//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3: Rough Landings 
// Story: The Foreign Factor 
// by Zombehhunter 
//------------------------------//

	The young teenager was lazily making his way through the frozen miniature landscape. He was a little miffed at having to come through here, having missed his usual bus and needing to take a different one.  It wasn’t the safest place to be; it was right next to the old housing, where most of the… wrong crowd, tended to take up residence. So he was lazily making his way through due to being quite tired, but made sure to remain alert enough to see if anyone wanted to have a piece of him. Then again, no one would have been able to see him anyway. The snow was coming down thick and furious, the wind screeching as it tossed his hair - and himself at times – every which way it could think to toss him. 
“Though naturally, it would be coming mainly fae the front,” he griped with a sigh as a powerful gust nearly pushed him to a standstill. The wind and the bag he had on his back trying to topple him with every step. He hated winter before and now with the blizzards that seemed to be cropping up, he would be happy to dig a hole in the mountains of snow, and live in it until spring. 

“Bears have the right bloody idea…”  He was somewhat dressed for the weather at least. He had a heavy narrow jacket which revealed a midnight black body warmer beneath (which the snow stuck to like Velcro), which concealed his school top. He wore black school trousers and black boots. He didn't mind wearing all black, but it was his school's choice uniform.

Taking his hand out of the comfort of his jacket pocket, he shielded his eyes from the continual barrage of snow, and titled his head up to see how far he could, before the snow began ravaging his eyes once more. As he neared his limit, he saw through the snow the faint outline of something. He though it was a plane but found himself discarding this thought, as it was much too close… and appeared to be falling fast towards him. 
“Oh -” before he could even curse his situation, the something connected with face, sending both him and the something rolling back along the remnants of the path he was following. 

He came to a gradual stop a dozen feet or so away from where he was. He lay there for a moment, collecting himself before saying, 
“Ah…Christ that hurt…” Sitting up, he looked down to his hands to see he was holding what had hit him. “A... horse?” In his arms was a small orange, snow coated foal. He examined it for a moment in stunned silence before he began muttering to himself. “From the jaw line…probably female…very interesting coat and mane colour under all that snow… But how the hell did you fall out of the sky?” His exclamation was punctuated by a sharp gust of wind, coating them both in another layer of snow, sending a chill up his spine and making the poor filly shiver fiercely. Deciding the questions –which he wasn’t getting an answer to anyway – could wait; he picked himself up and dusted the snow off both his jacket and body warmer, took them off and wrapped the foal in them, much to its dislike as it wriggled and squirmed to get away.
“Shish, it’s aw-right. I’m going to get you somewhere warm, ‘n’ safe.” He looked a little awkward as he took up what he realised was a very uncharacteristically comforting and soothing tone of voice, but was relieved when it worked and the young animal calmed down. 

Throwing his bag on (stumbling as it shifted him forcefully); he began to quickly make his way to the newer, more comfortable looking houses; he began making his way home. 

****

Scootaloo felt it was best if she remained quiet, the lessons about stranger danger Cheerilee had given the class finally being put to use. She did feel a bit disappointed that she could not comply with the most basic rule: stay away from strangers, but she was content in the jacket wrap, tucked closely to the creature's chest - It was warm, comfortable and snow free. Despite this, Twilight’s words of warning still echoed lightly in her mind. Her warnings that these creatures might in fact be violent was making her tense, making her realise that her current position, was one that didn’t allow her to get away easily, if at all. She could only hope that it didn’t have any malevolent intent. 
“Hey there boy, what you got there?” She tensed up as she heard the unfamiliar voice from her cocoon of jackets.
“Nothing much mate, just a puppy. ‘Nother mouth to feed.”  
“Really noo? Just a puppy? ‘Re, ya sure ‘bout that?” There was something about the man’s voice that made her stomach twist. It was creepy and made her shift uncomfortably. 
“Aye, I’m sure. Look, she’s moving: probably the cawld ‘n all. On that note, Ah think I should git a move on. Goodbye to you.” She heard the other voice grunt in reply as the sound of crisp cracking snow distanced them from the other voice. “Don’t worry, Ah’m no letting anything happen t’ you lass. Nobody's gettin' at you either.” She blinked at the strange mashing of words but settled down again at the message they gave her. She believed him for some reason. The tone of the other voice, the sludgy, disgusting tone, was one that would cause her too panic and flee (not that she would ever admit that). While whoever was carrying her, had kept his cool and even kept her out of that voice’s grasp. She couldn’t help but be impressed and feel, just a little safer. 

“Fucking thieving scum, absolutely everywhere.” He grumbled as he put more distance between himself and the would-be mugger. He knew these sorts of people; he had lived around them all his life, so he had figured out how to disarm most situations with them; remain calm and talk in a social manner, slipping back into his towns’ accent. It brought them both to the same level, and he knew it was easier to talk someone if you are not flaunting over them. 

Making quick work of the rest of the journey to his home, he shuffled through an exposed pocket in his jacket and pulled out a set of keys as he approached the front door (painted white with a peep hole at the top). After going in and locking the door behind him, he peeled away the protective jackets from the small for of Scootaloo and hung them over the nearby radiator. Scootaloo took in her surroundings. There was a living room to the left as they entered the home with two comfortable looking fabric couches and a good sized TV almost hidden by the open door. Leading off from it was a dining room with a large table, the varnish making it gleam in the light. Back in the hallway, there was a set of stairs leading to the upstairs landing, but the hallway continued into the kitchen, which is where they headed next. The kitchen itself was split into two areas – a cooking area to the right, and a dining to the left. The dining area had a door (which she presumed led to the actual dining room) and a smaller, circular table tucked into the corner. Furthermore, leading off from the kitchen, there was a conservatory with a few couches and a good sized garden. 

He pulled plopped Scootaloo onto the table and pulled out a seat in front of her as she sat on her haunches. 
“All right, let’s take a look at you.”  Scootaloo frowned in annoyance as he began examining her, but let him continue; moving her head around, examining her hooves and legs and body in general. “Well, ya seem to be fine; did-nay hurt yourself when you fell on me –‘cept for a bruise. Though, saying that…” He regarded her quickly again, as though making sure he was right. “You are mockit fae the fall; who’d ‘ve thought with all the snow between you ‘n’ the dirt, eh?” Frowning in confusion at the strange word ‘mockit’, she watched the being walk over to the sink. He turned the taps and put in a soapy liquid. The sink filled, he stuck his elbow through the frothy liquid. He nodded, satisfied with the temperature, he marched over to Scootaloo, swept her up and gently placed her into the water. 

The only thing that had kept Scootaloo from the degrading fact that she was now being bathed by some strange other worldly creature, was that it felt strangely pleasant. She had felt a bit uncomfortable having so much mud matted to her fur – though she was usually not one to bother – and she was glad to have it removed in such a…pampering fashion. She would never admit this either, and certainly didn’t show it, as she sat there on her haunches with a rather ‘Less-than-impressed’ expression on her face. The being just snickered. 
“Well, you don’t look too happy do ya? Don’ worry, I will-nay be too much longer, but it’ll be a heck of a lot more comfortable for you with aw that mud and crap off you… Now, ‘hind the ears.”  He reached up and scratched behind and around her ears, trying to get at some persistent flakes of mud that had managed to bury themselves as deep into her coat as they could. Scootaloo would be purring if she could; the persistent rubbing and scratching behind her ear feeling simply amazing. It reminded her of the serenity and comfort she felt when she raced her scooter around town, except in a mini massage and without the adrenalin and the burning in her wings. Speaking of them…
“Wait a moment… the fuck? Are they wings?” He had found her wings. He stretched the one closest to him (her left) out to its full on foot span and gaped at it. He looked between the wing and her, making her feel very nervous, making her question how he was going to react, if the fact that she had wings was some sort of punishable offence her, if-

Her mind stopped as he sighed in disbelief, and simply began cleaning them more thoroughly. 
“More bloody questions that I ain’t gonna get any answers for… It would be bloody ideal if you could talk, me wee lass. I’ll be honest, fae the looks in yer eyes, you certainly look smart enough to do so, shame you don’t have the vocal cords for it. Ah well, back tae scrubbing!” She was about to tell him that she could talk, more in self-defence of herself than anything, but was cut off as his magic fingers went back to getting at the dirt behind her ears. All was forgotten. 

“Well, you certainly look cute when you’re all fuzzy.” Scootaloo had been taken out of the sink, wrapped in a towel and taken up stairs. She was covered in darkness as the towel continued to rub her down, drying her off, before revealing the much fluffier form it had caused. Chuckling lightly, the creature patted her down as she took in her new surroundings. The room was dark, but not to the point where you couldn’t see, just a sunset light. The room itself felt somewhat small, but comfortable. It was painted white, but was faded somewhat with age and had several red stains in several places. The room was furnished with a few items. There was a lass table near the entrance (so much so that you might jab yourself if you entered unprepared to jump) with multiple objects on top of it, mostly papers and strange rectangular devices made of plastic, some with wires coming from the front of them to odd looking controllers. The floor had a cream carpet and was also looking a little worse for ware, but still comfortable. There was a wardrobe to her right and the most of the left wall was made of a window, the glass having black checker pattern streaks. There was also a small bedside table made of the same material the wardrobe was: dark pine with a dark varnish: Pleasant. “There we go, sorted.” He took a seat on the pillows at the end of the bed and reached under the bed, pulling out a slim, large device that lit up when he opened up the device. “I really need to turn the brightness on this laptop down… there we go. Now, let’s see if-“ A crash from downstairs stopped him, and his friendly demeanour changing entirely; his face turned flat, calculating, and his movement no longer casual and lazy, turned fluent, practised, precise. The laptop was flung under the bed and his hand was in the top drawer of his bed side table. Scootaloo gasped loudly as a large, sharpened knife was drawn from the formerly innocent looking furniture. This struck it home; this situation was serious, and her new friend knew there was danger. 

She was taken by surprise as the covers were deposited on top of her head. They parted briefly to show the creatures face as he whispered,
“Stay in here, please just do not move.” With that darkness filled her vision. Her own panic was starting to rise now that it was not be abated by simplest things, like being able to see. The need to see something, coupled with insatiable curiosity, made her part the covers a little. 

Her new friend was standing by the room door, knife held expertly ahead of him. He kept his breathing steady as he listened to the intruders coming up the stairs. There are… a lot - six, maybe seven. The footsteps are pretty fucking weird thou… maybe they are trying to confuse me? Bah, forget it. Getting his thoughts back into order, he steeled himself once more. He finally hears their voices.
“Where do you think it is? I really don’t like the idea of wondering around here blind!” The boisterous voice of a young woman sounded, evidently taking no care to not be heard. 
“Be quiet Dash, y’all‘re gonna get us in a heap o’ trouble blowing your trumpet like that. Now shush.” The silence that followed did not last long, as they began quietly conversing while searching the rooms one by one. 
They are a bunch of bloody amateurs. What the hell do they think they are doing breaking into my house? How should I deal with them…?  He formulated his course of action quickly as they got to his side of the landing and the only other room left. He pressed his ear to the door, feeling his pulse begin to quicken slightly as his blood was saturated with adrenaline.
“Okay girls,” (A new voice, at least three) “this is the last door, they must be in here. Open it carefully Applejack.” He raised an eyebrow at the interesting name and back up a little, pulling the knife back, ready to slash the persons hand as the door opened. 

There was a squeak. And then a creak as the door handle was slowly lowered. It wasn’t loud enough for Scootaloo to hear, but she saw her friend tense up, his face showing his brain running the numbers, so she hid.

Finally he saw that the door handle was as low as it would go. He heard muttering.
“Three, two…one.”  The door opened a little slower that he thought it would, but it didn’t even phase his ability. He slashed out fast and precisely. Blood drops splattered onto the wall and carpet, quickly being drunk up by the hungry fabric. The fresh blood on the knife making it look evil, grinning in the light. He was ready to slash again, ready to tell them to get out of his home, or face the consequences, but he stopped. He hadn’t been prepared for what was in front of him. He would never have guessed that the invaders were not even human.
“Ponies? The hell?!” 

In front of him stood the six friends, all of which wore expressions of shock and anger, with no exception to Applejack, who was glaring at him and blood flowed from the slash across her face which had just missed her left, arcing smoothing over it. Acting on impulse, she swiftly turned herself and put all her weight onto her front legs, raising her hind legs high in the air. 

Just as realisation flashed across his eyes, she bucked with the kind of force that known for – and then some. There was a sickening, crunching sound as her hooves connected with his chest, an all imposing sound that refused to quiet down as it seemed to echo off the walls of the room, so it had to be smothered. The force of the impact sent him soaring into the glass table, the sounds of metal squealing as it was violently twisted and torn, glass shattering and piercing him, all the knick-knacks on the table following around him and the 'thunk' and crack of the TV falling on his damaged chest with the subtle undertone of his cry of pain, announced the silence that followed. 

Using the lull to her advantage, Twilight entered the room and quickly found a horrified Scootlaoo standing on the bed, mouth open as her young mind tried to process the quick change in events. She didn’t even notice that she had been ferried out of the room (through levitation) until they were at the top of the stairs.
“Wait! Stop, he isn’t bad!” They stopped, all of them in different stages of going down the stairs, and turned to her. “He isn’t as dangerous as you think Twilight; he is actually quite nice, honest!” 
“Scootaloo, maybe you didn’t notice, but that thing in there just foalnapped you and attacked us, cutting Applejack quite badly.” Twilight turned them both to look at Applejack – who was being fussed over by Fluttershy – and at the gash on her face. It was bleeding quite badly, but she would definitely be okay. Scootaloo had already thought of a response.
“I know, and I am really sorry Applejack, but from our position, you could have been anypony! I couldn’t tell him it was you’s because you were being too quiet, I couldn’t tell. And the way he reacted… it was as if it had happened before, so I didn’t really question him…” Scootaloo observed the awkward glances that were being shard up and down the staircase and was about to insist that they check on him before going, but was interrupted by the sound of shuffling and broken glass moving…

Their eyes opened wide and their mouths gaped as they stared at the figure with disgust at what they saw, and with pity that what they saw had happened at all. 

The creature emerged slowly from the room, using just his arms to carry his body across the vast plain of the landing. His clothing was ripped and spotted with holes, revealing bloodied and bruised flesh beneath, and un-natural mix of blue, purple and crimson, littered with sprinkling of glass, shards both large and small, all painful in their own right. Most concerning however, was not the disfiguring of his nose –snapped out of place by the TV - or the angle his right leg sat at – broken out of place by the sturdy frame of his table -, it was his breathing. There was a disgusting gurgling sound every time he took another shallow, fast breath. There was another disturbing choking sound every time he inhaled just that little bit harder. It sounded wet. Pulling up in front of the staircase, he never even notice the line of ponies as he turned himself round onto his back, crying in pain as he relieved his arms of his weight and made the glass in his back eat and shred away at his flesh, making the sticky red liquid run down the stairs, despite the ever hungry carpet. He reached and grabbed one of the larger shards of glass that had somehow made residence in his chest, and pulled, scrunching his eyes as the pain tried to stop him. It didn’t. Discarding the shard (5 inches), he pulled apart the hole if had left in his shirt and examined his chest.
“Oh…fuck.”  Scootaloo found herself almost thrown down the stairs to join Rarity, Pinkie and Applejack, who had charged away, fearful of vomiting up the food they had picked up while down stairs initially. Twilight, Fluttershy and Dash were still atop the stairs, hauntingly mesmerised by the disturbing sight, and the desire to help, but held in place by the brutality of the wounds. 

His ribs were blatantly broken. They caved in at awkward angles, making his chest comparable to a picturesque mountainous valley. With one on the right reaching high above the others, having torn free of the skin that had kept it so neatly contained before, glistening in the light from above, red pouring down the bone. Not quite a mountain. Despite himself, his breathing rate increased rapidly as he brought quivering hands to the bone. The faces on the three that had remained went from horrified to ill as they looked away just before the resounding crack permeated house. This time, nothing smothered his scream. They didn’t dare look. They didn’t want to. But was he okay? Is he even alive after that? They looked. They wished they didn’t. 

He was shaking violently all over, his limbs having their own will as they twitched violently. They hadn’t even noticed the colour gradually draining from him, but it was too obvious now. The blood just kept on coming out from his chest like a water fountain. No, those are grand things that shoot out water, this was like one of those pathetic little one that you would keep in the house. But just the same, it sent shivers down the spines of all who witnessed it. 

He knew he was done for. He had tried to reach a phone, but he couldn’t. He hoped that he would have been able to survive this ordeal, just like the last, and the one before that, and before that and… But it seemed he had finally rolled snake eyes. 

No.

He wasn’t ready to throw himself to reaper just yet. Hoping that he may be able to make it to the phone at the bottom of the landing, he rolled over and tried to pull himself over the thresh hold of the stairs.

He couldn’t. The energy was flowing out of him, being drunken by the carpet bellow him, the ever greedy carpet… his vision was going, but he was determined…determined to not lose, not now. 

It wasn’t to be. His cold hands wouldn’t respond any more. His eyes rolled back, and the last thing he saw before the cold dark took over, was a yellow blurry smudge, coming towards him…

I wonder if anyone is tolling the bells... And the darkness came.