//------------------------------//
// Chapter four: covert ops 
// Story: Worlds Apart 
// by Elkia Deerling 
//------------------------------//

One month later.

“Does it still hurt?” Doctor Goodman said, as he looked over Trigg’s hoof one last time.

“It doesn’t,” Trigg said.

“Very good.” Doctor Goodman grabbed a roll of bandages and wrapped them carefully around Trigg’s hoof. “Now if you stay calm and keep off that hoof for two more months, it will have healed—“

“Two more months?!”

Doctor Goodman recoiled from Trigg’s booming voice.

Triggerhoof scowled. “I don’t need two more months. I can easily walk on it.” And to demonstrate his words, Triggerhoof stepped off the bench, braced himself on his forehooves, and slammed his hind hooves into the bench, toppling it over.

Goodman put his hands to his hips. “Was that really necessary?”

But Trigg ignored him. “I haven’t had a mission for more than a month now. They need me, doctor. You remember the guy that died a couple of weeks ago, don’t you?”

Doctor Goodman took off his glasses and put a hand to his head. “Yes… I’m afraid I do. Such a tragic death. He was just a young man.”

“That’s right,” Trigg said. “That young man is dead because he had been placed in the Heat Seekers instead of me. Damn, Goodman, the kid was just a greenhorn. He needed way more training.” He shook his head. “But my point is, I need to go on a mission. The lives of my fellow soldiers, hell, the lives of everyone here in the bunker, depend on me.”

Goodman held out his hands, palms down.. “Hush now. Quiet now. There’s absolutely no reason to become all melodramatic. I am the doctor, and I am giving you an advice.”

“But—“

Doctor Goodman raised his hands. The pony shut up. “You are already ignoring all of my advices on your psychological wellbeing, Raspberry. Please, please, please don’t ignore my advice on your physical state too.”

Triggerhoof seemed to wage those words. The silence that followed was only broken by the hum of the electric lights in Goodman’s office.

Goodman himself took the time and the silence to observe his patient, his friend, his son. Every scar Triggerhoof wore told of savage battles. Every gunshot, knife stab, and shrapnel wound was clearly visible, marking the pony’s body like tattoos. Goodman felt a tear in his eye. He did no effort to hide it. “I… I just don’t want to lose you, Raspberry Trick.”

Triggerhoof cringed at the mention of his old name. Also, the sappiness made his heavy black brows furrow. “I feel a déjà vu moment coming up, doc.”

The sounds of heavy boots on concrete heralded the approach of a soldier. Triggerhoof smiled. Somehow, he knew he was coming his way. And, without needing to guess, he knew who it was.

Brockheart’s toothpaste-white smile appeared in the doorway. “Triggerhoof, the general has a mission for the Heat Seekers—all the Heat Seekers.” He paused to catch his breath. He had been rounding up all of the team members without pausing for a second.

“A mission? Out of the question,” Doctor Goodman said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Looking down at the pony, Brockheart saw that there were still bandages wrapped around his ear and front leg. “Can you walk, Trigg?”

“Yes,” said Triggerhoof.

“No,” said Doctor Goodman.

“Perfect!” Brockheart’s big, round eyes glittered. “We got the rest of the team ready in the briefing room. You can come when you’re done with the doctor.”

Doctor Goodman frowned at the complete ignorance of the soldier. But before he could say something, Triggerhoof cut him off.

“Actually, I’m already done with Doctor Goodman.”

“No you’re not,” Goodman said.

“Awesome!” Brockheart made a little jump. “Let’s go.” And then he was off.

Trigg gave the doctor a last glance as he stepped through the door. “I guess duty calls.”

Doctor Goodman looked back, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “We will speak about this irresponsible decision later.”

Triggerhoof shrugged, and then he was gone. No way, doctor.

**

General Johansson had taken his map and had clipped it on the whiteboard of the briefing room. Brockheart, Amanda, Simon, and Andrei were gathered around, listening intently to what their general had to say. As Trigg entered the room, the general waved him over.

“Good to see you again, Private Triggerhoof,” Johansson said. “I think I can speak for all of us if I say that we missed you in the team.”

“Yeah,” Trigg said. “I guess the last replacement didn’t do so well.”

Johansson looked at the ground. “He didn’t, unfortunately.” It was then that he noticed Trigg’s bandages. “Are you sure you’re up for a new mission, Triggerhoof? Maybe you’d better—“

“Fill me in on the details, sir. The sooner we’re done with the mission, the sooner I can resume healing.”

Johansson didn’t like being cut off like that. Yet he knew it was Triggerhoof he was talking to, and Triggerhoof would always remain Triggerhoof. He smiled thinly, ignored the complete illogical answer Triggerhoof gave, and instead put a hand on the pony’s shoulders. “I like your enthusiasm, private.”

“It’s an honor to serve you and Crossroads,” Trigg said. It felt good to say that.

General Johansson turned around and pointed at the map. But then he spotted something. Walking towards the door, he took a step outside for a moment, looked left and right, and shut the door. Then he walked over to the whiteboard with the map.

“Is this a covert-ops?” Simon asked.

Johansson grinned. “You have a good observational eye, Simon. And as an answer to your question: yes, this is a covert-ops.”

“What does that mean?” Andrei asked.

“That means that the exact details of this mission will remain in this room and in your heads, not in your mouths,” Johansson said. “Yes, the doctors and scientists know of this mission, but they don’t know all of it.”

Amanda did a small step back. Obviously she felt bad about the idea of a secret mission. She wanted everything to be as clear as the scope of her sniper rifle. Andrei, on the other hand, seemed even more interested in this mission than before. He didn’t take his eyes off the general as he walked over to the whiteboard and pointed with his finger to a new dot. The dot bore not the familiar green color of military compounds. This one was blue.

“What does the blue one mean?” Andrei asked.

Turning around, General Johansson was actually smiling. “I am very pleased to tell you that we are going to search for materials to repair our radio.” He wanted to add ‘finally,’ to that, but decided to remain professional. “With the help of some of the military’s top technicians, we have already managed to get it to crackle. We still need critical components, among which is a long-range transmitter, so we can receive and send signals into Ground Zero with a satellite dish.”

Triggerhoof’s eyes sparkled, as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Of course the general wanted to keep the mission a secret; so that the scientists and doctors wouldn’t use the radio to send messages across the land. Once again, there was this queasy feeling in his stomach, as if two wolves were fighting over a piece of meat. One wolf supported the general’s decision; the other was still unsure. Nevertheless, Triggerhoof continued to listen.

“During one of our first scavenging missions, I spotted this building.” Johansson tapped the map. “It’s the television building of Channel Twenty-Four, the big news channel. As you all know, Channel Twenty-Four was founded when the tensions between East and West began to rise. It was intended to keep the American people up to date with the developments concerning Yaroslav’s… foreign politics.” Those last words sounded as if General Johansson needed a tow truck to yank them out of his mouth. The name ‘Yaroslav’ sounded like a curse on his lips.

“I see,” Simon said, stroking his moustache in thought. “The last thing I saw before everything went to hell was the news broadcast of the attack on New York, the last broadcast on Channel Twenty-Four.” The memory stung him, and he closed his eyes for a second or two.

“What do we need, sir?” Triggerhoof asked.

General Johansson grabbed five pieces of paper covered with a plastic film, and handed them over to the Heat Seekers. “Amongst other things, we need that long range transmitter and a small, portable satellite dish. Those things are demountable, so each of you can carry some parts. I know for sure that there are many pieces of broadcasting equipment in there, so you should find all the things you need easily. If you don’t know where to look, go upstairs to the recording studios. That would be your best bet.”

Johansson paused to let everyone memorize the parts. “If you find only broken parts, bring them in anyway. I’m sure our mechanics can find a way to fix them. If you find nothing, then get your asses back in the bunker. Your lives are more important to me than that radio.”

“We’ll clear out any resistance, General,” Triggerhoof said with a grim smile, “that is what we always do.”

“But we should still be careful…” Amanda said softly.

“That’s right, Amanda,” Johansson said. “Be quick, be ruthless, be brave… and be careful.”

Triggerhoof listened as Johansson recited their creed. Fueled by pride, he stuck out his hoof. All the Heat Seekers put their hands on his hoof and looked each other in the eyes.

“Be quick! Be ruthless! Be brave!” they shouted in unison.

“And remember,” Johansson said, “this remains a close military secret, but we do it for our country. Remember that, always.”

Suddenly, Brockheart jumped up. “Last one at the airlock is a snot-covered mutant!” He bolted off through the door.

Andrei immediately flew after him. “You got a head start you bastard!”

Next was Simon. “Mutants do not exist, you fool!” he shouted to them, but both Brockheart and Andrei were too far to hear him.

Triggerhoof looked General Johansson into his light blue eyes, and saluted. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

General Johansson crouched down and patted Triggerhoof on his head. “I know you won’t, private.” He spoke those words softly, affectionally, as if he were talking to his own son. Then he looked at Amanda and him both, and nudged with his head towards the door. “You two better get moving. You don’t want to end up as a snot-covered mutant, now would you?”

Amanda held back a soft chuckle. “No sir.”

And together with Triggerhoof, they walked towards the airlock.

**

They proved to be the last ones, so the Heat Seekers now had two snot-covered mutants amongst their members.

“S-s-shall I help you with your gear, Raspberry?” Amanda said.

Triggerhoof winced as Amanda said his name. He looked up to her with what he hoped was a soft expression. “Just call me Triggerhoof on this mission, Amanda.”

Amanda’s shoulders slumped down. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“And yes, you can help me with my suit and all. Zippers are still fucking hard to handle with hooves, just like belt buckles.”

Triggerhoof picked up his gasmask, checked the filter, and put it on his nose, while Amanda helped him to put on his protective suit. Once he was as tightly wrapped as a Christmas present, she proceeded to put the bullet-proof vest over his back and his belly, and strap some knee protectors over the pony’s elbows and his cannons. Last came the weapons. Amanda took the harness, which didn’t even resemble a saddle anymore, and strapped it to his back. As always, it took Triggerhoof a moment to adjust to the extra weight of his machine gun, his combat shotgun, and the saddlebags with equipment. He tested out his front leg, bouncing up and down a few times. He felt almost nothing. I guess I heal quickly.

His helmet came last. Triggerhoof checked the flashlight, and then looked at Amanda through the visor of his gasmask. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Amanda said, and proceeded to gather her own equipment, but not before gently stroking the pony’s head. It was a gesture he barely felt with his helmet on. But he felt it.

As Amanda geared up, Triggerhoof took a moment to look at his team members. He always loved seeing them like this; fully armed, fully armored, and ready for anything. This was how he would forever remember them; quick, ruthless, brave.

Andrei was impatiently waiting at the reinforced steel door. As always, he had his Kalashnikov AK-47 in his hand, toying around with it and twirling it around in his arms as if it were his baby. In his holster was his big, American, Smith and Wesson revolver, a brute that fired massive .44 Magnum rounds, delivering the highest stopping power a sidearm could give.

Sitting on the stool, giving his old bones a rest (although he himself would never admit that), Simon carried his assault rifle, and checked it over and over again, making sure that it would help him get out of yet more sticky situations. Sometimes he stopped, put his rifle down, and checked his 9mm pistol. It was a light sidearm, so the old man didn’t need to deal with a massive kickback every time he fired.

“Oh hell yeah, let’s do this!” Brockheart said. His head was almost invisible against his dark protective suit, creating the illusion that only his white eyes were visible. It looked as scary as it was funny. He walked around the weapon rack. “Where’s my baby, where’s my baby… there you are!” He picked up his grenade launcher, a lump of a gun capable of firing six high explosive grenades upon his foes. To make sure not to deliver a massive overkill all the time, he carried a light submachine gun as well. He used that thing usually when they were inside buildings, because grenades and unstable, war-ravaged buildings was not a good combination. “I missed you, honey,” Brockheart said, as he gave his grenade launcher a kiss. “You’re ready for some action, aren’t you? Yes you are, yes you are!” Then he looked at Amanda. “Are you ready too?”

Amanda nodded. Even though she wore a protective suit like the rest, her tall and thin figure was somehow still visible. In her hands she held her sniper rifle. It was a monster of a gun, firing enormous 50 caliber rounds which were as long as a one dollar bill. Aside from that she had a submachine gun just like Brockheart, for close quarter combat situations. She stepped forwards as Andrei opened the door. “Let’s go comrades!”

Andrei closed the door of the bunker after they were all out. The Heat Seekers had entered Ground Zero. Quickly, the Heat Seekers left Crossroads Bunker behind. They saw that it was day, for the sickly green air glowed, and the sun illuminated the swirling vapors that didn’t even resemble clouds anymore. Amanda looked at it and sighed. She missed the blue skies and puffy, white clouds. A memory brought her to her mother. The two of them could lie in the grass for hours, looking at the clouds in the sky and guessing what they looked like. Of course, that would never happen again.

“Stop dreaming, Amanda,” Andrei said, rudely interrupting her moment. “Let’s get moving.”

Immediately, they headed for the road—or what was left of it. Once, it had been busy with honking cars, traffic jams, and angry drivers. Now, it was completely deserted, with only a few rusted and dented automobiles lying on the road. Of course, those cars were completely picked clean. Every usable part had been taken out and taken underground to help the inhabitants of Crossroads Bunker survive.

The picture of the road brought back memories to Triggerhoof. He saw himself on the road, trotting from car to car, taking the most useful parts and putting them in his saddlebags. It had been his initiation ritual. All new soldiers were given these relatively safe missions to help them get used to the conditions of Ground Zero. Triggerhoof always completed those missions, and did something extra. Triggerhoof always did something extra. Triggerhoof always pushed himself harder than the others. And that was why Triggerhoof was a Heat Seeker, and the others weren’t.

The Heat Seekers continued to follow the road for a while, taking care not to trip over the massive cracks. Sometimes there were still skeletons in the cars. Amanda and Simon did their best to avoid looking at them, while Triggerhoof and Andrei looked with grim fascination. Sometimes they stopped and listened, trying to catch the sound of distant gunshots. Raiders, communists, other groups; gunshots could mean anything, but they were always important. Gunshots could break through the howling of the winds that blew through the ruins of buildings, filling the otherwise dull, dead city with signs of life—or death.

Suddenly, the road became blocked by a large apartment building, which had fallen over like a felled tree. All kinds of rubble and pieces of concrete lay around the fallen building, which made walking harder.

Simon, the oldest and most experienced member of the team, raised his fist in the air. “Stop everyone.”

Everyone stopped.

“We can’t go through here. Apparently, some storm must have blown the building on the road.”

Andrei scoffed. “Bullshit! The wind didn’t do this.”

“It certainly did,” Simon said, looking at Andrei through the visor of his gasmask. He pointed to the building. “Look! All the foundations have been destroyed by the shockwave.”

And indeed, as everyone looked, they saw that steel and concrete rose up from the ground like stems of flowers.

“What do we do?” Andrei said.

“We go through there.” Simon pointed to a set of railroad tracks which snaked beside them on the end of the road. They couldn’t see where the tracks were going, because they dipped down into a tunnel.

Andrei saw that too. The hairs on the back of his neck stood upright. “Can’t we just go around it?”

“We’re on a viaduct,” Triggerhoof said. “Unless you fancy a forty feet drop, we can’t simply go around the building.”

Brockheart suddenly chuckled. “What, are you scared of the mutants, Andrei?”

Andrei turned around and punched Brockheart against his gasmask, so he needed to readjust it. “No, I’m not! I’m just… eh… worried about the danger of a collapsing tunnel. No one wants to be buried under tons of dusty concrete, right?”

“You are right,” Simon said. His hand traveled upwards, but then went down again, as Simon remembered he wore a gasmask and couldn’t stroke his moustache without taking it off. “You are quite right, Andrei. It might indeed be dangerous. Yet, I see no other way of completing our mission without going through that tunnel.” But then he had an idea, and he looked at Triggerhoof. “My dear Triggerhoof, can you fly upwards and over the tunnel to check if it has collapsed? That would save us the trouble of walking to a dead end.”

“Yes sir,” Triggerhoof said. He flapped his wings and took to the sky.

He knew what he had to look for; holes in the road or the terrain above which could indicate a collapse. Yet he couldn’t find any. He returned to his squad and shared his findings.

“You hear? It’s perfectly safe,” Brockheart said. “It won’t collapse. Let’s go!” And then he jumped over the crash barrier and onto the tracks.

The others followed. Andrei still shivered, even though it was a warm, radioactive summer.

Everyone switched on their flashlights. Their powerful beams immediately chased away some of the darkness. They stepped slowly, keeping an eye on the sleepers so they didn’t trip. As hey advanced, the Heat Seekers encountered some dusty, grey trains and carriages, which were abandoned. Triggerhoof looked at them with fascination. A small flashback made him see the Friendship Express, the cheerful train that rode to all the corners of Equestria, bearing every color of the rainbow. With a shake of his head, Trigg got rid of the flashback. These trains looked nothing like the Friendship Express. He scolded himself. No more fantasizing.

“Whoa!” Brockheart’s flashlight jumped down. “Something moved.”

They heard a squeaking sound, like the wheels of a train. Everyone looked at the ground, scanning it. A couple of big rats ran away as fast as they could.

Andrei chuckled. “What’s wrong, Brockheart? Scared of rats?”

Brockheart said nothing, not giving Andrei the reaction he was hoping for. He silently scolded himself for playing that videogame, Fallout 3, too long. He used to love that game, but at the time, Brockheart could never have imagined that the video game would become his reality. His flashlight was restless, constantly jumping from one place to the other. Brockheart expected something to jump out of somewhere. Ghouls, giant irradiated mole rats, murderous robots… According to Fallout 3, there could be dozens of things waiting in the dark. Waiting, ready to strike.

Looking at the train carriages as they walked on, Simon gave them a close inspection. He hoped that there were people left inside, alive. But he knew that couldn’t be so. Hunger and radiation would probably have devoured any unlucky passengers within a week. If only they could have buried the train carts underground…

Triggerhoof was on edge. He generally didn’t like being underground for too long. It took away the most precious ability he had: flight. Crossroads Bunker was different; that was his home. He never needed to fly away or flee in there, unless it was from Andrei’s constant teasing. A small smile played around his stubble-covered lips, as he noticed how quiet Andrei had been since they had entered the metro tunnel. Obviously he was scared of mutants. Triggerhoof knew that those ‘mutants’ didn’t exist. He believed in what he could see and understand, and nothing more. But suddenly, as he scanned the walls, he saw something that he couldn’t understand. In a small portal in the wall, which opened to a utility room, hung something.

“What the fuck is that?!”

Andrei jumped up and turned around, as did Brockheart. In a split second, five flashlights illuminated the thing Triggerhoof pointed a hoof at.

It looked like a garbage bag, a green and transparent garbage bag, hanging upside down. A big rip went from top to bottom, and as Triggerhoof scanned it, he noticed that the floor around it was wet.

“Maybe we should check that out?” Brockheart said, although his tone was wavering, making his words sound like a question.

“Let’s not,” Andrei said. But when he saw that everyone was looking at him, he changed his demeanor. “I mean… let’s do it!” He drew out his big black knife, walked over to the hanging thing, and chopped it down.

“There, that wasn’t hard,” he said. Then he fell quiet, as he got a look inside the utility room.

There were about a dozen more of those green, transparent sacks dangling from the wall. All were ruptured, all were empty.

Triggerhoof walked towards one of them and ran his hoof through the inside. When he examined his hoof in the light of his flashlight, he saw he was holding some sort of green slime, obviously the stuff that had moistened the ground.

“In all my years in the military, I have never seen something quite like this,” Simon said.

“What do you think it is?” Brockheart said.

“M-m-m-mutants,” Amanda whispered, voicing Andrei’s thoughts.

Brockheart clacked his tongue. “Let’s get outta here, y’all. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Wimp,” Andrei said, although he was the first one to step into the metro tunnel again.

The Heat Seekers didn’t get a lot of time to think about what they had just seen, as the end of the tunnel was in sight. Andrei quickened his pace, taking the position at the head of the group. Brockheart noticed that, and muffled a laugh. When they were out of the metro tunnel, Brockheart expected the bald, Russian man to kiss the ground. Unfortunately, Andrei didn’t; he just waved his hands so the others would hurry up.

As soon as Triggerhoof saw the light and the sky above his head again, he felt better. Here he could fly, be maneuverable, have a tactical advantage. As far as Triggerhoof knew, humans didn’t fly, and that fact had proven very handy. Thanks to his flight, he had always popped out of unexpected corners, killing off the unvigilant enemy.

Simon grabbed his map and gave it a look. “According to the map, we should be close, everyone. Keep an eye out for large satellite discs and the number twenty-four.”

“Roger that,” Triggerhoof said, and took to the sky.

Having a scout who can fly is a huge asset to have in a team. Triggerhoof could easily spot both the satellite disc, as well as the once bright neon twenty-four between the rest of the crumbled buildings. Within a matter of minutes, the team reached the television building, guided there by Triggerhoof’s aerial reconnaissance.

“The place looks like shit,” Andrei said. “This’d better be good.”

“Took me the words out of my mouth,” Triggerhoof muttered.

Naturally, not a single window was left in the Channel Twenty-Four building. The enormous satellite disc on the top had toppled and fallen over, and it now resembled more of a bowl. The walls were crumbled and overgrown with moss, weed had taken over the parking lot, and the enormous numbers twenty-four were hanging lopsided.

“Hey, let’s keep a positive attitude, y’all,” Brockheart said, “maybe the top floors are in better condition.”

Andrei sneered. “You think?”

“You never know if you never try, Mister,” Brockheart said. With a comical jump, he went over the small, rust-covered fence, and entered the building. The others followed suit.

They could immediately see that there wasn’t much left of the ground floor. Broken tiles and cracked concrete surrounded them. It looked as if even the little useful things had been taken, which made them all wonder if they were in the territory of another group of survivors.

Triggerhoof got a small flashback to the hospital he ransacked, and knew that the goodies—more or less—should be hiding in hidden places. “Let’s go upstairs, everyone.”

Andrei was just about to put his boot on the first step, when Amanda said, “Wait.”

“Why? What’s the mat—“ but Amanda put a finger in front of her gasmask filter. Her terrified expression made Andrei shut up.

The Heat Seekers didn’t move. Instead they listened. There were no gunshots, but the thin, half-crumbled ceiling made the footsteps of whoever was on the other floor sound loud and clear.

Suddenly, the muffled footsteps stopped, and a voice, thin and cold, sounded.

“They should be here soon,” it said.

“Of course they should, just wait and see,” Another voice, almost the same as the first, said. “I didn’t spend all those days in that filthy bunker for nothing.”

“Hey, how did you get out anyway?”

“I faked my own death after I heard about the radio mission.”

“Clever… clever…”

Triggerhoof’s eyes went big, as he recognized one of the voices. It was the voice of that soldier who had asked about their name and who Andrei had chased away. A spy! Triggerhoof should have known; the man had acted a little uncertain.

Brockheart nudged with his head towards the door. He had a plan. Slowly, making sure to keep their footsteps quiet, the Heat Seekers walked out of the building. When they were all out, Brockheart went back in, stayed there a couple of minutes, and then went back out. With a smile on his face, he showed them the detonator for the explosive charge he had just placed.

“They are gonna get a nice little surprise,” Brockheart said. “Take positions, everyone.”

To the right and the left, the Heat Seekers were flanked by two other buildings. Some rubble lay scattered on the road. Rubble made good cover. Amanda kept her sniper rifle trained on the building. The rest also took positions and kept the Channel Twenty-Four building in their sights. Then Brockheart counted down.

“Five… four… three… two… one…”

A beautiful, orange explosion filled the Channel Twenty-Four building. The outward walls crumbled and fell down like a house of cards. Parts of the ceiling went with it.

Simon raised his hand. “Steady, everyone.”

“I got a visual!” Amanda said. Through the scope of her rifle, she saw two black shapes jump from the building. She couldn’t yet see what they were, for there were still clouds of smoke and dust around. “Permission to fire, sir?”

“Take the shot, Amanda,” Andrei said.

Amanda concentrated, breathed in, breathed out, and pulled the trigger.

The enormous bang of Amanda’s monstrous sniper rifle echoed through the streets. Amanda steadied herself and looked through her sights again. Through the dust and the smoke, the black figure still stood.

“Did you hit it?” Andrei shouted.

Amanda bit her lip. “I… I think so?”

“What kind of an answer is that?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Just shoot it again.”

Amanda looked through the scope of her rifle. Her voice trembled as she said, “I-I-I can’t see them. They’re gone.”

“What do you—“ But then Andrei shut up, as a strange sound filled the air. It was a buzzing sound, like an airplane high in the sky. Andrei looked up.

“Holy shit! Mutants!”

Two insectoid creatures hovered above the Heat Seekers. They looked exactly as Andrei had described them. Long, curved fangs; a black, pitted skin; and blue, soulless eyes, narrowing in concentration.

Triggerhoof stood rooted to the ground, as he gazed upon the ‘mutants.’

Changelings!

He never expected to see those hideous, tricky monsters again. Yet here they were, two changelings, flying closer towards him and his squad. Triggerhoof had never given Andrei’s ramblings about mutants much thought, but he should have listened. He should have concluded from Andrei’s vivid descriptions that there were changelings here—on earth.Narrowing his eyes, Triggerhoof watched his enemies fly in closer. Suddenly, the horns on their heads glowed.

“Get down!” Andrei shouted.

Two beams of light flew like green arrows through the air. They struck the road, exploding in violent energy. The shockwave wiped away their cover and left the Heat Seekers disoriented.

The two creatures lowered down and then landed. They searched for their prey.

But the Heat Seekers recovered faster than the beasts had anticipated. “Fire, fire, fire!” Andrei shouted, and unleashed a barrage of lead from his Kalashnikov.

The others followed suit, raised their weapons, and sprayed lead all over the creatures. At first the Heat Seekers thought they hit them, as they saw the holes that were visible at their legs. They soon realized their mistake.

Amanda, meanwhile, had the same reaction upon seeing the changelings as Triggerhoof had. Of course she had seen them in the My Little Pony television show, but now they were real, standing before her and trying to wipe her and her squad out. The whole situation looked surreal to her.

One of the creature let out a hiss, drew back, and spat something at Simon. A little green puddle formed around his boots. Simon wanted to roll aside, but found that he couldn’t move.

He could have taken out his boots and run away. He didn’t have time for that. One of the creatures flapped its wings, swooped towards the old man, and grabbed him.

Simon fired a burst of machine gun fire at the thing, but it had no effect. He saw its fangs as the creature opened its mouth wide, together with a slithering, forked tongue. Simon’s mind raced. He switched weapons. Reaching behind his back, he grabbed his knife, held it up with two hands, and stabbed the creature in the eye.

The monster let out a bone-chilling hiss and recoiled from the old man. The light in one of his eyes had gone out, and green ooze dripped out of it.

Simon used the creature’s retreat to slash at the green puddle. He sliced and sliced, and eventually he freed himself.

The Heat Seekers took up their positions again, cover or no cover, and fired their guns. Once again, they had no effect.

“It’s not working!” Andrei shouted.

The two creatures took to the sky again. Their horns glowed, as they prepared another attack.

“We gotta find some cover!” Brockheart yelled, seeing that the creatures liked to attack from the air.

“To the building!” Andrei shouted.

They had just enough time to sprint forwards, as the beams of light came down. The shockwave washed over them, pushing them, ironically enough, in the right direction.

Brockheart, Andrei, Amanda, and Triggerhoof made it into the building. Simon huffed and puffed, and fell behind. Some of that ooze was still on his boots. It slowed him down. He felt as if two cement blocks were bound to his feet. About halfway to the building, he tripped and fell.

“Oh no!” Amanda yelled.

Triggerhoof sprang into action. He flapped his wings and dashed for the old man.

A black shape flashed into view. The changeling slammed into Triggerhoof, simultaneously sinking its teeth into the flesh of the pony. With a howl of pain, Triggerhoof fell out of the sky and out of sight of the others.

The other creature, the one with the missing eye, swooped down to land on Simon. It turned him around and stared into his eyes.

“Hold still, Simon!” Amanda yelled, as she levelled her sniper rifle.

She managed to get one shot before the creature started feeding.

Opening its mouth, the monster once again showed its teeth. Its tongue slithered, reaching out and pulling Simon’s gasmask off his face. The old man let out a cry of horror, as he felt the pain. It felt as if someone tried to take off his skin, stretching and stretching before it would tear off his body. His eyes felt hot. His brain felt warped and disfigured. Pictures of his youth flashed by before his mind’s eye. He saw himself sitting on the swing as his mother pushed him. He saw the girlfriend he once kissed on the school dance. He saw his lovely wife and his children, the family he once had, slipping away. All of the pictures faded and went dark. But the monster pinning him down wasn’t done yet.

From the Channel Twenty-Four building, the rest of the Heat Seekers watched in horror. Andrei pulled out his knife and charged at the monster. He had seen how Simon used his. He was going to take out that monster’s other eye.

Suddenly, a flash of light blinded the Russian. It seared his eyes and left him stumbling. A bright green, twisting light pulsed between Simon and the monster. Simon felt all the love and affection draining out of him. Every pretty memory went into the monster’s mouth. At last there was nothing left in his brain but coldness and depression.

Then the light changed color. It grew from green to bright red. Simon’s pain intensified. His brains felt as if they were liquified. His blood wanted to escape his veins. His eyes were being pulled out of his sockets. He wanted to yell, but his vocal chords were gone.

Andrei got up and charged towards the beast, knife raised high, but he was too late.

The creature left Simon alone, and took to the skies, safely away from Andrei’s knife.

Half of the Heat Seekers looked up at the creature, who had regained its lost eye. The other half looked at the flayed carcass; all that was left of Simon.

“NO!” Amanda shouted, tears burning in her eyes.

The monster looked at Andrei, who kept staring in disbelief. The man felt his knees wobbling. He was petrified. This was what he had been hoping never to encounter. The mutants.

In a lightning fast motion, a drop of spit flew out of the monster’s mouth like the tongue of a chameleon. It hit Andrei’s knife. The monster jerked its head, making the knife fly away. He did the same trick with Andrei’s Kalashnikov. The assault rifle landed on top of a collapsed apartment building.

The Heat Seekers watched. They knew guns couldn’t hurt the beasts. Knives could, but they couldn’t possibly throw their knives far enough to hit it. Brockheart decided it was time to find out how those monsters would react to grenades.

Andrei’s knees gave way. He slumped down before the creature as if he were worshipping it. He couldn’t take his eyes off its horn, which was glowing and arched back, as the monster prepared to launch another energy lance.

But at the moment the creature was about to fire, a grenade came into play. It hit the creature squarely in the chest, sending green goo splattering everywhere. Despite the injury, it finished its shot. The ray of pure heat struck down. The Heat Seekers covered their eyes. When they opened them again, Andrei was gone.

Meanwhile, the second changeling and Triggerhoof fought. The changeling had taken Triggerhoof by surprise, knocking him out of the air and delivering the first strike. But now that it was up close, Triggerhoof could begin to fight it. He ignored the pain in his shoulder where the teeth had been, and bucked hard. It did nothing. The changeling arched back, its teeth glowed, and then it bit again into the red pony’s flesh.

Triggerhoof could feel the poison entering his body, traveling to his vital organs through his veins. He didn’t let it slow him down. He thrashed, bucked, punched, bit, but it was all to no avail. Both pony and changeling rolled over the ground, stirring up radioactive dust. At last, the changeling managed to get a quick shot.

“W-w-w-here’s Triggerhoof?” Amanda said, her voice cracked.

As if on cue, the wall behind her exploded in a rain of concrete. Triggerhoof flew through the hole, nearly knocking Amanda over, and landed behind a counter. He tried to stand up, but the venom paralyzed his legs. His vision turned a strange shade of green. He resisted the poison, gritting his teeth, pretending not to notice the feeling as if his veins were transformed into acidic rivers. Every heartbeat sent pain through his body. The only thing Triggerhoof managed to do was roll around. Then he lay still, and Ground Zero sank away.

Brockheart looked in satisfaction as the monster he had just hit with a grenade landed unsteadily. It did one last step forward before it collapsed on the road.

“Take that, you motherfucker!” Brockheart yelled, throwing his fist into the air.

The creature started to glow. Slowly, the green goop that had gushed out of it flowed back in. It stood up, looked at Brockheart, and then dissolved into light. Brockheart wasn’t sure what to think of that. Did he kill it or not?

Amanda covered Brockheart’s rear. As Triggerhoof flew through the wall, she wanted to go and help him, but knew that she couldn’t. Triggerhoof hadn’t launched himself through the wall. That other changeling was still there. Amanda saw shadows moving. Her breath stopped. She grabbed her submachine gun and kept her finger at the trigger. One more step, and the creature would be inside. Amanda was sure not to hesitate.

Something came into view. Something, or rather, someone. 

“Andrei! You’re alive!”

“Indeed I am,” Andrei said, stepping through the rubble and towards the Heat Seekers—or what remained of them.

“Brockheart, look! It’s Andrei.”

Brockheart turned around. He knew there was still one beast on the loose, but nevertheless took a moment to embrace Andrei. “I thought you were a goner, man.”

“I’m not,” Andrei said.

Amanda looked at the bald, Russian man, and noticed something.

“Andrei, you look so… good.”

Andrei arched his eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have any burn marks after that enormous explosion. You don’t even have a piece of grime on your suit.”

Brockheart ended his embrace and looked him over. “Yeah, now that you mention it, how did you get outta there? I thought that creature had fried you.”

Looking from Brockheart to Amanda, Andrei searched for something to say. “Well, eh…”

“And where did you get the time to take back your gun?” Brockheart said. “I saw that thing fly all the way on top of a building.”

“Eh… I, eh…”

Suddenly, Amanda realized what had happened. It was too late.

Andrei hissed, leveled his Kalashnikov, and fired a three round burst into Brockheart’s head. The dark man’s gasmask flew off his face, shattered and blood red.

Andrei turned towards Amanda, but she was ready for him. They stood closely together. So closely, that Amandagrabbed the barrel of the gun, keeping it out of her way. With equally swift motions, she drew her knife, and stabbed Andrei over his shoulder in his back. The whole maneuver looked like an awkward embrace. A deadly awkward embrace.

In a flash of light, Andrei was gone, and before her stood one of the changelings. Green blood oozed out of its back, but that didn’t stop it from biting towards Amanda.

Amanda ducked beneath the changeling’s jaws, and stabbed upwards. Her knife went through its lower jaw and sliced off its tongue. The cry of pain made Amanda wince.

The changeling bucked; Amanda blocked. The changeling bit; Amanda dodged. The changeling hissed; Amanda gritted her teeth.

With a jump, Amanda got close again. Close enough that she could grab its thin neck and hold it in a lock. She stabbed and stabbed and stabbed, aiming for the eyes, the nose, the brains. Tears were in her eyes. Her knife went through the changeling’s skin like butter. Finally, the changeling went through its knees and fell, as did Amanda.

Shaky breaths clouded the visor of her gasmask. All of the emotions had left her body and mind. She tried to steady her breath. The fight left her exhausted. After all the violence, the silence that followed seemed artificial.

Slowly, gradually, the silence gave way to a faint hum in the air. At first, Amanda didn’t notice it, but as her breath calmed down and she stopped shivering all over her body, she heard it. Amanda thought the changeling was still alive, but as she prodded it with her boot, it didn’t move. Then where did that sound come from? Was it the other one?

Walking towards the doorway, Amanda looked outside. She didn’t need a scope to see what was coming for her.

Two dozen, maybe more, changelings were flying towards the Channel Twenty-Four television building. The droning sound of their wings got louder as they came closer. At the head or them was a severely injured one.

Instinctively, Amanda ducked. She couldn’t fight that many of them. She wasn’t even sure if all of the Heat Seekers could have taken them down. With a pain in her heart, she realized she would never know. Her squad was gone. She was the only one left standing.

The droning became louder. Amanda looked around for options. There were none, so a primal instinct got a hold on her mind.

Run and hide!

Amanda guessed, hoped, and prayed that the changelings hadn’t yet seen her. She sidled towards the hole Triggerhoof had flown through, stepping over the body of the changeling she had fought. Stepping outside, she ran for the nearest intact building. Maybe she still had a chance.

Maybe she still had a chance…