Case Sixteen, Chapter Six: Through the Fire and Flames
The twin flames twisted through the air like glowing serpents, crossing yards in moments, the heat striking at the officers like a living weapon. Phillip, Daring, Prowl, Bumblebee, Red, Flash, Gallus, and the hippogriff all dove out of the way, crying out in terror as the flames missed them all by inches. The fire caught the old wooden constructs and raced across them, devouring them like a ravenous beast. Babbling in panic, the donkey scrambled for the southern tunnel, dropping his half-consumed meal.
The Scorcher looked down at the pink form quivering at her hooves and sneered. "Roast bird," she grinned, aiming a flamethrower at her. The meal screamed and tried to crawl away, raising a claw as if that would somehow block the napalm.
A blue blur streaked through the air, snatching the hippogriff away just as flames scorched the earth where she had just been. Grunting in confusion, the Scorcher whirled around to see the griffon officer crouching next to the windmill. In one claw was his .38 revolver. The other claw was holding the hippogriff's claw as she hid next to him.
“Pork roast!” the Scorcher snarled, sending a jet of napalm in his direction, setting the windmill ablaze. Gallus and the hippogriff sprang away, coughing on the napalm fumes as they ducked behind a crumbled storefront. Groaning as if in death, the windmill toppled over with a crash and an explosion of sparks that showered down over the Scorcher.
Bullets sang past her head. Turning, the Scorcher cackled as she advanced, spraying more flames from both of her gauntlets that forced Bumblebee and Red to duck for cover. The cavern was now lit by the glow of the fires that were ravenously devouring the ruins around her; through her gas mask, the lights were washed in darkened tones. She breathed in the hot, thick air through the lenses, invigorated by the scent of burning napalm and wood.
“Can’t hide, pigs,” she taunted aloud, her voice echoing through the caverns. “I’ve lived down here for months!”
Movement to her left. She turned and fired from both gauntlets, flames swallowing up what had been a telegraph office. Prowl and Daring both jumped and dove off the rooftop moments before it collapsed with a great groaning.
“I’ll find you and roast you!” the Scorcher cackled, tracking both of her targets with flames as they desperately scrambled for cover.
A shotgun roared out in defiance. The mare dropped, head darting towards the sound. Flash Sentry was leaning out of the doorframe of another shop, racking the slide of his shotgun. Bumblebee was emerging from cover as well, shouldering his shotgun, and above her stood Daring Do, drawing her pistol from its shoulder holster.
But her eyes fell on her target. Phillip Finder was standing in the bent, empty door frame of a larger shop. His verdant vest and dark gray trilby, the colors standing out so vibrantly against the flames and shadows, marked him like a red bullseye on a dartboard.
With a sneer, the Scorcher twisted a valve on her gauntlets. Thick, black smoke billowed from her launchers with a cough and a hiss, spreading through the cavern and obscuring her from view.
The gunponies all paused, squinting through the cloud to try to find their target. “Anypony see her?” Flash called, the sweat that coated his body making it difficult to grip his weapon properly.
“No!” Daring shouted from above, coughing on the scalding fumes.
“Prowl, you good?!” Bumblebee shouted, his voice, driven to an unnatural falsetto by fear, rising over the crackling, snapping fire.
“We’re good!” Prowl called from the overturned rocks where she, Red, Gallus, and Silverstream had taken cover. “We need to make a break for it to get out of here!”
“This way, this way!” Red called, taking to the sky and hurrying for the tunnel that they'd entered through, even as flames started to lick at the wooden beams supporting it. “Flash, cover us!”
Flash opened fire, firing randomly into the smoke cloud. Red took off and headed for the west tunnel, sending a few spurts of lead into the cloud as he passed over. Gallus followed, and Prowl paused only to grab Bumblebee and carry him over to the tunnel mouth next to the burning windmill wreckage.
“Daring, Flash, Phil, let’s go!” Red called, sending more salvos into the cloud.
Coughing and wiping tears from her reddened eyes, Daring took off and flew over to where the others waited. Shouldering his shotgun, Flash flew over the churning smoke to where Phillip stood and took him by the forelegs.
“BOO!”
A mass of fiery hate lunged at the pair from the smoke, both flamethrowers extended.
“Shit!” Flash cried as both stallions leaped away from the roaring flames that enveloped the front of the store. The heavy sign groaned and began to give way.
The Scorcher sprinted inside just as the timber broke, collapsing to block the entrance with flaming rubble. Inside, she paused, sweeping the room with her flamethrower.
The interior of the buried shop stretched back farther than the front suggested, the wooden walls seeming to fuse into the stone yards back. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and stalagmites were budding through holes in the wooden floor, the stone structures mixing with the remnants of workshop tables, countertops, and the metal furnishings of what had been a blacksmith’s shop.
But there was no sign of her prey. They’d even turned off their flashlights.
“No getting out of here, Finder,” she snarled, popping a flare from her vest and tossing it into the middle of the room. The hissing flare cast the entire room into crimson light, strange shadows dancing across the walls. “I’ve been hiding down here ever since you took down the boss, waiting for my chance.”
She heard motion to her left and sprayed a jet of flame that illuminated what had been a set of bellows. One of her targets--the youngling, she thought--shouted in panic and she heard him scramble out of sight.
“I’ll find you!” she shouted. “I’ll make a haggis from your guts and roast your tongue over a slow flame!”
A mare screamed outside and she heard the rubble shifting. Daring, no doubt, trying to get inside. With a sneer, the Scorcher sent another wave of fire over the front, just to ensure that there was no interference. She could catch up to her later.
The floorboard creaked as Flash popped up from behind cover, shotgun swinging around to bear.
She was faster, ducking beneath his buckshot and firing back. The flames caught the wooden workbench that he was hiding behind and roared as they began to consume it. Flash flinched and stumbled, his shotgun tumbling away from his grasp.
“Oi!” Phillip barked, rising from behind a set of barrels with his revolver raised, his flashlight snapping on. The Scorcher sprinted for Flash, forcing Phil back behind cover with another jet of fire. Snatching up the shotgun, she flung it away into the darkness.
There was no time to go for his sidearm. With a roar, Flash jumped onto the Scorcher’s back, clawing at the tank on her back. “Let go, pig!” the pyromaniac roared, spinning around to try to shake the limpet off.
Rolling away from the flaming barrels, Phillip stood up, panting as he aimed his revolver at the struggling duo. The hot, oxygen-starved air scalded his throat as he breathed heavily, his head spinning; he couldn’t dare fire when he might hit Flash.
Flash bit down on the rubber hose leading from the Scorcher’s fuel tank and pulled. The rubber stretched, then snapped. Fuel sprayed out of the hose and Flash cried out, gagging and spitting and shaking his head as the liquid burned his face and invaded his throat.
The Scorcher threw herself backward and crushed Flash against the stone wall, driving the air from his lungs. Grabbing his head, she flung Flash off her; he crashed against the rough floor and tumbled over, grunting in pain before finally slamming into a stalagmite and laying still next to the pool in the back, his flashlight flickering and dying.
Now! Phillip pressed down on the trigger of the Filly Detective Special but missed the blurry figure amidst the shadows. The Scorcher zigzagged towards him, unclipping the fuel tank from her back and allowing it to crash to the floor. Phillip fired twice more, his second round striking his target in the shoulder before she crashed into him like a car. They tumbled together like lovers, clinging at one another, tugging and clawing at flesh as they struggled. Phillip’s flashlight tumbled off his shoulder and skittered facedown across the floor.
An elbow smacked into Phillip’s head, knocking his trilby from his head as stars spun before his eyes. The Scorcher rolled over and pinned him beneath her, ripping his sidearm from his foreleg and then seizing his throat with both hooves. Hacking and coughing thinly, his vision blurring as his head became lighter and lighter, Phillip stared up at the face above him, backlit by the flickering red light of the flare and the fire.
The shadows danced across the gas mask, and before Phillip’s blurry vision, they seemed to grow into lamprey-like tongues that slithered out of the filter, slurping and sucking at the smoky air. They dangled down next to his face, tiny teeth reaching for him…
No!
Phillip smacked the hooves holding his throat aside and countered with a punch to his enemy’s face, the strike dispelling the hallucination as the Scorcher grunted and flinched. Grasping the bloodstained turnout jacket, he pulled her in close, ramming his head into the leathery mask as he jerked his knee up into her crotch. As she bellowed in pain and tried to shove herself back up, Phillip pinned her left foreleg beneath his torso and twisted his body as he shoved with his right hoof, rolling her beneath him. He pounded and tore at her mask, pulling it out of place, and she snarled as her sight was stolen from her.
“Get off!” the Scorcher snarled, snatching at the flare on the ground next to her and swinging it at his face. Red light burned into Phil’s eyes and he flinched away.
Her hind hooves slammed into his gut like a battering ram against a door. All of Phillip’s air rushed out of him and he choked on the scalding air as he tumbled across the floor, his head spinning as he stumbled to his hooves. He crouched low to the ground, where the air was comparatively colder and clearer, trying to force himself to breathe deeply even though he felt like small daggers were scraping at the interior of his shriveled lungs. His wounded hind leg was screaming from the effort of carrying his weight, and the heat of the growing conflagrations was pushing down on his body like a living weight, sapping his strength.
The Scorcher was getting back to her hooves, snarling as she thrust the flare like a knife and yanked her gas mask off. The face beneath was gaunt and drawn, the sallow skin pulled close to the bone, the cheeks and nose sunken, the eyes so heavily shadowed that they were completely indistinct; in the sputtering light, her face looked like a skull, snarling at him with yellowed, bloodstained teeth.
Feet away, Flash stirred, rubbing his head as he gathered in the sight: his mentor, sweaty and hunched over in fatigue, staring at the flare-wielding Scorcher that was advancing on him, the pair of them backlit by the burning barrels and workbench.
“Shit, shit!” he gasped, looking around. A faint glimmer of light on metal revealed itself as his shotgun and he scrambled towards it.
Phil slapped the flare aside and sidestepped, driving the mare into his knee with a grunt. She wheezed out a laugh and pushed him away, swinging the flare at his face. The red light burned into his gaze and he flinched with a grunt, raising a hoof to his eyes.
“Burn!” the mare snarled, thrusting her weapon at him. The flickering light illuminated his face, twisted in pain.
And then a sneer broke across his face as he slipped the blow. With a snap of the wrist, his baton appeared in his hoof like a stage magician pulling out a card, the clacking of the weapon rising over the snaps and pops of the flames. The end cracked into the Scorcher’s knee, the limb buckling with a crack like a dry tree limb that mixed with her cry of pain.
“Motherfucker!” she snarled, wildly slashing with her flare. Phil’s baton crashed into her wrist and she bellowed in pain as the bone broke, the weapon tumbling to the floor as he struck her jaw with a grunt. The Scorcher tumbled to the floor but rolled with the blow.
Her hoof came down on a leftover hammer and she swung it at her attacker. Phillip's baton smashed into her forearm and the weapon crashed to the floor. Bellowing like a train, the Scorcher charged, tackling Phillip again. They locked together like two goats fighting for dominance, hooves stamping against the floor in a twisted dance that would end with only one survivor.
Retrieving his shotgun, Flash watched the blurry shapes in horror through tear-streaked eyes, barely able to distinguish who was who.
A deep groaning like a giant beast caught Phillip's ear. He looked up and saw a burning roofbeam creaking, splintering as it struggled to hold the weight of the roof.
"Flash, the beam!" he shouted, coughing as the Scorcher pounded at his side.
Flash blinked, then looked up and saw the beam as well. Tucking his shotgun to his shoulder, he closed one eye, squinted over the bead, and fired. The boom of the shotgun seemed to make the entire structure tremble and splinters flew from the breaking beam, which groaned even louder as it began to break.
Smacking the Scorcher in the thigh with his baton to distract her, Phillip sunk his teeth into her cheek, gagging on the revolting taste of her unwashed fur even as he drove his knee into her stomach. She reared back with a hiss of pain and Phillip gripped his baton at both ends, shoving her away with a blow to the neck. The Scorcher tumbled to the floor beneath the breaking beam.
Just as she landed, the beam finally split and broke, sending burning debris tumbling down onto the madpony's body. She barely had time to scream as Phillip and Flash both jumped out of the way, the debris tumbling down with a great cacophony. When the stallions looked back, all they could see of their foe was a single limb sticking out from beneath the funeral pyre.
“Come on, Flash,” Phillip beckoned, coughing heavily as he pocketed his weapon and retrieved his trilby. Both stallions hurried over to the front of the store, raising their forelegs to shield them from the burning pile of rubble that blocked their exit.
“Daring!” Phillip called, coughing.
“You guys okay?!” Daring shouted from outside, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames.
“Get us out of here!” Flash called through a coughing fit, flinching as more rubble snapped and fell.
"Stand back!" Red shouted.
A moment later, some of the rubble began to shift and part, lifting up above the ground. "Come on, come on!" Prowl shouted.
Dropping to the floor, Phillip and Flash crawled through the narrow opening, hissing in pain as the heat blistered their skin. They exited to find the others all pushing down on a beam that they were using as a makeshift lever to lift the rubble out of the way, grunting and straining with the effort. As soon as Phillip was safely out of the way, they dropped the beam and the rubble crashed back down.
"Let's go!" Red shouted, turning and heading back to the southern tunnel, flames already chewing at the wooden beams. But before they even made it halfway across the burning fields, the beams all groaned, and then collapsed with a terrible crashing of rubble.
"We're trapped!" Bumblebee shouted, coughing on the smoke. "Now what?!"
The hippogriff looked about in panic, then her eyes locked onto the rivers on the western side of the cavern, the waters reflecting the dancing flames. "This way!" she called. "We can get out this way!"
"That's underwater!" Daring replied. "It's too far to swim!"
"Trust me!" the hippogriff cried, lifting up the necklace around her neck. The pink carved pearl fragment dangling from her neck caught the light, glittering like a Hearth's Warming tree bauble.
The officers all glanced at one another. "What choice do we have?" Gallus said.
The group proceeded to the river and splashed into the water, the cool water embracing them up to their knees.
“Take my talons!” the hippogriff said, extending her forelimbs. Phil and Flash both took a talon, the appendages cold and slippery with sweat, and the others all grasped each other's limbs in a circle.
The mare closed her eyes and the carved pearl around her neck glowed. Blue light swirled around her, then around her companions.
Phillip gasped as the light enveloped him. A feeling like a wet blanket being draped over him ran down his body, through his mane. His hind legs clenched together of their own volition, and a bizarre numbness spread down from his flanks; though he felt no pain, he shuddered as he realized his flesh and bones were fusing together like clay and he fell facefirst into the water as his support was removed. He pushed himself up, but his front hooves flexed against his will and he looked down to see that they were turning into fins, his skin now a smooth layer of scales. Loose skin flapped against his neck and he raised his forelimbs to find that he had gills.
“The fuck--?” Flash gasped as he sat in the shallow pool, studying his new form with wide eyes, flapping the tail that his hind legs had formed into. The others were all staring in amazement at their own forms, running their fins over their gills and faces.
"Holy shit!" Daring cried as she flexed her wings, which had turned into semi-transparent fins that she flapped and flexed with obvious difficulty. Prowl was studying her own fins, which were sharp and angular and black like her natural wings.
“Come on!” the hippogriff shouted, beckoning them before diving into the water.
“Well, hell, we’re part fish now. May as well,” Red commented, and dove in. Daring followed him down, with Flash, Prowl, Bumblebee going in after her. Gallus hesitated for a moment, then swam in after them.
Phillip instinctively took in a deep breath to hold it, then dove down. The water, formerly ice cold, was now comfortably cool, and he felt a rush of oxygen rushing up to his head as the water ran past his gills. He released the breath that he’d been holding in a rush of bubbles and twisted in the water, quickly discovering that keeping his mind on moving prevented him from futilely trying to force his gills to breathe for him.
"Here, this way," the hippogriff called, visible to eyes that were quickly adjusting to the shadowy depths. She gestured to the mouth of a tunnel beneath the river's surface, then swam through with practiced grace.
"You first, Gallus," Prowl said, gesturing to the griffon who now looked like a shark, with massive pectoral fins where his wings had once been. Gallus shivered, then swam forward, clawing through the waters with his forelimbs while his tail flapped behind him clumsily. Bumblebee, Red, Flash, and Prowl followed.
Daring paused just long enough for Phillip to give her a nod, then twisted into the tunnel. Phil swam after her, concentrating on trying to kick his legs...tail up and down in a rhythm like he’d seen their rescuer do.
The tunnel was mercifully short and opened into a wider underwater cavern, with stalactites and stalagmites stretching from the floor and ceiling that the others were swimming around. Despite the complete lack of light, Phillip found that he could see, albeit mostly in black and white.
"Okay, time out," Red said, stopping and making a time-out gesture with his hooves...fins. "Who are you and what are you doing down here?"
"Oh, sorry," the hippogriff said, gracefully pirouetting around to face them, a strained but relieved smile upon her face. "I'm Silverstream. I was visiting with my friend Ocellus and two fishy ponies came up and talked to her mom. They, er, said that they needed her help because she...um, uh…” Silverstream stammered, eyes daring about as she tried to think of what to say next.
“Because she’s a changeling?” Red asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Uh...yeah,” Silverstream nodded. “Anyway, she scared them off by turning into a bear, which was pretty cool, but I thought that those guys were super fishy, so I decided to follow them. They went around to an abandoned brick building next to the park in Town Center and I saw them going into a tunnel into the Under and thought ‘Cool! I’ll see where they go and then tell the police!’ and they met some creepy mare with a flamethrower, and then I tried to go back but the mare chased me and I got lost and here we are!”
Everyone stared at the hippogriff for a second. “Are you related to Pinkie Pie?” Daring asked dryly.
“Why does everyone ask me that?” Silverstream pondered aloud.
“Where did these ponies go?” Phillip asked, massaging his burning throat.
“I think this river comes out near where they went," Silverstream pondered. "They went through an old gateway and around a buried wagon."
Daring thought for a moment. "Yeah, this river comes out near what used to be Swifthoof Street and St. TJ Cemetery."
"Then I can show you!” Silverstream chirped, beckoning them to follow as she swam on.
“So you follow two weirdos into the Under and think the best thing to do is keep following them and see where they go,” Gallus commented, shaking his head as they swam after her. “You have got to be the craziest mare I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you!” Silverstream chirped.
"And what is that thing around your neck?" Flash asked, staring at the carved pearl that floated next to Silverstream's head.
“A piece of Eurybia’s Pearl, right?” Daring asked.
"Yup!" Silverstream grinned as the underground river began to slope upwards. "The perks of having lived at Mount Aris all your life. Here we are!"
They rose up and breached the surface of the underground river, finding themselves in a dark cavern, water dripping down from stalactites overhead. The beams of their flashlights revealed the remnants of a graveyard, with the bones of an iron gateway surrounding the fractured and broken remnants of gravestones.
The group joined fins once more and with another flash of blue light, returned to their normal forms.
“Ahh, much better,” Flash sighed, stretching his wings as he climbed out of the water and shook himself off.
"Well, that's not something I'd like to do again," Prowl mumbled, studying her wings with a small expression of relief.
"Ah, don't be such a killjoy, sarge. That was fun!" Bumblebee grinned, shaking his damp mane out of his face.
"Wait till I tell cousin Skystar about this!" Silverstream grinned as she climbed out. “Ow!” she cried out a moment later, glancing at her left wing, which the others now noticed was warped at an unnatural angle.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Gallus offered, striding forward. He gently ran a talon along her wing, clicking his beak. “Well, good news, it’s not broken. Just sprained.” He pulled a roll of gauze out of his belt and began carefully wrapping it, earning a shy smile of gratitude.
"How did you get down here?" Prowl asked.
“I came down a tunnel from this way,” Silverstream explained, pointing towards the remnants of the gate. “I’m sure I can get out from here.”
“Hmm,” Daring glanced at the map. “There’s no entrance labeled here.”
"Maybe it's a more recent one," Phillip suggested.
“All right, Gallus, escort her out of here and make a report back to Precinct,” Prowl ordered. “Keep watch on the entrance.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Gallus saluted, making an effort to not look relieved.
“Good luck!” Silverstream waved to the others as she followed Gallus up out of the tunnel.
The others turned and headed down the pathway that she had indicated, following fresh hoofprints over the buried wagon and through the remnants of the iron gate. Finally, their trail led up to a long wall of wooden paneling that supported the tunnel wall.
“Must be an entrance here,” Daring said, pushing at the panels. “Got it!” she cried a moment later as one segment slowly shifted aside, revealing a narrower passageway built of piles of junk behind it, which she immediately began to climb through.
Bumblebee frowned at the gap. “Why did I agree to come down here in the first place?” he said mainly to himself, patting his girth.
“Oh, suck it up,” Prowl grunted, following Phillip through.
Red gagged. “Ugh! What is that smell?”
“You really want to know?” Daring replied from up ahead.
“Something tells me that--” Red’s comment was cut off when he emerged from the tunnel and saw Daring frowning at a cauldron balanced over the remnants of a campfire. Floating in the thick, stinking brew was a pony’s skull, blank eyes staring coldly out at the world. Tanks and buckets filled with oil and other noisome fluids stood next to a makeshift workbench littered with random junk. Bones littered the ground, all of them gnawed by yellowed, misshapen teeth.
“Well, there goes my appetite,” Red commented, turning away from the pot.
“Looks like we found the Scorcher’s den,” Flash rasped out as the others dragged themselves through, reacting to the remnants of their foe’s meal with varying degrees of shock and disgust.
“Tracks continue this way,” Phillip said, his flashlight panning across the ground and deeper into the chamber, up a slope of freshly-turned dark brown soil and into a cramped tunnel, the edges rough. Shovels, picks, and other digging equipment lay next to the makeshift ramp, dirtied from long use.
“This must’ve taken them months to work on,” Flash mused, panning his flashlight over the four-foot ramp of dirt.
Prowl glared into the tunnel, her ears wiggling. “They’re both in there,” she confirmed. “I think they’re armed.”
“Can’t go in there safely,” Flash said. “It’s only wide enough for one pony at a time. They’d pick us off if we tried to crawl in after them.”
“Hey!” Bumblebee shouted. “We know you’re in there! Come out!”
The only answer was silence.
“Well, I’m out of ideas,” Bumblebee shrugged.
“Wait,” Prowl cut in, her ears wiggling. “I hear scraping stone...shit, they’re climbing out.”
“Bugger, they’re already in Dorata’s home,” Phillip said, already climbing for the tunnel, wincing as his left leg protested the sudden effort.
“Flash, Daring, come on! We can try to cut them off from outside!” Red called, heading back for the entrance to the cavern. The other two pegasi followed him out as Prowl and Bumblebee followed Phillip into the tunnel.
The narrow dirt walls seemed to swallow up the light from their torches as they crawled forward, the thin walls supported by crude wooden struts. The smell of mud and soil filled their nostrils as they huffed and grunted their way through.
“So this could be how I die,” Bumblebee grunted from behind Phillip, squeezing through a narrower gap.
“Don’t think like that,” Prowl commented from behind him, tucking her wings in close to pass through. “Keep your mind on moving forward.”
“Yeah, but Phil’s about twenty years too old to be good motivation,” Bumblebee commented. “Ack! Hey!” he added a moment later when Phillip lightly kicked some dirt into his face.
Coughing thinly, Phillip finally reached the end of the tunnel, his flashlight illuminating a discarded chisel, hammer, and small crowbar. There was an opening in the tunnel over him, a flagstone moved aside to reveal Dorata’s stark white basement. Pausing, he pulled a hoof mirror out of his vest and held it up, tilting it around. All he saw was an empty, undecorated room. With a grunt, he pulled himself through and looked around.
He recognized this room as the corner of Dorata’s basement. A flagstone had been cut out and set aside, allowing entry. He listened intently but heard nothing.
Dorata and his bodyguards must be at work, Phillip thought as he beckoned the officers through, gesturing for them to be quiet. He reached for his shoulder holster, then remembered that he’d left his gun behind in the blacksmith shop.
No worries. Don’t need it for two wankers, he assured himself as he crept to the doorway and peeked out into the hall. No sign of the thieves. He allowed Prowl and Bumblebee to exit ahead of them, both officers sliding their forelegs into the holding straps of their .38 revolvers.
“Gotcha!” a bearded green unicorn declared, bursting out of a side room with his hoof curled around the trigger of a .45 Steel and Eastson. A yellow pony jumped out of the opposite room, also hefting a large, heavy revolver that clearly indicated that its owner was trying to make up for something.
The three officers froze, Prowl and Bumblebee both raising their unarmed left forelegs in surrender. “Think carefully about this,” Prowl said calmly. “Our partners are already heading for this house.”
“Now what, genius?” the yellow pony snapped to his partner, glaring at the unicorn through bangs but keeping his weapon on the officers.
“Shit, shit,” the unicorn mumbled, licking his lips. “Got this all fucked up...maybe we can take one of them hostage and walk out…”
“Maybe we can take him,” the yellow pony said, nodding to Bumblebee. “He’s certainly fat enough to--”
Phillip swore he heard something snap. Bumblebee froze for a moment, then glared at the gunponies, who both stiffened beneath the inferno-like intensity of his gaze. “Are you talking to me?” he growled.
“Uh-oh,” Prowl grinned. “You called him the f word.”
“Are you talking to me?” Bumblebee repeated. Both of the gunponies took a step back.
“Shouldn’t have done that,” Prowl continued in a slightly sing-song tone.
“Are you talking to me?!” Both the gunponies were now cringing, their weapons shaking. Phillip slowly raised a hoof towards a certain pocket on his vest.
“I’d run if I were you,” Prowl suggested, her grin growing wider by the moment.
“I’M! NOT! FAT!” Bumblebee roared. “I’m big-boned!”
He let out a bellow that seemed to shake the house to his foundations, the sound covering the whistle of Phillip’s boomerang as it streaked through the air, knocking both of the .45s out of their hooves. Bumblebee charged like a runaway locomotive towards his targets, who had just enough time to regret everything.
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🐗they called Bumblebee f-a-t now Bumblebee is achin' for some bacon specifically theirs
10600188
The warthog becomes the hyena!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Perfect use of that scene!
This line made me laugh far more than I'm willing to admit.
I'm looking forward to the new line of ponyville noire seapony merchandise. Grey trilby sold separately.
Hehhehehehehehheeh, very good contrast for the ending.
Somewhere across the multiverse, Pumbaa is smiling and nodding in approval.
PUUUUUMMMMMBAAAAAAA! Ah I love him and Timone.
"They call me Mister Bee."