The Next Conversion

   I had heard of the HLF before, how they would storm bureaus to show how strong they really were apposed to the idea, how they would kill without remorse, and saw themselves as the saviors of the land. I had heard some rumors that they were working on a way to reverse the conversion process, even though it was pretty much scientifically impossible. Naturally they’d need the original serum to study it, so I took the next logical step and headed to the labs.

   As I wondered the seemingly endless halls I wished I had taken that tour, at least then I’d have a vague idea of where everything was. “Where is it?” I asked myself the fifth time. It was only then I realized I should have been more stealthy about the whole thing, as a voice had acknowledged my existence.

“Who goes there?” it shouted in a southern accent. I decided to duck into the next room and pray for the best, maybe there I could find something to silence him.

   I ducked inside and found that it was a utility storage room, for storing of utilities (as the name implied). I found a few items that would have useful in all sorts of scenarios, had mine not been stealth based and my heart was set on not killing anyone: including a chainsaw, a few ice picks, a rifle (with an innumerable amount of bullets), and a rusty dagger. What I did find that would be useful was not as luxurious: a lead pipe.

   I heard the door behind me open and I turned around, smacking whomever had dared enter in the face with a lead pipe. I turned to see I had knocked out a man in a jacket identical on the man I had locked in the locker room but also had a beret. I drug his body inside and began to unclothe him. Taking his jacket and beret, hiding my own jacket in one of the pockets.

   I shoved his body into one of the clothing bins and headed off hoping my disguise would work. I headed down the basement level, hoping that it would be the rational place to hide such a thing.

   I approached the basement door and opened it, a rush of cold air came at me from it. Local children used to tell stories of how this building had been used as a prison at one point, and that the inmates that had died in the chair haunted the basement. Nobody liked to point out that the state had been one of those without the death penalty, and even if one of them would the child telling to the story would turn to the kid and say, in the darkest voice they could muster, “I know.”

   Looking in the basement it appeared that at least some of the story was true, there were cells rusted from the lack of use and light. The bulbs in the level were flickering on and off, adding an unneeded source of ambience. The only sounds in the halls were footsteps, coming from what I could only assume was the guards sent down here for whatever reason. I slowly and silently crept toward the sounds, stopping only as they became louder.

   I looked around a corner and found a small group of men dressed in garbs not unlike the men I had met before. I sighed and thought out the scenarios in my head, most of them ended with me being shot at but only two had me succeeding in dispatching the guards. I stepped out and against my better judgment began to speak.

   “ATTENTION!” I shouted in my best Southern impression, startling the men into a fighting stance. They immediately lowered their weapons once they had seen I was wearing friendly colors.

“Sir, you scared us.” One of them said, holstering his weapon.

“I assume you know who I am.” I said, hoping that I could get another name from them without losing my cover.

“Of course Colonel Bradford!” One of the others said. “What would you like us to do sir?”

   “Men have gone missing upstairs! We suspect they may be dead. We need you to provide back up.”

“Sir yes sir!” They shouted loudly, all heading out of my sight.

“Not you, soldier.” I said, stopping one of the weaker of the crew. “I have a special assignment for you.”

   He looked honored to have been chosen from the crew, his eyes shining brightly.

“What is it sir?”

“I need you to…” I quickly searched the area for something he could do, I had spotted that inside of one of the cells there was a group of prisoners, including Sunny! “I need you to go interrogate the prisoners! Go over and try to milk them for all they know!”

   He nodded and headed to the cell, trying to negotiate them the best he could. As he began to ramble on how much he hated them I pulled out my lead pipe and slowly approached him. I saw the inmates looking at me confused by what I was doing, I put a finger over my lips telling them to be silent. Then I struck a sharp blow to his neck, it connected perfectly and he fell to the ground.

   Throwing off my uniform I picked the keys from his belt and unlocked the door. I was immediately hugged by Sunny.

“Oh thank you thank you THANK YOU!” She squealed as loud as her little pony lungs allowed her, “It was spooky in there and those guys were making us do things and-”

   One of the escapees interrupted her banter with a question that they all looked like they had been wondering.

“Who are you?”

“Does it really matter to you? We still need to get you to the safe room before they come back.”

“Ooh! I know where that is mister!” Happy said, her namesake making itself present once more. “I even know all the secret tunnels they put around to keep bad guys from finding it!”

“Show me.”

   “Um… um… ok, first you need to find the third stone on bottom of the west wall, then go up 3 and tap it four times.” She lead me to the wall and tapped the stone the required amount of times. Much to me and the other’s disbelief it actually opened to a tunnel.

   “You go, I’ll stay here and tie up the bad guy.” The group understood and headed down the hall before shutting the door. I turned to face him I searched the man’s pockets and found a set of handcuffs, perhaps used to escort the prisoners. I snapped them on him and took off his shoes and socks, making a makeshift gag with them. I put him inside the cell and locked the door, seeing it as a fitting punishment.

   He woke up just as I had locked the door and gave him an evil grin before putting my costume back on. He started to shout muffled threats at me. Looking back at him I gave him a tip of the hat and sent myself to deal with the others. As I shut the door behind me, I took one out an assault rifle I had taken from one of them, broke the knob off the door, and pocketed it.

   I headed to where I heard footsteps (as well as gunshots!) and found myself by the entrance. The secretary was huddled under her desk as the others pelted it with bullets. She had already been shot several times and it would only be a matter of time until she bled to death.

“CEASEFIRE.” I shouted at the top of my lungs and the group responded. “I am Colonel Bradford and I will be escorting this…” I turned to face the terrified pony on the floor, “THING to where we’re holding the others.”

   The small group nodded and let me carry her out of the room, once out of earshot I whispered to the injured thing.

“It’s ok, we’re going somewhere safe.” I told her as I headed down to the basement once more. I opened the door with the doorknob, said hi to the imprisoned sociopath and sent her down the secret tunnel. She gave me a checklist of ponies at the bureau and told me the ones I had already saved, when asked how she knew which ones I had already saved she gave me a wink and said

“Magic, duh.”

   I was only missing three ponies and a scientist from the list, on the back of it was, thankfully, a map. I had an idea of where to head and where to start searching.

OOC: Yes, I had forcefully ripped the main idea from Dead Rising: escorting innocents too and fro in a hostile environment. I find that the idea was too good to pass up for an attempt at writing, unfortunately it ended up like the most of my writings. I feel that, while being good at portraying my side of arguments I am a complete failure at writing anything else. I, thankfully, have not reached the level of failure that certain people were born with. My writings are able to entertain some at the very least, however if you find something you wish to complain about I wish you'd tell me so I could attempt to adjust my future writings... that and the fact that nobody seems to like to comment on my story.