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     Slipknot, The Mane Six and the Doors of Eternity      
                      -by ScottTrek-                       
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                What's wrong with Calamity?                
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What's wrong with Calamity?
Chapter by: M901
Sid's seen some weird things in his time, but this tops everything. Seriously, the apocalypse has come and gone, fuck only knows what terrifying percentage of the human population had been wiped out, and what do the survivors do? Form a cult, of course. That's the expected bit.
    Said cult being a mass following of Twilight fans is not.
    No, he's not joking. People stalking this ruin of a city have suddenly taken it upon themselves to cover their exposed skin in glitter, and drool at each other.
   Why? Now, that's the question that Sid wants the answer to.
   Still, he supposes that at least this is relatively safe as far as cults go. If the population started channeling Hannibal Lecter, now that would be terrifying. Sid tries not to shiver as he pictures people casually frying their victim's brains, and then feeding the unfortunate prey their own grey matter.
    Yeah, as pathetic as Edward Cullen (how does he even know the guy's name?) may be, there are worse things to be infatuated with.
    All the same, as a girl starts batting her eyes at him, the DJ doesn't hesitate to make a hasty escape down a side alley. It will take longer to get back to the rundown mansion that has become 'home' this way, but Sid has dealt with enough demented fangirls in his life time to know that the best tactic is to just avoid them.
   By now, the city's familiar enough that he knows the dilapidated streets like the back of his hand. The dirty setting of condemned buildings and overgrown sidewalks has become his stalking ground, and as much as he hates this new world, there's a comfort in knowing that the streets remain the same. This maze is one of the last things that the man knows he can rely on.
   Sid snorts as he thinks of this. How did his life become this deprived and uncertain that he can find gratification in the fact that the roads of a city won't change?
   Actually, that's a stupid question. The fucking apocalypse is what happened.
   The 'end of the world' must have occurred around two years ago. He can't be certain, but Sid knows that two winters have passed since then, and the next one still looks to be a while off. Keeping track of individual days and dates is far more effort than it's worth.
   Although, he does miss Christmas.
   What annoys him the most though, is that he still has no idea what actually happened. One minute, they're fine. They're touring All Hope Is Gone, they're a fully functioning band again, and their new album is shooting up the charts. No one's suicidal, or drinking too much to see straight. The fans love their new material, and the concerts are as crazy and amazing as ever.
   At the time, Sid couldn't help but think the whole thing was too good to last. As it turned out, he was more than correct.
   In only a few days, the world went from as normal and peaceful as it's ever been, to a wasteland of devastation and chaos. It was too sudden to understand how, or why, and Sid has can't figure out for the life of him what triggered it. The human race shrunk dramatically in a scarcely a week, and disease and famine gripped the survivors, who didn't know how to survive without their modern day luxuries.
    Slipknot survived by the skin of their teeth. Thanks to Mick's muscles; Corey's street sense from having been homeless for so long; Clown's brains; the comradeship that came from being a band for over a decade now; and a sheer will to survive the nine had pulled through, and were still kicking.
     Then the weird shit started.
     In the wake of the apocalypse, none other than Justin Beiber had risen into power. It still boggles Sid's mind. Despite being a mere teenager, he's a bastard of a ruler. Only people who conform to him are looked after - the rest have been left to fend for themselves.
    It was a joint, unspoken decision that the nine men would much rather do the latter, than have to suffer through the incessant whining of a boy who's had it all his entire life, yet still finds things to complain about.
    Outside of Beiber's 'havens' though, the world is much more normal. This, of course, is in reference to the 'Twi-nuts', as Mick's dubbed them. They're a relatively new fad, only a few months into their existence. However, they're growing in numbers every day, and in strength.
   Sid's not sure if he's excited, or terrified to see how this is going to play out.
    With one last check behind him, to be certain that the chick from before is no longer tailing him, Sid turns down his road. It's lined with huge town houses, and is easily one of the poshest areas in the city.
    Well, at least there's one thing that can be said about being an apocalypse survivor. You live well at the end of it. Ok, central heating and electricity are two sorely missed commodities, but they've got on surprisingly well without both.
   Open fires and canned food have kept them fed; water bottles and booze has stopped them dying of thirst; boom boxes, mp3's and batteries have supplied their musical needs; and the warehouses downtown have kept them well stocked in everything.
   Hygiene is a slightly harder problem to deal with, but Sid's pretty sure that they've all smelt worse at some point whilst touring. In fact, he's certain of that - there had been occasions when he'd gone out of his way to avoid Clown because of how bad the man stunk.
   Well, that's what you get for covering yourself in pigs' blood.
   But then... Then there's the house.
    That's the only bonus of this all crap - Sid doubts that even with all the money he'd made from [/Slipknot/], that he'd ever have been able to afford a mansion like the one they currently reside in. It certainly outdoes the Houdini House, and even that was more than big enough for the nine of them, plus the sound techies. This is the sort of house you could get lost in.
   The size is doubtlessly for the best.
    After all, Sid's plotted each of his band members' early demise at one point or another, and he's generally regarded as one of the less psychotic members of the group. Long story short; its best that they all have their own space from time to time.
   Right now though, the other eight men must be feeling fairly sociable, as are all camped out in the living room.
   Jim's fiddling with an acoustic guitar. As ever, it looks ridiculously small with his tall body folded around it. A steady stream of notes hum out from under his fingers, but it's not a tune that Sid recognises.
    Corey and Clown are huddled over a small pile of books, and talking in low voices. Corey's frowning and gesturing at something, whilst Clown shakes his head.
    Mick's flicking through a magazine. Although he can't tell from here, Sid would put good money on it being porn. Not that money's worth anything anymore. It must being fairly interesting though, whatever the subject - Joey's perched on the back of the arm chair and peering over the other man's shoulder. He looks ridiculously small.
    Chris has somehow forced Craig into playing a card game with him. The smaller man doesn't look too happy about this, but that's just Sid's best guess. Craig's poker face was perfected years ago, and that has unconsciously become his default. The inside of his head is a mystery, and why Chris would ever choose him as a game partner, Sid can't understand.
     Meanwhile, Paul's just sprawled out on the floor, plugged into a Walkman and humming obnoxiously loudly. Sid chooses to join him.
    "Hey!" The bassist protests as he steals a headphone.
    "Hey, yourself." Sid replies, sticking his tongue out.
    Paul just rolls his eyes.
    "What are they doing?" The DJ indicates Clown and Corey. Whatever it is, they're now discussing it intensely, and Sid privately thinks that it must be far too much effort. After all, it's the end of the world. May as well enjoy it, whilst you're still kicking.
    "Summoning demons." Is Paul's reply.
    Sid laughs, but his grin quickly falls when he sees the serious look of his friend's face. "You're kidding, right?"
    "Nope,"
    The DJ frowns, looking back over at the two blonds. They're still talking - their conversation complete with hand gestures and the occasional exclamation. If Clown's involved though, it must be fairly serious. He's usually the one spear heading their ideas.
    "Erm. Why are they looking up demon summoning. I thought we weren't Satan worshippers?"
    "Don't you wanna put a stop to this?" Corey cuts in. Clearly, he overheard Paul and Sid's own talk. "End all of the madness, get the world back to how it should be?"
    "And you think that summoning a 'demon' will do this?" Sid challenges.
    "Worth a shot," the singer shrugs.
    "I thought you didn't believe in shit like that?" Mick says. Everyone's quiet by now, and listening in.
    "I don't believe in God," Corey replies. "Doesn't mean there's not other stuff out there."
    "But a demon? Surely something a little more benevolent would be more beneficial?"
    "Well, there doesn't seem to be much good on Earth right now." Clown explains. "A demon would probably be more at home."
    Mick shrugs and settles back. Sid's less convinced, and apparently, the same goes for Chris.
   "Even if that is the case, come on, we've all seen enough horror movies to know that deals with the devil - or demons - have a tendency to end badly for everyone."
   Clown answers again; "How much worse can this get? The end of the world's come and gone, guys."
   "We're still alive." Sid says sharply. "And I'd prefer to keep it that way."
   "You want your kids back, don't you?" James cuts in. "And Chantel, and Scarlett?"
   Neither Clown's nor Corey's gazes falter. The former just nods, whilst the singer replies; "And you don't want Christina back?"
   There's a tense moment if silence, in which Sid can almost see the unspoken words pass between the two men. Then, Jim nods. "I'm in."
   "Oh, for fuck's sake!" Sid exclaims. "You're talking about [/demons/]. That's definitely the way to go about bringing you dead girls and kids back from the dead!" The other three wince at this, making the DJ momentarily regret his harsh words. But if they'd make the guys see sense, what choice is there?
   "I think..."
   Eight of the men spin around suddenly, turning to face Craig. On the rare occasion that he chooses to speak, it's always important, and generally well thought through. He has none of the impulsiveness of Corey, and isn't quite as insane as Clown's known for being. Despite his sullen nature, and tendency to come across as a psychopath, he's probably the most mentally stable of the group and when he talks, they listen. His advice will be the make or break of this insanity, and Sid just prays that Craig will back him up.
   "I think we should go for it."
   Sid groans. Craig looks at him for a long second, and the younger man fall silent quickly.
    "It's not like this could get any worse, between Beiber, and the Twi-nuts running around. It's worth a shot." The man pauses, but it's clear he's not done. The others wait patiently. "However, I don't think it's a good idea to try and bring people back from the dead."
    At the last part, Corey looks devastated. Clown simply nods, although disappointment is clear on his face. He could argue, of course, and probably overrule Craig, but he understands the unspoken logic.
   "Ok, no raising the dead." He sighs. "Who's in?"
   Sid peers around the room.
   Mick shrugs. That's a yes.
    Chris frowns for a moment, then nods.
    Joey says "I don't see how it could do any harm. Will break the monotony, if nothing else."
    Paul also nods.
    With everyone else spoken for, the attention returns to Sid.
    He sighs. "Do I have any choice?"
    A grin splits on Corey's face. "Knew you'd come 'round."
   "Shut it, fuckface."
   Clown rolls his eyes at the younger men, then stands, brushing himself off. The gesture is somewhat futile with the accumulated dirt that has come to plaster them all.
    "Let's get to work, then."

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                       Meanwhile....                       
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Meanwhile....
Chapter by ScottTrek
(In The Equestrian Dimension.)
Somehow Twilight knew it was going to be one of those days when she rolled out of bed.
“Spike!” she called down the stairs of her library/treehouse, “Do I have anything in the official planner today?”
“Nothing, oh my great Princess!” The baby dragon called back sarcastically.
“Please, don’t call me that.” Twilight groaned inspecting herself in the mirror. The lavender alicorns horn began to glow with a purple aura and several brushed floated into the air. Since being transformed from a unicorn to an Alicorn Princess her morning routine had become a lot more complex what with addition of Pegasus wings.
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Meanwhile on the outskirts of town a big black cloud lurked ominously. If anyone had looked up at it they would have probably remarked that it was strange for a storm cloud to be around by itself. This was Equestria after all; the weather was almost entirely controlled by the Pegasi so storm clouds were somewhat rare.
Another thing anyone who had been looking at the cloud at that moment would have noticed was that for half a second there was a usually well-defined image of the face of a colt.
It was a face that would have looked eerily familiar to some…….
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There was a knock at the door. Twilight came down as Pinkie Pie, Rarity and Applejack came in.
“Hi girls!” Twilight Smiled bounding down the stairs. “Rarity, you have my clothes? Wow that was fast!”
“Yes my dear!” the unicorn fashonista said, happy at the praise. She levitated the bundles of clothing off the two Earth Ponies and over to Twilight. “I’ve enlarged everything by a few centimeters to fit your slightly larger frame and added natural looking openings for your wings.”
“Perfect!”
“Well what are friends for?”
“Well…..” Applejack started, sitting down at the breakfast table, “That and the fact you can brag to all them hoity-toity fashion ponies in Canterlot you that you are the Personal Tailor of the new royal princess.”
“Well; pot, kettle and black, my dear.” Rarity laughed with mock indignation, “Did or did I not see you bragging to the Flim-Flam brothers the other day?”
“Those muffin-heads deserve it though!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed suddenly popping up next to Twilight, making her jump.
“Though speaking of muffins I’ve come up with several new recipes lately, and I was thinking it would be super-duper-great to have you try them first ‘cause there kinda unusual and it would be totally awesome if I could have ‘princess approved’ the shop and….”
“Woah, woah.” Twilight said, jabbing a hoof in the pink hyperactive pony’s mouth to halt the verbal onslaught, “I don’t think Celestia and Luna would be very happy if I start endorsing products, even if they are my friends. However I would love to try your new recipe ideas.”
“Okie dokie lokie!” Pinkie said rummaging around in her saddle bag.
Twilight noticed that Rarity and Applejack were standing as far back as they could and were both sniggering. As Twilight looked at them with a quizzical eyebrow; Pinkie started to explain the first new concoction.
“Well you this one here is like a regular chocolate muffin, but the twist being that every-pony is so busy now a day and wants fast food. So instead of eating it normally I’ll fire it a ponies mouths using the Party Cannon.”
Twilight whipped round to look back at Pinkie, “You can’t be……”
SPLAT
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Outside Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were inspecting the mysterious black cloud. It had drifted over town and staring to garner complaints from the populace to weather control.
“So I was practicing a few tricks for my appeared with the Wonderbolts, a few corkscrew triple-loop-de-loops, nothing fancy” Rainbow Dash explained, blowing a few strands of her multi coloured hair out of her eyes as Fluttershy nervously poked at the black mass.
“Anyway, I’ve been trying to poof it away for about 15 minutes but nothing happened. Then I heard some kid on the ground saying it looked alive….and angry. I really hope I haven’t been kicking an insect swarm or something.” Dash said laughing, poking Fluttershy in the side.
“W-W-Well…” Fluttershy stuttered looking at Rainbow Dash, “I feel that th-there is  st-strong possibility that the cloud is in fact alive in some manner.”
“Oh.” Dash’s face drooped, “Bugger.”
At that point the cloud swirled around and reformed itself into a towering apparition. “And I am very, very angry.” It boomed. The top half swirled to form King Sombra, the dark tyrant of the Crystal Empire. “You foals should have really checked I was dead last time.”
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(>Meanwhile in the nexus of all realities<)
“What’ you looking at?”
“Slipknot in dimension Kappa-31-32-104 are trying to summon a daemon lord to assist them in their struggle.”
“Oh! Sounds interesting! How are they doing?”
“Well the rituals spot on, but their dimension’s subspace harmonics have been badly disrupted by their apocalypse. That ritual of theirs can’t lock onto anything and the portal is oscillating wildly all over the D-axis.”
“Better keep an eye on that then. There’s some interesting stuff going down in Equs-12-67-01 I'm going to observe”
(>Back in Equestira<)
Black fire rained down across Ponyville, the air filled with screams and the maniacal laughter of Sombra. Pinkie Pie was bouncing around the streets like a frizzy pink rubber ball, chasing after the Sombra spectre as he rained carnage upon the town.
It was scary to say the least, but for the Mane Six it was deeply distrubing as well. When they had last met Sombra had been blown to smithereens by the combined willpower of the Crystal Ponies. If he hand't died from that he should of at least been scattered so deep into the aether as to never return. but not only was he back but his powers were drastically different. The smoke spectre form was nothing new the fire-balls and black lighting were.
Upon high Sombra howled in savage pleasure he didn't normally go in for mass murder but these worthless plebs had dared to challenge him. HIM! He had not spent 1000 years encased in the icy northern wasted to have his Crystal slaves whipped out from underneath by a bunch of upstarts, the reincarnation of the Crystal Princess he'd killed long ago and a fucking baby dragon!
He had new power now. Secret of the Deep Darkness fueled his veins. After he'd burned this off the map the whole world would feel his wrath. And why stop there? There were new concepts he had been shown. New places he could travel. And many many more new people he could enslave.
“Hey King Sombrero!” Pinkie called, trying to keep his attention off the fleeing populace, “Can’t hit he! Can’t hit me!”
The Sombra spectre watched the springing pink pony, tracking her movement and let loose a arc of lightning whilst she was mid-air. But Pinkie, defying all laws of momentum, stooped dead, mid-air, as the lightning struck in front of her.
The giant smoke apparition rushed down to grab Pinkie but was suddenly engulfed in a tornado. Rainbow dash grimaced as she spun round and around keeping the gale force winds confined. Somewhere behind Dash came a scream as Sombra lashed out and caught Fluttershy between his teeth. Fluttershy squirmed round in his jaws an let loose the full power of her physic stare at Sombra. The giant's form juddered for a second but his mind was beyond anything Fluttershy had encountered before. Sombra laughed, swatting Rainbow Dash away, and began to bite down.
Before he could bite down a massive column of energy swatted him out the sky. He wheeled to the ground, body shrinking to form his natural appearance... just before he hit the ground  with a painful thud. he graoned as every paricle in hos ody vibrated from the impact. The now painfully solid Sombra looked up just in time to see Rarity and Applejack heft an anvil onto his head.
“Thanks for keeping him still girls.” Twilight breathed heavily, intense magical residue cracking over her body. “That kind of powerful magic is tricky even for me.”
“Powerful magic?” a disembodied voice whisper, the ponies braced themselves as Sombra’s body reappeared down the road, bruised but alive, “YOU DON’T KNOW THE MEANING OF THE WORD!”
Blood red runes spiraled out from Sombra as he began to furiously chant in a strange language. The ponies tires to move but found their hooves tangles in fleshy tendrils that sprouted from the ground.  The air behind Sombra rippled and tore as something big began to force its way through the fabric of reality.
“SOMBRA ARE YOU CRAZY!” Twilight yelled, furiously flapping her wings to try and pull free, she could feel the tendrils rapidly draining the magic from her body. “Whatever your pulling through is going to raze the planet! You can’t control that kind of force! No-one can!”
Sombra paid no heed and with a final bellow the eldritch monster stepped onto the ground.
Except it didn’t. For at that moment there was a sharp cracking sound and heavy metal music began to pour out of the rift. Sombra looked round bewilderedly as the line “I PUSH MY FINGERS IN MY EYES” came howling through. The rift suddenly jumped forward and enveloped them all, the portal aperture snapping shut behind them.
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(>Meanwhile in Slipknots reality<)
Rainbow coloured light spilled out of the summoning area. The group looked around in confusion as very un-daemon like images whipped past. Rainbows, sunshine and bouncy music.
“What the Hell is going on?”
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(>Meanwhile in the nexus of all realities<)
“Oh wow, I did not see that coming.”
“Should we do something about this?”
“What can we do? They’re already past the event horizon. I’ll just stabilize the transfer and hope they sought it out by themselves.”
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The ponies were tossed around as they descended through howling void. Around them the funnel of storm clouds crackled with the energies of a billion stars. It was taking all that the winged members had to steer the bundle of bodies clear of the sides. Sombra and his monster had hit the sides of the maelstrom  about a mile back and been turned to ashes.
"At least he definitely gone this time."
The ever present metal music had been growing steadily louder, much to the distress of Fluttershy who looked pale at the bizarre lyrics and had thrown up once already. Suddenly there was a blinding light at the end of the tunnel.
With the sensation of every atom of their bodies being simultaneously pulled apart and put together the group was ejected from the portal and landed in a heap. Things where very quiet, for what seemed like an eternity nobody moved. Eventually Applejack looked up at their surroundings.
“Hey, ahh don’t wish to alarm anyone but there seem to be several humans in the weirdest masks I have ever seen over there staring at us. You might want to keep your head down Flutters.”
“AHHHHH…..too late.”

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                        The Prophet                        
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The Prophet
(M901)
Mick can only blink. He’s too shocked to do anything more physical than that.
            He didn't know what he was expecting the outcome when they’d embarked on this idea – it’s certainly one of their crazier ones. If he’s being honest, a large part of him didn't expect the ritual to work at all, and at the end of it they’d all be left standing there, looking like idiots.
            As it turns out, that’s not entirely inaccurate. They certainly look like idiots.
            That said, so do the supposed ‘demons’.
            In fact, they look more like horses. Not black, bony, breathing fire horses. Pastel coloured, flowery ponies. He didn’t have time to register much more before the creatures stampeded out, leaving the nine men waiting in the musky twilight for someone to admit they’d fucked up.
            “What the Hell was that?” Mick asks eventually, when it becomes obvious that no one else is going to speak any time soon.
            There’s silence for a few moments, then Sid speaks up. “They looked like ponies.”
            “No shit.” Mick rolls his eyes behind his mask. “The question is – how did they end up here? I thought we were after a demon, not some prissy things from a children’s book.”
            “Shut it, Mick.” Clown says sharply. His mind is whirring. Like everyone else, he’s trying to figure out what’s going on, but unlike them, he has some perspective. After all, it was him and Corey who had done all the research for this.
            As far as he can tell though, the ritual had been carried out perfectly. Well, up until the ponies had appeared at least.
            “Any ideas?” He directs this at Corey, who just shakes his head hopelessly. The singer’s still in shock at the sudden arrival of the animals.
            “So, now what?” Jim pipes up. Like Mick, he’s still amazed that the ritual actually managed to summon something, even if it wasn't the desired acolyte of the devil.
            “We follow them?”  That’s Craig’s suggestion.
            Mick doesn't even bother dignify it with a response, just turns back to Clown.
            “What went wrong, dude? We wanted a fucking demon, not pastel ponies!”
            “I don’t fucking know!” Clown snaps back, irritated at the guitarist’s flaring temper. He’s as annoyed as Mick at the outcome of the ritual, perhaps even more so as half of the work going in to it had been on his part. “And before you ask – no, I don’t know what the Hell we’re supposed to do now!”
            “What about what Craig said?” Chris puts in, glancing at the other man. “We follow the horse-y things.”
            “They’re horses!” Mick snaps. “Wha-“
            “Shut up, Mick.” Corey is jerked out of his reverie by the rising volume. “Look, no one knows what’s going on, and you shooting your mouth off isn't going to help matters!  The guitarist glares, (not that that’s obvious, with his mask obscuring his face as it is) but falls silent.
"Ok, so we follow the ponies?" Clown asks, peering at the others. A mixture of shrugs, nods, and 'may as well's are his answer. "Ok, Sid you know the city best, where to?"
        The DJ frowns - his mechanical eyebrows managing to convey the expression behind the mask. "I couldn't say for certain where they'd head, but we can cover the centre pretty quickly. Hopefully they won't have gotten too far."
      "Lead the way," Clown gestures out of the gate that the ponies has smashed through. For such innocent looking creatures, they'd certainly done a lot of damage. They grab their various weapons, and climb through the hole.
    The band follow Sid through the streets, peering about them. It seems absurd that creatures as colourful and childish as the ones they are looking for, could be in such a desolate place. There's death and terror in the air, and somehow, Mick can't believe that the idea of pastel coloured ponies galloping through the alleys is something that may well be happening in this bizarre reality they've come to know. He's more willing to admit that the nine of them had experienced a mass hallucination, or that he's tripping on acid, than the whole situation be real. Better yet, he's in hospital right now, having lost the last of his marbles. He'll wake up any moment to his wife and friend's laughing at his delusional babbling.
    The hard asphalt under his feet, and cool air settling around them dashes this hope. The last of the sunlight has almost faded, and Mick wonders how long it's going to be before Clown calls for them to return home. The Twi-nuts and vagrants of the day may be little to worry about, but at night...
     Mick's no coward, but shivers run down his spine at the thought of the massacres that often occur when the light is extinguished. Even with their weapons, shared aggressive nature and pure brutality on some men's parts, it's nothing that the guitarist ever wants to face.
     It's just at that moment that a harsh, high pitched cry emits from one of the roads branching off the right.
     The nine men glance at each other, before Sid dives down the street from which the noise emanated. Mick groans when the others follow hot on his tail. The guy is far too reckless for his liking and this will only end badly.
      They end up in a small square, which is surprisingly small and pleasant on the eye for such a built up city. The disused fountain set in the middle, now overgrown with moss and creepers, brings to mind abandoned Roman towns and hauntings from a time when ghosts were simply the souls of loved ones. It's too scenic for this place.
      Sid gazes around for a moment, before bringing his attention to the corner that everyone else's eyes are set on.
      There, half a dozen ponies are being hoarded against the rusty steel structure behind them. If not for the fact that their coats are a vast array of colours, they would appear to be entirely normal horses - the way they're rearing up, terrified of the hoards of Twi-nuts aiming at them with assorted weapons, is certainly typical of any horse Sid has ever seen.
     "Now what?" Chris asks. Part of him wants to help the creatures but somehow, risking his life for a bunch of horses who should have been demons to begin with, isn't all that appealing.
    Mick certainly agrees with the latter point; "Leave them be," he says gruffly. "I'm not facing down a cult for a couple of ponies."
  "We dragged them here." Corey points out. Sorrow for the creatures aside, part of him is itching for a fight. He can't exactly argue with that point though. Glancing sideways at Clown and his bat, he can tell the percussionist feels the same way.
Then their decision is made for them.
     Craig is many things. One of them is grouchy.
     He didn't appreciate Mick ignoring him earlier and he sees this as his chance to get back at the bigger man - force him into a fight he wants no part of. It may be harsh, but it will stop the guitarist shrugging him off.
     Of course, the other thing his is is psychotic. Most of the time, his violent nature lies innocently beneath the surface of his skin. His need to cut into flesh, to see the blood seep from the wound, to feel the blade of his scythe extinguishing a life, it's all there but hidden impeccably. He's completely harmless... Until he's not. And then, he shows no mercy.
     When the searing edge tears through the first human, he relishes in the scream. And then he carries on cutting.
    Paul watches in disbelief as his friend charges forward. Of course, if anyone were to attack first, it would be Craig. His blood lust is no secret amongst the nine of them. He's not going to let the man fight on his own, though. He lunges forward into the foray, nail embedded knuckle dusters shredding through the skin his fists make contact with.
     Once again, Mick finds himself groaning as the others run forward to back up another member's rash actions. He knows Craig well enough to realise this is payback for overlooking him earlier - if he had said he'd wanted to fight, the other man would have turned around and walked away. He has no choice but to help the other eight now.
     Cleaver in hand, the guitarist advances.
(ScottTrek)
(A short while previously)
“This is the ABSOLUTE WORST THING.”
“Rarity, it’s not that bad we just need to...”
“Not that bad! Not that BAD! Darling we look absolutely dreadful! These proportions are just ridiculous.”
The others can’t help but crack a smile. They're in some hostile looking alien world, possibly marooned without hope of rescue and Rarity is concerned about their appearances.
Still, she has a slight point; their body masses have been increased and re-distributed, their heads stretched out, and eyes pointing out the sides of their skulls instead of forward.
Most problematical are their legs. They are far longer than they had been before and jointed weirdly so can no longer be moved in the range available before. How they've managed to make it this far without falling over is a miracle. Their balance is shot to Hell, especially for the two pegasi who are also missing their wings. Rarity and Twilight had also lost their horns in the transformation process.
“Twilight, you've been to the human world before right?” Rainbow Dash asks, trying not to fall into the broken fountain as she reflexively tries to take off. “Any idea what happened here? I thought you said this was a nice place! And why didn't we change into humans?”
“That world wasn’t this world.” Twilight said, examining the crumbling buildings around her. “The world I visited was an alternate reality to our own. They still looked and acted much like everyone we know.”
“Now this...” Twilight continues, sweeping her elongated head in an arc, “This is something totally different. This reality isn't connected to ours at all. We're lucky that the universal constants were close enough to our own, otherwise we might have vaporised on impact.”
The group is silent for while, letting the enormity of the situation sink in. They had been in trouble before, but this is insane. Night's beginning to close in and from all around came strange sounds. Finally Applejack breaks the silence; “Maybe we should mosey on back to those humans in the house. We did run out pretty quickly and we don’t know that... snort snort neigh!”
The others stare at Applejack, who's apparently unaware what her voice has just done. “Err...come again AJ?”
“Phrrrrr whh snort. What you staring at guys? It’s not that bad idea is it?” Applejack says, voice sliding back to normal before she lets out a long nicker. It suddenly warps into a cry of fear. “AHHH...Help...can’t think...can’t...what...” Applejack falls to her knees, panting heavily and snorting with panic. The others walk over, suddenly realising that they've regained their balance. “Head hurts.” Applejack mutters, picking herself up again and turning to Twilight, eyes wide with fear and confusion. “Ok, stupid question, what’s your name again? I honestly can’t remember.”
Twilight’s blood suddenly runs as cold as ice. “It’s Twilight Sparkle.”
“Heretic!” A voice suddenly hisses from the gathering darkness.
The ponies spin around as a dozen or so humans began to detach themselves from the shadows. While not as intimidatingly dressed as the other humans, there is something definitely off about them. Most of them have glitter applied to their skin and are wearing mismatched coloured contact lenses. The odd effect is compounded by the fact that most of them have constipated expressions.
“False Twilight!”  The voice hisses again as a man pushes his way to the front.  He is unlike the others; the mob was for the most part dressed in young trendy clothes, which are little ragged around the edges in some cases, and too small in other. However, this new figure has a patchwork rope on under a massive trench-coat. The coat itself has dozens of pockets sewn into it, all of which are stuffed with pages of paper. A stained bandage is wrapped around his face covering his eyes yet he doesn't move like he's blind.  “These are the ones I warned you about! The false ones have come as I foresaw it!” His voice isn't natural; it modulates between pitches like a swarm of bees that have learnt to talk.
One of the angst-y looking mob cones up next to the ‘Prophet’ and says something. To the ponies it was nothing but a garble of unintelligible sounds. The Prophet rounds angrily on the other man and yells, “You dare question me? Unlike you I can hear their wicked voices!” The Prophet smiles menacingly, “Anyway, how likely is it to find a violet coloured horse in the middle of a city?”
“Hey, if you can hear us, then you better back off!” Rainbow Dash snarls back stomping her hooves. “You gonna have to get through us first if you want to hurt Twilight!”
“Yeah! Muffin head!” Pinkie agrees walking forward in front of Twilight. “It may be 2-1 but we're a lot bigger than you are!”
The Prophet snaps his fingers and more humans appear from the doorways and alleys behind them. The ponies suddenly find themselves surrounded and backed into a corner, being swarmed upon by a small army of slavering humans. “Brave words, but you weren’t going to be spared anyway.” The Prophet cries manically, “My flock hunger for the flesh of animals as the great vampires taught us.” The human begin to close in, the ponies rearing up as they do so and hooves swinging heavily. But the vampire-acolytes are taking their time. No need to rush, after all nobody is coming to help the heretics.
“AHHHHHHHHHHH!”
*******************************************************************************************************************************************************
Mick swears voraciously as a crossbow blot flies past, just centimetres from his head. The blot continues by, skimming over one of the horses and embedding itself in the crumbling fountain.
“Sid!” Mick yells over the primal sounds of combat around them. “5 o’clock high!”  Sid swings around and lets loose a bullet from his pistol. There's a satisfying shriek as the Twi-nut marksman tumbles from the open window.
However, the battle is not going as well as they’d hoped. Twi-nuts aren't usually a threat and this is something they weren't prepared for. Occasionally one would get aggressive but they are usually rather like packs of stray dogs - all you need to do is show them you mean business and they would leave you alone.  But now they are attacking in kamikaze waves, with almost religious fever.
Well, they are a cult after all.
Craig clearly hadn’t really been thinking when he charged in. The square is a dead end; all exits are now packed with the viscous mob, a seeming endless pack of howling cultists, many of which came charging totally unarmed.
The group have managed to form a defensive ring surrounding the square's fountain. Standing on the edge of it has given them an incremental height advantage, (not that Jim or Mick are lacking that anyway) and cover when they need a second to recover. As of yet they're killing the Twi-nuts in droves, but it isn't going to last.
Chris suddenly finds himself drawn from his thoughts, as a howling cultist zooms out of the mob wielding a massive nail studded club. Caught off guard, he's thrown backwards, cracking his head off the fountain, as the spear he’d been wielding is knocked from his hands. He would have had skull caved in if a pair of orange hooves hadn’t swept over his head and slammed the Twi-nut to the floor. He looks up as the horse snorts at him.
“Err thanks?” Chris gasps.
The horse moves forward to take his place in the defensive line. The animals began to fight along side them with an intelligence that weirds everyone out.
Suddenly, the Twi-nuts draw back. The Prophet walks calmly towards them. “Give it up.” He says in his warped voice. “You’re out-numbered and surrounded.”
“Piss off!” Came the collective response with angry snorts from the horses.
The prophet shook his head sadly. “You would throw away your lives for six worthless animals? They are dying anyway.”
“Well, they are so doomed and they worthless then why are you trying so hard to get them?” Corey retorts swinging his blade in a lazy but menacing way. There's a barricade of corpses at his feet.
“They’re still dying.”  The Prophet intones.
Craig spares a small glance back. The man appears to be speaking the truth. Out of the six horses, only the orange and indigo creatures remain on their feet. The others are collapsed in the fountain they'd began backed against.
“It’s like cancer.” Joey says, brushing a hand across the tumour like rash that is spreading across their bodies.  No one had noticed when it had appeared, but from the wide, wild eyes of the ponies it looked like it was extremely painful.
“Walk away now, and we will spare you.” The Prophet declares. “The animals will be put out of their suffering and I will ensure that none of my...associates...will seek vengeance for the deaths that have occurred here.”
“You’re not fooling anyone.” Jim says sarcastically, grabbing his axe off the ground and levelling it at the prophet.
“Yeah,” Corey continues, gripping his own machete “I've seen enough movies to know that you’ll double cross us the nanosecond you have what you need.”
The Prophet sighs with all the over dramatisation of a pantomime, and wheels on his feet. “Fine. Have it your way.” And with near-superhuman speed he dashes up one of the side alleys, as the deafening chanting and dragon like roar of an engine tore the air asunder.
Whilst the Prophet had been distracting them, dozen of Twi-nuts have joined the mob and from the cheering and chanting echoing from around them, it sounds as though there are hundreds of the cultists. Worse still, an armoured military truck is grinding its way down the main entrance way, like a metallic battering ram.
For Craig, it seems like time has slowed down to an absolute crawl. His limbs feel set in concrete and he can only watch as death barrels towards him. This is so horribly insane. He’s led his closest friends here and has undoubtedly gotten them killed. The truck would drive a wedge through their flimsy defensive line and the Twi-nuts would sweep over them like a pack of piranhas.
Wrong.
Everything is so insanely wrong.
Rage boils inside Craig like nothing he’s ever felt before. He’s survived the end of the world, survived for god-know-how-long in the blasted remnants of civilisation, HE'S NOT GOING TO DIE LIKE THIS!
Then time stopped.
It isn’t just adrenaline and fear altering his perception.
Time has actually stopped.
He barely has a moment to register the thousand of coloured filaments hanging in the air before the world explodes into light, brighter than a supernova.
Sid finds himself toppling to the floor as the world explodes around him. There's a resounding “CLANG!” as his mask crashed against the floor. He groans, seeing stars and wondering if it's possible to have concussion even after he's died. The DJ rolls over and opens his eyes, fully expecting to see the pearly gates of heaven - or something along those lines. There is no way in Hell he could be alive right now.
What instead greets him is the orange horse whose legs he still has his arms wrapped around. Correction: pony. Double correction: it was now a ‘My Little Pony’ with a ... form...that could only have been lifted directly from the cartoon.
“Are you a My Little Pony?” he asked blearily, brain threatening to collapse from the abject absurdity of the situation.
The orange pony looked down at him with a perplexed expression, “My little pony? Do ah look like I’m a foal to you, sunshine?” It says in an unmistakeable, female, southern accent. She then proceeded to peer behind her before saying, “HOOWEE! Wasn’t sure I had that in me!”  Sid's eyes follow her's back behind her. The armoured truck has crumpled around them, with both the pony’s back legs sticking into the wreckage.
“Whaa.....buuuuuuut...ahhhhh......” Sid flounders, scrambling back.
Still shell-shocked he extricates himself from the smashed car to see his friends sitting around, dumfounded at the turn of events. The other ‘ponies’ have also been transformed.  A rainbow haired Pegasus stumbles up to him and raises a hoof.
“Hey, thanks for saving us dude. That was awesome! Cool mask by the way.” Sid numbly bumps the hoof with his fist. The Pegasus grins and looks up before calling back to the other ponies “Hey Twilight! You want me to tie those nutters up, or something? You look pretty shattered.”
Sid follows the pegasi’s gaze upwards to find that the entire army of Twi-nuts floating a few meters above their heads, each surrounded by an indigo aura. The haze stretches down to the pony of the same colour, whose unicorn horn glows like a uranium rod in the half light.
“That would be great AJ, my head feels like it’s about to melt.”
Sid slumps back in relief, even if more than a little confused. He doesn't have a clue what is going on but things couldn’t get any worse right?
SHINK
Craig slowly opens one eye to see a black crystal spike erupt from the ground - only a gnat’s whisker away from his crotch - and impale one of the floating Twi-Nut’s. He heard another female voice yell: “SOMBRA YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Then the world explodes once more, this time into a maelstrom of shadow energy.
Applejack hisses in pain as a column of black crystal pins her to the brick wall. She feels sure that if they were pressing with a fraction more pressure, her ribs would be breaking. She certainly can't move without risking a major internal bleeding.
A few meters to the left she sees Rainbow Dash being hurled through a window. still cursing like a sailor as the panes of glass gave way and she disappears into the interior.
Despite the howling winds and crashing debris a piercing scream cuts through the air. In the centre of the chaos, Twilight is being hurled around like a ragdoll as wave after wave of shadow energy rolls off her. Her body is snapped straight up, blood running from her mouth and eyes that have turned obsidian black the air above her crack as they had back in Ponyville, and the blood red eyes of Sombra materialise in the swilling, solidified madness leaking from the rift.
Sombra’s outline shoot dozens of flesh appendages down, latching onto Twilight and melding with her flesh. It mixes into a bumbling black slime with the blood already matting her coat. The tendrils began hoiking Twilight upwards towards Sombra.
Twilight thrashes desperately trying to force Sombra out of her mind and body.
He's running rampant through her mind though, trashing and stamping on her most beloved memories, trying to break her down.  He's trying to fuse himself with her body here, where the walls of reality are weakest and he can push their essences together like wet clay and take her power for himself. She's trying to shelter her mind, but Sombra’s presence presses more intensely against her brain with every inch she's pulled closer to him. He has her magic outflanked, mind boxed in, and she can sense her friends trapped and helpless.
“Is this the end?” She thinks as bands of static roll across her vision
Suddenly, something heavy thumps into her legs and sticks there. Twilight painfully forces her head downwards. One of the humans has leaped out of nowhere, and clamped his hands round her back legs. The tendrils hauling her upwards strained at the sudden increase in weight. Sombra’s mind bounces backwards like a bungee cord.  More of the masked humans spring out of the chaos, following their friend's lead. The tendrils begin to buckle under the strain, popping with wet slurps.
Somehow, Twilight manages to twist round as the humans began to drag her down. She's now only connected by one ultra-thick tendril in some ghastly tug-of-war.  Sombra's howling with rage. Lighting, fire, crystals and shadow energy erupt from him like a volcano. Around them, buildings crumple under his explosive wrath. The ground beneath the humans crack and heave; chunks of the pavement are torn from the ground. But for all his rage, Sombra can't touch them, they're in the eyes of the storm.
The rest of the Mane Six emerge slowly from the rubble, they're battered and exhausted but to their credit they took in the situation in an instant, and ran to help the humans. With a crack like a million shards of glass breaking at once, the final tendril over-strained and snapped.
Before Twilight blacked out she saw Sombra silently screaming as for the second time in twenty-four hours he was pulled into a collapsing dimensional rift and obliterated.
He had to be dead now...
Right?