Bad Future Crusaders

by TonicPlotter

Chapter 4

Scootaloo was motionless.

Everything had gone wrong so quickly that her mind was scrabbling, trying to understand what had just happened to her. Today was supposed to be a good day; the weather was fine and the only thing she had set out to do was find a bite to eat. For the first time in a very long time she was planning to stop running for a while and take a much needed rest. She was a vagrant; a homeless drifter with no family or friends, and she had done nothing wrong to anypony.

Camping. It was supposed to be like camping.

Her blood had turned to ice as she lay still on the loose gravel. Cold, hard metal was pressed against the back of her head, held by a pony that had tracked and ambushed her like an animal and was intent on harming or even killing her. Her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest, and she was feeling faint from the quick shallow breaths of raw fear. The only thing keeping her conscious was the threat of death if she so much as moved an inch. She was absolutely helpless; completely at the mercy of a pony that was willing to kill her, and it took every last ounce of her will to keep from screaming out. She was out of options; she tried to speak but no words came out. With effort and the fear of her life on the line, she managed to force a weak plea.

“I didn’t do anything.” She whimpered.

“Ah’ll bet.” Said the voice from behind, every bit as hollow as it had been when it made the threat. “Ah know a certain someone what’s paying a lot of money to have a word with you.”

“You’ve gotta have the wrong pony!!!” She said, almost yelling.

“You match the description.”

Scootaloo wanted to curl up and cry. “But why?! Why do they want me so bad?! What did I do?!”

There was a soft sigh and a deep exhale from behind. “Beats me, sugar,” Said the hunter, this time with a note of pity in her otherwise heartless tone, “Ah don’t ask questions. But one way or another you’re coming with me, we clear?”

Scootaloo let her forehead rest on the gravel. There was nothing else she could do. “A-alright, I’ll go.”

“Atta girl. Behave yourself and Ah won’t have to shoot you. Get up; time to go, sugar.”

She did as she was told and stood up tall. The cold steel nudged her head gently, and she started walking slowly across the shale path in front of her. The terribly loud thing the hunter had was no longer being pushed into her head but somehow she could still feel it pointing at her. It felt almost alive, staring at her with malice like the eyes of some horrible predator and reminding her that one false move would end her.

“That’s right, just keep following the path. We’ll be there before you know it.”

Scootaloo didn’t answer. She made sure to follow the path nice and slowly, taking deep breaths to calm herself down and begin thinking straight once more. With her panic subdued, she had quickly decided she had no intention of going where this pony planned to take her. She knew she definitely didn’t want to meet this certain somepony that had sent a killer armed with whatever-the-heck had been used to subdue her. That thing was the problem: that weapon she had never seen or heard of before that made deafening almost popping sounds gave this hunter a nasty advantage over her. Scootaloo needed a plan. Something, anything to take that advantage away. Her eye darted left and right looking for anything she could use but only saw trees and their leaves dancing on the wind; her ears remained perked but heard only the gentle crunch of gravel beneath their hooves.

Crunch-crunch crunch… crunch-crunch crunch…

Scootaloo had to fight the urge to stop and listen. Something was very wrong with the sound her captor’s hooves were making as they walked.

Crunch-crunch crunch… crunch-crunch crunch…

Three hooves…?

She had spent her life running. Always running. Always accompanied by the uniform sound of four hooves clopping on rock or soil or splashing through water. It took her only a moment of counting the stride of her captor to realize she either had only three legs…

Or she’s holding that blasted popping thing in one of her hooves.

She had a very definite chance of escape, if she played her cards right. A pegasus could hold a weapon in his hooves just fine by flying, and unicorns of course would use their magic. Her captor was very obviously an earth pony that had taught herself to grip a weapon in one hoof and walk on the other three. Scootaloo still had no clue what kind of weapon it was, but as long as it was gripped in a hoof her captor would be off-balance. She just needed the right time and place to take advantage of it.

The gravel began to thin beneath her hooves as the path they travelled on cut through a grassy field and neared the tree line. Scootaloo recognized this area; they were headed in the general direction of Broncton, a small town near Fillydelphia, and no doubt this path would get them there by nightfall. Scootaloo wanted to turn and laugh in her captor’s face but held herself back; she had a plan.

Just have to shake this pony in the woods, then sprint to Fillydelphia and just get lost in the crowds.

Crunch-crunch crunch… crunch-crunch crunch…

The instant her captor stood unevenly Scootaloo moved. She spun and whipped her captor in the face with her tail, then dodged to the side and out of the way of the weapon’s first deafening pop. She grasped her captor’s foreleg against her body and rolled her back into her captor’s belly. With a deft twist she rolled her opponent over her shoulder and the captor was hurled to the ground at her hooves.

Now, fight or flee?!

Scootaloo had no time to decide; her opponent had instinctively travelled with the momentum of the throw, rolling out of Scootaloo’s view and no doubt back onto her hooves. She still gripped her weapon.

Flee!

Scootaloo turned in the other direction and sprinted as quickly as her legs would carry her, making a desperate beeline for the trees to get out of view before her opponent oriented herself.

BLAM!

And something had punched the dirt before the echo had faded, missing Scootaloo’s hoof by mere inches. She shook off the panic that almost overtook her: the weapon had serious speed and distance. Scootaloo began hopping to the left and right as she ran, zigzagging to make herself a difficult target.

BLAM-BLAM! BLAM!

Scootaloo dove behind a tree, getting something between her and her opponent’s weapon just in time. One of the pops had punched a hole clean through her mother’s scarf while another had struck the rock near the tree with a loud PWANG. The third that had punched into the tree and sent shards of bark twirling to the ground would have been a direct hit had she been a split second too late. She wasn’t safe for long; she needed cover and to get out of sight. Her opponent was far too accurate with that weapon to just run for it; sheer luck had kept those pops from hitting her. Now wasn’t the time to think. She let her instincts take over and dove below some bushes near the tree, crawling as low as she could. Behind her she heard the pony’s hooves clump loudly to the tree, then go dead quiet.

“You’re playing games with the wrong pony!!!” The hunter hollered angrily, “Ah don’t need you alive and well, just alive!”

The raw animosity in the pony’s voice was enough to make Scootaloo shiver. This pony was fully intent on injuring her to near death just to drag her back to town for some complete stranger. That wasn’t going to happen. Scootaloo knew her bright coat of fur would give her away if she stayed still; She crawled slowly on her belly, with the knowledge that she was being actively hunted weighing her flat against the ground and keeping her as quiet as possible. She made it to another tree and flattened behind it, then risked a peak around the tree to try and locate her attacker.

She could see the pony through the leaves, facing the other direction. She was a rough-looking yellow mare with a scraggly pink mane and tail, dressed in a cowpony’s hat and vest. As Scootaloo had guessed, she stood on only three hooves. The fourth hoof clutched the deadly popping weapon against her pastern, keeping it pointed skyward at head-height. A thin trail of smoke crept from the skyward end, much like it would have from a cigar left to smolder. There was barely any movement from the pony; her head was tilted upward and slowly panning across the skyline with eerie determination.

Of course!

No wonder she hadn’t been found in the bushes: the pony was hunting a pegasus. No doubt she had assumed that Scootaloo had taken to the sky rather than crawling away on the ground, and was waiting to catch a glimpse of her trying to escape or attack from above. Scootaloo knew she couldn’t run easily: that weapon was effective at a distance and the pony that held it had tracked her twice already. If she could sneak close and knock it from her hoof though…

I’ll lay the beating of your life on you for this.

Movement from the pony stopped Scootaloo’s train of thought and set her plan into motion. Her opponent was moving parallel to the tree line, using the canopy of the trees as cover from an airborne attack; Scootaloo snuck low, moving like a cat stalking an unsuspecting mouse. Keeping quiet, she slipped silently along the dirt using the bushes as cover. It was now or never; she took a deep silent breath and reminded herself that it was this or surrender, and tore out of the bushes at full speed toward the pony’s blind side.

The attacker reacted much quicker than Scootaloo had hoped, but she was still too fast for her. She twirled on her front hooves and bucked the weapon, hearing the satisfying sound of its dull plop as it hit the dirt, and let the force carry her in a full circle and reared onto her hind legs. She punched once, twice, three times, yelling with pure fury each time her hoof connected with the yellow pony’s face. Her fourth punch was blocked, shrugged off by the pony’s leg as the pony spun and tried to buck Scootaloo in the stomach.

Scootaloo let out a loud grunt of pain from the attack; she had turned and taken the hit in the obliques, but the pony had kicked hard. She fell onto all fours and pounced behind her foe, trying her best to stay out of view and land attacks from the pony’s blind side. Her opponent was tough; Scootaloo had her more than outclassed in speed, but the pony was strong and could seriously take punch. As the pony turned Scootaloo kicked her hard in her left hock and punched her again in the side of the head, sending her to the ground with a rewarding thwack.

The pony wasn’t down for even a second; she leaped back to her hooves and swept her rear leg across the ground at Scootaloo’s legs. Scootaloo jumped back and dodged it by mere inches; small round blades strapped to the pony’s hind hooves whisked cleanly through her mother’s scarf. The attacker turned and, despite now sporting a nasty limp in her rear leg, ran for her weapon with a surprising burst of speed. Scootaloo wouldn’t let her reach it first and ran for it as well. The two ponies ignored each other: the only goal was the popping weapon. Whoever reached it first… Scootaloo pushed the thought from her head and ran harder than she ever had. She was faster, but the attacker had a head start. It would be close.

Too close.

They both dove at the same time, but the pony had the dexterity to grip the weapon. She stood in time for Scootaloo to leap at her and throw her left leg into the pony’s throat and her right into the weapon to keep it from taking aim. They struggled and locked eyes for the first time—

—And Scootaloo felt all the blood drain from her face.

Suddenly there was no fight anymore. Scootaloo did the unthinkable and shoved the pony away, taking a leap back as she did it. The pony aimed her weapon, but didn’t fire. The two just stood and stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity.

Author's Note:

I dropped a hint in there about Apple Bloom's past in her dialogue. Let's see who guesses it.

Comments

[The Notebook]

I think I know what just not how to explain it. Probably a hysterical AJ or Big Mac trying to get then away from civilization.

"That's right, just keep following the path. We’ll be there before you know it.”

And

"Get up; time to go, sugar.”

[Fairweather]

Here's an important lesson for all Fimfic readers... never check Fimfiction minutes before you go to bed, otherwise you'll never go to bed. Damn this story has me hooked.

[lightningcharger19981010]

In that case I do something completly wrong because I check fimfictoin when i'm seposed to sleep

[MariusIoannesP]

“Ah know a certain someone what’s paying a lot of money to have a word with you.”

Apple Bloom said "someone" instead of "somepony" indicating she's spent a significant part of her life living among non-ponies. It might have something to do with the vest she wears as the Masquerader pointed out. Who are the non-ponies we've seen who wear vests? Diamond Dogs! Apple Bloom's been living among the Diamond Dogs.

[Slavenger Karl]

I need no sleep. I'm too SWAG