Chapters Blacklight; Mantis Chronicles.
#1. A day no bug would die.
The day I joined, was the day the most important insect in my life died. My great uncle, an insect the hive will only remember as "The Bug". A soldier the hive had immortalized in its hall of champions as a statue. Told me the most important thing I ever heard as his last words.
"It's not about changing the world my child. It's about doing our best to leave the world for others...A far better place then the way we see it is. It's about respecting the will of others to do good and trusting in them to do it, and believing in your own ability to inspire them. Above all remember. As long you see borders and rules that only exist to limit. They exist for you to pass through them... And this.. This is good? Is it not? Yes.. This is good"
I remember those words when ever I feel my self failing or doubting... The words of the worlds greatest changeling.
That was 3 years ago.
“It’s, no not just that....everything is gone!” The Televid sparked out as an idiotic mare started to panic in the grainy black and white feed.
In an instant the wall speakers threw up its klaxon scream. But my team "Mantis Team 6" was already tromping down to our bunk area and gearing up, after all if shit went down the mantis teams would be first with hooves on the ground with in figurative moments.
We each strapped into our sneak-suit armor barding and helmets, had picked out gear, had weapons checked and tactical packs stored. In less then 5 min since the klaxon sounded off we stood ready, standing on the deck in a straight unison line, we did not wait long though, as soon as I got on my spot in the line, the bulkhead swung open, and our commander strode out.
Lt. "BOOM BOOM" Boonaker.
He tromped out with his helmet slotted back across his face to show his grizzled scarred facial carapace, chomping on the butt of a still smoldering cigar its smoke illuminated the glow from his missing left eye, recently replaced with a glowing green lenses of bionic source, that I can honestly state, made him even more terrifying when you looked right at him. At this point he looked more machine then insect, his left front hoof constantly hissed and whined in strain and effort with each step, the hydro-electric servos purposely tuned to an insane degree of precision that no bug but him could control.
For a second that 'charm' we only saw when the shit hit the fans broke through.
His voice drown out the storm like a parent castigating a disobedient larvae.
Each of us said our Code name and our position on the field. Down the line
"District Junker, demolition. Heavy weapons are my mission."
"Its good to serve with you maggots again. NOW GET TO THE CHOPPER!" Boonaker's last words where punctuated by a crash of thunder from the early afternoon storm. Without word we loaded up into the hornet attack gunship, it would transport us to the coast of Old Detrot and from that point we would seek out an infiltrate through the shield. Flight would be 2 hours to the LZ then we would go up into the bay area of Old Detrot till we arrived at the docklands of Detrot proper. The chopper trip always was a way to give me time to think... about the mission, my career... A lot of things really.
In theory it was no different from any other smash-dash mission. But the fact that all of the New Equestria Confederation, was on lock down merited real worry and caution, we were not the only chopper moving out. It was all feelers on deck, every bug was on hoof to absolutely evacuate any changeling personal on the mainland back to the main central hive of black-light. All projects stopped, all data collated to emotion crystals and hard digital copies wiped, all facilities to be scrubbed clean, total complete evacuation and clean up, no evidence left for even a electro-arcana microscopic scan. Absolutely utterly nothing at all left for the pegasi enclave or the Steel rangers to find.
Above all, no bug left behind- alive. Any bug left behind is a bug who could spill the baked beans on the projects, so our core goal was extraction, and if failing that. We all knew but didn't like to say it - "Assassination". It was nothing new to us, mantis teams often had to make the hard choice of "sacrifice" for the greater survival of the hive, it never made it any easier on us however. "We all go home or no bug goes home" was the old addage.
No bug likes to put cross hairs on another and pull the trigger, knowing they are killing some bugs' son or daughter, a loved one who had family friends hopes and dreams. They give us psychological training to deal with these emotions- CSFD- Combat Stress and Field Dismay is the long form, I guess it sorta works. But it never makes it easy the first time, see no amount of head questioning by some white coat brain-bug can fix that feeling you get the first time. But that is slotting a fellow bug, for some reason it is easier when Ponies wander into the sights. Ponies treat us like less then alive whenever they rarely spot us, so we treat them in kind, so much easier to put down an enemy that refuses to see you even as sentient as it. Yet we still fight to save the moron equines from the hubris of the self.
The team sat on our helmets during the flight, back when I was a newbie I asked why, and foxhole had told me " So we don't get our legs blown off from an rpg!" It was a common rule of thumb with raiders getting better tech, now a days even our chopper pilots often tossed the flak jackets they where issued on the bottom of the chopper floor for extra protection against snipers wired on chems.
Here we are using high tech gear, operate with advanced digital technology, had top of the line training and medical nano machine enhancements, and worked as an organized multi-role machine of warfare using weapons enchanted with spells nothing would suspect. Going off to fight Ponies who could hardly scrap together a gun from rust and junk and spent most of the time fighting like animals over a can of dog food with sharp sticks.
Ponies like to say "War never changes"
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But for us...
For us 'War' has changed.
It's no longer about nations, ideologies of which princess or ethnicity of species. It's an endless series of proxy battles, fought by maniac warlords of the wastelands and our precise war machine. War, and its consumption of life, has become like a well-oiled machine: ID tagged Changelings, carry ID tagged weapons, wear ID tagged barding, use ID tagged gear. Nano-machines inside our bodies enhance and regulate our natural insect abilities. Its control: Genetic control, information control, emotion control, battlefield control. Everything is monitored, and then kept under control. The pony age of mega spell deterrence has given way to the changeling age of digital control, all in the name of averting catastrophe from mega spells of mass destruction again.
Of course the Ponies also say, the one who controls the battlefield, controls history. But when our battlefield is under total control, war... and its consumption of life, it all just becomes routine to us.
Even before the days the mega spells came and our queen sacrificed her self for the shield that still protects and hides the hive to this day. She for saw what would come, so she spied and collected technology, had us "industrialize & modernize", seeing a need to one day return to a mainland that would be a living hell. She reformed the massive swarms, into colonies, and her 5 daughters own swarms, into the regent houses: Pilosula, Clavata, Solenopsi, Matabili, and Dorylini. She took all that and forged it into a true military international force. She lovingly called her new formation of the hive a 'Militaires Sans Frontières' (The prance phrase for "Soldiers Without Borders"), it combined the best aspects of a standing state army and a special forces operations unit, augmented and supported with robotic drones and highly mechanized vehicles and technologically advanced weapons. All of these and more, ideas culled from centuries of spying on Equestria as it spiraled into inevitable obliteration of the great war, along with the work of some of the smartest brain bugs around, bugs like Nypha pillbug, katydid kyeson, and Scorpion hammerstien to name a few, helped the queen bring about the advancements of the hive.
Her goal was to have a military that with in 2 hours of a distress signal could be at any hive outpost ready to re enforce and fight back any enemy. She succeeded.
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The chopper landed just 14 miles down the coast. We would have to trot it from there- Because the assholes back on the 'Regal claw' forgot to load a raft into the chopper.
In 14 days a large patrol fleet would pass by. That was our evacuation window, 14 days to scour a city on lock down full of the insane and afraid ponies out for blood, find an entire hives worth of brain-bugs and dependents, then bring them all home safe. Sweet juicy ovipositor of our queen. Who the hell would ever wanna become a soldier professionally? Morons like us apparently, with no usable skills save a willingness to risk life and limb for a sheer thrill and a callous regard for the life of those with in our cross hairs. What the hell has this done to us? Technology has changed us and how we see war, but was it always this bad? I often wonder that right before my hooves hit the mainland dirt, right before I slot it out of my mind for the mission.
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The operation was Procure on site. Ammo was easy since our guns where enchanted to warp to what we needed from any shell. But things like vehicles for transport back to the Evac LZ would need to be done on our own, with any luck though the brain-bugs would have at least a few trucks in working order. As the chopper dusted off we activated our sneak suit cloaks, the dust silhouetted our near invisible forms as microscopic lenses sewn directly into the tight reflexive bullet resistant fibers of the sneak suits reflected and blended light around us to match our surroundings. Better then any stealth buck without any mental disruption- at least to us, infinite as long as there was enough photo voltaic energy to be drawn from the sun, but in the sort of pitch black night that render the battery cells useless. Well... a good Mantis doesn't need a cloak to do the job right Just a sharp shank of metal.
No one spoke during the long trot. This was after all supposed to be an "easy mission" but nothing survives first contact not even us. But we where lead by Lt. Boonaker, 3 years of serving under his command taught me one absolute thing, changelings always find a way, nothing can beat us, we change to meet the challenge. Even when I dragged his ass back to a PT boat 5 months ago after he got his left eye blown out by a small revolver round. He was still barking orders between spitting up blood and demanding to be let go to scalp the pony that shot him. The Lt. was the only bug I ever met who reminded me of my Great uncle. He was a real Big Bug all his own, I knew it everybug on the boat knew it, even the captain of the helm often differed to boonaker's consulations.
We moved in classic webbing formation, each bug had a section of the clock to watch with boon in center working as constant Heads up monitor. It was a slow track through the wasteland. Wandering through the remains of a world that went and shot its self in the head. Skeletons in sand, rusted luna highway carts, was all to be found, no signs of life save the odd roach, giant ant or radscorpion, these creatures wisely scuttled off when they sensed our presence, that of the better APEX level insect.
How Equestria could bring its self to this, yet call us the monsters back then, it almost made me chuckle. Suddenly there was a flurry of movement occurred to my left as Sonic snatched up a small sort of snake in his hoof barding cuff. With the ease of a trained predator my comrade crushed its head in a swift motion into the dirt, then with in a second he had sliced it into bits with his combat knife and was magically levitating out the slices to all of us. We all had some, slotting back the panels to our helmets to eat, the tangy gritty meat wasn't bad raw. Another rule of thumb for a mantis team was "eat what you can, when you can" raw bloody snake meat wasn't much of a chore for us, after all when the only real food you get is on ship, plus whatever you can pocket from the galley, in addition to S ration Wafers, you make do.
Mantis teams went through some the most hellish training, most of it just to survive off the land through anything, waste water, or radioactive mutated flesh, it does not matter. Our nanites suppressed any negative effects, save a very bad reputation among the Pony locals for our "exotic tastes", but the way we saw it, fuck them. They are ponies, the ones responsible for blasting the world to shit and leaving us the most hated enemy to pick up the pieces.
"Foxhole, your vitals spiked, whats up bug?"
"Thought I saw something in the dust sir, a child- or- illusion? Uh... - Just an odd sun glare sir." Foxhole shook his helmet like he was trying to shake off a bad dream.
"Well keep your eyes on clock bug, this is enemy territory". Boonaker didn't even turn to look at him, he kept his eyes and head on a constant rotating bead of the horizon on watch for anything that might be a raider, legion or enclave group, only tossing his helmet view down to his wrist holo map to confirm position. He wasn't wrong though for all the good we tried to do, we where ALWAYS in enemy territory when on the mainlands, even after nearly 300 years. Ponies still feared us.
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We arrived at the edge of New Detrot city just as nightfall hit, the increased time to arrived was due to needing to move slow and ensure our camo cloaks didn't disrupt from too swift of a movement compared to the background, but when we finally reached the docks of New Detrot we let them fall. Letting the natural aspects of the ruined beach and our suits more adaptive -Mantis camo, bend into the colors and texture of the surrounding to cover us, that adaptive camo was how the mantis operations group gained the name, our ability to hide and strike was akin to the praying mantis. But that was not of any matter at this moment. Even with my helmet on telling me it was a illusion, I still slotted back the visor to see with my own eyes.
"Sir. Its-!" I was agog, I truly admit that, I couldn't help but stare straight up.
"Gone. I know postal. This isn't right-" Boonaker tapped the side of his helmet and shook his head as if he took a shellshock hit. "IRV isn't working! Everyone Comet formation, District you are on point, Sonic your on second, the rest spread out 3 meters."
"No sir not that" I raised a hoof at the skyline, which for some reason as we got to the beach started to mirror the ground scape and bleed into a pinkish red. "I was talking about the piece of barding shitting non euclidian geometry hanging over us and violating laws of nature science and reality in a way involving a light socket, a glass rod, and a hammer."
For the first time Boonaker noticed the deformation of the city that was reflected into the skies. But he wasn't as shocked as the unit, why would he be, he was Lt. "Boom Boom" Boonaker. The Bug who killed 2 Ponies that called them selves "god" because they merged with a mega spell. To boonaker this, wasn't even a drop of piss in the rain. He slotted back his helmet visor to see for sure that it was not a glitch in the optical sensors, and did a slight double take when he figured that the sky scape was real. "Well isn't this just a new, interesting and totally unwanted addition to the universe... Well it isn't falling on us or folding up into the shape of a butterfly, and laughing. So I think for now we can just ignore it Juniper. Get on your spot, we still got a mission."
I silently nodded and stood to my point like the rest hefting up my highly customized heavy rifle, the weight in my magical levitation field giving me some comfort. The main enchanted receiver like all core receivers for changeling guns was magically enhanced to adapt any round fed into its firing chamber- if it was fed through an equally enchanted magazine, which mine was enchanted to implant a toxic influenza spell onto. The combination of these two spells would adjust and adapt any round into a proper size and likewise amount of charge. The barrel, stock, mag, muzzle flash break, and sights where all chosen by me for my particular needs, a powerful bore gun, highly stable and sighted for close to medium range encounters, the perfect thing to tear up a super stallion face, or turn a mob of raiders into greasy paste. Each of us had a gun customized to our needs, from "Betsy" Boonakers highly modified drum-fed super long range, assault rifle, to the stubby bolt-action "murder beast" Foxhole carried for room breaching. Customizing a gun or even barding was one of the habits of changeling of all types, after all "standard issue is always insufficient" as "The Bug" once said in an old training Holo.
We made our way into the city from the shoreline and docks.
IRV was the changeling scientific research and development castes' attempt to reverse engineer the E.F.S. or Eyes Forward Sparkle tech of the pipbuck made for stable-tech. The brain-bugs couldn't get the constant overlay to properly work without damaging the eyes, so instead decided to used that spell-work concept to piggyback the sensory spell that gave us what we called IRV. INSECT REALITY VISION. A holographic overlay to the eyes that could project through solid walls to display an individual based on the electromagnetic impulses made through the nerve system just like an insect would see its see prey through dirt, stone, wood, or leaves. We could see everything through walls steel-even solid rock within 500 meters as long as we had a sub orbital sat-scan, or a scattering of beacon balls, turning our encounters into more deadly tight conflict zones rather then wide scale front line grinders. The downside was it could only activate for a very short time on average about 5 seconds maybe 6. The effort needed for a helmet CPU to process the entire battlefield in IRV was way to difficult to keep going at all times, so we learned to pre-fire with them, or as we called it "tap, confirm, react". The IRV was how we commanded the seaboard of our island pelgos and protected our hive projects and outposts on the mainland, it was a true pinnacle of changeling ingenuity and technology.
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So we figured not to bother, we would ether save the brain-bugs, or destroying the cause of the effect that reduced a once bustling city to a realm of ghostly silence. Radio signal connection to the "Regal Claw" was still active but very weak. So we asked for the improvised IRV drop. A robotic flight drone would be sent out from the "Regal Claw" loaded with 6 missiles all containing 600 IRV beacon-balls, each orb about the size of a shotglass, these missiles would air-burst across the city turning the entire landscape into a active IRV field. The issue with it's use was it reduced the active time from the average 6 seconds, to 2, due to the additional strain for the helmet to process. But they could be collected and activated by ID-tag confirmation to self destruct like little scanner grenades, so they could be used to scan rooms that normally would be missed in the air burst as well as help clear them, the beacons would effectively nullify whatever the shit that strange skyscape was doing to our sat-scans and give us back the tech edge.
"IRV still down, whats the ETA Strip?" District snarled.
"We got ETA on IRV inbound, 2 hours. Sonic find us an empty place to have some lunch, that snake got me hungry." Strip muttered, we could almost not hear him over the sounds of our own stomachs as he griped.
We swept what looked like a small brownstone two level, confirmed it was clear, then bickered for a moment over who would take first watch. Foxhole lost the coin toss and begrudgingly took first watch downstairs in the main entrance area, as we set down for a meal in the largest bedroom after moving aside from old broken furniture.
Boonaker took off his barding and splayed it out for a sort of table cloth on the dirty floor, and we all tossed over what we had stolen and stashed from the boat onto it, which included a lot, spiced summer sausage and a large bag of dried berries with granola, a couple hard boiled eggs, a tomato and a cucumber, a few bagels and a block of cheese, a small jar of ketchup and mustard mix, one burno can of instant camping heat, and 6 bottles of Nuvo-Matabili brand beer- District had the oddest skill of stealing that particular brand from the Officers club without being caught, I thought they tasted a bit like paper-pulp but in a war zone it was a nice drink none the less.
As we all looked over the nice cunningly procured and rather large repast, that would prepare us for the mission better, we all felt strangely proud. I prepared sandwiches cutting up the veggies and eggs and cheese with my machetes' tip, with Sonics' assist in warming the meats and egg slices on his breech hammer's side and toasting the bagels, with the "burno" can. Sonic was the youngest in the unit. Only at the tail end of his first year as a mantis. So he got to do the "bitch work".
In the background I could here boonaker and the others move to the stairwell still with in earshot and start to tell the story of when he and "The Bug" once Beetle rushed the former NEC president out of a bar in Pairadice back when he was a rank maggot on a regular scout mission lead by "The Bug" for his mantis initiation.
Now you might wonder why the hell we, a crack unit of special operations insects. Would take time out to have a nice dainty little picnic mid mission, like the foals in the book "We all go mad in sea saddle". Well with IRV down for a while and it being the middle of the queen damned night there was not much point to trying to do CMS fighting house to house in a place without any power or light. Sure we could see plain as daylight but IRV let us determine what a civilian pony was compared to a genuine lethal threat.
At least after the airburst we could do it with the small bit of IRV support. Also when your searching an entire city, and skipped lunch, good dinner can make all the difference moral wise, see moments like this, off the boat and surrounded by enemies and only with your team at your back, you tend to savor the precious quiet moments together like eating or telling a story during the luldrums between combat encounters.
This was also linked with the reasoning that you DO NOT want to be outside during a IRV Beacon burst, because those fuckers hurt when they hit you.
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Blacklight; Mantis Chronicles.
#2. Good Queens Graces Beacon Balls Of Fire!?
Since I forgot to put them in last chapter I might as well make a thing of adding perks at the points they are gained. Also I forgot to start the moral meter and put down the over all level, so I shall put moral meter posting at the start of each chapter. Moral determines how close to perfect unison the squad acts, Lower moral the more petty individualism ruins the teamwork.
SQUAD MORAL 100% +5%
Squad perks gained since start of mission till first rest.
All terrain gourmet. A little snake meat is just the thing for a snack before a dinner with friends. Moral is increased by 5% temporarily for 4 hours after the team eats well together.
Wild Wacky Wasteland. The wasteland is a weird wild and wacky place, and upside down cities in the skyline cloud that bleed like a storm of red, is just the tip of the ice berg. It only gets more bonkers from here. Encounters of a strange and cunningly entertaining sort are increased by 150%
Children of the swarm. Changelings have a certain level cooperation that is far more instinctual then that of ponies, acting as parts of a singular super organism rather then as individuals. Ambushes and other raider tactics are reduced to 25% effectiveness to shake the team, as long as moral is 75% or higher.
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"Where is the kaboom? There was supposed to be an air bursting kaboom right?!"
"It is oddly late...6 hours now?" Boonaker was lost in thought.
District was peering out the guest bedroom window overlooking the backyard trying to spot the incoming drone strike. I had taken a gander my self earlier before the moon was covered with clouds. The backyard area was an open style shared yard with all the other brownstones on the block, with broken playground equipment and ancient skeletons too small to be adults littering the entire area.
Any creature who would hold requiem for the dead below had long since given them a moment of solace and then joined them in the next realm.
"Junker! Get your stupid head inside before some damn raider blasts your brains out!" Boonaker snapped as sonic reached with his hooves and grabbed Junker by the tail barding, violently yanking him inside. Sonic moved before Lt. spoke. Junker and sonic had worked as a point patrol fire team in our formations since sonic joined 10 months ago, and we all loved to joke how they bickered like an old married couple. Additionally Junker was the oldest serving in the unit next to Boonaker, a total of 12 years, compared to the 22 of the Lt. A dead certain replacement when Boonaker took retirement. Or more likely died in the line of duty. Only the best mantis members retire. Most of them regret not dying in the field.
Often mantis's develop relationships within the team. But they say "Never love a mantis, it will only rip out your heart and eat it."
Sonic had latched onto Junker since he first joined the unit. The two worked well together. Sonic would locate the main threat and District would literally reduce it into 'soup' in close quarters as sonic provided long range support.
The sort of bugs any mantis wants watching the flank.
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"hey where is foxhole? Wasn't strip supposed to relieve him?"
"THERE IT IS!" Junker said with glee. Sonic smacked his helmet with a hoofcuff "No that was - Foxholes' bolt action " Before anyone could respond again the comm crackled to life
"Sorry. Foxhole found a door to the basement. You know him. He always has to get through any locked door, one way or the-" Strip was cutshort by another metal crushing blast. Even with our helmets dampening conditions being that close to a bolt action breech round firing off without time to turn on the dampeners, is like bomb blast. The helmet foxhole wore made him pretty much deaf because of the noise. Only comms sound is what he heard.
"I GOT IT!" foxhole sounded as pleased as could be with himself then his voice went hushed. Boonaker however was livid "FOXHOLE YOU MORON! IF THAT GAVE A WAY OUR POSITION I WILL CARVE OFF YOUR SPINNERETS! well what do you have to say for your self!?"
Boonaker didn't get an apology. Instead just foxhole talking to strip"Uh you guys. You really gotta see this! Strip look!" , "Holy mother of the swarm- Sir. You gotta get down here now!" Strip was usually the calmest. As the comms op he had to keep a steady calm voice so what we relayed was properly heard. A jittery or scared comms op often botched up words, Not by choice, but with the downtime between transmissions and all the shit in the sky from the war and caused by the enclave to prevent communication between anyone. The more stoic and calm the voice. The better.
We made our way into the basement lead by foxhole. What we saw was an amazing sight. 4BILLION IN BITS! YES BILLION WITH A B. Now in the wastes bits are pretty useless- to ponies! But to changelings. Bits where a rare and needed commodity. Being made of gold they where perfect for electrical conduction. A super conductor if you will. Now Equestria bits where not pure gold. They where often made with impurities. But this many, and proper smelting, The entire swarm would need not want for conductive metal for a long while.
The source of the 'money' was... Unpleasant to say the least.
For a moment we all stood around the now covered skeletons , helmets off, as Foxhole spoke "Queen mother above. Forgive these poor souls. Give them peace, and let them pass on without regret or pain into your warm arms, forgive them, and love them, as you would us. Let them know no more fear, and let them know forgiveness in the sins they have done. Take them to the final rest all deserve. Of this we ask you, Queen mother."
We all stood for a good minuet in silence. I wondered when my time came, Would the team be there to speak well of me. To send me on to the final rest with kind words. I guess I will never know till the day I finally eat a bullet. We all put our helmets back on and went back to inspecting the basement without word. Letting a few moments pass for the sake of the dead who we knew no one would have given solace for but us. The dead foals in the yard upstairs where loved. But these... Like Boonaker said. Loved ponies don't rob banks.
Tiger-strike and Shadow-talon knew it was stupid to go in the direction gunfire came from. But as treasure hunters they couldn't play scared. They had met on a caravan drive and ever since finding & selling the secret to sparkle-cola Nova to some Ghoul rangers, the two knew treasure hunting was the life for them. But today, was different. The firbanto treasure, was the biggest score in history. It made even the legendary "madre de dios" treasure look like a foals' cap collection. It was rumored to be under detrot but with the sky how it was and everyone missing and the basic power shut down, Nether of them felt too hot at the moment.
"Mm-m-maybe it was thunder? The enclave being dicks? I wouldn't put it past em with how the sky looked on the way here" Tiger-strike was about ready to fly off and forget the whole thing. But he knew he couldn't let shadow-talon down. And they did already spend everything they possibly could to afford the information about where it was.
"No we both know what thunder sounds like. Also I am pretty sure the enclave would be to worried about the sky right now then the ground." Shadow-talon didn't want to admit it. But he was afraid as shit. Since they got to the city they had not seen a soul. Then two gunshots in the night. It was like the horror stories of just after the war his mother told him as a young Wyrm. But he was a dragon. The apex life form of all equestria, and sure wasn't about to let his best buddy down.
Yes the two kept bantering and trying to reassure them selves it was all nothing, until they turned the corner all the self imposed courage and bravado turned into pure yellow bellied cowardice with what they saw- that "Thing".
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It was like a violation of the normal. It was barely illuminated in the light of the torch Shadow-talon carried. It looked like a pony, but its shape was smaller more gangly. Almost sickly. Its- barding if it could be called that seemed to be pulled so taught and tight and emaciated against it one could make out its bones. Even the bones looked out of place. More like plates then anything. It had no tail, instead that too seemed to be wrapped tight in the suit. No mane to speak of ether. Instead only a strange sort of helmet that almost looked like a NEC ranger helmet. Only it seemed to be build with a a bit of a peaked dome where a unicorn horn should go, and two lights where the eyes would be. This strange warped helmet hid any features of the "thing". But the sickest part that made both of them want to vomit was its feet. Around the fetlocks on all its hooves one could just make out what appeared to be pockmarked holes of sorts from the way the strange muscle-like bluish gray material seemed to be so tightly wrapped. It was also clearly armed for battle, on its left elbow was a machete of some sort in a holster with in easy reach of the helmet. Slung to the right side with a double harness strap holding it tight to the barding was a heavy looking rifle in a shape nether had seen before wielded by anything but a zebra or "thumb owning" races. Shadow saw it lacked the side out mouth bit handle and trigger guard, and instead had a trigger and handle much like dragons griffins and even, minotaur and diamond dogs preferred, A finger trigger downward of the assembled mechanics so it would make an upward kick when fired. A large and unpleasantly deadly side arm of some sort was attached to the back left fetlock as was a grenade to the right. It was, whatever it was, a military life form. The body showed no real saddlebags indicating gear storage. Instead just a hardly seen gleam of black carbon zippers crossing its strange bluish-grey muscle like "barding" all over in more places then could be seen in the torchlight, and a very mechanical backpack that was attached to a trigger bit on the right elbow.
The strange thing was a creature not of the legion, the NEC, the Steel rangers. Or any other group the two had seen in the past 5 years of wandering the waste hunting treasure and guarding caravans, and they even worked a job with the "hired gunners". This was a thing totally unnatural to the order of the world even before the great war, hell even before luna was sent to the damned moon. But this was a creature they could not mistake was purpose made. For conquest. Down to its very primal existence. As well as having a scope of technology far more advanced and almost alien compared to even the enclave.
Its very sight elicited nothing but fear induced vomit the two struggled to keep down
The most eerie thing was the lights of the helmet. They seemed to actually blink as the thing stared at them like the light reacted to the eyes hidden behind the helmet and dimming or brightening, narrowing and widening, to mimic. The lights on its helmet were at first a calm dim blue as it stared at them, almost like it was burrowing into the very souls of the two trying to determine the behavior of the two determining if it the two where friend food or a fuck. Then shifted to a hostile bloody orange that curdled the blood and indicated exactly that the intent of the "THING" was. Kill.
A glowing sickly green magical field instantly wrapped around its back left fetlock.
******
Both Tiger-strike and Shadow-talon went for the sidearms they owned with instinctual response. But they where too slow compared to the thing, as they saw the magical field levitate a large looking pistol out of the back fetlock holster closing there eyes in fear of the pain of the gunshot from the thing. The report of 2 shots of a heavy pistol echoed through the street. A moment passed then another and one more. Then the griffin spoke "Sh-shadow... Are, we dead?" Tiger-strike was too afraid to open his eyes. "No, I don't think so Tiger" Shadow-talon didn't FEEL like he'd been shot. But he did feel the wind of the bullet as it zipped passed his ear. Slowly he opened his eyes. The creature was still standing there. Gun smoking and held in a strange sickly green magical light, it removed the magazine. Held it in front of its helmet like it was inspecting it. Before putting the magazine back in place, flicking the safety on, and putting the firearm away. It then raised a hoof and pointed behind Shadow-talon.
The dragon turned and saw what the thing was pointing at. A bloat-fly. A giant one too. Dropped by a double tap shot in between its eyes cluster. Shadow-talon turned to thank the thing, but it had vanished into the night, but he still felt it was watching on them even though nothing was before his eyes. Tiger-strike let out a mild frightened squawk he opened his eyes and noticed it was gone and the bloat-fly was there.
"Ya know what Tiger. I think that thing, was trying to help us out. It could have blasted us but it shot out that bloat-fly." Tiger-strike just snorted "Oh I am so sure shadow. Sure it wanted the satisfaction of eating us its self." Tiger-strike had seen enough of the hellscape of urban new detrot for one day "Lets just get to the caravan camp. We can try again to search in the daytime. We aren't gonna find nothing in this darkness save for our deaths. Or more of whatever the hell that thing was." As the two started to make way back where they came, Shadow-talon could not help but reaffirm the creature they saw had genuinely no hostile intentions for them. Much to tiger-strike's dismay and response. Shadow-talon might think everything in the waste wanted to help cause he was a dragon and practically nothing short of an actual balefire bomb could kill him. but Tiger-strike knew different. Most anything in the waste wants is to eat you.
******
"Juniper... You missed." Boonaker's voice was cold and callous.
I chuckled as I stepped into the darkness of the door letting my active camo fall and leaning against a wall long enough for the mantis camo to trigger. "No. I didn't. I made it clear "something is here, and it doesn't want you here". Boonakers' cyber eye narrowed into a pin prick."Yeah well same goes for you as it does Foxhole. His shots brought them. If they come back with more and compromise the mission-"
I cut him off "Yeah yeah you will rip out my spinnerets and blah blah blah". I made a move for the basement and his robotic hoof shot out just in front of me . Another step and he'd have sent me through the wall. Or more likely splattered me across it. His helmet slotted back revealing a scarred face and a frown. The frown of a father figure who felt not anger, just sadness.
"There is more at stake here then a simple "smash and dash". We are responsible for the lives of those civilian bugs. If those two recognized you as a changeling, and if any of the survivors of this accident even have the slightest hint of project shield breaker. You will have all those bugs lives on your hooves. I hope you can deal with that. -Maggot."
Boonaker hadn't called me a maggot, like that since I was the newest in the unit. It hurt though. He said it as a term of endearment usually. But this time. He used it as an insult. It hurt. I followed him silently into the basement tail between my legs. I thought I was doing good by minimizing exposure and casualties. They had to have been from a larger group and if they went missing more would come without doubt. I made the judgement call. I made the wrong call according to Boonaker.
If your commander says you done wrong. You done wrong. No flex on it.
I felt slightly weak.
I made a note to scarf an S ration wafer when no one was looking. The love energy enriched chocolate would help pick my spirits back up.
"So what was that all about?"
Strip was in the corner opposite the dead "robbers" fiddling with his comms pack. Junker and Sonic where playing a game of hack-hoof with a bag of bits. Foxhole was just staring at us. He knew what happened. I dunno how. But the way his helmet dug into me when he cast a glance my way. I know, he knew.
"Juniper scared off some locals brought by from YOUR breech shots. Now where the hell is our beacon balls, strip?"
Strip turned from his comms pack.
"Apparently the storm from this afternoon has really picked up. Regal claw had to submerge. Getting a lot of interference. But I was able to make out " sat scan shows, 'large reptilian airborn creature' at center of storm."
Boonaker huffed through his helmet ventilator and grumbled into the comms. "That is all fine and dandy Strip but it doesn't help our IRV situation. ETA on beacon balls?"
Strip's helmet lights narrowed then almost seemed roll. "I was getting to that sir. The second part I made out was 14min cluster burst arrival."
The lights on Boonakers' helmet went wide. "Cluster burst!? I SAID BEACON BALLS NOT FUCKING CLUSTER BOMBS!- SWEET QUEEN! EVERYONE! EVACUATE NOW!"
******
In an instant we all had our gear stowed and where running like mad down the street. We could just hear the screech of the incoming missile. Same set up as a beacon ball only bigger and firing by the ship its self, not a robotic drone. each bomblette held the same amount of charge as a grenade. 6 missiles could annihilate an entire cloudfront ship of the enclave. One could reduce a city block into nothing but powder.
We ran as fast as our hooves could move. Eventually deciding to unzip our side covers and take wing burning as much energy as we could when we heard the thundering "Ca-klank" Of the missile over head as it opened and dropped out the whistling cargo.
Even with our wings it didn't feel like enough. The entire world started to explode. Fire from all directions, the roar of explosions ruining every house we buzzed by. We did not turn or deviate we just kept powering forward just above the street line as it ignited into a river of fire.
My body was on fire, my chest burning, my wings ached with weight of a thousand beats a moment. But I couldn't stop none of us could. The resound of hellfire made by our own hooves on our heads spurred us on like the slave masters of tartarus of old.
******
Even after the report of the bomblettes died down we kept flying. We didn't stop till we reached what used to be a public park- I assumed. It was pretty much barren of greenery save a few sparse bushes. In the center of the park was a statue of 4 ponies built of the finest steel coated stone. Time had not been kind to the statue but the details still stood out even in the just breaking light of the morning.
A unicorn with a monocle holding a watch wearing a vest lined with knife holsters. A Pegasus with huge wings and a giant rifle and sidearm both far to big for her body one clutched in each hoof, baring a fanged grin and wearing old world police armor barding. A earth pony mare with a scarred up cutie mark and a long braided ponytail for a mane, standing in a zebra martial arts pose, a cigarette of some sort in her mouth.
All surrounded in there poses a noble scruffy looking stallion in a trench coat with a raggedy looking hat. Rearing up as if to challenge the world. In his mouth a giant revolver that could have blasted the brains out of a fully grown dragon at 5000meters. Sitting on his hat was a little griffin chick raising her claws up and wings out into the air, as if to try and "intimidate" something, if such a cute thing could do such an act.
The inscription read "In memory of Det. Hard Boiled Jr. of the Detrot Police department & company. We called him the "dead-heart". But he had the biggest heart of all. May his love of justice never be forgotten." The date had been marred by time and rendered illegible. But it was clearly a memorial to a group that equestria once held dear as paragons. Pony that only one word could describe. Hero.
******
Blacklight; Mantis Chronicles.
MORAL LEVEL! 66%
New perks:
INCOMING, HOLD FAST! Getting the shit nearly blasted out of you tends to steel for anything that might try and blow you up. Plus 50% chance to resist any damage from wounds caused by explosive weapons!
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT SHIT ABOUT STRIP!? HUH TELL ME!?" Sonic was on his hind legs, Tail dragging in the mud for balance, helmet already off, pushing up into strips' chest forcing him upright onto back hooves, with sheer rage and aggression. His stubby muzzle and Jagged fangs and seemingly compound eyes of a Solenopsis, made him seem more sinister without the helmet we all wore, which where designed to instill fear in ponies and other creatures.
I made a move for Strip and District went for sonic. But Boonaker and Foxhole respectively held us back. "This has to be settled like bugs." Was all Boonaker whispered. I settled, but district kept fighting off foxhole.
Strip tossed off his helmet with magic, revealing the longer snout, more curved fangs, and narrow flat solid eyes of a Clavata Strip brought both front hooves up in a devastating skyward hammer strike under the mandibles that sent sonic flying back into the ground. "You got a problem with me asshole!?"
"I got a fucking problem with you nearly KILLING US!"
It had to stop. Or some bug was gonna die.
Before I knew it Boonaker was at Sonics' side. With a front hoofed pivot to a back leg buck, Boonaker slammed into sonics' side sending him flying into a burnt tree. It cracked with the impact. The mud under Boonakers front legs gave way the next instant however sending him helmet first into the mud. Strip had already yanked his knife and tossed it into the air, holding it in a magical field. He dashed towards the now dazed sonic intent on a kill strike to the youngest of our unit.
I focused all my magic and teleported instantly between him and sonic. I gave a small gasp as the carbon fiber knife slipped and cut past the fibers of my sneak suit, broke through my exoskeleton shell, cutting the carapace skin underneath, and slid deep into my flesh to the hilt. Strips' face lost all color. Looking almost grey in shock eyes wide and watery with tears and the red rain. I looked down at the knife in my shoulder. I sat in bright green nearly glowing plasma, sparkling with nanomachines. A mild state of shock over too me for a second as I saw it was slowly dribbling out across the handle and dripping into the reddish mud.
My shock was broken by the stutters of Strip Wire.
"By the queen. J-Juniper I... I didn't."I kept my magical force strong holding the knife into my shoulder as strip tried to use his to pull out the blade. It was no contest. Adrenalin does wonders for a body also the S-ration probably helped. I sighed in the cold red rain and locked eyes with strip. Burning into his soul with my own eyes channeling my own magic into my ocular cavities to illuminate them and to enhance my voice with echoing effects, to seem even more imposing. "We don't draw weapons, on our comrades, Strip Wire! Look around you. We are your family! Is this anyway to act? Get a hold of yourself, and get back on mission!"
To my side Boonaker was helping Sonic to his hooves. After handing sonic his hammer and ensuring it was secure in its holster, Boonaker gave him a swift uppercut into the gut, winding sonic and dropping him into the mud making him gasp for air.
"OK SHOWS OVER! Strip Sonic, when we get back to the regal claw its the brig for both of you. Deck Cleaning duty for a month! Further more-" "Wait!"I stood and strode over to Boonaker limping slightly. "They still owe me some plasma. That CMS was the sloppiest I have ever seen. Come see me after a week in the brig when we get back. I will give you a lesson you both wont soon forget. Now, Boonaker? Can you get this outta me?". Boonaker wrapped his magic field around the knife. I put my hoof on his chest "Easy now, careful." Boonaker let out a chuckle "Always" and without any pain slid the blade out, holding it in his magic field "Ya know Juniper, these things will kill ya. " Then tossed it to the ground in front of strip who quickly wiped off the plasma and put it away. "We have a moral issue it seems" Boonaker muttered to on a private coms channel.
I eyed the two as they went way from each other. "There is no moral issue. We have just been off mission for too long. In a situation without the same support information backup we had gotten so comfortable with. It's clearly wearing on all of us."
Boonaker nodded and put his front hooves on my shoulder wound Pulling the barding apart to take a better look at the wound with his robotic eye "Gonna need to give you a medical injector for that. It's a pretty deep wound, but you should be fine in a bit." and proceeded to check all his bardings magic pockets for where he put the Injection Syringes. Like all changelings boonaker had a "certaint tick" when stressed. His was forgetting where he put things in his pockets.
Oddly my wound didn't hurt at all. Well only A SLIGHT tiny twinge of pain. What with the Adrenalin wearing off, and the entire scene winding down, my body was only now reacting to the effects it had been experiencing in a slow ebb.
Sonic was letting the whole courtyard of the park know our position from his argument with District, which ended with him bopping Sonic one square on the back of the head with a sharp hoof cuff.
As I thought of it Strip and Sonic never served with us during the last inter-hive civil war. A minor boarder dispute between the Clavata and Solenopsis hives that turned violent. Strip was in hospital at the time from a chest infection, and Sonic had yet to sign up. So the hostility between them would not be unlikely if Sonic had fought as a hive militia for his respective colony.
But they are both mantis now. That petty racism and individualistic attitude had to stop.
My thought was broken by Boonaker slamming the medical injector into the knife wound.
Sliding it right past the cut barding with ease. It stung like an absolute diamond dog BITCH bite, and I had to grind my fangs to keep from screaming in distress as the Sharp needle like protrusion slid into my flesh. Nano machine and painkiller laced plasma began to burn my insides at the wound as it started to knit and kneed and reseal up my flesh my skin carapace, and exoskeleton back to battle ready levels. Painkillers just starting to wash out any feeling distress. Changeling medicine was hooves and heads above any "magic potion" of equestrian make, given the years we focused studying physical body and its interaction with chemical compounds and emotional magical energy, in comparison to the pure magical ephemeral, that ponies had focused on.
I'd go so far as to suggest it was a more scientific form of alchemy Zebra practiced, with a far more precise aspect, of mechanical microscopic engineering about it. A price we gladly pay for the better level of medical technology that works on a physical real level, then some pointless magic ponies buy into. Those healing potions cant reset bones or joins. Ponies use a toxic substance named hydra for that, named for the multi-headed beast they harvest the chemicals needed to make it from. It also takes a lot of doses of healing potions, just to heal flesh, let alone internal organs.
Changelings have A blood-like plasma that keeps our flesh, muscles and internal organs working. Hard, insect like, carapace skin, to hold our selves together. Exoskeleton like shells to ensure we don't just explode into a green paste, by sheer weight of gravity on our bodies.
But I must digress. I'd trust nano machine plasma over any healing potion- "GHAAAA!" The pushdown on the syringe sent my pain threshold to the max. Like a literal anti machine rifle round had grazed me. My mind started to go fuzzy from the dose of painkillers kicking in full. "DEAL WITH IT POSTAL!" Boonaker growled as he forced the syringe in deeper. Best to be safe then sorry when it comes to medical treatment I could not deny that. I tried to stay focused and think of something else.
******
Often when a mantis took a critical life threatening hit in the field the entire squad would go into what is called officially "offensive watch combat" and proceed to utterly gut and quarter anything that gets in the way of the team and a med-evac chopper. But with communication with the boat down that would be impossible, however my wound wasn't anything an injector could not fix with its single shot. My mind drifted thanks to the pain killers I thought about the concept of "Offensive watch" and of Sgt. "Klendathu". I as well as many mantis members all had training from him in the form of "emergency battlefield triage and combat medicine" He was often called "Doctor 'Dathu" by new recruits in training.
He made famous the line. "WE ALL GO HOME OR NO BUG GOES HOME!"
Every mantis knew "DR. Dathu's Book of internal battlefield medicine. " front to back in at least Equestrian, Changeling and Zebrican languages. A finishing test for medical skill approval was to be able to sew up a shoulder wound. Underwater with both front hooves chained behind the back underwater and blindfolded. Using only your teeth a Sensory vein quill and your own natural silk.
Before you question it. Yes they do actually have you SHOT as part of the requirement to be a mantis. The reason being he said was "You never know when you will be taken prisoner tied up, blindfolded, shot and tossed into a river I should know. It happened to me 3 times"
"Juniper? Juniper?! Snap out of it!" I was being shaken by Boonaker. Apparently I had been dragged into some bushes by him.
"Huh wha- what time is it?" My head was still fuzzy from the painkillers wearing off. My visor and faceplate had been slotted back to ready positions. The smell of stale recycled air calming my confusion.
He held a hoof to my helmet ventilator and spoke "Back in the world of the living huh? Foxhole spotted some Super stallions heading this way well scouting. You've been out for an hour" His voice was hushed.
"Super stallions? Here? How?"
"Drawn in by Sonic and Strips fight. As well as the argument he had with district, your little pain scream and my yelling at them didn't help." Made sense, even with the helmets on a loud yell stills ends up being heard. When the coms hit a certain decibel they shut off and the actual outside speaker on the helmet activates.
"No sir. I mean the NEC drove all the hostile ones into the midland wastes didn't they?"
"Not all of them it looks like. Seems as if they missed a few." he pointed towards the park center "I also repaired your barding but your active camo is shot. Not that it'd be all that effective in the light with this rain."
I slowly made my way to turn around and crouched to my belly in the mud Slowly dragging my self from my front hoof tips till my helmet just barely had visibility of the park through the leaves.
******
Three big ugly, scarred furless sneering giant stallions where standing in the shade by the statue. If rumors ponies spouted of Celestia being "big" where true, then these three where literal fucking mountains of muscle and hate. They all sported nasty looking weapons, one had a metal pipe and the other a cart bumper, both pounded into sword like shapes slung into leather straps within mouth reach. Save one, who had on an old pair of "wonderbolts" googles and carried a missile launcher battle saddle, he was also a touch more "fat" so I assumed he was the "leader". They looked pretty confused, Super stallions are not too smart, they just follow the biggest meanest one of the herd. Most they can understand is "might makes right"
The biggest one spoke in that usual gruff slurred tone. "Dag. Where ponies at? I no smell em. But we heard em!"
My mind was locked on that phrase "Flying ponies" The enclave? The remnants? Here? If the 'Air Marshal' was really here, that was bad VERY bad.
I slowly pushed my self back into the bushes, stopping and freezing when they started to move out the park, and then proceeding to move
I quickly and quietly moved to Boonaker. "Did you hear that? They said "flying ponies" that can only mean-"
It was as if the park came alive. Sonic and District appeared out a wall shaking off the mantis camo back to the normal sneaky dark blue-black. Strip literally rose out of a mud puddle and shook the mud and the camo color off. Foxhole popped out of a dumpster shaking the green from his camo.
They all walked over to the bushes entering as one and standing still long enough till there camo matched that of Boonaker and myself, before moving towards us.
"Well sir. Should we follow them?" Strip asked, already checking his SMG with his magic to make sure mud had fouled anything. Not that it would. It was just his habit when stressed before combat. Mine was taking any old prewar comics and magazines I came across that where undamaged. Loads of prewar history in those. The stress of seeing super stallions even got to Foxhole, who was already ratcheting back the Kinetic weight on the back of his breech hammer and flicking it forward with his magic.
"Nope. Not our mission. We continue onto the facility as planned. According to the holomap-" Boonaker brought up his robotic hoof and Checked "Its 15 blocks up. and 15 blocks over. But we can cut through the buildings starting with that apartment. " As the map shutdown Boonaker pointed at a Large apartment tenement, built with redbrick and in the usual Horse shoe shape, only with the left half clearly having crumbled away.
I coughed and rotated my shoulder Double checking it. It felt fine "Foxhole. Find us a way in."
The front entrance was covered in collapsed rubble. Rather then wasting time clearing it foxhole and district just smashed in a first floor window that was boarded up. It took way less time then bothering with the rubble. We filed into the apartment Boonaker on point me on the rear. As I was helped in up the ledge by District, a giant explosion like a mini balefire bomb or a cart reactor cooking off resounded far into the north distance, the cloud just starting to fade in the noon sky.
"What in the queens name was that?" District asked as he pulled me in. "I hope its the super stallions and the enclave having a 'disagreement'" I chuckled as I rolled to my feet.
As our unit left the room for the apartment hall I stopped short when I heard the crinkle of paper and looked down. "Hullo!" I said to my self in pleasant surprise as I noticed what my right font hoof was on. A copy of Robucko-fun monthly comics the "TROTANATOR" Issue "With free game to go with comic". Still with the original gametape "Blast the bots" attached in a plastic bag. The date was depressing. Printed the day the bombs fell.
I paused for a moment and looked around at the room. It was the room of a child. In the corner of the closet two skeletons one adult one a foal where huddled together. By the skeletal hoof of the adult was a rusted gun and two shells covered in dust that still glinted brass. The wall had two splatters of old faded blood.
I wished chrysalis had killed that bint Celestia first chance she got. All the pain and suffering of the last 300years all creatures had felt in this hell. It was all the fault of that damned whore of the sun. I wondered if in her last miserable moments she felt fear same as these poor creatures. I doubted it. Knowing the history of that arrogant troll, she probably escaped without any fear to some personal stable. Still down there, laughing at all of the ponies stuck up on the surface dealing with the suffering she caused.
My mind snapped back to reality when a hoof came to my shoulder. It was Boonaker. "For the dead , the wages of war never changes, Postal. Innocents will always pay the highest of prices. All we can do is keep going. Come on, we can't save them. But there ARE some bugs we CAN save."
"Sir, yes sir." I nodded and magically levitated a sheet over the two skeletons and gave a small prayer to the queen for the poor lost souls. Since I knew there own princesses had no love for them. Then quickly stuffed the comic and gametape into one of my magic pockets on my barding and swiftly trotted with Boonaker to the rest of the team.
As we got to the main stair well Boonaker turned sharply and made the hoof sign for "get down" I crouched and Signed "confusion/why" He pointed a head to where sonic was laying rifle in the ready position already taking aim straight down the stairwell. My coms crackled to life with Sonics voice. "Ghouls, 15 of them. Ferals. Looks like they are eating some poor scavenger. Orders sir?" Boonaker leaned Into the stairwell and looked up. Then back down to the lower subbasement level. "Bleh why did it have to be ferals. I don't feel like scrubbing radioactive blood off my barding today. Lets try for the roof. "
We all started to slowly crouch and crawl up the stairwell making no sound. Then I heard it. The sound of a bottle falling down the stairs. Districts fat hooves had knocked it over. We all froze dead and watched as it bounced down the stairs off a wall and under the stair railing and plummeted out of sight falling to the floor with a smash. Then we heard it. The howling roar of a whole pissed off pack of ghouls who had dinner interrupted.
"RUN FOR IT!" Boonaker shouted as he tossed a grenade over the edge to hold them off. As it detonated it was like a runners staring gun and we all took off like a shot up the stairs our stamped for the roof door making the stairs rumble. When we got to the roof door we all turned and aimed down the stairs as District threw himself and slammed through the roof door smashing the lock and hinges clean off with all his weight against it. We all filed out backwards swiftly I helped district to his hooves, all our guns trained on the door to making sure no ghouls where going to follow. Then I heard the sound of guns cocking and voices behind me that made my carapace skin crawl.
"Well well what do we have here?" The first voice male spoke. Youngish
"Looks like some NEC rangers who done got lost." Second voice Female. Youngish
"We should give em a warm welco- HOLY SHIT THEY BROKE OPEN THE DOOR!?" Third voice male. Mid to late 20s.
We all slowly turned around. All save Foxhole till Sonic tapped him on the shoulder. We had run from a ghoul den. Right into a raider encampment on the roof. The impaled bodies on pikes was a dead give away. Those psychopaths loved the "blood and guts look" as much as the super stallions. Moments later that tell tale roar of radioactive freaks sounded out from the building. The raiders faces went utterly white with terror. Things where about to get interesting
Blacklight; Mantis Chronicles.
#4. ROOFTOP RUINS RUMBLE!
MORAL LEVEL: 38%
PERKS GAINED.
Between a Rock and a Unpleasant Mess: The pony saying of "The enemy of my enemy is my friend". Is total crap. Especially when your enemies are Feral Ghouls, Super stallions, and Pony Raiders. They don't like ANY CREATURE. But there animosity can be a good thing. Feral Ghouls, Super stallions, and Pony Raiders are more likely to attack each other then the team if another target from the other groups is present.
Remnants of the Old War: Its official. The Enclave Remnants have a hoof in whatever is going on in new Detrot. More impossible they are working WITH the Super stallions. Additionally the remnants NEVER go anywhere without the presence and express permission of the "Air Marshal". Enemies using magical energy weapons increased.
******
It had stopped finally raining, but more prudent issues took my mind rather then the odd weather.
"well.. shit" I muttered into the coms. Ghouls to the back of us, raiders to the right. I wasn't too sure if the plan in Boonakers' devious head would work but I felt it was the best shot we had. "Okay Juniper when I give the signal you back-kick your Grenade into the first ghoul up the stairs as it leaps for us, it will think its food and jump to bite down on it and fly into the raiders, then you dive right and run behind the entry way, Strip, Sonic, and me will be right behind you. District, Foxhole you two are the biggest targets so you use your magic to grab the metal door and use it as a cover shield. Keep the Ghouls from flanking left around the entrance. We will provide cover fire to keep the raiders suppressed and off your backs, Strip and sonic will take the top of the entry and provide overwatch. Sound like a plan?" We all let out mumbles of half heartfelt agreement. It was not even half ass of a plan. More like quarter of an ass plan.
As I triggered the camera in the back of my helmet I saw the glowing eyes of the head ghoul. I shook my back leg freeing the grenade. The ghoul seemed to be waiting. Like it was questioning the risks of going to the open roof and into raider fire. It let out a roar and started charging up for the doorway. I guess hunger won out over what little logic it had left.
"NOW!" Was all Boonaker shouted as it all, literally kicked off. Like all military conflicts it didn't take long for it to totally fuck up beyond all repair.
******
As soon as he did sonic and strip started to unload with burst fire and pepperings of SMG rounds from there weapons having finally been given the chance to get ontop the entrance way. I starting firing pretty much blindly into the opening caused by the grenade my self, the shock of my heavy automatic rifle against my magical levitation field a comfort. A few feet away I could hear the report of the heavy recon machine gun and the occasion sound of the auto shotgun District carried as well as the near bomb like roar of Foxhole's bolt action. No doubt tearing right through the barricades of the raiders and a raider behind it if the scream was any hint. Boonaker's "Betsy" had emptied the drum and he was already loading in a new one. There was so little to see in the smoke of the burning highway carts we where literally all firing blind.
"RELOAD & HOLD FIRE!" We all obeyed the order and waited for Boonakers next command.
The ghouls for the most part had focused on getting at the easier meal once the front of rusted carts was blown up by the unwitting "suicide ghoul" and none so far had bothered to wheel around to try for us. This did not however stop us from dropping as many as we could see streaming onto the apartment roof, there was a lot more then then we thought but we "thinned the herd" quite a bit. We didn't get many confirmed kills on the raiders though as they seemed content to fight from inside the encampment they had made on the roof. A losing fight if from inside what we could hear was any indication screams and a more reports of gunfire as the remaining ghouls and raiders fought.
I got to my hooves as Boonaker gave the commands.
"POWER ARMOR! GET TO COVER!" Sonic yelled as he and strip dive bombed behind some wrecks. I barely had time to shove Boonaker aside as the sound of a minigun rotating to life and spitting hot lead death filled the air. "The fuck did they get a power armor suit?" District snarled as he fired off some blind shots behind the cover of the carriage him and foxhole had taken position behind. "Maybe the Enclave!? Or they scav-" A round of laser rifles fired off towards the overturned wreck Sonic and Strip had used for cover cut Sonic off. Strip gave a dry wit response "Well that answers that question. Laser weapons typical Enclave fair." More bullets and laser beams wizzed overhead and slammed into the carts and carriages and the few remaining ghouls that where wandering looking for a dead raider to nibble on.
"We arn't kitted for a full on engagement sir! We'd need a hard-suit! This is a job for the Army Ants! Or the Wasps!" Sonic's voice was breaking. "We make do maggot! Strip your side arm is breech bore right?" Boonaker was having none of this. His mind was on the battle. "Yes sir. But-" Strip was cut off sharply "No Buts. Give it to Juniper. And your incendiary shells. NOW!" Strip complied and slid the gun and levitated the shells towards me. I loaded in the shell and tossed a glance at Boonaker He was using his robotic hoof as a camera to get a view on the armored raider. "Its an old style of Steel legion armor. Looks in bad condition. No other raiders in sight but confirmed laser fire from that two level shack about a hundred meters back from the raider. Foxhole & District pour it on that raider! Strip and Sonic, suppression on the shack. Juniper when I give the signal take the shot well I fire at the helmet and try to blind him. Remember. Aim for the head. "
Strip and sonic started rattling off shots towards the windows of the shack as district and foxhole started to unload every round they had into the side of the raider in armor causing him to turn his attention from randomly spraying bullets and laughing at the power fantasy to genuinely focus fire on the position of the two bugs.
"NOW!" As one we rose. I took aim with with the breach pistol. Boonaker had his heavy revolver out and was emptying the cylinder. Extending my hoof claw attachments onto the pistol with magic helping to steady them for a more exact aim, I fired. Two loud metallic pops resounded and a glowing orb of light sailed out from the gun. One hit on the mark. It took a moment for the hit to register on the raider. But then the screaming started. As the round bored a literal white hot hole into the armor and caused the helmet to be heated to red hot color as the raider inside was boiled alive in bodily fluids. The armor fell to its side as the raider inside in shock and panic from the heat forgot how to disembark merely rolling about screaming and flailing at the helmet with its armored hooves trying in vain to remove the flare that was literally cooking the son of a bitch. Breech bore guns where just flair guns fitted to fire giant shotgun shells and grenades But the old civilian flare still had its uses in battle as an incendiary round.
Soon the screaming had stopped and the armor had stopped moving. No shots where coming from the shack anymore undoubtedly horrified by seeing there best fighter in power armor no less be taken out by a tiny little glowing ball. The skirmish was over. But the enemy was still in residence.
Boonaker again gave the orders. "Okay bugs. Stick to cover. Protective sweep. We move up to the shack. Prep for CMS combat". "Uh sir." District spoke up. "Why don't we use gas grenades?"
Boonaker responded with a tone of indignity at first, likely because he was annoyed he did not think of it himself "Good idea. You and Juniper get ready to smoke em as the rest of us take up position. Remember these are raiders, so they wont give up so easily even if they are primitives, they are hopped up on chems with nothing to lose after all. Melee weapons at the ready bugs. Time to earn our pay." "Uh sir. We don't get payed by mission we get payed for time served in active duty." I couldn't help but smile when I heard the sigh before his reply. "Just get on your spot Juniper. Don't forget your combat drugs. This is gonna be messy."
Boonaker levitated a small vial full of a crystalline powder. The combat drug known as "Terror dust". It instilled a level of furor and savagery that a changeling would normally only feel if they where fighting and on the brink of death. Hyping up our nanites speeding them and by proxy our senses to impossible levels. I took out my own vial and popped the top. The rest did the same. At once we slotted back the mouthpieces of our helmets and downed the vials content. As soon as it hit my tongue I could feel it working, the sour taste burning my taste buds. I felt my eyes water and my breathing increased. I could feel fire in my muscles and I could hear my own voice in my head repeating "KILL" as the emotion laced dust filled my mind with thoughts of terror fear sadness and anguish.
In an instant we moved as one, Strip and Sonic dashed to the door of the shack as Boonaker and foxhole stealthily went around to the back. District waited in charge position shuddering with a desire to stomp the shack into dust as I took wing with a toxic gas grenade. I pushed the triggering pin and dropped it right down the chimney . A second later there was a loud blast as green smoke filled the shack.
"It wasn't supposed to go down like this! The Triad was supposed to be paying us off for scouting for them!" A pink haired blue furred raider was in full on panic mode. A green stallion with an eye patch slapped him "Get a hold of your se-" He stopped as a small ball plunked out into the old stove and began to beep twice before exploding.
All the raiders could see was green through watery eyes as there world came smashing in. A giant literal wall of black muscle came charging in the door turning it into a shower of splinters and shivers, not stopping till it slammed into the green stallion and began to stomp it and anyone near by into paste as it let out a blood curdling roar. Right behind it two smaller black little monsters hissing with hate started hopping from raider to raider slashing throats and smashing in skulls. From the back door another loud roar and a crashing sound as two raiders fell backward. One with a slashed neck the other with a caved in skull. A clicking shriek sounded from upstairs as a body stumbled down and tried to hold its own entrails inside its slashed belly and a second body tumbled over the railing, head split wide open. The last sights the lucky raiders who got to die, saw and heard though choked breath and watery eyes where the glowing eyes of the demons of tartarus, red with hate and hungry for the souls of the wicked and the flashing of blades and hammers. Along with an insect like roaring hissing shriek. The ones who survived to escape the shack soon collapsed out cold by the toxic gas, and would come to envy the dead very soon.
******
It took less then 5 min to slaughter the raiders in the two level shack. As I pulled my machete out of the head of a purple pelted raider I could feel the comedown of the "Terror dust" I started to shudder as my nanites worked to dissipate the after effects.
Boonaker wasn't effected at all. He went right to the point.
"Uh Sir. What about the prisoners?" I motioned to the 7 raiders bound to the side of a highway cart with changeling goo, two males the rest females, most looked barely old enough to have cutie marks. Boonaker turned slowly towards me. "We don't take prisoners. Interrogate them and then Execute them. " I smiled at that and saluted "Absolutely sir!"
"Oh and Strip. Hit the music. It will make the work go faster." "Any requests sir?" Boonaker pondered for a second before replying. "I am in the mood for some Kricket Loggins."
I strode over to the raider survivors. They where just starting to come around. I slotted back my helmet and smiled wide at them.
******
The first raider I started with was a mangy looking yellow pelted, blue with pink streaks maned filly. I injected her with a paralytic solution from my tactical pack, and took her off the car and goo sealed all four of her limbs back to the ground on her back spread wide. The solution wouldn't let her move but she would still feel everything. Then I pulled out my tools from the tactical pack. In any other sense they would have been considered standard surgical operation tools, but the same tools used to save lives. Can be used to end them just as easily.
"Come on, you you, you don't have to do thi-" A pleading raider bound to the carts' words where cut short by a large caliber bullet between its eyes. A second one started to actually cry for her mother. "Could you PLEASE be silent well I work? You will get your turns soon enough. Well except for him, cause he's dead. If you behave really well I might give you a "lollipop" " I motioned to my crotch with a hoof and snickered before turning around to my "patient".
The mare on the ground stuttered out as I loomed over her, scalpel levitating beside me. "wha- what the hell are you?!" I couldn't help but smile "Why I am the postal bug. I'm here to deliver a message, and that message is, 'you done fucked up' ". Then I proceeded to slowly draw the surgical cutting tool in small circles around the base of her left front hoof. Looking for the point between the flesh and the hard hoof its self. A light shriek told me I hit the sweet spot. Well that and the fact she urinated with fear when I did. "Oh my my? Didn't like that did we?"
Her reply was terse and rude. "What the FUCK do you want from us !?" I shoved the scalpel in further eliciting another shriek of pain. "Information my dear filly. INFORMATION! What is the nature of your force? Why do you have enclave weapons. What is the enclave up to? Why the city is abandoned aside from you fucking useless wastes of life!? you know, the usual interrogation stuff." I then began to drag the medical blade across the circumference of the hoof as red droplets began to form, getting a pained cry of anguish with every millimeter of movement. "if your cooperative I might actually let you die peacefully with a small lethal injection, just one poke and no more pain suffering or fear. Or if you chose to be uncooperative I can instead rape you to death through your damn eye socket, you fucking worthless piece of useless pony shit!" My tone started off calm tender and kind but soon escalated into a shrieking hiss. It tended to put my "patients" at uneasy being so calm and almost friendly one second then a hissing hateful monster the second. Torture was equal parts physical, social and mental and I loved it. The fear energy radiating off the raiders was like a delectable 5 course meal.
From the comments over my coms I could tell the team enjoyed the food too. If not the method I acquired it.
Finally I spoke up "You assholes know I can hear everything you are saying right?" Dead silence for a good few seconds. Save the shrieking pained screams of the mare I was "administering" to. Finally Boonaker spoke. "Sorry Juniper. Continue your work"
******
It was almost nightfall.
Out of the 7 the yellow filly gave it up first, Well she resisted the hoof "massage" She broke after I yanked out a front tooth and then slammed a steel rod through her ear lobe. By then she was begging me not to kill her and spilling some poor sob story about her oh so "terrible" life. I didn't care. I did find it amusing she couldn't cope with even a fraction of the pain she had no doubt inflicted on countless other innocent creatures. She sold out her comrades and told me everything. I decided to not kill her I had a better plan in mind. But I did still torture her fellows right in front of her eyes. Making sure she knew that nothing she could do or say would save her from my terrible rancor should I chose to end her. If you are wondering if I did not skull fuck anyone. No. Why waste a good source of food. I did however bring each raider to understand the pain the made others feel before giving them a lethal injection and ending the pain.
I left her bound to the concrete and moved back to my squad. They where all sitting by a pile of loaded saddlebags. Covered in scavenged armor and strapped with more weapons then seemed physically possible. "You guys have clearly been busy" I said with delight.
Foxholes nose was buried inside of a saddle bag and muffled. "We could say the same about you. As bitter as fear emotions are I don't think anyone of us has fed that well since our last R&R back at the hive."
"So Juniper. What have you gotten outta them?"
I looked to Boonaker bleakly. "You are not gonna like it."
******
ACCESSING RECORDS. Diary entry saved.
Author's Note
The sounds the changelings are making as they tear the raiders apart is the same sound made by the Bugs in the starship troopers movies.
