> Mad World
>  by Lost In A Vacuum
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> A Victory Shrouded in Failure
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three figures ran into a small room with a wooden door, a pack of winged demons close behind. The three quickly staggered into the closet and shut the door behind them. Skully threw a few heavy objects in front of it before lying against the wall, exhausted. The Harpies began to pound on the door in hopes to smash through it. Skully looked over to Chopper, also out of breath.

"Just like *huff* the good ol' days *huff*. Eh, Skully?" Chopper said. The man looked back at Chopper through his dark goggles.

"Yeah, let me tell ya." He returned. The Harpies were now ripping at the door with their mangled claws. A small hole broke through the door, revealing a beaked face. It snarled and screamed at it's would-be meal. Skully pulled down his fabric mask and brought a cigarette to his mouth. He lit a match and slowly brought it to the cigarette and took a drag as the Harpy screamed again. He slowly pulled out his magnum and lined up the barrel with it's head. Point-blank, an easy shot. He took one look at it's eyes to see if he could find traces of remorse in it's soul. All he could find was pure anger; agony, almost.

He tried to think what the Patriarch put into their heads to make them hate them so much. The beast snapped at Skully one more time before a loud bang went off. He lowered his weapon just as another Harpy took the last one's place. Skully sighed as he clicked open the cartridge of the weapon to view his bullet count. That was his last one.

He wanted to save it, but decided it was better to go down fighting. Chopper pulled out his machete and nodded to Skully. Skully looked into the red eyes of the figure in the back of the room. It nodded to him as well. He then proceeded to remove the barricades to let the Harpies in. The figure got back onto it's four legs and stepped closer to the light, showing off a cyan coat with a beautiful multi-colored tail and mane. She held a sharp, blood stained, meter-long blade in her mouth and stared at the door as Skully continued to pick off small pieces of the barricade, stalling in hopes of someone might come and help.

Skully kicked aside the last barricade and readied his fireaxe. Quickly after the dead bolt broke, a pack of the winged beast swarmed in, and behind them, a pack of naked, skinless humanoids barring blades where their hands should be, and behind them, a small group of seven foot-tall, chainsaw-armed brutes sprinting in.

The only screams were that of war cries...

============
Some time earlier. . .


It was midday. Clouds were blocking out most of the sun as it attempted to shine rays of orange through the grey. It never rained, but clouds were always up in the sky. It was almost as if God himself wanted to make sure everybody knew this was the end of the world and meticulously altered every detail to prove such. On the outskirts of Western London stood a camp filled with various uniformed men, armed to the teeth with whatever they could find in these 'wastelands'. In the middle of the camp a man in an especially decorated uniform walks out of a tent and clears his throat.

"ATTEN-SHUN!" The man yelled in a heavy southern-American accent. A line of roughly twenty men appeared in front of the officer. He pulled out a clip-board. "When I call ya' name, step ford!" He began to pace up and down the line, staring at the clip-board.

"SKULLY!" A man in dark jeans and a black hoodie stepped forward. He wore his signature bandana, the type that shows a skull face when folded right. Along with that a black wooly cap and darkly tinted goggles. Not an inch of his face seemed to show through. Although he looked like a normal everyday punk, he stood at attention with true poise and dignity. He was a rather unorthodox soldier, in the sense that while everyone else used bullets and explosives against the specimens, he used his trusty fireaxe. He even had a couple rumors running around camp that he once lopped a Fleshpound's head clean off when it was raging right at him. The only problem with the story being that he had a broken arm around the time that rumor popped up. Though, nobody seemed to care enough to dismiss it.

"NOBLE!" A man in a cheap skeleton Halloween costum stepped forward. He was a kind person, and very generous whenever he shared something, but thanks to his appearance, nobody talked to him. He never could take off the costume, the zipper got stuck and he was forced to wear that thing for the past two years straight. He got used to the smell eventually though. He looked up to Skully as a personal hero, mainly beacuse he loved his music tracks when he went to his parties, but he treated him with respect none the less. He always volunteered to go on sweeps, even ones that were reported to cross paths with the Patriarch himself. He never cared about his own life, he just wanted some fame before eventually sucumbing to his inevitable demise. The camp knew this and avoided him even more so. No one knew when he would finally snap, so they sent him on as many suicide missions as possible. Becoming more and more scared of him everytime he returned.

"ALBERTS!" A man in that was in his early forties walked forward. He wore a trench coat and under the trench coat he wore very dirty priest clothing and a grenade belt on his left shoulder. He always talked as though he were preaching, even when he was combating the hordes of specimens out in the field. Many avoided him because he was always happy, always. Happy inside of battle, happy outside of battle, happy even when the search group he was in was sweeping houses and found his entire family, extended and all, mutilated and spread about the house. He gained his status amongst the camp for going up against two Scrakes with only a hunting shotgun, two bullets, and his signature wooden crucifix. He returned to the camp with one hunting shotgun, two bullets, and a bloody, wooden cross.

"FOSTER!" A skinny chap in a clean, smart looking buisness suit casually walked forward. He cared the least about his job and only cared about getting this apocalypse out of the way and finally publishing his book. He sported an old, white, worn out gas mask along with his suit, making him stand out from everybody else even more so and insisted that everybody call him 'Mr. Foster'. To much of the camp's dismay, he still believed that a social system remained and thought that he was on top. He was almost hated more than the zeds. The only reason he was doing anything beyond the camp laundryman was because he had the 'Hand of God'. He never missed, never. He was rumored to have taken out a group of ten charging gorefasts with five bullets. Again, nobody questioned any of these rumors. They just wanted some heroes to look up to.

"GLOVER!" A man in a bulky, green hazmat suit timidly walked forward. He was the last known man surviving that worked with these creatures before the outbreak and the last man to truely understand how to beat these creatures. Usually he would be behind a map, planning the species survival but now he was needed for this last, important mission. You wouldn't expect it, but this man was a genious with explosives and alway knew where to toss a grenade to hit the perfect amount of zeds. He hardly talked to anybody, and when he did it was purely buisness. He held close to his suit as much as his trusty 9mm, both of which he had owned since the start of the Outbreak and were never seen without their owner.

"That's it! Everyone else, back to your tents! Let's go!" The rest of the men then proceded to return to their sleeping quarters, leaving the five men standing there all alone.

"That'll be all, Corporal." A man in a dirty military uniform said. It was very loose, signifying that once he was a rather large man, and fairly built. But a brute in comparison to now. He had a slight English accent, but most of it was muffled behind his black gas mask. Nobody has seen him without his gas mask since this Hell began, and the very few that knew him before the Outbreak could hardly remember his face. Everybody knew him by his mask now. He was even protective over it. The one time somebody attempted to take it, Lewis got furious and demoted him. Later that week, he assigned the 'prankster' and himself to a two-man sweep of a neighborhood, Lewis came back swearing on his life that the prankster threw himself into an oncoming Fleshpound to save his life. Nobody was brave enough to call him out. "You all got your briefing, yes?" He continued.

"Yes, sir." They all said in unison.

"Good, then I don't need to explain much. All you really need to know is that we found the lab, and we're going to destroy it. We'll be facing the worst of the worst in this hell-hole so when you head to the armory, take the biggest guns you can find." He grinned to the men, even though no one could see it. "You all have 'till midnight to say goodbyes and to return here with what you need." The five stood, holding their stances. "Well? Piss off! Time's tickin'." The men then quickly walked to the armory and the messhall. They were all giddy to finally end this thing.

==================

It was pitch black when they arrived to London. The six rolled their truck up to where they believed the lab to be hidden. They didn't care about being quiet, they knew that they weren't coming back. Everything in their guts told them so. They walked into the old office building and were met with hardly any resistance heading to the elevator a few clots here or there, but nothing else. But the men still took caution. It was too quiet. They walked through the halls of the abandon office. Powers, the man in the black gas mask looked at the walls. They had writings in blood on them, mainly consisting of last words and cries for help. Most of it was all in vain as most of the writings had a body or two slumped under it.

They came up to the elevator and pressed the button.

"What if the elevator falls when we're in it?" Mr. Foster asked.

"Shut it, Foster." Lewis said without even looking back at him. The metal box slowly creaked up the shaft and dinged when it arrived at their floor. "Alright, ya blokes. Pile in."

"Yes, pile into the box of death."

"Shut it, Foster! I'll kick you to a Fleshpound if ya keep yapin'." Foster stopped speaking. Did he have to use THAT threat?

They reached the bottom floor to be greeted by the awful stench of rotting corpses. Foster, Glover, and Lewis were uneffected to a point, but everyone else made their discomfort audible. When the last man, Reverand Alberts, stepped out of the elevator the box suddenly went upwards. The sound of it suddnely moving without anybody doing anything to it caused everyone to slightly jump and turn to it. They all gazed at the shaft as the metal box went up, stopped for a moment, and suddenly came crashing down at an incredible speed. The men covered their heads to protect themselves from any debris flying from the crash as they tried to jump away from the exposed shaft.

The dust settled after a few seconds of coughing and swearing. Mr. Foster was the first to speak, "Shit! Now how're we gonna get back up!?" He asked, severly agitated.

"We'll find a way. It's not like we need to make a dramatic exit after planting the bombs." Gary Glover said. The men thought for a second about that last conversation. They would most likely need an exit... right?

"Guys, guys. Ya hear that?" Skully said, motioning for everyone to shut up. Down the halls the men could hear the sound of footsteps and then the specimens' cries. They readied themselves.

Suddenly, they saw a giant wave of specimens down the long hallway. The first thing they saw was a giant horde of Gorefasts. Tall, dark red beings that lacked hair, skin, genitals, it's jaw and a left arm. They were known to run just as fast as the quickest man in the camp. But what gave them their infamy was their right arm. Their left arm was only a bloody stump, but their right arm had a blade a meter long in it. That's right, IN it. The center of the beast's arm was split right down the middle and had a large saw blade jammed in and loosly tied together with two leather straps. Nobody knew whether or not these thing were cloned like this, or if they did this to themselves on their own time. But one thing was for sure, they were deadly.

What followed close behind was a group of small, black specimen. They held the title of 'Crawler' and did just that, quickly gliding across to it's victims, close to the ground so it would be harder to notice them. It held the shape of a normal human, to a degree, but had various apendages protruding out of it's back doing not much except shooting upwards, signifying whenever it noticed 'lunch'. They crawled on all four and acted like feral dogs, jumping at their victims and biting whatever they got a hold of. They were more of a nuisance than a threat, but there were stories of some people getting eaten alive by these creatures and were generally marked to die first amoungst the other specimens.

Bringing up the rear was a massive horde of Clots. Skinny, pale, and weak were all words used to describe these near-useless beings. Alone, they were useless, sometimes people even played with the creatures. They would make use of their incredibly slow movement and just stay inches in front of the creature, sometimes for hours before putting the beast down with a single swipe. But together, they were a force to be reckoned with. Nobody knew whether it was the fact that they were surround by their own kind or what, but whenever they were in groups they seemed to be quicker, harsher, and angrier. They were always feared whenever seen in groups this size.

They horde began to close in quick and Glover's only reaction to the sight was to yell, "Leggit!" The group split into two at the sound, each heading down a seperate corridor away from the horde. Skully, Noble, and Lewis going one way and Alberts, Foster, and Glover going the other. Skully pulled out his fireaxe to move faster. But eventually one specimen finally caught up. He turned around to greet it.

"Eat this ya damn mutant!" DJ Skully said as he flipped his fire axe to the spiked end and drove the point deep into the head of a Gorefast. He quickly took it out and continued to swipe at the onslaught of the mindless, skinny, pale Clots in the corridor. On the other end of the hall, Corporal Lewis came acorss a Scrake, a giant, muscular brute in a surgeon's gown and sporting a chainsaw on it's right arm. Lewis pulled out his double barrel and shoved it into the chin of the charging monstrosity. The beast looked into the man's eyes with pure hatered and rage. He looked back with the same emotions.

The Corporal squeezed the two triggers without thinking twice. The body went flying into a group of Crawlers approaching him. The weight of the body alone managed to crush most of the critters, but Lewis pulled out his sidearm to finish off the survivors. He then saw a giant, half-naked, brutish man walking down the hall. He stood out of the crowd due to many factors. First being the giant, yellow light on his stomach, the second being his giant hands, which had large maces attached to them to add extra pain to it's victims. Mike Noble came running down the hall, behind Powers, with a flamethrower in his hands. His heart was racing, he was finally going to kill his first Fleshpound.

Lewis threw up his hands to stop Mike. "Noble! Don't!"

"Eat this ya damn bastard!" He said as he shot the extremely hot napalm at the creature, sucessfully lighting it on fire. 
Lewis couldn't see what had come of the beast behind the wall of fire, but he heard a roar. And it didn't sound like a death cry. Through the fire and flames the beast rampaged towards Mike, its stomach now a heavy red color.

"Noble!" Lewis yelled. Mike panicked and dropped his weapon. He quickly pulled out his Mac-10 and began to light the beast up. The beast still raged on towards Mike. DJ Skully pulled out an M32 grenade launcher and fired a round at the Fleshpound. It hardly flinched. Lewis ran in front of the charging beast in hopes to slow it down, but it merely threw him out of the way, he crashed against the metallic door to his right. He looked up, "NOBLE! RUN!" he yelled on the floor. Noble tried to do so but the beast made one last adrenaline fueled sprint and finally caught up with the man. It lifted both it's giant metal maces up and began to bring them down. Mike lifted his hands up as if to catch the metal maces.

Lewis never heard a sound quite like what he heard when the beast made contact with Mike's skull. He wanted to say it sounded like normal bone breaking, but it sounded so much worse. Along with the sound of breaking bone, he heard the sound of grinding grey matter in the monsters gears, or maybe just normal muscle. He heard what sounded like Mike scream, but the maces twisting in his head altered the sound, making it seem much more high-pitched and even more awful. These sounds, along side this awful sight made Lewis vomit in his gas mask. He bent over as the Fleshpound slowly made it's way towards Lewis. He wanted it to move quicker so he would be dead sooner, but Skully had other plans. He pulled out his M32 again and shot another round at the monster. This time, hitting it square in the light in it's stomach, causing the creature to be engulphed by a ball of flames.

Bits of shrapnel, made mostly out of the creatures 'mace-hands', found it's way inside parts of Lewis' left leg. He screamed in agony, feeling metal grind against his bones as he moved. Skully ran over to the Corporal and quickly gave him a shot from a small, red injector. Lewis could feel a wave of numbness pass through him as all the muscles in his body seemed to slowly shut off and relax.

"Don't worry, buddy. This'll stop the bleeding real quick." Skully said, trying to calm the man in pain. Lewis felt the need to squeeze something so he took hold of Skully's arm. He crushed it to a point where Skully had to pull away. "Watch it!" Skully watched as the 'miracle-drug' already began to clot the wound and slowly the blood rush. He chuclked at relising that it took the end of the world for scientists to finally come up with a form of field medicine that actually worked.

Reverend Alberts ran over to Lewis from behind Skully. He was panicked, "Cover me, Brother! For we have more demons advancing upon us!" Skully looked over to see the silhouettes of near invisible women, all bare-foot and running silently at the men with razor sharp claws, just down the hall. He pulled out his fireaxe again.

"Give us a kiss." One of the Stalkers sarcasticly hissed at the men.

"Sorry, love. I don't kiss dead tarts." He swung at the silhouttes and caught one of the stalkers in his swing, though not slowing it down the least bit. Unfortunately, one of the two others grabbed at Skully as he contiuned to follow through with the swing, sucessfully unarming him of his axe. "You little..." He began as he punched the being square in the face, then hearing a satisfying crunch. Thank God for brass knuckles. He cracked his fist as he thought of something smart to say.

He scratched his chin as he then snapped his fingers, and grinned. "I never had to punched a girl in my life. Good thing you're too ugly to be one." He dusted off his clothes and turned around to pick up his axe but the final Stalker was standing behind him the entire time, and when he bent over to pick his weapon up, it swung it's claws upwards and caught him right in the eyes. His goggles protected most of his eyes, but the rest of his face had a large gash in it. He fell on his back, clutching his wound and screaming in pain. The Stalker slowly walked over his body, a satisfied grin on her face. He kicked at it feriously, but it ripped at his legs. He was losing a lot of blood and began to give up.

The Stalker walked over to Skully's upper half and raised it's claws to finish the DJ off. The creature was then greeted with a blast to it's back. It went flying as chunks of it's organs were torn out of it's body by the point-blank buck-shot.

"Be at peace my child! May your god welcome you with mercy, for I shall not!" He then ran in front of Skully and began to pull the attention of the entire lab, it seemed. A group of Clots arived to meet the Holy man's challenge. He charged head first to greet them back. He kicked and bashed with his weapon, along with occationally shooting it, and even bit one of the creatures' ears off, cracked the helpless being's neck, and spat the ear back to the crowd. Skully knew he was having too much fun with this.

Lewis walked up behind Skully and helped him stop the bleeding. Gave him a shot similar to what he recieved moments earlier. Skully quickly crawled over to find his axe, but he couldn't. Just then Mr Foster came running down the hall. They way he ran, one wouldn't suspect he was a lazy, down on his luck novel writer, but more of an aged veteran, crisp out of resting and ready to fight once again. "Don't waste your time with that soddin' piece, mate." He threw a katana at Skully and pulled out dual .44 Magnums.

"You're like Father Christmas." Skully said with a wide grin behind his mask. The four then heard a large roar down the hall. Dr Gary Glover came running out of an office just down the hall. His hazmat suit seemed like the most inconvienient thing on the planet at the time now that there was something chasing him.

"Bloody hell! What'd ya bring with ya two!?" Lewis yelled. They turned to see another Fleshpound charging at them. Glover ran behind the four and quickly pulled out an M79. The shell collided directly with the beast's chest as the others began to open fire on the monster. It lost it's footing just as it reached the group. Skully took the opportunity to jump on the creature. He began to chop at it's head with his new 'ninja sword' as it tried to get back up. Skully grabbed onto it's back and held on to what was left of the beast's mangled head. He pulled out his knife and stabbed it into it's bare chest as it spun wildly to get the man off.

"GET OFF OF IT YA TOSSER!" Foster yelled, trying to line up a shot with the creature's head. He spun faster and faster and Skully kept stabbing it until it finally dropped. The hall went silent but Skully was still stabbing the dead creature.

"It's dead Skully." Lewis yelled.

He kept stabbing.

"It's dead! Skully!"

He kept stabbing.

"It's DEAD!" He pulled the DJ off the creature. The hall went quite for a few moments.

"Is that it? Are they all gone?" Gary asked through his hazmat suit's protective visor.

"I do believe that the time of rest is at hand, my brothers." Alberts said.

Skully sighed, "Smoke 'em if ya got 'em." He said pulling out a cigarette and leaning against the wall. "Anybody spare a light?" He added as he pulled away his mask, revealing a pale face with a scruffy, untrimmed yet thin beard. Nobody moved.

"Where's Mike?" Gary asked, out of breath. Lewis looked at the doctor and then motioned to the pile of mutilated bodies on the ground. "Oh shit! He's dead?" Lewis nodded. Gary backed up against a wall and slid down to the floor, staring at the wall in front of him.

"He wont be forgotten, that's for sure." Mr Foster began. "I'll make sure he's never forgotten for his acts."

"That's noble of you, but it's unnecessary. We just gotta focus on shuttin' this place down." Lewis interjected. The five then began to search the labs. They came across many rotting corpses that had probably been the first to die at the start of the outbreak. Lewis could still see some of their twisted faces, stuck screaming in agony for the rest of time. He made it his duty to at least close the eyes of the victims.

Gary looked at his old friends. If it weren't for their sacrifices, he probably would have been in their situation, replacing them. He thanked them over and over again in his head. He saw Tom, an old water cooler friend. He never had a conversation longer than ten minutes with him, but he thought of him as a good friend. He then saw Martha. Funny, all he needed was one more day to gain enough courage to ask her for a drink. He guessed that this was God's way of telling him it wasn't meant to be.

God. That's an interesting topic. For months, they were playing God down here. Everyone knew who let them free, but sometimes Gary thinks that God was somehow using this as punishment to all for playing him. He came off the topic when they came across a large door.

"Start openin' this one, Gary. We'll cover ya."

"Got it." He pulled out his wielding tool and began to cut at the locks inside the door. Lewis surveyed the hallways. They were at a bad intersection where, if they were sloppy, would be completely surrounded in minutes. He wanted the door opened as fast as possible. Lewis then heard the moans.

"Eastern flank!" He yelled, pointing at the hallway with a mob of clots. He shot a few rounds of his shotgun before relocating to greet the horde of gorefasts in the opposite hall. The blast of gunfire, the burning of a wielding tool, and the screams of the specimens made it hard to hear anything. Gary continued to open the door, even though all his instincts told him to defend himself. At times he even thought that everybody behind him was dead and that he would be struck down in seconds.

Skully saw the horde of clots down the hall and suddenly blacked out, to a degree. His mind was remembering the first night he saw those demons, but his body was back in reality, chopping at the monsters. Blood covered Skully's goggles, he couldn't see anything, he didn't even know if he was attacking his friends or not. He just knew that his blade was cutting into something's flesh.

Mr. Foster was jumping between hallways. Picking off specimens that were getting too close. He then saw a shriveled looking women with bounds on her arms and legs. She had extremely wild hair and a gaping jaw, ready to scream that shrill voice that could shatter glass and many other things. He pulled out a cross-bow and lined up his scope. He focused on getting that shot. He didn't notice the sound coming from a vent shaft just above him. He didn't notice the bug-like Crawler just above him picking out targets. He didn't notice Lewis yelling to him to watch out. But he did notice the over-grown bug pounce on him. It bit vigorously at Foster's arms.

"Get it off! GET IT OFF!" Gary turned his attention away from the door. He pulled out his trusty 9mm and unloaded onto the creature. A bullet grazed Foster's arm, but for the most part he hit the creature right on target. During this short moment, Lewis attempted to push the creature off of Foster, leaving his hallway open. A lone Gorefast, one of the red, skinless creatures, took this opening to slash at the Reverend from behind. He turned to meet his attacker, leaving his now bleeding back open to the rest of the monstrosities that were once in front of him. He blasted the gorefast almost twenty meters away with a shotgun blast.

"Have peace, my ch-" A clot grabbed him from behind. It put him into a sort of choke-hold while other specimens surrounded him. He was pulled farther into the mob as he laughed crazily.

"Reverend!" Skully yelled. He ran at the horde that had now turned it's back to the rest of the group rip at the holy man. Alberts laughter only intensified. Skully tried to get a view of the Reverend so that he could put a bullet in the man's head. He didn't want to have a man go out so painfully, but he could never get a clear look at him.

Skully heard the scream of the bounded woman, the Siren. Thankfully, his large, DJ earphones blocked out enough of the sound for him to see clearly, while everyone else cringed in pain. He swung at the frail-looking creature and even managed to dig his blade into her, but surprisingly she was hardly fazed by the attack. It looked at Skully with eyeless sockets and reared it's head back to scream yet again. Skully couldn't handle the second scream and fell over onto his knee by the sheer sound of her voice. It suddenly stopped screaming. The DJ looked up to see the frail, woman-looking creature flipping backwards against the power of a double barreled shotgun blast.

"DOORS OPEN!" Gary yelled. The four men quickly stagered into the red room. Gary quickly pressed a button to close the door and began to wield it shut. The bang of hands and blades against the door echoed through the bloodied halls. "Leggit! I'll catch up!"

"You sure?" Corporal Lewis asked. The doctor stopped wielding for a moment, grabbed Lewis' double barrel, loaded two more shells into it, and clicked it back into it's firing position.

"Damn sure." Lewis nodded and the three men then headed down the stairs into another hallway as the doctor continued his work. The lower hallway was filled with rooms that could hide monsters waiting to attack them. They heard the moans and screams of the specimens just down the hall to their right. Mr Foster thought for a moment.

"Lewis! Take Skully to the machine. I've gotta go back and help Gary. He's dead if these blokes get him from behind." The Corporal nodded. The DJ and the Corporal quickly ran down the left hallway. They saw a lone clot in a room, feasting on a oddly fresh body. Lewis aimed his pistol at the creature, but Skully stopped him.

"No! Don't warn them." He said, almost whispering. He slowly creeped up behind the pale creature. He lifted his blade up above his head, and was then tackled to the ground by a Scrake. The mock-surgeon reved up his chainsaw-arm and swiped at the DJ. Lewis quickly tackled the large beast back, just before it sucessfully attacked Skully, knocking it to the floor. Unfortunately, in doing so he got part of his hand, specifically between his middle and ring finger on his right hand, jammed in the moving blade. It cut roughly half-way into his hand.

"FUUUUUCK!" He screamed as he pulled away from the Scrake, only ruining his hand even more. He quickly rumaged for a weapon as the beast got up. It turned to Lewis and glared at him. Lewis pulled out his 9mm and began to take potshots at the creatures knees. His aim was terrible with his left hand, but it was the only one that worked at the moment. The creature was almost close enough to finish off the crippled corporal. But then it felt a slight sting, hardly noticable until it looked down and saw a blade piercing right through it's chest cavity.

"Come on! Ya damn tossa! Whatdaya GOT for me!" Upon saying 'got' he twisted the blade so as to cause the creature more pain. It tried to turn around and gut the DJ, but it seemed that Skully was now piggy-backing the creature similarly as when he was on the back of the Fleshpound. He did the same routine as with the Fleshpound and began to stab his combat knife into it's jaw. In the act, he managed to stab himself a few times but didn't feel it due to all the adrenaline pumping through him. "That's it!? I've seen schoolgirls scarier than you! Comeon!" It grabbed Skully's arm and slowly brought it's chainsaw up to it's neck to cut at the piggy-backer. Skully saw this a grinned through his torn mask. Just before the moving blade met Skully's arm, he slickly slid out of the beast's hold and pulled the beast's arm directly into it's owners head.

It screamed sounds of agony as the blade tore into the side of it's face, blood sprouting in a small stream upwards. It tried to manually pull the moving blade out of it's skull, but in doing so only managed to tilt the blade and wedge it's wound enough so that the men could actually see it's grey matter. Lewis shot at it's knee causing it to stumble to the ground. He then walked over to it to finish it off with a shot to the head. He lined up his sights, but was stopped when Skully put his hand on his gun

"He's killed so many, yet we can only kill him once. Let him die in agony. At least then we can say we made him truely pay." Lewis looked at Skully, he didn't know what the man's face said, but those words terrified him. He wasn't fighting along side a DJ anymore. He was fighting with a ruthless killer. Lewis didn't know when he too would snap, if he hadn't already. But at this rate, it would be soon. They slowly walked towards what they believed was the cloning machine. They weren't sure how to stop it so they did what they thought was best: Blow it up.

The machine looked odd, but it did fit the description. It was a cylindrical shape, with many wires attached to it. It looked like only part of the machine. "Wait!" Lewis said, stopping the DJ from planting the explosives. "Don't put so much on this alone. There might be more. Let's keep looking." Skully nodded and only put one brick of C4 on the machine. They only needed one, but command gave them about ten more, just for safe keepings. Powers began to look around as Skully set the fuse. He came across four more hidden in the same room, and five in the room adjacent to the original. He began to set up the explosives when he began to think.

"Hold on a tick," He began. "Aren't these things supposed to be on?" He began to turn around to look at Skully, but then heard a noise.

He turned to it the see a giant metal arm coming right at him. He was thrown to the ground by the blow. He looked up to see a tall, shirtless beast in tattered shorts standing directly above him. It had multiple tentacles protruding out of the sides of his body, and a large apendage square in the middle of his chest. Lewis viewed a large, sharp claw on his right arm and an even larger chaingun attached to it's left. He looked up to see the face of a once calm, gentle man, now twisted due to many failed experiments and physical damage. A pair of nearly destroyed glasses sat on his face, barley hanging on. And behind those, his right eye had popped out of his skull. Though it still moved and focused on Powers face. The only real human thing about him was his humaniod shape and his deep, raspy, ripping voice that alone would make Lewis question facing a being such as him.

"You murdered my children! I'll squash you like the pests you are!"

"So YOU'RE the Patriarch? Funny, they made you sound a lot more scarier in the breifings." Lewis said weakly.

The Patriarch lifted up his foot to bring down on the injured man's skull. Skully saw the Patriarch standing over his friend. He took his sword, ran up behind him, and slashed at the monstrosity's ankles, cutting his tendons and making him stager to his knees. The Patriarch then swung at Skully with his claw, leaving another large gash on the man's arm. The Patriarch stood up to face the DJ, he lifted up his left arm and aimed it at Skully. "THIS IS THE END OF YOU!" The barrel of the chaingun began to spin. Skully could only stare into the beast's eyes, paralysed by the sheer terror that he would soon meet death. The Patriarch then felt a small sting in his back. Lewis had tried to take his attention long enough for Skully to run.

"RUN! Leave this bastard for me!" But Skully still couldn't move. The Patriarch turned back to Lewis and picked him up with his claw. The razor sharp nails digging into his shoulder. He threw Lewis over his shoulder at Skully and began to spin his chaingun up once again.

"This was the best they could send?! Pathectic! You should be glad that I'm cleansing the Earth of this weak race." Suddenly an arrow dug itself into the Patriarch's raised arm, going right through it and causing him to lower is weapon. The beast looked over to Mr Foster and Gary Glover, who had a M79 fixed on him.

"Leggit!" Gary yelled. The two injured men quickly crawled out of the blast radius. Gary shot a shell at the Partiarch just as it tried to stagger at him. The expolsion managed to knock him back. He began to crawl away from the four men.

He roared a deep, long cry and yelled, "SAVE ME, MY CHILDREN! Don't let them destroy us!" He then pressed a few various buttons on his left arm and vanished into thin air. The squad could hear bare feet against the cold ground.

"Open up on the soddin' bastard!" Lewis yelled, shooting in the direction of the sound with is sidearm. The three other men attempted to hit the invisible target as well.

"Watch it!" Mr Foster yelled looking over to see a large mob of Clots beginning to sprint towards the intruders' position. Mr Foster pulled out his trusty magnums, spinning them by their triggers for added effect, and began to pop the creatures' heads off one by one.

"Follow me, guys! We can't hold 'em all!" Glover yelled as he retreated into a room adjacent to the cloning machine. The three followed, as they fired back at the advancing specimens. They came across a larger cylindrical machine, similar to the cloners but with more wires and an erie green glow. "Good God. He actually did it." Gary whispered to himself, staring with awe at the giant machine.

"Another cloner!? Bleedin' hell! This guy doesn't give up!" Skully yelled.

"How're we gonna take this out?" Lewis asked Glover. Glover inspected the machine, he snapped his fingers as he got an idea.

"Easy! Set this tosser to over drive and let the bastard run itself out!"

"You know how to run this thing!?" Lewis asked, taking a break from firing at the closing in monsters to reload.

"Not a damn clue!" Glover yelled at Lewis, grinning wildly. He then began to type on the console random commands. The machine began to crackle to life. "I think it's working!" Gary yelled to no one exactly.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING! IT'S NOT COMPLETE! YOU'LL KILL US ALL!" The men turned to the Patriarch and began to open fire. He charged at the men and swung his right arm at Mr Foster and threw him across the room in the direction of the door. He tried to scream at the pain as he hit the ground but couldn't find any strength to do so. He saw blackness begin to overthrow his eyesight. The Patriarch then jumped at Glover, punched his claw through his visor, and dug his claws into his neck, causing him to bleed. "Ah, Glover. My trusted assistant. We have so much to catch up on." He began spinning up his chaingun while pointing it at his face.

"Sorry, sir." He began as he ripped the rest of his suit open, revealing three pipe bombs strapped to his chest. "But I quit!" He pulled the many wires to the bombs, sucessfully setting them all off.

The blast threw everyone, and thing, in the room straight to the ground and the Patriarch into a large glass cylinder in the room. The machine blasted with a spark of purple lightning, signifying it's activation.

Lewis looked over to find Foster, he couldn't see him anywhere. He then grabbed Skully, who was kind enough to land by him and began to ever so slowly crawl towards the machine, his legs too weak to properly walk. He knew that this thing wasn't a cloning machine, so he wanted to at least know what it would do if he walked into it. It would be nice to know that much before dying.

"NO! DON'T! YOU'LL DESTROY EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING, I TELL YOU!" The Patriarch tried to coax the intruders away from his project. It was still in beta and he had no idea what it would do if tested too early. He feared nucular results.

Lewis looked back at the injured Partiarch as he slowly pulled himself and Skully up. "Well at least YOU'LL finally die, ya smelly bastard!" He yelled as he jumped into the purple wall of plasma with Skully on his shoulder.

Everything in his nervous system seemed to shut off while he was 'jumping'. He couldn't feel any pain at all. But he couldn't feel air in his lungs, or the blood in his viens. He started to painic as he knew he was slowly dying due to lack of... basic body failure. He couldn't even find strenght to move his head sideways. He just stood in limbo as he wondered how his brain was still working. He just guessed that he was on his way to the pearly gates, with Skully on his shoulder. Then everything went dark.

===============

He looked up. He could hardly see anything behind the cracked lens' of the gas mask. As he pulled it off it emptied it's rank contents onto the floor. The bright lights blinded him. The only time he saw artifical lights that bright was before the Outbreak. He rubbed his eyes feriously to regain his sight, but to no avail. He looked around to see these brightly colored blobs all around him, which he guessed were staring with awe at the sight of the bloodied intruders. His vision was mostly blury still, unfortunately, so he couldn't truely grasp the forms of the creatures around him. He jumped when he saw the blobs, and the blobs jumped in a similar manner.

He looked around to see that the color of gold was decorating the large hall he was in. He saw the tables with what he thought was food on them and saw a group of creatures wearing what looked like golden armor, what he suspected were guards, running at him. He finally looked down to Skully. Skully was unconscious, useless in this battle. He quickly stumbled over to what he thought was a chair and broke off a leg and stuck it up like a bat, preparing to swing at any attackers.

Though the feelings of his 'jumping' made him want to puke, and his voice showed that weakness, he still had to defend his friend, to the death even.

"Bachk tha FUCHK ff, ya demons. I'll fuchkin' killya!" One of the presumed guards chuckled a bit and slowly walked towards the strange creature. "I'm fuchkin' warnin'ya!" The creature continued. "Thasit!" He threw all his weight into the stike against the being. He knew the strike was good when he heard the satisfying crunch of bone. Something he learned to love when fighting a creature who he had no idea what it was. He tried to recatch his balance to meet the other threats, but was quickly knocked down by another charging attacker. He look up to see that a creature was lining up a shot to his head with it's hind legs.

"WAIT!" He yelled just as the creature knocked him completely unconscious.

The guards stared at the odd creatures in total confusion. What in all of Equestria were these thing?

"TAKE THEM TO THE INFIRMARY!" A loud, feminine voice boomed. The guards did as told.

Inside Lewis' mind, he was wishing that he finally died from the blow. Only then he could finally stop fighting.
> First Contact
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Foster's shoes clapped against the cold, metallic floor as he bolted down the hallway. The sound of air rushing through his gas mask muffled out almost all other sounds. His eyes couldn't focus on one single object for more than a second, he was panicking.

He could only recall the color purple. Something purple swallowed Skully and Lewis. What was that purple thing? His mind was wrapped around the machine so much so that he didn't notice the Gorefast turning the corner. He smashed into the creature, throwing both of them to the ground.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” His mind raced for what to do next. Most people were blessed with the ability to act without thinking, but Foster didn't have the famed 'instinct'. He quickly jumped to his feet as the Gorefast had trouble standing due to it's loss of working arms. It wailed about the ground, swinging it's blade in a spasmodic action. The blade managed to score a mark on Foster's calf, leaving a rather large gash in it's wake.

Foster fell to his knees in pain as he began to fumble for his medical syringe. The beast began sitting up as Foster jammed the rusty needle into his thigh. In his haste, he accidentally broke the needle off in his leg, allowing for most of the medical formula to spill about the floor.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He yelled, looking up to the almost completely recovered Gorefast just meters away. He picked a small hand full of the serum and slathered it on his injury and quickly jumped back to his feet.

Not remembering the numbing effects of the medical serum, Foster's leg gave out from under him after only a few steps, causing him to stumble back to the metallic floor. His breathing intensified as he turned his back to face the Gorefast.

If the being had a jaw it would've screaming in fury at the incapacitated man. It slowly approached Foster, swinging it's blade in a wild manner, causing Foster to panic more so. Foster thought for a moment as he looked down at the broken syringe. He reared his hand back and threw the item at the Gorefast with all his might, causing the glass component on top of the syringe to shatter in the being's face.

It's swung it's arms wildly as it's basic instincts told it to pluck the bits of glass out of it's eyes. The being made a sound that resembled a death cry to Foster. He grinned slightly behind his mask. Unfortunately, the cry seemed to attract attention. Foster gazed past the original Gorefast to view two more of the beings.

"Oh, COME ON!" He yelled as he turned to run from the beings. His leg was still in a state of numbness, but only to a point were he had a slight limp. Foster's chest was aching, he couldn't handle much more. His body yelled at him to stop running, but his brain told him to continue onward. He just wanted to lay down and finally die but something kept him going. He turned one last corner as he was faced with something he never would have guessed to see in all his years. In front of was a tall man, dressed in a dark, long coat with a wooden cross around his neck and a large fire axe in his hand.

Foster slid to his knees as the holy man had already started a swing that seemed to be timed just perfectly. His first attack seemed to make contact with one of the red beast's heads in a manner that seemed to be more planned than a spur-of-the-moment attack. The Gorefast's dead body shifted to it's side as it collided with the second Gorefast, causing it to also tumble off balance.

Foster didn't even stop to look back at the carnage, he only continued to run until he was met with a wall. Behind him the priest was happily chopping away at the living Gorefast making sure it was truly dead. He didn't want to take any chances, the last time he did... well, he never did. Everything had to be just so, never leave it to chance.

The creature's head finally rolled off it's mangled stump as Alberts stood above the being, breathing heavily. He turned to Foster with a look that made the writer question whose allegiance he belonged to. The two men stared at each other for a few moments as Alberts’s disarming look turned to one of calm and peace.

"I'm glad to see that I was not the only one to be blessed today brother. Tell me, where are the others? Have they finally joined the choirs?"

"Uh, um..." Foster barely managed to get out. He was still attempting to recollect what had happened not two minutes ago. "Glovers... he's gone." Foster couldn't help but to trail off into thought as the images played back in his head once again.

"And what of Skully? Or my dear friend Lewis? Are they accompanying Glover to the gates?"

"I... I have no idea. They found this machine and... Listen, can we find a better place to talk about this? I really don't want to see anymore Gorefasts, I've had my share of them for a while."

"Of course, brother. Come, I know of a place of solitude. There we can continue to plan our next move." They headed towards the elevator shafts. Foster wanted to talk on the way there, but was still preoccupied with trying to piece back what was left of his sanity.

==============

Consciousness slowly forced it's way back into Lewis's mind. The pain and the misery followed. He had know idea what is happening to him or where he was, and he savored every moment of the obliviousness. Then the memories finally made their way back into his mind. He could recall the specimens, the axe, Mike Noble, the Patriarch, the machine...what happened in the machine? What did it do. Lewis was blind the entire time, all he saw was blackness... and his memories. He preferred the blackness.

Then it finally came back as well, his eyesight. He was greeted with the beautiful colors of pink and gold and blue. Peaceful colors, things he had not seen in a while. The simple innocence of these colors brought tiny slivers of happiness back to the man. It was one of the few things that reminded him of a time before. He cherished the beautiful hues, then something else came into his sight. It was a being similar to that of a horse. It had colors similar to that of the walls, it even bore characteristics to that of a cartoon. He wanted to smile even more so. This was obviously an angel, and he was obviously in heaven. He was grateful for this gift. He was finally able to see his loved ones again, they were probably proud of him, for his sacrifices.

He wanted to hug the beings and accept his new life in the skies, but something held him back. He couldn't move anything. Something was wrong. He then took notice to what the 'angels' were doing. They were operating on him. He could view them stitching wounds on his chest close, and removing bits of metal from his body. Surely if he was in heaven they wouldn't have to do this, right? They wouldn't have to repair his spirit. He thought for a moment.

"No..." he said weakly behind his mask, reaching up at the beings with all his might. Trying to make one of them mess up and finish him off. One of the masked beings looked back at Lewis's hand and jumped in shock. The others began to focus on the first creature and then onto Lewis.

They looked upon Lewis with nervous eyes as one of the creature's appendages began to glow. Lewis looked slightly to the left to view a syringe moving closer and closer to his body. He attempted to struggle, to at least go out fighting, but something in the back of his mind was telling him to give in. And he did. All his muscles relaxed, even before the needle met his body, and he went into yet another deep sleep. He gladly accepted his new found slumber, he loved to dream. It was the only true escape from this nightmare.

=============

"So you're telling me that they... teleported, into a different dimension?" Alberts had a look of utter confusion on his face ever since Foster mentioned the 'purple light'. "Are you sure this isn't part of your story?"

"Listen. I know exactly what I saw! They teleported or something, and we have to get them back!"

"You are aware, brother, that if this is not what you think it is you are throwing our lives away for an unjust cause? It is possible that it is a 'teleporter', but there is also a chance that it is something that could vaporize us into thin air! What then?" Alberts’s voice was shockingly serious at this point. Foster was cautious of his words now, for he had no clue what state Alberts's mind was in.

"I don't know whether or not it is a teleporter, but I do know that we must go through it. I don't always listen to my gut, but right now, I really think we gotta go back there." Alberts rubbed his face with his hands as he tried to think of other solutions to this problem.

"Alright, brother. I will join your cause, but only if we return to the camp. I do not relish the fact that my flock might go astray without my continuing consent. At least allow me to have word with them." Alberts once again bore a soft, friendly face, something Foster noted not to trust too often.

"Fine. It might be a good chance to resupply as well." Alberts playfully patted Foster on the arm and drew a deep, hearty laugh. At least he was back to normal now. The two men sat for a moment before Foster broke the silence.

"So, how did you get out of that horde?"

"My friend, surely you are not underestimating the power of a man with a cross." He finished his sentence with a wolfish grin that both comforted Foster, and sent waves upon waves of chills down his spine.

=============

Skully came to in a comfortable bed. He was still in the same apparel as before, was that all a dream? He was in a white room with white sheets. A warm glow coming from the window as an all around peaceful atmosphere seemed to rest upon the room.

"Wait..." Skully said aloud, through his mask. Peace? Warmth? This wasn't right. He shot upwards in his bed. “This is some sort of trick. It has to be.” He looked all around the room. It seemed like a normal hospital room. A white room with medical equipment and a few chairs for visitors but something wasn't right. There was no sense of fear, or anything related to war. He actually liked it.

Then he heard something just outside the door. He took vigilance as he slowly crept towards the door, he knew it was too good to be true. He laid his back against the wall adjacent to the door and slowly pushed the cracked door open, careful to not make a sound. He saw through the sliver a lone quadrupedal being. With a coat of pure white. "What in God's good..." he whispered to himself. The being was completely white, with the exception of it's light pink mane and tail and it's clearly noticeable red cross on it's upper back thigh.

"Oh... you've been busy Kevin." he whispered to himself again. The creature seemed to be pushing around a cart of medicine, Skully concluded that this was some sort of support specimen that might be able to heal others. "Oh, Lewis’s is gonna want to know about this."

The 'nurse' specimen entered a room with the cart of medicine. Skully couldn't make much out before the door closed, but he could've swore that He saw Lewis's mask on one of the bed posts in the room. He ever so slowly opened the door and crept out, all without making any noticeable noise. Sneaking wasn't his greatest skill, but he did manage to reach the end of the hall without being noticed, so he made note that he was doing well.

All the while he was sneaking around he couldn't help but notice how clean the entire establishment was. He was surely shocked at Kevin's standards. He turned the corner to gain sight of a large red box hanging on the wall with large yellow letters that spelled out 'FIRE'. A truly beautiful sight, indeed. He went over to the box to see that it was locked. He looked to both sides, no living thing in sight, and hopefully not in earshot either.

He pulled his hoody's sleeve up to his hand, so as to lessen his skin's surface area, and quickly thrusted his elbow into the glass. The large sound of shattering glass echoed through the halls. "Shit." he whispered once more. He stood perfectly still for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the inevitable to come. Yet thankfully, nothing seemed to appear.

He reached his hand past the broken glass to gain the contents of the box: a medium-sized wooden handle with a large, red piece of metal at one end that could cut through a door in seconds, and bone much easier. Skully almost drooled at the feeling of this piece in his hand. His mind traveled to happier places. His instinct was beginning to take control.

He took caution as he slowly crept towards the room that contained Lewis and the being. He put his back up against the wall by the door, once again, and slowly inched the door open. The 'nurse' was doing something to him, but he wasn't sure what. He completely opened the door without so much as even making a squeak. He grinned again.

"Too easy." He whispered as he entered the doorway. He tilted his head to his side as a relieving crack sounded near his neck. He took a deep breath as he readied his weapon. He pulled it back so far that the pointed end seemed to touch his back.

Just as Skully was readying for a kill, Nurse Tenderheart seemed to be traversing the halls. She saw the opened doorway and, out of curiosity, looked inside. She saw the alien being that appeared in the ballroom just days ago rearing a fire axe behind the Nurse Galen. Tenderheart screamed at the top of her lungs as Galen quickly turned to see what was happening. She saw the giant creature in front of her. She saw the large fire axe in it's hand. She screamed at the top of her lungs, but also quickly jumped out of the way.

Skully brought the axe down with immense force, causing the blade to leave a deep mark in the tile flooring. He pulled it out to quickly aim another swing. "You ain't gonna touch him again you damn MUTANT!" He took a vertical slash at the nurse, just barely missing her as she ducked in time.

Skully was getting frustrated. He took one more downward swipe at the nurse, once again missing. This time, his axe became slightly jammed into their ground following the attack. He attempted to pull the weapon out when he looked up to view the sight of two larger specimens that seemed to resemble the nurse specimen, wearing gold plated armor. He panicked slightly, pulling with all his might to get the weapon back out of the ground.

The first large specimen didn't take any chances. He rushed Skully with a quick head ram, pushing Skully all the way against the wall. Skully was caught off guard by the sheer amount of strength in the attack. He quickly reacted by grabbing the specimen by the neck and holding him under his arm. Luckily for Skully, the other specimen seemed to be paralyzed.

While still holding the first specimen, Skully began to thrust his elbow directly into the back of the beings neck, causing a large amount of pain to course down it's spine. After a few hits, Skully brought his knee directly up into the creature's neck, incapacitating it instantly. Skully looked up at the second creature. He glared at it through his dark goggles for a few moments before reaching down to his ankle and pulled out a hidden combat knife.

He flipped the knife so that the blade would face the pony to make for better jabbing. He struck a stance with his knife, all the while the second specimen was struck with pure fear. Skully flicked his fingers towards himself, almost taunting the creature as if it would cause it to charge.

Behind the second specimen ran a third one, but this one was slightly different. It had a horn that was glowing. Skully lessened his stance as he gazed at the creature. It stopped right in front of him as the horn intensified in color. It's head shot back as a large bolt of the glowing aura sped towards Skully.

Before he could even think to move, the bolt hit Skully directly in the chest. He felt a pressure that could only be matched by getting shot with a T-shirt launcher loaded with a brick. Skully fell to his knees. The creatures began to surround him as he coughed and clutched his chest in pain.

A white creature walked towards him. It was clearly different from the rest. It was much taller, and it had something that the others didn't have, wings and a horn. It's mane and tail were colored with stripes of light blue, light green, light purple, and light pink, which seemed to always be flowing, even when there was no breeze in the air. This majestic creature stood above Skully for a few moments before speaking.

"Do you yield?" It asked in a feminine voice with a stern look on it's face. Skully nodded and continued to cough. The white creature looked to the others and nodded, they then proceeded to leave the room.

"What are you?"

Skully managed to stop coughing, but still held his chest in pain. He looked up at the white creature. "I'm a... I'm a human! What the fuck are YOU!"

"I am a pony, one of the native beings of Equestria. Where are you from?"

"London... London, England." As he finished his sentence another wave of pain shot through his body. "Oh fuck, my chest!" The white creature looked upon Skully with a slight feeling of remorse. The white pony slowly approached Skully, who was slightly recovered now, but he swung at her weakly. "Back up, back up! How do I know I can trust you? How do I know this isn't some sort of trick!?"

"Well, you were unconscious for days. If we wanted to do anything to you, we would've already without any form of resistance. I believe that fact is proof enough, is it not?" Skully was completely recovered now. He thought for a moment as he observed the 'pony' in front of him.

The very look of this being defined majestic. It's perfectly trimmed coat, it's unfaltering stance, the way it's hair flowed in the wind with grace. Skully was impressed. "So... this 'Equestra', where on Earth is it?"

The pony looked at Skully with a confused face. "On” Earth? I'm afraid to tell you, but Equestria is a planet all it's own." Skully's eyes widened behind his goggles. He was definitely going to need some explanations.

===================

Lewis's nose picked up an odd scent, weakened by the filters of his mask. A sort of lemon-y smell, with... Tea? His eyes shot open. “Okay. NOW I'm in heaven. I gotta be!” He sat up in his bed. He looked to where he thought the smell was coming from. He saw Skully sitting in a chair, next to some sort of horse-thing, sipping tea in a small, porcelain teacup, while listening to some form of classical music.

"Am I in, Hell?"

"Close, chap. Equestria." He tipped his cup towards Lewis upon saying Equestria.

"You going to explain the uh..." he pointed at the pony.

"Oh, this is Celestia. Oh, sorry, Princess Celestia. Ruler of Equestria and all of pony-kind." Lewis' face held an expression of 'Are you kidding me?' behind his mask. "Yeah," Skully continued. "I found it hard to believe as well. But, just take a look out the window." Lewis got out of his bed and approached the window, careful to avoid Celestia.

Through the window he saw many other creatures similar to Celestia.

“Well, shit. I’m at a loss of words.”

Skully sat himself upwards slightly. “I wouldn’t blame ya, Lewie. It’s... a little hard to comprehend. Especially since we went through what we went through. Just breath in and out, every thing's gonna be alright.”

“Jeez, Skully. I’m not tearin’ down the walls over here. What’s with the speech?”

“Well, let’s just say that when I woke up... I didn’t see things as clearly as you.”

Lewis put up his hand. If he knew any small bit about Skully and blackouts, he didn’t want to know the details. “You can spare me, I just need some...” he looked at the kettle. “Tea, just some tea right now.”

He picked up a cup and poured himself some of the tea. He looked over to the white pony, named Celestia, who was sitting ever so patiently in the corner. “So, um...” he tried to piece together all his questions into manageable sentences for the being. “First question, how exactly did we get here?”

The Princess cleared her throat. “Well, I can only really tell you that you teleported here somehow. Other than that is mystery.”

Lewis scratched where his chin would be if he wasn’t wearing his mask. “Teleported you say? Skully, remember the machine?” Skully turned his head up from his cup.

“Of course, how could I forget that rattlin’ piece a’ crap we jumped through before nearly dying. What about it?”

“I think we found out the meaning of it.”

“Yeah, lemme guess, teleportin’? Come on Lewie, I ain’t that much of a muppet.”

Lewis threw his hands up, “easy now. I’m just making sure we’re all on the same level here.” 

Skully tipped his head down to take another sip of his drink. He heard a slurping sound coming from Lewis’ direction and quickly looked up to see a glimpse of his face, but only saw him adjusting his mask. Lewis just looked at Skully.

“What?” Lewis asked.

“Nothin’, nothin’.” Skully said almost disappointed.

“Well, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Lewis said enthusiastically as he looked over to Celestia, she nodded back to him. “We do know that a machine sent us here, so... any idea on how we’re gonna get back?” The room was silent, even Princess Celestia was stumped by the question. “Anything? Come on, I’ll even take a ‘let’s rebuild the damn thing.” Still nothing.

Celestia broke the silence after a few more moments of thinking. “Surely we can have more time to discuss such matters. I’m fairly certain that you wouldn’t want all your plans made here in a small, cramped, hospital room, would you?”

“She’s got a point.” Skully began, “maybe we could head around town, get to know the place. I gotta feeling that we’re gonna be here a bit longer than a while.”

“Oh,” Celestia chimed in, “I’m afraid you can’t simply walk into town. My subjects would... I’m not quite sure what they would do, seeing an alien race merely walking around like it was their daily stroll. I hate to constrict such beings as yourselves, but you’ll have to stay hidden for the time being.”

“Listen up, Princess.” Skully snapped, “You saw how we got here and what we did while we we’re here. If you couldn’t tell, we’re in a bit of a WAR for the survival of our species. If the Patriarch wants to come after us, I’m pretty sure he can, and we need to be ready for that.”

The Princess gave Skully a glare that could shatter stone itself. “I’m fully aware of your predicament, you’ve made it very clear that you are in this ‘war’ and I’m fully aware that you need to get back, but I can’t just have some humans running about, causing panic in my kingdom! If you need supplies, we can bring what we can to you. But anything beyond that I can not have!” She shot out of her seat. “Good day, sirs!”

Skully just stood, in full awe, at what had just happened. He had just gotten told by a giant white pony in a land called ‘Equestria’ ruled completely by ponies. Foster is definitely gonna wanna hear about this one, though, he’s wasn’t quite sure Foster would believe it.

Skully looked back to Lewis who had just finished his tea while Skully and the Princess were ‘discussing’ their plans.

Lewis cleared his throat, “Well, you’ve done something I never could’ve imagined, you’ve pissed off a Princess of an entire planet.” He made a mocking clap with his hands, “Good job, mate. I’m really fucking impressed, you fucking muppet.”

Skully rubbed his eyes with his fingers, “Hold on, hold on...” He started to think. “Alright, I’ll go apologise, or some other bull crap, you... you put on some more tea, kay?” Lewis nodded.

He put his thumbs up and sarcastically said, “Good luck.” With a smart-ass grin under his gas mask.

Skully took a deep sigh. He hated apologies, he’d much rather jam a shotgun into a screaming, skinless demon’s face any day of the week.
> The Purple Dot of Doom
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two men were climbing up a tall ladder inside a dusty, old elevator shaft. Dust fell into Foster's lens, obstructing his view for a few moments. He stopped so he could wipe away the dirt. Alberts seemed slightly shocked at why they had stopped.

Alberts stuck his head out, "Is there a problem, brother?"

Foster finished wiping away the dirt, as he began to speak. "No, it's nothing."

"Oh, okay, brother." They continued climbing. Then, completely out of nowhere, Alberts started chuckling slightly.

"What are you laughing about?" Foster said to the priest under him.

"Oh, nothing, brother. I'm just remembering a funny joke I heard long ago."

"Care to tell me the joke?" The shaft was silent for a few moments.

"...No, I'd rather not. I'm not very charismatic, you see. I would most likely end up ruining it for the both of us." Foster knew that was utter bull crap. As a matter of fact, Alberts was the one that managed to get that band of bandits to join the camp, all using his 'sweet words'. They continued to climb further. Foster cleared his throat.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Alberts's eye cocked.

"Talk about what, brother?" He was nervous of Foster's next few choices of words.

"You know exactly what I’m talking about." Foster kept climbing but Alberts stopped. Foster didn't hear Alberts moving so he stopped as well. "Alberts, are you fine?" There was no answer. "Alberts!"

"I'm fine, brother." There was a sense of defeat hidden amongst Alberts’s sigh that Foster could barely notice.

"Do you want to talk about it... at all?" There was another silence, but both men kept climbing, soon afterwards he started laughing again. This time slightly more forced than usual.

After a while of climbing they finally came to, about, the ground floor. Foster was glad to finally be able to stop for a moment's rest.

"Alright, Reverend. We're here: ground floor." There was an odd silence. "Rev?" Still nothing. Foster looked back down the ladder, Alberts was gone! "Oh shit." His heart picked up after looking down at large space in between him and the bottom of the shaft. He quickly averted his eyes. "It's alright, Foster. It's just some heights. It's not like you'll lose your grip, and fall... fall to your painful, agonizing death... falling, falling. Oh bugger this!" He climbed up the ladder and quickly hoisted himself onto the stained carpet floor of the lobby.

After lying on the ground for a few moments, he realized what he was sitting in and jumped to his feet. He took one final glance down the shaft and still saw no sign of the holy man. He took the time to check his ammo. He only had one magazine left on him, and he wasn't even sure if it was full. "We really gotta get back to the camp." He said to no one in particular.

He then heard a sound of bare feet; he flashed the light on the 9mm at the direction of the sound, but was only met with a dead end. He put his weapon back in its holster. Then he thought for a moment.

"Wait, bare feet?" He quickly turned back to the source of the sound and attempted to pull his weapon out. Unfortunately, the Stalker had gotten a grip on Foster and quickly brought him down to the ground, near the elevator shaft's opening. The two beings began to wrestle. Foster took the Stalker by its wrists and held it above him as he prayed for Alberts to find and help him.

The two beings stood at a stalemate for a while before another Stalker stumbled across the two.

"Oh God! Why like this!" He said as he looked to the second Stalker, running down the hall at them. In one final attempt, Foster let go of the first Stalker and swung at it with his entire arm. It managed to score a decent scratch on Foster's arm, but for the most part, Foster was still in fighting condition.

Just as he pushed the nearly completely limp Stalker off his body, he felt a hand grabbing hold of the neck of his shirt and jacket. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he realized what was going to happen. The hand dragged Foster back into the elevator shaft as he attempted to break free.

Foster screamed at the top of his lungs as he felt his body falling through the air. He closed his eyes and he continued to scream, though less now as he begun to accept his fate.

After a few moments he had opened his eyes again. He looked to the walls; they were not moving, which could only mean one thing. He looked to his back and saw a large wire attached to his pants, which in turn was attached to the wall of the shaft.

He hung there in awe as he looked down at the seemingly bottomless shaft. From above, he heard a few short screams and then saw the bodies of two bloody Stalkers fall from above him. By now he was having the closest thing to a heart attack as he could without completely kicking the bucket.

After a few more moments, he heard a clicking sound and slowly began to rise towards the opening on the ground floor. As he was hoisted up to the carpet a second time, he began to hug the ground as if it were his mother. He looked up from his embrace to see a priest with a sadistic grin on his face.

"Uh... this was all you right." Alberts nodded with his evil grin still on his face. "This was payback for before, right?" The priest nodded again. Foster slowly came back to his feet. "Well, I don't really care where you were. Though it's not like you would tell me, would you?" Alberts still had that grin on his face; with it he nodded 'no'. "Whatever. Let's just get back to camp, okay? He can sort everything out when we get there."

The two started for the door of the building. In the distance, they could hear a howl. Alberts spoke up.

"Get ready, brother." The holy man pulled out his fire axe and put his sadistic grin one more time. Foster couldn't help but get a fit of shakes after looking at the man. He pulled the chamber of his weapon back as he readied for the horde.

=================


The streets of London are quiet. They've accepted the environment as it is, allowing for greener beings to replace their once lively, bipedal inhabitants. On the very verge of the town the plant life had already begun retaking the city. Though, nearer to the center, London still blazed with pockets of fires and death as it did on the very first days of the Outbreak, though somewhat more tame after two years of this. A shot could be heard through the still air every now and then. It didn't represent an act of retaliation though, it was simply another survivor, ending its life before the hordes of clones inevitably broke their barricades and begun feasting on their flesh.

One could guess that the amount of suicides may have rivaled the actual amount of kills by the specimens. Though, this was expected of the Patriarch, the creatures only had one true job: to cause fear of the highest degree to his enemies. And they did such with insurmountable statistics to prove otherwise.

In between the retaking of the city by plant life and fire, a lone man races through a street congested with vehicles. This particular man greatly stood out from the colors of fauna. He wore a bright red shirt and grey slacks, rolled up to about his ankles. Upon his face was a large cross, painted in red to symbolize his still lingering patriotism for 'jolly ol' England'.

Not ten steps behind this man is a group of small, black Crawlers consisting of at least fifteen of the angry, bug-like demons scuttling after the man. His chest began to throb with a pain never felt before to him. In clutching his chest, he managed to cause himself to stumble to the ground.

As he began to meet the ground he forced his back to the concrete and ripped the two 9mm pistols from their holsters under his armpits. Without even aiming he began emptying his magazines onto the little creatures.

One by one they fell as each bullet landed itself in a vital spot upon the creatures. This was not a feat of accuracy, though. These hits were all pure luck, as though some all-powerful being was making sure this man could live long enough to fulfill his destiny.

The chambers of his pistols had clicked just as the third to last Crawler had fallen, though two more remained. He threw one of his weapons at the first Crawler to buy himself some time. After the gun made contact he flipped over to his stomach and began reclaiming his stance.

Just as he was to his knees, one of the Crawlers had landed upon his back and took a decent bite into his shoulder. He didn't bother to scream, he just grabbed the being by the sides of its head and judo-threw it to the ground. Once it hit the sidewalk he grabbed it again, this time lining up its head with the curb.

He reared his foot upwards and brought it down upon the Crawler's skull, causing its head to crack open like a watermelon hitting the ground. The man couldn't hear much, but he knew that if he could he would've heard that satisfying crunch.

After reminiscing in the view of the creature's lifeless body, the man reared his head to see where the other Crawler went.

All he was met with was the view of the dying streets of London, along with the scent of fresh death in the air.

He pressed the side of his other 9mm pistol and loaded another clip into the weapon. Suddenly his radio crackled on with a deafening static.

"Chopper! Chopper Harris! Are you there! You better be there you son o~~~! HELLO! Anybody!" Chopper grabbed his radio from his pocket, before speaking he spit out some blood.

"Yeah, this is Chopper. Whaddya need?"

"~~~~Foster! I'm here with the Rev, we need some back-up NOW! We're fuckin' surro~~~~"

"Where are ya'?"

"We're by the Lab." Chopper made a motion of anger.

"Are you kiddin' me!? You know damn well nobody can get by there! You're on your fackin' own, Shakespeare." 

Chopper heard gunshots in the background, a single 9mm.

"God DAM~~~~ow's not the time to play by the fuckin' RULES! All I need you to do is run by the place a few times! That's it! No contact! You'd be safe as shit! COME ON!" He thought for a few moments, he didn't want to have Foster's death on his mind as well.

"Alright! Alright! I'm on my way. Stay alive!"

"No need to fuckin' rem-" Chopper clicked his radio off and began a sprint towards the Horzine BioLab. Even though very few people had even gone close to the Laboratory since the Outbreak, Chopper knew this entire city by heart and was confident he'd have no trouble finding his fellow survivors near the building.

He turned down an alley that he suspected was a short-cut to the Lab. Everything seemed fairly clear until a large, green-tinted being stepped into Chopper's way. This being was morbidly obese and every few second belched as though it had just downed a soda not seconds earlier, thus earning it its name: Bloat. But in reality the being seemed to be a walking factory for extremely caustic chemicals which it would spew out every now and then, even if no targets were in range.

These beings were so weighed down and bloated that their movement was slowed to a shuffle, but made up for their slow speed with their almost always fatal spew attack, and it's astonishing ability to take so much damage that it seemed to be unkillable. These beings were built to demolish any enemies found in tight, hard to evade corridors, which was just the situation Chopper was in now.

Chopper knew he didn't have time to turn around, and he had no such weaponry that could put this being down quickly so he decided to do something he knew would kill him. He made sure that his pistol was loaded as he backed up for a few extra steps to gain more speed. He took off at the creature as it began it’s spew attack on Chopper.

Chopper jumped up and landed his right foot on the Bloat's chest and grabbed the back of its head with his left hand. Before the creature could spew its chemicals, Chopper jammed his weapon in its mouth and began pulling the trigger. After six shots the gun jammed due to the chemicals deforming the barrel. The Bloat began falling backwards as Chopper kicked himself off the creature.

The Bloat fell to the ground with a twitch as Chopper looked over to see a green chemical spouting from its mangled head, what Chopper believed to be it’s blood. He looked down at his hand; it seemed as though a bullet had gone through its head and grazed Chopper's fingers. Funny, he didn't feel it at all.

He leaned against a wall as he reclaimed his breath. As his heart rate slowed he heard the sound of a 9mm going off, he knew it was Foster’s. He cracked his neck and knuckles as he retook his running stance. This was going to be one long night.

=================

Lewis was alone in this hallway. Though, the only other people, or ponies, that he could've expected were guards. He didn't appreciate that very much. He felt almost constricted with all this security. He understood the need for such in a castle, but he still couldn't help but be nervous from the looks the guards gave him. He did, after all, almost kill one of their own not a day ago.

Though the ponies had plenty of scrolls and such for Lewis to read, he felt restless. As though he needed to do something, anything really. He was so used to always being on guard that any sign of peace could be considered a ruse. Though Skully was more than happy to give up his weapons to the guards, Lewis still had his combat knife hidden away in his boot. He had no idea what to expect.

There was one thing that Lewis could lose his thoughts to, the stained-glass windows. He had no idea why, but looking at what stories they held was something that Lewis could find comfort in. He liked how he could interpret the stories anyway he wanted, so long as they could stay within the boundaries of what was shown. He learned more by looking at these pieces of colored glass than he could ever remember in a classroom. He appreciated the art, and he was beginning to appreciate ponies.

But something ate away at him. The thought of them here. No, no. He swiped away any ideas. They would be long gone before he arrived. That's how it was going to go. He knew it. As he was trying to convince himself that everything was going fine a guard approached him from behind.

"Uh... Sir. You're needed at the council room." Lewis gave the guard a seemingly blank look, but behind his mask an ever-so small frown had managed to creep upon his face.

"Okay. Thanks for the info." Lewis slowly turned his head back towards the panes of glass. The guard spoke again. "It's urgent."

==================

Chopper saw the Horzine logo through the smoke rising above a ruined building. Not a minute ago, he heard an explosion. He clicked his radio back on to see if the writer was still alive.

"Shakespeare. Shakespeare! You there!?" He paused for a few moments, staring at his radio. He hoped that they didn't die, not on his watch. He didn't need another batch of deaths on his already heavy mind. He couldn't let them down too. Suddenly he heard an ever so welcoming crack of static.

"Yeah, *cough*cough* we're here."

"Where the hell are ya?"

Foster groaned over the radio. "We're under a damn building. Alberts tossed a 'nade too damn short. Just... look for the only toppled buildin', alright?"

"Yeah, I see ya. I'll be right over."

"Oh, take your fuckin' time. I'll make sure to put the tea on." Chopper clicked off his radio again and jogged over to the collapsed building. A heavy cloud of dust was still lingering through the air. He saw the silhouette of the writer; he walked over to meet him.

Just as he helped lift a piece of rock off the man, the figure jumped atop Chopper.

"Hey! What the fu-" his eyes widen to the sight. A Gorefast had him pinned to the ground.

It lifted it’s blade above it’s head, bringing it down upon Chopper. He instinctively jerked his body to the left, only managing to have the Gorefast's blade graze his back. The red being lifted its blade back again, this time stabbing it at Chopper. The Gorefast dug it's blade just along his ribs.

The as the blade dug itself about 2 inches into the side of Chopper he kicked it backwards, causing it to stumbled back into the rubble. He jumped upwards and locked his sights on the Gorefast. It struggled to get back up, but it was still making progress. Chopper regretted giving up his weapon to the Bloat. He readied his fists.

The Gorefast had finally gotten back to his feet just as Chopper pulled his hand back for a strike. As he continued to look at the Gorefast he felt a sting in his arm. He quickly looked back to see that second Crawler. The sly bastard. 

The creature had jumped at Chopper, and by the time he had turned to see his attacker the Crawler had begun to drag the man back down to the ground. Chopper frantically punched the Crawler as he looked back to the Gorefast, who was now charging Chopper again.

Chopper didn't know what to do, so in haste he quickly ripped off his shoe and threw it at the being. It missed completely, but the noise caused another humanoid being, shrouded by the shadows of a nearby building, ready to approach Chopper. It lifted its hand up and shot at the Gorefast. The Gorefast's head burst into a cloud of red mist as it fell to its knees, and then to the ground.

Now free of fear of an attack from the Gorefast, Chopper put all his attention into beating the small, black being. He grabbed it by the tiny tentacles protruding from its head and threw it in front of the other figure. It lined up another shot and put the Crawler out of its assumed misery.

"Foster?" Chopper asked the figure, but with no answer. It merely turned around and left Chopper to himself. "Hey Foster! Wait up, man!"

Chopper ran through the rubble of the near-completely collapsed building. He turned the corner to see Foster, helping Alberts from the ash and rubble.

"There you are." Chopper said.

"Yes, here we are. And there you are." Alberts had gotten to his feet by now.

"So a single bomb did this much damage?"

"Custom-made for these type of situations, my brother." Alberts said with a slight chuckle in his words. He dusted himself off as Foster cleared his throat.

"Well, let's hurry up. We gotta git back to the camp to stock up."

"For what?" Chopper was particularly curious on what they were doing. Foster never 'stocked-up' unless it was something really big.

"If you didn't hear, we found something in the lab. And we need BIG guns to get back to it."

"Hold up, hold up!" He couldn't believe his ears. "You just marched right into the lab, lost four of our best men, barely made it out alive yourselves, and now you wanna go back IN!? Can't you at least take a breather?"

"Sorry, chap. But we've been takin' a breather for the last two years. I'm caught up in the momentum and I ain't stoppin' for another 'breather' any time soon." Chopper took in his words for a few moments.

"Well, alright then." The two other men stared at him. "Well, come on! We wouldn't want to be takin' any 'breathers' now would we?" Foster nodded and Chopper took off towards the general direction of the camp, Alberts followed instantly. But Foster sighed deeply first before taking to a sprint. 

Just as he took off after the two, he heard something in the rubble behind him. He took a quick glance backwards to see a shadowy figure, saluting him before walking behind a stack of rocks. He wanted to go back and investigate, but looked ahead to see that he had lagged far behind the other two. He picked up his pace and almost completely forgot about the character, though the eeriness of its mysterious ways subtly, but surely, ate away at the back of his mind. He had started thinking whether or not he believed in ghosts.

=================

A caramel colored stallion was taking a daily stroll through town. This particular stallion was some-what smaller when compared to other, but made up for the fact by being able to think faster on his feet than most, something he jokingly titled 'instinct'. His mane and tail were both a light brown, and his cutie mark was three blue horseshoes. He usually went for a walk to clear his mind, though nothing particular was going through his head at the moment. He just had the compulsive urge to go for a walk.

He was at the outskirts of Ponyville when he heard an odd noise behind him. His head shot back to see what made the sound, but there was nothing. He continued his walk.

He came across the town's librarian, Twilight Sparkle. She was a purple-coated mare. Average-sized as well, something Caramel didn't mind. He always hated those toothpick-like ponies, they creeped him out a little. Twilight's mane and tail were a dark purple with a pink stripe going down the center of both. Both sets of hair were kept in a semi-straight flow, with a small, yet distinctive curve along the entire length of both.

Caramel's path seemed to cross Twilight's as they both would've collided, had they not stopped.

"Hi." Twilight said in a joyous manner.

"Oh, uh... hi, Twilight." He grinned sheepishly. "Hey, weren't you going to that special party up in Canterlot?"

"No, actually. Though I would've loved to go, I have a lot of work I need to do. Also, that party was more for rich, important, ponies. You know, the stuck-up kind." They both chuckled at her joke. "Well, I've got to get going; I'll see you around Caramel. Oh, and by the way, that's a nice necklace. You should show that to Rarity some time, she'd love to see that design."

Caramel's head cocked as he tried to decipher what she had said. Necklace? I'm not wearing a necklace. He looked down at his chest to view a large, purple ball upon it. He screamed and jumped at the same time when he saw it. He began to furiously swat at it with his foreleg.

Unfortunately, his swatting only seemed to make it grow bigger. He tried to pull it off to no avail. Eventually the ball seemed to explode around Caramel, engulphing his body and his screams as it quickly shrank into nothing.

A strange feeling erupted over Caramel's entire body. Everything seemed to stop, though, not in a sense that all his muscles had stopped, more than he was constricted, like he was frozen in a block of ice. He struggled to break free, but nothing happened, he didn't move or breath or anything. He accepted the situation and finally stopped.

Then something happened. The purple went away; he could finally feel his muscles release from whatever prison they were in. He seemed to be falling when he was released and met the hard, concrete floor face first with a large bang. He rubbed his face with his hoof as he attempted to recollect what had happened.

There was a twisting feeling in his stomach that made his vomit a bit of his lunch from earlier. After he was finished he gazed around at his surroundings, the very scene screamed danger. His heart rate picked up, as he looked for an exit, somewhere to get out in the open. But all he was met with was darkness. Then he heard the scuttle of feet and the snapping of hungry jaws closing in. He didn't want to see what was making that noise. He turned and sprinted away.

He ran down a hallway that was completely black, the only thing that Caramel was sure about was that the sounds were getting quieter. He was finally reassuring himself that he could rest. He laid his back against what he thought was a wall. It was hard and had many protruding spikes coming out of it.

He turned around to see what he was leaning against. A dimly lit, yellow light flickered on. It quickly rose as its hue slowly turned to red. He heard something take a deep breath and let out a roar that could cause a weaker stallion to faint by that sound alone.

Caramel fell to his back, his eyes were wide open, but the only thing he could see was that red light closing in on him. He turned to his back and sprinted towards the sound of the scuttling beings that were approaching him earlier; they would definitely be more faceable than this being.

He returned to the large, dark room. He could see faint figures moving about the area. He looked back to see the red beast following closely behind. He ran towards a room with a closed door. He attempted to work out its odd handle as the creature slowly approached him from behind.

He banged on the door with all his strength before turning back to the monsters. He was completely surrounded. He put his hooves above his face as a few tears escaped his eyes. He leaned his back against the door as he accepted his fate and gave up. He said good bye to the world as he thought of home.

Suddenly the door gave way from behind him. He fell to his back as his hooves attempted to catch his fall. The last thing he saw before he was knocked out was a large beast in a dirty, dark green suit standing above him, and the end of some sort of stick getting rammed into his face. And his day was going so well...
> What Lies Beneath
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stench of rust, blood, and death lingered about the halls of the utility wing of the BioLab. There, machines designed to sustain a fully-fledged bio-genetic research operation still rumble on as if the Outbreak had never breached the automatic, metallic, blast-doors located in every passageway of the building. Only two types of occupants were around to acknowledge the technical wonders located in these halls.

The former, a horde of ravenous, hungry, vile creatures who only see the machines as obstacles to their next meal. The later, a single man, dressed in a familiar green army outfit. Along with this symbolic uniform, he wore a dirty gas mask upon his face and nothing else. The gas mask was so ragged that it was likely to have a story all it's own, with it's mangled straps and broken lenses.

The man bearing this costume made very little noise as he traversed the halls, even managing to lower his breathing to that of almost complete silence. Thankfully, the machines now had a new purpose, to mask the sound of their new "master", to aid him in his hunt. Not one room over, a group of mindless Clots stood, sitting about, waiting for another feeding. This man places himself under the window showing into the room, making sure not to reveal himself. The man checks his inventory one last time, he only holds a small, metal shiv, something he doesn't mind settling with at all.

He carefully pulls out an access card, given to him by an old friend, and quickly swipes it along the recognition scanner to open the door. The sound grabs the attention of nearly all the mindless, pale beings in the room. They seem to mutter about themselves and the one closest to the door slowly approaches it. It poked it's head out the door, looking to the right first. It saw nothing so it began to turn it's head to the left.

Before it could finish it's action, the masked man grabbed the Clot, putting his hand over it's mouth, not to silence it but rather to keep it still, and jammed the shiv into it's lower jaw. The Clot's eyes reared up in pain as the man ripped the shiv down into it's gullet. He then pulled the shiv out of the creature and threw it to the ground.

As soon as the man revealed himself, the other Clots screamed in rage of the sight of the man and sprinted at him. The man, surprised by the sheer numbers of the group, pressed the "release lock" button on the door's keypad and threw the door shut on a pair of one of the creatures' stretched out arms, successfully smashing all bone located in the limb.

Still screaming in rage, the Clots pried the door open and charged after the man. He made a few, good meters down the hall before turning back to the horde. He smiled a grisly grin; he had the advantage, they were in his domain now. The creatures marched upon the man normally, not making notice of the large bar propped up against the ceiling. It had gotten in the way of one of the Clots, causing it to knock the support away.

Only when it was too late had the Clot noticed that the bar was holding up a set of loosened pipes in the ceiling and had caused them to come crashing down, like a pendulum, onto the unit of Clots. The initial trap had removed at least half of the group from the engagement. The man took this precious moment to charge the group back.

He jumped to the first Clot in the group, almost throwing all his body weight onto it, and furiously jammed his weapon into the creature's left temple. The force of the attack crushed the creature's skull, sounding off that satisfying crunch. In one swift movement, the man threw the corpse to the closest living Clot to also throw it off balance. This time, the man took hold of one of the Clots' arm and threw it straight to the ground behind him.

Still holding on to the creature's arm, the man pulled its arm across creature's chest while throwing his entire body's weight onto the creature, successfully snapping its arm due to the sheer pressure. After a few moments of staring into the Clot's empty eyes, the man reared his fist back and pounded a haymaker-like punch directly into the creature's nose. With that punch so went yet another life, ended in the halls of the dreaded laboratory like so many others.

The man turned to the now-thinned out group of Clots with a bewildered look ripping through the eyes of his mask. The "group" only had three specimens left. Two had begun to charge him.

The man jumped to the charging pair in front of him. He quickly grabbed the head of both creatures and slammed them together, successfully indenting the skull of one Clot and heavily distorting the other. The man took the head of the still living Clot and threw it to the ground, right next to his steel-toed boot. He lifted his his foot up and brought it down upon the Clot's head, turning it into a rather thick sauce of blood and grey matter.

The final Clot had grabbed hold of the man just as he ended the life of it's brother and bit the man right in the back of his neck.

Without even screaming, the man jumped backwards and slammed the Clot between himself and the wall. The creature let go after the initial blow and fell to the ground. The man, whose adrenaline level seemed to be equal in ratio with it's blood, picked the Clot up off the ground by it's neck. The man made a motion as if he were laughing, yet made no noise. He then grabbed the Clot, who by this time had stopped moving, by it's arm and brought it down upon his knee, snapping it like a tree branch.

He then began to pull on it for some odd reason, as if to remove it. But before he could do anything of the such a loud, banging noise sounded through the halls, ripping the man's attention away from his prey. He threw the Clot against the wall, as it tried to regain it's footing to attack the man again, the man swiftly picked up his shiv and jabbed it into the Clot's eye. It fell back to the ground.

After staring at the mass of dead bodies for a few moments, a sort of... proud look in his eyes, the man then headed off towards the noise. He passed the room that was once filled with the clones, not even giving it a second glance, as if the supplies were not what the man was after at all, but rather the occupants...

===================

Silhouettes of the camp eventually came into sight above the horizone of the rising sun. Though Foster couldn't exactly prove it, he could swear that Chopper had purposely made them take the long way just to catch this sight. Though it wasn't exactly beautiful, it was an improvement to what the rest of the world was going through.

"Nice view, eh guys?" Chopper said to the men behind him.

"It is a calming sign, if that was the intention, brother." Alberts returned.

"No time to oogle over a pretty sunrise, we got work to do." Foster said insipidly. Chopper's brow indented as he looked back to the masked man, who had now pushed past Chopper and began towards the camp. The least he could do is let ME enjoy it, the heartless bastard. Alberts decided to pay no mind to the ordeal. He was nearly home. Though, not all thoughts that came to his mind on that point were of peace and safety.

"Something doesn't seem right," Foster continued in a similar monotone as before. Chopper focused past Foster, noticing the large, toppled fence in front of the camp.

"Somethin' heavy hit the camp while we were gone." Chopper said in response to the sight.

"No shit." Foster said sharply, "Let's get goin', might be a few survivors left." Foster marched onward to the field before the camp, now undoing his holster and readying for an ambush. Chopper followed closely behind. Something didn't seem right to him either. Foster took a quick glance back at Chopper, noticing his curious eyes. He then took another survey of the battered camp.

There was something tense in the air. He could faintly feel eyes upon him and barely hear the click of hammers. He slowly moved to a wrecked car in the field, hoping he would reach it before anything rash occurred. Just as he reached the hood of the car a single voice, most likely a boy just past his teens, yelled out "Die, die, DIE!" A volley of bullets flew towards the semi-exposed men.

All three jumped behind the metal obstacle, putting their hands on their heads as if their hands could stop bullets. Surprisingly, only a few bullets pinged off the car, the rest seemed to fly completely over their intended targets. After a few moments, the fire stopped. Foster could hear the click of a new magazine. He quickly pulled out his sidearm and fired a shot to the sky.

"Oh, shit." The young voice from before said quieter. "HOLD YOUR FIRE!" It yelled to the rest of the assumed guards of the camp. Foster heard a set of feet rushing through the grass and pulled himself up to meet the owner of the young voice. Foster was met with the sight of a man in a cheap, blue jacket, a gold chain around his neck, and a Union Jack bandana around his face.

"God damnit, Kevo! Who the flyin' fuck gave you a weapon?" Kevo's eyes furrowed as he looked upon the one he labeled 'Pompous Asshole' for he couldn't find his name at the time, he always did forget the important stuff when most needed.

"Listen here,uh... we just got sacked not even a few hours ago by the damn specimens. I just so happened to mistake you for one of 'em. My bad! But since you're here, Jenkins needed a word with all the higher-ups, your sort, somethin' about a bunker. Anyways, get to it. It seemed pretty damn urgent."

Foster nodded and continued to the center tent of the camp. Alberts also nodded at Kevo and Chopper patted him on the shoulder. They went to the camp to get their briefing.

On the way to the main tent, Foster was stopped by another masked man. He wore a simple gas mask and standard military fatigues, he didn't stand out much from the rest of the camp.

"Where are the others?" He asked, a slight hint of worry in his muffled voice.

"Uh... they're... gone, for the moment." He didn't quite know what to say, he didn't want to go around and say that the most valuable men in the camp had just been slaughtered without even completing a simple objective. He knew all along that nothing good was to come of that damned plan.

"They're dead, aren't they? We're screwed, aren't we." The sound of defeat had washed over the man's voice by now. Morale was suffering heavily even before this last-ditched attack. Something needed to change.

Foster and the other two had finally reached the main tent by now, they expected to see at least a small group of even slightly experienced men around the map, all they saw was a lone man in a battered grunt uniform and a tattered, red barrett, staring at a dirty map on a table in the center of the tent with his back to the entrance. He stared at the map as if it would give him some sort of new information, something to at least base some form of action on.

"We still waitin' for more... 'officers', to assemble?" Chopper asked Jenkins. Jenkins chuckled at the comment, as if it were an actual joke.

"My friends," He began in a calm and controlled voice, as usual, "This is all we got. Surprising, really. The fact that we are the only men here that have fought these demons more than once." He took a heavy, defeated breath, "More and more refugees swarm to this camp, and less and less have actually gotten by without any form of running or hiding."

There was an awkward silence after Jenkins comment, Foster was the only one who thought of breaking the silence. "So... about this bunker... what's so important about it?"

"Bunker, Wyre." Jenkins began, still staring at the map. "This may be our last chance of surviving... for at least another year. Even that is pushing it though." He took another heavy sigh, "Our scouts have reported of a large structure of the sort, well into the forest west of here."

"That's pretty general, Jenkins. Care to specify?" Foster interrupted.

"Remember that part about all the fresh 'recruits' swarmin' the camp? They can't even care to learn how to tell distance, even from a chopper. All we know is that it's west."

"Can we even trust these damn greens if they can't even tell distance?" Foster interrupted again.

"Can I get back to my bleedin' story? Or is the ability to finish a simple briefing gone with society as well? Christ! Anyways, we're packin' up and ditchin' this bleedin' Hell hole. There, happy? I shortened it so you can now go about your interesting story."

"Woah, woah, woah! We're leaving!? We can't leave yet." Chopper chimed in.

"Why not? Not enough dead refugees, eh? Not enough failed missions? We keep this up and we have NO chance! At least at the bunker we can have some sort of hope. Here, there's not even THAT!"

"But Lewis, Skully! Our best! They need our help!" Chopper continued.

"What about them!? They're dead!"

Chopper took a breath, but then hesitated for a moment. He turned to Foster, "You tell 'em." Foster scoffed at all the pressure being forced onto him.

"Alright," He turned back to Jenkins, "We found something, in the lab. Give me a couple of minutes to explain." Jenkins gave Foster a raised eyebrow as the writer began to spin his tale into a more charismatic sort, so as to better persuade Jenkins to his side. "The Patriarch has definitely been busy..."

=================

The entire corridor was pitch black, though, this factor didn't seem to faze the man at all. Interestingly enough though, the way the man was clutching to the walls ever so slightly for movement, one could guess that a small amount of insecurity could be found within the man's mind. Though, one could only really guess.

All sound seemed the disappear from existence at the moment, even the man's breathing seemed to stop producing any sound. He was well aware that he was in a jungle here, and also that he was at the very bottom of the food chain. One small mistake, as miniscule as it would seem, was all the specimens needed to lock the man down in one final 'check mate'. Though living in total fear, like this, may shatter the will of most men, the man still held a stern, brave face behind his broken mask.

Finally, a sound broke through the thick layer of silence. The deep inhale of a beast. The man recognised that noise. The glowing beast had found him. He closed his eyes in defeat, he made his simple mistake. The roar echoed through the halls, yet, the man saw no indication of the glowing beast's light. He wasn't found. But something was.

The man opened his eyes to see the faint glow shining from a corner just down the hallway. It was heading for the underground parking lot. The man seemed to excuse himself from the situation for a moment, he stared into the blankness as, one would guess, he constructed a plan.

He ran for a hallway parallel to the one with the glow. It seemed as though he was going to cut the glowing beast off, instead of chase after it. After a few intense moments of running through complete darkness, the man could view a glow of light that one could guess was from the parking lot.

A door came into view of the man. Only seconds afterwards, a banging sound was coming from the aforementioned passageway. The man sprinted to the doorway, he heard a hissing sound just on the other side. Whatever was behind that door needed help, the man wouldn't allow for another to die on his own accord.

He grabbed a fire axe by the door just as he ripped it open. A strange being fell right to his feet as he did so. His eyes widen at the caramel colored creature he had never seen before as it looked back at him, he quickly looked up to see the horde of Crawlers closing in. He brought the handle of the axe down on the caramel creature, successfully knocking it unconscious.

Just as the Crawlers had jumped at the two other beings, the man slammed the door shut in front of them. The Crawlers threw their bodies at the door in an attempt to throw it off it's very hinges. The man laid his body against the door, he searched frantically about the floor in front of him with his hands. Whatever sort of light that was present earlier was now gone, all that was left to accompany the man was bitter darkness. And, whatever that thing was, lying not even a few feet away.

The banging of the door continued for only a few moments more. Then, suddenly... it stopped. There was a moment of silence before the man decided to even breath. He carefully leaned forward, making sure to be ready to jump backwards if the Crawlers pounced once more.

The tearing silence ate away at the man's nerves. He was ready for another attack, he wanted another attack. He couldn't seem to tolerate the waiting.

Finally, he got up. He walked away from the door and towards where he threw the creature.

He felt around for the body before feeling its hair. He grabbed it and lifted the being to his shoulder. He was going to have a better look at it when he got back "home". This change of pace intrigued the man. All these new things...

The hallways of the facility were eerily quiet. The silence bothered the man more than the creatures waiting in it. His eyes twitched slightly.

Once he had finally reached a closet with a working fluorescent light bulb, he threw the creature to the ground, allowing it the bounce in its ragdoll form. The man chuckled to himself slightly, and silently. He then crouched beside it and began to examine the body. It had short fur, but the coloring of it was far too odd to go on unnoticed.

The caramel coat was very unnatural, though, something not made to benefit any real purpose. If this... thing was engineered by the Patriarch, it was definitely not for stealth purposes. And by the way it could barely handle a blow to the face, it wasn't some sort of damage sponge either. Also, the way other specimens were treating it, almost as if they were attacking it.

Maybe they were. If that was the case, then this creature wasn't manufactured in some jelly chamber. This thing was an alien, in every aspect of the meaning.

He grabbed its face, he opened an eyelid to see if it was still alive. As he looked into the creature's very mind, the man noticed a slight twitch of its pupils. He heard the creature take a breath in shock. Within a half-second the man threw the creature to the ground and reared back his axe.

The creature screamed, "Wait!" the man stopped in mid-swipe. This thing talked! The man brought his weapon back to his side and merely stared at the being, a stern yet emotionless look on his face. The creature stared at the man, the man stared at the creature. There was a heavy fog of disbelief in the air. Shock was surely quick to follow.

The man dropped the axe, his eyes filled with fear, astonishment, and all around curiosity. Caramel rolled to his stomach and jumped to his feet. He faced the man, staring at him, afraid that he might attack. Though, after a few moments of waiting, he lowered his guard, slightly.

"Um... I come in peace..." Caramel choked out. The man made a motion as if he were chuckling, but no sound came from him, still. "Can you talk? Can you understand me?" Caramel asked, almost already knowing the answer. The man shook his head "no" at first, then he shook his head "yes". A second later he pulled down the neck of his shirt to reveal a large scar across his neck. From this, Caramel could guess that, if it shared a similar anatomy to ponies, it's voice box might have been damaged by whatever caused that scar. Though it is usually unlikely that one could survive something like that, this thing's being here was proof enough that it had an immense amount of luck that fateful day.

"Can you tell-er, show, me where I am? Like on a map?" The man shook his head "no" again. "Do you know anything about those things that attacked me?" The man shook his head "no" again. "Can you give me any sort of information, at all?"

The man's eyes looked up. He then remembered something. He looked down at his chest. On it was a rusty, worn-out, metal pin. On that pin read "Sgt. Powers".

"So, your name's Powers?" He shook "yes". "Well, that's something. I'm Caramel, and I have no idea where the heck I am."

Powers nodded in acknowledgement, but in his eyes, one could see them say "I've been here so long, so do I, now."

===============

Lewis was hesitant to enter the room. He had a hope in his gut that if he stalled, he might not have to deal with the problems at hand. He had, after all, been trying to fix the world for the past two years. He needed at least one break from it all. He merely stood, facing the closed doors.

"Uh... you can go in, sir." The guard said quietly, not sure how to take the sight of an alien just staring blankly at a closed wooden door.

"Okay. Okay. I just... need a minute." He knew that exactly what news was going to be heard. Too many times before had he been called to a meeting for "urgent news" and too many times had he been forced to clean up a mess that didn't belong to him. He needed all the strength he could muster to deal with this all over again. He took one last breath and stepped through the doors.

The hall was painted an eloquent purple, with large windows that granted view of the entire gleaming city below. About the walls were large, decorative paintings of various scenes from pony history. A large, glossy wooden table sat in the middle of the room where both Celestia and Skully sat.

Lewis took a seat directly across from Skully, who had a plate of food served in front of him.

"Really Skully? Is now the best time?" Skully looked up from his meal.

"What? I'm hungry, I eat when I'm hungry."

"Whatever," he looked over to the princess, "so... what's the news?"

"You remember how you arrived, correct?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"A large, purple ball had engulfed you and you teleported here, correct?"

"Yes..." Lewis had no idea where this was going.

"It seems that not only does this teleporter you speak of bring humans here, it is taking my subjects."

"What!?" Lewis couldn't completely comprehend that statement. Skully, as well, looked up from his meal again, as confused as Lewis.

"I don't quite follow. Could you repeat that?" Skully chimed in.

"Recently, I have received reports of various ponies being surrounded by a large, purple ball and disappearing moments later. In this castle alone, four of my best guards have gone missing."

"Well... is there any pattern? Somethin' we can go on by?" Lewis asked.

"I'm afraid that there is no true pattern. It's not constricted to the castle alone. I have received a few reports that ponies in the town of Staliongrad have gone missing in a similar fashion, and I expect similar reports from other towns as well. I'm afraid it's pure luck that the ponies who have not gone, have not gone. There's no way to predict it unless it is too late."

"Can't you lock onto it or something, like a get a machine to copy its energy or behavior or somethin'?"

"We have tried something similar to that, having our best unicorns copy the energy that flows from the balls. But we would require tens of more 'teleports' to have even an idea of what form of energy these balls produce. And it appears that the fits of teleporting have ended for now. The only thing we can do is wait." Skully had lost his appetite; he now had a fear of what was going to happen next, if he was the next sorry sap to be sent back to that Hell called Earth. He thought for a moment as an awkward silence had passed between the three lone beings.

"We could prepare." He said. Celestia looked over to him.

"Prepare? How?" The princess straighten her back slightly more, interested in what solution this being named 'Skully' had.

"Well, you've got an army, right? We know one thing: that we know absolutely nothing about this damn machine. So, we prepare for the worst possible outcome, whether it be only a few specimens entering at a time or a full out bleedin' invasion, we'll at least be ready."

"So you expect me to send an army to every single town under my control? To guard against an enemy, who we have no idea of when they will arrive? That is not a task that can be completed easily or in such short notice." Skully slightly chuckled, if he didn't know any better, he could say that he was having a debate with a princess.

"The least you could do is send a few troops to every town, have them have the town’s folk prepare for the worst. It's better than just sittin' around waiting to be butchered." Celestia almost scoffed.

"So, you expect me to send a hoof full of troops to be sent to every town to train the residents who, might I add, have no clue what 'murder' is, to become a full on militia to face an enemy whose sole purpose is to kill and is designed to install a fear unlike anything any creature on this planet has ever witnessed before, all the while we have no idea when or where they will come, how many there will be, and whether or not we will even see an end to the attacks?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Skully picked up his glass of water, "wouldn't you at least want to be able to say you tried?" He tipped his glass to Celestia and took a sip, an almost... satisfied grin on his pale face.

=================

There was a sort of tense feeling in the air of the castle. Various guards were preparing to be sent off to towns to give slapdash training to unorganised militia to fight an unknown enemy. The clock seemed to be against them, even though there was no timer. All they knew was that something was happening soon.

Among this quaint chaos stood a single pane of stained glass in a dark hallway. A single, dragon-like figure stood in the center. It was positioned in a chair, its claws clasped together, staring out at everything that was happening at once.

If one looked closely, one could almost see it move. One could see its enjoyment of this disorder. If one were to look into the eyes, one could almost see a caged being. But this being would not be angry, no. One could almost sense a hint of happiness in its conniving eyes. Happiness that it would soon be free once again, free to play, once more. This happiness could almost be mistaken for excitement. But alas, it is only quaint happiness.

Through all the rushing about in the background, the hallway seems to go quiet, only the window pane can be noticed. The silence seems to grip at one's very throat... until a single, victorious chuckle breaks from the direction of the glass.
> Situation All Fucked Up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a faint crackle of fire coming from an old, burning filing cabinet. It provided little to no light; as a matter of fact, it could be detrimental, acting as a call to investigate. The darkness both hid and exposed Powers to the worst. He could not see, but he could not be seen. It was all a game of chance.

This was not the first time the darkness had been both an ally and an enemy to Powers. Thankfully, he didn't need to see his enemies to sense them, he could already feel them. Their peeling eyes tearing across this desolate landscape for another meal to fill their forever-empty bellies.

The silence and the darkness ate away at Caramel's mind, he just wanted something to happen; something to go wrong, even. It was better to at least have some insight to the terror that was chasing him.

The two came to a locked door. Powers attempted to swipe his "trump" card, but to no avail. The keypad beeped a deadly ring as it flashed red. Powers held his breath, waiting for the horde.

He counted to five in his head, knowing if they didn't swarm by then, they wouldn't swarm at all. The time passed to what seemed to be an hour. He waited five more seconds after the original, just to be sure. He began to turn around.

"Wait," Caramel began in a voice just above a whisper. "We can't go back, it's a dead end. Remember?" Powers thought, all that was left behind them was a tattered, old, bloody cot in a desolate, dank room. He turned his face back to the locked door. His brow furrowed with frustration. He grabbed the fail-safe handle, meant for opening doors during a power failure, and began to pull.

As if God himself was giving Powers a personal "fuck you" the door lock seemed to jam during the auto-free mechanism when the power shot out. Either that or something really expensive was behind this door.

Just as Powers was about to give up, he heard a tiny creak. His mind began to put the tiny pieces together, almost as if in desperation. If that door creaked, that means it must be weakened. If it's weakened, that means brute strength is possible to open it. All that's needed is a good, solid push.

In a few minutes this door would be opened and they would be one step closer to getting out of this hellhole. But again, God didn't exactly appreciate these two getting off so easy. Completely by chance, a Clot managed to stumble down the same exact, narrow hall that the two survivors had gone, and barely managed to see them through the heavy shroud of darkness that covered the entire corridor.

At the sight of another living thing, the creature let out a large, billowing scream that travel through almost the entire wing. After the alert, the Clot charged head on at the two. Powers pulled out his shiv and jammed the handle into the mouth of his pony companion.

Caramel was in more shock at Powers' action than the Clot's. He turned back to Powers, who had continued on wrestling with the door. He turned back to the being that was now fully charging the two. It had closed the gap to twenty meters now. A wave of thoughts passed through Caramel's mind as the creature closed in. Thoughts of running and possibly escaping, though at the cost of Powers. But he quickly suppressed them for he needed Powers probably more than Powers needed him.

He charged, though "charge" is a stretch of the true action, at the Clot. As he was but one meter away, he swung his head directly into the Clot's knee cap. Whether it was clumps of rust and blood flaking into his mouth or the distasteful crunch that sounded after the strike, Caramel knew for sure that a violent wave of vomiting was coming.

He attempted to pull the weapon out of the cringing creature but his body seemed to be more focused on hold back the fits of "purging" that his stomach would soon go through than mustering up strength to retrieve a weapon that he clearly didn't want to even hold.

Caramel pried at the shiv as hard as he could, but before the creature's knee was even close to giving way, the Clot clutched Caramel's mane and began pulling with a might that could be equivalent to that of a cornered beast.

Caramel screamed as his hooves began to lift off of the floor. Was this really how he was going to end? Caramel closed his eyes and held his breath. One second had passed as he heard another sickening crunch. He opened his eyes to see Powers had delivered the being a haymaker that could shatter an old piece of concrete with ease.

Caramel fell to the floor, the Clot's grip still as strong as ever. As he attempted to release himself, he looked up to where the Clot had come from. A massive Bloat had found its way towards the initial scream, a small pack of Clots attempting to shamble past it followed.

Caramel thought that Powers would've helped release him by now, but to his general surprise Powers was actually running at the locked door. As he tackled the passageway, the door gave out a loud, snapping noise. The door jolted back as it slid off the rail that was holding it in place.

Powers ripped the door open, the rusty metal screeching and cracking a cringe-worthy tone. After such, he grabbed at Caramel, brutally dragging him through the doorway by his mane. After the two were through the door, Powers tossed Caramel at a wall and began pushing on the door, attempting the snap it back onto its sliding rail.

The door clicked back into place and Powers slammed the metal piece of scrap as hard as he could, but it was stopped by a loud, cracking noise. Powers looked to see a blistered, green hand in the doorway. The Bloat pulled back the door, revealing only its face and half of its fleshy chest. It reared back and shot out its fatal bile at the mute.

Powers lifted his left arm to block the spew, a piercing sizzling sound occurring only moments later. Fighting through the pain, Powers managed to kick the enormous specimen in the stomach and into the pack of Clots behind it and completely slammed the door shut, temporarily locking it.

He took a few breaths before instinctively jutting back into the wall and clutching his arm in agony. He tried to scream, but only the sound of retching and coughing came out.

Caramel looked at the wounded man. Though he hesitated for only a moment, Powers could've sworn the horse-like creature was enjoying the spectacle. Caramel then ran into a nearby room to look for a first-aid kit, something with a red cross, something to at least help. Directly next to the door on the inside of the room was what he needed. He jumped up to the kit, grabbing it by the handle and using his body weight to rip it off the wall.

Bandages and needles fell out of the box as Caramel raced over to his injured ally, kit in mouth. He ran up to Powers and laid the box down in front of him. He began to open the kit, but was quickly pushed aside by Powers himself. He grabbed a blank bottle and began to spin off the top. He didn't care what it was or what it did, he just wanted to put something on this agonising wound. To at least convince himself that he was doing something to prevent that "checkmate".

The liquid began to bubble instantly as a new wave of pain washed over the masked man. He shot back again, attempting to not pass out from the sheer pain. Unfortunately, the behemoth of a man succumbed to the agony, the bile still eating away, slightly, at his arm.

Powers began to shift to his side, Caramel jumped to him to try and catch him, only to be nearly crushed by the man's surprisingly heavy weight.

He threw the man to the ground as lightly as he could, still letting out a loud bang in the process, and looked up from the ordeal. A horde was collecting on the other side of the door and the hallway opposite to it was completely shrouded by darkness. Caramel took a deep breath and clenched his teeth onto the man's clothing. This was going to be a long night.

=================

In the distance, a mechanical bang went off. Though, too far for Caramel to pick up. Slightly after the bang, a thunderous laughter echoed, something Caramel did manage to catch note of. A shiver made its way up his spine. He tried to think of something to push him through this pain, this hardship. He began to think of Twilight's smile...

================

Lewis sat in the chair facing out towards the window. All the candles had faded out, only the blue film of the moon lit the room. He gazed at the starry night, trying to forget his true duty. There was a silent, yet constant whisper, reminding him that he was meant for others to die. That the only thing he was ever good at was ending the lives of those "spawns of Satan".

He breathed a heavy sigh through his mask. He wondered why he kept it. It no longer served the purpose it was intended for; it was never really needed, actually. He began to think if it had some sort of symbolic value, something his subconscious might find reasoning with. He thought.

He was no longer human, that was for sure. Humans don't go through what he's forced to live with everyday. He's what humans used to make sure they would never have to do that. He was closer to a machine than to something with consciousness. He felt empty, he was empty. Just a shell, a tool for others to use when necessary. The only question that remained in his head was "When was this tool going to rust?"

===============

Skully sat at the edge of his bed, his cloth mask pulled down, revealing his pale face, his dark goggles still covering his demonic, bloodshot eyes. He stared at his lap, a set of comfortable sheets not inches behind him. His body reckoned for the rest, but his mind held a demanding lead as thoughts passed through. He knew of a night just like this, something moonlit, calm, blissful; only there was more color, more music, more sound, more death...

His mind screamed "NO!", he closed his eyes as if a pain shocked through him. He took a quick sigh. He tried to think of his duty, to protect mankind. But something silently whispered in his ear. "You cannot protect a corpse. All this hardship, it can end. There is safety here. There is no need to fight...

Skully shook his head. "Did I..." he began aloud, but finished in thought, "did I just say humanity was dead?" He shook his head again. There was no worse crime than betraying your own species, was there? "I just need sleep. Talking about betraying your own species, man I need to get my head outta clouds." Only, he didn't remember putting that information together, he didn't think it himself, did he?

He just wanted a break from it all, he did what one of his friends used to say, "think happy thoughts" and he did. He thought of a nice, warm beach. Nice clouds, perfect bliss at it's best.

"Someday, man." He said to himself. "Someday..." Suddenly his happy thoughts involved a skimpily-clad woman walking up to him right out of nowhere. "Thanks for throwing me a bone," he stated to himself. This was one of the few thoughts that didn't involve death and gore, and he was going to enjoy it...

================

A large, white pony laid down upon her large bed with a small stack of papers to her right. A half-dozen candles faintly illuminated the room as a weak beam of moonlight glittered through the curtains. This was a fine night, something to be proud of her sister for. 

But right after that thought, Celestia's nerves seemed to weaken and give in. A small wave of fear tickled at the lower end of her spine. Something just didn't seem right to her, and it was the fact that she didn't know what that worried her more.

"What to do, what to do?" She said aloud, trying to calm herself. Though this was work that was needed to be done, but her mind was most definitely elsewhere. Those things, humans, they occupied her mindset for the evening. The very scenario seemed odd just when said aloud.

"Members of a once dominant species of a planet that was soon knocked way down the food chain by a similar yet more nightmarish species only labeled as 'specimens' that came here via a teleportation device that they admit themselves to being far ahead of their original technology." Right then and there another spec of trust managed to flake away from Celestia's thoughts about the humans.

What if this was all a ruse? That they are merely here to spy or weaken our defenses. I know it's a foolish thought, but I must take in every possible aspect and possibility. Their looks alone were enough to cause distrust among the guards, crusted in another beings blood. How can one take everything they say as truth and not feel somewhat deceived? But then Celestia nodded her head. She was a proper hostess, she would never evict a foreign guest, no matter how unruly or untrustworthy they seemed. Though she would keep a good watch on them.

Her eyes grew heavy, the stress of meeting this new, odd scenario was alien to Celestia, she was used to being in control most of the time.

Before, she could at least guess what the outcomes of certain situations would be. But now, the spontaneous nature of the alleged machine gave her a dreadful uncertainty. What was it's limit's, where did it's power stop. She knew nothing, she was in the worst possible place for her position, and the evening was just right for an attack...

================

At first, it was only the sound of a light fizzle, something you couldn't even notice if you tried. But then, it grew. It grew to a faint crackle, then snapping, then eventually the bang of particles ripping between dimensions, then finally the thundering bang of the portal opening.

A thunder that was alien to even the immortal Celestia. Her eyes shot open with a fear at the oddly familiar sound. A heavy weight tied around her heart and ripped it down to her digestive track. That dark eyed human was right, something had come knocking.

================

Kevin tried to push through the queasiness. Surely his children could ignore it, but he was needed at this hour, it took longer for a connection with the cloner to connect. But when it did connect, hell would surely surface. He managed to transfer the odd feeling and funnel it to that of pain, something that made him angry. And when he was angry, things got messy. And he loved it when things got messy.

The Patriarch was still on his knees when the first group of guards came witness to the sight. They all stared, that creature was a thing of pure fear. Something demons in their own mythology might fear to tread upon. The Patriarch looked up to the fear stricken ponies, he giggled a deep, ghastly laugh. The guards only shook more.

A large, white stallion walked from behind the first line. His armor made the suitor seem like a sentient battering ram, one with as much physical prowess as it had aesthetic poise.

"Come on, ya fillies." He began in a deep voice that seemed to be shaped perfectly to fit any character with authority. "I've seen worse than this sorry sack of fertilizer." He shuffled his front hoof like a bull, readying to charge.

Being somewhat inspired by the "speech", the rest of the group followed suit and began a "charging line" of sorts. In the front, pegasi and earth ponies ready to bear the brunt of the attack. In the rear, unicorns readying offensive spells for the intruder. This was a hilarious to the Patriarch, it reminded him of when the humans thought that order and intimation was enough to defeat him.

"Oh, you don't want to do this." The Patriarch began with a snide smile on his lips.

"CHARGE!" The commander stallion yelled, the line of guards running at the lone monster. Kevin didn't even bother to spin his chaingun. He cracked his neck and jammed his knuckles against his weapon, cracking them as well. As soon as he was done "preparing", a massive wave of various specimens zapped behind him, catching the ponies completely off-guard.

The commander tried to back up, but unfortunately his momentum dragged him close enough for the Patriarch to jam his claws into his neck. Gurgling in agony, the commander attempted to scream in pain as the specimens happily pounced at their meals. The Patriarch pulled the half-living pony close to his face.

"Thanks for the meal, I always loved delivery." With that, the Patriarch pulled his head back and smashed the pony's head in with his own forehead. He threw the corpse to the ground and began to laugh hysterically.

Just like old times.

================

There wasn't even a knock, Skully was caught completely off-guard. An armored unicorn came into the room greeted by the sight of a shirtless Skully with one hand behind his head and the other under the silk covers, near his waist.

"Why are you like that?" The guard asked the (oddly) still masked and goggled Skully.

"Because of reasons!" He said in a slightly angry, slightly shocked tone while trying to retrieve his clothes.

"Well, are you injured or something. We have some medics that can help you if-"

"I'm fine! What's the problem!?"

"It seems your theory was correct. We’re being invaded!"

"Invaded! Fuck." he put his chin in his clean hand. "Well, what are we gonna do? We can't fight it here. We’d need an army!"

"Precisely, that's why you and your friend have to be evacuated. You are the only two who know what we are up against. Hurry up and follow me, we need to get going now!" Skully began to climb out of bed.

"Alright, give me a damn tick, I'll be out in a minute." The pony nodded and left the room. "I hate everything..." Skully said quietly, under his breath.

================

Lewis was still sitting quietly, his thoughts not focusing on one single topic. He thought of outcomes, joy, death, and of random things like what his last meal was. He didn't want to sleep, he wanted to think. Thinking allowed him to be in control, to have power within his own mind. Dreams were the opposite, constricted and dense, something he was merely a rat in, another obstacle to overcome.

The door was smashed open. He didn't turn, he only grew furious, though completely by choice. At the very least, the angry would allow him to enjoy the act. The Clot approached him with as much curiosity as anger. It held a Bloat's cleaver, a weapon it had no idea how to use. It lifted it up and tossed it at the man.

Lewis was slightly caught by surprise at the attack, this was different from normal. Weapons were very alien to Clots, to most specimens really. They merely thought that what weapons they had were always there and would use them in the most inefficient ways, most of them at least.

Barely grazing some extra fabric of Lewis' suit, the cleaver fell in an arch that landed not a foot away. He finally turned around and uppercut the Clot with his good hand, though it was his bad hand as well. His knuckles throbbed with a surprising pain, he never really did much with his left hand, things became a lot less fun in Lewis' mind then.

The Clot was only thrown slightly off balance, not even enough to trip it though. Lewis quickly, yet calmly turned around and picked up the meat-slicing utensil. He always thought that sharp objects were a sloppy way of disposing an enemy, but now things were slightly desperate. 

He lifted the blade up and swung it down overhead the pale being. The sloppy crunch of the blow was distasteful to Lewis' ears and the softening glide as the blade met a resistance of tissue and muscle that gradually slowed the dull blade felt unnatural to Lewis.

He observed his damage, the blade was dug in deep enough that only an inch or so of the cleaver was still left out of the body. He guessed that the Clot's collar bone was shattered and was in a burning agony, though it felt wrong, he pulled the blade out and readied another blow.

As he released the cleaver from the Clot's body he gave it a strong kick to give himself some space, successfully knocking the dying creature to the ground. He walked over to the body, the creature looked into his eyes. He could see the pain that burned through it, it almost looked... human.

Lewis shook his head as a wave of rage coursed through him. He slammed the blade directly into it's head, another distasteful crunch. Lewis opened his eyes again. The cleaver had dug itself so that the back of the top of the Clot's head was punctured, leaving about six inches of skull and skin between the end of the blade and the front of the Clot's twisted-in-agony face. Lewis chuckled, but only at the fact of how clumsy his swipe was.

He jammed his boot into the face of the creature and held a firm grip on the handle of the blade. He pushed with his foot and pulled with his arm in short, sporadic jolts as the biomass broke and snapped. The skull crunched as the blade slowly inched it's way out of the cranium and the skin snapped and tore as it was pulled against the dull, rusty, metal surface.

Lewis couldn't quite tell for sure, but one could swear that the Clot made lip motions of "P" and "M" before the man completely decimated the creatures face by pulling the blade fully through it's skull. Skin and some pieces of bone managed to jam in a way so that some of the Clot's flesh jutted out of the "exit wound" of the blade. Lewis would've chuckled at that sign too, if it weren't for the sound of feet, or rather hooves, coming down the hall.

Lewis relaxed his shoulders, put his foot and the shoulder of the (assumed) dead Clot, and pushed its body behind the bed. He did not want to explain the heinous shit that had just happened. He couldn't even begin to think of why he even did it. His heart picked up at the very thought of trying to explain it.

Skully was the first to enter the room.

"Hey man," He began, slowing down as he saw the patch of blood on Lewis' chest. "I see you've already welcomed some of the guests." He cocked his eyebrow, "I thought you didn't like using knives and stuff."

"I was desperate." Lewis said in a clear monotone.

"Riiight. Well, let's get going. I'm afraid the party's been crashed and it's a real S.N.A.F.U.."

Lewis jolted, slightly at the statement, "what, we're just gonna leave the castle? Don't we usually hold it with our lives? Isn't it like, the last line of defense or somethin'?"

"Not really, it's just symbolic. The Princess herself said that this head-piece wasn't worth losing everything over, there are other advantageous areas to hold up, this one's been compromised."

"Well fuck..." Lewis began as he tried to form a more correct response to the situation. Skully quickly interrupted him for they didn't have much time.

"My words exactly! Now let's get going before Patty starts kickin' down doors. Rumor has it he's not just here for the bloody curtains." Lewis nodded and started for the door. A raunchy stench penetrated Skully's skull mask, he flinched at the sense. "Bloody Hell! You forget how to flush or somethin'!? It smells like somethin'-"

"We don't have the time, remember?" Skully stared at the masked man for a few seconds. The eye lenses were tinted dark, but he could've swore that Lewis held a crazed look in his eyes. He shivered again.

================

A row of guards stood behind a door.

"What's behind it?" One asked.

"Hell if I know." Another returned. "We just gotta make sure whatever this is stays in these halls. Who knows what'll happen if whatever's there gets out?"

"What is it,even? Nightmare Moon? Discord? Changlings?"

"First off, Nightmare Moon is gone, Discord is stuck in stone and there's no way he could get out, and we pushed those changeling bugs so far back down in the hole they crawled out of they won't know which way is up for years. It's gotta be something different."

"Then what?" The group went quiet for a moment, a silence that was broken by a gut-wrenching squish. The guards all cringed at once, it seemed. A few began to shake.

The commander of the group nodded to one of the unicorns in the back, he returned the nod and motioned to the other unicorns. They all took stances as their horns began to glow. The thunder of heavy feet pounded through the halls. Then, there was a silence, a long silence.

One second later the Patriarch smashed through the door, revealing his face and his claw arm.

"Heeeeere's, Kevin!" He laughed as a concussion spell hit him right in the forehead. He growled as he retreated from the opening. He took one half-step back and kicked the double doors with a force that knock them both clear off the hinges. The debris crushed a total of five stallions and injured two more with the flying splinters.

The ponies stood in awe as the Patriarch held a stance in the doorway, not moving, only soaking up the priceless reactions of the ‘unstoppable guards of the palace’. He grinned and began to spin up his chain-gun. He took aim at the center of the legion, but was caught off guard by a barrage of concussion spells making contact with various points in his body.

He stumbled to his knee by all the blows, which soon stopped after the unicorns saw the damage they had dealt. He looked up again with another grisly grin. Suddenly, a massive horde of Crawlers jumped from the ceiling on top of the group, the Patriarch had seemed to only be a distraction as the true attack had gotten into place.

The Patriarch had begun to laugh hysterically again as he pulled out a glowing, red syringe and jammed it in between his ribs. As the red liquid entered his bloodstream, he looked up to the ceiling and screamed a terrible roar. He looked back down to see the group of guards either trying to stomp on the Crawlers or trying to wrestle them off as more had swarmed the narrow hallway. The battle was quickly drawing to an end. The specimens with no loses yet.

If the Patriarch still had tear ducts, he would've cried at the beautiful sight.

================

The three beings quickly walked down the hall. The sound of crashing and battle echoed through the halls. The specimens were quickly spreading.

"So," Skully began with an awkward pause, "never got your name." The guard pony looked back at him.

"Does it really matter right now? I'm only escorting you to the carriages, then we'll never see each other again."

Skully cocked his eyebrow at the impudent pony. "Well, it's something to talk about, to calm the mood about the fact that there's a giant horde of things that generally want to see your organs splattered about the floor."

The pony groaned. "Seeker." He said in a monotone voice.

"Seeker..." Skully led on.

"Just Seeker, it's what my friends call me and I know you just need to be my friend. So it's just Seeker." Skully cocked his eyebrow again, and began to slightly grind his teeth.

"Alright, Seeker, where's this damn station or whatever it is we're headin' to?"

"It's just around this-" Seeker's sentence was interrupted by a blood-soaked Gorefast smashing through a nearby door. "What the Hell is that!?" Seeker said as he fell to the ground.

Without hesitation Skully rammed his shoulder into the occupied beast, smashing it against a wall. He grabbed it's jaw (or rather, where it's jaw should be) and bladed arm and pinned it against the wall.

"RUN!" He yelled to the two, "There'll be more! I'll catch-up!" Lewis nodded and turned to Seeker. Instead of leaving a soldier behind, he ran at the specimen but was grabbed by the mane.

"We don't have time!" Lewis said, "He can take care of himself." Seeker nodded and turned down the corridor. The two left the DJ behind.

Skully quickly released the creature's jaw and maneuvered his arm so that it was now caught in a headlock. He then kicked with both feet to the wall and smashed the Gorefast's head into the opposite wall. He released it full and ran down the hall the other had done not one minute ago.

As Lewis and Seeker ran down the hall, Lewis caught quick sight of a door labeled "Armory".

"Wait!" He yelled, Seeker turned back to him. "Do ya got a key for that?" He said pointing at the door."

"Of course, but I don't think we have the time."

"There's always time for guns! Come on, let's get goin'!" Seeker ran down the hall as Lewis followed. His horn glowed as a key levitated to the lock. As he twisted it, Lewis Kicked the door with all his might. Seeker gave an angered look to Lewis, but to no avail as he was already rushing to his own firearms.

Lewis stood in awe, after being away from his weapon for so long it felt good to finally have some firepower back in his hands. He grabbed his shotgun and the bag of shells that went with it, along with three 9mm pistols and Skully's sword. It's amazing that these weapons were able to pass through as well. I guess Patty isn't all bad...

He jammed two shells into the double barrel and began to walk out of the armory with Seeker.

"Are we done? These isn't anymore errands you need to do? Have you got your laundry?"

"Ah, shadup. Just get me to the damn evac!"

"Hmmph" Seeker said as he turned to the direction of the courtyard which held the carriages. Hopefully some pegasi were left, otherwise they were walking.

They had finally come to the door that lead out to the courtyard. Lewis put his back to the surface to the right of the door. He rested the barrel of the weapon on his right forearm and readied for the door to open. Seeker twisted the handle with the magic of his horn and slowly creaked the door open.

Lewis sighed and he turned to face the door and kicked it, all in one smooth movement. The courtyard was empty. There were a few carriages, but any form of propelling those carriages seemed to have already left.

"God dammit!" Lewis said as he stomped down his boot upon "dammit". Seeker looked around, this was very unusual. Typically, even if the castle was under siege, the pegasi in charge of running the carriages were trained to never leave. Something must've been up.

Skully entered the room, Seeker hung his head. Before any words were spoken, Lewis instinctively handed Skully his arsenal, two 9mm and his trusty sword.

"Hey, where's the evac?" He said. "What's goin' on?" Lewis turned back to him. He shrugged as Skully grew angry. "Dammit!" All that time and we coulda just made a run for it!" Skully thought for another moment. He looked over to Seeker, who had a defeated-sort of look on him. Not complete, but damn well close.

"Lemme guess, only way out's on the other side of the castle?" Seeker nodded. "Well shit. Let's get goin' then."

Seeker turned to Skully, "What!? Don't you know that the castle is probably filled with those... things!"

"Yeah," He began, "but we should at least go down tryin' to escape. No point in sittin' here waitin' to die!" Seeker furrowed his brow yet again. He was about to say something, but his sentence was cut off by the sound of heavy breathing. It sounded like a Fleshpound, but was much worse.

Skully was the first to view the massive creature. The first sight was his large, chain-gun arm. His eyes widened behind his goggles. The creature began to laugh.

"Well, well. How utterly predictable. I knew you hapless vermin would only be looking for escape. Thank me that I'm a master at guessing." The Patriarch grinned his evil, wide-mouthed grin, a sign that death was imminent. "So," His eyes jumping from each victim to another, "care to go the easy way and scrunch up in a nice little ball? Or am I gonna have to waste some more ammo?"

Skully looked at Lewis, he nodded to the DJ as Skully gave Kevin the finger. As Skully did that, Lewis sprung up his shotgun and blasted both barrels at the monstrosity. The bullets peppered his chest, and even made him stumble back, but for the most part he was unfazed.

The Patriarch pressed a series of buttons on his arm and a compartment on his weapon opened up. He aimed the gun at the three and flexed a muscle on his arm.

Thankfully, before the missile launched, all three jumped to different directions to avoid the blast. The only damage that was done by the missile was a large crater in the porcelain tile flooring. The Patriarch triedto load another warhead into his arm, but a shock wave of pain and force smashed him into a nearby wall.

He turned to the being that caused this and was greeted by a majestic, tall, white pony wearing a large, golden crown and a long glowing horn.

"You will stop your rampage now or you will face the utmost punishment for your crimes!" She boomed in a loud, demanding voice. The Patriarch could only laugh.

He jumped to his feet and pressed another button on his chain-gun arm. He aimed it as Celestia took her stance.

"Well then, it's about time I got a real battle." Celestia could only glare at the grinning beast. There was a moment of silence, of nothing happening at all. Though the two combatants stood perfectly still, they each played a million different scenarios through there heads. Each one ended with bloody battle...
> "Tactical Retreat"
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Patriarch chuckled. This was ridiculous. If it weren't for those two damned humans, he would've blown this "Queen" to her grave by now. Instead, he'll have to get tactical. He aimed downward and shot a rocket just short of Celestia's range, causing for a large cloud of smoke to arise between the humans and Celestia, and the Patriarch.

The three began to coughed, allowing for the Patriarch to move in. He jumped right for Celestia, slamming his chain-gun arm right into her side. She was thrown into a nearby wall as Lewis shot both his barrels at where the sound had come from. The pellet shot peppered most of Kevin's back, he fell forward due to the immense power of the shot.

Unfortunately, the power, and some bad footing, caught the handicapped man off-guard as well. Lewis tripped onto his back. Upon hearing the gun shot, Skully jumped to the floor to attempt to dodge any stray fire. As he jumped to the floor, the dust had begun to settle. The Patriarch saw the DJ lying upon the floor from his high stature.

He rammed his foot down on Skully's back with only a small portion of his power, making sure that his spine wasn't snapped. No, he wanted this one for later, any other prisoners would be optional, but he wanted this one definitely.

Skully screamed out in pain, Lewis jumped up to see where the scream came from. He was luckily directly behind the Patriarch, he took the time to pop out the empty shells from his weapon. Kevin heard this sound and turned to the Corporal. Lewis jammed two more shells in hastily as the towering beast slowly walked towards him.

He thrust the barrels directly under the Patriarch's chin. The Patriarch only stopped. He looked right into the pitiful human's eyes.

"Do it!" He screamed. Lewis screamed a weak war cry as he pulled the triggers and sent the beast flying backwards. He stood staring for a moment as the body of the esteemed scientist lay unmoving. He, too, chuckled. Skully slowly moved to his feet and limped over to Lewis' side.

"Is it really over?" Skully asked.

"Maybe, but there's still the-" Lewis was cut off by a gurgling cough.

"I've taken rockets, trucks... Hell, I've even taken an artillery shot, but you think a fuckin' shotgun's gonna do me in. God damn, you must really underestimate me. It's kinda funny." The Patriarch sat up. If one were to stand above the beast, one would see a clear view of the floor beneath him through his head.

"I have to ask, how much of me do you really think is still organic material? Sixty? Forty? Ha!" He then pulled out a bright red syringe and jammed it into the part of his jaw that was still attached to his head. At a surprisingly fast rate, the bone, muscle, and skin began to regrow where the damage had originally been done.

The fresh skin looked odd upon the green and damaged body of the Patriarch. Soon after, though, the skin began to rot away and mold began to grow at a similar rate to the growth of the skin, turning the same color as the rest of his body until eventually slowing down and finally stopping, the "wound" now blending in perfectly, as if nothing had happened. The Patriarch rose.

"Now," he continued. "easy way," he cracked his knuckles, "or the hard way?" he spun his chain-gun slightly. Skully scratched his chin for a moment.

"My way." Skully then lifted his pistol up and shot a single round, smashing through the upper-left part of the beast's eyesocket, the sheer pain of the shot knocked him off balance and made him stumble back to the ground. Skully then turned and ran for the entrance doorway, Lewis following suit. The Patriarch roared as he jumped to his feet. He began to run after them, but was soon tackled by some unknown being.

As he was thrown onto his back he came face to face with Celestia herself. Her horn glowed a light blue as she stared into the eyes of the Patriarch. As he was about to say something, then a powerful force smashed his face. The crunch of bone stung her ears, a noise that she hadn't needed to hear in ages, something she certainly didn't miss.

Through the immense, unnatural pain, the Patriarch punched Celestia off of him with his claw-hand. He quickly lumbered to his feet and faced where the Princess had landed. Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be found. His head snapped from left to right, searching for his foe.

He then felt an odd feeling in both his knees, somewhat of a tinglig, but then somewhat of a pressure, as if his nerve cells had decided to swell up and push on the cartilage the covered. Only seconds later his knee caps shatter in a *snap*! The Patriarch fell to his decimated knees as a blue aurora had disintegrated from them. He turned to where the sound of hooves clapping against the floor was approaching him. As he saw the Princess charge, she jammed her horn directly into his left eye socket, going clear through his head.

He roared once again as he grabbed Celestia's face with his claw hand and pushed her from his wound. He then grabbed her and lifted her to eye level and stared angrily for a few short moments. Soon after, he threw her at the wall behind them. She hit the wall with a loud *bang* and went limp once again. She had once been a fine warrior, but that time was long past her.

The Patriarch approached her body, evil intentions in mind. Fortunately, a certain guard pony had chosen to stick around. Seeker jumped on the Patriarch's back and bit his neck with all the power he could muster, seeming like more of an attack dog than a royal guard with any esteem. But then again, he had to do all he could to help the Princess. 

Angered, the Patriarch swiftly grabbed Seeker by the back of his neck and slammed him onto the ground. He lifted the pony up, again, and slammed him on the ground, again, this time, the sound of bones snapping clear in the air.

He tossed the pony to the side and continued towards the injured princess. The barrel of his chain-gun had begun to spin. He lifted it towards Celestia as he heard a distinct *cling*, he looked downwards and saw a primed grenade at his feet. He sounded off a roar just before the combustion had consumed him and flung him wildly into the air.

Once again, his body hit the ground in a limp fashion. Skully and Lewis took this time to run to the princess.

"Bloody Hell, are you alright?" Skully said as they helped Celestia to her hooves.

"No time to talk! Run. Run! RUN!" Lewis yelled frantically, he pointed to the horde of clots that were struggling through the doorway. They always seemed to show up just as the Patriarch needed them the most. Lewis loaded two more shots into his gun, Skully readied his pistols. Lewis fired into the horde, only striking a few in the front though, something seemed off. He ran at the group and began to yell, firing another shot.

Skully's mouth gaped open for a few moments. "Get back here ya damn idiot!" Skully yelled to the Corporal, he still continued, though. Celestia, still injured, walked towards the horde as well.

"This seems to be the only place to-" She was cut off as a rocket soared past the two. Skully looked back to see the Patriarch roaring behind his gnashing teeth. He spun his chain-gun and opened fire. Skully pushed Celestia to her side and jumped behind a pillar. Lewis heard the sound of his weapon and ran behind a Clot, grabbing it by some of the skin on its neck and using it as a meat shield.

As the other Clots approached him, he lifted his steel toed boot up and kicked the first clot square in the gut. By this time, the Patriarch's barrel had heated to unstable temperatures. He roared again and pressed another button on his arm. A few seconds later he seemed to disappear into a transparent shroud similar to his own daughters, the Stalkers.

Under this cloak, he rushed to Celestia's position and swung his chain-gun at her. She rolled so that it missed by only a few inches, catching some fur in the various, loose bits and pieces of the rusty gun. She jumped up and kicked the Patriarch square in the chest with her hind legs, propelling her forward, slightly, and knocking him back.

The Patriarch recovered from the blow a few seconds later. During this time, Lewis had lifted the bullet ridden meat-shield with his good arm and bashed it against a few other Clots, basically turning it into a battering ram. As he went through the group, one clasped its claws upon him ripped him from the momentum he had gained in that time.

Tripping over one of the bodies, Lewis fell back-first into the horde. The Clots had begun to bend over Lewis, wanting to bite and rip at the Corporal, but a blade swiped clean through them. Survivors looked up to see the DJ recovering for a heavily powered attack. They pounced at him, but he purposely fell to his back, maneuvering his feet under the first Clot and launching it to the wall behind him. After the Clot smashed with the marble wall, Skully pulled out his 9mm pistols and aimed them at the advancing horde.

During this time, the Patriarch had fully recovered. Angered more so, he smashed his foot at Celestia. She quickly dodged, causing him to burrow his leg into the marble flooring. He jammed his claw under some of the loose flooring, pulled it over his head, and threw the debris at the princess.

She had dodged a little too late, the debris scoring at hit on her right flank, propelling her to smashing into a pillar to her left. The Patriarch lifted his foot up with an immense amount of strength, kicking up more debris that smashed into the weakened horde of Clots that was occupying the humans.

As the chunk of rock hit the group, Lewis went into a fighting stance in front of a Clot. As it mindlessly approached, he grabbed its arm, pulled it down, and smashed his knee into its face. Its nose caved in, Lewis took this moment of overkill and grabbed the Clot, he then forced it into another advancing group.

Celestia's mind began to drift at that moment, she was not as conditioned as she thought she was. This was an enemy far more advanced, in power, technology, even style. It seemed that she wasted her time holding back until the climax of the battle, she needed to fight dirty, to use tabo forces to deal with this invader. 

The Patriarch then grabbed her body the neck and lifted her to eye level once again. He tilted her head a little to the left, and again to the right.

"Hmm," he began, "your skull will make a perfect chalice!" He laughed as he smashed the princess directly into the ground. The cracking of tile and bone rang through all the ears of the combatants in the room.

"Princess!" Skully yelled. He noticed that the Patriarch was occupied with admiring his own cruelty, so he took the opportunity to jump onto the deranged being's back. He slid his blade under the Patriarch's neck and pulled back, using it as a makeshift garotte against the beast. He pulled with all his might as the blade very slowly inched its way through the monster's throat.

But, in one swift movement, the Patriarch grabbed Skully with his claws and smashed him onto the tile flooring in a similar manner as Celestia.

"You! Fucking! BUG!" The Patriarch yelled as he lifted his foot above Skully. Just as he was about to smash his foot down, a large collection of energy collided with his upper-half. He flew into the wall across the courtyard, being smashed into the wall and leaving an indent as though it was a throne made of marble specially for him. 

Opposite of the Patriarch was Luna and a squadron of her own royal guard, all unicorns with a glow in their horns dying down.

"Sister!" She yelled as she ran over to Celestia. The guards forming a magical barrier on the door so as to prevent any unwanted entry.

Luna ran to her injured sibling, aiding her to her hooves. Luna gazed at her beaten sister. Her coat was bloodied and in ruin, her horn had large chips missing from it, and most of her formal wear was now strune about the floor of the courtyard. Droplets of blood were coursing down the sides of her mouth, it was a sight she would have never guessed from her own sister, her own flesh and blood. Seeing a being centered solely on finding peace for everyone, even her own enemies, so terribly beaten and bruised, made Luna sick by the thought of it alone. Though, the sight didn't help either. Still, miraculously, through all this, Celestia still managed to keep a calm and gentle voice when talking.

"We must hurry sister." Luna said in a hasty manner, slightly thrown off by this horrific sight. "The monsters are overrunning the castle. We have no idea where they all are coming from. All static defenses are seemingly useless at this time."

"Okay," Celestia said, she looked down, trying to form a plan as quickly as she could. "I have a private carriage, something that should be able to transport all of you. You should go to Ponyville, my student, Twilight Sparkles, will be able to help you. Not only will her wit and intellect be useful, but her access to the Elements of Harmony will surely be useful in this time of need." One word from that speech bothered Luna.

"You mean all of us, right sister?" Celestia looked down. "You need not stay here a battle this force! The guard will surely be able to contain it! The castle is lost! There is no reason to stay here!"

Celestia sighed, "I am sorry, sister. This creature is far too powerful for our simple guard to withstand alone, my fleeing will both slow you down and have even more reason for the Patriarch to chase all of us. I will stay and stall him the best I can." The place where the Patriarch had landed was now rumbling and cracking. "You must go, NOW!" She yelled with an authority that still roared with power and control, something that seemed to be lost in the world around her now. Luna nodded, her eyes clasped shut and began to wet as she turned towards the exit.

The guards saw this and brought down the barrier. Skully walked over to Luna and put an arm around her.

"I'm sorry, I really am." But she had none of it. She instead shook him off and continued her walk. Lewis had walked over to, and picked up, the unconscious Seeker, he was badly injured.

"We're gonna need to get him to a medic." Lewis said.

"Noted, we shall hurry then." Luna said solemnly, looking back one last time to her sister, who had now fully risen and stood in a regal stance. Through all the pain, she still looked as a beacon of hope in the battle ground. Luna felt sad, but at the same time happy. Disgusted, but at the same time in awe. In fear, but at the same time in comfort. Seeing something so badly weakened, yet still so graceful gave her the slightest bit of hope, something she needed to walk through that door.

The group ran through the hallways, they headed for Celestia's own chambers, where the private carriage was stored. As they reached the stairs, she couldn't help but feel a pain in her neck, she shrugged it off and traveled onward. The war cries of Equestrian guards and the sound of rusty blades cutting into skin sounded the entire trek up.

As they reached the highest landing, they came to a small runway with a gilded chariot awaiting them. Two royal guards hooked themselves up to the chariot and two more charged a spell right by them. After firing the spells, the two guards attached to the chariot sprouted ghoulish wings and readied themselves for the trip.

Lewis looked out to the land ahead of them. He could already see specs, limping through the creeping darkness. The sun looked odd, he could've sworn it was well into the morning. But then again, who knows how this Planet works, or even this very dimension. He shook his head to the thoguht of trying to grasp the concept of what was before him, he forced another thought to cloud his mind. He spoke under his breath. Not even in a land as pure as this is safe from that damn bastard...

=================

As the others left the courtyard, Celestia took a stance in front of the Patriarch. She had begun to charge an unknown spell. A forbidden spell. As her horn began to glow, the Patriarch threw a piece of rubble at the Princess.

It missed, the Patriarch then threw more pieces. Half in an attempt to stop her, the other half out of sheer want to see something in pain. Only one large chunk had hit her, she held her stance. The Patriarch roared, he stepped back to his feet. He ripped one fianl chunk of rock from the wall. He slowly approached the princess as she still continued to charge her spell, the process slowed by many factors.

The Patriarch lifted the rubble above his head. "Your time is done." He said as he brought it down on Celestia's neck. As she stumbled from the attack, the Patriarch grabbed her. He lifted her above his head and squeezed her neck with all his force. Fluids began to squish as she coughed and gagged.

The Patriarch took one last glance at his victim's face, riddled with pain, sorrow, and agony. He cracked a smile and began to giggle crazily as a thought came into his head.

"You look tired." He lifted Celestia's body over his head with both his arms. "I guess you need a BREAK!" He brought the princess down upon his knee, putting all of his force into the attack. The sound of bone shattering ripped throughout the castle. This sounded different to the Patriarch, though. It sounded... odd. It sounded like bone, yet didn't at the same time. He couldn't put his finger on the noise he heard and he finished off the Princess. Even the most poetic figure would be at a loss of words for the sound they would've heard had they spectated the fight.

The Patriarch paid no mind to the ordeal, though. He had triumphed again, something that was expected of himself by now. He smiled. He looked out to the horizon, the sun was upon it, but not rising. It was as if something raised it, but stopped mid-raise and let it fall, like a novice painter showing off his work in a busy store window, but then being stricken by the fear of judgement, and then uickly swiping it into a dusty basement, never to be seen again.. 

The Patriarch chuckled to himself yet again.

The monstrosity stood, looking out to the dying sun, the fallen ruler still in his clutch, slumped upon the ground. All other light had fallen from the castle, allowing for only the falling star to have the priority of view. The sound of the last few dying screams echoed into his ears, something he thought he would never hear again. He savored it, it was a sick, cruel melody to himself.

His chuckle grew; first, it was only slightly louder. Then it grew to a light laugh, then a full one, then a hearty laugh that echoed through the castle, then, finally, he was roaring with crazed laughter. He roared pure joy as he watched his children bleed out from the castle into the country side. He saw them heading outward to the other towns in sight, he saw them head in every direction. Once again, the infection was spreading...
> Daydream
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lewis dozed off on the ride to Ponyville. Faces began to fade in and out of his view- Noble, Glover, countless others, dead, all on his hands. They were put under him, they had trusted in him, trusted him to keep them safe, to get them home. And what happened? He didn't keep them in line. He didn't drill them hard enough. They got sloppy because he got sloppy. Their deaths were on his hands entirely. The specimens and their actions just seemed to be a cosmic reminder that if he wasn't perfect, others would pay.

And now the Patriarch was in this world. Wreaking havoc and ending more lives- all on his fault. It was his idea to try and destroy the "Hive", the lab. He was the bright one to think of running straight at the damn bastard, giving him what he wanted all along. There was no strategy, no plan, nothing to back up on. It was all a last act of desperation, it wasn't needed,  it was all a mistake, though it almost seemed to be something purposely made...

He had one job: keep those under him as safe as possible. He was like a tool, something perfectly built, drilled, and trained to do one thing, only he failed at it time and time again. He shook his head, this was the lowest he had sunk in a while. He shook his head, this was the lowest one could drop. 

He almost began to feel... sad. At that, he forced his mind to drift to other things. He decided to think of how much ammo he had left, forced himself to take a physical inventory, and his mind to take a mental inventory. Did he have ten, twenty shells left? He couldn't remember how much he needed right now. Then again, he really only needed one...

====================

Skully thought; though, he didn't think of the situation at hand. He just thought about other things, simple things, things that would be described as a delicacy in today's world, but a small detail in the world he thought of. A hot shower, a warm drink, the three spoonfuls of sugar he would put in his coffee- the small details that would eventually make up his everyday life.

Then, he thought of how cliche it was for people to think about what they lost. If anything, it held them back. No, he wanted to think about what was ahead of him. He wanted to make three spoons of sugar a standard, something people wouldn't even think about, just because it was normal. He also thought about how he would be able to re-introduce electronica back into this world... or should he call it 'that world'?

"Earth", just plain earth. This could be "Pony Planet". He was fine with that, he wouldn't be here long so he didn't care if it was named "Cracked Pickle Ass", yet his mind still danced on the notion of what this planet was called. He shook his head. He was thinking again, he hated to think, not the normal thinking like what to do when something is needed, but rathering thinking these random thoughts that arrived just when he needed the peace and quiet.

When he thought at these times, he thought of mindless drabble- really only useless thoughts that clouded his mind; he prefered to just 'do', especially when these moments came around. Then again, some of his best ideas came from when he thought at times like this, but at the cost of this damned daydreaming that fogged his mind as he tried to reach the goal he was looking for.

"Just do," he thought; a decent wake-up call for himself, causing him to look over the side of the floating carriage and very the landscape below them. It was a dark green plain, shrouded by the darkness of night. He didn't see any specimens, or any living thing, for that matter. It was dead, as dead as Glover was as he pulled those wires and transformed into a mist of red. As dead of Noble, being pounded into a mush over and over again in Skully's mind. As dead as he should've been after facing the Patriarch, twice. As dead as they will be as soon as they... he was thinking again.

He closed his eyes. He thought of the darkness that was brought from his eyelids. It was something that wasn't Glover or Noble or pain ot Lewis or death... he was thinking again...

> The Tent
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jenkins gave Foster a joking smirk. He was on the verge of laughing, but still held a sense of seriousness in his voice. "A teleporter, eh?" he said, choking back his real emotions for the situation. Foster nodded nervously, just saying it out loud made it seem much more unbelievable, even to him.

"Yeah, just poof! Then nothing," Foster added, his voice weakened with doubt. Jenkins chuckled some more.

"Man, you know just when to tell a joke, don't you? I mean, going on a high importance mission, having more than half your squad killed, and tellin' me this- you're just a lovely pack of jokers, aren't you?"

"What I'm telling you is real. I ain't makin' up any damn story, there really is a teleporter, or something like that. I've seen it with my own two bloody eyes." Jenkins simply looked at Foster again with the same, funny look.

"Alright," he began as he decided to stretch, "Why do you bother tellin' me this 'tale', oh, I mean this 'briefing', exactly?"

"Well," Foster began, hesitating for a moment, "we need to get back in there, and we need guns to do it." Jenkins snickered again and held up his hand, as if to stop the masked man in his tracks.

"So," he held back another laugh, "you're tellin' me that on your way to destroy the cloners that are pouring out this nightmare, you decided to take a quick 'detour' and found a machine that made that apparently disintegrates things, losing two men in this process, might I add, and you thought that because two more men seemed to disappear after 'activating' it, you're gonna call it a teleporter?" 

Foster was going to speak up, but was interrupted by Jenkins, whose tone began to pick up, "And because you 'think', and I'm gonna put some damn emphasis on 'think', that because whatever it is that 'made Lewis and Skully disappear' is a teleporter, you want me to give up my only defence, my only two veterans who know how to fight, and waste even more time and resources going after a fruitless cause? You think you can come in here, insult my intelligence by making up a damn excuse on why you lost four of my best men and some of the best gear in the camp, and now you want MORE gear and MORE men!? I think I got everything, but please, FUCKING fill me in if I did pass over something. 'Cause I'd really like to know if I'm missing something here!"

Foster pounded on the table that held the map, grabbing Jenkins attention. "Yeah, you got everything down pat. But please tell me this, what's your alternative, exactly? Running away? Again!?" He paused for a moment to let Jenkins soak in his words. "Now, tell me, how many camps we've gone through this past couple of months alone?" Jenkins didn't speak up. "Three," Foster said quickly, hold up fingers to match his statement, "and, tell me, how many men did we lose in running away just this past 'tactical movement'?" He paused again, "Ten," he said in a similar fashion.

"Now, I'm not asking for men, fuck I'm not even asking for any of your top guns, I'm just asking for some damn ammo! If you're not gonna give me that, if you're just gonna pass me by and continue your little game of cat and mouse with Patty, I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna take the guns I want, and nobody's gonna stop me, 'cause I'm the fucking dead-eye of this camp, and you're the guy that got ten men killed last week. Now I'm gonna go back to that lab, I'm gonna find those two fuckers, and Hell, I might even find an oasis with this teleporter. And when all's said and done, I'm gonna end this damn war." Foster paused one more time.

"I'll be the hero, and you'll be the asshole who tried to stop me. That's how I'd want it ending at least, but you can just make it easier for everyone and give me a hand. Ol' buddy, ol'-fucking-pal?"

Jenkins chuckled again, scratching his chin. "Well this is just fucking grand, now isn't it?"

Foster cocked his eye at Jenkins, "I don't follow."

Jenkins motioned to the three men to come to him as he walked over to the large map in the center of the tent. "Come ere'. Take a look." He pointed to the large circle that was placed in the center of a forest region. "What do ya see?"

"The center of a god damn forest. Is there a meaning to this or do you just like lookin' at the pretty colors?"

Jenkins gave Foster a look. "Bunker: Wyre." 

Foster looked at Jenkins, confused. "A fucking bunker!" He rolled his eyes. "Do I really need to say more!? It's a fucking fortress that's more neatly packed underground than the brain cells in your head. I don't know what you guys are thinking about doing after 'defeating' the Patriarch, but me and the rest of this camp are heading there as soon as we are done packing up. Have all the fun you want going after that bastard, but I've finally found a haven for my boys, and I ain't passing this up."

Foster forced out a mocking laugh. "You're joking, right? We've got the Patriarch by his balls! And you just want to give him some fucking space to recuperate!? Bullshit you're leaving! If anything, we should throw everything we've got at the bastard right now! If six men could punch a good hole into his lair, imagine what this entire camp could do!"

"You got fucking lucky that last time! But now the Patriarch knows that we have finally got the power to fight back, he's pissed and he knows what's coming. You had your one shot to end it all, but you've failed and you just don't know it! The best thing we can do is spare our men the misery and at least find a place to end on our terms."

Foster looked at Jenkins with disbelief, and shook his head. "You're weak." He turned and headed for the exit.

"I'm just trying to do what's right for my men."

"You're just trying to do what's best for yourself."

"What? And this 'glory mission' is solely for the sake of mankind?"

Foster just looked back to Jenkins for a moment, then continued through the tent flap.