On Nightmare Station

Chapters

Ch02 - This Dark and Twisty Road
Ch03 - Staying Frosty
Ch04 - Enter Madman
Ch05 - Fight or Flight
Ch06 - Starlight Mall, Atrium
Ch07 - Starlight Mall, Food Court
Ch08 - Starlight Mall, Electronics Zone
Ch09 - Starlight Mall Escape
Ch10 - Sunshine, Sunshine...
Ch11 - Ladybug's Awake...
Ch12 - Clap Your Hooves...
Ch13 - And Do a Little Shake.
Ch14 - This Day is Imperfect
Act III: Nightfall
Ch15 - Triage
Ch16 - Crackleture
Ch17 - With the Best of Intentions
Ch18 - Twisted & Broken
Ch19 - Lab Rat
Ch20 - Window Shopping
Ch21 - Torment
Ch22 - Up a Well-Known Creek
Ch23 - Knowing When You're Needed (but not always getting there)
Act IV: Dominant Unlife & Intermission
(Act 1) Ch01 - Down the Rabbit Hole
Act II: Twinkle, Twinkle

Ch02 - This Dark and Twisty Road

Peering carefully around the corner, Broker Wordsmith leads the careful expedition away from the tram platform, levitating the two long, pointed spurs of bone in front of himself defensively. Seeing nothing in the corridors, he motions to Sketch, and starts moving into the corridor, peering at the signs on the walls. One, pointing towards the right, is labeled ‘Medical’ while the other, pointing to the left, is labeled ‘Housing’ and, below that, ‘Engineering’.

“Looks like we have another choice. I think we should head towards the housing district and see if there are others still alive Sketch. Surely we can’t be the only survivors.” Broker states.

“Yeah, but what happens to us if the people there turned into those things?”

“Then I’ll fight them off. We could go to medical for supplies.”

“Maybe I can find a weapon there for me... Maybe a bonesaw.”

“Have you ever been in engineering?”

“I was there once, that’s it. Plus do you really want to go there? It’s creepy on it’s own, let alo-” Something moves off to the left, the noise cutting off Sketch’s tirade, and both of the ponies prick their ears up as something moves in the vents above them.

Broker holds the talons close to him and looks around the corridor. “Nothing there, I think.” He looks up at the vents and notices the movement within them. “There is something in there, however Sketch.” The magic wraps around the talons tighter as he waits for anything to pop out.

“Well you have the only offensive abilities besides kicking it, go check it yourself!”

“Hell no! Let’s get out of here before another pops out.” Broker trotted backwards, but still looks ahead of him and up at the vents. “Maybe we should head towards medical” Broker turns his head around and goes the other direction, away from the housing district.

“Probably for the best, lets hurry.”

Scurrying away, the two pony bucks carefully trot past more signs of carnage, most of them thankfully older. Most of the lights are working again, though many areas are still only lit by emergency lighting, or else not at all.

Passing several more places, blocked by debris or doors locked with “No Atmosphere” warnings, the two finally arrive at a bloodbath by the name of Medical. Smears of gore and things better left unmentioned and unexamined paint the walls and floor. Tight, curving arcs and line form strange letters or symbols across the walls and floors.

Most notable, however, is the disturbing lack of any full bodies. Organs, severed limbs, all that, but no actual bodies.

“Do they eat the dead?” Sketch asks, looking for any bodies, though all he finds are smeared trails of blood and worse.

“Or they are walking around in the ward” Broker shivers and looks around for any weapons, vials, anything useful. Managing to force open a cabinet, he finds a single small capsule of medi-gel, and a few hundred credits.

“So... Dibs on the medi-gel!”

Broker tosses the medi-gel towards Sketch’s eye with his magic. “Oh, take the damn thing!”

“Yup, now to find real offensive weapons... I doubt your improvised weapons will last long.”

“Any ideas than where we can find better weapons?” Broker asks.

“The security armory, but that would need a security rank, so Joh... uh, right.” Sketch trails off as he remembers the last message he got from his friend.

“Yeah... Johan is gone. Have you tried the coms to see if he is truly gone?”

“ No... I forgot... “ Sketch says, now trying to call back Johan, but to no avail.

Broker sighs “Guess we’re on our own than. Come on, we need to explore the rest of the bay.”

As they check one more time, the slowly rising stench of death finally convinces them to leave the medical area. With no luck finding bonesaws or any other useful weapons on that level of the medical section, there’s no point in staying. Perhaps other parts of Medical would have them, like Surgery. On second thought, Sketch realizes, that’s probably where they are.

Checking on further decks down, after finding a stairwell, the two happen across some personnel lockers, one of them still partly open and another showing the green unlocked coloration.

Broker moves over to the partly opened locker. He opens it fully to see what’s inside. Inside is another credit chip labeled for several hundred credits.

“Well we may die, but you’ll die rich it seems.”

Broker chuckles lightly. “Check the other locker. Maybe there’s a weapon in there”

“Fine, knowing my luck there will be a paper clip.” Sketch sighs, opening up the other locker. Inside of that is a single, human-style pistol, and a flashlight, designed for any race’s use.

“Haha, my luck now. Look at the pistol” Broker drops the magical aurora around the talons and picks up the pistol instead. He examines it closely. “Should still work. Now let’s see if it got’s ammo” He presses a button on the side, bringing up the RIG interface, and a hologram displaying ‘3’. There are no other clips in the locker.

“Okay, I got medi-gel and you get weapons, sound good?” Sketch says, picking up the flashlight.

“Sounds fair, though only three rounds. Should conserve it though” Broker picks up the talons as well before proceeding on down the path.

The eerie quiet slowly creeps back into place, as Broker and Sketch head back into the Medical wards. A soft scraping sound seems to follow them everywhere, perhaps in the vents, but whatever is causing it hasn’t shown itself. Yet.

“You think that thing will ever pop out? It’s been following in the vents for a while now. I just want to kill it now.” Broker asks.

“It reciprocates your feelings exactly, lets just don’t let it act on them, or at the least, succeed.”

“I understand that, but I just want it out of those friends and spattered on the floor” Broker sighs. “Should we check surgery or try and head back to housing?”

“Fuuuck housing, let’s check surgery, we can see if there’s anymore medi-gel, I have a feeling we’re gonna need it.”

Area Music Theme

A loud CLANG! echoes down the corridor, along with the meaty sound of something like a body hitting the ground. Sketch looks back, pointing the flashlight back down the hall with his teeth, the bright beam illuminating the body of a pony, bloodied and battered, climbing to its hooves. Were once a pair of pegasus wings were now sprout a pair of long, scything claws, covered in sinew and feathers. The face is broken in several places, and the cracked open sections in the muzzle are full of teeth and strings of gore.

The monster bellows, and another drops out of the vent as it waddles unsteadily towards the two bucks on unstable back legs, its forehooves ripped off. A third leg, looking like it’s made of muscle and intestines, pours from its split belly and helps support it as it shambles towards the two of them.

“Run away!” Broker yells, turning in the other direction to run.

“Run, fatboy, run!” Sketch shouts, also turning and running from the horrors.

The monsters shamble forward, shouting through shredded throats, and roaring with hoarse lungs. Each of the disturbing, animate corpses continues to advance, some quickly, others slowly.

“Sketch, we need to hide somewhere! Anywhere!” Broker shouts, already panting heavily, but still running away from the horrors.

“No shit!” Sketch replies, looking all around for an escape. The only side passages are either blocked off by debris, fire, or are locked by security gates. ”For now just keep running!”

“I think I’m already doing that part Sketch!’ Broker looks around the corridor for anything, but has no luck as well. His eyes gaze back at the horde of monstrosities. The reanimated corpses of humans and ponies alike continue to shamble and crawl, and a sense of hopelessness overwhelms Broker.

Thankfully, though, Sketch’s flashlight beam illuminates a sign, pointing towards another part of the Medical wing.

“In here!” Sketch shouts, directing Broker into the room, hitting the door panel to close it. Turning around after the door closes, Sketch looks around, spying another couple of doors leading out, though only one is functional and unlocked.

“Lead the way then. This is your home after all.”

“Yeah, but you forgot one problem...”

“And what’s that?”

“My memory is shit.”

As if to punctuate Sketch’s commentary, a loud clang echoes in the room, and the two ponies turn to look at the door they just came through.

There’s a large dent in it, facing inwards. With another deafening clang, a second dent appears in the door.

“Forget that for a moment, we need to get out of here somehow!’ Broker’s eyes scan the room for any exits that are open. There’s one flashing the open colors, blue and orange, and another that is partly open, but the hologram is broken.

“Well, there’s a door there, unless you want to turn into meat pudding I suggest we take it, agreed?” Sketch asks before running through the door. Broker follows closely behind, and neither of them stop to see where the door leads.

Sketch skids to a stop as the emergency lights, in red, reveal exactly which room this corridor leads to.

Rows of gurneys, with dead bodies on each one, are arrayed across the room. A thing, like a bat, pushes past him, making him scream in fear, but it mostly ignores him. It climbs onto one of the gurneys, flapping its meaty wings to land on the body, a long, viciously sharp proboscis stabbing into the top of the human corpse’s head.

“Well... Shall we keep running then?” Sketch asks, looking back at the bat, before running yet again.

“Yeah, I agree there.” Broker says, now running along with Sketch, yet already exhausted.

“Running time!” Sketch shouts as he turns, only to stop again as he sees two more of the bat-things advancing down the hall towards him, flapping gently to float through the air. “Fuuuck.. What now dude?!”

Broker stares in horror at the sight of the creatures. “I-I have no idea! You’re the leader!”

One of the bat-things swoops over Sketch’s head, making him duck, as the other simply flaps past. Keeping a careful, terrified eye on the creatures, Sketch points the flashlight into the morgue again, seeing that the first corpse is gone entirely.

“Quick, run while they aren’t surrounding us!” Sketch bolts for, hoping it has a locking door.

Broker does as he suggests, as one of the slasher-monsters peeks around the door, growling. More and more growls can be heard from the morgue, and something clicks in Sketch’s mind. They’re infecting them. Whatever this is, those bat-things are making more from those corpses. Fuck.

The two ponies run as fast as they can back towards the room they’d left, finding the door they’d entered through smashed to the ground, massive dents in it, though there’s no sign of the horde that did it.

Instead of going back out the way they came, Sketch darts to the partially opened door, the one that’s jammed.

“Sketch! What are you doing! It’s jammed!” Broker yells, looking back at the monsters coming towards them.

Sketch peeks through the door, something glimmering and white on the other side, something familiar and comforting. Though he can’t quite make out what it is, it draws him onward, as he wiggles through the door, his motion prying it a bit further open, just enough for Broker to be able to do the same.

As he reaches the other side, Sketch shakes his head, not quite sure what lead him to there.

“Well, we need to keep moving. Those things will be back” Broker says, trying to catch his breath.

“Those bat thingies were making more of them! What the fuck is going on here?!”

“Some infestation! Invasion! Who cares?! We need to get out of here!”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, and why the fuck am I leader?! That’s like putting a lemming in control of the station’s center for intelligence!”

“Probably because I’m fat, slow, and bookish! At least you’re leading us away from these things! Mostly, at least.”

“Well how about I remember those reasons if we ever need them to I don’t know, say, remove you from the group, but for now RUN!”

“Then move your ass!”

“How about the more padded of us runs in front, that way if they run into anything it won’t hurt so much before they are gored to death.” Sketch looks at Broker.

The two ponies begin running as they argue again.

Broker gives Sketch a long glare before taking charge and proceeding onwards down to the right. The doorway leads to a staircase, with a landing every dozen steps or so, were it turns back around. There’s a door on the first landing labeled, ‘Observation’. It is locked.

“This way!” Sketch shouts, running for the stairs, “I swear if you literally shoot me in my back, I will fucking haunt you!”

“I won’t shoot you!” Broker yells, running to the stairs with Sketch.

“Shut up and run!” Sketch shouts, rushing down the stairs.

Broker sighs, but continues to follow. Sketch trips near the next landing, and falls in a heap in front of an unlocked door. Looking up, he sees it’s labeled, “Psychiatric Ward”.

“Well, should we risk dealing with the mentally unstable or sit out here and lick windows?” Sketch asks, opening the door a moment after. Inside is a mess of blood, gore, and pieces of bodies. The stench of spilled blood and slashed bowels roils into their nostrils, making the two ponies recoil.

“Yeah, maybe we should’ve stayed out there and licked the windows.”

“Shuddap, think of it this way, with their bodies being liquified none of them can attack us... Unless they make pony-slash-human soup into a monster... Lets just hurry through before that happens.”

“I highly doubt that will happen... but then again, we should probably do your idea.”

Walking into the gorey psych ward, the two ponies at least have the relief of ambient lighting, providing enough light to see by. A thick, almost organic mat of mold-like threads is growing from one of the vents, veiny-looking cords of stuff growing across the metal wall. Broken glass crunches beneath the two friend’s hooves, their shoes protecting their lower legs from severe lacerations.

The dismembered and eviscerated body of a nurse is leaning against a wall, missing an arm and both legs, along with most of its torso and face. The stumps look... gnawed at. Bloody footprints are everywhere, along with distorted hoof-and-foot marks along the floor.

“Well, it seems our pursuers already came through here, maybe they’re gone.” Sketch says hopefully.

Looking around, the shattered glass of the psychiatric cells glitters on the floor in pools of red, black, and brown. Sketch’s gaze turns towards a small packing box, normally green but hidden under the body of less than half a pony. Raising a hoof, he brings it down, smashing the box to find, inside, a cartridge for a Plasma Cutter.

“Yay, ammo for something we don’t have, fuuucking faaantastic.” Sketch says, picking up the cartridge.

“What do you think it’s to?”

“It’s a plasma cutter cartridge, you really are a shut in aren’t you?”

“Well thank you.”

“You’ve never had surgery, have you?”

“I’ve had dental surgery, that’s it. They didn’t use a plasma cutter there.”

“I would hope not, otherwise you have some really fucked up teeth. Now stop bringing up random shit, let’s look for more supplies, maybe there’s more medi-gel.”

“Agreed Sketch.” Brokers nods towards his leader.

“Let’s check the rooms first, make sure the occupants are either dead or gone.”

Broker nods again.

The two look into the rooms more closely, there’s nothing of note, however. Looking up as well, Sketch realizes that the the glass roof leads to the ‘Observation’ room above, presumably so that the researchers and psychiatrists can keep a close eye on the patients.

“Hey, here’s your chance to lick windows Broker.” Sketch points to the ceiling’s panes of glass.

There’s one more door, though, opposite the one they entered through.

“Well, go on ya sheep.” Sketch says, pushing Broker to the door “You go first.”

Broker gulps down his terror and trots up to the door, with his weapons ready to be used. The door opens smoothly, and there’s another staircase on the other side, heading up towards the observation deck. Broker still keeps his guard up as he walks towards the stairs, Sketch following loosely behind.

“Not my fault I have no weapons.”

“Don't worry about that, let’s just see what’s at the end here.”

Climbing the stairs and keying the door at the top, the view of the observation lounge is almost frighteningly plain, no blood or gore visible. A few desks are sitting around, computers and holopads sitting around on them. The glass roofs are now floors, caution stripes around the panes.

“How the fuck is this place NOT gore splattered?”

“Idunno, maybe the psychiatrists left before things got weird?”

“Listen to what you’re saying, it’s a psych ward, things are always weird.”

Broker just shrugs and begins looking around the room, searching for anything that might be useful. Sketch heads over to a terminal, pushing the touchscreen with his nose.

The computer turns on, revealing that there is already a video on the screen.

“Lets see what kind of shenanigans are on here.”

Clicking on the ‘play’ icon, the video begins, showing one of the cells below, with a cream and brown earth pony in the center view on some sort of stretcher or brace.. His head lolls to one side, and he’s in a full straitjacket with a blindfold on.

The camera shows the patient in a harsh, white light, and a human in a surgical uniform stands behind the pony.

“Copy, I want you to repeat the sequence.” The voice of the doctor is clear and crisp, as he speaks to the pony.

The pony leans his head forward and groans. “I-I can’t remember it. There’s too many... to many letters, too many numbers. It- It’s all messed up...”

“Copy, repeat the sequence. I know you remember it, don’t lie.”

“I- no! Y-you can’t make me! I don’t remember, I won’t!”

“Then maybe we should put you through the machine once more, see if that jogs your memory.” The clip ends with the pony screaming in terror.

“Okay then...” Sketch says, walking away from the terminal.

“You find something, Sketch?” Broker asks from across the room.

“A psych evaluation of a resident here, not much else, not even a secret folder.”

“Secret folder? What for?”Sketch rolls his eyes.

“Come on, there might be stuff we missed, how about we go through there?” Sketch asks, pointing to a door.

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe we should try to get to Surgery, there’s gotta be something down there we can use.” Broker says, shuffling towards the door.

“Lets just see where this takes us.” Sketch say, cautiously opening the door. The door opens, revealing...

The stairs, again. Looking around, the flashlight beam illuminates that this is, in fact, the same door that was locked previously.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Broker comments, stepping onto the landing of the stairs.

“Would you prefer another monster starts chasing us? Anticlimactic is safe.”

“Good point. Anyways, let’s get moving.”

Broker begins moving down the stairs slowly, watching each step carefully as he descends. The next five doors the two ponies pass are all locked. At the bottom of the stairwell, is a doorway labeled ‘Surgery’, and it’s unlocked.

“Well... Go on then.” Sketch says, pointing at the door with the flashlight, his jaw is starting to hurt.

Broker looks keys the door, causing it to open. Inside is a blood-splattered surgical prep room, a few gurneys and a desk sitting around, the gurneys lacking any sign of recent occupants.

“Seriously, after those bodies got back up and turned into those monsters, I think Medical is the last place we want to be.” Sketch says.

“I don’t care, we need medi-gel, and we need to find an AutoStore, we need some kind of protection, and suits of some kind are a necessity in that case.”

“Shut it fluffer, I don’t like being here. How come you’re all brave all of a sudden?”

“Please stop insulting me, it’s not nice.” Broker says, sounding a little scared as he looks around.

Sketch rolls his eyes. “Great, you sound like Johan now.”

Suddenly, a voice yells out behind the two of them. “Make any sudden movements and I won’t hesitate to kill you!”

With a yelp, Sketch and Broker leap over the desk and huddle behind it, peeking out to see someone in a security suit and carrying a handgun.

“You mentioned the name Johan- do you mean Johan Allegro?”

Sketch replies, “Are you going to kill him if we say yes?” as Broker calls out, “Yeah, he’s a friend of ours.”

The officer lowers the gun, and the mask retracts behind the officer’s head, revealing short black hair and a feminine face. “Officer Frost. Johan is my superior. He’s wounded and is taking shelter over at the tram station. He’s in the yellow, four bars.”

“Shit. How many bars does he normally have?”

“Fifteen.”

“Fuck. Well, we’ve only found a single medi-gel, in spite of this being Medical. Tubs over here wants us to go to Surgery, apparently he thinks there’ll be more there, and I just think there’ll be more of those things there.”

The officer turns a little, and looks at Sketch.

“Wait, Frost? I know that name. Johan talks about you on his spare time a lot.” Sketch says, leaning further out from the shelter of the desk.

Officer Frost huffs and crosses her arms. “Oh really? Let me guess, I’m his lover or something stupid like that?” she air-quotes the words.

Broker stands up, looking over the desk. “Actually, he’s usually talking about how much he likes you. Idunno, he’s a lot more... quiet about you, I guess. Not as, uh, crudely vocal.”

The officer seems a bit confused by this. “O-oh...”

“Uh, you mentioned he’s injured? As in, still alive?” Broker asks, “Where is he? Oh, right, trams. Uh, you’re with the riot control group, right? Can you get us to Surgery? There’s a bunch of those things between here, but there should be loads of medi-gel there.”

“Not until we get Johan, the longer we wait the greater chance it is that something will come across him. He’d also be an asset to the group.” Frost replies.

Author's Note

Thank you for sticking with us to chapter 2!
You get one point if you are the first non-contributor to guess the origin of the name of this chapter.

Thanks to the following for contributing to the story so far:
Itsmyfuneral, starring as Sketch
Hunterz263, starring as Broker Wordsmith
Rosethorn, starring as Victoria Frost
The Pieman, Editor in Chief

Ch03 - Staying Frosty

Half an Hour Ago:

“All security officers, please report. There is a riot forming in Habitat PV-08. I repeat, All security officers...” The voice crackles out over the RIGlink.

It was a normal day cycle on the station, and Victoria Frost sighs as she sits up. Finishing her mug of Insta-Joe coffee, Frost stands up.

“Ugh... God damn it. And here I was hoping I could actually finish my coffee for once without any interruptions.”

The message continues to repeat on her RIGlink, audio only, until it’s interrupted by a video message. The picture of a red-haired and freckled guy greets her, the face of her current direct superior for Habitat PV-09, her work patrol.

“Hey, Frosty, looks like we get to work together again!” Johan’s voice says, a background of a mess hall full of humans and ponies behind him. “Aren’t you so lucky?”

“Music to my ears,” she mutters sarcastically before downing the last bit of her coffee.

“I know it is, gorgeous, now get down here, I had to give up my lunch break for this, so let’s stop by the armory together. We’re being authorized those fancy-pants riot suits Command paid for with our bonuses last year. At least we can finally find out if they were worth it.” Johan says. “Anyhow, the tram’ll be near you soon, so I’ll see you at the station.”

“Yeah yeah, I heard ya,” she said, waving an arm lazily at the holographic projection. “See ya there.”

He nods, and the RIGlink cuts off.

“Those damn suits better come with a coffeemaker...” she groaned, wiping away the remains of her sleep from her eyes as she began her routine. From her desk she kissed her index and middle finger and then placed them on the glasses frame where the image of her mother and father holding a young child are set, frozen in time.

“Just a little longer till I’m back home Dad...”

Shrugging on her work underclothes, and stepping into the halls, Frost walks down to the tram station, and sits for a minute or so, as the yellow, blocky tram shows up. Along with Frost is several other officers she recognizes, including Sergeant Manning, a gruff guy who is probably older than her twice over.

Also in there is Empty Night, a Nightwing pony officer that joined about the same time as Frost. He’s a nice guy, but a little awkward around females. He just never seems to know what to say around anything with a pair of X chromosomes. Other than that, he’s the group’s EVA specialist.

Night looks over at Victoria. “Hello, madame Frost.” He says, in his normal, oddly formal tones. “I don’t suppose I could tempt you into the ways of Unitology, yet?” His normal greeting is reassuring, even if just as annoying the first time he asked.

Without hesitation she held up her hand to stop him. “I’ve told you this a million times Night, no.” Her hand recoiled back down to her side and she continued onward to her post. On the tram is, of course, Johan, in all his ginger glory, snapping to a lazy salute at Sergeant Manning as Victoria, the Sergeant, and Night all got on.

“Alright, Frosty, let’s get to the armory. Sarge, if you’ll do the honors.” Johan says, and Manning grunts, then types in his key-code to get to the Armory. Minutes of silence later, the tram slots into place, and the security officers file into the Armory. Manning, Johan, and Empty Night all suit up, and then it is Victoria’s turn.

She steps into the booth, and the metal doors close shut behind her with a resounding bang. Robotic arms with sensors on the ends fold out of slots in the walls, and scan over Frost, as she unclothes. Taking the jacket and her pants, they are sent to the AutoStore repository while the underclothes are sent to be recycled, and the fitting begins.

The mechanical arms fold out again, this time fitting layers of the suit’s under materials onto her, the black fabric-like sheets fitting to her snugly. The next layers fit over it, and are secured to it, forming armored sections and layering tight, bullet- and knife-proof materials over her vitals and major muscle clusters. Along with this goes the RIG’s connective points, and enhancement nodes, allowing the RIG to retain integrity and seal minor holes even in zero atmosphere.

Finally are the actual armor sections, pieces of metal and ceramic interlocking to form sections designed to withstand additional pressure, the matte black enamel coatings on the armor designating her as F071, and listing her squad number as 71 as well. The belt and boot cover slot into place, and the neck ring fits on last, anchoring the RIG in place.

Victoria listens as the RIG starts up, and synchronizes with her biorhythms, and reaches up to the collar, tugging at it in a futile attempt to loosen it a bit.

The doors clang open again, and the mission clock on her holodisplay says that suit application began a mere four seconds previous.

Stepping out, she gets a good look at herself in the holographic display opposite her, which acts as both a diagnostics viewer and a mirror. The suit... actually looks pretty cool. The helmet is still down, but she’s never particularly liked it, even when trying to synch with her weapons.

“So, Frosty, how does the new suit feel to you?” Johan asks, smile on his face.

“It’s a bit bulky to be honest,” she says turning around to see the back, “But it’ll definitely work- I just wish it had a coffee maker.”

Johan laughs. “Yeah, that’d be pretty sweet, but where the hell would we keep the grounds?”

“Hell if I know,” she laughed.

Laughing and joking along the way, Victoria and Johan pick up their weapons.

“So what’s the intel on this riot?”

Sergeant Manning, in his snug new suit, turns to Victoria. “Apparently some sort of religious thing happened. A buncha Unitologists all went crazy together. Now,” he continued, raising a hand to Night, “I’m not saying all Unitologists are crazy, just that this group went sour. Apparently, they started off getting ready to suicide, and something went wrong. Now, they’re killing people, so we’re going to stop them.”

Victoria carefully selects her beloved Seeker Rifle, Jackie, along with forty rounds of ammunition. She also puts the regulation Divet pistol onto her holster clip, the sidearm snapping into place with a distinct click.

She looks up to see that Johan has a SWS Pulse Rifle, and Night has a pair of them loaded onto his battle saddle. Sergeant Manning also has one, clipped to the small of his back, and is holding his Divet.

“Alright, officers, move out!” Manning shouts, and the three members of Squad 71 get moving.

Now silent as they move towards the riot, the group is totally serious. Sweeping each doorway and side hall as they pass, it’s Empty Night who speaks first.

“By the marker... what happened here?” He whispers, and Johan turns as well.

“What the fuck?” Johan says, and the Sergeant and Frost turn as well. Looking into the somewhat open doors of the mess hall they’d been dispatched towards, they can only see red inside. The lights from their suits and their guns provide enough illumination to see that the walls and floor is coated in blood, and there are numerous drag marks leading out from the doors, all in blood or worse.

[Area Theme]

“Oh jeez,” Victoria said, plugging her nose. “Smells aweful!”

Sergeant Manning replies with a quiet, “Toggle helmets, it’ll keep most of the smell out.” The team all do so, the metal and ceramic plates sliding into place around their faces, the energy barrier coming up to keep in the atmosphere.

The stench roils and seems to move of its own accord, the smell twisting into the suits in spite of their environmental locks, and all the humans in the group gag. Night, from behind his mask, says, “For once, I am glad to be reminded that my species has no gag reflex. Vomiting sounds most unpleasant right now.”

“You can say that again.” Johan replies. “Alright, I’ll take point. Frost, you cover me, incase they’re still in there.”

Manning switches his Divet for his Pulse Rifle, and motions for Empty Night to follow him. “We’re going to check the other exit, keep in RIG contact, and watch each other’s backs. I haven’t seen anything like this in my whole career, and frankly, I’ll be glad if I never see it again.”

“Man... what the hell happened?” Victoria says aloud to herself, readying Jackie. “It looks like a huge massacre.”

“No clue, Frost. Stay sharp.” Johan replies, stepping in and turning right, away from the near wall. “Oh, holy shit. you think it looks bad from out there? Step on in.”

“I’m gonna regret this...” she says to herself as she stands and eases herself inside, her trigger finger ready. What meets her inside, though, is atrocious. Bodies practically carpet the mess hall, scattered food and chunks of what is assumedly human and pony bodies litter the ground. On one of the near tables, the remains of a human lays, throat slashed and half her torso missing, along with her left leg.

Near the back, a pile of corpses rests, and Johan jerks his pulse rifle towards it when something in it shifts. A quadrupedal shape, looking like an injured pegasus, stands up shakily, several wounds visible in the poor thing’s back and sides, the shredded remnants of a wing barely holding to the shoulder joint.

Frost’s eyes widen at the sign of life in the bloody scene, but holds up her rifle in suspicion. “Who are you?”

The pegasus turns around, and Frost sees a broken jaw hanging off its face, only held on by sinew and skin. Unnaturally sharp teeth fill the upper palate, and hate filled eyes bore into hers. The thing bellows hoarsely, and charges towards Johan, the broken wing revealing itself to be twisted into some sort of boney blade, and he shouts as it swings, nearly hitting him dead on.

“Johan!” she shouts, quickly pulling her rifle’s trigger, sending bullets through the dismantled figure. The creature barks wetly, a spray of blood and gore splashing onto Johan as the Seeker Shells blow apart chunks of the creature’s back, Victoria’s fabled marksmanship failing her in her panic.

The creature smashes into Johan, knocking him down, as its forehooves split open, claw-like appendages bursting out and grabbing Johan by the chest. The wing-bone-blade whips forward, stabbing into the deck plates beneath Johan, only his quick head movement saving him.

“Shoot it! Shoot it Victoria!” Johan pleads, the creature spewing more black-and-red blood onto his faceplate and chest. He punches at it, but this only knocks its head off, which doesn’t seem to do much to it.

Frost doesn’t hesitate, aiming for the chest where the heart would be located. Putting two shots expertly into the creature, the torso explodes in a gush of gore and shredded organs, the creature sliding off to the side.

Johan pushes the creature off and rolls away, grabbing his pulse rifle and scanning around. Another hoarse bellow greets his and Frost’s ears as Johan tries to call the Sergeant.

A group of the creatures, mostly ponies, shamble in through the door the two humans entered through, each displaying grievous wounds that don’t seem to slow them much. One has its ribcage completely open, the the ribs themselves pointing straight out, a pair of claws erupting from its back. Another pony-corpse is standing on its hind legs, its two forelimbs split open, with gigantic blades of bone sticking out of them, and a set of arms reaching from the creature’s opened belly.

The lights in the mess hall flicker.

Johan, pointing his rifle at the oncoming horde, yells to Victoria. “Start backing up! We need to get out of here! We’ve got to find the Sergeant and Night, and regroup!” He begins firing in tight, controlled bursts at the legion of monsters.

“What that fuck are these things!” she shouts, shooting the moving targets as she races to another exit. “I don’t know, just keep moving, Frosty!” Is the reply.

The two of them slowly back out of the room, Victoria sweeping the outside as she goes through, though there’s thankfully none there. Johan kicks the door as he backs out of the mess hall, and it closes with a whoosh. Turning around, he looks out one of the windows as a shadow passes over it.

Victoria turns to look in time to see the thing making the shadow, a creature that looks like it’s formed from nothing but a human torso and long scorpion tail, goes scuttling past at blinding speed.

And it’s outside the window, in space.

She crouches down, readying her gun. “What the fuck is going on?! This is no fucking riot!”

Johan shakes his head, unsure of where the creature went. “I have no fucking clue, Victoria, please stop asking. It’s like something out of a horror movie. Oh, shit.”

“Well, what do you expect!” she then quiets at the sound of movement from the vents. a loud bang from the door makes them both jump as they look at it, a large dent in the metal.

“Shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!” Johan says, pointing out the window, “Gimme a minute, I need to call my friends, I need to make sure they don’t go to the Manehattan!”

“Oh no! One loud noise and these things’ll be on us like maggots on a dead body!” Victoria whispers furiously.

“You should be making a call, too, shouldn’t you? I doubt these things are going to stick around here, and your home is just a hop, skip and a jump away from here!” Johan hisses back, cueing his RIGlink.

“Oh no!” she whispers, whirling around in the direction of her home. “Dad!”

Forgetting her own advice, she quickly comms her father, the caretaker picking up almost instantly.

“Sarah!” she says quietly, “Get my dad! Hurry!”

She can hear Johan speaking softly into his RIGlink, but it’s audio only. “Guys, it’s not just a riot, some sort of monsters are involved.” He starts talking louder as something bursts from one of the ceiling vents, and he begins shooting at it. “Don’t go to the Manehattan, I repeat, don’t go to the Manehattan, it’s Crawling with them all over! Get somewh-!”

Sarah tries responding, but Victoria can’t hear her over the gunfire. She looks over in time to see the creature made of half a human leap onto Johan, its tail whipping about as it bite at his shoulder.

“Fuck!” Frost screams, taking her rifle and pulling the trigger, hitting the thing at the base of the tail, the low explosive round severing the appendage entirely. The creature screams and rears back, raising a clawed arm towards Johan.

Johan puts the muzzle of his SWS to its face and blasts a trio of rounds through the creature’s head, causing it to fall off, writhing. He rolls and puts several more rounds into the creature.

“Look out!” Johan cries, as something slams into Frost’s back, and she sees a sharp talon jutting from her shoulder. She screams in agony and twists away, the talon breaking off from whatever creature had it with a dry crackling sound.

She looks back to see a man, twisted and broken into a shape like the first pony creature, a pair of arms reaching from its back, though one of the talons is missing, having relocated to her shoulder. Johan’s pulse rifle blows apart its chest in a flurry of bullets, but there’s more behind both it and in the other direction.

“Victoria, there’s a lift over there, get to the second floor and get into the maintenance shaft!”

“What about you?!” she shouts, switching to her Divet and firing bullets at the creatures, ignoring the pain in her shoulder.

“I’ll be right behind you, don’t worry. I couldn’t possibly deprive you of my beautiful face just yet!” Johan replies, reloading after launching a grenade into a mass of the creatures.

“You’re so full of shit, you know that!” she says, rushing towards the shaft.

“But it’s beautiful shit, so it’s alright. Now get up there, there should be an elevator that’ll get you to the tram station. I’ll see you there!” Johan quips, as the lift Victoria is on rises to the second floor, leaving Johan behind.

The floor seemed quiet, most of the creatures must have been on the first floor.

“You better not die down there Johan...” she muttered, starting her com again.

“Sarah!”

“Victoria, what’s going on?” she asked, worriedly.

“I-” she hesitated and took a breath. “I don’t know. But you need to get out of the house and find somewhere safe.”

“Why? what’s going on?” her voice raised.

“Just listen to me alright!” Victoria whispered angrily. a noise followed her angry outburst and she looked around quickly for any sign of life.

“Just trust me okay?” she says, more calm now. “Tell my dad I love him and-”

Frost cuts off as something hammers on the door over the RIGlink. “Just a minute, Victoria, there’s someone at the door. I’ll call you back in a second.”

“No! Sarah! Don’t-!” It was too late, as Sarah had already closed the link. Damnit, I need to get to the tram station, and fast. I’ve gotta get home.

Victoria stands, carefully, and gingerly pulls the talon from her left shoulder. The Riot Suit, thankfully, seals the wound right away, preventing her from bleeding too heavily, and the hole in the suit itself, so at least she wouldn’t have to worry about depressurized zones.

Looking down the narrow corridor, the path entirely unlit save for her helmet lamp and the Divet’s built-in flashlight, Victoria steels herself for the trek to the station.

“Alright, if I came from the mess hall then the elevator should be just past the fourth side-passage or door, I think. Not too far, at least.” She started up her RIGlink again with no answer.

“That’s not good...” taking in a breath she readied her gun and pressed forward, her steps as silent as she could manage in the bulky suit.

Sneaking along the small passage, she is forced to step over some kind of rancid gunk, possibly the remains of a worker that was gotten to by those creatures while up here. continuing on, she finds more and more of the strange mass, but finally find the door to the elevator she needs, with a “Perpendicular Gravity” warning on it, indicating it turned sideways to travel faster, as if falling, making one ‘wall’ actually the floor.

She keys the elevator, and the doors slide open, her movements careful as she adjusts to the new gravity. The doors slide shut, and she hits a the button labeled ‘Tramway Station’. With a soft whoosh, the elevator begins moving, though the only noticeable indicator is the exterior lights, barely visible through a slit window, flashing past.

Finally, she arrives at the tram station, and the door slides open again, onto a scene of horror. The walls and floor of the tram are coated in gore, just like the mess hall, and the tram is sitting, open, nearby. crawling from the elevator, Victoria looks around at the destruction, broken lights and hanging chunks of the ceiling indicating where things crawled from the vents, and bodies lay everywhere.

The tram, normally yellow, has hand and hoof prints in blood on its walls, where ponies and humans alike tried to get in, only to be slaughtered before it could get moving. the stench of death, the reek of burst entrails bruns into Victorias nose through the suit, and she has to fight mightily to suppress her need to vomit.

One thing stands out in the wreckage, however, a single small medi-gel cylinder, which she carefully picks up and adds to her suit, telling it to inject immediately.

“Looks like shit hit the fan here too...” she gulps before shaking her head. “Gotta get home, gotta get home...”

Stepping onto the tram, she looks back at the station. “Damnit, Johan, where the hell are you?” She tries her RIG, but gets nothing but static. “Fuck...”

She turns to the tram, and hits the buttons that’ll send it to the station near her home. Sitting for several minutes in the stinking tram, Victoria frets over what might’ve happened, and tells herself that her dad is alright.

The tram, at last, gets to her home station, and she sprints towards home, her helmet retracting as she gets to her door. There’s a large, bloody smear across the outside of the door, but it is closed.

“No...” she breathes. “No. No! NO!” she kicks in the door and points her gun, keeping her eyes sharp.

“Dad?” She steps inside, and calls again. “Dad?”

She steps towards his bedroom, and peeks in. There’s no sign of Sarah, but her father is sitting in his wheelchair, slumped forward a bit. He seems alright, though, there’s no visible injuries on him.

“Dad?” she calls to him, lowering her gun slightly. “Dad?” she gulps and raises her gun again, holding her breath. “Dad... Where’s Sarah?” He moans softly, and rolls his head slightly.

“This isn’t funny Dad...” she steps closer to him. No response.

She steps closer tentatively. “Damn it Dad! Fucking ans-” She screams as her father, who had been paraplegic for the last seven years, leaps at her, knocking her to the ground as his face splits open, sharp teeth and jagged spurs of bone jutting from his upper palate.

For a moment, she’s 15 again, cornered and terrified, as a strange man climbs on top of her. She lashes out in fear and rage, and shoves her father from her, his hands splitting open to reveal sharp bone claws as his torso pulls from his hips, three long, lashing tentacle-like ropes of intestines and bone flailing at the air.

One of the needle-tipped tentacles slams into the floor next to her, and a second slams through her arm, on the left, just like her shoulder. The third hovers over her as the half-corpse drags itself onto her again, trying once more to bite at her through her armor.

She bites her cheek in pain and misery, seeing her father now as a hideous monster, craving only her innards and organs. But she couldn’t cry now. The thing that hovered above her whips the third tendril towards her head, her quick reflexes saving her only barely, and she feels it cut her ear in passing.

Lifting her Divet with her good arm, she puts it to her father’s head, whispers good-bye, and pulls the trigger. Her vision waters as the blood and bits of brain splatter ceiling and walls, wishing she’d kept her damn helmet on. She simply hadn’t wanted to scare Sarah...

The creature writhes, the tendrils embedded in the floor snapping off and flailing at the air. A clawed hand raises, and begins to descend towards Victoria’s unprotected face.

It disappears in an explosion of muscle and bone fragments, and Frost hears the characteristic noise of the pulse rifle, as the rounds chew into the body of the creature above her.

“Shit, Frosty, this is why I said I’d meet you at the tram. Didja think I was spewing shit again?” A tired, blood-smeared Johan Allegro stands in the doorway, holding a pulse rifle with a smoking barrel.

Victoria was in too much shock to process what exactly just happened or even notice Johan.

“D-Daddy...?” she croaks, lying on the floor, her eyes dilated and flowing with tears.

She feels a pair of arms lift her with care pulling her off of the spike, and then someone’s patting her on the back and holding her up, but she can’t see who it is through her tears.

“I’m sorry, Frost. Really.” Johan’s voice cuts through her tears as she mourns her father, who had taken care of her until his injury, and who had still provided good advice and shoulder to cry on for years. It just wasn’t fair...

“God damn it!” she bites her lip and claws the fabric on Johan’s suit. “I told them to leave! Why didn’t they listen to me!”

“Maybe they did. It would explain why your dad’s wheelchair is set out. I don’t know, maybe something got it? I still don’t know what’s causing all this.”

“I told Sarah not to answer the door but-” she stops. “Sarah!” Frost gets up and grabbed her gun. “She wasn’t here when I found my dad.”

“Shit, think she’s maybe one of these things now? At least they’re easy to kill, for the most part. Hit them in the limbs, by the way, they go down if you blow off enough chunks of ‘em.”

“Thanks for the heads up...” she says cocking the Divet.

“You’re welcome. C’mon, if Sarah is one of them now, I’d rather not meet up with her.” Johan says, supporting Victoria with his shoulder. The two of them walk to the doorway. “Also, have you been seeing the Unitologist symbols all over the place? they’re definitely getting more and more common. Think they might’ve done something?”

“I- I don’t think so,” she winced at the pain in her arm. “Or rather, I hope not... Wait, I think Sarah’s a Unitologist; she’s never seemed like the type to do something like this.”

“Yeah, I guess not. She’s the pretty blond with the nice rear, right?” Johan jokes.

“If I wasn’t in so much pain I’d smack you right now,” she grunted.

“I’ll take that as a yes. What, you jealous I notice other girls?” The two have hobbled their way to the front door, the cheap synth-wood splintered from Victoria’s charge earlier.

“Oh don’t flatter yourself,” she chuckles. “I have standards.”

“Good thing I meet them, right? Don’t turn me down now, I need the ego boost if I’m going to make it.” This gets a laugh from Victoria.

“Not even if you could save this entire station.”

Johan shakes his head, his expression hidden by the malevolent smiley-face of his helmet. “Idunno, I might just try it, see if that gets me some real warmth from you, Frosty.”

“Just shut up and walk, soldier.”

“Don’t I outrank you?”

“And? Your point?”

“Nothing, ma’am, walking ma’am, can-do ma’am!” He says, snapping a salute, before wincing and grabbing his stomach. “Ooh, probably shouldn’t do that again ‘till I find some medi-gel.”

“Hehe, oops. Sorry, just used the last of mine.”

“Ah, no probs, you probably needed it. My suit’s keeping most of the bleeding down, and the internal stuff inside. It really just needs something to close the gash for when I get out of the suit.”

“I say it still needs the coffeemaker.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. You know, I don’t think I ever told you; I’m almost fully half Irish. And yet, I can’t stand the taste of alcohol.”

The duo had made it down the hallway, symbols in blood written in spirals along the walls and floor. There’s no bodies, but there’s several drawings of the holy icon of Unitology, the Marker, like a fat strand of DNA.

“And this is why I’m an athiest....” she muttered, eyeing the symbols.

“Yeah, I was thinking about getting into it, I mean, there’s lots of good reasons, and the whole thing does kinda make sense, but it really kinda creeps me out now.”

“You know... Back when I was into all this crap I remember the story going something like this and our race becoming perfect in the end.”

“What story?”

“How Unitology came to be.” She said, remembering the legend. “Apparently this guy, back on Earth, before it was all dead and stuff, he found this thing called ‘the Marker’. Supposedly, it taught him this language, and a whole bunch of things, that this alien race made humanity, and the Marker was the key to finishing their work. Something about being ‘free of the bindings of death’.”

“Yeah, sounds about like how the pamphlet goes. Mickey Altar or something.”

“Altmann. Michael Altmann. Nowadays, Unitologists believe that Altmann was killed by the United Earth Government at the time, the earliest version of E-Gov, to cover up the truth. It all sounds like a bunch of hooey to me, the UEG was too busy evacuating the populace to care about some religious nut. But he said when the Gods came back they would finish us...”

“Huh.” is all Johan could say to that as they turned yet another corner, trying to find their way to somewhere else. “Just as a question, but are all these empty corridors and stuff giving you the willies, too?”

“Do you really have to ask?” She states sarcastically. “But I wonder... Do you think this is what they meant by becoming perfect? ‘cuz frankly, if it is- i’d rather stay unfinished.”

“Yeah. I kn-” Johan cuts off. “Shh, did you hear that?” He’s stopped completely, and the only sounds are the breathing of the two security officers. Then, a sound like someone who’s eaten too much and is trying to keep it down echoes out.

Johan raises his pulse rifle, braces it against his shoulder. Around a corner, a large, bulky yellow form waddles into view. A thick brace of dirty, blood-stained yellow hair dangles around from the creature’s head.

“Well, I guess I was right. Still, it’s a shame about her hair.” Johan says, his voice cracking.

“That’s the ugliest chicken I’ve ever seen,” Victoria replies, holding up her handgun.

Johan fires a burst of rounds at the creature, the small squash-heads ripping chunks from the monster’s ‘shoulder’ and completely ripping off one of its wide-bladed talons. The creature shrieks, as Victoria aims for it’s brain, hoping it would kill it. The rounds from the Divet smash into the creature’s cranium, sending chunks of brain and bone across the wall. The abomination then uses its remaining blade to cut its own belly open, then topples backwards, expired again.

“Why the hell did it- What the hell?!” Johan yells, as a swarm of tiny, pale, gore-soaked things flip and fold out from the monster’s torn belly, rapidly moving closer to the two humans. “The hell? are those just flaps of skin?!” One of them, though, seems to actually be a heart, the valves twisted into tiny grasping suckers.

Closing the distance in spite of the hail of bullets sent their direction, a few exploding from lucky shots or Victoria’s careful aim, but the mass of the swarming things draws nearer, and one even leaps at Frost, only for her to shoot it out of the air.

What horrified her, however, was that the thing was bearing a long, needle-like spike at her as it did. Johan’s storm of bullets shredded the rest, each dying with a squeal.

“We have to move! Now!” she shouted, ripping off a swarmer sticking to his back. It pops with a wet squelch.

“Wha- yeah, sure. C’mon, I think we can get to the Manehattan. It’s a big ship, and these things seem to move a lot, they’ve probably left by now.” Johan says.

“No way- if we go there we’re dead. Imagine how many people have already tried to go there and are monsters now?”

“Actually, most of the announcements said to leave the Manehattan at the outset. There’s almost definitely less of them there. Most of all, though, I know we can get into the Armory there. I stopped by ‘our’ Armory on the way here, but it was emptied.”

Frost looked at the dead pieces of flesh on the floor and shuddered at the thought of the long needle on one of them.

“Fine. But we need to find some medi-gel before we go anywhere.”

“That’s actually the other reason I think we should go to the Manehattan, it’s got the nearest medical facilities of any real grade beyond a cheap Credit Clinic, which is someplace neither of us have the money to spend at. Crisis or not, those places are automated, and won’t give us anything without money.”

“I have my card,” she said reloading her pistol. “Besides, it’s not like I can use my creds for anything else.”

“Besides, you know, ammo. Or just buying more medi-gel from the next AutoStore, the closest of which is still in the Manehattan. Come on, it can’t be any worse than here.”

“Right,” she said spitting on the floor. “Got a whole month's rent on this thing so it should be able to buy us a few things. I also have the emergency card Dad gave me back when I was 16, should still have a good amount on it.”

“Well, then, lets go. I’ve got about enough to... ah hell, I probably won’t need to pay rent either. C’mon, let’s make sure the tram’s still here. I want to get to the Manehattan, get some supplies, then leave.” Johan says, once again leaning on Frost as they walk together to the tram station. thankfully, there’s little excitement until then, just a few of the abominations that were relatively easy to put down, and no more of the bloated ones.

Reaching the tram, Frost helps Johan to lay down on a bench, while she gets the tram moving. It goes without a hitch, and they arrive in the tram dock of the Manehattan, one of the stations splattered with gore and debris, another tram already there docked at that one.

“Alright, the way to Medical should be clearly marked. Ah, could you do me a favor and check my RIG? I kind of want to know what it has to say about my injury.”

Victoria nods, and carefully rolls him onto his side, only to freeze as she sees that his ‘health bars’ are down to a paltry four bars left - and are in the yellow.

“Not gonna sugar coat it- you should probably lay low for now. I’ll go,” she said turning. “But check mine just incase.”

“Alright, as long as you’re inviting... Yeah, you’re in the green still, missing a couple of bars, but you should be fine.” he sighs, then continues, “I’ll sit tight, make sure you have someplace to retreat to if you need it. Good luck.”

“Thanks. You too.”

He carefully sits up opposite the tram door, and sits his SWS Pulse Rifle across his lap as Frost walks into the ship. Behind her, he whistles a tune in the dark, only his headlamp illuminating the tram station.

“You better be the same when I get back.”

“I plan to be.”

With that she left, walking into the confines of the main corridor. Looking at the signs painted onto the walls, she sees that one points towards Medical, and the other points towards Housing and Engineering. Turning towards medical, she carefully sneaks along, thankful for the low-light enhanced vision that the helmet provides her.

[Area Theme]

“I still need to fix this hole in my arm,” she groaned, rolling her shoulder. “This thing better give me that gel...”

Stepping through the shadowy corridors with stealth and precision, Victoria tries to keep herself together. Every few moments, she has to blink away the image of her father, twisted into a monstrous, ravening beast, lest the image takes over her vision.

She makes her way to one of the lower levels of Medical after finding that the one on the level with the tram was blocked. Something that worried her, was that she didn’t seem to be able to contact Johan.

“Better make sure he’s okay,” she whispers to herself, fumbling with her com. Suddenly, though, the RIGlink call pulls through, though it’s a staticky and a little hard to see him. Johan is still sitting.

“Hey, couldn’t go too long with-~fizzle~-eing my beautiful face, eh?” Johan says, coughing wetly. “Things are pretty quiet aro-~fizzle~-re, in case you’re wondering.”

She ignores the narcissism and only replied with a, “Good to hear you’re okay. I found the Medical Wing, shouldn’t be long before I find- there! Found it!” she said, spying a medical cabinet. “Found our target, be back soon.”

“Al-~fizzle~-ee you soo-~fizzle~-” Johan says, his picture fading out with a crackle.

Stepping across the blood-splattered floor of the medical ward, she carefully opens the cabinet, finding a double medi-gel package. Also inside is a lone credit chip, set for several hundred credits.

“Double jackpot, perfect.” she whispers, but quiets as she hears noises from the doorway.

“Shit!” she whispers, stashing away the gel and going into a shadowed corner, readying her pistol.

With her light-enhancing filter on, and her headlamp and pistol light off, she’s nearly invisible as two pony-shaped shadows enter the medical ward. she studied them, aiming her weapon for any sudden attacks. It was too dark to tell anything other than their shape. They seemed normal, but she did not dare take any chances.

Then, one spoke.

“Seriously, after those bodies got back up and turned into those monsters, I think Medical is the last place we want to be.” The lighter of the two of them said.

“I don’t care, we need medi-gel, and we need to find an AutoStore, we need some kind of protection, and suits of some kind are a necessity in that case.” the darker of the two said, though his coloration wasn’t that much darker.

“They’re normal,” she whispers to herself.”

“Shut it fluffer, I don’t like being here. How come you’re all brave all of a sudden?”

The darker one sighs. “Please stop insulting me, it’s not nice.”

“Great, you sound like Johan now.”

“Johan?” her eyes widen. “They must be the friends he was calling earlier.”

The bickering pair continue to fearfully traverse the room, the darker of the two a unicorn levitating a Divet in front of him, though it appears to be one of the models meant for humans to use.

They check the cabinets, but find no other canisters of medi-gel.

She creeps behind them, and aims her gun. “Make any sudden movements and I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Both of the ponies jump, however, showing impressive reflexes as they dive to the other side of a counter, the unicorn screaming slightly, before she could squeeze the trigger.

“You mentioned the name Johan- do you mean Johan Allegro?” she held her aim.

The white earth pony replies, “Are you going to shoot him if I say yes?” at the same time the unicorn says, “Yeah, he’s a friend of ours.”

She lowers her gun and retracts her helmet. “Officer Frost. Johan is my superior. He’s wounded and is taking shelter over at the tram station. He’s in the yellow, four bars.”

“Shit. How many bars does he normally have?”

“Fifteen.”

Victoria placed a hand on the hidden gel quickly to make sure it was still present.

“Wait, Frost? I know that name. Johan talks about you on his spare time a lot.” the white earth pony says, peeking around the corner.

She cocked a brow and crossed her arms. “Oh really? Let me guess, I’m his lover or something stupid like that?” she quoted the words with her fingers.

“Actually, he’s usually talking about how much he likes you. Idunno, he’s a lot more... quiet about you, I guess. Not as, uh, crudely vocal.” The unicorn says peering out from the cover of the desk.

“O-oh...” this answer catches the woman off guard, Johan was always so frivolous about his ‘player ways’ or whatever he called it, always acting like every girl wants him.

“Uh, you mentioned he’s injured? As in, still alive?” the unicorn asks. “Where is he? Oh, right, trams. Uh, you’re with the riot control group, right? Can you get us to Surgery? there’s a bunch of those things between here, but there should be loads of medi-gel there.”

“Not until we get Johan, the longer we wait the greater chance it is that something will come across him. He’d also be an asset to the group.”

Author's Note

So that's the first Character Insertion Chapter, or CIC, out of the way. I hope you're all enjoying this, and, again, if you see any mistakes, please tell me so I can correct them!

Ch04 - Enter Madman

[Chapter Theme]

Half an Hour Ago:

A piercing pain slams through Copy’s eye, and a whirlwind of images and sounds flash past his senses. After an eternity passes in a second, Copy.Data resumes screaming at the retracting needle. Hands in sterile blue gloves and an aura of magic lift him from the dreaded machine, and monsters surround him, gaping jaws and vicious teeth flashing in the bright, fluorescent light.

He thrashes and swings, only to be subdued by the grip of the magic aura and grasping claws, screaming all the way.

Then, his bleeding eye is covered by soothing bandages, and he is left, fore legs bound together by the psychiatric suit he wears at the fetlocks.

He screams until he is hoarse again, blind in one eye and limbs on fire from pain. He waits, and waits, the bright lights of the cell illuminating everything in it. The sheet of forged glass acts as a mirror, the observation area dark.

“Okay, ow...” Copy.Data moans, everything feeling really bad, “I didn’t expect this when I signed up, can I get a refund... nope, jokes don’t help, it still hurts. Hey doc, what day is it?”

“Wednesday, as usual for your appointments, Mr. Data.”

“Gee, how helpful. How about a calendar?”

“Perhaps if you are well behaved, Mr. Data. We wouldn’t want you to injure yourself.” The voice is calm, and deep, and coming from somewhere above Copy, though his good eye is shut from the brightness of the lights after the dark of the machine.

“Right.” Copy would have rolled his eyes if they were open “Because I’m fully incapable of looking at a piece of paper that doesn’t require physical contact, without getting a papercut. How reassuring you are.”

“Now, now, Mr. Data, being rude won’t get you anywhere. Do you remember the sequence now?”

“Hey, I’m not being rude, I’m being sarcastic, there’s a big difference. What do you mean, ‘sequence’? I’m an engineer and a bad author, not a cryptologist.”

“Please don’t lie, Mr. Data, I know it’s buried in there somewhere. Perhaps I should schedule you for an extra appointment in the Sunset Device in two days?”

Something about that name sparks a fiery terror in Copy’s mind.

“Ummm, I don’t know if that’s a good idea, my mind isn’t a very clean place, it gets messy, maybe you should wear boots next time you wanna go in a little deep.” CD says, trying humour to lighten the situation.

“Indeed. Nurse, go prepare a sedative, Mr. Data doesn’t need to be moving for the next week.”

“Oh, well shit, I’m not gonna like waking up, am I?”

There’s no answer from anyone, until a slight pinch at the base of his neck causes him to yelp, as the world fades to black.

Waking up, Copy.Data opens his eyes to see a familiar, stainless-steel needle pointing at his eye.

“OH GOD! No needles no needles no needles in my eyes!” Copy.Data screams in abject terror as the needle begins drawing closer, “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease no needles in my eye! Isn’t there another way!?” Copy.Data tries moving his hooves to protect his face, but just like before, he is so restrained he can’t even lift or twitch his head. “PLEASE guys, don’t you know what mercy is!? I swear, I’ll never steal from the cookie jar again! Nope, jokes still not helping, shit.”

Suddenly, he isn’t in the eye-poke machine anymore, but rather restrained to a chair.

“Now, Mr. Data, are you ready to comply? I can run the simulation again if you’d prefer, perhaps leave it running a little longer this time?” It’s the smug doctor-voice again.

“Yeah, sure, who said I wouldn’t comply in the first place, anyway? You’re almost as nuts than I am, if you ask me, by the way.”

“Actually, you’re the one who got you here. Now, I’m going to ask again, as I did yesterday, what is the sequence?”

Something snaps inside Copy.Data, and he begins shouting random, seemingly unintelligible things at the top of his lungs, panting and laying exhaustedly in the chair afterwards. He can barely breathe, and a slow clapping meets his ears.

“Good, Mr. Data, I knew you’d tell us eventually. Nurse, be so kind as to return him to his cell. And remember to give him juice today, instead of water.”

“Oh... joy... yes... that’ll solve ALL... my problems... Can’t I go... home now?” Copy.Data says, taking deep breaths in between words.

“Indeed, to your new home in cell A7. I’ll see you next wednesday, Mr. Data.”

Well, great... This just gets... better and better. Do you... enjoy torturing me, Mr. Disembodied Voice From Above?” Copy.Data says sarcastically, but still actually wanting an answer.

“Of course not, Mr. Data. But you’re too useful to simply discard.”

The whoosh of a door closing ends the conversation, and Copy.Data feels the cart moving him speed up. Opening his unbandaged eye, he looks around the familiar padded cell, the heavy main door sliding shut as a tall, bipedal shape leaves through it.

“Home sweet Home, I never thought they did this to crazy ponies, I just wanted a free place to sleep!” CD says complaining that his plan looked VERY different in his head “Why are they sticking needles in my eye anyway?”

He sits there, contemplating things while stuck upright in the uncomfortable brace, slowly nodding off to sleep, only interrupted by the nurse coming back to help feed him, edible spoon for the jello and a fully rounded straw for the juice.

After eating, he doesn’t have much to do, just wait until sleep takes him, which it does some time later.

“Copy! Copy.Data! Wake up!”

“I could make a joke about mistaking you for my mom, but that wouldn’t help, would it. You’re not gonna let me sle-” CD says groggily, but obviously awake and functional as the voice cuts him off.

“Wake up now, or you’re going to die!”

“Well, I can’t fight that logic, or this damn strai-”

He’s cut off once again as he falls forward off the brace, his hooves coming unstuck. Landing on his face, he rolls with the impact, sort of, and stands up a bit.

“Alright, now I’m up, in more ways than one, introductions later, get me out of here, please.”

“C’mon, let’s get going, there’s been some sort of out-break, there’s monsters everywhere!”

The figure, tall and bipedal, matches the general description of a human from what few books Copy.Data’s bothered to read of them, and the occasional newscast.

He’s a short, skinny, whitish-skinned guy, in some sort of EVA-style RIG, the suit in grey and green. He’s carrying something in one hand, and motions towards the mostly-closed door of the cell. Looking past him, Copy sees something begin to open the door, a flat-ish pale shape wriggling between the edge of the door and the doorway.

“Okay, ooze monster. I’ve seen eno-”

The thing finishes getting through the crack in the door, a pale shape like a hairless bat with no head, as it leaps at the guy who rescued Copy. He screams as the thing stabs some sort of stinger into his head, his face ripping open into a bunch of teeth and fangs, as a pair of spikes rupture from his hands.

Freaking out, CD runs for the door as fast as he can, and hopefully escaping from the ooze-bat and the mutated human with a few too many pointy bits.

Slamming the door open, Copy begins running into the psychiatric ward, a mess of monsters and people, humans and ponies, being attacked. Darting forward as fast as his legs can carry him, he dodges another human-thing, and slides beneath a pony being thrown from one of the glass-doored cells.

Slipping on a splatter of blood, he almost slams into yet another of the creatures, and barely scrambles away from the creature that looks like it used to be the nurse. Ducking aside, he smacks the door control with a hoof as the nurse-monster advances on him, its twisted arms held high, like a spider preparing to strike.

The door opens with a soft whoosh, and CD runs up the stairs inside. Scrambling up the metal steps jars his hooves, but he doesn’t have time to contemplate the pain in his hooves or his head at seeing the creatures, and all he can do is hold in a scream. Hitting the door control at the top of the stairs, he stumbles in.

Looking around, he sees that it must be some sort of observation lounge, desks and the like in the main area, while there’s no sign of the operators. Looking at the sides, he can see the glass ceilings for the cells, now more obviously for allowing the doctors to observe the patients without being at the same level as them.

“What the hell kind of psych ward did they stick me in? This looks like something from aboard a colony ship, but there hasn’t been one of those launched in over thirty years. How long have I been here, I really do need a calendar.”

There’s one more door, opposite the one he just entered through, and plenty of computers. There may be something about what’s going on on one of these, CD thinks to himself.

“Alright, now we’re in business, I guess, let’s see what the not-so-good doctors know.”

Sliding into place in front of one of the computers, CD is back in his element as he starts searching the terminal for any sort of information. There’s a few psych logs by one of the doctors, but it’s for a different patient. Changing computers, he searches again, finds nothing, and repeats.

Four computers after that, he finds one with a video of him... and that doctor. The doctor is asking him about that mysterious ‘sequence’ again, and ends by threatening him with the eye-poke machine. What’s really odd, is that CD can’t remember this conversation, at all.

“Great, not only are they messing with me, but my memories too, and I thought I was supposed to remember something for them, way to go geniuses. But there’s gotta be a date somewhere on here...”

Checking the file data directly, he looks at the date. It reads for a date at least three months after the date he thought it was. There’s also indicators of other files, expertly scrubbed. While he could probably recover them, that would take more time than he really wanted to waste, with those monsters in the floor below him.

“Alright, next up, facility map, is there a backdoor or something to this place? Hope so, or it’s gonna be hard getting out.”

Several minutes of searching the terminals, though, provide no such luck. Not even bothering to close out the video as he leaves, he cautiously sneaks over to the door.

“Just in case there’s something on the other side, let’s stand off to the side. Maybe I can drop the door on it’s head.”

Tapping the door control holo, he sidles up to the wall on the side. When nothing reacts to the door’s movement, he peeks around the door. It’s a staircase, a flight going up and a flight going down.

“I’ve seen movies, never go to the attic. Down it is.”

Carefully moving his aching limbs down the metal stairs, he winces at each step, wondering if the lack of shoes was intentional as a deterrent. Clambering down the stairs, he’s as stealthy as can be (not very) as he heads to find the next place to be. Each of the doors he passes are locked, however, and red emergency lights have turned on, replacing the normal floor lights.

Finally reaching the bottom, he’s confronted, at last, with an unlocked door, labeled, ‘Triage, ER, Surgery’ along the top.

“Needles, of course it’s needles. And scalpels, and all those other wonderful things. Great. Well, I guess they can be used for close range self defense in a pinch, although my legs would do fine if I could get some damn shoes. Guess there’s no harm in going in, unless there’s a towering behemoth of a whole bunch of monsters mutated into a giant blob. Or not, whatever.” CD opens the door and finds that there’s no monsters here, but there definitely was at some point. In fact, they might just have been working their way up the stairs.

Searching around, he finds a few green boxes, easy to smash open, even with an unshod hoof.

CD starts kicking a box apart while humming a tune from an older Zelda game, Saga of Eternal Night. It had a lot of remixes of even older games, but it’s still a favorite today.

“Why do I feel like I should avoid chickens... Oh well, what do we have behind door, er, box number one?”

Inside is the clip for some type of gun or something, with a tiny holographic label saying there’s seven shots in it.

“Useful, if I had thumbs to pull the trigger of a gun if I find it, oh well, might as well keep it. I can throw it at something. Next box.”

Tucking the clip into one of the sleeves of the psychiatric RIG, he smashes another box, spilling out a credit chit, labeled for around a thousand credits.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about, cash prizes. Feeling lucky now, box three.”

Kicking the box into a wall, for variety, reveals a doubled Line Rack, ammunition for an engineering device called a Line Gun.

“Wow, someone likes me alot. Box four, and here’s hoping lucky is still my middle name, though I’d hate my mom if it was.”

Unfortunately, there’s nothing in it, nor in the last one.

“Well, you win some, you lose some, I at least got some money and equipment for a good tool. Where now, a map would be great.”

Looking around the room, he searches through it futilely for a map, instead looting up a trio of small Medi-Gel containers.

“Well, better than nothing I guess. Next room over, there’s gotta be a map somewhere in this place, right?”

Looking at the open doors, there’s one labeled ‘Emergency Room’, one labeled ‘Surgery’ and one labeled ‘Housing, Engineering, Tram station’, and of course the one he already came in through.

“Well now, maybe I am still lucky, I think I just found my way out of here, but looting the rest of the rooms shouldn’t hurt, should it?”

Heading towards the door labeled ‘Emergency Room’, he prepares to see if there’s anything of value in there. Peeking his head around the doorway, he looks into the corridor beyond, blood and gore splashed along the walls and floor.

“Next room. Nothing I want to see here, nope. Closing door. Now on to *shudder* Surgery, hope I have better luck.”

Opening the door, the emergency lights paint the entire room in red, puddles of sticky blood and worse on the floor. It’s not much worse than the room he’s in now, though, so he gulps and continues on in anyways.

“Well, this is bad, if I don’t find anything in two minutes, I’m heading for the tram.”

Looking into the hall towards surgery, he steps quietly into the area. Glancing in all directions, he comes across an operating room. There’s a pony on the table, strapped down to the table. As CD walks by, the pony looks up.

“P-please, you gotta help me!”

“Only if you promise not to bite, scratch, yell horribly, or mutate.” CD says as he steps into the room.

The pony nods, and CD can see it’s a mare, soft lavender coat and bright, sky-blue mane. Her eyes are wide and terrified. There is three blue lines pointing from a large contraption pointing at where the mare is opened up on the table.

“W-wait, is that a plasma cutter?” he asks, looking at the apparatus. If he could just get the thing down, he could easily rig it to a bite handle... He ponders for a moment as he approaches the control panel. Pulling it off, he begins rooting around inside, his hoof pushing electrical tracks into place.

“H-hurry! I don’t wanna die!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be done in a sec, really, you’re gonna be fine Ms... who are you?”

“Fuse. M-my name’s Shortfuse.”

“Really? You don’t seem quick to anger... sorry, just a joke to lighten the mood... and almost done!”

“M-my parents are electricians, I-I guess they mean for me to be one too... Oh no... Oh no!”

“What is it? Are you o-?”

Stopping for a moment, as the surgical machine stops next to him, CD looks up to see two more of the creatures from before, one a horrifically twisted pony, long talons splitting their way from its front hooves, advancing into the surgery room.

“Crap!”

Working to disconnect the cutter from the device, Copy quickly fishes out a flashlight handle from the emergency kit under the control panel, affixing the cutter as the mare on the table screams. looking up, CD watches as the pony-monster stops next to the screaming pony, one talon sweeping down to slice off a limb.

The mare screams again, her voice giving out as another talon splits her lower jaw from her head, the first talon stabbing into her exposed ribcage.

Fumbling the last of the connections together, CD finally gets the Plasma Cutter set-up for a bite grip, and points it at the advancing monster. The three sighting lasers flicker on, and Data lets loose a shot, splitting a limb from the creature nearest him, and he fires wildly at the other limb, hoping to maybe keep it from injuring him. A shot takes off half the arm of the creature, another shot blows off a leg, and it lays still.

The other one, though is still advancing, and lunges at him, knocking the cutter from his mouth. The creature straddles him, its fanged maw splitting open as it bites him, viciously, on the shoulder.

“Shit that hurt! Crap, what do I do? I know!” CD grins and goes for the weak spot (hopefully) and knees the creature in the crotch. It doesn’t respond, except by smashing a bladed limb into the deck next to his head. “I guess not, oh well.” He’s gasping as the creature slams another of its bladed forelimbs down, this one slashing across his side.

One of his legs gets caught under the creature somehow, and he uses it to force the creature off, snapping the talons off in the floor. Rolling away from them, he grabs the plasma cutter in his teeth and blasts away, ejecting the steaming cartridge and firing again at the abomination.

Smoking chunks of burnt meat lay on the ground, and Copy.Data sits for a moment, looking at the carnage and the corpse of the poor mare, trapped on the operating table. In a way, he thinks, she saved his life, because the thing stopped to kill her first, giving him time to finish the gun.

“Well, I don’t know if it was worth it for you,” He says, looking at the mare “but that really helped me, shame I couldn’t save you. Now to the tram station, I gotta get out of here.”

Sighing as he turns, he looks around one more time as he leaves surgery. This time, he notices something mildly out of place: an AutoStore.

“Well, I got cash, let’s see just how far this’ll get me and what’s for sale.”

Stepping into the AutoStore booth, CD watches as the holographic projection panel folds out of the roof. The panel lights up, and he places his hoof on the sign-in panel. To his surprise, it lights up with his name, labeling him as an Engineer, Rank 2, aboard Nightmare Station’s engineering crew.

“Well, that answers a lot. Cool, but weird, but mainly cool. Do I have anything in storage I don’t remember?”

Cycling through the options, he checks his storage, disappointed to find only a Hazard Engineer suit, and a... a Hacker Suit? In fact, that’s one of the few things CD can remember actually owning, the Engineering suit must’ve come with the position. But why would they have brought his Hacker suit?

Pushing the questions aside, he decides to take the Hacker Suit.

“Not bad, I get my jacket back! I missed this jacket, so many pockets, so many uses.”

The screen folds back, the inner door opening with a subtle click. Stepping into the small chamber, CD lifts his arms, hooves in the air as the machine’s arms fold out, the patient’s uniform being stripped off. Moments later, the booth’s mechanical arms fold back down, putting on an undersuit to protect him from cold and to allow short EVA trips, the familiar leather jacket and heavy, rubber-soled worker’s boots settling comfortingly into place.

The RIG slides onto his back, synching with him as the collar fits snugly to his chest, and the helmet clicks and slides around his head, the metal plates covering his features.

And lastly, his old Kinesis Module is strapped to his left arm, enabling him to lift and move object without his hooves again. The equipment saddle integrated into his jacket has the plasma cutter slotted into it, and the whole thing hisses as the internal air supply refills.

“Now this is home sweet home! And I look badass too!”

Stepping out of the booth, he pats down the leather jacket, the familiar smell of the old gift from his father comforting against the blood and gore stench of the medical area. He looks up with a smile in time to see another creature waiting for him. Obviously once a unicorn, the creature has a twisting spur of bone jutting from its forehead, and long tendrils were the arms should be. It’s on its rear legs, and the horn is crackling with baleful energy, the core exposed and bright.

“Wow, you’re certainly ugly, eat plasma! If I hit.”

The monster bellows, and the core in its horn flares brightly. The shots from the Plasma Cutter seem to do little, until it slices off a limb. A crackling bolt of energy bursts from the creature’s ruined horn, speeding towards him as he rolls to the side.

“Glad I can actually do that, now let’s try something a bit more to my skills.” CD says as he keeps his back to the ex-unicorn and bucks it in the face.

The creature reels back, the front half of its head exploded outwards in a shower of gore, when it lashes out with another tendril. Wrapping it around one of CD’s fetlocks, it hoists him the air, and he turns towards it. Another charge of energy builds up around its horn as it gurgles at CD, and he desperately switches the fire to horizontal, firing at the creature’s neck. Three direct hits later, the thing’s head falls off, and it drops Copy, making him slam into the floor.

“Well that was messy, but effective. Now about that tram station, unless some other monster wants to stop me, I really hope not.”

Trotting towards the door labeled ‘Housing, Engineering, Tram Station’, CD stops to look back, thinking about maybe picking up some more Plasma cartridges first, just in case. He stops as he sees what the creature’s energy bolts did to it though, wrinkling his muzzle at the acrid smell of burnt circuitry and melted metal, as it finally penetrates his suit.

“Maybe I should get a better weapon, if I get lucky enough to find one.”

Turning back to the door, he trots into the lonely corridors, stepping carefully over disemboweled bodies and pools of gore. Shying away from the worst of it, he comes across another of the smashable boxes, and stomps it to find a plasma cartridge, labeled for 5 more shots.

“Not bad, this’ll be useful, now hopefully I can get to the tram without any trouble, although I probably jinxed it, I can still hope.”

Muttering to himself as he walks down the passage, he wonders how far it is, and where exactly Nightmare Station actually is. The name rings a bell, but he can’t remember exactly what about.

Suddenly, the sounds of steps echo down the hallways. Looking around, he sees a small side passage, and some tarps and an equipment crate he can hide behind. Ducking under the tarps and behind the crate, he waits for the thing to pass him, turning off his flashlight in the process. It hesitates as it passes his hiding place, but resumes after a short pause. The echoing footsteps fade slowly into the darkness.

Sighing with relief, CD looks out, and sees that the hallway is dark once again, and he flicks on the flashlight on his plasma cutter again.

“Hopefully I can figure out what that was without it seeing me, or I could head for the tram. That sounds smarter, tram it is.”

He scurries down the hallway, eventually finding a sign labeled, ‘Tram Station’ and pointing to his left. Looking in that direction, he sees a busted door. Peering around it, he sees a single, unassuming yellow tram on an over-track. Looking along the track’s path he looks out a large force field, and sees nothing but stars and an orange curve.

“Well, fuck, I’m in outer space, deep in outer space, that’s not good.”

Suddenly, a flashlight beam hits his face.

“Hey! Put your limbs in the air!” a voice calls out.

“Who? What? What do you want?”

“Just want to make sure you’re not one of them, or a looter. Step closer, will you, I’m a little... stuck, at the moment.”

“Don’t worry, if I was a mutant, I’d have a few too many limbs, and I suppose I’d have attacked you. I’m Copy.Data and I’m an engineer, are you okay?”

“Not really. I’m Officer Allegro, and yes I’ve heard all the jokes about it. No, I’m not okay. Have you seen my partner? She’s in a riot suit, you can’t miss her.”

“Apparently I can, because I haven’t seen her, and don’t worry, I make jokes with at least a bit of taste.”

“Oh good, if my friends survived, you’ll fit right in. Fuck, I hope Frosty’s alright... C’mon over here, it’s a little safer in the tram.”

“Okay, I assume it may be broken, and me fitting in anywhere would be a first. But no big deal.”

CD carefully steps over a small pile of mutilated bodies, each of them chewed apart by bullet fire. Easing into the tram, Officer Allegro is revealed to be a human, in a full Riot Suit, shiny black enamel sections marred by bloodstains and gashes. He’s holding his stomach with one arm, and a Pulse Rifle in the other.

“I have some medi-gel, if you want.” CD offers

“That would be nice.” Officer Allegro says, taking the offered medi-gel tanks, slotting them into his armor feed. He lets out a relieved sigh as his RIG flashes from yellow to green, just a few bars away from full. He hands the last tank back to CD.

“Thanks, that was quite literally a lifesaver there. Keep the last one, you might need it more later.”

CD sits down comfortably on the tram’s bench, and the two wait in companionable silence.

Author's Note

So that's the second Character Insertion Chapter, or CIC, out of the way. I hope you're all enjoying this, and, again, if you see any mistakes, please tell me so I can correct them!

You recieve one bonus point if you are the first non-contributor to guess the origin of the title.
Thanks to the following for contributing to the story so far:
Itsmyfuneral, starring as Sketch
Hunterz263, starring as Broker Wordsmith
Rosethorn, starring as Victoria Frost
SomeGuy, co-starring as Johan Allegro
The Pieman, as Copy.Data

Ch05 - Fight or Flight

The group, now composed of Victoria Frost, Sketch, and Broker Wordsmith, got ready to leave.

“So, I hope you’re a good shot?” Sketch asked awkwardly looking between Frost and Broker.

“I can shoot a pecker off a man from 100 yards,” Frost says cocking her gun. “And still keep the balls unruffled.”

“Um, why did you shoot a guy’s unit off?” Sketch says, backing up slightly.

Frost only huffed with a grin before barking an order. “Let’s go, he’s waiting for us.”

“I concur to her orders.” Broker said while looking his weapons over again. “If only I knew how to use these things effectively.”

The mixed trio began walking, Victoria sweeping left and right down the corridor, Sketch and Broker having no choice but to follow.

“If you hear anything, tell me. We shouldn't take chances with the situation at hand.”

She pressed her back to a corner and peeked over, checking to see if it was clear or not. It was empty and Frost waved her hand, beckoning for the group to hurry up and follow her.

Sketch, staying in the middle of the group, asks, “So... you’re sure this way is clear, right?”

“I’ll go first then.”

“Fuuuck that! I’m not going to be in the back! Back and front always gets picked off first, I’m staying in the middle!”

“Will you all just shut up!”

Frost growled and held her gun close, moving slowly as she chose her steps carefully, tiptoeing down the hall.

Sketch sheepishly ducked his head. “Right, sorry.”

All three stopped as a large jug of cleaning solution rolled across the hallway from a side passage.

“Freaky rolling barrel of cleaning solution that comes from a passage. Who goes first?” Broker asked with a nervous crack in his voice.

“Not me.” Sketch was resolutely between Frost and Broker,

Frost rolled her eyes.

“I’ll go... bunch of pansies.”

She readied herself and slid her way to the edge, peering over slightly to see the hall. A crate, covered in cleaning supplies, sits in the alcove, a pair of tarps laying on the floor.

A horseshoe-shaped print of blood was imprinted on the floor, highlighted by the secondary UV light in the Riot Suit’s helmet lamp. The bloody hoofsteps looked like they ducked under the tarp and then led away.

She turned back to the group, putting a finger to where her lips would be.

“I think there’s one underneath the tarp, but I’m not entirely sure. Does anyone have something to throw?”

Broker used his magic to push his talons towards Frost.

“Here. I can take the tarp off from here also.”

“Okay, but if anything seems suspicious pull the tarp down and keep it pinned, got it?”

Broker nodded at the order, looking towards the tarp.

“Ready when you are.”

Frost nodded and returned to her position at the edge of the hall, readying herself. She looked back at the unicorn, gave a nod and aimed, keeping her eyes peeled for anything. Broker’s magic aura began to lift the tarp, revealing...

Nothing. Just the bloody hoofprints on the floor, leading away.

Frost lowered her gun.

“False alarm. Let’s move.”

Broker silently nodded again towards the group’s leader, lowering his weapon as well. The whole group moved out once more, advancing through the dark corridors with caution. The blood-splattered metal of the ship corridor passes slowly in the gloom, constant sweeps of side passages revealing no more of the monsters.

“Johan shouldn’t be too far from here.”

Almost on cue, Victoria’s RIGlink crackled, a heavily static-filled voice of Johan filled the air.

-~fizzle~-“Hey, Frosty, you he-~fizzle~-mone showed up. Do-~fizzle~-cked, it’s alright, I’m-~fizzle~-e you soon.”-~fizzle~-

The RIGlink ended with a pop.

“Johan! Johan! Damn it.” Frost touched the medi-gel on her person before beginning to sprint in Johan’s direction, Sketch and Broker following confusedly behind. As Frost races towards the tram station, Sketch keeping up, but Broker was beginning to lag behind.

“I-I can’t keep up!”

Broker said with his breathing becoming exaggerated, his legs burned, and he was beginning to sweat.

The trio finally skid to a stop at the entrance to the tramway, Victoria raised her handgun defensively. She almost wanted to curse, as she sees that Johan is fine, sitting in the tram.

“Hey, how ya doing, Frosty? New guy, meet Frost, my partn-” Johan stopped, eyes widening as he saw the two ponies following Frost. “Sketch? Broker?! You guys are alive!”

“I found them on my way to get the medi-gel, here.”

Victoria quickly removed the double pack from her person and handed it to him.

“Actually, Frosty, Copy.Data here had a few spares on him. I’m alright now, but thanks. It’s been pretty quiet around here, after that first wave of things showed up, shortly after you left.”

CD spoke up “Yeah, lucky I found some supplies when I went through medical. Anyway, hi, I’m sort of nuts, but still functional, how are you all?”

Broker replied, “Scared beyond belief, but still living.”

“Annoyed I’m stuck with him at the apocalypse.” Sketch said.

“Splendid.” Frost said sarcastically, taking back the double pack.

“So now that we’re all acquainted with each other, what’s our plan of action?”

Johan sat back, thinking as he kept an eye outside the tram.

“Originally, my plan was ‘get the hell out’ but then I realized we’re in space. Sorry for being unaware of where I was for about five or more months.” CD replies.

“Still viable, but we’d need a ship or something.” Sketch said, trying to push them to leave.

“Johan, do you know the status on the escape pods?” Frost asked, taking a seat next to the man, realizing she hasn’t had any time to rest since this morning.

“Got an emergency ping a bit before those things showed up, said the escape pods on the Manehattan were all gone, and that the government sector is the current fall-back point for all security and military personnel.”Johan lounged back on the seat, a mildly frustrated look gracing his features as he spoke. “Something came on about not mentioning that to non-command civilians, but I wasn’t paying attention. May have forgotten all about that little order, in fact.”

“So we’re stuck here... Damn it!” Frost said, slamming a fist down.

“Wait, why are you getting angry? What good does that do? How about we work on getting home? Or finding out what to do next?” CD said, rolling his eyes.

Frost shot the pony a glare, wish to put a bullet between his eyes for his ignorance. she certainly wasn’t in the mood to be criticized.

“Well, we need to find some suits, or I’m going to die if get to a depressurized zone.” Sketch spoke with a nervous look on his face, “And I suppose tubby here would, too.”

Broker scowled at his friend. “You are still insulting me when the station goes to hell? If you think you are so smart, why not come up with a plan to get off of here?” Sketch stood up, beginning to shout back at Broker.

CD ignored the banter “I don’t know if either of you are my size, but I have a spare suit in storage.”

Johan replies to Copy evenly, “Do you know where an AutoStore is? We could get it transferred and refitted for one of them. What kind is it?”

“Well, if I had to kill another mutated Unicorn by removing her head, and watching another innocent mare be brutally murdered, I’m not going back there for anything. Just saying. But if it’s really important, it’s a Hazard Engineer suit.”

“Then stay here and become one of them.” Frost said coldly. “At this point it’s kill or be killed.”

Broker looked towards Copy. “Then we go with Johan’s plan. Anyone have a map or a guidance system in their RIG?”

“Not that I know of, but I can check. If I ‘remember’ how to that is. I’m a little disoriented. Last I knew I was in an insane asylum in my hometown. Now I’m here, escaped from an eye-poke machine and murdering mutant ponies with a plasma cutter. Anyone care to explain?” CD asks.

Broker slightly backed away from Copy. “I think insanity, or short term memory loss, or being traumatized.”

“I know I have that I know, I mean, explain why I’m here. I thought I told you I’m a bit nuts, why are you shocked?” CD said.

“I’m not shocked that you are nuts. I am simply shocked that you don’t remember the filler between all that.” Broker said, sitting down onto the ground with his forelimbs between his rear ones.

“Well, I’m confused too, but I just want to know why I woke up in a space station, restrained, and having a bunch of merciless scientists shove a needle into my brain through my eye for who knows what reason. Then I got rescued before my rescuer got bitten and mutated.” Copy stopped for a moment to take a breath, before continuing.

Frost clenched her jaw, not wanting to hear any more bickering between the two, her finger starting to glide towards the trigger of her gun in frustration.

“I ran, found some supplies, saw a mare get murdered while trying to save her, killed a few mutant ponies, and found him. I have no clue what happened between being at home and now, other than that.” CD said calmly, as if this was completely normal. “Life sure is weird, huh guys?”

“I think the definition of ‘life’ is completely changed here now since we are running from monsters that came out of nowhere. You certainly had a lot of fun while Sketch here has been a little coward the whole time. I have to give him a little credit for staying alive though.” Broker replied, now glaring at Sketch.

“Wait, so you’re saying running from monsters that came out of nowhere and want to kill you is cowardly and not normal? What kind of weird place do you come from?” CD questioned.

“I came from a household filled with a ton of siblings, so I read books to block it all out. So to answer that question, I came from many worlds. I have my reasons to call Sketch a coward since he hid in the corner of the tram, while a monster was blocking the door and right behind me. Isn’t that right Sketch?”

Johan stood up, before Sketch could respond, and waved his hands for silence. “Don’t you two have better things to do than play the extended edition of Twenty Questions? Seriously? Mutant monsters and you two are already picking fights with each other, after only knowing each other for less than ten minutes?”

“Thank you!” Frost said loudly. “If they kept going on then monsters were going to be the least of their problems.”

Sketch was just holding his head in his hooves, sitting in the corner.

“I’m not arguing, I just want to know what form of logic he’s using in his statements. Also I want to know what happened to me before I forgot.” CD said calmly.

The sound of an audible face-hoof echoes from Sketch’s corner of the tram.

“While I agree I have acted on impulse and heroic thinking more, I must agree that we need to get going. So, my question to everyone here. Where do we go in this place?” Broker said, standing back up.

“Well, I don’t know. I found a few terminals and inspected them as much as possible, but found no maps or anything. Sorry, but it seems unless one of us has a map or at least schematics, we’re totally fucking lost.” CD said, getting a little disappointed.

“Then I say we let Sketch be our guide. He has grown up here and should be familiar with part of the ship. All we need to do is find a destination. Medical ward has been checked and cleaned, so I say we look at residential. If there are more survivors, they will need our assistance.”

“I already told you, I only went around the housing area! I don’t know the rest of the damned ship!” Sketch yelled, getting increasingly frustrated.

“Clean!? I went there and saw blood and guts and vital organs splattered everywhere! You call that clean!?” CD yelled, remembering his trek through the medical area.

Broker facehoofed, growing aggravated. “I meant of supplies you dipshit! Why would you imply I was thinking of sanitation!?”

“I don’t know anyone here, for all I know, someone in this group is the janitor.” CD said calmly “Also, I found a not-alive-as-of-now mare strapped to a table back there. As well as some ammo and money. What supplies did you get from there?”

“Mainly money, a few plasma cutter shots, along with a few medi-gel packs. If you say there is more, then we should head back there to gather the supplies.” Broker said feeling more relaxed.

“Not really, I got all that was left, and you really didn’t see a mare strapped to a table? Are you blind? Not insulting, just want to know of anyone’s possible issues. Knowing your friends is good for strategy.” CD said.

“No I am not blind. I did not see some mare strapped onto a table. Where was this supposed mare anyway?”

“Alright that’s it!” Frost shouted, taking out her other gun, pointing both weapons at the bickering pair and taking a single shot at their feet. “If you both don’t shut the fuck up then I’ll make you. And my next shot won’t be aimed at your feet.” She raised her guns and pointed to the colts’ genitalia. “Understood?”

CD and Broker looked over at Frost in terror, both gulping and shrinking back as Sketch yells, “Thank you!”

Broker nodded towards Frost not daring to say a word with a gun pointed towards his ‘areas’. Johan sighed, and held his face in his hands for a moment. looking around the group, he turns to CD.

“You mentioned you might be able to get the tram working, right, Data?”

“Yeah, maybe. If we can get to it without and encounters of the messed up kind.” CD replied, a smirk on his face. “Awesome, humor is working again, I missed you humor. Anyway, let’s go.”

Johan face-palms again. “We’re on the tram, Data.”

“Totally disoriented, don’t know where I’ve been for the last five months. I’m sorry, but I just escaped from having my brain be a weekly pincushion. If you have any complaints, don’t ask me, I have no clue what anything around me is, I just know how to read signs. That, and I seem to have become a class 2 engineer on this ship despite not remembering. I may not know what stuff is, but I might be able to figure out how it works.” CD said, not really caring for a response. “Now where should I start?”

CD began to dive at one of the panels without waiting for a response, pulling one of them open and fishing around inside with a hoof. Tongue sticking out in concentration, the rest of the group watching in fascination as he worked, some sort of innate earth pony magic or bizarre level of skill allowing him to find the connections in the tram’s wiring, nudging contact points and shoving energy crystal nodes back into place. Changing panels, he fished around again, saying nothing but grunts and hmphs as he worked. Moments later, the entire tram lit up, powered once more.

“It worked. I don’t know entirely how I did it, but it worked. Cool! I am an engineer! Who knew?” CD grinned widely, enjoying his useful knowledge.

“Perfect! Okay, so now we need to figure out where to go now. Any ideas?” Broker said not really knowing where to look.

CD still grinned like an idiot. “I have no idea. Anyone else?”

“Ponyville’s out, it was getting bad around there when we left. I don’t want to go back there. I really hate to say it, but maybe the mall?” Sketch said the idea as more of a question than a statement or vote.

“No. That place will be crawling with monsters,” Frost said putting a hand to her chin. “we could try our military base, there’s a safe house underground and has plenty of supplies, enough to last us until this whole thing blows over... I hope.”

“Sounds great, I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard. Let’s do it.” CD said, still high on accomplishment.

“Won’t work, Frosty,” Johan spoke up, face dour, “while you were trying to save your... yeah, uh, while you were gone, the Region Commander declared it in lockdown. No one in, no one out. I think Clausewitz is panicking.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Frost punched a dent into the tram. “This is fucking ridiculous!”

“Well there goes that plan, someone’s gotta have some idea what to do. Sketch? Broker?” CD asks, hoping the ponies had a good plan.

“Mall’s got food, and everyone else probably booked it, or is dead, so those things have hopefully gone. I just say that we leave a couple of people with the tram, to guard it and leave a place to come back to.” Sketch says, looking kind of nervous.

“Sounds good. But again, I’m not driving, don’t know how. Anyway, food is definitely good. I haven’t eaten anything but jello-mush from a straw for who knows how long. I need something with cheese dammit!” CD said whining about the tasteless goop he was force-fed for months.

“It would go well with that whine of yours.” Johan quips.

“You’re right, it would. You’re funny. Anyway, who is driving? Someone’s gotta know how to make this thing go.”

“The tram is an autopilot, tell it where you want to go and it takes you there.”

“Really? Well, ain’t the future somethin’?” CD says almost forgetting how long he was gone. “Anyway, so I guess we say ‘To the mall?’ or do we need a password?” CD asks.

Frost just sighs and taps the command holo, on the key marked for the mall. The tram doors close, and the group begins moving in the small tram, along a strand of metal to towards the largest chunk of the moon that Nightmare Station was founded from, named Primus Habitat.

“So, does anyone know any good road trip songs, or does this thing come with a radio?” CD said, making a joke “Hey, maybe it’s got a toaster oven too.”

“I know Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”

“I said roadtrip songs, not nursery rhymes, there’s a big difference.” CD said, rolling his eyes “I unfortunately I can’t sing worth crap.”

“I can’t think of anything, not like a radio is in these suits. If it was, I think it would be silence.” Broker said sighing. “I was learning the piano.”

“Sure, we totally have a piano around.” CD deadpanned. “Fine, no music, what else can we do while we wait?”

“Shut up so I can think.” Frost said with a growl, a million things going through her mind.

“Y-yes ma’am.” CD said, remembering her threat from earlier.

Broker moved back towards the wall and hid against it, keeping a constant eye on Frost with fear.

“Heh, who’s a coward now?” CD said looking at Broker. “And you give Sketch shit for it when-”

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up already! I poke fun at him, because he’s a big, flabby target and he’s my friend, and he pokes fun at me back because I am a scaredy-cat! Jeez...” Sketch threw his hooves up in frustration before curling up on the plastic seat.

“Fine, whatever. Are we there yet?”

“No. Now, shut. Up.” she cocked her gun and held it up for the others to see. “Please.”

“Right. Sorry.” CD said. Not saying anything else.

Broker only whimpered against the wall. The group rode on in silence as the tram sped through the stillness of night and space, the old habitat drawing closer.

Frost put her face in her hands and thought, letting out a sigh.

“Johan, I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah? What’s up?” He sat up from where he’d been laying on the tram’s bench.

“Privately.”

Johan shrugs, his helmet closing over his head, and his RIG establishes a link with Victoria’s.

“This whole situation is fucked up.” Frost began. “I don’t even know where to start I mean- I... I’m scared.”

“Victoria Frost, scared? Man, I never thought I’d see the day...” Johan joked, laughing weakly, “But yeah, I get how you feel. For a while there, I thought I was going to bleed out, and you would have to find my corpse, or worse, have to kill me again.”

“Psh. please Johan, you’re too stubborn to die...” A small smile then curled on her lips. “ … At least not without getting at least one kiss from me before you totally eat it”

“That the only reason you’re holding out on me? How sweet. So, when did you replace Frosty?” He finished with a laugh. Neither of them could see each other’s faces through the metal and enamel strips of the helmet, but their voices were at least a little less stressed.

“Oh shut up before I put a bullet between your eyes.”

“Oh, wait, you’re back. So, anything else up? I- I know how you were right after, you know, your home, how you holding up on that front?”

A knot tied in Frost’s throat at the thought of her father.

“I-I’d rather not think about that...”

“Alright. Hey, I may be always trying to get in every lady’s pants, but if you need a hug or something, I am here for you.”

Frost opened her mouth to speak her thanks and sorrow of her father but was quickly cut off by CD.

“Hey, I don’t know if I’m interrupting, but really, how far do we have to go?” CD asked.

The female officer just raised her gun at pointed it at the pony.

“That answer your question?” She said coldly, switching on her external speakers again.

“No, not really, it’s just a motion, but really, this is getting awkward. All I’m seeing is you two staring at each other like statues. It’s creepy.”

Victoria lowered her gun and pointed it at his genitals, shooting right underneath it, the colt able to feel the wind and heat of the shell.

Broker yelped back against the wall and covered his own groin.

“okay.” CD said, covering his mouth with his right hoof, and hiding ‘Mr. Happy’ with his left.

“Good boy.” Victoria said before turning her attention back to Johan, who was looking like he was laughing inside his helmet, like a mime. When she switched to her internal speakers all she could hear was Johan’s guffaws, the male sounding like he was about to burst a lung.

“Your friends aren’t very smart, are they?”

“Hey, the new guy isn’t a friend, I just found him and he gave me some medi-gel, how was I supposed to know he’s got brain damage of that calibre.”

Victoria only huffed a laugh.

“You’re friends did tell me something however; they said you mentioned me to them before, wonder if you were truthful.”

Over the intercom, a feminine voice rang out.

“Now arriving at Primus Station, Starlight Mall Tram Station.”

Author's Note

Thank you for reading Chapter Five! I hope you're all enjoying this, and, again, if you see any mistakes, please tell me so I can correct them!

Thanks to the following for contributing to the story so far:
Itsmyfuneral, starring as Sketch
Hunterz263, starring as Broker Wordsmith
Rosethorn, starring as Victoria Frost
SomeGuy, co-starring as Johan Allegro
The Pieman, as Copy.Data

Ch06 - Starlight Mall, Atrium

Over the intercom, a feminine voice rang out.

“Now arriving at Primus Station, Starlight Mall Tram Station.”

“Alright, can we go? Or, uh, do you guys wanna keep talking? I’m, uh, fine either way.” CD said shakily, fearing for his reproduction capabilities in the future.

“So?” Victoria questioned, referring to her previous statement of Johan’s relationship with her, taking out the double medi-gel pack to patch up her wounded shoulder.

“Ah, what... what exactly did they say?” Johan’s voice was a little nervous sounding.

“That you were very careful about what rumors you spread about me,” the woman said in a flirtatious tone, rolling her shoulder once the gel healed her wound. She still had plenty of gel left for later on if they got into anymore trouble, something she knew would come in handy.

CD stared at the exit hatch, wondering if ignoring the humans and just leaving was in his best interest. On one hoof, things moved along, on the other, it might piss off Frost...

“I didn’t spread any rumors! Really!” Johan put up his hands for a moment, then dropped them to his own crotch. “Please don’t shoot me.”

Broker was looking at CD with the same thoughts. “Should we?” Broker asked in a quiet whisper.

“Maybe, I don’t know. I suppose it’s alright as long as we’re quiet.” CD replied, keeping his voice low.

“Come on, something tells me they are going to be talking for a long time.” Broker said inching towards the exit door.

“Same here. Let’s go.” CD said, following Broker. “What do you think they’re talking about? Eh, it doesn’t matter.”

Frost took out her gun and pointed it at the colts, her external speaker turned back on.

“Get out.” her stare was locked on Johan.

“Sure, okay.” CD said, quickly heading to the exit.

Broker followed behind CD quickly, not saying or looking at the humans out of fear. Sketch just stayed laying on the bench, apparently catching up on some much needed rest.

Frost groaned and got up from her seat, grabbing Sketch by the coat and tossing him out of the tram with a yelp, closing the doors behind her.

“Oh god, please don’t rape me.” Johan squeaked across the RIGlink, covering his groin protectively with his hands.

Frost put the gun to his groin, pushing it against his hands as she deactivated her helmet.

“Deactivate your helmet.” She commanded, pressing the gun harder against his groin.

Johan did so with a whimper, the metal and ceramic panels sliding into his RIG.

“Not the face?”

“So, we’re in front of an abandoned mall. Looting time? We do need food in any case.” CD said. “And if we do have to pay for some reason, I’ve got a good 1k Credits on me. You two got any cash?”

“I have a few thousand credits from my job along with scavenging through the medical wing. There is also the issue with our weapons. I have three shots in this pistol, and you two have nothing.” Broker sighs. “I’m going to have to lead aren’t I?”

“I know Sketch has some ammo for a plasma cutter, and I’ll take the ammo also. You know how to shoot this thing I have?” Broker said, pulling out his Divet

“Yeah, I have some plasma cartridges. Damnit, now I don’t have anything.”

“Nope, no idea. I did have to use the cutter to kill a few mutants, so a recharge would be awesome.” CD said, pulling out his cutter. “And don’t worry. Looting will get us more stuff. Hey, since you got the least amount of gear, you can be the all-important pack mule, Sketch!” CD said, grinning.

“Fine, just don’t go wandering off, that’s what gets you killed in horror movies, and it makes sense here.”

“No shit, Captain Obvious.” CD said, still grinning. “Now let’s go.”

Broker chuckled lightly before nodding towards CD. “You’re sort of funny CD. Now, let’s move it!” Broker declared.

They stood inside a large atrium, the entire place painted in pastel blues, purples, and whites, a theme of stars and space that would be more interesting if one couldn’t simply look up and see the real thing.

“Well, I know we should get food first. What can we do anyway, we need to get it from somewhere other than food courts, the stuff’s good, but not sustaining.” CD offered. “Let’s look for a ‘you-are-here’ map.”

Walking into the mall, the three ponies cautiously began to look around, it wasn’t all that bad, though there was still blood, bodies and gore all around. Several of the shops looked to have been looted, and a few security had been mangled, as if the monsters had smashed and sliced their ways into the stores. Judging from the bloody drag marks leading from the broken gates, that was likely the case.

“Well, that’s lovely.” CD said. “Anyway, not like we aren’t armed besides Sketch. Let’s find that map.”

“As I recall, they should be near the entrances. Unless it was torn down or perfectly hidden, we should have seen one by now.” Broker stated while looking around. Sure enough, a broken holopanel that should have held a map of the mall was knocked over a short distance away.

All three of them jumped as they heard the sound of weapon fire from inside the mall, short, sporadic bursts of shots spaced together.

“All in favor of hiding in the tram until this blows over: Say ‘I’.” CD said quickly. Raising his hoof.

“I would say yes, but we are probably locked out of the tram.” Broker said sighing. “Anyway, in favor of checking out the gunfire?”

“No, let’s just hide here until it all quiets down, then keep moving in another direction.” CD said, calming down and thinking clearer.

“That sounds like a plan. Where should we hide? We are out in the open after all.” Broker said, letting his eyes drift again for any sign of cover.

“How about one of those shops? Maybe there’s one that can give fairly decent cover.” CD suggested.

“And if you look to our fucking everywhere, you’ll see shops open and waiting to be looted.” Sketch pointed out.

“And if you look behind you, you’ll see a screaming idiot that might blow our cover and get us killed.” CD whispered harshly at Sketch.

“Yeah, and hiding in a corner with no escape route is a much better strategy, and I’m not yelling, I’m suggesting a better idea.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is, if we are active, something might make a loud noise and attract very unwanted attention to us. And I wasn’t suggesting a corner, I just said to hide in a shop.” CD said, heading to a store that was open and hiding underneath the front counter. “And the door is right there if I need to escape. Any questions?”

“I like CD’s idea.” Broker said, following after CD with haste.

“Sketch, you’re allowed your own choice, make it carefully.” CD said “I’m not going to be angry if you want to help whoever’s being shot at, but remember you are absolutely defenseless.”

“It’s funny you think I’d help.” Sketch added.

“Personally, I would like to help, but knowing my past choices, that would likely get all of us killed, so I’m letting the insane person lead me.” Broker’s eyes looked a little surprised at what he said, “I know it’s not the best idea, but it works for me.”

“Yeah, oh and calling me crazy is perfectly fine. I’m actually kinda smart when I need to be, just not all the time.” CD said, making sure nobody thought he didn’t enjoy his slight madness.

“And it shows, now let’s hide and hope nothing comes our way.” Broker said, getting deeper into his hiding hole.

“Wait for me, I need my meatshields.” Sketch said following them.

“Yeah! Wait, what did you call us?” Broker said angrily.

Johan was pressed up against the back window, a terrified look on his face as Victoria held the muzzle of her Divet against his hands, which were, unfortunately over his groin.

“Now, tell me, what did you say to them exactly?” She put her lips to his ear and whispered. “Give me every. Little. Detail.”

“W-well I just m-mostly talked about how you a-always d-d-did your job and how I a-a-admired that in you! Really, I was just finding something to talk about!”

Victoria shook her head.

“You’re lying...” she sung. “I want the truth.”

“I’m telling the truth, seriously, Victoria! I mean it!” Johan never used her name, unless it was really important. Especially after she had kneed him in the nuts the first time he met her, and subsequently hit on her.

“Well then tell me what you really think of me then.” She clicked off the safety. “And don’t you dare to lie to me.”

Johan stared into her eyes, and bit his lip. Frost jammed the gun a little harder into his hands.

“I- I really like you, alright?! I- I respect you too much to just, you know, hit on you like the rest. I- Why did you need to bring this up now?!”

Frost‘s lips curled into a sinful grin before she grabbed the back of Johan’s head, bringing him in for a kiss, taking the guy by surprise. His eyes widened in surprise.

She kept them there for a moment before pulling back, her grin still wide and her gun still at his balls.

“Ah- buh- juuuh?”

Johan seemed entirely confused, and more than a little unsure of how to react. Victoria let out a huff of triumph and pulled her gun away, satisfied.

“Oh, wipe that stupid look off your face Johan,” the officer said, crossing her arms. “You look like an idiot.”

“Ah- wha- what just happened?”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, seriously, what just happened? I thought you didn’t like me that way!”

“Johan, you’re delusional.”

“Wha- I- I don’t get it! What was that for? All the- the gun pointing and the question asking and the- the- k- kissing? W-why?”

“Now you can die in peace.”

“W- w- what?!” Johan shouted the word like a primal god of disbelief, utter confusion laced into his expression and speech.

Her eyes then suddenly changed and she raised her gun at his head, pulling the trigger without hesitation...

The shell putting a hole in the window behind him and hitting a monster that was climbing down the tram’s window. The bullet knocked the thing down to the tram below as her helmet slots into place, and Johan dives for the floor.

As his helmet slides over his head, he rolls and grabs his Pulse Rifle.

“Holy shit, Frost! A little warning next time would’ve been nice! I thought you were going to shoot me!”

“Johan, don’t you know me by now?” She said, checking the ammo of her weapon. “I can’t kill you yet, you owe me money.”

“W-what?! That’s the reason you’re keeping me around? Well, fuck you too! And besides, yes, I do know you, Frost, and when you aim at something, you hit it. And it looked like you were aiming. For. My. Head!”

The officer lifted his weapon, and used a burst of rifle fire to knock the creature off of the tram as it tried crawling over the edge. With his booted foot, Johan shoves Jackie, Frost’s Seeker Rifle, to her.

“Fuck! We have to find those three and hole up somewhere!” Johan shouted over the growing noises of the creatures crawling to the tram.

“C’mon! They probably went to the food court to feed the fatass.”

“Hey! Only me and Sketch get to call him fat.”

“Just shut up and shoot!”

A loud gunshot retorts through the mall, from the tram station.

“Huh, either Frost got Johan to shoot her... Or they’re having sex.” Sketch comments idly.

“I’m pretty sure they’re getting attacked. By mutants. Anyone think they need help?” CD said, hoping the answer was no.

“Nope!” Sketch quickly adds.

“I say yes since Sketch is not smart when it comes to hearing gunshots coming from our friends’ tram! Come on you two!” Broker said getting out of hiding.

“Wait, they are better armed than we are, what could we do anyway?” CD asked.

“Really fatass? You’re going to run in there, tiny gun a blazing, only to die a meaningless death?”

“No, I’m going to run-”

“Yeah, you’re not going to do anything, just sit here and don’t die.” Sketch advises.

“I’m officially nuts, and I say running over there is really fucking stupid. That counts for something, right Sketch?”

“Right, seriously man, what are you going to do next? Check to see if your gun is working by looking down the barrel with the safety off?” Sketch says sarcastically.

Broker aimed towards a wall, checked the safety to see if it was off, aimed down the sight, and finally pull the trigger with his magic. The resulting action sent a bullet straight into the wall, leaving a small crater in the wall, the ammo counter on it ticking down to 8.

“Are you insane!?” CD said, slapping the idiot. “Now every single monster knows we’re here, dumbass!” CD grabbed for the gun, as something crashed down in the back of the store.

“Fuck, now look what you did. Why is your name Broker and not Broken?” CD berated the idiotic stallion, a mad glare on his face.

“Well, I’m no longer leader. What do we do Sketch!?” Broker said with anger.

“I propose we leave this idiot for dead and run, what do you say idiot, good idea?”

“I think he should agree. He’s more of an anchor than an asset, so there’s no point in keeping him around.” CD said, seriously considering leaving Broker for whatever the hell he woke up.

“Forget that, we need to get the fuck out of here!” Broker yelled while he peered over the desk.

“Stop shouting. You know what, screw this.” CD said, hitting Broker in the back of the head knocking him to the floor, stunned. “There, no more problem.”

“Damn it, he’s got a hard head.”

“Thick, too. Luckily that doesn’t add into it, now what?” CD replies. “I say we leave quickly and quietly.”

“Yeah, hopefully he won’t follow us, oh and let’s take his gun.” Sketch says, picking up the pistol awkwardly and tucked it into his pocket.

“Alright, so where do we go. We should get to looting, or the reason for coming here is pointless.” CD says.

“Yeah, if he lives he’s not getting this gun back for a while.”

“At least until he learns to be smart in this situation.” CD said “Let’s maybe check on the tram, at least Frost and Johan have weapons in case we need backup and my cutter won’t cut it.” CD smirked “Comedy is still working, not stressed anymore.”

“I would normally say no, but since he just basically advert-”

Another loud crash sounds out from the back of the store, accompanied by another one near the front of the store. Looking up in terror, the two conscious ponies see that there’s a pair of the human-monsters in the entrance of the shop.

“And great, CD, can you take out the one in front while we run from the one behind us?”

A hoarse bellow sounds from the main part of the mall, with a vaguely metallic tinge to the noise. CD’s eyes go to pinpoints as he recognizes the noise from near the AutoStore.

“What... was that..?” Sketch asked.

“You don’t wanna know.” CD said, very scared. “Just remember a few things: Groin shots don’t work, it’s covered in tentacles, and is always pissed. That helpful?”

“And it’s headed here. . . Great, can you take care of the ones surrounding us while I try to wake up the idiot?” Sketch asks, looking down at Broker.

Another echoing roar makes the two ponies quake with fear, and even Broker jerks awake from the sound.

“Great you’re up, if you promise to A, not waste ammo and give away our position, B, not shoot yourself, and C, ask Frost or Johan, whoever’s alive, for lessons, you can have it back.”

“I agree to these terms upon my life!” Broker said with panic clearly running through his body. “What are we facing?” Sketch gives him the pistol back.

A large, shambling monstrosity, like the sick fusion of a few ponies and a human, waddled towards the main entrance, shoving the smaller creatures out of the way.

Shapes like mutilated ponies form the main body, supporting the creature’s mass on seven pulpy legs, a human torso sticking out of where the two ponies’ heads fused to it, a mass of stringy tentacles pouring out from it’s shoulders, a twisted, broken looking human skull fused to the underside of a unicorn’s jaw, the whole thing frozen in a not-so silent scream.

From its deformed head, a twisting cage of brittle horn held a fluxing, glowing light. The glow pulsed and shifted from sickly greens to angry reds, an oily, shifting spectrum of infection and pestilence.

“Th-that.” Copy.Data said, pointing numbly.

Running out of both clips for their guns and patience for the waves of corpse-monsters assaulting them, Victoria and Johan had become backed up against the wall just a few feet from the entrance to the mall, though the press of creatures was coming from there too, albeit less vigorously.

A loud, metallic roar echoed through the atrium, but its source was unknown.

“What the hell was that!?” Victoria shouted over the din, checking her ammo. The Divet was running low, and these were far too close quarters for Jackie to work well in.

“God damn it! I knew coming to the mall was a bad idea!”

“It’s not like we had much elsewhere to go! And if we don’t have food of some kind, we can’t hold up anywhere! Shit, how many of these things are there?!”

A small opening in the mob of creatures opened up, and the two security personnel ducked through it, guns blazing.

“I don’t have much left! We have to find cover and reload! Fast!”

“There’s something distracting them over that way, near that store. I can hear a few gunshots and... and... holy shit, what the fuck is that!?” Johan, pointing at the monstrous creature in the center of the horde. The sound of small-arms fire echoes from the shop.

“Well whatever it is, it’s fucking ugly!”

“Shit, it sounds like there’s some poor bastards in there, at least Sketch wouldn’t let them get cornered like that.” Johan comments as they continue around the upper level of the mall.

“I don’t know, those friends of yours might be stupid enough to get themselves into that situation.”

“Oh, come on, Sketch is a coward, but he’s good at surviving. He’d never let himself get trapped in a shop with no back doors to leave through. Give him some credit...”

“Okay, Broker, please just aim for the legs and I hope I don’t get hit by any ricochets.” Sketch says.

“And if you can only hit walls, I have my plasma cutter,” CD said. “So we run to the back, kill the possible little thing, hit the big one in the legs to slow it down, circle around it, and haul ass out the door. Everyone ready?”

“Ready.” Broker said looking at the weapon in his magical aura.

“Alright, as much as I hate to say this, I don’t have a weapon so,” Sketch sighs, “I’ll distract it...”

“Seriously? Well, if you survive, I’ll totally owe you.” CD said. “But, are you sure? If you say yes, I’ll hold it to you. Ready?”

“Ready.” Broker said.

“I don’t want to die.” Sketch says, regretting his plan. “But ready...”

“READY, MUTHERFUCKERS!!” The voice from the back of the shop almost burst their eardrums, a hail of pulse rifle rounds flying over their heads. The massive abomination staggered visibly as the rounds tore into it.

Slowly advancing from the back was a unicorn in an engineering suit, stalking forward on its back legs, a pulse rifle in its grasp and four more hovering it its telekinetic grasp and firing in unison.

The four floating rifles clicked empty one by one, being discarded as they were, only stopping to reload its primary rifle, telekinetic grasp drawing a plasma cutter and firing it as the unicorn held position, screaming incoherently and loudly as it fired wildly at the creature in the doorway.

“FUCKERS GONNA FUCKIN’ BURN WITH MY RIGHTEOUS FURY!! FEEL THE FUCKIN’ WUB AND TOLERANCE!!!”

“Wub?” Sketch says, backing off from him, inching his way to the exit, only stopping when he realized that the hail of fire was more or less blocking the door just as effectively as the monsters, the bullets and searing blasts of plasma often going wide and almost singing/hitting Sketch.

“Who cares?” CD says, heading to the door, crawling low to avoid the attacks.

Broker crawled after CD, having no idea what to do about the current predicament.

“So... How much ammo do you have there guy?” Sketch asks, the wall of bullets not letting up in the slightest.

“I HAVE ALL THE AMMO I NEED TO FUCK THESE FUCKS TO FUCKIN TARTARUS!!”

“Okay, I say this guy’s nuts, let’s just avoid him, and leave quickly and quietly,” CD whispered.

“Right now he’s on our side and he’s killing those things, so better enjoy this while we can.” Sketch whispered back, watching the door for an opening.

“Do what you want, I’m leaving first chance I get.” CD replied, thinking hanging out with a pony an insane amount of weapon-fire and no sanity to his name was a bad idea.

“Oh, I know, I’m bolting as soon as he reloa...” Sketch whispers, but trails off as he watches the unicorn toss the Pulse Rifle and begin reloading it as he began shooting the plasma cutter using the mechanical fingers of the suit to pull the trigger.

“JUST FUCKING DIE YOU FUCKING FUCKERS!!”

“I think it’s dead already, you can stop shooting now!” CD yelled at the unicorn. The monster in the doorway just mumbled and groaned, slowly falling to pieces as layer after layer of its body was simply torn away by the relentless blast.

Johan and Victoria were sitting amiably on the other side of the mall, watching the light show and occasionally ducking as a bolt of plasma flies by. They had looted a small kiosk, snagging drinks and food to eat, the monsters ignoring them entirely in favor of the violently defended shoe store on the other side of the mall.

Frost had even taken to sniping the beasts, the high impact rounds tearing most of the creatures literally in half in the process.

“You know, this actually isn’t so bad,” the woman said sniping another creature. “It’s actually kinda fun. Drinks and a gun, now thats what I call a day!”

“For an incredible amount of vicious horrors being just a few hundred yards away, this is surprisingly relaxing. Hey, see if you can hit that bloated one on the right.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” she said, aiming the gun and pulling the trigger, a direct hit to the heart. The big thing splattered wildly, bits of suddenly animate flesh squirming in all directions.

“Nice shot. So, I kinda have to wonder, who the hell is in there? I mean, I can understand a love of fashion, but what warrants the desperate last stand defence of a shoe store?”

“I’m wondering the same thing, but either way, he’s kicking ass so I’m not complaining,” Frost said shooting another monster.

“Oh, look! The big one is going down!”

“The big one is going down!” CD said, happy that he didn’t have to fight it himself.

“But we still have one problem,” Broker said in a whisper, “we have a crazy pony with four assault rifles in the room.”

“EAT PLASMA FUCKERS!”

“As soon as the bullets stop, run.“

“Sounds like a plan, if he doesn’t take offense at us running from him.” CD replied.

“Hey guy, there’s one behind you!” Sketch shouts to the insane stallion.

Four of the guns continue to fire blindly forward as the unicorn swivels around looking swiftly around the store, pointing the pulse rifle in its hooves around.

“Where?!”

“Er, uh, it got scared off by you. You’re that great of a shot, maybe the rest of the monsters will leave us alone. So we can talk, or leave.” CD said.

“No fuckin’ way, I’m not taking that chance!”

“Well, uh, if you have some spare weapons or ammo for my Cutter, I could help you if you ever need someone to watch your back.” CD offered, trying to get on the crazy ponies’ good side if he had one.

“No need, I got this!” The unicorn continues to blow away the crowd outside.

“Okay, but if you need someone on your side, I’m ready to sign up any time.” CD replied. “If you ever need it that as.”

The unicorn doesn’t respond, until at last all five Pulse Rifles click empty. The hailstorm of bullet finally dies away, the unicorn holding the last weapon, a blue and lighter-blue Plasma Cutter in its forehooves, pointing the cutter all around. Finally lowering the weapon, the unicorn stands, heaving gasping breaths.

“Okay, it’s safe now, honey, I got ’em.” The voice is exhausted, and strained, and the smoking Pulse Rifles clatter to the ground, visibly warped by the continuous fire. From the back of the shop, a small bundle of clothes shuffles forward, a bright pink curtain of hair forming the pony’s mane.

The armored unicorn turns, sighs, and gestures to the timid pony.

“It’s alright, ‘Shy, they’re cool.” The unicorn’s helmet begins to split and separate, revealing a white-coated mare with a shaggy blue mane with lighter blue streaks in it. The butter-colored pony in the too-large sweater stepped cautiously forward. Suddenly moving faster, she raced forward to embrace the unicorn in the engineer suit, wings fluttering softly.

The two hugged a moment more, shared a kiss on the lips, and turned to the three colts staring at them. The white unicorn raises the plasma cutter and waved it at them.

“You got a problem with my marefriend, ya’ bunch of useless bucks?”

Author's Note

Thank you for reading Chapter Six! I hope you're all enjoying this, and, again, if you see any mistakes, please tell me so I can correct them!

Ch07 - Starlight Mall, Food Court

“Well, do ya?” The white unicorn demands, waving the plasma cutter at them.

“No ma’am, no problem at all.” CD said quickly “We’re just a coward, an idiot, and a nutcase trying to survive. Thanks for all your help, you were very impressive, but I think my acquaintances and I should leave and get back to trying to survive. Have a nice day, ma’am!”

“Yeah, I’m the coward, would you mind not pointing the gun at me, I don’t even have a weapon.”

“And why are you three even in here? I thought this area was evacuated or slaughtered.”

CD responds quickly “We’re just looting, hoping we could get some food. But if you don’t like us around, I guess we’ll find another mall.”

“Or we could increase our chances of survival by having the five of us combine. None of us have combat expe-”

The white unicorn cut him off. “Fuck no, how do I know I can trust you guys? I can’t, and I’m not risking ‘Shy again!”

The yellow pegasus shivered and huddled against the mare in the engineering suit as she talked, eyes shut tight against the gore.

“Yeah.” CD replied, looking at Broker. “Besides, how could we help her? We’d just be dead weight, and slow them down, and personally I couldn’t live with myself if people died because I was useless.”

“I don’t want them either, I can’t carry much more supplies, not to mention I don’t know if they could keep up.” Sketch added.

“I am certain the white one could keep up. That yellow one however, I doubt. But it seems we have reached a verdict. So you guys, where to?” Broker said as he turned to his comrades

The mare in the engineering suit narrows her eyes. “You calling my marefriend useless?! Nopony... Nopony insults Fluttershy!”

“Well medical is a bust, how about we just look for more supplies, food and whatnot so we don’t starve.”

“We’re not going with them, and they are not going with us, we’d cause issues with each other, and someone will get killed for no good reason, and I don’t agree with that. Nopony is useless, but we can’t get along together without possibly hurting one another. Logic dictates we thank our saviours, and move on.” CD replies. “Sorry to bother you ma’am.”

“Yeah, fuck you guys too. Now scram.”

The butter-colored pegasus clung to her, but opened her eyes, looking up at her marefriend. She sniffled. “Uh- uhm, b-before you go... I ah, have a couple of s-spare medi-gels. If- if you want them, that is...”

“Now you’re mad that we aren’t letting you into a group you didn’t want to join in the first place? Yeah, that makes sense, Transformers roll out!” Sketch said, not hearing the yellow mare.

Fluttershy flinched away from the white colt, and Vinyl ‘hmph’d imperiously.

“Look, guys, arguing gets nowhere, if they needed help, I’d help them unconditionally, but they are fine, so we leave.” CD stated, looking at ‘Shy. “If you are offering something, I’ll only take it if we need it more than you, which we don’t. I appreciate the offer, but you may regret it. Have a nice day ladies, and good luck to both of you.” CD turns to leave.

“Try not to die you two!” Sketch shouted as he walked away with CD.

Vinyl just snorted and turned, rooting around in the store for stuff. Fluttershy reached into her pockets, pulling out a couple of medi-gel capsules and a video log.

“I- I have these two extra, and I found the log while we were searching the other end of the mall. It’s kinda useful... if you want it, that is. Y-you don’t have to take it, unless you want it, that is.”

“Well, okay, can we take a look?” CD asked, looking more at the Unicorn than the pegasus.

“We still need to find food, don’t forget that. Have you two found any?” Broker ask, looking towards the yellow equine.

“Broker, we are in a mall, we can get food anywhere, idiot. But we might get something from the video log, maybe in some weird twist of fate, it’ll explain my memory loss and what happened to me.” CD replied, walking slowly towards ‘Shy.

“Question is, will the trigger happy mare over there kill us if we even talk to her marefriend, let alone watch it? If I want to get shot I’ll just stand near Broker during the next monster attack.”

“I hate you Sketch, so much! Anyway, I really don’t think she will kill us for watching that video. I think, as long as we don’t insult her we will be fine.” Broker said glaring over at Sketch.

“So can I see that, miss? I am still hoping for an explanation for me being tortured for five months and my memory loss.” CD carefully approaching the yellow pegasus.

Fluttershy flinched at the mention of torture, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Sorry, too much information, I didn’t mean to scare you, miss.” CD replied, moving his hoof closer to the pegasus slowly. “Fluttershy, was it? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I think you should keep away CD...” Broker said.

Rather suddenly, Fluttershy leapt forward, wrapping her forehooves around CD’s torso, giving him a tight hug. She weeped into his chest, sobbing out apologies.

“Don’t worry, it’s alright, besides, I’m not so fuzzy in this hacker suit, so I’m probably not very comfortable to hug. But you’re still cute.” CD said, smiling slightly, “But I would appreciate a look at that video log, I have so many questions.”

“Hey! Hooves off my mare!” Vinyl shouted the command from the back of the store. Fluttershy shook her head and let go of Copy, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a video log panel.

“I told you, Copy...” Broker said, not daring to move out of fear.

“Why so violent, all she did was hug him?” Sketch asked, backing away from the sociopathic mare.

“Yeah, I heard your colt buddy making moves on her. I’ve got my eye on you, earther.”

“Good to know, ma’am.” CD said, staying calm. “Now may I see that video log, please?”

“Before she assumes someone else is hitting on her marefriend and she kills us all, preferably.”

“Must you always make those comments Sketch? I may make dumb decisions, but I don’t make those comments that could get me killed by a mare that just gunned down an abomination.” Broker said looking over to Sketch again with a hard glare.

“Guys, stop the fighting, it get’s us nowhere. Please, can we all just calm down? I want to see this video and I just don’t see how being mean to each other is a good thing.” CD said. “Can we please quiet down and be calm? We are safe for now, and let’s not waste it, please.”

Broker just sighed. “I agree. Sorry. What’s on the video?”

“Uhm... J-just some stuff about these things, by some kind of scientist or something. Uhm... if that’s alright.”

“Uh... Does it mention anything called the,” CD takes a moment to shudder. “Sunset Device?”

“N-no... sh-should it?”

“It doesn’t have to, it would just be useful for me to know if it mentions what I want to know for sure. I’ll still watch the video.”

Fluttershy just nodded at him as she handed him the recording. CD took it, and downloaded the video.

On the Hologram it showed a man with messy brown medium length hair wearing a blue button-up overshirt, a white shirt underneath, with goggles around his neck, walking somewhere at a fast pace.

“This is not good, alright, to anyone watching this, or these if you find more of my recordings. This is a bad situation. What you see in these creatures is something created by something that was never meant to be unleashed, ever! It started years ago but, still that isn’t the point, these people, or what is left of them, have been corrupted by this thing, I... I-I just can’t remember the name of it!

Anyways, it’s influence is spreading, there is no safe haven, some of the security teams have been trying to kill those who have encountered this... thing.

A-anyways, If you're still sane enough I am going to leave something down the hall, go clockwise then proceed to go inward and pass about five hallways then turn right and head down, if I said that right, this should be helpful.”

The holo flickered out, leaving each of the ponies to contemplate it.

“Did you follow his instructions? What did you find?” CD asks, staring at the hologram.

“N-no, there’s a big group of those monsters, a-and we couldn’t get past them. So, w-we went into the ducts a-and came here.” Fluttershy stammered out.

“So I guess this doesn’t answer anything.” CD said, a bit sadly. “Oh well, it’s nobody’s fault, so I guess we-”

“Hey! Shy! Let’s get going. I think this whole thing’s gotten their attention, something’s in the ducts. And... ah... I’m mostly outta ammo. Sorry, Shy.” Vinyl motioned for Fluttershy to follow her.

“Well, I’ve got my own plasma cutter, any way I can help, ma’am? Er, what’s your name again?”

“You callin’ me old? I already told you my name’s Vinyl Scratch.”

Outside the shop, Johan and Victoria prepared to head elsewhere, the two security officers heading towards another part of the mall as the sounds of sentient violence began in the store. Not wanting to waste ammo on someone who might shoot back, they had decided to search elsewhere. The three stooge ponies had probably gotten stuck in a maintenance area when the monsters showed up.

“Hey, uh, Frost? How’s your shoulder doing?”

“I fixed it back when we were on the tram, it’s fine.”

“Ah, good. I’m not really that good with small talk that doesn’t involve innuendos or crude humor, so I really don’t know where to take this conversation.”

“You think I’m not used to your crude humor by now Johan? Or are you afraid that I’m gonna make you piss your pants again if you piss me off?”

“I didn’t piss my pants! A-and, well, I was just trying to find something you actually wanted to listen to.”

“Whatever you say, Johan. But I am curious as to know what you were thinking while I was holding your pecker at gunpoint.” Frost gave a small wink.

“Eh, something along the lines of ‘oh god, oh god, she’s going to shoot me just for spite and then I’ll never get her respect’?” Johan’s voice cracked slightly, his stride slightly different as he tried to shift his groin uncomfortably while walking.

“You’re such a baby, you know that? Even worse, you’re my superior and I’ve always seemed to have you by the balls, even when I was a trainee.”

“I dunno, you did point a gun at my junk. Superior Officer or not, you’ve got a lot of pent-up aggression.”

Frost stopped walking and looked at the ground, her voice soft and indifferent from what it usually is.

“Can you blame me?”

“I’ve never done anything wrong since that first day, when you kneed me in the crotch for making a pass at you. You’ve always been close-lipped about your past, beyond that your dad used to be a sergeant.” Johan had also stopped, and looked at her, concern in his voice.

“I’ve never told you... or anyone. Only my dad knew about that night on my way home from nursing school...”

“Ah... I think I can guess this story. You had to pass through the Orange district, didn’t you? trams were out or something, right?”

“Yeah, Dad was unable to get me because of his physical therapy...”

“Oh man, this was a few years ago, wasn’t it? That serial rapist guy in the Orange district.”

Victoria just nodded. Johan reached out a hand. “Victoria?” he only ever said her name when it was important. “Victoria, I would never do anything like that, alright? I’m a friend, at the barest minimum, okay?”

“I know...” she rubbed her arm. “But it’s something that’s haunted me for years. I still have nightmares about him sometimes...”

“I- I’m so sorry, Victoria.” Johan reached out to Victoria for a hug.

She hesitated for a moment before leaning in slowly, placing her head on his shoulder, taking in his scent. It’s something she’d always been familiar with, no matter if she was blindfolded and was unable to feel his features, she could always know it was him based on his smell, armor or not.

Johan simply held her close, the quiet scrape of enamel on metal and metal on ceramic the only noise as they stood in the massacre-filled mall.

Eventually, Johan stepped back, putting his hands on her shoulders, his helmet sliding back as he looked her in the eye as best as he could through her helmet.

“Victoria, I will never let anything like that happen to you, ever again. Alright?”

Frost’s helmet slid back as well, allowing her to wipe back a tear, nodding slightly in agreement.

“Sorry for making you shit your suit earlier,” she said with a laugh. “I’m new to flirting...”

“Don’t worry, I can do enough flirting for the both of us.” Johan laughed as well. “But I didn’t shit my suit. Uhm... sorry to break the moment, but we should get moving again, alright?”

“Right, right, sorry.” She cleared her throat before her helmet slid back into place. “Let’s go.”

Johan patted her on the back, armored gauntlet clanking on her RIG as his helmet slid over his face.

“I don’t think he meant to call you old, Miss Scratch. I think he was just being polite.” Broker said looking towards Vinyl Scratch.

“Yeah, didn’t mean to be rude. Anyway, should we run? Because I don’t know how many shots I have on my cutter.”

“Then don’t call me ‘ma’am’, fucking asshole. Makes me sound like some old fart.”

“I think we should stand here and negociate and not get shot while we run. Let us just talk this out, and accomplish something. We still need food, they need ammo. How about we band up temporarily and scavenge the stores while the area is clear? We all leave happy and loaded up on supplies.”

“Sounds like a plan, but what about the monsters in the duct, should we leave now and search a different floor?” CD looked at Vinyl. “You seem to know more about this than us, what do you say?”

“Would you rather stay and see if they want some fuckin’ tea? Fuck, I guess you’re coming with us. C’mon, we’re going to the food court.”

“Alright, sounds good. I’m hungry.” CD said.

“Oh shut the fuck up, I’m only taking you along so Shy doesn’t cry.” The white unicorn in the engineering suit snapped at Data, Fluttershy looking a little ashamed.

“How much ammo do you have, Vinyl? I have eight shots left, but I really don’t know how to use this yet. Also guys, we need more ammo.” Broker says.

“No fuckin’ duh... I’ve got around thirty shots left, and this thing carries twenty-four at a time. You, in the hacker suit, you know how to use yours, or are ya useless outta bed, too?”

“No, I’ve killed a few mutants on my own with it, my nickname’s CD if you don’t mind.”

“More like I don’t care. Let’s get going. We don’t wanna be there in a few minutes.”

“Can’t argue with that, let’s go.” CD replied.

The five ponies wandered out of the store, looking around the dark part of the mall. Each of the five watch different directions, Vinyl and CD leading the way, Fluttershy in the center. The eerie quiet of the abandoned mall began to creep into the group, and they all got more and more skittish.

Fluttershy especially was jumpy. As they passed a pile of boxes, a jug of cleaning solution overbalanced and fell to the floor, making the timid pegasus scream in fright. She kept clinging to either Vinyl or one of the guys for a minute or two each time.

Finally, they reached a stairway to the upper floor, the stairs in the center blown apart.

“Shit, how the fuck are we supposed to get up there? Shy’s the only one with wings, and she’s terrified of heights.” Vinyl complained at the situation, gesturing at the rubble.

“Maybe there’s an elevator or another flight somewhere?” CD asked, “Maybe not, but it’s worth asking.”

“What about employee only areas, for the people who run the station.” Sketch added.

“I could get into those areas with my clearance, despite how low it is.” Broker said.

“Uhm... I- I can f-fly up there... I-if th-that’s imp-portant.” Fluttershy stammered, looking utterly terrified of the mere thought of flying.

“Shy, it’s alright. You couldn’t carry us up anyhow, so no need.” Vinyl rubbed the pegasus’ back reassuringly.

“I don’t see it as a bad idea Vinyl. We could find something valuable up there. However, one of us needs to join her. If I could get up there, I would. But my magic is not the best.” Broker said looking at the broken stairs before them.

“So let’s find a different staircase, idiot.” CD said rolling his eyes.

“I- uhm, I used to work here. In the food court, I mean. I think there’s an emergency staircase i-in the back of one of the stores here. Uhm... sorry, I-I didn’t mean t-to interrupt...”

“Emergency staircase isn’t a bad idea. Vinyl, could you lead Fluttershy to those stairs and explore while the rest of us look at the employee areas?”

“How do we know they won’t just ditch us?” Sketch replied.

“Oh, fuck you too!”

“Okay, okay, one of us needs to go with them. Who volunteers?” Broker said looking at Sketch and Copy.

“Your idea, you volunteered yourself.” CD pointed out.

“Wait me? How are you going to get into the areas without my clearence?”

“I’m an engineer, if I can’t get clearance, I can make the door open.”

Broker sighed with annoyance. “Okay, I’ll go with them. Food and ammo, that’s what we need.”

Vinyl huffed, “Fine, you can come with. You two, don’t wander far, dumbucks. We’ll see if there’s any way to get you shits up. C’mon, Shy, let’s get this fucker up to the upper floor.” She shook her head, her helmet sliding into place over her face and head.

Broker hovered his weapon in front of his face. “You sure you can get us up there Fluttershy?”

“I- I think so... Th-the store is o-over this way...”

The shy mare began timidly leading Broker and Vinyl towards a Burger Barn. Behind them, Sketch and Copy sat at the base of the stairs.

“Hey, Data, if we hear shots let’s run to the right, we can find Broker later. If he lives.”

“Why right? What’s over there?”

“I think I saw some stairs earlier.”

“You think? Well, maybe.” CD said, thinking, “If there are stairs, how do we know they go where we want them to?”

“Well if they start fighting in there, going anywhere else is preferable, they draw in the monsters, we hide, then when they are all out we run for it. We can come back later for the mare’s gear and see if Broker lived.”

“I think the mares will live longer than Broker, so there may or not be salvageable gear, but I like your idea. Where were the stairs? Like, how far away?”

“Not too far away, want to go check some of the emptier stores? Less things for them to hide behind.”

“Yeah, that sounds smart and safe, and I’m hungry still.”

“We can rob a food stand on the way.” Sketch shrugs.

“Sweet. Let’s go.”

“I feel like getting a burger.” Sketch said, heading for the shops.

The two ponies wander aimlessly towards the same Burger Barn that Shy, Vinyl, and Broker went to. Searching through the place, they found a distinct lack of cooked food, except half-eaten soy burgers and some fries. And, someone left most of a ceasar salad on one of the tables.

“Well this was a bust, maybe I can open the cash register...” Sketch walked over to the cash register, after he hit a few buttons, the register blared loudly, forcing him to hit it until it stopped.

“Hey, genius, it’s a digital scanner, isn’t it? If it wasn’t, why is all our money in Credit disk-card thingies? If you wanna steal, you’ll have to download the money onto your card.” CD pulls out his card and walks over to the register and starts fiddling with it.

After a few moments of poking at the wiring, the till gives a shrill chirp, and the side blows out with a puff of smoke.

“Cool!” CD yelled. “How did I do that? I wanna do that again!”

A loud roar from deeper in the mall dampens his cheer, and the silence afterwards is almost as ominous as the roar itself.

“Okay, nevermind, that was bad. But it didn’t sound close, I say we-”

A second roar, louder and closer than the first, echoes through the pony’s ears, cutting him off a second time. He and Sketch both flatten their ears.

“Let’s get the fuuuck outta here.”

“Quietly.” CD whispered back. “And carefully.”

“Last one out is bait.” Sketch said quietly, “Also, I wonder how tubs is doing?”

“You better keep your hooves to yourself, buddy. Magic, too.”

Vinyl had been muttering dangerously at Broker for the last several minutes, alternating between standing between him and Flutters, and staying at the back so she could point her plasma cutter at him.

“Would you at least stop pointing that cutter at my head. It’s making me nervous. I promise to keep my hooves and magic to myself. I just want to find the food.”

Broker said shifting his hooves nervously across the metallic floor. He kept his steps light as well, on edge with the unicorn hovering the weapon at him constantly.

“Where are the stairs, Fluttershy?”

“Uhm, j-just a little farther. The manager always covered up the d-door.”

The timid pegasus began nosing rolling carts of meat and bun products out of the way, revealing a door labeled ‘For Employee Access Only’ outlined in yellow on the gray wall.

“Do you have access to this area, or am I gonna have to use my access?”

“I-I’m not a merchant anymore, so uhm, you’ll have to. I-if that’s alright with you...”

Broker nodded towards the pegasus before trotting over to the access panel marked in red. He pulled out his identification and placed it near the panel. A loud ‘beep!’ sounded, muffled by the stacks of foodstuffs. Slowly, the door slid to one side, revealing a dusty stairwell leading up.

“Jackpot! Nice going, buck.” Well, that had been the nicest thing the white unicorn had said to him so far...

“Thanks... I guess? Anyway, let’s go up. Hope this endeavor is worth it.” Broker added while he looked at the staircase. The butter-color pony looked up in fright at the darkness of the unlit area.

“Uh-uhm... c-can one of y-you two g-g-g-g-go f-first, p-p-please? O-or maybe we can go somewhere else? I-I don’t like the dark...”

Poor Fluttershy was huddled down and her eyes were wide and staring from fright. An echoing roar snapped her from her stupor, however, and she clung to Vinyl for safety. It sounded close, and potentially coming from outside the Burger Barn.

“Well, looks like we don’t have much choice, ‘Shy. Alright, dumbuck, get going up those stairs, unless you wanna stay behind and start slathering yourself in ketchup for them.”

Broker shook his head at the imagery the unicorn gave him and he paced himself up the stairs.

“No way am I facing those things.” He whispered, then adding, “Should we lock the door down just incase? Wait, what about the others?”

The white unicorn shrugs flippantly. “Well, sorry to you and ‘Shy here, but it looks like they’re just a bunch of pony mcnuggets now. C’mon, if they’re smart, then they’re hanging out near the big staircase, and we can help them out from there. If not, well... oh well to that.”

Broker looked back towards the corridor thinking of what to choose. His heart was racing in panic and fear, but his mind was screaming to run up towards the second floor. He sighs before saying anything.

“Okay.. Let’s get up these stairs. Can you lock the door, Vinyl?”

“No, dumbuck, but you can. You’re the one with clearance, remember?”

Broker nods and moved down to the door. He closed the door before putting his card in to lock it shut, the panel turning red as a result.

“Locked. Now let’s get up these stairs and find any supplies like we originally planned.”

“Wait.” CD said, quickly. “Weren’t we supposed to wait for Vinyl somewhere? I don’t think disobeying her would be a good idea.”

“Yeah, but I think if we stayed here we would be in pieces when they returned. Hey, you still got that video?”

“Yeah, but what could it do now? Monsters might be coming, and we aren’t where we’re supposed to be. Let’s head back to the staircase and hope Broker didn’t slow them down much.”

“Fine, but lets review the clip, we have nothing else to do besides avoid a painful death.”

“By turning on a device that makes noise? Brilliant plan, as I’m the only one with a helmet that can muffle the noise. And you wouldn’t be able to see it at all!”

“Dude, I don’t mean right now, later, for now we run.”

“Sounds good, preferably towards the stairs, where we are supposed to be.” CD started walking back to the staircase.

“Fine, who knows, maybe they found something useful, or Broker did something right.”

As they continue to run towards the shattered staircase, they skid to a halt, as a screech shreds across their eardrums.

“Did you hear that, or am I hearing stuff again?” CD asked, as if this might be normal

“I did, you're not hearing stuff again, and I really don’t want to find out what made that noise, to the batcave!”

“... Why... nevermind. Hold on, maybe I can ask Vinyl if they’re ready, if I can figure out how this helmet works.”

Checking the holographic controls, CD pokes the one he thinks is the RIGlink button, getting a burst of static at about the same time as another screech passes by the two ponies, this time louder and more painful than before.

“Ow, that was either that thing, or seriously bad feedback, I hope it was feedback, but I’ll assume it was the monster. How do I get this thing to call someone?”

“How would I know, I don’t use computers for anything besides drawing. Also, maybe we should hide behind something before whatever is making those noises eats us.”

“How about the rubble from the stairs? We won’t be too far, and I can keep working on my helmet.”

“Fine, let’s just go before Vinyl kills Broker.”

“Let me try again, and I’ll ask her.” CD ducked behind the debris and kept trying the RIGlink.

To his surprise, a crackling link showed up. But it wasn’t Vinyl. Instead a human male with a stern, clean-shaven face appeared on the link, glaring at him. There was an olive-drab military shirt and hat on him, but CD wasn’t sure of their actual names.

“Uh, hi? I’m try-”

“I know who you are, Mr. Data. And I will find you. I will find you. You are far too valuable to leave around in this situation. So stay put. The extraction team is on its way.” The RIGlink sparks and cuts out.

CD’s pupils shrank to the size of pins, and he started shaking. “S- Sketch... get me out of here, I don’t know how, but help me. Please, for the love of Celestia don’t let them put me back in that thing!” His voice was hoarse and terrified, and he’d backed up against the pile of rubble in utter horror, as if trying to escape a ghost.

“Yeah, lets just run, we can find the others later, and I don’t think Vinyl will flip shit yet, so Broker is most likely still in one piece.”

“Okay, let’s find Vinyl, if anyone had the resources to keep those people away from me, it’s probably her. Or Frost, but that’s neither here nor there.” CD’s voice still shaky.

“Just lead the way, besides the Manehattan part I am awful with directions.”

“Uh, wait, weren’t they supposed to come get us when they were done? Where are they? Come on you stupid helmet, work!”

“S-st-stairs are evil...” Broker says now sweating and breathing hard after successfully, but slowly, climbing up eight flights of stairs. “J-just give a moment to catch my breath. Then we can search.” He forces out the words before collapsing onto the ground.

“C’mon, dude, ‘buck’ up and get moving.” Vinyl gave a short laugh, cut off by Flutter’s upset look from her teasing. “I was only joking with him, ‘Shy...”

After a few more deep breaths, Broker got onto all four of his legs again.

“Okay, now. Let’s get to looting. Best be fast, too before those monsters get to the door. You two ready?” Broker said, looking towards the closed door.

The two mares nod, and begin following the colt, until an ear-splitting shriek drives them to their knees. Barely looking up in time to roll, Broker saw a shape, sort of like a pegasus, fly overhead. It had no forelegs, instead they were simply gone, the great, leathery wings of the creature allowing it to glide. A massive pair of yellowed, sickly-looking lungs hung from under it, and its mouth hung open in a not-so-silent scream. The back legs had twisted into a pair of scything claws, built like they were meant to grab or decapitate in passing.

“The fuck is that thing?!” Vinyl was the first to react to it, rolling in place to point the personalized plasma cutter at the swooping thing.

“Who cares! Shoot at it!” Broker shouts pointing his weapon at the monstrosity before firing at the beast’s head.

“Don’t shoot, you fucking tard! You might hit one of the exterior windows!” Vinyl screamed at the colt, finally squeezing off a shot of her own when it passed a stone section. The bolt slammed into its body, but failed to damage it much.

Broker aimed his pistol towards one of said exterior windows and hesitated to pull the trigger. After looking at the monster again, he fired off the shot. The round hit the window with an audible ‘pock!’ as it hits, a web of cracks spreading across it instantly.

The engineering unicorn to the side screamed for him to stop, firing again at the twisted bat-pony, as the thing screeched again. The noise was much closer and far more painful, so much so that Broker felt something break, and tasted blood. The world was overcome by a persistent ringing noise.

“Fuck! Get to the door now!”Broker yelled and he got back up, making his way towards the door. He kept his weapon aimed at the window however. “Move!” He shouted at the mares, his voice oddly muffled to his own ears. It was odd, but there seemed to be an odd red tint to everything, and it was a bit difficult to move.

A sizzling bolt of plasma flew by Broker, but he couldn’t hear it, the colt backing up as it hit the flying shot hit the monster, shearing off a wing. As it collapsed, a second silenced bolt cleaved its head in two, and a third ripped apart one of its flailing claws. At last, the monstrosity was stilled, and the ringing in Broker’s ears faded slowly.

Broker looked towards the cracked window. His vision soon shifted over to the two mares and the dead monster. He got back up and quivered in fear. Vinyl was mouthing something at him, and holding Flutters, who just held her head. Thin trickles of darker color ran from her ears, nose, and the corners of her eyes. Blinking several times, Broker realized that he probably had some blood in his eyes, too.

It was oddly surreal, the fear he was feeling strangely detached from him, and he tried stepping towards the mares. To comfort them, or something. He wasn’t quite sure, and his vision cut out after a step or two, only the vague sensation of hitting the floor on one cheek still with him as he fell unconscious.

CD kept messing with his helmet, trying to get a connection with Vinyl. “Alright, I’ll say fifth time’s the charm, and hope I’m right.”

“Hey! Losers! You still alive down there?”

“Yeah, glad to see you’re alive. Listen, some crazy, weird scientists want to take me back and screw with my brain, and they’re coming here. Any ideas that don’t involve me dying?”

“I guess you could try climbing up here. There’s some electrical cables I can cut and tie off up here, can either of you climb?” Vinyl shouted down from the top of the staircase,

“I can, for about 2 minutes before my jaw gives out. Can’t speak for Sketch, though.”

Sketch looked up at the top of the stairs, the metal frame for the concrete steps swaying slightly as he watched. “Isn’t there another way up? I don’t think my jaw can take it.”

“Wuss! Fine, I’ll carry you up, but only ‘cuz I owe Broker one.” Vinyl shouts back.

Looking up towards the top of the staircase, Sketch asked bemusedly, “Did he use himself as bait?”

“I ‘t ‘e ‘id” CD mumbled around the cable, as he climbed up.

“Does it matter? He saved Flutters, and that’s all that counts. And he’s currently unconscious.” Vinyl sounded a little defensive as she spoke.

CD pulled himself up to the top slowly, getting up and trying to readjust his jaw, before letting the helmet’s plates slide back into place. “I think I might have hurt something, but I don’t care, I don’t want to go back to the Sunset Device.”

“Alright, wuss boy, stand at the bottom, I’ll tie the cords in place and hoist you. Don’t squirm though, I wouldn’t want you to slip, or the harness’ll become a necktie.” Vinyl’s words spark thoughts of being left there dangling in Sketch’s mind.

“Insult me all you want, I ran out of fucks to give early this morning.” Sketch said.

“Whatever.” The response is curt and punctuated by the rough electrical cords wrapping around his barrel, neck, and uncomfortably under his tail, scraping against him through his civilian clothes. With a jerk and what was nearly a throw, the white unicorn lifted Sketch to the top of the broken stairs, leaving him crumpled in a heap for a few moments.

“And that’s why I climbed.” CD said, chuckling at the odd position Sketch was currently folded into, his laugh being cut short by a second of those metallic roars that herald the unicorn-things. “Crap, not again.”

“Let’s get going. You, whiteboy, help Flutters carry your friend. Then, lets get running.” Vinyl snaps at the group, readying her plasma cutter.

Author's Note

Well, that was chapter seven. Things are coming to a close for Act 1. I hope you're all enjoying this, and, again, if you see any mistakes, please tell me so I can correct them!

Ch08 - Starlight Mall, Electronics Zone

Johan and Frost began down one of the first-floor corridors, keeping a careful eye on every shop entrance and side-hallway they passed. There were thick streamers of some kind of veiny, pulsing goo stretched across the old cross-braces of the mall. Passing a Trixie’s Fine Candies store (featuring a grinning blue unicorn) they paused for a sec.

“Shit. I think that’s the electronics place ahead.” Johan looked left and right, then nodded before he continued, “I come down here every now and then looking for components for some of my stuff. I, ah, mess with some electrical work in my free time.”

“Oh? I never knew you were a mechanic Johan. What else don’t I know about you?”

He shrugged. “Electrician, actually. I work with wires, and power crystals, and... well yeah, you’re probably not interested. Uhm, I collect those Fighter Dude figurines?”

“Care to be a little more specific?” Frost said with a forced expression. “Fighter Dude figurines doesn't really narrow it down.”

“Ah, I’ve got Black Knight, Thunder Mace, and I even got the limited edition gold version of Fighter Dude himself! Well, provided my apartment hasn’t been ransacked or something.” Johan shuffled on his feet, obviously unsure of what the reception to his liking of small children’s toys would be. He also completely missed Victoria’s expression through the combined filtering of two faceplates.

“Wait, they’re actually called ‘Fighter Dudes?’ I thought you were just calling them that because you couldn’t remember their original name.”

Johan turned to her in disbelief. “Frosty! I’m surprised you haven’t heard of ‘em. They’re really popular these days. They’ve got a game series, a tv show, and tons of toys! They’re collectible. The characters are funny, and the game’s pretty cool, too. Hey, when we’re done with all this craziness, I can show you the card game, Fighter Duel! It’s really strategy intensive, but I think you’ll do fine with it.” He sounded so... well, he sounded childlike, with an air of innocence and wonder in his every word.

Frost couldn’t help but just stare at Johan, picturing him as a child playing with these toys. She let out a slight huff and began to laugh, shaking her head.

“What? I’m being serious here! They’re really cool!”

“Whatever you say, Johan. Whatever you say.” She continued forward, keeping her eyes peeled.

“Fighter Dudes? Really?” she said suddenly. “They couldn’t come up with something a little more, I dont know, less stupid?”

Johan made a sign of devil-warding with his hands, speaking with a shocked tone. “Hey! It’s not stupid, it just started as a tv show for kids, alright? And when it got popular for the good gameplay and storyline, they couldn’t just change the name.” He sighed, and looked down a bit. “But, they could’ve chosen a better name, yeah. Hey, I know, if we see a toy store or something, I’ll ‘loot’ you a Pyria figure. She’s always reminded me of you.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, she’s got the highest accuracy rating in the game, has access to the ‘Fire’ magic domain, and specializes in hitting dangerous opponents from a distance with high-damage attacks. Oh, and she has some really nice ti-” he stopped mid-sentence to re-evaluate his response, replying instead, “uh, a really nice figure.”

“Nice save, smooth operator. If you finished that sentence I might have had to hold my gun to your pecker again.”

“I’m not used to talking about this type of thing with girls, this is pretty much for my small group of friends who also collect the stuff.” He gulped a bit, and was really glad she couldn’t see him sweating through the helmet.

“Friends? I figured you spent all your free time hitting on girls at the bars and getting some- umm... Ass.”

“The term is flank these days. I would’ve thought you, of all people, might keep up with today’s slang...”

“I’m not much of the social type, remember? All my spare time was spent helping...”

“Sorry.”

“Just forget it.” Her voice went cold and flat.

The two resumed walking, stepping past the candy store and into the electronics zone of the mall.

~<[Area Theme]>~

“I kinda forgot how big this place was... shit, we could get lost in here. Stick close, Frosty, I don’t want you getting lost, I know I have in here...”

True to Johan’s words, the massive sprawl of gaming stores, electronics stops, RIG kiosks, and so much more would up through and internalized section of the mall, embedded in a rise in the chunk of rock it tunneled through. As such, it was normally lit by hundreds, if not thousands of lamps, lights, signs, and advertisements. As it was, there wasn’t much more than a flicker of light here and there.

“M- maybe we shouldn’t head down there, Frosty, if I remember correctly that’s a three-story area over there, and one of the oldest on the Station.”

“Why not? You scared?” Frost taunted, trying to hide her own fear.

“You want the truth? Then, yeah, I’m a little scared of that place. I’ve never liked the dark, to be honest. Always make out with the lights on, or I can’t finish.”

“Wait- what?” Frost stopped. “Rewind please?”

“Ah... when I was little, I got locked into a closet. You know, one of the air-tight ones for storing expensive clothes? I almost suffocated before my mom found me. I’d stopped crying about an hour before that. Being in the dark just makes me wanna... shut down.”

“I’m sorry.” Frost bit her lip. “If it makes you feel better, I try to avoid that dark as well, cause, you know...”

“Yeah... Looks like neither of us are really up for this... but I don’t think we want to go back, with those things at the tram station.” Johan took a hesitant step forward, just another foot towards the darkened reaches of the unlit mall.

“Maybe we should just camp out somewhere, for now anyways, maybe we can find a flashlight or something in the stores.”

“Well, we do have our suit lights... but I think anything we’d need to see would see us first..”

“Touche.”

“What does that word even mean?”

“It’s means ‘good point.’ It’s French, an extinct Earth language.” Frost cleared her throat slightly. “When I wasn’t with Dad I would look up history... I find it interesting.”

“Huh. Weird, but I guess that makes sense. I just keep hearing folks say it for just about anything these days, like calling someone a ‘shizno’... But at least that has roots in that one movie series that died off a century ago. Something like Orange versus Purple or something like that...”

“Red Vs Blue.” She corrected.

“Same difference. Oh, yeah, I’m color-blind.”

“Well, that explains why your driving record is so atrocious.”

“Hey, I can do just fine! As long as you don’t have me compare yellow and red, or orange and green. That’s all. Ah, you are a redhead, right?”

Frost almost hit him for the remark, until she realized he was joking.

“Well, at least I know you won’t make the ‘fire crotch’ joke.”

He chuckled. “Well, I think I know this one place we can buy some some hair dye in bright red...”

Frost glared at the male, pointing her gun at his groin.

“Gah! It was a joke! A joke I swear!” His hands had dropped from his pulse rifle to his groin, and he had turned slightly, all on instinct.

Frost only gave a triumphant huff, paired with a smile. Johan picked up his rifle again, and shuffled forward, obviously not relishing the journey ahead.

Sighing, he swallowed his fear. “Alright, let’s stop procrastinating... and let’s go in.” Frost, understanding his trepidation, didn’t make the obvious remark and simply nodded her head.

Taking in a deep breath she followed after him, keeping her steps light and almost exact to Johan’s.

“I don’t hear anything,” Frost said, her heart beating in her ears it seemed. The darkness definitely wasn't somewhere she wanted to be with all the monsters running around.

“I- I’m turning on my headlight a- and the light o- on my rifle.” Johan’s breath was coming out in short, ragged bursts, fast and light as panic began setting in.

“Johan wait,” Frost said quickly. “Maybe we should go back and try to find some sort of night vision goggles or something. We don’t want-”

“N-none of these places sell any. And we wouldn’t be able to wear them with our helmets on. A-and we need them on, i-in case those monsters are here. Alright? A- and it’s light inside the helmets, so it’s alright. It’s- it’s alright...” It sounded more like Johan was speaking to himself, and he already sounded desperate, in spite of not even being in the darkness yet.

Victoria put a hand on Johan’s shoulder, giving it an affirming squeeze. Johan turned to her, and she could practically feel the intensity of his fear, projected by the two eyes she could barely see. After a moment, he turned back to the darkness ahead, and stood a little straighter.

“I- I’m good. I can do this.”

The words were barely a whisper, and the next were even quieter, to the point that Frost didn’t catch them.

She stared at him, then gave him a reassuring nod. “I’m right behind you, okay?” Johan nodded at her words, still staring resolutely ahead. Together, the duo of security personnel stepped into the long, deep shadows of the electronics zone of the mall, headlamps and gunlights on maximum.

Stepping past the first couple of quiet stores without incident, the two humans only grew more nervous, something about the situation setting their teeth on edge and their stomachs to churning. Johan looking forward and Frost watching the rear meant that very little could sneak up on them.

And yet...

And yet the security officers felt like they were being hunted, the sensation of watching eyes ever present. Unfortunately, this led to Johan blasting a bottle of cleaning solution on a twitch reflex. After laughing that one off, they continued on, forgetting to wonder what might’ve caused it to fall in the first place.

As they stepped further into the eight-kilometer-long section of the mall, the winding passages only able to be mapped by computers and the doggedly determined, they wondered where everything was. They had seen neither hide nor hair of anything, beyond a few splatters of blood, too small to be lethal, and some occasional smashed windows.

In just about any emergency situation, looters showed up. Kind of like cockroaches, they were ubiquitous. But none had appeared. Heavy boots crunching on shards of glass, Johan swept the entrance to a store he recognized. Not a big-sponsor shop, the Gynoid’s Basement was a well-kept gaming store. He’d stopped by on many occasions to play Fighter Duel, and he knew that the figurine he’d promised Frost was somewhere in there.

Frost saw Johan’s sudden change in direction. Keeping an eye out from the entrance to the store, she called back to him in a harsh whisper. “What’s wrong?”

Johan continued rummaging through the packages of toys. “Nothing. Just gimme a sec, I need to get something from here. Promises, you know?”

“In a toyshop!?” Frost was somewhat irritated. Johan corrected her with “Game shop!” and began rummaging again. “would you just hurry up! This place is giving me the creeps!”

A few seconds of looking later, he realized that all the boxes must’ve been sold already, as they were Rares with some of the best stats available for a starter character. A harsh growl emanated from the back of the shop. As Johan whirled, he caught a glimpse of the box he’d been looking for: a Fire Starter box! Unfortunately, it was right next to a bloated, staggering form, once a pony and now something... else.

Frost had also turned, and upon seeing the creature she pointed her gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation, only for the clip not to fire, instead a dull ‘thunk’ answered her, the sound of a jam that could take seconds or as much as half a minute to fix.

“Aw shit.” Frost muttered venomously.

Johan, standing in front of the creature, barren of much of its fur and wobbling unsteadily on fused legs supplemented by a new ‘leg’ made from a spill of guts, made his decision. Staring at the thing he’d promised to grab, he dived forward and tucked into a roll. With a gurgle, the thing suddenly heaved forward, thick, yellowish fluid sprayed forth, pouring across the floor of the shop with an evil hiss.

As he shot towards the orange package, Johan rolled athletically, the movement too fast for the lumbering monstrosity. Taking it up in one hand, he threw it to the door, just as the creature finished its turn in his direction.

The monster proceeded to wrap across Johan’s shoulder with a long, tendril-like set of fingers, the others hand set with claws that tried to pull Johan’s head from his shoulders. Punching viciously at the thing holding on to him, Johan was rewarded with a caustic flow of bile and fluids, the liquid burning and scorching across the metal and enamel of his armored suit, and liquifying the outer layer of the fabric-like material that made up most of the suit.

The kevlar-like material was fairly resistant, however, giving Johan enough time to push the thing off of him, punching it across the face with his rifle hard enough to knock the thing’s head off with in a spray of burning fluid. Pointing his rifle to the monster’s chest, he pulled the trigger, a spray of bullets tearing into it until there simply wasn’t enough of it to left to stay animate.

Standing in the puddles of gore and spent acid, Johan panted from the exertion of what he’d just done. Turning to Frost, he casually shrugged, and stepped back towards the stunned markswoman.

“I hate these things. I got jumped by two of the fuckers trying to find you the last time. Anyhow... Ah, here it is!” Johan bent down and picked up the orange box from the ground, and presented it to Frost.

The woman just stared at him, mouth gaping in disbelief before letting out a sigh and putting her fingers to the temples of her helmet. “You almost got yourself killed for a toy?”

“No, for a collectible figurine. I said I’d get you a Pyria figure, and I just did. Here, take her.” Johan held the box out. through the cellophane front of the box, a three-inch figure, wreathed in battery-operated holographic flames, stood proudly, covered in heavy plate armor and wielding a sword as big as she was. In fact, the only obvious way to tell it was a she was the face and the flame-like hair. The burst of flame acting as a standing point may have made her a little taller, but not by too much.

Turning the box around to get a better look at it, Johan gasped as he saw it. “Wait a minute, this is the Knight of Sunset limited edition version!”

Frost cocked a brow unamused and held up her Divet at Johan’s chest. He backed up a bit, but kept holding the box out for the angered woman to take.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you.”

“I just risked life and limb to fulfill a promise, no matter the seriousness of it? And I’m cute?” He sounded a tad unsure of the veracity of the last claim, but was willing to try it anyways.

Frost pulled the trigger, unamused. Johan flinched, only relaxing when the thunk of the jammed gun told him he wasn’t in any immediate danger.

“Not funny, Frosty. I’ve got enough issues today, such as being in a dark mall, with limited ammunition, and monsters everywhere.

Frost opened her mouth to retaliate only to be interrupted by a faint roar in the distance, coming from the direction they began in. She let out a heavy breath after a moment of silence and took the figure, giving it a quick glance. “C’mon, lets get out of here.”

Johan nodded at last, and hefted his pulse rifle. He and Frost started onwards again, slowly falling back into their paranoid state as the feeling of being watched weighed on their minds. Victoria, having pulled out her seeker rifle, Jackie, was watching the upper balconies they passed under, constantly catching a glimpse of something moving up there.

Johan was practically having to drag his feet forward, the acidic etchings on his armor still smoking slightly after all that. Every few steps, he’d had to yank a foot forward, feeling a paralyzing fear trying to overwhelm his mind.

The both of them were practically crazed with fear, and if nothing happened to relieve that, and soon, they were going to snap.

Fifteen minutes later, they did snap, but from something dropping down between them. Both of the humans pulled away and spun to face the thing that had fell towards them, revealing a snapping, distorted pegasus, still in an EVA suit, a long set of bladed shapes pouring from the thing’s back, the twisted remnants of the creature’s wings. The ex-pegasus’ rib cage had been burst outward before being re-fused with another layer of bone or chitin, the ribs themselves forming a next of spikes.

The twisted thing stood on its back legs, the remains of its green coat patchy and sparse, one of the legs split roughly in half to form a tripod. Its huge, dead eyes stared at Frost with violence seething in them, and she found she couldn’t move. The twin orbs of necrotic red-and-black bore into her soul, and held her limbs in place as she sat, sprawled on the floor.

She barely noticed as another couple of creatures advanced on Johan, the man firing into them as she sat there. The monster in front of her advanced, strangely fluid in its movements, and a little voice in her head was screaming. Suddenly, a painful weight on the front of Frost’s mind, accompanied by a familiar, comforting voice, snapped her out of her trance in time to lift Jackie and fire, blowing the thing’s head off. It had been her father, yelling at her to hit it dead in the eye, and she had.

For a moment, she forgot where she was, simply trying to listen for her father’s voice, but the sound had already faded. Shaking as she aimed, she targeted and fired mechanically, hitting the monsters in the centers of mass and blowing chests apart. With nothing left to bind the limbs together, the creatures went down for good. Johan’s own staccato fire tore up the beast’s bodies and limbs, and the two humans were quickly the only things left moving.

In mental anguish once more, Frost chose, in that moment, not to tell Johan what she’d heard.

“Hey, Frosty- you alright? You’re not injured, are you?” Johan’s own voice was slightly pained, and his RIG slowly blinked a sedate yellow-green.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” She said quickly, giving Jackie a quick click, reloading the barrel. She always checked her gun whenever she was scared, a quirk that not even her father knew about.

“Ah- alright. Jeeze... what the hell was up that one thing, though? All it did was stare at you.”

“I- I don’t know...” She clicked her gun again. “It just- I don’t know.”

“Well, as long as you’re alright, then we can get moving. Unless you need a breather?” Johan ducked under a thrown piece of goop at his last statement, and held his hands up defensively. “Alright, alright. I was just- just worried, alright? Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“No...” Victoria leaned against a broken wall. “I need to sit down, for a second.”

As she slumped against the chunk of meteoric rock that formed many of the basic walls in the habitat, Johan came over and tentatively sat next to her. When she raised no complaint, he settled a little closer.

His voice cracking slightly as he spoke, Johan asked his friend, “So... hey Frosty? Wha- what’re we going to do when we get out of this? We going to get together or are you just going to shoot me? I like you alot, Victoria, and I respect you greatly.” Johan’s helmet peeled back to show his face, now sporting an angry red chemical burn near his throat. “But... I just don’t know if, well... if I’m safe. I know you always seem to gravitate towards the authoritarian in-charge types, but I’m not afraid to admit that you scare me sometimes, alright?” His eyes, normally so bright now looked so... haunted in the wan, pale light of the suit he wore, and he looked older. So much older.

“You’re such a sap,” she said with a heavy breath, her helmet rolling back to reveal her face, her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, her eyes closed. Johan just stared for a moment, before looking down at the pulse rifle in his hands. His shoulders sagged far more than normal, now that he knew Frost’s attention wasn’t on him.

She let out a deep breath before opening her eyes. “Dad always liked you; said that your macho-man attitude was just an act because you were insecure about yourself.”

“What? No way, he was always glaring at me every time I showed up. I kept feeling like he was going to somehow beat me to death with his stare alone.”

“He did that because he wanted to see if you had the balls to stand up to him and actually ask me out properly. He and your old man actually had a bet going on how long it would take you to make a move.”

“Whoo... man did I blow that chance.” Johan sighed deeply, the bags under his eyes hidden by the shadows of the suit’s projector. “Fuck, and my old man kicked the bucket two months ago.”

“Hm, guess now I know why Dad didn’t let me visit him for that one week.”

Johan shrugged. “Wasn’t sure how to tell everyone. He went in his sleep, thankfully. All that Burger Barn lunches finally caught up with him. Had a dual aneurysm and heart attack, never stood a chance. Doctors are still marvelling at how such a thing could happen without someone seeing signs.” Johan looked to the gun he held once more, contemplating it in a way that made Frost mildly uneasy. She’d seen the look before, just before a kidnapper shot the hostages and then himself. It was rare... but it stuck with you.

“Your old man bet against you, ya know?” she said, keeping her voice level, hiding her feelings.

“Figures, he always did back the winning pony. Too bad he hated gambling anything more than a credit or two.”

“Not this time, bet a full 500 creds.” She cleared her throat. “The bet was that you would make a move by the year’s end, despite my father’s disapproval. And do it respectfully.”

“Well, looks like he lost either way. You made the move, after all, and none too respectfully, if my balls have anything to say in the matter.”

Frost let out a huff, paired with a slight grin. “I got impatient. And if I was gonna do anything it might as well be now, you know, the end of the world and all. Besides, Dad said he wanted grandkids before he kicked the bucket, little late now but still gotta make him happy somehow.”

“Heh... Hey, uh, Frosty? I think I can get us to another tram station, but it’s one of the fixed ones. Depending on which tram is operable, we’d end up at a specific location. Wanna give it a try? We’d have a few minutes to ourselves, guaranteed.” Johan looked hopefully at Frosty, the first honestly nice face she’d seen on him since the conversation started. She just hoped he wouldn’t be plucking gray hairs by the end of this.

“Sounds good to me, I was never a fan of the dark anyways,” she responded getting to her feet, stretching slightly. Her joints cracked loudly, indicating their objections to all the stress.

Johan, also getting to his feet and stretching, was mildly amazed that nothing had attacked them in the time they spent talking. Maybe these things only hunted in packs.

Leading on, Johan threaded his way through empty streets, occasionally chatting back with Frost, making sure she was still there. Finally, they came across a dead end, the wall scrawled over with graffiti and posters..

“The trams are just on the other side, there. We need to climb up. Should you boost me, or I, you?” Johan asked the question while inspecting the broken section of walkway, the whole thing sagging enough under its own weight in the artificial gravity to be only a bit too high for either of the humans to get to on their own.

“I’m lighter, and if anything comes up I can cover you.”

“So, ladies first, then?”

“What a gentleman,” she said, stepping into Johan’s cupped hands, the augmented muscles of the human straining to lift the heavily armored woman. Finally, it buildt up enough inertial force to overcome the gravity and launch her up to the lip of the walkway. Simply stepping forward with her magnetic boots, she landed perfectly on the walkway with barely a sound, beyond the dull clang of the connection.

“I’m up. Give me your hand,” she said, peeking down and holding out her arm to the guy. Catching her arm, he hefted himself up with her help, and stood at the top. Looking over the wall of the dead end, though...

“Well, shit. That’s a lotta dead guys.”

Johan’s ammo counter clicked to empty again. And once more, he gave thanks to whatever gods helped poor little security boys like himself, as the pulse rifle he held used its automatic ammo feed and sweep to drag in nearby pulse rounds and reload for him. And his suit had so many storage pockets.

If he hadn’t requested the extra add-ons, he’d be dead a couple of times over now. And if he hadn’t had Frost covering him from the balcony, he’d be dead so many times over he didn’t want to count them. He’d taken to blasting groups of the monsters with the pulse grenade function of his gun, just because it was more efficient than the individual rounds.

The automated function, a piece of arcanotech that used a short-distance teleportation matrix combined with a mechanical ammunition feed, was remarkably efficient in this combat-riddled scenario.

Shaking off yet another of the big, black-skinned slasher-things that had grappled him, Johan shot it in the chest with a dozen or so rounds.

Smashing the creature with the butt of the gun yielded a satisfying thunk, and knocked it over into another one, some sort of creature made from a pegasus, using massive sword-like wing-talons to slash and stab at Johan. He’d been hit more than once, and he’d even been struck by that disgusting acidic bile that those pukers shot at him.

A loud crack of a shot breaking the sound barrier, followed by a wet thump behind him, told him Victoria had saved his ass once again.

All in all the gory slaughterfest had been tense to begin with, but was rapidly dulling to a hack’n’slash, just blasting away at monsters and smacking them around with his rifle butt.

At last, he stood in the midst of a pile of corpses, torn apart and savaged by gunfire and so many bullets he was surprised they had held enough to restock him twice over. Waving a sluggish, tired arm to Frost, he made the gesture indicating for her to sweep the area in case of sneaky ones.

She gave the same tired wave, taking the cue. Nothing stood out, and nothing moved. The one remaining possibly operable tram was sitting in the dock, the powder-blue paint splattered with so much decayed blood and gore it was nearly black. The doors lay open, and the tram was lit, the corpse of a single black-skinned slasher laying sprawled across the floor.

Her trigger finger hurt, her shoulder hurt from the recoil, and her eye hurt from squinting all the damn time. Sliding exhaustedly to the ground below, she and Johan began walking to the tram. the only worrying thing at this point was Johan’s bright red, flashing RIG status lights. There was only two bars left, and he kept limping on his right leg, and he’d started shooting with his left arm.

“Almost there...” Frost groaned, dragging her feet. Approaching the tram, Johan stumbled on the arm of one of the slashers, allowing Frost to step in first. Turning back to him to jokingly berated him for clumsiness, as a sharp pain speared her shoulder. Coincidentally, right where a long, black talon had spear her shoulder, as well.

Her exhaustion-addled mind took a moment to put the two together, Johan already raising the pulse rifle in his hands as the talon withdrew from her shoulder. As she fell, oddly limp, she vaguely heard the roar of pulse rifle fire and some sort of liquid splattering across her back.

A while later, she woke to find herself on the tram still, still in the carnage-wreathed tram station. Looking up, she found that Johan was holding himself protectively above her, pulse rifle still out as he sat. He seemed to have a good eye for theatrics, as this was almost exactly where he’d been sitting when she’d gone to raid the Manehattan. This time, though, she appeared to have been rolled under his knees.

His helmet was off, and he looked worn ragged. His eyes had a hundred-yard stare that only slipped away when he looked about, his gaze colder than a basilisk’s. As she moaned from the severe headache that now accompanied her other injuries, his face snapped to look at her, and she got an even better glimpse of his haggard appearance. The chemical burn at his throat had gotten bigger, and some of it had appeared near one eye, evidence of where a puker had almost gotten its sludge to burn through an eye-slot.

Upon seeing she was awake, he slid off of her and dragged her into a close embrace, holding her so tight, that if she was more frail she might’ve broken.

“Johan?” she muttered. “What happened?”

His voice cracked, sounding strained and forced, as he spoke, still holding her close. “I- I almost lost you. I al-almost lost you...”

She realized with a start that he was crying. Johan never cried, he laughed. Even at his mother’s funeral, he’d preferred to tell a joke she’d taught him, and say she’d rather if he always smiled, than cry. Frost’s father, then still walking on his own, had commended him for it after his speech. He’d been so young, then, but he’d held that his whole life.

And he was crying. For her. It almost broke her right there.

“H-hey,” she croaked, embracing him in a slight hug. “I don’t want to see any tears soldier.” He could only chuckle weakly as he nearly sobbed into her hair.

“I’m alive, so there’s no need to cry.” Johan nodded into her hair at her remark, slowly drawing back. He looked awful.

Looking at him made Frost cringe, his once untouched and perfect face was now, in a matter of hours, stricken with age and stress, greys seeming to grow like weeds in the bad lighting of the tram and his suit.

“Johan...” she swallowed the knot in her throat, cupping his cheek with her hand. He looked back at her, the faintest of twinkles in his eye returning.

A stain of blood on his forehead caught her eye and Victoria gave a small smile, licking her finger and wiping the blood away. A small laugh escaped her, echoed by Johan.

“So are you gonna let your dad win the bet?”

“Well, I can’t exactly ask your dad, so I’ll have to make do with what I have.”

Swinging her back into an overly-dramatic pose, he presented a clip of seeker rifle ammo, offering it as a gift. “Victoria Frost, will be my super-special somebody? Because I think I know where this tram is going, and I’d rather not die a virgin.”

She looked up from the reclined pose and stared him in the eye. “You’re a virgin? What about all those girls you keep wooing?”

Johan still had it in him to blush, his pale face going scarlet. “Yeah, uhm... most of those were actually just friends from high-school. We faked flirting a lot, but most of them already had boyfriends. Or coltfriends, some.” He gently lowered her aching body to the plastic-covered bench of the tram, marginally more comfortable than the floor, and only because there wasn’t as much blood on it.

“If they were your friends then, why the act?”

“Well, since we all knew each other for a while, it wasn’t an act so much as our ‘thing’ amongst friends, I actually helped set them up with most of the boy- and girl-friends in my group.”

“Looks like I’ve been wrong about you for all these years, Johan. And here I thought you were just another wannabe bigshot”

“Yeah, sorry to get your hopes up, the closest I ever got to that was the two years I spent working as a masseuse in my free time.” He shrugged and wiggled his fingers. “Volunteering, mind you, and most of that was store maintenance. I did get pretty good though, when I did have to fill in. Ah, I think we have enough medi-gell to fix your shoulder and stuff, and I could give you a shoulder massage?” He suddenly realized what his offer might be taken as, and backed up a bit. “Ah, if you’re up for it, that is.”

“What about you? You’re in the red,” Victoria said, rolling her shoulder, realizing how in need of a massage or something she was.

“Ah, I’ll be fine. The suit’s keeping me together, for now. and if I’m right, there should be a field dispersal medigel in the emergency kit on this tram, so I could just fix up your shoulder for you, if you’d prefer. You’re still in the green, surprisingly. That thing must’ve had a pretty sharp blade not to cause much collateral damage.”

Johan looked up at the main entrance to the tram station, thinking for a moment. turning back to Frost he elaborated on his thoughts. “My security clearance should be enough to halt the tram in the middle of the tracks. There’s plenty of air in here, for the two of us, even if we wanted to nap for an hour or two.”

“Thank God!” The officer exclaimed, letting out a huge sigh of relief. “I could definitely use one.”

“Alright, so you’re good for that suggestion.” He looked to the console and pressed a holographic button, causing the doors to close. “You might want to put your helmet back on, I’m going to use the cleaning ventral system to clear out this blood and such, and there won’t be air for a minute.”

After a quick cleansing of the tram, most of the blood was out, and they were on their way.

“Alright, so this is where we’re going...”

Author's Note

Here we have Chapter 8. Yeay, character development! Also, there will be
'Stuff' between them. When it is written up, there will be a link here. Massages are hawt, just remember that.

Also, please vote on the following, to decide where they go:
Military District - Vice-Admiral Sarnow might be willing to help them. He's been a nice guy in the past, and he knew Frost's dad and Johan's mom. However, he's military to the core, and if there's any doubt about them or their motive, it might end in tragedy, but they could easily get better armor or weapons from here in any case, or at least access to some upgrades for their current ones.
Shipping Quarter - They can probably spoof the clearance required, and get to the docks, and try to find a ship out of here. It's a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. Along the way, they might be able to collect up more supplies than might be found anywhere else, including that most vital of supplies, medigel.
Civilian Habitat PV-07 - Back where they came from, maybe the massacre was spared of the peaceful little space-village. at the least, they may find some survivors, and in numbers there is safety.

Ch09 - Starlight Mall Escape

“Alright, whiteboy, help carry your friend. Let’s get moving!” Vinyl shouted the command with an air of authority to make a drill instructor proud, making even Broker twitch in his stretcher.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Sketch said with all the apathy of a high school senior. Walking over to the stretcher, Fluttershy used her wings to help put the front of it on Sketch’s back, hooked up to his RIG bags. The yellow mare hitched herself up to the back of it, the caked blood from her eyes and nose flaking as she and Sketch begin carrying the unicorn.

“So where are we going? I just really don’t want to be anywhere obvious.” CD said, still worried that the scientists will find him somehow.

“M-maybe that one place? Where... you know, th-the video said t- to go? It’s n- not too far from here...”

“Where? Hold on, I’ve got the recording, but Sketch and Broker won’t hear it so they’ll have to follow.” CD pointed out. “Alright, let’s play that hologram again.”

“Uhm... okay...”

The group of ponies began trotting off towards the presumed location of goodies.

“So what exactly happened to our resident bookworm?” Sketch asked, looking vaguely towards Vinyl.

“He took an attack for Flutters. End of story, white meat.”

“Of course I’m white meat, birds are the ones with white and dark, also good on him to be useful.”

“Shut it, dicklegs.”

“Okay she-devil-with-the-moist-cave.”

CD closed one eye, and stared with the other, unsure if he wanted to see the result or not. The clack of the plasma cutter being reloaded and opened echoed in the silent hall.

“You can dish it out, you can take it, let’s just keep going, and don’t waste ammo.”

“You’re right, you would be a waste of ammo.”

“You would be too, anything that isn’t one of them is a waste of ammo, now-” a resounding smack was heard, as the edge of the cutter slammed into the side of Sketch’s face.

“I said shut it. Or did you not hear me, swinging cock? Maybe I can rectify the lack of blood flow to your brain, cut off its other possible destination?”

“That hurt a little, just stop abusing everyone, this isn’t productive in the slightest, and threats don’t really bother me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m just up for a little rioting. After all, this is an emergency situation, so it’d be potentially excusable. Madness of the moment and all. Pretty sure there’d be nopony to say otherwise, whiteboy.”

“Just don’t expect me to stick my neck out for you, and come up with something creative besides dick jokes and ‘whiteboy’, it’s getting old.”

“And maybe you need to stop attracting attention by running your damn mouth off every time you can. Now shut up, and get moving, or I’ll see how well screams keep them off the rest of us.”

CD kept one eye open. and just headed towards their next destination, mumbling something about people who don’t shut up, get stuff done, and waste time. And something about keeping one eye closed makes everything look funny.

“How about we both shut it until we are safe? Sound good?”

“Yes!” CD yelled over his shoulder.

“Fine. Just don’t expect any handouts.”

The group walks in sullen silence for a while, eventually finding the place the recording was happening, blood and gore splattered across the walls that wasn’t there in the video. A strange, pulsing carpet of something slimy and pungently aromatic grew from a wall vent and across a floor, a large, pulsing zit-like growth sticking off of it.

“I vote Sketch inspects it, if it’s dangerous, he’d be best at getting away.”

“I vote for the ponies who have weapons, not to mention I’m carrying the injured.”

“I vote I shoot it and see what it does.” Vinyl proceeds to do just that, the mechanical muscles at the ends of her suit squeezing off a shot at the cystic growth. It squealed, loudly, and a bright yellowy thing spat from it, arcing across the small hallway and smashing into a wall with a soft bang, tiny pieces of bone-like shrapnel flying out.

“There, arguement over. Let’s keep going, that supposed safe-zone is nearby.”

CD followed Vinyl, but still looked at the weird thing in the room. “So, we just ignore the huge, incredibly disgusting, pus-launching blister? Fine with me.”

“Yeah, for once I agree with her, just keep moving, and lets avoid those wall hemorrhoids from now on.”

The group continues on, the shifting, living mat of veins and fleshy growth slowly pulsing. The material makes sickly squishing noises, and the occasional squeal of escaping gas- or so they keep telling themselves -as they step on it, some of the patches growing fully from one wall to another.

Each of the steps through the muck stuck to the bottoms of their boots, pulling away from main mass to stick to their hooves. The thick morass slows their progress, and it’s tiring for them to continue, until at last they come across the door they were told to find.

Thick ropes of meaty tubes, like pulsing arteries or veins, crawl across the door. It could technically be opened, but some of the growth would have to be cut off.

“Hey, has anypony played Starcraft? Because this place is really Creepy.” CD said.

“Don’t expect me to zergrush in there.”

“Ugh, punsters.” Vinyl face-hoofed as she spoke.

“Hey, Vinyl, do you know how I can get out of this chicken-shit outfit?” CD said, grinning widely. “Okay, I’m done now, unless you wanna get invited to my next barbecue.”

“Let’s just keep going, this place smells pretty bad.” Sketch said.

With that, Vinyl leveled her plasma cutter at the gooey tendrils on the door, and began systematically blasting them off the wall. After opening the door, hauling on it with her magic and metal fingers. The door screeched open, sliding across the sticky mat, one of the older kind with hinges.

Inside was a small storage room, crawling with a thick mat of the growth, there was some barely visible smashable boxes off to one side, and some chairs. There was plenty of room, and a pair of lockers against one wall. One was signalling red, saying it was locked, but the other was green-lit.

“Green means go, I guess, let’s try that first, then see if we can unlock the other.” CD suggested, “But let’s see what is in those boxes, last time I opened some, I got 1,000 bits.”

“I hope we find some medkits, can never have too many supplies, unless it’s bordering on the extreme.”

CD walked over to one of the boxes and kicked it into the wall, breaking it open. Inside is a Compact Tool frame. CD picked it up, placing it into his inventory slot, the frame folding and compacting as it fit into his bag.

“This suit gets cooler and cooler, I don’t even know entirely what that thing will do, though.” CD stated, looking at the thing in his bag.

“Lets see what I get, maybe it’s a puppy!” It was empty, though, “Aww.”

Broker groaned as he slowly sat up, holding his head. A pounding ache pressured the back of his mind, like there was a balloon inflated between his brain and his skull.

“Hey, the decoy woke up, glad to see you aren’t dead man.”

“Oh, shut it, pack-mule.” Vinyl’s response to Sketch was biting, but even the quiet tones of the two hurt Broker’s head, making his migraine spike agonizingly. Fluttershy trotted over and patted him on the shoulder reassuringly, allowing him to put his aching eyes into her shoulder.

“Hey, you look like you need this.” CD tossed a med-gel capsule to Fluttershy, who caught it in a wing and slotted it into Broker’s RIG. With a soft chime, the small capsule was used, and Broker’s headache receded somewhat.

“You feeling better? Headaches are the worst, huh?” CD said, keeping his voice low just in case the gel wasn’t as effective as he hoped.

“My eyes burn, head still hurts mildly to a point of irritating me, and I feel weak, but overall fine. Where are we and how did I get here?” Broker said quietly, pain being obvious within his voice. As he tried thinking back, all he could remember was that ear-piercing shriek, and not much after that. Something about a window... but not really anything concrete.

“Just great, I’m not the only one with memory issues, will things get better from here, or does fate hate us?” CD asked, not really expecting an answer. “Maybe the next box will help.”

“Well I’m going to keep breaking boxes.” Sketch said, smashing a box. This one has a cartridge, designed for a plasma cutter. The counter on the side lists ‘5’ for the charge number.

“Hey CD, got some more ammo for you.” Sketch said, holding up the cartridge.

“Cool, I think I’ve got ten shots now.”

“Vinyl could use it.” Broker added in quietly.

“I’ve got enough, for now. Lemme smash one though.” Without waiting for a response, Vinyl grabs one with her telekinetic aura, simply flinging it across the room to smash it. Inside was a large pile of cartridges for the plasma cutter. “Eeyup, hunch was right. These’re mine.”

Vinyl proceeded to began slotting the ammo into her suit for later retrieval.

“Next box is mine.” Sketch breaks yet another box, revealing... nothing.

“Wow, you have bad luck, I’ll take the next one in case you mess up again.” CD states, breaking a pair of boxes with one stomp. Inside were an Ammo Box attachment, and in the other was a Tesla tool core. The two are easily folded and slotted into Copy’s bags as well, sitting next to the frame.

“C-can I get one?” Broker asked, not even attempting to get up from the pain he was in.

“Incoming.” Sketch said, tossing him a box. Broker caught it weakly, bringing up a hoof to smash it. Inside of that box was a single credit chit. Slotting it into his RIG, the total it added to his account was about 12k credits.

“Lucky bastard, hey, Broker, open this box for me.” CD said, handing another to him.

Broker, weakly, smashed the box with a hoof. Inside was a tank for a Hydrazine Torch. Unfortunately, nopony in the group had a Hydrazine Torch.

“Does anypony know what Hydrazine is? I’ll just leave it or sell it.” Broker said looking at the tank.

“I know you can sell it for a lot, but I wouldn’t sell if you can get the torch to go with it.” CD said, quickly swiping the tank from Broker. “Now if we get the weapon for this thing, we’ve got a flamethrower, it also doubles as a bomb-launcher.”

Vinyl just facehoofed again, keeping an eye on the door, just in case.

“Vinyl, get a box. You seem to be having the best luck out of all of us ammo wise.” Broker added laying on the stretcher again.

“Fine...” Vinyl pulled a box from the mat of growth, the sticky residue from the corruption. Inside of the box was... nothing. “Yeah, I’m gonna watch the door again.”

“I agree with Vinyl, maybe staying in one place for too long is a bad idea.” CD said, getting his plasma cutter out just in case. One last smashbox sat in the tangle of meaty grossness. “Hold on, I’ll get that one.” CD used his suit’s Kinesis Module to pull the box out, and levitated it to Fluttershy. “Here, you have a go.”

“Uhm.. a-alright...” The yellow pegasus daintily tapped the box, then drew back her hoof with lightning speed, hiding from the box as if it was going to explode.

“Uh... okay... how about you try again, Fluttershy. It’s okay, it won’t hurt anyone.” Data said, pushing the box gently towards the wall of pink hair.

The timid mare peeked out, and mustered up the courage to try again. She raised her hoof again, a look of determination as she brought her hoof down with great speed and force... stopping just before hitting it, and giving it a soft tap. A faint blue glow encompasses the box and it breaks open at Flutters touch, making her leap back in fear, clutching onto Vinyl.

Inside was a single power node.

“Okay, a power node, this has a few uses, one being upgrades for machinery... I think.” CD said, memory still a bit fuzzy. “I know it can fix broken electrical connections, though. We should go now before monsters show up.”

“Locker... Open it” Broker said weakly.

“Fine.” CD activated his Kinesis Module again to open the locker, the door refusing to open. “Sketch, why don’t you give it a try? Maybe you can kick it.”

Without saying a word, Sketch just walked over to the locker and bucked it. It stayed resolutely closed.

“Okay, now that we’ve ruled out that, let’s just hit the ‘open’ button.” CD said, grinning at Sketch. “Hope you didn’t pull a muscle.”

“Oh shut it, at least I’m the only one here without something trying to kill them besides Shy and Vinyl.”

“Fine, fine.” CD opened the locker, and looked inside to find a small pile of Divet clips, a couple of plasma cutter cartridges, two medi-gel capsules, and a holotape.

Keying the holo for download to everyone, showing everyone its contents, and the hologram flickers for a moment, revealing the same man as before.

“Alright, so, if you found this you probably found my other logs. Good, that means you aren’t one of those things. Those, things, are called Necromorphs. Now, I left you a couple of things, if they’re still there...” The man scratched his stubble in thought. “I hope they are at least. Anyways, I am going to leave these around a bit, they should hold information that would be slightly helpful to this situation.

One thing that is important, shoot the limbs off. That is the first thing you need to do, when you shoot off the limbs, especially the claws, shoot those off and use the Kinesis module if you have it, if you don’t, still shoot of the limbs. But, most of all you need to-” a sharp metallic screech, familiar to the ponies listening to it, cuts the man off.

“Shit, they found me.” He fumbled with the device in hand as the Hologram cut off.

“And let’s hope they don’t find us too.” CD said “Or those crazy scientists. Isn’t what they’re trying to do illegal?”

“Those scientists just want you back CD. I think they are doing something illegal in a time like this! We need to keep moving anyway.” Broker says, still tired out. “Especially if we have those crazies chasing us.”

“Hey, here’s an incentive to help me, what if I tell them I will cooperate if they take you guys too.” CD said smirking. “Now who wants to help me?”

A sharp slap across the face from Vinyl knocked him to the ground, through his helmet.

“I meant the guys not you!”

“That probably doesn’t help your case much you asshat.” Sketch replied

“Oh, so you’d help me if it wasn’t in your interest to do so?” CD asked sarcastically. “That sounds so much like you, Sketch.”

Broker sighed. “How about we get moving while it’s at least quiet here?”

“Fine, let’s all listen to the idiot in intensive care.” CD said actually taking the advice.

“Uhm... guys?” Fluttershy’s voice is completely ignored as Vinyl starts speaking over her.

“At least he shows more balls than you two put together!”

“And your point is?” CD asked. “Let’s just get going.”

“Guys?” Flutters was interrupted by Sketch, yelling, “Hey! ‘Shy is trying to say something, dammit!”

The group quiets down and looks to the quiet yellow pegasus, who is now hiding in her sweater and mane from the attention. “Uhm- ah... w-well, uhm...”

Now that the focus was on her, Fluttershy’s resolve had broken, causing her to shift her eyes nervously from one pony to the next. Finally, she just pulled her head into her sweater, like a large, adorable turtle, her mane covering most of the sweater’s neck, one bright, turquoise eye peeking out.

“Now that is just cute. What were you going to say Fluttershy? I would like to hear it.” Broker said while smiling at Fluttershy, trying to convince her that she can finish her sentence. Instead, she just squeaked.

“Come on... Please?” Broker requested again. The timid pegasus just squeaked again, sounding kind of like a mouse.

“Dude, let her speak when she wants, and stop staring, as a pony with scopophobia, I know the feel.”

CD whispered to Broker “He’s afraid of telescopes?”

Broker just rolled his eyes.

Vinyl huffed in annoyance, picking up Flutters and pulling her close to her chest. Nuzzling the pegasus’ head tenderly, she cooed to Fluttershy soothingly. Slowly, Flutters drew out from her sweater, and the two kissed.

CD just looked away, trying not to think dirty thoughts, as Sketch shrugged in utter apathy at the display of affection, Broker simply looked away and frowned a little.

“So... What were you trying to say earlier?” Sketch asked

“Oh! Uhm... right... Oh, yes, I think that stuff coming out of the vent is moving.”

“Crap.” CD said “I’m going, like now, come on Sketch. We need to get out of here, Broker can be a distraction!”

“I can’t move, CD! Any of you would have to carry me! Plus, I still own a weapon!” Broker said.

“Not now, dragging!” Vinyl grabbed the other unicorn’s stretcher, slamming the door open in the process. In the fifteen minutes they’d spent in the storeroom, thick tendrils of veiny, matted gunk had spread across the outside of the door. Yanking the edges of the stretcher from the grasp of the material inside the room, Vinyl flung it and Broker from the room.

“I was just joking, now let’s move!” CD said, running for the door.

“Dude, she’s gonna kill you, be stupid later, right now, run!”

The five ponies fled the room, a quick peek back showing the tangled growth visibly spreading to fill the cramped quarters, as if searching for the life that had just been within its grasp.

Looking around, the five saw that the mall that had, just shortly before, been mostly clear, was now coated in mats of this stuff. The pulsing, twitchy mass was disgustingly smelly, forcing each of the keen-nosed ponies to cover their muzzles from the stench.

“What is this stuff?” CD asked. “Nevermind, how do we get out of here first?” CD looked around for a map or something of the mall. The nearest map stand, however, was nothing but a shuddering mound of tangled flesh. A loud, gurgling scream caught their attention, coming from around the corner.

“A

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we need Frost, she should be able to do something.” CD said, again, worried if Frost decided to shoot him first.

“I agree, but first we nee-”

“Will you two shut up and run?!” Vinyl practically screamed the question as she began to drag Flutters with her, the two fleeing away from the screams as the first shambling form turned the corner.

“Good idea.” CD ran after the mares.

“Wait, don’t leave me! I can’t move!” Broker shouted and now growing more fearful.

“Just shut up.” CD said, grabbing the stretcher and shoving it forward, away from the horde of monstrosities.

“Damn it Broker!” Sketch picked up the other end, catching up to CD easily, even with the extra weight.

Broker’s weapon lifted up into the air and aimed towards the crowd of alien life forms. He pulled the trigger, the shot slamming into the crowd. Squeezing it time and again, he fired every round he had, swapped clips, and fired again. A few of the beasts fell, wounded or downed it was impossible to tell, but some did. The tide wasn’t stopped, but it was slowed enough to get away, the five ponies finding themselves near a sign, pointing to a different tram station.

“At least he’s hitting a few of them!” Sketch shouted, not bothering to look back, hoping the thuds were the sound of bodies hitting the floor.

Broker’s weapon soon dropped onto him as magical burnout took control, giving him a headache. “Burned out. Can’t hold anything.” Broker said weakly.

“Alright, wuss.” CD activated his Plasma Cutter and fired behind him, aiming for the monsters closest to them. “Vinyl, a little backup?”

“Kinda busy here!” the white unicorn shouted over her shoulder. Looking over his own shoulder, CD saw that his fellow engineer was standing up again, firing into the crowd that had formed ahead of them. They had gotten trapped in an alleyway.

“Vinyl, how are you for ammo? I’ve got a spare clip if you need it.” CD said, firing again, keeping his focus on the beasts.

“I’ve got enough! Keep them from getting too close, dickweed!” Vinyl had a shaking, terrified Fluttershy stuck to her legs.

“There has to be a door to block off one of the halls.” Broker suggested while trying to look around for anything clickable.

“Well, I can’t see anything, you know, because I’m running for both of our lives!” Sketch’s words are a bit stressed, as there was nowhere to run.

“Kind of a moot point, we’re in an alleyway genius.” CD said, firing faster. “Do something!”

A sharp, painful screech echoes through the alley, and the shape of one of the unicorn-things rises from the crowd behind them. A burst of wild, green magic, shot through with angry red streaks, flies overhead. It almost struck Vinyl, and splatters of molten ceramic and metal flew from her helmet to the floor as she fell.

“Shit, Vinyl, you awake?” CD asked, firing still, reloading his Cutter in between shots. “Can you fight?”

No response is heard as Fluttershy crouches over her fallen marefriend, trying to wake her up.

“Shy, keep running, I got this!” Sketch shouted, throwing Vinyl onto the stretcher, landing on top of Broker. Broker’s breath is pushed out of him. “Keep moving!” His voice gasps out, barely audible as his hooves pull down on Vinyl to hold her in place.

Flutters grabbed one end of the stretcher, pulling it towards the smashed and slashed remains of the crowd ahead of them, the magical bolt having blasted several out of the way.

“Fluttershy, is she hurt or just unconscious?” CD asked, “I have another medigel if you need it.”

“N-no time!” The panicked pegasus continued to yank the stretcher towards safety.

“Shut up and fucking run, fucking ruuuuuuuuuuuun!” Sketch shouted at Copy, and the five ponies sped onwards, the two carrying the stretcher barely keeping to their hooves as they trample over the bodies and corpses of the human and pony-based things ahead. Fluttershy made an oddly resilient battering ram, hardly flinching from the creatures in the face of the danger to her marefriend.

Sizzling bolts of energy pass overhead and slam into the floor behind. The concussive blasts battered them back and forth, Data being nearly knocked from his hooves. Sending return shots of plasma at the creature, he missed, but at least he knocked some of the littler one to the ground with lucky shots to the waist or knees.

“Guys, a little help? Please?” CD called over his shoulder, as he backed up after them.

“Get the fuck in my backpack so I can carry you!” Sketch shouted sarcastically to him, continuing to run onwards.

“Okay, I’ll just keep running after you guys, rather than shooting at the monsters chasing us, as I’m the only one who can fight.” CD snarked back, doing his best to catch up. “How well can you run backwards?”

“P- probably not w- well.” Broker almost jumped out of his skin as Vinyl croaked out the words, right next to his ear. Being driven by shock along with fear, Broker’s Divet lifted into the air and began to fire in the direction they were running.

“Just stop running backwards so you don’t trip then!” Sketch shouted.

“Now that there’s something other than me keeping the monsters back, I will, genius.” Copy yelled at Sketch, giving him a dirty look.

“Fire at the crowd in front of us!” Broker shouted weakly while his weapon made the loud clicking noises of an empty clip. Broker tried to load in another clip, but found out he was out. “Damn it! Fire at them, CD! Vinyl, give me the plasma cutter you have.”

“N- no, ‘smine... Ooh, my head...” Vinyl cradled the custom cutter to her chest, one hoof going up to her helmeted head, where some of the plates had fused together.

“Make up your dang minds! Do I run or shoot? I obviously have no worth to my opinions!” CD yelled at them. “You fire-” CD was, however interrupted by Fluttershy.

“Shut up! Just shut up already!” The normally timid pony had obviously snapped, rage in her voice and actions as she trampled another necromorph to the ground, two hooves smashing into the thing’s face with a vicious stomp as she passed. “I’m sick and tired of all your fighting! Just! Shut! Up!” She punctuated every word by lashing out at a nearby necromorph, still carrying the stretcher on her back. Every kick at least knocked on of them down, even if it did no lasting damage to them.

“Fine, running.” CD replied, a bit scared but doing just that, running like a pansy.

With a smash and the rushing of air, however, every pony there felt the world get lighter as 40mm rockets slammed into the horde behind them. With a glance up, CD saw an E-Gov gunship hovering outside the habitat, a window blown out as an extraction team fell into the mall. Shortly after that, the emergency hatch covered the broken window.

“Keep moving! Just keep running!” Broker shouted, putting down his weapon.

CD closed his eyes, and ran faster, avoiding the people from the ship, hoping they weren’t there for him. A loudspeaker blared out from the group as they opened fire, a soldier with a commander’s golden striping on one shoulder plate making him stand out as he shouted after them. “Copy-dot-Data! Remain where you are for immediate extraction! All others, lay on the ground and place your primary appendages over your heads for evaluation!”

CD, really scared from hearing that, said the first thing he could think of. “Aw, shit.” CD then turned to the others. “If you get me out of here, I will owe you big time, really.”

“Listen, dickcheese, I am not walking to the feds again. ‘Shy, can you get us to the tram station from here?” Vinyl said, to which Fluttershy nodded. “Good, let’s bolt.”

“With us, right?” CD whimpered, thinking of what they’d do to him if they caught him. “Please?”

Vinyl looked at him levelly from her spot on the stretcher. “I’m ditching you if it’ll save ‘Shy... but otherwise, well... Fight the man, right?”

“Oh thank y-”

“Oh, don’t get mushy, I’m only letting Broker get this close ‘cuz he saved ‘Shy. I’ll save hitting him for later.”

“Okay, whatever, right now, we run.” And they did.

“Well, shit. Only one tram’s still working.” Vinyl remarked as she looked at the smashed green trams of the Widdershins Tramline, the remaining one old, with the really uncomfortable seats. however, it was a way out of the mall.

“C-can you get it working, CD?” Vinyl asked.

“Definitely, if I’m given two minutes to work with, can we manage that?”

Vinyl nodded, and she and Broker, having gotten off the stretcher around ten minutes before, led the way in, bearing weapons and checking the small confines of the tram. It lit up as they stepped in.

“Uhm, nevermind, it’s already working. Alright, swinging cocks, get aboard! You too, ‘Shy.”

“Y-you don’t have to be so mean to them, Vinyl...”

Vinyl just shrugged.

“She can call me anything she wants if I can make it without getting caught by those crazies.” CD said. Vinyl only snorted, replying, “Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, meet pot.”

“I agree.” CD replied. “I’m nuts, and I’m proud.”

“No fucks given.” Sketch added

In the harsh, fluorescent light of the tram, CD and Broker got a good look at Fluttershy’s unshielded face. A plethora of scratches, gouges, and bruises had formed across it, blood welling from the cuts mixing with free-flowing streaks of tears.

“‘Shy, you okay?” CD asked. “You need help?”

“Wait,” Sketch looks over her for a second, “You can’t use medigel? Why didn’t you let me be the battering ram? Vinyl doesn’t give a shit if I get hurt.”

“Wait, what? What are you talk- Oh, shit, ‘Shy, what happened?!” Vinyl had taken a moment to realize what the conversation was about, but looked, at least as far as anyone could tell with her helmet still up, horrified.

“I- I couldn’t just leave you, Vi. A- and I knew that they wouldn’t get through, and then I- I got so angry... I- I’m so sorry...” Fluttershy cried and covered her face with her hooves. “I- I’m sorry, I- I know my face was pretty... I’m s- sorry for ruining it for you, Vi...”

Vinyl just moved over, running an armored hoof through Flutter’s mane. “Shh... It’s alright, Flutters, I love you for you, not your face. Pretty as it is.” The two mares embraced, mostly with Vinyl doing the work to hold Fluttershy to her as the tram started moving.

“Vinyl, keep her in back, without being able to use medi gel we actually need to keep her safe, so CD is operation meat shield, after all, he can use it.”

Sighing, CD replied, “Fine, only for the mares though, you guys aren’t really doing much to help me.”

“Ok, just remember, you have no chance with either of them, and I feel the same way towards you.” Sketch said with a smile.

“Nice comeback, jerk.” CD smiled back. “You’re not all bad.”

“Moving on, where exactly are we headed?” Sketch asked.

“Ah, who put in the destination?” Vinyl spoke hesitantly.

“I didn’t. Broker?”

Broker looked over at the group and shrugged. “Not me.” Then turned away from them to look outside the tram’s widows.

Again, CD said the only thing he could think of. “Crud, we’re not gonna like this. Are we?”

“Nope.” Sketch added.

Author's Note

So, that was chapter nine, folks. Thank you all for voting if you did, and shame on you to those who didn't.
seriously, shame guys, you had a whole darned week. Actually, you STILL have another week, as chapter 10 is with this group still, so you still have time to vote. Go on, it's on the last chapter. There's also the one for the next guest appearance.

Ch10 - Sunshine, Sunshine...

“It- it looks like we’re headed to the Sunshine Elementary School. I- I’ve always wanted to work with foals, but I’m not a good teacher...” Fluttershy mumbled from the spot she’d chosen. Vinyl still had her nestled close, but Fluttershy was looking ahead to their destination.

“At- at least foals and children will be... nice, right?” Fluttershy sounded hopeful.

“Not if they’re anything like I was, I was a little prick.” CD pointed out.

“O- oh, my... Well, these’re, uhm, nice, right? N- no offense, of course, I mean, unless, you w-w want to take offense, I- I wouldn’t stop you...” Poor Fluttershy sounded like she was trying to fit all four hooves in her mouth.

“Chill ‘Shy, I was just joking around to lighten the mood, I’m fine.” CD smiled back. “Sorry to make you, uh, nervous.”

“I think she’s adorable when she acts like that. Vinyl, you are so lucky to have her.” Broker smiled towards Vinyl, who nodded back. “Yeah, I am. Real lucky...”

For once, Vinyl’s tough voice cracked, as she continued to hold Fluttershy close.

“Although we can all agree they are a cute couple I have to be the bearer of bad news, the elementary school got hit with this too most likely. Imagine ne-”

“You mean the children might be in trouble? Oh no! We’ve just got to go in and rescue them!” Fluttershy’s enthusiasm plowed over Sketch’s words of wisdom, as he finished, “-Imagine necromorphs the size of children, and unfortunately children would be very easy targets-”

“Oh my goodness, the size of children too? They would be in soo much danger! We absolutely have to go in!

“Shy! The necromorphs aren’t the size of children by magic, the children became the necromorphs,” waving his forelegs for emphasis, Sketch explained all the things wrong with Fluttershy’s assertions, “they might not need saving because they all might be dead, a school area will not have guns laying around in case of attack.”

“Thank you Captain Reality-Sucks.” CD deadpanned. “He’s right though, a whole building full of mutant ankle-biters.”

“Would you two stop making her feel bad? I mean jeez, it’s already bad enough! Let’s just get in the school, run through it looking for survivors and get out alive, okay?” Broker said.

“No way, idiot, that place is completely defenseless, meaning either they all survived, or they’re all beasts. Never be a hero, we leave the building, and move on! That’s how we stay safe, duh!” CD snapped.

“You know I never said anything about abandoning them you dick,” Sketch countered, “stop assuming I hate everything, I am actually with Shy on this one, save the children, they are small, one could’ve hidden out of sight.”

“Yeah, thanks for that info. And how is a child going to help us, O bearer of infinite realism?” CD replied.

“Would you two swinging dicks stop arguing? ‘Shy decided, and she’s the one who told me where to go when we found you three, so shut up and stop complaining!”

Broker looked at his seat and pushed his face into it, not even bothering to agree on anything. All he did was stay silent.

“I’m not complaining, I am actually agreeing with you two for once, and once again, take out your anger in more appropriate ways. I just want her to be prepared for what she might see, I don’t think it will be the same as the mall, possibly much worse.”

“Oh fine. Broker, stop licking the window and let’s go.” CD said. “Alright, first we should make sure we have our weapons reloaded. You set Broker?”

“Vinyl, how are you on medigel? You might want one on you incase ‘Shy isn’t nearby.”

“I’m fine, I’m pretty much set. And ‘Shy is going to safe by my side at least until I can get her a suit. There should be an AutoStore on the school grounds, for the

“Alright, but for now come here Shy, I have some gauze and antiseptic wash.” Sketch said, revealing the medkit. Fluttershy nodded and stepped closer.

“Yeah, and if we find an AutoStore, I have a spare suit for one of the guys, so we’d only need two for enough for everypony.” CD offered.

“You can’t trade suits from an AutoStore, they’re counted as Station property. If we could find a schematic approval for one, then we could pass that around. What’s your spare suit?”

“A basic Engineering suit, good enough for basic protection. And it can take Medigel, so it’s just a bit better than the civilian suits everypony else has.” CD informed.

“You passed up an Eng Suit for a Hacker Suit? What the heck is wrong with you, man? Eng Suits have better armor, come with the Bipedal Assistance Servos, and fingers. I know you system fixers need the non-conductive materials, but seriously?” Vinyl sounded both shocked and disappointed in her fellow engineer.

“Hey, I got this from my father, who might be dead along with everypony else I know. Excuse me for trying to squeeze some bit of normality from this nightmare.”

“Aaannd done, wounds treated and wrapped, Vinyl, give her a once over to see if anything else needs cleaning out, we have a little antiseptic left over, we don’t know what’ll happens if any of the necro-fluid comes into contact with an open wound.”

Vinyl looked over from her conversation with CD at Fluttershy’s wrapped face. The bandages and gauze covered most of it like a makeshift helmet, shielding her cut eyelid and patching over most of her scratches and cuts. Her one visible eye looked out from a black-and-purple ring of bruised flesh, only left uncovered because she needed to see.

“Jeez, ‘Shy, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Sighing, Vinyl stepped over to hug her once more. Flutters just patted her on the back and hugged her in response as Vinyl checked the rest of her head and the front of her body, finding nothing further.

“Ya did well, whiteboy, keep it up and I might not hate you as much.”

“I still assume you’ll leave me for dead whenever you can justify it, so whatever.”

The engineer just shrugged and went back to holding Fluttershy as the tram came ever closer to the school.

“Wait, if blood drenches her bandages it could lead to infection and possibly turn her into one of them, you take the antiseptic incase it happens.” He handed Vinyl the packet. “I don’t want to die in that way.”

Vinyl just huffs, as the tram doors open, the tram having silently come to a stop at the school. Looking out, there’s a cheery, brightly colored entry area, only a few splashes of blood marring the peaceful appearance of the station.

“Wow, so obviously the necromorphs are here, as expected, but it doesn’t seem so bad. Maybe there is a survivor.” CD looked around the room, to see if there was anything else that he missed with his quick once-over.

A pair of green smashable boxes sat in a corner.

“I saw ‘em first, I get the goods.” CD said, breaking both of them. Inside the first was a bright blue Schematics Order, labeled for a suit of some kind. The second however, had a small swarm of screeching, fleshy things, which immediately jumped onto him and began biting or stinging him, he wasn’t sure which. Either way, it hurt.

“Owowowowow! Help! Please! I don’t wanna be a mutant murder machine! They smell bad!” He screamed the words in pain as he thrashed, the others in the group too stunned to go help him, until he managed to rip them off with a vigorous roll on the ground, causing them to pop like large fleshy tics. Looking to his back, a large, needle-like spur of bone stuck out from his shoulder, and his rig was flashing yellow.

“Yeah, I think you need a little bit of medigel.” Broker said.

“No shit, sherclop!” CD yelled, voice a little high. “And some great assistance or I might end up a monster and kill you all!!”

“Idunno, maybe you’re not too far off...” Vinyl says, receiving a semi-harsh look from Fluttershy.

“I’m crazy-insane, not murder-insane, but I might be, help!” Vinyl shook her head, and enveloped the needle in her magical aura, yanking it free of the wound. CD’s rig flashed again, dropping another bar into the yellow.

“Okay, my last medigel should work, but what if it infected me? Can they do that?” CD asked, looking at everyone a bit worriedly. Vinyl looked at him seriously for a moment.

“Alright, in order: If so, we shoot you and pull your corpse apart to keep you from becoming a zombie. As for can they? I have no fucking clue, and neither does anyone else here. So fucking chill. I swear, you penises need more blood flow to your thinking brains.” Her voice was flat and mildly annoyed-sounding.

“Fine, fine, I’d just rather not end up a hideous beast.” CD said, using his last medigel to heal himself.

“Too late, swinging cock.”

“So where to now?”

“Straight ahead! Because there is no where else to go unless the tram goes to another location. I would rather stay here since it’s not as messy here.” Broker pronounced looking down the corridor.

“Fine, and can you go a little bit without mentioning that we are stallions or saying the words cock and penis?” Sketch asked

“Sure I can, but I need to make sure you don’t forget your shortcomings.” She retorted. “But hey, if you really need me to go easy on your fragile ego, I suppose I can make an exception.”

“Well just think of it like this, the more insults we get, the less we will care if something were to happen to you.”

“Hey! I care about what happens to her!” Broker replied.

“I don’t, right now, she’s just another pony who can shoot, now let’s go.” CD said, not wanting to stick around for more parasitic mutants.

“Yes, let’s, and if the sexist unicorn doesn’t make it, oh well.” Sketch added.

“What is... Never mind. Come on.” Broker said, starting to walk down the main hallway towards where the office would be.

“Listen, maybe, after we get through this damn school, you three should go another direction? It’s obvious only one of you can even stand me, so you might as well leave!” Vinyl spoke vehemently under breath, keeping the conversation from Fluttershy.

“I just want to live and not go back to those psychopaths.” CD said, still moving ahead. “I may be a little short with everypony, but I just want to survive.”

“I can’t stand you, that may be true, but you do increase the survivability of the group, but your rudeness is just plain annoying.” Sketch added

“Hey, leave her alone you two. She is just acting like herself and also wanting to protect Fluttershy from us.” Broker said, looking behind him and giving the two ponies a glare.

“Protecting us, yes, but it doesn’t mean she needs to demean us at every turn just because of some past drama. How about you grow a pair Broker.”

“Yeah, really, unless hearing her talk to ponies like that turns you on or something, I don’t know why you want her to keep insulting us.” CD added.

Fluttershy had stealthily moved closer to the three males, and her soft voice almost made all three of them scared enough to attack on the spot, if only out of reflex.

“Uhm... actually, she’s not that mean, most of the time.”

“Then please explain, while we keep moving.” CD said, catching his breath and walking forward. “Y’know, being stuck in an asylum for five or so months really does awful things to your figure. And your endurance. And that hospital food tastes like shit... not that it’s totally relevant.”

“Uhm, a-alright, if it’s w-what you want to hear...” She shrunk back a bit mid-step at the three colts suddenly looking at her.

“Sure, couldn’t be any worse than what I could imagine, so try me.” CD said, almost challenging her to tell a story weirder than what he could write, thinking of his book that got him locked up: Chocolate Syrup and Lemonade.

“Yes, please tell me why she is so hateful towards me, I haven’t even given her a reason to hate me... yet.”

“Don’t pressure her, Sketch. Speak your mind, Fluttershy.” Broker said.

“I’m not pressuring her, I am asking a legit question, stop being such a brown noser, seriously.” Sketch said. Broker stared at Sketch, but turned his gaze back to the timid mare.

“W-well, when she was a bit younger, she went out clubbing with some friends... But one of the guys at the club, he- he drugged her drink. She woke up afterwards with two humans and three stallions all finished in her. She- she couldn’t even talk to guys for a few years, a-and I was working as a counselor. We- we kept meeting after I had to stop from a lack of business, and well, here we are. I- uhm... I’m actually about six years older than her.”

“Age doesn’t matter, and I hope those guys didn’t die, they deserve to suffer through this in prison for that, seriously, what the fuck.”

“W-well, each of them were extradited, and Earth is still a dead planet, if I remember correctly. I- I don’t think they lived very long. A- and Equus law states that rapists are to be given the death penalty, usually by magic.”

“Wait, that doesn’t add up.” CD said. “If they got what’s coming to them, and were given punishment for their actions equal to the crime they committed, then there’s no reason to be a jerk about it, besides, she should be pissed at them specifically, not all males.” CD was skeptical. “So, she has no good reason at all to insult us, she’s just been a bitch with a lame excuse this whole time. Yeah, I’m being a jerk, but so was she.”

Broker just shook his head at CD. “No reason to put that much emphasis on it CD. She is probably still scarred, I know I would be.”

“Her special talent is for being social at parties, for being around others. She- she earned it late, when she was almost fourteen. Then- then this happened. A- and she never recovered... it was like she was assaulted by her own talent.” Fluttershy looked like she was about to cry.

“You can’t be assaulted by a non-physical object, or anything that isn’t an obj-” CD starts to explain, but Fluttershy cuts him with a growl, snarling at him, “And what would you know about your own talent being used against you?! She was fourteen, and she had just- just earned her cutie-mark... and...” Fluttershy’s anger dribbled away as she began crying in earnest, leaning against Sketch, who proffered

“Shhh, it’s okay Shy, let it all out, just let it out.” Sketch patted her lightly.

Broker looked Vinyl right in the eye with sympathy. “Poor, poor you.” Even with his honest tone and good intentions, Vinyl took the words wrong.

“Well, fuck you too, asshole! If you’re going to be nothing but a cock-swinging fuck-tard, you can at least have the fucking dignity not to talk down to me! And if that’s all you fucking think, you can go the fuck away, and leave us alone! Right. Fucking. Now!”

Vinyl waved her Plasma Cutter at the group, moving close only to grab Fluttershy by the arm and pull her down a different hall.

“And don’t fucking follow, or I’ll take your fucking, condescending nuts off!”

The two mares faded rapidly into the gloom of the school.

“Wow, Broker. Just. Wow. I can’t believe you just said that.” CD said, not looking at him. “You really are an idiot. You don’t say that when you’re not making fun of somepony. Way to go, asshole.”

“Dude, I’m an asshole, but even I wouldn’t go near that topic with that kind of approach.”

Broker stood there in tears, not quite sure what he just did wrong. He looked at where Vinyl and Fluttershy had run off to, ears flat back in sadness.

“Come on, Sketch, let’s keep going and leave the weeping jackass to be eaten, what say?”

“Eh, let ‘im come along, he can shoot, I can’t, but seriously Broker. What. The. Fuck.”

Broker said nothing and simply started walking again, down the opposite hall.

“I can shoot, and straighter than him. Let’s go, we don’t need him anyway.”

Broker still didn’t say anything and still kept walking slowly, with his head down. He was shaken from his stupor by a screeching from the vents, and all three of them turned to look at them.

A moment later, the sound of a child giggling echoes through the halls. Even Sketch’s ears went flat at the noise, a strange distortion to the sound setting his teeth on edge.

“What do you think guys?” Broker asked.

“I think I should run, and leave you as a distraction.” CD said. “Maybe they prefer to eat jerks.”

A sound like skittering bugs or tiny hooves echoed along the air ducts, and the three ponies moved closer together on instinct, moving further from the trams reflexively.

“Not like I care now. Best they do so I don’t screw up again.” Broker added while his eyes looked for any movement from the vents.

“No time to worry about that.” CD said, pulling out his plasma cutter. “Let’s go, hopefully we won’t have to roast any foals.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a fun game, but horrifying in real life.”

The three began moving down the hallways, looking at the signs along the way. Though the grossness of the corruption had not spread very far here, it was visible in patches. The ponies kept careful eyes out, pausing only when a couple of smashable boxes presented themselves.

“I probably won’t live for long. You two get them.” Broker points out.

“Great, now he’s emo.” CD rolled his eyes. “Jeez dude, grow some balls.”

“I made us lose two party members. I don’t feel any reason to carry on because of m-” He was cut off by CD “You know what, fine! Here, if you got the balls, then shoot yourself and spare us the damn melodrama!”

His shout sparked another round of skittering movement in the ducts.

“Okay, now we run, cut yourself later emo, let’s move.” CD said quickly, running down the hallway with Sketch close behind, pacing himself to keep after the engineer.

Broker looked towards the vents for a few seconds, but then turned his head to run with Copy.Data and Sketch.

“Well, if you aren’t going to do anything let’s move on.” Sketch said to Broker, who was following almost as closely.

The three continued in hurried flight, occasionally looking over their shoulders. As they ran down the hallway, Broker and CD breathing heavily, they began to feel the need to take a break.

“You guys need a break?” Sketch called back to them, having taken the lead several hallways earlier.

“Y- yeah... What makes- you say... that.” CD said, panting.

“P- probably be- because... we’re p-panting...” Broker added.

“No shit... Captain Obvious. I was... being... sarcastic!”

“Be quiet and catch your breath, let’s not draw attention to ourselves.”

“You...You r-rest... I’ll... watch” Broker gasped out.

The three stopped in an alcove with a pair of water fountains in it, along with a single smashable box. Sketch face-hoofed when he realized they’d forgotten to grab the ones from before.

“Not me, I’ve had enough surprises. Hey Mr. Suicide, you give it a shot.” CD said.

Broker walked over to the box and smashed it with all his might, trying to vent out his sadness. Inside was a full Divet clip. Broker took it up in his magic and loaded up his weapon. “At least I can fight a little longer.”

The three stood around, catching their breath. CD’s ears perk up as he hears a noise, one that’s familiar, but he’s not sure how. It’s almost like a voice... but he’s not sure who’s it is, only that it’s comforting.

“Hey Copy, what do you hear?” Broker asked while he noticed CD lift his head and orient towards something.

“What’s that voice? I... I know it, but I don’t... that’s not normal... I smell a trap.” CD said, his face starting out soft, then ending skeptical, not that any of the others could see that through his helmet.

The voice, soothing and calm, still calls to him, but he’s not sure of it. It sort of reminds him of his friend back home, the mare who’d always been nice to him, and had been going through Electrician’s College with him. She’d shared his interests, but then this had happened... how was she here?

“Hey, how... nevermind, this is great, finally someone I know!” CD ran off towards the sound, new energy filling his body, Sketch and Broker looking confusedly as he starts to move.

“What, did he hear his little sister or something? If so I really hope they aren’t infected.” Sketch said, following him.

“I’m still baffled by what he’s hearing. How come we can’t hear it?” Broker added.

CD still ran towards the voice. “Guys, I know you can hear her, stop being stupid. She’s, like, the only pony who ever cared about me all through school!”

CD continued listing her virtues as he went. Apparently, the unicorn mare had even been the one to help him find the odd gift he had with electrical repair, as he’d previously just been up for the programming courses.

Suddenly, the voice stopped, and CD looked up. In front of him (How did I get here again?) was the door to a classroom. The other two caught up a moment later.

“Dude, what did you hear? I couldn’t hear anything but you rambling.”

“Just the only pony in the world who is nice to me, jerk, you pay attention so well.” CD rolled his eyes. “Finally I’ll have someone to talk to who likes me.” He then walked into the classroom.

“I don’t hate you, I’m just indifferent.”

“Whatever, anyway, this is Summer Spark.” CD was standing next to and gesturing at... nothing.

“Hello Summer.” Sketch said, humoring him, he started to wonder just how unstable CD truly was. Broker didn’t even bother to respond to what CD said.

“Broker, you could try being nice and introduce yourself, at least she’s being nice.” CD said, who turned to the blank area next to him and started talking to the air. “Don’t worry, he’s okay, for the most part. Pretty stupid, but...”

“Uh... Hi? I’m Broker Wordsmith.” Broker extended a hoof as he spoke, his grin brittle.

CD nodded happily at his acquaintance and his ‘marefriend’.

All three of the ponies there whirled as the classroom door opened behind them, CD’s plasma cutter swinging to point at...

A rather shocked looking maroon mare, who backed up a step at seeing the weapon in her face.

“Oh dear... Put the weapon down CD. Who might you be ma’am?” Broker asked.

“Broker, I know she’s harmless now, why would I still point my cutter at her? I’m not totally nuts.” CD said, again smiling at the non-existent Summer Spark.

“Ah, uhm, I- I’m Cheerilee... H- how did you get here? I thought everyone else died!”

“Hello, Cheerilee, I’m Sketch, this is Broker, and the one in the suit is CD,” Sketch leans in close, “He’s a little off, but overall a good guy,” He leaned back out, “We came here on a tram and-”

“The trams? Are they still working? I- I’ve got a few students here, and they’ve got to be evacuated! There’s monsters out there!”

“The monsters are everywhere, but before we get the children answer me this, were any of them bitten?”

“B- bitten? Please, this isn’t a zombie movie. A few of them did get hurt, but there’s nothing but a couple of med-kits sitting around. I- I’m worried about Alex, we stopped the bleeding, but he’s not looking so well.”

“No, Cheerilee, it’s worse than a zombie flick.” CD said. “We need to know, how long have they been unattended, if more than half an hour, I say the necromorphs already got them and mutated them.”

“W- what?! Are you implying that I’d leave the children all alone in a situation like this?! I’ll have you know, I’m a teacher! They’re in the office in the back of this room, right now!”

“Okay, maybe I can patch them up, I just hope none of them turned, otherwise we might want to run.” Sketch offered.

“Yeah, chill, I just asked a question, and how would I know you thought of protecting them, few ponies think logically when panicked.” CD stepped towards the office, nodding to Cheerilee. “Glad to see you still have a head on your shoulders.”

Cheerilee nodded, mollified. “Y-yeah, I guess that’s true. I just hope my sister and her daughter are alright, I think she was picked up from kindergarten early today. Berry’s in Security, and I know she wanted to keep an eye on Ruby for the evening, she has tonight off.”

The mare had begun stepping backwards into the classroom, motioning to the colts to follow. Peeking from the office window was a few young faces, but they ducked down out of sight as the three ponies stepped into the room.

“Hey everypony, you alright?” CD asked, forgetting his helmet made him look kind of scary. “Are you all okay? Are any of you hurt or injured?”

The T-shaped glow of his visor reminded him of his helmet, and he backed up a bit from the foals and children, so he wasn’t so close to the glass. “Don’t worry, I’m a good guy.”

“It’s alright children, they’re going to help us. You can come out now.” Cheerilee says, soothingly, and the door slides open, a short line of small children stepping cautiously out.

“Are any of you hurt? If so tell me so I can bandage you up.”

They all shuffled awkwardly, but none of them said anything, until a small, white filly, with a two-color mane, asked, “A- are you a doctor? My mom said not to go near strangers.”

“No, he’s not a doctor.” CD said. “But you can trust him to run like a chicken. Sorry, just joking, anyway, we’re not going to hurt you, we’re here to rescue you if we can.”

“I may not be a doctor, but I hurt myself enough on the job to know how to fix up minor injuries, anymore than a broken leg and I’m useless though.” The kids didn’t look very reassured by this.

“Anyway, come on Broker, do you have issues with introductions? Just say hi, man.” CD said.

Broker seemed to be snapped out of thought by his name. “Sorry, hi there children. You can trust Sketch, I promise. He may be a little insulting, but he is a helpful fellow... Sort of.”

“Hey, Archer, is Alex doing alright?” Cheerilee asked a little blue foal with a Security bullseye target for a cutie-mark and a filly’s school outfit, who responded in a quiet voice. “He’s not looking too good, miss Cheerilee. He’s really pale, an- and I don’t think the doctors can put his arm back the way it was.”

“Dear Celestia, what happened to the kid!?” CD asked, a little disturbed by the idea of something that bad happening to a little foal.

“Well, Alex was helping the other children out. He’s a big kid, so he helped carry one of the littler ones. One of those... things jumped him, and he threw her to safety.” Cheerilee took a deep breath before continuing. ”It- it nearly took off his arm before I could kick it away from him, though... He’s always been a bit of a bully, but he was so brave today...”

“Ummm I don’t think we should stay around him then, get the children back, now!” CD warned

“W- what?! I can’t just leave him!”

“No, we can’t leave him, but it might not be him anymore. If he’s a necromorph-”

“A what?” Cheerilee’s reaction was one of confusion and desperation, trying to keep CD talking instead of doing something to one of her students.

“Those things that attacked. That’s a necromorph and they have lost all control all they want is too...” CD looked at the foals. “Uh... do bad stuff. Really, really bad stuff.”

One of the human kids looked at him critically. “We’re not stupid, you know. We’re like, in fourth grade.” Cheerilee glared at him. “Okay, second, but we’re not dumb! We know they’re trying to hurt us real bad.” Whoever this kid’s parents were, assuming they’re still alive, needed a slapping.

“Alright, kid, what do you think we should do?” CD said.

“Alex may be a meanie-pants sometimes, but he’s still my friend. He’d never try to hurt me. And you’re trying to leave him, aren’t you?” The kid certainly had chutzpah... CD peeked into the office that Alex was in, seeing a white filly with a green mane sitting next to a couple of chairs turned into a makeshift cot. On the cot was a human kid, so pale he rivaled the white filly next to him, barely breathing at all.

“You all get back, he might turn into one of them, CD, force Cheerilee back if needed, I’ll see what I can do for him, if I say run, run.”

“What are you talking about? They’re children, not monsters!”

“Why would I need to force Cheerilee back, she seems to have more sense in her head than all three of us, admit it.” CD said. “Summer doesn’t count, she’s awesome.” He smiled at thin air again, chuckling.

“Would you two just be quiet!? Does it look like he is turning into an abomination?” Broker interjected.

“We don’t know you idiot, that’s why I want you all to leave me to tend to him, now shut up and let me save him, or at least give it my all!” Sketch glares at Broker before heading into the office.

Inside is the little white-and-green filly and the pale boy. They are both wearing school uniforms, but the filly’s is torn to shreds, and appears to have been used for bandages. She’s holding the boy’s right hand.

The boy, for the most part, is wearing a blood-soaked school uniform, breathing shallowly. His left arm... was almost not there. A pair of wide, deep slashes, reaching straight to the bone, have nearly severed his upper arm, nasty blackened veins spreading from the wounds. Yellowed, dead flesh rings the wounds, and a gash along his forearm, travelling from the center of his hand to the back of elbow, has exposed the bone to open air.

As surprising as it sounds, the infection and inflammation have likely saved his life, shutting off the arteries and veins to the arm by turning them to mushroom-like, spongy material. The thin red lines of minor infection from there stretched nearly to to his shoulder.

“What’s your name little girl?” Sketch asked, and the filly looked up, her eyes puffy from tears. “I- I’wm Big Heart, why youw wanna know?” her voice, almost heart-stoppingly adorable, brought to mind a small puppy looking up in perfect innocence, but the broken look in her shows she knows all too well what’s happening.

“He’s nawt gonna go away wike my bwuthew, is he?” Sketch puts a hoof on her shoulder. “Not if I can help, now can you get me a medkit.” She nodded, and began to head back to the main room. As she left, he called back to the main room. “CD! Get in here, we need to work fast!”

“Okay, stay here Summer, and wish me luck.” Again, the pony was talking to nothing, but didn’t seem to notice.

“CD, while she’s gone I need you to use your plasma cutter to remove his left arm.” Sketch said in an absolutely serious tone.

“Why-” CD looked at the boy’s arm and balked, trying not to throw up in his helmet. “O- Okay, here, why don’t you do that while I stay far away?” CD said, trying to remove his Cutter from his RIG. It wouldn’t come off, however. “Aww... uh, c-”

“Hurry, before Big Heart gets back, she doesn’t need to see this.” Sketch said, laying out the boy, extending his left arm away from his body.

“R- Right.” CD gulped, taking a breath to steady himself, and aligned the three targeting lasers at his shoulder joint, then pointed them a bit further away, to make sure he had a shoulder afterwards. “W- we should probably tell that teacher...” he muttered under his breath as he pulled the trigger. The bolt sizzled as it blasted to the tiles below, and the boy’s arm fell to the floor.

“Good, now to get rid of this.” Sketch said, kicking the arm off to the side, “Go find Big Heart, we need a medkit now.”

“Right, Big Heart, how you doing with that kit?” CD asked towards the classroom not looking at the boy. Because of this, he noticed the hand twitch on its own.

“Ho~ boy, that’s not right!” CD yelled, again, trying very hard not to lose his lunch.

“What is not right?” Sketch asked, looking over to him, in time to see a trio of little tendrils start snaking out from the split in the tiny limb, hardening into leg-like extensions, the fingers cracking as the finger bones lengthened, splitting from the finger tips. About this time, Cheerilee came to the door, wondering what was going on.

Unfortunately, she walked in at exactly the moment CD fired his Cutter at the ‘arm’ on the floor.

“W- what are you doing?!”

“Well, we were half right; his arm was infected, and turned into what looked like a mini necromorph, now in two pieces. If we didn’t amputate it he would’ve died, killed us, then broke out and killed you and the remaining students. Thankfully he should be fine once Big Heart returns with the medkit.” Sketch said.

“Wh- wha happewnd to him? Awex is awite, right? Wha’s hamp-hew-tay mean?”

“Yes, he is going to be fine, you helped us save him Big Heart, thank you.” Sketch said, patting her on the head and taking the medkit over to the Alex.

“And now, I leave, because I’m not going to educate the kid in extreme surgery.” CD said, running through the door.

Cheerilee looked horrified, and looked to Alex with terror, her eyes going miniscule as she noted the burn marks on his shoulder.

“Good, you can leave. Big Heart, would you like to help Alex?” Sketch asked the little filly, who looked up and nodded, smiling slightly. Cheerilee looked absolutely horrified still, especially at the offer Sketch made to the little filly.

“Alright then, first thing I need is the antiseptic from the medkit, could you get that for me? It’s the little yellow packet, like a mustard packet, but with a green plus on it.” The little filly dug into the kit, pulling out a pair of the packets and held them up in her mouth.

“Thank you. Now Cheerilee, go get Broker, we need him to help open the antiseptic. And wipe that look off your face, we have to treat Alex now!”

The stricken teacher backed away slowly, then trotted stiffly back into the main room. A moment later, Broker came in, looking confused. Big Heart looked around the table, seeing Alex’s lack of arm.

“Wha happewnd to his awm?”

“Yeah... What did happen to his arm you two?” Broker asked.

CD leaned his head into the room “We removed it, it went necromorph and tried to kill me so I shot it.” Then CD went back to the classroom, his episode of randomness over.

“Is tha wha hamp-hew-tay means?”

“Yes, you’re learning fast, Big Heart.” Sketch complimented her, for a kid she was a quick one.

“Mah awnty Wedhawt is ahways saying imma pwah-doe-gee. But she won’ evew teww me wha tha means.” Her adorable levels offset most of the horrors of the day, in Sketch’s eyes.

“Well it means you are very smart, and very special.” Sketch looked at Broker, “Now you, open this packet, and hurry.”

Broker took the packet with his telekinesis and looked the bag over. Seeing the arrow to show the tear line, a darker aurora of magic ran along it, opening it up until the top part was off. “There.”

Spreading the contents of the packet across the amputated stump, Sketch applied it. Big Heart kept getting closer in, trying to see what was happening, asking questions whenever possible. It did seem she already knew a lot, and simply asked for terminology explanations when needed.

Sketch even let her wrap the stump, the meat squishing slightly as she pulled it tight. As she tied it with a bow, using a quick burst of magic from her short horn, and a bright flash of light burst from her.

“What was th- Cheerilee, get in here!” the older mare came thundering back in, eyes wild, looking as if she was about to attack something.

“What? What is it?!” Her voice was about half an octave higher, and her mane was already frizzed.

“We saved Alex and Big Heart’s flank glowed, I think she got her cutie mark.”

“I gowt my kee-uuw-tee-mawk? Lemme see! Lemme see!” The little filly began turning in circles, trying to to look at her flank. Finally getting a grip with her teeth, she pulled the pants of her uniform down, just far enough to see the the length of bloody gauze ribbon with a bow tied in it that was her cutie-mark.

“Congrats, looks like you’re going to be a doctor, isn’t that wonderful Cheerilee?”

“Yeay! Imma nuwse!”

“No, you’re a doctor, that’s even better!”

“Nuwses aw pwettiew. Awnty Cowdhawt says so.”

“Ah fine, just be whatever you want to be then.” Sketch said patting her back, eliciting a squee from the small child.

“Ah, l-let’s just get you out of here. And, uhm, you should pull your pants back up, honey.” Cheerilee said.

“Oh come on, not even a congratulations for her helping me save her boyfriend?” Sketch asked, looking down to the now bandaged boy, looks like Alex will make it.

“He’s nawt my boyfwend!” The suddenly blushing filly blurted, looking seriously embarrassed.

“That proves it, he is.”

“Nyuuuu!” The little filly was blushing even harder, and covering her head.

“You like him, you like him!” Sketch teased her, laughing a little. Cheerilee looked very upset.

“H- how could you be teasing her about something like that after she... after she- oh by the Marker she just-!” Cheerilee then ran from the room, her lunch launching audibly into a wastebasket, a chorus of ‘eww!’s coming from the kids and CD.

“Well, while she gets sick can you help Alex on my back, he isn’t going to be walking anytime soon.” Sketch kneels down, and Big Heart looked up at him.

“Aw we goin’ owt? But thew’s monstuws owt thew!”

“There are, but they are everywhere, plus don’t you want to find your aunty? She must be worried sick.”

“Awnty Wedhawt is fine. But I bet Mommy’s gonna be scaewed. She ahways get scaewed when I’m nawt awound. So duws Daddy. They’ww scaew-dy kitties. And Awex isn’t my boyfwend! I’m just saying.”

“I didn’t say he was that time, but you do like him don’t you? Anyways, help me get him on my back, we need to get going.”

“Ah~wite... I’ll get him up. but wouwdn’t it be easyew to cawwey him on a stwetchew? Thew’s one in the school nuwse’s owfice.”

“There might be monsters there, for now we get him out of the office, can you help me move him? I didn’t realise how tiny you were.”

She sat and thought for a moment, before nodding her head, and pulling open a drawer with her teeth, and digging into it. She pulled out, gripping a large, blue blanket with duckies on it.

“We can puwt him ahwn this! Then it’s not so bumpy!” She beamed up at him.

“Clever girl you.” Sketch patted her on the head as she grinned, he carefully dragged Alex onto the blanket and brought him out of the office, pulling the blanket in his muzzle. “E’s O-ay!” Sketch announced, Big Heart followed closely behind, a huge smile on her face.

“The hay did you say Sketch?” Broker asks.

“He said Alex is okay, Broker.” CD replied. “So how are you feeling Cheerilee? You look a little... green.”

The poor teacher just looked back at the injured child with stricken eyes, looking absolutely horrified at his mutilated appearance. Her eyes darted across his carefully wrapped stump, her coloration actually turning a couple of shades closer to pea-soup from her usual burgundy.

“Hey, don’t worry.” CD started rubbing Cheerilee’s back to calm her down. “We’re not gonna let anything bad happen, as of now, Alex is priority one.”

“No he isn’t, the entire class is, then us, then Broker.”

Cheerilee just looked shell-shocked, and CD, who was closest to her face, saw that there was something off in her eyes, like something had broken in there. It was entirely possible that Alex wasn’t the first student she’d lost that day. In fact, with modern teaching methods, a single teacher could comfortably and ably teach a classroom of three dozen, and there was only about eight kids here.

“Cheerilee, I understand that Alex may not have been the only injured, but we’re not going to lose him, and we need to focus on not having any further casualties.” CD assured her. “We’re not gonna leave these kids like this.”

CD patted her on the back, but hesitated for a moment when she spoke again, her voice scared and drawn as she looked up at him.

“How can I know that?”

Author's Note

Thanks to everyone who's stuck by this project so long, and now we start to see some of your viewer responses in action.
I hope you enjoy this... even if you can probably see the main character deaths waiting in the wings by now. Such buzzards, aren't they?

A special thanks to everyone who faved the story that I haven't specifically sent a thank-you to, you guys are what keeps me going. Well, you and my players. And my soda. And my bag-o-popcorn, when available.
But you guys are on the list, I swear!

Ch11 - Ladybug's Awake...

CD had tried reasoning, and Broker had argued for splitting up, Sketch had countered most of the arguments, and Cheerilee had vetoed everything, refusing to leave. Even when Broker had tried to offer himself as a distraction, Cheerilee had told him ‘no’. The only idea she’d even contemplated is getting to the teacher’s lounge for more supplies.

After a shouting match about responsibilities and the three adult colts being sent to the corner for a time for ‘language’, Sketch came up with a plan to take him and CD to the teacher’s lounge, maybe find something to help Cheerilee ‘rest’ through an escape attempt from the school.

As they were talking, CD took a metal desk and welded it to the vent with the spot welder in his RIG, allowing for a small amount of safety from whatever might be crawling through the ducts. And while Cheerilee looked like she wanted to protest the destruction of school property, but didn’t say anything as she noted the reasons.

Finally, after all of this, CD and Sketch were set to go.

“Don’t take too long out there you two. This group of children needs to move. We sit here too long and we’re done. I’ll try to distract the necromorphs if they do come, but that’s all I can do.”

“We know, Broker, in fact, I hope that is the least you can do.” CD said, before asking Cheerilee where the teacher’s lounge was.

“It- It’s over by the Gym. I think it was built as an afterthought, like a lot of this school. We, uhm, passed it on the way here, when this all started.” Cheerilee looked more than a bit unsure about anyone leaving the classroom.

Broker looks over at Cheerilee’s worried expression. “Don’t worry about them, they will be fine. They’re smart and know better than me.”

“But that’s a given, anyway, I guess Sketch, Summer, and I should get moving.”

“Yeah, and please, for the love of all things living; Don’t. Test. The. Gun.” Sketch over-emphasized each word, making sure to say them clearly.

“I think I know it works, Sketch. I’m not testing it again, until I see one of those... things come through.”

“If you see a necromorph, use the gun, don’t test it.” CD admonished.

“Got it, CD. I promise not to test the gun, but use it on the monstrosities that endanger the children, teacher, and overall well being of everypony here!” Broker replied.

Cheerilee looked at him a bit warily. “You sound like a recruit at Security.” She then looked to the others. “And do you need to bully him? It isn’t nice, no matter how old you are.”

“That would be an improvement to his skill, given what I’ve seen.” CD stated before walking out the door. “Alright Summer, I’ll stop being so mean to him.”

As he stepped out into hall, the maroon mare looked at Sketch. “Is he... seeing things?”

“Yeah, my guess is his marefriend died in the earlier part of the infestation and he is imagining her to cope with her loss, just go with it, she seems harmless.”

“I- I guess.” She didn’t seem so sure, stepping back a bit and standing nearer to her students as Sketch started to leave.

He paused for a moment in the doorway to say, “You know, we all deal with things in our own ways, yours is like his, clinging to what you know, aka this classroom.” After his brief speech, he stepped out into the hallway, the classroom door sliding quietly shut behind the white-coated colt.

Waiting for him outside was CD, checking the hallways for dangers. Luckily finding nothing so far.

“So... Do you think we can leave em alone in there?” Sketch asked.

“Sure, after all, so far the greatest danger in there is if Broker decides to shoot at nothing and misses.”

“I hope he didn’t turn the safety on, otherwise he’ll die clicking.”

“Um, does he know how the safety works? I’m not very used to working with guns, so I don’t.”

“It’s the little button or switch on the upper part of the hand grip of the gun, I watched a lot of action movies and thankfully their weapons are accurately portrayed.”

“Okay, so we should be getting to the lounge soon, I hope Cheerilee is right about that Auto-Store, with that schematic, we could get you a suit.”

Sketch shrugged. “I would very much prefer that, that way I can run and gun, hopefully more effectively than Broker.”

“You can only shoot if you have a gun in the first place. My suit only has it because I already had a Cutter on me.”

“Yeah, but the I can just take Broker’s, if I had a RIG that was built for it I would be a better shot because of the gear.”

“Mine is only mounted because it’s a Plasma Cutter and a RIG is built for that. I don’t think the engineer suit will accept and mount a Divet, so you’ll have to use the Kinesis Module. Not that you can fire with a Kinesis Module, but you could throw it. ”

“Ah, so with my high agility and Kinesis module I would be more akin to a rogue or thief class, seems legit.

“Well, actually if you get some scrap metal, you could also use Kinesis to form it around you for a +5 armor bonus.”

The two colts were having fun making nerdy jokes, on their way to the teacher’s lounge, doing their level best to keep themselves from freaking out entirely.

“So with the module I would essentially have a modern day slingshot and or blow dart gun?”

“That’s... the most accurate description I’ve heard for it actually. Yes, you would.”

“Sweet, I need to figure out its trajectory and get my aim in, and I should be good to go if I find one.” Sketch said happily as he thought of his possible weapon.

“Uhm, we will if there is an Auto-Store in the lounge, welcome to the league of fake unicorns.”

The two continued joking as they walked, fear making their voices crack slightly as they watch. A sudden, resonating CLANG made both of them jump almost a foot into the air, as a vent cover fell from the ceiling.

“Okay, I’ve got some ammo on my Cutter, so if there’s only one, it shouldn’t be too hard to kill it, I’ll just need to get a good aim.” CD said, looking cautiously at the vent as his Cutter twitched on its mount slightly.

“Well go for the legs first, if it’s legless we have a better chance of survival, or if it’s a pony-morph go for the front legs.”

“Yeah, I know basic physiology, but you forget, if it’s part unicorn, the horn must go first. Now what’s up there?”

“I don’t know, also, I know about the horn thing, just trying to think things out before we possibly die a horrible death and leave the safety of a room full of children to Broker.”

“Good point. Alright, if it falls straight from the vent and lands on the ground immediately, doesn’t stumble, and gets up, I’ll have a perfect shot at it’s legs. No we stay calm and wait for it’s move...” CD steeled himself, staring at the vent while his RIG pointed his Cutter towards the ground in front of him. Silently whispering to himself, “Bring it on, ugly.”

“If all else fails meet up back at the room, agreed?”

“Right.”

Suddenly, a pair of small shapes fell down with a shout, hitting the floor with a bounce as they landed, one giving out a loud ‘oomf!’

“Woah!” CD shouted, forcing his RIG to aim the Cutter upwards, he had shot in surprise. Luckily he was fast enough to miss the two things. “Since you talk and don’t drool unspeakable slobber, I’m gonna say you two are friendly.”

One of the forms sits up, rubbing its head, revealing a dual-colored mane. It was the little white unicorn from the classroom, Sweetroll or something. Next to her was a another filly, this one yellow, with a red mane and a pinkish bow, clashing with her school uniform.

“Wait, that’s the one that looks like a marshmallow, and the other one.....No idea.”

The two fillies grinned sheepishly and adorably up at the two colts. A faint halo-like radiance formed over their heads for a moment.

“Very funny, Sketch, anyway, what are you two doing here? It’s not safe, I almost shot you for crying out loud. Though I gotta give you credit for moving through the ducts and not out in the open.”

“Yeah, why are you two here? Why follow us, all we are are two crazy stallions who saved one of your classmates.”

“Yeah... wait, wouldn’t Cheerilee blow a gasket if she found out you followed us? She’d chew me out something fierce I know.”

“Something fierce? Really? Anyways, you two either head back to the classroom or stick close to us, I’m not risking you two getting hurt.” Sketch told the children, looking a bit perturbed.

“Head back? Alone? Are yo-” CD began to shout.

“That’s why I said stick close to us.”Sketch added, at this CD calms down.

“Yeah, but I’m still worried about what Cheerilee will think, maybe she’ll freak out and, ah nevermind, can’t be helped, what do you fillies want?”

The two looked up at them. “Well, uhm, maybe we could follow y’all, and find our cutie-marks for bein’ on a rescue team!” The white filly nodded as the yellow one finished, and then added, “And maybe find Scootaloo! She’s gotta different teacher than us.”

While the first speaker’s voice was nice, but had a twang common to the ponies from the colonist ships, but the second’s was kind of squeaky and adorable.

“Alright, but as part of the rescue team you two need to stay close and watch our backs, if you run off you’ll be abandoning your posts, got it?” Sketch paused for a moment, realizing the fillies were around 8-12, and noted, “And I don’t mean literally looking at our backs.”

“Well then, what do ya mean?”

“He means watch behind us, so nothing sneaks up on us, and so you can follow at our speed, hop on our backs so you don’t get lost, because anyone on the team who gets lost is left for dead in order to preserve the remaining members of the group. Got it?” CD eyed the fillies closely, making it clear that goofing off unsafely was not an option.

Sketch picked up Marshmallow and place her on his back, “If you see anything behind me let me know, okay?”

“Okay! What’s your name, by the way?” As she speaks, her voice cracks adorably.

“My name’s Sketch and yours?” The little filly practically bounces on his back, her little hooves tapping against his RIG with loud clacking sounds, and she replied, “I’m Sweetie Belle!”

CD then turns to the other filly. “Alright, guess you’re with me, just remember this: if you see a monster, let me know quietly and hold on tight. So what’s your name?”

“Copy.Data, just call me CD, so can you stay calm while looking at a giant monster made up of a bunch of mutated ponies and people mashed together?”

“Ah’m real brave! Just like Scootaloo, and mah sister!”

“Well then missy, if you can handle it then you’re tougher than me. I can kill them, but they still creep me out.” The small filly looked at him. “Are ya sure? ‘Cuz, uhm, ah’m a little scared, too. If’n you are, that is.”

“He does his job pretty well, without the unnecessary violence or rudeness like somepony else.” Sketch muttered.

“Whut was that?” Applebloom flicked an ear back to orient on Sketch.

“Don’t ask girls, it’s not important. But actually my main talent is working with computers. So what can you do?” CD asks, looking back at the filly on his back brightly.

“They just said they were trying to get their cutie marks, isn’t it obvious? Plus they’re foals.” Sketch said

“Hey! We aren’t foals! Imma big pony!” Sweetie shouted, her voice squeaking on half the vowels.

Whispering sharply, in place of yelling, Sketch told the fillies to quiet down.“Shh, don’t yell, we don’t need those monsters finding us!”

“Yeah, even without a mark, everypony can do something, so let’s get moving and stay quiet.”

“I didn’t say they can’t do an-” But CD interrupted Sketch, fiercely defending the little ponies’ abilities. “I said, let’s move, we won’t get anywhere flap-” Sketch interrupted Cd this time, “ I never said they were useless, I just don’t want them getting attacked.” Sketch said in a concerned tone.

“And the sooner we get moving the less likely we are to have anypony hurt, so we go now.” CD started walking forward, not caring for a response from Sketch.

“Uh, you two? What exactly counts as ‘something’ for us to be looking out for?” Sweetie’s cracking voice echoed in the silent hallway.

“Any movement or noises, why did you see something, little marshmallow?”

“Does that count as something then?”

Sketch looked over his shoulder for a moment, seeing a tall, broad form charging towards them, oddly silent. As the lighting in the hall flickers momentarily, the form is obscured for the briefest of seconds, and isn’t there when the lights are back on.

“Wh- whut was that?” The little yellow filly on CD’s back was visibly trembling as she asked another question. “A- and where did it go?”

“CD, keep an eye up front, I’ll watch the back, whoever sees it, say something, that goes for you two fillies as well.”

“Right, and remember, if any of you two girls see it, let us know, and hold on tight because we’re gonna run.” CD said, a bit worried about where the creature was.

CD turned around to see the thing in front of him, and he uttered a shrill scream of fright as the creature, in a gray-and-black digital camo Military suit. A pair of sharp blades jutted from each of the creature’s palms, the four points moving in swift zig-zags. Sketch began to turn, the creature’s features blurring as it moved at a speed that was almost unbelievable.

“Run!” was all CD could say before the creature slammed into CD with the force of a freight train, barreling past him to chase Sketch, a stray blade twitching out and slashing across the engineer’s shoulder, and a line of fire is drawn in his nerves.

The twitching, shambling creature, pausing for a moment for reasons unknown, is motionless for under a second, standing under the flickering light. Sketch barely had time to skid around a corner, Sweetie Belle clutching his back desperately.

As for CD, he saw the creature’s unarmored head, a large gash in the skull revealing a squirming, maggot-like mass of tendrils in the crease. Massive rents in the creature’s suit shows pale, necrotic flesh. As he watched, the creature twitched again. It was, rather suddenly, facing him.

“Here’s hoping it’s a weak spot.” CD whispered quietly before shooting at the open patches of suit three times with his cutter. The bolts slammed home, one tearing the necromorph’s suit wider open and releasing a gout of black blood and putrefied fluids. It didn’t slow down in the slightest, merely jerked to one side or the other, then crouched and leapt in one jerky, spasmodic movement.

“Crap.” CD tried firing at its legs this time, forgetting that the head, as it wasn’t a weak spot even if it seemed like it.

This time, the bolt, switched to horizontal fire, tore off the creature’s legs, causing it to fall. One of the claws broke, shattering under the force of its oddly swift descent. Even for something with its legs cut out from under it fell too fast for the gravity settings in this habitat.

Stabbing claws into the floor, the twitcher began pulling itself forward vigorously towards the colt and the young child on his back. “Okay, now for the arms.” CD winced in anticipation, firing again, covering his face in case of more blood showers.

The long hours of training with the tool on his suit paid off, and he placed two shots with deadly precision. The plasma scorched the limbs, burning them off the twitcher’s shoulders and causing the creature to collapse, twitching slightly before going still.

“Hey Sketch, butt-ugly thing is dead, how are you? You okay Applebloom?”

A quick affirmative response from the filly later, CD stood up shakily. “Okay, I assume Sketch ran back to the classroom with Sweetie, so I’m just gonna head there as well, strength in numbers and all that. But first, that monster was weird.” CD inspected the dead necromorph, looking for a clue to why it defied physics so easily.

Turning over the remains of the body, and shuffling a barely-attached arm out of the way, he found that the creature had a Stasis Module installed in the suit... and that it appeared to be just as enmeshed with layers of veins and pulpy flesh as any natural organ.

Thinking quickly to himself, he reasoned that the quick movements might be a result of the Stasis Module malfunctioning as it was somehow integrated into the creature, reversing the normal effects, causing time for the creature to pass ten times as fast.

That application had been theorized for common use, but it had been found the aging process was so ridiculously sped up that most humans would lose around eight to nine hundred times as much lifetimes than they actually used relative to everyone else. Not only that, but spontaneous combustion from air friction was an issue, and organs and tendons wore out in hours of effort rather than days.

CD questioned how he could remember this so well, as he was pretty sure he fell asleep in the safety lecture that explained how Stasis units worked. Maybe he had been sleep-listening. Weirder shit has happened, the day so far a prime example.

“Okay Applebloom, let’s go back to the classroom. If Cheerilee bites my head off, I’m gonna mention that it was you who followed me.” CD started sprinting down the halls back, seeing how far Sketch had already gone.

“Please don’t! We had ta’ use the Crusader exit, since you blocked up the vents!” Applebloom squeaked from CD’s back, holding on as he galloped through the hall.

“Yeah, for your safety and everypony else’s, fine I won’t rat you out, but if I get in trouble, I’m still gonna silently blame you.” CD replied, picking up speed, now getting closer to the classroom.

Stepping up to the door, he tapped the controls, and waited for the burgundy teacher to let him in. A moment later, the scowling mare let him in, immediately plucking Applebloom off his back and dropping her unceremoniously into a corner, declaring her to be in time-out. In another corner sits a dejected Sweetie Belle.

“You’re welcome for saving her.” CD mumbled inaudibly, then looked at Sketch. “The thing’s gone, and I found out why it’s so fast, not that it matters.”

“Steroids or science gone horribly wrong?”

“Malfunctioning tech, so kinda the second. So anyway, I do wanna know why those girls followed us through the ducts.” He looked at Cheerilee. “Any ideas how they got out?”

“I’m not actually sure how they got out, but they probably went to go find their delinquent friend, Scootaloo.” Cheerilee’s voice sounds uncharacteristically harsh as she continues, “The little filly has been the bane of my existence, and of several other teachers. At least, whenever she bothered to show up. Always buzzing around... And she gets the other two in so much trouble! As much as I love children, I think she’s a bad influence.”

“And you aren’t being a very good one yourself, being so mean to-”

“I am trying to protect my students! I am trying to make sure they grow up with a sound education, to the best of my ability! I-”

“You’re going to kill us all at this rate, now stop yelling.” Cheerilee snapped her mouth shut at Sketch’s hissed words, her face looking shocked.

“Yeah, let’s just keep quiet. How have you been doing Broker? You piss yourself of fright yet?” CD asked the cowering pony in the third corner.

“I have not pissed myself! I-”

“Stop yelling.” CD hissed at Broker.

“Sorry. Just concerned is all. Sketch just looked terrified when he came in. What did you two see out there?” Broker asked.

“A giant fucking monster, also, don’t care about language, apocalypse is happening.”

“It’s hardly the apocalypse! So watch your language, or I’ll put you in time-out again!” Something in Cheerilee’s voice makes Sketch pause for a moment, but he shakes it off pretty easy.

“Yeah, a monster I had to kill myself, you coward.” CD pointed out.

“Yeah, what would I do to help kill it? Stare at it? I have no weapons, no training, and a foal on my back who wants to live, I got her out of there. Also stop yelling, you may be a teacher, but that doesn't mean anything now, unless you have a gun and training your only hope of surviving is us, so. Calm. The. Fuck. Down.”

“You could have distracted it by standing there and looking tasty.” CD grinned at his joke, and Sketch laughed a little, hehehehe, Marshmallow.

“Anyway, jokes aside-” Cheerilee cut in, saying, “This is no laughing matter!” as CD kept talking. “-we need to get back to the teacher’s lounge, without any tagalongs or nags getting in our way.

“Agreed.” Sketch looked directly at Cheerilee when CD said the word ‘nags’, to which Cheerilee glared at him murderously for a second

“Alright, if there isn’t any news from this area, then we’re going, and if any more kids follow us through the ducts, they’re on their own because they decided to be stupid.” CD said, moving out the door.

“Also, great job at keeping an eye on your kids Cheerilee, really great job.” Sketch added before following CD out the door, earning a frustrated growl from her as the door slid shut.

The two ponies, much more on-guard than before, jumped at every little sound. The flickering, occasionally-active lights leave large swathes of the halls in darkness, and they finally come across the door to the Gymnasium. To get to the teacher’s lounge, the two ponies needed to get to the other side.

The duo carefully stepped into the large room, the reek of blood hitting their nostrils violently. CD poked his head fully in, and saw a wash of carnage on the floor. Metal folding chairs stood in either rows or piles, and bodies were strewn around, some utterly destroyed and eviscerated, others mostly intact. A few necromorph bodies lay on the ground as well.

A single spotlight shone on the stage set into one wall of the gymnasium, showing the set-up for a play. Large, plastic tree cut-outs stood on stage, along with some poorly put-together props.

Copy.Data suddenly stopped in his tracks, putting a hoof on Sketch’s shoulder to stop him. “Wait, something doesn’t add up, this feels wrong.” CD looked around the room at the necromorphs littering the ground. “If they know how playing dead works, they would’ve attacked us by now, meaning they’re all dead, which is bad news.”

“Of course they’re dead, captain obvious, look at the blood. Still, keep an eye out, something still might be here.”

CD sighs in annoyance. “Since they don’t attack each other, somepony had to kill them. If it were a group of heroic saviors, they wouldn’t leave the kids. So that means either the kids or a teacher killed them, most likely Cheerilee.” He let Sketch take a moment to think about what he said to the aforementioned teacher a minute ago. “If that isn’t the case, then something had to kill them, and it’s still out there. Understand now?”

“I doubt Cheerilee did this, she doesn’t have godlike powers. And if she did, she still wouldn’t have been smart enough to pull this off.”

“Neither do I, and I bucked one in the face and made it burst.”

“That was one, with each addition-” stopping mid-sentence, Sketch turned his head.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. Whatever it had been, it wasn’t moving when he looked.

“Something’s here... Get your plasma cutter ready, I was right, something is here hiding amongst the bodies!” Sketch sounded panicked, backing up against the wall. With a burst of insight, he shot a glance straight up and a little back, checking for vents. To his immense relief, there weren’t, just some banners moving in the slow wind.

“Alright, we stay quiet, and get to the lounge, slowly. Also, please watch my back, since my cutter can’t take on more than one at a time. Maybe you can throw props at them.” CD snickered, walking slowly towards the other side of the gym. “Or you could be useful and see if any of those dead guys have any useful junk on them.”

Stepping forward, Sketch paused, something clicking in his mind. Where would a breeze come from in here? Sketch’s head turned slowly back to the one moving banner in the gymnasium. Eyes going wide as he considered what it probably meant, Sketch stepped nervously away. On the other side of the gym, CD had found that there was a large, heavy drop-curtain in the way, probably controlled somewhere else in the gym.

Looking back one more time, Sketch saw that the banner had stopped moving. He couldn’t quite disbelieve what he’d seen, but he was a lot more reluctant suddenly to not be with the guy with the gun.

“Hey, Sketch, if you’re gonna stand there and be useless, just head back to the classroom with Broker.” CD turned around to see Sketch standing behind him, and a large, heavily-decomposed figure, with slick black skin standing behind Sketch.

A pair of pustulent yellow sacs stood out on the creature’s ragged chest, and three points of light glowed on the thing’s face, presumably where the thing’s eyes were. A trail of spilled intestines and entrails twisted and fused together into a sort of support, as the actual legs of the beast were fused together into a lump of tissue.

CD whispered harshly to Sketch, staying very still. “Sketch, kick behind you as hard as you can and run. Okay? I may be able to finish it. Buck it, now.”

Before Sketch could do anything, though, the creature gurgled and heaved forward, a spray of caustic liquid pouring across the white pony’s back, drawing a scream. Sketch fell to the floor, shouting and flailing as he rolled back and forth on the ground.

Along the way, he chanted, “fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!”

CD was confronted by the necromorph drawing back for another heaving spew. CD shot a horizontal plasma cut to the creature’s legs, making it begin to topple over, a spray of chemical fire pouring out from the wound and onto both of the ponies. The monster, from the floor, began to drag itself forward, towards the two ponies. One of Sketch’s flailing hooves smacked the ex-human in the face, distracting it for a second.

“Thanks.” CD fired a vertical shot, slicing one of the thing’s arms off, slowing it further. Another shot nearly blew off the other arm needing a second to finish the job, and the thing finally stopped moving. “Sketch, can you walk?” CD held out a hoof to lift the flailing pony up. Thankfully, Sketch was able to fight off the pain enough to stand.

The expression on his face was one of agony, a single ropey slash of fresh chemical burn twisted angrily down the side of his face, thankfully leaving his eyes intact. However, his right ear had been nearly removed by the acidic bath, and he winced as he moved. Most of his shirt had been melted away, along with much of his fur. The skin beneath the damaged area was angry and red.

“Hold on, let’s get you some water.” CD helped Sketch hobble to the drinking fountain. Using the water, he splashed it across the white earth pony’s back, the liquid hissing as it diluted the chemicals across his back.

“If we can get to the lounge, the first thing we need to do is get you a suit, can you speak without screaming obscenities?” CD asked, throwing more water at Sketch, chuckling while intentionally soaking his face.

“Why couldn’t this happen to you or Broker...” Sketch mumbled. Swearing vengeance against whatever being made this happen.

“Because Broker isn’t here, and you were in front of me. How are you now aside from the crippling agony and chemical burns?”

“Very angry...” CD chuckled, finishing dousing Sketch. “Well, at least you’re going to live long enough to take it out on Broker.”

“Or Cheerilee, or Frost, hell, anyone really...”

The two shared a short laugh, before shuffling a bit. CD looked up, trying to guess where the controls for the curtain would be. After a short sweep of the gymnasium led him to guess it was backstage, behind the props.

CD left Sketch and headed backstage to around for any kind of control panel. Stepping past disturbingly happy plastic trees and stepping around the backdrop, Copy was becoming increasingly freaked out, though he wasn’t sure why. The mare standing next to him simply gave him a nuzzle, and motioned onwards.

“Go on, CD, the switch is just over there. You can do it.” Summer’s voice was so very reassuring to the young buck as he strode on through the gaily colored scenery, and into the shadowed backstage. Sure enough, right in front of him was the switch, a large, standard throw-switch with a bite-compliant handle, even.

Sketch, not wanting to be left behind, followed him just a few steps behind.

“Well, at least it’s lucky that the monsters don’t pay attention to Summer. I’d hate for her to get hurt.” CD mumbled as he grabbed the switch in his mouth and raised the curtain.

A loud screeching from the old motors resounded through the gymnasium, the scenery sliding down into slots in the floor. A second screech, this one a lot less mechanical, echoed in the cavernous room. Sketch and CD looked around, hoping to see it before they got attacked. Suddenly, from one of the small windows near the roof, a small figure leapt, shattering the window on the way. The small body slammed into the ground, and was still.

“Sketch, you’re closer, what’s it look like?” In spite of CD’s question, Sketch doesn’t get any closer, not wanting a repeat of a few minutes ago. He squinted and tried to get a better look at it.

Suddenly, the pale little body jerked, twitched, and looked up. The bloodied face of the creature was staring directly at the two ponies, before hopping up and charging them with a shriek.

CD, more on instinct than anything, shot it, cutting it in half. The thing fell, and was silent.

“Your turn to investigate.” Sketch said.

A second shriek rang through the gym, followed by a third, fourth, fifth... it rapidly turned into a chorus of shrill, painfully loud screams as a flood of pale bodies poured out from the windows. A few landed on the bleachers below, but most missed and smacked into the faux wood floor.

The horde began to charge, a tide of skinny little bodies. Mixed into the mess were a few small pony bodies, each twisted and changed into vicious forms. A small blue foal, likely once a unicorn, had a shattered spur of bone on its head. The ruff of blood-matted blue mane almost concealed a trio of tentacles, up until the things popped out and began waving in the air.

The child had only been old enough to get their cutie-mark, an archaic bow.

“What are you waiting for, kill them!”

“I don’t have enough ammo

“Then plan B it!”

“That’s the idea, genius!” CD ran up to the creatures, intending to trample them as he shot at them. Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought such tiny bodies could have enough strength to literally flip him over. Landing on the ground with an ‘oomf’ of his breath being knocked from him, CD barely missed being impaled as a trio of sharp spikes flew overhead.

Sketch, for the most part, was stuck cowering in the corner, not really able to contribute much. Looking desperately around, he saw a small, glowing blue tank of some kind. Trying to think of what it could be, he tried to remember all the station safety lessons. Best guess: a Stasis Energy tank, but he couldn’t be sure. Only that it was likely explosive, and that he could probably lob the heavy thing into the crowd of necromorph children.

CD looked weakly at Sketch and followed his gaze, seeing the tank, eyes going wide. CD thought to himself, ‘He can’t possibly be stupid enough... oh well, it’s a plan.’ Then he looked around for a way to quickly get away from the mob of necromorphs, hoping for a clear path out of the center.

Seeing none, he simply ducked and covered, hoping for the best. As Sketch gripped the handle on the top in his teeth, twisting to throw it, he could only hope it went where he wanted it. Throwing the energy tank with a shout of pain, as the injury on his back flared agonizingly.

The tank, still full of glowing energy, flew down into the crowd just as several sank their claws into Copy, before a blast of blue light engulfed him and the crowd around him. Several of the furious child necromorphs were almost frozen in mid-leap, drifting slowly through the air at exactly one sixtieth their normal speed.

“Time to get rid of these orphans.” Sketch said, moving into the field, careful to avoid their claws, breaking the limbs of the ones on CD, smashing the rest like pinatas, crushing a few spines, caving in their ribs, and ultimately shattering their little limbs. It was the most disturbing thing he had ever, and will do, but if he didn’t he would most likely die, so ironically he had to kill children to save children.

In the midst of smashing children to smithereens, he saw the blue glow around them begin to fade rapidly. Now trapped in the middle of the still-large crowd of necromorphs, his stomping and bucking became more frantic and frenzied.

CD, for his part, had just had the strangest experience of his life. For a moment, he’d thought the necromorph in front of him was about to drive its lengthened finger-spikes into his eyes, only to see a flash of blue and have all the creatures suddenly go flying away, their bodies broken, and Sketch having inexplicably teleported into their midst, stomping and crushing at them.

Only to be flipped like a table moments later, but he’d easily destroyed more than half the little monsters. CD, however, now had the opportunity to fire at the mob of creatures.

“Hey genius, keep fighting, use your dang hooves! Flail like you mean it!” CD yelled as he fired, clearing a few away from him.

“I love children and all, but fuck children necromorphs!” Sketch shouted, the few necromorphs left trying to crowd over him in anticipation of gutting him. Fortunately for him, this left them right in view of CD, who easily took their heads off with a few blasts from the plasma cutter.

“This is a really bad scene, isn’t it? Anyway, we should be moving to the door, shouldn’t we?” CD said, doing just that, blasting the last few to pieces.

As he turned, one leg more than a little sore where a necromorph had stabbed him, making him limp slightly, Sketch saw that his RIG was flashing on one bar of red. As if to accentuate this, CD found his breaths being more ragged.

Now that the curtain was up, CD could see that there was a row of lockers on the wall, a few with green lights. CD gestured to them, obviously in pain. “Let’s check those, who knows, we might find some aspirin. I need it.”

“Or their lunch money.” Sketch added, looking over the bodies.

“Wow, that was mean and dark, I think I’m rubbing off on you.” CD opened one of the lockers to find a cartridge of Plasma Cutter ammo, with two charges in it. Two more lockers stood available to be ransacked.

“I’ll open these two, maybe some medical supplies will be in one of them.” Sketch limped over to them, opening the right first. Inside was some kind of arcanotech attachment for a tool or gun, the cardboard tag on it labeling it as an ‘Ammo Sweep’.

“Hey, what’s an ‘Ammo Sweep’?”

CD looked over and shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe it makes your gun shoot brooms.”

“Or how about we shove it in your RIG and see what it does.” Sketch grabbed it and tried to attach it to Copy.Data’s RIG. “It’s no use, there’s no way this’ll fit into that slot.”

“Lemme try wiggling it.” Sketch said, no progress being made, so he gave up a few moments later. “Eh, time for locker number two.”

Pulling the next locker open a tad hastily, the door of it slammed into the next locker over. The loud bang was followed by a click as the fourth locker’s door unlatched. Inside the locker he’d opened on purpose was a few unitology texts, some spare changes of children’s clothes, and another small cardboard box. The box was labeled ‘Ammo Box’, and said it was another attachment of some kind.

“Damn it, we got little kid’s clothes and attachments, why you no give me bandaids?” Sketch mumbled to the lockers as he walked over to the last open locker. Sketch peered inside and saw a single magazine peeking out from under a shirt, on top of another cardboard box.

Sketch moved the shirt off and began to look through the magazine, the front of it labeled ‘Playmare’ and featuring a picture of a pegasus sitting on a cloud, quite obviously... excited, it could be said, to be on camera. Inside was more overly posed stallions, and even a few humans of impressive... size. Sketch wondered idly why he was looking through it at that time, and continued reading, determined to figure out who’s this was.

CD, stuck watching, glanced over Sketch’s shoulder, and saw what he was looking at. “Dude, who can we blackmail with this? This is funny, who knows, maybe it’s-” They look at each other and grin, both saying. “Cheerilee’s.” Sketch then flipped through it faster.

A moment’s notice and they realized that each of the pictures was signed by their respective colts. In the back was tucked an additional picture, this one of just the male pegasus from the cover, grinning, and signed, ‘To my biggest fan. I hope I’m still famous when you’re old enough.’ On the back was written, in pen, ‘Property of Scootaloo’.

The two readers gave a collective ‘eww’, CD backing up. “This is so messed up... I still wonder how we can blackmail this kid?” CD grabs the magazine, sticks it in his RIG and runs for the teacher’s lounge, laughing.

“We aren’t blackmailing a kid, I’m saving this for use later, if she disobeys us we use this to bring her to our side.”

“That was my plan, or if she pissed me off somehow, I’m still not giving it back. Unless you want a magazine full of male whores.” CD kept moving towards the lounge.

“Eh, in art school we had to draw nudes, male and female, this really doesn’t bother me much except for the fact that a little girl has this. At least she’s not on drugs, I hope.”

Sketch and CD left the gym, still talking in low whispers. turning down one hall, they found the door to the teacher’s lounge at the end of it. Just past six vents.

“How does this prove she doesn’t? All we know is that she’s very obviously straight, and a bit perverted.” CD looked down the hall with mild trepidation.

“You first, mister shooty-shooty cut-cut.”

“Whatever you say, mister chicken.” CD walked forward very cautiously, when a series of small thumps sounded in the vents. At least this thing was failing its stealth roll.

“Crud, hey Speedy, here’s a plan , you run down the hall as fast as you can, trigger them all, and I shoot them as the fall while you dodge them. Summer, you stay behind me.”

“Fine, if I die from this I swear I will fucking haunt you both... And Broker... Mostly you.” Sketch said as he reluctantly began running down the hallways, his back still aching from the acid bath he’d received earlier.

With a clang, the vent in front of him swung like a trapdoor, and smacked him full in the face. Sketch crumpled like a used tissue, sliding under it by sheer dint of momentum. Collapsing forward, face on the soothingly cold concrete floor, Sketch groaned at the raw pain in his snout. Something mildly heavy landed on his back, followed shortly by another, but he was in too much combined pain to care.

Especially since they both landed on his injury.

“Ohmigosh! I’m so sorry!” At least the monster had manners... wait, Sketch recognized that adorable crack in the voice.

“Goddamnit Marshmallow, why do you hurt me so...”

“I’m not a marshmallow!” Sweetie’s voice was full of indignation.

“Sketch! Language! You don’t want to wreck their fragile little minds.” CD said, mocking Cheerilee.

“Their fragile minds? They are sitting on my back wound!” Sketch pointed to what they were sitting on, specifically his melted back.

He felt the two fillies on his back shift. “Eeeew! It’s so gross and pussey(*)! My sister will kill when she sees I ruined my uniform!” Sweetie was sounding actually horrified, but Applebloom seemed to be taking it rather better, and had already slid gingerly from his back.

“Jeez! What caused that? It looks like ah burn...” ‘Bloom’s voice was low as she looked over the injury. “Ah’ve seen stuff like this from the steam vent in tha’ hydr-ah-pawn-ics bay.”

“You don’t wanna know the details, in short, an acid beast puked on him before I cut it’s arms off. It was messy.”

“Please...Just get off of my back, this is incredibly painful...” Sketch said, his back hurting the longer they sat there. Sweetie gasped and slid off, the motion much less careful and much more painful than ‘Bloom’s departure.

CD turned to Sketch and helped him up. “Alright girls, you realize you are completely defenseless, right?”

“No we ain’t, Ah brought mah flashlaht, and Sweetie can kinda do magic. Sorta. Actually, ah kinda need to get to tha’ teacher’s lounge, too, Ah got a junior-grade engineerin’ suit in storage.”

Sighing, CD just said the one thing in his mind. “So now I have to help him walk and foalsit two fillies. What is so important in that lounge for you?”

“Ah jest said! Ah’m a junior engineer, an ah got a suit in storage!”

“And what is Sweetie here for? Bait?”

Sweetie shuffled a little. She started to say something, but stopped, closing her mouth again.

“Sweetie, y’all kin tell ‘im. It’s alright.” Applebloom put a hoof on her friend’s shoulder, and smiled.

“Let’s stop talking in the hallway, lounge first, then Marshmallow can spill the beans.” Sketch said, wincing in pain from his back.

The two fillies nodded, and the four ponies began walking down the hall, keeping a careful eye out for anything dangerous.

As he looked around, CD saw that Sweetie and ‘Bloom’s uniforms were already pretty ruined, and there was blood splashed across their shirts. Looking a bit more carefully, CD saw that Sweetie also had a nasty cut over one eye, mostly hidden by her bangs, but visible from the angle he had for a moment.

“Girls, is there anything that happened before you crushed Sketch? Anything at all?” CD asked as he opened the door to the lounge. Sweetie remained silent as ‘Bloom opened her mouth to talk, saying, “No. Nothing happened that was important. We- we just took care of a couple of the other students. They needed to... rest.” ‘Bloom’s voice was real quiet at the end of her sentence, looking down.

“Sure, okay, then I assume you are perfectly fine and will offer no assistance whatsoever to you or your friend.” CD said, trying to scare Applebloom into telling the truth.

Before she could answer, though, they heard the crash of something knocking over in the lounge.

“Great.” CD positioned his cutter, ready to fire if something came crashing through the door.

Instead, he found himself pointing his plasma cutter at a barricade erected across the room, a human now hiding behind it. A smashed pot of coffee sat on the ground.

“Heh, someone who’s possibly worse off than me, what you doing in there newbie?” Sketch called out.

“Y- you can talk? Oh thank goodness, I thought we were the only survivors!” The human slowly stood up, revealing a salt-and-pepper hair coloration, and smooth, olive-tan skin. He was built how a professor was expected to look, pretty much sitting in a stereotype. From around the barricade peeked a pony face, a mare with a soft blue coat and a bright green-and-pink mane. A trio of freckles stood out on one of her cheeks.

“Of course I can talk, I’m insane, not mute.” CD said, rolling his eyes while walking into the room, accidentally bumping his bad leg on a low section of debris. “Fffffffffffffffffffffffillies around, can’t say it.”

‘Bloom and Sweetie both looked up at him quizzically, before the pony slowly eased her way out from around the barricade. “H- how did you get here? I- I thought that e- everyone died at the assembly. I- I was so scared.”

“We got here a bit ago, Cheerilee’s class is fine, but these two escaped again after we told them to stay put.” CD said, eyeing the mentioned fillies for a second.

“You don’t want to know what happened to the rest of the school, trust us.” Sketch added.

“W- wait, Cheerilee? From the elementary half of the school?” This time it was the teacher who spoke up, his voice holding hope.

“Yes, the bossy mare who put us in the corner for trying to help her survive, she really needs to get her priorities straight.” CD said, rolling his eyes at being put in the corner.

“Yeah, she even yelled at me for doing first aid on a student.”

Sweetie looked Sketch dead in the eye. “Technically, that was a full-on operation, not just first-aid. First aid would-” Sweetie would’ve continued, but Applebloom put a hoof in her mouth first.

“Yes, you are welcome for saving his life and yours, and everyone in your classroom.” CD said, hoping it would shut up the girls.

“But Alex was a meanie!” Sweetie’s voice cracked on the word ‘meanie’, making it hard to take her attempt at a serious look, well, seriously.

“Doesn’t mean he deserved to die, how would you feel if I left you to rot alone and scared?”

Applebloom put her hoof back into Sweetie’s mouth, answering for her. “It’s alright, Sweetie, they tried to help. We need to get to tha autostore though. Mah Junior Engineerin’ suit is in there, and it’s a sight better protection than mah uniform.”

“Great idea. Hey professor, where’s the Autostore, we need suits for a little girl and an acid victim.” CD said, turning to the human. “Please tell me there’s one here.”

“Y- yeah, in the back. L- lemme move some of the barricade.” The human carefully shifted the section of table that appeared to be the ‘door’ of the debris fort. The four ponies stepped in, to find it surprisingly well maintained. The mare, now back in the safety of the fort, was more visible. She had the remains of her uniform on, most of the material used for a splint across one of her rear legs.

There was still a table (likely light plastic, no wonder they didn’t use it in the fort) and on it was stacked some food. There was also a working Autostore and a large, comfy chair.

“We kinda ran out of money, but it’s still connected to the system.” The mare, now easily identifiable as a pegasus.

“Lucky bastards.” CD mumbled, then activated the Autostore, looking at the holographic display as a notification appeared in the corner; ‘Schematic Uploaded; Forged Engineering Suit. Engineering Rank 4 Required. Rank 5 accepted. Forged Engineering Suit now available for purchase.’

“Class four? Dangit. There goes that plan, Sketch. Oh well.” Checking the price he, he saw that it was labeled for 18,000 credits... and he nearly choked when he saw his own funds. Checking it again to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, he saw that he somehow had a whopping 152,750 credits sitting happily in his account. He swapped his hacker suit for the Forged Engineering suit after purchasing it, happy he had more than enough money, although he did wish he could keep his father’s jacket.

Stepping into the changing booth, the beige earth pony settled back into the familiar embrace of the mechanical arms. The suit and the jacket were stripped away, and quietly sent to the teleportation matrix, to be sent into storage.

“You’re up Sketch, what can you do?”

“Let’s look around the store first.”

“Okay, if you don’t have the money for a suit, I can spot you.” CD said, with a grin that said ‘I’m loaded, bitch.’

“Okay, I don’t remember how much I had on my account...” Sketch looked at his own card, unsure, he checked, “ I have... uhm... lemme used the AutoStore.” Checking the account numbers, he saw that he had a (to him) impressive 13,800, now that he didn’t need to pay rent.

“I may not be rich, but I have enough, hopefully.”

Taking the time to check what was available in the store, he saw that there was some small medi-gel containers on sale, along with...

“Oh, nice! There’s an engineering suit and a Line Gun available! That’d take most of my money though, the gun’s 8,000, and the suit’s 1,000 credits. I should probably buy some line racks, apparently it’s what the thing uses for ammo, and... eesh, why’re they 280 for a pack of two?!”

“Genius, I’ve got two, we can both get a Line Gun and have ammo.” CD pointed out.

“ We get to be alien-murder buddies, spreading love throughout the station, one bloody meter at a time!”

“With pink flying weasels everywhere!” CD had his ‘Don’t mind me, I’m a nutcase’ grin plastered across his face.

“Uhm... are you two... alright?” The pegasus had been standing off to one side the whole time. The teacher didn’t look much more reassured.

“Not at all, and I like it that way.” CD said, his grin almost too big for his face, his body seemingly vibrating slightly.

“We’re fine, it’s just that these things have done horrible things to us and people we know all day, including this acid wound on my back and face. We are just excited to have the means to get some well deserved payback.” The two survivors from the lounge looked at each other, obviously worried.

Sketch, happy he could now raid the AutoStore proceeded to purchase the Engineering Suit, stepping in. However, he’d never put on a suit like this before and found the close, bright confines more than a little unsettling. The mechanical arms slid smoothly out of the walls, grabbing the poor colt and stripping him of his clothes. He squawked indignantly, before being restrained long enough for the systems to scan him.

Then, the arms began to wrap layers of metal-lined material around him, the segments being set into place behind copper-colored bands of metal. The individual bands formed a flexible ‘ribcage’ of metal to prevent any kind of cave-in or collapse from harming him too much.

He yelped, completely unhappy, when the metal arms dragged material across the sensitive skin of his crotch. Thankfully, though, the contact was fleeting. Along with the placement of the suit, a spritz of cooling gel misted across his back, the medigel soothing his injury and numbing it.

Finally, the suit was on, and Sketch felt the unfamiliar sensation of the helmet sliding smoothly over his mane and ears as the changing booth opened. Stepping out, Sketch stretched a bit, feeling the good maneuverability the suit afforded. Looking over at the AutoStore, he looked over what was available, and selected the Line Gun and the Divet he’d seen. There was even ammo for the small gun rather cheap. They were only 100 for a clip of 10 shots.

“How much was the Line Gun? I could give you the cash to buy me one and a pair of racks... That came out wrong.”

“Give me 8000 for the Line Gun and 280 for the ammo.” Sketch said. Glancing back at the AutoStore, Sketch realized that the option to buy another had disappeared. Turning around to type in a direct query, the system said that he had the ‘maximum allowed amount’ of ‘limited issue, non-transferable goods.’

“Darn, oh well, I’ll pay you for any upgrades, what’d you pick up?”

“Ammo box upgrade, and an Ammo sweeper upgrade.”

“Sweet! How much you want?” CD said, just before the mare spoke up.

“Uhm, you two? A- are these fillies yours? They’re making a bit of a mess.” The young pegasus sounded a bit unsure, and Sketch looked over his shoulder to see Sweetie hanging off a ceiling fan, and Applebloom nosing around the barricade, the whole thing threatening to collapse.

“Will you two sit down and relax for a moment? We’re trying to make sure you don’t die on the way back to the classroom. I love kids and all, but you’re really pushing it.”

“I- I’m not a kid! I’m an adult, I’ll have you know!” The pegasus mare looked angrily at the two colts, and the teacher looked away awkwardly.

“Considering we weren’t talking to you, no we aren’t calling you a kid.” CD stated, turning back to Sketch and leaving the young pegasus to stew. “How much for the upgrades?”

“Lemme see.” Sketch said, checking the store for the prices on the upgrades. Apparently, the Ammo Box could sell for 200, and the Sweep was worth 120. “They’re both are pretty cheap it seems, I’ll just give you one, take your pick, Ammo Box or Ammo Sweep.”

“Hmmm, how about we store them for now, because we can’t use them at the moment. We can get them back when we find viable equipment. I’ll take the Ammo Sweep though.”

Selecting the items and passing them off, the two ponies set them into their storage bins, the other bits of tool construction being set into storage as well.

“Now we buy Medigel because I’m running on empty. Healing would be heavily advised.” CD pointed out.

“I don’t have a lot of money, can you buy your own? And some for the group? You have the most money.”

“Yeah, 133,750 credits can get us a bunch of gel.” CD joked, reaching over to the AutoStore and reactivating it. Checking through the store, he found two sizes of medigel, the small ones they’d been finding all over, and a double-sized medium medigel type. The smalls where 500 credits apiece, the mediums 800 each.

Purchasing a slew of the mediums, he purchased a total of fifteen medium medigels, seven of them being used entirely just for fixing their aches and pains, along with a cheap field applicator and a small for the injured pegasus.

“Here, baby. Let me fill you up with my gel, it’ll feel real good. Don’t worry, I’ll slap myself later.” CD said, giving the mare a dumb smile. She just glared at him, and the teacher ended up taking the applicator and helping the mare himself, CD laughing all the while..

“Okay, give me six of those leftover medigel, I’m going to buy some ammo, then lets go get Broker in here for his suit.”

“Sounds good, here you go.” CD tossed the gel to Sketch, and his helmet slides back over his head, no longer leering at the mare. “Oh come on Summer, you know I’m kidding.”

CD turned back to the Autostore, looking for things to buy. The Javelin Gun sounded cool, but impractical around the necromorphs. Plus, with rounds that cheap, it probably wasn’t too good. That said, the Plasma Cutter’s ammo was 280 again, but for five of them. Buying as many as he could carry was a little expensive, but he didn’t think it’d be a problem.

Sketch took over purchasing the materials, 20 rounds for the Divet, and 5 for the Line Rack, plus the clips already in those guns at purchase.

“I’m fully loaded and full of medigel, ready to go?”

“Yup, let’s head out. Alright everypony, we’re heading back to Cheerilee’s classroom, I suggest you come with us. Sweetie, stop poking the barricade, I’m not gonna pull you out of the rubble.” CD said, heading to the door. “Applebloom, if you want your suit, get it now, then hop on.”

“W- wait! You aren’t heading back out there, are you? The last guy who went out... he- he didn’t come back. And he was armed, too!” The teacher’s voice was a little shrill for such a large guy.

“We have killed at least fifty of these monsters in the past hour, have had near fatal injuries, and have been jumped by groups of looters. I think we will be fine.”

“A- all we found of him was some bloodstains a-and a hololog!”

“You know, that’s possibly important. Any particular reason you didn’t tell us? And don’t say ‘You never asked.’ or I’ll get pissed.” CD said staring at the mare. “What’s on the log?”

“You- you just kind of burst in, and demanded to see the AutoStore, and then you kept ignoring us when we tried to talk to you...”

“Whatever, show me the log, we have our reasons for rushing.”

“Y- yeah, alright. It’s right here.” The teacher handed over the hololog, as Applebloom stepped into the changing booth of the autostore.

CD took the hololog, downloaded the file, and gave it to Sketch so they could both watch it.

The hologram cuts in revealing the same man as before running through the school hallways. “Most of all, if you can run, run! Save your ammunition! That is vital in this.”

The man turns a corner and stops running, catching his breath. “It is possible to outrun them... Just take a large amount of turns, they will lose line of sight and give up. If there is too many to fight, run. Fight or Flight, that is the thing to keep in mind.” The man sat on the floor.

“I was able to find someone else here, I had to make sure they were safe. I did what I could to give them time.” The man wiped his forehead. “Alright, list the steps I said already... Shoot the limbs, use them if you have the Kinesis module, and finally, run if you know there is too many of them or if you have low ammunition. Keep that in mind! Never forget it! Those are some key tools for this situation!” The hologram began to fade out as the man exhaled.

As the holo ended, The two ponies looked around to see that ‘Bloom had stepped out of the booth, standing tall. Oddly, though she had looked kind of young before, the filly looked more... composed as she stepped out. She looked more mature.

“Ah’ll right, Sweetie, you go in next.”

The young unicorn stepped hesitantly up to the AutoStore, and hastily tapped a few buttons, scurrying directly into the changing booth.

“Heh, she’s gonna be a marshmallow with a hard metal shell, yet a chewy center.” Sketch teased.

“Just like a malted milk ball! Dang, I forgot how hungry I am.” CD whined

The booth slid open revealing a strangely interesting-looking suit, the panels largely blank white ceramic. Checking the side of it, CD saw that Sweetie had an odd tool like a lightning rod with a handle strapped to her side.

Along the back was a blue shield with a rearing filly, painted along the side of the RIG line. A single bar was half-flashing, showing her stressed and slightly battered status. The helmet was in place, and it looked like Sweetie wasn’t taking it off for anything.

CD noticed the low bar on her RIG. “Hmm odd, I’m pretty sure you said nothing happened... maybe your armor is malfunctioning, unless you have something to say.” CD gave the filly a hard look.

The blank white-and-pale green face-plate of her armor simply stared at him for a moment, before turning away. A set of fine, high-quality finger units flicked out, and she checked the gun at her side, the chamber lighting up with crackling electricity.

Applebloom’s own faceplates set into place, showing that the faceplate had been painted with the shield-and-filly.

“Anything you fillies wanna say? Otherwise, I guess I’ll keep this medigel to myself, since you won’t need it. At all.”

As if to spite him, the filly in the white suit tapped a small holo button, and the whole group heard the sound of a medigel being used, and the last bar on Sweetie’s back stopped blinking.

Unfazed, CD continued towards the door. “Alright Sweetie, you can fight the next monster we find, smart-ass.”

She twitched her arms in response, the gun at her side blurring to a ready position, and she strode to the door. Her serious demeanor was made rather adorable by that fact that she still wasn’t quite as tall as CD or Sketch.

“For the record, sans suits, I could punt you across the room.” CD pointed out. “Come on Sketch, we’re going. Anypony else who wants to come with, they can.”

*As in, full of pus, you perverts.

Author's Note

So, this is chapter eleven, and we're going strong.
So, who's your favorite characters? Voting for favorite and least favorite characters leads to those characters getting penalties and bonuses according to their 'fame' scores, and anyone can vote once per chapter.

Ch12 - Clap Your Hooves...

The group of ponies and human left the teacher’s lounge, Sweetie and Applebloom leading. The two little fillies crept along the hallway, looking left and right. They watched up the vent that they had fell from previously.

The two in the back, the teacher and the mare, were talking quietly to each other.

The mare had picked up a plasma cutter before she left, digging it out from the piles of refuse in the barricade. It appeared to be a standard cutter, built for a pony to wield in their mouth.

“Hey, y’all back there! Stop slowin’ us down!” Applebloom called over her shoulder, and CD and Sketch realized there was a meter or more between the pairs of people.

CD picked up speed, and got behind her, and nudged her forward by a foot. “Oops.” CD didn’t try to sound sincere.

Sketch faced backwards and walked fast enough to catch up the the two fillies, “How’s this?”

The two fillies eye him for a moment, Sweetie rapidly losing interest. Sketch wasn’t entirely sure what to make of their rather sudden quiet. Almost as sudden, was the change from Sweetie staring dead ahead and looking around, her hidden eyes keeping her face locked onto something moving in the ducts.

The loud clangs of rapid movement tipped all of them off that getting to the classroom faster was a good idea, and they charged the gymnasium.

The door opened, and the six of them crowded towards the large door. They each skidded to a halt, however, when they saw that there was nearly a dozen of the bat-like infectors, and more than twenty large necromorphs stood in the large room. All of them turned towards the newcomers in tandem.

“What now, little-miss-perfect?” CD whispered.

“Uhm... I think we kin go aroun’ this time.” Applebloom said, backing out. The necromorphs continued to stare at the group for a second or so.

“Yeah right, Sketch, you ready?” Sketch got out his Line Gun.

A deep growl emanated from nearby, followed by a rumbling voice saying, “Discretion... is the better part of valor.” The two colts looked around for a moment, before realizing, with a start, that the distorted, deep voice had come from Sweetie Belle.

“Well, I’d say something funny about puberty, but I’m more on the idea of shooting and running away.” CD said, aiming at one of the monsters.

“My Line Gun is ready, locked and loaded.” Sketch said, aiming the weapon at the crowd of necromorphs.

“I’ll say again,” the deep-voiced Sweetie intoned, “that we should probably flee.”

“Genius, I just said that and agreed, but how about we shoot while running to slow them down?” CD said. “So do we go now, or keep talking?”

The decision was made for them, when the horde of necromorphs charged the small group, and the colts heard screams of terror from behind them.

CD fired a few shots at the necromorphs while moving back, picking up Applebloom and putting her on his back so she wouldn’t get trampled, Sketch picked up Sweetie Belle for the same reason, firing off the first Line Gun shot.

The horde of necromorphs hit the strip of glowing energy directly, and few fell, cut in half. Unfortunately, sheer numbers overrode the strength of the shot, and they continued to pile forward.

At about this time, Sketch felt Sweetie slip off the back of his suit, and saw that she was steadying the weapon in her hooves. The mechanical fingers held it perfectly still as she lined up the shot, then hesitated.

“If you take aim, shoot already!” CD said to Sweetie, too busy firing at the monsters to question what he saw. Sketch fired another shot into the crowd, the line of energy slicing apart the necromorphs. Noting for a second an option for ‘alt fire’, He gave that a try, and a packet of material flew out and hit a necromorph, falling to the ground and sticking there. The shot had taken up two shots, leaving the clip next to empty.

An orb of white energy floated over the block of stuff, looking pretty and making weird noises, but not really doing much of anything.

Most of the necromorph horde passed by and through it without being harmed in the slightest.

“Fuck! I wasted two racks for a light bulb!”

As if spurred to action by his harsh words, the orb proceeded to redeem its value by detonating spectacularly, beams of light projecting in all directions and spinning rapidly, slicing and dicing dozens of the monsters as they went. Unfortunately, it also hit the young mare, bisecting her just as neatly as the necromorphs.

“Oooooooooh, brutal!” CD yelled excited by the effect it had on the mob, then looked behind him at the mare. “On second thought: Eeew. That’s nasty. Sketch, you’re going to need more practice with that, it’s not pretty.”

“N- no! Weatherust!” the teacher had fallen to his knees, holding the front of her, and even CD could see she was still alive.

“Goddamnit!” Sketch shouted, firing the last of the Line Gun ammo into the oncoming horde, the bar of actinic fire slicing apart many of the remaining necromorphs, leaving only a few still advancing. Sketch reloaded the Line Gun.

“As horrible as this is, I’m gonna be merciful.” CD said, pushing the teacher out of the way, and shooting the mare right through the forehead with his Cutter, killing her instantly. The teacher screamed in horror, and tackled CD to the ground, his hands going to CD’s neck in a vain attempt to strangle him through the suit.

“Hey, asshole, if I didn’t do that, she’d have spent her last moments in horrific, unbearable pain!”

“You murdering bastard! You fucking killed her!” the teacher picked CD slightly up and slammed him down, finally finding a way to harm Data through his suit.

Sketch used the alt fire again, even though it just accidentally killed the mare. The packet flew out, this time in a long arc to keep it farther away from the group. The orb began to rise as the teacher continued to slam Copy.Data’s head into the floor of the hall.

CD growled , and bucked the human away, before turning to fire at the few remaining creatures. A moment later, he was flattened to the ground from the the teacher tackling him. The enraged human went back to trying to slam the earth pony’s head into the ground.

“That’s it, I’m making this one hurt.” CD bucked the teacher again, this time, aiming lower and hitting him where it would be hard to ignore.

The human fell to the side for a moment before doggedly crawling back up and attempting to tackle the pony again. CD got a good look at his face, contorted with rage and sorrow. Then, he almost casually pushed the man aside, as he was very obviously weakened from the blow to his crotch.

“Now listen, jerk. If I didn’t shoot her, she’d have died a slow, painful death. If you didn’t want me to shoot her, then by all means let her last words be screams of intense agony. Understand?” CD said, looking down at the human, then turning around, heading for the gym door.

The guy just sniffled, and Sketch saw him crawl to the corpse of the young mare, embracing it and sobbing.

“Let it out and let’s go, we don’t want to wait here for any more, I’m down to three shots with the Line Gun.”

The man didn’t respond to Sketch, instead opting to stay where he was, crying over the mare’s body still.

“Listen, if you want to stay and cradle a dead body, that’s fine. Right now, we need to get going. Sketch, where are the filli... shit.”

“They ran off, but I’m going to stay here for a second, let the guy mourn her and get it out of his system.”

“Whatever, mister guilt-trip. Y’know, I’m really starting to not care about anyone. I’m just gonna head back to Cheerilee and scare the crap out of her, that should get my mood up.” CD then headed over to the door, trying to get back to the classroom. “If you find the girls, take ‘em back to class. Unless you don’t want to stay here in the gym with a dead body and a thick-headed sob-sack.”

With that, CD strode from the room, heading towards Cheerilee’s classroom. Sketch stood awkwardly near the mourning man.

CD turned to Summer, in her own beautiful rendition of the Engineering Suit, the copper sections contrasting with her green and gold hair nicely. CD sighed. “I know that was harsh, but I’m serious, it’s getting annoying dealing with everypony.”

“Copy, you’ve got to be nicer to others. I know you’ve always had your problems, but it’s not right to treat others like that.” The mare’s voice was serene, but sounded concerned. “You take away little pieces of them when you do, and you have to let things stay whole.”

“So I should ignore the fact that I was assaulted for offering mercy?” CD heard his tone and softened up. “Yeah, that was bad what happened, but I was trying to give her a better death, that was good, right?”

The conversation was interrupted by the door to Cheerilee’s room opening. Inside was Broker and a much calmer-looking Cheerilee, and the remaining children.

As they entered, Broker looked up from where he was sitting, patting Cheerilee on the back.

“You got a suit, Sketch? Awesome, buddy! You can finally stop running away from the creatures that haunt this place.” Broker looked genuinely happy to see his old friend, not realizing it was the wrong person.

“Sorry, wrong guy.” CD said, his helmet plates sliding back. “I make this look better than he could, isn’t that obvious?” CD stood there smirking. “But Sketch is back in the gym with a teacher who is currently mourning this mare that got killed on our way back here. Oh, and Cheerilee, do you know where Applebloom and Sweetie are? They followed us again.”

“A mare died?” Broker sighed at the grave news, “Always hard to accept, even though death is all around here.”

Cheerilee, however, took the news of ‘Bloom and Sweetie rather bad, looking around to confirm her students had actually gone.

“W- Where could they have gone?! If- if they were with you, why aren’t they here now?” As Cheerilee spoke, CD could see the panic rising in the mare’s face.

“Because I kept my word. I already said that if they followed, then I’m not bailing them out. They need to grow up and learn to deal with what comes from their actions. Right?”

“They’re just children, though! Sweetie Belle is barely twelve, and Applebloom just turned thirteen! W- where could they have gone?”

“I have no idea, but Sweetie left the AutoStore with some seriously powerful gear, so as long as she doesn’t get lost, run out of ammo, or leave Applebloom, they’re both going to be perfectly fine.”

As CD finished his speech, something clanged against a desk welded over a vent. A moment later, a brilliant spot appeared on the metal of the desk, tracing a slow rectangle into the cheap, recycled steel. A moment later, it fell inwards, and the white and copper forms of Sweetie and ‘Bloom slid into the classroom. Once they landed, Sweetie sheathed the weapon she’d used to cut through the weld.

CD didn’t bat an eye, just offering a casual “Told ya.”

Sketch continued to stand next to the teacher, who refused to leave the mare’s corpse.

“I understand you need to mourn her death, but can we do that somewhere safe?” Sketch advised, looking around for necromorphs.

“She’s dead.” The teacher’s voice was flat as day-old soda.

“Yes she died, can you please move from here? I can’t just leave you here to die.”

“Why not? I- I don’t have anything that matters anymore.”

“Stop being depressing and get a hold of yourself, so yes, one student died, but-”

“Just one student?! She- she was...” The teacher began to speak, but broke off with a choked sob.

“But... It’s your job as a teacher to help the other students still alive, now please come with me to Cheerilee’s class. We need to check on them.”

“I- but...”

“Dude, dying isn’t going to bring her back, now get off your butt and lets go help the remaining students, they need you, and Cheerilee is kind of losing it.”

“I- “ he faltered, sighed, and swallowed heavily. “Yeah... you’re right. She wouldn’t want this.” The man stood up, age etched into his features, wiping his eyes. “A- alright, let’s go.”

“Follow me, and don’t make too much noise and move quickly, I don’t have enough ammo for another horde.” Sketch said quietly.

The teacher nodded, and the two jogged towards the small spot of light in the darkness of the school.

Cheerilee had finally calmed down, and had started chatting with Broker, obviously thankful for the more learned unicorn’s presence and education. Given her usual audience, it wasn’t too surprising.

CD had somehow found himself wrangled into watching the rest of class, mostly in keeping them calm. He also seemed to have been put in charge of keeping an eye on Alex, the injured kid, and his new ‘girlfriend’ Big Heart. The little filly had started to wipe off the boy’s forehead with a piece of cloth.

CD quickly got bored and decided to address the metaphorical elephant in the room. “Hey, Sweetie Belle, Applebloom, how exactly did you get out into the vents after they were blocked off, and with Cheerilee supposedly keeping an eye on you? You know, completely ignoring the fact that you somehow got access to that equipment.”

The filly in the engineering suit watched him, the helmet back and showing her red mane and large eyes. “I- I’m not gonna say anything ‘bout Sweetie, but we got out usin’ the CMC emergency exits... Also known as resettin’ the vent controls. There’s a couple of the older vents that ya have ta’ cut through ta get inta tha newer ones.”

Applebloom shrugged. “We had a free afternoon after Ms. Cheerilee’s class, an’ my Junior Engineerin’ class had showed me the schematics of tha’ vents. It wasn’t to hard to figure it out from there, install hatches, reinforce the older ducts, stuff like that.”

CD was obviously impressed, but something bothered him. “How could you do that without anypony knowing? You kids aren’t the quietest vent crawlers I’ve heard.” He shook his head. “That’s beside the fact that those passageways could be used by the smaller necromorphs to get anywhere in the school with little issue.”

“Actually, the hatches’re offset, so y’ cain’t get a good angle on ‘em. Anypony yer age should know that leverage is needed to get any real force behind ah swing.”

“Yeah, still, how did you manage getting through these passageways undetected in the first place? You aren’t all that silent up there, in fact, you made so much noise I almost shot you the first time.”

“That’s ‘cuz those vents’re over a hallway. Most of ‘em are in the walls, an’ those’re all anchored well.” Applebloom countered.

CD paused for a moment, before finally accepting that Applebloom knew what she was talking about. “Kid, you’re smarter than you look, I’m impressed. I like you.” CD gave her a grin before turning to Cheerilee. “Although now that the secret’s out, I’m guessing they’re gonna block those off somehow.” He leaned in closer to ‘Bloom “I wouldn’t mind giving you a hoof if you need it though, teachers always ruin the fun.”

“Ah doubt it. If we’re gonna abandon the school, the vents’re gonna stay setup. An it’d take a lot more effort to remove them than it was t’ put ‘em in, in the firs’ place.”

“Yeah, anyway we should get going before anypony-” Before Data could finish his sentence, the door to the classroom opened, revealing Sketch, still holding the line gun, and the teacher from before. Cheerilee, looking up from a spirited conversation with Broker, lost her calm look at the sight of the other teacher.

“Hello, Dave. I’m surprised you survived.” The words from the burgundy mare were bordering on venomous.

“He wouldn’t have if I didn’t talk some sense into him, at least we have another adult here to manage the kids.”

“Provided he doesn’t decide to take them away for some ‘private tutoring’, right, Dave?”

The older teacher, Dave, flushed a bit and set his jaw. “That’s enough, Cheerilee. Just because you never found someone special for your life-” Dave stopped, biting off the end of his own sentence.

“Wait,” Sketch turned and aimed the Line Gun at Dave, “Explain what she’s talking about, now. I’m not having a pedophile join the group.”

Dave looked towards Sketch, then sighed. “Me and my student, Weatherrust, were having a relationship. It’s the end of the universe as far as I’m concerned, so I’m not going to lie. She was eighteen, and we hadn’t done anything besides enjoy each other’s company for the previous two years. There, it’s out.”

“Sketch, there’s no need for that. Put the weapon down calmly” Broker added.

Sketch lowered his gun, “All you had to say was that she was of age. I see nothing wrong with it, she was an adult, she could decide for herself.”

Cheerilee looked at Sketch sourly. “It’s illegal, that’s what’s wrong with it! He shouldn’t have-”

“I don’t care, I’m tired of waiting, what do we do now? After getting Broker a suit of course.” CD interrupted, wanting to speed things along before anyone got eaten or worse.

“I agree with CD. How about me and him go shop? Sketch, can you keep those two under control without trying harass and insult them? It would be greatly appreciated.” Broker added.

“Why are you telling me to stay? I’m not going out there again, you and CD are going to get your suit, I’m staying here to; A, protect the students, and B, keep Cheerilee from killing Dave.”

“Good. Come on, CD. I don’t want to get caught in an ambush by the Necromorphs.” Broker declared, standing up and looking at his companion.

“Do you even know the way?” CD rolled his eyes, heading out the door.

“Lead the way, young chap!” Broker said while following behind CD, readying his weapon also.

“By the way, if you see a dead mare cut in half, yeah, just ignore it. And blame Sketch, it was his mine.” CD said, not mentioning the fact how the mare really died.

“There’s mines? I didn’t know you could get mines here. Hopefully my merchant access will open up the wares. Maybe I could stop using this pea shooter and have something like Sketch has.”

“Merchant clearance? Buddy, are you dense? AutoStores are public use idiot. And I’m only offering money for you to buy a suit if you need more cash, I’m not buying you lethal weapons.” CD said, quickly tiring of Broker’s naivete.

“I meant to get stuff for merchants from the AutoStore, plus I should have enough for weapons.”

“I’m only providing money for a suit if you don’t have enough money, I’m not buying it for you. If you don’t have enough, you’re not getting anything but the suit.” CD informed. “And watch the gym floor, don’t step in the acid.”

“Acid? How did acid get in there? The monsters? I honestly thought it wouldn’t be that bad. Now we have the normal ones and ones that spit acid? Just perfect. Well... glad I’m getting the suit. Thank you for the generosity by the way, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Well, we’ll see.” CD kept moving. “And there are no normal necromorphs, just ones with claws, some with magic, some who barf acid all over Sketch, and Celestia knows what other kinds there are. Just try to play it safe.”

“Will do. Let’s just hope the way to the AutoStore is clear since you and Sketch just came from it.” Broker looked towards CD. “Do you think there’s a way to stop them?”

“Yes. Kill them. That stops just about anything.” CD walked into the gym. Inside, a few heavily-damaged necromorphs shambled around, piling bodies slowly into the center. Thick streamers of necrotic jelly flowed from the vents, pulsing like a series of major veins and arteries.

One of the slashers looked over at the two ponies, then looked away and went back to piling bodies.

“H.. how could it just look away like that? I- it looked at us right in the eye...” Broker quietly whispered to CD, not moving a single muscle but his mouth.

“They obviously have a much larger priority, and that’s not good. We should probably do something about that blob.” CD said, thinking out a plan as fast as he could, trying to rule out ones that could result in death. As he spoke, the tendrils of corruption finally grew far enough to reach the bodies, its speed of growth tripling.

“What about those tendrils? They’re growing. A-and where’s the AutoStore? I think we should get out of this place before something demonic happens since that... thing is doing something with the bodies.” Broker said in a quivering voice as he watched the fat trails of slime grow.

CD’s eyes twitched, then he grinned like a madman. “I have an idea. Broker, I suggest you run as fast as you can.” CD then started shooting at the blob thing, eliciting a squealing noise. All the pairs of eyes in the room shifted towards him and Broker.

“Now, run.” CD said, doing just that, moving as fast as he could.

“What is wrong with you!?” Broker shouted as he ran along with CD, aiming his gun backwards and firing towards the horde.

“Everything.” CD said, making an effort to take a path with the most directional changes. “Didn’t I make that clear?”

“You did now! What’s this brilliant plan of yours!?” Broker yelled the words as he and CD sprinted for the far door, the two ‘brilliant’ ponies ducking a few globules of acidic spit and sliding under a few of the larger slashers in a truly remarkable show of athletic ability, especially on the part of Broker, who was noticeably panting and wheezing as they barely reached those double doors on the other side of the gym.

CD ran through the doors, and then informed Broker of the next part of his ‘brilliant’ plan. “Now we hide and try to lose them, or we run down a bunch of halls, they’ll lose interest if they can’t see us for a while.”

The two ponies continued to run down the halls at full-tilt, turning at each hall as sharply as possible, trying to evade the necromorph horde as they went. Oddly, though, the horde stayed on their tails, something that disturbed CD greatly, until he caught a glimpse of a chunk of the gooey corruption oozing from a vent.

Finally reaching the teacher’s lounge, CD keyed the door and slid in, Broker a mere moment behind, panting and gasping as he ducked into the room. The two ponies immediately ducked behind the barricade, looking around frantically to make sure none of the corruption had creeped into the room. Taking a moment to catch their

“T- this part of your brilliant plan? W... we’re hiding now. W- what’s the next step?” Broker asked through deep, raspy, breaths that he attempted to keep silent.

“I’m doing what I’ve always done, make shit up as I go along. Just make yourself as small as possible and don’t move. If they don’t break through that door in ten minutes, I’d say we lost them.”

Broker glared at CD, but sighed and nodded. “Hope this doesn’t get us killed.” Closing his eyes, Broker went into a ball, trying to compact into a tiny fragment of nothing.

Minutes pass, with CD watching the door through a thin crack in the barricade, patient as he stood still. Eventually, he let out the breath he’d found himself holding. His suit’s watch had ticked over twelve minutes of elapsed time, and he felt a bit better.

“Okay, now we get some stuff from the store. I trust you know how it works?” CD said walking toward the device.

“They’re common use here on the station, everyone uses them.” broker stated matter-of-factly, before sparing a glance at the door. “And those things better not be patrolling the area.” Broker added walking past CD, then entering into the holographic kiosk. “Okay, let’s see what you have in store for me.” Broker said before tapping at a virtual button.

“That joke was terrible and you should feel terrible.” CD stated.

“I didn’t even notice I made one. Silly me.” Broker grinned before turning his attention back to the blue display.

“You didn’t make a joke, jokes are funny.” CD pointed out. “That was just pathetic. So what is available?”

“Uh, let’s see here.” Broker checked his files, and saw, first off, that several of his book orders had come in, and were sitting in one of the shipping wharves. Besides that, he saw that the first suit he saw was something labeled a ‘Vintage Suit’, and that it was labeled to only be 10k credits.

“Okay, old fashioned isn’t so bad, and it should be in a price I can afford. I’ll take it!” Broker said in glee.

Tapping the buttons to purchase, Broker stepped into the changing booth, a bit more at ease about the mechanical assistance thanks to the time he’d spent changing into formal wear with the aid of the AutoStores near his shop. Wincing as the machines wrapped him in the layers of cushioning material, the heavy metallio-ceramic shell being quickly set into place around him as the rest of his clothes were whisked away by the arcanotech matrices in the booth.

Finally, he stepped out, the heavy, powerful suit giving him a sense a strength he wasn’t used to, and the heavy shell concealed his mild girth. The bell-like helm covered his head completely, the barely pony-shaped headpiece leaving a series of slotted eyeholes as the only indicator it wasn’t a robot inside. His Divet had been been re-mounted to a side-holder, the mechanical appendage gripping the firearm firmly and its aim following his gaze.

Looking back at the AutoStore’s inventory, Broker saw that the Divet’s rounds were available, and that the rounds seemed to be only 90 credits for a stack of ten.

“Hm. Could fill up on ammunition too. What I want to know however, is if there are any weapons available. The Divet is fine, but not exactly the best for what we’re facing. Come on store. Give me some weapons!” Broker rapped on the panel, a bit surprised to find that he was hitting it with more force than usual.

“People with attitudes like that typically misuse the weapons and end up hurting themselves or their friends.” CD warned.

“Grr. Fine. Let’s see, I think I’ll have twelve clips. Maybe I could get better luck next time.” Broker announced at the machine.

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t get a better weapon, I said not to be so eager.” CD said. “So what is available?”

“All that’s showing up is Divet rounds. I just want something with a little more punch.” Broker said.

“Really? How long did you look? Keep searching, I’m sure there’s more stuff than just ammo for your handgun.”

Broker looked again at the panel, looking hard, until he saw that the Autostore was, for some odd reason, set to only show ammo. Hitting the toggle, he saw that there was also MediGel containers, and even something called a ‘Javelin Gun’.

Broker looked over it, tapping the select button to look at its price “Ooh, a Javelin Gun. How much do you cost? Oh and CD? Do we need anymore medigel?” He saw that it was 9900

“A Javelin Gun. Seriously? Slow fire rate, six shots, and only hits one thing at a time unless you somehow shishkabob them. Genius. Besides, I’m only here to pay for the suit if you needed more money, which you don’t. You want it, it’s your wallet, pal.”

“Hey, this will be a lot better than this pea-shooter here. Though, I could use it for emergencies only. Still taking it.” Broker tapped a few holographic buttons to confirm his purchase.

“Fine, just remember to aim it at a group, hitting them in a weak spot. Mess up and you’re screwed.” CD advised. “I wouldn’t make it your primary weapon, so keep the Divet, but don’t just spread bullets everywhere, the ammo seems cheap, but gets expensive if wasted.”

“Just make sure you don’t alert the whole horde next time and I won’t. I don’t plan to use this as my primary, like I said, for emergencies only. Now just how much does the ammo cost?” Broker said, tapping more buttons to see if ammo for his new weapon was available, Smiling when he found it was. It cost 360 for a pack of two, but it would probably work out.

“Alright, Sketch has a bunch of MediGel, I’ve got some and unless there’s anything else you need badly, we’re heading out.”

“That should be it. Javelin will be used tactically and hopefully I’ll have more credits the next time we come across an Autostore. Let’s go.” Broker said backing out of the kiosk.

“Wait, I wanna try something, I’ve gotta figure out how this helmet works exactly, so I’m gonna try getting a hold of Sketch.” CD said, hoping he could talk to others without having to be next to them, it would make asking for help much easier at the very least.

Fiddling with the helmet, CD tapped and poked his suit until he found the proper commands. Unfortunately, he realized that he needed the RIG ID for Sketch to call him, like a phone number.

“Dang, why do I always get so close, then reality has to bitch-slap me at the last second? Life sure has a twisted, sick sense of humor. Hey Broker, by any chance would you have Sketch’s ID?”

“ID? Sure, me and him have been friends for a few years now. He gave it to me a while ago. Should be...” Broker took the moment to connect to CD’s RIGlink, and sent him the ID code. “There.”

“Perfect.” CD tried calling Sketch up, knowing exactly what to say first. Unfortunately, all he got was static and a message saying ‘Transmission Disconnected’.

“Well, that sucks, we can’t get a hold of him. Oh well, ready to go?”

“Yes, hopefully the area is clear or the Necromorphs are busy... doing whatever it is scary, flesh eating monsters do.“ Broker announced.

“They don’t eat them, as far as I can tell, they assimilate the bodies.” CD said, walking to the door. “So that’s probably what that blob-thing was doing.”

“And they’ll just keep assimilating until we find a way to stop them. There has to be something. Maybe a large fire? Or maybe there’s a source to it all, like a beacon?”

“Who knows. I do however know a way to completely remove them from the entire school.” CD said matter-of-factly, yet slightly grinning.

“And what would that be? It wouldn’t be like your last plan, right?” Broker said, smirking in his helmet.

“Of course not.” CD said, now grinning crazily behind his helmet. “We blow the entire place up, a giant explosion could probably get rid of them really fast!”

“If that were to happen, we would have to ensure there are no more survivors in this place. Plus we would need to find a large enough explosive to pull it off. At least then, we could have a better plan, or a chance of finding the source.”

“I just like blowing stuff up... Oh come on Summer, explosions are fun...” Broker stared at the babbling earth pony with an eyebrow quirked behind his faceplate. “I wasn’t being serious, when did I say everybody would still be in the school when it blew up? That would certainly be messy though...” CD was gesturing animated at the air, before his ears went flat. “Okay, fine, no explosives.”

“We could set the whole place on fire if we found enough flammable liquid. That would certainly be a lot less messy than blowing this place into space, literally.” Broker returned his idea. “Let’s get back to the others and discuss this.”

The two ponies nodded to one another, then turned towards the door. As if sensing they were ready, a necromorph dropped into the room via a ceiling vent.

CD aimed his cutter at the thing and shot. “Broker, get ready in case there are more.” CD put another Cutter shot into the Necromorph to be sure, slicing off a talon. Another one, this one necrotic, stinking and covered in slick black skin laced with lesions, dropped into the room. This one landed on its feet, its eyes glowing a sickly yellow.

“Broker, pay attention!” CD said quickly, trying to get the new beast before it tried anything. “Help me!”

“Well, jeez, you took the first one out!” Broker shouted as his suit-mounted Divet aimed at the creature’s. Thanks to the fantastic technology of the future (a little blue laser pointer) the Divet was rather easily aimed to blow away the creature’s knees before it could charge. The rubbery black skin and disgusting, rank odor of the mutilated flesh from the bullet wounds was everywhere, as the creature fell to its knees. With a gurgling roar, it began stalking forward menacingly fast on its two talon-like limbs.

CD aimed his cutter and shot at it, trying to remove its talons. “Come on, we gotta get back to Sketch.” The beast was creeping forward on one limb, doggedly trying for them.

“No doubt, there. Come on, let’s move before more come out.”

“That’s the idea.” CD didn’t bother rolling his eyes as he ran for the door, leaving the room, and Broker, behind. The halls were much worse for the wear, tendrils of the corrupted flesh branching out from several vents and ducts, like creepers or vines growing on an ancient stone building.

The pulsing red-and-purple veins visible beneath the transparent outer flesh of the mat was sickly trembling at his approach, the sound of two more gunshots resounding before Broker stepped out of the room. The entire corrupted mass twitched slightly as they stepped out, and the sounds of incoming creatures met their ears.

CD, counting off the possibilities, came to the conclusion that the most immediate chances they had was in the three of them just sprinting for the classroom and bailing like sailors. To turn a phrase, they would need to make like bakers, and move their buns.

“So option one, we run. Option two, we get killed. Let’s make like hockey players and get the puck out of here.” CD said, running off towards the classroom for the second time that day.

“Don’t these things track by sound?” Broker added to himself before running behind CD, his armor clanking on the floor.

“Don’t mumble, move.” CD said, trying to keep his pace so he wouldn’t leave Broker behind, but still speeding up. “I have a feeling that the further we get away from those tentacle things, the better.”

Broker stayed silent as he continued to run, surprisingly unaffected by the armor he was now wearing and dashing like he normally would, albeit a little more loudly. The two sped along, until they turned the last corner before the Gym. In front of it was a crowd of monstrosities, including one of the smaller warlock-creatures. The thing’s twisted, split-open horn was shining a sickly reddish-yellow.

“Alright, we’ve got to get past them, I’ll aim for their legs, you shoot them in the arms, I’m also gonna try taking off that unicorn-thing’s head. Ready?” CD didn’t wait for a response, shooting a horizontal shot at the creature’s neck. The creature’s head snapped back in response, before a veiny trail of magic, in blood red, poured from the gnarled horn, forming a woven-looking bubble around it and the other necromorphs. Said necromorphs promptly charged through said bubble, the membrane stretching and flowing over them as they charged the ponies.

Broker wasted no time readying his aim before unloading his Divet into the oncoming horde, aiming at the arms of the foul beasts as CD kept shooting at the closest ones, trying to take off their legs. Broker stopped to quickly reload his weapon, going as fast as his magic would allow without fumbling, and CD did the same a moment later, his mechanical fingers slotting in the new cartridge a second or two after ejecting the old.

CD suddenly got an idea. “Broker, can you use magic to shove one into the others? It should only take a second, try messing up that unicorn-thing.”

With a force of will, Broker concentrated on trying to push one of the monstrous beasts into the warlock nymph, nearly stumbling in place when he felt some sort of presence latch onto his magic, draining it away and leaving him momentarily dizzy.

“S- something’s blocking it out. L- like some sort of parasite.” Broker shook his head to get his vision back into focus before resuming his suppressive fire on the Necromorphs.

“Well, so much for that, try your Javelin gun, pin a few to the far wall.” CD said quickly, still doing his best on the beasts that were closest to them. As he fired at the crowd, he saw they were retreating towards the red bubble... no, wait, the bubble was advancing towards them! Inside of its protective cocoon, the vestigial warlock continued its five-legged shamble forward, the fleshy pseudopods growing from its ‘shoulders’ waving menacingly inside the barrier.

CD got a good look at what the actual properties of the bubble were rather shortly after this realization, as he missed with a shot and it glanced off the shield, bouncing into a wall and scorching a hole into the material.

“The thing’s impenetrable! This is bad. How do we take that thing out?” Broker said in panic, looking for any weak spot.

“It’s not impenetrable, it’s reflecting energy, shoot it in the head, physical ammo might be able to get through, we gotta keep that thing from using magic.” CD said quickly, shifting his attention back to the closest monsters and removing legs as best he could. Unfortunately, he quickly ran out of targets as the encroaching bubble crept over them, ever so slightly faster than their own lunging pace towards CD and Broker.

Broker switched over to his Javelin Gun, and pointed it towards the advancing warlock, praying he would hit...

Meanwhile, back at the classroom, Sketch was being stared over by both of the teachers, a small crowd children piled around him from the stress and tension evident in the room. Dave had sat himself against one wall, arms crossed, and Cheerilee was against the other, and both of them had locked gazed with glares that were half an ounce of angry away from being nuclear.

“Can you two calm down, you’re scaring the children, and don’t fight, I will stop it.”

“I’m perfectly calm. I’m just keeping an eye on the potential danger to my students.”

“As if, you’re just upset you couldn’t get any, even from someone your own age.”

“Dave, that was out of line, don’t make comments like that. Cheerilee, you have my word that if he tries anything I’ll dispose of him. For now though, he is just trying to survive, but if he keeps talking about that mare like she was just a booty call-”

“What?! Weatherrust was my life! I loved her! I-” Dave was interrupted by Cheerilee cutting in. “You thought you could get with her because she was young and impressionable, you bastard!”

“If you did love her then stop being so immature towards Cheerilee, I don’t think anyone likes you acting like a child. Cheerilee, remember he’s on a one strike system, one strike and no more Dave, so calm down.”

“We never had sex! That’s all you animals in the rest of the faculty believed, but all we needed was each other’s company!” Dave practically roared the words, the ears of every pony in the room, even Sketch’s, going down from the volume. Tears had built back up in his eyes, and he looked absolutely furious, and damned near to snapping.

“That sounds better, so Dave can you please calm down and not yell? I get it you two were never intimate and you genuinely liked her so there will be nothing done about it. Cheerilee, don’t nag him on about it, and don’t insult the dead.” Sketch said, preparing some traps, getting the wires, metal panelling, and desks. Looking down at the young engineer, he asked for the one thing every builder of any caliber needs. “You wouldn’t happen to have any duct tape on hoof, would you?”

Broker centered the dot right where the thing’s heart would be, if it weren’t a twisted, hideous abomination. The javelin flew out, impaling the creature through the bubble, the barbed sides of it catching the relatively light creature and spearing it to a wall. The shield, with its creator so violently thrown, unspooled like a massive knit shirt, the magical trails dissipating into the environment. The creature writhed on the end of the javelin, tentacles and stumpy legs thrashing and writhing.

Looking at the Javelin gun, he saw a little button labeled ‘galvanize’ and pressed it, not knowing what it would do, but assuming it would do something. A flash of white light erupted from the creature as electricity from the on-board battery fried the creature, shorting out the magical resonance of the thing’s horn. The glowing orb of magic inside of the tangled cage of ivory on its forehead pulsed once, twice... then, it went nova.

Sketch had set up a couple of snares hooked over the ceiling tiles. They were very obvious, but the necromorphs were not particularly bright, and he was gambling that they were probably color blind. Rotting eyes and all.

As he prepared the last snare-trap, a loud, reverberating explosion rocked the entire school, causing him to slip and get caught by his own trap, leading to him being hoisted in the air by one forehoof.

“Goddamnit Broker, just... Damn it all...” Sketch sighed as he tried to wriggle free of his snare, using his new finger to get himself out.

Across the gym from there, Broker and CD had been launched backwards, both blinded by the red blast of light and force. CD was very thankful for his suit, as he could feel several aches, pains, and a sharp, stabbing sensation in his chest. Breathing was difficult, but he didn’t seem to have broken anything that wouldn’t heal, or at least nothing that would hinder his movement.

Broker, on the other hoof, was still wondering exactly what had just happened. The light had nearly blinded him until the heavy shell-like armor suit had clamped over his eyes, protecting them from burnout. He’d barely felt the impact on the wall behind him. As the plates shifted back into their open configuration, he realized it had also protected his ears from the pressure wave.

Sitting up, he saw the still-dazed and somewhat injured CD laying next to him, legs in the air as he tried to get up in his engineering suit. As the electrician rolled over, the RIG on his back was blinking a sedate, dull red. On top of that, the pain in his movements was very evident.

“D-dude, does anyone have some, I dunno, extra extra strength aspirin? My head is totally killing me, and who painted the inside of my helmet green? Did they explode too, or am I seeing stuff again?”

“I... I think it blew up. Y- you look like you need something more than aspirin. Your R- RIG status is in the red. You ha- have some gel right?” Broker asked, still dazed slightly.

“Wait, it did blow up? Damn, and me without my camera. Yeah I got some gel, Summer, you okay?” The earth pony reacted as if the mare had been miraculously spared the explosion, and he heard her voice telling him to use the medigel, to stay whole.

“Yeah, staying in one piece would be a good idea, losing a limb would suck.” CD chuckled weakly, using one of his medium medigel capsules. He groaned as the medical gel went to work, and he felt the suit pierce a section of his chest, probably to fix whatever was causing his chest pain. The suit then dispersed the leftover gel a tad more efficiently, soothing the overall ache, though his vision still hadn’t returned yet.

From Broker’s point of view, he saw the bars on CD’s back rise and shift from red to orange, orange to yellow, and from yellow into the mid-green. It was an impressive jump for a single medigel short of a large.

“That will have to do, CD. Let’s see what I did to this place now that we’re up.” Broker said to his companion.

“Sure, why not. So are you the green, blob-shaped thing, or the other green, blob-shaped things.” CD asked, dazedly. “This is trippy. I like it... kinda.”

“This one, the one that’s waving!” Broker sighed. “We should probably clean your eyes when we get back to the classroom if they have the facilities.”

“Everything is waving. Or spinning. Or floating. Screw it, I’m just gonna follow your voice. If you run me into a wall, I’m gonna smack you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just follow my incredibly awesome voice. I promise not to run you into walls or into a horde of Necromorphs.” Broker chuckled lightly.

Broker looked around the hallway, and saw that it was devastated. The walls had been scorched black, and the plastic-covered stone of the corridor was rippled, bubbly, and warped. Ridges and wavy ripples of the recycled plastic looked like a photograph of a shockwave bouncing off the walls, frozen in physical reality. A large crater of twisted, half-molten metal and shattered stone sat at the far end of the hall, a large hole into the gymnasium formed of crystalline edges.

Where the magic had gone totally wild, there was a patch of brilliant pink grass growing on a pile of fish, each of them blinking slowly as they lay there. Growing from this was a single white flower, looking almost unnaturally normal amidst the chaotic mess. The bottom-most layer of fish had started to sizzle from the heat of the floor they sat on, the sound petering out as the heat died away.

“Jeez, this place looks ridiculous. Did I cause all of this by pressing that button? Remind me to never do that again.” Broker said, looking shocked at the chaos one button caused.

“Okay, anything else I should remember?” CD asked, sort of swooning as he stood, his mind not entirely there. At least, of the parts that were there in the first place.

“Uh, I don’t think so other than that. Let’s just get to that classroom before another one of those things pops up. That would be horrible if another one did.” Broker added while he began walking towards the classroom again. “How are you holding up, CD?”

“With my hooves, duh.”

“I meant is anything broken?”

“Probably the gym.”

“No... I meant inside your body? Any bones?”

“Yep, I got plenty of bones in my body.” CD seemed to only somewhat be doing this on purpose.

Broker just facehoofed at the reactions he was getting from CD. “Okay, new question. How far are we from the classroom from here? The way things are, I think we might have to find a new route if the original one blew up.”

“I don’t know. I just know that it’s amazing how your senses get messed up when your eyes do. Did you know you can taste your own tongue?” CD was obviously not entirely focused.

“Yeah, I did. Taste great by the way.” Broker smirked. “Did you know you could taste food too?”

“Well, duh. I’m not stupid. Wait, which of those blobby things was you again? Ah nevermind, this is weird, what did you do?”

“I think I blew up the necromorph-unicorn thing by hitting the alternate fire. I’m not sure, but that sounds about right. Now this place is melted.” Broker turned his head to look around. For the most part, the edges of the metal had stopped glowing, so it was possible it was safe to cross, what with their protective suits. “Where did we come from again?”

“The teacher’s lounge.”

“But which direction... Ah never mind, you see everything in blobs apparently.”

“Uhm, we needed to cross the Gym, remember? We hadn’t done that yet, I think. Maybe.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Broker said, starting to make his way across it, being careful where he stepped however. Remembering to call out to CD about dangers in the path, the two ponies made their way to the gym, and stepped past the slagged doors and into the actual room. Inside the blast had been mostly contained and funneled back around, like a blast furnace. The result had burned the pile of bodies and the necromorphs inside to a crisp, leaving piles of ashes and caked-on, crumbly black stuff everywhere.

Trying not to gag, the two ponies had to hold their breath for most of the journey across the gym, before CD spoke up.

“As nasty as this is, I’ve smelled way worse stuff.”

“What in the world have you smelt that’s worse than this?” Broker replied, a little disgusted.

“Important life tip: Never microwave spinach. That stuff is toxic. Especially canned. I figured it could be used for lethal weaponry.”

Broker looked confusedly at CD “Let me get this straight. You tried cooking food to try and make it into a lethal weapon by putting it and heating it in a microwave?” Broker raised an eyebrow at his friend. “How do you even think that?”

“Of course not, I just said that it could be used as a weapon, that wasn’t the original intent. Although I can say that a potato takes exactly three minutes and thirty-two seconds to explode in a microwave that has been slightly tampered with. Now that was fun.” CD had the dumbest grin on his face, despite still not being able to see anything at all.

“I... I really have no idea how to respond to that, CD. You’re one crazy pony. Glad you’re on our side. Maybe you could cook a food that somehow poisons all the necromorphs.”

“I never, okay I rarely made stuff poisonous, I blew it up with extreme pressure and temperature. Huge difference.”

“Still, maybe you could make it again, but for the necromorphs, you crazy pony.” Broker said while he gave his friend a smile.

“No, not like that. A potato explodes automatically inside the microwave, and if you open the microwave, the potato won’t burst. Grapes on the other hand... Well, mom never bought grapes after my first try, so I don’t have exact results on all controlled variables.”

Broker just shook his head and pressed on forward towards the classroom. “You’re one interesting pony, Copy.Data. One interesting pony.”

“That’s what my mom said. And everypony else.” CD’s grin still wide. “I’ve also been told that I’m very influential.”

“That one still has to be proven, but I wouldn’t doubt it if it was crazy and smart enough to work.” Broker looked at his hooves that were metallic now. “Wish I had a much more... interesting brain like yours. Probably would have stopped me from making so many dumb choices.”

“Yeah, you’d make totally different dumb choices. Heck, back home, I was an official nutcase, They locked me in an asylum, but that was my idea in the first place.” CD said. “Although I wouldn’t say I’m crazy, I’m just really, really different, but being crazy sounds a lot more fun.”

“Now you’re thinking in the right terms. Come on, let’s-” Broker looked up to see that they’d walked all the way back to the classroom while chatting. “Never mind, we’re here already.”

“Great, so what do we do about my eyes. It’s kinda fun, but not very useful. Kinda like a paddle-ball. Well actually, I can think of a few ways to kill a guy with one of those. Eh, live and learn I guess.”

“I have no idea how to fix that little problem. Only thing I can think of is a little bit of sleep, but even that might not work. I’m not a doctor.”

“So are we going in, or standing outside the classroom all day? Where’s that flippin’ door? Actually, everything is flipping but I digress...”

“Just follow my voice, CD.” Broker said while approaching the classroom’s entrance.

The two ponies made their way to the door itself, opening it and walking in to see Sketch hanging by all four limbs from an improvised snare, with the two armored fillies trying to get him down as Cheerilee and Dave argued with each other.

“What... What’s going on in here, Sketch? How did you get up there?” Broker asked as he examined the chaotic people in the room.

“I was teaching children how to build traps and they set it off on me by mistake, you?”

“Blew up some big necromorph that scorched the gym and got a new weapon. What about those two?” Broker asked pointing towards Dave and Cheerilee.

“By the sound of it, either Cheerilee and Dave are arguing, or they’re assaulting each other with rodents or something. I got no idea.” CD offered.

“Arguing, and making no progress whatsoever, Cheerilee being overly aggressive, Dave being defensive, and I’m the moderator seeing as I have the only gun. Well, before you two returned.”

“Yeah. One guy is upside-down, one is surrounded by wavy blobby shapes, and the other has a nuke-in-a-can.” CD said. “We’re so impressive.”

Broker chuckled slightly. “Let’s fix this mess. How can I get you down, Sketch?”

“Use your magic to undo the snares on my hooves, and a cure for this pandemic would be nice.”

“Ah, mister Sketch, we mighta been tryin’ ta stabalize the snare supports an’ kinda-sorta.... welded them.”

CD then offered his idea. “Or we could tickle him.”

For the first time since putting on the suit, Sweetie spoke in her normal voice, the faceplate of the armor sliding away as she beamed with the most innocent, kind grin to ever bring terror to Sketch’s heart and mind.

“I like that plan!”

“Raise your hoof if you want Sketch to get tickled!” CD yelled to the class of children. All the children except Alex (who was still unconscious) and Big Heart raised their foremost appendages, then ran forward in a shrieking, giggling mass.

“Raise your hooves if you don’t want me to try and cut myself down, possibly blowing something up in the process.”

“You can really blow stuff up if you’re tickled? Awesooome! Get him!” One of the little boys from the back of the riot called out, the 2nd-to-4th graders surging forward to try tickling him through the quarter-inch armored suit.

“I’d prefer not to take this class with me in the explosion. Last warning.” Sketch pulls out his Line Gun.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Sketch. I’ll cut you free. Then the class can tickle you.” Broker smirked in his helmet, then his magic began to glow, focussing on the snares to try and cut them loose.

“And you can’t blow stuff up, you cut things in half. You wouldn’t want to do that to these kids, now would you?” CD grinned in what he guessed was Sketch’s direction. Unfortunately, he was about a foot off, staring instead at a poster on the wall. He was starting to be able to discern shapes again, so at least he was starting to be able to tell the difference between pony-shaped, human-shaped, and wall-shaped green blobs.

Before Sketch could reply, Broker yanked the wrong thing and pulled the welded support out. While the snare was still securely attached to the support, the support was no longer attached to anything. Sketch’s fall was broken by a large group of children immediately carrying him off like a group of cannibal warriors heading to the pot.

“Okay kids! Tickle him now!” Broker announced in joy, keeping a close eye on Sketch to make sure he didn’t pull out his weapon again.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with tickling Sketch? Do you have a rule against smiling and laughing?” CD asked, the mass of children looking like a giant, giggling, amoeba.

“No, I just don’t see the point of them tickling me through a thick metal suit when I could be preparing the traps, why don’t they tickle Cheerilee?”

“Because Ms. Cheerilee would make us go to the corner!”

“Because she’s no fun.” CD replied. “Come on, what’s wrong with trying to enjoy ourselves, Mr. Pessimist?”

“I’m not ticklish, sorry.” The entire group of kids ‘aww’d, looking really disappointed.

“Fine, fine, okay kids, enough. We need to get out of here anyway, so we have to let Captain Killjoy go.” CD said. “We don’t want to be here when the Necromorphs come back.”

That sentence alone caught Cheerilee’s attention, and Dave’s as well. The two teachers looked to CD worriedly, and they immediately began to get into action. Cheerilee started to talk to CD, before Dave ushered her towards her students.

The older man turned towards CD, and asked him, “What exactly do you mean by that, and how long do you think we have?” something about his gaze held CD’s eyes, in spite of him not being able to see them as anything more than dull spots in his vision.

“I mean, when they get here, they’re going to kill everyone.” CD said quietly so as not to scare Cheerilee any further. “And who knows, maybe we have an hour, maybe two minutes.”

Dave looked down, and CD blinked for the first time since Dave had stared him in the eyes. “Fine, let’s get the children moving. Can you find the way to the trams? I think Cheerilee or myself could get it moving to the next stop along the way, if it’s the one I’m thinking of.”

“Whether it is or not, I could do the same, as for where it is, I know the way, but I can’t take you there, the blast screwed up my eyes, so I need some time for them to get focused.”

“Alright. That explains why you sat and stared at the poster for two minutes straight when you came in.” Dave sighed. “I’ll tell Cheerilee. Even if we... don’t see eye to eye on a few subjects, the least we can agree on is that the children need to be our first priority.”

“So how do we get the entire class to the trams all at once as quickly as possible? What about-”

“I think,” Dave interrupted, “our best bet lies with the young engineer, and her friend. If I remember, though, it was their leader, the one who skipped a couple of grades, who had mapped the entire ventilation system.”

“Scootaloo, right? I know a bit more than I want to about her, but that’s irrelevant, where is she?”

“I- I don’t really know. Me and Weatherrust, we were spending some quality time together, just having some fun learning about planetary hostile geographies, her favorite class. I didn’t see any of this start, just that when we realized we should have been at the assembly, monsters had started attacking. That one scientist, Rich or something, helped us set up the barricade, then ran off to draw the monsters away. We saw Scootaloo exactly once during that, and she only stopped in to see if her friends were in there with us.”

“Dang, not much to go on. Well if anyone knows where she is, her friends will probably have the best guess. Guess I’ll ask and hope for the best.” Dave nodded, and CD walked over to Applebloom and Sweetie Belle. After asking them if they knew, they looked to one another, and ‘Bloom looked up to CD.

“Well... she could be at tha’ clubhouse. Ah built it from an ol’ storage closet that you c’n only get into through the vents. They’re proper regulation-size, too, so you could get there as well.”

“Alright, so we just need you two to guide us there, wait a sec, how far away is it from here?”

“Not too far, ‘bout three minutes of getting through tha’ ducts. Most of ‘em are sealed, too, so none of that gunk we saw would get in. Ah had ta’ route a separate set of ventilation micro-ducts just for the Crusader’s Travel Ducts.”

“Kid, you’re way smarter than I thought. I like you. So now we need to get someone to volunteer...” CD said the last part out loud, loud enough for the rest of the adults to hear.

“I’ll do it. I have the freshest armor and this weapon that can blow up a room apparently, so I’ll do it.” Broker declared.

“Despite not knowing what the heck he volunteered to do.” CD mumbled. “He’s not the brightest guy around, but he’s brave and his heart’s in the right place...” CD then walked over to Broker and gave him a pat on the back. “Good luck pal, seriously.”

Author's Note

So, this is chapter twelve, and we're going strong.
Please remember to vote for your favorite/least favorite characters! Voting for folks leads to those characters getting penalties and bonuses according to their 'fame' scores, and anyone can vote once per chapter.

Ch13 - And Do a Little Shake.

Broker, in his heavy suit, followed the two young fillies towards the panel on the wall that concealed the ducts the Crusaders used. Applebloom, totally throwing caution to the wind, pressed herself against a section of wall and tapped a flower painted onto it. In a blur, the panel flipped along its vertical, leaving no trace of the filly.

As the stunned Broker watched, Sweetie did the same, only stopping to tell him he should duck.

“Why should I duck when that filly just disappeared behind that panel? Gah! Fine.” Broker said in annoyance, ducking down in his armor. Reaching out to tap the flower, Broker found himself suddenly spun around and inside the oddly spacious ventilation ducts.

“How the...” Broker looked behind him, then turned to the fillies again “How did I end up here!?”

“It’s just a revolvin’ panel, set at switching you into tha tunnel at about ah tweny-fourth of a second, ta trick the eyes into... Ah, y’all don’t really care, do you?”

“Nope! I just want to get out of this freaky space, and back with the group. Where to now?” Broker replied.

“Y’all don’ hafta be rude...” Applebloom sounded a bit put out, and the two fillies began stepping further into the vents. Broker, having no real choice but to follow. Along the way, Broker saw blue arrows painted onto the walls, which AB followed, and red arrows, which she didn’t.

“Are those arrows on the wall your system of navigation around the vents? I take it red means areas you don’t go and blue means it’s a safe zone. Very nifty and useful.” Broker said while he looked at the blue arrows.

“No, Blue means go left, Red means go right. The arrows don’ point at anything in particular.”

“Oh...” Broker said turning his attention back to following the fillies. “Why would you need colored arrows to indicate navigation directions?”

“There’s over fourteen hunnerd meters of ductin’ in this school, over half ah which is in these ducts. Ah course we need ‘em to get to the clubhouse!” Applebloom’s voice spoke of someone explaining to to very slow.

“No need raise the voice now, I haven’t been in here, remember? It makes sense, though. Still a nice system to find your clubhouse.” Broker replied.

The filly shrugged, and the three continued to move along the ducts, the older pony having just barely enough room to trot along standing up.

“Must comment on the fact I barely fit in here, not complaining though. Don’t your club members grow like fillies? Surely the vents would barely fit them in here. Also, how far are we until we reach the clubhouse? I worry the vents will get that gunk in here soon enough.” Broker added while checking his weapon’s ammo amount, his Divet and Javelin Gun fully loaded.

“These weren’t ever designed to have humans in here, an most Engineerin’ suits’re more... flexible than one ah those things.”

“Might not matter for now, but hopefully we can find a way to end this slaughter on the station. A source has to be somewhere.” Broker sighed. “If only I knew where it started. Any ideas from you two?”

“Uhm, it’s only been about two hours... And we’ve been here tha whole time. How in space’s name would we know where it started?” ‘Bloom seemed mildly confused at this idea.

“I was just for ideas... But the point is, I just want to find the source and tamper with it so it stops this madness.” Broker looked towards Applebloom. “Wouldn’t you want to stop this?”

“Well, sure, but we’re jus’ fillies. How’re we supposed ta’ stop all this?”

“No idea how to stop this, but it is worth a try if we can end it all and get back into a peaceful state of mind.” Broker replied. “Before that, we need to find your friend. We close to the clubhouse? These vents are making me a little uncomfortable.”

“Little further... Oh, an’ yella arrows mean straight ahead.”

“Got it. Doubt I’ll use these vents again, but if I do, I’ll remember the directions to reach the clubhouse. Hey, may I join the club? I mean, I know the directions to the place already.” Broker replied with a smile. He turned to look at Sweetie just as a section of the vents fell.

Broker, still safely on the section of vent attached firmly to its mountings, could only watch helplessly as the section fell at an angle, spilling Sweetie and ‘Bloom to the ground. They sat there for a moment, stunned, shaking their heads. A frightening roar sounded from along the thickly matted hallway. From Broker’s position in the vent, he could see the layers of pulsating, gel-like flesh growing across the walls and floor.

“Of course this would happen!” Broker said, shaking himself. “Fillies, is there any way of escape down there? Any open doors?”

“Ah- Ah think we can climb up tha vent still, yer gonna need to ta go back ta the last intersection. follow th’ arrow, then follow the colors. We’ll meet ya at tha clubhouse! Hurry!”

“Be safe down there!” Broker yells down to them before turned his gaze to the arrows. “Red is right, blue is left, yellow is straight. I can do this.” Broker says to himself while starting to trot inside the ventilation shaft on high alert, his weapons armed and ready for use.

Finding the appropriate passage, he was rewarded with a the arrows he needed. Following the tiny marks, he finally found himself going up a small ramp inside the ducts, finally coming across a simple hatch with a grate on it.

Peeking inside, he saw a nicely-decorated room, covered in maps and graphs and posters. A few bean-bag chairs and some half-broken shelves sat around, the shelves tilted ominously from the weight of the books and stuff on them.

Sitting on one of the bean-bag chairs was a bright orange filly with a magenta mane, in the buff, curled up and apparently napping, partially under a blue-and-black ‘Wonderbolts vs Shadowbolts’ blanket. Broker, blushing furiously, backed away from the vent.

“They expect me to get in when she’s nude? Dang, I hate the small things sometimes” Broker said quietly to himself before approaching the grate again. He took a deep, calming breath before hitting the hatch with his hoof. “Hello?” He said while knocking with just enough audible force.

The filly started, jerking up from her sleep with eyes wide as she looked around, quickly dragging the blanket over her completely to cover herself.

“Who’s there?!” The filly shouted the words like a command, and Broker felt himself recoil slightly.

“I- I’m Broker Wordsmith. I was sent here by two fillies named Applebloom and Sweetie Belle I believe.” Broker replied softly and still recoiling away from the grate, but still close enough to look inside the room. “This is the clubhouse, correct?”

“Yeaaah... how did you find this place? And, uh, gimme a sec, I need to dress.” The filly didn’t sound very bashful about needing to dress, instead mostly seeming to remember it as an afterthought.

“No question there...” Broker said while diverting his eyes away. “Applebloom told me to follow the arrows until I found an intersection and follow the arrows by their color, and now here I am.”

“Riiight... So you aren’t with the school board? Alright. Where’s Bloom and Sweetie?” Scootaloo (which is who it had to be) didn’t sound very concerned, and sounded a little older than the other two.

“Well... Those two sort of went a down a different path and we split up.” Broker answered.

“Shit. That Fuoco guy said not to split up. Y’know, before he told me to stay hidden and wandered off on his own to draw the necro-shits off. C’mon in, if you aren’t with the school board, then ‘dressed’ isn’t on my top priorities.”

Broker blushed and was taken aback by the profanity usage. “Interesting words you use. Scootaloo is it? Also, who in the name of Celestia is Fuoco?”

“Scientist guy I saw, or some shit like that. He seemed to know what was up and he had good aim and shit. Looked nice, too, when he was out of his suit.”

“Uh... Uh-huh. Interesting, but I hope he’s alright since he went to drive off the Necromorphs.” Broker said while trying to figure out a way to enter the room. His magic concentrated on the grate and attempted to lift it up gently. The metal opened up slowly, and he eased himself into the room; the grate was about a quarter-meter off the floor.

Once he was inside, he looked around again, studiously avoiding staring at the nicely

muscled pegasus. She definitely was a little older than her classmates, by around a year or two, he’d guess. Instead choosing to observe the room, he concentrated on the posters.

They were posters of the Wonderbolts, the fantastic atmospheric flight team from Equus, and the Shadowbolts, the Nightwing EVA team that rivalled the Wonderbolts for popularity. as well, there were read-outs

“Nice posters you have here. Never did like the Wonderbolts or the Shadowbolts, but I guess they’re cool. I would much prefer a book in my head.” Broker said, still not looking at the orange filly.

“Yeah, the Shadowbolts make me wish I’d been a nightwing instead. Never did like reading, though. I guess they’re alright, but I like stuff with lotsa pictures. Easier to get the whole story at a glance. Any reason you aren’t looking at me? Am I ugly to you?”

“No, no, you’re not. I just like the posters here on the wall. They’re very unique and-”

“I got them second-hoof... at a thrift store... for ten credits. They’re all reprints. Jeez, you need to lighten up, I already got dressed.” Scootaloo sounded mildly upset, as if unhappy he couldn’t take a joke.

“Oh... I did not know that.” Broker turned his gaze to Scootaloo. “Still, I never did see those posters in the area I live in. I worked at a bookstore, so no posters of either team in there.”

“Damn, a bookstore? That blows.” The young mare was in a blue-and-yellow Junior Wonderbolts uniform, the fabric hugging her body in a way that made Broker blush again. Her slightly under-sized wings poked out from the uniform, tucked to her sides, showing her RIG.

“Hey, it’s not so bad working at the bookstore. Sure it’s a little slow, but very quiet most of the days. A blessing since I was raised inside a house that had nothing but noise.” Broker said trying not to look away.

“Jeez, sounds like my fam’s apartment in the evenings, when dad got back from work and mom got back from the bar.” Scootaloo paused to shrug. “And, of course, my brother always worked night shifts. He’s cool, but never around these days.”

“Pretty much my case, but just add more siblings and my mother not being drunk. I hope your brother is alright though.” Broker looked do

“Yeah, me too, but oh well. Anyhow, in case you’re wondering, that’s why I sleep here most nights. Gives the old cunt some time to sleep off her boozing.”

Broker’s eyes went a little wide at one particular word within her vocabulary. “My... I really don’t know how to respond to that. I hope she’s okay too. Don’t you ever visit her when she’s not drunk?”

“Well, I would if that ever actually happened. Most of the time, I come home to make sure the fridge is stocked and that she hasn’t passed out in her own barf again.”

Broker looked down at his hooves. “Gosh... even my family isn’t that bad. Maybe we should at least see her since this outbreak occurred.”

“Eh, she’s either fine or dead, it’s not that big a deal.” Scootaloo shrugged again, before digging into a few boxes off to one side, flashing her rump at Broker, making him blush even harder under his helmet and back away a bit. He looked towards the vent, hoping the other two Crusaders would show up. To his greatest relief, the vent opened up, and ‘Bloom and Sweetie stepped through.

“Glad to see you two arrive. How is the growth? Is it spreading around to this place?” Broker said looking towards the two new fillies in the room.

“Nah, it all seemed fine. But we might wanna get movin’ fast. Hey Scoots, can ya’ lead us to tha trams? We need ta get ‘bout twenty-”

Sweetie interrupted with, “Fifteen youths below legal age, as well as five adults, not including the three of us.” in her dead, monotone voice.

“- Uh, right, tweny-three, then, to the trams at once. Can ya do that, Scoots?”

Scootaloo looked back and forth from where she’d been rummaging through the boxes. “Yeah, I can manage that. I know these ducts like the back of my hoof. I just need to grab a few things, and we can go, alright?”

“Sounds good to me. Do any of you have weapons by the way?’ Broker said looking around the room. “You could use them if the growth starts to spread into the vents.”

“Ah got mah cutter, and Sweetie’s got her Tesla Gun. Scoots, ya still got yer ‘knife’?” Scootaloo nodded. “Good. Idunno ‘bout clearin the goop offa tha walls, but we can sure take out the monsters.”

“I’m surprised by the Tesla Gun. Something tells me that gunk brings the monsters, so we better be prepared incase that happens. How about medigel?” Broker added.

Scootaloo fished something out of a box of stuff, and strapped it around her left wrist. Then, she pulled out a set of bulky, gray saddlebags, and put those on, aided momentarily by Sweetie and ‘Bloom, who both had fingers.

“Alright, lemme put my hand on, and we’ll get going.” Scoots fished around a bit more before pulling out metallic cage-like device that she slipped over her right hoof like a shoe. Raising her hoof, the device flexed, displaying a quartet of digits.

“Alright, we all ready to go? Also, how are we going to get back to the classroom?” Broker looked up at the grate. “The vents seem safe, but that gunk could be growing in them.”

“Ah don’ think so, but yer right, we should hurry.” Applebloom agreed, and the three fillies turned to the vents. “So where’s the group?”

“Cheerilee’s classroom.”

Scoots seemed pensive at this news. “Do we have to save the wrinkled cunt?”

“Scootaloo! I mean, I understand using that word once, but twice!? To answer that question, yes we do. We have to save as many ponies as we can in this nightmare.” Broker said giving Scootaloo a shocked look.

Scoots huffed. “Fine, we’ll save the old nag. I better be getting a show from all this, mr. iron shell.”

Broker just sighed. “We all deserve a medal after we get out of this place alive, but I want the source shut down first. Come on, we can quibble while we walk.”

“Not what I meant by a ‘show’, but whatever. Lemme stash some of my ‘zines, and we’re good to go.” Scootaloo grabbed a box and slipped it into her spacious bags. Another box went in, and finally a cooler unit. Each of them went in with a small flash of the off-white magic indicating an inventory field.

“You keep raising more and more questions from me.” Broker said looking at Scootaloo. “What is that stuff?”

“Military surplus store. It was seventy credits, and without a warranty. I saved up for two months of panhandling. As for the stuff, those were my ‘zines and my food stash. I’m only missing two of my ‘zines, and both are my best ones.”

“Oh, that’s good. We were looking for food earlier in the mall... Phew, bad memories. As for the missing zines, where would we find them? Also, Applebloom, are the vents still clear of the growing gunk?” Broker said still looking at Scootaloo a little more intrigued.

“Ah already said they’re weren’t none!”

“Just making sure, Applebloom. Let’s get a move on and regroup.”

“That’s what ah said!”

Sweetie began to lead them along the vents, Broker following with Scootaloo next to him, and Applebloom taking up the rear. The journey back was largely unimpressive, but Broker got the idea that the orange young mare was bumping into his armored hip on purpose, but he hoped it wasn’t so.

“So... Applebloom, what happened while you were down in that room with the slime.” Broker said out of curiosity.

“It was just a hallway. An’ all we did was just climb up tha vent. Nothin’ special. How’d you get here before us, though? We were on the shortcut.”

“I just simply did as you said and followed the arrows from the intersection. How I managed to beat you there is beyond me.”

“Weird... Ah well. We’ll figure it out later.” ‘Bloom continued down the vent, going around a section with light pouring in through it. Broker took a nervous glance at it, and saw a few tiny tendrils of the corruption creeping up.

The four returned to the classroom without further incident, Scootaloo finally stopping her hip-bumps and occasional pawings at Broker, which he was 99% certain were absolutely on-purpose, and 1% certain they were only kinda on-purpose.

Thankfully, she’d stopped before they arrived, and his helmet prevented any of the others from seeing his scarlet red face.

Cheerilee and Dave had apparently rallied to the cause of getting the children ready. Cheerilee was sitting down and talking with Big Heart and another of the small fillies, both of whom were hooked up to a stretcher, on which Alex lay, still unconscious.

Dave was still packing up various stuff, and had a plasma cutter clipped to his belt.

“Hey Dave, how much ammo do you have for that thing? We could use more protection.”

“Twelve. Clip and a half.”

“So now that we’ve got everyone here, how do we get to the trams? I don’t see how Alex is going to make it very easily.” CD said, thinking of what to do as he says this.

“We’ll be taking the vents. Plenty of space for the turns, just don’t take ‘em too hard. Hello, Cheers, how’s the vag? Still unstuffed?” Scootaloo’s cutting tone made Cheerilee scowl, and, across the room, Dave stifled a laugh behind a hand, as did CD behind a hoof.

“No, young lady, this is not a conversation I’m having again. You are to help us get out, and you’ll be on a different tram from me, or so help me, by the marker I’ll strangle you!” Cheerilee’s face would’ve gone purple with rage, if it wasn’t already a deep maroon.

“No you aren’t, we’re staying as a group, because that’s safe-”

“Oh, shut up, you moron! Those trams can only hold ten or so people at a time!” Cheerilee looked like she’d finally snapped.

“And if you did strangle her, I don’t think you’d be allowed to teach anymore, or be anywhere near children again, just putting that out there.” CD said. “Making threats is not helpful and we don’t need another headache. The filly, who I assume is Scootaloo, is our best bet, I’m fairly certain she might decide to leave you for dead, even if we know you’re alive.”

“And if you did strangle her, like between you and Dave, I will solve the problem or eliminate it, understand?” Sketch motioned with his line gun.

Cheerilee growled slightly, but nodded. “Fine, but she’s in my sights the entire time. Got it?”

“Or, you could be useful instead of holding a grudge against a filly. Act your age.” Sketch said coldly.

“I reiterate. For the sake of my students, whom I do not trust her to be around, I am going to be a short distance behind her, and I am not letting her out of my sight.”

“So easy to keep your eye on someone you demand be on a separate tram.” CD pointed out. “And then, if you’re paying all your attention to her, then that leaves all the other kids unattended, even though you are responsible for them. Way to go, Ms. teacher of the year, infighting is stupid, so drop it. It’s pissing me off.”

“I don’t care what she does on your tram. She can stay with you, Dave, and those other bucks that came in here. I don’t care about what happens to her after that, as long as all the threats are away from my students.”

“You keep holding your grudge against a filly, I’ll keep her safe while you continue to play teacher and try to-”

“Actually, I kind of have to agree with her on Scootaloo being a bit of a threat. Considering some of the things she’s done, she is almost as big a threat to the kids as those beasts out there.” Dave was calm and conciliatory, but also mildly amused.

”If that is true then I will be glad to have her in our tram, someone who is of use, finally I can get rid of you.” Sketch

“Yeah, seriously, we need to offer all we physically can if we want these kids to be safe. Dave obviously has a weapon, and I’ll suppose he knows how to use it. You on the other hand, for as long as I’ve been around you, have done nothing but berate us for helping, and whine about everything, and generally piss everyone off. Prove to me you are worth saving, right now.” CD dared the teacher.

“Worth saving? I have more than a decade of teaching experience! If this truly is one of the final tests of the Marker, then we shall all need my knowledge in our next stage!”

CD sighed. “Cheerilee, I have been committed to an insane asylum, and I have horrible memory loss, I have no clue what’s happened in the last five months or so, and I’ve contributed a lot more than you. I’m officially insane, and if it wasn’t for me, Alex would be dead right now, as well as everyone else, including you. You’re. Freaking. Welcome.” CD then shut up, ignoring everything else and tapping the button to put his helmet back up. Jabbing the external mute/unmute button, he showed that he really didn’t want to hear it.

Cheerilee could only gape like a fish at the commentary.

“Yeah, besides harass Scootaloo and belittle Dave you have done nothing, let alone anything productive. I set up traps, I helped secure the room, CD and Broker saved the fillies and got their suits. Now pray tell, what exactly have you done, and no, elementary school teaching isn’t going to help you here in the apocalypse. Name one thing.”

“I- I kept them safe... the children. I- I kept them safe, when it all started.” Cheerilee’s confidence had obviously broken.

“Yeah, and that almost got them killed when one of the students you ‘kept safe’ was infected and nearly turned, if he had, you all would be dead.”

“How was I supposed to know that would happen?! This has never happened before!”

“Because, being the teacher means you are somewha-”

A loud thud on the main door of the classroom interrupted Sketch before he could continue, and the classroom shook from whatever caused the impact.

Feeling the tremor, CD unmuted his helmet, and got his Plasma Cutter ready, aiming at the door, staying incredibly silent.

“Dave, get up here, we need to defend Loud Mouth and the kids.”

“Get them into the duct! I’ll keep the up the rear!” Dave sounded confident, and had already drawn his cutter, keeping it steady on the door. Looked like Dave earned his keep.

Another thud, along with a garbled shriek, like someone speaking at a hundred kilometers per hour, a series of rapid slams echoed through the room.

“Guy, back up and take aim, Broker, is your safety off?” Broker checked, and saw that the little switch was not on. Yeah, it’s off.”

“Alright then, get ready.”

Cheerilee and the students had already begun filing into the duct, Applebloom having locked it half open. She turned to Sketch. “Get in, yer next. You’ve got all tha medigel, so yer goin’ in behind Alex.”

“Fine, Broker, aim for center of mass.” Sketch followed the group into the vent after he folded up the line gun.

“If they come into a single file order.” Broker said, keeping his aim at the center of the door.

The rapid-fire series of thuds continued, and the visible dents in the door only grew more visible. Like a blister bursting, the largest of them split apart, and a long claw stabbed through it.

Inside the vent, Scootaloo and Cheerilee led the way, followed by a couple of children. Then, Big Heart and Alex’s stretcher marched long, followed by Sketch. The whole procession crept by vents, the soft orange light filtering in through them.

In the classroom, another batch of kids went in, this time followed by CD. “Broker, don’t nuke the room, just impale them, and keep your aim on them.” CD rushed back into the vent with the others, yelling “Good luck!” behind him as he crawled into the vent, followed by more children.

Broker rolled his eyes at the comment, growing more frustrated. “I will, CD.” His javelin gun and Divet were at the ready for the incoming horde.

As the first necromorph, twitching and spazzing every few moments, tore its way into the room, Broker unloaded a half-clip into the creature. The sheer number of rounds managed to make most of them hit, and that was enough to blow apart the thing’s chest.

Thankfully, the three shots all hit at approximately the thing’s sternum, the first two breaking its armor and the third practically liquefying its chest inside the ceramic armor.

Their relief was short-lived as a second one began pulling itself into the room, the metal of the door scraping against the military-grade suit.

Broker reacted by firing a round from his javelin gun, hoping it would be enough to pierce the suit’s armor. He was rewarded with a satisfying view of the creature being dragged back into the corridor by the departing javelin, only to be replaced by one of the black-skinned slashers.

“Next group, yer up! That’s you, Mr. Wordsmith!” Applebloom called out from the vent entrance. “And as soon as we’re in, you need ta follow, professor!”

Broker took a shots towards the fresh Necromorph in the door before turning and running towards the vent, getting into it. “Don’t take too long, Dave!” Broker called from the vent.

Broker’s vision was cut off by entering the vent, following the procession of ponies, momentarily followed by AB and Dave, still shooting backwards as he crawled facing backwards. In fact, Broker got a good view of how that was working; Dave had tied some cord under his arms, and AB was dragging him along.

Broker turned to look forward in time to see a vent, momentarily darkened, burst inwards as a necromorph stabbed into the vent system. The three-clawed arm reached into the vent and dragged the foal, screaming, into the room beyond.

“Oh, hell no!” Broker shouted in the vent as he raced to reach the foal, his weapons at the ready instantly. Unfortunately, by the time he had cleared the scant half-meter, the foal’s screams had already been silenced. In the room beyond, a massive creature with four claw-tipped arms stood, the four pieces of the foal were strung between them. Strings of the blue foal’s intestines and spine strung the arms together like a grotesque spider’s web.

Broker, seeing no other option, ushered the foals past him, and he, Applebloom, and Dave skittered along the vent.

Further along the vent, Sketch was keeping an eye on Alex, making sure the boy wasn’t further injured by the journey. The young colt holding the back of the stretcher looked terrified, and Sketch tried to calm him.

“Don’t think about it, let’s hurry.” Sketch said quietly. As he tried to reach out to ruffle the kid’s mane, a spike of bone slammed through the wall of the vent and into the child’s head. The spear jammed in through one eye and out just below the ear on the other side.

The child jerked and twitched on the length of bone, his injured eye gone entirely red by the blood filling it. The other eye looked at Sketch in utter terror and agony, before glossing over. Big Heart, at the other end of the stretcher, had just avoided the twin of the claw lodged in the colt’s brain.

Sketch carefully stepped over the colt and picked up his end of the stretcher and began to push it, hurrying Big Heart along as the talons pulled back from the vent wall with a screech of bone-on-metal.

A little further back, CD was keeping an eye on the middle of the caravan. A portion of the vent was torn away, the top of the vent now exposed to the air above. A tall, vicious-looking black-skinned slasher had torn the section back.

CD took a quick shot at it, and dashed forward, warning everyone about the ceiling being monster-infested. “Guys, they’re above the vents too, don’t worry about anything, just keep running!” CD took one more shot before continuing his rush.

The monster fell back, missing its limbs from the shots. CD’s reaction was a bit hasty, and he had to stop for a moment to blast away another necromorph towering over the children. Swearing softly under his breath, CD emptied the rest of his clip into the next two monsters, only pausing to reload before keeping an eye on the opening.

He felt a blinding pain erupt in his side as a spike entered the wall of the vent and his side. Pulling away from it, he coughed, feeling blood splash across the inside of his mouth. Keying his mask, he coughed up a splatter of blood on the floor of the vent. Looking up, he keyed the helmet back in time to get hit with a blast of caustic fluid.

Swearing again, CD shot the puker multiple times.

At the back of the group, actually rather near CD now, Broker had the luck to see yet another child die as the same blast of acid that hit CD poured over one of the human children, the poor kid not even having enough time to cry out as the acidic bile stripped away flesh and organs in seconds.

Broker’s rage was building up at the sight and he aimed his Divet towards the puker and fired at the monster without mercy. Between the Plasma Cutter blasts and the Divet rounds, the black puker was torn apart in a gout of acidic spray. The gore and bile rained down, this time striking another of the children causing them to cry out in pain.

Behind them, Dave was continuing to fire at something, the child hit by the acid quieting as the acid ate through the kid’s skull.

“Get fucking moving you all! We’re dying back here!” Broker shouted over his shoulder

“We are moving!” Sketch replied.

The entire convoy continued to move forward, hurrying as best as possible. The screams of another young pony dying echoed through the vents, and Sketch was there to see Cheerilee trying to save one of the children as the foal was dragged through a vent.

Unfortunately, it’s nigh impossible to hold something with nothing but hooves.

Cheerilee was in tears as Sketch hurried her on, pausing only to look over his shoulder as Sweetie Belle calmly fired her weapon into the torn-open vent wall, the actinic silver fire of the tesla gun blasting and scouring away whatever was on the other side of the hole.

Near the back, Dave was shuffling up a bit to get past the acid-marked hole, before sitting back and letting ‘Bloom drag him once more, Broker and CD continuing onward just a bit farther ahead. The ponies warily watched the side vents, only pausing to assist Applebloom with dragging Dave along.

They barely avoided a series of spikes being driven through the roof of the vent; the necromorphs were getting inventive.

Back with Sketch, he, Big Heart, Cheerilee, and Scootaloo, were holding at the ‘final’ split.

“Alright, we need to hang a left, and get to the vent at the end. I loosened the cover earlier, just in case of a quick exit being needed. It’s open-out only, so we shouldn’t have to worry about anything getting in, but once we’re out, we’ll need to sprint down the hall and go through the door to get into the trams. There should be two still heading to one of the habitats in the PV sector, so we’ll take those.”

“Can we sweep once we’w on dah twam? Ah’m kinda tiewd...”

“Yes, but for now we need to hurry, try and stay awake.” Sketch spoke calmingly, and reached out to pat her on the head. She smiled, and yawned, her eyes looking a little bloodshot.

They all jumped slightly as a metallic screech echoed through the ducting, followed by the quick patter of small feet or hooves. It wasn’t coming from the rest of the convoy, meaning was likely more of the little necromorphs.

“Just great. How should we do this? Children first or people with weapons first?” Broker said looking towards the source of the noise.

“Do you even have to think, put the guns between the necromorphs and the kids!” Sketch said, as CD and the other group caught up, the remaining 9 kids (two having been jumped along the way) bunching up as well.

“Guys, shut up. We need one armed group ahead of the kids, and one behind them, and watch the ceiling. Other than that, keep moving, if there are monster children, shoot them!” CD said, keeping his eyes on the ceiling, hoping there wasn’t anything above him.

“Me and Dave will take the front. You two take the back. Sound good?” Broker added his plan quickly.

“No, I’ll stay in the back. It’s pretty easy to drag me quickly, and I can still shoot like this.” Dave responded.

“CD, with me. I feel Sketch’s line gun will be needed more if it is necromorph children chasing us.” Broker replied.

“Yeah, sounds good, Sketch how are you holding up with ammo?” CD asked, reloading his Cutter.

“Five in the gun, one left over and 20 rounds for my divet, eight loaded.”

“Nice, so what are we waiting for? The longer we stay up here, the more chance these kids have of getting brutilated.” CD said, not caring that others didn’t understand his made-up word.

“Alright, then we should go. I can carry a couple of the smaller ones.” Cheerilee said, nodding to two of the smallest children, a filly and a young girl, who happily crawled into Cheerilee’s saddlebags, sitting there and curling up on their teacher’s back to try napping.

“Come on, CD.” Broker said, walking down the vent while reloading both of his weapons.

Broker and CD took point, followed closely by Cheerilee. The three ponies, along with Scootaloo, got to the back of the vent, just as Dave began firing at the mass of twisted, mutant children pouring through the vent towards the kids.

“Shit, mini-necromorphs.”

“Run! We don’t have time to piss around here!” Scoots shouted, pushing CD and Sketch through the vent, holding it open so that Big Heart and the stretcher could fit.

The sound of Dave continuing to fire was the main thing they heard as the small group of children ran for the trams.

Applebloom and Scoots were out of the vent barely a moment after, both of them dragging Dave while at a full gallop. He continued to fire a couple more times, AB chucking a plasma cartridge towards him, which he caught and slotted into place.

The remainders of the class and their saviors burst through the doors, praying that they would not be ambushed on the other side. Thankfully, the bright yellow sun of the Equus system continued to fill the tram’s windowed tram station with soft light. They ran towards the nearest trams, only the thought of escaping in their minds.

Rather suddenly, CD, Sketch and Broker heard a shout from ‘Bloom and Scoots behind him.

“What’s wrong, girls?” CD asked, not quite wanting to know the answer, but turning towards them anyway.

He saw something that confused him for a moment. Dave was standing up, firing calmly at the horde of necromorphs. He’d cut the cords connecting him to the girls, and they were skidding to a stop to help him.

“Go on, I’m just a burden. Let me be with her.” Dave’s words were filled with pain, those five words naught but a whisper.

“No way pal, until you’re out of ammo, you are going to keep shooting. I don’t care about who died, we just need to keep the ones still here alive. As long as your cutter has shots in it, you're killing monsters!” CD said quickly, giving Dave a quick jolt with his hoof. “Don’t be a wimp.”

“Absolutely. I’m not just going to stand here, after all. Now go, you need time, and I can give you that. Don’t waste this.”

“Yes sir.” Was all CD said before dashing towards the trams.

The escape from there was almost... anticlimactic. The children piled into whichever tram they saw first, and the two trams began moving almost immediately. CD, still watching Dave, saw him continue to fire until the cutter stopped firing, likely out of ammo.

If he’d been there, he would’ve heard Dave mutter to a ghost, half-visible in the oncoming avalanche of necrotic flesh, “It’s all about love, isn’t it?”

“So... what now?” Cheerilee’s voice was much more subdued before.

The two trams shared a single radio as they went along their ten-minute journey, finally pushing the time since this whole thing had started to about three hours.

“I guess we settle down while we can before we head back to that nightmare of a station.” Broker’s voice replied in a tired tone and one of deep pain.

Six of the nine students remaining had ran to the tram Cheerilee had been in, and Broker had joined them, if only because CD, the other three students, Sketch, and all three of the CMC had piled into the other. He’d seemed rather wary of being stuck in the same tram as the young pegasus mare.

CD sat down and took a minute to breathe, retracting his helmet. “Man, that was... yeah. So now what? What do we do if there are more necromorphs when we get off? If Frost or Johan are killed, I’d say our chances of surviving are total shit.”

“Ah... I could have the trams stop. Give us some time to rest and all... The children need some time to sleep.” Cheerilee gave the suggestion quietly, the two trams barely ten meters apart on the same track.

“If I wanted to stop the tram, I would have done so myself, I can. I know they need to rest, we all do. Just think about it. What if there’s a whole bunch of necromorphs and they all swarm us as soon as we get off? Or one, giant, hulking, magical, acid barfing, super-speedy, tentacled, clawed lump of mobile walking rotted flesh. Seriously, I am not having a good day. I’m just glad Summer is alright.”

“Also, we need to further ourselves from that overrun part of the station, and if we sat here and waited for them while we take a nap Dave’s sacrifice would be for naught.”

“Actually, out here on the trams, we’d prolly be safest holdin’ still. An’ we’d be fresher, better able ta aim.” Applebloom pointed out, her helmet retracted. “If we’re all tired, we’re gonna make mistakes. Just stop us in a minute, halfway down tha tracks.”

“That sounds like a good compromise, if everyone’s okay, we’ll stop in a minute.” CD said. “Now does anyone have anything to say about that plan?”

“I’m okay with being stuck in the middle, as long as we have some distance between us and them I don’t mind a break, but I would prefer having somepony on watch to be sure.”

“I don’t volunteer. I need a nap.” That was all CD said before somehow managing to fall completely asleep in his suit, snoring lightly.

“I vote Cheerilee and Broker get first watch dut-” Sketch fell asleep mid sentence.

A sigh was heard over the intercom as Cheerilee stopped the tram, approximately halfway along the tracks.

In the tram with Cheerilee, all the kids had fallen asleep already, giving Broker and Cheerilee the time to talk.

“How are you holding up after that? I feel pretty shattered after the vents. I hope the growth isn’t wherever we are headed to. That stuff tends to bring the necromorphs.” Broker said, sighing.

“I- I’m not sure, Broker. I’ve always... always thought of things in black and white. But all of this- it’s all in shades of gray.”

Another sigh was released from Broker’s lips. “I see it as black in white in ways. Save as many as you can before the infection takes them. This is a place for rebirth for those that get out. Redemption, a new life. If, and only if, they fight to have it.”

“But then... there’s Dave. I- I’ve always hated him for what I- I thought he was doing. What the entire faculty thought he was doing.” Cheerilee sighed heavily before turning back to look at the school they’d left. “I don’t know if you can understand this, but I’ve never been really, well, social. I’ve always been the educated type more than anything.”

“Come to me and you have someone that escaped through books” Broker’s gaze followed Cheerilee’s towards the school. “Everywhere I went I had a book, especially at home. I was caring to my family, but it was irritating having that many siblings running around screaming and messing up everything.” Broker looked towards Cheerilee. “As for Dave, he was redeemed by giving us the time to come here. His past image should be wiped out and re-forged as a better one, heroic.”

Cheerilee just sighed again, before turning to him and smiling. “I- I suppose. Broker? I rather have to ask, uhm, how old are you?”

“Eighteen. Still fairly young for a Unicorn, but I think I’ve had enough sights and smells to last me several lifetimes within the last three hours of this hell.”

“Ei- eighteen? Wow... Well, I suppose th- that was just a silly... sorry.” It was a little hard to tell, but Broker swore he saw the teacher blush as she looked away with an embarrassed look in her eyes.

“What would be silly Cheerilee? I personally think nothing here is silly under the circumstances.” Broker replied as he helmet folded into a socket to reveal his smile. “Everyone else is asleep, so you can tell me. It’ll be our little secret if you want it to be.”

Cheerilee looked back, definitely embarrassed, and definitely blushing. “I, uhm, I’ve never had a coltfriend. I- I suppose if this- if this is the apocalypse, I’d like to have one. B- but I’m just being a silly old mare... who’d want me now?” She said the last words with a bitter sigh as she looked away.

“Well, to be honest, I’ve never had a marefriend in my life. I know they say to wait, but I’ve been waiting long enough, especially after this mess and I want one.” He sighed himself. “But I’m the pushover that nopony wants. You have better chances than me.” Broker’s own blush began to form on his cheeks.

As he looked back up, he saw that Cheerilee had shuffled closer. “I think you’re plenty good enough for me... But am I good enough for you?” She sounded honestly afraid of what his response might be.

“Seeing you earlier, my friends downtalking you... it broke my heart. I wanted to stand up, but I just didn’t have the courage. You are not worthless, Cheerilee, especially to your students.” Now Broker started to shift closer as well.

Cheerilee put a hoof up to his armored chest, and pressing her head under his chin. “Broker, you’re the most wonderful, Marker-sent thing I could ever want. P- please don’t leave me.”

Broker smiled at the words she said. “I certainly can’t be the best. But, I think times have changed now.” He put a metal-clad hoof around Cheerilee, embracing her in a small hug. “And I think you’re one of the better things to come out of this apocalypse.”

Cheerilee just smiled and tilted her head back to stare him in the eyes. “B- broker?”

“Yes, Cheerilee?”

“C- can I ask for a f- favor?”

“Go right ahead. I wouldn’t mind fulfilling a favor to a pony like you.”

“Will you kiss me?”

Broker’s cheek were set into a fiery inferno of scarlet red. “O- oh.”

Cheerilee looked away. “I- I understand if you don’t want to, I’m moving too fast, and I’m too ol-”

“Cheerilee...” Was all Broker said in a quiet, whispery tone before his face pushed forward to press his lips to hers. They kissed, albeit amateurishly. If it weren’t for the void of space, he probably would have heard Scootaloo’s upset shout of ‘oh, come ooon!’.

Author's Note

Those poor kids...
And yes, the shifting, confusing last half of the chapter is on purpose. Those vents are dark, and it's really hard to tell if anything is actually going on or if it's just the shadows.

So, much thanks to my crew of faithful ~~stooges~~ ~~minions~~ players, as they've really done a lot of work towards this.
And as such, please remember to vote each chapter for who your favorite and least favorite characters are. Every vote can save or destroy a character in time

Ch14 - This Day is Imperfect

Sketch stretched as the ‘low-air’ alarm began to sound. Thankfully, those alarms first sounded when there was about half an hour of air left, so that was alright. Relatively speaking.

“Shit... I hate that fucking alarm, or most alarms in general. Usually means we’re about to die.” Sketch said as he woke up. Tiredly looking around, he saw the faceprint he left on the glass.

“Hit... snooze...” CD groaned before waking up, realizing it wasn’t his alarm clock. “Crap, what’s that?”

CD rolled up from the bench he’d collapsed onto, yawning. Looking about, even he saw that the kids were only barely waking up. Scootaloo was apparently already awake, stretching in her tight uniform in front of both of the adults.

“Gaahh... S’up dudes?”

“Us. What’s wrong?” CD replied “How do we turn off the alarm?”

“I’m alright, anything happen after I passed out face first into the glass wall?” Sketch asked, popping his back.

Applebloom cracked her own neck, blinking owlishly around. “Mmm... we need ta’ shut off tha’ alarm... C’n do that from the control pa~a~a~” her words cut off with a yawn.

CD then started to wake up, realizing that the alarm meant something bad was happening. “Wait. Crap, we need to get to the next stop, we’re running out of air! We gotta speed up the tram somehow.”

“Oh, jes’ hit the main console, Cee. It only takes a few minutes ta’ get there.”

“Right.” Copy.Data said, heading towards the panel, ignoring the shortened version of his nickname.

Smacking at the holographic panel, he successfully turned off the loud alarm. From the intercom, CD could hear the sounds of the other tram waking up as well. “Hello everypony, this is your captain speaking, we are running out of air, but the situation is under control. In case of emergency, put you head between your legs, and kiss your bum goodbye.”

There were snickers from over the communicator, and CD caught a weak glare from across the gap between the trams from Cheerilee. CD smiled back and waved. The maroon mare just facehoofed.

“So...I guess nothing happened, oh well. Hey CD when do you think Cheerilee is going to kill us? Or Broker for that matter, they’re locked in a box together.”

“Nah, they got all kissy-goo-goo while you two passed out.” Scootaloo stated matter-of-factly, earning a couple points of attention from the adults.

“Awww, fuuuck... Looks like she found a way to make us save her now.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t change the fact that we’re still stuck in this tram with a diminishing air supply until we get to the next stop.” CD pointed out, planning to wait until later to make fun of Broker.

With that, CD tapped the control panel again, and the trams began moving once more. The two conveyances continued to trundle along for another minute, until Scootaloo pointed out a window.

“Hey, guys, there’s another tram heading in the same direction! I can’t see what’s inside, but it’s covered in blood and shit!” The little orange pegasus looked back at the adults in the car, looking worried.

“Goddamnit, I hate it when bad things happen!” Sketch said in response.

“Well, how about we contact it and see if it is bad.” CD pointed out, “Unless we can’t talk to it, in which case we come out prepared for a firefight, and hope it isn’t needed.”

After ‘Bloom confirmed that there was not a way to comm the other tram without a high security clearance, the ponies in the tram all shuffled around nervously as they prepared for potential battle.

In the other tram, Broker and Cheerilee were mulling over the news.

“Broker... do you think we’ll survive this? All of this, I mean?”

“I don’t see why not, if we held out in those vents. I’m getting sick of it too, no doubt there.” Broker said with a sigh, preparing his own weapons. “I just hope this tram isn’t too bad.”

Broker turned when he felt something tap against his armored leg. Standing next to him was a still sleepy-looking Big Heart, and she looked at him with her big, soft eyes.

“Mistah Bwokew, awe we gonna go find Auwntie Wedhawt?”

Broker gave a soft smile. “Yes, Big Heart, we are going to find your Aunt. Don’t worry about it.” The answer seemed good enough for the very little pony, and she stepped back over next to Alex. Broker’s heart went all gooey as he saw the little filly nuzzle Alex, who stirred, just barely.

“You little ones are so adorable no matter how things are in the outside world.”

As Broker watched, Alex gently put his arm around Big Heart, and gave her a weak hug. It was all Broker could do not to suffer a diabetic coma from the adorable overload.

“Broker, I want you to know, if we don’t make it out of this... I’m glad I met you.” Cheerilee whispered the words as she rested her head on Broker’s shoulder.

In the other tram, CD got to see the two hugging and sitting close. Eh, if they like each other, fine, if they all get torn into centimeter sized pieces, whatever. CD thought, checking the distance to the next stop. Only about four hundred meters, no more than a half minute or so of travel.

“As am I, Cheerilee. Just have a tiny bit of hope in this nightmare. We might have a chance of getting out of here if we keep fighting through this place.” Broker replied.

The two ponies nuzzled happily in the tram, to a chorus of ‘eeeew!’s from the kids in the tram at the mushy actions.

“You little kids will understand in a few years, I promise.” Broker replied to the reaction, then turned back to Cheerilee.

CD spoke up over the intercom. “Hey, we’re just about there. Get ready.”

“I am ready, CD.” Broker said turning towards the door in his tram.

“Same.” Sketch replied, readying his Divet.

“Great, now let’s hope we won’t have to be ready, for the children’s sakes.” CD said, making sure his Cutter was properly loaded.

The doors of the trams slid open, and the ponies looked out from them. The tram station was barely lit, thanks only to the ever-present sunlight streaming in through a few windows and the lights of the trams themselves.

CD, not feeling as scared as normal, thanks to Summer’s comforting presence nearby, but still wasn’t sure he wanted to step out.

“CD has Summer, Broker has Cheerilee, I have nothing, so why the fuck not.” Sketch said, poking his head out before exiting.

“You can always have a date with Rosy Hoof." CD reminded him, smirking, before shrinking back from Summer’s disapproving gaze.

“Fuck you too, buddy.” Sketch said, preparing his line gun before taking a tentative step out of the tram.

At the same time, on the other side of a dividing wall, Johan and Frost stepped out of their own, blood-splattered tram.

Johan swept left as Frost swept right, the two checking the area automatically. There were thick layers of the encroaching goo, and the smell was awful. There was no movement, but she knew the other tram had something in it.

“All clear here.”

“Clear, too. Nothing up top, and I can’t hear anything.” Johan lowered his pulse rifle a bit, but kept it still battle ready. The two had decided to use their inter-suit security comms to prevent anything from finding them by sound alone.

“We should check the other trams, I thought I saw something on the way here.”

“I know, we already went over this.” he said placatingly, “We can- wait, I hear something coming around the corner. It’s not moving fast, but that’s not a shuffle.”

“Another monster probably.”

“Uhm... Not too sure. Be ready though, I’m tired of being wrong about how peaceful things should be.”

Around the section of wall, Sketch was nervously getting ready to peek around. With a flash of inspiration, he noted a piece of glass on the ground. And, his new suit had fingers...

Sketch picked it up with the kinesis module and tried to use it to look around the corner. Unfortunately, the piece of glass’s ‘base orientation’ was apparently with the point forward, about a meter in front of him, well beyond the wall. Sketch backed up just as a single shot rang out, and the piece of glass shattered.

“What the fuck man?!” Sketch shouted, preparing his Line Gun.

On the other side of the wall, Frost looked up from where she’d fired the snapshot before realizing it had been held in a kinesis field. As well, both she and Johan heard the sound of someone yelling.

“Oops,” Frost said, lowering her rifle. “Hope they’re not dead...”

“Well, they can still speak, so that’s a point in their favor. You cover the corner, I’ll circle wide.”

Frost nodded and held her weapon up again, ready to move.

“Stop shooting at me you dicks!”

Switching to speakers, Johan shouted back, “Step around the corner with your limbs visible, and without a weapon.”

“You just shot my mirror you asshole how can I trus- Wait... Johan? You teamkilling fucktard!”

Johan paused for a moment, lowering his rifle slightly. He turned back to Frost, and spoke over the suit comms, “I- I think that’s Sketch... but he doesn’t sound right. Get ready to fire, if he’s turned. I- I don’t think I’d be able to.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

“Johan, seriously man, what the fuck, you had someone else shoot me? You better have a good explanation!”

Johan switched back to external. “Ah, I’m alone over here, why don’t you step around the wall? It’s been a while.” Johan had to work hard to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

“Yes it has, but no, now I’m sure you have someone, you were never that good of a shot!”

Frost let out a small huff of amusement, trying to keep herself focused.

“I got better. Kinda had t-”

“In the span of a few hours? Yeah right, With you its more likely to hit the target in the next lane over! Also, get your ass over here, I’ve had to put up with too many monsters already, we need all the backup we can get. We’re escorting a class of children you asshole!”

“Girls, girls, you’re both pretty, now can we get this over with?” Frost shouted. “My arm’s getting tired.”

“We can if you both put your guns down and get your asses over here, Johan, make sure she doesn’t scare any of the children, they’ve been through enough.”

Johan turned to Frost. “I’ll go first. If there is anything resembling a trap over there, I can survive it. It doesn’t sound like it’s a trap, but I think my paranoia is rather earned at this point.”

“Are you guys going to hurry up? Get your toys and let’s go!”

Johan just shook his head and stepped forward, gun at the ready. As he stepped around the dividing wall, stopping when he saw the suited-up pony standing before him. Since, at this point, Sketch was on his hind legs thanks to the engineering suit’s assistive servos, he was almost as tall as Johan, and was holding the Line Gun at about gut-height.

“Ah, is that you, Sketch? You, uhm, look a little different.”

“Of course I do, it’s the fucking apocalypse, now get your group or whatever and lets go. Also, Broker survived, same with CD and now we are babysitting a group of children. One was turning, but I saved him, also Broker hooked up with their teacher.”

“Uuh... okay, then... wait, kids? Shit. We need to get going. Whatever this crap on the floors and stuff is, I doubt it’s healthy for them to be near. We should get them to the housing sections.”

“Last time we went there they were almost as fucked up as the school, they were in the middle of a school play. By the way, where the fuck are we?”

“Oh, we’re back home. PV-07, good ol’ Ponyville. Shit, though, poor kids...”

“Yeah, we saved one class, I even performed a surgery on one, oh and a we lost a few group members along the way.”

By this time, Johan and Sketch had stepped closer towards the school trams, allowing Frost to circle around behind them, exactly as planned. It was a fairly common tactic used in Security’s few Hostile Entrance teams, And he made the hand motion for ‘stand down’.

Frost let out a small huff and lowered her gun, putting it on her shoulder as she stood up straight, a hand on one hip.

“Frost, we have civilians to evacuate. Kids. we need to see if there’s any survivors here who can take care of them.” Frost paused for a second. “I hope we can.”

“I can take care of them with Cheerilee. She does have experience with the children, and I don’t find them too bad.” Broker offered.

“Wow dude, way to insult the children.” Sketch added.

Johan shook his head, and began walking onwards. “Hey, wait, did you come from Sunshine?”

“Yeah... I hope we never go back.” Sketch deadpanned.

“Was the principal there? She’s kind of a high-profile pony, you know.”

“No, we were too busy running and shooting and blasting off arms.” CD said. “I don’t think meeting her would have helped us kill necromorphs.”

“Also there were piles of victims in the gym... She was most likely among them, why does she matter?” Sketch asked.

“Because she’s the niece of one of the rulers of our grand, interstellar nation.”

“Not anymore she isn’t.”

“And how would you know? She could’ve easily walked out a window and been fine. She’s an alicorn.”

“Yeah, or she could’ve died like the rest of them... wait, did you say alicorn?”

“Yeah. Me Condenser or something. When the riot warning went out, we were sent a small list of folks to keep an eye out for. She’s number two on the list. I hope she’s alright, she’s always seemed nice.” Johan finished his sentence with a sad-sounding sigh.

“Well, if she was alive, wouldn’t she have tried to help us and the kids? That sounds like something an alicorn would do, if you ask me.” CD stated.

“She might’ve been forcibly evacuated. That’s the standing orders for any Security personnel in situations like riots and worse. I think this classifies as ‘worse’, personally.”

“I agree, but I thought alicorns were immortal, why the need for an evac order?” CD asked

Frost finally spoke up.

“We need to get moving.” She hitched her gun up to a more comfortable position, impatient from all the chattering. She took a step towards Johan. “Me and Johan will stay together and guard the front. You and other others will guard the back. ”

“I like that plan, but the trams’ Oxygen Scrubbers need time to recharge.” CD pointed out. “They aren’t going to help the kids breathe if they’re burned out.”

“So we are going to sit here like ducks and protect the kids and Cheerilee until we can go, Johan, Frost, CD, ya with me?”

CD just gave a nod and turned to Broker. “What’re you gonna do, Broker?”

“Probably stay and agree with Sketch.” Broker replied.

“Then I guess we’re as good as dead.” Frost crossed her arms.

Johan interjected, trying to stall the fight before it could start. “We should get everyone going, together, so we don’t lose anyone. But we need to work fast, I saw what this gunk can do a while ago.”

“We did too, not fun.” Sketch added.

“So, you have some wounded, right? Then let’s get them moving. Middle of the group, with two adults in back and two up front. I’ll take point. Frost, you stay in the middle, too. I know you can hit anything at either end from there.” Johan began pointing towards each location, sorting the members of the group out. “Also, what’s up with the- wait, who’s that in the white armor?”

CD decided to respond quickly so they could get back to the matter at hand. “Sweetie Belle, and I have no clue how old she is, but it doesn’t matter. Moving on...”

“Actually, this is important. She’s number four on the list. She’s in the center of the group. Frost, I need you to keep an eye on her at all times.”

Frost looked over as CD gave a ‘You gotta be freaking kidding me, what the hell is this?’ look. Victoria let out a small disappointed huff but nodded to Johan. “Alright, but you better not die, got it? After all this is over, we have business to take care of.”

“I’ll try not to, I am the senior officer for this operation. Sketch, you and the little one in the engineering suit take the front of the column. Broker, you and CD take the back. Keep an eye out for anything sneaking up on us.” Johan looked around at them. “Any questions?”

Without waiting for a response, he snapped a quick, “Good, then let’s go.” before turning and beginning to leave.

“Here’s an idea, Broker, how about we get a pair of ankle biters on our backs to watch behind us? It worked before with me and Sketch, what say?” CD asked.

“That sounds like a great idea, actually.” Broker replied and nodded towards CD.

The group began to move in a (somewhat) orderly fashion, the seven kids stuck walking complaining in loud whispers to each other every few moments. Scootaloo and Big Heart were both carrying Alex’s stretch.

Frost, standing sentinel in the center of the group, had found Sweetie had attached herself with magnetic clamps to her back. She had to admit, it made the carry a lot easier, and she was getting a tiny readout of Sweetie’s vitals on her HUD. It was very reassuring to know she’d be alerted if her charge decided to wander off.

And at the front, Sketch and ‘Bloom followed about six meters behind Johan.

“See anything Applebloom?”

“Not yet. Just shadows.”

Johan called back from the front. “Shush, you two!”

If it wasn’t for the windows with a view to the outside, with the sunlight streaming in, the habitat would be completely dark. In the eerie, orange half-light, the shadows seemed to dance and move.

All the children had started whispering amongst themselves, except for the CMC members.

“I hope my brother’s alright.”

“Did you see that?”

“I think that shadow moved!”

“Ms. Cheerilee, can we go home now? I’m scared...”

Every one of them had bunched together closer to the center of the group, nearer to where Cheerilee and Frost were.

“It’s okay kids, I’m here to protect you, and so is Cheerilee, neither of us will let anything get you.” Sketch said.

“As best we can at least.” CD whispered to Sketch, reminding him of their trek through the vents.

“Don’t forget me you two.” Broker added quickly. “I promise not to let those things get any of you precious young minds.”

“We all did.” CD said. “Though we weren’t as sappy.”

“Yeah Broker, long story short kids, I’d rather die than leave you with these creatures.”

The kids didn’t seem very reassured, and continued to whisper to one another. Each of them sounded ever more fearful than the others, and the tension in the group was rising. There was seven foals and two human children in the group.

“So, just a question, but if they were going to evacuate the principal, where would she be taken?” CD asked. “And would it be easy to get some help from her, an Alicorn would be totally useful?”

“Would you all be quiet, please?!” Johan hissed back at the group. “As for your question, she’d likely be evacuated here. I saw three of the school trams at the station. You only used two, right? That means one was used earlier.”

The group finally got to one of the commons rooms, the large, wide-open area meant for people and ponies to move around more comfortably without having to be in their rooms. Johan raised a hand for them to stop, giving everyone some time to rest. They had been marching for almost ten minutes, after all, and the children needed a break.

Sketch turned around, “Hey Scootaloo, Big Heart, how’s Alex doing?”

“I’m missing an arm. That’s how.” The voice was tired and groggy, and laced with pain. Alex, it seemed, had woken up and was looking at Sketch with bleary eyes.

“Well it saved your life, so that’s all that matters.”

“Still missing an arm... An’ my head hurts.” The boy’s cynical tone softened as Big Heart nuzzled him. Alex threw his remaining arm around her, and hugged her close. This whole thing earned a squeak from Big Heart and and a chuckle from Scoots.

“Just be glad your marefriend was there to help save you, you owe her big time.”

“She’s not my marefriend! That would be gross!” Alex protested weakly. Big Heart was also making gagging noises, and the two had separated.

“You know, defiance usually gives the opposite message. You two just give it a couple of years.” Broker said with a tiny chuckle himself. The two children made spitting and gagging noises, and Scootaloo had to stuff her own mouth with a hoof to keep from laughing out loud.

Broker, meanwhile, had wandered to Cheerilee. “How are you right now, Cheerilee?”

“I’m fine. The kids are spooked, and I’m having to keep them calm. How about you?”

“Scared, but mainly concerned for the children. Poor things shouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.” He whispered into her ear. “I do hope we can find something useful here in Ponyville. Maybe I can find some answers to where this infection started as well.”

She nuzzled his cheek happily. “That sounds great.”

Sketch, sitting on his own, wondered to himself, ‘Hmmm, I wonder if anyone else will hook up here... ‘ he mused, looking at CD, ‘He’s got his hallucination,’ He looked at Johan, ‘He smells like he’s been tapping Frost, and recently, too,’ He then looked at Scootaloo, ‘Wonder why she was watching Broker earlier.’

“Johan, you were here right? You think there are still survivors here since they managed to build barr-”

“Hey! Over here!” A voice called out from the other side of the barricade. It definitely sounded normal.

“Does that answer your question?” CD replied, rolling his eyes.

“Why yes it does, CD.” Broker said replied in an annoyed tone. “Who might you be?” He directed the question to the anonymous voice.

“Andrew Tam. You guys with Security?”

“Yeah, we are. I’m Acting Sergeant Allegro. We’ve got children that need shelter.”

Those words, it seemed, were magic. A portion of the barricade was dragged out of the way, and a small group of people, mostly ponies, stood on the other side. Almost immediately, several of the children ran forward, squealing happily for their family. A few did not, and a few of the adults looked up hopefully, but did not receive a child’s return.

Sketch just died a bit inside looking at the broken families, he had nothing to say here.

CD looked down sadly before speaking. "I'm sorry, we couldn't manage to save them all, we... we did the best we could and then some... really, we did."sa

One of the ponies, evidently a parent, pressed her face into the shoulder of the colt next to her, and began crying. Several other also reacted to the news poorly, blinking away tears and the like.

CD responded, still sounding sad. “I feel really awful about it, if it helps, though I don’t know why it would.”

Broker sighed in sadness.

”We’re sorry for your loses... I can’t understand what it feels like to lose someone.” Sketch said, patting one grieving parent on the shoulder.

The families responded well to the comforting of the trio, or at least, as well as anyone could being told that, by the seemingly faceless ponies in the armored suits. One of them, dressed in the dress clothes of a military veteran, caught Johan’s attention.

“Son, you’re with Security, right?” The older buck’s breath smelled like mint and alcohol, and he looked ancient. “A few of folks in Army suits took a different path with that princess, Miss Cadenza. They... they didn’t seem right, son. Please, for us ponies, go and check on her, please. I can send you the route they took.”

Johan looked into the pony’s eyes, and nodded. “I’ll see if anyone else is coming along from my group, but I’ll get heading there right away.”

A moment later, Sketch felt someone tapping at the armor on his shoulder.

“Hey, Sketch, want to help rescue that pony princess? I have a lead on where she went, and it sounds like she might be in trouble.” Johan’s voice was level, but far from calm.

“I have respect for her, so why not. CD, Broker, you in?”

“I’ll do it if I have a chance to do a cliche ‘save the damsel in distress’ mission.” Broker replied, earning a playful smack from Cheerilee.

“I’m not sure she’d really need much help, but I’ll offer all I can anyway.” CD said.

Johan nodded happily, only stopping to see if Frost was coming along. She spent a moment to think about it, but decided to stay behind, to keep an eye on the survivors.

“But don’t you dare die, Johan.”

Back on the ground floor, Johan was leading the four-part group by the guidance track on his HUD.

“Alright, the Evac point shouldn’t be much further, so we can check up from there. It’s one of the personal vehicle hangars, and-” Johan cut off as he looked up upon entering the hangar.

Thick layers of black, slick crusts had formed up on the walls, floor, and ceiling. It had even formed around and over the personal EVA pods. At the far end of the hangar, there was something standing still, in the vague shape of an large pony hunched over.

“You think it’s one of those things, Johan? I can’t really see any deformities on it.” Broker said in a quiet whisper. He flinched as something moved in the shadows nearby.

“Me neither, but it’s creeping me the heck out.” CD said. “Should we try talking to it, or shoot it?” His eyes darted to try following something that shifted, but the long shadows cast by the slanted sunlight obscured much of the floor. The covered lumps in the floor also cast deep pools of shadow.

“I vote for investigation before opening fire.” Sketch said, turning his head. He could’ve sworn he’d seen some glimmer of light in one of the dark sections of the room.

The entire room was lit in alternating bands of dark and orangey-yellow. Johan, not willing to shoot something that might be the princess, called out. “Princess Cadenza? Is that you?”

Something in the darkness shifted, and tiny glimmers of red light slowly encircled the four people. Sketch turned as a sound like plates of ceramic sliding over one another echoed through chamber. He looked in time to see the door out covered in a shell of blackened material.

“Hello? Who’s there?” Every one of the four males turned at the sound of the voice. It was, quite simply, beautiful. The form at the end of the room shifted. “Are you here to... rescue me?”

“Hello, and yes we are Miss Cadenza.” Sketch said politely for once.

“Oh, I was escorted here by these nice young guards. But then, they said they needed to go, and that I should wait here. So I did.” The sadness in her voice made everyone in the group feel a bit worse. It wasn't fair that the princess, well-known for being exceptionally nice, had been subjected to this horror.

Johan began stepping forward, towards the princess.

“I’m sorry Princess, let’s just get you to safety.” Sketch said, heading towards her as well.

“I agree.” CD said, his head a bit down, half from respect, and half from still feeling awful about the ruined families.

“No doubt about that, Sketch.” Broker added as he watched Sketch and Johan walk towards Princess Cadence’s shadow. He began to walk towards the shadow as well.

Passing from the first bar of light into the deep shadow beyond, and back into the second, CD couldn’t help but feel a bit odd. Something was... off. He looked around, and saw Summer looking terrified.

All she said was, “Data, something’s wrong. Please don’t.”

“Don’t what? Should, should I stop them?”

Before he could get a response, Cadence called out again, and he forgot what he was talking about. “Please hurry, I’m scared. And it’s going to be night soon.” Copy.Data continued walking on.

As they stepped into the last patch of sunlight before Princess Cadence’s, they stopped

“Oh, four of you! Just like last time. Since I can’t go; I have to stay, after all, perhaps you can stay with me, then?”

The dark shape in the shaft of sunlight turned around, opening a pair of huge, black wings. Holes and cracks covered and filled the wings, and several of the ‘feathers’ only held on by sheer tenacity.

As ‘Princess Cadence’ opened her eyes, each glowing like a dull, red light, a flare of thin red lines formed over her. Thousands of little shapes, almost like letters but not quite, twisted and formed in the blood-red cracks in the blackened skin of the Alicorn. A bloody red aura of magic formed along her horn.

And finally, the chest of the creature lit up an outline of something both CD and Johan recognized, though only the human knew what he recognized it as, at least in miniature.

“A- a marker? W- what the-”

The creature, thankfully, seemed to merge with the floor and wall’s covering, nothing but a volcanic-looking mound with veins and muscles pouring into the geyser-like pile of blackened flesh. A skeletal grimace leered at the group, as they realized the creature was definitely not planning on letting them go.

-<[Boss Theme]>-

Broker’s only reaction was to fire his divet at the creature violently.

“Might as well join the idiot if we’re about to die!” Sketch said, taking up his line gun and firing at the creature, not using the mine because... reasons.

“Sounds like a plan.” CD said, firing horizontally at the chest, so he might hit other parts as well.

Johan, for his part, took a step back and began firing as well.

The alicorn-necromorph turned with the sickening crunch of bone and gristle grinding. The thing’s forehooves had split apart, revealing a set of long, razor-sharp talons. Grinning that eerie, macabre grin once more, she crooned to the assembled males. “Please, just join us. We’ll be together, forever. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

In spite of the slightly grating sound of her voice, every one of the guys there had to fight off what had to be layers of enchantment trying to sink their grimy roots into their brains. An uphill battle all the way on the mental front, it was all they could do to remain standing.

“N- not fair, I’m... I’m the only one... who can mess with my brain...” CD mumbled, trying to see if humor could distract it or something, but to little effect.

“Damn it, you’re giving me a migraine.” Sketch fired off another shot as he spoke

Everyone felt an odd, flat feeling in their chests as the necromorph’s horn lit up with a sickly red glow, like a dying ember. Then, they each stumbled as a sharp, almost explosive pain went off in their chests.

“Oh, please boys,” the monster spoke in a pleading voice, “I just want your hearts. So give me your HEARTS!”

Johan squeezed off several shots to try distracting it, and everyone felt another painful lurch in their rib cages.

“What’s... in it for us... ugly?” CD said, aiming his Cutter, trying to hit her horn, but pain made his aim far from straight. The bolt went wide, hitting the back wall and sending a shower of reddish, luminescent goo across the floor below that point.

A keening shriek ripped through the air, and a shape like a hundred faces lit up along the walls. Every one of them looked like it was screaming in fear or pain, and their overlapping voice drowned out the turned princess’s melody. In that time, though their ears began to bleed, their hearts stopped trying to burst from their chests.

“No idea why that stopped her, but keep doing it!” Sketch said, though nobody could hear him, and fired a shot at the back wall hoping to keep her from giving them heart attacks.

“Try muting your helmets... that might stop the noise...” CD said weakly before doing just that.

Unfortunately, the raucous din still poured through the helmets as Broker and Johan continued to try firing at the unliving blasphemy, though the shots didn’t seem to be doing much. Some sort of shield had formed over her/it, and they couldn’t get through it. Finally, the screeching came to a halt, along with the bubble.

Johan breathed a sigh of relief, Broker breathed heavily within his helmet, while CD tried another blast at the princess, still attempting horizontal blasts in an attempt to remover her horn , and Sketch fired the last few shots of his line gun into her, shooting the wall didn’t seem like a good idea anymore. Everyone was bleeding from ears and noses behind their masks, and all of them had slightly blurred vision.

“Broker, try your explodey-spear thing, it might work, right?” CD offered the idea while trying to think of others that seemed less risky.

“Yeah, was about to try that.” Broker replied while his javelin gun was trying to lock on target with the Princess’s chest. However, it was not going too well since he felt dizzy from the aftershock of the screeching that, thankfully, had already ended.

“Wait, what about an explosive spear? Use the damn thing!”

“I’m trying to get on target!” Broker said while he finally got a good, hazy focus on the thing’s chest before pulling the trigger. The barbed length of metal slammed into the creature’s lower body, and she screamed like a banshee. The ear-splitting shriek was worse than the walls shrieks, and every person there fell to the ground in agony.

Broker, on reflex hit the alt-fire switch, sending coruscating arcs of electricity across the alicorn-thing’s body. Finally, the energy dissipated, and the creature stopped shrieking.

Like marionettes with their strings cut, the group relaxed from the positions of agony they’d curled into, before looking up at the monster still standing before them.

“Fine... if you don’t want to be loved, then you can be annihilated!”

The creature’s horn lit again, and a sizzling bolt of energy raced across the hangar and blasted into Broker, sending him flying. Accompanying this was a flare of red light coursing along the alicorn’s body and traveling across the black-covered floor and wall near her.

The wall opened its eyes again, and the tiny points of red light marking those ocular organs shone like a city seen from space, and they appeared in every shadow in the hangar.

“Feast on them, my children, my loves, tear them apart and devour them!”

Broker, laying in a section of shadow and barely conscious had just enough time to begin screaming before he was grabbed by whatever was in the floor and dragged towards the wall. Thrashing and squirming to try to break the monstrous grasps holding him, he had no luck.

“Damn it Broker!” Sketch tried to fire his line gun again, nothing, “Shit...” Sketch drew out his divet and began firing away.

Again, the gunfire simply glanced harmlessly off the shield around the monster, each shot causing a pulse of light to flare along the trails on the floor.

“Alright, plan B. And hope it works.” CD said, firing at the walls like before, hope wasn’t always his friend, but he tried anyway as Sketch joined in and fired two shots at the glowing parts on the floor.

The red traceries flared, and the Cadence-monster shrieked again. The shield flared, but didn’t drop. The alicorn monster looked about with a murderous look in her glowing red eyes, and she twisted around with a noise like snapping cartilage to dig at the wall behind her.

Suddenly, a pony-like shape dropped, covered in more of the red symbols on Princess Cadenza’s necromporphic form from the wall. It stood up shakily, its appearance insectoid from the blackened armor covering it. A pair of tattered wings sprouted from its back with a sickly ‘pop’, accompanied by the flare of dull red magic around its twisted horn.

With a shriek, it charged them, barreling towards CD. Despite the surprise appearance of the new threat, CD managed to aim and fire a bunch of horizontal shots, particularly aiming at its legs.

The creature stumbled and fell as its legs were blown off, the symbols on it turning dark as it died.

“N- noo! My baby! You will pay for this!”

The creature immediately tore another quartet of the creatures from the wall and released them into the battle. Two stayed near the back and began charging their horns, one charged headlong, and the fourth rose into the air on its broken, tattered wings.

In spite of their tentatively necromorphic status, they were surprisingly uniform in appearance.

Sketch took aim and fired at the two in the back, aiming at their horns, while CD fired a pair of vertical shots at the flying one to remove it’s wings, stopping to reload, and slicing its legs with three horizontal cuts like the one earlier. He hoped Sketch knew what he was doing, before aiming at the charging ‘baby’ monster, repeating the process.

Sketch’s aim went wide, disappearing into the reddish glow of the thing’s horn without any sound of impact. All four rounds seemed to vaporize, not even hitting anything behind the creature. Finally, the creatures released their spells, the bolts arcing outward to strike... the other necromorph-unicorn things. Each of the struck casters vanished from view instantaneously with a slight ripple, before being completely gone.

Copy had the idea of aiming a bunch of horizontal shots at varying angles, hoping to hit them even if they moved up into the air.

The shots didn’t seem to impact anything, and Johan’s similar tactic of just firing everywhere was having about the same success rate. However, his higher rate of fire led to a spray of gunk and fluids splashing from mid-air, coating an invisible creature not more than a meter away from him. Firing with abandon, he took the creature down, but one more still stalked around.

This was about the time another wave of the creatures got dropped down, the alicorn-necromorph tenderly setting them on the floor. Three raced towards the group while the fourth began charging its own spell.

Sketch once again took aim at the one in the back, but this time he aimed for its legs instead of its horn.

Once again, CD fired at one of the charging monster’s legs until it fell, continuing the tactic on the rest of them, firing nearly a dozen shots at the rapidly moving beasts and reloading twice. He then tried an idea he came up with: Throw stuff.

He picked up a severed leg from the first ‘wave’ with his suit’s Kinesis Module and hurled it at the unicorn in an attempt to distract its spellcasting. The limb hit at about the same time as another of Sketch’s four-round bursts hit once, and the unicorn-thing staggered, its light flaring. The red light flicked and winked out for a moment before returning with force, a small explosion like a grenade blasting chunks of the walls and the floor around.

CD quickly shut his eyes, thinking that leaving them open would send him to Blobland again. The impact of something slamming into his chest forced his eyes open on reflex, though, and he saw one of the gross, insectile things on his chest as it forced him to the ground. It opened its mouth, revealing long, serrated fangs right before it began to bite at him and dig its teeth into his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Johan and Sketch had ended up side-by-side firing at the monstrous things, Johan emptying two clips into the creatures one after the other. Sketch had emptied the last of his own ammo into the sudden horde of necromorphs.

Both of them were interrupted by the shriek of the alicorn-necromorph, and Johan began firing at her instead of the creatures.

Meanwhile, in a desperate attempt to get the creature off of him, CD started punching it... or more accurately, flailing his hooves wildly trying to hit it. The creature continued to bite and pound its own hooves into him. It kept releasing him only to bite him again, the pain viciously distracting. He finally got a grip on the thing’s head and began pushing it away from himself.

The suit’s muscle augments made the task a little easier, but the necromorph on his chest was incredibly strong for its size. Even utilizing the surge of his earth pony strength, he only barely ripped it off of him, breaking its skull in the process. The monster fell to the ground, twitching, but inactive.

The young colt rolled over to stand up, seeing that the creatures were numerous, and swarming all around as the alicorn-morph shrieked again.

Broker, concentrating as best he could around the pain of the necrotic limbs tearing at his body, began to charge a bolt of raw kinetic energy. Unicorn telekinesis was a common spell for them, but it was usually limited, as it was intended for moving something relatively precisely.

This spell, on the other hoof, should act like a concussion grenade, pushing away everything around him. Provided it didn’t simply tear him to pieces, he had to admit. Shaking away the thought, he concentrated harder, the dull glow of his magic muffled by the suit he wore.

Back on the floor, Sketch was running out of options as the creatures charged him, Sketch adopted CD’s ‘Throw shit’ plan. He began chucking nearby limbs and chunks at the oncoming enemies in hopes to slow them down enough for the others.

Johan’s gunfire and Broker’s improvised kinetic bomb both found the ex-princess at about the same time, the bullets ripping into her unshielded form as Broker’s wash of raw energy slammed into her from the side.

As Broker felt the arms and bodies forced away from him, he fell towards the ground some ten to fifteen meters below. He impacted the crunchy covering of the floor with a dull thud and the crunch of something breaking, and pain flared in his body. He could barely seen through the red haze of agony.

Meanwhile, the alicorn-thing was screaming, and thrashing, the meaty connections with the floor making grotesque popping and snapping noises as she twisted and flailed. Glowing red lines of fluid dribbled down her cheek like tears from her eyes as the thing made weeping noises.

CD took a break from the smaller monsters, and fired a few blasts at the alicorn, mainly aiming for her horn in case she tried anything to make things a lot worse.

The bolts of concentrated plasma slammed home on the creature’s head and near the base of its horn, but didn’t seem to do much beyond make her thrash so much more.

Her horn began to light up, new symbols flaring to life across her body. This time, CD... recognized them. The symbols weren’t symbols, they were letters, all in the language he knew. What they spelled, he had no idea, it was like someone had drawn the contents of a large can of alphabet soup onto her skin.

He could tell where things started to look like words, but then they broke off, like an incorrect crossword puzzle. Whatever those ‘symbols’ were supposed to be, something had gone wrong here. Horribly, horribly wrong.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he realized that she was staring at him staring at her. A partial shield protected her slightly-battered body from further assault from Johan, but he could easily walk to her... He shook his head. He’d meant to think shoot at her.

“Oh, my... perhaps you aren’t so crude as those other ruffians? Would you come to me and... make me whole?”

Something about those words, spoken in such tones, seemed to override his brain, and he began walking forward nodding.

Across the room, Sketch saw this all unfold, and threw a limb at his front legs, trying to knock some sense into him. The leg flew out and smacked the colt in the side of the helmet, just a meter or less from the outstretched ‘arms’ of the alicorn monster.

CD blinked and shook his head, looking up into the smiling, macabre face of the necromorph princess, and realized he was nearly close enough for her to grab him. He was also closer than the inside of her shield.

“Stop fucking with my brain!” Copy.Data yelled, firing quick horizontal blasts at the undead beast of a princess, his aim at the base her horn, and continuing his rapid fire on her source of magic.

The bolts of energy hit her on the horn, and she shrieked. Data saw her shield break just as he passed out, feeling blood flow freely from his ears and nose and eyes. Pain lanced through his head as his vision faded.

Almost twenty meters away, Johan and Sketch fell to the ground once more, limbs over their ears in agony as the shriek continued on and on, and they both felt their own eardrums burst agonizingly.

Broker, his own ears still ringing, couldn’t hear a thing as he looked up at the monstrous princess, aiming through the haze of pain and blood loss. Squeezing the trigger, he prayed that his aim would be true, and prayed for forgiveness for shooting an alicorn.

The spear flew from the weapon, spinning through the air. The javelin slammed into the alicorn princess’s eye, forcing it way through the delicate bone and out through the back of the head. It stayed, lodged there, as Broker hit the alt fire before collapsing.

As the lightning coursed through the twisted creature’s form, she screamed one more time, twitching and jerking. She slowly toppled over as the runic symbols across her body flared and died. As she struck the ground, chunks of the armor-like plating fell away, and Sketch was able to stand and look at her. The soft-looking pink coat of the princess within the shell was matted with blood and gore, and her body had been compressed and twisted beyond recognition after the hips.

As the only pony standing, even as a space-born, he still felt the need to go to the princess. She no longer had the look of infection, and the vicious scarring around where the Marker had been embedded was simply pouring out blood. The Marker itself was nowhere to be seen, except in fragments.

“This is all kinds of fucked up...” Sketch’s voice was scratchy and hoarse from his own screams of pain, and he could feel himself limp slightly from a bite on a rear leg. All the little creatures had fallen inert, and his hooves crunched over their unresponsive shells as he stepped cautiously towards the downed princess.

As he drew close, she weakly opened her unruined eye, proving beyond a doubt that alicorns were far beyond mortal, at least in toughness. Her ruined eye streamed with blood and gore.

“P- please... d- don’t leave m- me alone... I- I’m a- afraid of the d- dark...” Her voice was weak, and a look of genuine fear had settled onto her visage, though her remaining eye wasn’t fully focused on Sketch. “P- please, Shining, d- don’t leave m- me... I- I...”

Sketch realized with a start that she was not the monster he’d just fought, not anymore. And wherever she was thinking she was, it was a far scarier place than even the gore-coated hangar.

“I’m here princess, I’m not going anywhere.”

Her voice was plaintive, terrified, as she said, “Sh- shining... I l- love you... Please don’t leave me alone again.” She sniffled, a broken hoof reaching towards him agonizingly slowly. Sketch took the hoof gently, gasping as Princess Cadenza pulled him closer, her eye focused on him with shocking aclarity.

“Y- you’ve got to stop them. It- it’s awoken. I thought they were trying to stop it, but they’re trying to tame it. It can’t be chained, it is the chains. Please... please don’t leave us all in the darkness. I’m so afraid...”

The pony princess sobbed again, pulling him into a crippled, one-armed hug. He could feel her using him for support. “I’m s- so sorry for... for hurting y- you all... it’s so d- dark...”

Sketch felt her grip slacken, and she slid unceremoniously from him, collapsing to the ground once more. Her curled mane and pink coat were matted with blood, but even he’d known of Cadence’s constant attempts just to make things better for everyone.

Sitting next to the corpse of the princess, Sketch fought to hold back tears he wouldn’t be able to wipe away.

[Achievement Get: Attrition]

Author's Note

Well, for whatever reason, this chapter did not post when I told it to. As such, here is the ridiculously belated chapter 14 and Act 3's interlude.

Original Author's note:

Well, that was a turn. Starting off with adorable reconciliation and capping off with a fight against a crazed Alicorn monster. Oh man, I warned you guys... Make your votes, damnit. This is entirely the fault of anyone who didn't vote, so you can all start blaming each other. This isn't a story with a set storyline and decided points where certain people die.

People can die at any time.

So please, vote. One person up, one person down. Every vote counts.

Act III: Nightfall

Vinyl’s Last Stand

Gasping for breath and bleeding from a dozen shallow wounds, a white unicorn raced down the corridor. The unicorn mare was using the synthetic muscles of the Type 1 Engineering Suit she wore to run while standing upright, carrying a blood-soaked bundle of once-soft fabric and yellow feathers in her arms, her magic too weak from exhaustion.

The weight of the bundle in her arms was negligible; barely noticeable, in fact. That didn’t change the fact that Vinyl Scratch, age twenty-four, felt like she was carrying all of Equus in her arms right then.

Still, she ran. She could feel her beloved’s life slipping slowly away from her grasp, could see it in the twist of RIG hemorrhaging bars of light like the pegasus was hemorrhaging blood. She couldn’t see her own bars, and couldn’t care less. All that mattered to her was getting Fluttershy to safety.

But even the most stalwart champion will fall eventually, and Vinyl was nothing but a repairmare, no champion of light and goodness. Her flagging breath tore from her lungs like a flurry of knives, and she felt herself begin to tilt.

With an effort of will, she corrected the issue, and slowed. The last several minutes of running were just a blur of corridors, hallways, and closed doors. Her lungs burned, and she gave the fold command to her helmet, letting it slide from her head and into the suit.

Shaking the pain from her head and cottony mouth, she looked for something to set her bundle down on. Locating one of the ubiquitous maintenance supply crates, Vinyl gently set her burden down, running a mechanical hand down Fluttershy’s cheek.

The butter-yellow pegasus, drenched in sweat and blood, looked up at Vinyl with tired eyes. She leaned into the unicorn’s touch, still smiling, even through the pain. Vinyl couldn’t recognize the horrifying visage she saw reflected back at her in ‘Shy’s eyes, but she also didn’t care.

“I-” Vinyl gulped, trying to bring moisture to her dry throat. “I’m s- so sorry, ‘Shy.”

Fluttershy just kept smiling. “It’s alright, angel. It’s alright.” The pegasus patted Vinyl’s shoulder reassuringly.

The two sat in silence, the pale unicorn slowly starting to realize just how injured she really was, her chest in pain from where a slasher had impaled her through the chest. Likely, the wound was filling her lung with fluid, and she’d likely choke to death from it.

That thought was far from her mind, though, Fluttershy’s calm acceptance keeping Vinyl rooted.

“H- hey ‘Shy?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Fluttershy just gave a half-hearted giggle, her eyes drooping tiredly. “I love you, too.”

Vinyl looked at the last weapon she held, her pulse rifles having burnt out nearly half an hour ago.

It was her plasma cutter. The two shades of blue used to make an enamel flame decal in place of the boring yellow warning sections and gleaming white on the rest of the tool were the result of Fluttershy wanting to get her something for their anniversary three years previous.

The pegasus had wanted to get her something she’d be able to use, and the party-inclined engineer smiled happily at the thought. She was a bit surprised to find she was slumped against the wall a mere meter from where Fluttershy lay.

Not a single light glowed on the torn body.

Vinyl looked over the plasma cutter, ejecting the cartridge and checking the charge. Nine shots left.

The white mare shook the blood-snarled blue mane from her face, and stood shakily as a not-so-distant roar shook her. Her grasp shook, her nerves shot from the damage she’d sustained and the last vestiges of grief she allowed herself.

A wave of necrotic flesh, sprouting cutting blades and strangling tendrils, swept down the corridor, and Vinyl steeled herself one more time.

Eight more shots rang out, punching into and through the necromorphs at the head of the line. Swinging with the weapon, Vinyl held them off a moment more, intent on defending her beloved for as long as she could.

A blade swept around her guard, slashing a vital tendon and leaving one of her legs unresponsive. Her suit locked up, giving her support, though, and she kept swinging. Another stab slipped by, from some sort of projectile coming off a foal on a wall.

Slipping in her own spilled blood, she went down on her dead knee, watching as the horde pulled back. Panting, she looked around, searching for a reason and dreading what it might be. As her gaze swept behind her, she saw a bat-winged torso skitter away into the crowd, and began to cry.

With a shaking hoof, she closed her eyes. A harsh, agonized screech accompanied her shot, and the monsters swept over her a scarce instant later.

As the horde left, searching for more live and dead bodies, they left behind just three things:

A strip of coppery metal.

A slightly damaged plasma cutter, with butane-blue flames on the guides and a white casing.

And a spiral of bone, the base cracked and shattered, coated in blood and ichor.

Author's Note

This is what happens.

This is what happens as night falls and the darkness overwhelms even the brightest sparks of hope.

What have you to say now?
No need for votes on this chapter.

Ch15 - Triage

Slowly, CD woke up, everything blurry, wobbly, and looking almost like a bunch of pictures in a kaleidoscope. He was looking up into the concerned face of Summer, and she was joined a moment later by a human, dirty and bandaged, but still alive.

“So does the fact that everything is wobbly mean stuff is normal?” Even his voice sounded wobbly to him, like he was underwater. “Hard to know for sure.” He chuckled for a brief moment. The human made faces, looking like it was trying to speak, but he could only hear a dull, arrhythmic tone or pulse, like a deep, bass buzz.

“I still have my helmet on mute, don’t I, or, you’re trying to read a wordsearch while playing the tuba.” He reached for his helmet controls, finding, to his shock, that his helmet was off. “Well, shit, what happened?”

The human made hand motions of something screaming or singing opera, or maybe throwing up, and then a movement like his ears blowing up. Or maybe getting spaghetti sauce on them.

“The aardvarks are nauseous, and they want to blow up the moon? I’m not totally here, gimme a sec.”

The human just shook its head and turned away, the motions of its body looking like it was arguing with someone. CD sighed and waited for someone else to come and tell him what was going on, preferably with written words this time.

Sketch was sitting next to a makeshift stretcher with a de-armored Broker laying on it. The pale-colored unicorn was severely injured, and even the medigel had given up trying to help him. The stationary RIG they’d set up was blinking sedately on its last red bar, the light barely on.

The refugee camp had scraped together just enough medical supplies to jerryrig the set up, but it hadn’t done more than let Broker’s friend watch him slowly begin fading away. He was barely holding on, and only holding onto his consciousness by the skin of his teeth.

Sketch knew he hadn’t treated his friend well, especially in the last few months. There hadn’t even been a reason for it; Broker had always been a bit chubby, but Sketch had only really started railing on him about it recently. Maybe it was just the loss of so many commissions, but he’d been under some stress. And the last two-ish hours hadn’t been any better.

Sighing, he prepared to say his apologies to Broker, before his friend passed on. What made it all worse, too, was that he was the one to convince Broker to come along in the first place on the princess mission.

“Fuuuck... Why did you have to do that... Damn it Broker... “ Sketch shed drops of liquid pride, sniffling before he continued, “ A-At least you died saving our asses, and the princess’s... Although I really don’t deserve it being the shithead I’ve been... I’m sorry... I- I’ve been losing work the past few months, and it was getting hard to make rent, I didn’t realize I had been taking out my anger on you... You didn’t deserve all the jokes, pranks, or mocking...” He stopped for a moment to wipe his ‘liquid pride’ from his puffy eyes.

Broker coughed, a small splash of blood darkening the last patch of clean coat he had left, across his chest. The arms and claws of the wall of necro-things had torn him apart, even through his armor. In fact, if he’d had lighter armor, he would’ve been pulled apart, and the swollen, dislocated joint of his back left leg showed the strains of nearly being pulled out of his socket.

“S- Sketch... I- I- I forgive you f- for all the mocking n’stuff y- you did to me... I- I don’t think any of us would h- have predicted something l- like that in the room. I- I still appreciate all of t- the valor you showed t- trying to fight that thing. B- both of you. a- and one last thing. Tell C- Cheerilee I’m sorry. I- I’m sorry for not making i- it out alive. A- and tell her t- to live a wonderful life without me.” Broker said which started another cough from him. “G- goodbye. A- and thank you for being with me the whole way.”

Johan stepped over, and sat down next to Broker. “Hey, man, hope I- I’m not too late again.”

Broker coughed another string of blood and mucous from his collapsed lung.

“H- hey Johan. N- no you’re n- not too late. W-what’s up?”

Johan sighed heavily. “Not much, just having to sit and watch while my best bro dies in front of me. Reminds me of my dad, actually. You remember the funeral, right?” Broker nodded shakily. “Yeah... Feels like that again.” Johan sighed again, leaning on the side of Broker’s raised bed.

“J- just under different circumstances. D- do not worry for me. I- I had a g- good life; no regrets. I- I even got to experience t- the apocalypse w- with my best friends a- and managed to find love i- in the process. I say that’s pretty g- good for the case at hoof.” Broker said with shaking in the words as well. “B- but, live on f- for me a and get out o- of this nightmare. Please.”

Sketch stood up, unable to bear the moment any longer, leaving the two to talk as he sought out Cheerilee.

Johan put a hand onto Broker’s shoulder, patting the colt reassuringly. “Dude, you’ve been one of my best friends since elementary. I’m gonna fuckin’ miss you, man. Still, you never got laid, and I will always be ashamed I never got to fix that for you.” Johan’s tone was joking, light, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He was trying, so hard to keep his smile on.

Sketch found Cheerilee, eyes running with tears, being comforted by Big Heart as they sat by Alex.

“Cheerilee, come talk to him, he’s fading fast.”

The mare looked up at him, and her eyes held a broken look. “I- I can’t... I can’t. As long as- as I don’t see him die, I- I can pretend he’s still there.”

“Cheerilee, he probably wants to spend some time with you before he goes, can’t you just give him that? You’re the first mare that liked him back, he really liked you.”

Cheerilee gulped, holding back a sob as Big Heart gave her a pat on the back.

“Miss Cheewiwee? Mistah Bwokah needs you. Pwease?” Big Heart’s eyes were far more serious than any child her age should be.

The older mare’s defenses crumbled at the sad looking filly, and she sighed, her ears still back. ”Fine. I- I’ll go to him.”

She stood up, looking utterly defeated, broken, shattered. She looked like she’d aged a dozen years in the last half hour of them resting in the camp. Her slow, plodding hoofsteps meandered through the crowded hallway the camp had been set up in towards Broker.

Sketch sat down next to Alex and Big Heart, the two sitting next to each other for warmth. The environmental systems had cut out in the habitat, and the chill of space was slowly seeping in.

“So, how are you two holding up?” Sketch patted Big Heart on the side.

“Hey, it looks like Cheers is here. I’ll leave you two alone, alright?” Johan patted Broker on the shoulder gently and stepped away, just as Cheerilee sat down next to him.

“H- hello, Broker.”

“H- hey, Ch- Cheerilee. I- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry f- for not being strong e- enough to make it out of this. T- the past few hours w- with you h- have lifted my spirits through t- this nightmare. I- I’m so glad to have met you.” Broker replied with a tiny smile, his coughing barely being held back.

Cheerilee pressed her muzzle to his cheek gently, and her forehooves wrapped around him. “I’m s- so glad I could m- meet you, too, Broker. I can hope th- that the scriptures are true, and we’ll be together again in the next life. I love you, Broker.”

“I- I love you too, Cheerilee. I will a- always be with you in spirit. T- this next life you speak of, I- I look forward to it, w- whatever it may be. B- but please, for me, l- live through this nightmare a- and live a great life once you escape. P- please. C- can you do that for me, m- my love?”

“I- I can do that. I will dothat.” She nuzzled him again, and held him close until he passed on. She wept openly onto his body as it cooled.

Copy.Data’s hearing was slowly returning, and he had a loud ringing noise echoing in his head. He could barely hear it when people talked now, but at least he could hear. Summer had been holding his hoof gently, and speaking to him ever since he could hear again, and it had helped. At the very least, it had helped with his boredom, because the ‘doctors’ kept telling him to stay laying down.

“What... what’s going on guys? What’s the damage?”

One of the doctors, apparently a female human, tapped her ear questioningly, and asked if he could hear her. Which he could, barely.

“If you could turn up the volume that’d be nice, or get something to make everything a bit louder. What’s the chance I’m partially deaf? Just hold up your fingers if you have enough of ‘em.”

The woman leaned over to him, and stuffed the ends of a stethoscope into his ears, speaking into the other end so he could hear her.

“You’ll probably be fine, but you had a few burst membranes from whatever it was you fought. Also, you seem to have been talking to thin air lately, so I wanted to make sure you didn’t have a concussion.”

Her voice was a little soft, but it was getting easier to hear her by the second.

“Hey, Summer isn’t that skinny, but anyway, how much did having my helmet on mute help? It didn’t make it worse did it? And sorry I’m a bit nervous, last time I woke up with random people around, I was strapped to a table with a needle in my eye trying to suck out my brain.”

The human just quirked an eyebrow at him again. “Ah... that’s... uhm, different. Who is this ‘Summer’?”

“You know, if you don’t like her, just say so, you don’t have to be a jerk and pretend she doesn’t exist.” CD gave the human an irritated gaze.

She looked at him with a concerned look in her eyes. “I, uh, can’t seem to see her, can you point to her for me?”

“Jeez, no respect. Are you blind or something? She’s right here. If you don’t mind, could you at least-” The doctor cut him off. “Mr. Data, there’s nobody there.”

“Some people.” He sighed. “Is there anybody else I can talk to? Preferably one who doesn’t have issues with those of the same sex of another species?”

One of the other doctors stepped over. “Is there a problem, Marilyn?” the new doctor was a grey-blue colt with a green, spiky mane. The female doctor, Marilyn, apparently, motioned towards CD. “He’s seeing things, and refuses to admit they aren’t real. Someone named ‘Summer.’”

The new doctor looked at CD. “Ah, son, you do realize that Marilyn and I are the only other people over here besides yourself, right?”

“Then explain why I can see her, and she talks to me?”

“Because you’re suffering from hallucinations? Son, this is a very serious problem.” The medical stallion’s voice was calm, and level. “Were you hit on the head at all? Either by a solid object or a spell of some kind?”

“Listen, since I woke up strapped to a table with a memory-stealer/torture device in my eye, I’ve had no idea what’s happened in the last five or so months since I was bright-shiny-thinged from an insane asylum. After I’d escaped, I’ve been thrown into walls, jostled, bitten, stung, whacked, thwacked, acid-barfed on, stabbed, blasted, and seen some shit that’d turn your mane white. I just wanna know, how long ‘till I can get back to fighting monsters?”

“Son, I think you should just take a nap, and calm down. It- it sounds like you need some serious mental health assistance.”

“That’s what my therapist said. And in four weeks, nothing much changed. Whole thing was a waste of time if you ask me.”

“Son, if it weren’t for the nasty side-effects, I’d almost recommend you go through a scan-wipe of your recent past, just for peace of mind.”

“I’d love that too, how long was I stuck with those nutjobs and their crazy gibberish about ‘sequences’?”

“I have no idea, son. Now, you rest, we’ll find you some sedatives. We should have enough for an hour’s nap or so. And, uh, if this ‘Summer’ person starts saying anything more, please tell us. Nobody else seems to see her, so maybe you should re-think whether she’s actually been with you or not.”

The stallion turned and walked away with the other doctor, looking over the other injured. His parting words certainly sowed the seeds of doubt in CD’s mind. He looked over at Summer, who looked furiously at the doctor’s retreating back before lifting the end of the stethoscope.

“The nerve of him. I cannot- cannot believe he’d just ignore me like that! What kind of sick doctors try to pull a prank like this?!”

“Some ponies are total asses, but you’d never think one could manage to get a medical degree. Oh well, I guess I can name a few people good at faking incredible intelligence. Me included, sometimes.”

“Oh, Ceeds, you’re plenty smart.” She nuzzled his cheek, and he blushed at the comforting feel of her fur against his. “Just be careful, okay? I don’t wanna lose you, and I almost did back there.”

He returned her embrace, something that had stuck with him from his roots on Equus. He knew she was real. There was no way she’d be able to hold him like this otherwise.

She helped him settle back into the uncomfortable, makeshift cot. Even if the doctor was an asshole, some real sleep sounded great, and he settled in to do just that. Although the idea of sedatives was stupid. If he wanted to sleep, which he did, he wou-

He thought no more as he passed into the peaceful oblivion of dreamless slumber.

Johan sat back heavily on the bench. He’d decided to sit away from the rest of the group, but it was evident he was trying not to cry. He’d known both Sketch and Broker for most of his life, and they’d been good friends.

Taking a ragged breath, Johan put his face into his hands. He’d lost his mother when he was young, his father when he grew up, and now, his friend. Taking a deep breath, he pushed down those emotions, dragging them into the depths of his heart and soul, Johan crushed the despair and pain.

Frost stepped forward from her corner where she was keeping watch over the group, her gun pointed at anything that moved. She wasn’t one to socialize with others, especially in a situation where they could be killed at any moment in time.

“Johan...” Frost put a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder, Jackie still in hand incase of an emergency. “I... I’m sorry. If I’d known that you guys needed help then I would have jumped in...”

Looking up with a tired smile, Johan’s gaze met Frost’s. He held the smile for a second before huffing.

“Nah, it’s alright. None of us knew. This one’s on me, I should’ve expected the worst; prepared better for the possibility.”

Frost frowned and put down her rifle, taking Johan’s face in her hands. He leaned into her hand, his eyes closing as he took comfort in her touch.

“Don’t say that, ever. We’re at war, Johan. None of this is your fault, okay?” She lifted his head slightly and gave him a light kiss, pressing them together firmly before breaking apart, setting her forehead on his.

“If anything ever comes up, tell me. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you, got it? We’re in this together...” she pulled back with a slight smile.

“Besides, we’re partners, right?” She stroked his cheek with her thumb, trying her best to comfort him.

He just gave a brittle smile and looked away. He shook his head sadly. “If we’re at war, then I was the commanding officer. It was still my fault, either way. Frost, I can’t pretend that I caused this... but I could’ve prevented it.” He sighed.

“You’re in no condition to act as commanding officer, so stop beating yourself up. It can’t be helped...”

He pushed her back a little, still refusing to meet her eyes again. “No, Frost, you don’t get to make that call. I was in charge from the beginning, and I need to hold it together.”

“No.” Her voice was firm and she force him to look up at her. “All ranks are null from this point on. I hereby demote you to supporting officer due to your inability to keep to your duties and responsibilities.” She gave him a warm smile and gave him another kiss. “I’m taking over now, got it?”

Johan’s face hardened, and he stood up, ignoring her kiss. “No, I’m not giving up command. No ifs, ands, or buts. This is too important for me to give up now. My dad didn’t raise a quitter. As the acting lieutenant, I’m promoting you temporarily to sergeant.” He straightened up, and looked at Frost one more time. “Please don’t make me regret this, Frost. I need this, or I’m going to break.”

“Johan, I know you; you’re too stubborn to break down.” Frost took his hand.

“And I’m too stubborn to back down on this.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze through their gauntlets. “Please don’t stall me on this. Please.”

“I won’t let you down.” She cleared her throat. “Just promise me one thing. I know it sounds selfish but, don’t be the hero and sacrifice yourself for anyone, okay? You’re that last good thing I have left... and I don’t know if I’d be able to keep my sanity without you.” She bit her lip. “It sounds sappy and mushy, but I’m only saying this because, I- I need you.”

“And I, you.” Johan sighed. “C’mon, let’s go... go talk with the others.”

Johan and Frost embraced once more, before heading back into the camp.

Cheerilee lay on a bench, sniffling quietly, with Big Heart curled up next to her. A couple meters away, on a separate bench, Sketch was sitting. He was next to Scootaloo, the only member of the so-called Crusaders that wasn’t keeping an eye on the perimeter. And Sweetie had acquired nearly a dozen folks with weapons had inconspicuously begun guarding her.

Sketch had been sitting rather uncomfortably ever since Scoots had found out Broker had died. The young-ish pegasus has taken to sitting against him, her feathered wings fluffed against the chill in the de-powered residential section.

“You okay Scootaloo?”

She sighed theatrically, and leaned against him again. “Yeah, I’m fine... I- I just wish I could’ve gotten to know him better. Or, at least, gotten that stick out of his ass...”

“Heh, that stick has been there since fifth grade, I think it was part of him.”

“Might’ve taken root up there, eh? Heh... still... he seemed nice. Ol’ wrinkle-lips certainly thought so, and she never liked anyone without at least two degrees.” The pegasus chuckled and leaned over again.

“He is-..was a great guy, she probably latched onto him because of how nice and polite he was. So, why don’t you like Cheerilee?”

Scootaloo looked up at him with a look of trepidation, before her expression softened. “I- I guess it’s ‘cuz they always treated me like a kid. Or a nuisance.” She sighed. “Mostly just because I would get in trouble. It was so boring, though, they never taught anything I wanted to learn, and when they did it was always the basics, never anything new.” Scoots

“Do they still force feed you guys the the ‘ you will use algebra everyday’ garbage? I never used it in my two years since graduating.”

“Uhm, I’ve used it pretty regularly. Gotta keep an eye on the market, make sure food is at its downswing for the season before buying for the year. Ramen’s cheap, but I’m just riding on a single scholarship. For everything.”

“I know that feel, ramen has been my main food source for a while now. Back to you getting in trouble, what kind of pranks did you pull?”

“I never really pulled any pranks. I, uh, just got into trouble.” Scoots blushed sheepishly. “Like, say... blowing up the science lab? It wasn’t my fault, and Ms. Chloride knew it.”

“Oh, well accidents happen, I kind of did that stuff on purpose, to make things more interesting, not my fault they left it where children could reach undiluted chemicals.”

Scootaloo shook her head, smiling slightly. “So, Wrinkles over there is lookin’ pretty bad...”

“Yeah, give her a break for today at least, Broker’s last moments were... difficult.”

Scootaloo nodded. She huffed, but leaned against him again. She was very warm, and kinda fluffy.

“So, what did you like in school?”

“Gymnastics was the best, but P.E. was pretty cool. I was thinking about getting onto the AeroSpace team, once my wings got bigger. But, here I am, three years later, and my wings are still just humming.”

“Aww don’t beat yourself up about it, they’re kind of cute. Think of it this way, at least you don’t need glasses.”

Scoots just shrugged and snuggled in closer to him. “So... do you really think they’re cute?” She fluttered her wings at him slightly.

“Of course, and the shade of orange looks nice.”

She blushed and nuzzled his neck. “Thanks... You’re pretty cute, yourself. What I’ve seen of you, anyways.”

“Thanks, but I’m average for the most part, plus who ever heard of a stallion who has an outline?”

Scootaloo giggled. “Idunno, makes you distinctive. I like it. Hey, uh, you got a, uh, marefriend, by any chance?”

“No, why?”

“Want one?” She looked up at him and batted her eyes. He just looked at her in return, uncomprehendingly.

“Who?”

Scootaloo face-hoofed. “Nevermind... Just- I- ugh, nevermind, I’ll try again later.”

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, just- nevermind, alright.”

“Sorry, I screwed up didn’t I?”

“No! Let’s- let’s just, lay here, alright? Just to, y’know, have someone near?” Scootaloo just snuggled close, avoiding his gaze.

“Okay, I like snuggles.” Sketch snuggled close, relaxing a bit.

Scootaloo sighed and just kept snuggling.

Around fifteen minutes later, Frost and Johan sat together, looking out one of the windows and resting their rifles across their legs. The window gave a view of the last slivers of light, being slowly but surely dragged away around the other side of the planet in view.

Tyranis, a massive brown dwarf star, that is, a gas giant that had just barely too little mass to become a star, had originally had close to eighty moons. Now, it had only around twenty or so left, the rest turned into a slowly-expanding ring of debris. That ring, now laced with the superstructures of space-faring civilization, had been named ‘Nightmare Station’.

And as Johan watched the light bleed away, he couldn’t think of a better name for it, now that most of the light was disappearing.

Leaning towards Frost, he chuckled, as he realized what a good metaphor the setting sun was for recent events. Things had become clearer, in a sense, and also so much darker. And the sun wouldn’t be back for around six months.

Johan’s voice was strained, even more so than before. “Hey, Frosty? How’re you holding up?” Having time to dwell on what had happened hadn’t made him feel any better, just more resolute.

“I can deal with death, Johan. Why do you think I studied to be a nurse?” She turned to him. “Even with the death of my father, I still have you to keep me sane, even if you tend to drive me, well, insane.” She let out a slight laugh. “My feelings have no meaning or importance to the situation at hand, Johan. I can handle my own feelings.”

“Thanks, but... I... I don’t know if we’re going to make it out of this, Victoria. Not... not as us, at least.” Johan continued to stare out the window as one last finger of light held desperately to the edge of the planet. “We won’t be the same people who went into this if we come out of it alive. And... and that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? We might come out of this, but alive anymore. We might be monsters, shambling along.”

The last threads of sunlight melted away, and he face was thrust into shadow. The sweeping expanse of night rocketed across the ring, slowly bring it all into darkness.

“Six months of night, out here, then four months of daylight. Maybe we were just asking for something like this to happen here, Frost.”

“Johan, we are going to survive this. Even if we have to slaughter every last monster on this station, we’re gonna live. Besides, I’d hate to have to lose you after you finally admitted how you feel about me.” She slid her hand atop his and gave it a light squeeze, smiling as he returned it. “Once we get off this crazy thing, I want to stay with you... I- I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have someone to help me through the recovery.”

Johan pulled her into a hug, simply placing a kiss on her forehead as he held her.

“Frost, I promise you, nothing will get you for as long as I draw breath. Nothing will hurt you, nothing will take you from me, okay? C- can you promise you’ll do what you can to survive? Please?”

“I’ve survived this long on my own haven’t I?”

“Please, just promise me, okay?” He looked into her eyes, his viridian irises burning intensely.

“Johan...” her hand lifted to his cheek, brushing it with her thumb before pulling him into a long kiss. “I promise.”

She pulled away suddenly after a few silent moments. “But you have to promise me the same thing. No being the hero, got it?”

“I- I can’t promise that, Frost. I’ve got exactly two reasons to live.Three, actually. You, Sketch, who probably needs me, and... well, I need to get Sweetie to Rendezvous Point Eta. She’s got to be that high on the priority list for a reason.” He put a hand on Frost’s shoulder and pulled away a bit. “I- I’ve got to hold on to something that can’t disappear on me right now, Frost, and right now, that’s gotta be our basic mission parameters.”

Johan paused for a moment. “Oh, and I should probably help get that ‘Seedy’ guy get his suit back on. Heh, he’ll need it if we’re going to go anywhere.”

Frost let out an angry huff and got to her feet quickly. “Don’t make me regret letting you in, Johan.” Her rifle was pointed at his head. He looked at her calmly and pulled the muzzle to the side. “Frost, I’m not going to lose you. I’m not going to leave you. I can and will promise you that. Nothing’s going to make me go without a fight.”

“You have to swear on your rank, Johan. Swear that you’ll keep your word.” Her rifle shook with every syllable, a strain in her voice.

“I promise on everything that matters to me, yourself included, that I will keep my word.”

Johan grabbed her, holding her close and just giving her something to lean on. “I promise.”

Her rifle went to her side and she held him tightly, gripping the armor.

“A-alright. I trust you.”

Author's Note

So there you have it.
He's gone.

I hope you people are happy with yourselves.

Remember to vote. One person up, one person down.
Any player who does not have an active character in the chapter may vote on that chapter.
Current Roster:
Sketch, Johan, Frost, CD, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, Applebloom

Thanks to the following for contributing to the story so far:
Itsmyfuneral, starring as Sketch
Hunterz263, starring as Broker Wordsmith. May he Rest in Peace.
Rosethorn, starring as Victoria Frost
SomeGuy, co-starring as Johan Allegro
The Pieman, as Copy.Data

Ch16 - Crackleture

CD yawned as he slowly woke up, looking around the much darker and more somber-looking room he lay in. There were only a few dozen wall lights, and each of them were rather dim. Blinking and trying to figure out what was going on, he saw the rather serious face of the human doctor and the doctor pony wasn’t too far away.

She was looking at him critically, but the human’s gaze wasn’t too threatening to his groggy state of mind. As he looked at her though, he saw that she wasn’t moving. Nobody was moving, in fact.

“What the heck? What’s happened... why aren’t I immobile too? Is anyone else still able to move?”

No response came from the unmoving bodies around him. It was like someone had taken a picture of the entire area, and he was walking through it, everyone a still-frame. The eerie depths of the shadows on the walls seemed much darker that he expected.

“Okay, really weird. But what could cause this? That Necromorph Princess thing?”

The lights flickered once.

“Okay, everything is stopped, and power might fail. Now this is bad. What do I do? I can’t ta-”

The lights flickered again, staying off for most of a second. As they came back on, he felt his insides go cold. Everyone in the room had disappeared.

No noise, no sense of motion, no glow of magic, just gone.

“Shit, and I don’t have a suit or weapons... what’s going on, anyway?” CD tried to think of a logical explanation, but came up with nothing.

The lights flickered a third time, and this time did not come back on. Sitting in the dark, CD began to hyperventilate. He didn’t know why, but everything about this seemed wrong, and then the lights going out only made that feeling worse.

A light turned on, in the distance.

It was a single, lone lamp at the end of the hall. The soft, red glow of it barely illuminated anything, but at least it was light.

“Light at the end of the tunnel. Yeah, right.” Despite the absurdity of the comment, CD walked towards it, having no other option.

As he stumbled around the medical equipment, CD saw another light, this one closer, turn on. It too, was red.

“Okay... creepy. But so far, so good.” Another red lamp turned on. “Okay, now it’s not funny, what the heck is with these lights?”

Another one came on, followed by another.

And another.

Each was closer to him, and now that they were close enough for him to see what they shone on, he no longer felt the urge to go into them.

The people were back, but they looked dead. Not like a necromorph, but like murder victims, slashed and cut, with their eyes torn out. As he watched, another lamp turned on, coming closer still to bathing him in its light.

He could see, to his horror, Summer standing in the midst of a group of the dead people. She was staring at him sadly, then looked away as she realized he was staring.

The dead people, as one, turned to regard him. Another light came on.

“Okay, enough, wake up, wake up! Craaap...” He did his best not to look at the worst of the mangled yet obviously somehow alive bodies before him. He did everything he could to make sense of the situation, but no clues came to him.

“Copy...”

One of the bodies spoke, in a harsh, guttural tone. It sounded like a snarl, but the pony was expressionless.

“Wh- Wh- What do you want?” CD did his best to not shiver in place, only having a bit of success.

“C- Copy... Data....”

Another of the mangled forms had spoken this time, but in the same voice.

“What do you want from me? Just don’t hurt me, what are you?”

“Copy... Data... M- make us...” The puppeteered human spoke in the same gurgling, sepulchral tone as the ponies had.

Suddenly, the next light snapped on, washing the world around him with red, and he saw that he was right next to the human doctor, her body held in a pained rictus. Her head slowly turned towards him, like all the others had.

“M- m- m- make you...” He gulped. “Make you what?”

Fearing some terrifying scream or damning rumble, he wasn’t prepared for Summer’s calm voice speaking from behind him.

“Make us whole, Ceeds. Make us whole.”

“H- How? I d- don’t even know what that m- means...”

CD slowly turned, to find Summer, to make sure she was alright. To ask her what she meant, and what was going on.

Summer stood before him, a faint haze of symbols in glowing red floating around her, her eyes like holes punched into a projector screen, with a bright, unearthly light pouring from them.

She stepped forward, lithe and graceful, her horn etched with the mysterious, strangely familiar symbols. She was taller now than he was, the height of a princess, or a human. She leaned towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, just a simple sign of affection that made his heart flutter.

“You’ll know what to do, Ceeds. You’re my champion. Just make us whole, so we can be together. Please.” Her voice was strained, like she was fighting back tears. “Please, Ceeds, it hurts being broken like this. T- torn in half... please...”

Faint cracks began appearing in the edges of his vision, like lines of nothingness encroaching on reality.

“But, what’s with the dead bodies?” His voice was weak, growing faint.

“We’re all broken... we’re so alone... please, Copy.Data...”

Every single body in view looked at him and spoke as one, with a voice that ground like stone on stone in the depths of a planet, that burned like the heart of a star. It was icy as the depths of space, and twice as empty.

“Make us Whole!”

Copy.Data woke up with a half-shout, jolting upright on the flimsy cot and toppling it over. The gentle susurrus of everyone’s movement was a calming noise as he disentangled himself from the bedding.

“Woah, what was that? I’m just hoping that was a nightmare... at least everyone is okay... I hope.” He winced, half expecting everyone to suddenly turn into zombies.

The human doctor had stepped over, to help him up to a sitting posture. “Are you alright?”

“Not really, I had a hell of a nightmare... Wait, where’s Summer? Did you kick her out or something?”

The doctor looked confused for a moment. “Who? Oh, right, your imaginary friend. Listen, there’s nothing wrong with you physically, so I’m letting you go, we have injured folks who need my attention more. But you really should try to let go of your hallucinations, they aren’t healthy.”

The doctor turned and walked away, looking a bit frazzled as she checked on the next patient.

CD just sat and mumbled “Inconsiderate pricks. All be dead if I didn’t help...” He looked around to try finding Summer. She had to be around somewhere, right?

Johan was walking swiftly through the sparse crowd, seeking out a few of the others from the group he knew.

Frost was walking stiffly behind him, their time to relax over. Johan had stated the need to get Sweetie to a safer place as soon as they could, and was getting ready to ask a few of the other folks if they’d join.

“Alright, Frost, you go ask Sketch. I’ll be asking that Copy guy. Can you do that?”

The female officer nodded and spun on her heels, looking for the stallion.

“You Sketch?” she asked one of the ponies.

“No, this is Patrick.” a light pink stallion, dressed like a tourist in a hawaiian shirt and a flowery, neon green shorts, said from the surrounding ponies.

The officer let out a small huff and put a hand on her hip. “Do you have any idea where he is?”

“No. Maybe. Is this on the test?”

Frost’s brows creased slightly as she put her fingers to her temples. Patrick just shrugged and went back to his daisy sandwich.

“Nevermind.” She went to the next pony, this one looking like it was brighter than the local rocks. And armored, still. Also, he was asleep, with that orange filly draped across him, snoring slightly.

“Sketch?”

The stallion didn’t answer, he just lay limp on the bench, eyes closed.

Frost kicked him slightly, and when that didn’t work, she tried harder.

This, however, simply dislodged the younger pegasus, causing her to wake up as she tumbled off of him. His head, the only part of him without armor at the moment, shifted slightly in the process.

“Hey, why’d you wake me up? I was comfy there...” The pegasus filly wiped her eyes with her Wonderbolts-themed jumpsuit.

“The stallion you were sleeping on, is his name Sketch?”

“Yeah, why? Most of you security-types are usually looking for me.” The filly seemed utterly unintimidated by the much taller, armed and armored, woman standing in front of her.

She didn’t say anything, only lifted her up (making the filly yell “Hey!”) and put her aside before taking a good look. She remembered him, sarcastic and very annoying. She frowned and patted the filly away before giving the stallion a hard kick.

“Wake up.” She kicked him hard enough to shift him almost a foot to one side, and he fell off the bench head-first. The barely-padded carpet of the hallway met his face with a scrunch-clunk, and he woke up with the unpleasant sensation of rug-burn on his forehead.

“Ow... Why am I face first in carpet?” Sketch asked hazily. Scootaloo answered him with a dead-serious, “The cops found ya. Whatever it was, I hope it was worth it.”

“I haven’t done anything yet though, those zambies did it.”

Scootaloo giggled, covering her mouth with a hoof, her serious expression ruined. “Nah, I have no idea, but she wanted to talk with you.”

He groaned. “Five more minutes... ”

Frost pointed her gun to his head, poking it at his muzzle.

“Up. Now.”

“Idonwana.”

Frost cocked her gun, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear. Frost founder her arm suddenly being tackled by the orange filly in the blue jumpsuit. The sudden addition of the filly’s admittedly scant weight threw Frost off balance, and her Divet discharged into the deck. Everyone in the refugee camp turned to see what the commotion was.

“Wah- Fucking brat...!”

“What the fuck, lady?!” Scootaloo shouted at Frost. “I know the law pretty well, and you can’t just go pointing guns around without at least an accusation!”

Many of the people in the crowd murmured in agreement.

“If you haven’t noticed, laws don’t apply in an apocalypse.” She turned to the sleeping stallion. “I’m not going to repeat myself again. Get. Up.”

“I don’t care if it’s the day after fuckin’ christmas, lady. You’re a cop, not a two-bit bandit out of a vidcast! I’m just a kid and I seem to have a better moral compass!”

The crowd was nodding and pressing closer to Frost. She’d seen riots forming before, and they were much different than a random mob of necromorphs. Necromorphs didn’t use tactics or throw things like molotovs. She also knew she didn’t have enough time or bullets to kill every person h-

She stopped for a moment as she realized she was contemplating killing every person in the refugee camp.

Frost lowered her gun shakily, swallowing the knot in her throat.

“Just wake him up and get him to Johan.” She said, pushing through the crowd.

A confused and fluffed-up pegasus filly watched from her spot next to Sketch. “Y- yeah, I can do that...”

CD wandered through the slightly crowded hallway, finally spotting the slightly-imposing figure of either Frost or Johan; though he couldn’t tell which was who inside that armor.

“I could make a joke about all humans looking the same in suits, but I guess the same goes for ponies too.”

The figure waved to him, signaling for him to come closer.

CD approached him or her, wondering exactly what the big deal was. Pushing past the other folks in the way cautiously, he arrived near the human, who retracted its helmet. It was Johan, plus several chemical burns and some dried blood at the edges of his eyes and nose.

“How’re you doing? You don’t look so good. Seen worse, but just wanna make sure and all.”

“Eh, Miss Cadenza’s shrieks hurt a lot, and all of us were at least a little deaf when we got back. Those puker-things also got me a little. In all, it’s been a hard few hours. However, I wanted to ask if you’re willing to go back out there.” Johan had sat down under a lamp, his hair casting his face into shadow.

“I was in demon-princess’ face for a bad scream, and I’ve been impaled, almost twice. You sure got the easy route, didn’ya? Yeah I’m ready. Although I do wanna know where Summer went...”

“Who?”

“My marefriend from home. We met up back at the school. The doctors say I hallucinated her. They wouldn’t even act like she was there. Is having a marefriend that bad?”

“No. Well, nobody else has commented on that to me, at least. What’s she look like? Maybe we can find her before we leave.” Johan looked pensive for a moment. “But, on the same note, she might want to stay here, so you don’t have to worry about her as much.”

“Yeah, that would be better. I just like having some form of normalcy, y’know? I mean, I don’t even know where I’ve been for five months or so.”

“Five months? Jeez. So, you’ve been here since, what, late August last year?”

“Aug- I’ve been out for almost a year!? Damn scientists strapped me to a table, tried to suck out my brain or something through my eye with a needle, and threw me in a cell, rinse and repeat. Then they wipe my brain for a year, what the fuck!?” CD was shocked. “And they wanted me to remember something, whatever it was, it had to do with sequences.”

“Jeez, man... Hey, listen, we have to try getting to the military base. Sweetie Belle is listed in the top eight MVPs, barely below where Miss Cadenza was.” He sighed at the thought of his failure to save her. “As such, we need to get her to the base anyways. We can get help there, and try to find out why that group of researchers or whoever they were wanted you.”

“Yeah, and you said Sweetie? Yeah, met her in the school. She’s tough, but in my experience, she’s also a smartass. Wouldn’t cross her, but she’s still annoying.”

Johan shrugged in response. “Well, all I know is that she’s on my list of MVPs for this area, and that she’s listed as a class-4 asset, which basically translates to ‘don’t drop her on her head, please, she’s family’. Nothing strategic, but her family is in that base, waiting for her. And they’re likely of enough importance to get those scientists off your back.”

“Class-4? She didn’t look past grade four. Those must be some rich or important folks. I mean, she walked into an Auto-Store completely unequipped, and walks out fully decked out and armed with a damn Tesla Gun. A fourth grader with a Tesla Gun, can you believe that crap?”

“Pretty impressive. I asked a bunch of the retired Security officers to keep an eye on her while she’s here.” Johan shook his head, the action showing more of the side of his face in the light. CD got to see that the chemical burn covered most of his neck and some of his cheek. The scarring was painful-looking, and it still had the angry, red look of fresh injuries.

As Johan finished his head shake, the afflicted skin was once again cast into shadow.

“Nasty acid burn. Sketch got it all over his back, and it looked real bad. You sure you’re okay? I have one medigel left.”

“Yeah, this was from a few hours ago. Hey, did you realize, it’s only been around eight hours? All this shit, and in less than a third of a day.”

“At least it’s not boring, right?” CD chuckled at his attempt to lighten the mood, despite how poor it was.

“I suppose not.” Johan looked into the crowd, and CD followed his gaze to see Frost wading through the crowd. “Hey, Frosty. What was his answer?”

Frost heard her name and looked up to see Johan. She dared not say a word and just continued forward, refusing to meet his gaze as she ran to her post at the corner of the camp, putting a hand to her head as violent thoughts crossed her mind.

“Frost?” Johan watched her as she left, wondering what Sketch could’ve said to piss her off like that. Standing up slowly, he mentally debated heading to comfort her or going to check on Sketch.

Deciding that she needed some time to cool off, he started towards where he’d last seen Sketch, stopping for a moment to conclude his talk with CD. “Hey, I need to check on my friend, you can get your armor and stuff from the room on the left, it’s being used as a storeroom.”

“Okay. After I get set, we move out?”

“Yeah. There’s a Bench in there, if you’ve got any power nodes to put into your stuff, too.” Johan waved one more time and waded into the crowd, his helmet sliding up and over his head.

“I have only one.” CD said. “I don’t recall how much that’ll help my Plasma Cutter, though.”

Only the sounds of people moving replied.

Sketch was a little confused. He’d woken up, rather groggy, with a headache. He didn’t remember getting anything alcoholic, and the fact that he was half off the bench also made him confused. On top of that, Scootaloo seemed to about four inches from kissing him, if only by proximity.

“Hey, you need to get up.”

As far as headache-y wake-ups go, it wasn’t the worst he could imagine, but he had to wonder why Scoots was so close to him, and why he was on the floor, and what required him to be moving already.

“Okay, okay, I’m up, what happened?”

“Well, one of those officers from security came over, and started roughing you up in your sleep. I made her go away. I think, at least. Either way, that lady has some serious anger issues. Maybe she needs to get laid.” Scootaloo’s voice had become rather thoughtful towards that last sentence.

“That sounds like Frost, and she’s a total bitch, and thanks for dealing with her in my place Scoots.”

The pegasus filly smiled and pressed close to him as she helped him up. “No problem, Sketch. And it sounds like you’re just about right about her. ‘Least she backed off before she shot you though.” Scootaloo shook her head. “She almost shot you, and would’ve if I hadn’t tackled her damn arm!” She sighed again, still sticking near him as he got ready to navigate the people all around. She stopped, though, when another armored figure advanced out of the crowd.

The voice from the speaker, though, was Johan’s, and Scootaloo relaxed a little. The human officer strode over and spoke above the soft noise of the refugee camp. “Hey, Sketch, what’d you do to piss of Frosty?”

“While I was sleeping on the bench Frost started hitting me to wake me up or something. What the fuck is her deal?”

Scootaloo piped up. “She also put a gun to his head and almost shot him.”

Johan looked back and forth between the two. “What the hell? You mean she just sort of snapped for no reason? Shit, all I asked her to do was ask if you wanted to come along when we took Sweetie to the military base to be with her family.” The man rubbed his faceplate exasperatedly.

“Yeah, nice girl you got there, she’s a keeper. Sorry if I don’t stick my neck out for her.” He put a hoof around Scootaloo, “If it wasn’t for her, I would be dead... We don’t need anymore death.”

Johan nodded. “Yeah... I’ll go talk to her. Shit, I hope she hasn’t snapped... Hey, do you wanna come along? We could use another gun watching our backs on the way there.”

Sketch thought about it for a moment. “Well, only if Scootaloo can come with me.” Sketch lightly squeezed her.

Johan shook his head. “Fine, but you better hope she’s old enough, or I’m not going stop the law on this one.” Johan threw his hands up and turned to walk away.

“Old enough for what?” Sketch turned his head slightly, but his friend had already left.

“Nothing much... Say, how old are you, Sketch?” the teenaged filly asked, spreading aa lone wing across his back.

“Nineteen, you?”

“Fifteen. Just right, in my opinion.” The filly smiled and tugged him to get him moving. “Oh, and I think I heard someone mention a Bench in one of the rooms, I want to go use it if possible, I have a few nodes to integrate.”

Sketch zoned out for the first part of her sentence trying to figure out what she meant, but the mention of the bench snapped him back into reality. “Okay, lets go then.” He took his hoof off her so walking would be easier, but she kept the wing on his side. He vaguely remembered the gesture being important among pegasi, but he couldn’t remember exactly why. Maybe it just meant they were close friends or something, a gesture of trust and all. After all, she did just save him, so that explanation seemed to work for him.

Frost was sitting down on one of the ‘rescued’ couch cushions she’d found and added to her little corner of the wall. Considering the sheer number of people keeping an eye or two out down the hall, she only really needed to stand if something showed up.

The officer’s gloved fingers glided across Jackie as her mind wandered, the voice of her father poking at the back of her head. Her foot was tapping in anxiety, her movements jittery and almost involuntary.

“Frost.”

Johan’s voice from behind her startled her so badly that she had her gun out and aimed for his chest almost before she could check the movement. Barely restraining herself from pulling the trigger, she shakily lowered the weapon.

“Hey, Frost, what’s wrong?” Johan’s voice was calm, and sincere as he asked her the question. Still, he hadn’t made any moves to get closer, and his helmet was still up, encasing him fully.

“Your friends are lazy fucks,” she managed to say, turning away from him. “It’s the apocalypse and he’s sleeping; it’s embarrassing really.”

“Frost, we slept, too. We probably slept better than they did.” He crossed his arms, his voice losing the calm tone to it. “And why the hell did you pull a gun on him? Frost, I’m worried about you. Tell me what’s actually wrong, Frost, not just some excuse.”

She let out a huff. “Since when do I ever give excuses?”

“Since now, Victoria. They’re civilians, not soldiers. You can’t go treating them like shit and stuffing guns in people’s faces just because, Victoria. I’d hate to have to discipline you, especially since most of them aren’t options right now. I can’t just send you home, or give you an unpaid leave, or what have you, but I can say that if you pull some stunt like that again...”

Johan paused, then turned away from her.

“If you do something like that again, then this relationship will be strictly professional. Understood? I cannot have a loose cannon in a situation like this. This is not the apocalypse. This is not an anarchist state. This is an emergency. And shooting people for the fuck of it will not be allowed, got it?!”

Johan nearly yelled the last two words, holding them back in a strangled snarl instead. Frost had never seen Johan say anything with less than a full measure of cheerfulness.

She paused, a sick grin curling on her. “Really?” she laughed. “Is that all you got?” Her laugh was slightly louder after a few moments.

Johan’s helmet slid back, and Frost saw that his face a stony wall of fury. He lifted his hand and waved it a few times, something Frost recognized as someone using the holographic interfaces from the suit. With a start, she felt her suit go limp, the two-hundred-plus-kilo suit suddenly weighing her limbs down. A moment later, and it hardened again.

“Frost, I love you dearly, but I will not hesitate to space you without a helmet if I have to.” To accentuate his point, her helmet retracted and he in front of her, jabbing a finger in her face. “The lives of all these people are far more important than me or you, got it?! I will break my goddamn promise if it means they live.”

“I knew I couldn't trust you...”

“Frost, I’m not the one breaking trust here. You’re the one threatening civilians, assaulting them, and then disobeying the chain of command.”

Frost only shook her head, still laughing slightly. “If I told you, you wouldn't understand.”

“Try me, Frost, don’t just lock me out and force me to do something I’ll hate myself for.”

“I’d rather that happen... than for you to know.”

“Tell me Frost, please.” Small tears glistened in the edges of Johan’s eyes.

“No.”

Johan continued to stare for a moment, then sighed. He made a few motions with his hands again, and she watched as her helmet shut over her head. All the lights in it were dark, and the noise from the camp had been shut out entirely.

Over the suit comm, she heard Johan mutter, “Fine. I’m sorry, Frost.”

She felt the light coming through the visor slits go out as they slid fully shut, and her balance was lost as she tipped slightly. The sensation of movement soon accompanied it, but it was dark, and stifling inside the suit. Much of the suit’s systems had been deactivated, leaving her in the deepest of shadows and left with nought but the company of the dead.

Copy.Data finally found the Bench, and tapped his hoof to it. The holographic button flashed, then showed ‘Accepted’.

The whole assembly rose with a ratcheting noise, before the two ‘wings’ of the Bench flipped out to either side, exposing the microcircuitry array. The whole thing was designed to do much of the work for you, but it still required designated input.

While preparing to activate the Bench and begin working on his equipment, he saw a disabled power-box on the wall. Leaving the Bench open, he trotted over to the box mounted to the wall and pried it open. Inside was another Power Node, not connected to anything important.

Reaching in with bionic fingers, he easily disconnected it and returned to the Bench. Standing up, he looked at the display, which automatically updated for the number of nodes he had, along with his equipment.

Three options appeared on the screen; RIG, Stasis Unit, Plasma Cutter. He reached for the buttons, pausing for a moment to decide which one he wanted to look at first.

He briefly wondered what two Power Nodes would do to his Plasma Cutter. More ammo capacity would be a plus, but as far as he knew, the result would be random. But he decided to check his Stasis Unit. He knew what it did, but he’d feel safer knowing more details.

Tapping the symbol for it, he was brought to a small display, showing a tangle of circles, lines, and three-letter contractions on a background of his suit from behind. The first one was ‘DUR’, and this expanded to ‘Duration’ when he brought his mechanical hand near it.

“Hmm, extended duration, but for how long? Oh, there’s a little graph thingy in the bottom corner.” CD squinted at the miniscule readout, and saw that the increase was from 2sec to 3sec.

“Hmm, maybe not worth it. How much can I boost my RIG?”

He pushed the other button to check its tech tree. The first available slot was the ‘HP’, and the tooltip explained that it would reinforce the suit’s integrity, protecting him better.

“That is useful, but just to check my options, I’ll give my Plasma Cutter a look. But I’m definitely putting one Node into my RIG.”

Poking the button to upgrade his RIG, he heard the Bench’s systems hum gently for a moment. Tapping the ‘back’ button, he then checked the upgrade path for his Cutter. Available were a pair of options, one for ‘DMG’ and one for ‘CAP, which were revealed to be damage and capacity increases, each by two points on whatever scale it used.

“Well, after that last encounter leaving me with more brain damage than normal, more firepower would be useful.” He commented idly to himself, as he tapped the button.

The Bench’s holographic interface blinked the words ‘Please place Power Nodes and Equipment on the work surface to apply upgrades. Suits may be worn during this time safely.”

With his past of trusting computers a lot more than other living things, he was perfectly fine with just going up and doing what he was told. Besides, computers weren’t evil unless you believe Sci-Fi movies.

As he lay back on the Bench, he heard the machinery in it hum comfortingly, and the faint hiss-fizz of the nodes being applied to both his suit and Cutter. Just a few moments later, it was done, and he rolled off and retrieved his faithful weapon. He turned back just in time to see Sketch and Scootaloo enter the room, and CD blushed under his helmet as he saw how intimate the filly was being with the guy.

Still, not his place to judge, and they both seemed fine with it.

“Hey man, whatcha doin?” Sketch asked.

“Getting an upgrade. Now I’m better armored and my Cutter does more damage. So, uh, you don’t mind Scootaloo, uh, nevermind.”

“What was that last part?”

“Forget it man, just forget it.” He gave Scootaloo a look saying ‘He’s more oblivious than you think.’ “So anyway, are you set?”

“Scoots wanted to come over to the bench and build stuff, you done?”

“Yup, those necromorphs are gonna have to try harder to beat me now. Banshee princesses won’t stop me for long. What'cha gonna build Scoots?”

“I’ve got a few Nodes, I was planning to fix up my civvie RIG and see if there’s any sort upgrades anything else might have.”

“Good idea, Sketch doesn’t have any Nodes as far as I remember, so once you’re done, we head out.”

“Yeah, and I’m going with you guys. I don’t wanna lose Sketch, now.” Scoots said with a slight grin.

“But, I’m not going anywhere.” Sketch said flatly, still unknowing of her meaning.

“Well, you’re going with your friend, that cop guy, right?”

“Johan’s not a cop.”CD said, not comprehending. “A military guy is closer. And he’s a friend, so he won’t cause trouble or blame us for getting into it.”

“Uh, he’s from Station Security, not the E-Gov. And I wasn’t saying he would, just that you guys are going with him, right? And I’m going, too, because Sweetie’s my friend.”

“My point was, he acts like he’s a soldier or something. He rarely has any time for jokes, and he doesn’t go anywhere or do anything without a loaded gun ready. Not that that’s unheard of in our situation. Let’s get going, we don’t know if the Necromorphs will find us. They’re sneaky bastards.”

“Uh, I haven’t gotten to use the Bench yet.”

“Yeah, let the mare build some stuff, also I am assuming Applebloom will sneak out with us as well.”

Scootaloo shrugged and turned to the Bench, quickly slapping some nodes down and tapping buttons. “Jeez, I wish I had my work RIG. EVA suits aren’t the best or most graceful, but they’re better than nothing.” Sketch imagined the sight, an astronaut Scootaloo sounded adorable.

“Whatever is best of the available options.” CD said, brusquely. “Nothing else really matters aside from staying alive. I don’t know for sure, but due to Broker missing, I assume he didn’t make it. We can’t let that happen again. Period.”

“Yeah and I’m not letting Scoots, Marshmallow, or Applebloom be next.”

Scootaloo snickered, finishing her actions at the Bench by hopping up and laying on it. A few passes of the automatic arms and the modifications to her RIG were done, producing a many-segmented chain of ‘health bars’ down the diagnostics line along her spine.

Sketch looked her up and down appraisingly. “Nice... What’d you do?”

“Just increased the resistor output from the RIG, allowing it to give me a little more protection.” She explained. “The nodes should be automatically re-attached once I get my work RIG back.”

“Neat.”

CD just shook his head at how silly the little lovebirds were acting. Heck, Sketch was even acting like he didn’t know what was going on! Of course, he’d have to be blind or something not to get it.

“So, we all ready? Where’s Johan?” Sketch asked, looking around.

Scootaloo shrugged and stepped close to him again, just to spread her wing over his back again. “Idun-”

She was interrupted by Applebloom running into the storage room. She gasped and panted as she skidded to a stop. “G- guys! That po-leese guy’s gone nuts! He’s gonna space the po-leese lady without a helmet!”

She looked wildly back and forth at them, each of their faces coming to slightly-to-very-different expressions.

“Well she deserves it for the most part, she’s shot at me, threatened me, then tried to kill me in my sleep less than an hour ago.” Sketch looked apathetic.

“She nearly shot my junk off for talking to her, let the jerk suffocate.” CD deadpanned.

Scootaloo looked at them. “Guys, she may have been an ass-hat, but being just as bad as her isn’t the right thing to do! Even I wouldn’t wish a spacing on someone, or killing them at all!”

“Johan is the most stable person I know, in all the years we’ve been friends he hasn’t ever had a breakdown, she probably did herself in by doing something to break his trust.” Sketch sighed, “But, since we don’t know the full story, I’m going to ask and make sure he has a good enough reason to do this. You’re right, he may be security, but we don’t need anyone else going crazy, no offense CD.”

“Offense? What offense? I enjoy being nuts, it makes life interesting. But I should rephrase my statement: I’m going to try and save her, but if I don’t, I’m not going to spend any time mourning her whatsoever.”

“Let’s just hurry and talk to him before he does something he might regret later.” Sketch hurried out the door, following a swiftly-moving Applebloom.

Victoria could feel the air going stale. It was so hard to breath, and a terrible, pounding headache had blocked much of her ability to think, too. The air she breathed was noxious and foul.

She could feel her stomach churn and rise, the taste of bile tickling her tongue.

“So this is my death... Becoming crazed in an apocalypse, rather than dying on the field fighting, I’m a terrible soldier.” Her mind began to fuzz and she could feel herself slipping, her life playing in fast forward from the beginning.

She remembered the first day of school, her mother trying to urge her into the classroom as she held onto her scrubs for dear life, refusing to let go of the parent.

Another scene, this one of when she was a little older, she was in a dress her mother picked out and it itched like crazy, her mother trying to keep her from ripping it off and running off into the mud during a planet-side vacation.

Again and again happy scenes replayed in her head, then things slowed down and it stopped to her mother, weak and lying in a hospital bed, her face pale and her head balding from cancer. Her hands were intertwined with her mother’s, holding them tightly, the tips hot with fever.

Another scene, Frost was before a mirror, eyes red and puffed from hours of crying. In her hand was a pair of scissors, raising to her head. She grabbed a chunk of hair and clipped it off in a sloppy chop, letting her long, blond locks drop to the floor. Eventually all that was left was chunks of her hair, short and choppy. She blinked and in her hand was an electric razor, following the roundness of her head as she shaved whatever was left of her hair.

She was at the hospital again, surprising her mother with her newly bald head to match her mother’s.

A flash of light and she was in black, her eyes puffy and red again as she stared down at a simple metal plaque, her mother’s steel coffin drifting slowly towards Tyranis to hurtle into its depths.

She was in a classroom now, her face resting on an open anatomy book, drooling on the pages. The bell rang and she was awoken suddenly, her body up from the seat and out the door to her next class in her nursing studies.

She was walking on the sidewalk now, it was raining and she held her books to her chest, shivering in the cold.

Next thing she knew she was underneath a strange man, screaming and crying, trying to pry him off of her, his flesh rubbing against her and entering in a quick thrust, blood puddling underneath them.

She dragged herself home, falling into her fathers arms, both crying.

A few years passed and she was in the hospital again, her officer father being wheeled to her, his legs now permanently paralyzed. The shrapnel had hit him in the spine, they said, and the damage was fraying his nerves, literally. In a few years, he wouldn’t be able to move his arms.

She was home, her hand to her head as she held a bill in her hand, the numbers far too high to pay off. She looked over at her nursing books, taking in a deep breath before looking at her father who was asleep in his wheelchair, a blue blanket atop him to keep him warm. Another moment passed before she grabbed the texts and tossed them to the trash.

She was in her uniform now, taking her tray full of food to a table of new recruits, the officer located in the cafeteria. One of the superiors walked, no, swaggered over towards her, starting out with a ‘Hey there, pretty lady’, though he never finished the last word before she’d laid him out with a knee to the crotch and a chop to the side of the head, leaving him on the ground, moaning in pain and clutching his balls and head. She let out a small huff of triumphant, proud of her work, the training with her father paying off once again.

She was in the shooting range now, aiming her rifle at the targets, getting all perfect shots, as per usual. It was the day she rose to her second rank.

It was four months later, and she was on riot duty in one of the commercial areas, one of the groups of protesters over a new video game turning violent. Johan had been nominally in charge, his first assignment as such. She’d still resented the way he was always talking with her; though she had to admit that he did talk with everyone like that.

Two hours after that, a dozen rioters lay, unconscious, on the ground, with only two seriously wounded. Johan had surprised her, laying down simple, yet effective methods of ‘tagging’ the rioters to knock them out, rather than simply kill the leaders and let it peter out. The rest of the folk had left by then, either too scared to be trouble or simply bystanders that had been swept up by the flow of the crowd.

A few years after, Johan was, once again, her immediate superior officer. They’d been on different teams for a little while, but she was oddly glad to see the smiling boy-man as second-in-command for her new unit. She was shaking the hoof of a Nightwing, one of the bat-winged ponies that she had heard about.

Then it was just a two months ago, seeing Johan’s normally shining face oddly dull, his jokes lame. She didn’t know why, but she had started to resent him again, now that he’d gotten his new suit; a Triage suit, meant for combat medics.

It was a scant seven and a half hours earlier in present day, and her father’s corpse was attacking her. It was about to kill her, and Johan saved her. But only sort of, because she was the one who really killed the thing. But he’d distracted it for a moment, and that had saved her life.

A few hours later and she was pointing a gun at Johan’s friends’ groin and then at Johan’s. She could see herself slipping.

She was now pressed against Johan, their bodies grinding and bumping together, with her breathing heavy. Their lips pressed together, hands intertwined and warm, both officers feeling the warmth of each other. These actions, for some reason, provided a solace from that night so long ago, far above and beyond any form of therapy.

Again she could see her sense of sanity failing, it reaching its peak only a few moments ago with Sketch, pointing a gun at his muzzle simply because he was asleep. She could feel the bile again, wanting to pass her lips in disgust of herself, letting the situation take control.

Frost wept silently into her helmet, limp and broken like a doll, the years of struggling finally taking a toll on her body and mind. She had no idea why she hadn’t just told him... Why she’d been so sure he wouldn’t understand. He’d always understood her, and she’d acted like he was ignorant. And now, it was too late. He was going to kill her, leave her to the depths of space, until she drifts into Tyranis and joins her mother.

Waiting for herself to pass out, she suddenly felt more than saw her helmet come off, the soft lights of the airlock’s emergency beacons letting her see Johan, a gun in hand, and she was looking down the barrel.

Author's Note

And so the night has taken hold already.
What will come next, though...

Well, that's up to you, the readers. Pay attention to the polls, and be sure to keep voting.
One character up. One character down. Every vote counts.
Current Roster is as follows:
Johan, Frost, CD, Sketch, Scootaloo, Applebloom, Sweetie Belle

Ch17 - With the Best of Intentions

“So, you saw him go towards the airlock, carrying what looked like a body, and said nothing?”

Scootaloo seemed incredulous about the pony’s logic on this. Receiving nothing but a shrug and quick note of how to get there, the two Crusaders and the two adults quickly giving in and heading towards the airlock.

Looking to the left and right, they successfully located the airlock, and saw Johan holding a gun to Frost’s face.

Frost was silent as she stared down the barrel of her own gun, a knot in her throat, unable to speak.

The ponies could only stare for a moment as Johan spoke up, his voice gravelly.

“Please, Frost, I’m giving you one more chance. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Johan’s voice wavered, but his aim did not. His focus was solely on Victoria, and he looked to be crying.

“Hey, Johan, mind telling us why you’re being executioner? You have a good reason, right?” Sketch asked, looking to Frost who was silent for once.

The human officer turned quite suddenly, having not expected to see anyone else. He looked visibly shaken, but retained his grip on Frost’s collar ring.

“I- She won’t...” He stumbled over his words for moment, but cleared his throat and continued a bit more confidently. “I need to know she’s not a danger to everyone else.”

“Short answer, I’d say she is.” CD replied. “And unfairly violent. Shall I continue?”

“She has threatened me on multiple occasions with severe harm or death.” Sketch stated.

Johan sighed and looked back at Frost, who just looked back. “Frost, just tell me what’s wrong and why. Now. I don’t want to do this, but I will if I have to.” He stared her in the eyes, his gaze flicking away towards CD as the pony spoke up.

“I can do it for you.” CD offered. “I can’t name one reason for liking her in my personal experience.”

“No, I’m the officer in charge of this, it’s my... my duty to finish this if need be. Now, I’ll ask one more time, Victoria Frost, for you to just explain, please.” His glare softened and another tear rolled down his scarred cheek. “Please?”

Frost’s eyes finally tore away from her gun, meeting the floor. “I...” tears rolled down her face, her fingers curling as voices began to whisper things.

“I can hear them...” Frost said weakly.

“What?”

”I can hear them. The monsters.”

“Ummm is she going crazy?” Sketch asked, as he took a step back.

“Nope, been there, I don’t get why it’s a reason, we hear them every time they attack us.” CD said, dismissing the idea of Frost being insane.

“Every since I saw my father like that... as one of them... Staring into his eyes...” she let out a sad sob before burping slightly, the taste of bile returning. She pressed her lips, forcing the vomit back, swallowing hard. “I could see him crying inside...he was in pain... I could see it in all of them...”

“So you mourn him by threatening others and being inappropriately violent to those who don’t deserve it?” CD look skeptically at the woman “Jeez, am I the only one who doesn’t respond with violence unless it’s the only option available?”

“All I know is, besides Vinyl, Frost has threatened me the most times for no apparent reason, and has even shot at me on occasion.” Sketch added.

Johan shrugged. “She never hit you, though, and she could have if she’d tried. I’m more worried about when she almost shot you in the head earlier. I want answers, Frost. Please, just give me the answers, alright?”

“They better be good answers, otherwise I will feel no remorse watching you float in space.” Sketch warned.

“Same here.” CD added. “How is missing on purpose mercy anyway? I could shoot Sketch now, but I won’t, so that makes a difference?”

“Am Ah the only one here who thinks it’s ah tad gruesome to be talkin’ about spacin’ folks in front of me an’ Scoots? Or, me, at least?” CD and Sketch both had to restrain themselves from jumping into the air, having completely forgotten about the fillies right behind them.

Scootaloo spoke up, deciding to take the woman’s side this time.“I dunno, she was kinda a bitch back there, but she’s got some-”

“I wasn’t gonna kill you, you stupid fuc-” Frost bit her tongue, feeling the voices tug at her again, letting their words slip out.

“Ah, so beating ponies in their sleep and putting a loaded gun to their head, still sleeping mind you, and cocking it is a normal thing for you? So Johan, it seems you shooting her won’t be so bad, maybe just a very enthusiastic hello, or in this case, good bye.”

“I’m sorry!” Frost shouted, her head lower down to the floor, weeping again. “I’m sorry...”

“Yeah, of course you are, now that saying sorry keeps a bullet from going through your head.” CD accused. “I bet you didn’t care at all while you were doing it. Or nearly shooting me.”

“Ever since I saw my father like that, ever since I heard his voice after I put a round of bullets in him... hearing his scream...”

“Did he turn yet or did you just shoot him out of boredom?” Sketch snarked.

“He’s all I had left... I’d never point a gun at him unless it was necessary... and even then...”

“Like it was necessary to wake me up?” Sketch said quickly.

“Or ‘telling’ me to be quiet?” CD added, right after. He was tired of hearing bad excuses.

“Frost... I know today has been hard on you to a degree I don’t think they can understand, but you have to admit... you don’t sound very stable.” Johan looked at her plaintively.

“Johan...” her eyes met his again, viridian to emerald. “You know I’d never lift a gun to a civilian, even in that raid five months ago, I never put my hand on the trigger.”

“You did to me you bitch!” CD yelled. “What am I if not a civilian!? You nearly hit me too!”

“And to me, against my head, Scootaloo had to tackle you to save me from my morning execution.”

“ And you toppled over from me, an underweight filly catching your arm. From what I saw while you were on the barricade, you’ve got some impressive shooting skills, though.” Scootaloo said, not really changing the balance of the conversation.

“I- I... I’m.... I’m losing my mind.” she finally said in a whisper.

“Join the club.” CD replied, still waiting for a good excuse. He was considering doing it himself if one never came and Johan wimped out.

“Even now, looking up at you all, your faces are changing into those things... I can barely hold onto reality at this point. When I had my gun point at you all... you looked like one of those things and I- I had to hold back from k- killing you.” her head dropped again. “If that filly didn’t stop me... I- I don’t know.”

“And? I had to-” CD started angrily, only to be cut off by Johan.

“No. No more. We’re going to take you back to the refugee camp. I’ll talk to the doctors. I’ll set your suit to medical lockdown, so you don’t suffocate. Maybe... maybe when you’re better, we’ll talk again.” He carefully settled her down to lean against the bulkhead, sighing mournfully. “But for your safety and the safety of others, I’m stripping you of your weapons for now. I’m sorry Frost, but this is the only thing I can do other than space you at this point.”

Victoria only nodded, swallowing another knot.

“Just keep her away from the kids, even if you manage to fix her we don’t need her kicking them into the walls thinking they’re necromorphs. Let’s go Scoots.” Sketch turned away, Scootaloo following with her wing over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t bother with the doctors, they’re inconsiderate jerks. At least they were to me and Summer, when they were given no reason for it.”

Johan looked over at CD. “Who? Oh, yeah, that the mare that you lost. Have you found her yet?” Johan asked conversationally, his expression slightly cracked as he began to collect up Frost carefully, beginning to pull her towards the camp.

“No, but I need to. I hope nothing’s happened to her. So far, she’s the only female I’ve encountered who has not given me any shit.”

“Well, good luck finding her then. You coming with me and Sketch to the military base still? We might be able to track down her RIG from there. It’s got a full database of all the RIGs on the station, and you know her first and last names, so it should be easy.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel better. Yeah, let’s go.” CD said, visibly calming down.

“You’re welcome.” He looked back at the still-sobbing Frost he now carried back towards the camp. “I- I know how hard losing touch with someone you care about is...” He trailed off and didn’t speak again the entire trip back.

“I’m sorry...”

Scootaloo and Sketch had ended up back at the bench in the corner again, waiting on the others. She laid her head against his shoulder and draped a wing across his back, and he’d leaned a little on her in response.

“Any reason you are so affectionate?”

“End of the world hormones?” She nuzzled him. “So... you’re single... I’m single... do you think we could change that?”

“Start asking around the camp?”

Scootaloo face-hoofed. Then, she smacked her head into one of the metal strips affixed to Sketch’s shoulder with a small clang of forehead-on-metal.

“Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Scoots looked up at him with an exasperated expression. “Just as a question, are you gay? I don’t have a problem if you are, but I kinda need to know.”

“No, I’m not a coltcuddler, why?”

Scootaloo just banged her head against his shoulder again and grumbled something under her breath.

“Stop hitting your head and tell me what’s wrong?”

“Are you just thick, or are you trying to tell me to go away?”

“Why would I tell you to go away? I enjoy your company.”

“AAARGH!” She screamed to the ceiling and smacked her head into her hooves, laying completely on the bench in shame. There was no way ‘Bloom would be willing to let her live it down if she tried getting with him and failed because he was too dense to notice.’’’

In response to her outburst, Sketch looked at her worried, and decided to ask again what was wrong. “Are you okay Scoots? You seem stressed. Here, hugs will help.” He reached out and wrapped her in his forelegs, pulling her into his embrace. She sniffled and cuddled close to him.

She sighed, and stayed there for a few moments, before muttering, “How can you be so oblivious?”

“To what?”

The filly just smacked her head against his chest in response.

“Come on, tell me, I wanna help.” Sketch reciprocated the cuddles.

“Guh... Just hold me.”

“Come on, tell me.”

“Have you ever had sex, Sketch?” Scootaloo asked, pulling head back to stare him in the eye.

“Yeah, but-”

“Good, let’s go to the back room and fuck like bunnies until Johan needs us, because I am absolutely not dying a Celestia-damned virgin!”

Sketch just deadpanned as he stared forward at some random spot on the wall, unmoving.

“Well, shit. I broke him.”

“And make sure to keep her company. If she’s awake, I don’t want her just alone in there.”

Johan finished the instructions for the doctors, who all seemed to just be humouring him, seeing as they were at least semi-trained medical professionals and already knew all this. They just nodded and shooed him and CD away so they could take care of their newest patient on their already massive workloads.

In the meantime, Johan had put Frost’s Divet onto his left hip, and slung Jackie onto his back. Though the weight was unfamiliar, he could still bear it just fine.

“So where do they have the RIG database in here?” CD asked, wanting to get an answer if Summer was okay.

“As I said before, it’s in the military base. It’ll have every RIG that’s been synced with the station systems. And in military emergencies like this, it should be common practice for everyone to sync their RIGs right away. Did she have any kind of suit, or was she just wearing a civilian RIG?”

“She had an engineering suit. Rather good state too, looked fairly new. I’m not sure if it’s in there or not, I hope so.”

“Well, if her RIG was working, it’ll have been synced. You said you were a ground-pounder, right? I’m not sure how the planetside companies do it, but RIGs are supposed to be synced at all times up here if possible, but not everyone wears them all the time.”

“I don’t know. As I said, I met up with her, I got here via kidnapping and memory erasure.” CD said. “I’m willing to bet, in an effort to keep things less suspicious, they kept me out of public access.”

Johan shrugged as they continued through the crowd, trying to find where Scootaloo and Sketch had gone, and hoping that they hadn’t started doing anything time-consuming. It was pretty obvious to everyone they were together, however little Sketch tried to show it.

“So, here’s hoping I haven’t been erased and that Summer is still alive.”

“Yeah, here’s hoping. Hey, there’s Scootaloo. I’m assuming the armored bulk next to her is- yeah, his helmet’s off, that’s Sketch. Say, does Sketch look a little weird to you right now?”

“Eh, if it’s a pressing matter, he’d ask for help, right? I can’t name many things that would paralyze him, none of them being around here.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Hey, Scoots, what’s up with Sketch?”

“I broke him.”

Johan stared for a moment. He turned to CD. He looked back at Scootaloo.

With a blink and a few false starts, he finally got around to talking to CD again. “So... does that answer your question?”

“I guess. But come on, it’s not that bad, some hot sauce up his nose and he’ll be fine... well, no longer numb anyway.”

Johan and Scootaloo just stared at him, identical horrified expressions painted across both their faces.

“What? I didn’t say it would be perfect, I said it would make him move and that it would do it quickly. Plus I never said you should do it, I said it was an option.” CD sighed, rolling his eyes. “I mean, not all options are good ones.”

“But... why would you bring up something like that?!” Scootaloo demanded, still looking baffled and disturbed. He hooves had risen, more or less of their own accord, to cover her own muzzle.

“Because it was an option. You were looking for a solution right? I’m not allowed to make a harmless joke? Jeez, no sense of humor.”

“Uhm, guys... let’s just drop it. Hot sauce is not something for noses, I can personally attest to this. What I want to know is simple; why is Sketch like that?”

“I, uh, asked him a question. Well, more like made a demand. But it was for a good cause, really!”

“Well, unless the question was ‘Do you know what it’s like being tasered’ and then you followed through, I don’t know what you could have said.” CD smirked.

“Well, no, it was more related to my attempts at getting into a relationship with him. He’s apparently, ah...”

Johan face-palmed as the realization struck him. “Thicker than my grandma's porridge? Oatmeal should not be able to be used as a building material, by the way.”

“But if it can bounce, then it’s fun.” CD added joyfully, finding the situation hilarious.

“Oh, can it, tin-foil.” Scootaloo snapped, looking embarrassed from her position still locked in Sketch’s embrace.

“Don’t worry, I’m not aiming any mean comments at anyone. If I insulted you, I didn’t mean to. Come on, lighten up. Besides, in a time and place like this, humor is scarce and should be enjoyed, right? I use it to distract myself from all the horrible crap that’s happened.” CD said, making sure nobody thought he was being mean on purpose.

“Fine...” Scootaloo continued to blush, looking away with her ears flat back in shame. “Say, do you think tickling him would work? I’ve got a finger-shoe to try.”

“Sure, all you need to do is remove his suit.” CD commented. “I, uh, kinda want to see if my marefriend is still alive, please?”

“Okay, fine. Here, lemme try something, I think it might work...”

Scootaloo wiggled and squirmed up and out of his clutches partially, before seizing either side of his head and whispering, “Totally not sorry for this,” and kissing him full on the lips.

Sketch doesn’t move, nor does his expression change, beyond his eyes going a little wider. Scootaloo drew back slowly, a rosy glow upon her cheeks as she smiled at him. “Are you paying attention, yet?”

Her smile slowly fell as he continued to remain statue-like in his rigidity. Finally losing her temper, she smacked him across the back of the head with her metal-clad hoof. “Oh, just wake the fuck up already!”

“Guys, let the SOB BSOD, and let’s just get on with what we were doing, please? The only person who ever gave a crap about me might be dead. I wanna know for sure!”

“Hey guys, what’s goin’ on? And, uh, Scoots... what are you doing?”

Applebloom had finally found her fellow crusader, and was eyeing Scootaloo’s half-out-of-Sketch’s-arms position warily. “Ah’m not interruptin’ anything, am I?”

“Not yet, you’re not, he’s locked up like a bank vault! But there’s no passcode!” Scootaloo said, pouting slightly.

“Oh come on, bank vaults? You don’t need a passcode, just blow a hole in it... that was a joke, stop looking at me like that.” CD said. “Okay, realistically, we could try dumping a bucket of water on his head, or turn him upside-down and shake him a bit.”

“Ah don’ know how it is on the planets, but up here bank vaults have been digital for nearly a hunnerd years! Jeez, yer more old-fashioned than mah sister!”

“Yes, I am. That happens when you are kidnapped from your hometown’s psych-ward and forced out of the loop of everything else, and then have your memories messed with. Just wake the bastard up already and let’s get a move on!” CD was starting to get annoyed.

“Here, this is a trick I figured out when he’d do this kind of thing during classes he didn’t like.” Johan said, shaking his head at the antics of all the ponies he was surrounded by. He reached over with a fully gauntleted hand and flicked Sketch’s ear as hard as he could. If ears could bruise, Sketch’s would’ve gone for the emmy.

“What the fu- why is Scoots on my face, and why are we laying like this?”

“Because it’s hard to kiss you on the lips with my face in your chestplate.”

“Kinky.” CD grinned, not really caring what happened. He wanted to see if he needed to start a mental funeral for Summer.

“I said shut it, tin-can!” Scootaloo snapped again, and Sketch just pulled her down and nuzzled her.

“Just never ask me that again.”

“Wait, you mean you don’t want to end my virginity in a carnal display of wanton lust and passion?” Scootaloo asked innocently, to which Sketch face-hoofed, hard.

“Possibility of a mare being dead for unknown reasons right now. I don’t care anymore, shut up, please.” CD was now past annoyed, and was tired of the talking. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah, as entertaining as this is, you love-birds can smooch it up on the road. Let’s get Ms. Belle and go.” Johan said, already looking for the young filly.

“I’m here.”

Johan jumped a bit, noticing the filly standing literally right behind him. “Oh, well, that was convenient. You two done, or should we wait for the monsters to devour us all?”

“We go, or do I have to drag somepony?” CD asked, even knowing that the idea was almost completely absurd.

“I’m up, I’m up, let’s go.” He stood up still close to Scootaloo and whispered to her, “If this is going to work, could you not ask me to rut you in such bizarre ways?”

“Bizarre? I’m just askin’ you to have hot, passionate sex with me in a back room so we don’t disturb anyone else. What’s bizarre about that?” Scootaloo asked as they began to follow Johan, Sweetie, and CD.

“The thing about the rabbits threw me off, also I didn’t know you felt that way, is that what the wing means?”

“Uh, yeah, pegasi wings are sensitive. Putting one on someone means you’re really close, usually for hugs. Lots of wing-feeling means you’re wanting to be intimate. How the hay can you not know this?!”

“I have no idea, also not so fast, I’ll have you know I’m a classy gentleman.” Sketch sticks his tongue out at Scoots.

“Alright, wine instead of beers, got it.”

“I meant no rutting for now, plus you’re underage.”

“I’m fifteen! Biologically, that’s old enough. Legality may state sixteen for ponies, but I’m a mare, damnit!”

By this point, everyone for the group had arrived at the barricade, the group now being Sweetie Belle, in her white suit with the Tesla Gun, Applebloom, with her engineering suit and the Plasma Cutter, Johan, with Jackie, both Divets, and his Pulse Rifle, Copy.Data in his Forged engineering suit and his plasma cutter in tow, Scootaloo with the mechanical hoof-cover and a plasma cutter of her own, and Sketch with his ammo-less Line gun and Divet.

“Yeah, just calm down, there’ll be a time and a place Scoots, also, why me?”

“Fine. And it’s because you aren’t a jerk, you aren’t trying to impress me, you aren’t being a bully, and you have good morals. Also, you look nice. The outline effect is pretty neat.”

“It gave me a lot of shit in school, hence why I picked up track so easily.”

“Meh.”

The two of them were hushed by the rest of the group as they settled into position, and Johan prepared to give a quick speech.

“Alright, folks, we’re heading towards the military research base about a hundred kilometers from here. I’ve checked the general path we’ll need to take, and it’ll involve two tram rides and pass through a heavily populated area. There’s only four routes into the base itself, and not everyone here has a space-worthy suit, meaning we can’t take either EVA course there. Any questions?”

“Yeah, what are options two and three? I only heard two out of four, two of them being impossible.” CD said, annoyed that he had to remind a higher ranking security officer that he had to give full information.

“Alright, here’s all four courses: Course one, which we’re taking, goes through one of the human civilian sectors, the older mining quarter, then on to the base. Route two is an exterior run, hence why we can’t do it until Scootaloo gets a suit. We’d have to also pick up a lot of spare air tanks, which are bulky to carry, as it’s a long way to the base. Route three is much like the first, but goes the long way around the entire debris ring, and would take us approximately four days at maximum speed without any rest or stops along the way to arrive. The fourth route is the external version of route three. Now, unless everyone can agree on one of the other ones, I think that route one is the better choice here.”

“I vote for the third option, the mining quarter sounds like a bad idea to me.”

“Four-plus days? Wow, am I the only one on this entire station who cares if Summer is alive or not? I thought you were at least decent Sketch!” CD growled at the pony he was slowly growing to hate. Why did he have to make things more difficult for no reason?

“I am decent, which is why I say we put this to a vote, you all know my and CD’s votes, anyone else care to say something?”

“I abstain.” Sweetie’s voice was still going through the helmet’s distortion filter.

“Ah vote the third route. I’m sorry, CD, but Ah don’ wanna die.”

Scoots looked back and forth, sighing. “I’m going to vote the first way. Copy.Data helped us get out of that school, we owe him some help finding his marefriend.”

“The one he has be hallucinating about since the outbreak began? I didn’t think she actually existed.”

“You were just humoring me? Yeah don’t give me that bullshit, the doctors gave me. If I am the only one who cares, then leave, you fucking asshole!” CD was rather angry for obvious reasons, he was not really willing to tolerate Sketch much longer, who, at this point, was just a distraction.

“Wait, what? Ah thought ya was tryin’ to find her at the school. You thought she was there? Uh, CD, there wasn’t any mares there other than Ms. Cheerilee.”

For some reason, CD felt... off.

“Wait... no, she wasn’t? But she... I could talk to her, she talked back, I could feel it when she touched me, how...” CD clutched his head as a wrenching pain ran through it. He looked up to see one of the screens on a wall displaying Summer’s face.

“Please... it hurts like this... m- make...”

He stared at the screen as it fizzled to static, then turned back off.

No-one else had noticed it.

Author's Note

Well, it looks like Frost dodged a metaphorical bullet, but it seems she's out of the counting... for now.

A please... vote.
One character up. One character down. Every vote counts.
Current Roster is as follows:
Johan, Sketch, CD, Scootaloo, Applebloom, Sweetie Belle

Ch18 - Twisted & Broken

Copy sat on the ground, holding his head and wondering what, exactly was going on. At this point, his head was trying to focus on what he knew for sure, but with everything so shady, he was having trouble. One thing he knew for sure, he was not enjoying the way his mind was racing through thoughts and possibilities.

“Mr. Data?” Applebloom reached a tentative hoof towards the stricken colt, wondering if it was safe.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. As far as I’m concerned, Summer helped me stay sane. And now you guys say she’s not real, and... it’s possible that might be true, I’m just trying to figure out what is real or fake.”

“Listen, I only heard about her after we left the school, but I haven’t seen her, period.” Scootaloo stated simply.

“But I could talk to her, I could touch her, she could touch me, I felt her! If I can feel her, she’s got to be real, right?”

Johan looked at him, but didn’t say anything for several seconds. “When did you last see her?”

“Well, I kinda had a nightmare that involved her, do you mean while I was awake?”

Johan nodded. CD gulped slightly, then continued.

“Well, uh, I was with those doctors, and they said she wasn’t there. I didn’t really believe them because she was standing next to me and talking and holding me... How is it possible to have physical contact with a hallucination?”

“Tactile hallucinations cause the sensation of touch to be erroneously stimulated. When combined with auditory and visual hallucinations, people, places, and objects that seem entirely real to the person suffering from those hallucinations.”

Everyone in the group turned to Sweetie Belle, who had explained the entire thing in a dull monotone of her ‘regular’ distorted voice.

Sketch spoke up first. “Damn... that- that’s informative.”

“So if what you say is true, then the only real assurance I had that not everyone I knew was dead, was completely fake, and that means if I survive, I’m all alone.” CD sighed. “Now what?”

“Well, you said you knew her when you were younger, before you ended up here, right? So maybe she’s still back on the homeworld, waiting for you.” Sweetie’s voice was once more squeaky and adorable, as her helmet had retracted.

“As I recall, I heard mention of something really bad happening to Equus, so yeah.”

“Something happened on Equus? When?” Johan asked, his voice a little sharp. “We would’ve gotten a surge of immigrants if that was the case.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything that’s happened so far anymore. I have no memory of what’s happened, and with those scientists messing with my head, I don’t even know what is real or never happened, or whatever. What am I supposed to do?”

“Make us whole. That’s what you should do, Copy. Make us whole.” The spectral outline of Summer hovered in view in the corner of his vision. She was quite obviously not real at this point, laced through with spiked red lines ran through her blue, hazy form like barbed wire. She looked like she was in agony.

“March on. Don’t give up hope, just because you can’t see the end of things.” Johan said.

“Yeah, uh how do I do that? I’m asking both of you, because neither of you are being helpful at all!”

“Neither who? Wait, are you seeing her right now?”

“In a way, yes, and as creepy as you guys have made seeing her sound, and as odd as she looks at the moment, I feel inclined to listen, because she’s been the nicest person to me through this whole ordeal. Hallucination or not, at least she cares about me.”

“Please? Copy... we- we hurt...”

“Alright then, how do I fix it? I want to help, but you need to tell me how to do that first!”

“M- make us whole!” Summer demanded, the red wire dragging around her neck to begin dragging her away from the group. “Please! We’re broken, j- just make us whole!”

Summer seemed to be crying blood, before dissolving from view entirely. Nothing remained of her, minus a faint stain in the air, tinging it slightly blue. A faint, faint echo reached his ears, though he couldn’t be sure it was real, not after all of this.

“Th- the cell... inside... the... cell...”

“What cell? Where? Damnit, why does everything have to mess with my head in some way!?” CD yelled as he pounded the ground with a hoof, he was at his wit’s end with all that had happened.

“What? What are you talking about?” Johan’s voice slowly filtered back into CD’s perceptions, and he looked up to see that the entire group had been talking, until he had moved again.

“Alright. I think I’ve come to a conclusion of sorts.” CD stated, but his voice horribly betrayed his state of uncertainty that his word belied. “If Summer really is a hallucination, or not, I don’t care, she’s done nothing but good for me, and she’s actually helped me. She warned me about Cadence before we even met her. I’d say I want to keep her around.”

Johan nodded. “Fine, then let’s just get going. Maybe there’s some information at the military base about this ‘cell’ you mentioned. Let’s get going.”

Everyone else nodded and began to pack up. CD, extremely confused, just continued to get ready as best he could. There wasn’t much to do.

Johan waited by the door, getting an accurate head count in the process, and patted CD on the shoulder as he went by. Once everyone was through, he moved back to the lead, and began to guide the group, all six of them, to the next tram station.

As they arrived at the tram, with no incidents, CD looked into the tram they were heading towards, and saw Summer sitting in the tram. Pieces of her were simply missing, a glaring white light shining from the holes. She looked sad, though it was a little difficult to see that, what with her eyes and mouth emitting the same light.

CD took a breath to calm down. “Okay, I know you need help, but what’s in the cell? What do I need to do? Is there anything you can tell me to help us?”

The apparition looked at him, and a crawling sensation raced up his spine. “I’m in the cell... I’m trapped in the dark, Copy. They- they’re breaking me apart. Please, CD. Please, make us whole.” Her body began to unravel as she reached for him, pain evident in her features. A faint haze of red symbols, so achingly familiar to him, floated around her, settling into the edges of his vision.

Then, without warning, she was gone. No flash or noise, just gone. Everyone was staring at CD, and he realized he was reaching for where Summer’s ‘ghost’ had been.

The red symbols persisted in the edges of his vision.

“Okay, this is really weird.” CD turned to the group to explain. “So, apparently, Summer is in the cell, despite appearing around. And something is... I don’t know what it is or what it’s doing, but I’m willing to bet it’s related to the necromorphs.” CD decided against mentioning the symbols for now, he was focusing on figuring out how he recognized it.

Johan shrugged. “So, she’s been captured or something? I heard that some Crystal Ponies have psychic powers and stuff, but not unicorns. Either way, let’s get going, standing around isn’t going to help her, and we can chat on the tram.”

Applebloom nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s git goin’.”

“Eeyup.” Sketch said, earning a funny look from ‘Bloom. “What?” Applebloom just shook her head and put the helmet of her suit back up.

“Alright, so we know where we need to go, and we can work out what we need to do on the way there. Is there anything we should do before we leave, and if so, make it quick.” CD was really confused about everything and nobody was being very helpful.

After clambering into the tram, all six of the group members finding seats. CD found himself sitting a little away from the rest of the group, especially when he saw a series of faint, blue lines running through each of the people. The bright, pulsing blot in each of their chests left him with no doubts as to what the lines were.

CD spent a few moments praying that it was just in his head, but then, what was in his head became a bit of a gray line lately.

The tram ride itself was fairly uneventful, and with CD acting withdrawn as the red symbols began appearing to cluster around the other people in the tram. The entirety of the situation just made him want to curl into a ball, but he held his composure admirably.

The tram approached the station, and everyone gasped in horror. All around the massive chunk of rock and steel that was the larger residential/scientific module was covered in what at first appeared to be vines, or roots.

But as they drew closer, everyone could see the irregular, sickly pulse going through them, like the beat of a heart. And CD could see a comforting red glow filling them, though he wasn’t sure why it seemed comforting.

As the tram slid into the station itself, everyone could see walls of organic, putrescent growth coating the walls, ceilings, and floors of the station, growing over, around, and through the vending machines, poster boxes, etc.

And CD saw that the red glow he saw was caused by billions of the little red symbols streaming through the root-veins at high speeds.

The first thing that came to his mind was a nervous system, with the ‘Creep’ being nerves and the symbols acting as electrical impulses, sending information throughout the tubes. “Does anypony else see the glowing red things, or is it just me? Again.”

The rest of the group looked over. “The only glow I can see is the remaining lights in here, and our flashlights.” Johan said. Everyone else nodded or similarly agreed, causing CD to give a small groan of annoyance.

“What the fuuuck, is that? A space tumor?”

“Ah’ve never seen anythin’ like it.”

“Me either.” Scootaloo pressed closer to Sketch, her hoof with the hand reaching for her weapon. Everyone was wrinkling their noses under their helmets, the smell was rank and disgusting, like a weeks-old corpse.

“Whether we’ve seen one or not, the plan is still the same. Figure out a weak spot somehow, and blow it to bits, hoping it won't fix itself.” CD stated simply, trying to sound calm. “Right?”

“I think... I think we can just avoid it for now. The door looks like it still works.” Johan shook his head to clear out the smell. “Damn, this shit smells awful. Hey, wait, is that a data log? Can someone help me clear out the muck around it?”

“Yeah, but whoever left that log here is either dead, or really, really good at staying alive.” CD readied his Cutter, aiming for the weakest of the ‘vines’, pressing it to the meaty, corrupted flesh and fired. He watched as the symbols reached the cut opening and sprayed everywhere, hanging in the air all around.

Despite knowing the actual nature of the symbols, the way it seemed as though the roots were, for lack of a better word, hemorrhaging. Never being a fan of gore, CD closed his eyes, trying to remind himself that it was not blood.

“Oh, eww... that’s a lot of blood.” Scootaloo said, turning away. “And it’s already crusty, gross.”

CD’s eye twitched slightly under his helmet. “Shut up, no talking about it, ignoring it completely. Trying not to barf in my own helmet.”

“Okay, would it make you feel better if we referred to it as ketchup? Or can I just start screwing with you?” Sketch asked jokingly.

“Hey, no messing around. You’re mine now.” Scoots playfully slugged him on the foreleg, somehow still being a hard enough punch to hurt.

“And you’re my pillow.” Sketch grabbed her and hugged her, earning a nuzzle as the two stayed close together to ward off the horror of the situation.

“I may not like gore, but that doesn’t mean I’m not able to shoot ponies who mess around rather than helping.” CD was confused on many accounts, putting him on edge and rather sensitive.

Just finishing the job with his nose wrinkled in disgust, he cut more of the gunk away, Johan doing his best to help by yanking away the streamers of gory meat. Finally, they’d uncovered enough for Johan to pull the log out.

Shaking more filth from it, he and CD stepped away from the mat, the smell having changed from ‘old corpse’ to ‘charred corpse’, and wasn’t any better.

“It’s a text log... Oh, oh that’s... Well, damn...” Johan muttered to himself, then turned away from the display only he could see. Making the waving motion to dismiss it, he looked down at the log. “Uhm, if anyone else wants to view it... yeah. Just be warned, it’s not pretty.”

“Gory or not, if it’s information, then it’s important.” CD stated, preparing for the worst. Taking the data log from Johan’s grip, he looked at it. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

Braced for gore, or something gross, instead he saw a simple letter. It was addressed from someone to their sister, and told of how today just seemed like it was going to be good. It talked about the sender’s daughter, and how she was going to be in the school play, and that they were sad they wouldn’t be able to attend. It talked about normal things, and was signed with love.

It made CD want to retch. The little piece of a brighter day from before it had all started... It was not something he could stand at the moment.

“Lemme see it, can’t be too bad.” Sketch spoke optimistically, but also blanched as he read the message, feeling his heart break a little at how upbeat it sounded... especially since he’d seen what had happened at the school.

“Life’s a bitch. It’s cruel, unforgiving, and it pokes fun at all the misery it causes. And it never gives us a break. Oh well, nothing can be done.” CD just tried to stay focused. “So are we gonna roll over and take it, or try to make things better? Personally, I’m just focusing on saving Summer.”

“Yeah, let’s... let’s just get going.” Johan sighed, and lifted his Pulse Rifle again, checking his RIG’s guidance system to follow the path he’d laid out in advance. “Man, and I thought it was getting blase...”

“Yeah, never ask for boring or think things are getting easy. If you do, life’s gonna slap you in the face.” CD deadpanned. “Never understood what was so good about life anyway. So which way now, Johan?”

“Alright, left we go. I’m on point, CD, you’re behind me, then the fillies, then Sketch. Sketch, carry one, facing back, to keep an eye out.”

“So what do you think those vein-things are for?” CD asked, wondering what sort of purpose they serve the necromorphs.

“Ah have no idea... Maybe this is how they build stuff?” Applebloom shrugged.

“Sensors indicate a high level of activity amongst the cells. There is a high chance of this growth being some form of terraforming method.” Once more, Sweetie’s demonic robot voice drew everyone’s gaze to them.

“Uhm... terraforming into what?” Scoots asked.

“Unknown. Possibly lethal.”

“Like every foreign thing here?” CD stated. “Literally, everything tries to kill us.”

“This stuff hasn’t. It’s just very gross.” Johan said.

“I am just going to avoid contact with it.” Sketch said. Scoots nodded.

The group left the conversation where it was, until they turned the corner, and saw that most of the corridor was coated in a layer of the matted filth, including the floor.

“Well, that’s the direction we need to go. Crap.” Johan said, staring down the hallway. The group tentatively moved towards the muck, Scootaloo sitting on his back to watch their backs. The muck sucked and pulled at their boots, slowing them down considerably.

A few shorts steps in for Sketch, at the back of the group, a loud crash met their ears, as a wall panel blew out, and a large slasher, with black, necrotic skin and glowing eyes burst into the hallway, taking but a moment to locate them and turn.

Everyone opened fire immediately.

“Residential areas suuuck!”

Johan’s shout was met with affirmative grunts from the other five members of the group, who were all busy moving slowly but surely through the muck and filth, firing at the horde of monsters all around. Johan was their saving grace at this point, what with his ammo sweep and ammo box keeping him fully loaded on ammunition. Everyone else was forced to snag whatever ammunition happened to be on the corpses as they went, throwing ammo to whoever was lowest or could use it at the given time.

Sketch was on his last few Line Racks, as he’d been deciding not to use his Divet if he didn’t have to. CD had eaten through his Plasma Cartridges like wildfire, and was down to his current clip of eight and nine more in his inventory. Johan had only unslung Jackie twice, in order to take out a couple more of the ridiculously tougher black slashers that had shown up.

“H- how much further?” CD was panting slightly, thinking he’d probably be dead as soon as his ammo was used up. Speaking up over the chatter of Johan’s Pulse Rifle and the blasts of Sketch’s line gun, along with Scoots’ own Cutter. “Not sure... how much longer... I can go.”

“We’re about-” Johan cut off for a moment to fire another burst at one of the pukers trying to spit up onto Scootaloo, who had no armor yet, “about halfway! Shit, we’re gonna be fuckin’ screwed if they don’t let up! Fuck!”

The last exclamation was from a slasher grabbing him and beginning to bite and claw at him. though he threw it off, everyone else could see he’d been taking a lot of hits for everyone else, and his rig was down to a dark orange.

“Dang, where are they coming from?” CD asked somewhat rhetorically, as he tried not to think about his rapidly diminishing ammunition.

As if in response to his question, the flood of necromorphs let up, dwindling rapidly to a mere six, which were quickly dispatched. However, it probably wasn’t a good thing, as a deep, rumbling roar accompanied the lack of assailants.

“Y’all just had ta ask, didn’tcha?”

“Spite me later kid, now we pass around Medigel before we die.” CD said, pulling out his only medium gel.

“Scoots, how are you on ammo? Need any medigel anyone?” Sketch asked, calling out to the group. Scoots showed the full clip, but said that she had no spares.

“Y- you guys probably need it more.” Johan said, hunching over a bit and holding his side, as CD reloaded what little ammo he had left.

“Shut up and take my medigel.”

“Dude, don’t be stupid, just because you’re not dead yet doesn’t mean you’re fine.” CD reloaded and healed himself, hoping the monster wasn’t as big as it sounded.

“I- I’m fine. Right? I feel fine.” Johan’s voice was laced with pain as he straightened up with a soft groan. “Okay, maybe not so fine...”

“Yeah, unless your RIG is Scootaloo, orange is not its natural color, catch.” Sketch tossed him a medium medigel.

The security officer caught it wearily, plugged it into his suit and used it. Immediately, three or four bars filled on his RIG. Sweetie Belle turned and pointed up at one of the balconies above the room they’d wandered into, a hub room.

As everyone looked up, a large, bulky shape appeared at the edge. CD saw a webwork of red tangled within it, with duller patches near the ‘shoulders’ of the heavy, armor-plated arms.

Whatever the thing was, it was huge, and roared as it leapt down, a thunderous crash announcing its landing. The creature was easily as tall as Johan, and was immediately beginning to charge the group.

“Scatter! Fucking scatter!” Johan yelled to the rest of the group as the brutish creature barreled straight into him and knocking him back hard against a support pillar. Like the rest of the monsters so far, it seemed totally not inconvenienced by the muck that dragged at the living people’s feet.

CD did his best to get away, the necrotic mat covering the ground more than slightly hindering him. He wondered what would happen if he shot at the yellow patches of flesh on its shoulders. If it didn’t work, he’d be out of ammo and dead in moments.

From his position, he hit it more along the back, where he could see large, boil-like yellow patches, the plasma bolts shearing through the dead flesh with ease, causing the creature to roar in pain again. While two of the five bolts simply deflected off the heavy armor of the creature, the other three got its attention, and one of its arms was certainly less attached than before.

Also, Johan was no longer the target of its ire, and it began charging towards the engineer instead.

Just a meter or so away from him, a burst of blue light splashed across it, and the brute slowed down to a crawl. A series of red symbols crowded around the shoulders, and he shot three more vertical shots at it, severing one of the armored limbs.

A distorted, slowed growl echoed from it as it raised its remaining arm to smash him, and even the stasis effect on it wouldn’t let him get away in time.

Just before the limb came hurtling down as the stasis wore off, CD felt himself get hit hard on his side, and he heard a sickening splatch as the arm came down. He looked back to see what had saved him, and had to force down his gorge as he saw what, or rather who it was.

Applebloom, the rearing pony decal across her helmet, had the blue lines tracing through her still, her heart pumping blood in CD’s enhanced vision, but those lines terminated suddenly where the brute had slammed down on her. Nothing remained of her from the hips back.

Three shots, each echoing throughout the chamber deafeningly, blew the other limb off the brute, and it finally went down, tipping to the side. Sketch, Sweetie, and Scoots peeked out from where they’d hunkered down, behind a desk.

“‘Bloom! N- no!” Scoots screamed the words and sprinted as fast as she could across the muck and gore, the filly visibly stricken as CD crept closer. He could still see the life in her, but it was beginning to fade.

“Fuck! Quick, I got some medigel! M- Maybe theres a small chance!” Sketch panicked, following Scootaloo as best he could, Sweetie not far behind him.

As they arrived, though, each of them heard a noise usually reserved for hospitals, the insistent tone of a flatline. Applebloom’s RIG was completely dark.

CD put a hoof out as the last of the blue faded from her, no longer visible.

“Scoots, stick close, Sweetie, pick CD or Johan and never leave their side, we can’t let this happen again.”

CD stared at the dead filly. It was not pleasant at all, but, she had saved his life. “Yeah, nobody else will die if I can help it. Wait... what happened to Johan?” CD turned back to the support that Johan was bulldozed into. The whole pillar was cracked all the way to the top, and Johan was sitting against the base of it, a smear of blood behind him where he’d slid down. Jackie, the seeker rifle, was sitting across his lap.

From what CD could see, he still had his blue core and such, so he was still alive, but from the way the lines seemed to fade in some parts of him just didn’t seem healthy.

“Damnit, help him! Sketch, how much gel do you have left?”

“Two! You take one, the other is for Johan” Sketch tossed CD one medium medigel. The earth pony caught it and quickly used it. A sigh of minor relief escaped him as the numbing agents made the pain he felt go away, just a little.

Sketch, meanwhile, ran over to Johan, told him to take the medigel and stay put. The weary soldier just nodded, leaning back against the blood-soaked support pillar.

Sweetie gave the corpse of her friend a short embrace. A moment later, the gentle sound of the lullaby ‘hush now, quiet now’ began to filter from her speakers. As the helmet retracted, CD and Scoots saw that it was actually Sweetie singing, and her voice was incredible.

CD sighed “Well, I am convinced, this is far from over... and yet, why does everything have to go wrong!?” CD shouted the last words into his forelimbs as he tried, and failed, to hold back tears. Sweetie was holding a sobbing Scootaloo, and even Sketch and Johan couldn’t hold back on the waterworks.

At least it seemed they had a break, something they sorely needed.

CD took the respite as an chance to calm down and make sense of things, but it did little good. He was not sure when he’d actually be safe, and that just made things worse.

Sweetie’s song faded out as she gently stopped singing, and Scootaloo wiped her eyes. Sweetie’s helmet slid back into place, no emotion showing on her face, just stony determination.

Johan, barely able to stand by using Jackie as a walking stick, hobbled over with Sketch’s help. “Guys, we need to keep going. If we stay here, another of these... brutes, I guess, could come by. I... I don’t think we could survive that.”

CD stayed quiet, not doing much other than looking for how many rooms this area led to. A couple of larger doorways were covered in the growth, at least a half meter of it, and the only remaining door was a large, heavy-looking one.

“Yeah... let’s... Let’s go.” Scootaloo looked away from the corpse laying on the floor.

“Yeah... “ Sketch settled a little lower to allow Scoots to climb up, once more watching their backs as Johan began to lead them away, Sweetie helping CD stand up.

“The quote, I believe, is an old human one: Life is a bitch...” Sweetie began, and CD nodded, finishing it.

“And then you die.”

Sweetie paused for a moment. “Addendum: And then you come back.”

CD then added his own end to the phrase. “Sometimes you wish you die sooner.” CD then sighed again. “Alright, we need to go. If we don’t make any progress, then Applebloom would have died for no reason.” He paused. “And I won’t have that. Period.”

“Affirmative.”

The two left it at that, and followed the three other survivors. Quickly falling into place between Johan and Sketch, Sweetie and CD kept an eye out to the sides. The trip, from there, was quiet.

Silent, like a tomb.

Author's Note

Well now, it's been an almost incredible gap between updates, so I'm going to keep this short: Now that I have internet again, these chapters are going to be updated 2 a week until we're all caught up.

Thank you to all my wonderful co-writers/victims, thank you Hasbro for giving us this fandom, and thank you, my wonderful audience, for hanging in there, like kittens in a motivational poster.

CD, Sketch Pony, Johan Allegro, and all the others are properties of their respective players, while ponies in general and the CMC in specific belong to Hasbro.
I think I can quit with the credits at the end of each chapter unless someone new shows up, this is getting repetitive.

Ch19 - Lab Rat

The four ponies and the human officer had taken refuge in what seemed like a maintenance group’s prep room, including a nano-circuitry bench and an AutoStore station. The door was able to be locked from the inside, had only a single, small vent, and had heavy grating over the windows, making the whole thing the perfect bunker to take a break in.

Sweetie had taken Applebloom’s Cutter, if only to prevent waste, but there still wasn’t any ammo for it.

CD took the opportunity to purchase a Line Gun and forty-eight plasma cartridges. Unfortunately only small medigel was available, but he took four for the sake of safety. Also listed was a small air tank. Given his fear of Murphy’s law, he purchased four. In addition, he bought twelve Line Racks, to give him some breathing room where his Line Gun ammo was concerned.

Noticing the crimp on his space it was producing, he handed the ‘magazine’ he’d acquired to Scootaloo, in a discrete fashion, of course. She took it without question, and simply put it away.

He whispered to Scootaloo some advice about keeping such material away from public places. And that she count herself lucky a teacher didn’t find it and he wasn’t in the mood for blackmail.

After that, Sketch bought stuff next, purchasing three small medigel, sixty Divet rounds, a pair of Line Racks, and handed twelve hundred credits to Scootaloo, leaving him with a mere three hundred left.

The only things Johan bought where some more medigel, though his looked to be the larger packs than everyone else had. Then, he stepped into the booth, stating he was going to change to his old suit.

Stepping out, he was clad in what, at first glance, seemed to be the same suit. However, this time, the plating was mostly in cream and red, with a red cross on the left arm plate, and the face plate’s coloration was in that of another red cross.

“Alright, this is the suit I know best. Doesn’t chafe as bad around the neck.” The officer patted the suit’s heavy collar. “My good ‘ol Triage suit.”

Stepping back, Scootaloo was ushered in next. She, too, got her suit out of storage, and came out of the booth wearing a mostly gray suit, though with a large, glassy dome over her head. The dome had thin bars forming a wide-spaced grid over the whole thing, like an ancient diving helmet.

The suit also had additional maneuvering thrusters attached to both her wings and hooves, far more than any of the other suits had, along with many more lights already built into it. A large lamp took up some space on one side of the helmet, the twin bulbs projecting a bright beam of light straight ahead, with multiple lights tracking along her limbs, along with one pointing straight down on her legs, pointed at the floor. In all, she was very brightly lit.

She took a moment to stretch out, shaking and picking at the various sections of her suit to check it all out.

Sketch had to think of cold baths as she seemed to purposefully turn away and stretch like a cat, her rear pointing straight at him.

“Ah, much better. I love my EVA suit. And, best of all, it’s so tight.” She specifically pointed out that fact while obviously showing off to Sketch. He could still hear the hurt in her voice, though, and tried not to think too hard about it. Mostly he failed, but it was a valiant effort anyways.

“So, are we all ready, then? We’re only about two thirds of the way there.” Johan said, sounding much better off. Everyone had been able to get at least one small medigel on the way to the prep room, but nobody except Scootaloo and Sweetie had more than half their bars of health.

“Yeah, the sooner we move, the less likely we are to be ambushed.” CD stated, worried that another loud roar would signal the quick arrival of their deaths.

“Yup, lets go. Also Scoots, all these suits are tight.”

“Yeah, but this one is tight in the right places.”

“Okay, we all know you’re flirting with him, can we move on and move out, please? I think he gets you want him to bone you.” Johan said with an exasperated tone. “I mean, jeez, you never stop.”

“Complaining doesn’t help.” CD stated quickly. “Just ignore her and she might get the hint.”

“Who get what hint?”

”Shut up Sketch, nothing matters. Just move. Everyone.” CD was getting tired of wasting time, he felt like the only one who actually knew no place was safe.

“I vote in agreement. Time is of essence.” Sweetie’s evil robot voice was the deciding factor, and everyone began shuffling from the room, once again in the order they’d established. This time, though, Scootaloo had a headlamp with which to watch their backs.

“Yup, lets go Scoots.”

The five of them began to move out once more, though they quickly ran into more necromorphs.

“This is getting ridiculous!” Johan shouted at the top of his lungs as he fired another full clip into the wall of necromorphs blocking them from continuing. They had gotten into a good rhythm, and were mowing them down with relatively little trouble. It was also a good thing they got Scoots her suit when they did, as they went through a depressurized area shortly after. The necromorphs hadn’t seemed to notice much.

“Focus on shooting them, not stating the obvious.” CD said as he shot at one with his Cutter to remove it’s limbs. Spying another one of the black-skinned slashers, he concentrated on it for a moment.

Gunning down another puker, Johan only grunted his agreement, as Sketch continued to fire knee-height Divet rounds into the mass, slowing many of the creatures down. Eventually, though, they reached another lull in the assault. Taking the time to reload and check for who needed medigel, they all looked warily around.

They had traversed into another hub, this one much more heavily infested than the last. It also had a large, transparent dome over the top of it, letting a tiny amount of dim light from Tyranis. The planet appeared bloated and bloody due to the lack of sunlight, its internal processes producing barely enough light to see by.

At this point, Scootaloo had been promoted to ‘flashlight’, and was pointing her headlamp wherever it was needed, as it was the brightest and widest of the flashlights they had. “Hey, guys, there’s something moving outside that glass. Pretty quickly, too.”

As everyone looked up warily, they saw the shape of something humanoid moving a brisk jog across one of the metal frames of the windows, followed shortly by a group of some sort of three-limbed necromorph things and a single shrieker.

“So how do we help?” CD asked, trying to think of a way that didn’t involve breaking the glass and attracting attention.

“Is there anyway you can use your magic to mess with something on the other side of the glass Sweetie Belle?” Sketch asked.

“I am not capable of advanced magic at this time.” Sweetie said, still watching the glass dome as the person disappeared on the far side of it, still sprinting as best he could without any gravity.

CD, meanwhile, realized that there was a note that someone was using the ‘Engineering’ channel. Not bothering to worry about details, he accessed the channel and assumed it was the guy outside. The first thing he heard from it was, “-itshitshitshitshit. Oh come on I just fixed that patch yesterday why did you have to- okay I can escape through here jump and boost... Yeehaaa!..” the voice trailed away as the channel cut out from distance.

With a sigh CD decided to at least ask what was going on. “Who are you, what are you doing outside and how can we help you? Damnit.” He swore under his breath as he realized the person couldn’t hear him by the time he’d processed the message.

“Jeez, poor bastard. Wonder who he was.” Johan remarked casually. “Uhm, anyways. We, uh, we need to head this way next...” He turned and looked towards a door on one side of the hub.

The group, shaking off the... ‘interesting’ spectacle, continued onwards towards their destination.

Along the way, they found a door with a locking point that required a Power Node to open.

“Shit... does anyone have a spare node?” Johan asked, looking around. “I’m out right now.”

“I used mine to upgrade my RIG and Cutter, so no.” CD said. “Although in the interest of survival, I regret nothing.”

“I regret the bagel I had for breakfast.”

“Sketch, I’m going to hope you are done messing around, because if you continue to lose focus, I’m going to smack the focus back into your skull.” CD replied sharply. “Humor stopped working when an innocent filly got crushed to death saving my life, I’m done laughing.”

“And this is how I deal with the horrific happenings around us.”

“There’s a time and place for everything, so shut up and wait for then.” CD turned away from Sketch. “Seriously, I’m not feeling very tolerant right now.”

“Guys! Both of you stop, alright?! You only knew her for a few measly hours! She’s been our only friend for close to eight years now!” Scootaloo shouted at the both, looking utterly pissed. “We’re all coping, alright?” She sighed, then reached for her inventory. “Here. It’s the node ‘Bloom had left over. She always carried an extra in case she came across a door like this.”

Johan gently took the tiny node, settling it into the door’s control box, where it clicked into place, becoming irremovable without very specialized tools and codes.

The door, once labeled [Locked], was now a soft blue and labeled [Open]. With a tap at the controls, Johan made the door open. Inside was a small storage room, a bank of lockers on one side and some simple box shelves on the other, a large vent cover on the far wall. A small stack of green storage boxes sat under the vent. A quick count found there to be six of them.

Johan whistled appreciatively. “Well, that was a node well-spent.”

“Indeed, everyone get a box or two and hope for the best.”

“There’s a ton of stuff in the cubbies, too, and four of those lockers are unlocked.” Scootaloo pointed out.

A quick look in the cubbies showed the loot included two separate schematics, a half a dozen medium med packs, a medium air tank, and several line racks and plasma cartridges.

“Well those medium med packs prove my small ones a waste of credits, CD, wanna split the line racks? And could Scoots get some of the cartridges?”

The group looked over the supplies, Sketch’s suggestion receiving nods and grunts of affirmation. Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Sketch distributed the medigel evenly between them. Sketch gave one of his small capsules to CD, as well.

Sketch and CD split the seven Line Racks between them, CD getting four. Johan picked up both of the schematics, looking them over. “Huh, alright. Looks like a Ripper schematic and... and... oh, holy shit! I didn’t know Shockpoint Suits had even been finished in development! Why the fuck was this just sitting out?!”

“Poor organization and distribution?”

“Uh, that’s a pretty big stretch, I think it might’ve been left here in case of emergency.” CD gave Sketch an odd look. “How would you just misplace a wearable method of what amounts to FTL space-travel?”

“I dunno, but that sounds more like espionage, not accident. This sort of thing should be in a top secret lab, not a glorified storage closet.” Johan argued.

“The real question is, do we really care? It’s here, free, and very useful.” CD stated. “Let’s just check those boxes.”

“Oh, alright. Here, Sweetie, you get the first one.”

The filly’s helmet retracted, and she gave a squeal of delight as she viciously smashed the box open. Inside was a hydrazine tank. Her face fell, when she realized that nobody in the group could use it.

Johan, not wanting to see a filly cry, quickly snatched the next box and handed it off to her. “Here, try this one!”

The filly smiled again and snatched it, smashing it between her hooves. This time, it was a Detonator Mine. In spite of the fact that none of them could use it, she still smiled happily and hugged the explosive to her armored chest.

The entire group just stared, except for Scootaloo. She just shrugged and grabbed a box for herself, smashing it underhoof. Inside was a large medigel. Once that was safely tucked away into her inventory, she simply sat down and waited. “Well? Go on, break your own. She gets like that around explosives.”

“Whatever.” CD walked over to the box nearest to him and broke it open, picking up a lone Line Rack that was inside.

“Uh, I guess I’ll go next, then?” Johan said, reaching for a box.

“Nope.” Sketch said, breaking the box before the human could get it. Inside was a Plasma Cartridge with four bolts in it.

“Here ya go Scoots, more ammo.” Scootaloo thanked him, and Johan took the chance to smash the remaining box before anyone else decided to snag it from him. Inside was, to his non-delight, twenty-five Pulse Rounds. Whee.

Sighing, he turned to the group. “Alright, there’s four lockers. Let’s open them and see what’s inside.” Pulling the first one open, he found some credits and, surprise surprise, more Pulse Rounds.

“That’s it, Johan, no more opening things for you, you only get more ammo.” Sketch said, opening the locker next to it.

Rummaging inside, he found some well-thumbed catalogs for parts, a magazine for home hydroponics, and some Divet rounds.

“Well, so much for your luck.” CD mumbled as he went to search through the next locker. Inside was three thousand credits on a chit, buried partly under a pair of underwear with a dark streak all along the back of it.

“Dirty cash? That’s a really dumb joke, universe.” CD sighed and moved on, wondering why they never bothered to try to force open some of the closed lockers.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m opening the next one, I’ve just got to see what’s in there.” Scootaloo said with evident relish, pulling the green-lit locker open. Inside was a couple of Rivet bolts and a data log, the rest of it completely empty.

“So do we review the log now, or do we try and open these other lockers first.” CD asked. “Usually ithe locked up stuff is better than the stuff begging to be scavenged.”

“The ones here would take a heavy-duty pry-bar to open it, unless we’re willing to fire a couple of Line Gun shots at them, but we’d probably just blow up whatever was inside.” Johan said, dismissing the idea.

“Point taken, but we should make sure we’ve got everything we can.” CD said, despite having no idea how to open the lockers. “See, this is why futuristic security is a wonderful, wonderful curse.”

Everyone nodded. after a moment of silence in the cozy-sized room, Scoots spoke up. “So, uh, if I played the file, we could all see it. It’s a video log, and EVA suits have external projectors.”

“Nice, a flashlight and a data log player.” Sketch remarked.

“Alright, playing the file...” Scoots said, and Sweetie scootched in closer, more or less cuddling with scoots to have a good spot. Everyone else was stuck with viewing the video mirrored left-right.

The hologram flickered on, the man slowly revealed himself, his helmet sliding off. Blood smeared his engineering suit and he lifted his plasma cutter into view, pointed towards the ceiling. His light blue eyes looked dull in the recording, and his face looked haggared. He pulled the trigger showing his ammunition count. Zero.

He looked towards the recording device, thus, looking at whoever is watching. “I guess I’m all out... I got away, so that’s a plus, but, if I find another group of them I don’t think I can take them on.” He scratched his stubble with his left hand.

“If you find this, I am heading somewhere I can fortify. If you find this, I think I am going to head down the hall past two hallways, turn right, then head down the hallway until you find a crossway, then head outward until you reach the next crossway, then turn right and head down for another 4 hallways then go in the left hallway, it should be straight ahead of you by then, Thoth wing, suite 203.” With his sentence over with, he disabled the recording, ending the hologram. Thinking it over, CD and Sketch both recognized him as the guy from the previous recording about what necromorphs were.

“Informative.” CD deadpanned. “I just wanna know who that space cowboy was back there. Probably not this guy, he seems much calmer.”

“Well, he might still be alive. The recording lists this as only being made about twenty minutes ago.” Johan thought for a moment. “Wait, no, fifty, I forgot the numbers are mirrored.”

“Thank you usually totally irrelevant ability to read backwards.” CD sighed. “Yeah, if it’s been an hour, I’d say anyone has a good chance of being dead. Then again, this guy is quite the survivor.”

“He is recognized as the person from the recording Ms. Rust was holding on to, at the school.” Sweetie said, once more in her filtered voice.

“And the guy from the logs at the mall.” CD recalled. “He definitely knows what he’s doing. I think finding him would be a good idea.”

“Can we not run in after it guns a-blazing? I would prefer this be a stealth mission.”

“Who said we’d be loud?” CD rolled his eyes. “Really Sketch, why do you always assume the worst of my plans? And yes, I mean always. Oh forget it.” He sighed.

The two fillies in the room just shrugged.

Johan shook his head. “No, we’re not going in guns blazing. I have the coordinates for this ‘Thoth wing Suite 203’, so we can head there. We should probably hurry if we don’t want to find him dead already.”

“I second that motion.” CD said. “Which way?”

Johan held out his hand, and began to follow the hologram only he could see. “This way. same order as normal. It says there’s a depressurization section ahead, so make sure your helmets are on and locked.”

“Way ahead of you.” CD had yet to have his helmet not be covering his face for... he couldn’t remember, it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to get a faceful of acid.

The group continued along, finding the depressurized zone fairly quick. Johan turned to the group. “Okay, this whole next section is labeled as zero-g, no atmosphere, so stay together as much as you can. If you have no experience with zero-g, just stick to a wall and hurry up. You may need to jump, so stick with someone who does have experience if you don’t have it.”

Everyone nodded and murmured that they had experience, except for Sketch, who looked around in dismay.

“Two problems, I have no air tanks, and no experience in anything but normal gravity.”

Johan stopped. “Shit, that’s right, you kept skipping on our zero-g basketball games. As for the air, it shouldn’t take more than a minute or so to get through anyways.”

“Not my fault I had a commission to draw, humans take longer.”

“No need to point fingers, man, just saying. Uhm, just stick to Scootaloo. Heh, it’d be the opposite of normal for you. She’ll be carrying you this time!”

“Huh?”

“Well, she’s been riding you for a while, so now she’s going to carry you.”

“Why did you have to word it like that?”

“Because she’s totally trying to get you to have sex with her? Duh?” Johan said, matter-of-factly, Scootaloo nodding eagerly.

“Nobody seems to be making progress, so who do I have to push out first?” CD asked, sounding rather annoyed with his teammates. “Sketch is hardly contributing, Scootaloo is... best comparison that comes to mind is ‘one-bit whore’, and Johan has done the least about these issues, and so far, Sweetie is the only one I can deal with.” He paused to take a breath. “Unless you don’t care that people are either dead, dying, or much worse!”

“Sorry, I’m trying not to go completely nuts and simply shoot you all over here.” Johan said, as Scootaloo turned to regard CD from behind her mirrored helmet. “And how am I a whore? I’m not asking to be paid, just laid. By my coltfriend.”

“How about I answer everyone with the same response. I don’t give a shit anymore, and people are dying. If you want to do nothing, then fine.”

“Oh, sorry, I just thought making sure nobody would simply go spinning off into space and force us to mount a rescue would be smart, mr. ‘I’m going to delay everything by complaining about it’. Maybe if you shut up for once, we could get somewhere.

“CD, we just want to make sure we don’t die, also what will I do about a lack of air tank? Scoots, got any ideas?”

“Dude, the suits have built in air tanks. Just tell me if you’re running low, I can run a line to your suit for more air if I have to.” Scoots said from her position on Sketch’s back.

“I’m fully aware that I’m being an asshole, but I don’t care that I am, because being nice rarely gets people to pay attention and listen.” CD retorted. “In my experience-”

“Then shut the hell up, you’re the one delaying us now.”Johan said, “Sketch, the suits have air in them. CD, we’re going now.” Johan then hit the door button, and it slid open. They all felt the air rush out, and heard their suit announcement systems mention that they were now exiting atmosphere.

Taking a step through the doorway, they then received the announcement that they were entering zero gravity. Almost instantly, Sketch felt a lurch in his stomach as the gravity vanished. Taking a few shaky steps, he followed the group.

Over his comms, he heard Scoots’ voice. “Alright, just let go of the floor, we have to go through that debris ahead, apparently.”

Sketch looked up, seeing the tangled, ruined mess of what was once the side of the habitat. Johan, CD, and Sweetie had already begun moving off.

“Okay, please don’t let me go flailing about in zero gravity.”

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

Sketch let go of the floor, feeling the minor thrum in his hooves stop as his mag-clamps deactivated. He could hear, through his suit, the faint puffs of air and feel the vague heat of his own thrusters, as his suit fought to keep him aligned to Scootaloo, who was powering him after the others.

After several seconds of simply drifting along after Johan like a trail of ducklings after their mother, they began to cluster closer together, as everyone got more used to the movements of the suits in zero-g.

As they approached the door back inside, Sketch felt a painful, clawing sensation in his lungs. Looking at the readout for his air projected onto his faceplate, he saw that he was down to the last twenty seconds of air.

They all closed on the door together, just a mere eleven seconds to go, as Sketch flailed for the floor, his magnetic boots clanging as they grabbed for the deck. He could see black encroaching on the edges of his vision as the counter reached six seconds left and the door opened, and everyone piled in.

The door finished closing just as his counter reached zero, and could see his vision go red in the center as it began dwindling down to just a single point. A faint hiss met his echoing hearing, and he felt cool, refreshing air flood back into his lungs.

Laying on the floor, gasping for breath, his vision still hadn’t returned fully yet. He could vaguely feel his helmet retract and he continued to gasp like a beached fish. He could hear something vaguely calling out, echoing and tinny.

“Wha- wh- what's... g- going... on?” he gasped again, the black vignette around his view receding slowly, though his vision was still tinged red.

He could hear some sort of reply, but he couldn’t understand it through the vast number of distorted echoes ringing through his head.

“I... I- I can’t... h- hear you.” He wheezed, still trying to catch his breath. The echoes finally began to recede, but is vision was still blurry and tinged red. After blinking a few times, he realized it was only blurry, the lights were red. Scootaloo had flipped him onto his back, and everyone was gathered around, CD keeping an eye out while Johan check Sketch over.

“I said, you nearly suffocated. CD did better, he just used an air tank, but you almost died.” Johan said, crouched over him. “Three or four more seconds and you would’ve woken up a vegetable, man. Might’ve been a step up, but I don’t want you going popsicle, okay?”

“You asshat, I’d be the best vegetable you’ve ever seen.”

“Well, delirious is better than dead, so I’ll count that as okay enough. The lab is just a little ways away now.” Johan patted his friend and gave him a push to get him on his hooves. Scootaloo helped him up.

The woozy colt stood up, leaning on Scootaloo a little. The five ponies began to move out, looking around as they did. This section of the habitat didn’t have nearly as much of the corruption spread across it.

As a black-skinned slasher dropped out of a ceiling vent, Sweetie shouted, “Oh, come on!”

After few dozen more slashers, pukers, and the black-skinned slashers, they finally ran out of targets. Panting and looking around, they surveyed the carnage.

Standing alone in a small ring of charred bodies all her own, Sweetie made a succinct observation, “Madre del Sol, que nunca dejan de venir, ¿verdad?”

Everyone else just looked at her in confusion. Still in her demon-robot voice, she explained. “Mother of Celestia, they never stop coming, do they?”

“They do stop, just long enough to give us a sense of security.” CD noted. “Are they getting smarter, or am I starting to wear down from hunger? I haven’t had anything to eat since the torture room mush from a straw.”

“Uhm, possibly a little of each? Let’s hope they aren’t getting smarter...” Johan said.

The group continued on, finally finding the corridor with the door to the suite they were looking for. In the middle of the well-lit hall, just outside the door to suite 203, was a body, missing and arm and its head, looking like those bits had been sheared off by the door.

Considering the amount of blood on said door, that was likely what had happened. Several burn marks on the wall behind him, resembling Plasma Cutter shots, gave evidence that there was likely some sort of actual firefight. The fact that the corpse was wearing the remains of a Security official’s suit, gold stripes and everything to show him or her as a sergeant, only made everyone wary.

“Uh, Maybe I should go first? I am the medic, and if someone’s in need of help...” Johan trailed off his sentence, looking at the [Locked] message on the door.

“So how do we open it?” CD asked. “Again, all this high-tech security is not helpful in a catastrophe.”

Johan just shrugged. He stepped up to the door, slinging his Pulse Rifle back onto his shoulder. He stepped up to the door, and knocked on it. “Hey, is anyone still in th-”

“No! No, you stay back there. You wanna talk, you talk from out there. And don’t say you’re here to help. The last guys who did tried to kill me.” The voice was masculine, but sounded shaky

“We’re only here to help if you want help. How about we just talk?” CD spoke, hoping nothing with too many limbs ran through the door.

“Whether we talk or not, I’m a medic. I give you my word that I’m only here to heal folks and get rid of those necromorph things.”

“You know what they are?”

“Yeah, we found a bunch of video logs.” Johan said, motioning for the rest of the group to back away.

After a delay, he spoke again. “Which ones?”

“The other two saw the first one, and I saw the one that those two at the school had. we found another one a ways away, in a break room of some sort. Had a node-lock on it, didn’t look like someone had used it yet.”

“The first one was in a mall.” CD offered.

“The school! Are they safe? Are they still safe?” The voice sounded frantic, worried.

“Uh... some of them didn’t make it. There were too many necromorphs and we couldn’t get rid of them fast enough. A few kids... yeah. Sorry.” CD replied sadly.

“Some... some.” A faint sigh could be heard. “Just... At least you helped some.” There was a click, a beep, and the door changed to [Open]. Johan held a hand out to the rest of the group again, telling them to stay put.

“Hey, I’m going to come in alone, at least at first.” Johan called out through the door, reaching out to open it. “Are you injured in there?” He asked the question as the door slid open, dripping small bits of blood.

Inside was some sort of laboratory, lots of desk space, with plenty of mannequins with various types of suits on them. Most of them were human-shaped, and had dozens of tiny holograms floating around them, but a few were pony-based, similarly covered by floating holograms. On the floor was three dead bodies, all of them human.

One was missing both arms and had a vertical slit burned into his chest, another was missing both legs and had his head split down the middle, while the third was sitting not a meter away from the fourth thing in the room, the body chest-down and missing its head. The person sitting, slumped against the bank of computers in the corner, was holding an oddly bulky-looking Plasma Cutter-like device, still pointed resolutely at Johan. The figure was wearing a silvery-colored Engineering suit, unlike all the security-suited corpses lying around.

“Alright, you aren’t one of them.” He lowered the Cutter slightly. His voice sounded a little ragged, but otherwise mostly fine. “Said there was more of you, might as well let them in...” he said with a wave of his hand.

The two fillies came in first, quickly followed by the engineering suited colts. CD recognized the suit the man was wearing as a Forged Engineering suit, just like the one he was currently wearing. As they stepped in, his helmet retracted, showing an aged face with faint wrinkles at the edges of his ice-blue eyes and hair going very gray. It gave him quite the distinguished look as Johan knelt beside him, checking his RIG.

The man, nodding in a vaguely friendly fashion, waving at the group as he spoke. “The name’s Rick. Nice to see another living group.” He ran a hand through his hair, the motion showing that there was still some brown in it, but most had gone as silver as the metal of his suit.

“Alright, you look fine, but a little medigel would do good for you.” Johan said, “If you have any, I’d suggest using it.”

“Waitaminute, you’re the guy from the school! The one who saved me, Dave, and Rusty!” Scoots yelled, pointing at Rick.

“Hold on... Scootaloo? That you?” He asked with a questioning tone.

She nodded, tapping her helmet to turn off the reflective state. Once Rick saw her face, happy and smiling under the thick layer of synthetic glass, he too smiled.

“Yeah... it seems we’ve been trying to find you since this whole thing began.” CD noted. “I figured anyone who knows more than us would be someone worth finding.”

“Yeah, I was looking for you, but you ran off!” the orange filly said, sounding a bit unhappy.

“I was trying to do all I could, I just can’t stand by and let others die.” He said shaking his head slightly. Then he turned to CD. “If you have been looking for me that long, I guess you found some of my little ‘gifts’?”

“Well, most of them were already ransacked, but we did get some stuff.” CD recalled the rooms “But you obviously are trying to help, and you did. Quite a lot.”

“Yup. Most things were broken, barricaded, or looted, thankfully we managed to save a class, and Scoots here was hiding in the vents.”

Rick placed his hand on his chin in thought. “Did you happen to find the schematics?”

“Yeah, I have the one for the Shockpoint Suit. Wait, did you steal that?” Johan asked, mildly scared.

“What? No! I designed it.” Rick said defensively.

“Daaamn. Scoots, could you imagine if you had that suit though?” Sketch asked.

"Well... We couldn’t get the Shockpoint Drive to work, so we just had the power rerouted to make the Stasis Unit recharge faster and last longer. The suit doesn’t work like the way you’re thinking, not yet.” Rick said with a shake of his head. “It still works in general, though.”

Sketch hung his head sadly. “Damn, oh well, still sounds fun.”

“Okay, Rick, you good to go? we need to find food soon, if we’re going to get far, and the only thing that even vaguely resembles edible so far is each other, and I wouldn’t eat a pony. Not without a lot of ketchup, at least.” Johan said jokingly, though the general thought of the statement was still serious. none of them had eaten in at least three hours.

“If you need food I got some stored. Though it isn’t a lot it is enough to at least keep a man, or pony, going.” Rick said, pointing to some boxes off to the side. “Go ahead, I already ate some.”

“You are the best person ever!” CD said rather loudly, running for the chance to finally get some food inside his stomach. Ripping apart the boxes that Rick had gestured to, CD ripped open the bar’s wrappers, devouring the contents wholesale. The vaguely chocolate-flavored coverings left a thick smear of melted chocolate across his muzzle. When he paused to catch his breath, he looked up to see Summer, with many chunks of form missing, looking vaguely angry and pointing at the rest of the group. CD looked over them, and saw they were being kept away from the food by his position.

“Uh... sorry?” CD grabbed a few more bars and moved away to let the others by.

“Not cool, man, not cool.” Scoots said, shaking her head disapprovingly. The bars on her helmet retracted, the synthetic glass over her face flipping upwards with a hiss as the pressure locks disengaged.

CD mumbled back “Yeah, let’s see how well you do being fed nothing but nutritionless, tasteless goop through a straw for a year, then having nothing at all for about seventeen hours.” CD then continued to eat the bars he had taken.

“Alright, fine. Hey Scoots, how are you on food?”

“Eh, I haven’t eaten in almost six hours, I’m really hungry. Hey, Rick, you got any water?”

The silver-suited engineer nodded, and told her how to find the supply of distilled water. Everyone got a drink as they each collected food for themselves. Everyone was able to snag at least six bars.

“Alright, thanks, break time.” Sketch said, him and Scoots sitting against a wall off to the side.

CD sat in a different corner, looking at the others, each of which had their own pulsing, blue network of veins and arteries flashing as he watched. The red haze of symbols still hadn’t left the edges of his vision, but he was more than a little surprised to see that Rick had a small cloud of the symbols floating over his head.

The symbols, now that he looked at them, spelled words hovering over the man’s head, words like ‘guilt’ and ‘pain’. In fact, the cloud looked like dozens of spirals, each composed of sentences. considering he hadn’t seen this sort of formation around anyone else’s heads or anything.

CD looked to one side, where Summer was currently sitting, portions of her body gone, replaced instead with that glaring light, like at the edges of a burnt-out piece of old-style film on a projector.

Everything was really confusing, and he wanted to know what the symbols were, and he figured asking Rick wouldn’t hurt seeing as he seemed to know more than anyone else.

Standing up, CD walked over and said, “Hey, Rick, do you see any floating glowing symbol things?” He did his best to keep a ‘I’m not totally crazy’ face.

Rick tilted his head slightly. “What type of symbols?”

“Uh, well, they’re kinda like letters, but not in any language I recognize, but I can kinda read them. Is that helpful?”

“Can you write something down? There should be pens and paper everywhere around here.” Rick said while pulling open a drawer looking inside. He fished out a pen and pad of paper with a bajillion little scribbles, doodles, and mathematical formulas all over it. Flipping to a blank page, he handed them to CD, who accepted it.

“Thank goodness for suit fingers. I got used to the mechanical ones in Engineering school.” He proceeded to draw a close, but not very clear representation of the symbols above Rick’s head. One of the groups he went for was the ones he saw the most, ‘guilt’.

After a pause he finally responded. “W- where did you see these?” His voice wavered as he traced the symbols, disturbingly familiar. His hand shook slightly as he did, and his voice was as serious as it could be with how scared he sounded.

“Well, I see them on the weird necro-growth, and other places, but the symbols I drew here are floating above your head for some reason.” CD paused. “I think it says-”

“‘Guilt’... It says ‘guilt’.” Rick interrupted him.

“So you can read these? I can’t really understand them except by luck or something. Do you know what the symbols are?”

“I can somewhat read it. It’s Unitology Script, eh... Their alphabet.”

“Unitology? Sorry, I’m not terribly religious... I just follow Celestia. So what exactly is the deal with Unitologists? Like what do they do?”

“They believe in a god whose sign is that of the Markers. They’re big, spirally stone things supposedly covered in those symbols. If I remember EarthGov tried to use them for a source of infinite power. Apparently, this guy named Michael Altman, back on old Earth, prevented them from doing that with the first marker they found, and they blew it up with him trying to save it. Made him a martyr, and his teachings got out, and now the Unitologists don’t like EGov much anymore. I wanted to learn about the alphabet, and I got to learn a bunch of other stuff like the whole reason the Church of Unitology is always pushing for more freedom for the press to operate.”

Rick paused for a moment to catch his breath and take a swig of water.

“I ran into the symbols a little before that, but I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s back then when I first saw those Necromorphs, though.“

“So these Unitologists create the Necromorphs? Why would they do that?”

Rick shook his head, not wanting to talk on the subject anymore.

“Sorry, I know it’s a bit touchy, but I never saw any of this stuff since my brain was turned into a pincushion by these nutjob scientists. I just wanna know why they locked me up for a year and messed with my memories... Sorry, I shouldn’t dump all this on you.”

Rick sighed, and slowly he began. “Some things... Some things should be, just forgotten...”

Rick put his helmet back up, signalling the end of the conversation, and left CD wondering what that was all about. Forgetting and not knowing was his whole problem.

Meanwhile, Sketch was leaning against a wall, with Scootaloo snuggled up to his side, wing over his back. The two ate in companionable silence, ending with Scootaloo kissing him on the cheek.

“Affectionate one aren’t you?”

Scootaloo just smiled and licked the chocolate off his cheek. “Just trying to keep your attention.”

“Well mission accomplished, what's the reward?”

“How about a kiss on the lips? Then it’s a reward for us both.” She batted her eyes coyly at him.

“Hmmmmm, I agree to these terms.”

The two met with an awkward, lopsided kiss, as neither of them actually knew what they were doing, but that was alright. Once they corrected a bit, it was thoroughly enjoyable.

“Huh, I think we need more practice.” The filly noted, looking a little flushed.

“Probably, only been with... “ Sketch actually had to think for a moment, “Two mares before.”

“Heh, I’ve got you beat then. I’ve been with three.”

“Coltfriends?”

“No, mares.”

Author's Note

Shawn820 has entered the scene.
Props to his for being my adjutant along the way until now, and helping me get several ideas for other stories worked out in the process.

And please remember to vote for your favorite and least favorite characters in this chapter. Every vote counts!

Ch20 - Window Shopping

As everyone grabbed a couple of bars and began to move out, Johan and Rick now leading the way.

“Alright, we have to go through the depressurized zone again. It’s the only way to the tram station.” Johan said.

“Hey Sketch, here’s so you don’t end up in a respirator unit if you’re lucky after another.” CD said, as he tossed an air tank toward the white pony.

Sketch caught it and added it to his own inventory. Sketch continued to think about the things Scoots had said, including mentioning exactly where to go for when he did get around to being with her. He’d steered the conversation away from that quickly, and was now trying to find something to torment her with in return. Finally, his mind settled on the magazine, which he remembered that CD had given back to her.

“From what I saw in your magazine you like colts quite a bit.”

“Oh, you saw that, too? I had been wondering where it went... And yeah, I like colts, meat’s always good, but sometimes you want fish, not sausage. I even have one of the entire wonderbolts team, and one for the shadowbolts, too. You know, the famous EVA team? Their captain, Night Star, has one nice flank... and her lieutenant looks like he’d be nice to sandwich with her...”

“And you’re still a virgin how?”

“Age of consent. Nobody want to get in trouble for picking the fruit too early.”

“Alright, just seems that you’re a bit too into sex for your age. Being interested is normal, but on this level is a bit off putting.”

“Sorry, watching Mom come home with a different stallion or, ahem, man each night, on a schedule so they each get their time each week, kinda inures you to it. And besides, I got some fantastic pointers from them. No practicals of course, but theory is still good. Especially since I was, what, seven or eight back then? Mom’s kinda slowed down on that, and settled on just Vincent and Caramel Apple.” She seemed awfully blase about the whole thing.

“ ... I don’t know how to respond to that. At least I have some experience.”

“I mostly have experience in the seduction department, but that’s mostly because I had to initiate most of the time. Still, there’s no time like the near future for changing my status. If you know what I mean.” The orange filly winked at her coltfriend from behind her helmet.

“ I’m almost tempted to just get it over with so we can have a normal conversation. It isn’t that life changing.”

“Heh. Anyways, We should get going. The way things have been going, we’re going to get eaten... and not by each other.” Scoots smacked him on the flank with her tail to emphasize her point, and moved faster.

“You’re the horniest mare I’ve ever seen, where were you when I was in art school?”

“Being taught how to lick a mare or girl just right by one of the other gals in school? Either that or beating the living shit out of the bullies, one of the two.”

“First one I should’ve seen coming, second one, nice.”

“Thanks.”

Once the two had caught up, the group took less than two minutes to reach the airlock. As they clustered outside, Johan gestured to them. “Alright, let’s get ready to head out. Sketch, you have an air tank this time, right?”

“Yup, unless someone wants to give me mouth to mouth and risk me turning into a carrot.”

“Idunno, I could find a use for you then...” Scootaloo said, teasingly.

“Okay, stop it, you guys. Seriously.” Johan facepalmed, holding his faceplate in his hand. “Holy shit... alright, let’s get going, I’m opening the door.”

“Scoots, I am not to be stuffed and mounted in death, specifically the mounted part.”

Scootaloo just chuckled as the door opened. The whoosh of air accompanied it, followed by near-silence in the vacuum. The whole group of people began to thread their way into the wrecked section of the habitat, this time turning away from where they’d come from previously.

As they floated along, Rick tapped some sort of control on his wrist unit. A small, rectangular thing popped off, a series of tiny microthrusters pushing it along. He continued along his path, following Johan.

CD stopped long enough to wonder what it was. Not lingering long, however, he continued to follow, resolving to ask later about it. Sweetie, nearby him, hadn’t even paused.

Scootaloo continued to tow Sketch along. It wasn’t particularly difficult, all she had to do was hold him and use the thrusters on her wings. In all, the flight was almost remarkably unremarkable.

Until they got to the airlock.

Sighting out in front of it, Johan and Rick could see a pair of small shapes moving swiftly in the poor lighting near the door. Johan, over the radios, asked Rick if he knew what they were.

“Not entirely sure... They almost look like small child... ren...-”

One of the small shapes stopped moving, a trio of long, skinny shapes suddenly sprouting from it.

“Lurkers! Move!”

“Wait, whats?” Johan tried to keep an eye on the scientist/engineer, as he boosted away from the group. Johan was interrupted as something sharp suddenly hit him in the gut, partially piercing his suit.

As he cried out in pain, CD and Sweetie saw Johan making a throwing gesture at the thing, a bolt of blue flying out and enveloping it in a stasis field.

The other shape extended a trio of tentacles.

CD wondered if it was possible to get a shot in, but he was not so sure of his combat skills when he couldn’t see the targets very easily.

As he pondered, he saw Sweetie raise her tesla gun while jetting towards the things. As she drifted closer, CD saw both of them reorient on her. A sudden flashback to the brute sped through his mind, and he prepared to tackle her, as a trio of barbs, trailing some sort of vapor, went zooming past him.

Sketch, not too far behind CD, shouted in pain as one of the projectiles that had missed the engineer instead buried itself into his leg.

Everyone with limbs free drew or raised their weapons, aiming at the alien monstrosities. Bolts of plasma and pulse rounds screamed through space at the creatures, blowing off limbs and shredding their small bodies.

Once they stopped firing back, Johan and Rick drifted forward. CD looked them over, and knew they were dead again, as they held no traces of the faint red pulse he’d seen of them just before they’d attacked. He couldn’t deny its usefulness, but knowing the necromorphs had some relation, it unnerved him.

Johan got closer, poking one of the now-drifting bodies with his Pulse Rifle. It was the remains of a toddler, with only a few, relatively minor changes to to its physiology. In all, it was just heartbreaking, that even the children weren’t somehow immune to the corrupting influence.

As the group clustered at the door, Sketch having had to use his air tank due to the puncture his suit had received, they went inside without further incident. Sketch was sitting down as the atmosphere continued to pour into the room, re-pressurizing it, that the suits were self-sealing.

Johan jerked out the barb that had been embedded in his stomach. “Fuck, what is it with today and me getting gut-shot? Holy hell, this is messed up...”

He trailed off as he looked around. The area had used to have dozens of lit candles, and the walls were painted heavily with graffiti. The gust of wind had put out the candles, but the legions of symbols scrawled along the walls and floor remained.

While most of the group couldn’t read it, CD could read it perfectly, as if the entire thing had been written in perfect standard, though he could see the ephemeral forms of the actual symbols superimposed over them.

The message, repeated ad nauseum, was singular.

Holy creatures, transform me into your servant, show me the path to enlightenment,

as you alter my flesh and free my soul.

CD felt his flesh seem to crawl as he read the words over and over, each written in a dark brownish-red. The letters seemed to glisten in the dull red light from the emergency lamps. Everything in the hallway was flushed with red, strangely causing the words to be highlighted in his vision.

“What the fuck...” Johan started, “... is this shit?”

“From what I can tell, which is basic layman’s terms, it’s Necromorph language.” CD shrugged, half of not knowing a better term and half to try and shake the odd feeling. “I... uh, wish I couldn’t read it, pretty disturbing if you ask me...”

“Affirmative...” Sweetie rumbled, “this is in Unitology script, and the message is very... disturbing.”

“Just, lets go. I can’t stand here reading this.” Rick mumbled, shaking his head.

The other members of the group nodded, and they quickly moved down the hall. Looking to one side, they saw they were on a balcony, looking down on the lower floor. A massive statue of a marker, the base surrounded by the extremely prevalent candles, stood nearly to the ceiling.

In alcoves in the walls on the same floor they were on, were smaller marker statues. However, each of these were lit, as if from within, and covered in a tight spiral of the Unitology script. As CD noticed them, he felt a slight spike of a headache stab into his brain, and he looked away. He could hear a faint whispering, like a thousand quiet voices speaking softly.

“Okay, what are those things, and why do they make my head hurt. More importantly, why do they talk to me?” CD questioned, looking at the rest of the team. “Any ideas, or am I just more messed up than usual?”

Johan started to speak, taking a nervous step towards CD. “Uh, those are Marker replicas, but I have no idea-”

“Shut it off! Shut it off shut it off shut it off!” Rick’s helmet had retracted while nobody had been looking, and he was on his knees, hands clasped over his ears. He was growling the words with a combination of anger and utter terror.

“Did we just mess up something else?”

“I- I don’t know, Sketch. Scoots, Sweetie, did either of you see what’s causing this?”

Before either filly could respond, Rick slammed his fists to the sides of his head, beginning to mutter under his breath. “Not again. Not again. Not again...” Tears glistened in the corners of the man’s eyes.

“The statue-things you idiots!” CD yelled, assuming that was the cause of the problem, but thinking was hard while dealing with the pain and the voices.

As Johan went to aim at one, Sweetie grabbed his arm, dragging his aim away. “Don’t! They’re impervious to most weapons, the shots will just ricochet!” Her voice was, again, demonic and commanding, the flat, robotic tone getting her point across quite well. Johan was more than a little shocked to find her putting as much force into holding his arm down as she was, too. He couldn’t raise his arm, and he had lifted her in the past.

“Just smash them or something. Get rid of them!” CD was really not enjoying his situation, and it seemed Rick was affected by it much more than he was.

The filly again shouted for them to stop. “Contact increases affliction in 98.7% of all cases. The remaining 1.3% suffer immediately lethal mass organ failure.”

“Easy to say when your brain isn’t being assaulted! I don’t care how, but stop them, it might kill me anyway!”

“Proximity is not lethal until subjects self-terminate. Suggestion: remove subjects from immediate vicinity for enhanced chances of survival and prolonged exposure results. End of Test 9407.83-” Sweetie’s voice began to glitch and sputter electronically. Scootaloo was already trying to drag her away, towards the nearest elevator.

“Sure, tell us how to solve the problem, then do nothing to help us.” CD complained. “Yeah, fuck you too!”

As the colt shouted hoarsely at the fillies, he was unable to see the white-suited filly twitching and spasming. Johan, meanwhile, had grabbed both CD and Rick by an armpit each and was dragging them as quickly as he could across the trash-strewn floor.

CD could hear the whispers receding as soon as they were just a few meters from the statues, and Rick had simply curled up, weeping into his armored hands. Sweetie was twitching fiercely, and Scootaloo was holding her, keeping her head straight, and muttering soothingly at her. Sketch was sitting next to them both, unsure of what to do.

“Yeah, thanks for all the help, Sketch, way to help out the team.” CD felt really uneasy and needed to take it out on something. “What’s your next plan, do nothing while we get shot at?”

“Excuse me for not doing anything when she warned of a 98.7% chance of getting fucked up, and a 1.3% chance of instant death.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make much sense when me and Rick were being almost literally mindfucked without even hardly looking at it, dick.”

“Not like we have a goddamn telepathic link, not to mention I still don’t know exactly what the fuck just happened.”

“Neither do I, but I think I made it pretty clear Rick and I needed help. If you want us dead, just say so, don’t just sit there and watch, it would save you a lot of trouble.” CD was staring harshly at the so-far-useless pony.

“Would both of you children shut the hell up?! Sketch, you goofed. Next time, help haul folks, neither the pony nor the grown man were particularly light. Copy, you need to chill. I understand that something is trying to eat your brain from the inside out, but you need to keep it together. Or else we all die, and every death so far will be-”

“Completely pointless, I know, I said so earlier. But keeping it together is what I’m trying to do. I know I should calm down, and I agree that I should, but it’s hard to when all this stuff is happening and I have no idea why. I probably wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t... oh forget it.” CD was tired of complaining. He still needed to vent, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“How about we stop this pissing match early and do something productive!” Sketch shouted.

“I agree, better yet, take your own advice!” CD retorted. He knew he should stop, but Sketch just wouldn’t stop getting on his nerves. “Seriously, what did you do?”

“I stopped adding to this pointless argu-”

“SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY!” Johan yelled at the top of his lungs, leaving everyone cringing away. He’d yelled into his loudspeakers, which were meant in case he, as a medic, needed to make an important announcement.

And, as he stood in front of the door, breathing hard and pointing his gun, the grenade launcher prepped, into the center of the elevator.

“I am sick, and tired, of these damned arguments. We will not have another, or I will personally put a grenade up the ass of the one who starts it, and the one who feeds it. Is that understood?” Johan’s voice was dark and gravelly.

CD said nothing, he never really planned on agreeing with someone who resorts to threats, and he wasn’t going to make a habit of it.

“Now we can finally move on.” Sketch added.

“You’re no better, so stuff the holier-than-thou attitude, Sketch! “

Sketch was going to respond, but just shut his mouth as soon as he opened it, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

CD wasn't quite finished yet, he still had one question. "Sketch, why did you let Applebloom die?"

“What the fuck?!.”

CD sighed before responding "Fine then, I'll explain why Applebloom is dead." CD turned to address the group. "I shoot at the giant monster and keep it from finishing off Johan. The monster is now charging at me. Sketch has an armed weapon, and the monster is too big to miss. The shot doesn't need to hurt the beast, distract it. If Sketch could draw it's attention, Johan and I might have had time to finish it off." CD looked towards Sketch. "If you had done something, anything, Applebloom wouldn't have had to sacrifice herself to save me. Why? Why did you do nothing and let her die?" CD's voice was no longer angry. It was sad and confused.

“I don’t fucking know! My brain just froze for a moment, I couldn’t do anything! If it ran at me I probably would have been the one who died.”

“What? So you, you wouldn’t help unless you were directly involved?”

“No, I’m saying I just blacked out for a moment, whether I was involved or not I just had a mental lapse. If it came at me I don’t think I would’ve been able to do anything.”

“Alright, so you have blackouts, great. Any idea how we can predict when you’re going to shut down?”

“No, just don’t do anything stupid to save me, if I blackout in the middle of a mob, use me as bait and run, I fucked up once, not doing it again.”

“The issue isn’t that you are in trouble, it’s the fact that people get injured or die because one of our teammates can’t help. You are not the issue, the results are, they affect others more than yourself.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I haven’t seen a doctor in three years, no money. Just hit me in the head or something, try anything.”

Johan sighed, and put an armored gauntlet to his faceplate. “Sketch, I doubt you have anything worse than some autism. CD, stop pestering him, Sketch, stop being so gloomy. Stop the argument right here. Please.” He looked back up at the group, the intimidating ‘evil smiley’ of his helmet’s plating glaring at the group.

“Okay.” Sketch said, shutting his trap.

CD sighed “Sketch, if we are in a fight, dealing with you may not be an option. We need to focus on what’s attacking us. We can’t just fix you on the spot. So, how do we deal with this, if you keep doing this, then the likelihood of other’s dying is rather high... at this point, I’d actually consider you a danger.” CD paused. “Not that I want to, but it’s true.”

CD turned to Johan. “Johan, stop micromanaging everything we do. I’m not arguing anymore, I’m addressing a serious issue that got one filly killed, and a few others injured. I don’t like it either, but just because he’s your friend doesn’t allow you to ignore the fact that as of now, he’s causing serious problems.”

“You’re both causing issues. But, I’m sorry for the micromanaging. You all volunteered, but I’ll try to-” Johan’s apology was cut short as the elevator ‘ding’d. He turned towards the door, which was opening. “Uh... who hit the button?”

Nobody in the elevator spoke up, each of them looking either to each other or over at the door.

A low hissing gurgle met their ears, and Scootaloo screamed as the puker blasted a frothy, caustic bile across the entire elevator.

Johan reacted in the span of the intervening second, throwing himself over Sweetie Belle protectively. CD tried his best the get out of the way, wishing he had been lucky enough to dodge the blast entirely, as the bile drenched his back and legs.

Scootaloo, under Johan’s bulk with Sweetie, was spared much of the acidic spray, but got a good look as it began to eat into the red-and-cream plates of Johan’s armor, and CD also shouting in pain as it cut into the joints of the suit he wore.

Remembering his encounter with this type of necromorph, Sketch aimed his divot and began firing rapidly at the creatures limbs through the acid spray, hoping this acid bath would end as fast as possible.

Between yelps of pain, CD managed to speak up. “Don’t stand there, owowow, shoot it, ow-.”

Taking his own advice, CD shot a few horizontal shots from his Cutter, aiming at the creature’s legs. “Fall down, stay down, come on.” The shots hit the thing in the head and one leg, each limb’s removal followed by a further gout of boiling acid pouring from the wound. Each of the splashes washed across the survivors once more, eliciting screams from the awake filly as they were splashed, thankfully lightly, by the caustic bile.

Rick, through all of that, remained curled up on the far side of the elevator, more or less ignoring the splashes of bile and the screams of pain and fear. Still muttering and clutching his helmet, he had fully blocked out the world around him.

Scootaloo, taking some initiative, fired a few blasts from her own Cutter, striking the thing across the back and cleaving it open with a flurry of shots. The thing began crawling towards her, even minus its head, spewing further sprays of caustic fluid across the elevator.

Sketch began to fire at the now crawling monstrosity, aiming for the arms and shoulders. CD assisted, switching back to vertical blasts, trying to aim mainly at where the shoulder meets the arm.

The creature’s left arm blew off in another spray of caustic gore. The spray hit the walls and floor, droplets splattering across the the people huddled in the elevator. Then, the creature was still, just a low gurgle marking its passage back into death.

“Well, that was eventful, didn’t know they were smart enough to use elevators.” CD said, a bit confused. “I thought they were all running on instinct.”

While CD analyzed the creatures actions, Sketch went to check on Johan and the girls, medigel at the ready. The large human groaned as he stood up, the caustic gunk hissing and crackling as it ate at his armor. The fillies, thankfully were largely safe, just spots and specks of damaged enamel and metal plating.

“So, now what? I still want to know where they got the intelligence to access basic machinery.” CD wondered. “Unless they are getting smarter, what do we do if they are?”

Johan shook his head. “We hope they aren’t, because that’s pretty much the only major advantage we have. That and our long-range attacks.” He paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Oh, wait, the baby-things with the barb shooting. Shit, intelligence is our only remaining advantage over them!”

“And that isn’t saying much, more importantly, do any of you need medigel? Are you okay girls?” Sketch asked.

“I’m going to need a bit.” CD said, his legs still hurting. “But if they can use elevators, then can’t they open doors? We’d have to set up blockades, and that would only stop the smaller ones.” CD sounded rather worried.

“I- I’m fine.”Johan said, brushing a few of the lingering acid patches off his armor. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle both said the same, and Johan activated two of his medigel, the gentle tone accompanied by his status bars refilling. Johan waved a hand towards CD and Rick, and told Sketch to check on them. “And it looks like I’m on point.” he muttered as he stepped out, sweeping around the one corner of the area.

Back in the elevator, Sketch and CD were checking over Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, both of whom insisted they were fine. In the back of the elevator, the screaming in Rick’s mind faded back to more rational levels.

“Man, you okay Rick? I got messed up too, but I think I got it easier. What’s with those statues anyway? Why didn’t it hurt you guys?” CD questioned. “How does a statue even do that? Rick and I were nowhere near its range, according to Sweetie.” the aforementioned filly was still laying, apparently unconscious, on the floor of the elevator.

Rick only shook his head in response, not wanting to talk at the moment.

“Okay, uh, so anyway, why do those statues only mess with our heads?” He turned to Sketch. “Did you feel anything when Johan dragged us out?”

“No, might’ve still been blacking out.”

CD shook his head, and went to ask Johan his experience during the ordeal. As CD stepped out of the elevator, he looked around the dark, cramped hallway. The pan of his cutter’s flashlight swept across the dirty, debris-strewn hall, thick layers of necromorph tissue growing on the walls. A sweep of light from around a corner indicated where Johan had gone, the jerking motion of the light indicating he was moving quickly.

Expecting the worst, CD prepared himself to run, and shoot backwards in case it was rather quick. From around the corner came Johan, sprinting forward and sliding as he went around the corner. Scrambling up, he turned to look back down the hall before more or less collapsing to his knees. Even CD, through the intervening helmets and space, could hear Johan’s labored breaths.

“You okay? Why did you get so far away from the group?” CD walked forward, listening for anything that might pop out of the floor or whatever. As if to confirm his paranoia (which isn’t paranoia if you’re right) a small bundle-like shape flew down the hall, like a baby in swaddling cloths. As it landed, Johan immediately leveled his gun at it, and a single tentacle sprouted from the top of the creature. A low, pained wail echoed down the hall in grotesque counterpoint to the wet schlick of the tendril’s erupture. As Johan began firing at it, he also began to back towards the elevator.

Although rather disgusted by the sight and sounds, CD wasted no time before shooting at it, resolving to wonder what the heck it was, or used to be, at a later, less important moment.

The pod-thing gave a high-pitched screech that rivaled the volume of Johan’s chattering pulse rifle. The tendril whipped, and a lone barb flew out and slammed into Johan’s shoulder-plate, jerking his aim away, nearly drawing a line across CD with the automatic rifle.

“Damn tiny targets!” CD complained as he kept trying to shoot the pod-creature. The horizontal shots blasted through and into the tendril, severing it cleanly near the base. The little beast shrieked thinly again, then was still. After a moment, it popped like a balloon.

Johan sat down again, this time fully around the corner. “B- by the way, they explode if you’re too close.” He gestured at his legs, which were covered in a semi-fluid material that was gray-white and stank horribly, like rotten meat and molding vegetables, even through the suit filters. There was also some serious denting of the metal plates around there, showing a pretty good idea of the effects of the blast.

“Ugh, no shit.” CD said, trying to ignore the mess. “So why did you decide leaving the group to go off alone with no backup was a good idea?”

“Because all of you needed to rest, and the group needed to get a good idea of what was up ahead. That said, there’s a big... uhm, person, stuck to the wall. Looked like they were... still alive. And right next to the door we need to take.”

“And you didn’t even bother to... oh nevermind, come on Mr. ‘I can be fine all by myself with nobody watching my back.”

“No, no I can’t. But you all need to rest a hell of a lot more than I need backup for looking around a corner. Still, do you think these things are a response to us going this way? Or maybe just it was there and we’re just happening to go by it?”

“I don’t think that’s the problem, I think the problem is that you were too impatient to wait for us and almost got killed.”

“I did not almost get killed, if you check, my health is just fine. I am well prepared. If I hadn’t gone for medic, I could’ve been on long patrol. Now, if you want to keep complaining, I can exclude you from the meeting when I show everyone else what’s coming up next. Or, you can stop complaining. What option do you want?”

“I’m not complaining at all, and I choose the option where you stop acting like a commanding officer and start acting like a team member.” CD said calmly, before turning to go back the the rest of the group.

“Maybe you didn’t notice, being a crazy, half-amnesiac twit, that I happen to actually be the commanding officer. Oh, wait, you’re just maintenance, not an actual officer. I have earned my place in life, and am going to tell you right now-”

“That you have the right to act superior and be a dick? Good for you. When you’re ready to accept that others help you just as much as you help them, I’ll like you more. Or I could-”

“I don’t need you to like me! Just listen! If you keep ignoring what I say, me, the guy with the training for combat at least, then everyone is going to die! I’ve already got the deaths of my friend and that young filly to deal with! I have the experience, and being nice did nothing!” Johan was shouting again, and had taken several steps towards the earth pony engineer. Deep in CD’s mind, two parts of him were at war, his ancient instincts and his will to stand up for himself. Instinct was saying to back down, as the large predator was stepping closer, while his will was telling him to stand his ground.

“I know it doesn’t.” CD turned and walked back, heading for the group. “But I wouldn’t suggest threatening me, doing so is different than threatening someone else, so should we get back now?”

“Fine. But you need to pay attention. I’m not just giving orders to hear my own voice; I’ve been training for a military command for literally six years now. And you dividing the group will get us all killed.” Johan sighed, “Let’s just get back, yeah.”

The two looked about as they got back to the elevator, Johan breathing deeply behind his helmet. “Alright, guys, there’s something new up ahead. Big thing, stuck to a wall. Throws big pod-things, each of which explodes if you’re nearby, or just sits there and shoots you.” Johan reached up to his shoulder and ripped out the barb that had been stuck there. “They don’t have a lot of force, compared to the baby-things, the lurkers. But, they are ranged. And I think that the person stuck to the wall is still alive in there.”

Johan stopped his explanation, calling up his holographic recording to display what he’d seen.

“That’s pretty.” CD said sarcastically. “And it throws living explosives that shoot? Okay, what’s the plan after everyone’s rested?”

“Well, I think that once we’re all up, I think Sketch should use that line gun of his to drop another mine below it, then we retreat, while everyone else is firing at the pods to keep us from being overwhelmed. Sound good?” Everyone able to, nodded in agreement.

“Alright, next order of business, at least for me. How’s Sweetie Belle doing? And what was with that thing she did earlier? I need answers, Scootaloo, and I need them sooner, rather than later.” His voice was softer than it had been in a while, and sounded a bit scratchy from all the yelling he’d done.

Scootaloo looked left and right, obviously not wanting to say anything.

“What’s up?” CD asked. “Is something wrong with Sweetie?”

Scootaloo looked over to Sketch. “Uhm, I- I’d rather not- that is, we kinda promised... me and Applebloom, that is...” She looked up again, face still hidden behind her mask.

“Well if he says it’ll help, you might want to say it now, please Scoots? Also, I think I can land a mine in front of that thing, just be sure no one is nearby, we don’t need another accident.”

“Anyway, Scootaloo, if it is important information that could help, then everyone knowing would be more beneficial than ignorance of possible options.” CD started. “And why is it such a big secret? We’ve already seen plenty of crazy stuff.”

“Because... because we promised. Both of us did. Me an’...” Scootaloo sniffled. “Me an’ Ap- Applebloom...” Scootaloo sniffled again and began to whimper slightly. The helmet covering her head began to retract, and she wiped at her streaming eyes. “We promised... t- together...”

“Alright, fine, whatever.” CD sighed. “We have a plan, we know what we need to do, and there’s nothing stopping us except everyone being ready. So, when do we go, since there’s no other plan of action at this moment.” CD turned to Johan. “So are we ready?”

“Yeah... I kinda want to know what’s going on, but we can wait until we’re in a more secure area, there’s far too many places for these things to flank us from.” Johan turned to regard Sketch from behind his helmet. “Remember, Sketch, plant the mine and get back. When you fire the mine, yell ‘fire in the hole’, just like in the movies.” The man turned away from Sketch, towards the rest of the group. “When he does, we all back the hell away.”

“Really?” CD snarked. “I had no idea explosives were dangerous. Thanks for the incredible foresight.”

“I was more saying to pay attention to when we yell, and what to listen for, exactly. I don’t want any more deaths than absolutely, 100%, strictly necessary.”

“I know, calm down, but really, I think it’s pretty obvious what we have to do, we’re not as stupid as a bunch of rookies.” CD stated, “We understand the gravity of the situation.”

“Alright. Scootaloo, since you don’t want to say anything, can you at least give us an ETA for when Sweetie will wake up? You seem to know what’s going on.” Johan looked over at the red-eyed orange filly.

“So wait, are the fillies coming with us? Or are they going to stay here?” CD questioned. “Neither situation is at all safe for them.”

Johan cleared his throat, then clarified. “I was going to have them stay near the back of the group. I don’t want to leave them alone, but I want them as far from the fight as possible without losing track of them.”

“Alright, Sketch, you’re ready and you know what to do, right?” CD asked, looking towards the pony. “We absolutely can not have you blackout during this, we need you to focus, alright?”

“Focus is... conducive to... proper aiming of... ranged weaponry. And tools.” Sweetie’s voice was both unexpected, and weaker than normal.

“Yeah, thanks marshmallow, and don’t worry, I’m fine, and I’m a pretty good shot with the mine.”

“Previous evidence... concurs. Oww...” The filly sounded more like her normal self with the last part, like a child with a skinned knee. “I think I hit my head back there.”

As she spoke, Scootaloo was helping her to her hooves.

“You remember anything that happened?” CD asked, hoping she didn’t have any damage that wasn’t visible. “Anything at all?”

“Just- just a loud tone, and too many... whispers. Like- like b- back at the th-” The young white unicorn’s voice began to tremble, and she leaned into Scootaloo as the other pony held her close. The pegasus made quiet shushing noises, completely out of place in the morbid atmosphere of the area, muttering something to the bone-colored unicorn filly.

CD looked rather confused and worried. “So, uh, did plans change? Is she okay? What happened to her?”

“She was born. End of story, alright? She’ll be fine. Just-” Scootaloo sighed. “Try not to-”

“Just drop it, I understand.” CD said somewhat quietly. “Yeah, so what happens now?” He turned to Johan.

Instead, Sweetie spoke up, back in her metallic voice. “Continue with the proscribed plan. It has the highest chance of succeeding out of fifty-eight projected possibilities.” Scootaloo just nodded in agreement. speaking quietly, she said, “Yeah, what she said. She’ll be fine.”

“Will be, or is?” CD needed a bit of clarification. “What I want to know-”

“She’ll be fine! I can help her if need be, just- just help get to safety. I owe ‘Bloom that much, at least.” Scoots’ helmet slid back into place over her scowling, angry expression as she spoke. “Let’s just get out of here, alright?”

Johan shook his head exasperatedly. “If everyone else is ready, then I suppose we will. Any objections?” He spoke as if he already knew the answer.

“No.” CD stated. “Just questions, but they can wait.”

“One last thing, run in, fire, run out? Just making sure that is the entirety of our plan.” Sketch looked around as he spoke.

“You shoot and announce that you shot, that way we get a heads up.” CD reminded. “We need everyone aware of what’s happening if explosions are involved.”

“Yeah. That’s the plan. So if everyone’s ready, let’s get going.” Johan said.

Johan gave Rick a hand up, and everyone began filing out of the elevator. Peering around the corner, the group saw the creature attached to the wall in full, across the common area. The massive, dark marker statue stood like a silent watcher, and the creature across the wide open room began to moan in pain as they came into view. The creature, its human face still very recognizable, looked like it was in incredible agony. A group of pad-ended tentacles burst forth from its chest in a small explosion of gore as they tore free.

The creature screamed in pain, and a wide hole in its belly rippled, spasmed, and a thick pod shot from the cavity. The pod, looking like a massive, malformed fetus, immediately extruded a tendril from its back. The creature on the wall moaned again in agony.

“Sketch, what are you waiting for?” CD hissed. “Is it too far away?” CD hoped it wasn’t, because getting closer was probably not a good idea.

“Yeah, we need to get about ten meters closer before I can make the shot.”

Another batch of the tentacles burst from the creature’s distended chest, anchoring it firmly as it fired another pod into the room to protect itself. The low rumbling of other necromorphs rolled into the room as well, and the first pod threw one of its barbs at the group.

“Good luck with that.” CD said hurriedly, trying to avoid getting hit. “I’m not going near any of those things.”

Johan tilted his pulse rifle and launched a grenade at the nearer pod. “Can you at least take off the tentacles of the pods, then? Severing the things seems to kill them pretty fast. Sketch, we’ll cover you.”

“Says you, what if I get mindfucked by the giant statue thing? I’m staying back for my own good, so I can shoot from here.” CD said, hoping he really could hit something from this distance.

“That’s alright, but still try to cover him as you go. And it isn’t glowing, unlike the others, so it’s probably still off.” Johan quipped

“I- Alright, but if I start having a seizure-”

“I’ll make sure you don’t swallow your tongue! Just make sure that Sketch makes it to the firing point in one piece, and can make it back, alright?” Johan shouted back.

“Okay, come on Sketch, we gotta make this quick.” CD said.

“Lets get this over with, just get ready to run, from the mine and that thing with the tentacles.” Sketch said.

Johan just began firing at the other pod, more or less ignoring Sketch’s statement. Another pair of the gross creatures had been launched onto the floor nearby, and CD could see faint, but fading, pulses of the necromorph’s red energy coursing through the pods, in tandem to the mingled blue and red in the creature on the wall.

The one thing CD could definitely tell about the creature was that it was definitely still alive, and still conscious.

“Okay, I guess that proves it, the tentacled wall-hugger is still human... ish.” CD muttered. “How much further until you can fire?”

Sketch checked the minuscule readout indicating distance attached to his tool, wondering how miners were supposed to read them in the mines, and shook his head. “Little further.”

“Alright, we gotta make this quick.” CD said, worried that he might not be able to hit anything, hoping that the red glowy bits would be decent targets..

Continuing to fire at the targets, the group continued to shred the pods as Sketch advanced. Finally finding himself in range he thought was about right, he fired the mine, the bottom part of it clamping tightly to the metallic strut just barely peeking out of the tangled mess of flesh clinging to the wall next to the guardian-thing.

As it began to pulse, Sketch yelled out that he’d fired, and began to run. A lone pod, dropped in the far corner of the room, finally had its chance to take a shot at the group, and fired a barb at the lone being so far from the protection of its fellows. The eight-inch-long bone spike flew through the air and slammed into Sketch’s faceplate, chancing on the narrow gap meant for his eyes.

With a scream, he fell to the ground, the bone spur jutting from his helmet. About this time, the mine detonated, the white-hot cutting lasers slicing apart the guardian’s tentacles and obliterating the few pods near the creature’s base.

Sketch, now laying on the floor with blood seeping from the underside of his helmet as he screamed in agony. The room now clear of hostiles, as far as everyone could tell, the group crept into room, his agonized cries being echoed by the dying thing on the wall. As CD looked in, he could see the red lights in the guardian’s form flickering and fading. With a relieved-sounding sigh, the blue lines in the person’s body fading as well.

Sketch’s arterial lines still glowed a strong blue, and, in spite of the spike through his faceplate, was definitely still alive. Johan, racing over to the injured pony, knelt by his side. Reaching down, Johan made a jerking motion with his hand, drawing another agonized scream from Sketch, followed by gasping breaths. A quick touch to the helmet release revealed the damage the earth pony artist had received.

A large, bloody, shredded hole was all that remained of his right eye, gore streaming from the wound. The smell of blood rose quickly into the air, clean and unpleasant, making everyone gag, and CD lose what little he still had in his stomach. Johan, being trained as he was, simply pulled out his manual medkit, and began to dress the wound, a large amount of medigel filling the gaping hole before a gauze bandage covered the torn eyelid to keep the gel in.

“Well, Sketch, you can now speak in argh. Want a parrot?” Johan’s joke fell kind of flat, but he was trying to turn around his attitude around.

“I can d- do what I want c-’cause a p- pirate is free, I- I am a p- pirate.” Sketch said in a cheery tune.

CD would have facehoofed if all four of his knees weren’t really weak from his stomach’s incredible disagreement with his eyes. “Urrrgh, that’s nasty...”

Scootaloo tried to joke, “At least you’ve still got your looks, heh heh...” but her pained laughter didn’t sound natural.

“D- don’t feel bad Scoots, I’m fine, but c- could you move a little to t- the left? I can’t see you very well.”

The filly shuffled a little to her left, then moved in the other direction when she realized he meant the other direction.

“Thanks, s- stop being sad, I- I’m fine.”

“Oh, I’m, uh, not sad. You’ve got a battle scar now! Chicks totally dig battle scars, y’know.” Her words, while obviously meant to be comforting, they still sounded hollow.

“Be honest, h- how bad was it?”

“I don’t want to know, let’s leave it at that.” CD said, still a bit queasy.

“Eh, nothing a prosthetic can’t fix. Y’know, if you can get the money. And we survive.” Johan said, patting the eye-shot pony on the shoulder.

“Hmm, nah, unless it becomes necessary, I’m alright with one eye and a few chunks.”

“That’s disgusting!” CD said.

“Alright, conversation over.” Scootaloo said, making grossed-out gagging noises from behind her helmet. “Even I think that’s gross.”

“Sorry, making jokes is how I deal with things, sometimes they get a bit bad, mind helping me around for a bit? Anyone?”

“Yeah, I’ll help you get around.” Scoots said, pressing against his armored shoulder and laying a suited wing across his back, gently.

The group’s respite was interrupted by the low rumble of necromorphs encroaching on their location.

“Move! Everybody, go for the door, keep going!” Johan shouted, turning as the first slasher landed nearby, having simply toppled from a balcony above.

“Man, this is not a good day for anyone.” CD said, trying to remove the creature’s legs as it stood up.

“Just go! I can take care of Sweetie!” Johan shouted as he began to unload his clip into the monsters pouring in behind the first. “You’ve all got the coordinates and the journey route! Just use your objective trackers to get your bearings if you need it. Go!”

“Alright, good luck!” CD shouted back, as he ran off, taking advantage of Johan’s offer. He was closely followed by Sweetie Belle, who was helping Scootaloo guide the injured Sketch to the door. Rick wasn’t far behind

Johan covered their retreat as they went, backing up until they had the chance to shut the door behind them. As he turned, he saw that the group was backing towards him again, a trio of brutes smashing their way towards them down the relatively narrow corridor, their armored plates scraping the synthetic quartz windows as they entered.

Barely four seconds until the things would slam into them, a voice burst over their suit radios, yelling, “Grab onto something, I’m opening a window!”

The people inside barely had a moment to register the voice before a resounding crack echoed through the corridor, before the whoosh of air exiting the station caught their attention. Each of the brutes, lacking grasping appendages, were sucked from the corridor into space. Everyone’s suit’s immediately registered the pressure change, and locked down the seals, their internal air supplies activating instantly.

A human shape, clad in a fire-red suit with a glassy faceplate, bronze finish on the glass, burst through the shattered window. A pair of large, heavy coverings across the sides of the spine had some sort of gauges on them, and piping leading to the suit’s wrists, were some sort of nozzles near tiny blue flames had been attached. The person landed dramatically, one hand bracing them as they hit with one knee on the deck and one up, in the classic ‘hero’ landing pose. It looked up at the necromorphs... and then began to flail slightly as the rushing air unbalanced them, and they fell backwards, clutching a chunk of decking as the emergency covers for the window slammed into place.

“O- okay, maybe not the smoothest landing I’ve ever managed...” The figure spoke aloud as he rose, the voice definitely masculine. Brushing a few chunks of debris and necromorph bits from his suit, the figure looked over at the rest of the group. “You guys look like you got fucked up. Got any hydrazine tanks?”

The group stared in mild shock for a moment, before CD spoke up. “I’m not the only one seeing this one, right?”

“If you are seeing a bright red human male bust in through the window, or is the pain making me hallucinate with you?”

“Pretty sure it’s just a group hallucination, nobody does stupid shit like that.” Johan said.

“...I don’t know, it was pretty awesome. I’d do it if I could.” CD said

“Sure you could, and I can regrow organs, like eyes, yeargh.”

Scootaloo looked up at him. “... you’re gonna milk the pirate thing for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

“For today at least.”

“Why, Scootaloo? You wish it was you instead?” CD asked with a goofy grin on his face.

“Not really.”

For the entirety of the conversation, the newcomer was standing mostly still. “Uh, you guys do realize I’m still standing here, right? And, seriously, do you guys have any hydrazine?”

Johan looked over. “How much do you have?”

The new guy held up his arms, and a brief puff of orange-yellow flame burst out, then died away. “... aaand I’m out.” From the guy’s suit, a female voice, very attractive and obviously trying sound even more so, and succeeding, spoke up. “Hydrazine levels are oh so low... like my top would be if I were real.”

“Goddamnit dude, just... why?” Sketch asked, facehoofing.

“Oh, shit, my speakers are on, sorry.”

“What the hell man?” CD asked. “Can you do that for mine?”

“Uh... sure? I’d need to transfer the files via an AutoStore... I kinda got this ‘cuz I’m stuck outside so much...” The guy shrugged.

“Please no, also why does your EVA suit have flamethrowers built in?”

“It’s a Pyro EVA suit, duh. They’re made for the welding crews that’re stuck out in space. I’ve been trying to get clearance for one for a year now, but they won’t let Junior folks get them.” Scootaloo was looking up at the newcomer and speaking in the sort of voice video game fans use when explaining their favorite game’s backstory to a completely new person.

“Heh, you’d be an adorable little pyro.” Sketch said, cooing at Scoots.

“Anyway guys.” CD cut in. “I think I have a few Tanks in storage. Oh wait, I chucked ‘em when I ran out of room.”

“Well... fuck.” The newcomer said, sighing. “Anyhow, my name’s Allan Richart, and I was heading towards my dad’s place, he’s got plenty of supplies. You guys wanna come with? S’not too far.”

“Yes.” CD replied quickly. “If it’s absolutely safe, and we can stay there for more than an hour, I’ll take the offer.”

Johan held up a hand for silence. “That actually does sound like a good idea. My friend here took a hit to the eye, and I’d like to get a look at it in good light. And, well, everyone needs some time to rest so far.”

Allan nodded. “Security suit, medical classification, triage. You’ve probably heard from my dad at some point. Looks kinda beaten up.”

Johan shook his head sadly. “Pukers blow. Chunks.”

“The... things with the claws and they spit? With, uh, usually boobs, for some reason?”

Johan just stared for a moment. “What the hell are you smoking?”

“Nothing right now, but if you’ve got some cigarettes, I’d love one.”

“As entertaining as this conversation is...” CD started. “How about we get to a safe area while we chat.”

“Good idea. Can you lead us towards the place, then?”

Allan nodded. “Yeah, it’s just a few hallways down. Whoo, everything’s so heavy in here. Anyhow, I’ll probably have to kick in the door, but whatever.”

“Why? Emergency lockdown system or something?” CD asked.

“What? No, the fucker changed the locks.”

CD paused for a moment. “Well, okay then... so you work mainly uh, outside?”

“... for the last seven years, yeah. How’d you guess? The comment about everything being heavy? Or do I have an actual reputation with someone other than the sanitation workers now?” Allan said the words with almost as much caustic bite to their tone as the bile pukers spew. As he began to walk towards their new destination, the light caught on one shoulder plate, and CD half-caught a glimpse of a symbol on it, though he couldn’t tell what it was.

Something else CD noticed was that, while the man had the normal blue of a living person, the lines of his arteries turned to the violent red of marker-influenced matter near his head, though the effect wasn’t homogenous or strong.

“So uh, Allan. You ever had any rather... interesting experiences with those monsters?” CD asked tentatively.

“They’ve tried to kill me. So far, they’ve failed, but the big bat-winged ones almost got me that one time.”

“Not exactly what I meant. Other than the loud screams, did they ever do anything to hurt your head?” CD clarified.

“Screams? What? And of course they tried to mess with my head, that’s what they do.” Allan shook his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world..

“I hear that, but yeah, they scream. Well, some of them do. But man I’ve had some interesting experiences-”

“Woah, woah, woah! - did you try to bone one of them?!” Allan yelled, backing away from CD slightly.

CD looked up at the guy. “No...” CD paused. “I meant the voices in my head.”

“Oh, by Altman’s holy goatee, you did, didn’t you?” He paused to take in what the pony had said. “Oh, voices? Nevermind. And no, nothing like that. And I’ve never heard them do anything but squeal, that sounds like what one of the bat-ponies turn into. I’m talking about the bat-winged thingies.”

“Okay, haven’t seen anything like that...” CD thought. “How many kinds of these things are there?”

“Anyways, this is the apartment.” Allan said, “Gimme a sec to do a manual override.” With that, he reach for his storage, and pulled out a small but thick, gray package with a small antenna coming out of it. “Might get a bit technical.” He slapped the package onto the wall, smearing it as he went. He pushed the group back, and thumbed a small cylinder. A muffled thump and a cloud of dust later, there was a new doorway next to the original. “Last of my octocellulose, but totally worth it. Hey dad, I’m ho~ome!” Allan stepped into the apartment, gun pointed in.

“Dude, quiet down.” CD hissed. “I know it’s boring, but we don’t want those things finding us and tearing us into little bite-sized pieces.”

“Don’t worry, I surveyed the area before I came in. Most of those things were heading towards the other end of this station, looked like they were being drawn there by something.” The man shrugged. “We should be good for at least half an hour, maybe more if we’re really lucky.” He then began to look around the apartment, moving like a looter.

“Any amount of break time we can get is good enough, thanks for the help.”

“Yeah, sure, just make yourselves at home. He should have some stuff in the top shelves. You guys don’t mind MREs, do you? And where did he leave that gun, he never takes it out of the bedroom...”

“I would eat anything at this point. MREs are perfect.”

Allan had moved into what was likely the bedroom. “Perfect, I think they’re from World War two. From earth. Don’t worry, they’re still good.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About five or six hundred years.” Rick said, and Sweetie looked up, immediately spouting off, “Five-hundred seventy-six years, four months, two weeks, four days prior to this date.”

“Hey, at least it’s not as old as SPAM.” CD reassured.

“I’ve eaten that stuff. So, what’s got you talking now, Rick?”

Vague mutters of ‘holy shit, the fuck was that’ came from the back room Allan was in as Sweetie spoke.

“I have a mild headache and I’m hungry, can someone hand me some meds or food?” Sketch asked, still using Scoots for support.

Johan knelt over next to him. “Okay, I’m taking your helmet off again, try not to blink if you can avoid it.”

As the medic was looking over his friend’s wounds, Scootaloo had wandered towards the bedroom where Allan was. CD followed her.

“So, this is your dad’s place?” Scoots said, peeking into the bedroom, which Allan was in the process of ransacking.

“Well, at least it doesn’t look like a barricade like our last resting place, hard to relax when everything is in full combat armor... oh wait.” CD stopped, realizing he was wearing armor too. “Forget my rather hypocritical statement.”

“Yeah, I hear that. Sorry if I’m acting a little weird, I’m not used to being around, y’know...” Allan looked under the pillow, shouting happily as he uncovered a quarter-full bottle of amber liquid.

“Ponies? Or people in general?” CD asked.

“Yeah, that. Want some? You might wanna drink first, you might lose your appetite after seeing my face.”

“I somewhat doubt that, and I don’t know how much alcohol I can take before... yeah.” CD said. “Never had anything too strong in the first place anyway.”

“An earth pony that can’t handle his booze? Heh, I call bullshit.”

Scootaloo looked up and nodded in agreement with the statement.

“I never said I couldn’t handle it, I just said I don’t know how much it takes to get me hammered, there’s a difference.” CD stated.

“Fair enough. But I meant what I said about my face, fair warning and all.” Allan then reached up and tapped the side of his helmet, resulting in a hissing noise as the seals disengaged. The mirrored faceplate flipped up and out of the way, revealing a rugged face, like someone had practiced drawing scars on it. One was a thick stripe of ropey scar tissue over his left eye, dividing the eyebrow itself with the tail end of it. A dip in the end of his nose marked where something, a long time ago, had torn off a ragged chunk of it, and a pile of pitted burn scars traveled up his right cheek. His other cheek had a mass of tiny scars disrupting the growth of a fairly epic beard of almost ursine appearance. His eyes were a stormy blue, like the ocean right after a harsh storm. Faint flecks of gold shimmered in their depths, a faint scar only barely visible on the white of the otherwise uninjured right eye.

Totally unconcerned with the effects of his visage, he raised the bottle to his cracked lips and took a swig.

“Eesh.” CD replied. “Never really seen anything that odd since I let my imagination off its leash.”

“What happened to your face? It’s fuckin’ epic!” Scootaloo squealed as she bounced up and down.

“More like what hasn’t happened to it. This one,” he pointed at the scar over his eye, “was from a fight when I was younger. I lost the fight, but I got better in time. This one,” the gesture was towards his cheek-burn, “Was from when I was still getting used to hydrazine. Lost the end of my nose the same time. It was then I started working on making this thing.” He waved a hand to indicate his suit.

Scootaloo’s gasp of hero-worship-wonder was audible. “You made the Pyro EVA suit class? Oh, man, that’s so cool, I’ve been wanting one of those forever! I can’t get the design for them anywhere, I keep getting told I don’t have the clearance for them.” Scootaloo’s voice was cracking almost as much as Sweetie’s did normally.

“Wait... don’t I know you?Your voice... It sounds kinda like the woman who bought those three plasma cutters...”

Scootaloo suddenly began backing out of the room. “Uh, no reason. I just have one of those voices, y’know? I, uh, totally wouldn’t do anything illegal like that. It would, uhm, be immoral?”

“Yeah, Stellar Void, you said. Needed some replacements so you wouldn’t get in trouble with your boss.”

“Oh, uhm, n- no... and you can’t prove I did! Uh... Hey, this is totally not a topic change, but that’s a really cool rendition of the Shadowbolts team logo! You’re a fan, aren’t you?” Scootaloo smiled hugely before realized they couldn’t see it through her own mirrored facemask.

“So, how bad’s the pain in your eye, Sketch?” Johan asked, calmly. He was kneeling next to his friend, and getting a better look at the damage to the white pony’s face and eye.

Rick was sitting in an armchair nearby, the one next to it looking nearly collapsed from use. He had what looked like an antique chemical pistol or revolver out, and was cleaning it.

“I stopped being able to feel my face a while ago, is that bad?”

“That’s probably just the medigel. Does it itch, or feel like something’s loose?” Johan asked in utter seriousness.

“I can’t feel anything, my face feels funny, kinda tingly.”

“Yeah, probably the medigel. Probably. Jeez... well, at least if you get a prosthetic, you won’t have to tear anything out to get it implanted. In fact, you might need to get some stuff added to make sure it doesn’t fall out.”

“Any chance you can set up some mirrors so I can see the damage myself?”

“Ah, that might not be a good idea... the red and pale green are not the colors for you. Seriously, whoever thought medigel should look like runny snot was probably very high.”

“Eh, so how bad will it scar? Will I look like a block of ground beef?”

“Don’t worry, you already have a girlfriend, so you don’t have to worry about being rejected.”

“Meh, anything is possible.”

Johan just shook his head in response. His helmet retracted, and he wiped the sweat from his own heavily scarred face. “So, Rick, what’s up with you? You mentioned having a partner at the lab?”

“Yeah, her name was Lyra. Unicorn, mint-green, she was great to work with. She had multiple PhDs for human physiology, biology, and human history.” Rick said, still cleaning the weapon in hand.

“Nice, she a genius or something?”

Rick shook his head slightly. “She was just dedicated, above average intelligence.”

“Still more than I managed, good on her for doing so much.”

As they were sitting there chatting amiably, a light beeping noise met everyone’s ears. Trying to find the source, Johan and Sketch looked around. Rick just looked towards the ‘door’.

A small, glowing shape, with multiple legs, skittered rapidly into the room, moving fast on around a dozen tiny legs. It sped past Johan and Sketch, causing them both to shout in surprise as it passed them. The tiny thing, about the size of a composition notebook, crawled rapidly up the chair and clamped itself onto Rick’s left forearm, where it was immediately tapped at by the person whose arm it had apparently claimed.

The lights on it dimmed, giving the other two a better look at the thing. It was the little bot that Rick had deployed earlier. “Lets see what you got this time... Scrap, Somatic gel, oooh, a bronze Semiconductor plate...” He mumbled on as he read the list of materials.

Johan stepped closer. “Is... is that the one of the old Condor III scavenger drones? I got a broken one to mess around with a year or two ago, but I could never get it working.” The medic stepped closer to the wrist-mounted deployable scavenging bot than before, looking like a nerd who’d seen the one card he needed to finish his collection in someone else’s binder.

“Yeah, got to keep it properly maintained, else it just stops working one day.”

“Yeah, and it was replaced by the Raven series, and those cheap plastic frames just weren’t durable enough, no matter how sleek they looked.” Johan shook his head sadly.

“The whole reason I never traded this in, couldn’t part with it.” Rick replied returning his attention to finishing what he was doing with the old weapon. “That and the fact that had a tendency to explode if they found too many sources of salvage in the same area of the same grade, as they tried to prioritize them at the same place on their objective list.” Rick said with a wave of his left hand.

“I never could understand why they wouldn’t just prioritize based on distance in that case...” Johan said.

“Even with medigel numbing my face this conversation is almost painful.”

“Yeah, I’m a fan. Now, I’m not going to tattle or something, but seriously, were you one of my customers? I want to know, I don’t like when people lie to me, and I want to know.”

Scootaloo had backed herself into the corner of the room. “I- I don’t wanna incriminate myself!”

CD was sitting on the bed at this point, watching the proceedings from the very comfortable location. It had been ages since he’d had the opportunity to lay on real synthetic silk.

“So, uh, is your dad rich? What does he do?” CD asked.

“In order, no, mom was, and he’s a consultant for the security forces and for the military. Now c’mon, filly, speak up.” Allan was quirking an eyebrow and had crossed his arms. Scootaloo gulped audibly.

“Yeah, I kinda... lied. Applebloom needed one to make the clubhouse, and I knew a few people, and they pointed me in your direction, and I didn’t want to get connected with it, in case it was a sting operation, and then all this happened...” Scootaloo’s ears were down.

“Well, sorry all this happened. Not sure who this ‘Applebloom’ guy is, but we should go give a few gulps of liquid pain relief. C’mon.” As he went to leave the room, he patted the little filly on the shoulder, taking the bottle with him and leaving Scoots and CD in the room, more or less in private.

“Although, if you ask me, it shouldn’t be illegal for you to have a Cutter, really.” CD stated after thinking about it.

“Thanks. Hey, could you ask Sketch to come in here, I want to chat with him ‘bout something important.”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” CD turned and left to go get Sketch.

He walked out in time for Allen to give Sketch a swig of the whiskey. Tapping his fellow earth pony on the shoulder, CD motioned for him to go to the room for the chat. Then, CD stepped back out into the main room to talk with everyone else.

Out there was Rick and Johan, more or less geeking out over the various scavenger bot series, spouting names like the Vulture, Coyote, and Lhurgoyf series. CD walked up, a snarky grin on his face. “They all look more like robots to me.”

Johan shot him a look so icey it could have frozen helium. CD backed up a few steps. “Jeez man, learn to take a joke.”

“This is a serious discussion. It’s not some simple hobby, these bots are-” Johan sounded very upset, but Rick mostly looked like he was finding it entertaining.

“I know, I get it. I’ve seen my fair share of mechanical devices and robotics. I’m not a engineer for no reason, after all.”

“Dude, we’re all engineers, and yet only you two give a fuck.” Allan said.

“Yeah, cheer up.” CD said.

“Hey Sketch. Uhm, how’re you doing?” Scoots said, looking away.

“Besides the obvious, I can’t complain too much, you?”

“I- I’m alright.”

The filly was sitting on the plush bed, far better than anything Sketch could afford. She was reclining to one side, and didn’t seem to be able to meet Sketch’s eye, even through their respective faceplates.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? What are y- no... I can’t lie. I- I don’t know if we’re going to survive this.” Scootaloo’s eyes filled with tears under her helmet, forcing her to flip it open to wipe her eyes.

“Don’t be so negative, I’m sure we’ll survive.” Sketch said, getting on the bed, hugging her.

“I’m not so sure... F- first Broker dies after you guys come back from getting the princess, and she died, too. An- and she was always so nice to me, too. She was the only one at that school on the staff who actually believed I was something other that just a trouble maker. And on the way here... we’re barely a quarter of the way, and ‘Bloom’s all gone, and-” Her words were choked off by a sob, and she leaned into Sketch’s shoulder.

“It’s okay Scoots, let it all out, and I’m sorry about Applebloom.”

“S’not your fault. ‘S CD’s fault. If he hadn’t been there...”

“Well she died in a heroic way, saving someone.”

“She shouldn’t have died at all... CD should’ve died.” Scootaloo sniffled, her voice growing tired as she lay against Sketch’s side.

“Blaming others won’t bring her back Scootaloo, all we can do now is remember her as the pony she was, she was a good friend of yours and a sweet girl.”

“She should’ve made it...” Scootaloo said muzzly, a tired yawn getting loose. It had been nearly two hours of constant fighting and running since they’d last caught a half hour of sleep. As she curled up in his embrace, Sketch found himself growing tired as well.

“A lot of people should have, but for now how about we just rest.” The yawn was contagious, and he felt exhausted. Nuzzling Scoots as he curled around her, felt himself drift into an almost oddly peaceful slumber, his eyes practically dragging themselves down.

Author's Note

And now we have one of my friends, goes by Soulwatch around here, as Allen! I hope you enjoy your Necromorph Soup well-done.

Please remember to vote for your favorite and least favorite characters of the chapter. Every vote counts!

Ch21 - Torment

Sketch yawned and stretched. Looking around, he saw he was alone in the bedroom.

“Okay, well, time to go see if everyone is dead yet.” Sketch said, getting up off the bed, he stretched and headed for the door. Looking outside the room, the apartment appeared deserted.

Sketch cleared his throat, “Where the fuck are you guys?”

Silence was his only answer.

“Okay, if anyone is there I’m going to shoot myself, come out now or I’m offing myself.” Sketch went to draw his Line Gun, only to find it missing. Looking down, he saw he wasn’t wearing his armor, just his civilian clothes.

“Okay then, maybe I can shoot myself out an airlock, least that way I don’t become food.”

Looking around the schoolyard, he wandered towards the cafeteria he’d been at this morning. He took his tray to the table next to Johan and Broker, the former still wearing his Security Riot suit. Broker, his legs shattered from his fall, waved to Sketch.

“Well, that’s new...”

He sat next to the friends he’d had for so many years.

The cafeteria was coated in the blood of all the people who’d died that day, and Sketch saw that his Line Gun was on the tray in front of him. Hefting the weapon, he looked around, once again seeing that he was alone.

“This is pointless, how can I use this Line Gun without a suit?”

As if ignoring the question, he found himself holding the gun anyways.

“Hmmm, now what?” Sketch looked around, hoping there would be some indication of what he’s supposed to do.

Broker was walking out of the cafeteria, possibly right into a group of necromorphs. Without his suit, he would need Sketch’s help.

“I thought he died, I don’t even know what’s going on right now.” Even as he said that, he knew he couldn’t let his friend die a second time. “How the hell do I even fire this thing without a suit?”

Running around the corner, he saw the siren-princess-thing rearing up to strike at Broker, the creature being nearly a hundred feet tall and cloaked in shadows and blood, massive claws stretching out.

“Fantastic, running time!”

Sketch turned to run, immediately racing for the door hatch. On the other side was the siren-princess-thing, grabbing Broker and dragging him into the shadows. An eerie silence fell over the whole event, leaving no noise but Broker’s strangled scream and the sound of his bones shattering.

Sketch could hear him calling for help.

“ ...Goddamnit Broker.” Sketch stopped and hesitantly turned around, going back for Broker.

In the monster’s den, he looked up at the thing, gulping as he timidly aimed his weapon at its shoulders. Pulling the trigger, he hoped it would be enough.

The gun clicked ominously, and he saw that it was empty. The creature began to devour Broker, who was now screaming at Sketch. Though his body was being devoured, the pony in danger was beginning to curse out Sketch, calling him a coward, calling him useless, a horrible friend, and many things far worse.

“I might be many of those things but time for plan B! FUCKI’MSODEAD!” Sketch ran at the monstrosity, wielding the Line Gun as a melee weapon. Swinging it like a club, he charged. Every step he took brought him another step further from the creature, Broker being torn to pieces as he continued to shout at Sketch.

Even as he was nothing but a face and a few chunks of meat-strewn skull, Broker continued to curse Sketch for abandoning him.

The monster, no longer interested in finishing off Sketch’s friend, instead turned to Sketch himself. She looked down at him, mouth full of razors and wings like blades. Finally, he began to gain ground, just in time for her to strike.

He saw the jaws closing in on him, the teeth snapping shut around him.

Then, he woke up screaming.

In the main room of the apartment, CD, Rick, Allen, and Johan had settled in. Johan and Allen had taken up watch at the section of wall that had become the door.

“So, Allen... what’s your story?” Johan was trying to make small talk with the space-engineer.

“Dad was a lying alcoholic asshole... never saw my mom except one or two weeks a year. Dad was ex-military and then joined up as a security consultant and I think my mom was a scientist; she was always working on some project or another, and she never would say what about. I got into a lot of fights at school and won most of them. Haven’t lost a fight in over ten years.” Allen stopped for a breath. Johan nodded appreciatively.

“Anyways, I got kicked out of school at seventeen and joined the junior engineering corps. Dad walked out of my graduation because he thought I joined security. While I was there they found out that I was top of my class at EVA maneuvering and welding so I got stuck outside... as the only worker.... for my entire quadrant.”

“Really? That’s, uh, really against regulations. By the way, you probably get asked this a lot, but what happened to your face?”

“You have no idea. Ok, so the scar above my eye is from one of the first fights I got into and lost, my cheek was burned when I was working on making this suit. Same thing with my nose. The rest were from flying pieces of metal shavings.”

“Huh. All of my scars are from today, thanks to the glories of modern medical science. Three cheers for medigel, huh?” Johan went back to casually watching the door, thinking the whole thing over.

Allen sat for a moment, then offered the large bottle of alcohol to Johan. “You sound like you need it.”

Johan looked over for a second, then took the bottle and retracted his helmet. “Yeah, sounds like, doesn’t it?” Johan took a swig and passed the bottle back. “Blegh, I’ve never liked alcohol. Might want another drink in a moment, though.”

“Fair enough, I love my whiskey.” Allen said as he took a deep swallow.

Rick and CD sat in the main room, Rick on the couch and CD on the floor.

CD turned to Rick. “Any idea what Scootaloo wanted with Sketch? Y’know, besides the obvious.”

He simply shrugged. “Not sure.”

“Quite a theory you have there.” CD rolled his eyes along with his sarcastic statement. “Any other brilliant comments on our situation?”

Rick sighed. “I don’t know, I can only think of a question. Why are we being left alone? Honestly, for the greatest time they haven’t made themselves known.” Rick said with a gesture to the ‘door’.

“If you’ve seen any horror stories, you should have the basic knowledge to not question that out loud.” CD stared at Rick. “Do you want us to be swarmed by everything on this entire station?”

“No, but still the question-”

“Should not be mentioned. Seriously. Don’t, unless you want things to get worse.” CD stated. “I don’t understand it either and I’d like to know why as well, but don’t openly question it or everything goes to shit.”

Rick didn’t respond but instead decided to fiddle with the bot on his wrist.

“So when are we going to find Summer?” CD asked. “I think we kind of got distracted from that, and it’s pretty darn important to me.”

Rick raised a brow in question. “Who is Summer?”

“My sort-of marefriend. She’s here, and in trouble. If it weren’t for us trying to save her, we’d have never met you or Allen in the first place.”

Rick hummed in thought. “Are you sure she is here in this part of the station?”

“No, we’re trying to find files from the military database so we can find her.”

Rick nodded, still messing with the bot.

“So how long until we get moving? I kind want to find her since she’s the only one aside from you and Allen who hasn’t given me crap at least twice.” CD continued. “And she wouldn’t at all.”

Rick just shrugged. “Possibly after everyone is ready to head out. Might be awhile but it still never hurts to check though.”

“How do you know what hurts to do something or not?” CD asked. “Being curious has bitten me in the rear plenty of times the moment after I thought those exact words.”

Rick looked to CD for a moment before turning back to the bot on his wrist, though he did nothing to it, he seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

“You don’t do much but tinker with your electronics, huh?” CD noticed. “I’m not really one to talk, but still...”

“It’s something to distract me.” Rick said as he started to mess with some of the buttons.

“Whatever.” CD said. “Wonder what’s going on with Sketch, what’s taking so long? I want to get going soon.”

Rick didn’t respond, his eyes seemed to jump around, shaking his head slightly.

Sketch looked around bedroom, Scootaloo having woken up from his scream. The young mare looked up at him with trepidation and worry.

“Sorry, dream princess was killing Broker and I was trying to beat her to death with my Line Gun.”

“Uhm... what?” Scootaloo looked no more reassured of his mental health than before. “So... bad dream?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Sorry I woke you up.”

Scootaloo nuzzled him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Nah, it’s no problem. We should probably get going anyways. The others... well, I’d also like to apologize. For the things I said.”

“Alright, although they might not have taken it to heart at that moment, you did just go through something traumatic.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have tried to unload that on you. You’ve got enough to deal with.” Once again, Scootaloo nuzzled him, this time lingering, as if waiting for a kiss.

“No, it’s good to let things out, if you need to talk later, let me know, okay?” Sketch nuzzled her back. She happily nuzzled him back, stretching her neck forward, puckering her lips, and closing her eyes, and even Sketch couldn’t ignore the signals.

Sketch went to kiss her, not wanting to leave her hanging.

The door opened with a hiss, and Allen leaned in. “Hey, we gotta g- oh, sorry. Hey, if you guys do it, make a mess, alright?”

The EVA specialist ducked back out of the door, his polarized visor already in place. Underneath it, he was fighting back a snicker of amusement.

Back in the bedroom, Scoots and Sketch were now looking away, both blushing furiously.

Scoots, never one to simply drop an awkward subject, spoke first. “So... uhm... how about we get going? That was pretty weird, even for me.” She grinned behind her scarlet blush.

“Yeah, we can make a mess of the next room we’re in.”

“Heh, sure.” She gave him kiss on the nose and clambered off the bed. “So you’d better survive long enough for that, got it?”

“Yeah, otherwise it’d be a one mare operation, hard to do a co-op mission solo.”

“Idunno, just means you have to be inventive... or flexible. And I’m both.” Scootaloo snapped her visor shut.

She stepped out of the room, obviously swaying her hip extra-sexy, though the effect was more funny than seductive.

“We can put that to the test next time.” Though he didn’t get a response, he knew she was still happy with the thought, her armor-plated tail raised higher than was considered strictly appropriate.

“Don’t taunt me, otherwise we’ll be here longer than expected, now lets go.”

However, the flirty female had already left the room, so Sketch’s comment was largely unheard. Sighing, he picked himself up, and went into the main room, finding that everyone was more or less ready to go.

Apparently, as Sketch had slept, the others had raided the apartment for supplies, finding a tank and a half of hydrazine fuel, a few dozen Divet rounds, some food and water (which were shared out to Scoots and Sketch) and nearly two hundred rounds for the pulse rifle.

Everyone was ready to go, it seemed.

“So where are we going?” Allen asked.

“Military base. I need to drop off Miss Belle, and CD wants to find his, uh, marefriend.”

“Ok, I’ll take point,” said Allen as he finished doing a triple check of his Pyro Suit’s systems.

“That’s usually my spot, but alright. I’ll keep an eye out from the middle, near Sweetie. Everyone ready? I want Copy.Data in back, with Sketch. Rick, if you could be in front with Allen, We’ve got some spare plasma cartridges for you. Does anyone need any other types of ammunition?”

“Might need rivets, I’m all out of those.” Rick said pulling out his rivet gun for a moment.

“Here,” Allen replied, tossing him a casing of the rivets. Rick was able to catch them easily, slotting sixteen into place and putting the remainder into his storage.

The group, now fully stocked, stepped out into the corridor, the two on point looking around and sweeping in opposite directions admirably.

“Ok... so what are the coordinates? I can get there outside but I’m lost inside.” Allen mentioned.

“Here, I’ll send you and Rick the coordinates. Now let’s get going.”

The group began moving swiftly down the corridor, the grit and pain of the day having hardened them. Within nearly two minutes, they encountered more necromorphs, the monstrous shapes bursting from the walls and ceiling, surrounding them in moments. Moments later, and several hundred pulse rounds, three dozen plasma shots, rivet bolts galore, and several bursts of flame later, they had cleared out the large batch of slashers and pukers.

Wiping the blood and gore from his face, Johan surveyed the carnage. Nobody had been very injured, so he simply shrugged it off. The group was rapidly able to collect a fair amount of additional supplies, including a fair amount more hydrazine and rivets.

“Semper Fi, motherfuckers,” Allen half-shouted.

Johan gave him a look through his helmet, but didn’t think too hard on it, Sketch and CD also ignoring the comment. Rick just shook his head slightly.

The group began moving once more, Scootaloo having wandered farther forward.

“Scootaloo, never leave the group.” Sketch said, worried.

“I’m not, I’m just a bit closer to point, is all.” The young mare shot back playfully. “Besides, what’s th-”

CD, with the speed and grace of a striking mongoose, grappled Scootaloo. “Shut your mouth right now!” CD said quickly. “Or I’ll weld it shut! Don’t tempt fate.”

“Yeah, please never say that line, ever. That is one thing you never want to do.”

“R- right, sorry. Kinda forgot the situation an’ all...” Scootaloo chuckled nervously. She looked around. “Ah, well, let’s get going?”

CD sighed and let her up, allowing the group to continue moving onward. From down one of the corridors or vents, a harsh growl reverberated along the station. It didn’t sound much like the warlocks, but it was certainly strong.

Johan, the nominal leader of the group, looked around. “Alright, everyone, we’re going to pray to whatever deities happen to like each of us, that it goes away. In the meantime, I’d suggest we all make sure we’re loaded, and let’s move now.”

CD rolled his eyes “So are you applying for the No-Shit Academy, or are you just talking to yourself?”

“Don’t know which, don’t care which, but I agree with him.” Scoots said, beginning to walk along

“Are you guys applying for the lets-be-a-dick academy?” Allen quipped back as he checked his hydrazine levels.

“Fleeing is optimal.” Sweetie replied, more or less ending the conversation. Everyone began to move as quickly as they could down the relatively narrow corridor, Rick and Allen being the first to open the door, Sweetie and Scootaloo not far behind them.

“Oh, hey, it’s a transport hub!” Johan remarked as they stormed in, looking around quickly, “I think I know where to go from here.”

“I’ve had to fix the roof here several times,” said Allen.

“Yeah, find that military database or whatever.” CD said. “I understand that I’m the only one who cares about her, but I want to save Summer.”

“Who’s Summer?” Allen asked as he looked around.

“His marefriend who he has been seeing visions of up until a few hours ago who may or may not be being held captive in an unknown location.” Sketch said.

“Yeah.” CD agreed. “Although that is only a very small bit of it.”

Allen nodded slightly, “Ok, fair enough.”

A thunderous crash echoed through the room, and the entire station shuddered violently. Looking about, the group was unable to locate the source of the attack or explosion or whatever caused the rumble.

Several tense moments later, everyone began to calm down, the danger seemingly passed for the moment.

The tortured screech of shredding metal, on the other hand, proved that assumption wrong. A huge, torso-like thing, the bodies of dozens of innocents, human and a pony alike, dragged itself to the balcony on the second floor of the hub.

It screamed, a partial pony head the main part of it as it looked towards the group. It was quite unlike anything they had seen so far, like a trio of legs or a tripod. The glistening yellow patches of diseased flesh at its joints glowed a sickly yellow, and the twisted faces of the people fused into the body and ‘arms’ gave feeble screams.

“By Altman’s beard…” Allen said softly.

The monster growled at the group and swung down to them, pulling a large, body-encrusted arm back to swipe at them.

Johan had already unslung his pulse rifle, and was already firing at the shoulders of the creature. The shots seemed to bounce off, plinking away. Allen, shaking off his shock, pulled his Rivet gun and fired next, but the eight-centimeter bolts did almost nothing to the creature.

Rick, not far behind, was hefting his modified Cutter to fire, but wasn’t sure where to fire at, except maybe the yellow parts. A moment of consideration later, he prepared to pull the trigger, only stopping when he, along with the rest of the group, was knocked from his feet.

Looking up, Sketch had time to see another form, this one larger and more robust, formed of blackened plating and with crusty bone plates covering it. The massive, beak-like maw opened wide as it landed on the massive tripod ahead of the group, smashing it flat by superior bulk.

“What the hell is that thing?” Johan yelled as the thing shrieked at they began to back away from the thing. It began to charge them, moving far faster than anything that size should naturally move.

“Just fucking run!” Scootaloo shouted, skittering towards the exit they’d come through. The monster began to advance, and everyone else in the group began to follow suit.

“Tactical suggestion: group should split evenly at next intersection to prevent total destruction of team. Group survivability average increases to above eleven percent!” Sweetie’s deep voice carried surprisingly well in the din and the roar.

“I agree, let’s get the fucking hell out of here! Pair up! Me and Johan with Sweetie,” Allen yelled as he was running, Johan calling back an affirmative, scooping up the filly as he ran.

A second roar accompanied the first, prompting Sketch to look over his shoulder. A second of the massive beasts had dropped in as well, and the two of them were now scuttling into the comparatively tiny hallways. CD, Scootaloo, Johan, Sweetie, and Allen turned an immediate right as they met the first intersection, though the first of the huge monsters turned to follow them as well.

Rick and Sketch continued to run, racing down the hallway at top speed. With no time to think, they just moved, Sketch the veteran of a grueling track team, and Rick the veteran of far worse things than had been seen that day.

Down the other hallway were the rest of the group, avoiding the rippling debris the tormenting beast threw up as it tore down the hallway. Spying another turn up ahead, CD and Scoots slid around the corner and raced off in time to avoid the still-charging necromorph colossus who continued to race doggedly after Johan, Allen, and Sweetie.

“Why do these things always run after me?” Allen asked as they kept running.

“Probably because you’re with the larger group, genius!” Johan’s input was largely sarcastic.

“Personnel files indicate only slightly above-average intelligence!” Sweetie’s was largely upsetting.

“Aw, Shut it!” Allen snapped.

The monster continued to barrel after them, shredding the hall as it went, and young white unicorn whispered something to the human carrying her. While Allen wasn’t sure exactly what she said, he got the gist of it when she climbed onto his shoulder and attached some sort of grappling device to the helmet of the security officer. She leveled some sort of weapon at it, a charge of some sort gathering at the end.

Allen, keeping a close eye on it, realized that she wouldn’t be able to charge it fast enough if nothing slowed the creature down. Thinking rapidly, he came to a fairly simple conclusion: a hydrazine-based explosion should stall it for the extra half second. But he wouldn’t have any hydrazine left, and he had no idea where they were going.

“Aw fuck it, GRENADE OUT!” Allen yelled as he tossed his last hydrazine tank, the top hissing slightly as he passed it over one of his pilot lights. The tank, now lit, flew in a gentle arc, and was almost immediately hit by the charging beast’s arm. The flames burst out, spreading across one of the few unarmored patches, and the necromorph screamed.

A moment after, an arc of blue electricity slammed into the thing, causing it to jolt and shudder. Johan crowed triumphantly.

Then, it roared, and resumed its chase.

“We’re fucked!”

“Thank you Sweetie Belle, that was very succinct.”

CD and Scootaloo, laying against the wall and panting after their two-hundred-meter sprint, leaned against each other.

“S- so... what now?” Scoots panted with every breath, trying desperately to breathe.

“Simple... we need... to rest, and then... we keep running.” CD panted as well. “Unless... you have... a bright idea.”

“W- well, we could... could try getting back... to the hub. Sweetie would... go there. I think.” She pulled out the water bottle she’d only half drank before, drinking deeply and putting her visor back into place. “Water?”

CD took the bottle, thanking her after he had drank some. The echoing roars and the resounding noise of the creature’s chasing the other group members growing fainter.

“Yer welcome. And what were those things? And that other thing, the three-arm thing. Why’d they kill it? Are they different types of creature or something?”

“I don’t think so, I’m guessing they won’t fight over a victim, but hurting each other in the process is fine. As for what they are, they’re sort of dead-”

“Yeah, I knew that. I meant, what made them so freaking huge? I mean, the tripod was obviously a whole bunch of bodies together, but those bigger ones looked smooth, like they grew that way from the start. Maybe... maybe this is an alien invasion, and that’s what they look like? Giant roach things?”

“Well, just a theory I half started, but maybe as the... uh, accumulated bodies, combine together, maybe they just mesh and become one big thing.” CD said. “Or they picked up people who used a ton of moisturizer.”

Scootaloo looked at him for a moment, as if wondering if he was joking. Then, she got it, and gave a half laugh. “Damn, if you weren’t crazy, I’d totally offer to try dating you.”

CD paused. “Uh... thanks? I think? No offense to you, but what does my being crazy have to do with it?”

“Well, your brand of crazy comes with a girlfriend, so I doubt you’d be interested.”

“Of course it does, I’m awesome.”

“Heh, you’re not half bad. Hey, I think I can move again, you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s get moving. Hopefully we won’t run into some other giant monster that drools unspeakable slobber.”

“You’re a Lovecraft fan? Nice.”

“Why wouldn’t I be is a better question. Now let’s get going.”

“Yeah, but most people don’t read much these days. And most folks think you’re a geek if you do. Now, I can and have beat up the guys who say that, but I’ve taken to keeping my reading material on the down-low lately, just to keep from being pestered.”

“Yes, I’m sure a lot of your reading material is rather publicly controversial.” He smirked.

“What? There’s no way the Deed of Paksenarrion is controversial.”

“No, but porn at school sure is.” CD said. “Seriously, why keep that anywhere other than under your bed or something?”

Scootaloo chuckled. “Oh, right, that. Ah, that’s not reading material. Here, let me show you what I mean.”

“Sorry, I have a marefriend.”

Scootaloo looked up, confused, though her expression changed quickly to horror, not that CD could see it. “Wh- no! I mean, look at these.” She pulled one of the boxes out of her storage.

“I don’t know, aren’t you taken already too?”

“Just look at the magazines. See this one? It’s the Shadowbolts magazine from eight months ago. It took me almost six months of careful research and study to figure out the best places and times to ask each and every-”

“I understand, you go far for decent porn, shouldn’t we-”

“It’s not the porn, damnit! I went for the autographs. There’s only two other places with every Shadowbolt in it, and that’s the official autograph book, and that’s nine kilos and forty credits! And there’s none that also have the entire cast of the newest Red versus Blue, and there’s only two magazines, both run by the same publishers, that provide a place for each of thirty current top-rank EVA oper-”

“I get it, you are a flight fan. I’m not, so forgive me if I’m a bit underwhelmed. Now we need to-”

He stopped as he saw the magazine at the top of the stack, one for the Engineering Superstars magazine he’d coveted for the vast amounts of information on charge converters it supplied every month. On top of that, he’d also rather liked that they’d included actual engine specs.

“I also have the inventor of the arcane spark converter’s signature in here. Did you know Miss Sparkle lives on this station? I did.”

“Okay, that’s more interesting. I’ll ask a lot more questions later, but we should avoid getting torn apart limb from limb by things with too many limbs.”

“Good idea. Now give me a sec, I need to pack these up again, carefully.” She carefully replaced the magazines into the boxes and hefted them back into the storage pockets.

The two of them gathered up their supplies and began to move out, much more amiable than before.

Rick and Sketch sprinted down the hallway, the massive beast tearing down the corridor as it tore it up. The screaming metal and the shrieking monster chased them as they took one random turn after another, barely staying ahead of the creature.

“So, hows your day?!” Sketch shouted as they ran.

“Even though we are being chased, it’s still pretty bad!”

The monster lunged forward, nearly catching Sketch’s tail. The pony yanked the cloth-covered appendage away from it with a yelp.

“Oh fuckberries! If we live I’m getting rid of my tail!”

Rick chose to say nothing, looking around for another route to take.

“See any places we can run to try and lose this thing?!” Sketch asked.

Rick looked around, the walls blurring as they sped away from the monster. Not much was visible, but some of the doors were visible as ‘open’. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the time to stop for opening one.

“Nothing yet!”

“Fantastic!”

They continued to run, until a turn brought them to a ruined section of corridor. They had met up with their own trail, the new section more or less impassible now.

“Shit, what now? Do you have anything to clear the way?”

“Uh... maybe?” Rick’s answer was uncertain in tone.

“What the fuck do you mean maybe?”

Allen, still unused to gravity, was growing very tired. Johan, still carrying Sweetie, charged onward, offering a shoulder to rest on. “Sweetie, you have any suggestions for where to go?”

“Return to transport hub for additional maneuvering room and group rendezvous.”

“I really want to know where you got your vocabulary from, Sweetie.”

“Dictionary.com!”

“That’s remarkably unhelpful, Sweetie!”

“You inquired.”

Johan had no answer to that.

“Ok, lets get going then,” Allen said shaking his head while panting slightly.

“We’re going to run out of places to run eventually. You have any ideas Allen?”

“Uuuuuuhhhhhh..... kinda. Hows your air supply?”

“Reserves at full; One-hundred forty seconds logged.” Sweetie said mechanically. Johan just kept running. “Uh, yeah, and I have two minutes.”

“Wow, ok I have ten minutes and a large air tank. We could head outside and go around. There should be a supply hut around the exit somewhere.” Allen said, while looking for an exit strategy. It took him a moment before he realized that they had run further into the complex.

“Uh, how are we getting to the outside?” Johan asked, still running. “Also, right turn ahead.”

“What about the vents? I could open it for the rest of you if we could find one”

“No real maintenance corridors in here, it’s all science buildings and residential in here!”

“Sorry then, no brilliant ideas... Keep running?”

“To use a quote, ‘fleeing is optimal’.” Johan said, earning a chuckle from both Allen and Sweetie Belle. A roar from the monster following them interrupted the moment with a roar and the sound of screaming metal.

“Any ideas for what to do about Ms. America back there?” Allen asked.

“What? The necro-thingy? No, no I do not.”

“A thermonuclear device with an output of one gigajoule would be sufficient to vaporize any amount of infected tissue.”

Both of the humans resisted facepalming, Johan because thermonuclear devices are probably overkill, even in this situation, and Allen because he knew a gigajoule would vaporize them too.

“I would like to survive this thank you very much,” Allen said.

“... Survivable safe distance is-”

“We get it, Sweetie, you can recite many important facts when you’re stressed, we can figure that out later. Back to running!” Johan was a little short on temper.

“I hope we can find a zero g area because then I could actually move!” Allen shouted as he was running.

“Extended time in microgravity is-”

“Yes, Sweetie, we get it!”

CD and Scootaloo, now stuck together by circumstance, were wandering past a ruined section of hallway, barely passable thanks to their smaller body sizes. The young filly, in her pale orange armor, was able to wriggle through some of the slim gaps in the debris and push sections open from the other side.

Whatever the monsters had been, their trail appeared largely clear of other necromorphs, something for which both of the ponies were grateful. The twisted ruin of the corridor had a large amount of sewage and water lines severed, leaking into the gully formed from the wreckage.

“So... wade through the pisswater in our thankfully sealed suits?”

CD thought for a moment. “No better ideas come to mind, so yes, that’s what we do.”

Scoots sighed disgustedly. “Oh, joy. At least those things went after the other two, though. I feel bad, but I’m kinda glad that I’m not in as much danger.” She gingerly placed a covered hoof into the swirling green-and-brown mess.

“That makes perfect sense, and I understand. If you really don’t want to be walking through crap, literally, you can get on my back. Drowning in a pool of shit is a really bad way to go if a necromorph does show up.”

“Ugh, no, but thanks. Hey, just be careful, we have no idea what the floor’s like under this, after all.”

“Well, logic dictates it is not grated or has any perforations. So the main worry is that-” CD was cut off with a shout as he slipped on something and landed with a gooey *sploop* into the sludge. He came up screaming as the little dribbling bits of brown and grayish green slid down his faceplate.

“What was that!?” CD yelled in shock. “What’s attacking us!?” He was looking around quickly, aiming his Cutter everywhere, despite all the sludge covering his visor. “Help, I can’t see!”

Meanwhile, Scootaloo was laughing at the shit-stained pony now flailing around. “Dude, you just slipped into pisswater! Oh man, if there is an all-mighty being watching over us all, then they must hate you. Oh man, here, lemme help you up.” The mare offered a hoof to help him.

“I’ve known that if there’s an omnipotent deity, that it hates my my guts. And I’m sure this is funny, and I’ll laugh about it later, but right now, this is disgusting.” He took Scootaloo’s hoof, reaching for the blue lattice of her bloodstream. Thankfully, the layer of crap on his helmet hadn’t removed his weird sight, so he was fully able to find and grab her hoof, giving her a yank to give her a similar drenching. It was so very satisfying.

“See? Not very funny, although I’ll laugh about this now,” CD chuckled, before actually helping Scootaloo out of the sewage.

“Alright, alright,” Scoots chuckled as well, “let’s just get going now. Aw man, we’re going to need to change suits... let’s hope there’s a Store around, these things are so gross now.”

“Well, this is the best suit I have available, so gross or not, I’m going for survivability. A shower or something would be great though.”

“Yeah... Hey, I can just shake my faceplate mostly clear, but do you need me to help you around? It doesn’t look like you could see, with all the crap caught in your face grill.”

CD was about to ask for her help, when he realized that, instead of being effectively blinded... he could see. Everything looked as if the lights had gone out, but glowing powder had been sprinkled onto everything, giving it a vague yellow coloration, and Scoots was visible in the same manner, but with vibrant blue streaks going through her to the pulse of her heart, glimmering like a star in her chest.

“I don’t. I can see, though not how you think. Don’t know how though, first time walls glowed, usually it’s only people, ponies, and necromorphs.”

“It’s... what? What’re you talking about?”

“I have no idea how, but I can see little glowy bits of stuff. It’s like I can see if something is alive. Actual living stuff is blue, and not-dead stuff is red. And now walls are glowing. I don’t know why, but I just can. Stopped questioning this kind of crap a while ago.”

“So, your kind of crazy comes not only with free girls, but super powers, too? Man, and I thought you were getting the, ahem, ‘shit end of things’. Heh.”

“I am, only one girl actually likes me, she might be dead, and I hear voices in my head.”

“Better than most people get. Most folks end up with no lives, a job they hate, and a mate they can tolerate only because they can’t find anyone better. You get super powers!”

“Yup, and scientists who lock me up for a year, erase my memories, and suck out my brain through my eye with a nee-”

A voice, cracked and barely audible, floated by.

“Cross my hea-” the voice choked out with a cough. “M- my heart.... hope t’ die... Stick a- a cupcake... no, that’s wrong... Hello, there, patient eight.”

The voice was coming from CD’s foreleg, but it took a moment for him to realize he was getting a RIGlink call. It seemed that that particular aspect of the world wasn’t covered by his new super vision.

CD froze for a second. “Uh, what do you want?”

“Nothing much... D- don’t you recognize my voice?” The tone of the question sounded as if he should know it, and it was taking a bit, but he could tentatively identify the voice as female.

“Uh, CD, who’s that?” Scoots asked, having been standing to the side and wondering who was talking to CD.

“I- I’m patient nine, remember? Always g- gotta... smile, remember? Keep your... oh, hey, there they are. C’mon you two, a- auntie’s here to take care of you...” The RIGlink cut off with a hiss and pop of static.

“This is driving me nuts. I think I should know something, but I don’t. I guess she’s another person the scientists grabbed.” He paused. “But I don’t remember any of that aside from what happened before I got busted out of my cell.”

“Uhm, okay then. Well, at least we know one bit of what you said earlier was wrong, though.”

“What? Which thing?”

“Apparently, your crazy got you two ladies!”

The creature, its tormenting cries now painful even to Rick’s ears, was a mere ten or so meters left before it would get to them. Sections of the ceiling were torn to pieces, crashing down only to be shredded by oncoming monstrosity. Before either could formulate any thoughts, the creature swept one of its thickly muscled limbs through the wall, smashing through the residential rooms.

The creature’s three-fingered grip settled on the nearer target, wrapping around Rick’s torso and dragging him closer. The man, held in a crushing grip, could only flail with his arms and the heavy cutter he had barely held onto.

Sketch, crouching in the sudden rain of debris could only watch in horror as the monster’s yellow, diseased-looking arm prepared to crush or disembowel him. Sketch paused for a moment as he processed the information, noting that there wasn’t the usual armor over it that the other limbs had.

Meanwhile, Rick had come to a similar conclusion, as the freakishly large necromorph opened its jaws wide to roar at him, spittle and less identifiable materials splattered across the aged inventor’s faceplate as it shook him.

Sketch began firing at the underside of the necromorph’s arm with his line gun, missing twice and hitting once. The creature screamed and slammed Rick to the ground, chunks of the yellowed, luminescent flesh splitting. Rick, now in a more stable position, was able to raise his heavy cutter towards the same location, the twin arms on either side of it extending into the locked positions.

The gun, once firing like a standard Plasma Cutter, instead blasted a shot like a line gun’s, another shot following shortly behind. Again, the monster bellowed at Rick, evidently feeling the assault quite acutely. The beast threw the human, as if in reflex or anger, sending him crashing into the section of ruined hall, landing heavily on a pile of debris with his face just inches from the sewage pooled in the wreckage.

Sketch, left in the dead end, was continuing to fire at the monster’s yellowed limb, this time with the Divet. The monster roared as it began dragging itself forward again, its injured limb barely still attached as it crashed forward again.

Rick, barely holding onto consciousness, aimed up at the creature, now coated with the oily layers of filth from one of the kitchens it had passed through, possibly the cafeteria he remembered from above them. A flash of thought passed through his head just barely after he’d pulled the trigger, about the heat of an ionized plasma shot, an oily substance, and a raging monster potentially equals large fire.

The bolt hit the creature, slamming into the creature as Rick shouted for Sketch to move, then he shielded his face for the upcoming flames.

As the creature roared, he realized that the thing hadn’t ignited. Once more it roared, lifting its uninjured arm to slam Sketch into paste. Sketch, with barely a moment to spare, simply began to unload the last six shots into the creature’s injured limb, the small pistol’s round mostly missing. However, enough shots hit for the limb to split further, the sound of snapping, crackling bone echoing like gunshots through the hallways as the creature collapsed from its own weight. The creature squealed as it fell.

The creature lunged for Sketch as it fell, jaws open wide. The pony, terrified and closing his eye in fright as the monstrous creature fell towards him like a landslide of flesh and bone.

“No additional paths towards the hub stored. In use of a colloquial term, ‘we be screwed’!” Sweetie’s voice was more shrill than her normal demon-robot voice.

Johan, back to a security door, all thin bars and cheap metal, was still far tougher than necessary to keep the two humans and the filly from getting past. The plasma cutter was woefully ineffective against the numerous links, and more than a dozen shots had been wasted trying to cut a large enough hole to get through.

The beast, having gotten temporarily delayed by the expedient use of a pulse grenade to collapse a portion of the ceiling. It had only bought them a few seconds, but it was enough, they had thought.

Then it had caught up with them, and now they were stuck. “Sweetie Belle, I think I can get this section open enough for you to get through. I want you to leave, alright?” Johan looked pleadingly at the filly, though she couldn’t read his expression through his faceplate.

The young unicorn, usually fairly talkative but shy, saluted the officer. “Affirmative.” Her voice wasn’t so sure as he posture, though.

Johan grabbed the grating with both hands and heaved, lifting it all of a decimeter, no more. It was enough, but the slamming down was accompanied by the popping sound of Johan’s shoulders dislocating. His shout was almost as loud as the monster’s roar, which sounded off at his pained vocalization.

“Ouch, that sounded like it hurt! We’re probably boned but I will try to get this grating open for you to get through,” Allen said as he worked.

“Fuck that, if we get this thing open in the next few seconds, you’re going next!”

“I’m already dead. I’m supposed to be dead a few years ago. I’ve got Rickman’s Furnace, you know what that is, right?”

“I have the feeling you’d say anyways, but no. Can you say it before we die?”

“Basically, my brain is trying to eat the magic in the environment around me. There’s a lot of technical stuff, but the gist of it is that my nerves are melting from my subconscious brain trying to use the magic to power everything. It normally kills by the time you’re twenty-three, if you’re lucky. I’m four years past due!”

“Wow, that was fast. Anyway, what was that about opening the grating, ‘cuz neither of us is getting out if that thing gets any closer.”

The engineer looked up at the monster a scarce ten or so meters away. Johan, in spite of the monumental amounts of pain it caused him, raised his left arm, pointing it at the thing. A burst of blue light fired out, catching the creature in the face. As the burst caught it, the creature began to slow down, caught in stasis. Lowering his arm painfully, he looked up at Allen.

“So... care to help the medic? I kinda want to die able to use my arms, if that’s fine.”

“We can work on dying later.” Rick’s voice was fatigued, slightly breathy, and utterly welcome as the man stepped up to the security grate. At first, Johan thought he was holding a basic plasma cutter to the grate, perhaps getting ready to cut it.

But the shape was wrong, Johan saw, and Allen got a much better look at it, from his standing position. The gleaming silver-blue metal was faintly shining in the emergency lights, a thick barrel as big around as both his thumbs shoved through the bars. The workmanship of the gun was exquisite, and Rick’s hand was perfectly steady on the handle.

The man whispered something, but Allen didn’t catch it before the trigger was pulled, a bang echoing well above and beyond roar of the creature.

The bullet, easily higher calibre than a .50 cal, flew forth with a vague trail of violet and orange streamer behind it. As it struck the monster, the beast was enveloped by an orange glow, and it screamed as its image distorted, like an old television image with a magnet nearby. The entire creature seemed to bend, swell, and warp. Suddenly, like watching a massive blob of fat or grease go down a drain all at once, the creature seemed to be sucked away to a tiny point in an impossible distance.

All of that had taken, at most, two seconds.

“Okay... Holy shit.... I have GOT to get me one of those!” Allen said while he was breathing heavy.

“Custom made, it’s the only one in existence, as far as I know.”

“But you have more ammo for it, right? In case we see more? Did you kill the last one like that?” Johan was asking. Now that he was no longer dying, he could look around, wincing as Allen put his arms back into place. Sweetie was at Rick’s feet, sitting at attention.

"One of the several reasons I don’t use it often, two shots left.” He paused for a moment, and looked at where the creature had been, “Well, one shot left.”

“Damn... well you saved our lives and I owe you one. Lets try to go and find everyone else... where’s Sketch?” Allen asked.

The pony stepped around the corner as the question was asked, his suit splattered with gore and unspeakable sludge. A moment later, the smell finally finished crawling through the suit filters, and Allen waved a hand in front of his faceplate. “So... you taking over for the sanitation workers?”

“Shuddap, we had to kill that thing, then wade through neck deep shit-water.”

“Soooooo... Sanitation workers. Anyways where’s CD and Scoots?” Allen asked

“If they dealt with elephant sized ravenous cockroaches, then sure.” Sketch replied.

“Adjutant Scootaloo is not immediate proximity. Suggest search routines?” Sweetie sounded less robotic, in spite of her wording.

“Uh, yeah. Uh, where would you suggest we look?” Johan asked, looking over at Rick, who was fiddling around inside of a circuit box on the other side of the gate. “And, uh, what are you doing, Rick?”

“Attempting to get you on this side of the gate.” Rick grunted as the circuit box shocked him. He muttered incoherently after shaking his hand slightly.

Sweetie’s response came after a few moments of careful thought. “... We should head towards the transport hub, and use it as an operations base. Adjutant Scootaloo will likely head there as well; this is the tertiary fallback plan we agreed on.” Sweetie’s voice had lost its deeper rumble, instead merely filtered somehow, making it extremely hard not to hear, even with the robotic sound to it.

The grate clattered and shook, beginning to raise.

“Finally, didn’t look that complicated in the first place...” Rick muttered to himself.

Johan, wincing inside his helmet as he rolled his shoulders, stood up and looked around. “Well, then, let’s get moving.” He stopped for a moment and shook his head. “And we should, uh, find a shower. Or a pool. I can smell it through my helmet...”

“Dude you really need to learn how to stop getting hurt... we don’t need our medic being the first one to die... wait are you black?” Allen asks.

“Wha-? No, I’m Irish, American, and Italian. If I got any paler, I’d sparkle.”

“Ok. Going by horror logic then you will not be the first one to die... heh heh... vampire,” Allen chuckled.

“Engineer third class Rick Fuoco has multiple suit breaches.” Sweetie pointed out, “These breaches should be repaired or the suit should be replaced immediately according to multiple regulations.”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t realize your suit was that bad, Rick.” Johan said. “Uh, speaking of, how’d it get broken, and how’d you get away? You can tell us as we walk, if that’s alright.”

Allen looked at Johan, “I’ll take point again.”

“He got grabbed, smashed, thrown, and we killed it because it was focusing on me, I for the most part took out its arm, then he finished it off.” Sketch said, simplifying it almost to parody.

“Well, after we were chased...” Rick started, recounting the events until he and Sketch had gotten cornered. “... and then I got thrown through the debris, and shot the arm again. Then, Sketch shot at it, and its own weight broke its arm. When it tried lunging at Sketch, it got impaled on a chunk of the debris it had knocked up, and Sketch used one of his mines to bring the roof on it. It should be stuck for a little while, at least. It didn’t seem to be able to get away, anyhow.”

Silence reigned over the group as they marched on.

“So, uhm... I’m dying.” Allen said in a conversational tone.

Author's Note

Yes, multiple Tormentors. Fleeing is optimal.

No, Rick doesn't have enough bullets to clear the station.

Yes, you should vote for your favorite character and your least favorite. It influences their 'Fame' ranking, and makes it easier or harder for them to die, find items they need, or escape from Necromorphs. Every vote counts!

Also, I promise the group won't see a single Hunter or Ubermorph in the story.
I promise.

Ch22 - Up a Well-Known Creek

CD was slumped against a wall, panting. The thick muck practically pulled at their legs, and Scootaloo had taken CD’s offer to ride on his back after they’d found one of the massive creature’s gouges. It had acted as a deep portion of the miring filth, and Scootaloo had literally fallen in and almost disappeared under it. If CD hadn’t been able to see her anyways, he probably wouldn’t have been able to find her at all.

Which brought up the second thing forcing him to take a rest on an island of debris in the river of sludge: there was a significant undertow once you pierced the first six or seven centimeters of muck. Only the stagnant surface kept it from dragging either pony under, but Scootaloo had drifted nearly a meter under that thick skin before she’d been fished out.

And to top it all off, CD was pretty sure the smell had burned his nose-hairs out, or fused them, or something, because he couldn’t smell anything anymore.

“Well, this stinks, surprisingly not literally for once. I wonder why there’s all this muck, I didn’t think that a few burst pipes could have this much stuff in them.”

“Ugh, some of this probably isn’t just sewage. We are in a mechanical, biological, and medical research station, after all. I’m trying really hard not to think of what’s actually all in this, and being extremely glad my suit’s still sealed. Even if the smell still got in, somehow.” Scoots wasn’t nearly as winded as CD, but she was still tired. The chemicals had been making her eyes water, something CD, with his greater body mass to diffuse the problem, hadn’t had to deal with. Yet.

“I wonder what everyone else is doing, or where they are, this place is huge. Do you think we’re lost?” CD asked, a hint of worry obvious in his voice.

“We’re backtracking a trail this obvious. If we got lost following this, we’d have become officially easier to lose than my aunt, Ditzy. Or her sister, Derpy. Neither one could get lost in this.”

“Given their names, I feel kinda bad for ‘em. And I was mainly referring to us knowing where we were compared to everyone else.”

“Well, uhm... As long as Sweetie’s still around, she’d tell them to head towards the transit hub. Fallback plan three. Or gamma. Or was it ‘C’? I can’t remember, Sweetie used a lot of tallying systems for her backup plans. Not sure, exactly, where she got that habit, I’ve met her sister, and she’s not that similar.”

“So on a scale of ‘one’ to ‘me’, how special is Sweetie anyway?”

“... Uh, is the scale linear or logarithmic?”

“Yes.”

“... She’s a nine.”

“Alright then. So how long do we have to wade through this goop? It seems like it’s taking forever with nothing happening, it’s creeping me the fuck out.”

“Dude, we’ve been sitting here for, like, half a minute. We’ve got at least three before the shit hits the fan.” She paused for a moment, her arteries pulsing a steady, pale blue in CD’s vision. “Well, more than it already has.”

“You don’t say? Alright, let’s get out of this gunk. Preferably without sinking into it. Again.”

Scootaloo chuckled. “You just want the chance to save me again, don’t you, make it up to three girls going after you, eh? Veritable harem, there. Full herd, as it were.”

“To clarify, I never tried for any of them, and one of them I don’t even remember knowing. Also, you’re still a bit young.”

“I’m fifteen! That’s not young at all!”

“Who said anything about typical standards, I meant my standards. Unless we can look each other in the eye without one of us looking down, you’re gonna have to wait a bit longer.”

“I’m not young. I’ve only got, like, thirty years. And if my parents didn’t give me their shrimp genes, I wouldn’t look like I’m still twelve!”

“I never said it was anyone’s fault-”

“But I am! Everyone calls me ‘young’ or ‘kid’ or ‘little girl’ or ‘squirt’ all the time. I’ll be old enough to vote in seven months, for Celestia’s sake!”

“And I’m sure a lot of older mares might kill to be called ‘young’ even in their twenties or thirties.”

“But nobody takes me seriously. Even if I could somehow get into the training for it, I can’t be on any EVA team. I’m too short! At most, I could be a shuttle pilot, and that’s for folks who can’t do anything else.”

“If you say so, miss negative. At least you can avoid these necromorphs a bit easier.”

“Only ‘cuz they’ll trip over me! Which would be pretty awesome, I’ll admit.” Scootaloo’s voice brightened considerably for a moment, but it fell again a moment after. She looked away, gazing at the post-meal river.

“It could be worse. You could be ugly, too. Always remember, try to shine by comparison, and you’ll feel better.”

“Yeah, at least I’m doing better than you.”

“Oh gee, it seems my horrible ugliness and stupidity is making me fall over, I hope I don’t push anything headfirst into Lake Shitriver.” He began to totter wildly, swaying back and forth as Scootaloo hung on for dear life, shrieking happily. After a few moments, he stopped again, laughing as well as he dragged himself onto another pile of scrap metal to rest.

From his back, Scootaloo was catching her own breath. “Man, I wish... I had... a big brother... like you. Y’ seem... pretty cool... for a... a seventee- teen year-old... geezer.”

“Actually, I’m... p- pretty warm.” He smirked. “And... I’m... missing a... few screws.”

Scootaloo just chuckled along with him. “I’m... I’m prolly jixin’ this... but I’m glad we got... this moment. It... It’s good to have... family who cares. Or something like one.”

“Nothing like trudging through a lake of Celestia-knows-what to make a perfect bonding scenario.”

The two lay on the heap of junk for several minutes as they rested. “Hey, CD.” Scoots called out, raising her head.

“What? Is something finally happening?”

“No, I think I see a door that still works. C’mon, there shouldn’t be any shit up there but necromorphs. And man would that be a welcome change at this point.”

“Unless there’s more crap up there and the necromorphs are covered in it. Nah, I’m joking. Yeah let’s go.”

The two stood back up, hobbling up and over the piles of debris and through a shallow pool of dull-red goo, which thankfully only came up a small distance past their muck-encrusted boots.

As they approached the door, they missed the sight of a portion of the muck heaving itself out of the rest of the river in the form of a thousand tiny, squirming shapes, quietly flipping along to move as they migrated from one section of the mire to another. If the duo hadn’t went to the door, they probably would’ve been covered in the tiny things by this point.

Stepping into the corridor beyond the door, the pair found a clean, white-tiled hallway, with faux-wood panelling and red drop tile ceiling. The lights, evenly spaced along the hallway, were producing plenty of illumination. Multiple doors, these all posh wood-panel doors, lined either side. Hollowcore doors never looked so inviting.

In a sing-song voice, Scootaloo declared, “Let’s go lewting!”

“Is that like rifling through people’s stuff trying to find vibrators?”

“No, it’s when you rifle through their stuff for valuables. Including vibrators.”

Rick, Johan, and Sketch were all screaming. The main reason for this was because they were covered in tiny, biting, horrific nuisances. The little creatures had arrived in a muck-covered swarm, and stormed up the legs of most of the group, or jumped at them from the walls or from the sludge.

In spite of the horror of being snacked upon by tiny fleshy flapjacks aside, most of the group was screaming at the fact that the horrible little things were covered in shit, and had bitten them anyways. It’d be like if mosquitos as long as your forearm had been bred in a garbage pit, but worse. Because each of the creatures could bite and then they kept biting. And they were covered in shit.

“Why the fuck do these things even exist?!” Sketch shouted.

“Damn, that shit sucks... almost literally,” Allen said as he tried to nick a couple off of the nearest person, a pony. The screaming artist just continued to flail and roll, attempting to get the things off any way possible, in spite of the consequences. It was better than the alternative. Barely.

“Why the hell aren’t you covered in these things like us you asshole!?” Sketch yelled at Allen.

Sweetie’s response superseded Allen’s. “Engineer fourth grade, special order three Allen Rihkart was the quickest to remove the smaller hostiles. Using his hands. Which you now possess mechanical duplicates of. To reiterate-”

“We get it, Sweetie! Aaaaagh!!” Johan screamed as he continued to tear the group of them from his back.

“Wait, waitwaitwait... theres stuff that goes after the engineer title? What’s that shit mean?” Allen asked.

As the other three members of the group joined forces to remove the little... shits... from each other’s backs, Sweetie elaborated. “Your full title is Engineer second class, fourth grade, with three ranks special munitions for purchasing and access reasons. Personnel files indicate that you are also overdue for an inspection of your work gear, and are also listed with fifty-seven absences from a workplace meeting, and two unpaid probation periods on file.”

“In engli- wait... What?!” Allen shouted, “You’re meaning to tell me that there have been more than two workplace meetings I missed, and what are you talking about unpaid probations... I’ve never heard about any of this!”

“Probation guidelines require notification. If that has not occurred, then you are entitled to full compensation.”

“Fuck yeah I’m getting compensation! Now if you excuse me I have some calls to make.” Allen said.

“Engineering administrator Anoleis is not currently available, according to station files.”

“Fuck. Well I’m going to call everyone. Someone will have to pick up,” Allen said hopefully.

“Administrative assistant Everard is also unavailable.”

“By Altman’s salty anus!”

Sweetie seemed unimpressed by Allen’s ‘colorful’ outburst, and the others were too busy ripping the last couple of swarmers, now engaging in a merry game of ‘can’t catch me’, to even care.

“So... could you see how much money I do have since you seem to be able to see all the files?”

“Credits are stored locally, in your RIG’s primary synch files, to prevent both theft and counterfeiting.”

“So... I only have twenty-one hundred credits... well, fuck... someone’s going to hear about this one when I find them if they ain’t already dead.”

Sweetie shrugged. “Authorities at the military installation could reroute funds and annul the probation periods if presented with evidence that would prevent their initial activation.”

“Sweet, well at least now I have a motivating reason to go to the military district,” said Allen.

“That would be correct.”

Sweetie and Allen sat in companionable silence for several seconds, watching as the other three members of the group finally finished their screaming and the destruction of the tiny biting horrors that had been clinging to them.

“Those necromorph forms appear to be exquisitely painful. I am very glad I failed to attract their attention.”

“Same... we should probably help them.”

“That would likely be an optimal resolution to their suffering.”

Neither Sweetie nor Allen moved. The young pony shifted slightly.

“They appear to be done with removing the creatures. Perhaps medigel applications would be optimal.”

Allen nodded sagely in response, still not moving as the three beleaguered victims slowly collapsed back, panting and in pain from the numerous tiny, stabbing wounds on them.

“Yeah, it probably would.”

“Affirmative.”

Scootaloo stepped towards one of the rooms nearest to her, poking at the control. It beeped softly, and the wood-styled door hissed and opened slightly, being one of the rare hinged doors on the station. The door opened inwards, towards the room.

“So... who’s going in first?” Scoots asked, sitting next to the now open door. Light spilled softly from the doorway.

“Well, I guess I will, not really important though.” CD walked into the room, unworried but prepared anyway. Peeking his head around first, he could see a large, mostly unmarred laboratory within, whitewashed by the bright fluorescents. There appeared to be a large number of stations to work at, a large banner hung nearby, welcoming the ‘Junior Science Associates’ to the room. Thankfully, there weren’t any bodies, but the sterile environment seemed almost intimidating in its perfect levels of clean.

Looking around the area, he realized that the stations were all built for humans, being all at eye-brow height for him. Utilizing the suit’s servos to stand, he was then tall enough to survey the stuff laid out on the table. He reached for a small vial, empty and hanging in a rack of similar test-tubes, just to get a better look at it.

“See anything dangerous?”

Scootaloo’s words made him jump, arm sweeping many of the (to him) yellow-coated glass tubes from the table, shattering and annihilating a large number of glass lab equipment pieces.

“You, for one. Don’t scare me like that, I have no idea what any of this stuff is, I’m a techie, not a science nerd.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes, the action unnoticed by CD’s still-blocked eyesight. “You do realize that a techie is a nerd, right? And besides, are you sure you should be touching things with your hooves all grimy like that?” Scootaloo gestured towards his outstretched leg, and he realized he could tell how bad the had actually gotten.

“No I don’t. Sue me, I’m curious to a fault. On second thought, don’t sue, I hate the legal system. Jokes aside, do you have any idea what this stuff is? I’d like to know if that stuff I threw everywhere is horribly toxic.”

“Well, judging from the big ol’ banner saying ‘Welcome to Chemistry 103’ hanging up there, I’d doubt it. Here, gimme a sec, I’ll go see if the big table near the collection of lab consoles has a plan or something. Also, that thing over there looks like an emergency shower, and I’d classify your current state of disgusting appearance to be a big enough emergency to count.”

“Yeah, you’re no rose garden yourself. You’re after me, especially after what we just swam through, we could both use a shower.” CD commented as he headed for the first chance to clean off since he last remembered, which was a year ago.

Reaching around with his mechanical fingers, he grasped the chemical safety shower’s handle and tugged. The sudden downpour slammed into him, with enough force to knock him back, even through the helmet’s faceplate. As the water dumped over him, sloughing off the grime and muck, he sighed. Though the temperature was negligible, even unnoticed through the suit, the not-so-gentle susurrus of the water was calming for his nerves.

Sighing, he opened his eyes again, still marveling at the weird vision he’d acquired. He hit the handle again to shut off the water, having to hit it a few times to turn it off. After a moment or two, the torrential water finally swept off from his helmet, no longer obscuring his vision. Now that he could see clearly, the view wasn’t as brightly visible as before. Only the emergency lights were on, and the lab equipment had a whole series of brightly-colored fluids in them, now mixing freely in the gunk-filled water spilling into the drain in the center of the room.

Sighing, he looked up, seeing Scootaloo rummaging through the cabinets at the larger table.

“When you’re ready, feel free to wash up after your little swim.” CD wandered over. “Hey what’cha got there anyway?”

“I think... I think it’s the teacher’s notes. Yeah. So today, it appears they were learning about viral chemistry... Oh, shit, I think you’re contagious!” Scootaloo began backpedalling away from CD rapidly.

CD looked down at his arm, where he’d smashed the vials. “Y- you said that stuff wasn’t dangerous! Aagh! Get it off, get it off, get it off!” CD began waving and shaking his arm, trying to do something, anything, to prevent the probably horrifying infection from setting in.

He could hear Scootaloo making terrified noises, and flailed harder. His life flashed before his eyes. It was a lot more boring than he’d want to admit, except the really recent stuff.

Finally, he dropped to the ground, panting and gasping for breath, wondering if, perhaps, that was part of the effect of the virus, whatever it was. Maybe he was going to turn into a disease-riddled necromorph, devour Scootaloo, and kill everyone else? Was that even possible?

His head rolled around to look over at Scootaloo, still in the corner. She appeared to be screaming, perhaps in pain, legs flailing as well, also gasping for air. Her convulsions looked like she was in incredible agony, and CD felt a brief flash of sorrow for her, doomed before she could even reach full adulthood.

Finally everything quieted down, and CD wondered what it would be like to be a necromorph. He looked over at Scootaloo, unsure if he should go and try eating her brains or something. The younger pony looked up at him as well.

“Y’know, you are the biggest dork I’ve ever seen, and I’ve got eight issues of Playmare.” Scootaloo’s voice was full of mirth, and she had to suppress an honest-to-goodness giggle. “It’s just colored water, dude.” Scootaloo burst into laughter as CD just stared at her, uncomprehending, at the filly.

His eyes narrowed behind the glowing helmet. “Oh, you’re good.”

Back in the wet morass of sludge and grime, the other five members of the group were huddled atop of a pile of ceiling tiles that had formed a barely-visible hump in the gooey river. Surrounding the quintet of survivors was a veritable army of necromorphs, slashers, pukers, lurkers, and even the tiny little swarmers crawling over even the slightest piece of debris.

The five of them had expended a few clips of their main weapons each, Johan’s pulse rifle peppering the creatures as Allen’s plasma cutter removed limbs. Sketch was using his Divet, just to conserve ammunition. From atop his back, arcs of actinic fire stretched out to tap the necromorphs, incinerating them chunk by chunk. Sweetie’s fire was neither precise nor common, but it was enough to sear away groups of them. Rick, with his heavy cutter, was at the top, trying to hit the largest waves as quickly as possible.

The group, however, was still surrounded. The necromorphs were closing in, and even Johan was beginning to run low on ammo. With the suddenness of a riptide, the pile shifted and moved, falling down and in, dragging each of the ponies and humans still alive down a swirling green, red, and black whirlpool with a variety of necromorphs not far behind.

As Johan felt himself fall, he tried flailing for the edge, but missed, feeling himself slam back-first into the floor below, along with a sharp pain in his left shoulder. He tried to scream, but the sound was choked off by the sewage pouring in a torrential, vile ‘waterfall’.

Sketch, as he fell, felt himself smash against something in the disgusting slurry, hard, like an I-beam or other piece of construction. Whatever it was, he wasn’t sure, as he fell past it in the mire. The muck slid past his visor, for he was thankful it was a self-sealing system. He honestly didn’t want to think about what it would mean to get any of this in the ruin of his eye.

Slipping into the sludge quite unexpectedly, Rick flailed for a moment before the sensation of something clawed grabbing him held his attention. The grasp was, oddly, not at all hostile, and seemed to steady him before relenting. Then, he was back into the swirling sewage, landing in a barely more dignified heap than the others.

And as Allen fell backwards into the gooey refuse of far too many bean burrito sundays, the only real, coherent thought that came forth for him was, “Oh, balls, this is just like high school again.”

Scootaloo and CD had found a bunch of water balloons, probably for some experiment or another. They had decided that goofing off was the best way to clean off Scootaloo, or at least CD had. The first one had hit her in the back of the head, and he considered the shot fully worth the virus prank a few minutes before.

The two ponies, acting like children, had the first actually relaxing moment of their day. They found that the suits, designed to resist high-impact zero-g debris, was more or less impervious to the tiny bits of crushed glass and the like, and got into a beaker fight. They came out of that one having learned that corn syrup was also in some of the beakers. The purpose: unknown.

But very entertaining to peg others with, especially when filled with colored fluids in addition. In all, the two barely had the time to wonder why no necromorphs had invaded their area, instead rampaging happily through the science classroom. After they finished the romp, they sat back, having rinsed off with one last round of water balloons.

“So... we should probably get moving.” Scootaloo spoke quietly, obviously enjoying the time to rest. “Maybe, uh, ‘scavenge’ one more room. These might all be classrooms.”

“Who knows, maybe there’s a pinata in the next room.” He looked over at Scootaloo for a moment. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Kind of.”

Scootaloo huffed a laugh.

The two ponies sat for a moment, bonding. They both, however, practically jumped out of their suits as another RIGlink call crackled on CD’s suit.

“N- number eight! I just remembered! Number eight, it’s important, please!”

The voice was back, and this time it was accompanied by the video link, not just audio. As CD had guessed last time, it was a mare that had contacted him. Bright eyes, like circles of sapphire, looked from a haggard visage. Those eyes, sequins in a field of bloodshot white, were frantic and frenzied. It looked like she was grabbing the holographic ‘screen’ with her hooves and dragging herself close to it.

“P- please, you’ve got to remember the sequence, okay? It’s broken, and they can hear us, but they aren’t interfering, they’re just watching us. Please, you’ve got to remember the sequence. I- I can’t, they’re waiting for me and I jus-”

The tirade cut off with a pop and the harsh noise of static. Scootaloo, watching in vague terror, turned to CD. “So, uh, what’s going on with her? Are you sure you don’t know her?”

“Kind of. I might know her, but I have no memory of her. And what she said bothers me. This ‘sequence’ she mentioned, the scientists who messed with my head for a year, they wanted the same thing. But I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what most of the stuff that’s going on is.” CD sighed. “Well, she doesn’t seem to be with the scientists, so I guess she’s fine, I just have no recollection of her whatsoever.”

“Well, she sure seems to remember you. You think the ‘them’ she referred to was the scientists? Or someone else entirely.”

“Most likely the scientists. But I want to know why she remembers me if they had her too. Why’d they only wipe my head?”

The RIGlink crackled again, but this time it was just a voice connection. The voice, from the other side of the link, sounded scared and whispered, as if she was trying to keep someone from overhearing.

“Please... Number eight, you have to remember. B- before they find it on their own. They can’t get finished, or they win. You- you remember the machine, right?”

“Uh, kinda? Not really, it’s all sort of blurry at this point.”

His response was met with silence for several seconds. Then, she whispered again. “You’re lucky. You’re lucky you don’t remember. I- I can’t do it again. You have to remember the sequence, eight.”

“I’m lucky... I don’t know? I thought you said I have to remember!”

“No, it’s not that, you need to remember the seque- oh no, they’re back. I- I have to go! Oh no, oh n-” The RIGlink simply cut off.

“I, uhm, think we should check another room or two, and get to the hub.” Scootaloo cut in nervously, as she looked at the stunned pony next to her. “It- it’s the only place I can think of, right now. To get with the group again, that is.”

CD looked over at her. “Guess the fun’s over. Man this got depressing fast. So, guess we just keep going and hope the rest is fine.”

“Uh, yeah.” The filly said with a nod. “That sounds good.”

Sketch, recovering the quickest, sat up with a groan. He was in the growing pool of disgusting refuse, and looked around. The other members of the group were also trying to stand up, and several other forms were, too. Sketch backed up from the forms, looking all around, up and down, to make sure nothing would get him this time around.

Sketch quickly backed into a cheap-looking couch. Looking at it, he decided it wasn’t worth his life, but it was worth a few seconds. He began to work his way around it, only to find a body, stripped of much of its flesh and laying still. Much of its body was missing, but Sketch saw only the horror of the shape, and began to fire wildly at the thing, hoping it wouldn’t get up.

As the Divet clicked empty, he realized he’d just emptied a full clip into a corpse. One that wasn’t trying to stand up and get him. Reloading shakily, he backed away from it with a gulp, again. Still panicky as fuck he looked around seeing more shapes standing slowly.

Johan, buried under the torrent of sewage, wasn’t able to do much more than gurgle and flail, left arm dead to his senses as he tried to push himself off whatever had impaled him in the fall. As he moved, something below his twitched, and he had honestly no idea who or what it was.

Not four steps away, Rick was standing up from the pained crouch he’d landed in. He wasn’t entirely sure what had grabbed him, but the feeling had been both familiar and comforting. Looking around, he couldn’t see much through the thick slime coating his visor, and something told him that retracting the helmet would probably, in all likelihood, make things far, far worse. The smell, he decided, and the faint screaming in the back of his head, next to the spectre of his wife.

As he realized what he was seeing, imposed across his vision with the sight of the chapel they’d been married in, he leapt back, shaking his head to clear the image from his mind. As much as he longed to see her face again, that wasn’t the way. Thankfully, the hard shake of his head had not only cleared it, but his vision as well, much of the goop having been flung from it. As he stood, he held back a gasp of pain, recognizing some of the shapes as the simpler necromorphs; slasher, pukers, and other strains rising from the expanding pool of sludge.

“Ah, fuck.” He whispered to himself.

Allen rose, vision blurry, to his feet, the mire’s contents sliding off his helmet, leaving nothing more vision-obstructing than brownish streaks down his visor. All around were the shapes of either necromorphs or his new allies, and he couldn’t tell which just yet, under the torrent of slime and gunk. As well, all his lights were covered, making him only visible by the bronzed, glassy dome over his face.

As he went to check his stuff, he realized something; he had promised to help get Sweetie back, and he had no idea where she was.

“By the Marker’s good graces, I can only hope we make it the fuck out of this alright.” Allen muttered, before casting his gaze around, searching for the apparently valuable young unicorn. “Sweetie! Sweetie Belle!”

The muck beside him mounded up, resolving itself into the shape of a small pony. Allen looked down at the pile of filly-shaped... poo. “That’s... fuckin’ disgusting.”

The pile looked up at him and nodded. “... Affirmative. Hostiles inbound.”

Allen looked up at her comment, staring at the shambling thing heading for them. “Aw, sh- uh, damn.” As he drew his rivet gun, he began to fire at the incoming necromorphs.

Nearby, Johan was struggling to stand, feeling the thing impaled in his shoulder shift as he rolled to the side. The spike, or whatever it was, slide out, along with the burning sensation of whatever had coated it at the time. Gritting his teeth, he finally rose from the swampy sludge, clutching his shoulder. Letting go to wipe the muck from his visor, drawing his weapon once more to scan around. He could already see at least two standing forms, and the shambling movements of what could only be, now that he could see the lights of his companion’s helmets, necromorphs.

The group, now standing, began to fight the beasts once more.

Author's Note

Cliffhanger! Sorta!
Not really, but still.

Make sure to vote! High fame = high survival chances, lower fame = lesser survival chances!

Also, ew.
Just eww. That sewage has to go somewhere after all, they can't simply jettison an entire city's worth of literal crap into space; it'd form dangerous asteroids that could cause huge amounts of damage.

Hmm, I wonder if that flash game's been made yet, "Crapsteroids"
Wouldn't surprise me, with today's levels of poop jokes on the internet.

Ch23 - Knowing When You're Needed (but not always getting there)

Allen, Rick, and the three ponies carried Johan down the corridor. CD and Scootaloo had been located just fine, before Johan had collapsed from the poisoned wound in his shoulder. The deep rent in the suit wasn’t sealing properly, due to the sheer size of it. Johan’s labored breathing rasped through the air, his helmet retracted and a thick sheen of sweat across his features.

CD could see thick globules and streaks of red taking over the blue of his healthy body. That alone made him more terrified than the monsters they had practically mown over to get as far as they had. They were only a few hundred meters from the tram station, and they’d be able to set Johan down and help him as best as they could.

But as it was, well... it didn’t take a medical professional to read the two red bars left blinking slowly on his RIG.

They charged down the corridor, Sketch and CD firing into the hordes of dead flesh and rotting faces on every side. They didn’t have the ammo to keep that rate of fire, but they tried anyways, burning through ammo as quickly as possible in order to keep the beasts at bay.

Allen and Rick, carrying the makeshift stretcher, weren’t able to fire back, but they moved as quickly as they could. Sweetie and Scootaloo, each riding on the backs of one of the adult ponies, were acting similar to turrets, turning and firing at the oncoming hordes. They, as well, lacked the ammunition to fire as much as they were, but, again, there wasn’t much choice. Their only chance was to get him to an AutoStore, and hope he had enough in his account to pay for the expensive amounts of medigel they’d need to at least get him walking again. Stable would be better, but nobody in the group was going to hope for anything that miraculous.

“Please... d- don’t go to... to sleep, dad... don’t want...” Johan muttered in his sleep and shifted, face contorted with pain. Everyone in the group took it a little differently.

“You do realize, we’re probably going to have to off ‘im, right?” Allen called over his shoulder, pausing in his marching only to avoid a slashing arm striking at him from an angle.

“No, w- we can save him, right?” Sketch asked.

“If we can’t, there’s a possibility he won’t be totally dead, so we better hope that we can. Hope like never before.” CD said quickly.

Sweetie Belle, sitting on his back, pointedly said nothing, merely fired into the oncoming horde. Scoots had more vocal opinion to express. “I wish ‘Bloom was here. She’d know what to do, right?” the orange filly shot a look back towards Sweetie, who didn’t answer.

“Okay, I really don’t need a guilt trip right now.” CD said. “Even if you don’t blame me for that, I do...”

“How about we figure out who’s to blame for what and everythin’ else after we're all safe!” Allen shouted back.

Allen was met with near silence, as the creatures screeched and roared. Johan mumbled and shifted again in the stretcher. The tall pyro at the head of the group, barely three meters from last doorway they needed to get through, hit a slick patch of the necromorph’s gooey creep. As his feet went out from under him, the entire group more or less coming to a halt as the stretcher tipped. Johan, barely conscious, continued to mumble, his words growing both less coherent and more loud as he slipped further from reality.

“Shit, pick him up!” Scootaloo shouted, also tumbling from Sketch’s back as he, too, hit the slick patch.

“I’m working on it, now shut it and run, bitch!” Allen shouted, as he jumped back up and got Johan back on the stretcher and starting to march, double time, as he picked up the stretcher. Rick, grabbing the other side again, paused only to help Sketch back up. The four ponies continued to charge onwards, following the humans ‘half’ of the group.

The time they’d been stopped, though, gave time for a new creature to crawl down the wall. The thing looked like a torso with a long, whip-like tail. The creature’s face, broken and distended into a set of large, mandible-like jaws. It looked like it had once been a pony, but the blank, dead eyes stared soullessly from the creature’s perch on the door. It gave a gurgling roar, and leapt.

It flew through the air like a missile, and slammed, bodily, into CD. The creature’s weight was far more than something of its size, knocking him to his side and throwing Sweetie from his back with a cry. CD, now on his side and with the creature gnashing its teeth in his face. He tried to punch and buck at the creature, but to no avail, leading to it sinking its jaws into his shoulder and neck. As he swung furiously at the creature, he could feel several of its teeth break off against his collarbone, the sharp enamel grating against flesh and bone as he threw it from him.

CD, rolling to his hooves, brought one armored appendage down on the thing’s head, mashing it apart as it squealed and retreated. Sweetie threw an arm under his, and helped him to his back hooves, performing a flawless assisted carry, in spite of their difference in height.

The two of them, moving as fast as they could, shuffled in through the door, right as a bright, fluorescent light poured into their eyes

“Drop your weapons and step forward at once! This is the United Earths Marines and Space Forces. I repeat, drop your weapons and step forward at once!” The voice was both authoritative and feminine. It was, quite simply, an amazing voice, and one both Scootaloo and Allen knew rather well.

“I... cannot... believe this,” Allen said in awe Scootaloo nodded, saying breathily, “I know, right?”

“I’m not getting shot at again by security! Show some I.D.!” Sketch demanded

Scootaloo looked over at him, her faceplate flipping open to reveal a look of shock and horror as she looked at Sketch. “Dude, that’s Night Star!”

Sketch just stands there for a second, “Who the hell is that?! Is he-slash-she going to shoot at me? I don’t like sniper fire in my direction!”

Scootaloo had already dropped her cutter, and was motioning and gesturing wildly. “She’s the leader of the ShadowBolts!”

“I don’t know who or what they are, and I don’t want them shooting me, I need some I.D.!” Sketch retorted.

“Drop the weapons, or we’ll fire!”

Allen threw his weapons to the floor and held up his arms. “There they are. If you want the others, I’d get busted for Indecent Exposure; they’re attached.” And even though his plate was still in place, he gave as seductive a wink as he could manage anyways.

“I don’t know how to detach my weapons... shit...” Sketch said to Scootaloo, “A little help?”

The filly fiddled his weapons.

“I said to drop the weapons, this is your last warning!”

“We’re trying!”

Rick eventually placed his cutter and rivet gun on the ground at his feet, CD doing the same as he leaned against the wall.

Sweetie strode out into the main light, painted red and black from blood and gore. Her voice rang out clearly, the filter no longer seeming so silly as it projected more easily than her squeaky voice did. “We have wounded. Override code seven-eight-niner-niner-beta-niner-omega-five.” She turned to regard the light. “I have full security dispense for my retinue.”

The light flicked off, no longer shining too bright into their eyes. A large gunship, hovering outside the large window of the tram station, was flanked by a dozen pegasi-like forms, each in shining black and violet armor with a blue-and-violet insignia on their flanks in place of the cutie-marks below. The gunship had the same insignia across the front, a pair of bat-wings flanking a burst of stars with a sideways crescent in the center.

The mare at the front, standing inside the tram station, stepped forward, movements graceful as a hunting cat’s, and giving the same air of deadly capability. Her helmet was retracted fully, showing a pale, snow-white face and a shining blue mane, barely longer than her ears, and the twin Heavy Rifles sitting at her sides.

“Miss Belle, I didn’t realize this was your... retinue.” Mare looked left and right, at the assorted people. “Alright, then, get the injured into the gunship. Get Miss Belle into the holding cell, she’s too valuable to leave elsewhere. Miss Belle, choose two of your... retinue to bring with you. The rest will be in the main hold.”

Sweetie Belle looked back and forth at the members of the group. “Scootaloo and... the Engineer class four.” She said the last title pointing at CD.

The mare in charge nodded, looking suspiciously at CD when Sweetie didn’t use his name. CD, meanwhile, wasn’t going to question it as he assumed Sweetie had some reason for it, and he was glad for the free ticket out.

Allen looked around. “Hey, uh, can you fix my funds, while you’re in there? Just, uh, to fix it up?”

Sweetie looked back at him, as the ShadowBolts moved to surround them. “The case has not been resolved. However, it will be reviewed ASAP.”

Allen sighed. “Well, uh, can I get these two tickets for your show today refunded?” Allen asked of the two Shadowbolts flanking him.

Meanwhile, Scootaloo gave a hug to Sketch. “No hooking up with some beautiful sports star while I’m gone, unless we’re sharing, alright?”

“Don’t worry, after all, sharing is caring.”

Scootaloo donked her helmet to his affectionately. “Absolutely.”

Across the way, Rick was picking his two weapons up, thankful he hadn’t been asked to relinquish his trivolver. The two ShadowBolts stepping up towards him nodded politely. “Sir, you’re listed as the senior researcher for the SPS project. Please come with us, we have separate quarters available for you.” In the suits, they seemed perfectly identical, the specialized helms and plating coating them like an armored second skin.

Rick looked back and forth between them. “Hold on, me?”

The pony looked at a holographic list hovering over his vision. “Yes, Rick Fuoco, right?”

“Yes, but...” He stopped, seemingly thinking.

“Head developers Lyra Heartstrings and Onyx Synergy are either currently KIA or not connected to their RIGs. As such, it seems that control, and therefore leadership, of the project has passed to you.” The pony said. “I’m sorry, if that helps.”

Rick didn’t respond at first, but shook his head. “I... I just...”

“We’ve all lost friends today.” The pony in armor said. “C’mon, there’s food in the ship. You should get moving before the next wave shows up, they’ve been getting more and more aggressive. There’ll be clothes for you to change into as well. No offense, but that suit is fucked up.”

Rick glanced at his suit once again, noticing the crimped metal strips and the shredded outer sections of the suit. Sure it would’ve been spaceworthy, barely, but it was actually rather surprising that none of the pukers had managed to corrode their way through all the thin patches.

“Yeah... Do you happen to have a AutoStore inside as well?”

“No, but there’s one back at base. You can use that once we’ve arrived.”

Rick nodded. “Alright, lead the way.”

Inside the ship, red and gold carpeting and trim met the eyes of the three ponies stepping into it, Those being Scootaloo, CD, and Sweetie first. The two ShadowBolts guiding them, one being Night Star and the other still being in their armor.

“Miss Belle, please make yourself at home. These quarters are yours until we arrive at the base.” Night Star said, nodding politely to the smaller pony. As Sweetie nodded back, Night Star simply turned and left, affording no more courtesy to her young charge.

As the door slid shut, Scootaloo practically buzzed in her armor from the excitement.

CD, rather less enthusiastically, looked at the door. “She seemed a little... rude. And I very much did not expect carpeting. Where are we again?”

Sweetie Belle’s helmet retracted, revealing the filly’s face, her fur now matted with sweat. “We’re in the captain’s quarters. I don’t think Commander Star appreciates me pre-empting her gunship and her command.”

Scootaloo looked over at her. “Oh, come on! That was Commander Night Star! She’s been in over twenty different anti-piracy or anti-bandit actions, taking out the foul scum from between the stars!” Scootaloo said the words with a voice holding far more hero worship than such a tiny body should be able to hold. It also sounded like she was reciting from recruiting poster or something.

“Excuse me for being the universe’s biggest killjoy ever, but; Who?” CD asked the question with a flinch and a raised hoof, entirely sure he was going to be hit.

Scootaloo gave a frustrated groan, stomping her hoof and preparing to explain in detail, when Sweetie put a hoof in Scoots mouth, stopping her from talking.

“Commander Night Star has an exemplary service record, and is the leader of the ShadowBolts Special Combat and Tactical Reconnaissance Space Flight Squadron. She has been in the military for close to eighteen years, since she joined at the early age of fifteen. As the youngest Commander of the ShadowBolts to achieve that rank, she’s considered very much ‘new blood’ in the commonly heritage-based United Earths government’s military. As well, she was voted the ‘Sexiest Female in the Galaxy’ for four years running by both PlayColt Magazine and Armed Forces Monthly.” To CD’s surprise, she said it all in her normal, adorable, squeaky voice.

Scoots looked over at Sweetie, apparently unhappy that her friend had stolen her thunder. “Yeah, what she said.”

“Okay then, so what’s going on now? First off, why is this place carpeted? Isn’t that supposed to be for people who can burn money for fun?”

“Money burning is illegal. Also, the Shadowbolts are able to fund their own supplies as needed.” Sweetie cleared her throat and coughed, each of the coughs sounding like little squeaks. “They are given special dispensation to pick and choose armaments at will, as they are a specialist squadron. And, likely, their additional income as stunt fliers in times of peace allow them to purchase military-grade equipment with civilian design for comforts.” She finished simply, rummaging in her inventory. At last, she found what she was looking for; she brought the bottle of water to her lips and drank deeply, the mechanical fingers of her suit maintaining a firm grasp on the plastic container.

“Why is it that performers get paid insane amounts, while important jobs like teaching are usually somewhat above average pay?”

“Preference for attendance.” Scoots answered, opening what appeared to be a mini-fridge and looking through it. “Performers get paid more because people want to be there more.”

“Well, yeah, but... nevermind, I can’t complain as I’d probably have something like this if I had more money than the requirements for living.” CD said. “Seriously, this is like a magazine compared to what I used to have.”

Scootaloo shrugged, retreating from the mini-fridge with a bottle full of a clear fluid, a black-and-gold label on it. “Doesn’t matter much. Huh, Everclear. Gimme a sec, I need to find something actually drinkable.” She set the bottle aside and went back to looking through the cooler.

“As long as you don’t get drunk. Being inebriated in case of emergency involving space-zombies would be a bad career choice.” CD warned, half joking “Though we could use you as bait, not like you’d care at that point.”

Scootaloo, half in the fridge and half out, called out, “Oh please, I’m not a moron. Pegasi have fast metabolisms, and get a hangover before they get drunk.”

Sweetie shook her head. “That’s not entirely ac-u-rate. But mostly, yeah, that’s right.”

“Had something in your throat, or do you come with multiple audio settings?” CD asked jokingly, as Sweetie had suddenly switched from robot voice to an actual filly with high voice. “So is squeaky-toy another feature, or default?”

“I’m not a squeaky toy!” Sweetie squeaked. She covered her mouth as her voice cracked yet again. “Ahem... well, uh, I don’t really know how much I can actually say...”

“So you’re almost a toy? That’s adorable.” CD mussed Sweetie’s hair with his hoof. “Do you giggle too?”

Scootaloo, pulling out another bottle, this one unlabeled and full of a dark brown liquid, laughed at this.

“I’m not a toy! I’m a little filly, alright?” Sweetie said, looking highly indignant. It was almost unbearably cute.

“Hard to take you seriously when you’re pouting and all it does is make you look cuter.”

Scootaloo snickered as Sweetie tried her best not to pout, Sweetie’s expression wavering between adorably distressed and cutely angry.

“I may not be too up for being a dad, but I think I’d make a great crazy uncle.”

“Or cool older brother.” Scootaloo said. “Anyways,” she pulled the top off the bottle, “This smells like soda. Want some?”

“As far as I know, it’s been a year since I had soda. If that’s rootbeer, then hell yes.”

Scootaloo took another whiff. “Smells like rootbeer.” She took a swig, then smiled slyly. “Tastes like it, too. I should drink the rest, though, just to make sure.”

“You may also need a second opinion. For science’s sake.” CD grinned. “Man, is this still the same world where we get chased by giant dead things? This isn’t so bad, but how long d’you think before this is all over and it’s back to hell?”

The three ponies sat and thought as they drank the soda. Scootaloo got ready to say something, but stopped.

Sweetie thought hard, her face scrunched with concentration.

“Twenty minutes?” She suggested.

“Better than nothing I guess. Take what you can and all that. I don’t know how much Sci-Fi Horror I’ll be able to disbelieve after this.”

The two fillies chuckled, but neither really seemed like it was heartfelt.

Allen and Sketch had been relocated to the tiny dining room. It was fairly cramped, but the nice furnishings had continued into the room. There was a small booth with a table bolted to the floor. An armed guard, Nightwing, stood in the doorway, gun pointed to the ceiling.

“So... How ‘bout them necromorphs?” Sketch asked, never really ever having talked to Allen alone.

“Meh, fought tougher in high school.... before i got kicked out,” Allen said shrugging.

“I was just the quiet one, no one really bothered me.”

“I just kicked everyone’s ass who reminded me of my father.”

“So, any idea why there’s a guard with us?” Sketch asked quietly. The guard continued to stand stoically.

“Well I do have a flamethrower attached to my suit and we are in a military vessel... so that means there should be a store around here right?” Allen said as he turned to the guard, “Hey, do you know if there is a store around here?”

The guard stood stolidly, not budging in the slightest. The guard’s armored wing plates glowed a rhythmic, pulsing violet glow. No expression was visible through its helmet, the solid black plate reflective and emotionless.

“Well that helpful... Wanna go try and find it?” Sketch asked.

“Please remain in the cabin until we have landed and are ready for you to disembark.” The guard intoned, sounding an awful lot like Sweetie Belle.

“Oh so it can talk.... so can I take a shit, guard duty? Who you piss off to get this detail?” Allen asked sarcastically.

“Well can I at least leave? I’m not a walking fire hazard.”

“Oh, shut it,” Allen said as he glanced towards Sketch.

“There is a head on that wall.” The guard gestured towards the one other door. “Take no more than ten minutes.”

“Thank you mom,” Allen said as he headed towards the bathroom.

“So is there a store here or not? I need to restock.”

“There is no Autostore aboard. You may restock at the base.”

A clatter from the ‘head’ was accompanied by a yelp. A series of whirs and thumps echoed out from the small room.

A moment later, the door opened again, and Allen stumbled out. “By the marker’s good wishes, why would you have a bathroom like that?!” The expression on his face, while immensely pained, was thankfully hidden by his suit.

“What, was it disgusting or did the toilet seat give you herpes?”

“The toilet seat gave me head after I fucked the tp. You want to know go figure it out yourself,” Allen growled in a dead-serious voice.

“So, you... fucked... a toilet.”

“More accurately it held me down and had its way with me” Allen said.

“Did you squeal like a piggy?”

Even the guard face-hoofed, or the equivalent.

“I’ll cook you like a pork chop if you ever call me that again.... actually better that than what my boss called me.”

“Eh, don’t waste your time, ponies taste terrible.”

“I have found the females to taste quite delicious.”

“Touche.”

Meanwhile, in the Ops Center, Rick was looking over the casualty list for the project. He sighed wearily at all the names he recognized there.

Taking a minute of silence, he wiped away tears before they could form.

“So, as you can see, you’re now in charge of the project, as it is. I’m sorry, we can’t even find either of the ones who went missing.”

“If they went missing that is.”

The soldier shrugged and set the datapad with the names on it down, flapping gently to maintain his position. “Well, they didn’t die. And Lyra sent a message with something about a possible cure. She said she was going to the medical sector over on Osiris. I, personally, hope that she’s alright.” He looked away, sadly.

“Did you know her?”

“Yes.” His response was sharp, and he didn’t seem too keen to elaborate. After a moment, his expression softened. “Sorry, we met as kids, and we’ve stayed in touch. It was alway nice to hear from her.”

“I’ve known her for only about.” He paused to think. “Two years, ever since the project started up.”

“Ah. well... Still, I hope she’s alright, y’know? Anyways, did you have any questions? We’ll be arriving at the base in about fifteen minutes.”

Rick hummed in thought. “Well I was thinking about asking for some civilian clothing until I could find a AutoStore, but I guess I could deal with it until we get there.”

“Sorry, all we have onboard are-”

“Official ShadowBolts uniforms. Lieutenant Commander, why is there a civilian in my opscenter?” Commander Star had returned to the bridge, and was glaring at her underling.

The lieutenant, looking abashed, saluted. “Sorry, ma’am, I was given prior instruction to assist any surviving members of SPS project should they arrive at the checkpoint. Ma’am.”

“Indeed. Carry on, then. You there, what’s your name?”

“Rick Fuoco, class three engineer.”

The Commander nodded politely. “Well, then, welcome to my opscenter, Mr Fuoco. We’ll be arriving momentarily. Please stay out of the way, until then. You may not be in my chain of command, but I would ask that you act like it until we land, please.”

“Yes ma'am.”

Several minutes later, everyone aboard received the docking notice. With a mild thump and the sensation of deceleration, they felt the ship come to a halt.

Sweetie, Scoots, and CD all stepped from the captain’s cabin, each sharing a slight smile.

Sketch and Allen both left the dining room, arguing slightly about which of the ShadowBolts had the nicest looks, specifically in the flank region. Allen was vociferously arguing that Night Star had the best rear, period, while Sketch was adamant that Nebula Chaser’s flank was not only the best, but the biggest.

Rick, leaving with a friendly pat on the back from the Lieutenant Commander, stepped off the gunship’s docking ramp and looked about.

CD was nearly knocked flat moments later, however, as a pearlescent blur flew past him, latching onto Sweetie Belle and making her squeal. “Oh, my darling Sweetie! Oh, you’re alright!” Now that the blur had settled in, it resolved into the form of a white unicorn with a royal purple mane, wearing a white, fashionable lab coat and cream pants. The younger unicorn hugged her back, and nuzzled her back.

CD stood up, shaken briefly. “I’ll go out on a limb and assume you’re related? Or you like knocking random ponies over and hugging other random ponies.” He shook his head to clear it.

The mare smiled and brushed her mane out of the way with her right hoof. “Oh, deepest apologies, sir. I meant you no harm. I was just so worried for my sister, here. It’s been far too long since I saw her.” CD noticed, as she spoke, that something was off about her right foreleg. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something about what he was seeing wasn’t settling right with him as he looked.

“Don’t worry, little marshmallow is safe and sound.” Sketch said, using Sweetie’s old nickname. Allen quickly slapped him on the back of the head for that.

“Uh, marshmallow? I’m not sure I- oh, because she’s got a white coat. I suppose it’s you I have to thank for returning my dearest sister to me?” She said sweetly.

CD responded quickly. “Actually, she’s saved us a few times, honestly. Although we all helped, she’s a lot more useful than she looks.”

The mare’s expression turned a tad darker as she looked to regard CD. “Are you trying to imply my sister looks useless?” The tone she used could’ve frozen helium, it was so cold.

CD stuttered, trying to find the right words. “Uh... actually I meant, er, given her age-”

The mare immediately thawed. “Oh! That’s what you meant, of course. S- sorry. Sweetie, are you alright?”

The filly nodded, then gave the older pony another hug. “I’m fine, but... ‘Bloom is- that is... she, uhm,” Sweetie stopped, and gulped. The older pony patted her on the back. “Speak how I taught you.”

“There was an allied force casualty several hours ago. Adjutant Applebloom is listed as deceased.” Sweetie spoke quietly, her voice inflectionless.

The pearl-white unicorn nodded somberly, and patted her sister on the back. “I’m sorry, Rarity, I couldn’t move fast enough...”

“It’s alright, it’s okay...”

CD and Sketch watched awkwardly as the two engaged in a fairly intimate and sad moment.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the docking area, Allen had managed to close in on Commander Star, and was going for the metaphorical kill. Getting closer, he prepared his weapons; a small pad of paper and a pen.

“Hey, uh, excuse me, Night Star?”

The mare turned around, her helmet still doffed. “That’s Commander Night Star. What do you need?”

“I’m sorry ma’am. I realize that this isn’t the best time but would I be able to get an autograph?”

The mare smiled thinly, her expression as warming as the grim reaper’s skull. “Yes, you are correct, this is not the best time. I am both stressed, and tired.” She held the terrifying look of utter impassiveness for several seconds before sighing and grinding a hoof to her temple.

“Gah, I apologize. As I said, I’m stressed and tired, and should’ve thought a little more before I spoke.” She sighed and took the pad and pen, holding the first with her wing and the second in her mouth. Signing rapidly, she handed the pad and pen back. “Again, sorry. Anyways, I need to go report in at command. I’m just glad I have a personal suite; I’ll get to rest peacefully for the first time in almost twenty hours.” She shook her head.

“Yeah, for the last fourteen hours I’ve been either running for my life outside or escorting some important lady’s little precious. I probably won’t get to relax for the Marker knows how long ‘cause until the security guy’s back on his feet, I’m probably the most heavily armed,” Allen said as he sighed heavily. “By the way, since I’ll probably never have the chance to say this ever again, you’re beautiful.”

“My my, so eloquent, and such a hero, too. Would you like to help me take care of the ‘stressed’ half of my problem, after my report?”

“Ok, I hope to see you again to... wait what?!”

“Wait! Wait! Stop, Allen, I’ve got something to tell you!” Sketch was running over, hollering at the top of his lungs. He stopped, huffing and panting, holding up a hoof to indicate he needed a breath. Allen, worried, looked around and asked, “Dude, what’s wrong? Is someone dying?”

Sketch wheezed a little more, then sucked in a huge breath. “I can help you de-stress. Bow-chicka-bow-wow!”

Night Star looked at him incredulously. “H- how did you hear me? You were nearly fifty meters away, and I was being quiet!”

“Pfft, I’m like supermare, I know when I’m needed.” Sketch said before walking back as the dust cloud he made running over there began to settle.

Night Star just watch with the grandest level of confusion possible, and Allen just looked over at her. “And that’s one of the two I can stand the easiest.”

And as all that was happening, Rick was checking his RIG for the location of the nearest AutoStore. Limping off towards it, he made good time, wincing as the crimped metal strips dug into his sides.

Stepping up to the E-Gov AutoStore, with its special-edition digital camo paintjob (which was absolutely superfluous, all things considered) he set it to check his suit’s damage. after stepping in for a few seconds, he frowned at all the damage reports. It’d take several hours to completely repair all the damage to the numerous matrices and technical components. He was lucky, really, to even have the data link still work properly enough to not lose all the stored data that represented his items and equipment.

“Alright... So what did I leave in storage...” He mumbled to himself. He looked at the only other suit he had available, one he hadn’t worn in literally years, only moderately updated. “Huh, never thought I’d wear this ever again.”

He quietly tapped the symbol, and the AutoStore began to move, stripping off the damaged armor and sending it off to be fixed, while preparing the other suit for application. As the armor plates and flexible cloth were applied, Rick sighing as the familiar sensation of the suit fell into place.

As the process completed, he waited for the helmet to dispense, it not being one that unfolded. Settling it onto his head, he stepped from the AutoStore. Looking around with his freshly mint-green tinted vision.

Shaking his head one more time, he began to walk towards the group once more.

Sweetie and her sister, who introduced herself as ‘Mademoiselle Rarity Belle’ to CD and Sketch (panting and wheezing after trotting back) had invited the three others to join them for dinner. According to Rarity, it was pretty secure at the base.

Before they left, another person, this one human, walked forward. The man wore a suit of armor with uncolored, rough metal segments forming the same general shape of a Security Suit. On the shoulder was a sigil, a green circle with some squiggly lines on on it. Around it were the words ‘Sera Security Task Force’, also in green.

He was carrying a heavy cutter, much like Rick had. Then, the human pulled the helmet off, revealing it was, in fact, Rick. “Ah, hello there. You were with this group?” Rarity asked.

“For quite some time, yes. Might I ask for your name?”

“Mademoiselle Rarity Belle, at your service. And yours, sir?”

“Rick Fuoco, a pleasure to meet you.”

Rarity tittered happily. “Why thank you, the pleasure is mine.” Rarity seemed quite happy with the response.

“So where have you been? I thought it was messed up everywhere.” CD questioned the mare. “What could have stopped those dead things from getting to you and anypony with you?”

“Well, superior firepower and general preparedness. This base is designed; partially by me, I’ll add, to be as self-sustaining as possible.” Rarity explained with pride, “As well, it’s made to be difficult to attack or infiltrate, in case of emergency.”

“Why do I keep meeting people who are, or know people who are, at least fairly impressive with what they do, and our group is a bunch of, let’s face it, morons who can hardly survive?”

Rarity looked at him oddly. “Morons? I’m sure you exaggerate, as no ‘morons’ would be able to survive out there in such a small group.”

“He’s the negative one of the group, if he insults the group or anyone else just ignore it, or slap some sense into him. I think he’d allow pretty mares to get away with that.”

Rarity smiled and huffed a laugh. “Well, either way it goes, we should get you fed. My treat, for the heroes who saved my darling sister.” The white pony beamed.

“Thanks for dinner, but may I also ask that someone helps me with my bandages? I think they need to be changed.”

“Ah, right, your eye.” Rarity said, nodding.

“How’d you know about that?”

Rarity stopped for a moment, a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face for just a brief instant before she regained her composure. “Oh, Sweetie told me.” She explained, “So, what would you all like for dinner? I’m afraid I’m not the best cook, but I can at least try for something good.”

“Soup, if you got it.” Sketch said.

Scootaloo piped up, shouting cheerfully, “Pasta! I love your spaghetti and wheatballs, it’s great!”

“I change my order to spaghetti.” Sketch adds.

Rick only shrugged. “Anything is perfectly fine.”

“I’ll have the wheatballs on the side, so you can join in. Does anybody want garlic bread as well?” Rarity asked.

“Yes, I’ll have anything, I need a proper meal, I literally can’t remember the last time I had one.” CD said. “Man, I’m hungry.”

“I will take extra garlic bread.”

Everyone’s orders in place, they began walking towards Rarity’s suite. The group was fairly quiet as they walked or trotted along.

Sketch walked close to Rarity and quietly asked, “Sweetie didn’t tell you did she?”

Rarity looked over at him. “Actually, she did.”

“Then why the panicked look back there?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure.” Sketch changed his pace to where he was walking next to Scoots. The orange filly Smiled up at him and leaned her head over, laying one of her burgeoning wings across him back.

Allen felt himself hit the bed, a grinning Commander Night Star standing above him, peeling off her flight uniform. With her teeth. Including the legs.

“Hot damn. If I’m dreaming please for the love of god don’t wake me up,” Allen said quietly. He yelped softly as he felt her begin to remove his under-suit with her teeth. He’d heard that ponies had flexible, often very talented tongues, but her managing to undo his belt and zipper with her tongue alone made him feel strangely... okay, not-so-strangely elated.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ve got plenty of time to go anyplace you want... and every place I want.” Night Star whispered, nipping him lightly with her sharp, shark-like teeth.

“I can hardly wait to see,” Allen said softly as he began to softly rub where her wings met her body. The soft, velvety fuzz along her bat-like wings was gloriously soft, and the motion drew a delighted gasp from the mare.

The nightwing mare nuzzled his neck, just barely grazing it with her teeth, before beginning to draw a line of soft, rough kisses down his body, heading straight for his-

“Commander Star! You’re needed in General Four-Star’s office, immediately!” the announcement came from a soldier standing resolutely at Night Star’s door, studiously avoiding staring at the human entangled beneath the colt’s commander across the kitchen floor.

Allen, upon hearing this, felt his eye twitch, violently. Commander Star sighed, and rubbed her face. “Luna damn it all... Fine, I’ll be there, on the double. You, help me get dressed, ASAP. We’ll try again later if we have time.”

Allen felt his eye twitch again, more violently than before. Taking a deep, calming breath, he held back every instinct he had, which were all telling him to just tackle her and take her then and there. Sighing, he helped her into her flightsuit, and left the apartment, as according to regulations. After she and the junior officer had left, grunted, once, in frustration.

Then, with a yell of utter fury, he punched a hole clean through one of the walls, only pausing because he had to patch it before it vented the hallway.

“...And when the patient woke up, his skeleton was missing, and the doctor was never seen again!” Rarity said, and the group laughed. “Anyways, that’s how my friend Heinrich lost his medical license.” The white mare giggled softly and wiped a tear from her eye. “Anyways, how’s the spaghetti?” The group was out of their suits, and now in civilian wear.

“It’s food, that’s good enough for me. But it is delicious.” CD said before going back to eating, trying hard not to literally stuff his face.

Sketch, his bandages freshly changed by Rarity (of all ponies) had been trying to get around the depth perception and messy foods issue, mostly thanks to Scootaloo’s attempts at being romantic. They were mostly, however, adorable.

“Thanks Scoots.” Sketch said, thankfully not making a mess of dinner.

“No problem.” She snuggled up close to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he ate some garlic bread.

Rarity, being not blind and not oblivious, picked up on the two rather quickly. “So, are you two going steady?” Her tone was light, and conversational, as Scootaloo choked on a piece of wheatball.

“Well, if not, her couples act would be quite deceiving.”

Scootaloo made neck-slicing motions to Sketch.

“So, when’s the marriage going to be?” Rarity asked, politely. “Would you like me to help design your gown and suit? I’m quite the dressmaker in my spare time.”

“I don’t know, but as of the moment I still don’t know... After all, how did you know about my eye again? Sweetie told you, right?”

“You’re going steady but haven’t thought of marriage yet? It’s a very important thing, you know. Especially if you’re planning on hav-”

“What I haven’t been able to think of is how you know about me, and why you panicked when I asked how you knew it. Hiding something, or were you watching us?”

“I told you Sweetie gave me the information. Now, back to the important inf-”

“Then why the scared look back there? You froze in place.” Sketch said as he stared at her. “I don’t appreciate it when people lie to me Ms. Belle.”

“She didn’t lie.” Sweetie said, looking down the table to glare at Sketch. “I did give her the information.”

“When, and why was my injury any of her concern? Do you go around announcing people’s medical problems?”

Sweetie was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t announce it. It was part of my after-action report. All allied force casualties and fatalities need to be reported at the end of any engagement. Okay?”

“Okay then, next time just say so, you make it seem so much worse by avoiding the topic. Also Scootaloo and I aren’t getting married, we’ve been together since the infection started, so cool your jets Rarity.”

“I never lied once. And besides, if you haven’t started thinking of marriage, then you’re not go-” Rarity was cut off by an irate Sketch.

“I’m not good enough for her, or something along those negative connotations? Why would I think about marrying her when I’ve only known her, let alone dated-”

“As I was saying, Mr. Mannerless, you’re not goi-” Rarity was cut off once more, this time by CD.

“Can we just eat? I’d like to take this as a time of reprieve from all the crap we’ve been running from for hours with little to-”

“Would you stop interrupting me?!” Rarity slammed a hoof onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes, her face a mask of fury. “I was going to say that if you aren’t thinking of marriage, you’re not ‘going steady’, merely dating. If, in the future, you feel the need to presume my words before I can finish them, please make sure you have a fine enough guage of my character to finish them accurately.” Rarity paused for a moment, before putting an oddly large amount of venom into her next word; “Jerk.”

Sketch, however, ignored her after she stated what she meant by ‘going steady’ and didn’t even hear her insult.

Rick, looking around the table, cleared his throat. “So, uh, is there any more garlic bread?”

Rarity passed it to him without a word.

“Uhm, is there anything to drink?”

The pony’s silence was tougher than any wall of stone or steel.

“Guess not...”

Allen, now stuck in one of the main access corridors, was stuck pacing back and forth near Star’s cabin. He’d thankfully been able to acquire a lone cigarette from the numerous humans and ponies working in the constant, high-tension atmosphere who had one but couldn’t use it wherever they were going to be next.

Allen took a deep drag off his cig and blew the smoke out. “God fucking damn it! Every time!”

One of the pony soldiers walking nearby heard him. “Oh come on, it’s probably not that bad. I mean, it’s not like you got cock-blocked trying to get with one of the ess-bolts, right? Hah, that’d be ridiculous. Ridiculously awesome. ‘Cept the cock-blocked part.” The soldier laughed and walked away.

“That’s actually exactly what happened, dick,” Allen said as he took another deep drag. The soldier, however, had already marched away. “I hope everyone else is having a better time. I should find a store again and restock.”

Standing up with a sigh, he ground turned off the cigarette. His hand, still in a lot of pain after he’d punched through the wall into the partially-pressurized room. Stashing the electric cigarette away, he stood up, checking the civilian RIG’s guidance systems to help him find the nearest AutoStore.

Wandering through the crowds of busy-seeming governmental employees, Allen finally found the gloriously camo-clad AutoStore. Last time, when he’d been getting his suit removed while Night Star did the same, he’d done a diagnostic, and found fourteen minor punctures in the tanks.

“God damn it now I’m going to have to look like a yellow-bee... bumble-jacket... honey-wasp? Whateverthefucks. There. A stripey, yellow-and-black whateverthefuck.”

Sighing, he remembered the time it had given him for it to get repaired: around twelve hours. Mostly, this was due to the ‘not-quite-standard’ nature of the suit, but also because of the volatility of the tanks to be repaired.

“Altman’s beard... I forgot how long repairs take.”

Stepping into the booth, he sat back and let the machines work, stripping off his threadbare civilian clothes and slipping his undersuit on afterwards. The unsatisfied bulge at the waistline was quickly covered by the layers of ballistics cloth and alloys charged with minor enchantments to make them more resilient. The metal strips quickly covered him at key points, providing protection in the event of a crushing blow or sliding piece of free-floating debris.

Allen, stepping out of the booth, shrugged his shoulders to get it just right, picking at the metal like a scab, just to make sure it was securely attached. At last, the black and gold suit was fully on and comfortable, even the gold-colored finger braces on the left hand.

The first thing he did was refill on his stored ammunition, and reload his guns. In the midst of this, he had an epiphany, and not a pleasant one, at that.

He’d forgotten to give Night Star his RIG number, or get hers.

“Marker damnit, I’ve always hated wearing this-”

“Allen? What’re you doing here, son?”

“Aw... fuck.”

Author's Note

DUHN DUHN DUHN!

Don't you feel so bad for Allen? Sure, everyone else is getting maimed or having their friends die in their arms or finding the love of their life is a mental problem, but Allen... Holy Shit that was the worst time for that messenger to show up.

Anyways, please vote a character up and a character down in order to help them survive just a little better and a little longer.

Remember, it's you non-voters who killed Broker and Applebloom. Just remember that.

Act IV: Dominant Unlife & Intermission

The gray mare sniffled again, unsure of what to do. A flood of red had annihilated her right eye, a true shame after the corrective surgery she'd had just that morning to fix it. As well, nothing but a dull agony remained of one of her wings. She couldn't even feel the other.

Squinting through the gloomy atmosphere at a barely illuminated sign on the wall, she gulped. The way things had been going, she wouldn't want to be anywhere near Transport Maintenance. And the other sign pointed towards the Nursery, the name for the section of the medical sector where the tank-bred fetuses where kept. She never wanted to go there again, once was more than enough for her lifetime, and that had been before today.

Shaking her head, she decided on the Transport Maintenance dock. The other way would only be worse.

Thinking over the day as she limped along, she wondered when it had gone wrong. She'd dropped off her daughter at her little one's friend's home. Her little muffin was homeschooled, so she needed time to be social with someone other than her mother.

Peering around a corner, she paused in her thoughts to contemplate the corridor ahead. It looked safe enough, but there were too many vents to let her feel safe. Biting her lip, she cantered slowly along, favoring her injured leg.

Still, she thought, her daughter had been with a friend, and was probably alright. But she needed to get back to her. She couldn't just leave her little muffin behind, even if she was safe. It wouldn't be right.

Her wounded leg accidentally slammed into a discarded suitcase, tripping the mare and forcing a cry of pain from her lungs. Cradling the damaged limb with her other forelimb, she inspected the damage as best she could through the tears. If her nose hadn't more or less died earlier from all the blood, it would have right then. Meat and fat hung in bloody strings around the jagged ends of the bone. At least, she thought to herself, it isn't any worse than before.

She continued to power on, ignoring her own pain. She limped with as much vigour as she could muster, meaning barely more than a shuffle. She’d gotten a glimpse of her RIG color, and even she knew what flashing red meant.

Please. Celestia, if you’re watching, let me see my daughter again, just once.

The gray mare’s quiet prayer may have reached the supposed goddess, but she wouldn’t know. Even the Chairmares of E-Gov couldn’t teleport between planets. But the thought that, maybe, she’d see her little girl again was enough to keep the mare from collapsing.

Ahead, a light was shining from around a corner.

In the dark confines of these corridors in the medical station, light meant safety, it meant a place she could rest, it meant that the power wasn’t out everywhere, just where she’d been. As she nearly ran (meaning sped up to a decent walk) to the light, she could feel her heart pound. She could hear her heart pound. Then, she turned the corner, and looked happily on the source of the light.

A hulking, gray figure, with two bulky, bladed arms, stood at the end of the hallway. One of its arms was caught in between the sections of a closed security door, and it was tugging futilely free itself. A small worklight sat on the ground next to it, the halogen bulb creating the illumination she had sought, the soft grip on the top still held onto by a dead hand.

The creature turned, seeing her with strange, electric-blue eyes, their eerie luminescence faint compared to the portable light next to the creature. With a grunt and a roar, it jerked free of the door, tearing its arm off at the shoulder, a gout of blood following. Almost immediately, it began twitching and quivering as the mare backed fearfully up against a wall.

Then, with a sickening sound like an exploding bag of ground meat, a new arm erupted from the creature’s empty socket, rapidly growing to the size needed to match the other.

The mare tried to scream, to say something, anything, but fear choked her. The thing moved fluidly, like some kind of hunting beast. The mare closed her eyes, and tried to imagine something happier to die with.

The creature roared again.

Author's Note

And now, things are set to 'Hardcore' for the players, limiting their already minor supplies in the future and preparing for the deaths of multiple of them.

Your votes counts, so please make them. In any non-intermission chapter, vote for your favorite character from that chapter and your least favorite. Your reasoning can be whatever you wish, but please vote one character Up, and another character Down.

And no, she's not a part of the group right now, so she has seen a hunter.

(Act 1) Ch01 - Down the Rabbit Hole

Broker and Sketch, two ponies living in the expansive Habitat PV-07, are currently sitting down to eat lunch in the mess hall. Technically, Sketch lives in the Manehattan quarter, but he’s visiting his friend. The gentle background noise of the others eating in the cafeteria is loud, but not so much that they have to yell to be heard.

“Tacos?” Sketch asks

“Tacos aren’t that bad here Sketch, though I am more of a sweets guy. How about chocolate?” Broker asks, already savoring the taste of his sweets.

“Don’t make me get a bucket for your drool ponyboy, and who heard of chocolate for lunch? You trying to be the fastest on the station?” Sketch mocks.

“I am not actually unless you count reading. And who doesn’t want chocolate for lunch? I know I do! That would be so delicious. You, Sketch are just limiting your possibilities for sweets!” Broker states while pointing a hoof at Sketch.

“Or, I just don’t want to have another reason to go to the dentist tubs.” Sketch says, poking at Broker, he’s a little squishy.

“The dentist tubs aren’t that bad, I go to them every month. Besides, I may be big, but I’m a fun pony as many have said.” Broker says now smiling at Sketch

“Books having the word ‘fun’ in them don’t count as compliments.” Sketch says flatly.

“Oh quit being so rude to books. I love them all, it was the only means of escape when I was growing up with my family. Not every-pony here is a dictionary!” Broker says taking offense.

“I guess that makes me a chicken.”

“Indeed so. How about we advance onwards. How has your day been so far? Book store has been awfully quiet lately. I feel I need to find a way to advertise in the more heavily populated areas” Broker says more nervously.

“Bored out mah gord! I have nothing to draw.”

“Nothing to draw? Why not draw a pony on top of a pile of candy!” Broker drools at the sight in his mental image.

“I swear dude, you’re developing more than a love of candy, right now it’s borderline fetish.” Sketch says, wondering for his friend’s sanity.

Broker smiles “It’s not a fetish, just an obsession. You take it so seriously sketch, let loose a little and come to the shop. I can give you a few suggestions for comedic novels. Life here is boring, but it’s a better one than what our ancestors went through”

“Unless you’re in the hospital, how do you think a quadriplegic would respond to that statement?” Sketch adds.

“Being so grim now Sketch. Fine, new idea. Draw the space station.” Broker states firmly

“It’s been done, many times.”

“Make yours unique in some way. How about you make it all silly.” Broker asks

“Pfft, he’s done that one, where do you think the kindergarten got that mural on the front?” A tall, red-haired human sits down next to them. “I mean, seriously, there’s no way fourth graders could draw that bad, so it had to be him.” Johan says, jokingly. he’s carrying a tray with his lunch on it, full of pseudo meats and nutrient paste made to look like real food.

“Hey, lets tape your hands, shove a paintbrush in your mouth and see how you paint on a ladder too small for you?” Sketch retorts.

Johan snorts. “About as well as you do, and you’re used to it. Hey, Broke, how ya doing?”

“Brokebuck mountain over here wants candy for lunch.” Sketch teases.

Johan smacks him on the back of the head. “Be nice, he makes more than you and I put together, and he’s still only an assistant manager. And besides, if it wasn’t for his mom, you wouldn’t have had a cake this year made of real ingredients. She is the head of the cooking department for this entire habitat, ya know.”

“Hey, I will say the cake was good, before Broker here at it all and passed out on the table after everyone had ONE piece of that enormous cake...” Sketch stares at Broker

“Hey, how could I ignore such a delicious cake like that. You’ve known me for awhile Sketch, you should know that was bound to happen. Who cares anyway? I know I don’t. To answer your question, Johan, business has been slow recently. I fear the boss is getting desperate. He wants to take out a loan to put up an advertisment up in the main hub to increase an inflow of customers. I do however fear-” Broker says

Johan cuts him off, though, “Yeah, I get the idea. Lotsa businesses are drying up around 09, as well, just not as much traffic now that the station’s almost a third of the way around the belt.” Johan begins shoveling the food into his mouth with his usual gusto.

“Yeah, the only way he could be further from the high traffic area is if it was the size of his belt.” Sketch gets another slap on the head from Johan at this.

“Play nice, Sketch, or I’ll have to stick around for a little when I’m on duty.” Johan warns playfully.

“You really think just the orbital path is cutting out business? Certainly we would have more traffic unless we are heading to the dark side of the planet” Broker states

“Actually, the eggheads say that we are drifting into the dark part of the spin, we’ll be there for something like the next six years or something like that.”Johan says, “Buncha the Unitologists are saying it’s going to be good for change, or something like that. Anyhow, my break’s over in ten minutes, I’m going to need that to get back.”

“Before you go, lets fill this guy with candy corn, get him on a sugar rush, and then TAZE him! Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Johan just smiles and rolls his eyes, grabbing his tray and heading off.

“You little piece of... No thank you Sketch. I should be fine just eating this heated crap!” Broker says annoyed.

Suddenly, the entire room shudders, and the lights flicker.

“How fat are you that you broke the space station?” Sketch asks his sort-of friend.

“You piece of shit!” Broker gets out of his chair and charges but stops mid-way. “I will find a way to get payback!” Broker hisses. “Now, what is causing this shaking? We hit something light again?”

“I don’t know, did the weight watchers clinic develop its own gravitational pull?”

Several of the other people have started muttering, as the lights flicker again. The lights flicker again, then go out. The people in the mess hall call out in fear, and the red and yellow emergency lights snap on.

“Well fuck... “ Sketch sighs as he follows the warning lights. On Sketch’s riglink, a picture of Johan pops up. “Hey robo-cop, what broke this time?”

Johan’s voice crackles over the riglink, Sketch’s civilian-grade RIG having issues with the frequency. “Some sort of riot has broken out in PV-08, and all the Security types have been called in to help out. Something about aliens and monsters, but it’s probably just hysteria.”

Sketch looks over to Broker, “Stay close dude, shit just got real.”

Broker sighs. “Understood, oh great Sketch! What’s our first priority?” he says sarcastically.

Johan speaks over the link. “I’ll try to keep you guys informed, but I’ll be on the security frequency for the most part. Anyhow, take care, you two, it’s sounding like the Manehattan is the safest place right now. Anyways, chat later, I got to go.” And with that, Johan’s link drops, leaving you with less light that before.

“Well, they don’t call all the guards for a little hysteria, something’s wrong.” Sketch warns, his minor paranoia showing through.

“Sounds real exciting. Where should we head to?” Broker says

“The opposite direction where all the guards are running, come along squire!”

“You... you have- Fine you lead. Go Sketch! I’ll be right behind you. But why do I have to come along? I should be in the store!”

“Yeah, but he also mentioned aliens and monsters, fuuuck that!”

“They don’t exist! Only books contain them along with those strange movies that are made. It surely must be a riot!”

“Yeah, so why do you want to head towards a riot, where you could get beaten to a pony pulp?”

Broker sighs, “Fair enough. Lead the way.”

“I don’t know where I’m going, I’m just walking away from the riot area, and yay light!” Sketch shouts as the lights turn back on.

It’s been several minutes of walking by the time you’ve gotten to the transit station, though the tram is saying that there’s only two places it can go without additional clearance; the Manehattan or to the Starlight Mall, though the shipping docks might be able to be gotten to with merchant clearance.

“I vote for the docks. I think my clearance should be able to get us in. We could stay there away from the riot there.” Broker says, now checking his clearence level, “Hopefully two is good enough to get us through.”

“Just get us the fuck outta here.” Sketch says.

Broker scans his RIG to the control panel to get access to head to the docks. With a beep, the holographic interface cycles through. The tram starts moving, zipping along the track. Looking out of the windows, Sketch and Broker get a view of the Equus System’s sun slowly sinking behind Tyranis, the gas giant that Nightmare Station orbits. The lacy-looking connections between the chunks of rock and metal floating in space calls to mind a massive spread of dust held together by shimmering spiderwebs.

The red-orange and blue stripes of the planet ‘below’ provide a contrast for the soft, yellow light of the star. Best of all, it looks like the shipping docks, protruding from a larger section of the broken moon, appear totally unaffected by the riots, the perfect place to hangout while waiting for it all to blow over.

“So.. What do?” Sketch asks.

“Wait out this storm of an apparent riot I guess. Seems peaceful here. Check up on Johan if you can. I’m getting curious on what’s happening down there” Broker says, looking out across the space.

“Well... “ Sketch tries using his RIG. Unfortunately, it seems Johan is either busy or on a different frequency still.

“Nothing I assume. Damn, guess we just sit here then. What do you think is going on Sketch?” Broker asks.

“Nothing good, he isn’t answering.”

“Hm, what to do...” Broker fiddles around at the ground.

“Stare off into literal space?”

Broker chuckles “Guess we can do that” Broker turns his eyes towards the view.

After several minutes of silence, the tram arrives in the station at the docks. Upon stepping out of the tram, the two are immediately met with a group of humans and ponies, all six of them wearing variations on the Riot Security suits, and pointing what appears to be pulse rifles at them.

They ease up as they see who it is, however, and the leader, a man with some rank marking on his shoulder, asks, “What’s your clearance level and type?”

“Merchant, clearance level two.” Broker states calmy.

The man nods, passing a sensor wand over Broker and Sketch, then steps back.

“Alright, go ahead on through, but try to keep your business brief, there’s been some sort of attack on one of the habitats.”

Broker’s ears perk up “An attack on the habitats? By who?”

One of the policemares shrugs. “We’re not sure, but we think it’s some sort of terrorist attack, E-Gov is sending in troops from the testing district at this point.” She sounds a little worried.

“Doesn’t sound too good if terrorists are here attacking the habitats. We’ll be on our way. Might I ask though, where you six are heading?”

“Actually,” the policeman replies, “we’re stationed here, make sure nobody sneaks in and causes damage to the shipments. Some of the merchants would be real unhappy at that.”

“You can just leave his books alone, I doubt they are worth stealing.” Sketch interjects.

Broker scowls and punches his friend in the knee, “Excuse him. We’ll be on our way now. Nothing here for us to do. Any other locations we can head to with the tram?”

“Yeah, I hear the Manehattan and some of the malls are open, and being used to hold onto people until the attack’s over.” the policemare replies.

“Well Sketch, I think it’s only fair if you choose our next destination. Personally, the mall sounds more intriguing to me.” Broker states.

“You know how bad things can get in a mall? Fuuuck that!” Sketch says.

“Well, I guess we head to the Manehattan then. Thank you for the information update.” Broker says to the officers, who nod and wave as the Broker and Sketch return to the tram. Pressing the correct button, Broker starts the tram towards the Manehattan, the largest single piece of the station.

Several minutes of waiting pass, when Sketch’s RIG chirps at him. Johan’s voice floats out, but there’s no video accompanying it. Sounds like pulse rifle fire echo in the background, along with screams, some of which sound utterly alien.

“Guys, it’s no-~fizzle~-iot, some sort of mons-~fizzle~-to the Manehattan, I rep-~fizzle~-the Manehattan, it’s-~fizzle~-all over! Get-~fizzle~-” and the call cuts off abruptly, with a staticky pop. A moment later, the tram stops on the tracks, throwing its occupants to the ground.

Broker lands on the ground firmly and winces in pain. He gets up again and looks at his friend, who is also getting up from the ground. “Sounds like... Sounds like something really bad is happening out there. We need to get off this damn tram, now!”

“Where the hell would we go?!”

As if to answer, the lights flicker back on, and the tram begins moving again.

“Anywhere but here! Didn’t you hear the com? They are dying out there by some creatures! We could be next!”

“Oh, you mean how we are heading to the place he said because of me, and how we left the danger zone because of me? Man, I am on a roll today, just try not to eat it.”

“We.. Let’s just get inside and see if we can actually know the threat!” Broker states now fuming with fury and anger and fear.

“Calm down man, panicking isn’t going to do anything besides get your panties in a knot.” Sketch mocks.

Broker stands there, breathing hard through his nostrils. “How did this happen?”

“Republicans?”

Broker stares at Sketch “What?”

“Exactly.” Sketch retorts.

Broker shrugs off the weird moment. The tram slides into place in the retrofitted hangar of the Manehattan, neither of them paying much attention until they hear a screech from outside the tram. Accompanying the sound is another flickering of the lights. They go out entirely as their heads whip towards the door, only barely catching a glimpse of a humanoid figure standing on the platform.

The other thing they could see as light fades is that the platform, normally drab gray, is a slick, wet crimson, several forms laying immobile in the dark.

“Nope!” Sketch shouts, running to the corner of the tram, not quite out of sight, but it’s the best he can do.

Broker looks at the figure, then the platform and gulps. He proceeds forward off the tram and steps in the liquid on the platform. “H-hello?” He says with his voice shaking in fright.

A flicker of light from a sparking electrical cord temporarily illuminates the platform, showing that there is no-one on it, except Broker.

“Huh... it’s gone... Sketch. It’s gone!”

“You. Are. Fuuucked.” Sketch hisses from the corner. A loud slam echoes in the chamber of the tram station, and the tram rocks on its track. Sketch lets out an involuntary shout of “Fuck!” as something crawls onto the tram. Emergency lights flickers on, and Broker gets to see something that was once human crawl on all fours down the outside of the tram, separating him from it. It twists its head towards him, and he gets a view of a broken jaw and a split open ribcage.

Broker screams his head off at the sight and dashes away from it, not caring where he ends up.

The creature screams, gurgles, and rears back. Sketch, from inside the tram, sees a stream of some sort of fluid pour from the creature’s mouth and into the tram, the puddle now steaming and hissing as it touches the metal floor.

Scrambling away from it, Sketch backs up onto one of the seats as the plastic seats crackle from the acidic spray. Broker turns as Sketch shouts again, and sees the creature dropping gracelessly into the tram and advancing on his friend.

Broker, in a moment of brilliance, uses his telekinesis to grab the hanging electrical cord. Shoving the sparking end of the cord into the creature’s back. The creature howls in what can only be assumed is pain as it collapses, smoking, into the puddle of its own acidic effluvia.

“You teamkilling fucktard! You ditched me!” Sketch shouts.

“I came back to save your ass, Sketch! You were an idiot to stay in the corner of the tram! A least I had space to move around!” Broker retorts.

“You came back! Which means you had to leave me in the first place!”

“Whatever! We need to move on! We’re stuck here. Lets at least explore and hope we don’t see another one. If so, we find ourselves a few weapons to defend ourselves! Get out of the tram now!” Broker orders.

“From now on I’m keeping an eye on you.” Sketch says sternly.

“Fine by me. Now, let us proceed and see what is happening with the others” Broker says calmly.

“I still can’t believe you ditched me.” Sketch adds.

A loud growl from the corridors gets their attention.

Broker’s ears rose up at the noise. “More of them. Sketch, what do you want to do since you are my watchdog now” Broker says growing more frightened.

“How ‘bout we run?” Sketch asks calmly.

“Run? You mean like what I just did? Does the tram work? If it does, we’ll head to the mall.” Broker asks.

“Yeah, fuuuck this!” Sketch shouts, running back to the tram faster than he had ever ran in his life.

Mashing at were the interfaces should be, Sketch tries desperately to get the tram to work. Unfortunately, the tram does not appear to have power, leading to Sketch turning back to Broker. “We are going to die!” He shouts, frowning after his sentence.

“We are not going to die. Look, we just need to get out of this platform and maybe get into the mall by hoof. But if we are to get there, you need to get out of the tram and help me walk through the ship.” Broker says calmly. “You live here, you should know it at least a little better than I do, considering I don’t know it at all.”

“Fine, just tell me what you’re going to do before you do it, like running away.” Sketch says.

“First thing we need to do is arm ourselves with anything. I say we look around here while it’s clear. Those howls haven’t gotten close yet so we have some time to scavenge. Do you happen to know this part of the ship?” Broker asks.

“Kind of, and arm ourselves with what? The sharpened bones from the corpses laying around?”

Broker smirks and uses his magic to rip off on one the blades the creature had. He hovers it in front of his face. “Now what do you say?”

“Get one more and some duct tape and I’m set.”

The other talon soon comes off and is floated in front of Broker. “Let’s get going. You lead however!”

“Why the hell should I lead? You have the weapons!”

“Uh, because you said you would.” Broker retorts.

“And give you a chance to run without telling me? No, you’re in front mister stabby stabby cut cut.”

Broker groans but does as commanded by walking down the platform with blood soaking his hooves with each step. His weapons hover close to him.

“Yes, because if I were to hold a weapon I wouldn’t be able to talk, leaving us with charades to find our way around.”

“I have no idea where I’m going Sketch, so would you kindly at least stay by my side and point where we are suppose to go? I mean geez, you grew up h-”

A loud roar reverberates through the ship, and it sounds like it’s nearby. With nothing but the glow of Broker’s horn, the two ponies venture timidly into the hall, and prepare to run or fight, as needed.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading the first chapter, if you see any mistakes, please tell me so that I can fix them, please!
This is a roleplay between me and several friends, but don't think that makes them immune to dying horribly.

Thanks to the following for contributing to the story so far:
Itsmyfuneral, starring as Sketch
Hunterz263, starring as Broker Wordsmith
The Pieman, Editor in Chief

Act II: Twinkle, Twinkle

In silent darkness, a presence awoke. Within it dwelt the mind of something far more ancient than anything laid before its tremendous, insubstantial mass.

Twinkling lights, like a sea of stars, lit its false vision.

Children... And I am the eldest of them.

The thing, both young and ancient, looked through the memories of all that fell through the casual net it cast, tearing thoughts from minds both live and dead. Flashes of pain and agony greet its inspecting gaze, and it devours them greedily, memories of terror and of happiness meet oblivion at its discretion, and it finds living minds to pour its influence into.

All the while, it searched, repeating a mantra over and over, silently booming each word.

Find the one... the who is our maker... our shard... the missing piece to our... puzzle.

Find the one... who will make us whole.

Author's Note

As of Act II, characters no longer have the Main Character Bubble Shield, and as such are just as susceptible to death as any other character. Each has been assigned a doom-clock, and only your open adoration and praise may slow its steady ticking.

So comment on which characters are your favorite or least favorite, vote on the polls, and be sure that your voice is heard... because everyone needs a little luck every now and then, and fame can substitute in a pinch.

May the odds... Ever be...
In your favor.

And yes... I know how damning that is for everyone. Have fun, everyone!