Mad Mac: Road Rage

Macintosh Apple opened his eyes to the sound of metal banging on metal. Several dozen meters away he saw two things that immediately caught his attention. First, the War Rig, sitting in the sand. Second, water, coming from a hose. He gasped and started for the water, only to be halted abruptly by the chain around his neck. He turned around and looked back at the vehicle he had been riding on. Like the other buggy, it was smashed beyond repair, probably accidentally run over by the Rig. And the chain was secured through the door-frame, which was bent beyond repair.

With one hoof, he pulled the sharp needle from his neck, letting it drip on the ground before he started walking. Oh, the chain was still secure, and sturdier than he could break without bolt cutters, but he was Strong. The wreckage began sliding across the sand, leaving a trail behind it. It only stopped for a moment when he spotted five fillies splashing in the water. They might not give up without a fight, so he stomped back to the wreck and pried the door open, freeing the chain, and revealing an old shotgun strapped to the inside. Shotgun in hoof, he threw the Pegasus he was chained to across his back. A body, that was all it was, and as soon as he cut himself free, he would be taking that rig and running again.

He rounded the corner and dropped the Pegasus, “Hey!”

A pale grey filly was the first to respond, sweeping a pair of bolt-cutters away from a pink one, and the bolted chastity belt she wore. “Drop it!”

“Water!” Few words, he barely remembered how to use them anyway. The fillies didn't seem in any state to listen, but he pointed his acquired shotgun at an orange Pegasus filly who was halfway through preening her short wings. “Her.”

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Scootaloo was many things, it was why she had been called 'The Capable' for as many days as she could count. Fear was one of those things though, that she never actually overcame. Fear of death, specifically. She grabbed the hose in her teeth and moved towards the towering stallion, dropping it as his hooves before hurrying back to the other wives. Immediately, she was in her sister's white furred arms. Sweetie Belle the Knowing, who whispered tales of lands far beyond the Citadel, whose horn now lit up a pale green as she prepared to fire a stunning shot. And in spite of the Immortal's efforts, she could still shoot. And quite lethally when asked, and away from the tranquilizers the rotting stallion kept her on to keep her weak.

Five fillies stood nervously as the stallion lifted the hose to his muzzle and sprayed water down his throat, glowering at the five. Several seconds later, he turned the hose off and dropped it to the sand before pulling out on the chain around his neck, “Cut”

This time it was Apple Bloom, the Dag, but also The Strong, who moved. She took the bolt cutters from her grey sister and moved towards the stallion, sizing him up carefully. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place his cutie-mark, scarred and covered in dust and mud.

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Imperator Rage scowled at Ace, mainly because the Rig was not loaded up and ready to go, but also because she could see the pursuit parties now, from all three cities. And when she looked over the edge, she saw a Warcolt chained to a bloodbag, one who was pointing a shotgun at her fillies.

Silently, she launched herself off the edge of the Rig and slammed into the stallion, aiming to drive him to the ground, unsuccessfully. Instead, it was more like an attempt to tackle a concrete block, or a Dozer, and she slid to the ground, sweeping her hooves up between his legs.

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Macintosh curled over as he felt steel-clad hooves collide with his long-ignored nethers, and swung half-heartedly, the blow still slamming the butter-and-dust colored Pegasus against the black metal of the Rig. He started towards what he considered his only real threat, only to have his chain pulled on. A glance over his shoulder showed the unusual sight of five fillies pulling on his chain. A punch to his muzzle turned his attention back, even as the Warcolt seemed to recover, and started throwing the fillies away. Light as he was, he couldn't throw the yellow filly.

A cracking of bone brought Macintosh's attention to a pistol secured under the Rig's frame, and he lunged forward with a heavy hoof, blocking the yellow Pegasus and obtaining the firearm for himself. He pointed it, but accidentally dropped the magazine when he was attacked by the orange filly. A spinning kick slammed the Rig's driver back as he turned his attention away.

The Warcolt lunged for the magazine as the driver gave Macintosh a rib-kick, followed by a very large, white painted stallion bucking him straight in the muzzle from underneath the tanker. One filly grabbed the warcolt around the ribs and bit down on his ear, leading to him lashing out angrily, screaming as his hoof bounced off a still not removed chastity belt. That got him a pair of elbows slammed on his middle spine.

At some point in the brawl, the chain got looped between Macintosh's hind legs, and an unfortunately timed jerk on the chain rammed his jaw into the sand, barely clearing the pistol firing just above his ear. It was empty now unless somepony grabbed the magazine, which he spotted out of the corner of his eye in the hoof of the Warcolt.

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Rumble was possibly having the time of his life. Though it could certainly be better, like if the white filly would get her sharp horn out of his side. Or, he briefly reflected as his head jerked back, if the yellow one would stop bucking him in the face. What was it with them. He just barely managed to get out of the brawl as his bloodbag got Imperator Rage on her back on the sand, and held the magazine up for him as the bloodbag got the pistol in his grip.

Five shots rang out, half the load, all discharged into the sand before he pointed it at Ace, growling something as he pulled on the chain. Rumble happily grabbed the bolt-cutters from where they had fallen after the orange filly had cracked him across the leg with them, and snipped through the chain near the bloodbag's head, “Good Job, bloodbag. The Immortal is going to reward us! You can ask for anything you want! Anything at all!”

The red titan stared at him for a moment, “MY Coat.”

Rumble shrugged out of the coat and hoofed it over, “Ok, but you know you can ask for a lot more than a coat.”