Chapter 1 - The Driver
Boots hit the cold and wet tarmac as the stallion ran down the streets of Manehatten, puddles of water splashing up onto his trousers as he ran through them, weaving between cars. The imposing and ominous warble of a ship overhead, and the screeches and horrifying communicative chitters of soldiers as they gave chase.
Rounds whizzed past the man as he made his way into an alley, each round like the scream of a banshee and scream of a child in one as Crystalline rounds sliced their way through the air. The stallion continuing to run down the alley, though not out of fear, out of choice, the alleyway itself was too narrow for the overhead ship to get a good view on the man, and it was the perfect place to ambush his pursuers.
The towering stallion in question would take cover behind a dumpster, pressing the magazine release on his sidearm as the magazine ejected with a slick scrape. The stallion catching the magazine as it fell, before retaining it in one of the magazine pouches on his left hip, then drawing a full magazine from the second magazine pouch on his left hip, and sliding it into the well with a satisfying scrape and click into place, finally he'd flick the slide release down as the slide flung forward with a scrape and click into battery, the man taking a glance to see where his targets were.
After taking a mental note of his targets, he'd back up slightly, and raise his sidearm to a firing position from a crouch, quickly leaning to his right to clear the barrel of the dumpster, depressing the trigger twice, he'd send four rounds from the twin barrelled sidearm into the first alien, two in the chest, two in the head, dropping the creature instantly as it dropped like a sack of potatoes onto it's back.
The second target received two rounds to the knee to disable it as the stallion stepped out of cover and pushed forward, putting two rounds into the head of the third who was in the process of raising his rifle to clear his injured ally, the third target dropping instantly. With the second raising his rifle as he fired off two shots before he too was shot in the head, though with no time to waste the stallion flicked his weapon to safe and holstered it, going straight back to running
Making his way through the maze of alleys in the city, he'd make his way into a parking complex, the stallion keeping low while he made his way through, the warble of the overhead ship still heard outside as it searched, deploying more foot soldiers to hunt inside the buildings as the stallion cursed.
'Hell's bells you shithawks have really got more diligent' the stallion muttered while he made his way to the stairwell, drawing his sidearm, flicking it off safe as he entered and starting to make his way down, weapon at the ready to shoot any bandits or alien troopers waiting for him. Each step the stallion made sending soft echoes both up and down, with the door he came in through gently swinging on its hinges.
He'd slowly make his way down, keeping his weapon trained on the lower levels, aiming at any door he passed, soon coming out to the basement level as he cleared both ways, seeing it was clear he'd make a rush for his vehicle, flicking his weapon to safe and holstering it on his leg holster, reaching his car and getting in.
Rust on Blood, a modified Charger SRT with armour; a bull bar; raised suspension; off road tyres; the rear seats having been extended to a bed, leaving only two seats in the car, with the second currently holding a marksman rifle that the man utilised sometimes.
The stallion closed the driver’s door as he reached down to the gear stick, flicking a hidden kill switch that was hidden under the pleather, afterwards turning the key as the beast roared to life, it's heart rumbling loudly as it's belts began moving. Pistons pumped it's blood, soon after the beasts eyes came to life, illuminating the basement level. The stallion pushing the gearstick into first after disengaging the clutch, finally giving some gas and engaging the clutch and got moving.
The driver quickly raced to the exit, turning through the graveyard of metal beasts, starting to climb the ramp out of the concrete crypt, the bull bar on the front hitting the gate first as it blasted it off the mount, the years of disrepair and degradation leaving the gates mount brittle and weak.
Once out into the world, he'd immediately yank the handbrake, having modified it to rally spec to allow for a faster pull and disengagement, the brake itself giving a loud ratchet as it was yanked, locking the rear wheels up, the stallion spinning the wheel to the right to force the car to slide the rear end out to the left, with the stallion giving some gas and dropping a gear into second to regain grip.
The alien ship gave a loud fog horn like roar as it spotted the car, the ominous warble heard overhead as it gave chase. The driver himself racing down the streets toward the open wasteland, it was the most peculiar part about the alien threat, they rarely gave chase into the open wastes, instead opting to stay in the cities, ironically, the open wastes were the safest place in the world.
Nevertheless the stallion raced toward safety, disengaging the clutch and slamming the car into fifth gear, engaging the clutch again, slamming the accelerator to the floor, the beasts heart letting out a loud roar as it's heart beat faster, a few alien troopers running out into the street. Firing on the beast, each round ricocheting off the armour as they were ran through, splattering blood onto the rusted body, sending the alien troopers tumbling. Those that weren't hit, firing as the Rust on Blood made its way into the open wasteland, the driver breathing a sigh of relief, adjusting his jacket to fit more comfortably over his plate carrier.
The alien troopers and ship stopped at the cities edge as the Rust on Blood raced off into the distance, tyres sailing over the ground, carrying the metal chassis of the beast, with her driver inside. The stallion reaching over, turning his dashboard mounted cassette player on, grabbing a cassette from the cup holder and slotting it in as it began to play music from the old world. 'Rise like a Phoenix' filling the interior of the car while it sailed across the dead ocean of dirt, concrete corpses and old world landmarks.
The driver kept his speed steady while he made his way across the open ground, making his way East, toward Minetown, a new world gated town by Survivors of the new world. The stallion himself didn't stay in the town, and only opted to pass through when he needed work, or to trade with the locals, right now he was running low on ammo.
The new world had two currencies, there was the classic barter for payment, and town credits, performing work or bringing valuables to a town, rewarded one with credits for that town specifically. Monitored on a card, updated when a transaction was made, be it after a job, or when paying for goods.
Currently, the driver had a hundred credits to his name, enough for a few boxes of .45 ACP and some food, but not enough for gasoline to fuel his steel beast, in truth she was running dry for a while now, he had enough to last him another day and a half, but not much more. The drive to Minetown took half a day to reach the main gates, with the Driver pulling up to the gate, honking his horn twice, letting the horn draw out each time.
The towering metal gates of Minetown soon screeched open as the Driver made his way inside, parking up in a free spot and turning off his engine before stepping out of his vehicle, looking around like he always did while he locked his car, guards patrolling on the catwalks above, with two always stationed both above the gate, and at the ground level.
The foyer was also where the mechanic of Minetown always was, Glaring Feather was her name, a larger gryphon woman who'd look to the Driver as she spoke up, having a crackly athletic tone to her voice "How mu-?" she'd ask with a proud and lustful tone of voice as she set her sights on the Rust on Blood, getting cut off by the Driver
"Not selling" He would respond with a gruff and quickened response to her question, the gryphon woman growing a look of malice as she muttered to herself, glaring at the stallion before going back to fixing one of the scout vehicles she was working on, a Can-Am Buggy, useful for short recon missions out into the wastes.
The Driver made his way up the steps into the main square, the streets bustling with life as citizens made their way around either to their work, or to the many stores that littered the square, the centre taken up by a large borehole with steps and an elevator that went down to the mine, that's how Minetown made most of its own fortune, mining materials required by the other towns and survivors.
The stallion would make his way through the crowds of Minetown citizens, gently pushing his way past any in the way, keeping an eye on anyone who looked to harm him, once out of the crowd he'd step into one of the many shops in the square and make his way up to the counter as he rang the bell.
"One second!" a gruff and tired older stallion's voice called out, soon enough a greying white coat, blue mane and tailed unicorn stallion made his way out of the back, in the old world he was a Prince, now? a Fixer for survivors "Ah! the Driver of the Rust on Blood!" he'd exclaim with a hearty laugh "I took you for dead, been a good while since I've seen you here taking jobs" he'd say with a chuckle "don't worry, won't bore ya with all that catching up stuff, it ain't a bar" he'd then say, his hand reaching under the desk, and taking out a contract and slapping it on the counter
"Shocked you have jobs for me, Armor" he'd say with a tone of disbelief, reading through the contract, detailing the mutant problem in the mines, and how it was impacting work, the Driver speaking up "Mutants again? I assume I won't be alone in this job?" he'd ask, looking up to the unicorn who'd just chuckle and give a nod
"Nah, you'll have a few other guys, but same rules still apply, anyone who dies, the cut gets better for the survivors" he'd say with a smile before remembering something as he used his magic to grab a gun from the top shelf, a semi-automatic 12 gauge M10 shotgun. "And, as a token of my appreciation for the job you did the last time you were here, you can have my shotgun" he'd say, placing it on the counter, along with two boxes of ammo, forty rounds in total.
The Driver himself would pick it up, immediately he inspected the weapon, racking the cocking handle back a few times and checking the chamber, making sure the shell carrier worked as he flipped the shotgun upside down, happy with it functioning he'd look to the unicorn, giving a thankful nod, soon after he began to load the shotgun, pulling the cocking handle back and loading a shell into the chamber, finally he gently pushed the handle forward to lock the bolt into battery, starting to load the tube with eight shells.
"Man of few words still, so nothing's changed there, the leather armour on your shoulders a nice touch though" Shining would say, motioning to the Driver's jacket, his outfit in total consisting of brown cargo pants, with built in kneepads, steel armour on his shins, with MOLLE rights on his thighs that were attached to a leather belt around his waist. With a beige button up shirt, that sported a green plate carrier over the top, and finally a green military jacket over the vest, with leather armour on the left shoulder and arm, finally he sported leather gloves, with the index fingers cut to allow the use of a firearm without modifying the trigger guard each time.
"Prefer it that way" the Driver would respond, giving a half-smile before placing what shells he could on his vest, the rest going into the empty rifle magazine pouches on his vest. The Driver giving the Fixer a small nod and heading out, making his way over to the elevator down to the mine, three others already waiting, a mare with no more than a simple 9mm sidearm, a taller zebra who sported a select fire rifle, and a third stallion who was using a 9mm submachine gun.
The Driver himself was the last of the four to join them, the mare looking with shock as she spoke up "Jesus, Fixer never mentioned that a fecken Legend was gonna join us on this damn job" she'd say with a nervous laugh, staring up at the stallion with awe, her accent a lilting brogue with every word almost sung.
"Legend? I'll wait and see myself, driving a car doesn't make you a legend, it makes you a drifter" the Zebra would retort with a stern tone, looking to the Driver before boarding the elevator "Can we get going now? The wife will kill me if I don't get back by nightfall" he'd say with a hearty laugh "I envy you in that fact Drifter" he'd then say, his accent rough, though Saddle-Arabian in nature.
The third stallion was quiet himself as he boarded the elevator next, looking nervous and slightly worried, he stared into the abyss, stumbling slightly, he'd catch himself, the mare and Driver boarding soon after, the Zebra hitting the button to send them down, speaking up while held out a hand to the Driver.
"Jadir, Jadir Bialthiqa, Drifter" he'd say with a proud tone and smirk, the Driver shaking his hand, he'd give a nod before speaking up "MacAllaidh" he'd bluntly say, the third stallion going wide eyed, he looked to the man with shock, opting to stay quiet and compose himself. Leaning against the railing on the inside of the elevator while it made its way down into the dark abyss of the mine, where their targets lay in wait.
