takes place after: The fluffy hunters: penultimate (by whackadoo 1997) - Fluffy Image Self-Posting - FluffyCommunity
It was rainy outside, a misty fog hung over the empty and vest plains of wheat and corn that populated the countryside. Cold winters rain lashed down on the farmland of the Midwest. Sitting on a private reserve among the thousands acres of corn and wheat, was The tiger cybertronics laboratories. For the last few years, this company has produced hundreds of fluffyhunters. Each one handmade for the express purpose of dispatching the pestilent fluffies. It was, after all, a very nice morning. The sun was drowned out by the storm, smothering the countryside in gloom. Songbirds chirped in the mist and fog, their songs failing to ring out across the land. As the day began inside, everything was still and quiet in every room.
In the amniotic baths, fluffy hunters emerged from their warm baths to be armored and prepared for their dayâs tasks, scores of them were being made ready. In the research and development rooms, many researchers were hunched over microscopes, stereoscopes and their computer equipment. The docking Bay which usually had trucks packed into it, was flooded up to the brim, its drain was clogged by muck and effluence from the world around it, so the repair staff had gone to Home Depot to get a proper drain auger. In an operating theater, researchers ever so expertly attached wires to a new subject that was undergoing its first paces that day. The assembly team at sorrybox one was ensuring the facility was being prepared for impregnation with fluffies. As three conics boxes of them had been ordered from a breeder farm to be used in training. In his office, Dr Vanskyock did his daily ritual. Taking dumpling out of his playpen, blowing a raspberry on his tummy, and snuggling him tightly as he told him what a good boy he was. They both sat at his computer as he read his emails and gave dumpling little kisses on the forehead ever so often. Everything was well and good.
Up the highway, a cavalcade of black semi trucks thundered down the road. Forcing other drivers out of the way and harassing them off the freeway too. As they thundered along, the only thing visible to identify them was a Mattel logo emblazoned on the front of the first semi truck to indicate that it belonged to the bioelectronics division of toys. Inside the truckâs cabin, Dr Kent sat with his legs propped up on the dashboard, smoking a cigar as he told the driver where to turn and where to merge.
They exited the highway, and the cavalcade followed.
For the express purpose of security alone, the facility was surrounded by two fences, each one crossed the entry road had a security booth and a heavy metal gate that stayed shut no matter what, requiring two men. one from each booth to open. The Man in the first booth, was sitting there on his cell phone watching YouTube videos and waiting for anyone to show up, it was an easy job but a job that was important nonetheless. As he glanced up he saw the cavalcade approaching, confused as hell because there wasnât anything on his clipboard of scheduled deliveries saying anything about 10 trucks arriving. He got on his walkie talkie.
âBooth one to deliveries and receiving, Is there a large order coming in today? Or a receiving order coming in today? Thereâs a convoy approachingâŚâ
âOur first delivery doesnât get here till 11:00, and thatâs not for another 3 hoursâŚâ
âSecurity to B one, Can you identify them furtherâ
He squinted through the rain âitsâŚthey have Mattel logos on them. Thatâs it.â The walkie talkie went dead silent. âDo not come under any circumstances a lot of the past through the gate, thatâs an order.â The booth attendant became confused and almost spoke up, but chose to stay silent. Following orders.
Inside, the head of security was in his office, watching the cameras diligently. The one placed on the security booth was low-res, but the audio was clear enough. The truck came to a stop, and the worker opened his window. âYouâre going to have to turn this around, this is private property and you donât have permission to enter the facility-â
He was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of gunfire, as nylon hollow points tore through his chest. He fell to the ground, limp as a noodle. The security chief, filled wiht grief and shock pushed the panic button on his desk, and within seconds, a tri tone alarm rang out through the facility. It was the unmistakable sound of a lockdown alarm. The driver got out of the truck and opened the gate by simply reaching into the booth and flipping the key for the gate itself, the first one opened to come up with the second one stuck fast. âSECURITY TO MAIN ENTRANCE, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE ASAP!â The security chief bellowed over his walkie-talkie, ignoring the fact that the man was already on his way to sprinting into the facility. He made it to the front door before the metal shielded rolling doors descended downwards. It was the beginning of what would turn into an absolute siege.
The convoy of semitrucks barreled through the second gate, knocking it out of the way and onto the ground as they all roared through, encircling the front of the office building once before they parked in the empty lot. Another few stopped in the rear parking lot, near the shipping dock.Out into the rain stepped doctor Francis Kent, as he puffed the cigar, thunder boomed across the sky. Workers dismounted from the trucks, and prepared to open them up and reveal the cargo within.
Inside the facility, staff ran to the safe room that was located centrally within, the security officers were setting themselves up across the facility in choke points, making sure that whoever came in, would not live long enough to understand how much of a mistake they had made. As Dr VanSkyock ran there, he stopped by the security chiefâs office. âGod damn it what in the hell is happening?â âA convoy of trucks from Mattel are here, they killed Winslow at the front gate and McCarthy barely made it to the building before we shut down. My 2nd is contacting the police as we speak.â Dr VanSkyock looked at the security camera footage in front of him, most of the cameras were crystal clear, particularly the one focused on the semi trucks. He looked closely and his blood went cold as ice. There stood his former friend and colleague, Dr Francis Kent. Smug as ever.
âThat sanctimonious son of a bitch⌠what are you fucking trying at franics?â
His answer came in the form of the cargo his men were unloading. They stood tall, and brawny. Their bodies clad in what looked like skin tight suits of brushed aluminum plates, their eyes a glowing electric blue, and their soulless smiles, unmistakable. âwhat in Sam hell- Thatâs practically an army of those things, where the hell did he get his own fluffy hunters???â âThose are fuzzies.â âI thought those were likeâŚextinct.â Dr⌠Vanskyock was in a trance-like state. âAfter the Cleveland disaster, they almost did. Some breeders have hybridized.â He locked eyes with the security officer. âIf this evil son of a bitch has managed to start a clone farm for these things.â
In the safe room, the staff stood Iâm confusion and sat at tables and benches mulling over what could possibly be happening, many assuming this was a drill. They milled about until a security guard came in with Dr Vanskyock. They all looked at him.
âLadies and gentlemen Iâm going to cut this extremely short, but many of you will remember our former colleague and my former partner Dr Francis KentâŚhe has decided to pay a visit, alongside seven semi trucks full of his own bastard version of our beloved project.â Everybody murmured or Spoke up with questions that the doctor intended to ignore, lest he lost his composure. âI mean it when I say it, he has created his own fucking army of fluffy huntersâŚusing fuzzy ponies as the base organic component.â Everyone went silent. âIt is the opinion of our Chief security officer that we are going to be besieged by them, and they will find a way to get into the building, and presumably destroy us and our work. I have a plan but itâs completely insane.â
Everyone listened with bated breath. âI want every single one of you in the amniotic chamber now, I want every fluffy hunter on base actively armed and ready for action. And put them on âinstant action modeâ God as my witness not a single one of you shall leave here today with So much as a scratch upon youâŚNOW GET TO IT! One of the junior researchers bolted to the door and pushed the doctor out of the way. Soon everyone else followed. As the crowd dispersed, the security chief looked at the doctor.
âWell said, weâre still going to fucking die though.â â
The men inside the first semi were affixing a device to one of the cyberfuzzies. It hissed and nipped as they did so. Dr. Kent was watching as they mounted the recoilless rifle to its shoulder and hip. Ever eager to watch it finally in action. He gave some words of encouragement to the fuzzy, scratching its chin and telling it how good it was, to which it bit his hand, drawing blood. He raised his hand up and sucked the blood from his own fingers before walking away, never breaking eye contact. By the end of the day, heâd be free of this chink in his armor. He looked at his watch, and put his cigar out in a puddle. Looking at his assembled army of cyborg clones, he pulled out a whistle and blew out a harsh tone from it. At attention they all turned to him and focused their eyes directly on him. To which he spoke finally.
âAlright boys. This is the big test we all have been training for. You know your purpose. Kill everyone. Destroy everything. People. Fluffies. And fluffyhunters. You all understand, Yes?â
âYES SIRâ they all hissed in monotone unity.
Inside, fluffy hunter after fluffy hunter were being activated and implanted with their armor, one by one like an assembly line they had their bodysuits strapped, armor snapped on, backpack modules installed, and arms and legs fitted. Many didnât have time to think. Some were still dripping with juice as they mustered together. They were all receiving their orders simultaneously on a loop. Live feed from all of the video cameras was being broadcast to their backpacks, all the knowledge they could ever know about their possible enemies. It was madness but they were accustomed to the nonstop barrage of data. As the last of them were outfitted, they began to form packs, and ran through the facility. They were being escorted by security guards, ignoring every rule that theyâd ever been taught about places they were and were not allowed to be.
The loading bay for the kitchen, the executive lounge with the nice skylight, The fabrication lab. The main lobby, and its suspended DNA sculpture. As they all mounted up, the same images flashed in their heads, pictures of fluffies, fluffy families, over and over again chirpies, babies, mummahs and daddehs. The constant visual stimulation was making them all agitated and bloodthirsty, wanting to immediately commit to the wholesale slaughter of their enemies. It was a haven of anxiety and stress. In the sorrybox one containment chamber, the fluffies in their Conex box size cages were being dealt with. The augmentics lab was readying a geneforge rifle kit. Dr Kent wanted a fight, but he had accidentally awoken a snake den. At the appointed hour, it happened.
The cannon that was mounted onto the gunnery fuzzy, and itâs spotter stared down the front entrance of the building. As The Gunner sat, itâs one eye fixed on target. Its weapon tilted, its arms and legs also tilted up and down, the other one focused in, its eyes replaced with a set of three scopes that zoomed back and forth as they triangulated the position of the gun.
âIncrease elevation by point two fiveâŚhold steadyâŚâ
âSteadyâ
âFIRE!â
With the electric belch of its voice, the command was given and the recoilless gun blasted off, its warhead flew across the parking lot. With a percussive boom, it launched the reinforced security doors inwards, alongside the revolving door and its ancillary electric doors. The entire front end of the lobby was covered in shrapnel dust and metal fragments. Dust stirred heavily in the air, the rain soon dampened it and blew it away. However, they all were met with a sight that took them by surprise. A pack of 10 or so fluffy hunters emerged from the smoke covered in soot and shrapnel wounds. The fuzzies squared up, laughing in an unpleasant monotone way, unblinking, taunting them with their smooth and relaxed body language. As the fluffyhunters stood their ground, they waited. They called their bluff. And waited for the inevitable charge.
The cyberfuzzies charged, 3 to one on the fluffyhunters. It was a stampede, the raucous sound of metal thundering upon the pavement was deafening. With lightning fast reflexes they jumped upon the fluffy hunters, who summarily pounced reflexively upon their attackers, and sneered at them all in a vicious bout of grappling and biting, claws and hooves connecting with vicious rapidity. The first blow was truly struck when one of the fluffyhunters had his helm bashed in, the dent causing him to whinny in pain and shock. As he collapsed, two of them set themselves up on him and bit at his body, soon removing an arm, a leg, and to the shock of the security chief watching on the cameras, they managed to chew its neck open. His blood poured out like a firehose, and soon he was dead.
The fighting kept like this until one of the cyberfuzzies scuttled off like a scheming weasel. It came upon the security terminal on the lobby desk. Having found it, he raised his hoof. It flipped open like a Swiss army knife to reveal several mechanical attachments one of which was a USB device. It was inserted into the terminal, and within seconds, all of the security cameras in the facility went down. The security chief, watching everything, grabbed his walkie-talkie and gave one definitive command. âWe have lost our cameras, we have no eyes on anything.â He then heard a most troubling clattering, as the security covers retracted, opening up across the building. In his Walkie talkie he shouted a final command. âOUR SECURITY SYSTEM HAS BEEN COMPROMISED, I REPEAT OUR SECURITY-â he was cut off as the signal was jammed, turning to garbled static.
Dr Vanskyock was in his office, using what precious time he had left to put dumpling in his carrier. The SBS foal unfortunately, had been well taken care of and fed a steady, nutrient rich diet and had outgrown it. He was a big boy now. As the doctor panicked, he took an old hoodie from his coat rack and put him in it, swaddling dumpling. He then opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled out a metal first aid kit, and a bullet magazine. He unfolded the UC-9 disguised as a first aid kit and loaded it in before shutting it back up. Dumpling in one hand, disguised firearm in the other he ran down the hall to the saferoom as quickly as his arthritic legs could carry him. How much to his horror, all the windows were open and all the doors were unsealed, and as he bolted past one of the emergency exits, he saw the cyber fuzzies that were trying to buck the door open. âoh, fuck me.â He ran faster, before seeing a pack of Hunters sprinting opposite him in the direction he just came, hopefully they could put a stop to whatever was about to happen.
There was a crash of thunder and lightning as the siege began, and suddenly with our warning, the power went out in the whole building. Most of the staff were in the saferoom. Most of them. For a brief minute they were ensconced in antediluvian darkness, until the emergency generators kicked on. Outdoors both ends of the power line to the facility had been severed by lightning, and now laid in the great puddle that had been filling up the docking Bay. The emergency generators were humming, and the emergency lights were on. It was enough. But not all the power they needed.
As the security team made their way to the most sensitive part of the facility, they all were panicking internally. They had faced off against the fluffyhunters in practice drills before but this was an entire new enemy that theyâd never faced. The apprehension amongst them was palpable. They made their way to the vault antechamber. The vault was internally separated from the rest of the structure by a single door that led to it, it even had its own ventilation and dedicated plumbing. It was at the single entrance they made their stand. They heard the crashing sound of shattering glass echo through the halls, and steeled their nerves.
The first fuzzies that had dispatched the fluffy hunter pack gallantly strode over the corpses in mangled body parts into the main hallway of the facility, and with them came a second cohort as well. They were strutting along the hallway happily as they did so, until they reached a branching concourse, upon which the leader of their cohort flinched, and looked up. They were under a great stairwell that reached to the upper two floors. and from that second floor, the highest one of them all.
a desk had been pushed over the edge by the fluffy hunters that were watching their every move, and in a split second it came crashing into the ground, the force of which crushed the cyberfuzzy like a tin can, his chest caving in, blood ejecting from his mouth like a super soaker, with his intestines ejecting themselves out of his anus like a party tooter. The rest of the cohort ran up the stairwell to greet their adversaries- but were met by the unrelenting charge of them as they were tackled down the stairs, the hunters immediately went for the kill. They struggled to claw the polished aluminum armor coming in vain, scraping their claws against it as they bit and chewed at their opponents necks.
Finally one was tackled to the ground, and its armor popped off, the couplings I held together were flimsily assembled from plastic. With its exposed flesh, the hunter bit down and tore at it, pulling veins and arteries out with muscle and skin as well, the gush of fetid, polluted blood sprayed out like a super soaker. The Cyber fuzzy fell to its knees, and proceeded to bleed out, much to the shock of its brothers and sisters. As the brawl continued on the stairwell, the carnage unfolded with absolute chaos. Hunters were thrown over the ledge, guardrails were ripped off the walls and one fell onto the concourse beneath, bouncing off the deposed desk and onto the tile floor. Fuzzies were blinded and had their eyes scratched out. It was a barbaric shitshow.
The moment came where the last two were standing, a hunter hobbled up to its front legs, its back ones torn from their sockets and missing, its adversary, a fuzzy missing both eyes and its Jaw stumbled towards each other. As they both weakly attacked, they fell to the ground with the rest of the carcasses of the recently deceased. No longer able to sustain their own lives, they slowly faded into Oblivion. Blood trickled down the stairwell like thick syrup, The dim emergency lights eliminated the carnage with an atmospheric haze.
Elsewhere, the cyberfuzzies had entered the testing room. They walked into the warehouse expecting to see the hunters that had been trained to slaughter. But what they saw confused them to no end. A Playground had been assembled, in scale for fluffies, beside it sat a small farm with a tiny barn, it was more of a shed but it looked like a barn nonetheless. A city street stood catty corner from it, and beside that a fake forest made out of artificial trees and bushes. They were perplexed by this place. It felt wrong. From beyond the walls of the testing facility, one of the fluffy wranglers watched, choosing his words carefully as he proceeded along with his plan. Conex boxes of fluffies, and made motions for them to be quiet, holding his finger to his mouth and shushing them. He opened up the boxes slowly, and the quadruple decker pens unfolded their ramps with spring loaded action, he caught them with his body, taking the bruises so as to not alarm the fuzzies with the clattering of metal. As he unloaded all three boxes of fluffies, a small army of them stood before him like a multicolored sea of fur. He spoke briskly.
âFluffyâs, remember how I promised you I would get you the bestest skettyâs I could ever find if you all behaved yourselves and stopped crying?â they all murmured agreements to this. âWell, some naughty ponies ate all the sketties! Very naughty!â The crowd grew sad and enraged, boohooing and stomping their hooves in protest. âBut theyâre out there, on the other side of that door, theyâre shiny and glossy and big and tall, but that doesnât matter how big they are, I want you to give them the worst hurties and scariest hurties youâve ever given!â The crowd heard him and cheered themselves on, promising the devastation they would bring with their little hooves. The Wrangler opened up the garage door, just enough for them to get out and let out one bellowing command- âKILL THOSE BIG MEAN FLUFFIES, AND EVERYBODY GETS SKETTIES FOREVER!â
Tiny crowd cheered and scampered away, he watched as they funneled out into the testing facility, a tidal wave of pastel hate. The three cyberfuzzies that had entered were amused by the display, thinking they would have some good fun at slaughtering an easy prey. Then came more fluffies. And more. Much, much more. The leader of the group pinned his years back in fear realizing that this may be a little more than they can chew. He must have a fake sense of unearned confidence as he trotted towards the crowd prepared to strike them all down- what in doing so made an ass of himself. He pounced on them, but the force of which caused him to skid on the first fluffies that he stepped on. flattening them like pancakes, he slid on their entrails and offal, slamming on his side, hitting his head flat on the concrete barrier between the playground and the farm area of the testing chamber. As he laid there in concussed pain, they swarmed him like honey bees on a wasp. The other two tried to pull the fluffies off. There were too many of them to handle. Dozens upon dozens stomping and biting and kicking, combined with the weight of them pressing down on him was annoying. But slowly he came to realize Is hubris had gotten the bathroom of him.
âWOSTEST POOBIES!â Before he could even comprehend what had just been shouted in front of him, a small fluffy ejected a stream of sickly, oily feces in his eyes, blinding him temporarily. He tried to force himself off of them and screamed, kicking his hopes around and sending fluffies flying, but the crowd swarmed him even more, somehow in the middle of it all, the weight of them was straining his armor come up which popped off at the seams. Plastic clips holding it together snapped once more as did with his brothers and sisters previously. His exposed flesh now, whatâs subject to being stomped upon, but without the armor reinforcing him, the weight began to crush down, as he struggled to breathe under the hundreds of pounds of fluffy, his diaphragm collapsed. He couldnât inflate his lungs, and as his heart beat faster and faster in panic, he began to gag and gasp for air. Little trails of light and spots of black undulating psychedelic blobs begin to cover his vision as the rods and cones of his eyes were deprived of oxygen. And within minutes, despite the expedited removal of fluffies by his undertrained brothers, he suffocated. The fluffies, realizing that they had killed one of the big mean spaghetti eating monsters, turned their attention to the brother cyberfuzzies. Unlike the fluffy hunters, cyberfuzzies had been trained to kill things their own size, they had overestimated their own skills against a swarm of fluffies. The two of them were pursued by the crowd, the only ones that did not pursue the duo were the ones that had been injured and killed in the initial attack, the hundreds of them that were there swarmed the two, and in similar fashion began to assault them with death by a thousand biggest stompies. One of the cyberfuzzies mistakenly tried to bite down on a fluffy, but proceeded to inhale it, getting the skull wedged in itâs throat.
As he suffocated on the ground, kicking in spasming, he Left his brother to die alone. Watching from the shadows come with a fluffy Wrangler was laughing his ass off. âGod damn, it really fucking worked.â
There was no laughter to be held in the laboratory where Dr Mandy was working her ass off. She had taken her Geneforge experiment and was preparing it for impromptu field testing. The emitter was now configured into a handheld ârifleâ with pistol grips for both hands. The machine was powered by a backpack that ran on a small set of dynamos. As many researchers and technicians had pointed out it resembled the power pack from Ghostbusters, or a medi-gun⌠Whatever that is. But the geneforge gun was far more terrifying in use the those overgrown broken toys.
As she adjusted settings on the back of the gun, the telltale sound of the door getting banged in was heard throughout the entire lab. âAll of you, bust your asses and get to the safe room at the end of the hall, if I donât make it back, donât worry about it.â Everybody sped out, and she sat there with the generators buzzing on her back. She put on a set of integrated goggles with a transparent LCD visor that covered one eye. Holding her rifle steady, she waited for her prey. Even if she didnât kill them, sheâd still hurt them a hell of a lot.
As Dr. Kent sat in his truck, The technicians in the extended crew cab behind him were frantically watching as signals disappeared across the board, one by one the cyberfuzzies were being killed.
âSir? I think we have a problemâ
âNo you donâtâ said Kent, actively ignoring how bad things really were going.â âSir teams ajax and echelon have fallen, and team Betelgeuse is sustaining heavy casualties. Fire team 1 is being pinned down and weâre not sure if seeker team one has found the vault yet, let alone the safe room where the staff are being heldâŚâ Dr Kent got out of his seat, and reached into the glove compartment of the truck, pulling out a 10 mm pistol. âSir?â âWell boys to buzz the old axiom, if you want something done right youâve got to do it yourself! To hell with this!â
He stormed off into the lashing thunderstorm, and into the destroyed front end of the building, walking through the trashed lobby and into hell itself. this was the last time he would be seen alive. if only he knew.