Delirious' long days back in sunny Los Santos usually consisted of nothing but hanging out with his friends, trying out new things to do and generally enjoying one another's company. Sailing through the air in a bright yellow bus thanks to a faulty-wired mansion gate; soaring across the city on an upside-down bicycle; creating a flying V of Titans that terrorized the populace and almost got the local military on their assholes; simply patrolling the island and taking out random people stupid enough to step out of their houses and try living their lives, swiftly taken by some dickhead in a paper bag, or some redneck with a pig mask, or some Canadian with an owl mask, or some kid with a monkey mask, or some cheeseburger-loving guy in a hockey mask. His days were packed, and his days were full, and Delirious had never had a lot of time for himself back then.

What time he did have, however, he spent it not on hookers, or guns, or clothes, or cars.

No.

Delirious loved to dance.

The Bahama Mama's, just down the street from Vespucci Beach with its jetskiing and circling ATV's. Tequi-la-la, the site of firefights with guns housing only one bullet and hatchets swinging wildly through the musky air of sweat, sex, and booze. Even the Vanilla Unicorn, the place of loneliness and lap bouncing, was a frequent spot of his, even though it was to the staff's complete, utter chagrin and would eventually lead to his ban from the club for an indefinite amount of time. There was something, most likely unconfirmed and completely stupid, that he loved about it all.

He had danced with a lot of girls in his time at those nightclubs, many of whom eventually found themselves getting lucky...

...enough to walk away unscathed and virtually untouched by the drunk blue psycho still letting it all loose on the brightly lit dance floor. This extended to the Vanilla Unicorn, where instead of a brightly lit dance floor, it was the sole stripper pole standing in the middle of the main floor, with lusty guys wanting nothing but girls and girls'. He had made a lot of money that night. Turns out the Vanilla Unicorn was also a place for sexually questioning young (or old) guys, and most of the time led to some... homoerotic times.

The Tango. Salsa. The Cha Cha. Line Dancing. Jazz Hands. Freakout. He had danced them all, and had completely made an absolute fool out of himself every single god damn fucking time. Nights were long, nights were fun, and nights were unforgettable. He was the life of the party, and the ender of the lives of the party. He was the spinning top at a Bar Mitzvah, or the burly tank rolling into Poland. He was the single straight guy on an Olympic ice-skating team. He was the Belle of the ball, one who could cut you into bloody ribbons and shoot you down a garbage chute in a matter of agonizing seconds. He was the motherfucking cum stain you find behind the couch after you move into a new house. He was the Insurgent, rolling down the streets and obliterating any motorcyclists wishing for a quick spin around the block.

He was H2O Delirious, king of kings and king of queens, and he loved to dance.

With his friends. With random bitches. Even with death itself, found by either the drinks at the nearby bar, or the asshole most likely waiting outside with Sticky Bombs on the door and his RPG pointed at the front steps.

He'd danced with many, but none could come close to the atrocity his current partners were displaying.

They scrambled over the wall like Droidd's family, their spears, their crossbows, their sticks, and their swords grasped in their dirty, dirty hooves or their bright magical auras. The first one, a bright green mare, had been doing a rather bloody waltz with him for the past couple of minutes, as she was the ballsy enough pony to vault over the wall before everyone else. The whistle she had whistled ten or so seconds ago had most likely been a call for help. With her spear dancing wildly through the air, she appeared to be struggling a bit in keeping step with him. That was okay. Everyone had a bit of a hard time their first time.

The spearhead soared over his head as he threw himself to the floor, eyes glaring upward as the mare gasped in shock. Throwing a hoof up, he caught the Earth Pony on the lower jaw, heard a deafening snap, and watched as she sailed a bit to his left. Her body crumpled onto the floor and bounced twice, her head having connected first as she landed into the large pool usually recommended for swimming and not floating as she. The waves of the water splashed upward, creating a thunderous burst of applause that startled the next two ponies that made it over the adobe fence.

They skittered backward, not fully understanding what it was until the Earth Pony on the left received a spear through his head, one that went clean through and tacked him to the now horribly disfigured wall behind him. The other, a Pegasus, attempted to flee back over the wall. A bullet, embedded in his ass, forced him to fall back to the wet dirt and comically slide down the adobe with a humorous squealing noise. His butt slammed against the earth, and another bullet went into his head. Delirious took a second to smirk.

This second was horribly wasted. Delirious spun just in time to see the arrow whiz through the air and feel it puncture his side. The effect was instant; stumbling to his left, he grit his teeth and felt for the wound wildly. Dirty hooves became bloody ones as the cruor spread across his body and drizzled to the floor. How fucking hard could it be to find a thirty inch long shaft stabbing into his hip?

He chuckled. Nogla would probably know.

There. Thinking quickly, he brought his hoof an inch or so above it and promptly slammed it downward, snapping it in two. Hearing it clatter on the ground, Delirious spun and found the crossbow culprit trying his best to hurry over the fence before he was seen. Obviously to no avail, his eyes went wide and he bent over to reload. A raise of his rifle and he'd be down– oh hello! He fell to the floor and headbutted the air above him, bouncing the pony who had tried to flank him into the air like he was a trampoline. A raise of his– oh, you too? He stepped back, the gauze around his tired hooves becoming damp with blood and pool water as the two ponies glared daggers at him and held weapons his way. He heard the sound of the crossbow cunt plodding through the puddles and grit his teeth. His blue eyes didn't even move when the last three ponies vaulted over and joined their friends.

He hoped that the family had fled far back into their house.

He didn't want the kids to turn the corner to find what would be left of these ponies.

Two Pegasi. Four Unicorns. All versus him, with his tattered cloak and almost empty rifle. He crouched low and growled at them, his head turning this way and that whenever a bandit attempted to move forward. They were at a stalemate, and both parties knew it. Only one really knew how to deal with it, and it sure as hell wasn't going to end up very attractive. He could very easily scare them off with something, but where would the fun be in that?

"You killed our friends."

He raised a brow. They can talk?

"You killed our friends!"

He hissed, sizing them up. "I killed your bandits."

The ponies suddenly flinched and tensed. He popped his neck.

Time for a particularly chunky Salsa.

The first one came in on his right, stabbing his sword forward as if compensating for his most likely very minuscule penis. Delirious hopped up, landing on the blade of the weapon and swiping his hoof across the Pegasus' face as he dropped the sword. He shot his left hindleg outward, delicately creaming the flanking Unicorn in the face and smiling as a soothing crunch shattered his ears. The bandit's body's impact with the hard earth echoing across the backyard, Delirious threw himself to the ground and rolled out of the way of the arrows that sank into the unfortunately positioned sword wielder's brain. The culprits, not pausing to reload like last time, chucked their weapons at him like two opposing soldiers in World War II. Completely appalled that they would do something so ridiculously stupid, Delirious flinched and grit his teeth as the firearms whipped past his head. Cracking open an eyelid, he barely had time to shout in pure frustration as both crossbowponies charged him as one, tackling him to the ground and beginning to throw punches.

Though hooves were hard things, and skulls were especially hard things, Delirious decided that he didn't fucking care. With his cloaked back pressed against the wet dirt, he bore his teeth and threw his head upward, a loud clunk sounding out from the Unicorn's chin region. Thanking his lovely, iconic mask for saving his life once more, Delirious took the time that his other opponent had used to widen his eyes in fear to reel his arm back and shove it forward with all his might. His hoof sank into the Pegasus' gut, eliciting a loud gasp as it began its process of collapsing lungs and popping stomach holes. Rushing to all four of his hooves, Delirious opened the right side of his mouth and quietly growled.

His hooves flew to his side, and out came his wondrous machete.

Its intended target—the still stumbling Unicorn with a most likely broken jawbone—was changed to the Pegasus now rushing him from his immediate left. Delirious simply stepped back, tossed the machete upward, caught it in his right foreleg, and slashed the approaching bandit's way.

The Pegasus' body instantly collapsed into the floor, first lying on its stomach and then tipping over until it rested peacefully, and bloodily.

The rest of the body—namely the head—thumped onto the ground next to it, splashing blood around like a Jackson Pollock piece.

The result was prompt. One of the remaining Unicorns, completely unscathed, leaned his head back, shut his eyes, opened his mouth, and screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

This absolutely momentous display of bravery was accompanied by a flurry of shitting pants, tucked tails, flapping clothing, wall vaulting, thudding sand, and clip-clopping hooves.

Delirious took the time to smirk, crack a shit-eating grin, and twirl his machete on his hoof. Holding it once more once he was totally satisfied he had looked cool and badass enough, he whipped his leg downward and flung the blood and grime onto the floor, sheathing it on the holster on his side after he was done. He cleared his throat lightly, tasting sand and iron as he began to lightly trod through the pools of blood and other assorted bodily fluids littering the backyard. Splishes and splashes came to him, like he was fucking around in a rainstorm with his bright ass yellow boots and coat.

Walking over to the wall that the rest of the bandits had fled over, he threw his wings open and fluttered into the air, perching himself atop the adobe like a bird. Stretching his foreleg to his back, he unclasped his Marksman Rifle and grasped it as tightly as he could. Raising the scope to eye level, he stuck his tongue out, prodded the inside of his mask, recoiled in disgust at the horrible taste he was met with, and refocused his attention just in time to find the fleeing bandits trying to scramble over the top of a hill.

He sucked in a breath and quietly placed his hoof over the trigger.

His rifle barked. A spraying of sand in his sights, and a rolling body now connected with its god in a new, holey way.

Easy shots. The last two were in too much of a dead stupor to so much as move anymore. Their wide-open mouths and pinprick-sized eyes were the last things they ever did on this world.

Delirious stopped to survey the area, raising his rifle in one hoof and ignoring the smoke that sizzled from its barrel. Eyes peeled, he frowned to nobody but himself and silently hummed.

The sound of a glass door sliding open came to him quickly. Though he knew who it was, he spun around on top of the wall and still aimed his gun all the same.

The family of ponies stood at the back door of the backyard, their eyes full of terror and tears. The stallion in front, a double barrel shotgun in his two hooves, tried his hardest to not join his wife and children in unsteadily shaking in fear, but to no avail. The mare, a pistol in her hooves as well, stood behind him, a frown on her lips playing at an attempt of bravery. The two children, a colt and a young mare, hid behind their parents' shadows, lips wobbly. The colt held onto a large brown object that caused Delirious to stop dead in his tracks.

"There's nothing in here worth dying for, you murderer!"

Delirious waggled his eyebrows, recomposing himself. The stallion seemed to be trying to threaten him.

"Just–" the mare joined in, raising her pistol at him from next to her husband, "–leave us alone!"

Delirious sucked in a large intake of air, his stomach rising to Hindenburg proportions. Slowly letting it out, he turned himself a little more and readjusted his position on the wall, allowing his hindlegs to dangle like he was a kid on the edge of his race car bed. His Marksman Rifle lightly settling on his lap, he placed both his hooves on either side of it and threw an eyebrow toward the sky.

"Put the guns down."

The shotgun faltered. As did the pistol. They remained up.

"You shot Uncle Pancakes!"

His heart throbbed. The young mare was the one who had shouted just then.

"You killed those bandits just so you could take the loot yourself!"

The stallion, now. Delirious wished he'd shut the fuck up. With a rolling of his eyes, he grasped his rifle with a hoof and hopped off the wall. Landing, he stumbled forward and was met with the stabbing-forward of two firearms from presumably inexperienced idiots.

"Not another step!"

Delirious raised his rifle up, cocked the lever on its side back toward his face, and aimed it at the husband and wife.

Eyes wide, they dropped their weapons, which clattered on the floor.

"Now, here's what gonna happen, bitches." Delirious stalked over slowly, keeping his sights on the two charges as he stuck a hoof out and swept their weapons toward the pool about five feet away. "I'm only gonna ask for one thing–"

"We have nothing to give!" cried the mare, now seemingly on the verge of hysterics.

"Yeah," Delirious replied, "you do."

The husband lowered himself into a crouching position, eyes narrowed and posture ready to pounce. "And what would that be?"

"Do you want food? Or water?" The mare asked, nodding her head vigorously. "We have a lot of that!"

"Give me that teddy bear," the stallion barked, the dirt-crusted and mildly chipped rifle aiming shakily her way.

Author's Notes:

That Poland Invasion joke felt really out of taste. My bad.

Also sorry if this chapter is a little not great either. I've mostly been caught up in schoolwork lately.