Killing Floor: The Equestriarch

by Ftab

Rating: teen
Tags: Crossover, Dark, Comedy, Horror
Length: 2839

After a ditch effort to escape death, The Patriarch and his assailants find themselves in Equestria

Kevin Clamely, now known as The Patriarch, head of a biotechnology institute called Horzine, successfully destroyed the European Union, and is aiming to overrun the world with his cloned, mutated "children." One fateful encounter, inside Horzine's own labs, with a group of mercanaries has led him to execute his failsafe: a prototype teleporter of his own invention. The teleporter, however, malfunctions, and teleports The Patriarch and the mercanaries into a peculiar situation.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-12-27 09:18:10 UTC

Intro

Killing Floor: The Equestriarch

Based on Killing Floor the video game developed by Tripwire Interactive

and My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, owned by Hasbro

Quick note: This fanfic will tell a lot of the Killing Floor characters’ backstories and origins, most of which is made up by me since the games themselves lack detailed descriptions of each of these characters.

Intro

-Horzine Biolabs-

     “You assholes make me puke,” said The Patriarch. “Filthy humans, always killing that which is beautiful!”

      “Ah, bugger off!” said Mr. Foster. “Just shut the fuck up and die, so’s I can make off with some lovely dosh.” Mr. Foster, along with five other mercenaries, fire off their weapons at The Patriarch. With sawblades, bullets, and grenades, they shot at The Patriarch with all they’ve got.

     “So you have guns huh?” The Patriarch covers his face with his giant right arm as it got pelted with projectiles and explosives. “Well I’ve got a bigger gun.” Using his left arm comprised of a gatling gun, he shot back at the mercenaries with a storm of bullets.

      “Ah fuck! Get cover!” exclaimed Mr. Foster as he got hit with several bullets. He and two of the other mercenaries hid behind a giant machine, as the other three scattered about from the area, as they searched for vantage points to pop shots at The Patriarch.

      “I got you, my son, don’t fret,” said the half Scottish priest, Reverend Alberts as he injects Mr. Foster with a dose of healing serum; as he is the field medic of the group.

     “Thanks old man,” said Mr. Foster. “What’s going on with the others, Ana?!” he screamed over the loud noises of battle.

     “Three of them ran off!” screamed back Ana, the french gunslinger. She stood from cover for a moment to pop a few shots from her dual revolvers then immediately returning to cover. “I saw Briar head way back of the room so he can safely get better shots at this fucker!”

     Mr. Foster saw the sharpshooter Rob Briar hide behind a corner, as lined up his Railgun for a head shot. His gun rang, the laser projectile instantly hitting The Patriarch in the face, causing him to pause his bullet storm.

     “Alright Higgins, NOW!” screamed Briar. A woman in a bright red dress popped of her hiding spot behind another machine and shoots her RPG. The rocket also landed square on The Patriarch’s face. The Patriarch screamed in pain and annoyance.

“Donovan, press the attack!”

     “Oh it’s on!” Donovan ran out of his hiding spot, behind a support column, and charged The Patriarch head on. He jammed his Eviscerator- a giant saw that also shoots out its sawblades -into The Patriarch’s stomach, blood and flesh splashed all over Donovan and the surrounding area.

     “Ah! You little shit!” exclaimed The Patriarch. “Time to get messy!” His belly opened to reveal a tentacle with a mouth. He used the tentacle to jab Donovan in the stomach. With a grunt, Donovan clutched his stomach, trying to catch the wind that’s been knocked out of him. The Patriarch used his beefy right arm to knock Donovan several meters away, then used his cloaking device to turn invisible and retreat. “Help me my children!”

     The room filled with the sounds of agitated screams and moans, as well as the sounds of The Patriarch’s loud footsteps as he ran away. Reverend Albert used his HMTech Assault rifle to shoot Donovan with some healing darts. Donovan stood up, recovering from the smack he had just received.

     “Thanks padre-”

     “RRRAAAAAAAUUUUGGH!” screamed a monster in the distance.

     “AAAAAAAAAH!” screamed another, followed by the sound of a chainsaw revving up.

     “Aw shit, we’re in for it now,” said Mr. Foster. He stood up from cover and cocked his AA-12 Auto Shotgun. “Guys we better get ready, zeds incoming.”

     Suddenly, giant groups of mutants poured out from the room’s two entranceways. The group of mercenaries opened fire at the mobs of enemies, limbs, blood, and innards painting the walls and floor. There were mutants with blades for an arm, small mutants that crawled on the walls and floors, fat mutants that vomited blinding acid, thin mutants that screamed deafeningly loud, and mutants that went invisible. But none of those were as terrifying as the two biggest mutants that walked into the room. Both were large and heavily muscled. One had metal contraptions with spikes that spun for arms, the other had a chainsaw for one arm.

     “Bloody hell, we got a Fleshpound and a Scrake!” exclaimed Briar. “Higgins, focus your fire on the Scrake and get its attention; Donovan, me and you will try to take down that Fleshpound; everyone else, keep killing the other zeds!” Everyone carried out Briar’s instructions. Higgins used her grenade launcher on the Scrake to save some of her RPG rockets.

     “Hello chainsaw man. Nice apron,” said Higgins before shooting the Scrake with her grenade launcher. The Scrake staggered for a moment before it threw a tantrum. Its chainsaw spun faster, causing it to turn red with intense heat, accompanied by bright sparks. It charges at Higgins, spinning around trying to hit her with its chainsaw. Higgins dodged the attack and shot the Scrake again with another grenade, then threw a stick of lit dynamite directly at it.

     Meanwhile, Donovan rushed the Fleshpound with his Eviscerator, and sliced up the Fleshpound’s chest. The Fleshpound swung it’s spiked arm at Donovan, who parried it with a well timed block. The Fleshpound staggered back, and Donovan was pushed by the force of the swing. Briar then shot his Railgun at the Fleshpound’s head, enraging the Fleshpound, the light on his chest and face turned from yellow to red. It roared, smashing its metal arms on the ground repeatedly, before conjoining the two arms together, and spun the spikes on it. Briar shot his Railgun again, but the laser projectile bounced off the spinning spiked arms.

     “COME HERE, HUMAN! COME HERE! RAAAUUUGH!” roared the Fleshpound as it lunged at Briar. It swung its arms with all its might, and hits Briar in the chest, breaking several ribs, as well as launching him away. Briar landed hard on the floor and spat out blood. The Fleshpound charged at Briar again before it got hit with a sawblade. The Fleshpound turned around, still in rage, and began charging at Donovan. Donovan continued shooting sawblades at the Fleshpound, while Reverend Alberts shot healing darts at Briar, healing his broken ribs.

     “I swear, those things are a miracle,” said Briar as he stood back up.

     “Anything is a miracle with God,” replied Alberts with a smile.

     Mr. Foster and Ana were doing their best to keep the crowd control up, as they shot down dozens upon dozens of mutants with their pistols and shotguns. Ana landed several headshots to 12 zeds, using up the six bullets in both of her guns. With Ana reloading her revolvers, Mr. Foster continued the attack, unloading his auto shotgun, before also running out of bullets. Ana returned to firing while Mr. Foster holsters his shotgun and pulls out an AK-47. One small mutant managed to crawl from the floor and lunged at Mr. Foster, latching onto his back and continuously scratched and bit him.

     “Fuck, get it off me, get it off me!” Mr. Foster flailed around, trying to grab the little monster. Ana carefully aimed her shot to hit the mutant instead of her colleague, but was grabbed by another mutant with eyes and mouth covered with a black substance. Several other mutants crowded her, attacking her with their hands. Ana, with immeasurable amounts of difficulty, bashed the mutant that was grabbing her in the head with the butt her revolver, causing its head to explode with brain chunks splashing out. Ana immediately started shooting the dozens of mutants that surrounded her, then ran over to Mr. Foster to bash the little mutants brains out as well. Mr. Foster staggered to the floor, breathing heavily.

     “Another day at work?” said Ana as she helped Mr. Foster back up.

     “Working hard for that paycheck,” replied Mr. Foster.

     The hard and grueling battle continued until all the mutants in the room were dead. Higgins the demolitionist managed to blow the Scrake up into tiny bits of meat, while receiving a couple of direct slices from the chainsaw. Briar and Donovan brought the Fleshpound down, but not without getting knocked around by the giant beast. Mr. Foster and Ana cleared out the last remaining zed, but were left covered in scratches and blood. Reverend Alberts kept working hard, shooting and injecting healing serum into his allies. All of them breathed heavily, finally taking a few moments to catch some air into their lungs.

     “Did you forget about me?” The Patriarch shot several mortars up in the air. The mercenaries scatter once again to get cover. One of the mortars caught Higgins and exploded on her back. She drops to the floor and struggled to get back up. Reverend Alberts tried to assist her, injecting her with healing serum. “Do you like my new toys?” said The Patriarch before shooting his rocket at Alberts, who is launched straight into the wall. He stood back up and Higgins limp out of the room, the others followed while shooting at The Patriarch. “Ah, you can’t run and you can’t hide!” The Patriarch ran after the group, going from room to room, stopping every so often to shoot his gatling gun. This continued until he ran into a certain hallway. An hour earlier Higgins planted numerous remote detonated C4 bombs in one specific spot in the hallway where The Patriarch wouldn’t see it, which he didn’t.

     BOOM!

     The Patriarch was close to death. The explosion blew holes the hallway’s walls and floor away, and The Patriarch fell a floor down. He laid on the floor, trying to regain his senses.

     “N-no. This can’t be. I can’t die again, not when I’m so close to my goals. I refuse to die!” The Patriarch stood back up, his hulking body covered in blood and cuts, his mechanical left arm lost its gatling gun, and his left leg was barely functioning. He heard the six mercenaries’ footsteps coming from above. “Time to execute the failsafe.” The Patriarch activated his cloaking device and limped as fast as he could down towards the basement of the facility. The mercenaries followed in pursuit, gunning down the shimmer that they could see from The Patriarch’s cloak.

     As he approached the door that led to the failsafe, The Patriarch sped up faster and faster, and with all of his strength rammed his shoulder through the giant metal doors. He fell onto the ground of the large room. There contained The Patriarch’s failsafe: a giant teleportation machine, designed and built by The Patriarch himself; originally meant to transport his mutants to another teleporter in Germany that was set up by his colleague Hans Volter, who was earlier killed by the same group of mercenaries in pursuit. It hasn’t been tested at that moment, but The Patriarch had no other choice.

     The Patriarch crawled to the control panel of the teleporter, where he entered the settings and passcodes needed to activate the circular machine. The six mercenaries shortly after entered the room.

     “Alright you ugly bastard, give it up,” said Mr. Foster, “You got a large bounty on your head and I want it. I killed you once, I’ll kill you again.”

     “And you must pay for all the ungodly things you have wrought upon this world you blasphemous demon!” screamed Reverend Alberts.

     “Yeah, that too.” Mr. Foster and his co-workers point all of their guns at The Patriarch.

     “Alright, you got me, but I just want to say one thing.” The Patriarch smashes the activate button. The teleporter whirred as it activated with a portal appearing in it. “Auf wiedersehen fuckers!” He used the last ounce of his strength to jump at the portal but accidentally hit the contraption with his metal leg and broke some of the machinery. The Patriarch still passes through the portal as it turned from blue to red. Electricity visibly sprang out from the portal and the room rumbled. The contraption was falling apart and the control panel exploded, fire appearing. The mercenaries covered themselves from the explosions and electricity and tried to leave the room, but the teleporter could not stay stable no longer.

     The teleporter blew up with a bright light, catching the six mercenaries in it.

-Somewhere-

     Trickling water. The sound of trickling water can only be heard. The place felt wet and damp. It was dark. Nothing could be seen. Suddenly a bright light.

     “Kevin. Kevin. Kevin wake up,” said a voice.

     “Alright alright, I’m up,” groaned Kevin.

     “You’ve been up all night working again. Rachel has been worried sick about you. This Horzine company could survive a few moments without you, you know.”

     “No it really can’t,” said Kevin as he put his glasses on. “Horzine is my baby and it’s my job to make sure it grows. Without me it will die.”

     “Rachel is your baby to you know!”

     “Ah, don’t start with me, woman! You’re not supposed to be in here! I have work to do and I don’t need you impeding it!”

     “I should just take Rachel and leave you to your company then!”

     “You… You don’t mean that.”

     “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it- I just- I don’t know… I’m gonna go get Rachel ready for school,” Kevin’s wife left Kevin’s office hastily, slowly closing the door behind her. Kevin sighed and rubbed his temples. Kevin then woke his computer from sleep mode to continue working on some Horzine plans. He opened a message that he received from the British government to make sure of some instructions. He and his biotechnology company Horzine was tasked with creating super soldiers for the British government. Soldiers with extraordinary abilities, no fear, and no questioning towards authority. Kevin cracked his knuckles before rolling his computer chair over to the microscope to observe the specimen he had created in the labs to see what has happened over time.

     The cell had created an exact replica itself, effectively creating a clone. The clone of the cell was completely healthy, devoid of any imperfections.

     “Beautiful,” whispered Kevin. “If only humanity could be this perfect…”

     “... if only- wha, what?” The Patriarch wiped the drops of water off his forehead. Grunting, he stood up to the best of his ability. “Where am I? I guess the teleporter worked.” The Patriarch limped around the dark and damp place, looking for a passageway with his night vision. He found his passageway shortly and followed it. It was long, and at one point, he had to force his large body through the passage. Eventually he saw a light: the exit. He exited the cave and let himself bathe in sunlight, his giant, slimy body glistening with slime, blood, and various other substances. The Patriarch observed his surroundings and noticed that he was on top of a mountain. Down from the cliff, he saw a little town with a giant tree-like castle in the middle. He looked at another mountain in the distance and saw a city with another giant castle. “So this is Germany huh?”

-Somewhere else-

     “*snore* money money money... *snore* loadsamoney… *snore*- wha, what the… fuck?” Mr. Foster woke up, and he noticed he was sleeping in… a bucket? In a barn? Filled with farm animals? With the clucks from the chickens and the squeals of the pigs, as well as the smell of manure, Mr. Foster stood up with start, extremely confused on what is going on. He shook some dust off his black jacket and wiped the the eyepieces white gas mask. He walked towards the barn’s large double doors, and as he reached out his hand to open it, it already opens. With a start, Mr. Foster pulled out his 9mm pistol, getting ready to fight whatever is opening the door. He held his breath, tense at what could be behind that door. He was ready for the worst. And with the door opened, he found himself face to face with… an orange four-legged looking thing with a hat. The thing froze at the sight of Mr. Foster and stared right through his eyepiece.

     “What. The. Fuck?”