Stalliongrad Blues

Slag waved to the group of people following and took off through the alleyway, turning at any corner he could find and trying to alternate right and left as often as possible.

Suddenly, the tank managed to shake off the unicorn, causing the unicorn to go flying towards Artyom. Artyom slammed against the wall, and desperately hoped his ribs weren't cracked.

Ivanov stood up, shaking off his dizziness. The tank commander was dead, but the gunner had knocked him off. He stared down the open mouth of the main cannon, not even noticing the pony he had been flung into. A second passed. Another. A third. No shot came. The sound of frantic banging came from within the turret.

"HA! Our shitty manufacturing quality strikes again! Come on everypony let's get while the getting is good!"

Slag felt turned around. He was staring at the back (or front, the tank turret seemed to be turned around) of the tank he had just run from. He was thankful, though, as he looked over his shoulder. None of the other fleeing ponies had blindly followed him. He once again looked at the tank and saw a figure, the same one that had been on the tank before, running back towards it.

Right in the line of fire.

Either the unicorn was insane, had a death wish, or knew something Slag didn't. So Slag watched. From cover, of course.

Ivanov clambered back up onto the tank, taking his pistol from where it had fallen. He peeked over the edge of the still-open hatch, only to be met with a spray of submachinegun fire from the loader, who was covering the gunner while he frantically worked to repair the feed mechanism. Ivanov raised his pistol over the rim of the hatch, firing the entire magazine blindly in the general direction of the two crewponies. He heard a gurgle, and quickly snuck a glimpse. Both ponies were down; the loader was dead, the gunner fatally wounded. All that was left was the driver.

The molotov flew through the air like a dove of fire and hatred. It flew over Ivanov's head, fell down into the porthole and shattered on the barely alive gunner's head. Screams filled the air as the fire spread rapidly in the tank, giving a cremation to the inhabitants. A horrifically burnt hoof reached up toward the porthole, and then quickly fell to the flames. And then the sound of insane laughter and gunfire sounded.

"Oh Creator please no." Artyom shook.

The Rebels were not a united force. For every rebel that genuinely believed that democracy was the best action, and that violence would be a nesscary evil to get it, there were those who just wanted to have an excuse to pillage. The Marauders were the latter. They wore skull masks with pitch-black eyes, had a habit of friendly fire and loved plain killing things. The only reason they were not considered separate from the Rebels was the fact that the Marauders considered themselves part of the Rebels, and the Rebel forces did not want to argue.

Now, being on their warpath was considered a death sentence.

((So can we just jump right in whenever?))

((Give us a little character information first, to make sure you'll fit in okay, which you should. Then you can feel free to wedge yourself in.))

Slag dropped on his stomach and leveled his rifle towards the source of the molotov. A Marauder appeared, dressed in the 'uniform' of decorated black clothing. A pull of the trigger dropped him. Slag rolled as bullets flew toward his location, then got up and peeked around the corner. It was a rather decent force, probably about twelve minus the one he had shot.

Ivanov rolled off the tank as the molotov shattered. Holding pistol, knife, and the tanker's submachine gun close, he darted towards a building, bulling straight through the door and into the hall. Bullets pockmarked the wall above his head as he crawled away from the door.

"Not the sort of rebel I was hoping for, then."

He crept along the hallway until he reached the corner of the building, part of which had collapsed under the shock of the tank's fire. The hole was large enough for him to crawl through. As he did so, he noticed a pony laying prone, taking occasional peeks around the corner. He wasn't dressed like a Marauder, so Ivanov gave him the benefit of the doubt, and didn't shoot him out of hoof, electing to call out softly.

"Oi. You. You want to get out of here?"

((Damn it, random NPC rebel, I was going to steal the tank and run over ponies while trying to figure out how to drive it! ))

"Sounds like a pla- hold on." Slag peeked around the corner with his rifle and put a bullet into another Marauder, then pushed himself up. "Let's get going."

Artyom stepped back as a Marauder with an axe in his (Or her?) mouth tried to swing at him. He dodged the axe, and ran as fast as he could away from the crazed maniac. The Marauder laughed a deep malicious laugh and followed. Artyom hid around a wall, picked up a piece of stray concrete and waited for the Marauder to come by. His teeth didn't feel good chomping on the concrete. As the Marauder passed, Artyom smashed the concrete into the Marauder's face, stunning him and most likely breaking his teeth. The Marauder's laugh turned to a maniacal giggle.

Artyom noticed a hole that would fit him. He shoved himself into it. Two ponies awaited him. The unicorn and the other pony.

"Oh, hello. Any plans?" He said, quite out of breath.

"We can run, or we can run. Of course, we won't be able to outrun the Air Force, so we should find a vehicle. Any-"

Ivanov paused, poking the muzzle of the SMG around the corner, letting off a short burst of fire. A Marauder who had begun to creep forward practically jumped back into cover.

"-pony have suggestions?"

"Let's think about that on the move." Slag moved to run and spotted another Marauder trying to flank the group. He dropped to the ground and put a few rounds in the pony. "Let's go, now!"

Artyom ducked as someone fired machinegun bullets in all directions. As soon as he was sure that the bullets were not heading in his direction, he stood up.

"We could head toward the Krepost. I heard that's relatively safe, someone declared it a cease-fire zone." Artyom pursed his lips. "Though, Commissar Street WAS a cease-fire zone up until now, so..."

"I'd rather head towards a place that no-one's going to be," Slag stated as he ran. "I was thinking Trotnobyl, personally. Won't be any border guards to fight through."

"Dying of radiation poisoning sounds real good. Thank you, but I'd rather get somewhere safe, such as..." Artyom thought. What was safe? There was only two states in Stalliongrad at the moment. Not being torn apart by fighting and being torn apart by fighting. And the former was an interval.

"I think we have to get out of the city, like those smart ponies at the start of this civil war, but not Trotnobyl. There is just too much fighting in the urban centers, if you are cut off from your faction or not part of any, you are doomed. I assume you all are either the former or latter?"

"I have a couple ties with every faction due to my work." Slag checked his corners as he ran past an intersection. "I've been able to survive so far. Unfortunately, things aren't going to be survivable with this shit going on. At the very least, we need to get out of the city."

"Look, I know the location of a CBS listening post not far from here. I was stationed there about a year ago, before things really went bad. If we're lucky, it'll still be running. They had a scout car for nonelectronic transmissions, the really secret stuff. We could try and nab that, and run the barricades on the south side of the city."

"If it's still in op, we're going to have to fight our way to that car." Slag slowed down as he realized the area they had found themselves in was a bit more peaceful. "By the way, I killed a PENPAL sniper before I met you two. Either of you got a reason that you might be in the crosshairs of a hunter?"

Artyom thought as he slowed down as well. Should he introduce the subject...? Maybe not, he had already lost someone on the trip over... but it may have been the only option.

"Um. Look... It seems the last civil war we had brought in the state that caused this mess. Maybe things will be the same, even if the rebels come in. I was just thinking..." Artyom paused a bit. "Maybe we could get to Equestria or something? I know a bit of Equestrian, we could make it. I mean, as long as we aren't overtly hostile we might be okay."

Then Artyom blinked. He looked at the Slag. "Ooh. That explains why he shot a foal." Artyom frowned deeply. Why did he just introduce that? Now he'd have to explain.

"I hav- had a friend who was stationed at one of the airbases near the border. She was killed a while back, but I remember her telling me about it. Apparently the whole place is wide open, but nopony crosses into their territory, even lone agents. Every time they tried, they were found on the Brushian side, sleeping and apparently unharmed. Of course, ponies in that situation tend to disappear, so she never found out more than that. Equestria is a risky bet, but if we can get in..."

"I know a fair bit of Equestrian myself," Slag thought out loud. He turned to the other ponies. "I think we should worry about getting out first. Once we're free, we'll seek asylum. Celestia will be happy to see a few of her wayward children returning. Anyway, you'll have to tell me about the foal, whoever you are. Sounds like it might be important."

Artyom frowned. "I did what I could! He was dying, the bullet had hit an artery! I had to overdose! I bet the PENPAL sniper was just a crazy motherfucker!" Artyom hyperventilated. He realized what he had done. He could have gotten someone to help. There had to be someone.

"Look," He said, calming down. "we probably should consider the fact that a few trigger-happy airbase fools probably tried to shoot down a bunch of Equestrians checking out what was all the gunfire and such... What are we going to say if Celestia asks us why the hell we are firing on her soldiers even though there has been a cease-fire for a long long time?"

"I didn't ask what you did to the foal, I just wanted to know why the foal might have been targeted." Slag looked forward. "Celestia's a goddess. She'd be able to tell that we're pretty much innocent. If we give her some valuable information, assuming we get some, we might even get a few favors beyond asylum."

"From the sound of it, the Equestrians didn't even know that our people were going in. Almost as if the land itself was repelling ponies with bad intentions toward it..."




((Well looks like you're screwed, eh Slag? ))