One night in Equestria, a night like any other, a Pegasus stallion by the name of Cirrus was in the bed he shared with his wife, Summer Rain, within their little cottage just outside of Silver Shoals.
Cirrus worked in a low-level position for a research company. It didn't pay much, but it was definitely not a boring job by any means. His colleagues always had something new to show off. It was so exciting that he needed plenty of sleep, which was what he was doing at that very moment: dreaming peacefully.
In his dreamscape, Cirrus was soaring through a blue, cloudless sky, happy and carefree.
"Woo-hoo!" He cheered, performing first a loop-de-loop, then a barrel roll.
Down below, in some stands, a crowd of ponies cheered his every move.
"Go, Cirrus!"
"You rule!"
"Best flier ever!"
"You know it, folks!" Cirrus bragged.
In his youth, Cirrus had yearned to become a great flyer, but had never been anything more than average. So in his dreams, he was a greater flyer than any Wonderbolt, and was happy in a way he couldn't be in the waking world.
...Suddenly, the sky began to darken, as storm clouds shrouded the once clear sky.
“Huh, what the-” Cirrus frowned. Realising the cheers had faded, he looked down, and saw only empty stands. "What's going on?"
A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky.
"Whoa!" Cirrus narrowly dodged the bolt. Almost immediately, another struck down. “Ahh!”
Cirrus zipped and zig-zagged as more bolts rained down. Even with his dream skills, he barely evaded them. The torrent stopped, and it seemed like it was over.
"That was close." He sighed with relief. "Heh, no dumb storm can get the better of-"
As if to respond, a lightning bolt struck him head on.
"AARGH!" He screeched, the high voltage burning him severely.
As he struggled to stay aloft, Cirrus was his by a sudden and powerful flurry of snow. It was so cold, his wings almost froze over.
"Have to... Stay... Aloft..." Cirrus groaned, desperately trying to flap his frostbitten wings. "Can't... Give... Up..."
Just when it seemed like it couldn't get any worse, a tornado whipped into being.
"Nooo!" Cirrus screamed, as he was pulled into the twister. He was spun around and around, before thrown out and crashing into the ground. "Ughhh!"
Bruised and battered, Cirrus struggled to stand up.
“Oh… this is the absolute worst pain…” He groaned, “What’s next? Acid rain?”
"Hrrrrh.... hrrrrh... hrrrhhh..." The sounds of heavy breathing echoed, catching Cirrus’ attention.
“Huh?!” Cirrus glanced up and around, fighting the pain in his body. “Who’s there?!”
He didn’t see anything or anycreature. But the sounds of heavy breathing continued to persist.
"Hrrrrh.... hrrrrh... hrrrhhh..."
“Come on, this isn’t funny!” Cirrus growled with anger, though he started to show fear as well. In this fear, he was unaware of dark blue mist shrouding around him, “Show yourself!”
The mist began to grow thicker, leaving the now aware Cirrus nearly blinded.
"Hrrrrh.... hrrrrh... hrrrhhh..."
“Ugh, hey!” Cirrus snarled, waving at the fog, “I said, show yourself, you-”
He cut out mid-sentence as something began to emerge from the mist… a sight that was most unwelcome, as Cirrus’ anger was soon replaced with utter dread.
“No… no, no, no… not you… not you!” Cirrus rambled, terrified.
"Hrrrrh.... hrrrrh... hrrrhhh..."
The figure approached the horrified stallion, who was frozen with fear, breathing heavily still.
"Please... don't..." Cirrus pleaded, tears streaming from his eyes. "I'm begging you..."
"Hrrrrh.... hrrrrh... hrrrhhh..."
The figure, ignoring Cirrus's begging advanced closer and closer...
"YARRGH!!"
As the sun rose over the cottage, Summer awoke. As she stretched, she saw that Cirrus was lying under the covers.
"Cirrus, honey?" She yawned. "Time to get up."
Summer nudged her husband's prone body, and got no response.
"Come on, sleepyhead." Summer rolled her eyes. "You don't want to be late for work again, do you?"
Summer pulled back the covers... And was greeted by the sight of Cirrus, face and body contorted in agony, eyes wide open and gaping. He was clearly dead.
"Cirrus.... Cirrus!" Summer shook her husband's corpse, unable to accept the truth right in front of her. "No... No... Noooo!"
Breaking down completely, Summer wept into her husband's cold shoulder.
"Cirruuus!" She wailed, brokenhearted.
Unbeknownst to Summer, someone was watching her loss from afar; On a hill some distance away, there stood a hooded figure. Without a care to her pain, he pulled out a mirror, and activated it. The image of a dark figure in a dim-lit room appeared in the glass.
"Well?" The figure demanded.
“The test run was a complete success, sir.” The hooded one announced, “The subject is terminated.”
“Very good.” The figure chuckled, “Collect the experiment and report back to the nearest hideout for further instructions. Thanks to our now ‘departed’ friend, we now know what our little ‘experiment’ can do.”
"Indeed we do." The hooded one nodded. "Now we can move on to bigger, more important targets..."
"Let's not be too hasty." The figure retorted. "I haven't worked so hard all these years to slip up now. We must make our next move carefully. is that understood?"
"Yes, sir." The hooded one declared.
The dark figure set the mirror down, sitting down, letting out a small laugh.
“After all this time…” The figure whispered, “All the experiments, all the naysayers mocking me, all the losses…” He paused a moment, before shaking his head, “Everything is finally coming together…”
A few months later…
Sterling Cross found himself inside a church. It was empty, dark, and cold, but at the same time, it all seemed eerily familiar.
"What the-?" He frowned, having no memory of entering, as he glanced around. "What am I doing here?"
Drawn by an unidentifiable desire, Sterling approached the altar. There, he found an open casket, with the body of his brother Crystal Cross inside. He looked as he did when Sterling last saw him: in his fancy suit and shirt… with a big gash in the chest where a lunatic Griffon stuck his claw through.
“...Crystal?” Sterling murmured, confused, “...What the-” He rubbed his head, “This is starting to get weird…”
Suddenly, Crystal opened his eyes. Sterling froze up in response, horrified.
“What the buck?!”
This left him wide open for what happened next: Crystal, with speed not normal for a dead body, lunged out of the coffin, wrapping his hooves around his neck and began throttling him.
"Urrk!" Sterling wheezed, out of both surprise and terror
"You killed me, Sterling!" He roared. "You killed me!"
"No..." Sterling choked, unable to breathe. He tried prying his hooves off, but even with his strong hoof, they were clamped super tight aound his neck. "I... I..." He gagged, oxygen running out. "Crystal, please!"
"Please, what?!" Crystal sneered. "My life was just fine before you came back into it! But because of you and that griffon you busted out, I’m dead! Dead!”
“No!” Sterling gurgled, “It’s not- it’s not-” Sterling fet himself losing consciousness.
"Wake up!" Crystal screamed, as he oddly began shaking him. "Wake up!"
“Huh, what?” Sterling’s eyes darted open.
Sterling found himself awake, being aboard an airship, in one of the cabins. In the cabin with him was four of his comrades/friends, Caboose, Fletcher, Black and Fury.
It has been a few months since Sterling had left the Forefathers, having abandoned them during the events of Project: Titanfall, and even less since he was promptly found by Elite in Dodge Junction following a tragic encounter with his brother, and was made a member of Project: Freedom (now known as Alpha Force Squad).
However, the new team had more than a few problems in working together (or even tolerating each other), which led their superiors to strand on a seemingly-deserted island in order to force them to co-operate for the sake of survival. At first, it seemed like not even that would bring them together, but then, they uncovered the twisted operation of a group of Forefather agents, and found themselves working together to stop it, finally becoming friends in the process. Sterling in particular now counted his teammates as among the best friends he had ever known.
As of now, his four friends all had concerned looks on their face (even Fury).
"Err... what happened?" Sterling frowned, shaking his head awake.
"Looked like you were having a nightmare, pal." Caboose noted, “Are you okay?”
“It’s fine, Caboose.” Sterling sighed, “It was just a bad dream.”
“Well, it certainly looked like it.” Fletcher grimaced, “You were fidgeting in your sleep like none other.”
“What? You guys were watching me sleep?” Sterling joked.
“Kinda hard not to.” Fury scoffed, “You were also moaning.”
“Seriously, though, Sterling, is everything alright?” Black frowned.
“Look, I’m fine.” Sterling insisted, “Can we drop it, please?”
"If you say so." Fletcher shrugged.
"Suit yourself." Fury rolled his eyes.
"If you ever want to talk about it, you know what to do." Black said compassionately.
“...You sure you don’t want to talk about it now?” Caboose frowned.
“Caboose.” The others chided.
“Fine…” Caboose pouted.
“So... how long is it till we’re back at HQ?” Sterling asked, hoping to change the subject.
"Funny you should mention that." Fletcher smiled. "Because we're almost there." He pointed out the viewport, where the mountain harbouring the RDL headquarters resided.
"Great." Sterling sighed. "Once we're done debriefing, I'm going straight to my quarters, and straight to sleep."
"You must be tired to just nod off like that." Caboose noted.
"What's the matter, sleepyhead?" Fury smirked. "These round trips getting to be too much for ya?"
"Ha, ha, very funny." Sterling sneered. "You can't blame me for being wiped, considering I did most of the work back there."
"In your dreams, pal." Fury snorted. "I did all the important stuff, and I got the scars to prove it." He held up his left talon, which had been hastily bandaged after an altercation with a well-thrown knife had left him with a very nasty gash.
"I've been through worse." Sterling said dismissively.
"So have I." Fury bragged. "But I got the worst of it in that fight, no question."
The newly-formed Alpha Force Squad were coming back to headquarters, returning from another mission. They had been up in the northern regions of Equestria, investigating Forefather activity (which turned out to be a weapon-smuggling operation, covered up by false yeti attacks).
"That was pretty fun, wasn't it, guys?" Caboose asked.
"That's one way of putting it." Fletcher declared.
"Did you see how cheap that yeti costume was?" Fury scoffed. "How did that fool anycreature?"
"Some creatures are just dumber than others, I guess." Black shrugged. "But at least we took those guys down. Elite'll be pleased to hear it."
"Ooh, I hope he gives us a treat for a job well done!" Caboose grinned.
"Somehow, I doubt it." Fletcher declared.
"We'll find out soon enough." Black noted, as the airship began its landing procedure.
After disembarking, they were greeted by Elite Everest, head of the Royal Defense Legion of Equestria.
"How did everything go?" Elite asked.
"Not too bad, all things considered." Black smiled.
The next few minutes were spent informing Elite of what had transpired on their mission, with each team member adding their own spin on things.
"...And then we got on the airship, and here we are." Caboose finished.
"Excellent work, team." Elite grinned. "You've really been giving it your all on these last few missions."
"Just doing our job, sir." Fletcher said humbly.
"And you've been doing it so well." Elite smiled. "All of you. Which is why I'm giving you all some much-needed time off."
"Really?" Sterling beamed.
"Sweet!" Fury chuckled.
"Caboose, Fletcher, why don't you head back home, and spend some time with your families?" Elite suggested.
"That's be great!" Caboose cheered.
"Thank you, sir." Fletcher added.
"As for the rest of you, feel free to relax and enjoy yourselves." Elite smiled.
"Thanks, boss." Sterling declared.
"Who's up for movie time in the rec room?" Black suggested.
"Ooh, me!" Caboose grinned.
"I wouldn't advise that, Caboose." Fletcher declared. "If we leave for home now, we should be back in time for supper with our families."
"Oh, right." Caboose realized. "Sorry, guys. Rain check?"
"Sure." Black nodded. He turned to Fury and Sterling. "How about you guys?"
"Like to, but I can't." Fury declined. "I should be getting over to Triage's office, and have him take a look at this." He held up his bandaged talon.
"And I've been meaning to have a chat with Pike." Sterling admitted. "I promised him we'd have a nice long talk after this mission. Now that I've got some free time, it seems like the perfect opportunity."
“Fair enough. Pike’s talks worked wonders for me back then.” Black shrugged, “You guys have your fun, and I'll have mine."
"See ya soon, guys!" Caboose waved, as he and Fletcher departed.
"Have fun!" Fletcher added.
"You too!" Sterling smiled.
After Caboose and Fletcher left, the remaining three team members went down separate areas of the headquarters. Black, of course, went to the rec room, intending to watch the latest Will Feather movie (and greatly enjoying it).
Meanwhile, Fury was, true to his word, having his wound attended to by Triage.
"Not a bad patch job, all things considered." Triage admitted, as he removed the makeshift bandage.
"Yeah, well, when you're in the heat of battle, you can't exactly take the time to find the best stuff to cover a wound with." Fury quipped.
"Just have to clean the wound first, then I'll put on a real dressing." Triage announced. He dipped a cotton swab into a bottle of antisceptic solution, and started dabbing the wound.
Fury hissed slightly at the stinging sensation.
"You sure that's necessary, doc?" He asked. "I've had a lot of injuries in my time, and not every one could be cleaned. But here I am, still standing."
"Perhaps, but I prefer to be safe, rather than sorry." Triage declared haughtily, “I’m actually surprised I didn’t see you in here sooner. The others tell me you have a wicked reckless streak.”
“Hey, I’m still working on that.” Fury grunted, “I listen to Black and Fletch now. But sometimes, you gotta talk less and act more.”
“True. If I had a Bit for every patient I've needed to patch up before they expired within mere moments, I'd be a very rich stallion." Triage shrugged.
Once the gash had been fully sterilized, Triage walked over to the cupboard where he kept the bandages. As the middle-aged doctor reached up to get a fresh roll, his joints audibly creaked.
"Feeling your age, doc?" Fury inquired, as Triage returned with the bandages.
"It's nothing." Triage said curtly.
"No shame in getting old, pal." Fury pointed out. "But if you're starting to have trouble gettin' around, maybe you can talk Elite into getting another doc to help?"
"That won't be necessary." Triage said stubbornly, as he started wrapping the bandage around Fury's talon. "I have you know that I’ve been a RDL medic for ages. When it comes to injuries, I've seen it all, and fixed it all. While I may be growing old, I am not so decrepit that I cannot perform my duties without assistance. There will be no need to hire anycreature. Period."
"Okay, okay." Fury frowned, unnerved by Triage's sudden show of pride. "If that's what you want..."
"It is." Triage tied up the bandage, a little more tightly than he should have. "There, all done. Without help, I might add."
"Thanks, doc." Fury said, as he awkwardly departed the room.
"Hmmph!" Triage scowled. "'Help'. Not if I have any say in the matter..."
At the same time, Sterling was down in the Pipeline, talking to Pike, the RDL’s only informant regarding the Forefathers, and resident woodcarver.
He also lent a ear time to time to the team for any woes they might have… which was what Sterling was doing right now…
"So... I had the dream again." Sterling confessed.
“Which one? The one with Crystal rising out of that coffin in the church and strangling you?” Pike asked, as he was now whittling at a wooden replica of Canterlot castle.
“That’s the one.” Sterling grimaced, “This is the fifth time this month that I had it. The others are starting to worry about me.”
"I don't blame 'em." Pike frowned. "I'm actually a bit worried myself."
"Well that makes me feel a whole lot better..." Sterling said sarcastically.
"Why do you think you might be having these dreams?" Pike offered.
“I don’t know.” Sterling admitted, “I guess in all the craziness with joining the team and that whole fiasco with Broker, I hadn’t the time to think about Crystal… but now… I can’t get him out of my head…” Sterling’s eyes dimmer, “...in a way, it’s kinda like what happened when Gold died.”
“That’s understandable. He was your brother. A piece of crap. But your brother, no less.” Pike said fairly.
“Yeah… but I think it’s more than that.” Sterling frowned, crossing his hooves, “Because of me, Crystal died that day...”
“Don’t you start that.” Pike growled, instantly turning and pointing his whittling knife at him, “Crystal died because he would let go of that insane grudge he had against you… well, that, and he mouthed off to that Lunard feller. Either way, his death is not on you.”
"Yeah, I guess..." Sterling said awkwardly, having a tough time agreeing. "But somehow I doubt this is going to stop my nightmares from happening. First my dreams of Gold, then of Elite possibly betraying me… I just can’t seem to catch a break.”
“Look, I’m no dream expert. I’ve much better things to do than that crud.” Pike scoffed, “But if you want my advice, just keep focus on the Alpha Force Squad. Those other dreams passed, and so will this one. Ya hear me?”
“Well, it’s worth a shot.” Sterling murmured, “Thanks for the advice.”
"Anytime, kid." Pike smiled.
"I can only hope it passes soon." Sterling sighed.
"Hooves crossed." Pike nodded.
As Sterling departed, he found that his thoughts still revolved around Crystal...
A short while later, Caboose arrived in Canterlot. As he entered the home he shared with his wife, Daring Do, and their kids, Hurricane and Michael, Caboose noticed that the lights were off.
"Must've called it an early, night." Caboose mused. "That suits me just fine..."
After getting changed, Caboose headed up to the master bedroom. "As he expected, Daring was already in bed, sleeping peacefully. Caboose gently clambered in and under the covers. But he wasn't gentle enough not to wake his wife.
"Caboose?" Daring mumbled.
"I'm home, babe." Caboose whispered. "Sorry I'm so late, but I figure we can still get in a little snuggle time."
"About that..." Daring started.
"Less talk, more cuddles." Caboose grinned. He moved in closer, looking to embrace his wife…
Until he felt something between them.
“Huh?” Caboose paused, as he slightly pulled the covers, to reveal their young son, Michael, sleeping fitfully, “Mikey? What’s he doing here?”
“He’s been having bad dreams lately.” Daring explained, “The poor thing kept waking up crying, and I’ve been having to calm him down every night this week. Finally, I decided the smart thing to do would be to keep him close by."
“Ooh. Him too, huh? One of my buddies been having those too.” Caboose grimaced.
"Gasp it must be bad dream season." Daring half-joked. "Doesn't really help solve the problem, though."
“Well… tell you what.” Caboose declared, “I’m not due back at Quanticolt for a couple of weeks. How about I handle Mikey and his little dream problems?”
“Please, Caboose, it’s not necessary. You must be exhausted from all that traveling you’ve been doing.” Daring shook her head.
“It’s the least I can do, honey.” Caboose smirked, “I haven’t been around so much these last few weeks, and you’ve been holding the fort here all by yourself. I’m stepping up ‘round here, and by the time I’m done, Mikey will be nightmare-free!”
“...Well, in that case, thanks, sweetheart.” Daring smiled.
"What are devoted husbands and fathers for?" Caboose grinned.
Caboose and Daring shared a kiss, then nuzzled together (being careful not to wake up Michael, or make him uncomfortable), falling asleep moments later.
On the other side of Canterlot, Fletcher returned to his own home. His wife Dove was there to greet.
"Hi." Dove smiled, as the two embraced each other.
"Hi." Fletcher beamed. As they hugged, he noticed that Dove had begun to show a bit of progress on her pregnancy, enough that he couldn't wrap his hooves around her quite as much as he could before. "I see our little one is growing up nicely."
"Sure is." Dove chuckled. "A strong one, too. You should feel the little one kick."
"That I shall." Fletcher grinned. Placing a hoof on his wife's stomach, he felt their unborn foal kicking. "Well now, it seems we have quite a fighter on our hooves."
"Is that really a surprise?" Dove chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if the little one took after you more than me."
"It would be nice to have a foal who could follow in my Royal Guard hoofsteps someday." Fletcher admitted. "But it wouldn't be such a tragedy if our little one takes more after you. You are a wonderful mare, after all."
"Sometimes, I forget." Dove chuckled, as they hugged once more. "I've really missed this. I know you're working to protect Equestria and the world, but it's nice that I can still have you all to myself when you're not off on some globetrotting adventure."
"Rest assured, my love." Fletcher promised her. "I will always come home to you, and our foal. No matter what."
"How about you seal that promise with a kiss?" Dove purred.
"Gladly." Fletcher grinned.
The two kissed lovingly, making it clear how glad they both were that Fletcher was home.
It seemed like everything was right with the world for the time being… but little did anypony know that something wicked was about to come their way...
Later that evening, a torrential rainstorm had made its way over the woods that dotted the mountainside not far from Canterlot, making for a night not fit for pony or beast.
However, one group did not heed the weather, as a clear white carriage, pulled by two Earth Pony stallions, was passing through. On the side, it read "Brightdale Mental Hospital". The carriage was that of a medical variety, with the front of it being split from the back, with the back being sealed behind a set of locked doors.
Within the front of the carriage were two ponies. One was a chubby Pegasus security guard, wearing a uniform and cap, chowing down on a hayburger. Sitting opposite him was a well-kept, young light gray Unicorn, with messy brown hair, and a spiffy vest, who was reading a book of sorts.
There was a ID card around his neck, showing his picture and the hospital's logo, as well his name: Survival Horror.
"So... Did you see that horror movie last night, Fievel?" The guard asked, referring to Survival by a nickname.
"Sure did, Hamm." Survival nodded.
"And what did you think of it?" Hamm urged.
"Honestly? I thought it was terrible." Survival said bluntly.
"Really?" Hamm frowned.
"Oh, yeah." Survival shook his head. "Cliché storyline, substandard effects, overly gory, wooden acting..."
"Boy, you have some pretty high standards, pal." Hamm joked.
"If I didn't, we wouldn't be friends." Survival smiled.
"Is that the reason?" Hamm smirked. "I thought it was because you were my boss, and if I weren't your friend, you'd fire me."
"You wish." Survival smirked. "If I wanted to, I could hire so much better."
"In your dreams, pal." Hamm shot back.
The two chuckled heartily over their friendly back and forth. The two had been friends and colleagues for years, their respective vocations doing nothing to affect their kinship.
“...So.” Hamm began, as he crumbled up his hayburger wrapper. “Do you know what’s going on here?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Survival frowned.
“Come on, Fiev, you don’t find any of this weird?” Hamm scoffed.
“What’s weird about transporting a patient?” Survival grimaced, “That’s part of our job. We do it all the time.”
“Yeah… but not in the middle of the night, especially a night like this, and not to a faraway place like…” Hamm paused, “Where was it we’re going again?”
“A medical center over on The Isle of Wheat in the west.” Survival explained.
“You see, I never even heard of a medical center there.” Hamm crossed his hooves, “And what about this ‘patient’ we’re moving? I was looking over the manifest earlier, and I couldn’t see anything.”
“Yeah, I noticed that too.” Survival admitted, “I did try asking the doc for more information before we left, but all he told me was that he wanted me to accompany this carriage he arranged to our destination… and that we were to not disturb the patient."
“That’s what he told me and the others too.” Hamm murmured, “But what bugs me is that the carriage was already loaded up by the time we got in. I mean, it sounds like he’s going to some lengths to have no one see this patient.”
“Well, I can only assume this patient must be a VIP of sorts.” Survival mused, “Maybe he’s trying to prevent the press or somepony from finding out about them.”
“...Or maybe he’s trying to keep someone in.” Hamm said fearfully.
“What?” Survival cringed.
“Hear me out.” Hamm began, “This whole situation is like the start of a horror movie. In those movies, carriages like this are usually transporting some kind of psycho killer. And then the psycho gets free, and the first victims are usually the ones escorting them.”
“Okay, you’ve been watching too many movies.” Survival rolled his eyes, “Whoever this patient is, I doubt they’re some serial killer. I mean, would the doc really just send an attending physician and one security guard to escort such a dangerous creature?”
"Depends on who you ask." Hamm frowned. "I heard a rumor about the doc just last week. It wasn't pleasant..."
"Rumors are hardly reliable." Survival brushed the idea off. "And their origins can be sketchy. For all we know, this one was spread by someone seeking to discredit the doctor."
"I dunno." Hamm insisted. "It didn't sound like the kind of thing you'd just make up. More like-"
'BOOM!'
The carriage suddenly shook violently, as if something had collided with it.
"Yow!" The guard yelped, as the force of the impact flung him against the wall. "Oh… you gotta be kiddin' me..."
“Ugh… what was that?” Survival shook his head, having been sent to the floor, “Did we hit somepony?”
“More like somepony hit us.” Hamm snarled, rubbing his sore shoulder, “Son of a…”
“What about the patient?!” Survival got up, “We have to make sure they’re okay!”
“Relax, Fiev. I’ll handle this.” Hamm declared, “You wait here. I’ll check on our ‘VIP’...” As he open the carriage door, he silently growled, “...And give those jackasses a good whoopin’...”
Hamm made his way to the back, making sure Survival couldn’t hear him, more than ready to give whoever crashed into them a piece of his mind.
“Hey, assholes!” Hamm roared, “What’s your prob-”
*SHINK*
Hamm stopped mid-sentence, as he glanced down, a bolt piercing his chest.
“...Oh…” Hamm murmured, as he dropped to the ground, dead.
"Hamm?" One of the carriage pullers asked, he and his co-worker having just recovered themselves and unhooked from the carriage to check on their passengers. "What hap-?"
A hail of crossbow bolts peppered the bodies of both the pullers. They were dead before they hit the ground. As their bodies poured out blood in every direction, a group of cloaked creatures approached the front of the carriage…
Fievel waited patiently, but couldn't help but notice how silent it was, except for the rain…
“Hamm?” Fievel called out, “Guys? Is everything alright out there?”
Nothing but the sound of the rain answered him.
"Are you trying to scare me?" Survival asked indignantly. "If this is some sort of prank, it isn’t very funny! Hamm, don't think I won't report you just because we're friends!"
The door to the carriage opened.
“Oh, there you are.” Fievel turned to face them, “How’s the pat-”
He stopped mid-sentence, as the cloaked figures were the one who opened the door.
“What the… who are you guys?” Survival gaped.
“That doesn't concern you." One of the cloaked figures, the tallest of the bunch, hissed. His voice sounded like granite in a cement mixer.
"I beg to differ." Fievel said defiantly. "What do you want with me?"
"You?" The cloaked figure snorted. "Whoever said we're here for you?" He glanced at the others, “Secure the package. I’ll deal with this fool.”
As he said this, his fellows moved to the back of the carriage.
“Package?” Survival whispered, “You mean the patient? What do you want with the patient?”
“That is a need-to-know, Doctor…” He glanced at his id, “Horror. And unfortunately for you, you won’t live long enough to-”
"Sir, we have a problem!" A voice called.
"What is it?" The lead figure asked, following after them.
“Hey! What is going on-” Fievel followed after him… only to stop, as he saw Hamm’s dead body on the ground, soaked from the rain. “HAMM!”
Survival rushed over to Hamm's body
"Get up... Please get up..." He trembled, mortified and saddened by the sight of his dead friend. "Hamm... don't go..."
As the leader of the group made his way to the back, he could clearly see what his cohorts meant.
The back of the carriage, badly damaged from being crashed into (courtesy of a rather intimidating automated carriage parked nearby), the once locked doors were busted open, and inside, there was no one to be seen.
“Well, that's... Unfortunate." The leader gritted his teeth.
“I guess we should've crashed into it from the front.” One of the other figures rubbed his head.
“No, you think?!” The leader hissed.
In a fit of anger, Survival stormed over, and tried to attack the leader.
"How dare y-!" He started, before one of the cloaked underlings grabbed him.
Survival's first instinct was to struggle, to escape, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks, seeing the busted backside of their carriage and the lack of somepony being in there.
“Oh no… the patient! They’re gone!” He helped.
“We can see that, Dr. Horror.” The leader growled, “...So much for a quick and easy extraction.”
"What should we do now, sir?" One of the cloaked figures asked.
"We'll have to try and pick up the target's trail." The leader ordered, “The patient couldn’t have gotten far.”
Survival immediately remembered that he was angry, and rounded on his captors.
"Who do you cloaked freaks think you are?" He spewed hate at them. "Attacking the carriage, killing Hamm and the others... and now you're planning on walking away to take our patient? Over my dead body!"
“Oh, thanks for reminding me.” The leader sneered, “Guys, waste the ‘good doctor’.”
"...What?" Fievel gulped, as the cloaked ones readied their crossbows, the other holding him tight.
"No witnesses." The leader said coldly.
Thinking quickly, Survival headbutted his captor, then pushed another cloaked figure aside (right in the others' line of fire) and ran down the path.
"Stop him!" The leader screamed.
The cloaked figures charged out of the carriage, running after Fievel. The now-torrential downpour hindered all the players, with Survival slipping in puddles, and the figures finding it hard to aim through the rain. But Survival was still outnumbered, and his pursuers were closing fast.
"Stand still and die!" The leader demanded.
"No thanks!" Survival narrowly dodged another barrage. He glanced into the forest. "I'm thinking I'd prefer a little nature walk instead..."
With his pursuers right behind him, Survival rushed off the path and into the forest, zig-zagging around the trees. The cloaked figures tried to follow, but a combination of the rain and darkness of the night meant it was impossible.
"He got away, sir." One of the figures said awkwardly.
"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed!" The leader roared, “FAUST DAMMIT!”
"Should we continue the pursuit, sir?" Another cloaked figure asked.
“...No.” The leader said grudgingly, “Right now, the girl is our primary target. She must be recovered, no matter what! We’ll just have to deal with Dr. Horror later! Let’s get moving!”
"As you wish, sir." The second-in-command nodded.
As the cloaked figures spread out, none of them were aware that Survival was closer than they thought; he was hiding within the hollow of a nearby tree, and had heard everything.
“Primary target?” Survival mused, a bit panicked, “What so special about this patient, that they had to kill Hamm and the others for? I gotta get to Canterlot and get to the bottom of this!”
The good doctor ran off into the night, sticking to the shadows, and trying not to get too soaked by the reign.
"What has happened to my life all of a sudden?" He mused sadly. "This is just like the start of a horror movie..."