A bright yellow light glowed in the dark of night. It enveloped the entirety of the large clearing hat it was based in. If you came close enough to the tall barbed-wire tipped stone wall outlining the entire forest, you could hear the conversations and commonplace laughter within the large camp. There was a single gate, guarded by a single monster. This monster stood as still as a sentry, it’s skeleton mask glowing blue in the dark. It stood taller than a pony, averaging at around six feet. It wore denim jeans and a red hoodie, which was covered by a large metal plate on his chest and back, connected with leather straps. His mask was made of similar material, covering the shape of his head and painted over with a scary image of a human skull. It wore a kilt comprised of assorted road signs, along with fingerless gloves of the same composition. It held a makeshift Kalashnikov with a short wooden shovel handle as the stock. It sported an M9 Beretta on it’s left hip, only to be used in an emergency. It currently had its Kalashnikov strapped onto its back and it’s mask tossed to the side to free it’s mouth while it ate a slice of cooked meat.
He was one of the few official clan members, the bulk was made up of lesser equipped humans that were considered cannon fodder, thus granting this group the title of Zerg. They were not commonplace anywhere in the radiation covered island of Rust, but when encountered, they can prove a formidable foe. They would normally prey on other clans with much better gear, attempting to overpower them by sheer numbers and minimal strategy by the few strategic members of a Zerg. An unknown force would perform what was named a wipe on the island periodically, leaving all inhabitants to start over with their newfound knowledge from their previous adventures. Along with this, the survivors that constantly clash on this deserted island gained a peculiar trait: the ability to regenerate living tissue onto a beach, with nothing but a torch and a rock, while keeping their knowledge.
Now back to the story. Within the walls, there were multiple sleeping bags spread out at random. Nobody cared who slept in whose. There were bonfires spread in a grid like fashion, upon which the sleeping bags were placed around. In the very middle of the compound was a small building crafted out of sheet metal, adorned with a stone flat top square tower. It was about 3x3 foundations big, or about 9x9 meters. The tower was built atop the middle foundation and was 15 meters tall, the top walls having windows. Only the official clan members were allowed in, the sheet metal doors locked with a code. Their beds were placed inside, one bed in each corner, totaling to four beds and four official clan members. One other was staged as an interior guard, one residing in the tower with an L96 sniper rifle, acting as overwatch, a third one guarding the gate, and the final one was an exterior guard, patrolling the outside walls and defending against any possible raiders. They all wore similar outfits, allowing them to easily identify each other, with the only difference being different colored skulls painted on their masks. The gate guard was blue, the tower guard was pink, obviously because she was a girl, the inside guard was green, and the exterior guard was red.
They were all good friends. Each lesser member was selected due to them excelling in a specific task. There were fifteen of them spread out in the massive space surrounding the base, all agreeing to sleep together and not leave anyone alone. The gatherer was out gathering wood and stone for future bases. One with an excellent eye accompanied the sniper, spotting enemies and directing the snipers shot. They all knew they weren’t on the Rust island anymore. But that didn’t hinder their main objective; survive. The comedian was currently entertaining the group by telling jokes and performing acts in the soft firelight.
The native residents of this strange land haven’t noticed their arrival yet, except for a certain zebra. She has been watching them since their arrival a week ago, impressed at their ability to erect such a sturdy wall and complex tower in such a short time. She had thought to bring this matter straight to the princesses that ruled over the land of Equestria but needed more evidence for them to act upon her claim. She needed physical evidence, but not just a simple stone from the wall before her. She needed one of their weapons. She shrunk back into the underbrush, planning to take the weapon attached to the gate guard's side.
She quietly made her way around the wall, heading to the guard as quietly as possible. She stopped as she reached her desired position, watching the bipedal creature as it stood still. She took a step closer, hoping to get close enough to formulate a plan to steal the weapon as quietly as possible. She froze and lowered herself as close to the ground as possible as a flashlight attached to his gun suddenly came to life and slowly swept the area around him. After he was satisfied, he shut it off and returned to his distant gaze, deep in thought once more. She slowly and quietly raised herself from the grass, analyzing this creature's movement as a sentry. She took another silent step. Nothing. Once more. Nothing. Repeating this pattern, she eventually made her way behind the creature, outside of its lights sweep. She slowly lifted a hoof to the corner shaped weapon, making extra sure she didn’t make any noise. She touched it. She stopped and looked up to his head, watching for any signs of movement. After seeing nothing, she slowly lifted the weapon out of its holster, keeping an eye on his head. She fully extracted the weapon from its hold and held it there, checking one last time for movement. Suddenly, It turned, the light shining in her face. She wasted no time in running back into the tree line, hearing projectiles embedding themselves in the ground at her hooves and the trees around her.
The gunshots ceased as the zebra escaped into the forest, his sidearm along with it. He looked at his holster, seeing nothing there, then back to the bit of forest lit by his light.
“Damn,” the guard silently cursed to himself, wondering how it managed to swipe it’s gun without him noticing. He shut off the light and replaced it onto his back, grabbing the walkie-talkie on its right hip and raising the microphone to his mouth while holding the button to broadcast his voice to the others. “Guys, a fucking zebra just took my M9,” he said irritatingly into the device as a scowl appeared under his mask.
“How the fuck does that happen?” The exterior guard replied in his deep, gruff voice. The person accompanying the sniper continued scanning the horizon as she put in her two cents.
“We’re not on the Rust island anymore. It could be one of the locals,” she reasoned, being the group's voice of reason.
“But it’s a fucking zebra!” The inside guard leaning on the wall near the laughing grunts yelled into his walkie talkie.
“It dodged like a pro. It was definitely used to escaping predators greater than a simple Cheetah,” the gate sentry included, his face switching to intrigue. He released his hold on the button while he yawned before holding it down again. “Guys, I’m going to sleep. I’ll turn on the turrets,” he drowsily informed the others, pressing a button on the gate’s code lock, causing it to swing open. It shut on its own behind him as he headed to the left turret, there being one on each side, which held a Kalashnikov under a rounded sheet metal cover, which were currently pointed up, signifying that they were deactivated. He kneeled by it and pressed a button positioned on the round sheet metal base of the turret, which was held up by a tripod-like arrangement of metal rods. He stood as the turret half his height lowered the gun to point straight, laser line directing it’s AI, as it beeped while covering its 90-degree range in front of the gate. He did the same to the other, getting the same result. He slowly treaded into the base, picking the closest bed. He took off his boots, gloves, chest plate, and mask, revealing a mess of dirty blonde hair and blue eyes surrounded by Caucasian skin. He placed his stripped armor and weapons in the locker next to the bed, unceremoniously flopping onto the bed and laying his head onto a white pillow, covering himself with a black and white checkered blanket.
The sniper released her helper for some rest as well. “You can go get some sleep, I think we’re safe for now,” she told her helper, him nodding thanks in return and climbing down the ladder to the ground floor and out the door to his sleeping bag. She took a break, taking a seat in the white plastic chair positioned north, watching the forest as she slowly drifted to sleep with her rifle propped up against the windowsill.
The inside guard had nodded off while watching the thirteen people assigned to him laughing away at jokes he couldn’t hope to understand. His arms were crossed, LR-300 laying in the grass by his feet. The group he watched over were nice enough to quiet down and settle down for sleep. They made a few last minute jokes, quietly snickering, before sleeping. They fell asleep pretty quickly.
The exterior guard always hated his job, even though he knew it was necessary. He always stayed up until morning while everyone else slept. He started getting drowsy. His hand gripping the barrel of the Kalashnikov slipped, snapping him awake as he quickly regained control of the firearm. In the constant noise of crickets chirping, which he got used to quickly, he heard something bigger than simple prey scampering through the underbrush. He stopped in his tracks and activated his weapon-mounted flashlight, lighting up the dense tree line he had the misfortune of being so close to it so much. After a minute of nothing, he sighed and shut off his light. He returned to his patrol of the perimeter. The worst thing is that nothing ever happened. He would’ve gone crazy at this point if it weren’t for the serenity of the soft sounds of the forest. The only time he felt safe is when he passed by the gate, or when he had his glow in the dark mask and Kalashnikov.
Zecora entered the grand court hall where the princesses’ thrones resided, set on revealing her information and the evidence directly to her and nopony else. She thought about telling Twilight and her friends first, but until she knew how dangerous they could be, as her escape showed, she didn’t want to endanger the six mares. She stopped in front of Celestia’s throne, sitting down, intent on taking a long time to explain.
“Why have you come to us directly?” Princess Celestia professionally asked, wearing her court poker face.
“There may be a great threat in the Everfree. I barely managed to escape with some of their weaponry and flee,” She said, drawing a concerned look from the Princess of the Sun.
“Weaponry? What kind of threat?” She asked, getting a firm shake of the head from the zebra.
“They are of unknown origin. I do not believe they will show the same mercy to others again,” Zecora replied with a hardened face.
“They? Are there more than one?” Celestia asked with a poker face once again.
“Last I counted, there were seventeen. None too willing to agree,” She stated, referring to the chances of a peaceful resolution.
“Can you be more specific?” Celestia inquired, not liking the vague replies she got from the zebra before her.
“I have brought a weapon of choice, belonging to the guard with a creative voice. He quickly detected me, firing barely audible sonic speed projectiles at me. I quickly made my way here, to inform you before they became a source of fear.” She explained, raising the weapon flat in her hoof. Celestia enveloped it in her golden aura, bringing it closer while Zecora lowered her hoof. She slowly rotated it while studying it, careful to avoid pointing the open end towards her or anypony in the room in case it was still loaded. After a minute, she stopped looking it over and staring straight ahead.
“Guards! Retrieve this weapon as evidence,” Celestia ordered a pair of guards. One took the weapon in his light blue aura, and they took it to the property room, where they stored evidence.
“I have reason to believe that is not their only advance, as they have built a great compound, big and fast,” she informed the princess, whose face turned to intrigue.
“How fast?” She asked in a curious tone, watching as a glint of determination appeared in her eyes.
“They have been here a week, and have managed to build a great wall, not at all weak,” Zecora gestured with her hooves to it being as tall as the princess.
“In the middle lay stone, formed into a tower of its own,” Zecora lowered her hooves and created an invisible square with her hooves.
“It includes jokes and fun, but only between the so called grunts,” She lowered her hooves.
Celestia looked down in thought, hoping to resolve this peacefully.
“From what I have heard, they are part of a ‘herd’,” Zecora continued, making air quotations to imply that she meant herd as in a group near and dear to each other.
“But they do not fear those who come near, they will merely fight until their oppressor takes flight,” She said, further implying that they would fight to their last breath to protect their herd.
“They have mentioned the name of their group being called a Zerg, complaining that the higher ups are too powerful and kick others to the curb. They also seem to utilize military gear, considering the powerful weapons and tactics they seem to have near.” Celestia stiffened at the thought they might be a military force, inferring that they were a military recon camp close by a rural and generic town for research on locals to effectively conquer their species before eventually advancing to Canterlot.
“They have attacked me, yes, but it was merely an act of self-defense, as I had come near to steal something to bring you here,” Zecora explained, to make sure the princess understood her situation before deciding on an action.
After a moment's thought, and a few suggestions from royal advisors, she decided to send Twilight, along with the other elements, and greet them, hoping to at least learn their intentions here.