Extraction

Following someone wasn't exactly what Hunk was trained for, but in this instance it was all he could do. After a quick instruction on how to kill the damned walking flesh-eaters, they were clearing the halls much faster than before. No wonder they weren't clearing them as fast as he was- they were trying to go nonlethal. They didn't understand that these things couldn't talk, or even reason.

They were already dead. A concept that proved to frighten a couple of the little ponies.

It took them awhile, but they were at the entrance of what the leader of the squad had called the 'Contingency Room.' They banged on it, calling out some sort of code, but there wasn't a response. They knew they were inside, but the ponies inside didn't want to possibly open up the door to a bloodbath. The goal for now was to rid the outside area of the zombies. And, thankfully, Hunk was trained on how to do just that.

With his shotgun still in his hands, he made swift work of the zombies in front of him. With the butt of the shotgun against his shoulder, and a tight grip on it, he pulled the trigger to send the fiery bits of lead out of the barrel, letting them expand into multiple pieces before shattering through whatever it came into contact with. That, being a zombie's head. Once the pellets made contact, the zombies face contorted in each direction the pellets pulled, allowing the fragile piece of skin that hung over it's face to rip off.

Pieces of rotten brain and other fleshy bits expanded out the back of its head, before the body fell limp. Lifeless, as it always had been at the moment of turning. The ponies that Hunk had found himself with weren't exactly thrilled with his technique. Compared to theirs, his was quite gritty, and seemingly bloody on purpose. It was as if his weapons were designed to be devastating, not only in effect, but in shock. With each pull of the trigger, a thundering 'boom' echoed throughout the halls.

But Hunk didn't want to waste all of his shells just yet. He needed to spread his ammo count, so using the pistol afterwards seemed like the best bet. After all, out of all the rounds he carried, pistol rounds consisted of most of them. It wasn't as loud, nor bloody as the shotgun, but it left Hunk feeling almost unsatisfied with each pull of the trigger. He wanted to chuckle in his head.

He definitely isn't normal if he's having fun killing.

He knew that from the beginning. That's why he was so good at his job. That's why people were afraid of him. That's why he was here, and no one else was. Because he was so good at killing. Whether it was putting lead into a family, or covering up a secret by massacring his way out of a zombie infested police station, it didn't matter. He did dirty, gritty, terrible things.

And he was fine with it.

A matter in which most would probably be disgusted by. He didn't care. Why would he? There isn't a reason for him to care. He didn't know the people he killed personally, and he never really felt any remorse afterwards. He didn't get rewarded, but he got to do something that he eventually grew to love. Did he grow up loving this feeling, or did they teach him to love it? He wondered, but he knew he would likely never get an answer.

The number of zombies began to slim down exponentially. The ponies proved to be useful in their technique, sending their actual spears through the fragile, cracked skulls of the zombies, or by sending powerful spells to explode their brains into a bloody mess. Either way, Hunk found himself satisfied with their work. They would be useful, especially with their magic back at camp. He could only imagine just how powerful one might find themselves with that kind of power in that kind of society.

They'd be treated like a king.

"That's all of them, I think..." The leader called out, doing a double take of the surrounding area. The floor was littered with rotting corpses, which moments earlier were running after them with the intent to eat them. The smell quickly caught up to the ponies, their noses scrunching up from the mess they had left, but Hunk was used to it. He knew exactly what this smell meant. The smell of a rotting corpse, the smell of blood and the slight smell of lead.

It meant a job well done.

"We've got them cleared! Open up now, will ya?!" The leader called out, banging on the door once again, to which a small latch on the top of the door opened, presenting another ponies face. It was a grey coated female, her eyes orange.

"Is it clear?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Fine-" She then noticed Hunk. "Oh buck no!" She yelped, shutting the little latch.

The leader groaned, expecting something like this to happen. He banged his hoof onto the door once again, groaning loudly. "Come on- he's on our side! We settled our buckin' differences! He helped us get here and agree'd to help the Princess'. Come on- we can't wait out here forever!"

It took about a full minute before the latch slowly opened again, the female ponies eyes staring at Hunk. A few seconds later, the door slowly opened, presenting what seemed to be a dark hallway on the other side, the walls on each side being dusty and mossy brick. Whatever this door lead to, it was old.

When Hunk passed by, the female squinted her eyes at him. "Don't try anything funny."

Hunk scoffed, continuing behind the other ponies in front of him.