A Derpy Apocalypse: Perseverence

by Pin Point the Artist

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Sad, Anthro, Thriller, Science Fiction
Length: 9563

They thought it was cured. They thought they had it planned out. They thought they knew how to fix it. They thought wrong.

Equestria, 2031. I wake up, imprisoned. I shouldn't be alive. I should have died. I thought the apocalypse would have ended at least by now. It's been centuries…it doesn't add up. Nothing adds up. I just hope I see a familiar face.

I am Derpy Hooves.
A dead mare walking.

*CURRENTLY RATED TEEN+ (16+) FOR: Strong Language, Suggestive Themes, Extreme Violence, Mild Descriptive Gore

Info: This is a reboot of a prior series I wrote on an old deleted account, I decided I'd bring it back up, it was my favorite story, and the funnest one to write.

Remember, feedback helps! Good or bad!
*Rating is subject to alteration.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-04-12 13:05:04 UTC

Prologue - My Beginning

How long has it been? A year? A decade? Century, millennium?

Why am I here, why am I trapped, what of...them?

Huh...I don't know. Maybe I'll never know. I'm in amber...amber — or...something like it. I don't know...none of it makes sense.

But...You're here. You're all I need.

If you don't know me...I'm Derpy. Derpy Hooves. I survived the apocalypse--I think. There's a...

Screw it.

Equestria, 1662. Ponyville had just reached new heights, heading on a path to industry with the rest of the world. Most supplies were shipped from Manehattan for...research? Look-sees? I don't know. Some shit like that or something. It's hard to think stuck in an incubator, is that even what this is? It's all bronzeish — Orange sort of. Nevermind that — Something is wrong, you have to help me out, you have to—

Oh. Right.

You're just a voice in my head.

Then I guess it's just you and me. I don't have much else to do, so I might has well describe what's happened, because I'm sure you don't know already.

One day, I was watching a news broadcast. It was a normal day, like any other. I was fixing my coffee, some muffins. They were really good. Not to brag, but I'm the best muffin baker I know. Anyway, suddenly, I hear screaming from my television — a newly implemented feature of comfort and entertainment from P.V. Entertainment Co. Then I saw only what could be rumored in some insane movie or TV show. A zombie. A zed. A shit-eating, half-dead, mother-bucking, cannibalistic corpse, and it was devouring ponies. So many of them. I look outside, and they're everywhere. There's ponies in the street crying to Celestia for mercy — She must have not heard their prayers.

But I was prepared. I knew something would happen. Unbeknownst to the masses of the population I had a vast storage of weapons for every occasion. Yes...I had a lot of spare time — that's aside the point. Of course, some may call me stupid for only bringing a bookbag full of ammunition, and supplies with a Deagle and an M249 Saw. In fact, it may have been a half-assed decision on my part. But — I survived. As far as I know, at least.

I met this cute stallion, who was residing with a much stronger one. They had a nice camp set up. Things happened. Needless to say, we had quite a time together.

But it ended.

Those bastards killed him.

I still hurts to think about.

Anyway, we were going to Cloudsdale, but found out that the zeds learned. Mindless corpses, learned. Try and get that through your thick skull. They have no objective but to kill. It's like a raging colt who doesn't know what they're doing and seeks temporary happiness. Imagine that. A bunch of ill-minded fillies with the power of gods. It practically spells catastrophe. But come on, they weren't fillies,

They were dead.

I find myself at a raider camp. But they knew me, so they took me in. There I found another cute stallion. Time turner I think his name was. But I can't remember much after that. I had a diary. Had.

So that's it in a nutshell. What do you have to say about it?

...

Thought so. It's like talking to wall. Maybe that's what the zeds are like. Maybe this is what they think in their mind. They can't speak, they can probably barely think, and they're telling their bodies not to kill, not to devour, not to murder and slaughter. But it's so simple and hard to accept.

They're just talking to a wall.

Because they're not in control anymore.

In human mythology, a large portion of humans read and follow this book referred to as a "Bible". Somewhere it said something about 'Powers and Principalities', and 'people not being the enemy'. Something we were taught near the end of highschool. Apparently their 'religions' were a major part of their culture, and how they thrived.

Maybe they're right. Maybe zeds aren't the enemy. Maybe it's the power that made them, the power controlling them.

But then again, I'm just a horse stuck in amber. Fossilized. I don't know what I'm saying, I'm just — Oh.

Someone's here.

Chapter Two - Mistakes and Misconceptions

Screams. No — worse. This pony, this...thing...it's screeching, and shouting. It sounds like it just watched all of Hell before it's eyes.

Haven't we all.

I run up to the door it was in after Twilight and a few Super-SWATs, and I see what it is — horrendous. This pony, this thing, this...Hell-spawn...It's grotesque beyond anything I've seen. You see a zombies face falling off and their brain matter oozing away from an eye socket and you get used to it because, well, they don't feel the pain. They're dead, they don't feel anything. All they know is how to let out a groan because their nerves told them to. But this is different. This pony is alive, this pony is thriving, functioning...and it's screaming, and rotting, and thinking, and knowing. It's like the middle stage of zed and pony, but held prisoner in the repeating loop of a rotting body.

It's face. Oh Celestia, it's face is worse than anything I've seen. The skin is thick and leathery, burnt brown and yellow. There's no fur left on it, the whole body is covered in scratches and scrapes and soars. Its right eye is dry and scaly; its left eye is scratched and bleeding. The voice...ugh I can barely put it into words. It's scratchy, wheezy, but strong. It sounds like it's torn its voice box in two, but still talking — screaming. The hair is frail, thin, and grey. I can see some pieces of the skin now, it's...ugh the bones are showing, there's little pieces of flesh and muscle hanging out, but just a big soggy tear in the skin thats dry on the surface. How does this thing stay alive? How is it walking?

Two Super-SWATs try to hold it down, but no it...

Shit, it's tearing them apart. Now they're all screaming, but it's so distinguishable. The dual cries of terror, and the single shriek of hatred. Despite being restrained, despite being a flimsy corpse, despite the titanium armor on the Super-SWATs, that thing grabs them, and tears them to pieces with ease. Their flesh barely has time to stretch out, their nerves to signal pain, as their limbs are relentlessly pulled from their place and thrown across the already blood-stained room. The soldiers are crying out — sounds of pain that I myself do not recognize. I look at Twilight. She's not even reacting. If anything, I think I see a slight smirk. What the Hell is wrong with her.

"Notify the H.P.U.'s," she states bluntly. "he's a bit stronger than before."

A bit?? One of the ponies there nods quickly running off. After a few minutes of watching that thing scream and cry and shout, I hear loud stomps from down the hall. Two massive, three metre tall stallions appear around the corner. I'm just now realizing how tall this building is, and why. These guys are taller than me on my hind legs. Three metres max, a solid black armor casing with cybernetically enhanced hydraulics to keep them moving with ease. For the most part, minus the color and size, they look the exact same as a general Super-SWAT soldier. But the guns on them, the guns are huge. .50 cals on each side mounted onto the armor with two chains of bullets ejecting from a single pack of ammo, and a huge variety of different interchangeable explosives and EMP's on the sides. It looks like martial law on a suit design.

They stop in the hallway and look at me. They get into a stance focusing on me...oh shit...

They think I'm the threat. One nearly opens fire before Twilight runs in front ordering them to stop. They stood up, emotionless and solid creatures in a silence and reverence I could almost hear over the screaming going on just beside me. Twi explains the situation. They don't move. Not a nanoangstrom. They just say one thing.

"Affirmitive."

It sends chills down my spine. That wasn't a robot voice, but it sure as Hell wasn't a pony one. That sound, metallic, organic, deep pitched and slow, but all the same terrifying and stern. It emphasized its power in just one word. One word. How much of this world have I missed?

The two things walk up to me.

"Request repositioning. Primary task blocked. Please reposition," they say to me, simultaneously. Without speaking, I step out of the way. "Your assistance is appreciated," they say again, turning to the door. For robotic alterations of absolute death, they're pretty mannerly. Without warning, they bust down the door. The screaming becomes louder, louder than anything. I forgot about the door being there, and it sounded like normal volume but this...I don't even know.

The things walk in, one grabs the subject immediately with a fluid movement and haste unlike anything that could be in such a heavy looking suit. The other one takes the subject, pinning him to the ground. Finally, the first, as the subject is thrashing about, stomps on the subjects face multiple times until there is nothing left but a bloody pulp.

So much for mannerly. They step away, walking out and marching off.  The technicians quickly chain the subject to the bed and wrap him around in tight constraints. What? Why? I look at Twilight, she's grinning, she knows what I'm about to ask.

"Just wait for it," she says. Suddenly, the thing begins to thrash about again, but this time stops and relaxes. What. The. Hell. I look back at Twilight. "I'm sure you need a place to stay, let me lead you to a quartering area," she says.

I guess my prison just turned into my room service, then.

Changes in atmosphere are so sudden. One minute, I'm in a laboratory. Then Hell. Now it's a lovely and cozy room. The realization is much more stunning because it takes a while to process. Somehow, the architects were able to blend the rooms and portions in such a fascinating way. It's like being stuck in a gaze for a minute, then realizing everything is different. Despite being imprisoned, shocked, traumatized (again), and almost killed, I think I'm starting to like it here. My only hope is that, well, these are the good guys and not the bad guys.

It seems to be a small shot. This is what the bad guys usually do. They cover up their mistakes, act nice, try to make you feel comfortable, then they stab you in the back with a kitchen knife because they didn't have the decency to get a real knife. I just want to think that the Princess of Friendship of all ponies, was able to bypass all of the Hell happening around here, and actually be generous.

We've been eating for the past few minutes. Nice, quality food. Good stuff. It's like one of those, 'You bite the food, and the food bites back' scenario. Oh wait, this is... This is meat! Had I known meat was this good I would have eaten it a long time ago, a long, long time ago, in fact.

"What is this?" I ask. Twilight looks up. She's properly eating her meal with a fork and a knife, I think is what they're called.

"Hamburger. A human relic, modified for your comfortable consumption." she replied. I'm getting a better look at her hands now. They're so weird. How does she get used to them? It's like a normal foreleg until it gets to the base, then it's like a plate of skin and connected bone with five protruding three-joint cylindrical structures — fingers. The design is so specific, it's almost scary. A hoof is just covered in a random assortment of two-centimetre fur, but a hand is so complex.  The overall anatomy of the Homo-sapien body is just so strange. Twilight continues eating, as do I.

Her face looks the same, too. That's the weirdest. It's an alicorn's head, wings, tail, and horn, but everything else is human. I don't like anything about it.

"So, Twilight," I say, fixing to ask her a few things. She looks up attentively, while still eating her food and regularly using a napkin. It seems easier for her than it does me, given I have a snout and hooves to eat with. Nevertheless, I continue speaking. "Do you mind enlightening me on a few things?"

"Depends," she said, putting her head back down to continue eating, "just ask and we'll see."

"Alright," I said. I thought for a second, 'What should I ask first?' Here, "Tell me, why exactly was I in amber?" Twilight continued eating, not looking up.

"Well," she said, swallowing, "TwiCore Laboratories, that's where you are now, developed a certain viral mutation that was going to be used to reanimate the dead -- enemies and friendlies alike -- to fight for us without sentient mind. Since they could be used until they were worn out, we thought it'd be infallible. However, and I must take responsibility for not considering such an absurd possibility, it turned rogue. The virus was out of our laboratories and before we knew it, half the world is covered in Fleshwalkers."

"Fleshwalkers?" I ask.

"Yes," she replies, pausing her meal to better explain the situation, "they're basically the ones you'd see roaming the street, walkers that seek flesh. Now, we had you in the laboratory because you survived so long and so efficiently through everything that happened that, well, we needed you for many reasons. Especially if you were reanimated --"

"Oh Hell no," I said, glaring at her. She put her hands up as if surrendering.

"Hey, hey," she said calmly, "I wasn't finished. I then remembered how wrong it went last time, so I decided to find a way to remodify it that, rather than keeping you dead forever, would keep you alive forever. I've had many friends and many emotions, but I've watched them all die and fade away. It's the curse of the immortals. It's been over five hundred years, Derpy, you think I'd keep the last remaining pony of my time dead forever?" It gave me a bit to think about.

"Of course," I replied. "and what about that one psycho one that killed those two Super-SWAT's?"

"Super-SWAT's?" she chuckled, "those are TwiCore SWAT teams, actually, but I like the name, maybe I'll use it. Anyway, that was an experimental Skinwalker. They exhibit an excessive strength beyond measure, and unlike what that one did to TC-SWAT 215 and 352, it skins it's victims alive and consumes them like that. We're still trying to figure out why they're habits are the way they are. Personally it's become a fascination."

"Okay, last question." I said. She continued eating.

"Yes?" she said, taking another bite.

"How much have you been through in five hundred years to make you so insensitive and emotionless?" I ask. She stops. "It's not derogatory, it's just --"

"No, I know what you mean." she said. She looked up at me, with a look of the utmost sorrow and compassion, yet filled with hatred and anger. "Fluttershy was the two-hundred and fifty second death of the apocalypse. Applejack the three-hundred and twentieth. Pinkie Pie, four twenty-seventh. Rarity, four sixty-sixth. Rainbow Dash, nine eighty-nine. When Rainbow was gone, I practically died myself. All of my friends were gone. Spike was killed in a laboratory accident far back, and that took me long enough to get over before all of this."

After that, all was silent. Just a clanking from a fork and particular food items slopping around in a plate.

This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Three - Secrets of the Lab

Bad premonition? Maybe. Something about this place doesn't feel right — doesn't feel natural. Something's a bit off. Could be, by some 'arbitrary chance,' the fact that they experiment on creatures that they apparently engineered, and that they have the technology to advance equine strength by 200%, but, nevertheless, I'll reside.

However, I'll be sticking my nose here and there to find out anything important. I'm sure Twilight didn't tell me everything, and as much as I hate to say it, I don't know if her story and reasons are true. She mentioned that she wanted to see me reanimated then I stopped her...Celestia know's what she'd have said next had I not shown my disapproval so blatantly. I guess it was excessive emotion. She seems to be upset about it but, she has so much 'trouble' showing emotion about things like, you know, ponies being torn apart by others.

On the off-chance that she is being honest however, how would it look that I didn't trust her? Of course, if she really was who she says she is, I'm sure she'd understand the difficulty -- I'll stay iffy about it until I know more.

I have two options, believe or doubt. I suspect I should be prepared for anything and be on my own side until I can come to a well-fortified conclusion.

Well, it's about 12:00 now. I'm not tired yet. Kinda been asleep for 500 years, so I'd expect that myself. I might as well act asleep, though. Who knows, maybe I'll be abducted again or something.

The room itself is nice, sort of a elliptical or dome-ish room. The bed is packed tightly and cozily in a small space just big enough to sleep comfortably in. There's some bookshelves above it, and a few flower vases around it. The window looks like an oval with some steel framing forming a square in the middle equidistant from the ends of the oval glass. The room's floor is made of a dark shaded wood, covered up in the center by a red carpet. The rest of the room is a futuristically-shaped, white wall.

Manehattan. Such a beautiful place you used to be, gleaming with your city lights, your endless streets, and majestic buildings. I remember walking those streets and dreaming of being on the top floors of those buildings and hotels. I remember dreaming of being on top of the world, looking down on all of the other foals who wanted the same. I thought I'd see everything, I thought I'd know everything. I knew one day I'd arrive at that height, that I'd be able to live up to my dream. One day, I'd be able to see everything. One day, I'd be able to understand everything, get a higher view of everything.

But not like this.

No this...This desecrates that dream. Every meaning of it, destroyed. I wanted to help others to the victory, now I make my way to the top through killing, and survival. I rise dominant by treading on others, stomping them down and seating myself upon a throne built upon the mangled corpses of my adversaries, and my friends. Worst of all, it's a sturdy foundation. Not for the mentality, but for the pride and physical aspect. The survival. And it damn well have been a curse laid upon me specifically, that I would survive five hundred years after my 'death', which I do not remember anyway. Survival is so bittersweet. You live, somepony dies. A tragedy for a celebration. It's horrid.

Hm. A door lifting open quietly. My abductors have come. I have a very keen sense of hearing, the ones opening it probably didn't hear it and didn't think I would. I roll over, acting asleep. There's this thing I've learned to do in my time, ponies can't tell the difference between your eyes being opened and close if you're squinting. Of course, in return, you've impaired your vision by about 85%, but for the analytical type the small range of vision is enough. It's dark, and I'm in front of the only lit up area in the room. So I can have my eyes open a bit wider. They look like they're in bio-hazardous protection suits; that's the only way I can describe it. Once more, it looks all too sci-fi. They have a stretcher, and they're heading towards me.

Blast, I must have been correct. Should I fight or trick them? If I trick them, I can successfully analyze an escape route on the way their and utilize it and stay under suspicion, but they would know I lurked around finding my way back...That's valuable information as well. However, if I fight, I can take out these two guys, and run around and get the same effect. In both situations I could act like I was concerned and I could get the better of Twilight's trust. The more I know about this place, the better.

They're getting closer, I need to choose.

But what to pick?

I'm not tired anyway...might as well...

They roll the stretcher to me, and start to reach for me. I roll out of my bed pushing the stretcher over with a small crash. The sound distracts them as they look at it to make sure it's okay. Heh. I get up, tripping one of them. The other lunges at me. I begin to think more about the situation. What if Twilight is measuring my physical ability by this? What if she's trying to figure out how well I can fight? I can't throw her off now; I'm too caught in the moment. I step out of the way of the lunging attacker; the other one gets up. It looks like they're both taking a stance...bipedal.

Great, this will be harder than I thought. I haven't fought a lot of bipedal enemies, other than just one particular zombie and two raiders. They both throw a punch. I step out of the way of the first, grabbing the other and flipping him over into the first one. They both fall. I look for a weapon, there's a broken broomstick laying oddly in the corner. My enemies whip out some batons and come at me once more. I grab the broom stick and lower to a parry stance. The first one strikes, counter - damage - break defense - trip - execute. I use the broom stick to knock the baton out of my way, elbowing my attackers face. I then struck his hind leg with the stick, knocking him lower, and kicked the hind leg from under him. After that, I drove the stick into his neck, killing him. The blood sprayed onto my hoof, but it wasn't much until I pulled the stick away, letting it fountain freely from his neck.

The second one swung at me, counter - damage - damage - execute. I grab his hoof, head-butting him. I spin around and strike him in the head with the stick, before coming back around the other way and impaling his stomach. Only one problem, that doesn't kill him, he comes back and hits my foreleg. It sends me back a few feet. And it bucking hurt. He swings at my hind leg, I have to think fast, counter - damage - damage - execute. I swing the stick away from me, a movement in which sent him to spin and strike me from the other side. I get knocked into a cabinet. This guys gonna be harder than I expected, I'll have to think ahead. He swings again, counter - counter - damage - damage - damage - execute. I swing the baton out of the way with the broom, quickly tossing the stick to the other hoof and catching his hoof before he could land another hit. While doing so, I flowed into a swing from my left side and into the back of his head, spinning around I hit his stomach, and then again on his spine. He began to stumble around. Finally, I jabbed the stick through his eye, and tore it out. He finally died.

Gah.

Now to find out some stuff.

Dark. Really dark. Like, not pitch black, but somehow darker than it. Ironic, I guess. It's more metaphorical I suppose, the atmosphere is just so, for lack of better word, spooky. The laboratory is really cold in the night, the lights have been seemingly dimmed, and they're not radiating near as much heat as usual. Different color too, probably some second setting. The floor is freezing me, though. I'll have to find something to wear, maybe even some protection.

I look around me. There's a lot of glass walls slapped onto the floor guarding some tiny little laboratory desks and equip. Nothing too important, except one that's full of paper. I approach it. It seems the room just got darker and colder. I being to shuffle the papers, different project names. 'Flesh-Walker, Skin-Seeker, Limb-Runner, Hive-Minder.'

"Shit..." I say. I look under Flesh-Walker, 'Normal gene, unmutated, generic infantry.' Infantry?? They're monsters! Next to Skin-Seeker, 'Advanced infantry, naturally mutated gene, enhanced physical abilities and durability.' Limb-Runner, 'Heavy infantry, artificially mutated gene, enhanced strength and weight.' And then, an enemy I've known since the 1500's, the Hive-Minder, 'Dark Magic mutation, uncontrolled, unknown characteristics.' What the Hell. Did they know about this? Did they invent this?!

There's more, Head-Flyer, Dark-Walker, Wing-Trotter, etc. etc. All of them, except Hive-Minder and Dark-Walker are dubbed in the order (Target)-(Mobility). That means the Flesh-Walkers walk around and attack by tearing and biting off flesh...Skin-Seekers search for hosts and skin them alive...They...were planning to utilize this in war...this is so cruel. There's a difference in preforming a treacherous act when you have to, and when you don't! Do they not understand that?!

Hive-Minders are exactly what their name implies, they carry a Hive-Mind, controlling the zeds with intelligence. Dark-Walkers are intelligent and infected unicorns or alicorns, often confused for...

Living ponies...

What if Twilight is—

Suddenly, a door swings open, two Super-SWAT's are talking among each other, something about "Shitty Pay" and "Poor Conditions". I think it's time to hide. I duck and slide under a desk into another glass-walled cubby. The loud noise is masked by their conversation and the doors. I know they can break through the glass before I can, so I have to be careful. I wait for them to pass afar off, and try to look for an exit. I loop around, following them to see if I can find a way out. It looks like they're finding an exit.

They stop, that room their going in looks familiar. Oh. That's mine.

Whoops.

They look at each other.

"Buck, boss was right," the first said. "she's taken out the two assassins."

"Remind me again why they put them in Hazmat suits?" the second asked.

"Something about 'understanding her thought process.'" the first said. They both stopped.

"She's right behind us isn't she?" the second states. They both arm their weapons and swing around.

"Fire!"

Chapter Four - Escort Party

Well crap.

I duck before they hit me under a desk and out another. Seeing me through the glass, they fire again. I feel a pinch on my back, probably from the glass. I take a turn and head to a door. I swing it open and shut it behind me.

"I got a hit!" I hear one say. That can't be true, I didn't feel a thing. I look down at myself, what the..? I'm bleeding, profusely bleeding. There's three bullet holes in my chest, one in my shoulder, and two in my leg. What in Equestria? I hear them pounding on the door behind me, but they can't get it. Huh, you'd think with those suits they'd be able to tear right through the door.

Unless...

No, I never opened the door, I just busted it open...Then I shut it. I turn to look at it, and it's jammed in place. A solid titanium door with a small dent in the centre, and a tear in the framing. How...how did I do that? I notice the floor in this room is significantly warmer than the other floor. It was dry blood I was sitting on, and there was a dismembered piece of a Super SWAT in the corner. Apparently, the janitor didn't do his job, it must have been from earlier when the Skin-Seeker --

Oh shit.

I look behind me, and there it is, a Skin-Seeker, staring at me with rage as the Super-SWATs are unknowingly trying to bust down the door. It stares at me, I remain motionless. It starts sniffing me, snorting, or something. It sounds like a choking pug. It opens it's mouth -- I think it's going to scream, but it doesn't.

"Yrr....wunna them...arenchu?" it breaths in a raspy voice. The language is extremely slurred. "Wunna the....experiments. Wunna vus..?"

"I'm not sure what you mean..." I reply. "I just woke up from amber, I was kept alive for about five hundred years."

"Kept...alllliiivee?!" it slowly states, raising it's tone. "Do you know how long I've waited for life??!" it's language was less slurred, now that he was shouting. "You're just like me...You're just like me! You're just like us! You're just like them! Die! Die all of you maggots, rotting and consuming our world! DIE! DIEEEAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!"

He begins to scream and shout, like earlier. He punches me across the room. I hit the wall with a brute force; I swear I left a dent. He runs at me, and reaches for my cheek. No time to think now. I duck under and swoop his leg from underneath him. He trips and gets back up immediately, running again. Speed I've never witnessed. He starts throwing punches, slaps, I don't know, he's flailing around with excessive strength trying to hurt me. I'm blocking all of his attacks, but it's sort of tiring me out. He gets a punch in on my rib, I hear a crack and feel a dull pain. Letting out a small 'Hnng' I jump backwards drawing my hoof back, then lunged striking his face. The rotted flesh seemed to ripple out and tear as my hoof smashed almost through his skull. He fell through a table, breaking it, then onto the bed he was usually restrained to. He got up, much slower this time, and made his way toward me hobbling about. There were a few chunks of flesh and brain matter hanging from his now shattered eye socket. He threw another punch at me, I caught it, twisting his arm and throwing him into the door. The door busted outwards and crashed into a bunch of glass while knocking the two Super-SWATs back. I ran out, jumped, and landed a hindleg into the Skin-Seekers face. It shattered with an explosive effect from the immense impact.

Time freezes for a moment. The Super-SWATs stare at me, motionless. I look down towards the end of my hind leg. This being was supposed to be undefeated. Powerful, invincible. It was supposed to withstand pain in all amounts and use it to strengthen itself, like a rage meter. But no. I killed it. I defeated it. I rose victorious when all likeliness was gone. On a cold night, in a place I didn't know, I won. I was shot six times by .30 caliber bullets, my ribcage was damaged, I still won. I realize now the amount of strength I've exhibited as I look down at my hooves. What did Twilight do to me while I was asleep?

I look up at the Super-SWATs. I can't see their faces, but I have a good depiction of what they look like on the inside. They disarmed their weapons and began to scream and shout, running in the opposite direction. But I didn't let them escape. No. I ran after them, they tried to accelerate, but I was too fast. I pounced the first one, smashing his face in with one clear strike of my hoof. The second one got a head start as he ran faster toward the exit. I caught up with him, and tore his leg out from underneath him. He screamed and begged as I broke another limb to impair his walking. But I did something else. I almost bit his neck. I look back at the other Super-SWAT and at the detached limb of the second.

There's a difference in preforming a treacherous act when you have to, and when you don't! Do they not understand that?!

"What got into me..." I muttered to myself. The Super-SWAT lies on the floor, crying and begging to be spared. I swung my hoof into the hardware that utilized his weapons and broke them, he screamed thinking I was hitting him. I stood, waiting on him to calm down from his screaming and crying. I put my hoof on his helmet.

"What...What are you doing?!" he asks, shaking terribly. I removed the helmet and looked at him. It struck me hard to see the pain in those eyes. It's like I just saw his life in a split second. Everything he ever witnessed, everything he ever experienced over some 30 years of living, based on his fur and facial features. Somehow, though, it still managed to be darker than mine. What happened while I was gone?

"What is your name?" I ask, calmly. He resists for a few moments before he finally opens up to speak.

"Staff...Staff Sergeant Th-Thunder Blaze," he spits out. His voice is shaky and unstable, quiet and drained as well.

"Your eyes, you look like you've been through so much," I say, stooping down to the floor. "what's happened in the last five hundred years?"

"So...much..." he says, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He took a deep breath, I noticed I had put a hoof around him, I suppose it's only necessary to get the answers I need. "The...the whole world...is rotting. You got that Skin-Seeker to talk, everything he said...he's not just some insane monster that TwiCore 'invented', he's right. We're all the same. We've all waited for life for so long but it's never come...It's never been here. I myself have never known it prior to the infection, but I know it wasn't this." He coughed a bit I noticed some the air getting cooler, our breath was now visible. "It's always been cold. Always. No matter what time of day, no matter what amount of heat, it's always so cold." I watched a tear fall from his eye and onto the cold floor. But what I saw wasn't a pony who tried to kill me, I saw a pony acting in self-defense, with no option or choice to fight against their orders. Without any thought, I wrapped my arms around him.

"I'm sorry..." I uttered, eyes closed tight, "I didn't know.."

"It's alright, no one does anymore," he said. Did he... did he forgive me? After tearing off a limb, and breaking another, killing his squad mate, just like that he forgives me?

"If it counts for anything..." I continued, "Sorry about your friend over there." He chuckled a bit.

"I didn't like him anyway."

I sat there with him for about fifteen minutes after I retrieved some bandages and fixed up his broken leg. We talked about somethings, whatever we could really. Just a few cracks on how the weather must be and stuff like that. I really liked him for some reason. Something just clicked.

I began to think about the situation. Is TwiCore bad? If it is, I know their weakness. Their soldiers have fear, they're not 100% loyal, and they have emotions. They can be talked out of it. After performing those deductions, I remember something. I needed to find a way out.

I wasn't sure how I was going to get out of there, but I had to find some way. That's when something out of the ordinary happened. I heard some doors opening and some stabbing with a few silenced gunshots. I looked over, still sitting on the floor. The door was kicked down, five ponies walked out of it with guns armed.

"Freeze!" one shouts. I look at them, they're not TwiCore. They're to differently dressed for that, and they have such tiny little guns, they're all walking on hindlegs, something you'd only see out in the wasteland. They were raiders, but sophisticated enough to get in.

"Have you come here to steal something?" I ask, bluntly, still sitting down.

"Keep quiet, o-or I'll shoot!" the small one says. He's thin, has a tan coat, and orange hair. He looks pitiful, another walks in, a female, Rainbow streaked hair with a bright blue mane.

"No you won't," she said, "we're supposed to keep her safe, as for the other one, I don't care what you do with him."

"You won't kill him either," I said sternly. "Anyone lay a hoof on him and I'll skin all of you alive."

"Of course," the rainbow one replies. She gave a motion for the others to lower their weapons. "We can introduce ourselves later, for now, why don't we go to a more friendly environment?" She looked at me, smiling, then to the guard.

"He can come too."

Chapter Five - Back Where I Belong

I suppose every place has it's own feel. From a Sci-Fi lab, to a wasteland, and now vast fields of free-flowing tall grass. It looks beautiful against the rising sun. A flourishing field of a vibrant green, turning to brighter and darker shades in sync with the soft, brushing winds. I feel a bit of pity for the few of the raiders who are asleep on the ride. The clouds we're powdery, white and twisty floating across the bright blue sky. I wonder how they would have felt in such a perfect world. No smog to worry about, just perfect clean air. Such beautiful—

THUD!

I'm removed from my chain of thought as we hit a small bump in the dirt road. Two sleeping raiders at the edge of our cart wake up, the mare, whom I presume is in charge, is sitting across from me, looking down to Thunder who had reacted to the bump with a grunt of minor pain. Also sitting across from him was a, besides the armor, well-dressed mare who had a number of odd instruments strapped to her. She was also moving her hoof around one...No...That's a hand.

Seriously, what happened while I was gone?

"Why are there so many anthropomorphic ponies?" I ask, seemingly out of the blue as nopony has talked for the entirety of the ride.  The mare stayed focused on her pad-tablet thing. The rainbow pony nudged her, grunting. The mare looked up.

"Oh! Err, hold on," she said, speeding up with the flicking and dragging as a few bluish text boxes appeared around the device. It looked like one portion of a black nano-fibre framing. It projected a bluish, touch-sensitive hologram. It seemed all to advanced for me, at the moment. Finally, after the rainbow mare nudged her again grunting louder, she put away the device.

"Um, hello," she said, awkwardly, "Excessive Anthropomorphisis? That's from a new thing by TwiCore," she laughed nervously, "well, it was new about five decades ago. Now it's just a half and half thing. So many ponies started walking on hind legs since the apocalypse, and it wasn't so easy to do that, so Doctor Twilight Sparkle decided to utilize the mirror magic and studies in the homo-sapien world to blend the anatomies. Of course, it was a trial an error process with the limitations of the apocalypse and technology at the time being, regardless of their now reinitialized and improvised methods — which really just got more over-sophisticated as of late, so no real change in the methodical parts other than the excessive increasing of arduousness, and the more convoluted and perplexing intricacy of the way they go about their methods. Anyway, they basically did other experiments on ponies and humans, forming controversy, and from that, we were born, the resistance."

"Arduous, Convoluted, Perplexing, and intricate, mean the same thing," I said frankly. She blushed.

"I..know that," she replied quietly. The rainbow one laughed.

"Your name is Derpy Hooves, correct?" she asked. I nodded in approval. She smiled. "Nice to meet you then, didn't have time for proper introductions back in the laboratory, but I suppose a two hour trip would do." Two hours? It's felt like six. "My name is Spectrum Splash, according to my files, you might know my great, great, great, great...er...great grandmother, Rainbow Dash?"

"Rainbow Dash being a grandmother..." I slowly stated, "that's probably the weirdest thought I've had all day since waking up." She laughed.

"By the way, this is Techy Pie," Spectrum said, gesturing to the mare beside her, "the breathing thesaurus has just about as much ecstasy for looking and being smart as her ancestor did for parties and laughs." When Spectrum mentioned that fact, I noticed something about her mane; it was short, but curly and pink.

"Yeah, they said she was whimsical when it came to having fun — in the nice way," Techy continued, "She lived the longest out of the...well minus Twilight...out of the Mane six. She lived for about 121 years."

Damn.

"Hell, you're Pinkie's ancestor?" I say, laughing, "Ha! You've both seemed to have changed a lot from them." I looked at Spectrum, "Also, I did punch Rainbow Dash in the nose one time."

"Really?" Spectrum asked, raising her eyebrow and laughing as well, "I was told she could be a jerk sometimes, but jeez!"

"Don't ask, it's a long story I don't wanna tell," I say, still laughing. She looked at Techy, waiting on her to say something. Techy noticed after a few seconds, and hastily pulled her device back out.

"Luckily, since we brought the TwiCore SWAT member, we can replicate the titanium armor," she said, "given the data, it won't be hard to do. I mean, really, it wouldn't matter how hard it was, we've been eager to get our hands on this tech since forty years ago when the whole fight bypassed simple protests and anger, it eventually became a vital piece of warfare to have their technology because we were so outgunned and outnumbered and, well, outarmored." She leaned in with the device. "Now, let me take a closer look." Several pings began to go off on the device as she would swat them away and zoom a few in. "TwiCore NanoFibril, TwiCore Modified Titanium Plates, Billy's Super-Stick Velcro..." She gave a confused look, shaking her head as she continued to read. It was like she faded in and out. "Refortified Nano Fibre Construct...Reinforced Velcro and buckle strapping, memory foam...Enhancive Optical Reception Goggles..Neuronic Impulsive connection..." She smiled. "We have that, now."

"How much longer do we have?" I ask. Spectrum looks around, to the wagon behind us and the horses pulling us in front.

"About fifteen minutes," she replied.

I look once more at the beautiful landscape around me.

How long before you go away, too?

Sure enough, fifteen minutes got us there, and what a sight it was. A massive stone wall, within every two meters of each other lied a well-constructed watchtower. Cannons, mounted weapons, and all sorts of other things were up there to make the area seem much more intimidating. It was sealed off by a steel gate, I'm sure those tiny Super-SWATS wouldn't manage to get into. The gate opens with the loud shriek of scraping metal. The our wagons are pulled in to the massive base.

This place, I thought it'd be a camp. It wasn't a camp, a camp would have reached at most a quater of the size. This camp -- this base -- its a society. I see one of the oddest blends of children playing and military operatives hauling weapons around. There are mothers taking their children to parks and stores, there are husbands, wives, kids, everything from the old world. Except there's another side. Medical tents, guns, swords, armor, soldiers, towers and buildings of all kinds. It's like an individual country. Could TwiCore do this? Could they construct a compound equal to even one fourth the size of this place?

"Welcome to our humble abode," Spectrum said as we passed a large group of soldiers laughing, talking and drinking. I noticed that the beautiful look of the grass had never left, or rather, we never left it. It was still just as green and flowing inside of the brightly-lit camp, a much more pleasant environment than what TwiCore had to offer. I look down at Thunder. He had his eyes barely closed; I knew he wasn't sleeping — just resting.

"Hey, Thunder," I said. He opened his eyes and looked up.

"Yeah?"

"How are you feeling?" I ask. He hesitates for a moment before speaking up.

"Well..." he replies, taking a moment to think, "I don't know. I guess I feel fine but I don't have my limbs anymore, I don't know how useful I can be." I wasn't sure what to say, and before I could conjure up something cheesy to comfort him, Spectrum saved me.

"Not necessarily," she said. "I'm not sure what TwiCore does for prosthetics anymore, but I — we — do know what they did six years ago at least."

"Yep," Techy chimed in, "that's one of the two things I was doing earlier, in fact. Other than scanning that precious tech you're covered in, I was trying to get some areas and vital scans to acquire fitting prosthetic limbs for you."

"I suppose they're not just shitty peg-legs anymore?" I said.

"Oh no, they link with the nerve system in an almost unnatural way," Spectrum responded.

"Synthetic," Techy added, "Incredible."

Techy nearly dropped her tablet thingy when the wagon came to a screeching halt.

"What the Hell?!" Spectrum shouted, looking at the carrier.

"Damn kids," he spat out as two foals ran from out of the way. Spectrum sighed, seeming to have wiped the frustration away.

"Let me escort you and Thunder to a quartering area," she said, smiling.

Chapter Six - Well, Shit

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter One - After 500 Years

A doctor. A technician. Somebody who looks a bit smart. He looks at me; I blink. He looks almost terrified as I do it. He's holding a clipboard it looks like. The poor kid drops it and runs; it seems he's going to get someone. Surely, surely he wasn't just going to leave me alone after he knew I was alive.

It seems I've been awake for hours, but judging by what blur of a clock I can see in the white-silverish room, it's only been thirty minutes. How long have I been here? I look at the clock again, I can barely make it out. Four digits...one...five — Oh Celestia. Either this guy has a fetish with military time or I'm in some sort of compound. As weird as it is, I would prefer the fetish over being held hostage, or maybe it's all the same. Either way, it's 15:33 I think. Brilliant. I'd be hunting or cooking food about now, but no, I'm stuck in this Celestia-Forsaken amber box.

What's this? Oh, another lab coat geek just came in with the first one. He looks a bit superior actually. He sees me watching him, he looks fascinated, but blurred. From what I can tell, he's dark blue with thick square glasses, of course overlaid with an orange tint. The first one seems to be a...tan maybe? No...orange tint...um...pale sandish color, maybe. He has more of a...plane rectilinear — no — rectangular pair of glasses, and they're less thick.

They're both staring at me. Observing me. They're fixing to press a button on some compu — OH SHIT!

They must have pumped me with adrenaline. The amber is loosening now as I'm managing somehow to thrash around in the tight space. Crra-a-a-ackkk — SNAP! Suddenly, I've busted through the stuff. Must have not been amber.  I manage to put my hoof on the back wall, and kick out, tearing the amber stuff out with me. With a loud thud, I fall onto the ground.

Gah, those lights are bright.

It takes my eyes a bit of time to adjust, but I can see well enough to notice how terrified those poor kids are. My eyes clear up, and now I'm wondering what the heck is up with the room. Architecture like I've never seen, and technology that shouldn't exist.

"What year is it, kid?" I ask, looking at both of them and waiting on one to answer. They exchange looks and turn back to me, simultaneously answering,

"2031."

Twenty thirty one? What?! I recollect my thought after getting caught in a trance for a few seconds.

"Why am I here, and what idiot put you scrawny little techies in charge of me?" I ask. They look at each other again, the pale one nodding to the blue one.

"Uh..." he says in a shaky voice — Poor kid can barely speak to me. "You're here for research...you survived a certain virus developed by TwiCore Laboratories. Our boss is uh..." He stops.

"Your boss?" I echo, impatiently. The blue one looks over at the pale one. The pale one speaks up instinctively.

"Um, Princess Twilight Sparkle, ma'am," he says in the most pitifully-managed nerd voice I've heard in my bucking life. Oh, and he called me ma'am. I hate that. I might kill him — No, I'll just fuss at him. I'm seriously not in the bucking mood for this shit. Twilight died. Only Gunny called me ma'am. He was murdered.

"Is this some kind of joke?" I ask. "First, I wake up trapped in amber; second, I'm pumped with an unhealthy and uncomfortable amount of adrenaline; third, I'm being researched; and now you're calling me ma'am?! I hope you understand what shit I've been through, and let me tell you this, if anything, I can kill you. And I will if I need to. So for your well-being, I suggest you keep your bullshit to yourself, and tell me why I'm here and how to get out, and for CELESTIA'S SAKE, DO. NOT. CALL. ME. MA'AM!"

By the time I'd finished my rant, they were shaking and shivering. Of course, I was up in their faces like an angry big cheese reprimanding two timid flunkies.

"I'm sorry, but this is a level six compound, security is so high that even if we wanted to we couldn't escort—" the pale one began to say. I pinned him by his throat against a wall.

"Sand Dune!" the blue one yelped, lunging at me in a combative position.

This is when things get interesting.

I slap him off single-hoofedly; however, he had stuck some sort of thing in my skin that sent about 50,000 volts down my spine. That bucking hurt. I drop Sand Dune, or whatever the Hell his name is, and take the thing out of me. In frustration, I pick up a random sharp object from the table and throw it at the blue one.

Headshot. Or...eyeshot.

"Agghh!" he screams in agony. Blood is spewing and sprinkling onto the floor from his eye as he barely manages the strength to take the object out. The scalpel — as the tool's identity is now apparent — didn't cut his eye out, it's just hanging by one small thread. Unbeknownst to him, evidently, as he accidentally tears that out too, screaming more. Sand Dune runs up to him in fright. I almost feel sorry for him.

"Maverick! Cover it up, stop the bleeding!" Dune says in a shaky, panicky voice.

"It's not a fatal wound — eeck — call a superior!" Maverick replies, baring with the pain. Surprisingly enough, he dealt very well with it. Of course, now I had to worry about the geeky one running around and telling the upper-bodies. I'm assuming I must be important enough not to kill, but I'm still not planning on taking chances.

I reach for another object to stop him as he's running to the door; however, it seems that the superiors were already there as the door opened before I could get my hooves on something. The kid falls down on his face as he realizes it — and they're pretty pissed.

These guys look serious, too. About one and a half meters tall, fancy purple and magenta uniforms under a rope-strapped armor casing with a six-point star made of what looks like titanium on top of a metal chest plate. They have helmets on — pretty streamline; Small and cozy, but strong and flexible. They're reinforced with titanium plates and held together with smooth and tightly wound straps fixating across the mane and under the neck. There seems to be an attached pair of tactical goggles with an atmospheric purification unit.

...

A gas mask.

These guys do not look friendly — not at all. In addition to all of the armor and intimidating facial features, a few of them have chipped ears and cybernetically-engineered wings. Oh yeah, and they also have mounted .30 caliber automatic saddle-rifles deployed on their right side, with what looks like a sort of EMP cannon on the left.

Huh. So those exist now. It's kinda funny how science fiction eventually becomes science. Who knows, maybe soon I'll just fly up into space and be abducted by aliens who blow up Equestria.

...

That wasn't a foreshadowing.

Anyway, in the midst of all of this: a stallion on the ground moaning and gasping from a bleeding eye socket, a panicking lab-geek with a bloody snout almost hyperventilating, and a whole Super-Swat at the doorstep, a well dressed purple mare with a rather lengthy horn and a large wing span walks in on her hindlegs. I thought only I did that. Wait — Are those human boots? Holy shit, she's anthropomorphic. Why would she need that?

Oh, and she's wearing a bucking crown.

"Derpy," she says, alive and well.

"Twilight," I reply. She grins.

"Good to see you awake again, I didn't want to wait the extra day to force you out anyway, come with me," she said. — Not sure what that was supposed to mean — Twi then turned her head to look at the guards. "help those kids up, and get that one a bandage." She looked back at me, as I had approached her.

"You have a lot of catching up to do."

Well it's a bucking military compound I was held hostage in. Fancy that. As I'm led through these, quite presentable hallways, I'm looking through huge doors and at ponies everywhere. Paramedics, doctors, technicians, scientists, etcetera, etcetera. Eventually we approach a long curved corridor which is lined with white tile flooring and — thank Celestia — windows held in by steel frame. And holy shit.

The inside looks very clean, organized, alive. But the outside?

Oh no.

The outside is a Hell Hole. A well-blended mix of industry and corrosion. It's like Manehattan became a fifty-mile-wide greenhouse with excessive fertilizer. Wait, this is Manehattan, isn't it? Yes, those buildings — unmistakeable. Once a beautiful aura of clouds and stars, a majestic glowing city of business and unemployment, poverty and richness all the same. But now, it's none of that. It's just a big slap of shit on the map that didn't even take the time to look like it digested right in the first place. It's pitiful. I just hope they're rebuilding with all of this fancy stuff they got.

Oh, we're still walking.

The building's gotten a bit old by now. A bit...eh...redundant perhaps? It seems to be the same pattern. A white, suspended ceiling held together by pale, silvery, metal frames, white walls and purple linings covered in scuff marks here and there, and white-tiled floors with a few red stains here and there. The ceiling is lined with circular bright lights...fluorescent I think they're called? Anyway, same for the walls. Fluorescent light, door, fluorescent light, door. I notice a few ponies rushing around getting to a certain room. One of the ponies bump into Twilight and I, he turns back to see Twilight.

"I'm sorry, Miss Sparkle, there's an emerge—" he starts choking mid speech as I realize that Twilight has just stabbed him. No, she gutted him, his intestines are hanging out, blood all over her hoof and suit. He falls over, eyes dilated and straining. A small puddle of blood slowly fills the floor. Why the Hell did she do that?

"No explanation necessary," she stated, showing no emotion. She turned to face another employee who was rushing. "What seems to be the issue?" she asks. The employee stops, panting.

"Subject 163, is free from their bed," she spits out, almost slurring a few words from the speed and panic of the situation, "they're still in their room, but that door isn't holding long for one of his type!" Twilights emotionless, bloodstained face turned suddenly concerned as she looked in the direction of the subject.

"Shit." she barely uttered as she began to run in that direction.