Hatched

The moon shone bright in the sky, casting a long streak of light onto the streets. Things were barely visible. But he didn't find it so demanding on his eyes. No, the night felt like home.

Don't let the sunshine and rainbows fool you kid, Equestria's not all it's cracked up to be.

"Wha-"

Shh... shh... boss wouldn't want you cracking that ole noggin of yours thinking to hard. Let's take it one step at a time, aight?

"I...I don't know."

For starters, you're dead.

"Wait, what?"

Mhm, as a doornob. Dead like that light bulb that never seems to last more than a month. Like that old granny across the street. Dead as that one band your parents always listened to when they whisked off to bed to make sweet, sweet lov-

"I get the point."

He paused. He rubbed his head and crawled off the ground.

"Where the hell am I?"

Ironic use a words there bucko.

"Where."

Jeez, really breaking out the cheery attitude, aintchya? Well, your not in hell, f'that's your first guess.

"I'm dead, but I'm still in Equestria?"

The demon sniffed the air.

Place sure smells like a shit hole. Mortal piles of garbage everywhere.

He looked around. An alleyway, a couple street lights, and a taxi driving by. Some kind of city perhaps.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Aw, you feel that tickle, dontchya? Get used to it, that's how we do it down in Hell, and the boss likes his telepathy. Makes work clean and efficient. I'm sure you know the mentality, being a murdering ass hole yourself and all. Oh, and yeah, we're in a city.

"Wait, what did you say about me? What do you know?"

What do you know?

He pressed his hooves to his head, but nothing came. He shook the noise, the ringing, but nothing came. His head was empty. His thoughts were gone.

Nothing, that's what. Take my advice and keep it like that bucko. Kids like you only make things harder with your mortal attachments.

He recovered from his moment. He looked through the darkness at the figure. The voice in his head, it had to have a form.

Take a good look. Take a picture if you want. It's swimsuit season after all.

He recoiled back. Short, chubby, and unclean, the demon was about as good to look at as the garbage around them. Beard thick with grease, it looked like a rotund donkey, with black twisted horns sticking out the side of its head. The sight of it made him gag.

Well fuck you too. Didn't ask for this body, but the boss had it leftover from last season, so here I am, in the flesh.

"If that's who you are, then who am I? What's my name?"

A bona fide killer. A one of a kind badass.

He stared back, uncertain if the demon would ever be straightforward.

I guess you're about as thick as that armor you're wearing.

He looked down at his chest. Thick leather, with chains layered underneath.

Look kid, you're name's not important. It's a thing, of nothing. You're a Hatchling now, and you'll only ever be a Hatchling from now on. Get it yet?

"A Hatchling?"

Hatched from Hell dumbass. Didn't get that from the demon right in your face?

"Why am I here. I still don't know that."

The demon chuckled. It pointed to the alley's entrance.

You'll find out soon enough. But hey, you're back baby! Have some fun for a change, killjoy. Seeya in a few.

"No, wait!"

It was gone. The demon didn't leave, it didn't walk away, it was just gone.

Hatchling turned around, looking for anything to see his own face.

"This is crazy! Am I really dead? Why can't I remember anything?"

Hoof steps pattered along, nearing the Hatchling.

"Sounds like we've got ourselves a new guy in town," one of the gangsters said. Chains wrapped around his hooves. Two friends followed, with knives at their sides.

Another one spoke. "Looks like a freakshow Pain, can we keep him?"

"Now settle down Howler," the chained one spoke. "We ain't got the room back home for this guy. We'll have to do the right thing and put this stray to sleep."

Hatchling stepped back. As a soldier of Hell, he had one instinct, and he could feel it.

"Get back. Don't come any closer."

The gangster took another step, and cracked his chain at the Hatchling.

Kill.

There wasn't a single thought left. There wasn't remorse either. Nature took over the Hatchling, and his only sense was violence. His cloak stretched and weaved around the gansters like a tide of red cloth. The red coiled around their necks. They choked on their own spit.

One of the ponies began to glow at the head. A spell. A unicorn. Energy crackled and fire erupted. The cloak sought the heat, swallowing it whole. Hatchling only needed to watch.

They were all unicorns. The two others shot too, shocking Hatchling with ice and lightning.

The spells hit nothing. Hatchling dodged and gripped his hooves around two horns.

Snap!

"It's rude to point those at ponies. Some pony could get hurt."

Hatchling tossed aside their horns and shoved them back into the end of the alley. One of them died on impact, the other laid on the ground, all twisted and bent.

The third pony lost his voice to fear, as expected. Liberated from their targets, the other cloak tendrils consumed the ringleader of the gangster. His cries muffled, and his struggle softened to nothing.

Bang!

Hatchling recoiled at the shock, looking down at his armor. A hole bore through the leather and chainmail, exposing the body. The body of hellfire and brimstone.

As for all Hatchlings, he panicked as the fire took form. It erupted, gripping the pony through the cloak. The Hatchling watched as the body crumpled, turned to ash.

The Hatchling didn't react. He slumped onto the ground, exhausted.

Hard as a muthafucka, Hatchling. Prime stuff, really. Makes a demon like me love working for the boss.

"Huh? Did I do this?"

Went wild for a moment there, didntchya? Good. You weren't picked for Hell's army by being a pansy.

"I don't understand what's going on. What was that sting just now?"

A gun. Boy, you don't get out much, do ya?

"Gun?"

Aw, jeez, I almost forgot. You died about two decades ago, before everything started getting their grubby little hooves on those things. Real pieces of work they are, but they ain't hellfire, I'll tell ya that.

"Why did he have to burn?"

The demon tapped his chest.

Right in the love organ Hatchling. Didn't feel to good, did it?

The Hatchling shook his head.

Well get used to it. Freaks like you get shot at wherever you go, and if you can't keep your uniform's power in check, you'll be in a sorry state when the battle comes.

"Battle? What battle?"

Lets take another step kid. So you're dead, you're Hell's personal executioner. So, with that in mind, who the fuck do you think you'll be fighting?

The Hatchling didn't have an answer.

The boss down below hates the ass hat running things up top. You get? The final battle, heaven and hell, the so-called end times, and you'll be at the center of it.

"I don't want to-"

He's the fucking devil. He doesn't give a shit about your needs and wants. Hatched from hell, that's what you are, a title an insignificant pony like you should be honored to have. You're one of the best there is. The top dogs, the heavy hitters, the knights in shining fucking armor. You killed a lot of people in your life Hatchling, and it's the one thing you've got going for ya.

The demon reached out with a hoof. Fur, skin, and flesh peeled away. The Hatchling froze, gripped by the demon's bony claw tearing out of its mortal vessel. He spoke only in the mind. It cut the Hatchling's brain, sharp and painful.

You're the kind the boss wants for his army, and he'll get what he wants. There's no stopping the devil, no fighting his power. If he tells you to kill, you kill. If he wants you to rape, you'll rape. If he even whispers into your ear that your ass needs a lesson, you had better bend over and take it. Hatchlings don't want, they don't think, they simply do. Get it? Now get off your ass Hatchling. You've got work to do.