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// Roaches Check In 
// Story: The Exterminator 
// by HackamoreHalter 
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"We will fly again. One day, when this war is won, we will take back our rightful place amongst the clouds. I swear it in the name of my tribe and the memory of my princesses. We are pegasi, and we will claim our sky." -Oath of the Ranger

*****

A lone pony surveyed the village in the slight valley ahead, watchful eyes roaming from behind concealing goggles. The stallion, though it was difficult to be sure due to the many layers of heavy wools he wore, was the single mar in an unblemished world of white. Before him, a blanket of untouched snow stretched out as far as the eye could see, faintly glowing with light from the twinkle of stars above that peeked through patches in the thick, low-hanging layer of clouds promising of flurries to come. The wind and weather had crowned the silent little hamlet with weighty snowdrifts perched upon the sturdy yet straining wooden and thatched rooftops of the quaint cottages, scattered about in a disorganized jumble with weaving roads of hidden cobblestone carving out thin paths between the stout architecture. It was a picturesque view of peace and silence, one that felt as if it might be broken at any second by the townsponies waking with a song in their hearts and a spring to their steps. 

It was almost enough to let the stallion forget that the world had ended.

A tremble ran through the frozen earth beneath his hooves, and a shrill keening sound from somewhere behind him snapped the stallion from his reverie. He flew down the hill as fast as his aching legs could take him, the burn from his muscles matching the chill of the bitter wind seeping into his hide. His unusual bounding gait took him through the piled snow with a practiced ease, clearing the shoulder-high drifts as if they were hurdles in a race. Within minutes, the stallion had cleared the village outskirts and passed on into the shadows of the inner city's narrow alleys, decrepit and weatherworn walls towering overhead. From this distance, the snow gave the village much less of an appearance of an unblemished sheet of paper. No longer a mask, the blinding white showed it's true form; the bleached bones of a long forgotten corpse. 

This village wasn't sleeping. It was dead.

The telltale rumbling of the ground, strong enough to shake clumps off snow off the rooftops around him, was a grim reminder to the stallion that he would be next. He couldn't hear his pursuer anymore, the only thing he could hear over the howling of the wind as it cut through the streets was the hammering of his heart against his ribs, but he could feel it gaining ground. If he so much as slowed to catch his breath, the chase would be over and he would join the frozen bodies hidden within this village-shaped graveyard. His sides heaved, slick with sweat beneath his mottled grey-and-white camouflage parka, as he pushed his body beyond the breaking point. The burning in his legs had slowly been replaced by a worrying numbness, but he could not stop. Only unyielding determination, and a healthy dose of fear, kept him on his hooves and moving.

So focused was the stallion on staying upright that he nearly ran past his destination, his hurried halt gouging a furrow into the snow outside his target. Deep in the heart of the village lay one of the few buildings with more than two floors, a fanciful tower of only six stories that still stood out like a beacon in the diminutive rural village. Curved walls formed the base, rising into a mushroom-shaped dome that ended in a single-room pointed cap with a flagless pole jutting tenaciously into the overcast sky. The entrance of sub-skyscraper was a set of tall double-doors of a heavy wood ornately carved. The stallion threw himself against them but they refused to budge, save for a tired groan echoed by the weary pony. Abandoning the doors, he clambered instead up a snowbank that had, with weight and time, shattered its way through one of the many arching glass windows adorning the structure.

Within, the omnipresent howling of the skies was muted to a low moan, broken only by the ragged gasps of the winded stallion. The already-dim starlight strained to illuminate through the few windows remaining, smudged as they were from untold years of neglect. The stallion's every shaky step kicked up clouds of dust in his wake that would have threatened his already labored breaths were it not for a frayed scarf that covered his muzzle. Other than the pervasive snow pushing its way in, the two-story chamber that stretched from wall to wall was entirely empty. The scarf twitched ever so slightly, as if from a smile beneath, but it was a ghost of a thing that vanished as another tremor in the ground dropped sprinkles of dust from the rafters. Spurred into action, the stallion ran to a massive column aligned along the outer wall, uncovering his muzzle to dig within the folds of his winter coat with his teeth for a nondescript package. Its earth-colored wrapping crinkled slightly as he set it down as gently as possible next to the wooden strut, only to move to the next pillar. 

Three more columns and three more packages he'd set down before a bone-wrenching crash brought his preparations to a sudden halt. Something of massive size slammed into the barred doors with such force that they flew off their hinges, splinters and dust billowing outward to hide the intruder's enormous form. Two pale blue orbs peered out of the obscuring maelstrom with an ethereal light, setting the stallion's teeth to involuntary chattering. Abandoning the last package, the stallion sprinted towards the wall, fractions of a second before shards of ice thicker than the pony's hoof speared the air in his wake. Clenching his teeth, the stallion leapt through the nearest grime-covered window, shards of glass slicing but not completely penetrating his woolen overcoat. He tumbled into the snow, righted himself with a frantic pace, and kept on bolting across the empty square dividing the town hall from the city proper.

The monster did not even slow, crashing through the wall like tissue paper in its pursuit, and the stallion at last risked a glance back at the beast relentlessly hunting him. It was far larger than he was, easily ten times so, with a thick-bodied thorax of hardened carapace as black as coal that stood suspended off the ground by six segmented legs. Its torso swept upwards, with clawed mandibles like the arms of a bear ending in jagged pincers that held more than enough power to crush a pony like a twig, and indeed the stallion had seen them used far too often to that effect. Its armored tail arched over its body, ending with a wickedly curved stinger that glowed a deep blue with the presence of magic. Much more terrifying than its weapons, at least in the stallion's opinion, was the head that rested upon its horrific, arachnid frame; a pony head, or at least a twisted caricature of one. It was as if some malevolent god had taken the skull of a pony and animated it without muscle or flesh or skin. Only burning blue eyes rested in that skull, eyes devoid of empathy or emotion. Eyes that stared out at the world and sought only its destruction. Eyes that stared into the stallion’s very soul, withering the pony’s will underneath its searing gaze, turning his blood to ice in his veins.

The stallions shuddered as he came to a stop, turning to the unfeeling predator that sought his life. Already, magical missiles of frost formed around its tail, their gleaming points ready to seek his beating heart. It would stop at nothing to kill him, to kill everypony he ever knew or loved. It demanded nothing less than his extinction.

With a hoof-click of a remote in his pocket, he refused. The miniature explosives around the base of the tower detonated, their localized blasts destroying only the supporting beams on this side of the building that held it aloft. Six stories of wood and stone came crashing down atop the monster in a controlled collapse, flattening even its iron hide through sheer unstoppable force. A cloud of dust rose from the wreckage, only to be swiftly carried away by the howling winds. A trail of blood filtered through the rubble, coloring the snow a sickly green at the pony’s hooves.

“Rest in pieces,” the stallion muttered as he trotted away from the impromptu grave. He made his way out of the village, sticking to the shadows despite the low ambient light. As he left, he gave a sign a passing glance and a mournful nod. Declaring the town’s name for all to see, it had once been brightly painted and cheerful. However, just like what few of its citizens had survived, the sign had faded with time and weather until the name was only barely legible. “Sorry, Ponyville. Looks like you’ll need a new town hall.”