//------------------------------// // Part 1, Chapter 8: Brainrot // Story: The Chronicle of Relic // by SkeIePone //------------------------------// Patchworks were terrifyingly, hideously, alarmingly real. And unfortunately for us, the horror that had pounced on us was far from the only one in the Boneyard. I could hear them everywhere, ticking and creaking and squealing into the otherwise silent dump. In the distance, I could hear the oncoming roar of another dust storm, which only added to our anxiety. Every corner we turned was another mechanical menace, sloppily tossed together with parts that they themselves had torn from the still-functioning bodies of synths. Some had even taken pony body parts and attached it to themselves. Like the skull and mandible from the first Patchwork. One even had a pair of decaying eyes shoved into its ocular sockets, rendering it blind but no less terrifying. Yet another had replaced its own hooves with the organic ones from a pony, still oozing blood. It must have been a fresh kill. That made me wonder exactly how many ponies and synths ventured into the Boneyard, only to meet their fate at the blades of the Patchworks. One of the Patchworks had somehow gotten on top of the maze’s walls. It leapt down, slashing at my side with sword-like talons that were protruding from its hooves, almost like a griffon’s claws. I felt the hit connect, and when I glanced over I immediately felt faint. There were now three clean gashes in my armor, revealing my glowing innards. Several wires had been sliced as well; although what the wires were for, I was unsure. But it was warning enough. There was no hoof-to-hoof combat with these things, they could dice me up in seconds and integrate myself into them in less time. Mica was hyperventilating, and I could hear her panicking next to me. She was obviously having a hard time with keeping herself from fainting. Considering how anxious she had been previously, it was understandable that meeting her fillyhood bogey-stallions would cause her incredible amounts of stress and fear. Every so often, I would turn about and fire another bolt at the Patchworks. But that was to no avail. The crazed synthetics had completely jumbled innards, so it was impossible to land a crippling shot. One of the many Patchworks, who was faster than the others and therefore took the most hits, was now stuck full of bolts, looking less like a pony and more like a porcupine. It was the one leering at us while we were being chased, knowing as well as I did that Mica would tire at any given moment. I didn’t stop shooting, however. Bolt after bolt flew through the darkness, sometimes colliding with a mechanical menace, sometimes missing entirely. Soon enough, I had fired off every single bolt at my disposal. And yet I had not stopped a single Patchwork. Mica was several yards ahead of me, but that was okay. At least if the Patchworks attacked me, Mica would be able to escape. She was my number one concern. “Relic!” I looked up to see Mica standing a few yards away from a gaping hole, with some oddly familiar lines radiating from it. She was pointing at it with an eager hoof. A Carcolh. I immediately understood what to do. Leaping over several dusty tentacles, I proceeded to lead the Patchworks closer and closer to the hole. “Use your explodey arrows!” Mica shrieked. I remembered that I still had about a dozen thermite-tipped bolts in my pack. I quickly shoved one into my crossbow and random aim behind me. I triggered the drawstring, and the bolt went flying behind me. A wave of heat and a rumbling boom told me that it had collided with something. Most likely a wall, but that was okay. I hadn’t been aiming for a Patchwork, I was only trying to keep them at bay. Immediately, several Patchworks who had been hot on my tail stumbled. A few of them trampled on the dust-covered tentacles. I couldn’t help but feel a wave of happiness. The first emotion other than revulsion I’ve ever felt towards a Carcolh. The Carcolh roared to life, its many appendages whipping about, grabbing at several of the Patchworks. I felt a tentacle rake at my damaged side, but I stepped out of reach just in time. Thankfully, the other Patchworks were distracted by the colossal snail that was destroying their brethren. Had they not been chasing after us while covered in rotting body parts, I would have felt a bit sorry for them. “Haha!” Mica laughed, dancing about on her hind legs. “We got ‘em, Relic!” I would have partaken in the celebration as well, but the Carcolh suddenly let out a shriek. I looked and was appalled to see that only a few Patchworks had been destroyed. The others had overtaken the Carcolh and torn it to shreds. Shining blue blood coated the bodies of the stumbling Patchworks. They had been damaged, but not so much as shaken. The Patchwork that had initially attacked us glared at us through its skull mask, leering as if it knew that a dart of terror suddenly shot through my innards. I held up the crossbow, loaded with another exploding bolt. But at this distance, an explosion would toss shrapnel at us. Mica didn’t have armor like I did, and she could end up severely injured. I stepped between Mica and the oncoming horde. “Mica...” I said, mustering all the bravery that I could, “You need to go. I can probably hold them off for a few minutes. That’s enough of a head start to get you out of here.” She gasped. “Relic, no! We gotta give the Princess the Elements together!” I ripped the dangling charm off of my neck. Giving it one last glance, I tossed it over to Mica. She caught it and stared down at it; as if she couldn’t believe that she was holding it. “Take it to Twilight Sparkle.” She nodded her head, tears in her eyes. I have a feeling that if I had been a pony, I would probably be crying as well. “Make sure it stays safe if I… don’t make it. If I do make it, I’ll meet up with you at FIllydelphia. Now go. We can’t be too far from an exit.” Mica nodded and looked away. Then at the last second she turned back towards me and leapt forward, giving me a hug. No words were spoken, but I understood the gesture completely. Pushing her gently away, I gave her a reassuring pat on the nape. And then she kicked into a gallop and vanished into the misty corners of the Boneyard. I faced my foes, the oncoming Patchworks. I was well prepared for a fight. I’d survived countless sandstorms, multiple tussles with Rune raiders, a Manticore attack, bore beetles, and Carcolhes; these were nothing but psychotic machines. I admit I felt significantly weaker without the Element of Loyalty in my grasp, but the desire to protect Mica was strong enough. I began to fire bolt after bolt at the horde. The explosions would rip off appendages and even tear apart their sloppy armor, but the Patchworks weren’t fazed at all. They hissed and snarled and growled. Blood and oil dripped from their wounds, but that didn’t matter much considering that they had already been doing so from their bladed maws. One Patchwork, which had been missing half of its face, thanks to a explosion, lunged at me. I gave it a good kick with my right hoof, right in the exposed circuitry. Sparks and small flakes of metal scattered from the Patchwork’s head, and the finally decommissioned synth collapsed on the ground, its circuits giving up on it. The others looked warily at their fallen brethren then back up to me. I could see the monsters contemplating a fight. Especially since I realized that they could be killed by excessive damage to the head. Which was odd, since most synths were powered and controlled via a central processor in their abdomens, not their heads. The Patchworks must have seen their pony victims and then foolishly placed their central processors in their heads, where a pony’s brain would be. The Patchworks weren’t trying to preserve themselves, I realized. They were trying to become living ponies. The Patchworks stopped their approach and gazed at their fallen comrade. At first, I thought they might run to its aide. But when they all leapt towards the broken synth, I was horrified to see that they were ripping it apart. Blades and hooves stretched out and violently tore wires and metal frames from the dishevelled chassis. The fallen Patchwork let out a soft whine before shutting down completely, leaving the others to tear at its remains like vultures on a carcass. This was the perfect time for me to make my escape. I started to sneak away, but before I could, something grabbed my flank. It was the skull-headed Patchwork. It sneered at me before casting its glowing scarlet eyes at the gashes on my side. It had completely ignored the fallen Patchwork, seeking out me over some rusted garbage. This thing was obviously intelligent. The creature smiled at me, and I shuddered involuntarily. “Where do youzzzz tink yer g-going?” The Patchwork sizzled, its mashed and very malformed mouth spitting out equally shredded words. It made a slurping sound as it drew back in its oily slobber. “Leave me alone.” I answered, trying to sound as bold as possible. It was hard to remain calm knowing that a creature that had the capabilities of speech wanted you dead. “Buh Skullzy likesss youzzzz. Be frrrrieeeend?” It giggled, sending globs of unidentifiable liquids splattering onto me. “Me gonna make youzzzz MINE!” It leapt towards me, blades ready to shred the face off of my head. But just before the Patchwork flew into me, a rainbow explosion of color washed over us, then all I saw was red. Once again, for what felt like the hundredth time, I was cast into the realm of unconsciousness. “Geez, Nuts-n-Bolts. We can’t keep meeting like this.” A familiar, snarky, multicolored Pegasus floated towards me. All around us was nothingness, and, to my surprise, the Patchwork was here as well. The monster was looking around, his glowing red eyes wide with fear. I felt absolutely nothing towards the creature. In fact, I felt my spirits rise just seeing the beast squirm. It deserved to feel weak. “Rainbow Dash? Did you do this?” “Yup. Couldn’t let that… beast dice up the brand new Element of Loyalty. But just so ya know, you guys are still lying in that hellhole, so don’t think you’re off the hook yet. Time’ll go by a little bit slower, but you still need to wake up as soon as possible.” I shook my head in disbelief. “How are you here? With me? I gave the Element to Mica!” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and that was really dumb, too. The Element could have saved you from that ugly bag of scrap. But no, give it to the crazy mare and send her on her way. Now you’re basically defenseless and all. You don’t wanna ask how you can get outta this situation, but you do wanna ask why I’m here in the first place. Relic, I’m a PART of you now. Why do you think you’ve grown cutie marks? Because I’m inside you now. Some kinda weirdo wonko Relic-Dash thingy.” “I have… Cutie marks?” Rainbow Dash slapped herself in the face in exasperation. “C’mon, numbnuts! Identical markings on your butt, right where a pony’s markings would be? I mean, you’re walking around with a pony with balloons on her butt, I would have expected you to realize that you have cutie marks, too.” I suddenly turned to marvel at the markings on my rear, a pair of storm clouds. As Rainbow Dash had said, I had assumed them to be merely grease stains from my armor polishing. But now I could clearly see that the dark splotches on my sides mirrored Rainbow Dash’s colorful lightning mark. While I admired my cutie marks, the Pegasus addressed the Patchwork. “Hey, you.” She snapped, giving the Patchwork a kick. It yelped and gazed up at Rainbow Dash with awe. “P-Pony flyyy?” “Brilliant observation, numbnuts. What’s your name?” “Skullzy!” “Haha! No.” Rainbow Dash snarled. “That’s too cool of a name for the likes of you. Your name is Brainrot. Cuz that’s all that I feel when I look at something as nasty as you. Got it? Brainrot, not something that’s twenty-percent cooler like Skullzy. What are you, Brainrot?” “Skullzy am… er, Brainrot am pony!” I could tell from the retch of disgust coming from their conversation that Rainbow Dash was appalled that it had just referred to itself as a pony. “It’s a Patchwork,” I corrected, still not taking my eyes off of my cutie marks. “They used to be synths, but after decimating their morality programs, they kill ponies and other synths just to add to themselves and make themselves look less robotic and more natural. They’re not very good at it, as you can tell.” “Uh huh.” Rainbow Dash grunted, rubbing her chin. “Tell ya what, Brainrot the Patchwork. Are you strong?” “Yesssss! Sk-... Brainrot am very sssstrongz. Keel many monstores an’ poniessss.” The newly christened Brainrot hissed proudly. “Couldz keel youzzzz, flying pony. Come down an’ plaayyyyy…” I looked up in concern, afraid that the spiritual pegasus would accept the Patchwork’s invitation. I was relieved to see her grimace in disgust. She must have been shocked to discover that the thing killed ponies. Of course, seeing its brethren was enough to dull the impact of that knowledge on myself, so I wasn’t quite as disgusted as the Patchwork began to ramble, recounting each and every pony it had ever killed. Since synths have largely permanent memories, there was quite the list. And it could recall exactly how and why he killed every pony. “Brainrot keelz leetle whiny pony, teensy tiny! Den Brainrot keelz big nasty pony. Try keel me herd! Keelz him. Got nice shiny head from big nasty pony.” Brainrot rapped a clawed hoof on his skull-covered head. “Brainrot be bestest pony everrrr…” “No!” Rainbow Dash shouted. “You’re not a pony! You’re a monster! Killing a foal? That’s something a monster does! A pony helps others, a pony doesn’t try to be what its not! You’re nothing like any of us! RELIC is more of a pony than you are, and he doesn’t have gross stuff slapped all over himself!” Brainrot hushed up and looked at the two of us with wide, red eyes. I realized his eyes composed of several glowing rings of pink, which that and the black between these rings melded to appear darker and redder from afar. I had no previous recollection of having seen eyes like that. Even my internal knowledge of all things Flim-Flam couldn’t inform me on the origins of those eyes. I could literally hear him thinking away, since he was whispering his every thought aloud. “No am pony? Iz stoopid, course am pony, haff pony face an’ pony hoovies an’ pony… pony…” It looked at itself, really looked at itself. Probably for the first time in its miserable existence. “Buh… Buh…” “See. You’re a monster.” Rainbow Dash turned away from the monstrosity and looked back at me, with a notably ravenous demeanor. I didn’t want to get on my savior’s bad side, so I stood up straight, immediately at attention. “So what’s the plan, Nuts-n-Bolts? You gonna run after your marefriend and get back my… I mean, OUR Element?” “I suppose so. I have no idea where she went or if she even made her way out of the Boneyard herself.” “Ya’know, just going around this hole woulda saved you alotta grief.” Rainbow Dash scolded. I had to agree. Brainrot whistled and glared up at me. I looked to him in apprehension. I honestly wanted nothing to do with it, and wanted wake up as soon as possible so I could get as far away from it as possible. “You.” I pointed at myself, confused. “Me?” “Youz gonna teach Brainrot to bez pony. You knowz how ta bez pony. Brainrot gon’ halp youzzz geet outta trashy-land. K-k-kay? Brainrot knows lotzzzz ‘bout outsidies.” I looked to Rainbow Dash. The cyan mare smiled down at me knowingly. Here was the guide that I had been looking for. Brainrot proved a much more efficient, if not more unorthodox, guide than the useless map. Despite the fact that he had possibly not set hoof outside the Boneyard in decades, he was very well-versed in the cultures and geography of Equestria. From the little I could gather in his ramblings, he used to be an FF-3. But when he and his master foolishly wandered into the Boneyard, the Patchworks had murdered his master in cold blood then turned their sights on him. He had fought back, only to succumb to the same madness that the other Patchworks suffered from. He himself would go on to kill dozens in the fruitless quest to make himself into a living, breathing pony. That was all that I could gather, and from what I could tell, it was all that I would want to hear. When we had first woken up from the slumber that Rainbow Dash had brought us into, Brainrot’s comrades were busy still fighting over scraps. Brainrot had simply stumbled over and used the blades on his forelegs to decapitate them all as they weren’t paying attention. At first I was horrified by his brutality, but then I quickly saw his logic. If we were going to escape, we might as well kill them while they were caught unawares. He sliced their heads off, right at the necks. The bodies crumpled to the ground, sparking and twitching occasionally. But none of them got back up, all of them had housed their processors in their heads. Brainrot would then rip them apart, picking off parts that he would coo over. Every so often he would leer in my direction, rip out a gore-spattered hunk of whatever and offer it towards me. Disgusted, I would shake my head and turn down what he possibly took as a generous offering. “Brainrot hazzzz friendsy! Meester…?” It looked confused, staring off into space. Then it snapped back into reality and smiled at me. “What’s youzzz name, meester?” “My name is Relic. Can we move along, please? I need to meet up with somepony.” Brainrot sniggered. “Bleh. Pretty pinky pony? Youzzzz haff Brainrot nao. No nee’ pretty pink pony.” He continued to laugh, standing atop his dead comrades in a gruesome manner. I felt myself become angered at the way he so nonchalantly suggested replacing Mica. I walked up to his and struck him in the face with a hoof. Brainrot looked shocked, staring up at me from his newfound place on the ground. “Meester Relic, Brainrot thought wezzzz friends?” “You’re disgusting and horrible. I’ll never be friends with you, you monster. Never. Never ever. Now get up and take me out of this place. I have to find Mica before she puts herself in danger. All you’re doing is wasting my time when you should be helping me.” I snapped. I absolutely hated this thing, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. But I had promised it lessons in ponyhood in exchange for its help. Brainrot obediently scrambled to his hooves. He kicked into a gallop and ran off towards a distant branch in the maze. I followed, not wanting to waste any more valuable time. Knowing Mica’s zany unpredictability, she could be anywhere by now. The sky was now a distinct shade of purple. Daylight was finally beginning to poke through the heavy cloud cover. With every passing minute, Brainrot would whimper and wince against the bright light beaming through the clouds. “What’s your problem?” I asked. Brainrot cast a hateful look at the sky and shook his filthy head. “Big baww hurtz eyesies…” “Well, actual ponies have no problem with the Sun.” I scoffed. “In fact, they like the Sun. Maybe you don’t like the Sun because you’re a Patchwork, not a pony.” Brainrot cocked his head, still squinting against the early morning sunlight. “What am Patchyworks?” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and ignored the Brainrot’s question. “Just take me out of here. I need to find Mica.” “Okaysies, friend! Follow Brainrot!” Then Brainrot began chanting some morbid song about the Sun, having friends, finding a Mica, and killing ponies.