Mad Mac: Road Rage

Solus stomped up to the edge of an immense balcony, flaring a pair of feathered wings, false, but they looked real enough, like the rest of the illusion of his godhood when he shrouded himself in the golden haze of his magic. His mask shifted slightly as he leaned out over the railing, the loosely secured teeth, some of them his own, clacking together. His voice rose in volume, amplified by magic to echo around the base of the cliff, “MAGGOTS! VERMIN! YOU COME TO ME SEEKING WHAT!?”

The cry of 'Water' reached his scarred ears, but he did not respond to them immediately, instead shouting “MY COLTS, DO YOU HEAR THOSE WRETCHES!”

War-Colts painted like skeletons, white fur and blackened eyes, clapped and howled from a lower balcony, gleefully mocking the poor creatures on the ground.

“WATER! THOSE BASTARDS WANT WATER!” His torn lips formed a smirk that only he knew was there, “THEN THEY SHALL RECEIVE IT!” His magic gripped ancient valve controls and twisted, unleashing a rain of water onto the ground below, splashing the creatures on the ground for several seconds before he shut it off. “NEVER TOO MUCH, LEST YOU WEEP FOR THE LACK OF WATER!” He purposely gave them just enough to cause rioting below, not even bothering to watch as the wet ground started turning a fresh red in the melee. “Rage, prepare the Rig. The time has come for our deliveries.”

Rage, a female Pegasus with a missing hoof, scowled at him, but still started towards the garage. A single flap of her wings dropped her down onto the lift where the main trailer was already sitting. She glanced at the sealed hatch on the top, hoping that her message got through to Green Bean. Only one way to find out for sure though. Her trusted lieutenant, “Ace, check that the colts remembered to empty the whole tank! Don't want to get short-changed by that cannibal.”

Ace was a rather large stallion, nearly as tall as Solus himself, with a wingspan just short of five meters. His body was painted the same bony white as the other colts, but his head was streaked with black paint trailing back all the way down his neck, where his mane had been shaved off. He was also completely devoted to Rage, having been the one who had driven the Rig before an accident had taken his left eye. He poked his head in the hatch and sniffed loudly enough for the other colts to hear him, “Smells fine, Imperator. No puddles!”

Good. That was as good a confirmation as she needed. Her metal talon caressed the side of the can and she strutted forward, leaping from the lift to where her Rig was parked. The seat was smooth, worn by Ace's hindquarters before her. The scarred Pegasus had also made her prosthetic arm. Her flesh hoof flicked at several switches beneath the console, deactivating the kill-switch before she started the engines up with a roar. Ace waved her in, helping her back the monstrous truck up to the trailer until the hitch locked into place. Absently, she watched the pressure drop slightly as the fuel-ball trailer was strapped to the back. Several quick gestures to Ace set her up to start driving as he took up a seat on the ball. A seat made out of part of an old motorcycle and a gun made up the turret mounted on the ball trailer, and he settled comfortably in for the ride.

Other vehicles rolled out, filled with War-colt escorts. Each held a driver and a Lancer, the pony or griffon assigned to control the weapons. Two led in a straight line, one before the next, both in front of the Rig. A second and third pair flanked the Rig, bouncing along off the pressed dirt road, while a fourth pair trailed behind just enough to see the third pair around Ace's turret.

It was a milk run as far as they were concerned. The Buzzards knew to stay out of the triangle between Gas-Town, the Bullet-Farm, and the Citadel. It was highly unlikely that any of them would be even injured on this run, so the Lancers were mostly relaxing, with the exception of Ace. After locking the hatch on the tanker, he was the most tense pony on the vehicle. Only Rage was more tense, and that was because what they were doing was outright traitoring. The five wives were fairly comfortable inside the tank, which had been filled partially with water, and partially with foodstuffs. Both were meant for trade, but the wives wouldn't care. They would be using it for survival.

Ace sighed as he looked out across the sand before he felt the rig start to turn. Now was the critical part of the plan. Gas-Town was almost directly Left, while the Bullet-Farm was exactly dead ahead. That meant that they had to turn exactly half-way between the two towns, and hope Solus didn't notice what was going on. He raised a pair of battered spyglasses and looked at the Citadel. Solus was not standing on any of the facing edges. Good. That would give them time. He calmly waved the immediate trailing buggy closer.

The Lancer, an Earth pony with a cropped ear, stood on the top of the cab and leaned in close to hear, “Change of plan. We're going to Gas-Town first!”

The Lancer didn't even question it, probably not knowing that they had been headed towards the Bullet-Farm until after they had gotten on that road. He knocked on the roof and shouted the same message to his driver, who immediately fell back to where the other trailing buggy was. The two Lancers conversed for a moment before both zipped up past Ace. The message was passed forward only one, because the lead buggies had already been informed by Rage through the window. The other colts up on the rig only barely questioned, taking Rage at her word. After all, what reason would an Imperator have to lie? The vehicles bounced gently against the sand.