A Sneak Peak of the Story People Seem to Actually Like · 2:27am Apr 1st, 2013
I'm not bitter :P
I've been working hard with what time I've had, but nonetheless I feel like giving you wonderful people something to read.
So here, an excerpt from the next chapter of Xenophobia.
Steps. Raymond hated steps.
Infinite, angular and sharp they stretched, impeding the progress of many a generation fleeing people. There were always too many to climb—or too few to distance oneself from a pursuer. Exercise-be-damned...
Why the fuck couldn’t these creatures have invented magical elevators or something? Or maybe just a wheelchair ramp? How do the crippled ponies serve jury duty if they couldn’t reach the damned courthouse!?
How the hell was Raymond supposed to get up there alive!?
Stone exploded on the steps below the exterminator and he quickly spun to meet another adversary: firing his pistol blindly. There was a screech and something wet flecked Ray’s face. Not stopping to see the damage, the ex-marksman half-raced, half-limped his way along a small landing to his next flagstone obstacle. Three more flights stood between him and the courthouse, the white and purple mortar building blotting out the magic-scarred sky. Nearly there, now.
A chorus of buzzing filled Raymond’s ears and he ducked instinctually. The air boiled, blistering the man’s back through his suit, and a sledge of flaming manalight passed over him, crashing into the flight above with a splintering crack. Another changeling uncurled itself from the cratered stone, hissing and spitting green blood.
*CRACK*
“Bug number four,” Ray thought, kicking the splintered body aside as he continued upward.
Keeping score: if Jer was still alive, Ray needed a head start… bad. The schitzo bastard was probably awake by now, and without morphine, well… even being a few kills ahead wouldn’t do Raymond much good if Jer still had his gun.
At that moment, the idea of healthy competition was the only thing keeping the climbing human from losing it.
Jer wasn’t doing too hot, and Ray knew it. He’d seen the blood; felt the bones breaking under him when they landed. But he’d had to leave him—HAD to! Gerald needed Company medicine, and he needed Raymond to get it for him.
Dropping the slide from his pistol, Ray counted his ammunition: four rounds left, one still chambered. That left four for the bugs and one for him. A quick glance around found the area around him to be clear, but he was nervous nonetheless. That was his last magazine. He needed to get to the jeep: fast.
Raymond put on a burst of speed, climbing the last two flights in one go while keeping a keen eye above for any more dive-bombers. He burst into the courtyard, winded, to find the grounds deserted. The jeep sat untouched at the east end, and Jer’s bandstan—shit, the fillies.
Sweetie Belle stood next to the now crushed bandstand, craning over the stage edge to look toward the courthouse steps. She was completely exposed to the sky above. Grunting, Raymond jogged over, panning his weapon along the horizon. It appeared that the majority of Chrysalis’s forces were pillaging the lower city, so they were safe… for now.
Hearing his heavy footfalls, Sweetie spun toward him, terror written plainly across her young face. It quickly disappeared once she recognized him, however:
“Ray? RAY!,” the filly quickly scrambled across the grass to him. “Oh thank Luna you’re all right! Scootaloo said she saw you fall! Where’s Jerry? Is he all right? Please tell me he’s okay!”
“He’s fine,” Ray lied, scooping the filly roughly from the ground and scanning the area once more. “Where’re the others?”
“They… They ran up the marriage-building steps. We thought you guys might st-still be there.” Sweetie wheezed through crushed ribs. Ray loosened his grip slightly and made his way to the jeep. Once he made it to their pilfered vehicle, he tossed Sweetie Belle—more carefully, now—under the tan chassis.
“Unclip the rifles,” he grunted as he rounded the front of the vehicle to the passenger side. “The blue lever.” Raymond heard a low, electronic beep and two thumps, but paid them no mind. He tore open the dash-box, rummaging until he found a pair of thick, black serum pouches. The human quickly stuffed both inside his jacket’s inner pocket and checked below for Sweetie Belle.
“Other side—fuck.” Jogging, he made it back to the driver’s side of the jeep to catch the little white unicorn dragging a pulse rifle out from the vehicle’s underbelly, shoulder-strap firmly clenched in her muzzle.
“Rye grt tit!” she growled through the wet nylon, struggling to lift the butt of the heavy firearm. Ray bent down and relieved her of her burden in a heartbeat and turned toward the courthouse.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll be right back.” As he began to run, the human just barely heard her reply, faint from the pulse still pounding in his head from the climb up:
“Promise you’ll be back? Promise!? Ray!”
No, he couldn’t.
The courthouse steps were considerably less steep than the cliffside path he’d been forced to traverse earlier, and Raymond quickly reached the landing and the ornate double doors of the court proper. The entrance was spread wide, revealing Applebloom and Scootaloo crumpled to the floor. Above them stood a pony the color of an ocean at night: an alicorn with starlight flowing in her mane and a dark blue aura surrounding her sharp spiral horn. That very same aura encompassed the heads of the two fillies lying prone in the green-stained center aisle of the courtroom, their little chests rising and falling rapidly.
Ray didn’t like the looks of that one bit.
Striding carefully forward, the human raised the butt of his rifle above his shoulder, swinging right and downward in a swift, scythe-like motion. The blue alicorn turned, wide-eyed, just as Ray’s gun struck her temple. She crumpled, magic imploding with a loud pop, and lay sprawled on the floor next to the two foals—she was still breathing. Scootaloo and Applebloom still lay there, unconscious, so Raymond neglected to put a bullet through the suspicious alicorn’s skull just long enough to hoist them onto his shoulder. Holding his rifle, Wrath, in one arm, he pointed its muzzle at the winged unicorn’s throat, but hesitated to pull the trigger.
The moon… there was a half moon on its ass.
Shit… ohoho he was going to get chewed out sooo hard for this later…
Ray dropped Wrath and gripped Celestia’s sister’s hind leg, quickly and unceremoniously dragging her down a side aisle toward what looked like a storage closet in the corner. He stuffed her inside.
Running back to the door, he scooped up his rifle and burst out into the smoky, noon sunlight.
He made it to the jeep in record time, throwing both his and Jer’s rifles—which Sweetie Belle was kind enough to drag out—into the passenger seat. Ray then led Sweetie Belle back to the half-ruined bandstand and hid her two friends underneath.
“What’s wrong with them?!” Sweetie cried, trembling at what Jer assumed was the thought of her friends being seriously injured. Pushing her under the bandstand alongside them, Ray gave her his best answer:
“Sleeping. Now stay here and stay hidden: I have to go find your sisters.”
Not waiting for a reply, Raymond sprint-limped back to the dune jeep and climbed into the drivers seat. A prick of the thumb later and he was speeding into the scorched remains of upper Canterlot.
Gunshots rocked the streets below.
Thanks for reading!
... and now that you've read this, at the risk of sounding desperate for feedback, perhaps you could take a look at THIS as well? Pretty please?
Love you all. Goodnight.
Sometimes you get those stories that people just don't read. It's unfortunate, but for a lot of authors that's what happens. They release one thing that everyone loves, and so they keep making new stuff, but people never try them out. It happens to artists, musicians, authors; anyone who's in the arts. It's sad, but that's the way it goes. Although on the flip side, a lot of the time, after a while, they release something else that people love, and so their popularity spikes again. Very few people on this site, are known for all of their works. Most of them are known for just one or two they've written.
962635 Oh I know
I'm just hopeful y'know? And I love this new story to death