Zerg Apple Slam

by Arcane Howitzer

Rating: teen
Tags: Big Macintosh, Crossover, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 3621

Everypony in Ponyville knows that Big Macintosh Apple is the strongest and most dependable among them, but has he finally met his match?

Big Macintosh Apple is not a pony to mess with; an unwavering crimson juggernaut that can snap trees like tinder and rip homes from their foundations. Many ponies owe their lives to him, and more than a few denizens of the Everfree Forrest have found out the hard way that anything under his protection is strictly off limits.
But there is one race that has yet to learn this lesson, and is in fact incapable of it: the Zerg, a monstrous horde from far beyond the touch of Celestia’s sun, shaped by malice and warfare into perfect killing machines. That Equestria is safe from their reach is no small blessing, but every barrier has its cracks, and Big Macintosh is about to learn that even the smallest part of the Swarm is a force to be reckoned with.

Published 2013-11-01 15:10:03 UTC
Last updated 2013-11-01 15:10:03 UTC

A Battle for the Ages

It was yet another sunny afternoon on Sweet Apple Acres. The birds were singing and dancing through the trees, the breeze was crisp with the first hints of autumn and the scent of apples, and in a secluded clearing of the orchard three little fillies were once again seeking a talent for troublemaking.

“I dunno, Applebloom,” cautioned a robust orange pegasus with purple mane and eyes. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”

The crème earth filly snorted from where she was inspecting the large magical circle etched into the dirt. “Don’t worry, Scootaloo. There’s no way we can’t get a cutie mark in summoning. It’s the perfect talent! Now shush. Sweetie Belle needs ta focus.”

Near the center of the circle, a small white unicorn looked uncertain. “Actually, I’m with Scootaloo on this one. Can’t we at least start with a smaller circle? What if we end up summoning some demon lord from the depths of Tartarus?”

“Relax. Tha book says summoned critters have to obey tha one what summoned ‘em.”

“Are you sure?” Scootaloo asked, trotting over to the dusty tome that lay next to the Cutie Mark Crusaders Rapid Transport Vehicle (a little red wagon hooked onto a small scooter) as Applebloom began placing small candles around the circle. By the time she flipped to the right page, Sweetie Belle’s horn was flickering with dull green sparks that danced across the dirt lines. The ritual had begun.

“Warning,” the pegasus read aloud. “Entities more powerful than the summoner may break free from the control geas. It is strongly advised that beginners refrain from practicing unsupervised or using summoning circles above the minimum diameter.”

Applebloom blanched. “Uh, maybe it’ll be in an understandin’ mood?”

* * * * * * *

“I told you this was a bad idea!” Scootaloo shouted over the buzzing of her wings and Sweetie’s glass-shattering screech. The other two Crusaders huddled in the wagon while the pegasus filly pulled them on her scooter, her wings alone moving them far faster through the trees than they could travel on hoof.

“Quite yappin’ and keep flappin’,” Applebloom shot back. “It’s gainin’ on us!”

Indeed, “it” was not far behind despite the foals’ impressive speed. Four clawed legs tore furrows in the earth and locust-like wings thrumming madly to propel its large, chitinous body through leaping strides. Another pair of spike-tipped limbs arched over its plated head to swipe at the trio’s trail as the space between them slowly vanished into its dagger-toothed maw.

Another moment and the feral Zergling would have them. It was inevitable to the beast’s limited mind. It could practically taste their sweat and fear. All it saw was their fresh meat and their screams filled its ears. Its entire existence was now focused on the chase and the feast to follow, to the point where it failed to notice the heavy, rhythmic thu-thump until it was far too late to dodge.

Scootaloo did hear it, and glanced back just in time to see the bright red shape of Applebloom’s elder brother Big Macintosh slam into the monster from the side and keep going for several meters. The fillies skidded to a stop and watched in awe as he dug his hooves into the dirt, allowing momentum to carry the thing another few feet into the waiting trunk of an apple tree. Everypony winced at its pained snarl and the crack of splintering wood, but the blow that would have shattered a pony’s spine only stunned the Zergling and it was already surging to its feet. A cracked carapace and crumpled wings were the only signs on injury.

Its beady gaze immediately went to the newcomer. The stallion’s size rivaled its own, and though most of it consisted of inefficient bulk he had already demonstrated formidable strength. He lacked any obvious weapons however, aside from the solid hooves that now pawed the ground. Soft hide, flat teeth, and no claws; without the element of surprise, this thing would not put up much of a fight against the Zerg.

But he could be dealt with later. There was other prey present that could escape if not killed immediately.

It turned to the awestruck fillies, and Big Macintosh’s blood ran cold. “Run!” he bellowed, snapping them out of their trance, but the Zergling was already tensing to leap and Scootaloo’s wings were faltering in panic; she would not be able to get her friends away in time.

Time seemed to slow for Big Macintosh. He saw the monster surge forward like a spring. His hooves moved with a will of their own, launching him into motion before he could think. The pounding of blood in his ears drowned out all other sound, and suddenly the world around him blurred.

The next thing he knew he was once again crashing into the Zergling, tearing it out of the air with both fore hooves. It let out a satisfying squawk as it fell onto its side, pinned and thrashing beneath his weight. Snarling in rage, it watched the three foals vanish between the trees before twisting to fix the stallion with a glare he was all too happy to return.

Their faces held a final resolve, a message both understood with primal certainty. Only one would walk away from this fight.

“Mess with an Apple,” Big Macintosh snorted, rearing up, “And you’d best prepare for a buckin’!” His hooves slammed down like twin pistons on some great machine even as the Zergling scrambled to get out from beneath him. The force of the impact shook fruit and loose limbs from nearby trees, and resounding thud was heard as far away as Ponyville.

The creature only growled and lunged, heedless of the rippled earth where it had been a moment ago. Big Macintosh reared again, surprised at the sudden attack. Four vicious, scythe-like claws raked at his barrel, drawing a pained cry as his fur turned a darker red. Kicking wildly, he forced it back away from his underside, but the upper limbs caught on his yoke and dug into his shoulders.

The opportunity was seized in the standard Zerg fashion: relentlessly. Its back feet heaved with a might beyond any natural beast, nearly lifting the oversized earth pony clear off of the ground as he struggled to keep its gnashing teeth and scrabbling claws at bay. Fresh gashes opened along his front legs, hooves planted desperately on the Zergling’s head all-too-close to his own.

But this eagerness soon proved to be a mistake. Overwhelmed by the monster’s strength, Big Macintosh was forced backwards in an awkward, bipedal step. The Zergling tried to follow, but overextended and fell forward, upper claws still wedged beneath the stallion’s collar even as his hooves came down to pin it under his bulk once more. Chitinous limbs squirmed for leverage with which to push against the impossible weight on its back, but the loamy soil of the orchard gave way like a crowd to an enemy prisoner on its way to the gallows.

Instead of trying to stomp the vermin again, Big Macintosh heaved upwards against its upper limbs, pulling them taut and then some. Carapace creaked and cracked under his hooves and across the stressed joints, struggling stubbornly against rippling muscles that would make steel cable look like so much yarn. Soon raging chitters gave way to a single, ear-splitting keen of agony, and the entrapped limbs were torn away with a wet squelch to dangle from the pony’s shoulders in a macabre reversal of their former position.

Stinking purple ichor oozed from the stumps and the webs of cracks along its back, hardening quickly to prevent further loss.

Bleeding and winded, the earth pony stumbled backwards off of his opponent. Thinking that the creature was down, for the moment at least, Big Macintosh allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. With the slowness of somepony who really did not like what he was doing, he craned his neck around and bit down on one of the severed limbs still biting into his back. Ignoring the taste –the indefinably alien and unnatural taste that seemed to want to choke him with his own tongue –he loosed a pained grunt and yanked the thing out. His vision swam for a moment, but he ordered the darkness to stay out of the way until he could get the other one too.

Unconsciousness grudgingly obeyed, but swore it would return for him once the ruckus was over.

The first limb fell from his mouth with a contemptuous pthoo. As he moved to pull the other free however, he glanced to where his enemy had lain and froze with wide, unbelieving eyes. Gone was the supposedly-vanquished insectiod nightmare, and in its place sat a neat hole burrowed into the soft dirt.

Any thoughts of rest were thrust to the backseat with a disgruntled sigh, “Aw Hell.”

Fighting against another surge of adrenaline, Big Macintosh closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. His Paw had taught him many ways to defend this place before passing on, and the years of experience since then had only reinforced those lessons with their own. This is just like when them Diamond Dog varmints tried to make off with the harvest, he assured himself as he felt for the magic in the earth. Ah wasn’t half the stallion Ah am now, an’ Ah still showed ‘em but-good: Apples own this land!

For a brief moment, the earth flooded his mind. He saw the worms and rodents submerged in it, felt the rustling of birds and wind through the leaves. The airy void of the tunnel in front of him snaked through it, passing just beneath his hooves. Trees cried out in pain where their roots were mangled by its passage, but one of them shouted a different note: a warning of danger hiding in its boughs.

The Zergling shot from its perch with a terrible screech, claws spread wide to seize and rend. Foul mucus flew from its teeth, and its pale-yellow eyes shone with promise of a merciless death.

Big Macintosh coiled his back legs, rearing forward to deliver a powerful buck that would be sure to end this fight once and for all. His wounded forelegs blossomed with fresh agony as they strained to hold him, and a defiant grunt was forced through his battered frame to stave off collapse for just a second longer. His eyes clenched shut against the haze of pain, but there was no blocking the triumphant cry that rang in his ears, louder and louder, closer and closer…

Just a little bit closer…

At the very last moment, when the creature sailed recklessly into the waiting kick, the unthinkable happened: Big Macintosh Apple, the mightiest stallion from Appaloosa to Canterlot, felt his strength give out. Forelegs buckled and cast off his weight, bringing him down on knees that would soon give way as well. All he could do was pour every last once of strength into this kick and hope it was enough to finish the monster off.

A thunderous crack shook the air as his hooves slammed into the Zergling’s skull and shoulder. Chitin splintered under the force of the blow, face breaking apart as the joint caved into ruin, and the alien suddenly found itself rocketing back the way it came. The report of shattered wood sounded before the echoes of the kick could fade, accompanied by a shrill howl of pain and a low creak as the apple tree fell over the barrel-sized hole torn through its trunk.

Exhausted, but satisfied that the job was done, Big Macintosh collapsed to his side facing the fallen tree. For a moment he simply lay there, taking deep, steady breaths to hold him until help arrived –he didn’t want to give old Granny Smith too bad of a heart attack, after all –but soon he let out a weak chuckle. “Heh, sorry ‘bout that, Greenroot ,” he said, apparently to the felled tree before him. “If it helps, Ah don’t think Ah would’a made it without yer little warnin’ right there. Ah tell’s ya, Ah ain’t never met so ornery ‘n foul-tempered a beast, since Granny caught AJ an’ that feathered friend ah hers in tha barn loft!”

With another pained laugh he let his head fall to the ground, eyes shifting closed and one ear pressed down to listen for approaching hooves. He could make out two sets almost immediately, and they would be there soon from the sound of them. Still, he kept talking to himself and the tree. “Hadn’t heard ah any black pit uh Tartarus what could’a spat that out, but Ah won’t be sleepin’ easy knowin’ it’s there, let me tell ya. Ah still beat it, though. With yer help, a’co-”

Big Macintosh’s eyes flew open and his guts froze over as a new noise reached his ear; a third, ragged set of footsteps just beyond the fallen Greenroot. The gait was unsteady, and one foot seemed to be dragging the ground, but there was no mistaking the sound of claws scraping through dirt as they trudged all too quickly in his direction. He was already struggling to get his hooves under him by the time a taloned foot gripped the top side of the trunk, but what little strength he could muster soon deserted him.

With a low snarl of effort, the Zergling hauled itself up into view. One eye gleamed with feral bloodlust from within a tangled web of bony shards and purple, rubbery scabbing. A jagged crater yawned where the other orb would be, stretching across half its head and oozing thick blood.

A guttural hiss rattled out between broken teeth as it pulled its fissure-ridden form up onto the log. One forelimb dangled limply from a ruined joint, attached only by a few stringy tendons. Its wings were reduced to mangled wisps of skin hanging from their bases like tattered sails on broken masts. Every plate, from its unfathomably dented head to the point where its tail had snapped cleanly off, was cracked through and seemed to be held together solely by hardened ichor.

Not a trace of pain showed as it loosed a triumphant cry and charged.

How in th’ world… The defenseless stallion stared back uncomprehendingly, too exhausted to feel fear. What does it take ta stop this thing?! He tried to stand back up, to do anything but lay there and die, but his body betrayed him with still more agony in place of the strength he needed.

Streaks of light warped across his vision, staining the world purple even as it dropped out from under him. There was a sensation of falling in place, twisting without moving, then everything went black.

* * * * * * *

Time passed vaguely. There were no dreams or thoughts. There were no seconds or years. Occasionally there would be an echo of sound or tingling feeling, but they were few and, he assumed, far between. It was bland, but peaceful, and for a moment he considered simply staying there.

But He was an Apple. He had work to do.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Big Macintosh forced his senses back into focus. At first it seemed like he had been dragged through thick mud. Everything felt heavy and responded sluggishly. Sound could be heard, but it was distant and garbled. His mouth tasted like sawdust, and his hide stood on pins and needles.

With a groan, he opened his eyes. They immediately clamped shut. Too much light, too much white – it was sensory overload to his sleep-addled brain. On the up side the shock must have jolted something, because he could start to make out voices nearby; shouting, cheering, familiar voices… and a party popper.

Pinkie Pie

The great red stallion leaned forward in his bed, suddenly wondering when he got on his back or even in a bed. The last thing he remembered was…

“Waah!” Everypony let out a startled yelp as Big Macintosh leapt from the bed, only to find himself tangled in pea-green sheets. Frantic eyes darted around the room, searching for the monster he was sure would be there while he struggled against the unyielding linens. White tile, bland walls, decorative plants, Applejack and her friends, a couple of nurses… The hay? When did Ah get to tha hospital?

His thrashing quickly subsided, and he was pulled into a group hug with his sister and her friends. “Wh-what happened?” he mumbled as the mares released him. “Last thing Ah remember’s fightin’ somethin’, some sorta demon in tha east orchard.”

Applejack stepped forward, her orange fur almost as haggard-looking as it had after she had tried to harvest the entire farm’s worth of apples on her own. “That was yesterday, Mac. You’ve been out fer twelve hours.”

“What?”

“Mostly from some sort of sedative poison it got into you,” a nurse assured him. “As bad as your injuries were, they weren’t quite life-threatening, and from what I’ve heard they could have been much worse. Still, you should avoid any heavy labor for at least a few days.”

“Yer luck me ‘n Twilight showed up when we did. If’n she hadn’t telly-ported ya out a there, that thing would’a had ya fer sure.”

“Oh, it was nothing anypony else wouldn’t have done,” replied the purple alacorn with a blush.

“So what happened to it after Ah blacked out?”

“Oh!” Twilight started with realization. “It's completely restrained now. We’re actually about to go send it home. We were just waiting for you to wake up in case you wanted to watch.”

* * * * * * *

“You sure about this, Twi?” Applejack asked and everypony wondered as they eyed the captive Zergling uneasily. Missing limbs aside it had almost completely recovered literally overnight, and it thrashed and squirmed against the purple magic enveloping it even as it was placed back in the Crusaders’ old circle. A second, smaller circle had been etched inside, and both suddenly flared with power. “What if it leads somethin’ back?”

“Relax. This spell is entirely one-way. Even Princess Celestia couldn’t trace it. Besides, aren’t you even a little bit curious what kind of environment could spawn something like this?”

“Nnope.”

“But think of what we could learn!”

“After what happened to Fluttershy when she used the Stare on it?”

The memory brought a shiver to the frail yellow pegasus. She murmured to herself, “So empty… so hungry…”

Applejack continued, “So far as Ah’m concerned, wherever that monster came from, there ain’t nothin’ for us there.”

With an exasperated roll of her eyes, Twilight forced one last bit of magic into the circles. The Zergling vanished, and in its place stood a shimmering window through which it could still be seen…

As it vanished into a boiling, screeching sea of chitin and blades. Thousands of creatures, each greater and more terrible than the last, pressed and charged with singular will, parting only to make way for massive, scythe-armed behemoths or where fiery explosions ripped holes in their lines.

On a barren outcropping of red rock stood a figure apart from the swarm. It resembled the mythical humans, standing straight up on two legs, but it was covered in the same alien carapace that carpeted the ground and bore a pair of skeletal, wing-like appendages towered above it.

The Queen of Blades slowly turned to gaze straight through the window, meeting each of the ponies’ eyes in turn.

Author's Note

This is a weird one for me, for two reasons.
First off, it’s a one-shot. Normally, when I conceive of a story, my brain takes it and runs. I can’t just stop thinking, extrapolating details and consequences, pondering how it came about and how it will affect future events.
Here, none of that matters. It is its own little thing, cut off from all other continuity. For me, that makes it feel… underdeveloped? Unfinished? Like I could have done more with the idea. But if I had tried to do that, you would likely never have seen it. (for the record, my other story My Little Halo was developed from a scene very much like this, and I still haven’t gotten around to writing it over a year later.)
Second, the “meat” of this story is straight-up brawling, which I have very little experience in writing. I admit, I am rather apprehensive about that. Did it flow well? Did I put in enough detail? Too much detail? What did I do wrong? What did I get right?
I just don’t know.
As for why I went ahead and wrote this anyway, I just wanted to see a fight in which a Zergling is badass. A lot of people don’t really get just how powerful they are. They come in swarms and rely on numbers and support to win. This labels them as weak and easy to kill, like goblins or Grunts.
Some even call them cute!
Yeah, sure. Why don’t you put down the fully-automatic Gauss rifle, step out of your nine-foot suit of powered armor, and say that again? Or not. They’ll just take the bullets and rip you open like can openers.
Point is, Zerglings are beasts. If they can charge face-first into heavy machine gun fire, they can damn well take a buck to the face.
And before you ask why the Zergling here is different from the ones in-game, compare the Zerglings from Starcraft 1 with those from Starcraft 2. Also, why wouldn’t it have poison? Hydralisks apparently coat their barbs with neurotoxin, and you don’t see that come up in gameplay!