//------------------------------// // Tracked // Story: Hunting the 6 // by Starblazer225 //------------------------------// Treble had been a good friend to me since I was younger. We didn’t grow up together or anything, but we were close friends. We went our separate ways, I took one path and he took another. He went on to go into music and the arts but his interests turned later, he became almost like a commander or overseer of some political affairs. Now though he runs a rebellion, I never expected him to go that direction but he did. Whatever he’s having me do it must be for the best. I took a deep breathe of the stale air inside the cabin before getting up form my seat. I walked to the door, the metal hoof canon holding my hoof back a little as I took two steps to the door. I opened the door slowly and looked out into the hallway sticking my head out slightly. Down the hallway the separate wall had windows lining the walls of the car. Doors against one wall and windows on the other, the windows opening the hall to the black outside. In between each door was a wall light, it shown just enough to give off the detail of the room. At the far end two horses stood with black trench coats with black fedora styled hats resting over their eyes. I turned the other direction, the same but one was using the telephone mounted on the wall of the passenger car. I slid my head back inside and slowly closed the door. “They did track me.” I said quietly grabbing my things off the baggage carrier. I grabbed the envelope and threw it in one of the inside pockets of the duster I had on. I moved the brim of my hat back to where it was parallel with the top of my vision. I checked the gun strapped to my hoof, clicked it sideways throwing the small clip out. “Six rounds.” I folded it back in, sliding the bolt lock into place. Despite it’s rarity and age, the weapon was very useful. Easy to conceal and to use, flick the hoof down on the switch lever and-bang. It had some kick and was pretty powerful but it was worth it. My I slung my light bag across my back. Just a saddlebag with some necessities, razor, ammunition, sage made soap, things like that. I sat with it strung to me thinking out how I would approach this situation. Judging by the car I would have to move fast. “This is your conductor speaking, the Next stop, Sycamore Valley, 20 minutes.” A voice sounded on the speaker over the door. I thought about it, four-to-one, it’s obvious I’m outnumbered, but how will I do this? I walked out into the hallway and closed the door behind me. At once all the heads lifted and stared at me. “Gentlecolts?” I said. They just stared. “I think I got n idea bout what you want.” I said brushing the collar of my duster with my hoof getting the dust off them. I looked out to the other pair. All stood staring at me. I cocked my head sideways letting my neck pop and crack. I stood for a second watching and waiting for them to move. “Well?” I said arcing my back with my hooves planted in the floor. The two I was looking at turned to each other and nodded. They charged at the same time, synchronized almost. I already analyzed them quickly and plotted out where I was moving. One jumped up trying to pounce on me. I ducked quickly and he soared over me crashing to the floor behind. As soon as I was about to get back up I felt a hoof across my face followed by a searing pain that brought me up to my hind legs. I caught a glimpse of the uppercut and before he had followed up with another I caught him, stopping his arm at the shoulder. Bringing my hoof back, I slammed my elbow into an oncoming brute’s face before returning the blow to the first in front of me, he was knocked back by the quick blow to the solar plexus. I turned to the other now bleeding form the snout. I lifted my hind leg up and drove it into his mid section and putting my force onto the leg pinning him to the ground. I used him to jump off to the next one. I crossed my right hoof behind me and curled it in the form of a bludgeon and landed a clean hit on him. He was sent spinning to the floor but not as soon as the one on the ground stood up. He looked at me and I did the same. It was almost as if we were at a stalemate, waiting for the other to make a move. He lunged at me with his left foreleg. I sidestepped and grabbed it, pulling him forward I lowered my head and yanked him forward. His head clanked against my skull and it put him on the floor. It hurt bad I tell you. I had to gather myself, that hit had thrown me off. I blinked a couple times before my vision centered on a hoof darting at my face. I didn’t have time to react, all I did was close my eyes and wait for the pain to hit. A flash of pain enveloped my cheek with a cracking noise. I tumbled to the floor, feeling that punch all through my face. The same one walked over me on his hind legs. He had an opening between them; do you know a stallion’s weak spot? It’s right there. I lifted my leg and with a loud crunch I drove my hoof into his crotch. All I heard was a deep breathe before the loud thud of somepony hitting the floor. I turned to the other two. One did same as before, trying to leap on top of me. This time I caught him mid air, spun around with him in my forelegs and slammed his head into the window, breaking it wipe open. I pulled his head out to open it, throw him half way out and slam it again in his abdomen. I opened the window back up and pushed the body out into the tunnel. One was left standing in the hallway. He cocked his head sideways. “Where did you learn to fight like that?” He asked in a deeper tone that I expected. “Don’t matter right now,” I said crouching ready for anything he was going to dish out. “You really want to do this?” He asked reaching for something in the inside of his trench coat. He pulled out what looked to be a handle of some sort. He removed the hat and a long horn erected from his slicked back mane. The horn gained some color around it before the same colored aura radiated around the handle. “Come at me!” He yelled. The handle clicked and a blade shot out of it. He picked it up and twirled the straight switchblade in little circles. “Mkay, but ya asked for it bud.” I charged him quickly, sliding to my hind legs. The knife shot at me and I ducked under it. As I rose up I shoved my hoof-mounted gun forward into his face and clutched my hoof down activating the trigger. I heard a loud crack followed by a thud. I didn’t even look at what I had done. I just looked at the ones sprawled across the hallway, all of which were unconscious. “Now entering, Sycamore Valley station.” I heard from the intercom. You could feel the pull as the train slowed to a stop. I adjusted my bag between my shoulders and continued out, trudging slowly over the knocked out stallions. At the far end of the hallway I stood looking at the two still alive and the one with the puddle of blood under his head. I almost felt sorry, in a job like this though feeling sorry can get you killed. I pushed the door open to see a big open bar. The bartender behind the counter polished glasses and mugs to a clear shine contently before returning them below the counter. The big brownish horse whistled a lively tune, completely oblivious that I was even there. He reminded me of Treble. He had a strong jaw line and a sturdy pair of shoulders. His mane was tangled and short like his. The only difference was that the one behind the counter was shorter than him, and-well, he didn’t have wings. I made my way around the tables, the smell of wine and beer hung low in the air locking out almost every other scent. The low churning of the wheels under the car hummed along side the low sound of smooth jazz playing in the background. I slid open the door to get to the unloading car. Before I could I heard a high-pitched whistle that rang in my ear. I turned around, the bartender had both his hooves on the bar and stared at me with a cold stare. “You Golden?” I heard him ask. “Depens who’s askin.” He reached down behind the bar and brought up an envelope. “A young unicorn left something for you here.” He said. “He had it addressed to golden,” He said observing me head to toe. “And by your golden coat, I can safely assume that it’s you?” This humored me a little. These days I hear less and less of the smart-aleck type, everyone is so serious these days hearing something like that always put a big smile on my face. “When do ya start servin drinks?” I asked walking to the bar. “Hell,” he said shaking his head. “I started at ten this morning, you want anything just tell me.” I pulled out a stool and sat there. “How bout that thing you was tellin me about?” I asked crossing my hooves on the long bar table. He pulled the envelope out and slid it to me. “That unicorn was in a hurry.” He said polishing one of the shot glasses that was turned over on the bar. “Now, you wanted a drink or not?” I picked up the envelope and opened it, emptying the contents onto the surface I sat at. There was a long note followed by a key. The handwriting tight and neatly written, the page had no lines but the writing was in perfect parallel lines. Dear Golden, I apologize for the quick and to the point introduction we had earlier. We will be able to talk more later, but from where we were I could not really disclaim any vital information. Inside the envelope I gave to the bartender here, if you received it from him, had a key inside. This key opens hotel room number ‘412’ of the Canterlot Heights Hotel. You will be able to find it when you get off at Canterlot Station. Before you go any further when exiting there will be a metal briefcase next to a trash can by terminal seven, in there is your funding. After that a driver will be awaiting you there, he will have a name on a sign; that name is “Dinner Bell”. You will find him and take him with you, he is a private adversary hired by us. He will be with you twenty-four-seven. Now, I heard from the boss that you work alone, but in this case you are going to need all the help you can get. I’ve already booked you reservations at the hotel and everything should be prepared by the time you get there. Sincerely: Emerald I closed up the letter and put it in the same duster pocket as the target information. “Hey!” I heard the bartender yell. “What do ya want?” I asked him shrilly. “Order something or leave, I don’t know what kinda trouble you’re getting into but I won’t have it in my bar!” At that I heard the train come too a full stop. “Sycamore Valley Station!” I heard on the intercom. “Leaving for Canterlot Station in fifteen minutes!” I looked over to the bartender still polishing a shot glass. “Do you have Sweet Apple Acres Alcoholic Cider?” The bar hand nodded and reached for a bottle under the counter. That name brought me back, I tell ya. Sweet Apple Acres, been years since I’ve even thought about that name.