Author's Note

It's Fireflower again with the sixth installment of my first My Little Pony fanfic going beyond the typical oneshots I'd made from before and already using canon characters as human beings instead of their normal forms; however, this is nonetheless a Mature fimfic despite this chapter being tame compared to future ones.

In addition, I would like to take this time to confess that this nightmare was based on one I had back in the summertime; at the risk of spoiling it, I'll give you some clues that had inspired it all, something that many of us can relate to: Missile Command, Terminator, Future War 198X, The Day After, The Sum of All Fears, When The Wind Blows, and Threads.

As My Little Pony, or rather Friendship Is Magic, including its settings and characters belong to Lauren Faust and Hasbro, some characters appearing from other media don't belong to me at all either; however, only this concept of my fanfic still belongs to me so I will say this line one time: please do not steal this story or I will sue.

Oxygen

The big blue skies were darkened about with the moon and stars nearly obscured by an enormous squall line of clouds all thick like butterscotch pudding itself. Traveling across the log horizon of the dulled firmaments were but brief flashes of electricity all slithering about like venomous snakes of the distant pastimes. Thunderclaps had rolled on instantaneously as the sound barriers were cracked open followed by torrential downpours touching the solid earth underneath all. Topsoil containing a few flow flora upon themselves were already moistened by the pitter–patter of such minute droplets being pulled down by gravity alone. To say that the loneliness was currently filling in the dead air served as a great understatement, even if a single grain of truth had been planted in previously.

This proved to be of no consequence whatsoever as a metal contraption was found to be traveling across the landscape in spite of the storm up on high. Although it was boxy, there were plenty of curves to go around; most of the materials composed were slathered in high yellow schematics so to speak. Having said it, there were many signs of wear and tear all throughout the very machine, having signified the overall usage; nevertheless, it persisted. Illuminating the path of least persistence front and back were small lights at their symmetrical cornering: the former snow white, the latter rose red. The looking glasses were being hampered by the rainfall above yet had remained unharmed due to their shared diminutive sizes, speeds, and textures. In addition, its tailpipe had expelled some jet–black clouds of smoke and steam into the opened atmosphere just right before their instant dissipation.

Its interiors were more drier and darker compared to the external surface, especially since there were plenty of reasons in regards to wherefore. In the upper left corner, a steering wheel was resting between the angular seat already adjusted and the circular gauges being stabilized at once. The opposite side of its dashboard was lacking, closed off to both the inner universe and outer world due to a tiny metallic lock in the middle. Going between them was an interface full of buttons and knobs with two thin ingresses imprinted about despite being opened up for its observers. Resting adjacently from it all was a handle stuck in a predetermined pathway planned out in past and future with several letters and a few digits. Several vents had been plastered across the confined space, each of them already producing their own airstreams in all too many fixed directions. The upholstery covering the seating area up and down the contraption was an amalgamation of various softened substances and compounds.

Within the small world were two individuals both alike in fair dignity now watching the scenery blend into the lines of vision as they’d kept on moving straightforwardly. Each of them had their commonalities pronounced by their dark attire and angles already on a full display as their eyes were already focused onto the rainy windshield. Now, it would’ve seemed safe to say whatever was on their very minds, the literal roadway they were currently traveling on was finite yet felt as the end had yet to arrive.

On the other hand, they still had some significant differences between one another, especially at the first glance from a separated perspective so to speak of. For starters, one of the individuals was firmly at the wheel instantly hands–on whereas the other was resting right at the opposite end of the area diagonally. Secondment, its driver was tall and muscular, dark brown and gray hair matched both eyes whilst its passenger was shorter and scrawny with emerald foliage. Thirdly, the broad brunet had a bright complexion upon the integuments filled with softer fluids while the leafy lounger bore a harder and spotty dark shell. Third of all, the brighter driver wore a yellow shirt with darker and lighter stripes running down whereas the dark passenger had an orange cap and red tunic. Fourthly, the broad brunet remained strongly awake even with all the wrinkles in time while the leafy lounger was torpid, dead to the world but still alive. As far as the brighter driver was concerned, a frown rested underneath the mustache; the darker passenger was devoid of emotion by virtue of being asleep.

“Good evening, Equestria, this is K–COBS and welcome to the sixty second news, your one stop place for brevity in a world of sound and joy: first off, Princess Twilight Sparkle has died last night at the age of thirty–six following a long arduous battle with cancer over the past decade…” a calmly somber voice escaped into the open air, belonging to neither the brunet nor lounger.

This was of no concern or interest whatsoever for the driver as a nearby button had been pressed on, cutting off the conversation instantaneously only to be presented with a new line of dialogue, “this has come to a shock and surprise to us all since the young woman became known for her charitable deeds in and out of the homeland after a sudden refugee crisis thirteen years ago…”

“We shan’t forget the performances of this brave soul whom went above and beyond the call to responsibility despite everything!” another voice boomed, more regal and matronly compared to the very predecessors which had invaded the twosome’s spacing, “dearest Twilight had freed me from mine inner darkness two decades ago and sat me right onto the path of forgiveness overall. Even though we hadst come from two different times, we’d existed on the very same line as one singular generation of individuals: between mine exile and her arrival, there wert problems in our society left behind for dear sister Celestia to adapt and overcome; because of mine failed rebellion, I’d become fully accountable in abandoning obligations to both Crown and Country.”

“Is this what we’ve become now, monsters in skins and fabrics worn by our own kind no less?!” a gruff voice wheezed as a dial was being turned by the brunet’s hand, welcoming the static mesh briefly before a sober rhythmically quiet procession of woodwind keys were being pressed separately in the air, one fragment bearing an octave with an accompanying triplet all the while.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the passenger abaft, awakening with a confused mew, “hmm…?”

“I’m sorry, hombre, we’re still in the desert, I’m afraid; it won’t be long until get to the next warp pad…” the brighter driver said to the leafy lounger almost immediately before returning both eyes onto the road ahead.

It didn’t take long for the dark passenger to speak out, “what pad… what’s going on…?”

“It’s okay, hombre, you’re safe with me… we’ve managed to get rid of all el mal pendejos and their amigos here and abroad…” the broad brunet had answered the leafy lounger almost immediately, soothing externally but seething about all the very same, “these bastardos have made our lives a living inferno for over a decade, stealing, killing, and destroying all of them…”

“I don’t get you; was there something I’m missing…?” the dark passenger had asked timidly so to speak of.

An exasperated yet sympathetic sigh escaped the brighter driver’s lips within due time, “I see that the firebombings did a number on you; I can never forget the day I’d lost it all: my home, my job, and my wife, all in one day no less. Even though that brave soul and her friends came to help us, they couldn’t save her life at all: mi amor, God bless her, had battled creatures more unfamiliar compared to my kind; she was my everything and then these culeros took her away and for what – energy, food, water, resources humans need to breathe?! Angie… Angie… Angie… ANGIE…!”

“Wha?!” the leafy lounger yelped as the cap touched the surface area adjoining the current spot without any warning whatsoever, “who is she…?”

“Angie, she is, or rather was, my wife and she’s dead – these men running the countries back where I’d came from turned our world into Hell itself; waters poisoned with radiation, food burned by fires, and a plague of sickness for the survivors to live in like mi uno familia…!” the broad brunet muttered as heartbeats skipped out between intervals, measured by all fingertips.

Reluctantly, the dark passenger struggled to sit back up and say, “how did it happen and when did she show up…?”

“I guess since we have a long way to go, I guess I should tell you already; after all, you did tell me your story, Canterine…” the brighter driver laughed mirthlessly as he’d soon looked around to discovered the remaining raindrops receding recently, “it’d all started back in A.D. 2015 on my own world, or at least what used to be the world itself before what had happened to all of us. I was just merely known as Rafael Eduardo Diaz, a simple artist living in the suburbs of Echo Creek with a wife and two kids; you already know her name thanks to me, but you never knew theirs, let alone remember what they’d looked like before then: I had a son named Marco and a newborn daughter Mariposa – even saying their names had still left me feeling guilty to this day. As a Spaniard, I’d became firmly aware of my people’s history with the ruling governments past and present so to speak of: how many were killed over many in silly arguments about limited resources and tribal idolatry in a span of countless years; even to this day, I’ve been shocked and outrage as to how this keeps going on like nothing is wrong or right anymore to any of us at all. Nevertheless, there were still some kind souls throughout the times before I was ever even born and there will more after I’m gone: Angelica was one of these people and she wasn’t like the rest of her kind even after when my homeland had just transitioned on; it’s no wonder why she’d ended up with that name, such a fitting one and a prophetic one at that since I’m speaking of her. Speaking of which, she wasn’t the only fresh face full of life and love in a world already gone mad enough with and without power; as a matter of fact, this world that Equestria is on wasn’t the first dimension I’d traveled to, let alone been visited from overall: there was a young girl that came to our world before our baby daughter was ever even born into this mad plane of existence. Her name was Star Butterfly and she was also a princess of a kingdom from another dimension just like this one called Mewni: her parents had sent her away to my family’s world so she can get better control of her magic safely and without fear of danger; of course, it didn’t stop those whom wanted control of her magic no matter how many times they’d been defeated so easily. Yet, it seems that hostile lifeforms aren’t just restricted to what had used to be her very ancestral homeworld so to speak of here: over time, the enemies ended up including the subjects her family wished to protect and serve with the magic passed down too; one of them was ancient soldier by the name of Mina Loveberry leading an army of stone warriors created by her trainer. At first, it’d have seemed that peace would return after her defeat and dishonor at the hands of Star Butterfly and her friends; sadly, we were all mistaken, every single last one of us and not just the humans, Mewmans, and monsters alike I’m afraid here: on one quiet day without a rhyme or reason, a big explosion had taken out much of our homes far and wide in so little time. While many of us had stayed intact, it was only in a matter of days we’d envied and pitied those already vaporized in the attack: starvation, sickness, rioting, fires, and debris started to take as much as it could no matter how old or even young we all were; my wife had died because I was too stupid to protect her from the incoming storm of radiation and fallout the bombing brought!”

“Dear Heaven…!” the titular listener peeped.

Just when it’d seemed like the broad brunet was alone in making a messy melody of melancholy, several projectiles had rained down onto the very machine without any introduction whatsoever, sending it off course despite his best attempts to maintain its cruise control upon the very road.

It wasn’t longed until Rafael barked, “DIOS MIO…!”

“What in the world is going on; who’s attacking us?!” the leafy lounger screamed as smoke had appeared on the hood of the contraption before both pairs of eyes, “Mister Diaz?!”

“Hold on, hombre…!” the brighter driver commanded as he’d found himself careening off the pavement in due time, traversing the wet sands within seconds with themselves bouncing up and down the very terrain almost immediately.

It wasn’t long until they’d crashed into a lone cactus, crushing the front of the vehicle into a gnarled shape as the glass broke formation and spread itself out of place with gravity kicking in; as a result, both inhabitants felt their bodies become heavy with opposing force, pushed forward as first yet otherwise concious all the same.

Still, there was strain in their bodies clamping down as they came to long enough to hear another booming voice, “RAFAEL DIAZ AND CANTERINE SORROW, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE CROWN AND COUNTRY: GET OUT OF THE CAR AND SURRENDER YOURSELVES AT ONCE; THERE’S NOWHERE ELSE TO RUN OR HIDE!”

“What crimes; what did I do exactly: what’s going on?!” the latter listener had asked the former operator as both had pressed the red button near their waists, releasing them from their restraints at once, “Mister Diaz…?”

“Just fight, hombre… there’s an anti–air… missile launcher… in the trunk that can… help you out from there… it’s already… too late for me… since I’ve lost everything… including my own strength…” the brighter brunet had coughed out as blood also escaped from his maws in the process.

The leafy listener jostled Rafael’s flesh around but to little avail as the former screeched about, “Mister Diaz?!”

“THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE FOR LENIENCY…!” the masculine boom from before had barked out as a bright circle of light surrounded the car for Canterine to see clearly despite the newfound nearsightedness, “SURRENDER NOW OR PERISH AT THE MIGHT OF OUR WEAPONS…!”

“No…” the former passenger had uttered quietly.

As Canterine vacated the vehicle, the former driver wheezed again, “so this is it… thirteen long years… oh, how I miss you… and yet, will I… follow you there… into the light…? Angelica… if you’re watching… please forgive me… for not saving… you back in the day… I couldn’t let… go of the past… in time enough… at all, my dear…”

“No, why?!” the dark pedestrian cerebrated, looking upwardly to find a crimson helicopter still hovering directly above the wreckage: although its pilot remained unseen, the former knew firmly well what emotions were being felt by the latter considering recent events; what was seen was the spotlight shining onward with a turret pointing down, “it’s happening again; I hate this!”

“YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO MAKE YOUR DECISION, PUNKS…!” the operator’s voice echoed once more with feeling as Canterine opened the back of the scrapped metal heap which used to be their only instrument of escape, pulling out a big cylindrical tube slathered in forest green with a white conical spear fitted at one end and a side monitor hung in the middle.

After also pulling out a jet–black submachine pistol, the leafy layaway took his deep breath and said to himself, “I ain’t letting this slide at all: you take away too much and you’ve crossed the line; go down in flames…!”

Upon gripping the trigger upwardly, Canterine wasted no time pulling it almost immediately, sending the projectile in the air: it didn’t take long for the rocketing propulsion globe to crash into the surface area of the very hovering mechanism over time; as a result, a huge explosion took out much of it instantaneously as the smoke and flames appeared from the cracked imprint. Despite everything, the aircraft was soon spinning out of control for the dark pedestrian to bear witness with little care in the world, watching it fall out of the sky before crashing and burning into the sands of time and space as a black pillar of gases rose in their place with rotors slowing down to a complete stop in due time, no different from the monoxide from the motorcar earlier. Canterine took the time to grab an orange backpack from the car as well, quickly retreating to the side where the downed helicopter had lain opposite before looking inside its contents frantically: several cartridges and a few spheres were found within both eyes as its owner clawed throughout carefully to load the weapon with one of them after discovering an empty object instantaneously.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret this, bastard…!” another masculine vociferation reeked with hatred in the veins, breaking the line of thought calculated by the likes of the leafy lounger, “kill one of my friends, you ain’t going home alive…!”

“Don’t count on it…!” said Canterine silently.

Grabbing a rough sphere from within, the ligneous pedestrian pulled out its pin and had thrown it over the wreckage in an arc towards the corporeal voice almost immediately, “look out…!”

Another loud burst of air was heard in the cold distance, no doubt the work of Canterine alone currently double–checking the very heavy object in question before wearing the knapsack abaft instantaneously at once.

“I don’t know what’s happening here and I don’t like what’s going on either: first, it’s some tragical history tour; now, it’s a science–fantasy comedy…” the leafy combatant ruminated as stardust memories thereof were being gathered up by the collective willpower within, “there’s no way I would’ve been able to get ahold of something like this yet I felt like it’s calling out to me! There are so many questions about this that I need to know, especially with all this madness I’m facing altogether; Rafael said there was a huge war that broke out with people whose names I don’t even know, much less their homeland: who was he, why am I here, how did this happen, when did I grow up, where did it all go wrong, and what does this have to do with me at all?!”

“You took my friend Abbacchio away from me and now we’re gonna make you pay, brat…!” the same voice from before bellowed as footfalls beat against the sand and fog underneath and around.

Taking in a deep breath, Canterine was filled with a terrifying resolve, calm on the outside but thinking all throughout the time: whomever was coming after most likely was in the hovering mechanism that had shot at the automobile Rafael had driven; after all, it was the former’s decision to mount a counterattack following the latter’s sudden decommissioning not long ago.

As soon as the dark belligerent rose from the shielding debris, both eyes were treated to the sight of another man with a much smaller firearm heading out into the former’s direction straightaway. Like the broad brunet, the surviving challenger was full of muscles yet was also thinner as well; in addition, the latter was much taller compared to Canterine by over a foot in sheer height alone. Both eyes were filled with irises bearing the qualities of a black hole but the only things being sucked into them were the information regarding his target and their collective whereabouts only. Upon the lanky survivor’s integuments were of a brighter complexion than the likes of both Rafael and Canterine put together, especially considering all of the flesh but none of the leaves. Menacingly clothed in a purple hat with a white grid and down arrow matching a short sweater, light vermilion pants with black stripes held by a blue belt, and dark red boots, its wearer ran to.

The leafy combatant wasted no time taking aim at his opponent instantaneously, squeezing the trigger without hesitation or remorse as thunderous roar escaped from the submachine pistol; while every single bullet escaped from their magazine, not a single one struck the latter in any form or fashion whatsoever, despite the former’s clear eyesight and calm demeanor overall.

It wasn’t long until rapidly acute clicks had enter the lanky survivor’s ears as Canterine peeped, “shit…!”

“Aw, what’s the matter: ran out of bullets already…?” the other gunman cooed playfully as the dark belligerent retreated back to the impromptu hideyhole, “maybe you should go ask mommy and daddy to help you with that; shame they can’t help you now, even if they’d wanted to, baby Catherine…”

“Leave my parents out of this, will ya?!” Canterine had spat out while struggling to to reload the armament still in both hands despite the trepidations and tremors within presently gaining ground gradually.

The lanky survivor dementedly grin about as he’d approached the leafy combatant’s side confidently, taunting about with impunity, “your skill with firearms was rather impressive for a guy so little: it’s no wonder why Equestria wanted you gone for good; though to be honest, you would’ve made a great soldier on their behalf. Of course, there was also another reason why taking you out was a must: the two Princesses were well aware of all the lifeforms showing up from the Everfree Forest and King Aspen wasn’t the only one with such powers; as a matter of fact, you even managed to scare him with that knowledge alone. Nevertheless, your obsession with bloodlust and vengeance was scaring all the pretty ladies and the princesses’ gentleman too: had to go and kill some people over some firebombings that had almost killed you recently and at a young age no less; Tsutomu would’ve been pretty proud of you if you were so much of an evil scumbag but it doesn’t matter anymore. The second you took aim at me, you’d lost before it was even game over: I have luck on my side and no amount of firepower was going to change any of that whatsoever; even your puny little grenade barely missed and that’s what gave it all away from you…!”

“It’s not over yet, you big bully: I still have six rounds to go before you take me down…!” Canterine retorted as another cartridge was replaced almost immediately as it was jammed in, “as soon as I get out, you’re done…”

“I don’t think you’re understanding something: you've lost and even if you do waste me, it won’t even matter anyway; you stuck out here in the desert with a long rapsheet filled with dead bodies up and down Equestria and beyond, including my homeworld…!” the colorful gunman had soon growled in turn at his clandestine target all the while so to speak of.

Canterine paid no mind to the lanky survivor’s words as thoughts swirled about once more, “it was just a fluke: you won’t miss this one; after all, he’s just one guy… right?!”

“SEX PISTOLS, GO…!” the colorful gunman cried before finally taking a shot into the opened atmosphere where his opponent remained in spite of protection, “LET’S GIVE THIS LITTLE BASTARD A PARTING GIFT…!”

“Yes, boss man…!” a high pitched voiced also squeaked, coming from neither the lanky survivor nor Canterine at all; instead, it’d came from a sextet of little gilded masses with arms and legs reminiscent of the former’s body with peaking domes: although each of them had digits on them, there was no sign whatsoever of the number four but rather a clear sign of the number seven.

Whatever time the dark belligerent gotten on his hands was cut short as a red crystal appeared within range, already ridden on by the metallic faces as they guided it into their viewer’s forehead before the former gasped, “WHA–––!”

“YAY, MISTA…!” the small sextet had cried as Canterine was suddenly slain in action, dropping the object in hand before collapsing onto the ground at once, “SUCK IT DOWN, LITTLE FAGGOT: THAT’S THE PRICE OF FAILURE; YOU GOT WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE…!”

“Dammit…!” the leafy combatant struggled to speak despite being at a loss of words, not that it’d mattered since both clothes and integuments became more ragged in appearance and temperament respectively; sure enough, the victim was a worn out husk from top to bottom as all of the leaves turned brown and fell from their withered points of origin slowly so to speak.

Canterine was now stuck seeing darkness as both eyes became bereft of life and color, his body warped with various edges and curves becoming devoid of moisture and air as they grew gnarly and crooked like a presidential candidate of a bygone era, not that the shooter had cared at all whatsoever since he didn’t even see his target bother to appear like not too long ago so to speak.