Equestria Girls: Hell to Pay

“Okay, so this has to be it!”

You roll your eyes and resume plastering the dent in the wall you left when curb stomping a demon’s face only moments ago. The nutty professor in the room had said ‘this has to be it’ eight times already. And every time she ended up teleporting a demon from Hell into the room.

There are eight bloody smears pending some attention from your mop around the science classroom. One of the desks is shattered down the middle.

“I’ve pre-buffered the quantum charge into the capacitors,” Twilight Sparkle explains, as if that means anything to you. “The oscillating converter has been calibrated to take into account the quantum shifts of matter through the trans-dimensional slipways, so now we should get a stable window into Equestria.”

She prattles on a bit, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She’s talking fast and if you didn’t know better you’d have thought her excitable tone meant she was actually on to something.

You do know better and you make sure your combat shotgun is ready to rock, just in case.

For the past three hours Twilight Sparkle had been working on the trans-dimensional viewport she’d made for the science fair. The very same that had opened a Gate of Hell that pulled you here along with the forces of Hell. Now, under your supervision, Twilight was still trying to get the damn thing working.

With little success, considering it pulled a demon into the land of the living every time she turned it on.

She had disassembled the viewport and re-assembled it three times already. There had been additions, subtractions and modifications of the hardware. There were bits and pieces all over the place, tools scattered over every table, bits of wires, exposed copper and tubes of insulation littering the floor.

Twilight Sparkle herself looked like a mad scientist. Her hair was out of place, sticking up in places, her spectacles were dusty and there were smears of dust and grime all over her white coat. The viewport itself looked just as bedraggled.

No longer was it a sleek disk of pressed metal moulded into a futuristic looking design. It was half opened in places, bits of the external plating drilled through and torn open to make space for modifications. Some of the chips and interior were exposed in places and scratches clouded the exterior plating in other places.

She and her project are a mess, but somehow she still holds a confident swagger.

“That won’t be necessary,” the teenager tells you pointing at the shotgun. “I’ve got it all figured out this time.”

This comment elicits a nervous laugh from the little four legged purple and green critter sitting on the table beside her. Twilight Sparkle’s dog, Spike, picked up a discarded metal bowl between his front paws and set it on his head like a combat helmet before huddling for cover.

“That’s what you said the other eight times, Twilight,” the little dog says in plain English.

You figure you should have been freaked out by the talking dog when you first met him. Honestly, your life is filled with so much freaky-deaky shit you really don’t have any fucks left to give. Case and example, you’re a janitor cleaning up after the mess you turn demons into.

Hang the sense of it.

“Oh, have some faith, Spike!”

You snap your armoured fingers and direct Twilight Sparkle to hit the fucking button. She does and the lab is lit up with the usual laser show.

Green beams of light spread out across the room, spiralling about each other in a laser ballet. Then they close in on themselves like a wilting flower of green light. The moment all the beams meat in the centre though there’s a small explosion, like a miniaturised big bang giving life to a pocket universe before you. The orb of green light opens and expands and for a moment you see a little circular portal into a world beyond.

You see green trees and rolling hills of grass. There are blue skies and fluffy clouds, and the happy colourful denizens on the other side, blissfully unaware of the humans watching them, go on with their happy little huggable lives.

Shit goes wrong literally five seconds later.

In a whirlwind of fire and the screams of the damned, the window into the happy land is replaced with visions of suffering and death before the viewport collapses in on itself. Immediately after a demon materialises in the room opposite you.

“Whelp, crap!” Twilight Sparkle exclaimed with a sigh. She knew the drill.

Grabbing Spike she dragged the dog to the ground and slid under the table. You line up your shotgun and let ‘er rip a split second later.

But the hellrazer is faster. It dodges to one side and your buckshot obliterates a shelf full of glassware. As you move to track, the demon lifts its club-like arm and the various articulated tips open up and the arm ossifies into a lethal beam weapon. A laser beam of pure argent energy scythes past you as you duck to one side, racking a round into your shotgun and letting loose another fistful of buckshot.

Another shelf eats it – this one stocked with microscopes and other delicate, expensive and precision calibrated equipment. Behind you the beam of Hell energy cuts a strange, warped pattern into a window. Notebooks and stacks of paper flutter into smouldering confetti that fills the air.

The hellrazer’s eye-less face gives a hissing challenge and it fires another shot as you rack the shogun once more. This time the demon’s aim is true and the blaze glances your arm. The force of it twists you around as you go crashing to the deck. And as you do you get a clear shot on the hellrazer’s chitinous legs.

You shoulder your weapon while slaying on your side and let loose a shot before systematically racking in the next shell and unloading a second blast immediately after. Each shot meets its mark, turning the hellrazer’s knees into explosions of blood and bone splinters, sending it toppling to the ground.

You’re up in an instant, vaulting over desks with the thrusters in your rocket boots flaring to give you momentum. You go flying over the surface of the desk the hellrazer uses for cover as it tries to stand on its ruined legs. Colliding with the demon you flatten it to the deck again.

You could pick it up and use your fist to pulp its face but… effort. So you let the demon taste righteous boot-heel, emancipating it from this fragile mortal coil.

Checking your pauldron, you flex your shoulder and run your fingers over the ding left in the armour. Hellrazer number nine of today has proven to be a stubborn one. The others died with barely a fuss. You look at the window the bastard sliced into molten sections and sigh.

Plastering you can do, but you have no idea how to fix a window. Mind you, that’s why the internet was invented.

Twilight Sparkle gets up and blows some dust from her glasses. “Okay, I’ll admit it. That didn’t go entirely to plan, but I have a feeling I know where I went wrong.”

You chortle, figuring otherwise.

At the same time the classroom door opens and Twilight’s friend Sunset Shimmer walks in. she has her customary leather jacket hanging over one arm and her school bag is shouldered. She looks around wearily at first, then spotting the dead evaporating demon and discerning you, Twilight Sparkle and Spike are still very much whole, she smiles.

“We’re hearing more gunfire than cries of ‘eureka!’ out there. Is everything okay?” she asks.

You shake your head slowly, then look to Twilight Sparkle who is rubbing her neck.

“Hrm. Not really. Every time we open up the viewport another demon teleports in,” she explains.

Sunset still smiles though. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Twilight. You always do.”

That gets the purple haired girl smiling. “That’s what Spike said.” She tips the bowl from her dog’s head and scratches him behind an ear.

Sunset Shimmer looks up at you and grins, nodding to the mess. “You look like you’ve been through it. Maybe you should call it a night.”

That sounds like a mighty fine plan. Unfortunately, you’re sharing the room with a perfectionist.

“Oh, but we’re only just getting started!” Twilight Sparkle complains and you let out a cough. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

You’re not feeling it as much as she is, and Sunset Shimmer can tell. Chuckling, she smiles. “I’ll get you guys some take out. Hey, Mister Doom Slayer. My fake-ID is still good. Will I pick you up a beer?”

You stare at her for a long moment before the girl gulps.

“Uh… did I say fake-ID?”

Sunset goes to edge her way out before you stop her and hold up five fingers.

“Five beers?” she asks.

You give her a subtle thumbs up and let her go. It’s gonna be an all-nighter, you just know it.

“They are rage; brutal, without mercy. But you. You will be worse. Rip and tear, until it is done!”

The symbol of deep red glows in your retinas, searing its presence on your brain. You’ve seen it before, but for the moment can’t figure out where. Not that it matters.

Pulling at your arms you feel yourself restrained. There’s the clasp of cold metal on your skin and you look down to find you are naked and vulnerable. The tablet of stone you’re lying on is splattered with blood and etched with all sorts of hellish symbols.

Your stone prison is open, but you’re not free just yet.

You focus on the right shackle and pull as hard as you can. Everything on your periphery is a tired, reddish blur as the chains flex and begin to groan. You notice some movement shambling towards you, but focus on the shackles.

Your muscles strain and eventually the shackle breaks open and you look up.

Standing over you is a shambling possessed UAC worker. The shell of a man is missing much of its uniform and all of the skin over the head. The skull is completely exposed and there’s a gaping hole bored in place of the eye sockets as if it had been face-fucked with the barrel of a gauss cannon.

You grab it by the face and the exposed teeth chatter to try and bite. It gets nowhere though as you bring the possessed down and smash its head on the stone tablet…

With a gasp you jerk your eyes open and wake from the nightmare to find you’re sitting up. You’re still wearing your Praetor Suit and you’re seated on the table you slept on last night. Clutched in your right hand is a broken plastic skull you sleepily tore off the model of the human skeleton standing nearby.

Quickly swinging your legs out to the side you find your feet and set the skull back as best you can.

The lab is still a mess. You’ve cleaned up much of the blood already and some fresh patches of plaster still drying on the walls. Most of the broken glass and debris is swept up already, leaving just the empty pizza-boxes scattered over Twilight’s workspace.

You grin. It has been a while since you’ve eaten anything other than MRE’s and nutritional paste. The pizza and beer last night went down real nice.

Pulling off your helmet to wipe some sleep from your eyes, you turn the headgear around to brush an armoured thumb over the crimson emblem painted on the brow of your helmet. It’s the same emblem from your nightmare, the sign of the Night Sentinels.

Twilight Sparkle’s moan catches your attention and Spike gives a yawn. As they wake up where they fell asleep last night, you turn your helmet over and slot it back over your head.

Walking over you help Twilight Sparkle get up as Spike stretches with a groan. “Good morning.”

“Ugh. I’m trying to find something good about it.” Twilight Sparkle squints until she replaces her glasses then works her head from side to side until a joint goes ‘pop!’

“I’m no closer to figuring out what is wrong with the viewport and why it’s opening Gates of Hell instead of a window to look into Equestria… and I have a crick in my neck.”

“It’s not so bad, Twilight,” Spike assures her and you give the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Twilight Sparkle manages a smile. If only for a moment…

A rumble suddenly catches all three of you off-guard. Your first instinct is to look at the viewport, but the teleporter is turned off. The lights are off and there’s no viewport into Hell being projected. Whatever is happening has nothing to do with Twilight Sparkle’s device.

Pinpricks of lighting begin shooting across the room. One zaps Spike on the nose and he yelps, diving for cover. The rumble turns into an earthquake that shakes the school down to its foundations. Glassware rattles and eventually shatters.

Then in a flash of light and fire a creature appears before you.

It’s big. Bigger than the hellrazers the lab has hosted so far. Big enough that its head punches through the ceiling and wide enough that every movement smashes a table or breaks a work-surface.

The cycloptic monster is fat too, most of the body made of flabby, pink, clammy looking flesh. Wires and metal plates fuse into skin around the elbows and the hands are entirely replaced by a set of long barrelled energy cannons. Armour covers most of the torso leaving mostly just the head and the obese belly exposed.

The creature filling the lab bears an uncanny resemblance to that fatass washout boot who made life hell for you and your buddies back in boot camp. Your very own tormentor has returned to you from the bowels of Hell. It’s oddly poetic.

The blobby mancubus thrashes around like a dog with its head trapped in a paper bag. The false ceiling buckles and collapses, one of the tiles cracking across the top of your helmet as you pull Twilight and her pup to safety. The cybernetic parts on the demon spark as it thrashes its limbs into furniture and walls.

It’s nothing you haven’t fought before, but there’s barely any room to fight in the lab. And if you don’t move quickly, Twilight Sparkle and Spike are going to get hurt.

You move like lightning, scooping up Twilight and Spike and pulling them clear before the mancubus crushes them. The dog under one arm and the pixie-like girl over your shoulder, you make a dash for the exit. As you’re moving, Twilight makes a grab for the viewport, but it falls out of reach and is crushed to smithereens under the mancubus’ thrashing.

“No!” Twilight Sparkle tries to wriggle out of your grip to no avail. “What about the viewport?”

“What about our lives?” Spike whimpers as you turn the corner and take off down the corridor.

Behind you the mancubus crashes through the wall, widening the doorway threefold and flattening a row of lockers on the opposite wall. One of its gun arms lifts up and it unloads a ball of energy. The shot smashes harmlessly through a window as you’ve already turned another corner and are skipping down the stairwell to the ground floor three steps at a time.

You don’t slow until you’ve reached the front door.

Canterlot High’s atrium is the marble and wood heart and soul of the school. Adorned with school spirit, there are banners and flags in support of the “Canterlot Wondercolts.” Glass display cases set into the walls display numerous trophies in sports ranging from football to hockey and even as far as paintball and lacrosse. The roof is a cavernous concave with open balconies allowing students to look down into the atrium from the upper corridors.

Pushing your way out the front door you set Twilight Sparkle and Spike down outside. You jab a finger warningly in the girl’s direction, silently ordering her to stay.

Twilight Sparkle huffs, folding her arms across her front. “I’m not a dog you can order around, y’know.”

You turn the finger on Spike, who sits and smiles innocently. “I am a dog, so you don’t have to tell me twice.”

Satisfied they’re safe for now, you turn and stride back into the school to take care of business.

And business is good.

Smashing through the iron wrought guard railing the mancubus comes crashing down from the above corridors and smacks heavily into the floor in front of you with a wet smack of greasy skin. It quickly pushes itself back to its fatty, flat feet and spots you before letting out a roar.

You mimic the roar right back at it and whip out your chaingun to unload a hellstorm of hate and discontent.

The mancubus stumbles as pockmarks of blood explode all across its flabby torso and you walk the shots up to its face. The demon shields itself though, holding one of the weapon grafted arms. Sparks erupt across the alloy and there’s an ammo-explosion, blasting the side out of the weapon making it useless. While shielding itself though, the mancubus aims the opposite cannon and unloads a shot.

You jump to one side and pulse your rocket boots, double-jumping away in the nick of time. Behind you a display case shatters and trophies melt.

Planting yourself high on the slick surface of a wall, still firing the chaingun, you jump off again and soar at the mancubus’ face. You’re going to ram the spinning barrels of the gun down its throat and rape the demon’s bowels with lead.

At least, that’s the plan.

You get in close but the mancubus lashes out, striking you aside and sending you sliding across the deck. Your weapon falls from your grip and skids out of reach before your head craters into a wooden panel.

You scramble to your feet and roll out of the way as the mancubus starts unloading more energy shots. It tries to track you as you run circles around the beast. Trophy cases explode, banners catch fire and flags wither like burning leaves in your wake.

Dropping to the floor you slide through the blown out doors leading into the cafeteria and the mancubus shoots an aggressive volley in after you. Bolts of crackling energy scorch the linoleum floor and crater the walls. Pausing, it wonders if it got you, and that’s when you take the offensive.

Running out into the atrium again you have your combat shotgun levelled and the burst fire mod switched out. Instead of firing buckshot in quick three-shell bursts you unload a high-explosive mortar shotshell. The pop-rocket explodes on impact, and spawns a shower of cluster bombs that explode all across the mancubus’ body.

Clouds of blood and bits of discarded meat slide and splatter across the atrium and a protective panel across the demon’s chest falls loose. Revealed within the cavity underneath is a heart muscle, beating in overtime and pulsing with thick, viscous yellow veins of rot and puss across the surface.

You throw your shotgun aside for the moment and sprint at the beast, colliding at top speed with enough force to knock the thing on its ass. As you’re grappled on you grab the heart and wrench it free, popping several veins and sending gouts of blood streaming from the chest cavity.

Now you have a demon heart in your hand there are a number of things you could do. You could take up satanic worship or you could unlock the secrets of immortality. Or you could do something useful.

Like tear open the mancubus’ jaw and force the heart down its throat.

On paper it’s a wicked plan. In reality it’s even more awesome. The moment you’ve fed the creature its own heart you jump off and roll backwards on impact with the ground. Settling in a low crouch you watch as the mancubus looks queasy, burps and then against all the odds and laws of common sense…

It explodes.

Fire and shrapnel are followed by bubbling fountains of blood and bits of shattered bone. Enough meat to stock an abattoir for a week goes splashing out after, painting the walls and one wet chunk nearly knocks you over.

What’s left of the mancubus isn’t pretty – or it’s glorious depending on your own philosophical difference in opinion. The demon sort of ends at the ribcage giving way to a crimson mess. The ribs are mostly blown out leaving a whiplash of bloodied spine swaying from side to side and perched atop is half a mancubus skull.

Standing, you retrieve your weapons and look around the atrium while the remains of the mancubus smoulder and begin to dissolve into the ether. That’s the only downside to being in the land of the living again. After every demon kill there’s a mess to clean up. And the bigger the demon, the bigger the mess it seemed.

You’re about to fetch Twilight Sparkle and let her know it’s safe when the front doors open and three figures step inside. Spike is plodding just ahead of Twilight, and standing by the girl’s side is a familiar adult.

Principal Celestia’s eyes are wide with shock as she takes in the scene of death and destruction. She checks the smouldering Wondercolts banners, then looks to the disembowelled trophy cases and lets her mouth fall open.

The paper cup she’d carrying in one hand slips from her grip and hits the floor, spilling coffee everywhere.

You tut judgementally and sigh deeply at the mess she’s made.

You keep the rattle of sweeping up debris as quiet as you can while Twilight Sparkle and Principal Celestia talk. They’re seated at the last intact table in the science lab, across which the shattered remains of the viewport sits.

Despite your care not to disrupt them they’re interrupted by a newcomer. Vice Principal Luna is definitely Celestia’s younger sister. They have a similar build and facial structure, and it’s clear they’re siblings despite the fact their natural hair colour being drastically different. If Celestia’s hair colour could be described as a summer palette, Luna’s was best described as a clear night sky.

She greets you with a quick glance and brushes by with a concerned expression until she spots the principal.

“Sister, the atrium is in shambles. What happened?” she asks.

Celestia, in contrast to Luna’s worried look, smiles brightly. “I woke up this morning and just hated everything.” The initial shock of seeing her school wrecked has clearly passed, and with it Luna’s concern seems to evaporate.

“Demon attack?” she asks, narrowing her eyes sarcastically.

“Demon attack.”

“And nobody is hurt?”

Celestia nods and looks at the school’s awesomest janitor. “We have Doom Slayer to thank for that once again.”

Turning, Luna gives you a grin then goes to leave so she can do whatever it is vice principals do. She holds up a fist as she passes.

You lock knuckles for a moment before withdrawing with waggling fingers to complete ‘the explosion’ style fist-bump.

“Back to your device,” Celestia continues to say as you get back to sweeping. “Perhaps it is for the best it’s destroyed. Hopefully now this will be the end of demon visits.”

Twilight Sparkle shakes her head. “I don’t think so, Principal Celestia. The viewport was disconnected and powered down when the large demon teleported in this morning. That can only mean the viewport simply acted like a beacon before. Now it seems the monsters know where we live and they’re coming to visit whenever it suits them!”

Celestia frowns, clearly not liking this development.

“Is that accurate?” she asks looking at you and you shrug and nod. “Then we should develop some sort of defence.”

“A trans-dimensional buffer or shield should do the trick. Unfortunately,” Twilight pauses to pick up one of the broken pieces of her viewport and says, “I have no idea where to begin.”

Celestia looks thoughtful, tapping her lip with a slender finger. Eventually she seems to have a thought and nods. “I still have some friends from college in the scientific community I can reach out to. We’ll some professional help for this problem.”

Her attention is drawn to a loud clearing of a throat and she spots you standing with your arms held out in a ‘what the fuck’ fashion.

If you’re not professional help, then what are you?

Chuckling, Celestia quickly apologises. “Beg your pardon, Doom Slayer. I meant additional help.”

You point at her and nod agreeably. When it comes to disembowelling demons you’re the authority. But on the subject of trans-dimensional shields ‘n shit it was best to call in the big brains.

Having never actually worn a suit before you naturally need a little help. All former formal events you have just worn your dress-blues. It was of course like dressing up a gorilla in fancy threads, and the black suit and tie Rarity was fixing up for you is no better.

One of Twilight Sparkle’s friends, Rarity, is fair handy with a needle and thread. And fair handy with tie knots as she is demonstrating while you kneel in front of her. When she finishes she brushes some lint from your lapel and lets you stand again.

The shoulders are a little tight, the jacket is restrictive and you’re pretty sure the shoes ’ll be worn out after a few miles’ off-road hike. Then again the suit’s not exactly built for combat.

You’ve left your Praetor Suit in your dorm, locked safely away with your own personal armoury. You insisted on keeping your pistol though and it sits tucked into the back of your trousers. Again, with Rarity’s help the cut of the suit hides the outline of the gun elegantly from view.

“There.” Rarity sighs proudly. “You look simply dashing out of that bulky armour.”

Principal Celestia standing by the door leading out of her office, smiles and nods in agreement. “You clean up nice.”

Glancing at your reflection in the window, you nod in agreement while fidgeting with your tie. You do look damn good.

That is until Rarity smacks your hand away to prevent you from messing up your tie again.

Celestia is similarly dressed up in a dressy skirt and a stylish gold blazer. She’s tied her multi-coloured hair into a smart ponytail and she’s carrying a resume under one arm. The reason for all this song and dance is an interview.

One of Celestia’s old friends suggested a certain professor look into your little ‘trans-dimensional problem.’ She was coming by today and Celestia insisted you attend. She also insisted you trade out your armour for a bit, for fear it would intimidate the interviewee.

Celestia’s phone rings and she answers it quickly. The conversation is just as quicks. She only nods and hangs up again.

“Our interviewee is here,” Celestia explains. “You can go, Rarity. Thanks for your generous help.”

“Always happy to help, Principal Celestia. And remember, Mister Doom Slayer. Stand upright,” Rarity says in her lady-like voice, demonstrating perfect posture. She looks like she’s about to give more pointers, but stops as you stare while maintaining your slouch. “Or not. Good luck!”

Rarity leaves and only a few seconds later there’s a knock on the office door. Celestia opens it and a woman walks in.

She’s about Celestia’s age. Tall and just as leggy. She has long wavy raven hair and deep red eyes you can’t help stare into for a moment. You quickly blink and shake off your daze, hoping she doesn’t notice.

“Welcome. And thank you for coming on such short notice,” Celestia says shaking the woman’s hand.

“I don’t mind at all, Principal Celestia,” the interviewee assures as she is led to where you’re standing. “This is our groundskeeper, Mister Doom Slayer.”

The woman smiles, taking your offered hand. “Doom Slayer. That’s an interesting name.”

You’re about to tell her that it isn’t the most interesting thing about you when she suddenly pulls sharply at your arm, hard enough to make you stumble and you’re surprised by her strength. Pulling your hand close to her side, her smile widens and she makes a show of winking at you.

When she lets go and brushes past, you look at your hand a little bewildered, then catch yourself and move to where Celestia is seated. Taking a seat on the couch beside the principal, you watch the interviewee elegantly set herself on the chair opposite you before crossing her legs.

Celestia begins the interview and you do your best to pay attention. She says her name is ‘Velvet Twirl,’ and reading her impressive CV you realise she’s more than qualified to help Twilight Sparkle erect a defence against Hell. But there’s something that bothers you. You can’t quite put your finger on it.

But it has something to do with her wicked smile.