Warning: This is my attempt to forget "Cupcakes". As such, this is rather gory. Or maybe not. I don't know, discretion is still advised.

It was a cool night. Skorpeon RyDer was alone on Twilight Sparkle's balcony, enjoying the night air. Faintly, he could her Dash off working on some of her tricks. Again.

He decided that a bit if exercise might do him good, after all, he had spent the good part of a week in Twilight's basement trying to get the Dragon Knuckle to work.

He jumped down off the balcony, hitting the ground with a muffled whump.

He stood up, dusting himself off. It had been a while since the Pegasus Ponies had scheduled a rainstorm. Every step he took, dry dirt rose to his ankles.

He decided to visit the zebra Zecora. She always had something to talk to Skorpeon about. And he needed stuff to talk about.

Skorpeon was about halfway to Zecora's when he heard someone following him. His natural instincts kicked in, and before he knew it, he was pointing his wand at none other than Fluttershy, the most timid pony in Ponyville.

She shrieked. Skorpeon hastily shoved his wand in his pocket, “Sorry, sorry Fluttershy.” He stammered. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

She looked at him, wide-eyed, and then she took a deep breath, dipping her head to the ground. “It’s alright Professor. I was just wondering, if maybe I can, um, join you?” She looked up at him “You’re going to Zecora’s, right?”

Skorpeon buried his face in his paws, “Yeah. Guess I should as comeuppance for scaring you like that. ”

Fluttershy smiled, and then bounced to join Skorpeon. Flank to flank they traversed the familiar path to Zecora’s.

Ten minutes later, with Zecora’s hut in full view, Skorpeon couldn’t shake the felling that he was being watched by somepony, or someone.

“Fluttershy?” Skorpeon stopped, “Do you have the feeling someone’s watching our every move?”

Fluttershy squeaked and hid behind Skorpeon’s legs. She whimpered something that Skorpeon couldn’t hear.

“What?” he looked at Fluttershy.

“There’s a guy creeping up behind you with a piece of metal!” she screamed and took flight.

Skorpeon whirled around, pulling a Bowie Knife from his hip.

"RyDer."A two legged creature in red Armor was holding a shotgun at his side. "We meet again."

"Staff Sergeant Hullum." Skorpeon lowered his knife, sensing others coming up behind him. "Why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" a Maroon figure stepped into the light. "We want you on Red Team. Get an advantage over Blue."

Skorpeon tossed his knife and caught it so that he had a hold of it from the back of the blade. Without warning, he spun, throwing the knife with expert precision. It landed inches from another's head. This one was in pink armor.

"Nice try." he pulled the knife from the tree he was standing in front of, and, mimicking Skorpeon, threw the knife back at him. Skorpeon caught the knife in his organic hand. A small bead of red formed where the blade cut into his flesh.

"Donut.” Skorpeon chuckled, licking the blood from his hand. "The slowest of the group."

"I am not!" Donut said after a few seconds of a rash silence. "I am not slow!"

Skorpeon scoffed. He looked at a brown figure, wielding a rifle.

"Why so mute, big guy" Skorpeon's hand twisted into his arm. A few clicks later, he had a three-way angle grinder where his hand used to be.

"Mierda!" the robot recoiled in horror as Skorpeon thrust the grinder in Lopez's face. Skorpeon just laughed.

"You think you’re all up in everyone's little joy circle when you try to kill us?" Simmons aimed his pistol at Skorpeon.

Skorpeon jumped, performing a back flip in mid-air. When he landed, he had a good eye on all the Spartans.

"Debemos tratar de bajarle juntos esta vez." he said, looking at the sergeant "Recuerdo cuando casi nos mató la última vez?

"Good point Lopez" Donut said "If we can keep him talking, maybe we can get him to admit that deep deep DEEP down, he really wants to join us."

"Su jodido estúpido, Donut." the robot lowered his rifle.

"Aw, thanks. It was a great idea."

Skorpeon watched with an eyebrow raised, "You guys do realize that you are misinterpreting everything he says, right?"

"No we're not." the maroon guy said.

"Como cuestión de hecho, está en lo correcto, Simmons." Lopez threw his head back so he was staring at the ceiling.

"C'mon RyDer, shall we go for a walk?" Donut placed a hand on Skorpeon's shoulder,

"Yeah, uh, no." Skorpeon shook Donut's hand off. "I don't talk to guys in pink armor."

Donut positioned his head so that his visor was right in Skorpeon's face "It's. Light-ish. Red." he growled.

Sarge walked up behind Donut, "If ya ask me, the one in pink is you, RyDer."

Skorpeon nearly laughed "That retort was as dull as Grif's shoulder blade." he stopped laughing. Hang on a second. Skorpeon realized with a jolt. I'm counting four members, where's Grif?

As if in answer, Skorpeon heard a high pitched whizzing, a pop, and something red shot out his forehead.

Skorpeon's eyes rolled into his head, and, with a few small thumps, he lay on the ground where a nickel-sized hole was draining his blood from his forehead.

As Skorpeon knew, headshots hurt. A lot. If he didn’t have a hole in his head, he would’ve thought that his head would split in two.

He heard a muffled click as Fluttershy landed beside him. She ran over to him, bending her head over his.

“Oh no, Oh no, Oh no, Oh no, Oh no.” she whimpered “Skorpeon, are you okay?”

“Stay calm.” He said without even moving his lips. That was reassurance enough for her.

“Good.” She said ever-so-quietly. “Thank Celest--” Another shot reverberated through the night, and Skorpeon saw a yellow and pink blur escape his range of vision.

“Nice shot Grif.” Donut complimented. “Got her right in the head.”

Skorpeon started. Those. Sick. SCHWIENHUNDS!

The five Spartans circled Skorpeon and Fluttershy. Skorpeon held his breath as he carefully unsheathed his Katanas magically.

“HAH!” Sarge laughed triumphantly. “Who’s the one holding the shots now?! HUH RYDER?”

Skorpeon smelled blood, and it sure as Hay didn’t smell like his.

“What do we do with them?” Simmons asked “Now that they’re dead?”

“ARSHEKOMPFS!” Skorpeon jumped up, bringing both his blades down into Grif’s body.

Uninterrupted by anything, Skorpeon’s swords separated Grif’s body into three different parts. Before Grif could fall to the ground, Skorpeon pulled both Katanas under his arms, readying to kill again.

“GO! RUN!” The other Reds split in opposing directions.

“Come on out!” Skorpeon’s voice had gone up in pitch. “Come on. I just want to play!”
Twitch

Skorpeon twirled his Katanas around so the back of the blades were resting on his elbows. His face contorted into a maniacal grin.

“Simmons?” he called “Donuuuut.” Skorpeon spun when heard movement behind him. Donut stood there, M6D Magnum in hand.

“Ah, Donut.” Skorpeon sighed. Donut pulled the trigger, hitting Skorpeon in the arm.

Skorpeon looked at his arm, hanging limp by a few sinews and flesh. “Tsk tsk tsk. You should do something about that cough.” He laughed maniacally.

Donut cocked his head. “I don’t have a cough. In fact, I fell perfectly fine.”

Skorpeon shook his head. “No. I mean THIS COUGH!” He lunged at Donut, pulling the Spartan’s helmet off. With a deft movement, Skorpeon pulled a butterfly knife, and with two quick cuts, sliced a large “X” in Donut’s throat.

Donut’s hands flew to his throat, eyes wide with terror. Donut choked. He gagged. Skorpeon’s foot deftly hit his jaw. Donut slumped, the dirt near his throat becoming darker and darker with his blood.

The last thing that went through Franklin Delano’s mind was Skorpeon’s butterfly knife.
Twitch

“Siiiimoooonsssss!” Skorpeon called again, head oddly lopsided. The tissues in his arm had regenerated so that he could wring his hands together.

“Saaaarrrge!” Skorpeon watched for any movement. “Sergeant!” he half called, half whispered. “I have something for you!”
Twitch

Skorpeon spun when he heard a twig break. Seeing something move in the trees, he got to all fours. With an ear-splitting shriek like a hunter, he dove after the retreating shadow.

“Stay away from me!” Simmons cried “I’m not the one you’re after!” His voice broke with hysteria.

“Simmons! Wait!” Skorpeon was gaining on him “I want to show you something!” Skorpeon crouched again, and with a mighty leap, covered ground between him and the retreating Spartan.

Simmons looked behind him to see Skorpeon mere feet from him. Something clicked in Simmon’s mind, and he ran faster than he ever had before in his life. As such, he didn’t see the root lying in wait.

When Simmons fell to the ground, Skorpeon leapt upon him, flicking his helmet off.

“Please! I’ll do anything!” Simmons held his arms over his face; Skorpeon’s demented smile mere inches from his own.

“Anything?” Skorpeon hissed “You’ll help. Me?”

Simmons nodded “Yes, I’ll give you anything! Anything at all!”

Skorpeon cocked his head, then after a moment. “Okay.” He helped Simmons off the ground.

Simmons looked at the crazed fox, who had turned his back on him. Seeing his chance, Simmons pulled a rifle from his belt, and aimed.

“Nononono.” Skorpeon cooed, back still to the red Spartan. “That’s not what I want.”

It was all a blur to Simmons; The whirling figure, the flash of silver, the forest flying past him.

Skorpeon carefully lifted a hand from his white Katana, now protruding from the chest of a screaming Spartan.

“You said I could have anything I wanted?” Skorpeon asked in his high voice.

“You- You can.” Simmons coughed, trying to pull the sword that was draining his life with every bit of blood. “You- you need to keep me alive though!”

Skorpeon’s smile broadened, if it was possible, “No, you said I could have anything I wanted.” He pulled his Bowie Knife out again, testing the blade with the edge of his thumb. “And do you know what I want?” He turned, not waiting for a response.

With a flash of silver, a sickening squelch, and a minute crunch, Simmons found a bowie knife pinning his head to a tree. Right between his eyes.

“I want your blood.” He whispered in the dead Spartan’s ear.
Twitch

Skorpeon deftly pulled the knife out of Simmons’ head, and after wiping it off on his sleeve, turned around.

“Sergeant!” he called once more “Saaaaaarge! Come here boy!” He laughed again “Saaaarrrrgeee!”

Something moved in Skorpeon’s vision. He jumped, “Ahh. Blue Team.” He laughed again “I hoped we would see each other again.” His head fell on his shoulders so that he saw Blue Team sideways.

“Yep, Definitely a psycho maniac.” The turquoise one observed.

“I think.” A dark blue one looked at Skorpeon “He needs a hug.”

“Yessss” Skorpeon snapped his head back up “C’mere, Let Granny RyDer give you a nice big.” Skorpeon’s mouth opened and closed for a moment before he got his final word out. “Huuuuuggg.” Skorpeon dived for Church, burying his teeth in the Spartan’s neck. As Skorpeon bit down, his teeth effortlessly cut through all Church’s sinews and tendons. Skorpeon’s eyes widened as his blood gushed into his mouth.

He spit a mouthful of the Spartan’s blood, “Silly me.” He said, eyeing Church’s limp form “I haven’t drunken any blood for ten years!” He spat more blood out, and then his eyes fell back on Blue Leader. “Oh, how I missed it!” He dove for Church again, draining him of his blood.

When Skorpeon had drunk his fill, he scanned for the rest of the Spartans. Hearing someone talking by the edge of the forest, he ran on all fours to the source.

Skorpeon skidded to a halt behind the two remaining blues. Hearing underbrush, they turned to see Skorpeon hunched and drooling blood.

“Hiiiiiii Guuuuuyssssss” he hissed.

The dark blue one looked at Skorpeon “Hi. How’s it go--”

“Greeeeeaaaaat…” Skorpeon’s voice had begun to crack under the strain. “I’m fine, but you, I see that you are going to develop sever bleeding of the gums soon, Caboose.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Caboose looked Skorpeon in the eye. “I brush my teeth five times a day.”

“Caboose! DUCK!” The other blue dove from a tree and shoved a beam of solid light in between Skorpeon’s ribs.

Skorpeon howled as Tucker twisted his sword in his ribcage. He felt the sword melt his flesh around the puncture points. Skorpeon kicked out explosively and managed to knock Tucker off of him.

“About you’re…. Bleeding gums’.” Skorpeon pulled Tucker’s sword out of his stomach, snapping the base clean in two.

“No, really,” Caboose took his helmet off. “See? I have the cleanest teeth in the Corps.”

Before Caboose could put his helmet back on, Skorpeon flicked a mallet from his sleeve, and with a mighty swing, brought it crashing down on Caboose’s lower jaw.

There was so much force being the blow, that Caboose felt a pop, and then something hit his foot.

Skorpeon giggled, and then twitched again. “Hehehe. I pulled your jaw off!” He squealed with excitement, and then swung his hammer into Caboose’s face.

As most of Caboose’s teeth hit the ground at Skorpeon’s feet, Tucker used the distraction to try to charge Skorpeon.

A flash of gold, a metallic clang, then a squish, and Tucker’s head rolled away from the rest of his body as his torso toppled, separated from his hips.

“Looks like he had to. SPLIT!!” Skorpeon let out another malicious laugh, only to find out that Caboose had somehow run off.

“Cabooooose!” Skorpeon called “Caboose!” Hit with a sudden inspiration, he tried a different approach. He pulled a chainsaw out of seemingly nowhere.

“Cuuupcaaaakeessss!” He said “Loverly cuupcaakess!” he pulled the chain. The chainsaw chugged.
“Cuuupcaaakes!” Chug-a-chuga
“So sweeeeet” Chug-a-chuga
“An’ tasteeeeee!” He sang with a maniacal twist, letting the words sink into the night before continuing.

“I’m making cuupcaaakesss, Caboose!” He pulled the chain again “I’m missing just one iiiiinnngriedeeeent!” Chuga-chuga
“You. You can help me fiiind it.” He twitched again, spurred along by his twisted Imagination.
“C’mon Caboose” He pulled it again. Chuga-chuga-chuga
“Cupcaaaakesss!” Chugagagaga
“Don’t be tooooo haaaaasteeeeee!” chugagagagagag
“Cupcaaaaaaakessss!” He pulled the chain one last time.
“So sweeeeeet” Chugagaga-WHIRRRRRRRR
Skorpeon’s cry was lost in the high-pitched whine of the chainsaw, and even though the exhaust port was by his ears, he still heard a faint cry;

“Caboose! NO!” Skorpeon turned to where Sarge was yanking on Caboose’s arm, trying to get him back in the cover of the bushes.

Skorpeon giggled with every bounce he took, nicking his chainsaw on his leg.

“You.” He pointed to Caboose, “Can you help me with my cupcaaaakes?” His voice cracked again as he shuddered.

“No,” Sergeant grabbed the jawless Blue and whirled him around “It’s a trap. Is there any blue sensible enough to realize this?!”

Caboose slapped his hand away, and the second he got within reach, Skorpeon shoved the chainsaw right between Caboose’s ribs.

“DIE, DIE MY DAHLIIING!! DIEEEEEEEE!!!” even though he was getting covered from head to toe in Caboose’s blood, Skorpeon didn’t release the blue until Caboose’s head fell through the chain with a sickening shatter.

Skorpeon shut the chainsaw off, kicked aside half the corpse, and dropped the weapon.

“Saaaaarrrrrge” he called again, “Looooopeeeezzzzz” Skorpeon pulled a shotgun from the depths of his coat. “Saaargeeee!” he called “I have a new toy for youuuuuu!” He threw the shotgun on the ground. “Its allllllll yourrrrrrsssss” he hissed.

Skorpeon twitched again as he got another mad idea. Using the duplication charm, he created two more chainsaws. He duct-taped the chainsaws on his three-prong hand, forming a massive spinning shield. He used a fraction of his energy to start them all at once.

Suddenly, he heard a shotgun reload, even over the din of chainsaws. He grinned.

“Sergeant!” He twirled around, nicking his leg with one of the chainsaws. “So nice to. SEE. You.” He giggled as he started spinning his hand.

When the chainsaws just became a blur, Skorpeon stalked towards Sarge.

“Now, RyDer” the Red Leader was babbling “Shouldn’t you think twice about this? I-I mean, really, think about it?” He had been back into a tree.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.” Skorpeon twitched again, “I really want to do this.” He rotated his arm a fraction of a degree, and, impervious to his cries, shoved the spinning saws into Sarge’s shins. When his shins separated from the rest of his legs, there was nothing keeping the rest of the Sergeant from following.

“Will it blend?!” Skorpeon yelled over his chainsaws “That is the question!”

When Skorpeon shut them off, the chainsaws had compromised the Red Leader into a pile of flesh and bones.

“Looopezzzz” Skorpeon called after a moment, “Come here! I have a nice little AI Core you’d like!” Skorpeon twitched again, “Loooopeeeezz!” He unclipped a long metal rod from the back of his belt and unfolded it. “You’d reaaaaallllyyyy like her.” He giggled, “Her name is GLaaaaaDOOOSSSSS” he flicked his wrist; the rod sprang to life with purple energy.

“You’d looovee her, Lopez” Skorpeon cooed in his high voice “You’d love her. To deaaaathhhh!” He turned abruptly when the robot sprinted toward him. Skorpeon clipped the end of the pole to a chainsaw, and brought the energized weapon straight into Lopez.

“Nooooooooooo...” the robot groaned as his hardrive exploded under the vast amount of electricity.

Skorpeon dropped his rod, sensing another behind him.

“Good evening, Director.” Skorpeon cooed. He turned to face the Director. “Long time. No, SEE? Hee hee?” He giggled at his own joke.

“Skorpeon RyDer” The Director was pointing a shotgun straight into Skorpeon’s chest. “You are a dishonor to the uniform for this,” the Director hesitated to get the right word “Bloodbath.”

“I’m just getting warmed up!” Skorpeon giggled again. Without warning, Skorpeon whipped his Katanas from his back. The Director flinched, but Skorpeon didn’t swing. Instead, he flicked the swords, where they became four separate swords. Skorpeon held three in one hand, then a solitary one in his organic one.

With a series of clicks, Skorpeon unfolded his mechanical arm into three others.

“Yeaaaaaaahhhhh,” Skorpeon’s smile nearly tore his face in half as he watched the Director stumble backwards. “Yeahhhh, I can do dat.” He giggled,

“Hey. Hey Director.” He twitched again “Hey, director HEY!” He threw one of the swords at the retreating form of Dr. Church. Leonard fell, a golden blade protruding from his chest. HE roared in pain as Skorpeon rushed over and thrust another in him.

“You know how they say that if you have a doll made JUST like you, and it gets poked with pins, you as the organic figure can feel iiiiittt?” he giggled, twirling his swords in a massive circle.

“Agent Washington!” The Director yelled.

Skorpeon’s face fell in utter confusion, and then he grinned again “Your wrong, Church.” Skorpeon stabbed the Director again, this time in the leg. The Director let out a blood curdling scream as the sword severed the bone.
“I’m not Washington, remember?” He thrust another sword into The Director, pleasuring in the howling scream of Dr. Leonard Church. “I. Am. North. Dakota.” He accentuated each word with more stabs from his sword.
The Director looked up at the fox, his eyes sliding out of focus due to pain and blood loss. “RyDer.” He whispered “RyDer. Let me go. Let me go, and I’ll give you a full pardon.” Church winced as Skorpeon kicked his leg “I’ll forget what you did. This will--” he gasped, “be our little secret?”
Skorpeon looked down on his victim, vicious smile still on his face. “Alright.” Skorpeon twirled a katana, resting it on his shoulder. “Our little secret.”
The Director smiled at Skorpeon. “Now, heal me, and I’ll pardon--”
A glimmer of gold, a sickening SHINK, a muffled thump, and The Freelancer Head Director’s head separated from the rest of his body.
“My dirty little secret.” He giggled and twitched one last time.
“YAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” Skorpeon whirled, seeing a cobalt-black Spartan swinging a hammer at him. Skorpeon dove out of the way, accidentally dropping his Katanas.
“Well, well well…” Agent Washington stood up, holding the hammer ready. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Skorpeon’s ears twitched “Kitty?” he asked “Kitty?” He started spinning in circles “You saw a kitty? Where? Where’s the kitty? You saw a kitty Wash?”
Washington shook his head after a moment, bringing the hammer to the ready. “You killed the Administrator. You killed the Director. You killed our only Simulation Troopers.”
Skorpeon stopped spinning, trying to focus on the many black armored guys that won’t hold still. He grinned, slipping the last scalpel onto his finger.
“You remembeeerrrrr?” he squeaked “Thaat story of Freddy Krueger? HUH?” He giggled, flexing his fingers. “The guy who would--” Skorpeon found Washington’s hammer slamming him clean in the face. When he landed, he could faintly see Washington aiming an ARC Cannon at his face through all the stars exploding in front of his good eye.
“RyDer.” Washington sighed “You failed. You won’t kill anyone AGHGHGGGGHHHHHH!!!” Washington screamed as a dozen knives punctured his back, going clean though his armor. Skorpeon took the Spartan’s head, and, none too gently, ripped his helmet off.
“Heheheheheh” Skorpeon giggled; waving the helmet in Wash’s face “I got your hem-let!” he giggled again, looking at his reflection from the light of the moon.
“You know, Wash,” Skorpeon twitched again; “It was nice knowing you.” Skorpeon pulled a scalpel out of Washington’s back, and the last thing Special Agent Washing felt was his skin being cut away from his skull, and the metal of the blade scraping his teeth.

He let out a throat shredding scream as Skorpeon pulled the flesh of his face.

Skorpeon held the Freelancer’s face in his hands, rolling the loose flesh between his fingers. He could sense one other creature hiding in the trees.

“Come on ooooouuutt, poppet!” he called, searching for their hiding place “I know you’re heeeerrreeee!”

He heard some shuffling of a bush behind him. Summoning a Chainsaw, he whirled around to face his new victim, chainsaw buzzing like an angry bee.

The Vixen screamed, seeing her life flash before her eyes. She expected her head to come flying off. She flinched, but nothing hit her. The sound stopped, replaced by heavy breathing.

Skorpeon RyDer took one look at Kursed, felt a wave of nausea, and, with a peculiar feeling, the ground decided to meet him face-to-face.

Skorpeon sat up and rubbed his head. He felt his sanity creeping back bit by bit.
I do hope no one saw or heard that. He thought to himself Especially not Fluttershy.

With a jolt, he remembered that Fluttershy lay bleeding to death on the road. Hoping that she wasn’t found, yet also hoping that she was, he ran back to the main roads.

It took Skorpeon the better part of ten minutes to get back to where he left her. Now that his mind had cleared, he could see her faintly breathing. Skorpeon raced over to her, and, not caring about the rest of the blood on him, slung her over his shoulder, spun on the spot, and raced towards the large doors.

“FRITZ!” Skorpeon placed Fluttershy on the closest available bed, then slinging the blanket over her head “GLaDOS!”

The medic appeared at his side, bandages in hand.

“Vat happened to ze little vun?” he asked in his thick German accent. “Is das blood your covered in?”

“Fritz,” Skorpeon looked his only friend in the eyes “I need you to take care of her. Use whatever you need. Bacta, Isopropyl, ANYTHING!” He stepped away from Fluttershy “I need to get back and tell the others what happened.”

Without waiting for a response, Skorpeon spun on the spot, leaving a very confused German medic behind.

He apparated directly into the library, and, trying not to wake Spike up, he slunk off into the bathroom. What Skorpeon saw in the mirror was even worse than what he did that night.

“Twilight?” He turned to the purple Unicorn, eyeing him with fear “Are you alright?”

Twilight backed up against the wall, “Leave me alone.” She whimpered. “Just don’t come near me!”

He knelt down to Twilight’s level, “Twi,” He placed a reassuring paw on her shoulder “It’s okay.”

Twilight shoved him out of the way “I’m reporting you to the Mayor.”

Something clicked in Skorpeon’s head “You saw what I did, didn’t you?”

Twilight turned, “All of it.” She looked at Skorpeon “You said you would protect us. And yet when we’re all asleep, you’ll probably come in and turn us into pincushions, won’t you?”

Skorpeon shook his head. “They were the people who wanted to kill me, Twi.” He stood, walking back over to the mirror.

She followed him, “Skorpeon, you of all people should know how Equestrians take violence like this!”
“The reason I reacted the way I did,” Skorpeon said defiantly, “Is because they shot Fluttershy.”
Twilight’s eyes widened, “They what?”
Skorpeon took a deep breath, “Fluttershy and I were headed to Zecora’s. A shot rang out, they took me down. The regenerative chemical I have kept me from dying. Then they took Fluttershy out.”
Twilight turned a shade of green, dashed over to the toilet, and emptied her stomach.
“Twi, maybe we should get the others and take you to her.” Skorpeon placed a paw on her neck.
Twilight tried to nod, but the next wave came up. Skorpeon rubbed her shoulders, trying to get her to relax.
After about five minutes, Twilight cleaned herself up as Skorpeon went out to get the rest of the group.
Ten minutes later, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Twilight were standing around Fluttershy’s hospital bed.

When Skorpeon came by with a Bacta rag, Applejack immediately rounded on him;

“When you first joined us, Skorpeon, you said you would protect us. Not get all of us killed!”

Skorpeon looked at the orange pony, “Ay-Jay, IT’s kind of hard to stop something when your flat on the ground pinned by the opposing forces.”

Applejack snorted, “Not doing a very good job then, protecting us.” She muttered to herself.

After a few moments, Rainbow Dash turned to Skorpeon, “Will she be okay?”

Skorpeon sighed, placing the vial of blood on the table. “I wish I knew what blood type she was, so that I can get some more in her.” He shook the little glass vial a bit more, trying to get it to change color. “But it’s almost like you guys have a different chemical in your bloodstream to do anything.”

“Blood type?” Applejack asked “You mean like Oh Negative an stuff?”

Skorpeon looked at her “Yeah.”

Applejack pointed a hoof at Fluttershy “She and I are Ay-Bee Positive.”

Skorpeon looked at her, “Your absolutely sure about this?”

Applejack snorted “Yeah, I donated blood for her when she got on the wrong end of a bear claw. She lost nearly half her blood, and I gave most of it back for her.”

Skorpeon dashed off and grabbed an IV bag, then hooked Fluttershy up to it. He hung the pouch from the rack, next to the Cardiometer.

“So, she’ll be okay?” Pinkie Pie’s hair had fallen flat when she heard the news about her friend.

“Ja.” Fritz rounded the corner, carrying a medical bag. “She vill make a full recovery.”

“This is Fritz, my second-in-command” Skorpeon gestured the man that was carefully unwrapping Fluttershy’s bandages on her face.

The five poines and Skorpeon recoiled in terror when they saw Fluttershy’s face.

Or, more accurately, lack of a face.

Fluttershy’s left face was all but gone, yet the force of the bullet had peeled her flesh back, revealing a shattered skull and a severed eye. Fritz had cleared the shattered parts of her skull out, revealing bits of brain protected by bits of Bacta.

“Oh. My.” Skorpeon anticipated Rarity’s reaction, kicking a pail over to her.

“How is she alive?” Dash couldn’t look, neither could anyone else.

After a minute, Fritz walked away, carrying a blood-stained towel in one hand, and a trash bin full of regurgitated daisies in the other.

Skorpeon buried his face in his hands. Without warning, he unclipped his Katanas, pulled his pistols out of his jacket, and unslung his rifle. He pulled another trash bin over to him, and unceremoniously threw his weapons in the trash.

“I’m only going to keep my MoonFall Katana, my knife, and my wand.” He told the other ponies. “Other than that, I swear to you five, to Fluttershy, and to all of Ponyville, that as long as I’m there in Equestria, I will not take up arms unless absolutely needed.”

Skorpeon stood up then walked out the door. He walked a ways until he got to a door marked with some strange runes. He ran his finger on a small black device. The door swung open for him, and he threw the bin with all his weapons into an open drawer.

After he locked the door to his room, he Apparated back into Twilight’s library to finally get the blood cleaned off of him.