Equestria, /HaS/, and the Untodes Korps

After the defeat of whatever that thing was, the mood was of triumph, and as everyone started cheering and celebrating, something very peculiar happened.

All the vehicles exploded, tossing ragged and torn passengers about like ragdolls.

Not only that, but the skies took a fiery red and black charcoal smoke billowed into the sky. The ruined buildings, made of concrete and glass, somehow all caught ablaze, resembling pyres, with flames that licked the sky. The smoke billowed out into the street and the flames threatened to engulf us in an instant. No access was possible anymore into any of the buildings, as the entrances were a solid yellow of hellfire.

In an instant, the death-like stillness and the green fog of the city had been replaced by an inferno.

Shortly after this happened was when the screaming started.

It was in all the mind, and in the air. Any rational, calm thought was utterly destroyed by the fire and the siren call of the damned.

From the hellish portals of the buildings, they came. The zombies were bad enough, what with the rotting flesh, unnatural gait, and the unmoving desire for the flesh of the living.

But they were also all on fire. They resembled walking wicker men, what with the charred skin and the never ending wail that issued forth from their burning selves. However, they weren't walking. They were running at the crowd of the living. A trickle of burning zombies soon became a flood, a veritable horde of the hellish dead.

Somebody, or pony, screamed "Run!"

The ponies and humans gathered there needed no encouragement, and the fleeing began in earnest.

Gunshots ran out, being fired with abandon at anything and everything that wasn't them. A few even managed a burst or a well-aimed headshot into the crowd.

But what was a few dozen firearms against thousands?

The rout continued. The fire, thankfully, had not reached the streets, which means the panicked and fleeing survivors had a clear path, but with no objective.

It came as a moment of clarity to one of the guard ponies, armor stained red and practically dirtied to the point where one would look upon him like a battle-scarred veteran of many years of war, even though Iron Point himself had just got here yesterday.

"To the boat!"

The cruise liner. Of course. They could actually get away from this hell, if only they reached the boat. A beam of hope flickered through the whole being of survivors, as bright and as hot as the fires that raged around them.

Then they started to fall. Those with injuries went first, being entirely engulfed by the horde and trampled under the boots of the dead.

Death would not avail them, however.

With a flash of red, and the burst of blood, the survivors suddenly appeared again at the head of the pack and looked around confusedly before either being trampled again or getting the hint and started fleeing.

And so, they ran. Even the sound of guns teetered off as the beleaguered survivors forsake fight for flight, as a mantra soon began in all their heads.

To the boat.

Tactical Genius may not have been too clever a man when he used to insist on wearing a cape, but hindsight's always 20/20.

Having discarded the article of clothing in the escape, Tactical was the first to reach the beach, where a small train station sat, partially concealing a massive train on tracks.

Were adrenaline not rushing through his body, he would most definitely have wondered why a train station would sit here, not to mention the fact that the tracks led to a tunnel that ran underwater, out to sea.

A train station didn't compete very well for his attention in the moment, next to the wall of teeth and fire and reaching hands still pursuing his associates. He opened fire, at first with single shots to efficiently cover the rest of the retreating group, but he quickly abandoned finesse and rained automatic rifle fire into the teeming, burning horde. Others joined him, and soon, those with machine guns, like Volkenstein, were able to set up their weapons and the firing line took shape as gunfire soon overpowered the horde. The sound of the damned was drowned out as the desperate defense became a vindictive firepower was unleashed by vengeful hands and hooves. The burning tide soon became a trickle, and the few remaining zombies were dismembered from the volume of bullets and combat spells lobbed at them.

The wall of fire reduced to a few burning cinders and patches of yellow-orange flame, and the green fog replaced the haze of black and hellish-red smoke. The stillness that followed was almost comforting, as human and pony alike breathed in heavy heaps, the smell of burnt powder and masonry and flesh hung heavy in the air. They all experienced burning lungs and burning legs, and as they all sucked precious air into themselves, they become painfully aware of their collective dehydration.

And it is in this dead quiet that someone started laughing. Soon, others joined them, and everyone had a much-needed bout of the giggles. After the last had their share of the giggles, they all turned as one to regard the train station behind them.

"Is it safe?"

Tatsuo Sakae and Classy clambered out of the train, heaving and with fresh blood on themselves and their weapons.

Classy answered grimly, “As safe as anything can be in this damn place.”

Swarmlord then asked, “So, no elites?”

Classy shook his head. The stillness of the place had everyone on edge, but they were all tired.

Alexander sighed, then stepped into the train. “Safe enough.”

Alberts looked at the tunnel leading out to sea and asked, “You guys sure about this? This seems unsafe.

“We don’t care.”

As it turns out, the train was safe. Also, it was as stylish as it was bloodstained. Classy and the boarding team claim to have found it like that, but nobody seemed to care.

After all, everyone was caked in blood. They would shower, but the plumbing is also filled with blood. This was true even on the train. So, everyone remained filthy.

Some folks were less happy about it than others.

“I need a shower. An actual shower.”

“We all do, eh.”

Tux and Pat, along with Michael, Alexander, and Alberts, lounged on the many couches in one of the train carts. Even if they were resting their boots on their respective expensive couches, it was fine.  The couches already smelled of death. Alberts even pulled out a fresh-looking skull from underneath a cushion, prompting him to say, “Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him well.”

That got only a few chuckles from everybody else.

After tossing the skull out of the window, Alberts asked, “Why isn’t the train moving yet?”

The train shuddered, and, with a metallic screech and the thundering of engines, the massive luxury liner train was finally moving. Tux eyed a tin of... something, and after giving the contents a sniff, he said, “Red must’ve found the brake release.”

His words fell on deaf ears, however, as Alberts had already fallen asleep, as had Alexander and Michael. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that people would catch some winks when they could, as the fighting could resume at any time. Even the ponies turned in immediately in the bunk car, instead of mingling with the smelly, tired apes. Tux set aside the tin with the questionable content and was about to turn in himself when he heard, “Wait.”

Blinking away the sleep, Tux sat up on the couch and regarded Pat. “Yeah, Pat?”

Pat twiddled her thumbs, then sighed. “It’s just... I’m not sure how we’re gonna get out of this, eh? Not only that, but what are we going to do when we do get this whole zombie invasion bullshit solved, eh? Will we stay in Equestria, or will we go home, eh? Would we be productive members of Equestrian Society, or would we be nuisances, eh? Not only that, but...”

Pat leaned forward, gripped her head, and grimaced.

“I can see them when I close my eyes. The screaming, the clawing, the biting... it’s everywhere, present in my mind and in the waking world. Tux, how many times have you died, eh?”

Tux hung his head low. “Too many times. I t-try not to think about dying again.”

“Exactly, eh? It’s one thing to fight war against another human being, to fight someone like you, that has hopes and dreams and can be negotiated with. This, eh? It’s fighting against hell itself, eh? We’re fighting against the unending, the undying. How do we fight that, eh?”

Pat shuddered violently. Tux shook his head, cleaned his glasses, and said, “I- I don’t know.”

The pitch-black train tunnel gave way to the skyline of Manehatten. Everyone looking outside the train would see that their week-long train ride (interrupted by random zombies) has apparently carried them across the sea and nearly to that city. However, the train was slowing.

Red tried to make sense of the readouts in the train engine, but something very peculiar ended.

The train disappeared. Along with the train tracks. The tunnel was gone, too. in their place was a gathering of confused humans and ponies. Looking behind them, they saw the beached cruiseliner. A piercing headache pervaded the mind of anyone who looked at it, and so, everyone was rubbing their temples, cursing the occult general, and headed off to Manehatten.

Manehatten was empty.

Gutted building surrounded a vacant street, and grey dust hung heavy in the air and on everything, muting the once-vibrant colors of the town.

The towers, like sentinels, watched the advancing party with a million empty windows. The corpse of a town was eerily silent, save for the wind blowing through broken glass and dark alleyways. did nothing but wear on the already frayed nerves of everybody there. Humans and ponies alike checked their weapons, ever sure that something would happen around the next corner, but nothing came.

Nothing but the wind. They all wordlessly filed to the train station. Not a sound was made by anyone, as frightened as they were by this new development. The first person to round the corner to see the train almost opened fire. There, in the grey dusty cloud, was the train, looming like a crouched predator, ready to strike.

If the predator was faded pink. Nobody blamed Edward Gloriana, though.

With a little bit more confidence this time, everybody boarded the train. It was smaller than the nazi zombie train, but it was nicer, since the cushions weren’t soggy and reeking of gore and the bloodstains was absent. Pinkie Pie even made pancakes, albeit with a lot less energy than she would if the situation was anything near normal. Nobody seemed to mind, though, and the mood was even lightened as they had their first hot meal in weeks.

Finally, the train was off to Canterlot.

“It looks like a model.”

Confused, Twilight turned around to see Scott trying to shush a giggling Michael, while trying not to giggle himself. She rolled her eyes and looked back to the capital. All three of them were in the passenger car, in a room that, gladly enough, wasn’t covered with swastikas and pentagrams.

It sure had changed when Twilight last saw Canterlot. The gleaming walls and shining spires were dulled by the fog, and it even looked menacing with this gloomy lighting.

It saddened her that this calamity could even spread to where she had spent her foalhood, and even if she was technically returning to it, it seemed very alien to Twilight Sparkle.

She looked back to the idly conversing Scott and Michael, and was glad that that at least the ponies weren't going into the unknown alone.

Inside the Canterlot Castle itself, Twilight, her friends, and the humans all made their way to the Throne Room. Inside, they hoped to find the other Princesses, and to see how best they could end this horror story. They had entered a fortress Canterlot, with a few... incidents. They were almost attacked on sight by worn-down and trigger-happy Guards ponies, with the humans looking too much to them like the undead that occasionally assault the city of Canterlot, some even having donned the same Nazi uniforms as the undead.

For some reason, the humans had chosen the individual known as Pat to represent them in an official manner, and while she was a bit quirky, Twilight Sparkle thought she could get along with Pat quite nicely. She seemed more level-headed than the men of the group.

Hopefully, this first contact wouldn’t go wrong.

First contact had gone wrong.

As soon as Twilight Sparkle and Pat had entered the throne room, a flash of color, and Pat was held against the wall by an irate Princess Luna. She was more worse for wear as well, with dented armor and bandaging in places all over. She wore a sneer on her face as her forearm pressed against Pat’s throat. Luna’s horn glowed menacingly. Alarmed, Twilight ran up to Luna and wrestled Luna away from Pat, saying, “Princess Luna, stop! She’s not undead!”

Luna didn’t reply, instead leaning in closer and inspecting Pat for any sign of hostility. Pat coughed, half-chuckled, half-wheezed, then said, “Why... so forward, Princess. If I knew about this, I would’ve come in a dress, eh?”

Luna blinked, then released Pat bashfully. “We... I must apologize. Recent events have... taken a toll on even me.”

Pat coughed a little, brushed some dust off her coat, and said, “It’s been hard on us too, eh. We’ve been abducted from our homes and dumped into a crumbling city full of death and grey and crawling and teeth and...”

Over the course of her words, Pat turned less jovial and more panicked and wide-eyed, gripping the hilt of her sword.

“Something wants us, eh? Wants to use us. We can’t even die. We can’t even die. We just come back and the agony begins again. The Occult General wants to use us as it’s tools of war, which doesn’t even make sense, eh?! It’s already got zombies, even some bullshit jumping sniper zombies a-and massive gunner zombies that just gets angry when you shoot them in the head a-and...”

Pat finally broke down, falling to her knees and bitterly holding back tears as only a soldier could. She held her arms with tattered gloves, tears staining her ruined hair and clothing. Once, Pat could be called stable. Happy, even.

She put up a brave face for the boys, that they might rally to her when their own strength falters, but in truth...

Patlestia was just as unsteady as the worst of them. Even now, the tendrils of death encroach in her vision, threatening to take her again, and again, and again, without any release, or respite, or rest, or pause, or any hint of remorse...

Suddenly, the darkness threatening to take Pat’s soul was lifted, leaving only a clarity and a calmness that washed away the affliction that had Pat in a grip. Pat looked up to see Princess Celestia. She was just as battered and tired-looking as Pat was, and her horn glowed in a white ethereal light. Her face was one of motherly concern, and as Pat scanned Celestia, Celestia scanned Pat. Finally, Celestia set her face in a righteous sneer and simply said,

“I have heard enough.”