Metal is Magic: Vengeance

by Randmizr-77

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 3044

Haunted by his past, a heavily scarred bat pony goes on a quest for vengeance.

Many years ago, the world experienced a technological revolution that changed everything for the better, for both the extremely wealthy and the ordinary.

Dusk is only ordinary in that he's a pony. Unlike most, he's a bat pony with a mental state now comparable to Mad Max. Lately, all he's done is aimlessly wander Equestria, working temp jobs to keep himself supported, his car his only companion, indulging in his old hobbies to keep himself in a relatively good mood and keep his painful memories from getting too close to his comfort zone.

But then a chance encounter lands him the opportunity to settle the score with those who wronged him. The catch? He's going to have to fight for it, gladiator-style.

[Author's notes] This story was heavily inspired by and is based on Twisted Metal PS3/2012. It will go through all of the events in the game's campaign. Rated for language, violence, and dark subjects (though they may not be obvious at the beginning). I need a cover image for this story, but have no method of payment; contact me if you're interested, anyway.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-02-14 07:40:34 UTC

Chances

I charged into the turn at nearly full throttle, keeping the rear end free as I barreled through with the other cars hot on my tail. Bastards knew they could've made this a cinch and used vehicles that weighed at least half a ton more than mine; they used similar vehicles because they wanted to make a game out of this.

An MX-5 began to pull up on my right, only for me to ram it and send it nose-first into a freeway pillar. For me, it only meant that I had slightly raised my chance of surviving this and escaping. I swerved to avoid rear-ending a same-way traffic car, sliding sideways into oncoming traffic before the tires hooked up and helped propel me back into same-way traffic.

I knew what they did to us and anybody on our side. I'd much rather die in a high speed car accident than die because of them.

On my radar, I heard the police catch wind of the chase. How long it would take them to show up and start causing problems for all of us was anybody's guess. I kept my focus on what was in front of me as I shifted gears and kept darting through traffic.

Red and blue lights began flashing, joined by the familiar wail of a police siren, as the 5-0 arrived. I only spared a brief glance in that direction to make sure the car wasn't coming up to try to spin me out. When I confirmed that it wasn't, I returned my gaze forward.

A Civic began flanking my left side, but I swerved and slammed it into oncoming traffic, where it collided head-on with a tractor-trailer. I didn't look back to see the aftermath.

"Officers this is Unit 453, it looks like the red 240SX is going to be our biggest problem; engage it with extreme caution. I repeat, engage the red 240SX with extreme caution." I heard one of the officers speak up on the radar.

I turned onto a highway on-ramp.

I refused to be another victim. I'd willingly kill myself before that happened.

I shifted and weaved between a sedan and a bus.

*   *   *   *   *

My eyes opened as I shot up, the only sound reaching my ears being my fast breathing.

I looked around me. I wasn't imprisoned in some place that was either out of the public's view or wouldn't be on anybody's radar. I was in a hotel room, in the lone bed, the sheets and blankets now damp with sweat.

"..."

I had checked myself in about two months earlier, landed a temporary job with decent pay, and had just woken up from a flashback dream. My memories, both the joyful ones and the excruciatingly painful ones, remained as they had been last night.

I looked at the clock.

5:38 am

I looked behind me; my leathery, bat-like wings remained. I got up, walked into the bathroom, splashed a bit of cold water on my face, and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My yellow irises with vertical slit pupils remained, as did my fangs and tufted ears. My purple fur and orange mane and tail remained slightly unkempt, and the whites of my eyes remained slightly bloodshot. My cutie mark, a smoking tire, remained unchanged. My name was still Dusk.

Yeah, I was still the bat pony I had been for the past year.

"..."

I sighed softly, exited, and began packing my things. Five years I had been on the run, and for the past year I had been running as a lonewolf. It didn't stop hurting.

I put on my necklace, feeling a brief wave of warmth pass over me. Re-entering the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror again. Now, all of the physical traits that marked me as a 16-year-old bat pony had vanished; I looked like a largely ordinary 16-year-old pegasus. It was a tool to help me survive given to me by one of the few good ponies in my life.

And now they were all gone. I had been completely alone for a year. It wouldn't be the first time the pain had temporarily become unbearable.

Equestria disgusted me. Almost 150 years ago, the whole world began to undergo a technological evolution with the invention of a self-propelled carriage. It evolved into the automobile, a massive change that was later followed by the television and various revolutionary electronic items. I didn't have any problem with that; I liked it, and I owned something from the 1990s, one of the best eras for affordable sports cars that had room for plenty of modification.

Rather, what disgusted me was that bat ponies not a part of the Royal Guard were often brutally murdered, just because of fucking superstition. It had happened many times before the tech evolution, hadn't stopped even after Nightmare Moon's ultimate defeat, yet the country still claims that they're a land of friendship. It's nothing but bullshit, helped by the fucking sadists that are The Children of the Sun, who claim they're "sending evil monsters back to Tartarus, where they belong" whenever they kill one of us.

After what they did to me, if I could, I'd chop off the unicorns' horns, rip off the pegasi's wings, break the earth ponies' limbs one by one, and finish by tying down their fucking leader and splitting them open like a book. I'd like to see how all of them liked having their victims turn the tables and make them suffer in the ways they were forced to.

They say that our rides are soundproofed so victims' cries for help can't be heard. My car is without a doubt at the bottom of the list of vehicles for a serial killer: a red 1994 Nissan 240SX. Like most of them in existence, it visually differed from stock in more than a few ways: stylish-yet-sturdy 5-lug wheels wrapped with wider-than-stock performance tires, upgraded brakes, a vented hood, a lower ride height courtesy of performance springs and shocks, and a body kit identical to the one on a 180SX Type X on the outside, and a roll cage, lighter front seats, a few additional gauges, and a short-throw shifter on the inside. Unlike most of these cars, however, very few of the modifications on mine were just for show; most of it was there to make the car faster.

There were faster cars out there, but I'd like to drive this one for as long as I could.

I gently placed all of my things into the trunk, got in, and fired it up, being greeted by the lovely growl from the new exhaust. I had considered swapping the KA24 four-cylinder truck engine that came stock for a lighter SR20 four-cylinder that Nissan used in the Neighponese-equivalent 180SX and Silvia, but it would've taken years to save up the bits to buy one, on top of the hassle of finding a mechanic that could service it. My family had never been low-income, but for me, the cons of that engine swap outweighed the pros.

For the past two years, I wandered the country, staying at hotels for two to three months at a time, landing temp jobs to provide me with money necessary to survive, racing at track days and autocross events at local racetracks to keep my general mood from falling into the "seriously considering suicide" zone. The last thing didn't always work, but it beat the fucking hell out of wallowing in emotional pain.

I exited the parking lot, refilled the tank at a nearby fuel station, and hit the highway while I started playing one of my favorite songs on the radio.

*   *   *   *   *

I had made it to Coltiforneigha by nighttime. I had been born and raised in a different part of the country, but it always seemed like a great vacation area to me. The naturally sunny weather helped ease the pain a bit. Yes, bat ponies are nocturnal by nature, but that doesn't mean we're weakened by the sun; our eyes are just more sensitive to light.

After determining where I'd stay, I went out for a drive, enjoying the city lights. I drove onto one of the back alley roads, stopping and stepping out of my car (still leaving it running), and relaxing in the sparse atmosphere while removing my necklace, feeling a brief coolness pass through me as the disguise vanished.

"..."

The tempest constantly raging in my head began to calm slightly, enough for me to be able to see a decent distance ahead of me with mildly above average visibility.

"..."

I wondered if Mad Max ever had these calmer moments inside his head.

"..."

I perked up at the sound of approaching shouting. Suspicious, I flew up to the roofs and looked down in the direction of the shouting, spotting a white pony wearing a tan trenchcoat dashing down one of the alleyways while being chased by a small mob of five. As they neared, I realized that the hunted was actually an albino. And a bat pony.

It didn't take a team of rocket scientists to figure out who the ponies chasing him were.

I noticed that he was heading towards a narrow path that led to where I was. I flew down to the path, stepped into the alley, and motioned for him to follow me before rushing back to my Nissan, hearing his panting follow me.

"Right side!" I shouted as we approached, prompting him to get in through the passenger's side. Flinging myself into my seat, I dropped the stick shift into first and floored the gas, throwing us out of the alley and turning right onto the thankfully sparsely populated street. I didn't look behind me, only lifting off of the gas pedal to shift.

"Know where we can lie low?" I asked my new passenger.

"Yeah, there's a safe spot up ahead." He replied, his voice slightly raspy from his running.

At his directions, I slowed and turned into another alley while turning off my car's lights, before steering into a disused garage.

"I never expected any witnesses to actually give a shit about my predicament." Albino said while we got out of the car to make sure that they weren't following us. "So why'd you help?"

"I happened to be nearby trying to clear my head and I followed our kind's unspoken rule." I replied simply.

There was an unspoken rule among bat ponies. Having been hunted for so long, we had a way to survive: if you see another bat pony is in grave danger, you at least try to help them out. The only exception would be if you knew them and you both hated each other's very existence, and as far as I know, that has yet to happen.

"What's you're name, anyway?" He asked me.

"Dusk." I said, not mentioning that my name now had next to no meaning to me.

"Snow."

Very fitting name.

"When can we leave?" I asked.

"We'll roll out in early morning." He replied. "Think you can wake up in time?"

"I wouldn't doubt it."

*   *   *   *   *

I woke up at about 5 am after my usual nightmare-filled sleep. Granted, I only got about six hours of sleep, but at this point, it was like I slept like that for most of my life. I actually have for less than half of my life, but it still paints a clear picture.

After Snow scouted outside to make sure there wasn't anybody waiting to ambush us, the two of us hopped into my car and headed out.

"So how'd you end up here?" Snow asked me, breaking the silence.

"I've been wandering for the past five years and have been doing so alone for the past one." I explained plainly. "This car is one of the few things I have left from my old life."

"Well you've got good taste in sports cars, I've gotta give you that." Snow said as we continued on the freeway. "What engine are you running in this?"

"KA24DE with ported heads, basic upgrades, a flashed ECU, and an OBDII conversion." I replied, happy that I could discuss a normal subject with somebody else without having to wear my disguise. "I considered putting in an SR20DE, but the hassles just didn't seem worth it to me. And it would take me at least a couple of years to save up the bits necessary to buy one in good condition."

Glancing over, I noticed that Snow appeared to be about 18-19 years old. I wondered what his past life was like.

"You know, I'd often find that about half of the owners of these cars have seriously considered a motor swap." Snow said out of the blue.

"Well the original Dodge Viper used a truck engine and it made it work." I pointed out. "The way I see it, this car shares that same basic principle."

The next couple of minutes passed by in silence before the albino directed me to a gas station next to a fast food joint that I just happened to love; I was very happy when we stopped at the latter.

"So are you going to continue on solo, or do you need me to get you to a particular place?" I asked Snow after we had eaten.

"I actually have a few questions for you." He replied. "I'm sorry in advance if I touch a nerve, but this is really important."

That raised two red flags in my head, but I remained silent and nodded.

"First off is why you're here; I mean do you live here, are you on vacation, or are you just passing through?"

"I guess you could say it's a little from Column B and a little from Column C." I replied. "I don't have any final destination in mind."

"Alright, that leads directly to my second question." Snow continued. "What made you start wandering in the first place?"

That right there touched a nerve.

"... Something unpleasant five years ago is what." I said with a slight edge in my voice.

"Okay. Third is what do you want to do about this unpleasant part of your past?" Snow asked, catching me by surprise.

"... I'd like to hunt down and kill the fuckers that did this to me." I growled.

"Well if you're for real and brave, you can get a shot at doing that."

"..."

For a few seconds, my brain paused as I processed what he had just said.

"... Whaddya mean?" I asked once my brain got going again.

Snow glanced around us before speaking.

"I mean I'm with a group of others with similar pasts and motives. Each year, a small number of us get an opportunity to even things out, so to speak."

Hmm...

"... Go on." I said.

"We call ourselves the Black Hearts, and each year we compete in a gladiator-style tournament." The albino explained. "At the end of each round of battles, the winner gets one wish granted, no matter what it is."

This had to be a lie.

"I know it sounds like I'm just blowing smoke up your ass, but this is the real deal. The first catch though, is that you've got to prove that you're committed to this."

"... How so?" I asked.

"I'm going to take an educated shot and assume it's the Children of the Sun you've got a beef with." Snow said, getting a nod from me. "Well we happen to keep tabs on whoever the hell drove us off the deep end, and I know the location of one of the Children's hideouts."

"And?"

"And to prove yourself to us, you have to send a kamikaze car in there to bring the place down."

... What?

"I don't mean sacrifice yourself, I mean set a car filled with explosives on the path to enter, light the fuse, and bail out before it goes in; the explosion will take any evidence out with everyone inside."

"..."

I thought about this. Yes, I couldn't completely rule out the possibility that he was lying. But if he was telling the truth...

"..."

... I could finally get the revenge I'd been craving for two-and-a-half years...

"... I'll do it." I said firmly.

Initially, Snow's near-blank gaze remained locked on mine, never wavering.

"..."

I didn't look away.

"..."

"... Alright then." He said finally. "I'll show you the location and give you the wheels tonight."

*   *   *   *   *

Snow showed me where the bastards' hideout was; it was an unassuming house on the corner of a road in a quiet neighborhood. He gave me the ride; it was a '90s Dodge Durango, one that just happened to be filled with canisters of napalm rigged to catch fire and a stick of dynamite to spread everything. It was perfect.

"..."

I silently lined the Dodge up with the house, the headlights off, keeping the brute cloaked in the darkness.

"..."

I dropped it into drive and floored the gas.

The beast's motor pulled with surprising force that belied its overall weight.

50 miles per hour, 55, 60. I switched on the cruise control as the house neared.

"..."

I lit the fuses and jumped out, clutching the detonator against my chest.

"..."

I watched the beast smash through the front of the house before I hit the detonator's trigger button.

BOOM

The dynamite stick went off perfectly, scattering the then-flaming napalm throughout the house and quickly rendering it engulfed in fire.

"..."

Snow showed up in his '98 Camaro, lights switched off, and I hopped in before we sped off.

"Did that do the trick?" I asked the albino.

"It did." He replied. "It's our way of making sure that you're not really somebody in disguise. In just a few minutes, I'll be able to give you the details of this tournament."

I turned my attention to our surroundings.

What would happen? How long would it take for me to achieve victory, assuming I survived? What would my long-yearned-for revenge be like exactly?

Only time would tell.