Ch. 21 - The Wheel Turns Again
“Everypony run for your lives!”
The street lamps were only just coming alight as a crowd of panicked ponies cantered along a Ponyville avenue. Loose cobblestone rattled under their frantic hoofbeats.
“Anypony see it chasing us?” said a stallion near the front of the pack.
One stressed mare glanced to either side of herself. Realizing she was the last in the group, her eyes grew bug-eyed, fresh cold sweat running down her brow. Fearfully, the hindmost craned her neck, looking behind, heart racing faster than ever.
To her relief, the street behind the herd was deserted, only trampled pieces of garbage marring the pathway. No movement could be seen, save the flutter of wind against a flag. The mare sighed happily. “I'm not seeing it. Looks like we gave it the OOF!”
The mare slammed right into the ponies in front of her, all prior thought aborted. She staggered backwards a pace, her head whipping around in alarm. “W-what the...? What's the big hold up? What are you...” The mare looked along to the front of the group, freezing in place and choking back a gasp.
Painwheel walked slowly their way, laboring under the weight of a pinwheel of blades that gleamed in the moonlight.
“...it's the other monster!” the stallion at the head of the herd screamed, clutching his head with both forehooves.
More terrified voices erupted from the crowd behind him, some as loud as a bell, others soft as a psalm.
All of them caused the human to growl, rubbing her ears. “Shut the hell up!” she roared. To her pleasure, the throng's cacophony died in their throats at once. Painwheel trudged forward, watching as the ponies froze, shivering violently. She swore she could see one unicorn mare sobbing quietly.
Typical. Just what Painwheel needed.
She continued advancing, staring more through the ponies than at them. Hoping against hope they would get the hint. Between the exhaustion of the last few days and the fresh sting of the parasites in her legs, Painwheel was in no mood.
But she stepped within feet of the herd and they only widened their eyes – their enormous eyes – and quickened their hearts. The sobbing unicorn mare held her breath in a desperate attempt to halt her sobs, fresh tears staining her cheeks.
The foremost stallion shrank in horror. “Aaaaah...” he whined, his eyes meeting the human's impatient glare. His heart skipped a beat, seeing those red and black eyes.
Painwheel scoffed. Idiot. Before he could react, she reached her arm around the stallion and, with one rapid motion, swept him forcefully to the side. “Get out of the way,” she demanded, barely registering his alarmed squeak before she stepped through the space he previously occupied.
A simple order, but one the rest of the crowd heeded with nary a moment's hesitation. They parted to either side, allowing Painwheel a wide berth to pass. As she did, more than one pony breathed a sigh of relief. At least two fell to the ground in a faint. Others remained tense, frozen at attention or bracing themselves in anticipation of further running. Painwheel ignored them.
All except the hindmost. To her, Painwheel paused and turned her gaze. “Where is it?” she said, as softly as her gravely voice could.
The hindmost mare shook uncontrollably. She felt on the verge of hyperventilating. With care, she pointed a trembling hoof back the way they came. “D-down there...quarter kilometer...near P-p-Ponyville s-s-sc-square...can't m-miss it-t-t...”
Painwheel followed the pointing hoof, then nodded. “...thank you...” she said, walking on.
She left an entire crowd of terrified, trembling townsponies in her wake. All shocked and confused, or unconscious. The street reeked of fresh sweat and urine.
“Ugh...what? Where...where am I?”
Goose Down rose laboriously to his hooves. The stallion winced, rubbing his temples for the pounding headache assaulting him. He looked blearily around, slowly becoming cognizant of the excessive property damage to the surrounding area. “What in Tartarus?”
He ambled around, still dizzy by a wide margin. His heart beat faster, trepidation forming with each new facet of destruction that came to his attention. Paving stones were torn up by the hundreds in erratic patterns running up and down the town square. Various shop fronts and building walls lay smashed in; windows across the board were shattered, either smashed through or blown in. Smoke billowed from perhaps a dozen fires, smoldering in various locations.
Goose had to skirt around two halves of an overturned produce cart. Lettuce and squash squished under Goose's steps, yet he hardly noticed for all the bricks. Crumbling baked clay squares lay everywhere. Wooden boards, too. All splinterful and jutting out with bent nails.
“...what the hay happened here?” Goose muttered, straining to remember. What was he doing before he passed out?
“...ugh...” came a voice from nearby. It sounded weak and weary.
Goose Down hobbled towards the sound, turning a corner...a corner formed by a taller structure having fallen over into the square. He peeked around, and saw an orange earth pony leaning hard against a pile of broken masonry. Bruises covered a good portion of her body, along with scratches and splattered mud. She looked to Goose dizzier than himself.
Applejack. Princess Twilight's friend.
And nearby, on her back with wings splayed, moaned the blue pegasus with the multi-colored mane. Rainbow Dash, Princess Twilight's other friend. She didn't look much better.
Then Goose's vision wandered for a second while he tried to process the sight, and he saw the creature. Goose choked.
It stood resolutely, though one could hardly judge if such resulted from actual resolve, or a structural, biological inability to do otherwise. It had sustained a fair amount of damage, but Goose could see light – a violet, magical light – wash over its body, mending it. The mending was slow, and in a few places visibly stalled for a second or two. Where the healing failed utterly was at the many spots where glass, wood shards, and spikes of metal were jabbed into it. The beast paid it no notice.
Goose remembered. He remembered, and the memory offered little comfort to the stallion. He shivered, thinking of their...well, it really wasn't a fight. He looked around at the devastation wrought upon the surrounding few blocks, and identified that as a fight. What Goose and the zombie had was a curb-stomping. On Goose.
He hoped to Celestia and Faust and every deity he could and couldn't name that the children had at least escaped. Seeing the farmer and the weather pony over yonder, he wondered if they could escape.
The creature approached Applejack, watching her watch it. The farmer could barely stand up on four legs. She gulped visibly. “...dag...nabbit...”
“Uuuuuurrrrrryyyyy...” the zombie breathed, lumbering closer to its quarry.
Goose Down was not a hero. He'd never had the spirit for it, nor indeed the body. Didn't have the tongue for inspiring speeches, nor the pluck for daring ventures. He was a pony with a trade, and that was always good enough for him.
Then he came face to face with an angry, hungry, bipedal monster. He fled that creature in terror, letting it run amok until more capable ponies – ponies like Princess Twilight and her friends – came around to stop it. Stop her. Goose Down ruminated upon that cowardice a long time. Deep inside, where other ponies kept their secret passions or burning zeal, Goose had only guilt and shame. The guilt and shame of having been among the first to encounter that threat, and having done nothing. He felt the tightness in his chest, that vice grip around his heart. That caustic burn in his gut.
His name was Goose Down, yet he felt like a huge chicken. It consumed him.
It consumed him more, the idea that not only was the threat to their town still around, but that it was in the city limits, boarded in a municipal building where it could get out. In retrospect, Twilight Sparkle was the most qualified to keep something like that contained. But Goose couldn't accept it. Guilt ate at him from inside. He had to act. To do something, no matter how small, to protect Ponyville.
And when every authority didn't budge, Goose grew angry. Resentful. His chance at true heroism, at being able to make it up to the town he failed. Snatched away and dashed.
Then a new monster appeared. It threatened the innocent. And Goose was once again among the first capable of responding.
“Hey! Ugly! Over here!”
“Urry?” the zombie muttered, looking lazily towards the noise.
Goose Down waved a hoof high over his head. “Yeah, that's right! You ready for round two, you disgusting piece of OH SHIT!”
“UUURRRRYYY!” The zombie barreled towards the now alarmed earth pony stallion and whipped its head up under him.
“AAAAAAAH!” Goose screamed, sailing through the air. He hit the ground rolling – lucky him. “Oof!”
There was that dizziness again. Goose rolled over onto his hooves, blinking.
“Uuuuurrryyyy...”
The stallion started, seeing the huge shadow cast by the moonlight flow over him. Goose looked up, lips trembling.
The monster bore its fangs in a cruel, crooked smile. A pure smile, though in the sense like Goose once heard so long ago. Was it pure good, or pure evil? It was pure, at least in its mission. Goose Down gazed at those stolen teeth, and those milky, soul-less eyes, and pegged it as pure. Pure in its killing intent. No malice, no vendetta, no sadism or need or perverse need. It was killing incarnate. Instrument of ends, devoid of meaningless purpose or excuse. It was merely a force of nature; a Murder Elemental. Killing distilled until it was – yes – Pure.
Goose Down shut his eyes and shrank in. He grit his teeth, waiting for the killing blow.
“UUUURRRYYY!!”
A clang rang out.
…
Goose Down cowered for a time, then risked a peek for the lack of any sensation at all.
The zombie's front hooves pushed impotently against a giant metal swastika that gleamed in the moonlight. It was attached to a great jointed tail that pushed forcefully back in opposition to the creature. Two bony, pale hands braced against the blades; wrists clad in broken irons, a rippling with discolored black veins.
A skull adorned the top of her head. The human's head turned to look sidelong at him.
“You?” Goose gasped.
“Do I...huff...know you?” Painwheel grunted, calloused hands pushing against the weight of a dozen ponies. One eyebrow arched quizzically.
“I...before you...” Goose stammered, gaping. “You don't...remember?”
“No,” Painwheel said. “Why? Did you do anything...worth...hurk...remembering?”
“No!” Goose exclaimed, frantically shaking his head. “No, I didn't do anything! I'm nobody!” He tried to smile, an effort that only ended up looking insincere and trite.
Painwheel didn't seem to notice. “Then how about...you move?” she said, pushing harder against the blades.
“W-what?”
“Uuuurrrryyyy...” the zombie breathed, rancid grave breath wafting over the two.
“MOVE ALREADY!” Painwheel yelled, face scrunching up in discomfort.
“Oh! OH!” Goose exclaimed, scrambling to his hooves and backpedaling away. He kept staring at Painwheel – his own personal nemesis – tripping over several piles of bricks on his way out.
“Finally,” Painwheel muttered, locking red and black eyes with her undead opponent.
“Uuuurrrryyyy!” the zombie intoned, chomping at Painwheel in spite of the distance and metal between them.
“Yeah,” Painwheel growled, summoning strength in her arms. With one mighty heave, she threw the monster off. It tumbled backwards, rolling down a meter away. The Buar Drive swung back, taking its place behind her. Painwheel rubbed her aching arms, as if a message could dull the pain of effort and parasitic influence. She barked at it, “Fuck you too!”
“Yes! Good girl!”
The observer smiled broadly. From the perch atop the building, he leaned over for a closer look. His weight shifted more upon the hand-carved cane he sported.
Music erupted from his coat pocket. The observer fished the phone from it. “Yes, I see it, Mr. Rose,” he spoke excitedly into the receiver. “Our girl has finally arrived...no, I don't think she'll have much trouble. You chose well, after all.”