Soviet hellscape 1.0

by The White devil

Rating: mature
Tags: Profanity, Adventure, Violence, Princess Celestia, Death, Human, Narcotics, Twilight Sparkle, Sad, Princess Luna, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Sex, Royal Guard, Suicide / Self Harm
Length: 19807

A cancelled, proto version of another story.

I'm submitting/posting this so that people can view this old version of a story I've been writing for nearly 2/3rds of a decade and a third or my life.
It's not very good but I believe that it should be available to view in case my goal of turning Soviet Hellscape into a colossal piece of media for decades to come theoretically succeeds. People should be able to view it.

Published 2021-10-25 21:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-05-15 02:24:57 UTC

Prologue: genocidal suicide

SOVIET HELLSCAPE

Written and illustrated by the white devil.

Once, deep within the pages of yore, there lived a species of bipedal creatures that called themselves man, and their species mankind or humanity. These bipedal apes were once indistinguishable from common apes and most creatures in the African safari. But deep within the crevices of these seemingly animalistic barbarian's minds, was a phenom- enal level of intelligence and sociability. So much so that they slowly die without social interaction with other human beings.

Though, unlike most creatures, mankind was not only highly intelligent and very social, but impressively cunning and built. They had extraordinarily built bodies that allowed them to tire out large beasts and then slaughter them with the help of others. Not that, other human species haven't tried this before. Neanderthals, (discovered in the 1800s by mankind) were built with such muscle and physical mass that they were easily capable of going mano on mano with most creatures. Even the modern chimpanzees or gorillas! And the ancient sabertooths of yore! But, there was a major problem. One that would slowly boil and dwell within even the earliest human civilizations, a problem that would gradually and eventually lead to their ultimate destruction. The hunger for money, power, and sex. Greed, Authoritarianism, and lust.

These three natural lusts that all men have, would slowly but deliberately burn the entire species back down to the very earth that they crawled out from.

Humanity however flawed they were, still manage to survive for millions of years. Mankind has done wondrous and glorious things unimaginable to ponies. They traveled to the moon, created the worldwide web to store all knowledge, launched a satellite into space, created medicine capable of fending off even the most fatal of illnesses, built large tall mechanical beings capable of doing great things, conquered nature itself, and they even learned how to harness the power of the universe. Nuclear fission and fusion.

Nuclear Power is an incredibly efficient and clean form of energy, created through two types of reaction. Basically, fission is when atoms erratically smash together to form energy whilst fusion is when atoms fuse together. These two reactions had amazing uses and potential, afterall, fusion is how the universe gets its power and energy from. Mankind started inventing remarkable things, power stations, vehicles, robots, technology, numerous inventions but not enough time to explain. But, this was when things started to take the turn for the worst. The atom bomb. Two bombs, killed 200,000+ people in a few days. The stories I have heard from those survivors and the things I have read from biographies, history books, and military documents. Haunt my damned dreams.

A country called the united states of America committed mass genocide in a war fought over the atrocities of three other global powers. Nazi Germany, imperial Japan, and the soviet union. Over 120+ million human beings were horrifically slaughtered in the largest war in human history and all for imperialist gain and mass genocide. This massive and brutal war would lead to the most horrifying atrocities our kind will ever see.

A massive proxy war, called the cold war was waged after a country called the people's republic of north korea, the DPRK invaded their southern neighbor. This was the final spark that would ignite a dangerous war between two major superpowers. Both were evil greedy nations polluted with asinine and incessant propaganda uses to demonize the other. So the powerful could maintain their "rightful" power.

Entire countries, completely innocent from the age-old war of authoritarianism and totalitarianism, were leveled. Cuba, vietnam, korea, Cambodia, Africa, South America, Grenada, the middle east. They only wanted to free themselves from the evil boot of American corporations who stole and exploited their lands. Even going as far as to fund terrorists and guerilla groups to forcefully evict and slaughter people.

These evil men went to the American CIA with bribery to send American troops and agents. To completely level entire countries and install American puppet leaders who in actuality were dictators. Worse than the alleged evil mem like Castro or Sankara.

Children, barely older than a foal, were sent to die brutal deaths in foreign lands to keep the American Military in charge. They forced children into military service like in the olden days of equestrian yore. However, it wasn't righteous service, they were not defending their lands. But destroying those of others. Tens of millions dead in less than half a decade. And millions more dead within two and a half.

The Soviets invaded Afghanistan and created the mujahideen who would split up into the Taliban guerilla fighters and al-Qaeda terrorists. These groups would lead to even worse groups like AQI which would birth IS and then finally ISIS. Hundreds of thousands of people would die from 1979 till late 1989. It was vietnam all over again. Many more wars would accrue after 1991, too many to count.

The tension only grew as Russia suffered but still managed to rise, especially after the elected president Vladimir Putin would be elected. Eventually, after almost seventy years since the creation of the first atomic bomb. The oil disputes between Pakistan and India, which would then involve the middle east. And then lastly Russia and America. This would lead to a dangerous miscalculation.

In two brief hours, the once vibrant countries of the western world and eastern world. Would be rendered forlorn desolate husks of suicidal genocide and misery. Almost forty thousand pounds of nuclear weapons would be launched at every major city in the world. Every military base, missile silo, airfield, city, major population zone, almost everything.
Almost everything and everyone was killed or leveled entirely in a few hours. A little over ten billion people dead from the destruction and radiation. Hundreds of millions more would soon follow them to hell from the nuclear winter.

A once lively bright world of technological wonder. Now rendered a dark cold vast sphere of death and destruction. Where billions upon billions of utterly innocent and highly advanced people were slaughtered by their own primal instincts from unwritten yore. A truly devastating and horrifying tale this place is.

Some say you can hear the anguish and frightful cries and moans of billions in the frozen blizzard. Creating a deathly howl of betrayal and dire misery, the effects of evil forced upon them. They faded into the brutal background radiation. Acting as an invisible and inevitable threat that'll kill you, eventually. They have become death, the destroyers of their entire planet and all life on it. To you, it may seem like a fitting end to a clearly evil species without a purpose. But, they were not all evil. Most of the dead were innocent.

They weren't evil, they were victims of evil.

In a world with no sound, their cries go unheard. The reality of life becomes totally absurd. The counting of time is considered a crime. And the money once earned not worth a lone dime. So here they will lie for the rest of the night. Their bodies remain still in darkness and in light. But don't be afraid, as it will happen to you, when all will stop as your body turns blue.

One of the most haunting things I had seen was in the walls of the Moscow Kremlin. Within the halls of that ancient forlorn husk of medieval Tsardom architecture, was tens of millions of dead rotting corpses and skeletons. Some had been looted or murdered, others were horrifically raped and brutalized. In the hallway of the Kremlin were a few hundred rotting corpses of elderly, sick, infantile, and pregnant. The smell was god awful and suffocating even under the old dusty gas mask covering my muzzle and snout.

One scene, in particular, was that of a raped and mutilated twelve-year-old girl. She had been impregnated after being molested and sodomized by a corrupt Russian politician. Her body lay motionless on the floor whilst flies and bugs pillaged her rotting corpse. The insides of her body had been ripped out by a horribly injured and mutated dog, it was her pet when she used to be alive in this god-awful wasteland. However, the worst part didn't come until I found her dog. The dog had dark green fur, several yellow boils, and many scars and lacerations.

The horrific beast was eating the flesh of the rotting corpse of a dead deformed and mutated fetus, it had died in a miscarriage that led the girl to be beaten to death. That taught me one thing, not all humans are evil, most were victims of evil. I knew not what the weapons of the third world war were fought with, but I know that this one will be fought with sticks and stones these people were victims of genocidal suicide.

They knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried, but most people were silent.
I remembered a line from the hindu scripture, the bhagavad gita. Rishnu was trying to persuade the prince, he should do his duty. And to impress him he takes on his multi-armed form, and says.

I have become death, destroyer of worlds.

Princess, Solaris Celestia.

Chapter 1: Ash

SOVIET HELLSCAPE

Written and illustrated by the white devil

The heavens deluged sunless acrid rain upon the desolate and solemn wasteland, whilst a ravenous blizzard raged. Each gust of wind howled with the cry of billions of betrayed and forlorn souls. Forsaken by their leaders to suffer in fire and agony for eternity. The consequences of genocidal suicide, forced upon them regardless of their innocence. I shivered at the horrific sound, fright piercing my olden blackened heart of sin. It was a haunting sound, one that placed a deep fear in my hard heart. The ravaged construct hardly sheltered us from the devastating radioactive shower and catastrophic blizzard. An immense fire burned with a brilliant yellow glow, seeping lively heat. Its flames are fueled by several combustible materials. varying from rags to timber and paper soaked in petrol and oil. Yet the warmth barely starved off the frost and harsh Romanian environment. The environmental conditions were horrific to be lenient, the grievous radioactivity and freezing winds. Mixed with no sunlight and near-permanent darkness. Making life a living hell for anything that's still breathing.

Leonid sat across from me, attempting to fill his gas mask canteen with vodka, so he can hook it up to the mask's drinking tube. Trying to drink himself half to death, we've all probably been at that point in life. Putrified human flesh and dead rats hardly keep me from collapsing down a fleet of stairs and becoming a meal to the rats. I dread the inevitable day that'll happen and fear where and when my friend will beat me to death whilst I slumber. And cut off my flesh and eat it like a fucking steak. The knowledge sent chills down my spine and throughout my withered living corpse. It was horrifying and sent a divide between the two of us. I threw the empty can of cod caviar at a brick wall, right next to Leonid.

"What the fuck!?" Leonid exclaimed, nearly leaping into the air with an ear-piercing shriek. He got onto his feet and held a revolver in his hand, pointing it at my chest.

"Are you going to calm down, dammit? Or do you want to be punched in the face again?" I said with a deadpan.

Leonid huffed before plopping back down on a cinderblock, he looked back to me and scowled. "Asshole," He hissed violently with a venomous and hostile voice.

I snickered at his frustration, my aged voice nearly breaking as I tried to choke down a laugh. When I spoke again I sounded like that one old Spanish guy with a funny laugh.

"Oh, fuck your mother!" I laughed hysterically, pointing my finger at him.

His eyes meet mine after a laughing fit, his eyes glared into mine with sharp molten daggers. Loaded with snake venom and warfarin blood thinners. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, he just sat on a chair. Glaring at me menacingly.

Eventually, he spoke once more. His voice was deep and guttural with furious fury and righteous fire. Like Satan himself was speaking to me, if he was a furious human being.

"My mother is dead, you son of a bitch!!" Leonid shouted at me, his voice louder than a Mosin Nagant rifle. He reached for his revolver and pointed it at my chest, he cocked the pistol and gritted his teeth whilst he snarled like an alley dog.

"He-hey, hey! That's not necessary, Leo! it was just a J-joke.!" I stuttered in fear and messed up my words, holding my hands up.

Thankfully, however, he calmed down after a few moments of threatening me. "Damnit, Vlad! you know I don't respond well to jokes like that!" He scowled and stared at the floor.

"At least you didn't slaughter me." I retorted smartly, granting me a shitty look from Leonid.

"Fuck this, I'm going to bed." He yawned.

I grabbed my rifle with one hand and used the weapon for leverage to help me stand up. Every bone in my body screamed in arthritis-fueled agony. But I pulled through and managed to stand upon my two thin legs. Leonid stared at me the whole time I stood myself up, his eyes screaming many obscenities at me.
Okay, you sleep and I stand guard," I spoke cheerfully, Leonid scuffed at my comment before chuckling.

"A retard would do a better job of guarding me than your wrinkly old ass."

"Thanks for your gratitude, asshole,"

"Your desired bastard"

"Oh, fuck you, you fucking cocksucker!"

Standing guard was a tiring and stressful duty to perform, however, I had already been conditioned, hardened, and trained in the art beforehand. Giving me a major advantage over other people. I was eating some smoked sprats and chicken pate, my old rifle was propped up against the wall. Within an arm's reach in case anyone attacks the two of us. The pate tasted relatively okay for what it was. An acquired taste sure, but worth acquiring. I swiftly finished the chicken pate and most of the smoked Golden sprats in oil. My hunger finally satiated for a few hours until I'll probably suffer from starvation again. I relaxed a bit, taking a sip of vodka. I threw the two cans in a random direction because there wasn't a trashcan.

I slouched against the wall, allowing my legs to give in and slide down the old crumbling wall. My eyes moved left to right trying to scan the area for anything that could potentially jeopardize my existence. However, the thick suffocating darkness placed a damper on my mission. Frustration was quickly growing in my mind and began boiling my blood. After a few more frustrating moments, I stopped my search and huffed slouching further against the wall. I reached out with an arm for my rifle. One of my gloved hands wrapped around the rifle barrel.

I retracted my arm with a grunt and placed the weapon on my lap. The weapon was quite heavy, to be honest with you. Not uncomfortably heavy, but heavy enough to make it noticeable. Though the folding stock helped diminish weight substantially.

The rifle had tritium night sights typical of an AKMP rifle variant. Attached at the end of the barrel was a bulbous soviet PBS-1 silencer. The grip was a black polymer grip with grooves for the fingers, the same type used by the American CIA. The magazine was tapped together with another as to double the amount of ammunition. A thick rubber buttpad was attached to the metal stock.

These modifications turned the rifle into a mean 7.62×39 chambered killing machine. The weapon, however, wasn't in very good condition. Scratches, dents, fading paint, knicks, dirty, grime, dust, rust, and various types of damage. Any type of wear and tear was on the weapon and easily visible. But thanks to Kalashnikov's brilliant engineering, it still fires. And pretty damn accurate and smooth firing too.

Yeah, the AKM rifle is quite the fucking workhorse. Why do you think terrorists, militaries, and guerilla fighters around the world love it? Because it is cheap, versatile, the ammo is cheap and common, the rifle is incredibly durable, effortless to maintain in the first place, very simple to use. And it has over seventy fucking years of usage as proof of its supremacy.

Regardless the gun isn't fucking superman, the rifle does still need to be cleaned and repaired occasionally. It'll survive in harsh environments remarkably well, but you'll still need to clean it. America learned that mistake when they issued the original M16 to soldiers in Vietnam. They didn't chrome line the barrels of the rifles and neglected to issue cleaning kits. Because of that, the rifle was affectionately known as a jungle raped hunk of shit. Anyways, I apologize for my tendency to devolve into incessant rambling tangents. I'm afraid that'll happen rather frequently from now on out.

What has always irked me was how I don't remember anything from my past, yet I know so many things. Military techniques, survival skills, and weapon handling. Now, granted, I don't have memories of this probable training. It's like muscle memory or similar to a reflex, it comes to me naturally. I could pick up a weapon and have my body naturally go into an effective firing position. With varying degrees of success of course.

I poured a tiny amount of rubbing alcohol on a rag. Using the rag to wipe down the recoil spring, dust cover, firing pin, and the bolt. So much godamn fucking dirt and grime makes cleaning the difficult an infur-
iating task. Though the upside of doing the tedious and frustrating activity was the ad- ditional confidence I gained in my rifle. The weapon was in very poor condition but it still managed to shoot like my fresh pistol.

It took a couple of minutes to clean each part but I managed to pull through. Slowly, I piece the rifle together again, part by part and piece by piece. Because I had taken the entire rifle apart, putting it back together was far longer than usual.

Eventually, after placing every part into the receiver and fixing them into place. I finally put the dust cover back on and screwed it shut. I grabbed the magazine and shoved the metal piece of shit into the extensively larger hunk of shit. Then I yanked the bolt back with a loud clank and shouldered my rifle to test the sights. In front of me, I had set up a series of targets in varying distances. One at 25 yards, another at 50 yards, then 75 yards, after that 100 yards.

After 100 yards, there was a target at 200 yards then finally at 500. I illuminated each target with flashlights and spare road flares. Providing necessary luminance for accurate shooting. The good news is the blizzard had finally chilled the fuck out, I thought that motherfucker was never going to cool down.

.Focusing upon the weapon on the 25-yard target, I breathed in and held my breath. Adjusting the tritium sights for the range I'd be shooting at. The burning sensation grew in my lungs as my brain roared and hollered for air. My palms were sweating which made the rifle difficult to grip. My arms swayed but I managed to get it under control. The back of the receiver was pressed up against my cheekbone and the rifle was rammed against my shoulder. Thank god for the recoil pad, otherwise, I'm not sure the damn rifle wouldn't fucking shatter my godamn shoulder. The tension was real even at this distance, I wanted the best conceivable shot possible.

The trigger felt like it weighed like a brick house. My heart pounded against my ribs like a jackrabbit frantically attempting to escape its cage.

And then, a thunderous boom and blinding flash rumbled from the rifle, the bullet flew out the barrel like the concord. The bullet slammed into the metal plate and struck the bright red bullseye. Causing the metal to emit a noise similar to a Chine-se bong. I repeated the process several times with each target. According to my analysis, the rifle is still very accurate even out to 500 yards.

The Russian ammunition's corrosive properties showed to be problematic, but I could easily fix that. Finding good bullets for an AKM rifle is a pain in the wallet but feasible.

Bullets whizzed past my head with speed rivaling sonic the hedgehog, if only he was here right now. The bandits screamed random obscenities at the four of us, cursing our mothers and fathers, taunting us to leave our ruined shelter. Romanov provided much-needed covering fire with an old RPD, whilst Leonid used his old rifle to pick off any bandits who were estranged from the group.

The whole area turned into a godamned shitshow of epic proportions. Bullets flew everywhere as it was four experienced heavily armed men locked inside a building, up against twenty-three inexperienced poorly equipped bandits and looters out in the open.

My heart was ramming itself against my ribs and lungs whilst the adrenaline kicked in, I transformed from a relatively normal nuclear holocaust survivor into a heavily armed borderline psychotic lunatic armed with your grandad's fucking U.S army world war two rifle, your marine father's vietnam era grenade launcher, and a fucking AKMS rifle. It went about as well as you'd expect.

The grenade launcher was an old beaten-up piece of shit from vietnam and maybe the Persian Gulf war, the stock slammed into my shoulder as I pulled the trigger. A flash of bright light erupted from the barrel whereas the highly explosive projectile smashed against a tree nearby a few unlucky looters.

The explosion sent wood and metal shrapnel everywhere, shredding anything within twenty feet, the bits of metal and wood tore through the thick clothing and worn flesh of the poor bastards. They fell to the earth screaming in agony whilst blood pooled in their throats, one had his face completely torn apart by bits of wood. His eyes being converted into minced white meat, he tried to scream but a stray rifle round from Leonid's rifle.

He collapsed to the ground and never got back up, slowly choking to death on his very own lifeforce whereas his life faded away into the background radiation of the frozen winds. Another corpse in a world built off death. Many more bandits were slaughtered at the behest of a few men, several were torn limb from limb by the catastrophic damage of our lovely machine gunner. Others were brained by Leonid's British G3 rifle or my M79 grenade launcher.

Then suddenly, from my peripheral vision, I saw a large rocket soaring through the icy air followed by a jet of flame. Immediately, I pushed grygoriy out the way and jumped over the pile of sandbags and debris that shielded us from the relentless gunfire. And just in time, because that very moment, the rocket slammed against a pile of debris and blew up almost instantly. We dodged one bullet, but can we dodge several hundred more? The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a godamn knife. We were both in deep shit right now if we couldn't find cover.

I pulled grygoriy to his feet using my adrenaline-enhanced strength and motioned for him to follow me, we both ran across the dark sunless field, dodging numerous bullets and grenade shrapnel on our exhilarating trek into no man's land. My heart was pumping at an unbelievable speed right now as fear and anxiety coursed up every vein, artery, and capillary inside my ancient withered corpse.

Every hair stood up like an erection inside a 1980s porno. My palms were sweating as my breathing grew erratic, there isn't any way to properly describe what it feels to participate in a massive gunfight or mass shooting. Fear, excitement, adrenaline, apprehension, anything relating to excitement and fear.

We eventually came across an abandoned BDRM-2 armored vehicle when a looter came out of nowhere with a bulky handmade flintlock pistol made from driftwood and a rusty lead water pipe. He yelled some obscenities in Russian as he pulled the trigger. The gun boomed with a deafening crack as a musket ball struck grygoriy straight in the thigh dropping the bald man to the earth.

Instinctually I put my weapon against my shoulder and pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoed deafeningly as I watched the man stagger and fall, clutching his neck. The rifle round tearing through his throat and jugular vein, he died rather swiftly from blood loss.

I stood over the corpse in stunned silence, my mouth forced into a frown as mixed emotions filled my brain. It wasn't until I heard grygoriy moaning in agony and pain that I was broken from my silence. Quickly, I turned to my left and scampered up to the kneeling bald and lifted him onto his feet. He stood there gripping the bullet wound with his hand, small amounts of blood running in between his fingers, an agonized expression plastered on his face

"Damn it! Grigory, are you okay?" I inquired about his condition, "Aah! Of course, I'm not fucking okay! HE SHOT ME IN THE FUCKING LEG" Grygoriy wailed in response, his voice breaking under the severe agony.

In a fit of rage, he withdrew an old Makarov handgun from his jacket. He pointed it upon the nearly dead man, who writhed in anguish. He snarled at the bandit and pulled the trigger multiple times. Emptying the entire magazine into the poor bastard.

The gunshots had long since stopped, because of that Leonid and Romanov jogged over to the two of us. They were just as shocked and disturbed as me. Both were frozen in their places, however, Leonid eventually spoke up in a shaky voice. "Oh yeah, he's bleeding all over the fucking place." He murmured.

Grygoriy hissed as I tightened a tourniquet above the wound to stifle the severe bleeding. The bullet had torn through a myriad of arteries and an innumerable amount of veins.

"Damn it, Leonid, help me carry this bastard!" I grunted, trying to lift the man. This seemed to break the silence of the two catatonic states.

My boots trudged through the vast Romanian marshland, this land was located near the Ukrainian border. Romania has long since been annihilated by radioactive fallout and thick black ash clouds. However, the closer we approached Ukraine, the more the ash clouds faded away to reveal the great enormous ball-shaped nuclear reactor of molten plasma called the sun.

Its benevolent life-giving light and shine can finally reach the earth and penetrate the catastrophic clouds of ash. But even this light cannot bring back the life that we, mankind, slaughtered in genocidal suicide.

The trees were nearly dead, the wood had been charred to a crisp and petrified into a stone-like material. The leaves had petrified into hardened fossils that admitted strong amounts of radiation, so much that the leaves had mutated into a different color. Some thick groups of grass were scattered about the desolate marshland of death, large doses of radiation completely changed whatever life had survived the nuclear Armageddon that accrued barely a year ago.

The grass had been tinted bright yellow by the extreme background radiation, it also developed a very potent bloodborne venom hidden within long dagger-like thorns. These pesky thorns dug into my clothing, trying to pierce my withered flesh to inject their venom into me.

The environment was still incredibly harsh, still, the sun and sky remained blocked by thick ash clouds of radioactive debris and ash. Only small beads of precious sunshine pierced through heaven's heart of darkness.

The winds knicked my jackets with powerful gusts of frigid air, the wind didn't make transversing the foul swamp any less grueling, neither did the rain. Black rain poured upon the four of us, acid nibbled at our equipment and clothing causing noticeable damage but not enough to put it in jeopardy.

The mud emitted a loud sickening 'shlurp' every time I retracted my foot and took another step. Every step made me cringe in disgust at the twisted guttural sound. The rain pounded against my frail olden body, pushing me down towards the thick swamp toxic sludge people once called water.

Frost formed around the edges of the mask's glass lens, partially obscuring my already defiled field of vision, this same dreaded ice built up inside the filter and voice diaphragm making breathing and communication much more difficult. I sighed mentally, knowing that I'd have to do a shitload of work on the mask later.

My breathing was ragged and labored, the environment was gradually and deliberately suffocating me. This world seemed to hold a furious and burning hatred for myself and the other three jackasses. Dread was starting to tear apart my heart every time I took a step towards the deadly border. The Romanian wasteland wasn't ready to let me go just yet.

Grygoriy moaned in agony as we struggled to carry him through the dreaded marsh. He wasn't particularly heavy but between our loads and starvation and fatigue. Turned an intermediate task into a very difficult one. I groaned under the weight of hauling the severely weakened and distressed man. Thankfully though, I had two other yahoos to help me carry this jackass.

"Akgh... Almost shot my balls off-Agk," Grygoriy groaned in pain, his face contorted in pain whilst his breaths grew erratic. His skin started to become cold and clammy as it paled, the gunshot wound was still bleeding heavily even with the rubber army tourniquet.

"Calm down, Gregory, that cocksucker missed them by a mile," Romanov said.

"Well, if a giant lead bullet that punctured several of Greg's arteries and possibly a CNS nerve in his leg is somehow better than sterilization..." I butt into the conversation with a smartass comment.

"О, тише ты, с ним все будет в порядке," Romanov responded, giving me a shitty look. I dropped the conversation and we continued walking aimlessly, looking for shelter which was turning into a futile dream.

Each step became harder and harder to take, a mixture of fatigue and hunger was starting to take a serious toll on the four of us, especially grygoriy who had a large gunshot hole in his thigh. Which was rapidly bleeding, whereas the man's life was fading at an ever quicker pace. I was old enough to be the father of these retards. And the weight of a large man carrying an even larger load was not helping in the slightest. We really need to find shelter immediately, or better yet a tribal doctor. I think the jackalopes are around here somewhere, maybe we can find a patrol of Cossacks.

"Damn it, this is exhausting..." Leonid huffed in exhaustion, "Stop your fucking whining, I'm over 60 and I still have to carry this big bastard!" I frustratingly retorted.

Ek! cool your fucking... Ah! Jets... Rambo!" Grygoriy mumbled, his voice breaking and stuttering while he spoke.

"How about you relax, you're sweating like a fucking whore in church," Romanov said.

"I've got a hole in my leg the size of a fucking golf ball, and you're telling me to relax!?" Grygoriy retorted in frustration.

"Damn it! You're going to be all right, damn it!" Romanov yelled at grygoriy in obvious anger.

"HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW THAT?! LOOK AT MY LEG!!" Grygoriy screamed back, "JUST FUCKING, BELIEVE ME, YOU FUCKING BASTARD, FUCK!!" Romanov bellowed in rage, glaring at the injured Estonian.

"BOTH OF YOU, SHUT THE FUCK UP, RIGHT NOW, FUCK!! SHOUTING OBSCENITIES AT EACH OTHER WON'T HELP!!" I interrupt the conversation again, receiving hateful and furious looks from both of them.

The day had finally turned into nighttime again, the ash clouds returning to their rightful place to block any moonlight from illuminating the marshland. My eyes were droopy from exhaustion as my stomach began to eat itself. Creating a painful knot inside my guts, it felt like a thousand molten metal pins were being stabbed into my groin. Whereas my stomach felt like it was being drowned in acid. I rasped in misery, pain was all I felt, literally.

The mud had finally reached our thighs, the landscape looked like the godamn battle of Passchendaele. Burnt out trees, craters, skeletons, thick clouds of ash, waist-high mud, and just as dangerous. A pit formed in my stomach the more I explored the land. But we didn't have a choice whether or not to traverse the wasteland. My eyes were hurting from a lack of sleep, making my life even more hellish. But when things seem dire, there's always a silver lining, or so they say. Used to say.

We finally got out of that swamp and were on solid land again. Even better, in the distance, I stopped a run-down old ruin with my binoculars. For some fucked up reason I could see in this environment. Granted not very well, but I still could. Though the building was incredibly far away. So we're still going to be walking. My frustration started to boil my blood and my patience was waning at a staggering rate. I growled in anger and nearly threw my binoculars onto the ground. Leonid noticed this and tapped me on the shoulder.

"What happened? What did you see with them?" Leonid asked me rather blankly, "Well, I finally found us some shelter..." I replied.

Leonid immediately brightened up when his frown turned upside down: "Good! Finally, we can sit down, sleep and eat something." Leonid cheerfully said, "Yeah man, I'm practically turning into a fucking corpse here! I'm fucking hungry."

"It's a couple of miles up the road, you fucking idiots." I stared at them with a serious face. I killed their cheerful mood and shat in their coffee. They groaned in frustration as we continued our grueling journey.

The diner was once a proud standing building that represented old-school 1950s Americana. The building radiated a strong nostalgic feeling which I couldn't describe, nor can I even all this time later. The land surrounding this desolate husk of the old world had become overgrown and wild. Many new mutated variants of fauna. Some looked like military Constantina wire, others used to be moss but had since turned dark crimson red with toxic spores, even a couple of strange new mushrooms were growing under the ash clouds.

One mushroom, in particular, had a bizarre mutation that caused an evolution of nine bloodshot tentacle eyes. Several smaller dagger-like tentacles had sprouted out of the dark brown base. The shroom was highly radioactive according to my military dosimeter, the device was going off the charts. It seemed to emit neutron radiation which caused me to immediately get as far away from the mushroom as possible.

As I backtracked from the dangerous plant a strange whoopie cushion sound came from under my foot. Glancing down to my feet, I saw a piece of driftwood that was covered by thick blood-colored mold. Small twigs spouted out from the flaky mold and toxic spores. However, my gas mask prevented me from breathing in spores.

A funnel-shaped spider web was in the middle of the mold. Then a large black mutated Japanese funnel-web spider bolted out of the ground and tried to bite through my combat boots. This damned thing was bigger than my fuck torso, both length, and width. Its fangs could probably pierce a grizzly's fat ass, of course, I did the logical thing and walked away. The spider hissed at me, that fucker was doing the monkey dance while hissing like a cat. It was the funniest and scariest thing you'll ever see, I'll never forget it. This godamn wasteland is the weirdest fucking place on earth, holy fucking shit.

I closed in on the ruined diner, the three amigos traveling behind me. My rifle was in my hands as I slowly walked up to the devastated structure. The broken windows and doors were fortified with thick beefy oak planks. Though, a couple of blows from an old wood axe swiftly solved that problem. But the doors were still locked, I wanted to just lockpick the door and enter. However, I feared that somebody might be waiting inside the building. Some asshole that wants to kill us all via an ambush.

But there is an upside, during the second world war the marines who were stationed in Iwo Jima had to go through grueling urban warfare. Included in this combat was tough and equally brutal door-to-door combat. So they developed a tactic to clear these rooms, the American military still uses this tactic by the way. It entails kicking open a door and chucking a fragmentation grenade into it.

Now, whilst this would be effective for brutally obliterating every sumabitch inside. It'd also do the same with a large majority of potential loot, but the cost of not doing so was far greater.

So, whereas I planned in my head how we were going to do this. I motioned the three stooges to follow me somewhere private.
We walked over behind a burnt-out tree and abandoned Zil-130 pickup truck.

"What's on your mind?" Leonid asked politely, for the first time in his cursed life. "Yeah, man! what the game and shit, nigga!" Romanov asked smartly, slapping me lightly on the arm and chuckling.

"So what's the matter, my dear glorious fucking leader?!" Grigory spoke blankly, clearly not in a very good mood. Getting shot in the fucking leg will unfortunately do that to you.

"First of all, Roman, don't ever call me your fucking nigga again. This isn't Grove Street or Ballas territory, you stupid jerk." I pointed at Romanov, chastising him for the nonsense he threw out a second ago.

The same shit any American fuckhead reading this probably doesn't understand because he can't bear the time to learn another fucking language. Something fucking useful because it takes time away from their, "jerk off to a pony's asshole" time.

Not that I am some kind of elitist, it's just that I had to grow up in the soviet union during WW2. You know, when people were eating jello made from cow shit, wood glue, leather belts, and putrified human flesh. So fun times!

That made me keep my priorities and not base my entire life on jerking off to Celestia. Yes, she probably has a magnificent flank that any man would eat out. But don't base your entire life around it, you may lose it at any second. Stalingrad and the siege of Leningrad taught me that. Trust me, you don't want to learn it the hard way through genocide and forced cannibalism. Anyway, sorry I tend to go on random tangents. It's a maddening trait.

Whilst I chewed out Romanov for his bullshit, jackass number two wanted to throw his sweaty ushanka that babushka forces him to wear into the ring. He laughed his ass off at the expense of Romanov of course.

Pointing directly at grygoriy I proceeded to tear his asshole a new fucking buddy. "oh, don't think your ass is off the hook, smartass. Try that shit again and I'll rip your fucking balls off!" I warned the man.

"Between your wrinkled old ass that doesn't have an eye and my fucking cheese leg. I'm going to cripple you right now, buddy!" Grygoriy remarked smugly, shit-talking about my missing eye and age.

I was about to open my mouth to sling some shit of my variety when Leonid stepped in to defuse the situation. "Okay, both of you shut up. Ahem, so what were you going to tell us, Vladimir?"

"Okay, so you see that building over there? The door is locked and there are probably a few guys inside." I explained they nodded their heads simultaneously.

"What I plan to do is to put two people at each door. One of them will open the door with the heel of his shoe. Then the other guy will unpin the grenade and throw it at this place. As soon as it explodes, you will break into the building and shoot it." I monologued to the three men who all eyed me.

My back was roughly pressed against the rusty metal outer wall of the diner. But thankfully I wasn't alone as Leonid was in a similar situation as me. We were both preparing to kick open the door and kill anything that moved.

My heart was beating at a dangerous rate whereas my lungs started to burn from the breath I withheld. I was feared the can of worms we'd open by doing this. However, it is either them or us, I'm choosing us. After taking one final deep breath, I swung to the right and kicked the door with my heel. Leo then unpinned his grenade and hurled the device into the building. At that moment we heard the other two men kick open the other door and throw a grenade inside.

After several moments, we heard a loud boom and numerous pained screams as the bandits inside the building suffered. Hahaha, fucking retards! Couldn't even find their ass if it wasn't attached to them. The four of us were giddy and chuckled like schoolboys who found some online nudes of the hot female teacher. A couple of assholes getting what they deserved! Fucking karma at its finest!

The inside of the building had lit on fire, the grenades must've detonated some shit or whatever. Many people were left to writhe in agony on the ground as they moaned. Leaving them pathetic sniffling wrecks of evil and villainy. But there was something wrong, however, why weren't they fighting back or cursing us. And they sounded alarmingly youthful, which raised numerous red flags. Going off a hunch, I entered the building with my weapon drawn. Ready to slaughter any would-be bandits and jackass looters. However, I found something that would nearly break my heart and soul.

The diner had been converted into a crude apocalyptic orphanage filled with children who wanted shelter. Now they've all been barbarically slaughtered by two grenades and innumerable bullets. The flames and smoke clouded our vision but once it died down, we saw the bloody mess. Thirty, no forty young children. Torn limb from limb and gutted like catfish by two grenades & a massive amount of machine gunfire. The walls were painted with blood and gore as the bodies slowly burned. The smell of slow-burning human flesh was a thing you'll never forget. Not in life or death.

My heart had stopped almost entirely, my soul was evidently breaking whereas a deep pit formed within the bottom of my stomach. Sadness filled my broken heart as tears rolled down my cheeks, you could not see them because of the gas mask. I gagged and almost puked what little food I had eaten all over the floor. But with sheer resilience, I pulled through.

We managed to put out the flames but that still left the horrifying scene. The kids were all incredibly malnourished, dirty and grime covering every inch of their skin. It was like they crawled out of Auschwitz, it caused Leonid to vomit all over the floor. I can't blame him for doing so, the scene was horrendous.

"О-о боже, я думаю, меня сейчас стошнит..." Leonid stuttered before he emptied his stomach and guts everywhere, creating a huge mess.

"Augk! Кто, черт возьми, делает что-то вроде Владимира?" Romanov gagged at the smell and obviously the scene. Whilst everyone sat on their asses, I decided to search the place for any loot or better yet survivors. And so I began walking forward.

My boots thumped against the bloodstained checkered floor, lifeless corpses and gore everywhere. Stepping over them was slowing me down, however, I didn't want to disrespect the dead. The diner's decor was typical of a 1950s era American-style restaurant, though some things did stand out more than others. Some mattresses were piled on the floor with mangled corpses lying face down on top. Some large boxes, crates, and sacks filled with loot were stashed in the corner of the room. A large petrol lamp and hand-crank radio were left on the counter, the radio playing some gibberish static whereas the oil lamp flickered on and off. A modicum of dirty plates and bowls were also stacked on top of the counter.

I grabbed the oil lantern and lifted it with one hand, using it Luminate the other rooms. Walking behind the counter, I kicked open the door to the kitchen. The metal door fell off its hinges and smashed into the floor with a loud crash, the glass shattering into a million pieces. I adjusted the lantern's flame to more effectively light up the room, after some slight tinkering the flame exploded into a vibrant orange flame.

The kitchen was completely submerged in darkness, the lantern barely solved that problem. But even that might be an overestimate. The kitchen smelled like decay, mildew, mold, and rat droppings which were frozen to the floor. Speaking of the floor, the rats undoubtedly visited the ruined kitchen. And more than once.

Leftovers and gnawed pieces of packaging were scattered everywhere on counters and even the floor. Alongside fragments of milk bottles and rusted cans with teeth marks. There was even a torn open bag of rye croutons with rat skeletons crammed inside.

Looking up revealed entire chunks of the roof had fallen apart. Exposing the rusted lead water pipes and electrical cables that powered the lighting and stoves. The pipes had burst open a long time ago, which explained the puddles of toxic water. Unless you want to call it rat piss. Bolted to the wall were a few thick steel cabinets with various cutlery and cooking supplies. Cans of tushonka, golden sprats, condensed milk, and a bag of buckwheat.

I approached one of the eight electric stoves, I wanted to check it for any useful spare parts I could either use for my reaso- ns or auction off for a good profit. The stove used to be painted black and white before the paint chipped and faded and rust formed on the unprotected metal. The pane of glass on the oven door was utterly broken and would likely be impossible to repair.

The stovetop was entirely covered in fallen debris and thick brown layers of rust, guaranteeing the appliance wouldn't ever be frying or boiling anything again. I kneeled down on my knee and clasped the side of the bulky communist kitchen appliance and tried to move the device. So I can bust open its metal back and salvage it for any useful components. However, the bulky rusty hunk of shit refused to move even in the slightest. I acted logically and attempted to move it again, yet the same thing happened as last time.

Trying several more times, my only reward for my unique perseverance was a big fuck you. No seriously, the thing made a squeak that sounded an awful lot like fuck you in Russian. Of course in my already frustrated and impatient state, having this hunk of shit call me a motherfucker drove me over the damn edge. Grabbing an old claw hammer I proceeded to slam the hammer onto the electric stove an innumerable amount of times all the while yelling a variety of slurs and obscenities directly at this fucking hunk of worthless shit.

Author's Note

Alright, so I finally completed the first chapter. It was a pain in the fucking ass tbh. I'm trying to make the best book possible, so any help from editors, proofreaders, critics, or fellow artists and writers would be appreciated.

Edit: originally I wrote the dialogue in Russian, so thats why the dialogue might seem weird.

Chapter 2: The Acolytes of a new god

SOVIET HELLSCAPE

Written and illustrated by the white devil

The winds howled in fury and agony, actively working against me. My guards barely kept themselves from freezing to death by huddling up against each other. Thankfully we knew ahead of time that this new world would be deathly cold. However, not in our wildest nightmares could we have predicted it would be this dreadful or grueling. Let alone how dark and destroyed everything was on this hellish planet.

My sister, star pupil, and I arrived here to make first contact with another advanced civilization. To set up an embassy and establish valuable diplomatic relations with another society, maybe even exchange knowledge, though I fear that may be a fallacy now. The beings that once lived on this planet have since perished in varying degrees of brutality. Some were charred skeletons, some were mutilated corpses, several had severe burns, and a rare few had died from age.

My sister and I tried to shield twilight from these horrific sights, though sadly her sheer power and curiosity led us to failure. When we mentioned the skeleton of an alien, she immediately bolted in the direction of the corpse. Before we could say anything, she saw that dreadful sight. An entire family of three, barbarically slaughtered and mutilated, the foal looked to have been sterilized and raped.

The corpses still had decaying flesh on the bones as the blizzard preserved the bodies. She's still sobbing into the nape of my sister's neck. It pained my ancient heart to hear such a dreadful sound, unmistakably cruel to such an innocent being, however, I had gradually grown apathetic to brutality over the thousands of years of existence.

"Sister?" Luna asked her voice monotone after seeing the innumerable sights of tragedy.

"Yes, what is it luna?" I replied.

"What dost thou thinketh happened here?" She inquired curiously.

"I do not know sister, but regardless of what happened we should focus on finding shelter," I responded blankly.

"Do you think it was nightmare moon?" She whispered in my ear, her voice slightly shaky as the trauma and guilt of what she had done in the past started to come into mind.

"Maybe. But I doubt it. She wanted to make the night last forever and for ponies to worship the moon. I seriously doubt she would have blocked out the sun with black clouds. Especially because these clouds have also obscured the moon as well, effectively rendering her plan futile and displaying the flaws." I explained in-depth, my tone blunt and matter-of-fact.

"We... Didst not think about that." She mumbled.

"You tend to neglect thinking alot, dear sister," I added, a slight smugness in my voice. She knew what I was referring to with that statement.

"Oh don't fool yourself! You're the one who decided to send me to the moon for millennia, a couple of years would have done the same job." Luna retorted, her face a little scrunched up in an angry-cute way.

"Well, I think this place should teach you exactly why that may have been a much more rational solution. Considering you tend to act before you think, alot." I said, granting an angered huff in response as my sister trotted past me.

My metal horseshoes pounded against the frozen asphalt whilst I galloped across the land. We had found a group of these creatures that were still alive. I tried to establish communication but they pulled out a large bulky steel tube and fired a rocket. Which was responsible for killing a quarter of the guards. I fired bolts of magic in retaliation but with limited effect.

My adrenaline was flowing through my veins, it is a useful ally for a situation like this. Speeding projectiles whizzed past me at ludicrous speeds that'd make rainbow dash jealous. I tried to enter the sky with my wings, but one of those projectiles tore through my wing.

The thing must've torn through a tendon or nerve because the pain was immense. It could be described as several thousand molten needles and electrical shocks. I almost passed out, but the others healed the wound and dragged me behind cover.
Though the thing that irked me was the cover itself, a strange hunk of metal formed into the shape of a vehicle. I guessed from the damaged wheels.

Hot tears poured out of my eyes, the pain was unholy nor bearable. Blood oozed from the large hole almost like a waterfall made of my precious lifeforce. I wailed in pain as they tried to stop the severe bleeding. I had practically reverted to a little filly because of the pain and blood loss. My heart slammed against my ribs and my breathing became labored. Everypony was screaming at the top of their lungs as the guards fought viscously against the aliens. Numerous ponies died at the cruel hands of these barbarians. My head throbbed in pain whereas my ears rang like a cowbell. Distorting the screaming and hollering. My sister stood over me, she loudly spoke trying to get her message through my mind. But her words just weren't getting through. As the battle went on my sister started to become much more desperate. Tears began to pour out her eyes and on my chest and her voice cracked.

My eyelids grew heavy whereas my muscles started to relax, my body started to become hot and cold as the world started to fade. It was like my life started to flash before my very eyes. The screaming and pain seemed to go away, it was almost soothing and haunting. But the potential reprieve from giving up seemed so good. Yet, so selfish, I was supposed to be an example to my little ponies. Selflessness, kindness, generosity, acceptance, benevolence, loyalty, honesty, justice, and many other traits.

But that selfish desire to give up was such an alluring thing, no pain or misery. At the expense of my family, friends, and entire species. But I'll be at peace so would I care though? Sure everypony would suffer but all they'd have to do is follow me. Eternal peace, right? I almost gave in to temptation. However, I wouldn't need to as God made that decision for me. Death.

The last thing, the last painstaking thing I ever heard was my sister's anguished sob.

"TTTIIIAAAAAAAA!!

The castle was in absolute ruins, she ruined everything and everypony. Blood and gore splattered all over the floor like balls in a damn ball pit. My beloved sister stood over my injured crawling form. Cold hatred and malice radiating from her wicked and armored form. The moonlight reflected off the mirror-like platinum armor, she created that brilliant design behind our backs. It could reflect magic like a laser on a mirror, that was the inspiration.

I brought five friends with me to weld the elements of harmony, but she massacred them like lambs to the slaughter. As this lunatic would say, like the evil whore it is.
The elements lay on the floor broken into a million pieces by my mad sister's potent magic. She was always a master at the art of war whereas I was the master at the bargaining and geopolitical stage. Not that she had no skills in politics it just wasn't her thing. She was always an introvert and could barely function around people.

I was a fool for not checking on her or recognizing the signs of mental illness. Now I pay the dreadful price for that asinine ignorance. The lives of everypony, which includes me.

"So I finally defeat the likes of you, Solaris" she spoke coldly, it wasn't an overly emotional rant or a catatonic state. But instead an icy frigid and calculated statement. A matter-of-fact.

I didn't respond, only crawling forward. The foul beast snarled at my resistance, always a power-hungry whore. The Beast decided to punish me by slamming her armored hoof on my hindleg with a sickening crunch. The bone-shattering into a trillion pieces, even tearing through the CNS nerves and blood vessels.

The pain hit me like a ton of bricks as I let out a broken howl of pain. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I quietly sobbed in agony. My breathing grew erratic and labored, sounding like a wheeze. The foul beast cackled like it was the biggest joke in existence. Her laughter caused me to flinch.

"Aww, did the poor little pony get a boo-boo? Here, let me kiss it better!" She mockingly yelled, before clasping her razor-sharp teeth down on my cheek. Aiming for my throat.

She retracted her head almost instantly, tearing a massive chunk out of my neck and throat. Part of the carotid artery traveled along with the flesh. Blood began to pour out of my throat and restricted my breathing. The evil bitch only howled with laughter as she slowly tortured me to death.

That was when a new unknown source of power coursed through every fiber of my ethereal form. My eyes glowed with a bright white light whilst my wounds began to mend themselves. Righteous anger polluted my mind as a loud viscous warcry left my throat. Utilizing every single ounce of strength, I threw my hoof into the head of the beast. My armored hoof smashed against the platinum helmet with a sickening crunch. The metal impact boomed in response.

Nightmare moon staggered on her hindlegs before tripping on a mangled corpse of a solar soldier. The mare's face was priceless as I hovered over her crumbled form. Blood gushed out of the beast's fractured skull and nose.

"Y-you... Di-did it," The Beast stuttered in shock and awe, my response was an angry roar.

"YOU DARE TRY TO MURDER ME, MY FRIENDS, MY EMPIRE, THE WORLD, MY SUN, MYSELF, AND EVEN MY SISTER!!" I bellowed at the crumpled-up sad excuse of a parasite. My mind was clouded by extreme fury and anger.

"FOR YOUR CRIMES NIGHTMARE MOON!! I SENTENCE YOU TO ONE THOUSAND YEARS BANISHMENT!!!" I roared in the beast's disgusting face.

The elements flew into the air and began piecing themselves together, the stones glowed with their respective colors. The power coursed through every vein and fiber as my rage took over. My horn lit up with a stunning Rainbow colored aura as I launched a prismatic beam upon the foul beast. Nightmare moon howled in agony whilst the prismatic representation of harmony tore her very soul apart. Purifying my sister in the process.

The last thing I heard from my sister for the next millennia was this single word.
"TIIIIAAAAAAA!!!"

"No, no no no... Buck!" Luna lamented at the nearly lifeless body of her sister. Hot tears staining her ebony-colored cheeks, it was a hard day indeed. Celestia's chest was still rising and falling and a pulse was still existent. But for how much longer?
She shook her sister's motionless body several times, calling out for her beloved sibling. A tragic time unquestionably.

Eventually, the broken princess excepted her sister's likely demise. She whimpered and laid her head upon her sister's chest. Hoping it was just some cruel dream or nightmare, but she knew better. She is the princess of the night and dreams afterall.
Celestia's skin and fur were cold to the touch, somewhat clammy even. She was still alive, although just barely. The round that hit her was a large caliber 7.62×54R rifle bullet. Easily capable of tearing the wing off if it wanted to.

Almost all hope was lost to, ironically, the princess of dreams. Left alone to sulk in her misery, the others were stuck in grueling combat. Whereas twilight had locked herself inside a large compartment in the back of the husk of metal. But help can come from the most unlikely of circumstances. In the distance, they heard the sound of hooves thumping against the black asphalt. Lifting her head from her sister's chest, she saw the source of the sound.

The creatures who had attacked us were being fought by another group of the same beings. These creatures, however, rode into battle on top of massive sturdy ponies. They wore thick fur clothing dyed navy blue with a few light blue stripes. Big black fur hats in the shape of cylinders sat upon their heads. They also wore crudely built body armor and wielded long spears. Some even used rifles and pistols.

They charged into battle whilst being followed by another group of tribal warriors. And strange mutated creatures that appeared to be a mix of a jackrabbit and antelope. My guards backed down after they saw the massive battle that ensued between the groups.

Eventually, the aliens on horses won, they cheered victoriously as they stood over the brutalized corpses of the bandits. They trotted over to the ten of us, their clothes soaked in blood and silver sword.
Their eyes glared upon us with curiosity and sympathy instead of fear.

"Нужна рука с ней, товарищ?"

"Where art thou taking us?" Luna spoke softly, "Back to the jackalopes tribe," the burly cossack replied coldly.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, the translation charm worked fantastically
well. Though the humans, as they call themselves, weren't very appreciative of it at first. They were a breath away from butchering us.

"So, thou art a beadurinc?" Luna inquired to the man. "I don't know that word," the stalwart alien replied.

He was quite the sight to behold, a large muscular stalwart equipped in a fetis suit that was the espy of my heart. His voice was quite din yet his appearance was courtly. Though, unlike most gentlecolts, this one was much more wayward and brash.

"It means warrior in old ponish," Luna responded with an obvious look on her complexion. It was a matter of fact to the ancient moon mare.

"I acknowledged that much, horse." The burly cossack spoke, trace amounts of venom in his frigid tone.

"We told thee already, we art a pony not one of these foul beasts you ride on!" Luna snapped at the cossack, before turning around to a horse staring at her with an erect penis. Turns out one of the riding horses was a stallion in heat, go figure.

"STOP STARING AT US! THOU ART SWINE OF THE HIGHEST CALIBER, PERVERT!!" She screamed at the beefy stallion in heat, her embarrassment evident on her face.

"Damnit, shut up moon horse!" The burly cossack boomed in his iconically harsh voice.

"NAY, THOU SHALL SHUT HIS MUZZLE!" She bellowed at the bulky male, almost using the royal canterlot voice. "NO, SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!!" The cossack roared.

"So, what are you, some kind of weird-ass bird horse mutant?" The cossack asked calmy, it had been over an hour since their screaming match.

"We art an alicorn," Luna mumbled quietly her words bare coherent as the stress of yesterday came back to haunt her mind.

The large cossack kept quiet, knowing full well why she wasn't very talkative. He did not want to disturb the poor dreadful mare. The trauma he once experienced came back to haunt him.

"Pray tell, mighty beadurinc, we willan thy name, please." Luna requested,

"What do you mean, princess." The mighty man asked the ebony mare. Luna's mouth formed into a seldom smirk as the man addressed her by her title. The old spice jingle practically played inside her mind the second he finished that sentence. Resistance is futile.

But she quickly snapped out of that stupid mindset and answered the man's question. "What is your name, alien?"

"Ulyanov. Ulyanov of the cossacks!" He chuckled as the massive group of humans cheered his name. Luna brightened up at this display of ulyanov's grandiose display.
There was a small bit of respect for the man deep within her heart. Such a natural and prideful display of respect for their commander had to be honored. He must be a brilliant leader.

Ulyanov noticed luna's awestruck expression and incessant staring, he chuckled a little before taping on her shoulder. The mare almost immediately whirled around to face whatever threat, only to find ulyanov. He spoke once again to the awestruck mare.

"Pfff... hahaha! Oh man, the look on your face, hahaha, Holy fucking shit! You were so fucking tense, haha!" Ulyanov laughed heartily at luna's expense, she hung her head in embarrassment before giggling.

It took us a week and a half but we arrived at a small village. The village wasn't very large in particular but it made up for that in its construction.

"Is this where thou live?" Luna asked blankly.

"Yes, this is where we live." Ulyanov chuckled, as he rode his horse up to the front gate. When they got closer to the shantytown, the guards at the front gate nodded as they unlocked the gate.

The large rusted metal Gates slowly opened with a loud boom from the wear that came with age. When they opened, the sight really was truly something to behold when compared to the wasteland.

Chapter 3: The ethereal creature

SOVIET HELLSCAPE

Written and illustrated by the white devil

My heart was slamming against my fragile chest. The horrors of what just occurred started to take its devastating toll on me. Sweltering hot tears rolled down my cheeks as a knot formed in the bottom of my stomach. My ears twitched at the horrendous sounds of combat, the guards were being slaughtered. I had locked myself inside the trunk of this old rusted metal husk.

The trunk hardly shielded me from the cruelty of this damned world's environment. Yes, the thick metal compartment stifled some of the bone-chilling wind. However, the conductive properties of the metal absorbed the cold.
Which acted counter-intuitive to the purpose of hiding inside the trunk in the first place. Sweat rolled down my forehead whereas my heart grew uneasy.

My muscles locked up in extreme fear, my brain confused on what to do as the age-old fight or flight response activated. Terror stabbed into my innocent heart as it pounded against my ribs like a jaguar. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as it froze my blood.

I tried to plead with God, to make the pain and suffering stop, but I was choked with tears. Making anything I said sound like bitter gibberish. It only made the mental and emotional agony worse, I was alone, only me to suffer in anguish. Left in the deepest pits of misery and depravity. An ethereal being, not belonging to this cruel world.

The guards were being butchered one by one, evident by the agonizing screams I was forced to endure. Many howls of pain or tearful plead for some form of mercy. Only to have their throats slit, abandoned on the cold ground to choke to death. The sickening gurgles still echo within the husk of my shattered psyche. It twisted my guts in a way that drove me to puke all over my fur-lined armor. I tried to cover my damaged ears with my shaky hooves but it barely stopped the noise.

Eventually, the noises stopped after a few hours. My heart was still rapidly pounding inside the confines of my body, I planned on staying inside the trunk forever. But a burst of severe pain accompanied by a loud growl told me otherwise. I haven't eaten in a few days, nearly a week. If I didn't get any food soon I may never get the chance again. Unlike Celestia, I didn't have such massive amounts of body fat to stay satiated. No offense to my beloved teacher.

So ever slowly, I began to lift open the door to the trunk, my hoof gradually raising it upwards. Every muscle tensed up as my heart rate spiked again and my breathing became deeper and fuller. Suppling necessary oxygen for when I need to escape. Every fiber of my being screeched like a crazed banshee as the cold wind hit me full force. Small strands of apocalyptic light entered through the small opening. Gradually increasing in abundance the more I lifted the lid.
Eventually, after a few minutes of stalling the trunk door flew open. Revealing a horrific scene.

Several disfigured and mutilated corpses laid face down, strewn all over the snow-covered earth. Blood and gore staining the fluffy white snow turning it a dark crimson color. Some ponies had even been strangled or beaten to death. Most, however, had their heads blown off by those damned projectiles.

Almost immediately, the smell of decaying flesh and splattered brain matter hit my nose like a steam locomotive. The reality of the situation caused my heart to weigh a ton of bricks. And my stomach to empty what little food it contained. Hot scalding tears rolled down my cheeks whereas my mouth shaped into a deep frown. My snout scrunched up as I tried to cover my eyes. It sent shivers up my spine. Dead ponies and humans alike, and for what?

I was content with silently crying into my hooves, however, this cruel world didn't feel the same way.

Then, my sensitive ears picked up a loud angered shout from my left side. "А вот и Вы! Маленький пони, пора чертовски умирать!"

I immediately recognized the language and my heart nearly leaped out of my throat. Turning towards the source revealed an angered human male charging at me. His clothes were covered in crimson blood as he held a bloodied royal guard sword in his hand. I jumped out of the trunk and sprinted in the other direction. Adrenaline fueled my muscles with additional blood and oxygen, I could even feel my spleen giving up its stored supply of oxygenated blood. Further energizing my dead sprint.

However, even at my top speed, the human was quickly gaining on me. Ponies were heavily reliant on panting and not sweating. Which means I'll be forced to rest to recuperate my stamina. Not that he won't have to do the same, sweating is more like a prolonging of rest. Which I sadly do not have.

The man was quickly gaining, It wouldn't be long till he catches up and I still have a wealth of energy. My anger was quickly rising as I passed mangled guard after mangled guard. How dare they do this to us!? Fucking assholes! My anger was quite content to not burst and it stayed like that for a while. It wasn't until I saw her.

When I saw her, my muscles immediately stopped moving entirely, my bones stood still whereas my heart dropped. Princess Celestia, the once majestic and motherly mare now laid motionless in the snow. She was broken into a thousand pieces and blood poured out of a major wound. Her chest barely rising and falling, tears falling out of her bulging out in a two thousand-yard stare. Nopony deserved such a fate, especially not her.

No longer did I fear that evil cocksucker that chased me, I hated him every single bone and fiber. My anger for him boiled like the tea she used to drink. My eyes could only see red and white, whilst my entire body trembled in anger. Every vein bulged out like her beautiful eyes and my teeth were grinding against each other. Making a sickening sound, just like this ratfuck's skull will make after I'm done smashing it into the ground with my hooves.

I was too distracted with staring at her corpse to feel an arm wrapping around my neck. Though I laughed when I did, this asshole thinks he can choke, ME!?

In a fit of anger, I sank my blunt teeth down upon his arm. My mind remember- ed the death roll that crocodiles use once they latch onto prey. I moved my head side to side, allowing my teeth to tear at the hunk of flesh. The human let out a shriek of pain as he loosened his arm a little. Allowing me to headbutt him.

Once my head made contact with his nose, he suddenly let go of me. Staggering from the sudden attack he was stunned. I didn't give him another moment to think, my anger rushed back into my mind.

I roared with great fury and charged at the dazed man, my horn stabbing into his groin. Piercing the penis, testicles, and scrotum. He shrieked in pain when I tore my horn back out of his crouch. Tearing open his testicles, which promptly fell out of his denim pants. He struck me in the face with his boot but I slammed my hoof down on his other foot. Breaking it with a sickening crunch, blood oozing from his groin and foot.

He tried to grab his hatchet but I got on top of him and smashed my hooves down onto his throat, practically crushing his windpipe. before using my magic to disarm him and steal his axe. The old spice jingle played in my head as he slowly asphyxiated.

But he wasn't dying quick enough or suffering enough. So I grabbed his shirt for leverage before bringing the axe blade down onto his face. Blood splattered onto my face but that didn't and couldn't phase me. Retracting the blade, I slammed it down on his face again and harder this time. He tried to scream for mercy but I had crushed his windpipe. You need air to speak.

I brought the blade down again, then again, and then again. My blood boiled as I repeatedly hacked at his fucking monkey face. My breathing became labored and unpredictable whilst my attacks grew frantic and increased in brutality. Cold blood and hot tears stained my lavender fur as my anger gradually turned into grief and guilt. This wasn't me, I wasn't a killer or a torturer, yet I still did it. And for what?

Eventually, the human stopped moving. His body and muscles relaxed, the bowls and bladder emptying. Staining his pants.
When my hoof touched his skin, it was bitterly cold to the touch and clammy. Blood oozed out of his butchered face and mutilated throat. Staining my pitch-black hooves which turned dark red with blood. Eyes bulged out of their sockets, staring into the black cold skies of radioactive ash. His anguished screams and blackened soul travel in the blizzard winds. Alongside the billions of other damned souls.

My eyebrows furrowed and my blood-stained snout scrunched up, the smell of feces, decay, blood, sweat, and urine was immense. My heart grew heavy with the guilt that came with murdering another living being. Alien or pony, it didn't matter.

Murder is murder, I just killed somepony.

Chapter 4: The ballad of the green beret

SOVIET HELLSCAPE

Written and illustrated by the white devil

The night was dark and the ground was covered in frost. The moon blacked out by black clouds made from the flames of the ancient world. A radioactive blizzard raged with the ferocity of a toddler having a tantrum. The edges of my mask's lens started to build up frost, making it harder to see. My filter protected my fragile lungs from the brutal radioactive dust.

Tangible progression was a pipe dream in this dreaded weather, the wind pushes me back and the frost bites my boots. My thick clothing barely kept me from freezing. Perhaps if I choose that ushanka over the tanker helmet, maybe I wouldn't be freezing.

I felt a sharp pain in my left abdomen, almost as if my stomach was trying to cannibalize itself. The last time I've eaten something had to have been at least a week ago. I think it was a small can of boiled buckwheat and a fried rat. I don't remember exactly.

My stomach abruptly roared in hunger, nearly dropping me to my knees. I hate this so much. I began gasping for air, while my guts tore themselves apart, it was utter hell. One of my friends came over and helped me up on my feet. He rolled up one of my sleeves and injected some morphine into a vein. Thankfully, the drug was quite fast-acting, so I wasn't in pain for that much longer. My friends grygoriy, Romanov, and Leonid walked with me. All four of us equally suffer in this hellscape. The air is not possible to breathe when these events happen.

Pain and fear were all I felt because I don't think I will ever be happy after enduring this hell. The blizzard only became stronger as we pushed against it, we must find shelter soon or I'm afraid we won't be seen ever again. If I can't find us some form of shelter to hold up in we'll all be dead. It was gradually becoming harder to breathe as I moved through this blizzard. The snow and frost my canister filter and hose. Frost started to build up inside the hose. My breathing became heavier and faster, then ceasing entirely. Fear and awe. I fumbled around with my filter barely managing to remove it from the hose. I signaled my friends for help, pointing to my mask, they easily understood.

Leonid reached into his rucksack and threw me a large olive green filter, resembling a coffee can. In one swift movement, I removed the cap and screwed in the filter to the hose. I took a deep breath and gave a thumbs up to Leonid, he nodded in response. That's why you need allies in this brave new world. Otherwise, I would have either suffocated to death or breathed in toxins and radiation.

My body was shaking at the horrendous sight before me, the worst massacre I had ever seen. Numerous dead bodies of cossacks, jackalopes, looters, bandits, even horses, and strange colorful ponies.
Blood and gore stained the snow dark crimson. Mangled corpses and broken weapons were scattered everywhere, almost as plentiful as the gore.

We had started looting the corpses a few minutes ago, but the scene still makes me nauseous. It's just the amount of death is that truly shocks me, not the gore. You always hear of massacres, shootings, gruesome battles, devastating wars, atrocities that happened several hundred years ago. But it's not until you see the brutality and the corpses, do you truly realize the scale of combat. And why it should have never been created.

We looted most of the corpses and piled the gear up in a neat pile. Probably thirty suits of finely crafted armor made of solid gold and rare gems. Plenty of firearms and technology from the various corpses of cossacks and bandits.

I was in the middle of defiling the mutilated corpse of a young bandit. Many bullets and weapons were on the body, some food and technology were inside his rucksack. I was checking the ammunition inside his rifle's magazine when I heard a cry of sadness behind me. I turned around only to be met with the rusted-out husk of an old ZAZ-568 automobile.

The noise made me both curious and cautious, it could just be a mental trick or maybe a malnourished child waiting to burst out with an unpinned frag grenade. Regardless, in the end, my curiosity won and I decided to take a small peek. My heart rate spiked as I stuck the rifle magazine back into the AKS-74U carbine.
I stood up onto my two feet, the rifle firmly place in my two hands. I closed my eyes and sucked in the deepest breath I could fit inside my lungs.

Slowly walking forward, I readied myself into a position. One that would aid me the most if I had to quickly kill what lurked in this rusted husk. My heart began pumping faster and faster, my hands started to sweat profusely. Which did not help me in the slightest, human biology for you.

My boots caused a tearing sound every time I stepped forward. It infuriated me to no end because this made stealth harder. If a suicide bomber was indeed inside this trunk. Stealth would be the best and most survivable course of action.

I was only a foot away from the car trunk, the sobbing and whimpering were legible now. It sounded like a female, she was speaking English and not Russian. I knew how to speak English, but I'm afraid It still needs some work. She was talking about me as if I wanted to kill her. Maybe she was the sole survivor of the graphic massacre.

My heart ached a little at her near incessant sobbing, she truly was scared of me. I couldn't take the pain anymore and I just wanted her anguish to stop. I grabbed both ends and heaved the trunk lid open. Immediately, the smell of mildew and musk hit me like a ton of bricks. The awful smell stung my nose and caused me to tear up. I wiped my tears out of my eyes and looked down at the female, however, this wasn't an ordinary female.

A small lavender-colored mare lay on a pile of moth-eaten blankets and debris. Tightly curled up in fetal position, rocking back in forth whilst she spoke to herself. Mumbling about murder and a teacher.
Her fur was matted with dried tears, gore, and snow. Something had gone down before I found her. She wore a mixture of crudely made fur clothing reinforced with gold armor plates salvaged off the other ponies. The smell caused me to gag and choke, fucking black mold. She obviously heard my loud coughing, because she instantly perked up and lifted her head giving me a much better view.

Her face was pretty human-like if you want me to be honest. However, some things did stick out more than others. Big googly cartoon eyes, a small stub-like snout, floppy rabbit ears, thick fluffy fur, and purple Irises. She looked kinda cute. Not in a perverted way, you dumb fuck.

"P-plea-please!! Do-don't kill me, I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." She pleaded with me, tears rolling down her bruised and wounded cheeks.

I barely managed to choke down tears of my own, it wasn't easy to watch such an innocent ethereal creature like this. So I did the only logical thing I could think up. Slowly, I reached out with my gloved hand and began to pet her head. My many dexterous fingers ran through her silky mane.

She looked at me with her big cute anime eyes, speaking through her eyes. Then she did something unexpected, she sat up and leaped into my arms. Burying her face into the burly jacket and sobbed into the fur. She wrapped her forelegs around my neck, hugging me.

"Shh... It's okay, it'll be okay."

"Where are we going, Vlad?" The lavender mare asked in an oddly polite tone. "To see a guy,"

"Who is this guy? Is he your friend?" She asked again, her voice filled with curiosity and slight unease.

"No, he's an American who sells equipment and gives people odd jobs to do. A good guy, but he can also be a bastard when he wants to be." I answered before turning back to her. "Now will you stop bugging me about our voyage?"

"I'm sorry, alright? I promise I won't bug you again, cross my heart!" She said, her voice maintaining a strange cheerfulness.

"You said that an hour ago, yet you still bother me." I retorted, playfully smirking at the nervous mare. "Sorry."

"It's fine, twilight"

We continued walking for quite a while, he lived in a Ukrainian town called Kryve Ozero. It's not a very big town by pre-Apocalypse standards, but in today's world, it ought to be saint Petersburg.
There are a handful of traders, gun & drug dealers, and armorers. It isn't a bad place to go to when you need to offload some shit.

Finally, after four days of nonstop walking. The five of us reached the edge of kryve ozero. We were greeted with a large blue metal sign built into a grey cobblestone foundation. The numbers 1762 were written on the side of the side along with the same of the town. We resumed our trek and continued into the Ukrainian city.

It didn't take long for us to start seeing tents, ruined trailers, and people. They didn't pay any attention to us as they did with our unicorn companion. Although it didn't seem to affect them all that much. There were a handful of markets and even a couple of drug dealers. After that, we started seeing guarded caravans and even military convoys led by petty dictators. A couple of African warlords, a North Korean army general, some Saudi Arabian military officers, a high-ranking ISIS general.

And I swear to Jesus Christ I saw Saddam Hussein getting escorted by a fucking T72A3 tank. Of course, I tried to put as much distance between the five of us and Saddam's fucking motorized rifle platoon. Why would he choose a platoon over a regiment? Fuck if I know. And I sure as shit don't have the balls to walk my ass up to his tank. And inquire about it.

Walking up to the surplus shop's door, I pressed the buzzer to alert sidlovich of my presence. An obnoxious buzzing erupted from a speaker as an American accent boomed. "Who's there!?" The voice violently demanded, obviously he wasn't fucking around tonight.

"It's me, Vladimir, the guy with the three fucking stooges and who fought in the 173rd." I coldly replied. "I know many Vladimir's, how can you distinguish your-
self from the rest?"

"Just open the fucking door, sergeant, before I kick the damn thing down."

Entering the shop rewarded me with the horrific smell of mildew, sweat, machine oil, gunpowder, and rust boiled with raw cabbage inside sweaty gym socks. There was a crooked fleet of concrete stairs that led down into the actual shop. Not the old crusty stairwell.

The steps were old and damaged, with entire chunks of concrete missing from a few. Dirty water from a leaky pipe dripped onto the ancient stairs. Making them all slippery to walk on, so I had to be mindful of my surroundings. Like I wasn't already mindful all the fucking time. It starts to get very stressful after a long while.

My boots squeaked and thumped as I slowly moved down each concrete stair. Busting open my damn head open and constructing a new asshole isn't on my agenda for today. It's selling a bunch of broken beaten-up sixty-year-old bullshit.
After a couple more steps I finally entered the actual fucking gunshop.

This place wasn't lying about having global surplus. Camouflaged fatigues, rifles, pistols, web gear, rucksacks, body armor, ammunition. Anything and everything can be bought from sid's semi-legal gunshop. Anything from a .22 Caliber hunting rifle to an American bazooka or soviet DShK.
There were various pistols, revolvers, grenades, and even submachine guns were on top of the counter.

Along with boxes of ammunition and empty clips for reloading. The counter was kinda like a window as there was a fortified metal wire cage that kept robbers out. Boxes of body armor, gas masks, bullets, and web gear were stacked on rusted steel shelves. The entire store was illuminated by yellow fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. The glass that held the lightbulbs had long since been shattered. The bulbs flickered every once and a while, but it didn't affect much.

A large man stood behind the metal cage, he was very muscular and had a big thick beard. The burly muscles were covered by camouflaged American combat fatigues. His bushy brown hair was stifled by a dark green beret, the beret had a united states army special forces patch sewn onto it. A stotic facial expression plastered across his face.

"So, what do you have for me today Vlad."
The man asked quietly, "Fuckloads of pure gold armor encrusted with rare gems and jewels. Also, another assload of weapons."

He looked at me with a "Bitch, are you smoking crack" expression. His face wore a bemused smirk as he chuckled, his dis-belief was stranglingly obvious.

"Yeah, you also found a fucking unicorn-" He instantly went silent as his eyes, which were the size of fucking saucers, glanced upon twilight sparkle. Yeah, needless to say, he was not expecting to see a fucking lavender-colored unicorn branded with a star.

"Hi! My name is twilight sparkle!"

"I'M GOING TO FUCKING SHOOT IT VLAD,
I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I WILL SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKING MUTANT CUNT!!" Zachary yelled as he held a rifle to the sobbing unicorn's forehead.

"CALM THE FUCK DOWN ZACH!! IT'S NOT GOING TO HURT YOU MAN IT'S JUST A GODAMN LITTE PONY!!"

"HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW, VLADIMIR!? IT JUST FUCKING TALKED PERFECT GODAMN ENGLISH!!"

"IT'S A GODAMN PONY YOU STUPID FUCKING BRAINED ASSCLOWN!!"

"THE FUCK IT IS YOU NEUROTIC FUCKING COO-COO BIRD-" Zachary was interrupted suddenly when Leonid punched him in the back of the head and kicked his shins in.

Zachary turned around to face Leonid, only to get punched in the eyes, Zachery groaned in pain but continued to fight. He headbutted Leonid in the nose, sending the angry Russian flying. He tried to raise the rifle shoot, Leonid. But I stepped in and grabbed the back of his shirt.

Zach turned and struck me right in the throat with his elbow. The pain was immense as his elbow nearly crushed my windpipe. However, my sacrifice allowed Leonid to leap forward and jab Zachery in the face.

The burly green beret staggered in pain, dropping his weapon. Leonid closed in and struck the man in the liver with his knee. Sending Zachary to the ground, Leonid delivered a powerful rabbit punch into the nape of his neck. Zachary collapsed onto the floor in pain. A few tears came out of his eyes whilst he moaned in agony.

The Russian man seethed in anger before sending his foot into the American's throat. Grabbing Zachery's collar, he threw the broken green beret onto the counter. Turning the M16A2 on automatic mode, Leonid shoved the barrel into the other man's cheek.

"If you EVER touch her again, I will fucking kill you, you fucking piece of shit! I don't give a fuck if your a navy seal or a green beret!" Leonid shouted into the mortally terrified man's face.

"IF YOU EVER TOUCH HER I WILL SHOOT YOUR GODAMN DICK OFF AND BEAT YOU TO DEATH!! YOU DICK-SUCKING MOTHER FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!!" Leonid yelled.

"Leo! Calm the fuck down man!" I shouted, grabbing the back of Leo's shirt. Pulling him off of the beaten green beret who was scared shitless. Leonid turned back to me and glared death upon me. He opened his mouth to yell, but he closed it as quickly as he had opened it.

"Don't touch twilight again, you American special forces cock. Your colored beret doesn't scare me, it looks like shit by the way. Though it fits well with a worthless hunk of dog shit excuse of a man like you." Leonid explained, his tone dangerously calm whereas his eyes glared daggers upon the man he nearly beat to death.

We spent several hours in that basement, offloading all of the loot. Hauling several suits of thick pure gold horse armor and numerous broken rifles. Down an old slippery flight of stairs usually leads to disaster. Like that wasn't already obvious.
But, eventually, the five of us including the burly paratrooper, managed to offload all of our useless bullshit.

"Godamn that's a fucking lot of gold, holy shit. That's about seventeen entire suits and they look to be in mint condition. Surprisingly." Zachery stated as he sorted through all of the equipment. "So how much will you give us," I asked.

"Well, considering I just hit the jackpot earlier and made a massive business deal. I'm a helluva lot richer, so I can offer more." Zachary explained.

"Just tell us how much you'll fucking pay!" Leonid shouted at the battered Zachary.

"Fine. I'll give you one hundred and twenty thousand dollars today." He responded remaining stotic.

My eyes damn near popped out of their sockets when those words came out of his mouth. "O-one hun-hundred THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS!?" I shrieked.

"What ya got shit in your ears? I just said that, and I mean what I say." Zachary res-
ponded coldly, clearly not amused.

"Well alright, so you see. My purple friend over here is drastically underequipped to face the horrors of the wasteland. And we really could use some better gear, Padre." Leonid asked the emotionless man.

"Now you're speaking my language."

I grabbed a fragmentation vest and placed it on the counter. The vest was an old flak jacket from the Persian Gulf war, donning a USGI woodland camouflage cover. It was a good choice for surviving in this harsh wasteland.

"Ah yes, the M84 PASGT fragmentation body army. We wore those things during the 1990s when I was fighting in desert storm." Zachary trailed off, explaining the long history of the vest and its features and how to use it.

"The vest was originally designed to stop artillery shrapnel. As the US was ready for a war in the European continent. And the enemy would likely be a major power like the army of the USSR. And the soviet army would be using large amounts of bombs." Zachery finished his lengthy explanation.

"By the way, you can loop those Alice web gear suspenders through the shoulder pads. All you gotta do is unhook the pads and put the belt and suspenders on. Then hook the pads back up and your all set." He pointed out, showing me how to set it up.

"Thanks, but I already know how to do that. I was in the service too." I replied, Zachary seemed to brighten up a bit.
"What? Like the red army or something?"

"Something like that, yes," I replied

"So you served in Afghanistan?" Zach inquired.

"Honestly, I don't know. I can't remember anything about my past." I answered.

After a couple of hours of sorting through military surplus equipment, supplies, technology, and clothing. We finally got some new equipment for the two of us and our pony friend. It wasn't all the expensive, around twelve thousand dollars total for decent equipment.

The door creaked as it opened, though no
one was able to hear it over the sounds of the noisy bar. The smell of booze, vomit, cigarette smoke, and sex was in the air. The foul odor was asphyxiating and caus-
ed my nose to burn like a match in hell.
The bar was packed with people and hook
ers, some of the prostitutes shouldn't be sex workers. At least for eight more years.
The idea that they could be whores nearly caused me to vomit. Truly disgusting.

To my left was a massive bar packed with drunkards and youthful hookers. Behind the counter stood an older man with a somewhat large frame. A pair of reading glasses hung off his neck and onto his crimson long sleeve shirt. His hair was fairly well kept. Though it still maintained a degree of uncleanliness.

A large spruce and glass case stood behind the man. Numerous bottles of moonshine, beer, scotch, vodka, wine, whisky, and many other spirits and lagers. On top of the case had an old bulky radio and a few miscellaneous objects. Another compartment acted as a foundation for the case. Part of me was curious about what could be inside. But I didn't focus on that at the time.

Chapter 5: The khrushchyovka

SOVIET HELLSCAPE

Written and illustrated by the white devil

The inside was horrible to be lenient, everything was claustrophobic and pitch black. The air was hard to breathe because of the radioactive ash and blue asbestos. Our gas masks saved us, however, it makes it harder to communicate. Frost formed around the glass lenses of my gas mask, an old GP-5 gas mask. Rat droppings were frozen to the floor, that's if you can see them under all of the rubble. I climbed over a pile of roofing tiles and metal scrap. A pipe stuck out between the piles of scrap and tiles. I entered a room through a dilapidated entryway, the frame barely standing. The sight before me made my heart leap into my mouth.

A cramped room with a kitchen and bathroom, the walls of the bathroom were destroyed entirely. Now only piles of rubble organized peculiarly. The bathtub was filled with bricks and panels, the kitchen window was broken completely allowing snow to come in. Pots and pans were piled up in the sink and on top of the salvaged oven. Against the wall were a refrigerator and a rickety table.

The refrigerator had long since been out of commission. Rust and grime created an all-natural paint job, hiding the former pearl white. The door hung wide open revealing its near barren interior, say for a can of condensed milk. Which I so humbly snatched up as if someone may kill me for it. Resting on top was a broken antenna TV, the glass smashed to pieces. My hands gripped the handles and threw open the cupboard doors. A tin of stewed beef, a bottle of vodka, and a bag of buckwheat. The tin of stewed beef rested in my palm, just barely the size it. I laughed at the idea of anyone eating this, but I can get drunk tonight at least. Cossack vodka is my favorite brand of vodka.

I turned on my flashlight and checked it one last time. I missed a few things, a toolbox, two cans of coffee, a box of matches, and a small orange case.
My interest was piqued by the small orange case, could that be what I think it is? I thought. Only one way to find out.

I examined the orange case, it was pretty thin like a cheese slice. The front of the case had the words 'АПТЕЧКА' engraved in Russian. So this is what I thought it was, I opened the case and looked inside. A syrette of an unknown substance, five red pill bottles, three blue pill bottles, and one long green vial. Instructions were on top of the other side. A civil-defense first aid kit, a kit given and required for every Soviet citizen. Drugs to heal burns, infections, radiation poisoning, and even protection.

I put the case in my bag, then I opened the toolbox. A dirty medium bundle of rope, four rolls of insulating tape, a box of nails & screws, some steel wire, a tube of superglue, and a few basic tools. A pair of rusty pliers, a hammer, and a screwdriver. Wasn't a bad find if I do say so myself.

I didn't find much of anything in the other apartments. Found an Addis tracksuit and old running shoes. Some old glass bottles I filled with dirty water. A carton of Russian-made marlboro cigarettes. A jar of pickles, even a gallon of petrol.

I traveled downwards to the fourth story, my boots thumping against the frozen concrete staircase. Grygoriy was behind me, Ulyanov stayed on the roof because he couldn't fit inside.

"That damned coward can't even do his job," Grygoriy said "You can say that again," I mumbled.

We both froze in place after we saw what the fourth floor had in store, the entire story was practically caved in. Walls of debris and junk actively tried to impede our voyage.

"What the hell happened to this place?" Grygoriy asked, "probably a cave-in," I pondered.

"Maybe," Grygoriy replied, mulling over the gigantic shitshow.

I walked into an open room to my left, leaning in the doorway slightly, rifle in hand. "Think we'll find anything useful in here?" I asked looking over my shoulder to see my partner clearing a path.

"I doubt it, but you never know what you'll find in a khrushchyovka. You did find a medical kit after all." Grygoriy responded. "And a toolbox filled with spare parts," I said holding up the metal container, he gave me a thumbs up.

The room was near identical to the last, except for some exceptions for how it collapses. The kitchen window had a table near it that was completely covered in snow. And the countertop was frozen over while the refrigerator lay on the floor. The bathroom was still intact so I choose to search it first.
The door to the bathroom was locked, however, a quick kick under the doorknob solved that.

This bathroom was different from the last, it was almost perfectly preserved, there was even a skeleton on the toilet. An array of cosmetic and personal hygiene products were balanced on a shelf above the sink. And a glass mirror and medicine cabinet bellow it. A broken radiator was bolted to the crumbling wall, next to a mostly intact bathtub. I took off my gas mask and helmet for just a moment and looked into the mirror. What I saw revolted me.

A man in his fifties, with stone grey hair and a beard that looked like it belonged to God. Pale greyish skin that must have been ripped off a corpse. A Dead lifeless eye, the other missing. Only a deep crimson hole remained as a mark of its existence.

My facial expression was emotionless, I felt horrible, revulsion and fear suffocating me. The sight was almost too much to handle. I wanted to vomit until I couldn't anymore. But my face refused to show any emotion. That chilled me to the bone, still does quite frankly. Even after all I saw. Is that why I don't feel anything or at least show it? Was I that far gone? Plenty of questions but not enough answers, the only thing I could do was stare into my cold grey iris. Almost as frozen and cold as the nuclear winter outside.

I put my mask and helmet back on and prayed to God that I forget this. To distract myself I searched the medicine cabinet, the flimsy door creaked when I opened it. A bottle of rubbing alcohol, bandages, a needle & thread, cotton balls, a tube of toothpaste, gold star balm, painkillers, and antibiotics. Score two for me. I closed the medicine cabinet back up, it gave me a parting squeak as the door fell off. The thing fell on my bare head and smashed on the floor. The corner of it smashed into my head killing me. The end. Relax I'm fucking with you. I forgot to put the helmet on! goddamnit!

Removing the cap from the bottle of rubbing alcohol, I poured some into a gauze pad. Using a roll of bandages I tightly secured the gauze on my wound. Can't take any chances. I put my gas mask and helmet back on, slightly adjusted the helmet's straps, and checked my mask. To make sure it's air-tight, I placed the palm of my hand over the filter and breathed in. thankfully no unfiltered air can penetrate the mask.

I opened the cabinets below the sink, inside were various cleaning supplies and chemicals. Bleach, toilet cleaner, motor oil, window cleaner, bars of laundry soap, shampoo, regular soap, all kinds of stuff. Opening up my backpack, I carefully crammed as much inside as I could. I closed up my backpack and exited the room.
Walking into the kitchen, I had a peek into the cabinets though sadly, they were barren. I remember that the bedroom was blocked by rubble. So I exited the apartment and went to see how Grygoriy was doing.

Walking out of the apartment, I saw him resting against the wall. His scoped AK-74 resting against some rubble. I glanced over at the wall of debris, no progress has been made.

"What the hell Grygoriy, I thought you said the hallway would be cleared by now?" I said as my frustration grew.

"What the fuck do you expect me to do? Look at the fucking blockage man! How in Mose's godamn beard am I going to clear that shit with my bare hands!" he yelled at me.

"I have eyes you know... There under my EYEBROWS!!" I roared clenching my teeth and pointing at my eyes. My eyebrows furrowed and my face contorted in anger.

"Well fuck me! I thought you were blind there, patchy the bargain bin pirate!" "Fuck you too grygoriy!"

"No fuck you!" He said, "No fuck YOU!"

"Oh, Suck a dick you fucking carpetbagger," Grygoriy screamed "At least I have one you dickless fuck, maybe that's why I suck'em" I bellowed at the bald man.

"At least I have a godamn girlfriend,"

"You mean that fucking bitch that sells her dirty swamp ass on the street corner? You two fuckbags go together like peas in a godamn pod. However, I'm Afraid the only pea and pod she gets is real man's cock and balls!" Yeah, that got him going,

"You know what? Suck a clit you old f-" My fist connected with his jaw sending him flying into the wall. He cracked his head on a piece of rebar. His helmet barely protected him from the force of my fist and the wall. The visor was down which is why several teeth were knocked out. "Uuhaagh..." He groaned.

"Oh shit Greg you alright man, holy fucking shit I-! what the fuck was that?" A long moan came from the wall of shit, I stopped my ranting and looked at the wall.

Greg fixed his jaw, relocating the jaw bone with the skull. He still was missing three molars. "Aggh, godamn! you sumabitch" He stomped forward.

"Woah chill the fuck out man I helped you save on dental insurance! You should be grateful!" I said smartly. Haymaker punch. Save 15% or more on dental insurance!

My joke wasn't received as well as I hoped because he kicked me in my solar plexus. "There's you're fucking gratitude asshole!" I fell on my knees and gripped my chest. My lungs stopped receiving air as he knocked it out of me, literally.

He was about to kick me in the face before we heard even more moaning coming from the rubble. We both stared wide-eyed in the direction of the noise. "Holy sweet mother..." He looked in the crack, his jaw dropped and he froze. His hairs stood on their ends and goosebumps appeared on his skin. "Fuck..."

The city below was a damned hellscape. Frozen skeletons and rusted-out husks of old military vehicles crowded the tight streets. Snow and frost covered every single thing in these damned streets. Piles of rust and rubble piled up on what little space the cramped streets had left. Many buildings had either been collapsed, loot-
ed, or barricaded. Even entire buildings had collapsed onto the streets, however, I was able to scale the ruble. Much to my friend's frustration. Though Eugene didn't mind it as he was a marine paratrooper.

My boots made sickening crunching and tearing sounds whilst I traversed this dreadful husk. The frozen bones shattered into millions of pieces under the weight of my boots. Whereas the snow sounded like tearing paper whilst I moved through it. My terror mounted with every step and dread twisted inside my guts. Whilst every drop of blood in my veins turned to ice.

The respirator mask was glued to my face by frost and sweat. Each breath of toxic air burnt my lungs and sapped what little stamina I had left. The world was like a big frozen television inside this mask. A giant restrictive scope that devastated my field of view and breathing.

A loud anguished, ear-piercing shriek punctured the draconian darkness with its howl of pain. Another beast roared with predatorial delight and excitement, but also sadistic hunger. The sound caused my hands to shiver under the repressive icy touch of dread and panic. Every fiber of my ancient being screamed for me to stand and fight. Whereas my brain was yelling at me to retreat, that whatever fight I could muster would prove frivolous.

That I was a goner...

The wounded beast screamed as it ran in my direction, leaping over an abandoned American M48 Patton tank. It collided with the cold hard earth, falling onto an injured American soldier. Somehow I didn't see the man, however, he died an incredibly embarrassing death. Under the crushing might of a mutant deer's hindquarters landing onto his head. This world works in mysterious ways sometimes, it is truly a soviet hellscape.

Then, when shit couldn't get weird than a soldier dying via a five-headed deer's mighty ass. (I mean, that ass crushed a skull donning a PASGT helmet. What do you want me to call it?).

A gigantic human bat creature soared through the pitch-black sky. The mutant donned eighteen heads and snippets of KLMK and woodland camouflage. This implies that it was the cross between a bunch of VDV and U.S paratroopers that mutated with a pterodactyl. And maybe one of those multi-headed Dragons that regenerate every time you cut its head off.
The beast roared with predatorial pleasure as it sank its dagger-like claws and teeth into the deer.

The mutated deer howled in agony as large chunks of fur and flesh were ripped off its body. Blood splattered and coated everything, small drops even landed onto the lenses of my mask. The deer struggled valiantly though sadly its fight would end as the bat ripped its head off.

The deer's blood blinded me as it covered my lenses. Then the bat beast turned to me and roared with territorial rage. My vision turned red and my heart leaped out of my chest. I turned in the other direction and bolted, the beast bellowed with fury and soared after me.

My adrenaline was pumping into my veins, I dropped my flashlight in the midst of fleeing. Leaving me in this suffocating darkness with a psychotic nocturnal multi-headed predator chasing me. Thankfully, however, I still had my old bullet lighter in my pocket. Giving me a small source of light, I also had a few candles too. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I fleed the scene, blindly firing an old Makarov handgun behind me. The beast's pained howls of agony were my only way of knowing whether they hit or not.

A sudden burst of sharp pain erupted behind me, the beast had finally struck me with its claws. Tearing through my thick clothing and lacerating my back. It tried to tackle me however I slammed my elbow into its throat. And struck it in the chest with my knee, hitting its solar plexus which caused it to collapse. Taking out my hatchet I prepared to finish it but before I could bring the blade down. It leaped forward, slamming its body into me.

I staggered from shock and pain, it used this opportunity to slash at my throat. But I anticipated this and ducked, performing a counterattack with my axe. Tearing into the gap between his neck and shoulder. Generating a massive wound that slashed open the branchial and carotid arteries.

The beast howled as it used the current its massive wings generated. And spray a thick cloud of dust and debris to blind me. Basically, this asshole used dale gribble's pocket sand move. Instead of using the debris to flee, the beast grabbed a fucking cinderblock and hurled it into my chest. I nearly keeled over from the force of the impact. My anger caused me to pull out my handgun and empty the magazine into its face. Ripping huge chunks in its fragile face. The Beast was blinded, but it was still very much enraged, though now in severe pain and heavily wounded.

I ducked as it tried to blind me with its razor, dagger-like claws. I whirled around and sprinted in the other direction with an enraged beast hauling ass towards me. My adrenaline and ability to sweat were a huge advantage over the bat creature. However, it was nocturnal and had night vision whilst my eyes couldn't see jackshit.

But God would finally get tired of ramrodding my asshole like a carnival ride. And threw me a shitty bone in the form of a ruined building that was barricaded. But, there was a hole in the brick wall next to a boarded-up window. That had a white peace sign spray painted onto the boards. Thankfully the hole was just big enough for me to fit inside.

Running up the hole, I threw my gear into a broken window to make it available for when I get inside. I barely managed to fit inside the hole and make it onto the other side. Before the large beast rammed one of its muscular arms through the hole. I grabbed my grenade launcher and ran over to the broken window. Somehow, the beast had gotten itself stuck, it stood right in front of several soviet military vehicles. Three convoy trucks, a BDRM-2, and two APCs. And the vehicles were all bunched up. Aiming my grenade launcher towards the back of a convoy truck, my eyes picked up several crates of dynamite and barrels of petrol. Suddenly, a very cheeky idea popped into my mind.

"Cheeki breeki!" I yelled, excited at the absolute shitshow that was about to occur. And I was right. The moment the grenade struck the TNT, a massive boom erupted. My ears exploded with a stream of blood at the sound. The Beast was rendered into a cloud of gore, coating the walls with gore.

Many more explosions rang out in a huge domino effect of destruction and chaos. The many ruined husks of once-function vehicles were still filled with oil and petrol.
Causing many explosions from gasoline, motor oil, military dynamite, and armed artillery shells. The building shook under the force of these explosions. My ears popped and I went deaf from the sound.
Everything was on fire, the flames of the ancient world burning with great vengeance and furious anger.

What I couldn't hear was a massive 10 story apartment building crumbling from the power of the chaos. Then the building finally collapsed, it fell forward, right onto the building I was situated in. My heart dropped into my stomach at the sight. An inevitable force filled my heart with dread.
The massive structure smashed into my shelter. Large chunks of rubble and debris smashed through the ceiling, effectively collapsing half the building. My shelter.
A large chunk of rebar almost caved in my skull. Smashing into the floor right next to me, my heart nearly leaped through my ribs at the sight.

My lungs burned as ash, asbestos, lead paint, and dust filled the sacs of flesh. I fell onto my hands and knees, coughing and hacking as my flesh burned. My eyes were burning from all the dust that filled my sockets. Everything hurt like hell.

Even though none of the shrapnel penetrated the flak jacket, the force from a chunk of rebar and concrete slammed into my chest. Causing horrific dark black and purple bruising that felt like several thousand daggers piercing my skin. Need-
less to say, the pain was atrocious and very agonizing.

My skull throbbed like a piston engine, spears of pain stabbing through the bone and brain. Even the thick bulletproof plate I had installed years ago. The throbbing sounded like a heartbeat almost. That would be the case if my ears would stop ringing. Blood poured out of my ears and nose and my lungs, my eyes were burning like a thousand suns of sheer anguish.

"Holy-Agkuh! SHIT!" I choked, wheezing and coughing as my lungs attempted to commit suicide. I attempted to stand, but I just fell back down.

"Where is everypony?" Twilight muttered to herself. Ironically, the princess of frien-
dship had been abandoned by her new friends. Her armored hooves clopped against the frozen asphalt, her heart ached with the realization that she had been abandoned. Tricked into believing they were her friends but she still held hope that it was just a paranoia-fueled fallacy. Her clothing and armor barely stood up against the harsh environment.

Her heart was heavy from sadness and fear, the realization that she may have been abandoned. By her new friends, was an incredibly painful experience. Her view of the world had been shattered with a whimper and not a sacrificial bang.
She was alone in the dark frigid broken remains of the world. And the ruins of human civilization.

The skies cried tears of pain and howled with winds of frigid deathly screams of tortured souls. They had been forsaken by those they trust, just like she had. The rain slightly burned her lilac coat and skin, though the acid didn't do much harm.

It was difficult to travel the ruins, all of the rubble and debris. It was staggering how much destruction a single bomb could do, almost awe-inspiring.

Chapter 6: Traumatic Stress *incomplete*

Chapter 6: Traumatic Stress *incomplete*

SOVIET HELLSCAPE

Written and illustrated by the white devil

The horrors of combat and violence tend to stay with you forever. They stay in your mind forever and never leave. They dare to haunt your nightmares and daily life. Once you enter the shit, you'll never come back out.

The helicopter was quite cramped, fifteen airborne rangers tightly packed inside a flying machine. Like spam in a fucking can.
A strong pungent odor of sweat, blood, grime, and gunpowder filled the cabin. If it weren't for the strong current generated by the helicopter blades. I would have regurgitated what little sustenance the LRRP meal gave me.

I would doze off every now and then, ent-
ering small micro naps. Then a ranger would disrupt my little nap and lightly scold me. I wasn't new to long-range reconnaissance patrols, but I wasn't any- where near used to them. You will never get used to the stress of being completely isolated. inside one of the most dangerou- s locations on planet earth, with a highly trained and motivated enemy out hunting you.

A deep-seated dread had struck my heart like a boiling dagger striving to tear the or-gan apart. My stomach gnawed at itself, I haven't eaten anything in four days. Four fucking days I haven't eaten nor slept, I rarely consumed much water. Because we've been in constant door-to-door and guerilla warfare style combat.

Author's Note

Cancelled as of April 2022.