T.R.O.T.T.E.R. Shadow of Cheernobyl

Getting to the marshes wasn't easy. The footpath southwest from the Garbage, the preferred route of old, was now so radioactive that Komodo doubted even a pricey SEVA suit - or even the radiation nullification of an Astarte flying suit - would get a trotter through that gauntlet unscathed. And with the destruction of the tunnels leading south from the Agropony Institute, he had been forced to take a path though wild country and the watchful eyes of the Equestrian military.

Suffice it to say that Komodo didn't have much incentive to visit the marshes on his own, and it had been quite a long time since the parade of odd jobs on which he lived provided him with a reason.

Komodo knew quite well that his search for Night Stalker could easily turn out to be a total dead end, but what else did he have? Questions without answers, and maybe a tenuous lead or two. If this little adventure of his didn't pay off, he was back where he started. He wasn't sure what he was actually looking for, yet even now he was absolutely certain that it, whatever it turned out to be, was important.

He exited the decaying railway tunnel into the mid-day sun. The coordinates uploaded to his PDA showed the church rather far away from his current position.

And by "far away" it meant halfway across the swamps and down the Budpony River.

Komodo stood in silence for a moment, then magically pulled his binoculars – a compact pair, not the bulky military ones most trotters used – from their case beside the artifact detector in his bag and panned them across the wide landscape. He could see the old pump station to the south, a rickety wooden structure among the reeds and pools, and a watchtower looming in the haze past it.

Turning his eyes towards the northwest, the young trotter could make out the ruins of a farmstead, a derelict garage and, further off, the collapsed husk of a small factory. He could also make out an angry shimmering in the air over the dry land between them. Sickly grass forested with blackened trees covered the scattered little islands. New plants grew around them, feeding on their corpses.

The ruined village in the distance was as Komodo faintly remembered it: a cluster of structures still mostly intact – apart from one which an anomaly had bitten through – bordered by a fringe of crumbling foundations and bare chimneys already claimed by the creeping waters of the swamp. On the north side, a few stalwart trees offered shade. A dirt road led east to the machine yard, while a winding series of footpaths and wooden walkways offered access to the boat park a short distance northwest. Another path ran due south across sandy islets and clumps of scrub to the pumping station.

A squealing, snarling pack of "Rodents" – the name was applied loosely to the lanky mutant gerbils – swarmed around the foundation struts of the rusting elevated pipeline down the hill in front of him. Otherwise, they ignored him. Komodo walked along the top of the rusted tube undeterred.

He checked his bag to make sure he didn't drop anything on the other side. He carried his usual traveling gear; PDA, AK-74p hoofgun, extra ammunition batteries, medical kits, bandages, food, painkillers, a magic suppressor for stealth. He also carried his beloved Slime artifact, given to him by Wolf as a reward three months ago for helping him clear out a nest of mutant dogs.

...

"What the fuck? There's a pony right there!"

Komodo froze like a deer in headlights at the dour male voice that confronted him from the reeds as he took a few steps onto solid land. He was tempted to hide, and was only stopped by the sudden appearance of four stallions and a mare out of the bushes to his right. All of them with hoofguns trained at his face.

"Stop! He's one of us." Spoke one of the mercs, an earth pony mare completely covered up in a suit and gas mask.

The dark-blue pegasus with a ragged mane and jet-gray jacket tilted his head. "What the... What's a little kid doing out here?"

"Hey bro." The red earth pony with white tattoos striped on his body introduced himself. "Name's Badger."

"Hold on." The gas-masked pegasus slipped off his device to get a better view. "Komodo? That you?"

Komodo recognized the pony almost instantly. "Vergil!" He greeted.

"Hello hello." Vergil nodded. "Long time no see. Where you off to this fine day?""

"I need to get to the old church down the Budpony."

Vergil and Badger glanced at each other.

"You're fucking kidding, right?" Hound spat. "You need to go home kid, before you get hurt."

"Lay off, Hound." The only mare in the group argued.

Before Komodo himself could reply, Vergil pushed the pegasus. "He's old enough to handle himself." He turned to the young unicorn. "You can stick with us to the Clear Sky base, but we're not going any farther. After that, it's up to you."

Komodo didn't mind the conditions, all things considering. "Got it. I won't be trouble, I promise."

"Good boy." The light-red earth pony smiled. "It's settled then. Let's move out, the pumping station is just up ahead." He took out a pair of binocs and swept his gaze over the area.

The mercenary commander, Hound, stepped towards him. "Well?"

Vergil shook his head. "Change of plans. The road to the station is impassible. I can see the anomalies all the way from here."

"Damn," the merc muttered. "What about the middle?"

"It doesn't look so bad," Vergil replied. "But we may not be able keep our hooves dry all the way."

"We can handle it," Hound asserted. "Let's go."

Hound's impatience and arrogance were typical of mercenaries in the Zone today. Komodo hadn't been around to see the very first trotters at work, but he did remember a time when the mercs were more respectable. But today, one certainly couldn't trust a merc to share his last can of meat or spare medical kit anymore - treatment a trotter in need could nearly always expect.

...

"Clear?"

The unicorn mercenary Fisher nodded. "It's clear."

"Good. Five minute break, ponies."

Komodo would have been perfectly happy to press on, but he didn't mind a brief stop.

Taking advantage of it, he climbed to the roof of the pumping platform and took out his binoculars once more. He could see the watchtower better now, as well as the tumbledown fishing shacks in the hamlet behind it and the vestiges of the Clear Sky base beyond. The smaller watchtower to the southwest must have collapsed since his last visit, since he could make out no trace of it.

"How's it look?"

Komodo tore his eyes away from the vista to find the mercenary Lynx peering up at him. "I don't see any problems," he answered noncommittally. "Wait... Some boars in the hamlet ahead."

"Oh?" Lynx ascended the steps to where Komodo stood. "Lemme see."

Lynx spoke in a rough, curt voice with a faint Stalliongrad accent and Komodo imagined her having a short, masculine haircut to match; a notion bolstered by the unfeminine figure she cut in her gas mask and vest. Her L1A1 hoofrifle with its SUIT optical sight and jungle-taped magazines was an added novelty, unlike the surplus L85s which had flooded the Zone's underground economy in recent years.

The mercs fielded many of the distinctive assault hoofguns, but just in the last year they had begun buying Dodge PA-VZ carbines to supplement the finicky Appaloosan pieces. In this squad, however, everypony except Lynx and Hound still used old models. Badger, the colt on point, also carried an indigenous Fort-500 shot hoofgun with a folding stock.

"There's a big male in the pack," Lynx commented, peering through her sight. "Vergil!"

"What is it?"

"Four boars on the path. Want me to take 'em out?"

"I don't care," Vergil grunted. "If it'll make our job easier, go ahead."

Lynx nodded. "Well, kid? You can keep the hooves as a little bonus."

Komodo watched the mutated animals for a few seconds. He had kept himself and his family alive this long on a single principle – the less trouble you cause, the less trouble you get – but the alternative to culling the four-eared creatures was a twenty-minute detour through dense vegetation and anomalies. He had no special love for boars, and they were hardly endangered anyway.

"Are you a fast shot?" She asked, magically loading a battery into the top of the hoofgun. Komodo took it with his own magic and slipped it onto his leg. The straps felt a little loose, considering they were fitted for a bigger pony.

"Pretty fast, yeah."

Lynx was probably raising an eyebrow behind her tinted lenses. "You can hit 'em with iron sights from here?"

"I'll try." Either way, he needed the practice. With some fidgeting and adjustment, he fit the hoofgun over his leg. With his other hoof, the teenager twisted the old hoofrifle's cocking piece to the ready position, the battery glowing green. The stock's varnished wood was cool against his shoulder. A deep breath, hold and...

Crack!

"Not a bad shot kid," Lynx remarked in an undertone as Vergil led the mercenaries through the fishing shacks below their perch. "Very nice placement. I was a bit faster though."

"Yeah," called Badger from below. "Prime hooves there, too. We'll have to collect those on the way back."

"No such luck," Lynx corrected. "I promised them to Komodo."

"Shit..."

"You can have them, I'm going on ahead from here."

"Cut the chatter and get down here," Hound ordered. "Well, trotter?"

"Just ahead," Vergil replied, motioning towards the thicket in front of the group. "The going is treacherous, so stay close."

...

Vergil abruptly signaled another halt. "I see the village," he said in a soft voice. "Spread out, stay low and watch your step. Badger, you're on point."

"Got it." The stripe-tattooed stallion took his battle rifle in hoof, easing the safety off as he navigated between patches of thick reeds. The ground was soft and moist, but his boots were up to the challenge.

"Nothing in sight," Badger informed Vergil. "Nothing living, at least."

"Anomalies?"

"Clear."

"All right... Tread lightly."

The others did so, though not without commentary. "Tread lightly?" Komodo stage-whispered. "I don't see any graves. Are there those ghost creatures here?"

"No," Hound deadpanned, "but the swamp bloodsuckers do a good impression."

"What's the difference between a swamp and a regular sucker, anyway?" Fisher asked.

"Swamp suckers are sneakier, and those bastards can jump." The stallion growled. "Some call them demons; I call them bitches."

Lynx and Badger laughed as they exited the tiny village and ventured the outskirts of the Clear Sky base.

The roof of the mechanic's workshop had fallen in since Komodo had last entered this secluded place. The old bar wasn't looking too solid either, but the main building and the trader's garage appeared relatively sound. The defunct PTR by the garage was sinking into the sand, the fire pit nearby almost wholly erased by the tide of time.

"Wow," said Badger. "This used to be a faction base? Must be some good stuff around here."

"You're about to see plenty of it," Vergil answered, flashing hoof signals rapid-fire. "Hound, check if that roof is sturdy enough for you. Komodo, Lynx, Badger! You three check the garage and the bar. Fisher, you look for what we came here for. Call if you find anything."

"We're up, then." Lynx motioned to Komodo and advanced on the designated target, shotgun at low ready. "These Clear Sky guys, would they leave booby traps?"

"I don't think so, from what I've heard about them," Komodo replied cautiously, "but if anypony else has been here..."

"Good point." Badger switched on the electric lamp attached to his vest and moved inside.

The building was empty. Sort of. The body of a black-coated bandit hung from the ceiling, filled with dozens of metal spikes crusted with dried blood. A spell on its hooves was keeping it from falling to the floor, even after death. The mercenary moved towards the nearly skeletal corpse which lay against the front of the trader's counter below the bandit corpse, an open medical kit in its rotted lap. It wore the tattered remains of a typical armored suit. A worn AKMS leaned muzzle-up against the counter, a canvas magazine pouch and an Echo anomaly detector beside it.

Komodo tasted bile. The sight was horrific.

"Ah, shit. Vergil, got bodies here!"

"Fresh?" the leader called from across the central clearing.

"Nope..." Lynx turned to Komodo. "Stand back, kid."

"Poor bastard," Badger muttered. "Must have crawled in here and bled out before he could treat himself... Ugh, I can smell them even through this damn filter."

Ignoring the bodies, Lynx took out a pocket flashlight from her pack and shone it about. "There's not much left," she observed.

"I prefer ponies who shoot bullets." Badger growled. "Ya can't wrap a bandage around being turned to a pincushion!"

Komodo thoroughly agreed.

Badger straightened, lifting the orphaned Kalash. "Here kid," he said. "You take this... Hound! This guy walked into a bullet somewhere outside, and some bandit got it too. There's nothing else here."

"All right. Come help me with the main building, will you?" The merc called from outside.

Komodo dropped the rusting AKMS as he followed the earth pony out of the building. "Are you certain the artifact you want is here?"

"No idea," Badger returned cheerfully. "But the client insisted it was and if the client wants to pay us to look for it, more power to the client."

"Ah..."

"I hope he was right, though. Clear Sky must have really run things on a shoestring – there's no loot in this fucking dump at all." Badger climbed onto the main building's skirting walkway and helped Lynx up. "And to think, the faction just got up and vanished. Straight to the station and not a word more... Guess the Monolith goons took them out, eh?"

"I suppose."

"Hey kid! Vergil wants to talk to you inside." Hound suddenly called from the roof of the main building.

Shrugging his shoulders, Komodo did as he said and carefully entered the main room of the ratty wooden lodge.

Two tables on his right beneath the windows had their fair share of garbage spread about haphazardly, as well as some large rolled up papers that Komodo assumed were more maps. A radio crackled quietly in the corner of the desk. Vergil himself stood next to it.

"There you are. We gotta move out before the patrols pick us up," Vergil explained, "or else it's a one way trip to Hotel Cowlifornia." He pointed to a large map that had been laid on the table.

Komodo always had a passion for maps since colthood. He would look for hours at maps of Equestria and lose himself in all the glories of exploration. But at this point in his life, the world had ceased to be a blank space of delightful mystery—a white patch for a young colt like himself to dream about. Now that he was old enough, he knew all about the dangers lurking in every square inch of this land.

"If you're going to the church, you better take a look at this. This here's the old Thoroughbred Co. warehouse, just up ahead. The dock to the river is there too."

Komodo followed his hoof to a small black line conjoining two masses of land.

Satisfied, Vergil continued, pointing to a hastily scribbled marker down the river. "The church is here, a stone's throw from Lake Cantar and nestled near Camp Shetland in the Quarantine. Anomalies are really bad around the river, so make sure to stick near the buildings and paths. And whatever you do, watch out for ponycopters. They're everywhere."

Ponycopters, the stuff of nightmares. Komodo only heard about them, but he never wanted to see one face-to-face.

With that, Vergil walked out of old bedroom, leaving Komodo to mentally check if he could remember the route the map was showing. Considering it was only a few centimeters northwest on the map, it shouldn't be too difficult. He checked the map on his PDA; it seemed correct as well. Komodo followed the pegasus outside, where he was waiting for Komodo by the top of the steps.

"Gate's over there. That's where you need to go." Vergil pointed a hoof to the wooden fence and gate on the other side of the compound.

Badger suddenly gave the young unicorn a clap on the back as he passed. "Hey, thanks again," he said. "Saved us a lot of trouble, you know? When I get my squad, I ought to hire you." Moving ahead, he waved over his shoulder. "Don't get plugged by the grunts, now!"

He smiled again and nodded. "I'll... try my best."

...

Long grass crunched beneath his belly as Komodo crouched and scurried to the Thoroughbred warehouse perimeter.

A number of rusting containers took up the middle of the warehouse area, lined up diagonally with each other. Scattered around the grounds were piles of garbage, debris, and metal boxes.

Komodo was detecting life signs up ahead, four red indicators positioned in the middle of the complex. Looking to his PDA again, he noticed that it was also picking up several radio transmissions.

"Watch out for that Vortex." The PDA picked up a snippet of diologue ahead. "And don't wander off, there're worse things here than magic rifts."

"Why the fuck are we even out here anyway? Shouldn't we be at Fallabella dealing with those runners?"

"Are you gonna shut your mouth Private, or am I gonna have to shoot it off?"

"No, Sir!"

Just as Komodo had feared; a Mareine patrol had beaten him to the dock.

He Geiger counter crackled menacingly, detecting the invisible presence of radiation. He could see the distinctive shimmering of anomalies all around, and four soldiers - maybe more - stood in his way.

There was no way he could get to the boat without being spotted and filled with lead. He checked his hoofgun; could he fight them off? It was probably his only choice.

All he had to do was be stealthy... and remember the things that Wolf taught him about what to do in firefights.

1. Keep moving.

2. Close the gap.

Komodo couldn't remember the third step.

4. Profit.

With his magic, he screwed the suppressor over the short barrel of his hoofgun and inched forward as carefully as he could, cursing the crackling of the grass below him. He aimed, holding his breath. With his leg muscles, he gently pushed the firing button underneath the mechanism.

The black-coated soldier didn't even make a sound as he crumpled, the shot going clean through his hood and skull.

"PONY DOWN!" A male Mareine voice screamed from behind the truck. "We got a trotter around here! Stay frosty!"

Oh yeah, that was stealthy. Komodo might as well shoot himself next time.

"Somepony get to him now!"

"Too late, he's dead! Search the area and find that fucking trotter scum!"

Time to leave. Komodo crouched behind the wall and waited, hearing hooves running about just around the corner. It was now or never.

He turned the corner - right in front of a gas-masked Mareine.

"CONTACT!"

With a yelp bordering on girly, Komodo quickly removed himself from the line of fire.

Komodo sprinted through the nearby garage door, making a mad leap for the ground behind an abandoned red wagon. It looked like something a farmer would use to transport his prized pig from one contest to another. As it was, all it held were some very boring looking wooden crates. The Mareine continued his endless barrage, probably figuring that Komodo would have to come out some time.

Stupid! How could he possibly have been so stupid? In his panic, he had trapped himself in a corner with four battle-hardened soldiers outside waiting to kill him. If he were here, Wolf would've killed Komodo himself for making such a mistake.

Judging from the hoofsteps and voices, the whole Mareine squad was outside. His breathing was erratic. He didn't dare close his eyes to try to calm himself. For Faust's sake, he was being shot at. That entitled him to feel anything but calm.

"Come on out, pussy. We only want to kill you!"

He heard hoofsteps outside coming closer and closer. Deadening his nerves, Komodo raised his weapon, keeping a firing zone on the door opening. A pony-shaped figure immediately turned the corner right around the entrance.

Komodo didn't even think.

He thought he fired an entire battery's worth of ammo at the pony, because there wasn't much left of the poor colt afterward. His blood began to seep across the ground towards Komodo's hooves.

"Pony down! He's in the warehouse!"

The trotter got up and moved to the door - doing his best to tune out the ventilated remains of the soldier he had just murdered - and peeked out of cover.

Komodo only got a glimpse of a female Mareine unicorn rising from behind the steel girders before the mare opened fire with a burst of magic bullets.

His right hindleg promptly seared with excruciating pain as he pulled himself back into cover behind the wall of the warehouse and dragged himself back to his corner spot. He only got a glimpse of his wound; a smoking tear opened up his joints.

Focusing as much as he could through the terrible agony, he pulled the magic-laced medical bandages from his pack. He tried wrapping his bleeding hindleg, but the bandages were meant for cuts and gashes, not gaping holes. It was soaked with blood and sliding off almost before he had finished wrapping it. He tossed the bandage and tried again, this time pulling the bandage much tighter. It too soaked bright red, but at least it stayed.

Errant suppressing shots continued to ring outside. If he stayed here, he would die for sure. He needed something to get them away from him.

Then, glancing at a nearby chunk of rubble, he had an idea. A long shot - but he didn't have a choice.

He dashed past the opened warehouse doors to the other end of the small building. The Mareines, still hiding behind cover, didn't detect him as far as he could tell.

Concentrating as hard as he could, Komodo lifted a piece of debris with his magic. He tossed it out the right warehouse door directly into some nearby reeds.

"He's trying to flank us! Swamp, ten o'clock low!" One of the soldiers shouted. The Mareine behind the truck and the one behind the stack of boxes sprinted out of their cover to move in response to the noise.

Right into Komodo's line of fire.

He aimed through the right warehouse door and let out as accurate a burst as he could. The first Mareine flopped to the ground like a fish, the bullet piercing his mask right under his helmet. The second one - the unicorn mare who put a bullet in Komodo's leg - dropped with several bullet wounds center mass. He checked his PDA.

That was two. One more left.

He couldn't see him, though. He scanned the yard with his weapon raised. He heard whimpers, even though he could see anypony nearby. He checked his PDA. A red dot moved to the left of the building Komodo was in.

There he was. The colt, dragging his deceased squadmate by the tail, froze solid. Reacting without a moment to pause, Komodo fired his hoofgun, taking down the straggler.

The cowering colt before him looked younger than Komodo himself, his eyes filled with terror. His hoofgun - a rare LR-300 assault weapon - lay next to him.

He slowly advanced towards the cowering pegasus, aiming for the head. He hindleg burned, but he tuned it out as best he could for the moment.

Weakly, he whimpered. "... I don't want to die..."

At first, Komodo didn't know how to respond. He couldn't just murder a colt in cold blood - especially one so young as him.

Then he remembered Wolf's training. If he let him go, more would come looking for him. Plus, who could say if the colt would just shoot him in the back once he turned around?

"I'm... I'm sorry."

Komodo turned his head away and closed his eyes. With a couple of shots, the pony before him was no more.

The young colt swallowed, his mouth completely parched with tension. His mind raced with a hundred different thoughts simultaneously. He had just fought off a platoon of Celestia's finest, and he had murdered four ponies in the process.

They had tried to kill him, sure, but guilt still washed over him. These ponies may have had families, children, spouses. He had just taken their loved ones away from them.

It was the adaptation that worried him the most. The way he had gone so fast from young adventurer to clumsy killer was difficult to deal with, to say the least.

Komodo began to look over the bodies of his slain enemies. Looting the dead felt wrong; but the cold, rational part of him murmured that they didn't need it.

Taking the young one's LR, he also found some spare 5.56 ammo for the weapon. Even if it was a bit large for him, he could sell it for several days' pay when he got back to the Cordon.

The other ponies had various odds and ends; journals, photos, ammo. One of them had a spare ration can, the "tourist's delight" in trotter parlance.

But his looting was swiftly interrupted. The distinctive brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbr of rotors assaulted his ears in the distance. Made of a metal framwork, the machine was powered by a uniformed pony using pedals to turn the rotors and was equipped with enough magical ordinance to level villages.

It was like all of his nightmares were coming true in a single day.

Without even taking a moment to think it through, he glued himself behind the pile of rusting beams just as a barrage of magical death courtesy of two MPA-60 magic cannons strafed the compound. Clouds of dust shrouded the area, tiny pieces of rock lodging themselves in Komodo's back.

As the ponycopter came around for another try, Komodo darted away as fast as he could from the large entrance of the garage, pressing his back to the concrete wall of the building to its left. He took a breath, resting his head back and looking up.

After a quick glare that he hoped would make the ponycopter spontaneously combust, Komodo started galloping, darting around the rusting containers.

The same familiar, growing whine filled the air, and Komodo knew what was coming. He looked for somewhere to go, and, finding only closed containers, decided that they would do.

The first bullet managed to hit him in the shoulder armor, turning him in mid-run and sending him tumbling to the ground. However, he still managed to crawl around and put a stack of boxes between them, the metal taking the lion's share of the punishment.

His suit took the round, so he'd be okay for the time being.

Using the boxes as leverage, Komodo managed to shimmy his way up to a standing position and dash into a small hut across from it. The ponycopter came around so that it could see him. The ponycopter's gun whined as it prepared to fire again.

Komodo increased his pace to the other side of the hut as the bullets blasted through the wall, sending large shards of wood exploding out behind him as he galloped. His back to the wall beside the doorway, Komodo poked his head outside. Another red container sat sternly in front of him. No sign of the ponycopter above, although he could sure as hell hear it.

With only the slightest of glances back up to the sky, Komodo wiped his sweat soaked brow and dashed outside once again, slamming far too hard into the container before shimmying along it. He slipped around it and came to another container. On the right, he could see the pathway that would take him to the dock.

The ponycoptor swung around and faced towards him.

Komodo let his head hang. "Oh… come on…"

Now he was out of places to hide. He dove into the reeds as fast as he could, laying flat on his stomach. The sleek form of the ponycopter swooped into view, taking account of him.

He was sure the vehicle could see him. Komodo shut his eyes tightly and prayed.

The sound of something being sliced apart suddenly assaulted his ears, but was quickly followed by some loud crashing and a resounding, ear-splitting tear. Komodo whipped his head around as he tried to ascertain what happened. Peeking from his hiding place, he watched as the last remains of the ponycoptor sank beneath the surface of the filthy irradiated marsh near the dock building. A cloud of, debris, mud, and reeds swirled and spun in the sky like a tornado in the shimmering air.

Komodo instantly connected the dots; a Vortex anomaly, and a big one at that. So big that it would probably collapse and disappear by tomorrow.

He felt himself over for a moment. He was alive. He was actually alive. And he immediately made a vow to himself; never try my luck against a ponycopter again.

His filth-covered Geiger counter crackled loudly in warning. Komodo moved his tongue along his teeth, collecting spit, and when he spat it came out green. Bits of algae swam in the bubbles. His hooves were caked with muck and filth. The smell was unbearably thick. He could taste metal in his mouth.

Of course, he would've assumed that it was radioactive, but it was difficult to think about that while being strafed by a flying death machine.

Wiping his body off as best he could, he stumbled to the dock hut and sat down. He swallowed another painkiller and retrieved his bag. Despite the grime, the contents were intact. He ached to take a break, to rest for at least a few moments. As relaxing as laying in radioactive mud and killing soldiers was, he wanted very much to lie down on something. Preferably soft.

At least nothing else seemed to stand against his epic quest to find a boat. Making sure that nothing else was about to ambush him, he moved as best he could towards the pier.

Several energy canisters sat around the dock, scattered around a small whaler. Komodo checked the gas; it seemed full, like it had just been filled by somepony. Probably the Mareines from before, he suspected. Considering the keys still laying conspicuously on the seat, that was probably true.

Komodo gave the power switch a good twist and started the boat on its way, skipping across the water like a stone until he managed to reign in the damn thing.

He could practically taste the flavor of freedom.

...

The sky was no longer sunny. It was gray and cloudy, and he couldn't remember how it had gotten that way. Hell, nopony knew how the clouds moved or changed. He heard rumors that the ponies who lived beyond the Quarantine could control the weather, although he couldn't imagine how that was possible.

Fatigue took over. This day's events were a strain on both body and spirit. His muscles - especially his shoulders - were weak and achy. His body still hurt from the bullets he had taken. He felt emotionally played-out. He needed to sleep.

But sleeping here was probably a horrible idea. If he woke up at all, it could be in the hooves of soldiers or possibly worse. But going back, finding someplace better, it just wasn't on the table. He was in no shape to test his luck against another Mareine squad - let alone another ponycopter.

No, he had to be alert in this area. This wasn't the Cordon or the Bar.

With he magic, he lifted a can of energy soda from his packed and chugged it down, ignoring its unpleasant taste. That would keep him alert. He scanned the water ahead for anomalies, although it seemed largely safe for the time being.

He rummaged through his pack, taking account of his stash. He still had a few backup ammunition batteries left. But he was down to his last painkiller, and his Slime could only cut the bleeding.

His horn buzzed as he lifted the glowing green object from his bag. He pressed it up against his wound, hissing loudly at the pain. He could feel the magical energy cause his torn skin to stretch and bubble like jelly.

It was something. But it took more than bandages and a weak artifact to fully heal his wounds.

It must've been hours since he escaped from the dock. At least, that's what it felt like to the pony resting on his drifting craft. His gas was holding up, so probably would make it to the church. Where was he, anyway? By this point, he should at least seen some sort of church building close by.

He did a mental double take as he looked at the information on his PDA.

The Budpony river didn't even go in that direction. It curved west according to the map that Vergil showed him, but his PDA map and his compass said he was heading north. Indeed, the PDA's arrow that pointed in the direction he was facing northeast... and it wasn't even placed on the river.

What the hell? Unless he drove the boat into another river without knowing it, his location didn't make physical sense.

"Piece of crap..." Komodo muttered under his breath. He didn't know why his information was inaccurate, but he had other things to worry about.

He continued down the river, hoping he could find the church before rain started falling.

...

As his raft slowly made his way around the bend of the river, he eyes became drawn to a strange sight.

A pony figure made of reeds and metal bars stood crucified on a tall rusting pole on the soil of the river's turn like a big scarecrow. Covered in splashes of red paint, it was adorned by what looked like faces.

Komodo leaned over the side to take a look, and he soon realized they weren't faces. They were skulls. Pony skulls.

A large piece of wood hung from the neck of the demented effigy. Crudely scrawled, in piercing blood-red, were a series of misspelled phrases.

Komodo steered his boat closer to read it; "THREW ME IS THE WAY TO ETERNAL WOE, THREW ME IS THE WAY TO EVERLASITNG PAIN, ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE"

He didn't know what that could mean and could only barely understand the wording, but it sounded like a warning. Warnings were bad.

As his raft slowly made his way around the bend of the river, a loud bellow made him duck down instinctively.

"For it was said, they had become like these peculiar demons which dwell in matter, but in whom no light may be found!"

The boom of the stallion's voice made Komodo lurch backwards, almost tossing himself into the oily black by accident. He waved his hoofgun frantically around in trying to spot whoever it was. No-one.

The voice was deep, guttural. A thick accent, too, just like Sid. Now, Komodo thought, if the mysterious voice had been talking about the Way to Find Night Stalker...

"May they become like dust before the wind! May Night Stalker pursue them to the ends of the earth! The power of the false and lying Princess cannot hold him!"

That was the answer he was looking for. Komodo's ears perked up. Night Stalker... Could this stallion know where he was?

He recognized the shape of a pony silhouetted by the cattails. He was partially hidden in shadow, his features mostly incomprehensible. A hole in the roof of the tiny watchtower down the river from Komodo gave the stallion plenty of room to gesture wildly.

"What, who is this? Another soul to enlighten?" The figure, who Komodo could surmise was bald and perhaps a bit paunchy in the middle, thrust a commanding hoof into the air.

"Hello!" Komodo called out. "My name is Komodo! I'm looking for a pony named Night Stalker. Do you know where he could be?"

"So you do seek enlightenment!" The stallion laughed loudly. "As you should! Wait here, I shall be but a moment!"

A few seconds later, Komodo saw the priest from before emerge again, the hoofgun attached to his leg seeming somewhat bigger than it was before. Light from the behind him still obscured his features, although it wasn't as difficult to make out the messy stubble and worn clothing now that Komodo's boat was closer.

"I am Father Apostle... but you can call me Gabriel." The priest beckoned him forth. "Drive your craft up here. I have a more suitable gun for you. Catch!"

And so, with as little warning as that, the good Father tossed the weapon through the air.

Komodo caught the large hoofgun with his magic, slowly levitating it to the boat. An old hunting shot hoofgun, an over-and-under.

"Make free use of my weapon, but be careful not to hurt yourself," he chuckled, because clearly, Komodo blowing his own head off was amusing. The stallion's head flickered up to somewhere behind Komodo.

"Behind you!"

With the hoofgun attached to his other leg, he aimed and fired, the gunshot echoing starkly in the reeds as Komodo whirled on his hindquarters. From the clearing where Komodo's raft had emerged, one of the thin, wiry mutant dogs lurking in the shadows thumped to the ground, a large bullet hole gaping in it's front. Komodo looked back to his companion, nodding his thanks.

The stallion returned the gesture. "Be vigilant against the servants of the false Princess! Now, keep that weapon close. I have left ammunition under the awning across the river; they do not seem to find much interest in anything without…" He grumbled a little, as though uncomfortable with the sentence. "… blood. If you could retrieve it and bring it to me up ahead, I would be most grateful!"

Komodo looked the weapon up and down before finally giving the pump-action hoofgun a healthy yank with his magic. The shell casing popped out of the top and bounced hollowly into the water. It felt good, having something so powerful in his hooves.

Another chorus of bays and howls chanted somewhere in the distance. Gabriel put up a silencing hoof.

"Hush… They come." Casting his gaze slowly about the maze of growth, Gabriel suddenly settled on Komodo and brought up his rifle.

Eyes darting about like an animal, Komodo wasted no time dropping to the floor of the boat as his companion's rifle boomed throughout the swamp. He couldn't see what the stallion aimed for, but he assumed there were animals lurking around the banks

Now he could see his prize; the steeple of an old wooden church building rose in the distance. And on the opposite side of the river, a small group of torn tents and pitched awnings also rose up.

Komodo started looking for a way to the cache. It was only a few clicks over; he didn't estimate it would take him that long. As far as distance went, anyway. He turned the engine off with his magic and raised it so it wouldn't catch on the shallow riverbed. Pulling the craft to shore with his magic so it wouldn't get swept away, he stepped out and turned towards the tent cluster.

Well. Here went nothing.

Instead of going for his hoofgun, Komodo instead activated his hoofknife from its scabbard on his left leg with a push of his leg muscles, ironically feeling more power from holding a metal blade than he did a device of immense magical energy.

It was often the simple things in life that were the most satisfying. Who was it that said that? Komodo was sure he had heard Wolf saying it. Or was it his mother?

A painful twang in his chest made him pause for a moment. His family. A part of him was glad that his parents weren't around to see him growing up like this. Another part… well, everypony would want a chance to see their parents again.

Thunder cracked the darkened sky, jolting him from his thoughts. The Zone just couldn't give him a break.

He found the bag laying on a rusting crate half-sunk in mud. Sure enough, an entire armory's worth of shotgun ammo lay inside it.

Komodo took a step forward, and something else came to his ears. A snarl, nasal and vicious, getting louder and louder. The sound didn't come from a boar or wild dog. It was demonic. The same one feared across the Zone by trotters and military alike, a noise that meant a painful and brutal death.

And then he saw a shape in the reeds before him. It was skinny, it's frame even more slight than Komodo had been in his foal years. But, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

His heart turned to ice, breath leaving his lungs in a single exhalation.

Oh fuck me with Celestia's horn!

He raised his shot hoofgun and fired wildly into the tall grass at the shape. His shots ended up hurting the plants more than the horror stalking him.

"Quickly, child! Into the sanctuary!" The voice of the priest called across the water, followed by more distant shots.

Komodo tried to get his bearings. The sky continued to split with lightning on the horizon. And behind him came a chorus of roars in the blackness.

There was no time to get the boat ready. Looks like he'd have to swim... As best he could, at least. The good news was that the river was shallow enough to stand.

His lack of swimming ability wouldn't doom him today. No, that would probably be his heavy pack and the thing coming up right behind him.

He heard rustling behind him, and paused for a critical half-second to look back.

The reeds parted and bent on the shore. And before he could even turn to get away, something big tackled him from behind, cause him to fall helplessly into the water.

He tried to stick his head up, but couldn't. A pair of leathery hooves kept his body down strangling and ripping at him even as he tried to get his head above the river. With iron grip, the hooves slashed and smacked him even as he struggled against the inevitable. The water around him starting going red with trickles of blood.

Komodo panicked, thrashing against the thing pinning him. Filth poured down his throat and up his nose with his every attempt to struggle.

So this was how it ended. There were no options, no tricks, no other ways out. He was going to die here. Like this, drowning in shit and goo.

His world spun around him and faded to black.