Preyby scifidude47ChaptersOur World Now (Prologue)My RoutineThe Medical RunOur World Now (Prologue)We had been attacked whilst scavenging for stuff down in the outskirts of Ponyville. Two spiders, one X2 size, and a X3.5 size. Two of our own were killed, and one had been cocooned. Poor bastard. We had a cart full of food and guns from the local woodsman store. They must have smelled the food, because spiders don’t normally attack when we’re out in such a large group. Oh! I almost forgot to introduce myself. I’m Iron Wing. I’m a Pegasus, but my wings have seen too many fights to be able to fly too effectively anymore. I am one of the various survivors of an event known as “The Feeding” By those who lived to see it. What had happened was that for some mysterious reason, various animals in Equestria had grown to large sizes, and started thinking of us as lunch. Hell, some ponies have swallowed others whole. The Royal Sisters are missing, The Elements of Harmony are nowhere to be found, the whole apocalypse cliché. We call the monsters that hunt us today “Preds,” short for “Predators.” We classify them based on size, X2 meaning twice its normal size, X3.5 for three and a half times its normal size, et cetera. However, ponies that eat other ponies get called “Swallowers” since they seem to not chew what they swallow, instead deciding to just let their stomach take care of the dirty work. It’s been two years since this started happening. Most of Equestria’s previous populace has either been killed or eaten. A large amount of survivors (including myself) had barricaded themselves in a little area dead center in Ponyville. Oh, we've got everything to make it look like the occasional Hoofywood “Take it back from the monsters!” film, even though it isn't. We've got makeshift flamethrowers, we've designed our own weaponry, we’ve got contingency plans, yadda yadda yadda. However, we’re not trying to fight back. Not once have we sent out a group to try and reclaim an area from the Preds, unless it’s one that we’ve previously owned. Why? Why don’t we try to take Equestria back, you may ask? I’ve got a simple answer. At least 90% of the times we fight against the Preds, somepony dies. It could be a mother, brother, son, friend, whatever. Nopony is willing to lose so many ponies for a few square feet of territory. The emotional toll would just be too much to bear if we were to go on a full-fledged offensive. So instead, our leader Octavia makes us stay strictly inside the barricades, spare for sending out hunting parties or scavenging trips. Now, about Octavia; our “Governess” as I like to call her. She was an extremely popular cellist, so I don’t think I need to explain what she looked like. She lost her marefriend in the early stages of The Feeding, to and ooze, I heard. Having seen ponies digested by ooze, I can tell you that it’s not a nice way to go. Whether she came upon the ooze eating her marefriend alive, or just saw it after it left her as a mass of undigested muscle, bone, and hair, I don’t know. Either way, it changed her. As I recall, she was the one who discovered that the only way to kill the green blobs completely is to set them on fire. They ignite like gasoline if so much as a spark hits them. Thanks to that discovery, anypony who goes outside the walls takes a flare gun and plenty of ammo to spare. Me? Well, I was a blacksmith before The Feeding, but now that most of the forges were either left outside the barricades or destroyed by Preds, I’m just a scavenger. As I’m told, I’m the oldest. It would seem that I’m just a lucky old bastard. I’m not too good of a fighter, so it must be luck, or maybe that I’ve got a good group of friends watching my back while I’m out there. There’s Loverboy. He and I have known each other since foalhood. He’s a red pony with an orange, fire-like mane. (Cliché, right?) His cutie mark is a heart with an arrow through it, for his talent it hooking up with mares, or fixing relationship problems. Well, pre-apocalypse, anyway. No he works with us. Mostly, he brings in supplies from farther areas of Equestria, such as Canterlot and Baltimare. Being so far away from our little “town,” nopony knows where he lives. His visits are frequent, and with him he always brings important supplies, such as food, batteries, ammo, among other things. He helps me out on missions occasionally, and has saved me from being eaten more times than I’ve cared to count. Then there’s Black Widow. Black coat, red mane, difficult-to-like personality, hence her name. She’s lost somepony to the Preds, just like most of us have. It was her wife and adopted son. Lost them to Swallowers. Poor mare had to hide in a closet and listen to the dying screams of her family as they were digested alive to the pleasured sighs of two “Fat fuckers that I want to gut and feed them their own innards” as she likes to call them. Whichever way you slice her, she’s the best damn mage I've ever been lucky enough to be assigned to a squad with. Her methods are uncouth (Such as getting a Swallower to throw itself into a puddle of ooze whilst lighting its mane on fire, or getting a dragon to tear out its jugular vein with barbed wire) but she gets the job done when it needs to be done. So, there you have it; me, our leader, my favorite squad-mates, everything that makes the intro to a retelling of a nightmarish age so comforting. With that humbling thought, from the age of the Preds, from the age of The Feeding, from the life of Iron Wing, the blacksmith-turned-scavenger, welcome! My RoutineIt was a cold morning in Maybe-January in the year of Celestia-Knows-When. I was on the top level of a two-level bunk, underneath me was Black Widow (Who I think was reading PlayPony the other night.) I got up, climbing down a rickety ladder and taking my backpack from a hook on the wall, the sound of which made Black Widow grumble. “Awake?” I asked. “Now I am.” She said with a bitter tone. She got up with me, and we both trotted to the town center. We hadn’t been assigned to any missions the previous night, so it was our first day off in recent months. “Want a beer?” I asked, retrieving a lukewarm can of it from my saddlebags and opening it, losing a little to the spray that resulted from it not being kept cool. “Nah, not in the mood.” She said, looking to the gray sky. “You’re never in the mood for a beer.” I joked lightly. “Fuck you.” She said with a slight hint of a chuckle in her voice. “I thought you were mares-only.” I retorted. She opened her mouth to say something, then paused and laughed a little. “I have no way to retort for that, gramps. That’s just funny.” She laughed as she called me by my nickname. She flicked her mane out of her face and got a cigarette from her saddlebag. She used her magic to get a small wisp of flame to form in the air, which she brought to the cigarette to light it before extinguishing it. “You know you’re supposed to be quitting.” I told her. “I only said I’d quit because we ran out. I almost squealed when we found that carton in the old general goods store.” She said, taking a puff from it and blowing the smoke into my face to make me cough. “I did see you jump a little.” I commented. “I saw the spider that almost bit you.” She was lying. The blush in her face was obvious, and I saw the spider first. “It’s not good for your health.” I told her. (Ironic that I’m drinking beer at the same time, isn’t it?) “Neither is going out to scavenge after you went to the doctors a week earlier after complaining that your leg was aching. You really ought to talk to Octavia about retiring, you know.” She took another puff. “I don’t know if I can retire. I’m probably too valuable, to her and the other scavengers, anyway.” I commented, sipping my beer a little. It didn’t taste like a cloud felt, but at least it tastes better than the pig shit that some of the survivors in the old bar try to distill. “Yeah. Nopony’s lived long enough to retire, anyways.” Black Widow commented, taking a little break from her cigarette. “Why bother quitting, anyways? Not like I have a retirement home waiting to tuck me in.” I took a rather large gulp of beer. “Slow down. You sound like a dragon swallowing somepony.” Black Widow said sharply. “Well you smell like one.” I always had comebacks when it came to our vices for some odd reason. She laughed lightly, taking another drag from her cigarette before examining it, and then putting it out in the dirt. Octavia approached us, and we both put down our things and saluted. It was customary of our little “military.” “Please don’t do that without saying ‘good morning, Octavia’ first.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her hoof to dismiss us. We put down our hooves and waited. “What’s up?” Black Widow asked, breaking the ice. “I’ve looked at our medical supply charts, lately. We’re running low. At the rate we’re using them, we’ll run out by the week. Are you two in the mood for a mission tomorrow?” She asked, taking out the records of our supplies and how long we had until they were depleted. “As ready as we’ll ever be, Octavia.” I said. “Good. Meet me at the northern entrance after dawn tomorrow. “ Octavia turned, her patchwork hood flapping in the breeze. “Not even a ‘want to get some breakfast at the kitchen, you two?’ Jeez, she really is as serious as I thought she was. Whelp, I’m crossing her off my ‘to-do’ list.” Black Widow took out a chart of mares names and crossed out Octavia with an ink pen. I laughed, since only I and a select few others really knew what being on Black Widow’s to-do list entailed. Then a bell was sounded, coming from the main entrance. A bell was sounded three times, meaning that Loverboy was back. Black Widow and I rushed to the entrance, along with a myriad of survivors that seemed to appear out of thin air. Loverboy came through the main entrance doors, whilst soldiers nearby kept an eye for any Preds who found it to be an opportune time to rush in. Loverboy came in, pulling a small makeshift caravan behind him. When he was in, they shut the doors. He released the handle in his mouth, caught his breath, and then spoke. “’Ello mates and birds, I’m back.” Loverboy said with a smile, wiping some sweat from his forehead. The crowd cheered by stamping their hooves on the ground and emitting some whistles, but the louder ones were quickly silenced by some guards. Loverboy pulled the cover off of his caravan, revealing what he had found. Can upon can of food, a crate full of assorted ammunition and magazines, a couple rifles, and a crate of twelve wine bottles. No medicine. Me and Black Widow sighed, since both of our hopes of not going outside were crushed. As soldiers began to put the supplies into bags, we trotted up to Loverboy. “’Ello Iron. What’s happening in this neck of the woods?” He said with a thick British accent as he gave me a hoof-bump. “Nothing. We know that you’ve gone though a lot, but-“ “We need medicine. Wanna come with us?” Black Widow interrupted me, cracking her neck a little. “Sure. Not like I have anything else to do.” Loverboy said, taking his lever-action rifle out of it’s holster. We had spent the rest of that night trying pitifully to crack jokes, drink, and enjoy some of the rarer things that Loverboy brought to our camp. Octavia scolded us lightly for drinking, but refrained from punishing us. She once lived our life, so she knows how nerve-wracking the idea of going outside can be. The next day, after we had all slept, we packed up some things for our trip. I packed a pistol, a flare gun, plenty of ammo for both, and a bowie knife. I had traveled with Black Widow so many times that I didn’t even think of checking what torture devices she put in her bag. Loverboy, trying to look all badass, took the rifle in his holster and filled his backpack with as many rifle-bullets as it could carry. We all met at the main entrance, and as promised, Octavia was there. “You’ll be going to the pharmacy next to the exit to Canterlot.” She began to brief us. “You’re looking for anything useful. Painkillers, Penicillin, vitamin supplements, and for Celestia’s sake, Loverboy, don’t fill your pockets with contraceptives.” She said simply, causing Loverboy to blush in silence. She had given us a map to where we were going, wished us luck, and we set off. The Medical RunThe streets outside the walls weren’t the place you would want to go unarmed. I think then I understood why Loverboy filled his sack with so much ammo. Although I also bet he didn’t plan on carrying any more supplies. Black Widow had taken out a machete from her saddlebags. This puzzled me, since I thought she’d bring something more brutal or pain-causing. We passed a lot of sad sights before we got to the pharmacy. Sights of massacres, failed missions, elementary schools filled with cocoons and half-eaten skeletons, blood stains on the streets where an ooze got its fill, and lastly, my home. I don’t like to talk about my home. The pharmacy seemed relatively untouched, the windows were only cracked, not smashed. This was a bittersweet thought to me, since it meant we probably wouldn’t go back empty hoofed, but it also meant that the possibility of other survivor colonies outside of Ponyville was nil. “Alright. This is the place. Let’s get this done quick, in case Preds come to us. Don’t grab anything except what we need.” I commanded. “Alright. I’ll take point.” Black Widow said, using her magic to retrieve a plastic bag from her backpack and shake it out. We entered the building silently, the only sound was our quietest breaths and our hoofsteps on the floor. The counters seemed to hold what we needed, so we got to work. We split up into three different aisles. I started picking up some painkillers, Loverboy was checking through vitamins, while Black Widow started stuffing antibiotics into her bags. Loverboy and I would take frequent trips to Black Widow, depositing different-colored bottles into her bag. After about fifteen minutes, we heard an odd sound, like hairs scraping against a surface. Loverboy’s ear twitched. He placed a bottle he was carrying back down onto the counter, and took his loaded rifle out of its holster. “Don’t go loud unless you have to.” I whispered. He nodded, and headed towards the source of the noise, from the shadow-blanketed back of the store. His hoofsteps were slow and paced, and he stopped before he reached the counter. We all heard the sound again. He chambered a round, and a scuttling was heard, close by. Loverboy aimed into the area behind the counter, but it was too dark to see anything. Too dark to see that the X4 spider that was out of his field of vision. The spider emitted a loud screech, and lept. Loverboy screamed and fired a shot, but missed and broke a window. The spider sunk its teeth into his foreleg and Loverboy screamed in terror and pain, trying to hit the spider with the barrel of his rifle. Suddenly, four grey objects flew by, one of them hitting the spider and sticking it to the counter, off of Loverboy. I knew Black Widow must have brought her throwing knives. The spider hissed a little more, lowering in volume until it curled up and died. Black Widow retrieved her throwing knives and grabbed Loverboy, who was now screaming wildly as he panicked. “Shut up! You want that thing’s mom to find out we’re here!?” Black Widow whispered sharply as she tried to drag him to the entrance of the store as he hyperventilated. I took up the bag of medicine that she had dropped and pushed the entrance door open. A lot of scuttling came from further inside the building, making me take out my pistol and firing into the blackness, only hitting two things. As they crawled out, I heard something odd; something that shouldn’t have been there. Hoofsteps, coming from the pharmacy. If a pony was in there, it would no doubt be eaten by spiders, wouldn’t it? Then a pair of large green eyes made itself visible, slowly trotting into the light. It was a pony, but it was covered with a jet black outer casing instead of a coat of fur, and its mane was purple, but in thin, messy strands. It seemed to be about the size of a foal, despite odd spider-legs coming out of its sides seeming to make it bigger. Four hooves dragged it forward, and it suddenly spoke, only adding to my surprise. “Leave them. You’ve done enough for now, my little ones.” The spiders stopped, one that had jumped even shot a strand of silk back to prevent itself from colliding with me, and they all retreated into the back of the store with the spider-pony. I was left dazed. Why didn’t I fire? Why didn’t I try to talk to it? Why didn’- “Move your ass, Iron! We have an injured pony here!” Black Widow snapped me out of my pondering. I went to help up Loverboy, and we galloped back to the barricades. “Open the doors! Open the doors now!” I yelled. Octavia, who was at the top of the barriers, nodded and commanded two of her soldiers to open them. We rushed in with an injured Loverboy, much to the shock of the crowd of onlookers. “What happened?” Octavia asked, examining Loverboy, who was now sweating and barely breathing. “We got attacked by spiders, and something I’ve never seen before, ma’m…” I said whilst Black Widow and a few medics took Loverboy to an infirmary. Octavia almost said something, but then decided to keep quiet. “Follow me. We need to talk, but we cannot risk frightening the others anymore.” She whispered to me while the guards shut the gate. I followed behind her, and before long we got to her home, which was a red and white patchwork tent. “Alright, now tell me what happened.” She offered me a chair to sit on, and I told her everything, making sure to mention every detail I could think of about the spider-pony. Despite her normal resolve, when I talked about the hybrid, I think I saw her shake lightly.
Our World Now (Prologue)We had been attacked whilst scavenging for stuff down in the outskirts of Ponyville. Two spiders, one X2 size, and a X3.5 size. Two of our own were killed, and one had been cocooned. Poor bastard. We had a cart full of food and guns from the local woodsman store. They must have smelled the food, because spiders don’t normally attack when we’re out in such a large group. Oh! I almost forgot to introduce myself. I’m Iron Wing. I’m a Pegasus, but my wings have seen too many fights to be able to fly too effectively anymore. I am one of the various survivors of an event known as “The Feeding” By those who lived to see it. What had happened was that for some mysterious reason, various animals in Equestria had grown to large sizes, and started thinking of us as lunch. Hell, some ponies have swallowed others whole. The Royal Sisters are missing, The Elements of Harmony are nowhere to be found, the whole apocalypse cliché. We call the monsters that hunt us today “Preds,” short for “Predators.” We classify them based on size, X2 meaning twice its normal size, X3.5 for three and a half times its normal size, et cetera. However, ponies that eat other ponies get called “Swallowers” since they seem to not chew what they swallow, instead deciding to just let their stomach take care of the dirty work. It’s been two years since this started happening. Most of Equestria’s previous populace has either been killed or eaten. A large amount of survivors (including myself) had barricaded themselves in a little area dead center in Ponyville. Oh, we've got everything to make it look like the occasional Hoofywood “Take it back from the monsters!” film, even though it isn't. We've got makeshift flamethrowers, we've designed our own weaponry, we’ve got contingency plans, yadda yadda yadda. However, we’re not trying to fight back. Not once have we sent out a group to try and reclaim an area from the Preds, unless it’s one that we’ve previously owned. Why? Why don’t we try to take Equestria back, you may ask? I’ve got a simple answer. At least 90% of the times we fight against the Preds, somepony dies. It could be a mother, brother, son, friend, whatever. Nopony is willing to lose so many ponies for a few square feet of territory. The emotional toll would just be too much to bear if we were to go on a full-fledged offensive. So instead, our leader Octavia makes us stay strictly inside the barricades, spare for sending out hunting parties or scavenging trips. Now, about Octavia; our “Governess” as I like to call her. She was an extremely popular cellist, so I don’t think I need to explain what she looked like. She lost her marefriend in the early stages of The Feeding, to and ooze, I heard. Having seen ponies digested by ooze, I can tell you that it’s not a nice way to go. Whether she came upon the ooze eating her marefriend alive, or just saw it after it left her as a mass of undigested muscle, bone, and hair, I don’t know. Either way, it changed her. As I recall, she was the one who discovered that the only way to kill the green blobs completely is to set them on fire. They ignite like gasoline if so much as a spark hits them. Thanks to that discovery, anypony who goes outside the walls takes a flare gun and plenty of ammo to spare. Me? Well, I was a blacksmith before The Feeding, but now that most of the forges were either left outside the barricades or destroyed by Preds, I’m just a scavenger. As I’m told, I’m the oldest. It would seem that I’m just a lucky old bastard. I’m not too good of a fighter, so it must be luck, or maybe that I’ve got a good group of friends watching my back while I’m out there. There’s Loverboy. He and I have known each other since foalhood. He’s a red pony with an orange, fire-like mane. (Cliché, right?) His cutie mark is a heart with an arrow through it, for his talent it hooking up with mares, or fixing relationship problems. Well, pre-apocalypse, anyway. No he works with us. Mostly, he brings in supplies from farther areas of Equestria, such as Canterlot and Baltimare. Being so far away from our little “town,” nopony knows where he lives. His visits are frequent, and with him he always brings important supplies, such as food, batteries, ammo, among other things. He helps me out on missions occasionally, and has saved me from being eaten more times than I’ve cared to count. Then there’s Black Widow. Black coat, red mane, difficult-to-like personality, hence her name. She’s lost somepony to the Preds, just like most of us have. It was her wife and adopted son. Lost them to Swallowers. Poor mare had to hide in a closet and listen to the dying screams of her family as they were digested alive to the pleasured sighs of two “Fat fuckers that I want to gut and feed them their own innards” as she likes to call them. Whichever way you slice her, she’s the best damn mage I've ever been lucky enough to be assigned to a squad with. Her methods are uncouth (Such as getting a Swallower to throw itself into a puddle of ooze whilst lighting its mane on fire, or getting a dragon to tear out its jugular vein with barbed wire) but she gets the job done when it needs to be done. So, there you have it; me, our leader, my favorite squad-mates, everything that makes the intro to a retelling of a nightmarish age so comforting. With that humbling thought, from the age of the Preds, from the age of The Feeding, from the life of Iron Wing, the blacksmith-turned-scavenger, welcome!
My RoutineIt was a cold morning in Maybe-January in the year of Celestia-Knows-When. I was on the top level of a two-level bunk, underneath me was Black Widow (Who I think was reading PlayPony the other night.) I got up, climbing down a rickety ladder and taking my backpack from a hook on the wall, the sound of which made Black Widow grumble. “Awake?” I asked. “Now I am.” She said with a bitter tone. She got up with me, and we both trotted to the town center. We hadn’t been assigned to any missions the previous night, so it was our first day off in recent months. “Want a beer?” I asked, retrieving a lukewarm can of it from my saddlebags and opening it, losing a little to the spray that resulted from it not being kept cool. “Nah, not in the mood.” She said, looking to the gray sky. “You’re never in the mood for a beer.” I joked lightly. “Fuck you.” She said with a slight hint of a chuckle in her voice. “I thought you were mares-only.” I retorted. She opened her mouth to say something, then paused and laughed a little. “I have no way to retort for that, gramps. That’s just funny.” She laughed as she called me by my nickname. She flicked her mane out of her face and got a cigarette from her saddlebag. She used her magic to get a small wisp of flame to form in the air, which she brought to the cigarette to light it before extinguishing it. “You know you’re supposed to be quitting.” I told her. “I only said I’d quit because we ran out. I almost squealed when we found that carton in the old general goods store.” She said, taking a puff from it and blowing the smoke into my face to make me cough. “I did see you jump a little.” I commented. “I saw the spider that almost bit you.” She was lying. The blush in her face was obvious, and I saw the spider first. “It’s not good for your health.” I told her. (Ironic that I’m drinking beer at the same time, isn’t it?) “Neither is going out to scavenge after you went to the doctors a week earlier after complaining that your leg was aching. You really ought to talk to Octavia about retiring, you know.” She took another puff. “I don’t know if I can retire. I’m probably too valuable, to her and the other scavengers, anyway.” I commented, sipping my beer a little. It didn’t taste like a cloud felt, but at least it tastes better than the pig shit that some of the survivors in the old bar try to distill. “Yeah. Nopony’s lived long enough to retire, anyways.” Black Widow commented, taking a little break from her cigarette. “Why bother quitting, anyways? Not like I have a retirement home waiting to tuck me in.” I took a rather large gulp of beer. “Slow down. You sound like a dragon swallowing somepony.” Black Widow said sharply. “Well you smell like one.” I always had comebacks when it came to our vices for some odd reason. She laughed lightly, taking another drag from her cigarette before examining it, and then putting it out in the dirt. Octavia approached us, and we both put down our things and saluted. It was customary of our little “military.” “Please don’t do that without saying ‘good morning, Octavia’ first.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her hoof to dismiss us. We put down our hooves and waited. “What’s up?” Black Widow asked, breaking the ice. “I’ve looked at our medical supply charts, lately. We’re running low. At the rate we’re using them, we’ll run out by the week. Are you two in the mood for a mission tomorrow?” She asked, taking out the records of our supplies and how long we had until they were depleted. “As ready as we’ll ever be, Octavia.” I said. “Good. Meet me at the northern entrance after dawn tomorrow. “ Octavia turned, her patchwork hood flapping in the breeze. “Not even a ‘want to get some breakfast at the kitchen, you two?’ Jeez, she really is as serious as I thought she was. Whelp, I’m crossing her off my ‘to-do’ list.” Black Widow took out a chart of mares names and crossed out Octavia with an ink pen. I laughed, since only I and a select few others really knew what being on Black Widow’s to-do list entailed. Then a bell was sounded, coming from the main entrance. A bell was sounded three times, meaning that Loverboy was back. Black Widow and I rushed to the entrance, along with a myriad of survivors that seemed to appear out of thin air. Loverboy came through the main entrance doors, whilst soldiers nearby kept an eye for any Preds who found it to be an opportune time to rush in. Loverboy came in, pulling a small makeshift caravan behind him. When he was in, they shut the doors. He released the handle in his mouth, caught his breath, and then spoke. “’Ello mates and birds, I’m back.” Loverboy said with a smile, wiping some sweat from his forehead. The crowd cheered by stamping their hooves on the ground and emitting some whistles, but the louder ones were quickly silenced by some guards. Loverboy pulled the cover off of his caravan, revealing what he had found. Can upon can of food, a crate full of assorted ammunition and magazines, a couple rifles, and a crate of twelve wine bottles. No medicine. Me and Black Widow sighed, since both of our hopes of not going outside were crushed. As soldiers began to put the supplies into bags, we trotted up to Loverboy. “’Ello Iron. What’s happening in this neck of the woods?” He said with a thick British accent as he gave me a hoof-bump. “Nothing. We know that you’ve gone though a lot, but-“ “We need medicine. Wanna come with us?” Black Widow interrupted me, cracking her neck a little. “Sure. Not like I have anything else to do.” Loverboy said, taking his lever-action rifle out of it’s holster. We had spent the rest of that night trying pitifully to crack jokes, drink, and enjoy some of the rarer things that Loverboy brought to our camp. Octavia scolded us lightly for drinking, but refrained from punishing us. She once lived our life, so she knows how nerve-wracking the idea of going outside can be. The next day, after we had all slept, we packed up some things for our trip. I packed a pistol, a flare gun, plenty of ammo for both, and a bowie knife. I had traveled with Black Widow so many times that I didn’t even think of checking what torture devices she put in her bag. Loverboy, trying to look all badass, took the rifle in his holster and filled his backpack with as many rifle-bullets as it could carry. We all met at the main entrance, and as promised, Octavia was there. “You’ll be going to the pharmacy next to the exit to Canterlot.” She began to brief us. “You’re looking for anything useful. Painkillers, Penicillin, vitamin supplements, and for Celestia’s sake, Loverboy, don’t fill your pockets with contraceptives.” She said simply, causing Loverboy to blush in silence. She had given us a map to where we were going, wished us luck, and we set off.
The Medical RunThe streets outside the walls weren’t the place you would want to go unarmed. I think then I understood why Loverboy filled his sack with so much ammo. Although I also bet he didn’t plan on carrying any more supplies. Black Widow had taken out a machete from her saddlebags. This puzzled me, since I thought she’d bring something more brutal or pain-causing. We passed a lot of sad sights before we got to the pharmacy. Sights of massacres, failed missions, elementary schools filled with cocoons and half-eaten skeletons, blood stains on the streets where an ooze got its fill, and lastly, my home. I don’t like to talk about my home. The pharmacy seemed relatively untouched, the windows were only cracked, not smashed. This was a bittersweet thought to me, since it meant we probably wouldn’t go back empty hoofed, but it also meant that the possibility of other survivor colonies outside of Ponyville was nil. “Alright. This is the place. Let’s get this done quick, in case Preds come to us. Don’t grab anything except what we need.” I commanded. “Alright. I’ll take point.” Black Widow said, using her magic to retrieve a plastic bag from her backpack and shake it out. We entered the building silently, the only sound was our quietest breaths and our hoofsteps on the floor. The counters seemed to hold what we needed, so we got to work. We split up into three different aisles. I started picking up some painkillers, Loverboy was checking through vitamins, while Black Widow started stuffing antibiotics into her bags. Loverboy and I would take frequent trips to Black Widow, depositing different-colored bottles into her bag. After about fifteen minutes, we heard an odd sound, like hairs scraping against a surface. Loverboy’s ear twitched. He placed a bottle he was carrying back down onto the counter, and took his loaded rifle out of its holster. “Don’t go loud unless you have to.” I whispered. He nodded, and headed towards the source of the noise, from the shadow-blanketed back of the store. His hoofsteps were slow and paced, and he stopped before he reached the counter. We all heard the sound again. He chambered a round, and a scuttling was heard, close by. Loverboy aimed into the area behind the counter, but it was too dark to see anything. Too dark to see that the X4 spider that was out of his field of vision. The spider emitted a loud screech, and lept. Loverboy screamed and fired a shot, but missed and broke a window. The spider sunk its teeth into his foreleg and Loverboy screamed in terror and pain, trying to hit the spider with the barrel of his rifle. Suddenly, four grey objects flew by, one of them hitting the spider and sticking it to the counter, off of Loverboy. I knew Black Widow must have brought her throwing knives. The spider hissed a little more, lowering in volume until it curled up and died. Black Widow retrieved her throwing knives and grabbed Loverboy, who was now screaming wildly as he panicked. “Shut up! You want that thing’s mom to find out we’re here!?” Black Widow whispered sharply as she tried to drag him to the entrance of the store as he hyperventilated. I took up the bag of medicine that she had dropped and pushed the entrance door open. A lot of scuttling came from further inside the building, making me take out my pistol and firing into the blackness, only hitting two things. As they crawled out, I heard something odd; something that shouldn’t have been there. Hoofsteps, coming from the pharmacy. If a pony was in there, it would no doubt be eaten by spiders, wouldn’t it? Then a pair of large green eyes made itself visible, slowly trotting into the light. It was a pony, but it was covered with a jet black outer casing instead of a coat of fur, and its mane was purple, but in thin, messy strands. It seemed to be about the size of a foal, despite odd spider-legs coming out of its sides seeming to make it bigger. Four hooves dragged it forward, and it suddenly spoke, only adding to my surprise. “Leave them. You’ve done enough for now, my little ones.” The spiders stopped, one that had jumped even shot a strand of silk back to prevent itself from colliding with me, and they all retreated into the back of the store with the spider-pony. I was left dazed. Why didn’t I fire? Why didn’t I try to talk to it? Why didn’- “Move your ass, Iron! We have an injured pony here!” Black Widow snapped me out of my pondering. I went to help up Loverboy, and we galloped back to the barricades. “Open the doors! Open the doors now!” I yelled. Octavia, who was at the top of the barriers, nodded and commanded two of her soldiers to open them. We rushed in with an injured Loverboy, much to the shock of the crowd of onlookers. “What happened?” Octavia asked, examining Loverboy, who was now sweating and barely breathing. “We got attacked by spiders, and something I’ve never seen before, ma’m…” I said whilst Black Widow and a few medics took Loverboy to an infirmary. Octavia almost said something, but then decided to keep quiet. “Follow me. We need to talk, but we cannot risk frightening the others anymore.” She whispered to me while the guards shut the gate. I followed behind her, and before long we got to her home, which was a red and white patchwork tent. “Alright, now tell me what happened.” She offered me a chair to sit on, and I told her everything, making sure to mention every detail I could think of about the spider-pony. Despite her normal resolve, when I talked about the hybrid, I think I saw her shake lightly.
