dropping the manticore into a forced laying position on its underside. He looked up to see the tail coming down to smash him, and he dodged to the right, and then brought the sword down in the base of the tail, disconnecting it. He took a few steps back, then ran, jumped, and mounted the manticore. It tried to flap its bat like wings in order to remove its assailant from its back, but to no avail. He grabbed each wing, and sliced them at the base, eliciting another ear-shattering roar from the manticore. It was thrashing around with its upper body, knowing what was next, but fought it furiously. He brought his blade up, and drove the point into the base of the skull, through vertebrae.
The manticore wailed in pain, but couldn’t find the strength to throw its executioner off.
“I’m sorry,” Jordan whispered before twisting the blade, severing the spinal cord, and internally decapitating the manticore. He drove the blade all the way to the hilt, forcing it through the front of the manticore’s throat. The beast collapsed dead, under Jordan’s feet. He stood for a few minutes before removing the sword, cleaning the blood from it using the manticore’s coat, and sheathing it. He jumped off the deceased beast, and turned to face three ponies staring in horror, shock, and awe. while covering the little ones’ eyes who looked confused.
Jordan cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly before slightly waving his hand as a greeting to the mares.
“uhhh… Hi?”
The orange cow mare shook her head lightly, removing the shocked look on her face, before replacing it with a confused stare. She Slowly dipped her hat, then softly spoke.
“Hi there”
