Rainbow In The Wastes

A raider, clad in painspike armor, stalked toward the mouth of the cave, a hunting rifle grasped within his gloved hands. Behind him stood the rest of his group, some twenty-five members of raiders, both ranged and up-close, following closely behind their leader as they ducked down in the muddy wasteland soil. Holding a balled-fist in the air, the leader held up three fingers. A rifleman, an incendiary, and a shotgun-wielding raider appeared from his left and right, the trio advancing toward the treacherous tunnel with a sense of authority about their ranks.

The rifleman turned his welding-masked face to be met with the group's leader giving him an All-clear signal. Nodding his head, he turned tail to join his squad, who stood at the entrance of the cave, weapons ready. One of them, calmly wielding a large Flamer, checked a small amount of valves located on the right side, twisting a few knobs here and there to make sure whatever still lurked in here would get the full blast.

Next to him stood a hunting shotgun-wielding male, clad in badlands armor. Dramatically bringing the firearm up to his height, he cocked it with trained hands, taking aim at the dark trail of the damp cave with a look of determination. The rifleman stood next to him, and watched as he moved forward, the pyro following his lead. Pulling back the bolt on his rifle, the raider took suit, becoming the caboose in their strategic gun train.

The trio's weapons took aim at every corner of the cave, from the stalagmites above their heads to the dirt below their feet. A whistle behind the pyro stopped the two leading raiders in their tracks, who quickly turned around, guns raised. The rifleman stood, three flashlights in hand. An exchange followed, and the three continued their search with a new light source for each.

As they approached a long doused campfire, they froze on the spot; resting against the rotted corpse of a molerat sat Paul, one of the missing raiders they were searching for. As the raider bent over to examine the body, hunting shotgun in one hand, the rifleman cautiously walked past a rather large pile of mud protruding from the side of a stalagmite situated on the side of the cave. He didn't bother looking inside it; they had to get Paul out of there and find the other two. That was their main objective, their secondary goal being finding the son of a bitch that had killed them.

The rifleman felt a small rock hit him in the back of the head, and quickly turned to take aim at the pile of mud. A noticeably large hole, previously absent, was sunk inside it. Looking every which way in a panic, he backed up toward the rest of his squad. Turning his head for a split second, he estimated how far away he stood from them.

Thirty feet.

He suddenly found himself falling as he tripped over a large rock. As his head hit the ground, he felt something heavy clamped around his neck. Quickly getting up, he felt his throat; tied around it was a heavy rope, tightened in a very familiar knot. Suddenly struggling to breathe, he began to try throwing it off, to no avail. He soon began to not feel the ground beneath him, and with one last look, found that he was now suspended in the air. Looking up, he found magenta irises, staring directly at him.

He tried to scream.

"Oh shit! Greg!" the raider threw down his shotgun, heading over to his comrade with vigor, "Daniel! Cover me! I'm gonna get Greg down from there!"

Daniel slid the welding mask down over his eyes, cautiously aiming his Flamer at their surroundings, "Just hurry the fuck up, Bill! I don't think I'm the only thing stopping whoever else is in here!"

"Okay okay okay," Bill repeated, bending over to retrieve Greg's rifle, "I'm gonna get you down from there buddy! Just control your breathing, you'll be fine!" Head down, he placed his hands around the rifle's unfamiliar grips, and looked up to take aim at the rope suspending his friend in the air. As he did, the man fell from the roof, collapsing on top of Bill with a dull thud.

"Oh thank God...you're alri-" Bill stopped himself as he suddenly noticed the grenade pin grasped within his teeth, "Oh shit!"

Turning around, Daniel found a large explosion, knocking him down to the mud below. Suppressing the loud ringing in his ears, he quickly retrieved his Flamer from next to him, cranking a valve with a loud grunt. He took aim at the bloody mess on the opposite side of the cave, taking a second to crinkle his nose in disgust.

Not much was left of his comrades, save for a large mess of entrails and body parts. Turning his head and closing his eyes, he cursed his luck. Fuck this....I'm scrapping the mission.

He quickly backed out of the cave, Flamer sweeping the dark, damp cave like a metal detector. As he exited the maw of the tunnel, he turned tail, trying to get his leader's attention. He succeeded, and raised a finger to speak.

A loud bang and a sharp pain stopped his sit-rep. Looking down at his now bleeding chest, face contorted in extraordinary pain, he fell forward into the mud, a new hole embedded within his skull.

The purple-haired leader raised a fist, and with a cock of his shotgun, yelled, "Attack!"

Twenty one raiders charged toward the cave, weapons ready to eliminate the murderer still cooped up inside. Five feet in, seven bullets flew, taking down seven raiders with them to Hell. The fifteen raiders that remained continued their relentless charge, firing their own volley of rounds into the depths of the cave, hoping to hit the dead-eye with thirteen of their men under his belt.

Two heartbeats later, and twenty feet into the cave, eight raiders fell to the ground, leaving only seven raiders to take down the rifleman. Thirty feet in, they were greeted to the sight of a doused campfire, two dead corpses lying around the blood-stained rocks.

What surprised them, however, was not the corpses of their brethren. No, what surprised them was the crouched figure of an armored creature, facing away from them, into the dark depths of the rest of the cave. Taking aim and slowly stalking forward, the leader placed the barrel of his combat shotgun against its head. It did not flinch. It did not even appear to be breathing.

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, he extended a hand to touch it, his other hand still grasping the grip of his shotgun, finger on the trigger and ready to fire at will. He looked around at his six other comrades, he nodded, the party returning the gesture with a nod of their own and a cock of their gun. Two readied their nail-covered baseball bats.

Resuming his motion, he didn't even reach the creature before it suddenly turned, a large knife grasped in its teeth. It stabbed the blade into his calf, and swiftly ducked to avoid the large group of bullets aimed at where she previously stood. It grabbed the raider and threw it over their body, protecting itself as the raider's friends unloaded their firearms into their now dead leader.

As the whelps reloaded their guns, the creature threw the hole-filled corpse off its body, revealing a mud and blood-covered cyan mare. Turning to her left, she ran toward the raider who fumbled with a combat shotgun. She slid between his legs, and dared not look back at the bullets that scored a hit on the confused man's legs. He keeled over with a cry of pain.

Brandishing a cocky smirk, she turned, trotting toward the fallen raider. Taking a giant leap off his back- causing him to crash back to the ground in relent- she drew her knife from her holster across her chest and threw the grip into her teeth. She crashed into a rifle-wielding female, the blade mercilessly stabbing into her chest with the devastating propulsion of the mare's jump. As the savage fell backwards into the ground, the mare found hands clasp her tightly around her stomach, bringing her up and away from both the corpse and her combat knife. Kicking and jabbing at the air, she found herself facing a bat-wielding raider, who raised the blunt weapon. Thinking quickly, the mare threw a kick to her captor's loins and was rewarded with a plop to the ground, just in time to look up and find the melee raider swinging his bat into the chest of his comrade.

Confused, his head jerked upward with the help of a bone-crushing uppercut, thanks to the mare now flying in between the two towards the ceiling. Reaching the roof, she withdrew the man's kitchen knife, placing the blade into her coiled hoof. Not giving the rest of her opposition the chance to take aim at her, she threw her weapon at her most recent enemy, the blade flying neatly into the man's head, causing him to fall backwards into the fire-pit.

Quickly counting the last surviving raiders, she smiled and folded her wings against her armored body, falling toward yet another bat-wielding raider, who held the weapon as if ready to beat a piñata. Just as the mare reached swinging distance, she withdrew her wings and swiftly flew backward in a 90 degree angle, leaving the range of the spiked bat's bite.

Landing on the ground with a cloud of dust, she flew directly into the raider, causing him to crash to the ground in a heap. Grabbing his 10mm sidearm in a flash, she fired three rounds into his head, only to feel a hand clasp her shooting wrist. Her aim spoilt and her pistol dropped on the ground, she brought her other hoof to hold the hand still gripping her wrist, throwing the man over her shoulders and onto the ground in front of her. As the man slowly regained situational awareness, he found the business end of a rifle aimed at his head.

Pulling the trigger with a lack of remorse, the mare quickly threw herself behind a collection of rocks. Pulling the rusted bolt on her rifle back with her teeth, she looked toward the ceiling and breathed a sigh of accomplishment. Turning her head toward the mouth of the cave and peeking through a small crack, she waited for what she knew lurked out there.

Left eye quickly looking toward the ground next to her, she retrieved a rock, taking a moment to throw it across the room. Taking her position back behind her cover, she saw what she was looking for. A flash erupted from a large bush outside the cave, a bullet immediately firing next to the rock's landing zone.

Getting up from behind her cover, she let her tongue slide out of her mouth in concentration as she stared down the rifle's iron sights. Breathing in, she quickly stabilized the firearm. Releasing her breath, she pulled the trigger, the bullet flying toward her destination.

A cry of pain met her ears, and she peeked over her cover once again to find the corpse of a raider collapsed on the right side of the bush. Looking at the ceiling and smirking, the mare found herself looking around her home. The bodies of several raiders littered the floors, their weapons, body parts and blood scattered throughout the confinements of the large cave.

Unimpressed, the mare took her new rifle and rested it against her recent barricade. Her head followed along with it, and soon, the mare found herself collapsed against the rock, surveying the mess she had created.

Bringing her forelegs behind her head, she closed her eyes, smirked a cocky smirk, and commented,

"Piece o' cake."