//------------------------------// // The Wolf Revealed, Part VI // Story: Equestrylvania // by Brony_Fife //------------------------------// Suddenly, all the energy that escaped Rainbow Dash before refills. Too Tired to Fly blossoms into The Strength of God. Her lips turn up in a smirk as she reaches out to his hoof. “I was about to leave without you. Where’ve you been?” “Just cleaning up,” Shatterstorm says with a smirk to match Rainbow Dash’s. He takes her hoof in his, loading her onto his back. “I can still fly, you know!” she growls. “You’re not doing anything, with the shape you’re in,” he shoots back. “I’ll handle the escape, thank you very much.” There’s an argument brewing inside her, but there isn’t time to act on it. Rainbow Dash eyes the air vent above. “If we get into the air vents, we can—” “No air vents,” Shatterstorm says suddenly, his wings—almost larger than his own body—popping open. “We’re taking a faster route. Hang on!” Shatterstorm had her at “faster.” His wings pump, each beat unleashing a sound like a dragon’s roar as the two pegasi shoot towards one of the auditorium’s iron-barred exits. His hooves extend forward. “Brace yourself!” he shouts. The iron bars bend and die with a squeal of twisted metal. Spitfire had told Rainbow Dash how Shatterstorm could plow through obstacles as if they were—if Rainbow Dash recalls correctly—“wet toilet paper.” If Rainbow Dash didn’t believe her before, she does now. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” Shatterstorm murmurs as he flexes his fetlocks. Rainbow Dash hides a snicker. The rest of the hall whips by them, each dragon-roar beat of Shatterstorm’s wings carrying them faster and faster. Rainbow Dash glances behind them and finds Royal Guard pegasi giving chase. She grins just before blowing a raspberry at them. “Brace yourself!” Shatterstorm shouts again. Rainbow Dash hears the window break before she even feels the impact. Glass flutters by her like snowflakes before she shuts her eyes, as if taking a photograph. In her mind, the glass snowflakes glitter against early morning sunlight. The wind whips by her. Shatterstorm’s wings roar like dragons. It’s a moment she’ll remember for a long time—that moment and the wild freedom it fills her with. Shatterstorm cuts. And dives. And corkscrews. And ducks. And Rainbow Dash hangs on, her tired wings clinging to her battered body, as the Royal Guards giving chase clumsily crash into buildings behind them, into bridges and towers as Shatterstorm feints and rolls and swerves. A murder of crows cackle by, their wings fluttering as they fly towards their pursuers. Suddenly, the Guards stop. Their faces become pale. Their eyes widen. They turn tail and fly away, the crows not even having so much as pecked at them. The crows then fly back down to earth, their cackling falling quiet. Rainbow Dash raises an eyebrow. Just as she’s about to wonder aloud what all that was about, she’s answered by a loud, sudden shout from one of the rooftops below. Something tiny rockets by her ear, screaming into it, nibbling its edge for roughly one tenth of a second. The sound of the shout is joined by other, similar shouts, and more of the tiny rockets fly by. Shatterstorm wavers as he curses, dropping altitude, heading straight for the ground. Rainbow Dash closes her eyes (don’t look!) and opens them, the fog all around them growing thicker as they descend. Even through these bothersome pillows of fallen clouds, she can make out tall, slender, almost lizardlike forms squatting on the rooftops, holding in their two hands a long, slim something: something that extends a red frog’s tongue of light before its end flashes and shouts and spits the tiny rockets that threaten to rip them to shreds. Down, down Shatterstorm goes—and the long red lights follow them—and the rockets still scream—and the rooftops still shout—and there’s a slight thud as Shatterstorm touches down—and there’s the uneven gait of a full gallop as Shatterstorm takes off—and the shouts from the rooftops are followed by the rockets bouncing everywhere—and there’s monstrous laughter all around them—and there’s burning balls of fire set in dark caves set in laughing, ruined faces—and skeleton things give chase with their ghostly strides and shimmering blades—and Shatterstorm’s hooves pound on—and the two pegasi keep a prayer in their hearts, hoping beyond hope that escape is near. Another shout from the rooftops. One of the tiny rockets ricochets off the cobblestone, almost hitting Shatterstorm in the head. The chasing skeleton things are closing in. Rainbow Dash can see their forms in the fog. Her mind races. Another shout from the rooftops. A streetlight shatters with a pop. Then Rainbow Dash gets an idea. She smiles meanly as she stands up on Shatterstorm’s back. “What are you doing?!” he shouts over the rockets that smack against ground and brick. “Trust me on this!” she replies. “Just keep running!” The closest skeleton thing raises its blade and runs what might have once been a tongue over its twisted teeth. Rainbow Dash unfurls her wings, and with a pained, mighty flap, throws a strong gust of wind at their pursuer. As it curls into a tornado, the wind grabs hold of the skeletal thing, launching it into the air, where it flails as clumsily as a ragdoll. The others run by their comrade as it crashes to the ground below, left broken and to rot. Their chase continues for some ways for some time. Rainbow Dash alternates between throwing wind at their pursuers and holding onto Shatterstorm as more of the tiny rockets fly, bouncing off the ground with metal yelps. Shatterstorm unfurls his own wings, taking off but staying close to the foggy ground—zigging and zagging much more easily than on hoof, putting a greater amount of distance between their pursuers and themselves. Finally, Shatterstorm turns down an alley and throws Rainbow Dash into a dumpster. He jumps in after her, warning her with only his body language to keep her head down and her mouth shut. With fast movements, he buries the both of them underneath heavy trash bags. Rainbow Dash’s nostrils are assaulted by the smell. To save her nose she breathes through her mouth: slowly, and through clenched teeth. Just outside the dumpster come the pitter-patter of small feet. The skritch-scratch of claws. The pitter-patter and the skritch-scratch remind Rainbow Dash of the way Gilda walks when she’s on all fours: the quiet pads of her lion’s feet interspersing with the scratching of her talons. Then comes the clink-clunk of heavy, armored feet, entering the alley with slow, powerful strides. A trash can is knocked over. Another. There’s a sound like cardboard being torn, and a pot breaking. Nearby, a door is kicked and many of the searching feet charge in. Her heart jumps to her throat as she feels the garbage bags getting pulled at. Some are moved around. She hears something above them breathe heavily, pulling fetid air into what must be only a remnant of lungs. There comes a voice from some distance away, speaking hurriedly in a language that sounds oddly familiar to Rainbow Dash—but in words she doesn’t quite understand. A voice from above responds, in that same familiar-unfamiliar language. The first voice then barks at the second. The second voice sighs in exasperation. Then the trash bag is put down. Footsteps receding, stopping by where the kicked-door sound erupted from. A few seconds tick by, and it’s only now that Rainbow Dash realizes she hasn’t drawn any breath for some time. Just as she inhales a small lungful, there’s sounds of violence from inside the building the monsters invaded. Things getting knocked over. Warbling laughter. A scream for help, cut short by a wet, sharp, sudden sound. She fidgets. A hoof reaches out and stops her before that fidget can become anything else. Rainbow Dash looks aside and catches Shatterstorm, eyes wide open, his mouth a long, thin line. His nostrils flare with a released, terrified breath as he shakes his head. There's more screaming, this time from a more feminine-sounding voice. More begging. More laughter. This keeps going, the screaming and begging becoming more frantic, more panicked, more in pain. All the while, Shatterstorm keeps Rainbow Dash grounded and silent. Silence. Then, the door opens. Pitter-pattering footsteps. Clinking armor. Scratching talons. All exit the building, accompanied by a new sound: something being dragged along. There’s a few more comments in that familiar-unfamiliar language, coupled with sinister chuckling from its fellows. This ghastly parade marches by the dumpster, then out of the alley, gradually fading away. They wait a few more minutes, until finally, all is quiet. She sinks—is sinking. The green of her mental ocean clouds with darkness. The ringing in her ears buzzes until silent. Sinking. Down where it is blackest and quietest. Death? She looks about, but there’s nothing here in the deep. No Pale Horse riding in through the darkness to come and whisk her away from the insanity that pulls her apart every time she wakes. She is alone. It’s dark and cold and oppressive, but she is alone. She barely even recalls how she got sent back down here. There was a warrior mare… a valkyrie. A valkyrie who screamed and destroyed and conquered. That’s all she can remember. No, wait—there is something else. The valkyrie’s voice. Raspy. Cocky. Like Vinyl’s. Vinyl, where are you? She reaches out to the darkness. The darkness reaches back. Vinyl, I… I need you. She sinks further. Vinyl… I-I’m cold… Cold. Yes. Cold. Suddenly, something reaches down. Something pulls her up. She thrashes and squirms in its too-strong grip, squealing as she’s pulled back to the surface where it’s colder and greener and noisier, sobbing because she cannot die—she cannot escape—she cannot be without this monster. She opens her eyes. The Wharg opens its eyes. The open mouth of the broken window howls quietly as the morning air wisps through it. Jagged ends like teeth, twinkling against the modest sunlight shining through. Rose Blade looks up to this mouth, taking in its splendor. He runs a hoof through his firetruck-red mane in thought. An escape like this feels too… organized. Too orchestrated. The Wharg waking up precisely before Rainbow Dash escapes? And Shatterstorm somehow getting loose around the same time? He’d even had Shatterstorm put in the special-made cell, the one with the strongest door—and yet he still got out? The pieces don’t fit. He runs his hoof through his mane again. An inside job. They had a pony on the inside. Yes. …Roaring Yawn. The Wharg was his charge. And he even had Shatterstorm locked up in order to perform experiments on him. Yes. Rose Blade runs his hoof through his mane again and scowls almost thoughtfully. “Sir?” comes a voice from behind him. “Report.” “Shatterstorm and Rainbow Dash outran our troops into Dracula’s territory,” the Royal Guard says as he comes nearer. “Our troops withdrew the moment Malphas gave them a warning.” Rose Blade nods begrudgingly and sighs. “There’s another plan gone up in smoke. Well, then, let’s allow those creatures to have their fun. What of the damages?” “To the troops? It’s been profound, sir. Many are dead or unaccounted for. We found Whisper White in your… uh, quarters,” says the Royal Guard, no doubt shaken by what else they'd found. “He’s been badly wounded… sir.” Rose Blade turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised. He’d sent Whisper White a while ago to clean up the body he’d forgotten to take care of… “Somepony beat the bajeezus out of him,” the Guard continued. “We had our magic healers take care of him. They managed to fix his busted jaw, realign his ribs, and even grow back the teeth that had been knocked out, but they weren’t able to save his eye…” Silence. Rose Blade’s smile has slunk away, leaving only a thin line to accompany the terrifying daggers of his stare. The Royal Guard swallows nervously. “Wh-Whisper White has regained consciousness; he, uh... he wishes to speak with you, sir.” Another pause. “…Sir?” “...Roaring Yawn.” The Royal Guard gulps. “Uh…” “Where is he? I suspect he has something to do with this.” “With all due respect, sir, he’s also unaccounted for, along with several of the Guards. We assume they must have fled when the Wharg broke loose.” Rose Blade’s nostrils flare. “How utterly convenient. The next time you see any of those deserters, I want them killed on sight.” The Royal Guard—without any intention of following this insane order—stands upright and salutes. “Sir, yes, sir!” “And what of our beloved beast, the Wharg?” “It’s been detained. They’re awaiting your decision on what to—” But before the Royal Guard can finish, there come shouts from down the hall. Shouts and howls and screams and the erratic, rampaging vibrations of something huge coming right this way. Around the corner comes the Wharg, its fur matted and soaked with blood, its teeth dyed red, its tiny purple eyes twinkling madly in its cavernous skull. It stops momentarily the moment it sees Rose Blade. Then it bounds for him. Rose Blade merely sneers. His horn glows, and with a quiet pop, he disappears, teleporting himself away to safety. The Royal Guard giving him the report is not as fortunate, however. The Wharg’s grasping, groping jaws clench around his midsection as it launches itself forward, through the mouth of the broken window, breaking more of the glass, through to the morning sky outside, the broken pieces glittering as they fall with the Wharg and its victim to the ground far, far below. Other Royal Guards run to the window, looking outside cautiously and murmuring. A flash of green light accompanied with a second pop alerts them to their leader’s reappearance. They look his way and part as he walks through their crowd, joining them in looking outside. Outside the window, on the courtyard below, lies the Wharg. Its body is crumpled and in pieces. Blood stains the stone. The Royal Guard it took with it isn’t in much better shape. Rose Blade sneers. “Such a waste,” he growls as he turns away. The other Guards continue to look out the window as Rose Blade walks down the hall. Suddenly, one of the Guards pipes up. “Uh, Captain Rose Blade, sir?” He stops. “Yes?” The Royal Guard waves a hoof, beckoning Rose Blade to come back. “We think you should probably see this…” He looks back out the window. The blood still stains the stones… but the Wharg’s crumpled body… uncrumples. The legs that broke twist and snap and jolt back into place. The cockeyed position of its head resets with a hard crunch Rose Blade can hear even from this far up. The Wharg gets back up as if it hadn’t just fallen three stories down. It shakes the body of the Guard like a chew toy, throws it down, and dashes across the courtyard, its four blurring legs carrying it past the pikes and the victims they hoist, scaring the crows off them as it runs—then bounds—then leaps—then scales the wall. It escapes back into Lost Canterlot, evanescing back into the thick fog and faint, murky buildings of its stomping grounds. Rose Blade drums a hoof on the floor nervously, stunned by what he just saw. The world around him goes dead for a few seconds, his mind devoured by the image of what madness this place has become. What madness. Madness. What am I doing? asks a tiny voice. “…Sir?” Rose Blade waves his hoof, dismissing the invasive doubt before it can take root. “Yes?” “Your orders, sir?” He thinks for a second. “Regroup. Take a census. See who’s still here.” As the Royal Guards leave the Captain, he stands there. Staring out the window. Out at the courtyard where the traitors all sit on pikes. At the wall that was penetrated so easily. His defenses. Penetrated. So easily. Easily. So easily. “...Shit,” he says hauntedly, shaking his head. Shatterstorm slowly parts the trash bags above them, shyly lifting his head up enough to look about. His heart sinks. There’s a big trail of blood, fresh from the looks of it, forming a carpet from the broken-down door to his left to the end of the alley at his right. Poor ponies never stood a chance… He lifts one ear to the wind. Nothing. “I think we’re safe for now,” he whispers. “We’re gonna need to be really quiet from here on in.” He crawls out of the dumpster and helps Rainbow Dash out from under the trash bags. Her eyes widen sorrowfully at the blood trail. She looks from it, to Shatterstorm. “We should have done something,” she whispers. “Like what?” Shatterstorm says, waving a hoof. “We’re tired, we’re hungry, you’re badly wounded, and we were outnumbered. It’s not like we even knew anypony was hiding nearby. It was just… bad luck.” “But all we did was just…” Rainbow Dash struggles for words. “…Was just… hide.” Shatterstorm scoffs in disbelief. She must see the anger bubbling in his eyes, because she scowls at him in disgust. Before this can erupt into an argument neither of them need, Shatterstorm closes his eyes, exhales, and places a foreleg on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash. I know you wanna help ponies in need… but there are just some situations where we can’t give that help.” He looks her over once more—drinking in the claw slashes and the teeth marks and the bruises and all the blood—and bites his lower lip in worry. “Here we are, having a morality debate while you’re bleeding to death,” he says, hurrying to change the subject. “We need to patch you up.” Rainbow Dash just stands there, looking tired and dizzy, but says nothing. Shatterstorm looks around the end of the alley. Just across the street is a general store. The fog is too dense to really look around. His ears perk. No sounds. Just a lonely wind. He turns to Rainbow Dash, who stumbles forth behind him. “There’s a general store across the street,” Shatterstorm says. “We can see if there’s any supplies left there so we can restock what we lost at the base. They likely have bandages and first aid kits. Get on my back, OK? I can carry you there.” He gets down on his knees. “I can walk,” she croaks. Rainbow Dash takes a few staggering, stubborn hoofsteps forward. Shatterstorm grunts in vexation, moving forward quickly, dunking his head under Rainbow Dash’s side. Before she can protest, she’s up and on his back as he quietly flutters forth, quickly hovering over the street. It’s amazing how quiet he is now, compared to the dragon-roar beats of his wings from before. He stops, setting her back down. Rainbow Dash makes sure to give him her biggest scowl. “Yeah, you’re welcome,” Shatterstorm says snidely as he tries the door. It’s locked. “Can’t you just break in?” “And draw attention?” Rainbow Dash waves him out of the way and looks at the doorknob, screwing one eye shut while analyzing it closely with the other like it’s the most difficult math equation in the world. Before a befuddled Shatterstorm can ask what she’s doing, Rainbow Dash unfurls a wing, the tips of her feathers extending like claws. Carefully, she inserts one of those feathers into the door’s lock. Rainbow Dash gazes at it with her comical scrutiny again, slowly turning it this way... that way... over and around... until finally, the door pops open with a quiet click. She pulls the door open slowly, hoping it won’t creak too loudly. She walks into the general store a few steps before looking back at Shatterstorm. She cocks her head, telling him to follow. Shatterstorm shrugs and does as he’s told, closing and locking the door behind him. The general store houses many of the things they’d missed—food, medicine, and saddlebags for them to carry their new possessions. Much of the place had already been looted, but there’s at least enough left over for them to grab. The entire place is covered in dust, grime building on woodwork that must have been polished to a fine luster once upon a time. Racks and rows of merchandise stand like forgotten islands. Boarded-up windows spit only little pools of modest light here and there. Even though the back door they’d gone through was locked, the front door was not. And in the foyer in front of said door was more signs of struggle. Bloodstains and feathers. Shatterstorm observes one. Pegasus feather. He bites his lower lip and shakes his head. With some effort, Shatterstorm manages to block the foyer entrance with some of the heavier furnishings. Then he goes to the back door—where he had and Rainbow Dash had stolen through—and locks it back up, leaving a heavy chair in front of it. Might not be enough to stop whatever monsters are patrolling this end of Canterlot, but at least it would slow them down, buying them time to find an escape. After finding a lamp they can work under, Shatterstorm sets it on the cashier counter, lighting it. Rainbow Dash seats herself on the counter, groaning with the effort. Now comes the tricky part. The moment the isopropyl kisses her wounds, Rainbow Dash grits her teeth and holds a scream. Shatterstorm presses the soaked cloth deeply against the claw and bite marks, and she can feel her flesh bubble under its touch. “Don’t scream,” Shatterstorm warns. Rainbow Dash grunts. He goes through several cloths before he’s sure he’s cleaned the wounds. One gash went particularly deep—and upon seeing it, Shatterstorm looks around the general store until he spots what he needs. “Where are you going?” asks Rainbow Dash as he gets up and walks towards an aisle. “Just hang on for a sec,” Shatterstorm says back. He rounds an aisle and picks something up where Rainbow Dash can’t see him. When he rounds the aisle again, he comes back to her carrying a needle and thread. Rainbow Dash gulps. “Sorry I gotta do this,” Shatterstorm says earnestly as he cleans the needle. The needle bites through her skin. It pulls the thread into and out of her. She jerks and whimpers with every stroke. “Hold still,” Shatterstorm warns sternly. “Kinda hard to do that.” A few more. Shatterstorm reaches his head over, takes the thread between his teeth and breaks it. “OK, we’re done with that.” Then he breaks out the gauze and gets to work. She feels the way Shatterstorm’s hooves glide over her body. His touch isn’t anything like Rose Blade’s—no carnal intent behind his hooves, no threat behind his quiet movements. It’s careful. Thoughtful. Even a bit gentle. “…So, uh… since when did you become a doctor?” Rainbow Dash asks, awkwardly trying to start conversations. “You get yourself hurt enough times and you eventually learn how to put yourself back together,” he says with a sad smirk. He puts some gauze around her leg. “What about you? When did you become such a master of unlocking, anyway?” Rainbow Dash chuckles nostalgically. “Used to hang out with this one griffon,” she starts. “I wanna say she was a bad influence—and Dad sure seemed to think so—but looking back now, I think we were friends because we were both losers, and we knew it.” She smiles and shakes her head. “She taught you how to pick locks?” “Sorta,” Rainbow Dash continues. “She used her talons. But she knew how to use her wings to do it, too, so she showed me how. We broke into a couple places that way.” Shatterstorm laughs. “So you were thieves?” Rainbow Dash shakes her head. “Yeah, the Great Candy Store Robbery made headlines, didn’t you see it?” She elbows Shatterstorm playfully. “We made off with a candy bar here or a six-pack of beer there, but most of the time, we just broke in so we could say we did. But yeah, that was… that was just, forever ago. Y’know?” Shatterstorm looks at her quietly, then smiles, snorts in laughter, and shakes his head. He backs away, putting his medical kit back into his saddlebag. “I wish I could recommend rest, but that’s not something we’re gonna have a lot of. I just feel I ought to warn you: be careful if you find yourself in another combat situation.” Rainbow Dash raises an eyebrow. “Why?” “The first thing the enemy is going to see is that you’re wounded,” he explains, pointing to the patches of gauze here and there. “And because they know where the wounds are, they’re gonna aim for them. It’s dirty, but nopony ever won a fight by playing fair.” After an awkward length of quiet, Rainbow Dash shyly looks away. It occurs to Shatterstorm, just as she looks away, that they were sharing eye contact for far longer than they usually do. Finally, Rainbow Dash exhales. “Shatterstorm?” “Yeah?” “...Thanks.” “You act like it hurts to thank me, Rainbow Dash,” Shatterstorm says with a playful smirk. She returns it. “You could have just said ‘You’re welcome,’ like everypony else.” “Everypony Else? Who’s Everypony Else? Never met him.” She pauses. Then her smirk breaks into a smile as she looks away with a tired, amused look in her eyes. A chuckle climbs its way out of her throat as she shakes her head. The joke wasn’t particularly funny—but heck, it was relieving, after everything that’s happened. Shatterstorm exhales. “Okay,” he says, “I give them two hours before they start really cracking down on their search for us. I’ll keep watch the first hour, and you can keep watch the second hour.” “What am I supposed to do while you’re keeping watch?” Shatterstorm stares at Rainbow Dash awkwardly. “…Sleep?” he offers, finally. Rainbow Dash snickers. “Sleep is for the weak!” “Then do me a favor and be weak,” he says flatly as he walks toward the front door. Shatterstorm stops on the foyer, suddenly standing rigid like he’d been trained to do. Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes and sits down on the floor, readying her saddlebags as a pillow to rest her head. Sleep. What a laugh. She doesn’t even feel tired—not that she needs to, for as soon as her head hits the saddlebags, she’s out like a light.