As He knew it

by Suke

Entry #4: Euthanasia

Date:

Dec 22nd 2012

This is Mister C Hey, me again. Came to about midday-ish, according to my watch. Still not sure whether that was the time of day according to wherever we are, let alone whether days are even the same length any more.

I’ve read Vern’s entry. Surprisingly, I’m not that uncomfortable with the thought that he’s probably out there now, throwing his life away to avenge a colleague of his. Or even how he is intending to murder a bunch of people. Perhaps it is just the residual drugs talking, but I feel it’s more a necessary Euthanasia. For the sake of the area, we don’t want gun toting assholes killing whom they please.

Look at me, writing as if this place were my home. Perhaps it is. I don’t know yet. I want to try and get back to England, to my family, but it’s becoming more and more distant of a goal.

Those who treated me told me I would be fine after a day’s rest. It seems like a short recovery period, but they said I was less in danger than they had previously assumed. My phasing out was apparently only partly due to the internal bleeding. I find this hard to believe, considering internal bleeding. More than half responsible was my ‘emotional state’. I suppose seeing your partner (yes, I already believed we were gonna get together all proper like) as a headless corpse can do that to a man. On the brightside, at least this isn’t some zombie apocalypse. Don’t want to even think about the trauma that might have given me.

A nurse, who was tending to the room they’d placed me in (I count 12 other occupants), answered more of my questions for me. The EBS (Emergency Broadcasting System) was reported to be having technical difficulties; nothing big, but still time consuming to repair. Soon though, they’ll have it going again, and I can finally hear the situation for myself.

Right now however, I can only hope that ‘Doctor Vernon Grange’ comes back alive.

---

“Did everypony sleep well?” Celestia asked as the entourage got comfortable once more.

“Sleep!?” Pinkie exclaimed. “How could anypony sleep on such a cliffhanger? What will happen with the doctors? Did Hayden really die? Is Chris now a permanent member of the party? What was that mysterious creature and why did Vern shoot it? THERE’S JUST TOO MANY QUESTIONS!”

Twilight shook her head, “Pinkie Pie, we already know most of those answers at this point. Like how Vigil was the one who got shot. And Chris-”

“NO!” Pinkie screamed, holding a hoof to Twilight’s muzzle to mute her. “We can’t ruin it for the readers!”

“What does she mean by readers?” asked Vigil

He had arrived without armour, which was a rare event. Unknown to nearly everypony else attendant, his wife had insisted he be casual. Vigil had argued that one was not to be casual around the Princesses and Element Bearers, but she had simply replied that he wore his armour too much. Even more unknown, this time to Vigil, is that Celestia had secretly requested his wife to force him to be casual. He really was too serious.

The guard armour was enchanted to alter one’s colours, so now everypony got to see him in his natural glory. His coat glimmered a strong sapphire blue, and his mane, only just long enough on the head to tickle his ears, was rosy pink. His cutie mark was a clock with an eye in its centre. The cutie mark eye was coloured like those in his head, a light greyish green.

“Oh, just let Pinkie be Pinkie,” said Celestia. “Now, shall we continue?”

---

“Hopefully, they’re spread out thinly and not just gathered inside,” Chris said.

The doctor and his companion were currently forming a sort of human tower, Chris standing on Vern’s shoulders to look over a wooden fence. A quick game of ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’ had decided who stood upon who. On the other side of the fence was a tacky, rundown and (most recently) partially broken three floor apartment building.

Where a window was once held in place by a wall, there now existed a massive hole, one of the gunmen standing guard in it. Around the whole building, a total of six more gunmen patrolled, rifles in hand.

Grunting from the load, Vern managed to ask, “What sorta numbers we lookin’ at?”

“Seven in view so far, but I suspect there may be another one or two round the back.”

“Let’s make sure of that.”

Chris jumped down and the two of them walked to the opposite side of the building around the fence. Over here, a pile of bricks from the building had smashed in some of the fence. They discovered a small knothole in the fence that gave a convenient view without exposing themselves.

“We’re in luck, I was wrong,” Chris whispered. “And there’s a back door.”

“Good,” was all Vern said in reply.

He elbowed Chris aside and scanned the ‘backyard’ of the apartment building, not seeing any forms of cover whatsoever. The patrols were in pairs, the three of them equally spread apart, circling at a steady pace. There wasn’t a chance of slipping in unnoticed.

“What’s the plan?” asked Chris.

Vern looked at the gun in his hand with a sour face. “This piece of crap only holds seven rounds. I have another magazine and some loose cartridges in my pocket, but whatever we do, this has to work the first time.”

“Surprise attack, then.” Chris thought for a moment. “What are your thoughts on shooting people in the back?”

“Sure is safer for me,” quipped Vern.

Chris grinned. “All right, go over by where the fence is knocked down and wait for my signal.”

Vern stepped over to the pile of rubble and waited. Chris waved his hand, and the doctor thrust the gun through the gap. Two guards were walking away from him, presenting a perfect target. He lined up the sights and pulled the trigger twice for each.

The silencer didn’t work as he thought it would. Either it was a fake or the movies had lied to him. It did seem to mitigate some of the recoil, however, and Vern ducked back through the fence before anyone could return fire.

He slapped a new magazine in the pistol and dropped to a crouch, waiting for a new target. The first man to appear got a bullet in the face. He dropped, blocking up the hole and bottlenecking the progress of the other guards. Vern swung the barrel of the pistol slightly and emptied the magazine through the wooden boards of the fence.

Jumping forward, he put the first magazine back in. He thought that there were only three rounds in it, but that was better than nothing. As he went back through the fence, he found that he’d just invalidated his Hippocratic Oath more than usual. Only one man was left alive, a bullet through his arm. The man’s gun lay where he’d dropped it.

“I-I surrender!” He backed up, away from Vern.

“Well, anyone stupid enough to forget that wooden fences make terrible cover would probably be pretty easy to restrain, but I’m not the law, I’m not going to arrest you, and I don’t do mercy. Not anymore.” The next bullet went through the man’s forehead.

Vern jammed the pistol in his belt and grabbed for a rifle on the ground. It was a compact AR-15, he was pleased to see. It had a thirty round magazine and could fire the whole thing quickly. He stuffed a couple extra mags in his pockets. Chris grabbed another rifle and the two of them approached the back door.

The not-silent-at-all shooting had alerted everyone else in the building. Chris was just reaching for the door when it burst open. The two armed men that rushed out were not expecting to find their opponents standing out in the open right in front of the door. A little surprise can be a dangerous thing, and both quickly went down in a hail of bullets.

“So much for the stealthy approach,” muttered Chris.

“At least we learned something today,” replied Vern. “Silencers are bullshit.”

They charged into the building. “Do we have to search everywhere?” asked Chris, looking with exasperation at all the individual apartments.

“Let’s start with the one that has a view,” suggested Vern, heading upstairs towards the place where the seventh outside guard had been posted.

Along the way, they were shot at. Repeatedly. Using his earlier experience, Vern simply plastered the walls with bullets. They cut through the drywall even more easily than wood. Guns thundered all around like the beat of some strange, deadly dance.

Fighting their way upwards, the two men burst into the last apartment. There was a crowd of people, most of them unarmed. Two of them had apparently been watching the door. The first, a female, ran forward and hugged Chris. Chris had just so happened to be further forward. Vern noticed the second running for them too, only this one was a pipe wielding man, with murderous intent in his eyes.

“Chris!” Vern pulled the trigger on his rifle, but the magazine bolt had locked back on an empty chamber without him realizing it.

Looking up from the woman embracing him, Chris too saw the assailant. He couldn’t react though,as the embrace constricted his arms. Looking back to the woman, she was grinning evilly. Chris worked furiously to break free. Luckily, he was stronger, and soon he broke away. He grabbed the woman straight after, threw her at the man, and riddled both of them simultaneously, until he’d spent his ammo. The two nameless people became a bloody heap on the floor, and the pipe rolled away.

“What the hell was that?” Chris asked as he tossed his rifle down to the ground. “They didn’t look like the others.”

“I’d wager they were a couple of the doctors,” Vern replied, dropping his own rifle.

He took in the rest of the apartment. Nearest to them, past the recently deceased, were two more bodies; More doctors. From first glance,Vern could see one had taken a bullet to the head, and the other had had their life beaten out of them. Only one day, and we’ve already regressed to bandits. There were two more, still alive. One had their back turned to them, attending to the sixth, who was blocked from view.

Then, Vern remembered the hole. Looking at it, in the far corner, he realised something. They had yet to encounter the guard who had been posted there. Of course, they didn’t see everyone they’d shot, but to exit this apartment and find another hiding place lower down would have meant meeting the two man assault team in the stairwell.

“Why would they attack us?”

Vern turned his attention back Chris and said, “They could have thought we were those thugs-”

“Oh God, and I killed them!”

“OR! More than likely, these two were a fine example of stockholm syndrome.”

From the direction of the apartment kitchen, a voice spoke out, “A couple of last minute recruits.”

Three more armed men stood up from behind the kitchen counters, one being the guard in the hole. Their guns were leveled on Vern and Chris. They slowly made their way around and out of the kitchen. Lastly, another man came into view, who strolled calmly to stand amongst the others. He had a rifle too, but he held it down at his side. This fellow just radiated confidence.

“Normally, I’d want you dead and out of my hair for what you’ve done, but we are now currently suffering from a shortage of employees.” The man chuckled, as did the others. “You are quite the merciless killer, aren't you? Maybe you'd like to j-”

When all the gun toters had chuckled, they’d relaxed their guard, and looked to one another to share the humour. They didn’t see Vern reaching behind him for his pistol. Now, at this current point in time, the man, who had already gone from confident to over confident, became an over confident man with a bullet in his brain. His eyes rolled in his head, making it look like he was trying to see the bullet he’d received. He didn’t fall over though, and his three surviving men just stared, one still chuckling.

“Merciless is one word for it.”

Chris, taking advantage of the moment of confusion, pulled out his swiss army knife, flicked out the blade and threw it. The target got the handle right in the eye.

“ARGH! WHAT THE FUCK!?” yelled the man as held his eye, knife clattering on the floor.

The other two armed men came out of their stupors. One went to shoot Chris, who was already running towards the yelling man. Vern used his last bullet to pierce the man’s heart. The second aimed at Vern. Vern let go of the pistol and made to run for his opponent. He trod on the pole from earlier and fell backwards, narrowly avoiding the bullets intended for his torso. They instead hit the poor fifth doctor.

Chris dive tackled his opponent to the floor, where they rolled around, each one trying to overpower the other. The man wanted to reach the rifle, but so did Chris, that is, until Chris felt his back roll over his knife handle. Once they passed over, he grabbed it, spun it in his hand so the blade was pointed downwards, and plunged it in the already bruised eye of his enemy. Said enemy had been too occupied reaching for his gun.

The screams were deafening, but they didn’t stop Chris. He withdrew the blade as the other held his eye again. Holding the man down with his body weight, he leant back so he could see the chest area. Next he rapidly stabbed the man over and over. The screams were choked down by blood, and eventually stopped altogether, along with his breathing.

Meanwhile, Vern was dealing with the last hostile. He found himself on the floor, back aching from his little tumble. The hostile in question was taking the opportunity to reload his gun. Vern saw his chance and rolled forward, onto his feet, picking up the stray pole. The man finished his reload in time to have the pole come crashing down on his weapon, smashing it. Pieces of the gun cut into his hands. He didn’t have time to announce his pain however, as the pole did a 180 and came up into his chin.

He stumbled backwards, unaware he was getting closer to his old watch post in the hole. Vern came down with another swing, but missed as the man kept stumbling. He tried for a swing from the side. The man regained some of his senses and blocked the attack, fracturing his left arm in the process. The pole was brought back over the unrelenting doctor’s head, returning with another sideways swing from the other side. The right arm barely avoided matching the left’s condition.

Once more, Vern pulled back. He knew from how the arms reacted that the left was fractured, with the right not too far behind. The hole behind his opponent grew nearer, and a plan was made.

Going in with a second downward overhead swing, Vern’s attack was blocked by both arms. The right fractured and the left was nigh on broken. Finally, the pole was thrusted into the stomach. Ignoring his body’s complaints, the man took the pole in both hands, trying pathetically to wrest control of it from Vern. He was pushed further, to the very edge of the building.

Then, Vern just let go. But, before the man could do anything with the pole, Vern kicked it into him. He flew through the air outside the building. Flew like a penguin, or any flightless bird for that matter. He twisted around, putting his arms out to break his fall. All that achieved was letting the fall break his arms; and then his spine. He probably could have survived, given serious medical attention, and ignoring the fact he wouldn’t walk again. It would have been possible, had the pole, which had gone higher when launched, crushed his throat.

Vern honoured his opponent enough to watch him die. He was careful to lie down and pop his head over the edge, securing himself. Chris walked over and leaned out in time to see the last breathing attempt, resulting in blood spraying from the mouth.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Before Vern could reply, the one other remaining living being in the apartment block answered for him.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t Little League.”

Vern knew that voice, but couldn’t believe it. He quickly rolled over and sat up to look at the sixth doctor.

“Hayden!?”

Doctor Hayden Senfall, the only man Vernon had called friend before the world ending, raised his arms meekly.

“As I live and breathe... barely.”

“Hey Doc,” Chris cut in. “I thought they said he was dead.”

“They di- no, they said he was shot. We only assumed.”

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to assume. You should know better,” Hayden said in mock offense. “Anyway, you two gonna get me out of here? Assuming you did come to save the doctors, right?”

The two man army exchanged glances. Then they walked over to the doctor and helped him up, each putting an arm over their shoulder.

“Hey, careful there. I may not bruise easily, but I still have a bullet in me.”

“For a man having recently been shot and evidently beaten, you sure do talk a lot,” Chris commented, not hiding his annoyance.

“Just filter it out. That’s what I do,” Vern advised.

“Aaaahhhh, how I’ve missed you Vern. Your ‘no shit taken’ attitude, your blunt remarks, and-,” Hayden sniffed in Vern’s direction. “The lingering smell of blood on your clothes.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at Vern, and Hayden saw it.

“I’m kidding! But seriously, our friendship is one for the ages.”

Vern sighed. “Let’s just get you back to the hospital.”

“I can never seem to get away from that place, can I?”

The trio made their way out of the apartment block.

---

Buddy’s Footnotes:

I liked Hayden. He was by far one of the chirpiest people I met before all hell broke loose.

P.T.O

Author's Note:

Long time, I know... So, thanks to TNaB for the gun scene through the block up until the last apartment, and thanks in general to the fine fellow for being my editor!

Comments

[Goldymarg]

Hello, just got finished reading what you have. Now bear in mind, this is just the opinion of a normal guy, I'm no english major, or editor, or anything like that. My thoughts on this is just what immediately comes to mind, like an ink blot test.

Not gonna lie, I'm not particularly a fan of HiE stories. Not saying people shouldn't do them, it's just not my cup of tea. Although the story premise has a lot going for it, that much I can commend. As I was reading it, it felt kinda rough around the edges, like a few things should be more detailed here, or that line or whatnot should be more polished, stuff like that (I can't give proper examples )
Keep up the good work though. But I suggest going though your previous chapters eventually and giving them a real good once over. It's what I plan on doing with my work, personally.

[Suke]

2158924 thanks mate, i appreciate it. I sorta feel rough whenever I publish a new chapter anyway. My specialty is certainly not describing things. also, no idea what an ink blot test is

Loads don't like HiE, that's for sure.