It was at that exact moment, with his ass on the searing hot sand and his tattered cloak blowing furiously in the dust-encrusted wind, that Delirious knew he had fucked up. His rifle lay on the rocks next to him, its magazine a few inches away from it in a puddle of blood. The sight of such a puddle reminded Delirious what lay in sticky streaks across his mask, and so he reached a hoof up and swiped it along the scratched surface. Looking down at the end of the foreleg—and observing the massive amount of red splattered on it—he flung it like he bore an annoying hangnail and wiped the remnants off on his sweater. He turned his head to the right, but looked away in an instant.

Maybe if he hadn't been distracted, he could've done something. Brought up his rifle and fired at it, maybe. Then again, maybe if he hadn't had his fucking gun on safety, he could've actually gone through with such a thing. Maybe if he was looking at the sky at that split second in time, he could've warned the others that something big, and monstrous, and potentially lethal was swooping down with the speed of an iron train. Maybe, he could've saved their lives. Maybe they wouldn't be dead right now, and maybe they instead would be yelling at him how close they had come to being eviscerated and torn apart like wet toilet paper.

He rose to all four of his hooves—as shaky as they now appeared to be—and slowly stepped toward what was left of Crab Apple and Bucking Bronco. Considering how far apart their actual bodies were scattered from the rest of them, it was going to be a bit difficult to find what he was looking for. He trotted cautiously past the first piece, its lime yellow color reminding Delirious that it had once belonged to a Unicorn mare with more vaginas on her mind than Lui's back in Los Santos. Stopping in his tracks, he sidestepped an inch to the left, looked away from the stump of a hindleg, and walked past it with a lump in his throat.

They hadn't really had a chance. They were on a long stretch of sand, with two large rock formations forming a bit of a tent for anyone willing to go underneath it. The shade and safety from the sun proved incredibly wonderful to him and the others, but such a location meant that anyone could potentially be waiting right outside for them once they left... which it was, with all eight of its serrated claws and both of its incredibly massive wings. Delirious had to count himself lucky that he'd pulled the caboose, and was able to simply crawl back inside the nice cover of their big rock to watch in absolute horror and mildly aroused interest.

He found his way across the sand and looked straight down at Bronco's shredded torso. Blinking five times, he leaned over and snatched the paper lying inside the other Pegasus' vest pocket with a hoof, then flailed it around to rid it of the blood marring its crinkly surface. Finally done, Delirious sat on his haunches and unfolded it, his eyes narrowing to try deciphering what he was looking at. Studying it for awhile, he simply said, "Oh," and turned it right-side-up, then smiled as the puzzle pieces began fitting together. He was without food and water, his gun was close to empty, and there was now blood all over his fucking cloak...

...but he at least knew where he was going now. Stabbing a hoof onto the map, he smirked to himself and finally remembered where he had been looking for weeks now.

Appleoosa. What a dumb fucking name.

"I fucking hate sand."

He wasn't really lying. Day in and day out presented him with nothing but sand, sand, and more sand. Only a handful of rocks and hills here and there came to break the mold, but then they were replaced once more by the dirt from hell for miles upon miles ahead of him. No, lying about hating sand was stupid. Everyone hated sand. It got in your asscrack whenever you sat down at the beach, or it caked on your legs when you stepped on it after getting out of the water, or it got into your damn food. Sand fucking blew. He was, presently, sick of this desert. Sure, an argument could be handily made that he was now searching for another desert after this one, but at the very least—according to his map—Appleoosa's desert was close to trees and potentially water.

From his position on the rocks, he narrowed his eyes and scanned the horizon for the monstrous bird that had just passed over him not ten minutes ago. Watching the empty blue sky for five whole seconds, he shakily rose to all four of his hooves, gritted his teeth, and roared into the sky with the gusto of a thousand Spartan soldiers. He looked to his left, blue eyes shifting around wildly at the small rock formation that met his eyes completely separate from the rest of the mountain. Growling like a psychotic lion, he stomped toward the stones, brought up a foreleg, and promptly threw a hoof into its surface. He repeated this twice more before swiftly wheeling around, coiling his hindlegs, and shooting them back like he'd done back in the fields.

"Goddammit!" He screamed, continuing his one-sided onslaught. Once again, he'd failed in finding Appleoosa from a perch atop one of the many mountains dotting the Badland's landscape. No thanks to this stupid ass map, not up to scale in the slightest and so damn confusing it was like it was built for kids. "God!" He kicked. "Fucking!" He kicked again. "Dammit!" A series of sharp, whooping cracks called to him from beyond his tail, and he turned his head slowly to see what had caused it. The source was a long line currently extending across the bottom half of his punishing rock.

His eyes grew wide as the top half began to slide in utter silence toward the edge of the steep cliff, where it swiftly tumbled end over end through the air, hit the side of the wall numerous times on the way down, and finally collapsed on the ground about a few hundred feet down from Delirious' position. If Delirious thought that the thunderous crack of Lui's fifty-caliber Heavy Sniper was loud as hell, he obviously hadn't heard what happened to a large, usually tall-ass rock when it hit the rock-covered ground at hundreds of miles per hour.

A flurry of birds cawed loudly and fluttered into the air at the disturbance in the arid desert. Their blacks forms—like large groups of coasting V's in the sky—suddenly turned around like winged soldiers and began booking it the other way faster than normal. Delirious' eyes grew wide. He knew what this meant.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He stumbled to his hooves like a cat on a carpet, finding them slick with droplets of blood from his earlier rock rage. Not having enough time to stare and observe, Delirious quickly wiped them on his cloak and reached toward his back to get his rifle. Cantering toward a nearby rock for temporary cover, he fell to his haunches and took a look at his rifle. His heart beating in and out of his clothed chest, he pressed the ejector on the side of the firearm and let the magazine fall into his hoof. Finding it filled to the brim with shiny brass bullets, he shoved it back into its place, pulled the lever back to rechamber it, and took a low crouch to take a 360° angle around his location.

The sun beat down on him as he went, effectively blinding him from above and to the west. He quietly prayed to anyone who was listening that the bird wouldn't be knowledgeable enough to come from that side. A look around him found nothing but the rock-set platform he was sitting upon, and seeing as how he was on top of a rather sizable mountain in the middle of the desert, getting off wasn't going to be an easy task. Walking down could take hours, and flying down would simply get him torn apart in a split second by a nice set of razor-sharp claws. He breathed in a heavy amount of oxygen, then let it out in a deep sigh.

There was really only one option, and he wasn't looking forward to it. He could very easily just duck down and stay motionless like last time, but the bird would probably sense that something was different when it spotted the halved rock formation in the corner with its piercing, presumably well-trained eyes. Delirious crouch-walked over to his last piece of cover, sights finally catching a glimpse of a shape on the horizon approaching fast.

He ducked down, placing the foregrip of his rifle on the top of his rock. He looked at the rail lining the top of his gun, then cursed to himself when he realized he still didn't have a scope. Without some kind of Bible passage he could recite while doing this, it was going to be way less badass. Adjusting his hindlegs' position on the ground, Delirious reaffirmed his grip, pressed his cheek against the stock, and shut his left eye tightly. Steadying his aim—which proved a lot more difficult than he would have thought in part thanks to his quaking stomach—he eased his breathing and waited for the fat raptor to get closer.

In a matter of short, thought-consuming seconds, he heard a familiar cry ring through the valley.

SKEEROOOOOOW!

As its wings halted their movements and instead allowed their owner to glide in the wind, the bird began to ascend upward, then hook from left to right. Delirious shook his head. It was trying to avoid his shots, before they were even shot. Damn thing was smarter than he thought. He wouldn't have another opportunity to do this, and he wasn't going to waste it by saying nothing before taking the shot that would definitely bring it down. So, with his tongue poking out, his breathing slowing down, and his hoof lightly prodding the trigger, Delirious muttered an apt, very anticlimactic, "...dick chocolate."

He eased onto the trigger and pulled it, the crack of his Marksman Rifle sounding out and kicking his shoulder an instant afterward. From his position, an easy thirty-two yards away, he could see the bird reflexively shrill in pain and mourn for the eye that was now scrunching up at the contact. Delirious cursed to himself for a brief moment. No punctured eye sockets today meant no combat jack after he was done, either in hell or still here. Tackling his shadow to the ground, Delirious threw his forelegs over the back of his head and felt the wind sweep aggressively past him as the bird swooped directly overhead.

He quickly got back to a standing position and retrieved his rifle, then swiveled about to shoot at the bird's ass as it completed its strafing run. Bloody hooves made for slick hooves, and with a naughty word escaping his mouth, Delirious accidentally dropped his beloved SO and fell to his stomach to collect it as fast as possible before it had time to come back around for another pass. Lifting his chin for a quick look at his opponent's position, he found it ascending upward as if it were attempting to soar into the sun. Perfect.

Grasping his rifle, Delirious took a crouching position and aimed a bit ahead of the bird's torso, where its neck connected with the rest of its body. If he didn't hit somewhere on the throat, he could at least maybe nail the spine and chip off a few vertebrae. He pulled the trigger, then shouted a resounding, "Fuck!" as the bird easily dodged it by dipping to the side. He fired yet again, wondering just what the hell it was doing as it flew upside-down directly above him about half a mile up. He watched as its silhouette suddenly shrank and slowly grew more definite in his sights.

He promptly shat himself. It was dive bombing him like a fucking Dauntless. Though this meant that he was about to be completely flattened by a massive raptor, this proved a well-earned opportunity for Delirious. If it was coming straight at him, it would be a lot harder to miss his shots. Pointing his gun straight up, he pulled the trigger and instantly grit his teeth when he wasn't met with the bark and crack he was used to. Bringing its chamber to eye level, he yanked the lever back and watched as the jammed casing soared to the ground next to him. He looked straight up again and began yanking the trigger with no care for how much ammo he might have had left. Whatever he was doing was doing absolutely nothing to impede the large beast of a bird, which continued to drop at an admittedly scary speed.

His rifle clicked empty just as he could make out the hard glare in his adversary's eyes. Luckily for him, he hadn't ended floppy and poorly hung like his potato-loving friend. The bird hit hard on the platform a bare inch away from him, its gargantuan wings and pair of equally large claws thrashing about to try and simply fling him off the mountain. Delirious, trying his damnedest to scurry away to a far corner of the mountain peak, ducked and dodged as talons flew at him and sunk into the rock wall to his back. Attempting to scream, the bird opened its beak and faced Delirious with a knitted brow and...

...holy fuck was he fighting the Helmaroc King from Wind Waker right now?

Sensing that the long object next to Delirious was the thing currently causing it pain, the bird reached out with a wing and promptly flung it into the pony's body, sending him further down the line and separating him from his rifle. Grabbing it in its claws, it did a little hop and flew into the air, its two legs swinging back and forth like a kiddy appliance before throwing the gun into the far-off distance. Delirious watched helplessly, his one advantage now soiled. No other gun in his inventory had as big a caliber as his Marksman Rifle, and with no time to check as the bird angled to its left and approached once more, he wasn't sure he'd be able to fight back now.

His opponent evened out, and with a mighty call, sped like a bullet toward his position.

Delirious blinked absent-mindedly. His head throbbed, his forehead was matted with sweat, and his mask felt a lot more sticky than he was used to. Lying on his side against a wall of sun-blasted red rock, he let his skull thump on the ground beneath him and watched in silence as death approached. His hoof, reaching up to his neck, brought out the deep red knot that had plagued his every day out here. The newspaper had said it all. He had fucked the country up, and all because he wanted to waste time with his friends. Barriers were set up, electricity was cut, and borders were closed. He had officially ruined what lives the people of Ponyville had made. He had officially fucked up his friends.

From somewhere, way down, something slowly came to Delirious. A whooping holler, or maybe even a battle cry of some sorts. It wasn't him, no, because his voice didn't sound like the one he was currently hearing. This one sounded... familiar, and reminded him of bright yellow public transport. He shook his head, attempting to dispel the thought, but it came once more in fury, and definitely more volume. He cracked open his eyes—not even realizing he had closed them—and suddenly widened both in realization. With less than five seconds to a bloody fate by way of bird, Delirious heard the sounds of helicopter blades and instantly called.

"No fucking way."

"Badoop-a-doop Banana Bus!"

A Cargobob, in all its gloriously camouflaged, double-rotor'd glory, came in hot and fast from the west, its nose pointed down as it headed for a crash course with death. Thundering ahead, it collided with the side of the massive bird—emitting an ear-bleedingly loud crack—and effectively changed its prior pony-bearing destination to the unforgiving sands hundreds of feet below. The Cargobob, lightly stuttering in the air and slightly smoking from its twin-engines, rotated about on a dime and hovered toward Delirious's position. Its open side port now being presented to him showed him a familiar face all too ready to punch that he hadn't thought he'd even see for the rest of his life.

"What are you waitin' for?! Get in, bitch!"

Delirious, rising to his hooves, sprinted toward the rock wall in front of the helicopter's hovering form and jumped off it, landing inside the safety of his friend's Cargobob. Feeling the loving sensation of military-grade steel under his hooves, Delirious let a smile cross his lips. Turning around, and about tumbling as the helicopter began flying away from the mountain, he found a small pig staring him in the face and lifted a hoof. Wildcat, nodding to him, lifted one of his own and bumped theirs together.

"Welcome back, mothafucka!" Smiling, he looked toward the cockpit and thumped on the wall next to him. "Alright Lui! Let's go kill us a fuckin' bird!"

The monkey-masked colt, a gray headset nestled on his head, nodded to himself and called back, "Aye aye, Captain!" Delirious never thought he'd miss the squeaker voice, but he definitely sure as hell had. The Cargobob, in better hooves than Delirious had prior believed, dipped to the left and gained speed. Looking back toward the ass end of the helicopter, Delirious found a paper bag that he hadn't missed, a pair of brown eyes staring at him in silence.

"Hey Nogla!" He shouted, opening his forelegs to welcome in a hug.

"Delirious! We missed you–" A hoof connected with his dick, causing him to sputter out his last word and fall to the floor without finishing his sentence. Holding a pair of forelegs against his crotchal region, he sucked in a breath and yelled, "You fuckin' asshole! Goddammit!"

"Oh shit! He's comin' back!" Wildcat called, eyeing the large bird now flying toward their rear.

"Use the minigun!" Lui advised, one of his hooves rolling about like he was holding his cigar, "I'm fly-ing!"

Delirious looked at Wildcat, puzzled. Mouthing the weapon's name, he watched as the pig trotted over to the back of the Cargobob and pulled at a large tarp situated near the end of the helicopter, revealing the heavy weapon in all its shiny glory. Outright punching a button on the side of the interior wall, Wildcat quickly walked back next to Delirious so as not fall out of the now lowering ramp. A scene of red rock pillars, expansive deserts, dry dry cacti, and a very pissed off, feathered vulture thing presented itself to the Cargobob's crew. The wind, disturbed by the new edge across the helicopter's form, rippled past and threatened to suck anyone close enough out of the aircraft.

Delirious stayed where he was, believing that the others had a set plan and that any movement by him would probably fuck it up. As the helicopter banked and rotated about for a few seconds, he turned to Wildcat and awaited his next move. The pig simply flinched at him with a disbelieving look and a point toward the minigun.

"Well? The hell you waiting for? You think I can use that thing?"

Delirious didn't need to respond, and with a little squee of glee, threw himself to the ground next to Nogla and placed his hooves on the trigger handle of the large rotary gun. Pulling the trigger, the lovely sound of spinning barrels blared in his ears, accompanying the circular rounds of lead that were currently being fired the bird's way. It swerved left and right in an attempt to dodge, but the endless onslaught of bullets continued to punch holes in its body and wings. It skree'd at them as the Cargobob took a hard left and soared past a large rocky stalagmite. The bird, in its furious intemperance, simply crashed through the stone and threw it toward the earth with its chest.

Pulling the trigger, Delirious laughed at the misfortune of his opponent, but suddenly halted not a moment later when his spinny shooty gun stopped spinning and shooting. Confused, he pulled the trigger twice more in rapid succession and frowned. Slamming a hoof against its side, Delirious turned around and shouted above the rotor blades, "Lui, did you seriously only fucking put like a hundred rounds in this thing?!"

"What?!" Lui asked, "I used the rest on Nogla because he called me a mean name!"

Wildcat groaned under his breath.

"He really did!" Nogla sputtered, still lying in the fetal position on the floor, "It fuckin' hurt!"

Lui giggled from the front like a school girl. "It really did!"

"Fly, fucker!" Wildcat yelled, piggy eyebrows knitted in annoyance. "We've gotta be close by now!"

"Whoopsie! Missed our stop!"

Delirious turned to Wildcat. "Our stop?"

Lui peeked his head out from behind the cockpit door, a giddy grin on his monkey mask. "Strap in everyone!"

If by "strap in" the young colt meant his friends thudding against the inner walls of the aircraft by the G's, then strap in they did. The Cargobob, swinging around with its nose down, powered straight forward and back toward the bird now advancing on their position. Just as it looked like the two parties would collide in midair, Lui maneuvered the helicopter to its side like a bicycle, its rotor blades slicing across the bird's bulging stomach as it flew mere centimeters above it. Its gut now fully exposed and bleeding profusely, it fell a few inches in the air and smashed into a rock column a couple yards away, but steadied itself and flew back at the helicopter.

Lui yanked the cyclic back and to his heart, sending his Cargobob into a small hole nestled in the side of a lone rock formation just big enough for them to fit inside. Slowing down to a crawl, Lui turned the helicopter 90° degrees to the right, the open side port of the chopper now facing the opening they had just flown into. With only the rotary blades to make a sound in the echoing length of the cave, Delirious, Wildcat, and a recovering Nogla stared toward the open mouth and the rest of the desert before them.

A loud clunk caused Delirious to involuntarily jump. Turning to the source, he found Lui holding out his Homing Launcher to him. Taking it in a hoof, he watched as the colt returned to his instruments and hoisted the explosive firearm over his shoulder. Narrowing his eyes, he waited for the right moment. At once, the bird's large head appeared, beak wide open as it cawed threateningly at the group. Delirious, taking a knee, pulled the trigger and filled the interior of the Cargobob with a cloud of smoke that caused its crew to start hacking lungs. Lui, turning the aircraft and flying it out of the cave, grabbed their attention with a mighty, "Take that, meanie!"

The bird, flapping its wings like a hummingbird now, banked, dipped, and flew to the right behind a series of rocks. The homing missile, so close to exploding on its ass, blew up without hitting its mark. It reappeared to their right from behind a large hill, slowing down and silently glaring at them as it hovered in place. It had them cornered. Opening its beak and shouting at the group, the bird didn't even notice as a hulking shadow drew over its head.

Delirious, his heart beating out of his chest, saw this shadow, and leaned out the side of the Cargobob's port to stare up at its origin just as Lui shouted into his mic, "Now!"

Delirious felt a pair of heads thud next to his, and with his jaw on the floor, watched with Nogla and Wildcat as the familiar sight of a Titan nose-diving from miles above them showed itself to them in every form and fashion.

His comment was shared with the other two next to him.

"Oh shit."

A voice crackled on the radio from the cockpit. "Surprise, motherfucker!"

A door on the side of the Titan opened up, spitting out a small figure as it drew closer and closer. The obvious pony, now pulling his parachute, gave a front row seat to his friends for the Titan to impact with the bird, its four engines and large gasoline tank instantly exploding and enveloping its target in a mass of orange and yellow flowers. A trail of jet black smoke accompanied the raptor's final excursion to the sea of sand as Lui brought the helicopter down next to where it had landed. A flurry of dust flew into the air as the Cargobob descended, but Lui practically leaped out of the side as if it weren't a problem. Only when it settled did Wildcat, Nogla, and Delirious follow the young colt to the sight of the now presumably deceased bird.

Its feathers were completely singed, an Olympic pool of blood beginning to cascade over the hills and bumps around it. Its eyes were closed, and its tongue hung out like a tail-wagging dog waiting for a bone. Delirious turned at the sound of whistling wind and found Vanoss floating toward the quartet with the help of a rainbow chute, his face in an obvious grin despite the owl mask covering it. As he hit the ground, he laughed and trotted over to the blue Pegasus.

"Hey man! Did you see that shit?!"

"Fuck yeah, man!" Delirious replied, high-hoofing his Canadian compadre, "That was badass!"

Nogla spoke up, "Uh, guys?"

They all looked at the bird. A single eye was half-lidded now, its owner trying to rise from its cooked and seasoned position on the ground. A series of wheezes and coughs came from its bloodied beak; what was left of its right wing attempted to flap and lift it back up into the sky. The creature was clearly struggling to continue living.

Lui walked up to the monstrous thing, reached toward his crotch, brought out his Heavy Revolver, and fired a bullet into its skull.

Wildcat stepped forward, retrieved his Pistol 50, and did the same.

Vanoss trotted next to it, equipped his Combat Pistol, and pulled the trigger.

Nogla, utilizing his magic, slid his Pistol out of his dick and shot.

Delirious walked over and, swinging his Heavy Pistol out and cocking its slide back, fired one round as well.

The five, now reunited once again after so many months, stared with a pregnant pause at their now dead foe.

Wildcat broke the silence. "You guys think he's dead now?"

Delirious lifted his gun and pulled the trigger one more time, then turned to Wildcat and said, "Probably."

Author's Notes:

Just can't kill this cockroach of a story, can I?