Legion's Plague

"Wait a second!" Twilight nearly shrieked, spreading her wings. She was aghast, "You plan to go where?!"

"I was thinking about going to Manehatten. You yourself said that the 'precious objects' are as small as earrings, right?" Lazarus pointed out, his eye twitching. "Well, not only does it increase our chances of finding those objects if we just didn't stay put in Ponyville, but it also gives us a broader perspective on what happened in the other cities. So far, all we've heard about is Canterlot from Kaleb." He added, sounding rather annoyed.

"And besides," Lancelot started, circling Twilight as he spoke, "If we get even more help, it'll go quicker. Also, if we're dealing with an alleged cult, then we're gonna need all the help we can possibly get. Cults tend to start small, and then skyrocket on scales seldom seen before!"

"Ah got one question," Applejack stated as she trotted into the room. "Since Lazarus came up with this fine idea, who's gonna go with him?"

Lancelot raised his hand.

"Just ya, Lancelot? Are ya serious?" Applejack asked, raising a brow. An orange-coated, white-maned, green-eyed pegasus stallion came into the room, and his cutie mark was a tornado that had three apples scattered about in it.

"I'm going too, Ma." Said the stallion, flaring his wings.

"Alright, Apple Leaf, ya can go with. Just don't give them no grief, and don't let those Royal Guards with the bloodshot eyes touch ya, ya hear?" Applejack replied, sternly.

"Yes, Ma." Sighed Apple Leaf, letting his wings drop.

"I'm going as well," Said a fanged unicorn stallion as he also trotted into the room. His gold pelt, poofy pink mane, and sterling silver eyes caught the attention of the dragoon. His cutie mark was a bundle of gold streamers outlined in silver.

"No offense, Golden Streamers, but who the hell is your daddy?" Lancelot asked, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.

"A vampiric unicorn who, for some reason, disliked parties. At least, until he met mom. Let's not get into that..." Streamers replied with a mixed tone of solemn and scorn.

Pinkie Pie too? Lance thought, the palm of his hand connecting with his face. Or was it the other way around?

A pink pony with a darker shade of pink in her mane entered the room. Her mane and tail were flat, and her colors were dulled in such a way she looked like she was greying with age. Sapphire blue eyes shed tears as they scanned the room. Lance looked at this pony with a worried look on his face.

"He's still running around..." Heaved the mare, her voice cracked, "but I didn't kill his child for what he did....unlike someone whom we all know....sure, she had her reasons, and I can understand..." She broke down, holding her head in her forelegs. "....but...I keep asking if he's hurt anypony else....if you two see him....please....show him what for!" She wailed, now fully on the floor crying in agony. Her colors, blue-and-yellow-balloons cutie mark included, faded further.

Lance felt his gut wrench in disgust. His arms were shaking. He slowly walked over to the pony and lifted her off the ground and towards his chest, which was still caked in dried blood. He began stroking her mane with one hand. "I'm not sure what to say....the one thing that can come to my wrecked mind...." He started, slowly, making sure all heard him clearly. "....is that we're all victims of something."

Alexis looked away, tears once more pouring from her eyes.

Kaleb couldn't speak. Very sadly, Lance was right. Everyone's had a bad experience at some point in time, but those experiences have a wide arrange of outcomes and effects. This could explain all of those seemingly-pointless wars humanity has had, and potentially, ponykind as well.

The pony looked up at Lance. "R-really...?" She asked, softly. Lance simply nodded.

"I....killed a bunch of innocent people....before I met Matt and Natalie." He answered in a hushed whisper. "And before that.....I can say that mom was no better. Is....there a curse on the world?" He asked, faint sparkles glinting in the corners of his eyes.

Lazarus looked at Lance. His face curled into shock as his jaw slowly dropped like an elevator. Kaleb couldn't help but allow his jaw to drop as well. The Spartan held his hands out and began shaking his head in sheer disbelief.

Twilight couldn't believe her ears. Then again....she couldn't argue either.

Lance gently lifted the pony as he stood up. He then walked to the couch and lowered her onto it. The mare fell fast asleep as the Nazi removed his jacket and put it on the mare. He then looked towards Lazarus and Apple Leaf.

"We have a promise to keep to Pinkie." He said quietly. Both nodded. Out the door the four volunteers went. Strangely, the Valkyrie's engine and wheels weren't heard whirring.

==========

Lazarus returned to the group stationed outside of Manehatten. He landed on his feet.

"Town's heavily fortified, and there don't seem to be any infected running amok." Said the Godling with a sigh.

"Did you get close enough to be certain?" Lance asked, his mechanical wings stretching.

"There are fucking tanks by the dozen in all the streets. I ain't getting that close." Lazarus replied sternly.

"Jesus Christ, now we have a military state." Lancelot commented, pushing Lance's shoulder. "World War III, anybody?"

Lance sighed, his eyes narrowed low. His eyebrow twitched, and his wings stiffened. At once, the half-naked Nazi took to the skies effortlessly, but he was considerably slower than Lazarus. Lancelot simply said 'fuck it' and jumped the barricade with ease. Streamers climbed onto the Godling's back and clung tight. The Godling levitated and then flew to follow Lance. On closer inspection, there were human soldiers and pony guards alike, and all were heavily armed. It was good that Lancelot found himself behind a dumpster.

A human soldier glanced in the alleyway with a confused look on his face. He began approaching that alleyway.

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit..... Lancelot thought, letting those two words run marathons in his mind as panic began grasping him. The soldier kept approaching, his footsteps drawing closer. Eventually, he was right next to Lancelot's hiding spot.

All was still.

"Nothing here." Shouted the soldier to his fellow comrades as he turned tail and walked out of the alleyway. Once in the clear, the dragoon let out a silent sigh of relief. He tiptoed to the end of the alley, making sure to keep to the shadows. He jumped the wall blocking him and ended up on another street. He quickly hid behind a wall, thinking he heard the soldiers shout at something. He caught sight of the Manehatten Asylum, which had been abandoned even before this gargantuan mess started. The dragoon found himself breaking into a sprint towards the wrecked building, his legs pumped with adrenalin.

Running through the missing door, he was greeted by darkness and more shouting echoing in the decrepit walls. Now, he heard very creepy laughter.

His eyes having adjusted, he saw ruined chairs. Electrical ones.

The laughter sounded again, making the dragoon tense.

He walked towards the chairs, then stopped to look down a tarnished hallway. The lights flickered, briefly revealing a form on the other end of the hall. They flickered again, and the form vanished.

The creepy laughter sounded feminine. Lancelot was even more tense now. His breathing started to go faster and so did his heartbeat.

The lights flickered again. The figure seemed to have either grown bigger or gotten closer. The young man could make out some kind of bonds on the thing's legs.

Then, it disappeared, and more laughter sounded.

Lancelot held a hand on his head and shook. Asylums were meant for crazy people....so was he crazy?

Then, the figure appeared again. Right in front of him.

He landed on his ass in complete shock. Staring back at him was a little girl in a straightjacket. Her brown pigtails were unkempt, but held surprisingly well. Eyes of ice stared back with a crazed glow.

"Don't be afraid, mister. Follow me." She said, her voice eerily childlike. Lancelot noticed shackles on her ankles and a tattered hospital gown just jutting out from under the jacket she had, exposing a small slit between her legs where her underwear should've been. She turned around and started walking, and Lancelot followed. He gulped hard.

Half-naked child in a straightjacket. In a wrecked asylum. In a town apparently under military control. In a world slowly succumbing to some disease. With a cult at work. Lancelot figured the world couldn't have gotten any crazier than this.

She walked to the end of the hall, stopping before a door meant to be a cell for the insane. On it was a piece of paper with the patient's name, affliction, age, and all of that good stuff.

Name: Rachel, last name unknown

Treated for: Dementia and paranoia; also afflicted with a rare, unidentified anti-aging disease

Age: 29 despite the fact that she looks 5

Patient's family has a history of mental illnesses. We tried enlisting the mother here, but that failed.

He took the paper off the wall, folded it, and stuck it into his pocket, then looked at who was evidently Rachel. He knelt down and put his hands on her shoulders.

"What happened to you?" Lancelot asked, concerned.

Rachel laid down on her back and spread her legs. "They played with me, and I liked it. I want another playmate!" Rachel declared with a grin.

Lancelot stood up, yanking the girl to her feet by the collar of her jacket. He then hoisted her off the ground with a blush on his face and the widest eyes anybody had seen. "They WHAT?!" He asked, his voice sounding girly.

"You make funny faces!" Rachel commented with another careless smile.

He looked away, but only briefly. "I'm getting you out of this hellhole. What those people did to you was.....wrong on so many levels!" He declared.

"Nobody said anything." Rachel retorted, her smile replaced with a pouting frown.

"That's because they were bad people." Lancelot counter-retorted as if he forgot that the girl was really a twenty-nine-year-old woman.

"And what do bad people do?" She asked softly.

"Make it so good people suffer....there are so many examples of this I have no fucking clue where to start." Lancelot admitted.

"I wanna have fun!" Rachel declared, struggling fruitlessly.

Lancelot put her down onto her feet, then knelt down himself. He grabbed her shackles. "I am setting you free, just hold still for a second or two.." He said, breaking the binds on her ankles and tossing them aside. He then turned her around and slowly untied the straightjacket. Once the knot was undone, he tore it off of her and threw that in the bin where it belonged. She moved her hands and arms around to get a good feel for them for the first time in years. Many old scars decorated her body like a psychopath's Christmas tree. The tattered gown fell off, exposing even more scars. The dragoon grabbed the girl by the arm and pulled her deeper into the asylum through the double doors at the end of the hall. This room was the only other room still standing, and there were holes leading to the vast outside dotting the otherwise dark ceiling, allowing bits of light to shine through.

And there on the other side of that room stood a silver-eyed, gold-gold pelted fanged unicorn stallion with a blood red, jagged mane.