Fallout: Equestria - Red, White and Blue

I trotted there with anxious company. We were amassed at the Dank Family Penitentiary. Carbon took a sigh of deep, wavering intensity. I stayed wordless listening to her complaints. And so did Tequila, or, whoever had the body at that time. Because I knew how Tequila felt. I knew how my nephilim felt after the whole depressing abandonment affair.

We were both hollowed by it and Star Spangled was the last thing I had left in Equestria to call my own. Prognosis: we were all hurting somewhere, somehow.

I lit a cigarette to steel my nerves. Because I couldn't feel them, not at all.

"Like are we actually going in here because we'll probably die from an ambush. Aren't you afraid ot that. Aren't you afraid monsters lurking caverns." Said Ms. Copy, taking the flank this time around.

My party was fully-armed. Well, except for myself because I ran out of shells and so did my fences. Mother had the lever action and Carbon had her spiked horseshoes. I had Mr. Money to thank for that contribution. He and the tribals had fashioned it for her without finance. But I did my best to accommodate them with caps and recycled scrap metal or the like from a nearby Trash Heap. That place was rather unexpected because it was my first exposure to mundane wasteland radiation.

When my geiger counter started, Mother told me it was a dangerous substance. I asked why and used my natural toughness to discuss counter arguments.

Just like Mother told me, I found deep in the tetanus-laden mouth of the penitentiary, radiation and taint didn't work like bullets. Just the barest hint of taint and radiation was difficult to cope with. The equine anatomy did not evolve to deal with gamma radiation or theta waves or pulse shockwaves like it did with pure kinetic energy. How did I know, you might ask.

I entered the cavern, opened the gated entrance and came crashing to the floor as a carriage engine slammed into me. Some uncultured brat had stuck a trap at the very entrance.

Who. Why. I forced a grunt away coming up, unsure of how seriously my sternum hurt. I wasn't a soft pony. I wasn't delicate at all. It became a detriment, though, when I went trotting about with a crippled chest to the dismay of my colleagues.

Mother kissed my chest fur and administered stimpak where it hurt.

It wouldn't take effect immediately. For some reason, medication liked to do that with me. I knew so braving the depths of the old penitentiary. It was fine at first, roaming the halls past the eerily unscathed visiting block and the initial hallways lined with abandoned cells. But the further in we went, the more decrepit it turned.

There were two flourescent light fixtures per square yard. It must've been an architectural regulation. I trotted as the lead pony scouting for alien noises or sudden motions in the darkness. We passed another corner filled with open cells. The most puzzling thing, aside from how pitch black the insides were, was how completely empty they were. It was only a tiny cluster, too. There were four containment cells with a single noose decorating the far left room. I noted the lack of a skeleton or time-worn corpse within the vicinity.

A soft clicking noise echoed throughout the darkness. I perked my ears up. The noise bounced out from behind us. All the lights were dying. A wave of obscura crashed toward us; the fixtures themselves never broke, but the dark grew wild and bloated as the black avalanche chased us forward. I switched my pipbuck light on and I urged them to run.

Carbon Copy took off first. Mother stayed behind her, hurriedly watching me in momentary and choppy glances. I lagged the most. And I was also the only one capable of blocking out my fear. I erected a ring of fire around me and spotted an elevator not five minutes away.

"Take the hallway to the left! Come back and take the elevator!"

"Doesn't that go down!?" Tequial called, shaking and wracked with fatigue.

I pulled Carbon away by the hem of her dress. My teeth were clamped firmly around her as Mother gained with fleet pacing. We struck a few cans and papers that made us stumble. All the clattering and scrunching noise burned my nerves away. A sharp, violent clang struck the ground beneath us and I hadn't noticed, but it was grated unlike all the other hallways. I tripped over a loose tin and it cost me precious seconds and seconds drilling into me, forcing my coat soaked with sweat.

I scurried toward the rusted and rickety, metal elevator doors. They were grated links and tetanus-bitten by time and neglect. I slammed my hoof down to press whatever button I could. The noises waxed. I heard Carbon shriek as all my balance went dead. Her panic left my ears shot and left me cope with constant beeps and rings, audible annoyances trying deeply every part of me. So I shoved them in and pressed my back against the entrance.

I wouldn't let anyone hurt them. I would let anyone take them away.

I saw it. A hulking, violent figure with many, prominent veins and swollen arms lumbered toward me. It's height was comparable to two ponies on their hindlegs erected toward the sky. It's limbs were lankier than expected but somehow rippling with dense strength. It even had wings of a sickly and leathery sort marked by jagged bits of protective metal, and that metal too became tetanus-eaten like the many far walls and cells of the penitentiary. It's piecemeal wing armor resembled the metal on it's weapon. Twas a javelin of archaic, yet simply ingenious design. The spear shaft was layered in worn linen and the wings beneath the spear showed scientific understanding, it showed ingelligent malcontent.

My enemy kept it pointed at my muzzle at all times, barely a yard away.

The beast had a skull for a facial structure of sorts and boasted jagged teeth every which way, with an elongated avian snout that held a winding, slithering mouth muscle. I watched it stalk toward me with talons for fingers and toes despite the humanoid shape it crouched about so eerily on. The unknown devil had a head prone to convulsing and jerking in mad rhythms. There were gaping, sunken pits were mother nature place the eyes. And it lurched forward, stained with white paste from some horrid encounter.

It's pelvic region was endowed to painful measures. The brutal, primeval beast crept over and I struggled to stay my ground if only from one, incedinary stench dissecting my innards. It's equivalence was dry milk and salted tin. I would've wretched if I felt typical equine weakness, if I felt fear.

I only felt hatred. Because what was this thing, this taker of souls and bodies and first times; twas a beast and little more than that. Animals deserved to be sacrificed when abusing their station among mares. Among Celestia's children.

And though I felt fine facing one of the beasts, four more appeared from the indecent shadows and impregnable penitentiary cells. Long, snaking arms tore cell doors from inside out and behind them were more Furies. I named them Furies because they reminded me of simple vengeance, simple recompense for somepony like me commiting my atrocities day in and day out. They shambled forward on stilt-high legs and pointed winged spears, sometimes using their polearms as canes.

We met five to one as the rattling elevator noise deafened me to Carbon's screams of begging me to run. But I knew all too well I couldn't run. They would chase her. They would chase her and Star Spangle. I slipped through them with a leap forward and a gallop far down the narrow corridors of their hellish lair. Four were upon me. But where was the fifth. I struggled to keep my footing since most of the floor had flooded with... brown, rusty liquid.

Wild sloshes and harsh, booming clatters erupted behind me. I wouldn't escape running forever. Winged spear beasts were rushing towards me. I was only glad their wings were far too wide and immense to serve function in those damp and rotting corridors. I smelled familiar eureka when I darted past a previously unseen block. The maintenance block was my next marathon setting. Because I was tired and sweaty, but the many Furies were still upon me. I wondered just how conditioned they must have been to sustain chase for over an estimated half hour.

I splashed over to an obscure corner of the maintenance block and found a small, crudely-drawn map. It'd been managed with red sharpie that magically disappeared when applied to another part of it's laminated surface. My hooves were shaking from adrenaline overload and sloppy, primal mindsets. I stayed quiet amidst echoing horror gaining behind me.

There were five blocks on the first floor. The visitors block was the entrance, cell block A-1 was the entire block preceding, the maintenance block was my current location and the... culinary block was to my right. I had it. I would gallop over to the culinary block. I didn't even ponder as I splashed forward to my next destination. I didn't have time to think. I winced, stabbed below my temples from wretched shrieks and squawks not meters behind me. They were closing in and I could only force myself forward by bludgeoning myself on stray foodcarts and glass embedding deep within my chest.

Scrambling out of the penitentiary deathtrap narrows, I entered the main mess hall. Or, probably, the only mess hall. It's spacious perimeter was packed with tables. It gave me a strategy. Hit and run tactics would preserve me. I finally darted into the kitchen and rummaged about for secret ingredients. Between my scouring, I peaked over the open counter to find the Furies crawling on all fours and sniffing the environment.

I waited for the first one to approach the door.

I dumped a vat of grease over him. He lunged forward, but I ducked low and set him ablaze. His flaming form was manic and thrashing. He flailed his spear around and grazed me in different places despite my dodging, despite my experience slipping out of strikes and clawing haymakers. This beast was much more intelligent. It tried to douse the flames with the brown substance beneath us. It lit a low, glowing pyre over the surface of the rustbrown effluvium.

I intercepted his spear thrusts with stray serving trays and shattering plates. He attempted to circle around but I leapt onto the counter to my right and bucked him off-balance. The volume of his tumbling crash bludgeoned my ears and the surrounding silverware. I found a knife, a kitchen knife, so I bit down on it and slashed his neck red. Twas a high neck, a stretched and scrawny neck apparently unprotected unlike their wings or scrap-armored chests. I finally figured out one of their weaknesses when the others beated their wings to extinguish the dim oil fire.

Shit.

"Can't you all be brainless brutes like the rest of the monsters?" I asked, fixing my tie and noting... just how heavy it was.

It felt like metal lined the insides, a trick of assassination success. I knew it. Tequila's father wasn't just a scientist. He must've been some sort of... spy or secret agent. Furies, furious and frantic with fruitful and free steps, lunged lazily over with legs lankier by the step. It was most perfectly described as a cartoon character tiptoing in loose, long strides.

Crouching low, my belly to the water, I knew the tie sunk in, growing heavier and soaking with metallic waste liquids. He thrust his spear at me and I jerked downward. I kept him at bay with a flowing, bobbing motion. I indicated myself toward the right by twisting my body. He fell for my feint. I dashed forward and assumed a bipedal stance. The raw shock of being accosted in such a manner paralyzed him. My right forehoof slammed forward and rippled his entire torso. My compact uppercut floored him instantly and left the others, before preoccupied with the corpse of their fallen, swarming me from the flank.

Cold, merciless metal tore my coat apart. One had stuck my ribs. And the other punctured my sternum open. I grunted and lit the spears alight. Immediately, I knew from their primal cowardice and abrupt, jerky response, that they were afraid of light, afraid of Celestia's cinder. So I brought it to them. I lit myself ablaze and flung toward them in great strides. I herded them in the kitchen quarters with a spear between my teeth.

As hard as they'd flap their wings, as many gusts as they'd flood me with, the wildfires couldn't be suffocated; I couldn't be stomped out. How many lives had they taken, I fumed, rattling in my shrunken pupils. I fell upon them. I rode one of the Furies' backs and brittled him with hooks to the temple. Before his brother got the best of me, I bucked them away mid-ambush. I went limp in my hindlegs and cranked his neck up. The flailing Fury monster clawed me from all angles, staining my coat with heavy lacerations.

Before he knew it, I lay prone and dropped us both face-first. I was okay. I tilted my head up as safely as possible. He was not so fortunate. An elongated avian skull and a sharp, pointed beak were great intimidation factors. But they did not prevent jaw fractures. His beak ran red, snapped clean in half from impacting the grated, metal mesh down below. His wounds were oozing and crippled him greatly; all he could manage was screaming and siezing from how tortorous it all was. His talons were trembling in alien fists and claws interchangeably.

I took the spear, which I'd dropped absent-mindedly, and pierced his neck till all the muscle left my forelegs and they stayed rigid beneath me.

The one I never killed wrapped his talons around my neck. I did my best to struggle and he'd stretched me open someplace pristine. I was dirty. The unintended consequence of losing my anal virginity paralyzed me. He wasn't gentle. It hurt. I spent the better of him banging me against a table coiling my hindlegs. It fucking hurt and I bucked hard behind me. It flung him toward the exit. The bastard tried to run.

I bull rushed and pinned him against the wall. His efforts to control and deter me only stoked the wildfires deep inside. A world of flowers and pines roasted to ash as I bit his prick from the side and tore it off myself. Familiar shrieking shrouded the noise his gaping wound made when I shoved his limb deeper than it ever belonged. It cloaked the simple pleasure of that sound spurting wounds made when you dug inside them, when something that didn't belong was crammed up the open gash and squirting flesh geyser.

The Fury broke and his threshold waned. He slid backwards against the wall so I lunged forward and launched my forehoof into his jawline. It spun his head about and retarded him to limp, momentary spasms.

"An end is come, the end is come:" I panted, speaking from my diaphragm and exhausted as was, buckling in my knees.

"It watcheth for thee; behold, it is come.." I finished, glaring up from behind my shoulder.

I spun a roundhouse kick deep from the waters of hatred and struck him dead, struck him down in that hellish prison complex. There I stumbled away and, eventually, I tumbled down and fell to sleep, not even prayed my soul to keep. I'd been shown true violence, true animal brutality; it was rape, and rape showed me unknown fires in the pure manifestation of hatred.