Sketch yawned and stretched. Looking around, he saw he was alone in the bedroom.

“Okay, well, time to go see if everyone is dead yet.” Sketch said, getting up off the bed, he stretched and headed for the door. Looking outside the room, the apartment appeared deserted.

Sketch cleared his throat, “Where the fuck are you guys?”

Silence was his only answer.

“Okay, if anyone is there I’m going to shoot myself, come out now or I’m offing myself.” Sketch went to draw his Line Gun, only to find it missing. Looking down, he saw he wasn’t wearing his armor, just his civilian clothes.

“Okay then, maybe I can shoot myself out an airlock, least that way I don’t become food.”

Looking around the schoolyard, he wandered towards the cafeteria he’d been at this morning. He took his tray to the table next to Johan and Broker, the former still wearing his Security Riot suit. Broker, his legs shattered from his fall, waved to Sketch.

“Well, that’s new...”

He sat next to the friends he’d had for so many years.

The cafeteria was coated in the blood of all the people who’d died that day, and Sketch saw that his Line Gun was on the tray in front of him. Hefting the weapon, he looked around, once again seeing that he was alone.

“This is pointless, how can I use this Line Gun without a suit?”

As if ignoring the question, he found himself holding the gun anyways.

“Hmmm, now what?” Sketch looked around, hoping there would be some indication of what he’s supposed to do.

Broker was walking out of the cafeteria, possibly right into a group of necromorphs. Without his suit, he would need Sketch’s help.

“I thought he died, I don’t even know what’s going on right now.” Even as he said that, he knew he couldn’t let his friend die a second time. “How the hell do I even fire this thing without a suit?”

Running around the corner, he saw the siren-princess-thing rearing up to strike at Broker, the creature being nearly a hundred feet tall and cloaked in shadows and blood, massive claws stretching out.

“Fantastic, running time!”

Sketch turned to run, immediately racing for the door hatch. On the other side was the siren-princess-thing, grabbing Broker and dragging him into the shadows. An eerie silence fell over the whole event, leaving no noise but Broker’s strangled scream and the sound of his bones shattering.

Sketch could hear him calling for help.

“ ...Goddamnit Broker.” Sketch stopped and hesitantly turned around, going back for Broker.

In the monster’s den, he looked up at the thing, gulping as he timidly aimed his weapon at its shoulders. Pulling the trigger, he hoped it would be enough.

The gun clicked ominously, and he saw that it was empty. The creature began to devour Broker, who was now screaming at Sketch. Though his body was being devoured, the pony in danger was beginning to curse out Sketch, calling him a coward, calling him useless, a horrible friend, and many things far worse.

“I might be many of those things but time for plan B! FUCKI’MSODEAD!” Sketch ran at the monstrosity, wielding the Line Gun as a melee weapon. Swinging it like a club, he charged. Every step he took brought him another step further from the creature, Broker being torn to pieces as he continued to shout at Sketch.

Even as he was nothing but a face and a few chunks of meat-strewn skull, Broker continued to curse Sketch for abandoning him.

The monster, no longer interested in finishing off Sketch’s friend, instead turned to Sketch himself. She looked down at him, mouth full of razors and wings like blades. Finally, he began to gain ground, just in time for her to strike.

He saw the jaws closing in on him, the teeth snapping shut around him.

Then, he woke up screaming.

In the main room of the apartment, CD, Rick, Allen, and Johan had settled in. Johan and Allen had taken up watch at the section of wall that had become the door.

“So, Allen... what’s your story?” Johan was trying to make small talk with the space-engineer.

“Dad was a lying alcoholic asshole... never saw my mom except one or two weeks a year. Dad was ex-military and then joined up as a security consultant and I think my mom was a scientist; she was always working on some project or another, and she never would say what about. I got into a lot of fights at school and won most of them. Haven’t lost a fight in over ten years.” Allen stopped for a breath. Johan nodded appreciatively.

“Anyways, I got kicked out of school at seventeen and joined the junior engineering corps. Dad walked out of my graduation because he thought I joined security. While I was there they found out that I was top of my class at EVA maneuvering and welding so I got stuck outside... as the only worker.... for my entire quadrant.”

“Really? That’s, uh, really against regulations. By the way, you probably get asked this a lot, but what happened to your face?”

“You have no idea. Ok, so the scar above my eye is from one of the first fights I got into and lost, my cheek was burned when I was working on making this suit. Same thing with my nose. The rest were from flying pieces of metal shavings.”

“Huh. All of my scars are from today, thanks to the glories of modern medical science. Three cheers for medigel, huh?” Johan went back to casually watching the door, thinking the whole thing over.

Allen sat for a moment, then offered the large bottle of alcohol to Johan. “You sound like you need it.”

Johan looked over for a second, then took the bottle and retracted his helmet. “Yeah, sounds like, doesn’t it?” Johan took a swig and passed the bottle back. “Blegh, I’ve never liked alcohol. Might want another drink in a moment, though.”

“Fair enough, I love my whiskey.” Allen said as he took a deep swallow.

Rick and CD sat in the main room, Rick on the couch and CD on the floor.

CD turned to Rick. “Any idea what Scootaloo wanted with Sketch? Y’know, besides the obvious.”

He simply shrugged. “Not sure.”

“Quite a theory you have there.” CD rolled his eyes along with his sarcastic statement. “Any other brilliant comments on our situation?”

Rick sighed. “I don’t know, I can only think of a question. Why are we being left alone? Honestly, for the greatest time they haven’t made themselves known.” Rick said with a gesture to the ‘door’.

“If you’ve seen any horror stories, you should have the basic knowledge to not question that out loud.” CD stared at Rick. “Do you want us to be swarmed by everything on this entire station?”

“No, but still the question-”

“Should not be mentioned. Seriously. Don’t, unless you want things to get worse.” CD stated. “I don’t understand it either and I’d like to know why as well, but don’t openly question it or everything goes to shit.”

Rick didn’t respond but instead decided to fiddle with the bot on his wrist.

“So when are we going to find Summer?” CD asked. “I think we kind of got distracted from that, and it’s pretty darn important to me.”

Rick raised a brow in question. “Who is Summer?”

“My sort-of marefriend. She’s here, and in trouble. If it weren’t for us trying to save her, we’d have never met you or Allen in the first place.”

Rick hummed in thought. “Are you sure she is here in this part of the station?”

“No, we’re trying to find files from the military database so we can find her.”

Rick nodded, still messing with the bot.

“So how long until we get moving? I kind want to find her since she’s the only one aside from you and Allen who hasn’t given me crap at least twice.” CD continued. “And she wouldn’t at all.”

Rick just shrugged. “Possibly after everyone is ready to head out. Might be awhile but it still never hurts to check though.”

“How do you know what hurts to do something or not?” CD asked. “Being curious has bitten me in the rear plenty of times the moment after I thought those exact words.”

Rick looked to CD for a moment before turning back to the bot on his wrist, though he did nothing to it, he seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

“You don’t do much but tinker with your electronics, huh?” CD noticed. “I’m not really one to talk, but still...”

“It’s something to distract me.” Rick said as he started to mess with some of the buttons.

“Whatever.” CD said. “Wonder what’s going on with Sketch, what’s taking so long? I want to get going soon.”

Rick didn’t respond, his eyes seemed to jump around, shaking his head slightly.

Sketch looked around bedroom, Scootaloo having woken up from his scream. The young mare looked up at him with trepidation and worry.

“Sorry, dream princess was killing Broker and I was trying to beat her to death with my Line Gun.”

“Uhm... what?” Scootaloo looked no more reassured of his mental health than before. “So... bad dream?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Sorry I woke you up.”

Scootaloo nuzzled him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Nah, it’s no problem. We should probably get going anyways. The others... well, I’d also like to apologize. For the things I said.”

“Alright, although they might not have taken it to heart at that moment, you did just go through something traumatic.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have tried to unload that on you. You’ve got enough to deal with.” Once again, Scootaloo nuzzled him, this time lingering, as if waiting for a kiss.

“No, it’s good to let things out, if you need to talk later, let me know, okay?” Sketch nuzzled her back. She happily nuzzled him back, stretching her neck forward, puckering her lips, and closing her eyes, and even Sketch couldn’t ignore the signals.

Sketch went to kiss her, not wanting to leave her hanging.

The door opened with a hiss, and Allen leaned in. “Hey, we gotta g- oh, sorry. Hey, if you guys do it, make a mess, alright?”

The EVA specialist ducked back out of the door, his polarized visor already in place. Underneath it, he was fighting back a snicker of amusement.

Back in the bedroom, Scoots and Sketch were now looking away, both blushing furiously.

Scoots, never one to simply drop an awkward subject, spoke first. “So... uhm... how about we get going? That was pretty weird, even for me.” She grinned behind her scarlet blush.

“Yeah, we can make a mess of the next room we’re in.”

“Heh, sure.” She gave him kiss on the nose and clambered off the bed. “So you’d better survive long enough for that, got it?”

“Yeah, otherwise it’d be a one mare operation, hard to do a co-op mission solo.”

“Idunno, just means you have to be inventive... or flexible. And I’m both.” Scootaloo snapped her visor shut.

She stepped out of the room, obviously swaying her hip extra-sexy, though the effect was more funny than seductive.

“We can put that to the test next time.” Though he didn’t get a response, he knew she was still happy with the thought, her armor-plated tail raised higher than was considered strictly appropriate.

“Don’t taunt me, otherwise we’ll be here longer than expected, now lets go.”

However, the flirty female had already left the room, so Sketch’s comment was largely unheard. Sighing, he picked himself up, and went into the main room, finding that everyone was more or less ready to go.

Apparently, as Sketch had slept, the others had raided the apartment for supplies, finding a tank and a half of hydrazine fuel, a few dozen Divet rounds, some food and water (which were shared out to Scoots and Sketch) and nearly two hundred rounds for the pulse rifle.

Everyone was ready to go, it seemed.

“So where are we going?” Allen asked.

“Military base. I need to drop off Miss Belle, and CD wants to find his, uh, marefriend.”

“Ok, I’ll take point,” said Allen as he finished doing a triple check of his Pyro Suit’s systems.

“That’s usually my spot, but alright. I’ll keep an eye out from the middle, near Sweetie. Everyone ready? I want Copy.Data in back, with Sketch. Rick, if you could be in front with Allen, We’ve got some spare plasma cartridges for you. Does anyone need any other types of ammunition?”

“Might need rivets, I’m all out of those.” Rick said pulling out his rivet gun for a moment.

“Here,” Allen replied, tossing him a casing of the rivets. Rick was able to catch them easily, slotting sixteen into place and putting the remainder into his storage.

The group, now fully stocked, stepped out into the corridor, the two on point looking around and sweeping in opposite directions admirably.

“Ok... so what are the coordinates? I can get there outside but I’m lost inside.” Allen mentioned.

“Here, I’ll send you and Rick the coordinates. Now let’s get going.”

The group began moving swiftly down the corridor, the grit and pain of the day having hardened them. Within nearly two minutes, they encountered more necromorphs, the monstrous shapes bursting from the walls and ceiling, surrounding them in moments. Moments later, and several hundred pulse rounds, three dozen plasma shots, rivet bolts galore, and several bursts of flame later, they had cleared out the large batch of slashers and pukers.

Wiping the blood and gore from his face, Johan surveyed the carnage. Nobody had been very injured, so he simply shrugged it off. The group was rapidly able to collect a fair amount of additional supplies, including a fair amount more hydrazine and rivets.

“Semper Fi, motherfuckers,” Allen half-shouted.

Johan gave him a look through his helmet, but didn’t think too hard on it, Sketch and CD also ignoring the comment. Rick just shook his head slightly.

The group began moving once more, Scootaloo having wandered farther forward.

“Scootaloo, never leave the group.” Sketch said, worried.

“I’m not, I’m just a bit closer to point, is all.” The young mare shot back playfully. “Besides, what’s th-”

CD, with the speed and grace of a striking mongoose, grappled Scootaloo. “Shut your mouth right now!” CD said quickly. “Or I’ll weld it shut! Don’t tempt fate.”

“Yeah, please never say that line, ever. That is one thing you never want to do.”

“R- right, sorry. Kinda forgot the situation an’ all...” Scootaloo chuckled nervously. She looked around. “Ah, well, let’s get going?”

CD sighed and let her up, allowing the group to continue moving onward. From down one of the corridors or vents, a harsh growl reverberated along the station. It didn’t sound much like the warlocks, but it was certainly strong.

Johan, the nominal leader of the group, looked around. “Alright, everyone, we’re going to pray to whatever deities happen to like each of us, that it goes away. In the meantime, I’d suggest we all make sure we’re loaded, and let’s move now.”

CD rolled his eyes “So are you applying for the No-Shit Academy, or are you just talking to yourself?”

“Don’t know which, don’t care which, but I agree with him.” Scoots said, beginning to walk along

“Are you guys applying for the lets-be-a-dick academy?” Allen quipped back as he checked his hydrazine levels.

“Fleeing is optimal.” Sweetie replied, more or less ending the conversation. Everyone began to move as quickly as they could down the relatively narrow corridor, Rick and Allen being the first to open the door, Sweetie and Scootaloo not far behind them.

“Oh, hey, it’s a transport hub!” Johan remarked as they stormed in, looking around quickly, “I think I know where to go from here.”

“I’ve had to fix the roof here several times,” said Allen.

“Yeah, find that military database or whatever.” CD said. “I understand that I’m the only one who cares about her, but I want to save Summer.”

“Who’s Summer?” Allen asked as he looked around.

“His marefriend who he has been seeing visions of up until a few hours ago who may or may not be being held captive in an unknown location.” Sketch said.

“Yeah.” CD agreed. “Although that is only a very small bit of it.”

Allen nodded slightly, “Ok, fair enough.”

A thunderous crash echoed through the room, and the entire station shuddered violently. Looking about, the group was unable to locate the source of the attack or explosion or whatever caused the rumble.

Several tense moments later, everyone began to calm down, the danger seemingly passed for the moment.

The tortured screech of shredding metal, on the other hand, proved that assumption wrong. A huge, torso-like thing, the bodies of dozens of innocents, human and a pony alike, dragged itself to the balcony on the second floor of the hub.

It screamed, a partial pony head the main part of it as it looked towards the group. It was quite unlike anything they had seen so far, like a trio of legs or a tripod. The glistening yellow patches of diseased flesh at its joints glowed a sickly yellow, and the twisted faces of the people fused into the body and ‘arms’ gave feeble screams.

“By Altman’s beard…” Allen said softly.

The monster growled at the group and swung down to them, pulling a large, body-encrusted arm back to swipe at them.

Johan had already unslung his pulse rifle, and was already firing at the shoulders of the creature. The shots seemed to bounce off, plinking away. Allen, shaking off his shock, pulled his Rivet gun and fired next, but the eight-centimeter bolts did almost nothing to the creature.

Rick, not far behind, was hefting his modified Cutter to fire, but wasn’t sure where to fire at, except maybe the yellow parts. A moment of consideration later, he prepared to pull the trigger, only stopping when he, along with the rest of the group, was knocked from his feet.

Looking up, Sketch had time to see another form, this one larger and more robust, formed of blackened plating and with crusty bone plates covering it. The massive, beak-like maw opened wide as it landed on the massive tripod ahead of the group, smashing it flat by superior bulk.

“What the hell is that thing?” Johan yelled as the thing shrieked at they began to back away from the thing. It began to charge them, moving far faster than anything that size should naturally move.

“Just fucking run!” Scootaloo shouted, skittering towards the exit they’d come through. The monster began to advance, and everyone else in the group began to follow suit.

“Tactical suggestion: group should split evenly at next intersection to prevent total destruction of team. Group survivability average increases to above eleven percent!” Sweetie’s deep voice carried surprisingly well in the din and the roar.

“I agree, let’s get the fucking hell out of here! Pair up! Me and Johan with Sweetie,” Allen yelled as he was running, Johan calling back an affirmative, scooping up the filly as he ran.

A second roar accompanied the first, prompting Sketch to look over his shoulder. A second of the massive beasts had dropped in as well, and the two of them were now scuttling into the comparatively tiny hallways. CD, Scootaloo, Johan, Sweetie, and Allen turned an immediate right as they met the first intersection, though the first of the huge monsters turned to follow them as well.

Rick and Sketch continued to run, racing down the hallway at top speed. With no time to think, they just moved, Sketch the veteran of a grueling track team, and Rick the veteran of far worse things than had been seen that day.

Down the other hallway were the rest of the group, avoiding the rippling debris the tormenting beast threw up as it tore down the hallway. Spying another turn up ahead, CD and Scoots slid around the corner and raced off in time to avoid the still-charging necromorph colossus who continued to race doggedly after Johan, Allen, and Sweetie.

“Why do these things always run after me?” Allen asked as they kept running.

“Probably because you’re with the larger group, genius!” Johan’s input was largely sarcastic.

“Personnel files indicate only slightly above-average intelligence!” Sweetie’s was largely upsetting.

“Aw, Shut it!” Allen snapped.

The monster continued to barrel after them, shredding the hall as it went, and young white unicorn whispered something to the human carrying her. While Allen wasn’t sure exactly what she said, he got the gist of it when she climbed onto his shoulder and attached some sort of grappling device to the helmet of the security officer. She leveled some sort of weapon at it, a charge of some sort gathering at the end.

Allen, keeping a close eye on it, realized that she wouldn’t be able to charge it fast enough if nothing slowed the creature down. Thinking rapidly, he came to a fairly simple conclusion: a hydrazine-based explosion should stall it for the extra half second. But he wouldn’t have any hydrazine left, and he had no idea where they were going.

“Aw fuck it, GRENADE OUT!” Allen yelled as he tossed his last hydrazine tank, the top hissing slightly as he passed it over one of his pilot lights. The tank, now lit, flew in a gentle arc, and was almost immediately hit by the charging beast’s arm. The flames burst out, spreading across one of the few unarmored patches, and the necromorph screamed.

A moment after, an arc of blue electricity slammed into the thing, causing it to jolt and shudder. Johan crowed triumphantly.

Then, it roared, and resumed its chase.

“We’re fucked!”

“Thank you Sweetie Belle, that was very succinct.”

CD and Scootaloo, laying against the wall and panting after their two-hundred-meter sprint, leaned against each other.

“S- so... what now?” Scoots panted with every breath, trying desperately to breathe.

“Simple... we need... to rest, and then... we keep running.” CD panted as well. “Unless... you have... a bright idea.”

“W- well, we could... could try getting back... to the hub. Sweetie would... go there. I think.” She pulled out the water bottle she’d only half drank before, drinking deeply and putting her visor back into place. “Water?”

CD took the bottle, thanking her after he had drank some. The echoing roars and the resounding noise of the creature’s chasing the other group members growing fainter.

“Yer welcome. And what were those things? And that other thing, the three-arm thing. Why’d they kill it? Are they different types of creature or something?”

“I don’t think so, I’m guessing they won’t fight over a victim, but hurting each other in the process is fine. As for what they are, they’re sort of dead-”

“Yeah, I knew that. I meant, what made them so freaking huge? I mean, the tripod was obviously a whole bunch of bodies together, but those bigger ones looked smooth, like they grew that way from the start. Maybe... maybe this is an alien invasion, and that’s what they look like? Giant roach things?”

“Well, just a theory I half started, but maybe as the... uh, accumulated bodies, combine together, maybe they just mesh and become one big thing.” CD said. “Or they picked up people who used a ton of moisturizer.”

Scootaloo looked at him for a moment, as if wondering if he was joking. Then, she got it, and gave a half laugh. “Damn, if you weren’t crazy, I’d totally offer to try dating you.”

CD paused. “Uh... thanks? I think? No offense to you, but what does my being crazy have to do with it?”

“Well, your brand of crazy comes with a girlfriend, so I doubt you’d be interested.”

“Of course it does, I’m awesome.”

“Heh, you’re not half bad. Hey, I think I can move again, you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s get moving. Hopefully we won’t run into some other giant monster that drools unspeakable slobber.”

“You’re a Lovecraft fan? Nice.”

“Why wouldn’t I be is a better question. Now let’s get going.”

“Yeah, but most people don’t read much these days. And most folks think you’re a geek if you do. Now, I can and have beat up the guys who say that, but I’ve taken to keeping my reading material on the down-low lately, just to keep from being pestered.”

“Yes, I’m sure a lot of your reading material is rather publicly controversial.” He smirked.

“What? There’s no way the Deed of Paksenarrion is controversial.”

“No, but porn at school sure is.” CD said. “Seriously, why keep that anywhere other than under your bed or something?”

Scootaloo chuckled. “Oh, right, that. Ah, that’s not reading material. Here, let me show you what I mean.”

“Sorry, I have a marefriend.”

Scootaloo looked up, confused, though her expression changed quickly to horror, not that CD could see it. “Wh- no! I mean, look at these.” She pulled one of the boxes out of her storage.

“I don’t know, aren’t you taken already too?”

“Just look at the magazines. See this one? It’s the Shadowbolts magazine from eight months ago. It took me almost six months of careful research and study to figure out the best places and times to ask each and every-”

“I understand, you go far for decent porn, shouldn’t we-”

“It’s not the porn, damnit! I went for the autographs. There’s only two other places with every Shadowbolt in it, and that’s the official autograph book, and that’s nine kilos and forty credits! And there’s none that also have the entire cast of the newest Red versus Blue, and there’s only two magazines, both run by the same publishers, that provide a place for each of thirty current top-rank EVA oper-”

“I get it, you are a flight fan. I’m not, so forgive me if I’m a bit underwhelmed. Now we need to-”

He stopped as he saw the magazine at the top of the stack, one for the Engineering Superstars magazine he’d coveted for the vast amounts of information on charge converters it supplied every month. On top of that, he’d also rather liked that they’d included actual engine specs.

“I also have the inventor of the arcane spark converter’s signature in here. Did you know Miss Sparkle lives on this station? I did.”

“Okay, that’s more interesting. I’ll ask a lot more questions later, but we should avoid getting torn apart limb from limb by things with too many limbs.”

“Good idea. Now give me a sec, I need to pack these up again, carefully.” She carefully replaced the magazines into the boxes and hefted them back into the storage pockets.

The two of them gathered up their supplies and began to move out, much more amiable than before.

Rick and Sketch sprinted down the hallway, the massive beast tearing down the corridor as it tore it up. The screaming metal and the shrieking monster chased them as they took one random turn after another, barely staying ahead of the creature.

“So, hows your day?!” Sketch shouted as they ran.

“Even though we are being chased, it’s still pretty bad!”

The monster lunged forward, nearly catching Sketch’s tail. The pony yanked the cloth-covered appendage away from it with a yelp.

“Oh fuckberries! If we live I’m getting rid of my tail!”

Rick chose to say nothing, looking around for another route to take.

“See any places we can run to try and lose this thing?!” Sketch asked.

Rick looked around, the walls blurring as they sped away from the monster. Not much was visible, but some of the doors were visible as ‘open’. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the time to stop for opening one.

“Nothing yet!”

“Fantastic!”

They continued to run, until a turn brought them to a ruined section of corridor. They had met up with their own trail, the new section more or less impassible now.

“Shit, what now? Do you have anything to clear the way?”

“Uh... maybe?” Rick’s answer was uncertain in tone.

“What the fuck do you mean maybe?”

Allen, still unused to gravity, was growing very tired. Johan, still carrying Sweetie, charged onward, offering a shoulder to rest on. “Sweetie, you have any suggestions for where to go?”

“Return to transport hub for additional maneuvering room and group rendezvous.”

“I really want to know where you got your vocabulary from, Sweetie.”

“Dictionary.com!”

“That’s remarkably unhelpful, Sweetie!”

“You inquired.”

Johan had no answer to that.

“Ok, lets get going then,” Allen said shaking his head while panting slightly.

“We’re going to run out of places to run eventually. You have any ideas Allen?”

“Uuuuuuhhhhhh..... kinda. Hows your air supply?”

“Reserves at full; One-hundred forty seconds logged.” Sweetie said mechanically. Johan just kept running. “Uh, yeah, and I have two minutes.”

“Wow, ok I have ten minutes and a large air tank. We could head outside and go around. There should be a supply hut around the exit somewhere.” Allen said, while looking for an exit strategy. It took him a moment before he realized that they had run further into the complex.

“Uh, how are we getting to the outside?” Johan asked, still running. “Also, right turn ahead.”

“What about the vents? I could open it for the rest of you if we could find one”

“No real maintenance corridors in here, it’s all science buildings and residential in here!”

“Sorry then, no brilliant ideas... Keep running?”

“To use a quote, ‘fleeing is optimal’.” Johan said, earning a chuckle from both Allen and Sweetie Belle. A roar from the monster following them interrupted the moment with a roar and the sound of screaming metal.

“Any ideas for what to do about Ms. America back there?” Allen asked.

“What? The necro-thingy? No, no I do not.”

“A thermonuclear device with an output of one gigajoule would be sufficient to vaporize any amount of infected tissue.”

Both of the humans resisted facepalming, Johan because thermonuclear devices are probably overkill, even in this situation, and Allen because he knew a gigajoule would vaporize them too.

“I would like to survive this thank you very much,” Allen said.

“... Survivable safe distance is-”

“We get it, Sweetie, you can recite many important facts when you’re stressed, we can figure that out later. Back to running!” Johan was a little short on temper.

“I hope we can find a zero g area because then I could actually move!” Allen shouted as he was running.

“Extended time in microgravity is-”

“Yes, Sweetie, we get it!”

CD and Scootaloo, now stuck together by circumstance, were wandering past a ruined section of hallway, barely passable thanks to their smaller body sizes. The young filly, in her pale orange armor, was able to wriggle through some of the slim gaps in the debris and push sections open from the other side.

Whatever the monsters had been, their trail appeared largely clear of other necromorphs, something for which both of the ponies were grateful. The twisted ruin of the corridor had a large amount of sewage and water lines severed, leaking into the gully formed from the wreckage.

“So... wade through the pisswater in our thankfully sealed suits?”

CD thought for a moment. “No better ideas come to mind, so yes, that’s what we do.”

Scoots sighed disgustedly. “Oh, joy. At least those things went after the other two, though. I feel bad, but I’m kinda glad that I’m not in as much danger.” She gingerly placed a covered hoof into the swirling green-and-brown mess.

“That makes perfect sense, and I understand. If you really don’t want to be walking through crap, literally, you can get on my back. Drowning in a pool of shit is a really bad way to go if a necromorph does show up.”

“Ugh, no, but thanks. Hey, just be careful, we have no idea what the floor’s like under this, after all.”

“Well, logic dictates it is not grated or has any perforations. So the main worry is that-” CD was cut off with a shout as he slipped on something and landed with a gooey *sploop* into the sludge. He came up screaming as the little dribbling bits of brown and grayish green slid down his faceplate.

“What was that!?” CD yelled in shock. “What’s attacking us!?” He was looking around quickly, aiming his Cutter everywhere, despite all the sludge covering his visor. “Help, I can’t see!”

Meanwhile, Scootaloo was laughing at the shit-stained pony now flailing around. “Dude, you just slipped into pisswater! Oh man, if there is an all-mighty being watching over us all, then they must hate you. Oh man, here, lemme help you up.” The mare offered a hoof to help him.

“I’ve known that if there’s an omnipotent deity, that it hates my my guts. And I’m sure this is funny, and I’ll laugh about it later, but right now, this is disgusting.” He took Scootaloo’s hoof, reaching for the blue lattice of her bloodstream. Thankfully, the layer of crap on his helmet hadn’t removed his weird sight, so he was fully able to find and grab her hoof, giving her a yank to give her a similar drenching. It was so very satisfying.

“See? Not very funny, although I’ll laugh about this now,” CD chuckled, before actually helping Scootaloo out of the sewage.

“Alright, alright,” Scoots chuckled as well, “let’s just get going now. Aw man, we’re going to need to change suits... let’s hope there’s a Store around, these things are so gross now.”

“Well, this is the best suit I have available, so gross or not, I’m going for survivability. A shower or something would be great though.”

“Yeah... Hey, I can just shake my faceplate mostly clear, but do you need me to help you around? It doesn’t look like you could see, with all the crap caught in your face grill.”

CD was about to ask for her help, when he realized that, instead of being effectively blinded... he could see. Everything looked as if the lights had gone out, but glowing powder had been sprinkled onto everything, giving it a vague yellow coloration, and Scoots was visible in the same manner, but with vibrant blue streaks going through her to the pulse of her heart, glimmering like a star in her chest.

“I don’t. I can see, though not how you think. Don’t know how though, first time walls glowed, usually it’s only people, ponies, and necromorphs.”

“It’s... what? What’re you talking about?”

“I have no idea how, but I can see little glowy bits of stuff. It’s like I can see if something is alive. Actual living stuff is blue, and not-dead stuff is red. And now walls are glowing. I don’t know why, but I just can. Stopped questioning this kind of crap a while ago.”

“So, your kind of crazy comes not only with free girls, but super powers, too? Man, and I thought you were getting the, ahem, ‘shit end of things’. Heh.”

“I am, only one girl actually likes me, she might be dead, and I hear voices in my head.”

“Better than most people get. Most folks end up with no lives, a job they hate, and a mate they can tolerate only because they can’t find anyone better. You get super powers!”

“Yup, and scientists who lock me up for a year, erase my memories, and suck out my brain through my eye with a nee-”

A voice, cracked and barely audible, floated by.

“Cross my hea-” the voice choked out with a cough. “M- my heart.... hope t’ die... Stick a- a cupcake... no, that’s wrong... Hello, there, patient eight.”

The voice was coming from CD’s foreleg, but it took a moment for him to realize he was getting a RIGlink call. It seemed that that particular aspect of the world wasn’t covered by his new super vision.

CD froze for a second. “Uh, what do you want?”

“Nothing much... D- don’t you recognize my voice?” The tone of the question sounded as if he should know it, and it was taking a bit, but he could tentatively identify the voice as female.

“Uh, CD, who’s that?” Scoots asked, having been standing to the side and wondering who was talking to CD.

“I- I’m patient nine, remember? Always g- gotta... smile, remember? Keep your... oh, hey, there they are. C’mon you two, a- auntie’s here to take care of you...” The RIGlink cut off with a hiss and pop of static.

“This is driving me nuts. I think I should know something, but I don’t. I guess she’s another person the scientists grabbed.” He paused. “But I don’t remember any of that aside from what happened before I got busted out of my cell.”

“Uhm, okay then. Well, at least we know one bit of what you said earlier was wrong, though.”

“What? Which thing?”

“Apparently, your crazy got you two ladies!”

The creature, its tormenting cries now painful even to Rick’s ears, was a mere ten or so meters left before it would get to them. Sections of the ceiling were torn to pieces, crashing down only to be shredded by oncoming monstrosity. Before either could formulate any thoughts, the creature swept one of its thickly muscled limbs through the wall, smashing through the residential rooms.

The creature’s three-fingered grip settled on the nearer target, wrapping around Rick’s torso and dragging him closer. The man, held in a crushing grip, could only flail with his arms and the heavy cutter he had barely held onto.

Sketch, crouching in the sudden rain of debris could only watch in horror as the monster’s yellow, diseased-looking arm prepared to crush or disembowel him. Sketch paused for a moment as he processed the information, noting that there wasn’t the usual armor over it that the other limbs had.

Meanwhile, Rick had come to a similar conclusion, as the freakishly large necromorph opened its jaws wide to roar at him, spittle and less identifiable materials splattered across the aged inventor’s faceplate as it shook him.

Sketch began firing at the underside of the necromorph’s arm with his line gun, missing twice and hitting once. The creature screamed and slammed Rick to the ground, chunks of the yellowed, luminescent flesh splitting. Rick, now in a more stable position, was able to raise his heavy cutter towards the same location, the twin arms on either side of it extending into the locked positions.

The gun, once firing like a standard Plasma Cutter, instead blasted a shot like a line gun’s, another shot following shortly behind. Again, the monster bellowed at Rick, evidently feeling the assault quite acutely. The beast threw the human, as if in reflex or anger, sending him crashing into the section of ruined hall, landing heavily on a pile of debris with his face just inches from the sewage pooled in the wreckage.

Sketch, left in the dead end, was continuing to fire at the monster’s yellowed limb, this time with the Divet. The monster roared as it began dragging itself forward again, its injured limb barely still attached as it crashed forward again.

Rick, barely holding onto consciousness, aimed up at the creature, now coated with the oily layers of filth from one of the kitchens it had passed through, possibly the cafeteria he remembered from above them. A flash of thought passed through his head just barely after he’d pulled the trigger, about the heat of an ionized plasma shot, an oily substance, and a raging monster potentially equals large fire.

The bolt hit the creature, slamming into the creature as Rick shouted for Sketch to move, then he shielded his face for the upcoming flames.

As the creature roared, he realized that the thing hadn’t ignited. Once more it roared, lifting its uninjured arm to slam Sketch into paste. Sketch, with barely a moment to spare, simply began to unload the last six shots into the creature’s injured limb, the small pistol’s round mostly missing. However, enough shots hit for the limb to split further, the sound of snapping, crackling bone echoing like gunshots through the hallways as the creature collapsed from its own weight. The creature squealed as it fell.

The creature lunged for Sketch as it fell, jaws open wide. The pony, terrified and closing his eye in fright as the monstrous creature fell towards him like a landslide of flesh and bone.

“No additional paths towards the hub stored. In use of a colloquial term, ‘we be screwed’!” Sweetie’s voice was more shrill than her normal demon-robot voice.

Johan, back to a security door, all thin bars and cheap metal, was still far tougher than necessary to keep the two humans and the filly from getting past. The plasma cutter was woefully ineffective against the numerous links, and more than a dozen shots had been wasted trying to cut a large enough hole to get through.

The beast, having gotten temporarily delayed by the expedient use of a pulse grenade to collapse a portion of the ceiling. It had only bought them a few seconds, but it was enough, they had thought.

Then it had caught up with them, and now they were stuck. “Sweetie Belle, I think I can get this section open enough for you to get through. I want you to leave, alright?” Johan looked pleadingly at the filly, though she couldn’t read his expression through his faceplate.

The young unicorn, usually fairly talkative but shy, saluted the officer. “Affirmative.” Her voice wasn’t so sure as he posture, though.

Johan grabbed the grating with both hands and heaved, lifting it all of a decimeter, no more. It was enough, but the slamming down was accompanied by the popping sound of Johan’s shoulders dislocating. His shout was almost as loud as the monster’s roar, which sounded off at his pained vocalization.

“Ouch, that sounded like it hurt! We’re probably boned but I will try to get this grating open for you to get through,” Allen said as he worked.

“Fuck that, if we get this thing open in the next few seconds, you’re going next!”

“I’m already dead. I’m supposed to be dead a few years ago. I’ve got Rickman’s Furnace, you know what that is, right?”

“I have the feeling you’d say anyways, but no. Can you say it before we die?”

“Basically, my brain is trying to eat the magic in the environment around me. There’s a lot of technical stuff, but the gist of it is that my nerves are melting from my subconscious brain trying to use the magic to power everything. It normally kills by the time you’re twenty-three, if you’re lucky. I’m four years past due!”

“Wow, that was fast. Anyway, what was that about opening the grating, ‘cuz neither of us is getting out if that thing gets any closer.”

The engineer looked up at the monster a scarce ten or so meters away. Johan, in spite of the monumental amounts of pain it caused him, raised his left arm, pointing it at the thing. A burst of blue light fired out, catching the creature in the face. As the burst caught it, the creature began to slow down, caught in stasis. Lowering his arm painfully, he looked up at Allen.

“So... care to help the medic? I kinda want to die able to use my arms, if that’s fine.”

“We can work on dying later.” Rick’s voice was fatigued, slightly breathy, and utterly welcome as the man stepped up to the security grate. At first, Johan thought he was holding a basic plasma cutter to the grate, perhaps getting ready to cut it.

But the shape was wrong, Johan saw, and Allen got a much better look at it, from his standing position. The gleaming silver-blue metal was faintly shining in the emergency lights, a thick barrel as big around as both his thumbs shoved through the bars. The workmanship of the gun was exquisite, and Rick’s hand was perfectly steady on the handle.

The man whispered something, but Allen didn’t catch it before the trigger was pulled, a bang echoing well above and beyond roar of the creature.

The bullet, easily higher calibre than a .50 cal, flew forth with a vague trail of violet and orange streamer behind it. As it struck the monster, the beast was enveloped by an orange glow, and it screamed as its image distorted, like an old television image with a magnet nearby. The entire creature seemed to bend, swell, and warp. Suddenly, like watching a massive blob of fat or grease go down a drain all at once, the creature seemed to be sucked away to a tiny point in an impossible distance.

All of that had taken, at most, two seconds.

“Okay... Holy shit.... I have GOT to get me one of those!” Allen said while he was breathing heavy.

“Custom made, it’s the only one in existence, as far as I know.”

“But you have more ammo for it, right? In case we see more? Did you kill the last one like that?” Johan was asking. Now that he was no longer dying, he could look around, wincing as Allen put his arms back into place. Sweetie was at Rick’s feet, sitting at attention.

"One of the several reasons I don’t use it often, two shots left.” He paused for a moment, and looked at where the creature had been, “Well, one shot left.”

“Damn... well you saved our lives and I owe you one. Lets try to go and find everyone else... where’s Sketch?” Allen asked.

The pony stepped around the corner as the question was asked, his suit splattered with gore and unspeakable sludge. A moment later, the smell finally finished crawling through the suit filters, and Allen waved a hand in front of his faceplate. “So... you taking over for the sanitation workers?”

“Shuddap, we had to kill that thing, then wade through neck deep shit-water.”

“Soooooo... Sanitation workers. Anyways where’s CD and Scoots?” Allen asked

“If they dealt with elephant sized ravenous cockroaches, then sure.” Sketch replied.

“Adjutant Scootaloo is not immediate proximity. Suggest search routines?” Sweetie sounded less robotic, in spite of her wording.

“Uh, yeah. Uh, where would you suggest we look?” Johan asked, looking over at Rick, who was fiddling around inside of a circuit box on the other side of the gate. “And, uh, what are you doing, Rick?”

“Attempting to get you on this side of the gate.” Rick grunted as the circuit box shocked him. He muttered incoherently after shaking his hand slightly.

Sweetie’s response came after a few moments of careful thought. “... We should head towards the transport hub, and use it as an operations base. Adjutant Scootaloo will likely head there as well; this is the tertiary fallback plan we agreed on.” Sweetie’s voice had lost its deeper rumble, instead merely filtered somehow, making it extremely hard not to hear, even with the robotic sound to it.

The grate clattered and shook, beginning to raise.

“Finally, didn’t look that complicated in the first place...” Rick muttered to himself.

Johan, wincing inside his helmet as he rolled his shoulders, stood up and looked around. “Well, then, let’s get moving.” He stopped for a moment and shook his head. “And we should, uh, find a shower. Or a pool. I can smell it through my helmet...”

“Dude you really need to learn how to stop getting hurt... we don’t need our medic being the first one to die... wait are you black?” Allen asks.

“Wha-? No, I’m Irish, American, and Italian. If I got any paler, I’d sparkle.”

“Ok. Going by horror logic then you will not be the first one to die... heh heh... vampire,” Allen chuckled.

“Engineer third class Rick Fuoco has multiple suit breaches.” Sweetie pointed out, “These breaches should be repaired or the suit should be replaced immediately according to multiple regulations.”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t realize your suit was that bad, Rick.” Johan said. “Uh, speaking of, how’d it get broken, and how’d you get away? You can tell us as we walk, if that’s alright.”

Allen looked at Johan, “I’ll take point again.”

“He got grabbed, smashed, thrown, and we killed it because it was focusing on me, I for the most part took out its arm, then he finished it off.” Sketch said, simplifying it almost to parody.

“Well, after we were chased...” Rick started, recounting the events until he and Sketch had gotten cornered. “... and then I got thrown through the debris, and shot the arm again. Then, Sketch shot at it, and its own weight broke its arm. When it tried lunging at Sketch, it got impaled on a chunk of the debris it had knocked up, and Sketch used one of his mines to bring the roof on it. It should be stuck for a little while, at least. It didn’t seem to be able to get away, anyhow.”

Silence reigned over the group as they marched on.

“So, uhm... I’m dying.” Allen said in a conversational tone.

Author's Notes:

Yes, multiple Tormentors. Fleeing is optimal.

No, Rick doesn't have enough bullets to clear the station.

Yes, you should vote for your favorite character and your least favorite. It influences their 'Fame' ranking, and makes it easier or harder for them to die, find items they need, or escape from Necromorphs. Every vote counts!

Also, I promise the group won't see a single Hunter or Ubermorph in the story.
I promise.