"The Other Side" Chapter 10- Mayhem's Aftermath

Dylan and Rainbow Dash barely stopped to check behind them. When they did, they saw the others fleeing the chaotic establishment, darting between fighting and running patrons. They looked quite distressed; Fluttershy and Rarity most of all. They rapidly caught up with Dylan and RD, panting with effort.

"What the hay's goin' on?" Applejack said in a bewildered tone. "One minnit' everypony's dancin', and the next they're all fightin' each other!"

"It was... It was horrible..." Fluttershy shuddered, looking at the ground with shock on her face.

"Those ruffians wouldn't know how to be civilized if you beat them over the head with a book about etiquette! Rarity scoffed, tilting her chin upwards.

"I don't think fights like this have broken out many times before... Well, not in Ponyville at least..." Twilight looked nervous, scanning around for any threats.

"Uh... we should get outta here. Ya' know?" Rainbow Dash spoke up, trying to get her friends to follow her.

"Yeah. Shit's not over yet. We're right next to the fucking club. Brawls can break out anytime. So... Where are we going?" Dylan felt at his chest, then internally winced, pain shooting through him like lightning. He squinted his eyes and gritted his teeth, but gave no other indication that he was in pain.

"Oooh! Ooh! I know! I know! We can show Dylan the present we got him! It'll be grrrrreat! I know you'll lovey dovey loooooove it!" Pinkie Pie rubbed her two front hooves together in excitement. There was a hysterical look on her face, the kind that meant something very unexpected was going to happen.

"Uh... O... K? Let's get movin'."

The group followed Pinkie; Everyone but Dylan wore a knowing expression.
They half-ran towards the center of town, looking out for any ponies that were in the mood for a scrap. Luckily, they did not encounter any aggressors. If they had, they probably would've ended up bleeding and broken on the ground, courtesy of the fiery red-haired human. They came upon the center of town, the moon shining its pale light upon the cobblestone streets.

(All Minecraft jokes may now commence.)

Pinkie stopped abruptly, skidding to a halt directly in front of a small house. She turned and smiled energetically at Dylan, who was stumbling slightly, cursing every time he almost fell to the ground. He stopped and looked at her, one of his eyebrows moving slowly upwards.

"Why... are we here?"

"It's a surprise, silly! Now close your eyes!"

Dylan grunted and shut his eyelids. His shoulders were sagging, and he held his head with one hand, which was now aching. Almost no sleep for days, work on Applejack's farm, countless fights and injuries, running... He. Was. Fucking. Tired. He growled to himself at his lack of energy. He could feel a burning behind his eyes, and his vision was blurred.

He was guided blindly by Pinkie Pie, who led him inside the house. He felt and heard his footsteps creaking on the wooden stairs, followed by a soft plodding on carpet. He had no idea why he was here, and he was about to ask Pinkie what in the flying fuck was going on, but was beat to the punch.

"Open your eyes! Welcome to your new home! We all pitched together to buy it! We sure hope you like it here! There's a mini-bar-"

"FUCK. No more alcohol... Please. My fucking head hurts..."

"-A fully stocked library, a-"

"Wait... YOU BOUGHT ME A HOUSE!?" Dylan was literally blown away. He fell on his ass, completely shocked.

Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit! Sweet Mother Mary's sacred titties! Are these ponies ever going to stop getting better?! Jeez!

"-study, and a nicely furnished living room downstairs!"

"Where's... The... Bed?"

"Oh, it's in that room over there!"

"Thanks for everything. I'm out. I can't do any more tonight... Peace." The door slammed behind Dylan as he entered the bedroom. He wasted no time; he spotted the bed, walked two steps towards it, and fell facefirst on the covers. He was asleep within seconds.

(I'm about to sleep now, that's about how I feel. PEACE OFF! Boop.)

(I am back. Let's do this...)

***

The starry, moonlit sky was completely obstructed by a thick layer of black cloud. This cast eerie, strange shadows across the plains around Ponyville. The lights of the town could be seen faintly in the distance, like tiny fireflies in a sea of blackness.

A number of large shapes shrouded by the darkness made their way out of the clouds. Wings could obviously be seen, and they glided and pushed the forms through the air. They were traveling in a loose formation, and there were at least ten of them. They flew low to the ground, trying to stay as hidden as possible. They were heading directly towards the town in the distance.

The lead form spoke, a low screech. It was audible only to his companions.

"Ssisster... We're coming..."

At that moment, moonlight shined upon the the speaker, illuminating his face. He was wearing a dark hood, which obscured most of his features. The only recognizable thing was a pair of black avian eyes, and a long crooked beak, which had a long scar running along its side.

"You'll be ssso happy to see me..."

***

Two figures were crouched on the ground below, watching the winged shapes fly overhead. They wore cloaks, which billowed and writhed slowly in the slight breeze of the night. They were leaning over what appeared to be a pile of ash and dirt. The pile was smoldering slightly, thin black smoke coiling into the air like snakes. The smell of the pile was enough to make someone vomit; it was sweet and smelled like rotten meat mixed with vinegar and charcoal. Maggots and flies were congregating on scraps of rotting flesh among the pile of ash, feeding upon the meat greedily.

One of the figures gagged and shuffled back slightly, raising a hand to cover his face. He was smaller than the other figure, and his lithe form looked malnourished under his cloak. The folds of cloth managed to hide this somewhat, but it was still obvious that he was unhealthily thin.

"Fuck! Gah! Why the hell does it smell so bad?" His voice was of an average putch, and it was obviously American in accent. His tone was one of disgust and annoyance.

The other figure turned and looked at him, shaking his head slightly.

"Zavali yebalo... you trying to get us killed, American? Oh yes, that's right... You never been around rotting body... Damn California boy..." The larger figure sighed, looking at the pile intently.

"Piece of shit communist."

"Russia not communist any more, zhopa. Focus."

The larger figure's voice was obviously Russian, and thickly accented. He sounded cold, jaded, and he spoke like someone who had seen too much. His speaking was interspersed with hacking coughs, like those of a smoker. The coughs were muffled with one of his gloved hands. He reached down with his other hand, moving it through the ash pile. He grunted as he took hold of a long, flexible object. He pulled it out of the pile, holding it up.

"Oh, fuck me!" The smaller one said, trying to hold back his vomit. "It's a head!"

The other figure looked at him in irritation, scowling. In the dim light only the lower half of the Russian's face could be made out. He had a goatee, and there was a thick red scar running along the side of his lip to his cheek. He looked at the head. The head was still attached to its spine, nerves dangling off it like tiny hairs. It was obviously avian; the skull made that clear enough.

"No shit, smartass. I think its griffon." The Russian said this with a hint of anger in his voice. "Fucking griffons."

The American was trying to look away from the pile, but he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned back and look closer, which caused his long black hair to sway in front of his face. He pushed it away from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Russkie, come look at this."

"What eez it?" The Russian sounded tired; not physically, but rather mentally; the Californian's whining had worn down on him.

"Bites. They're big ones."

The Russian looked at the chunk of flesh with tooth-marks that the American was looking at. His next words were said as if it was completely simple.

"Wolf. Big one."

The American shot him a look of disbelief. "A wolf?! Fucking wolves aren't this big! They ripped of a griffon's head, for chrissakes! What kinda shit are you on, man? It's gotta be a bear or something!"

The Russian growled slightly, pointing back at the bite markings.

"Look. Not bear. Bear head eez short. Wolf head eez long. Bite eez long. It is wolf."

The American groaned, shaking his head.

"How the fuck did a wolf do /that/?!" He pointed at the head that the Russian still held.

"I have no idea. Wait... this eez not a campfire... these burns did not come from ground."

The American looked completely shocked at this, his hands dropping to his sides.

"He is one of us. He is gifted." The Russian stood as he said this, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out an antique lighter with the shape of a naked woman engraved into it. It had the name Vika engraved above the female form. He also retrieved a pack of cigarettes, which he opened. He pulled out one of the long white sticks, and then put it between his lips. He flicked open the lighter, causing a small flame to lick upwards. He held it up to the cigarette and lit it. He inhaled, then puffed the smoke out of his mouth after removing the cigarette from his mouth. The smoke curled and twisted around his face before rising into the night air.

"What do we do next?" The American was poking at the body with his foot, smiling in a disturbing fashion. He looked up at the Russian with a frown.

"Get rid of body. No evidence. We never here."

"And... how do we do that?"

"I got it. No problem." The Russian extended on of his hands towards the corpse, then muttered a few words in Russian. "Prazdnik, druz'ya moi. Ostav'te nichego."

As he said these words, a rumbling noise could be heard from under the ground. There were things moving in the soil, fighting to breach the surface. They came up from the hard'packed ground, chittering and screeching. They were rats, and there were dozens of them. They looked like they were dead; there were pieces of flesh hanging off of them and some of their bones were showing. They proceeded to devour the carcass - bones and all - with frantic speed.

"Holy shit! What the fuck did you do?!" The American hissed, jumping backwards, desperately trying to get away from the rodents.

The Russian's face was obscured by darkness; all that could be seen was a single circle of yellowish-orange light, which grew brighter with and dimmer with his breathing. The glow of his cigarette grew bright when he laughed. It was a deep, rumbling sound.

"I called my friends to dinner."

"Fuck! Warn me next time!"

"Sure thing, trus." The last word was Russian for 'coward', but the American didn't know that.

"What's that mean?!" The American said angrily, gritting his teeth.

"It means you have big balls." The Russian stretched his hands out to show just how large.

"Big balls? You're nuts, man. You're fucking nuts."

"Yes. I said that. Big nuts."

"Shut up..."

"Let's go. Proshchaîte, tovarishchi."

The rats burrowed back into the ground, dragging the last pieces of the corpse with them. The two humans began walking away from the site. The sound of their chittering soon grew silent.

"Now we find one of us."