The night passed in relative peace, even for the city that never slept, and just like every day before, the sun rose over the eastern horizons to signal the morning and cast Manehattan in a brilliant golden light.
A shadow passed over the streets, prompting ponies below to look up. The source of the shadow proved to be an airship. The engines of the great flying machine grumbled as they guided the large cloud white balloon towards the spire of Skybridge Building. Painted upon the sides of the balloon was the bright gold and green logo of Shooting Star Airlines. Beneath the inflated sac filled with hydrogen gas, a hundred passengers and crew admired the city beneath them through the carriage windows.
Captain Breeze Dancer had flown with Shooting Star Airlines since it had been founded. There wasn’t a flying machine invented that the silver-maned unicorn hadn’t piloted. Helicopters, fixed-wing planes, autogyros, and most recently, airships. No other vehicle had provided him with such a smooth flight: he loved the feeling of the humming engines beneath his hooves, the gentle way that the dirigible’s rudders responded to his touch on the wheel. At this moment, he gently banked towards port, aiming the balloon at the mooring mast.
He retrieved the microphone from the radio next to the wheel and held it next to his mouth in his magic. “Skybridge control, this is the TMS Albatross,” he reported. “Requesting clearance to dock, over.”
“TMS Albatross, the skies are clear and the crew is standing by to help with the landing,” the reply came. “Maintain your heading and reduce speed to 5 knots.”
“Roger, reducing speed.” Captain Dancer reached out and cranked the engine order telegraph, signaling the engine room to reduce speed. He carefully aimed the balloon towards the awaiting mooring mast, where a crew of ponies stood by to help them land.
“Albatross, increase your altitude. You’re dipping,” the voice over the radio warned.
Confused, Dancer glanced at the altimeter amidst the bank of instruments spread before him. Sure enough, he had lost altitude. How had he not noticed? Perhaps somepony had started the release valve too early?
This was the only warning he would get. Though neither he nor anypony else had any way of knowing it, there was a slow leak in the Albatross’ balloon skin. Hydrogen gas was steadily hissing out of the balloon, invisible and odorless, but very, very flammable.
And in one of those terrible twists of fate, those horrible collisions of unknown factors and bad timing, the local weather team was planning a series of thundershowers that day. Static discharge leaped from the tower spire into the air, igniting the leaking hydrogen. With a roar, the TMS Albatross leaped aflame, the brilliant orange and red flames lighting up the sky as if trying to compete with the sun itself.
Stunned by the explosion, Breeze Dancer was knocked off his hooves and fell to the deck. The scent of smoke assaulted his nostrils: panicked screams filled his ears. He tried to get back to his hooves, tried to regain control, but his own ship betrayed him, lurching beneath him and sending him sprawling once more.
He looked up through the windows and stared in horror as the roof of the Skybridge Building rushed at him, ponies desperately trying to run for cover as the Albatross crashed down onto them.
It was the last thing he ever saw.
The clanging of the alarm bell roused Hydrant from his nap. Shaking the cobwebs from his mind, he stumbled out of his bed and sprinted past the other beds towards the bedroom door. The first thing he saw was the rest of the crew gathered around the window, all of them staring out at the city.
“Where? Where is it?” he shouted.
“Look,” Bull Run whispered, pointing out the window. Hydrant followed his gaze and felt his jaw drop in horror.
The Skybridge Building was aflame. Thick columns of smoke twisted up into the sky as if the tower was trying to climb up and pierce the heavens. For a moment, the crew could only stare at the display in universal terror and disbelief.
The continued clanging of the alarm bells eventually roused them from their stupor. “Move it, ponies!” Captain Sweep barked, already sliding down the fire pole to the garage below. The rest of the crew followed one at a time, hurriedly jumping into their boots and swinging their turnout gear over their shoulders.
Hydrant was one of the last ones down the pole, crashing down onto the soft pad at the bottom. He immediately leaped into his waiting boots, pulling the fire-retardant pants up with his teeth as he summoned his jacket and gear to him with his horn.
Bull Run tossed him his helmet as he sprinted past, leaping into the cab of Tanker 45. Hydrant strapped the familiar heavy-duty plastic onto his skull as he climbed in after him.
“Seat belts,” Sous Chef declared, strapping himself in as he took the wheel. With a great wailing of sirens, the tanker pulled out of the firehouse and turned down the streets. The rest of the fleet—Ladder 38, Tanker 12, Command 2, Ambulance 55—followed them out.
Hydrant watched the city streets as they drove past. Every carriage, every vehicle, every pony had stopped. Every civilian’s head was turned towards the pyre, jaws slack and eyes wide in uncomprehending horror.
And they were the ones who had to run towards the fire.
As they neared the Skybridge Tower, they were greeted with crowds of ponies, tossing and crashing against each other in a state of constant motion, like a tumultuous sea. Many were trying to get away; some were desperately searching for missing loved ones; and many were simply standing in place, unsure what to do. Honking the horn, Sous Chef pushed the truck through the crowd.
Several emergency vehicles were already parked around the base of the Skybridge Tower, their lights serving as a beacon that Sous steered towards, parking on the side of the curb. Bull Run and Hydrant were jumping out of the cab almost before the Tanker came to a halt, with Smokey Bear right on their tails.
Command 2 had parked closer to the towers and Spotlight Sweep was already talking into a radio, trying to piece together what was happening and who was going where. Hydrant paused to take in the sight.
The landmark had turned into a twelve-hundred-foot funeral pyre. The top twenty stories were burning, smoke pouring from a gaping hole in the side of the building. Pegasi, both rescue personnel, and brave civilians flew around the fire, trying to help bring trapped ponies down to the ground. Looking around at the gathered emergency vehicles, Hydrant spotted Healing Touch standing next to her ambulance, trying to treat three ponies simultaneously, sweat pouring down her face.
“Hydrant! Bull!” Smokey Bear barked. “The two of you are with me. We’re going to head inside and help with the evacuation.”
“On it,” Bull declared with a grunt as he heaved a long, heavy length of hose onto his shoulder. He snatched up his trusty Denver tool from the rack. Hydrant grabbed another length of hose in his magic and began to follow his two teammates, pushing through the crowds of ponies trying to escape towards the doors of the tower.
A young unicorn mare with wild red hair grabbed Hydrant’s arm as he passed by. Her eyes were wide with hysteria.
“You can’t go up there!” she protested, trying to hold him back, keep him away from the danger. Her grip was strong enough to hold him back, but not tight enough to hurt him. Only a parent knew how to grip like that.
“Ma’am, it’s my job,” Hydrant replied, gently shaking her grip loose. She hesitated and he offered her a grin, noting that she was unadorned by any sign of a wedding ring. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m not gonna die. Then I won’t be able to ask you out to dinner afterward.”
Despite the panic of the situation, she actually managed to look somewhat flattered. Hydrant walked around her and continued on his way. He felt the mare’s eyes on him all the way to the doors.
They pushed their way into the stark white lobby. Ponies were streaming down the stairs, many of them coughing and hacking. Hydrant spotted an elderly pony stumbling down the stairs, one hoof on the railing, one hoof on his chest. His pale face was dotted with sweat, and he sucked at the air.
“I’ve got him,” Smokey stated, already running ahead to help him down. “You two, get upstairs and start helping anypony else down.”
“Will do, lieutenant,” Bull replied, moving past them and up the stairs. Hydrant followed after him, huffing under the weight of the hoses.
They wound their way up and up the stairs, panting as they herded escaping civilians past them, continually telling them to keep calm. As they approached, they could feel the heat from the fire and taste the smoke up above.
Bull stepped aside to allow a trio of ponies in suits to run past them. “Do you know if anypony else is up there?” he asked.
“I think there were some ponies on the 83rd floor!” one of the ponies replied.
“All right. Keep moving down and keep calm,” Bull told him, gesturing for them to move past. The civilians hurried downstairs and Hydrant and Bull Run continued upwards.
When they reached the landing of the 81st floor, they could see smoke pouring out from underneath the doorway. “Standpipe here,” Hydrant said, grunting as he dropped the hose. He attached the end of the hose to the exposed metal valve and screwed it on tight, then twisted the handle to turn the water on. Both of them then unhooked their SCBA facemasks from their belts and tugged them over their heads. They pulled the straps in tight, checked to make sure that they had a good seal, then unhooked the regulators from their belts and hooked them onto the facemasks, twisting them on tight and double-checking to make sure the purge valve was closed.
Hydrant straightened up and took a breath. The airflow started automatically and his facemask sealed tight to his face; his own breathing hissed loudly in his ears like a den of snakes. “You ready?”
“Yeah. You?” Bull Run asked.
Hydrant swallowed and took in a breath, preparing for his journey into Hell. “Ready.”
Bull Run hefted the Denver tool off his shoulders and stepped up to the door, pressing his hoof against it. Nodding in satisfaction, he inserted the prybar into the metal fixture. With a great grunt, he tore the door off its hinges.
The office inside was in ruin; the walls were torn down, chairs and desks were scattered about everywhere, and lights and pipes dangled from the ceiling. Flames licked at everything, coating the floor and walls in a glowing red, ever-changing coat. Hydrant led the way into the inferno, spraying any errant flames that leaped up to stall their progress. Bull Run was right behind, his head panning back and forth in search of any survivors.
“Here,” Bull called, pointing to a pile of collapsed rubble. A pony’s leg was visible from beneath the mess. Hydrant paused, keeping an eye out for any danger as Bull Run used his prybar to lever the fragments of drywall and twisted furniture off the victim. It only took him a few seconds to expose the trapped pony’s head, revealing a brown unicorn with a long blonde mane, his body covered in dust. Bull knelt down and pressed his hoof against the unicorn’s neck, then shook his head.
“No good. Keep moving,” he reported.
Hydrant lingered for a moment. This was, unfortunately, not the first dead pony he had seen, and he knew that if he continued his career, it would likely not be his last. But the sight still made him pause. This had been a pony. Not just a pile of meat and bones, but a personality. Somepony with hopes, dreams, fears, desires. He always wondered about the family. Did this unicorn have a wife or husband? Kids?
“Hydrant! Let’s go!” Bull Run barked.
“Sorry,” Hydrant replied, shaking himself out of his stupor. He continued to lead the way down the hallway, spraying down any flames that blocked their path.
Then, over the roaring and crackling of the fire, both of them heard the sound of voices up ahead. “Help us!” a mare was screaming. “I don’t want to die!”
Both firefighters hurried forwards, running towards the voices. They turned a corner and found themselves blocked by a wall of flaming debris, collapsed walls and ceiling pipes. Behind the wall was a group of several ponies, their sweaty, soot-covered faces marred with terror as they pressed themselves up against the far wall.
Hydrant began to spray the wall of debris with his hose, dampening down the flames to allow Bull Run to move it aside. “Getting hot in here, isn’t it?” he called over the noise of the fires. He was desperate to wipe the sweat from his brow but had to settle for licking it off his lips.
The building suddenly shuddered violently, the steel groaning as though grievously wounded. Several of the trapped ponies screamed in terror, clutching at each other.
“Ladies and gentleponies, please remain calm,” Bull Run declared, his voice loud and clear and calm. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
Hydrant managed to dampen down the flames enough for Bull Run to close in and set to work with his Denver tool, prying the debris loose. Hydrant helped where he could, using his unicorn magic to lift aside any objects that weren’t consumed with magic-scattering fire.
It took them over a minute, but they managed to clear enough of the wreckage aside to allow the civilians to pass. Bull Run reached a hoof through to help ponies out. “Don’t be afraid,” he declared. “We’re going to get you all out of here.”
Another groan shuddered through the building, the floor pitching beneath them like they were on the deck of a ship at sea. With a crashing sound, part of the ceiling collapsed, showering them all with sparks and cinders. Several of the civilians screamed and began to push and shove in a desperate, panicked attempt to get out.
“One at a time!” Bull Run barked, instantly pausing the flood. “Hydrant, let’s move!”
“Come on, ponies, this way!” Hydrant shouted, dropping the hose and following it back up the hallway. The civilians formed a line behind him, with Bull Run forming the caboose of their train. They sprinted back up the hallway, even as the tower continued to shiver and groan.
They reached the stairway. Hydrant started to gesture ponies through one at a time. The flames had almost reached the fully developed stage: nearly everything that could burn was on fire, the roaring mixing with the continuing groans and creaks of the structure.
“Move! Move! All the way down!” Bull Run ordered from the back of the line, ushering a coughing and retching mare forward.
Suddenly, the roof cracked and groaned over his head. He looked up just in time to see a mass of burning and twisted slag tumbling towards his head. Instinctively, he shoved the mare in front of him, pushing her out of the danger zone just in time to avoid being buried by the rubble.
“Bull!” Hydrant screamed in despair, but his cry was answered by a great rending of metal from over his head. Everypony looked up to see more metal and fire raining down upon them. At the same moment, the floor and stairways buckled beneath their hooves. Screams mixed with the tearing metal. The retching mare, her burnt orange coat streaked with soot and her green eyes wide with panic, dived for Hydrant, reaching for his outstretched hooves.
He felt her grip through his fire-retardant boots, but then the stairway was ripped away from him and she slipped from his grasp. He tumbled downwards, fire and smoke and metal and bodies flashing before his gaze. He flailed desperately, trying to grab something, anything solid, but then his body crashed into a wall of concrete that seemed to appear from nowhere. The world roared in his ears, his body burned with pain for a moment, and then Hydrant knew no more.