//------------------------------// // 09: Hype Waltz / Firestarter / Jailbreak // Story: Light Despondent Remixed // by Doctor Fluffy //------------------------------// Light Despondent Remixed Chapter 9 Hype Waltz / Firestarter / Jailbreak Co-authors: TB3 (I still gotta credit him don’t I) Jed R (this is Jed we’re talking about. I love him.) Editors: VoxAdam Wait here please Don't tell me things are under control please When I know you know what it is that awaits me And I know you know what its gonna do to me Fuck you start talking Biting Elbows, Hype Waltz I'm the trouble starter, punkin instigator I'm the fear addicted, danger illustrated I'm a firestarter, twisted firestarter Torre Florim, Firestarter Dayoung August 8, 2022 Minutes Earlier Congress Street, Portland Dayoung wasn’t entirely sure if this had been part of the plan since the beginning. But it felt… right. “This is awesome!” Megan crowed, thrusting a sign up as she stood on the back of a pickup truck. A Thenardier Guard technical, a sea-blue or sea-green old International Harvester with a wholly incongruous DsHK mounted in the backseat. I guess it pays to have Russian black-marketeers as friends, Dayoung thought. Someone, on the back of a vehicle so huge that she wondered how it’d gotten this far up the streets, was playing a guitar. It almost felt… No, it didn’t feel like… whatever Dayoung was about to think. It felt right. “I’m just so happy to be here,” Megan said, wrapping her arms around Dayoung. “Thank you.” “This is… pretty sudden,” Dayoung said. Megan shrugged, leaning the sign against the rear window of the pickup truck. “I guess it is. But… this whole time, I’ve… I’ve felt like I haven’t been doing much. Like…” she laughed nervously. “The world is ending, and I’m just working a cash register. And I’m just supposed to be letting those ponies be part of my life? Like this didn’t come with them?” “Yeah!” Dayoung said. “That’s… that’s exactly what I said.” “And it’s more than that,” Megan said. “I feel like… like here, I found a family.” Dayoung raised an eyebrow. “But you had a family.” Megan frowned. “Sorry, Day. I just…” Not long ago, Dayoung’s family had been killed unfortunately not killed, but ponified in a PER attack on another town. She’d made her way to Rangeley somehow, and managed to find a room with a local family. “Well, it’s not like they’d notice,” Megan sighed theatrically. “Besides. The people I’ve met tonight, they’re all… they’re not willing to sit down and let the end come. They do things.” “Like us?” Dayoung asked. “Absolutely like us,” Megan said. “LET THE REAL HERO OUT!” roared a shirtless, mohawked man standing on top of a truck, carrying a sign and a torch. “LET HIM OUT!” Dayoung found herself cheering. A woman wearing all-black clothes, spiked bracelets, and carrying a sign reading #FreeCarter cheered from the sidewalk. A man wearing a T-shirt with a fist holding several horns cheered the same. On another building just in front of some Civil War monument, an HLF man had rolled an absolutely massive sheet of fabric (Had it been the sails to a Coffin Ship?!) over the side of a building. From the back of another truck, an HLF man in a boiler suit and cloth mask had rigged up a projector, playing Lovikov’s speech. It would be in her memory forever, like the patterns of fabric burned into the skin of survivors of nuclear attacks. The two of them - Dayoung and Megan - stood by Rebecca Benning, who wore her customary fatigues, a set of homemade armor that promised to stop bullets and potion, and mirrored aviator sunglasses. Along with a cap emblazoned with the logo of some militia from before the War - Dayoung didn’t know which. “ENOUGH OF THE HORSEFUCKERS,” read Benning’s sign. “THE GOVERNMENT IS SELLING OUT TO HORSEFUCKERS AND MERRY-GO-ROUND TOYS!” Benning yelled, “WHILE IGNORING PEOPLE LIKE US! PEOPLE THAT’VE FOUGHT TOOTH AND NAIL FOR FORGOTTEN HUMANS, FOR THE POOR, FOR THOSE WHO WATCHED THE GOVERNMENT LAUGH OFF THEIR CONCERNS!” She is really in her element, Dayoung thought. “You really have no options here,” Gardner said. “I have plenty of things I can do here!” Lovikov protested. “Look,” Northwoods said, and Dayoung heard her growing increasingly panicked- Good, she thought. Let that bitch squirm. “Lovikov,” she said. “Lower the gun. There’s no need for anyone to hurt, just lower the gun and we’ll talk.” “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing so far?” Gardner asked. “In fact, I-” Lovikov would later say Gardner had provoked him. There were countless conflicting memories of what had happened (In fact, Kraber would have no idea just what Gardner had said for days to come) but Dayoung would swear that Lovikov had done it without any sort of warning. She’d remembered absolutely no change on Lovikov’s face as he tapped a button. But she also remembered that it had been supremely sudden. One second, the HLF man behind the massive sheet was cheering, hollering, whooping for Carter to be set free. “LET HIM OU-” THOOM The next, a building behind him exploded. Shrapnel rained down, fire lit up the sky, and a cloud of rubble blocked out the sky in the immediate area of Dayoung. ‘WHAT?!’ Dayoung thought. And on the screen, Lovikov smiled. Dayoung felt very cold, and for a few seconds, she shut down. Everything seemed… flat. Less. The way things did in a dream, the unremarkable ones where everything seemed normal until Dayoung realized she couldn’t feel anything, so many little bits and pieces of sensation were gone. This can’t be real. “Leonid Lovikov,” Northwoods said, her whisper magnified, all the emotion blasted from her voice. “What have you done.” “I told you,” Lovikov said, with an unsettling certainty. “I. Told. You. That. I. Would. Do. It.” “You bastard!” Gardner yelled. “You acquiesce to my demands, and there’s no reason for this to get any more out of hand!” Lovikov yelled. The projector had shaken in the explosion, leaving the feed of his face listing to one side. The civilians - pony, human alike - standing in front of Dayoung stared in horror at the explosion. As did Dayoung. Megan looked at the wreckage too, an unplaceable look on her face. We’re not protesting, Dayoung thought, we’re corralling them into bigger targets. She felt numb. Stumbled on one leg. ‘What kind of man would do this?!’ Dayoung thought. ‘Even consider it?!’ Then she looked over to Megan. ‘Come on, we have to go,’ she wanted to say. ‘We have to- Four things happened. First, a shell impacted just in front of Dayoung, close enough that the explosion only ruffled her hair… Second, the mob of humans and ponies standing apprehensively in front of her? A sizable portion of them were just gone. The remaining ponies, humans, and other Equestrians were staring at their barricade, at Lovikov’s stupid, callous grin, in horror. They stared at the crater. Dayoung stared back. Stared up to Megan… Third, Megan looked tired, shocked, same as all of them. But there was a strange, hardened expression worming its way through her face. Kraber “Jump aboard! Quick!” he shouted from the deck of the Bin pişman. There wasn’t a moment to lose. From above he could hear gunfire and screaming voices, and the roar of a helicopter’s blades. “Fok,” Kraber said, surprising himself with his calm as he looked out at the chaos… And then saw the civilians filtering out, through the catwalks on the underside of the rig. ‘One of the kids must have gone up to look for more survivors… whoever it is, he’s either crazy fokking brave or crazy fokking dumb. Kwaai!’ Children filtered onto his boat, dropping from the girders onto the Arctic Warrior and rushing across to the Bin pişman, some across boats, some plummeting into the icy Maine waters. There were others too, adults and ponies, and another one of those not-quite-griffons. The latter of whom were flying, next to pegasi - even trying to carry small children. Surprised I left this many people alive on it, Kraber thought, with a sudden stab of guilt. Though I guess it makes sense. Gotta have some left… Where the fok were they hiding, though? An old - or just old-ish - man in an orange vest clambered down the girder with surprising agility… And much to Kraber’s surprise, jumped in the water! Right, Kraber thought, rushing to one side of the wheelhouse and grabbing a rope ladder. The Fostech was held in one hand, surprisingly light. Maybe it was armor, maybe it was adrenaline. Kraber couldn’t say. “Easy,” Kraber said, tying the ladder to a series of metal knobs on the side of the boat - he didn’t know what they were called, and didn’t care. A small child, shivering from the cold, made their way up. Then a pony - this one an adult - wearing a set of those absurd swimming fins. Kraber helped them up, one hand around their foreleg. Then- BANG A scream, and one swimmer abruptly stopped moving. And another. Kraber snapped towards a balcony on one side of the rig, not too far from one of the guns. There, he saw an HLF soldier armed with an assault rifle. “QUIT FOKKIN’ AROUND!” Kraber yelled, and, awkwardly in one hand, swung the Fostech’s muzzle up towards him. THOOMB Blood exploded out from just under the HLF man’s shoulder, and he tumbled backwards like he’d been hit by a train. “GLARGK!” he yelled. “What was that?! yelled another child, shivering from the frigid Maine water. Kraber didn’t answer. That... He looked up at the rig. For a moment, he could see two people rushing to the side of the man he’d nailed with a 12-gauge. That could’ve been me, he thought, amazed. It should be me. But I’m here. And I bumblefokked into it. ...I can’t turn back. I’m leaving Lovikov, Dacosta, Mariesa, and… Huh. Did I really have that few friends back there? Kraber considered it, and aimed up at one of the HLF coming to the aid of their fallen comrade. THOOM The man jerked back like he’d been punched, his visor a spiderweb of cracks and blood. “HLERGK!” Reh. Fok em. Mind spell or not, this is the better thing to do. And then the other man fell to the ground, bleeding from massive cuts. What the hell?! That wasn’t me! Which means- Heliotrope Yael was right, she thought. Powderkeg. “I need you to take out as many cannons as possible,” Yael said. “You’re the best chance we have of getting this done without a bloodbath.” “My pleasure!” Heliotrope said, and made a beeline for the rig. Along the edge, by a platform jutting off the rig that had no obvious purpose, Heliotrope saw a man with an assault rifle. Out in the open. Stupid. Time seemed to slow. She saw a boat built on two old oil tanks near the docks, with a man holding a rope ladder over the side. People were struggling to stay afloat in the water below, and then- She saw the man on the platform shoulder his assault rifle. Its muzzle flashed, and Heliotrope watched the swimmers scream, falter, or force themselves to swim underwater. Humans, she thought. She’d just been thinking ‘Is he firing at them while they’re swimming?! when someone shot the HLF man in the shoulder. Who the hell is that?! Heliotrope thought, looking down and seeing the man on the boat cradling what was either a shotgun or giant assault rifle in one hand. “Colvin!” a man yelled. “Colvin, Willems, you’re gonna-” Time slowed, and Heliotrope considered what was happening. The people on the rig were evacuating to that coffin ship, the one with the shotgunner. Which was…. Extremely risky, but Heliotrope couldn’t blame them. I’d want to get off the rig too. So, with that, she flew at the remaining HLF man - not Colvin, not Willems - and, wing blades extended, combat knife in her mouth- (“Yes, Heliotrope is a practitioner of Santoryu,” Yael says. “...I didn’t know you liked One Piece,” Babs Seed says.) She sliced him to ribbons. The blades ripped through the kevlar, through clothes, through skin, and blood spattered against Heliotrope’s suit. Kraber ‘That was Heliotrope!’ Kraber thought. Heliotrope?! Helping me?! Of all the- “That’s the last of us!” someone yelled, heaving themselves aboard the boat. With that, Kraber ran for the wheelhouse and looked frantically over the controls. Come on, come on, he thought. The Turkish child passed him a key, and Kraber jammed it into the ignition. THOOM Something exploded in the background, and everything went white. God, no, not this, not now- Kraber jammed the throttle forward, at the same time resisting the urge to pat himself down with one hand, reminding himself that - YES! Wasn’t dead! Which didn’t make much sense, how would feeling himself prevent himself from… no, focus, FOKKIN’ FOCUS- “COME FOKKIN’ ON!” Kraber roared, and pushed the throttle once more. The boat roared into life, tearing itself free. Kraber looked at a grainy screen that looked to have been taken from a car, showing the Sorghum disappearing behind him. “Who the hell are you?” one man asked. “I haven’t seen you around.” "Ah'm one of thae new guards," Kraber said, trying for that old Robert Carlyle voice he’d affected… Nine years back?! Had it really been that long since… Ah, fokking hell. It’d work for now. Best not to think about it too hard.  “My name’s Ivan Bliss.” Another lie. “Viktor, you have to stop running away!” the newfoal pleaded with him. “Tell them-” ...and then everything went bright. NOT AGAIN- Another shell. The boat swerved to avoid it, and water splashed up against the boat’s windshield. Wipers rushed across the cracked glass, and Kraber twisted the wheel, shifting the boat towards Portland… Only to see the city in flames. Heliotrope That boat’s fucked, Heliotrope thought. Whoever it is, I have to keep them safe! She looked around, frantically, and saw one of the Sorghum’s guns (She didn’t know the make and model, she just knew it looked like it was the size of a small car) and flew towards it. There were three people operating it. How in God’s name could anyone do this?! She thought, looking them over. She couldn’t make out their faces behind their armor, the gas masks, but she knew that one was… Enjoying himself?! That was… Heliotrope’s temper took over, and she dashed forward, silenced SMGs blazing, (or, more like rattling) wings and hoof talons outstretched. The 9x32mm rounds shredded the man and woman standing by the cannon. There wasn’t even a word from them, just a sick gurgling. The man in the gunner’s seat had just enough time to whisper “wha-” before Heliotrope’s wing blade ripped a gash in his throat. I’d disable it with a grenade, but… she looked over the cannon. No, that’s a terrible bucking idea. Onto the next one after I do. Dayoung The few scant survivors of the attack hid in destroyed storefronts, behind wrecked cars, in buildings. Some wanted to come out. Dayoung could tell. “Stay back!” Benning yelled, sweeping back and forth an autoshotgun that looked to break every gun law and then some. “Stay the fuck back!” she tapped her earpiece. She didn’t pull the trigger. The crowd didn’t seem to care. Megan had a strange, almost… satisfied expression on her face. Dayoung couldn’t tell what it was. “Come at us,” someone yelled, “AND WE’LL FUCK YOU UP!” Maybe it was the shock of being at ground zero of an explosion, maybe she had a concussion, but Dayoung swore that was Megan. Couldn’t be, Dayoung thought. She’d… she… Okay, Megan could have said something like that. But then, she wouldn’t - couldn’t - sound jovial. That was… how could that even- “It’s going to be fine,” Dayoung forced herself to yell out “None of you have to get hu-” A unicorn mare - pink, with a cherry-red mane, stepping out, bottle of Bud Lite held in her horn TK, throwing it at Dayoung’s face. She staggered back, feeling something wet drip down into her eye. “Did my brother need to get hurt?!” she yelled. “Did Jim?! Janna? Willy? Shae?! Did they need to get hurt?!” “We will fire another shell if you do not cooperate!” Benning yelled. She tapped her earpiece, then pointed at them, a cruel grimace on her face. “Do it, Leonid! DO IT!” There was a moment of silence. “I said-” A pause from Benning. “THEY WHAT?!” That was all the survivors needed. “FUCK COOPERATION IN ITS ASS!” yelled a black woman with thick dreadlocks dyed partly green. Almost predictably, the street erupted into chaos. People rushed out of ruined storefronts, armed with shards of glass, pistols, SMGs, AR-15s, anything they could get their hands on. The crowd didn’t have much in the way of guns. But at that range, with that many of them, it didn’t matter. “Oh, shi-” yelled the woman in black with the #FreeCarter sign, before the crowd pounced on her. Dayoung tried to pull the trigger. Couldn’t. So - seeing Benning, the other HLF, everyone else doing the only sane thing to do in the face of an armed riot - she decided to run. And then she saw Megan trying to fire the DsHK from the back of the truck. Trying and struggling to work the old gun. Instinct took over. Dayoung took a running leap onto the bed of the pickup truck, bodyslammed Megan, and dragged her bodily from the DsHK. “I could’ve-” Megan started. “You’ll be behind a machinegun firing into a crowd!” Dayoung yelled. “We’re going to die, Meg! We need to run!” Heliotrope With that, uh… decommissioning (Really just shoving a piece of metal she’d found under the trigger, something the HLF probably wouldn’t notice - she’d be able to easily remove it if the time came)  she was heading towards another one. She headed for the next one, aimed right at the city. There were seven more on the rig, as far as she knew. Why’d this thing even need to be so big, anyway? she thought, flying towards that next one. With the noise of the cannons, the chaos, the fraught atmosphere of it all, they didn’t even seem to notice what Heliotrope had done. Excellent. She flew for another cannon, blades still outstretched, guns still ready. She bit down on the assault yoke, letting loose a quick burst of subsonic 9x32mm. The rounds pasted the HLF on the cannon, blood spattering against it. Nobody seemed to have pinpointed in the chaos, so Heliotrope moved to the next. Two down, six to go. As she made it to the third - manned by a trio of Thenardier Guards, wearing their typical red armbands - fate conspired against her. In the second before she bit down on the mouth trigger, the person sighting the cannon looked over towards a spotter leaning over the railing, staring at the city. They were about to say something. It was too late. Heliotrope was biting down as it happened. The 9x32mm flew through the air… ...and exploded through the head person firing the cannon, pasting their skull against the metal. Oh, shit. “Someone got-” the spotter yelled, aiming her carbine up towards Heliotrope, who banked to the right, towards the rig, then aimed the gun towards the spotter. Another human rolled behind a large metal mass that was either a ventilation system or pipe. She fired again. At close range, the spotter didn’t even have a chance. Bullets ripped through the spotter, who hadn’t thought to get behind cover. Not so much for the one behind cover. They fired their Kalashnikov up towards Heliotrope, screaming bloody murder. “GLUESTICKS AND HORSEFUCKERS ARE HERE!” they yelled, shrieking like a teakettle. “THEY’RE GONNA KILL US!” And the air became bullets. Heliotrope yelped, and barrel rolled to the left, down towards the ocean. She landed among the girders, panting heavily. “Get some kinds of light, some paint, I don’t fucking care!” a man was yelling. “We’re gonna lock her down, and we’re gonna cut her wings off!” Some ponies would’ve been running scared at that. It just made Heliotrope angry. Those bastards! Heliotrope thought, flying under the rig, passing through the girders, barrel rolling to the opposite side - the one with guns not pointed at Portland. Instead trained on the ships. Why they hadn’t fired those was a mystery to Heliotrope. As she twisted to her left, making her way to those cannons, she saw the coffin ship - the one on what’d once been the trailers of two tanker trucks - making its way towards an island. Good. As she hid on the underside of the rig, she heard it. “AAAAAAAIIIIEEEEEEE!” Someone was screaming. Pretty close by, too. “It’s… I can’t do it!” he screamed. “Heliotrope’s here, and she’s right to-” “Right to what,” someone said, their voice thick with an Eastern European accent. Lovikov! “We’re doing the right thing,” Lovikov said. “You don’t stop now.” ...He’s going bucking mad, Heliotrope thought. If he wasn’t before, he is now, he’s going bucking mad. I’m in over my he- NO! She couldn’t afford to think that way. She was Heliotrope, dammit. And Lovikov - for doing something so brutally violent, so boneheadedly stupid that she almost wondered if Celestia was paying him - was going to die. “She’s killing us and we’re killing a city!” the man screamed. “She’s right to be here, and-” Damn right, Heliotrope thought, just before- Dancing Day December 2022 Heliotrope groans. “I can’t believe I was ever like that,” she says. The hologram of Yael pats her on the back. “In your defense, we were pretty sure you were right.” “That almost makes it worse, though!” Heliotrope protests. “...What does that even mean, anyway?” Vinyl Scratch asks. “I…” Heliotrope starts. “Look, I’m just… I’m really embarrassed about how it went down.” “We couldn’t have known,” Kraber says. “I mean, fok, Lovikov told me almost every day how I was... “ He takes a moment to remember. “‘Miy brat,’” Kraber says, affecting a Ukrainian accent that cannot even be considered to be in the same neighborhood as ‘passable’. “His  chommie. His brother. That’s what he said. Course, the only difference between being his chommie and his enemy is how long he lets you live.” “I thought that was an insult,” Dancing Day says, quizzical. “Well, it is?” Kraber says. “But at the same time, it’s not. Lots of Eastern European languages - Russian, Polish, apparently Ukrainian, I don’t remember most of them-” “I thought you knew every language,” Rivet says, confused. “I don’t speak Estonian,” Kraber points out. “Wait, so ‘brat’ means brother on Earth then?” Dancing Day asks. “Back in Equestria, I thought it was an insult.” “Wait, so-” starts one pony whose name Dancing Day has forgotten. “Nooit,” Kraber says, head in hands. “We are not doing this. Not fokkin’ now…” he groans. “Every time we talk about that, I get heartburn,” Aegis groans. “Ja, it’s time to stop,” Kraber says, nodding. “Aegis has some form of gigantism, and I’m just not going to risk the condition of his heart like that.” “Don’t you mean a headache, daddy?” Amber Maple asks. “Yeah,” Dancing Day says, nodding. “It’s really confusing, if I was talking about it I’d get a head-” “No, I mean I get heartburn,” Aegis says. “It happens every time for some reason. Anyway, Heliotrope? Let’s stop this before I need some Tums. Where were we?” “Well,” Heliotrope says. “I decided that the best thing to do was kill Leonid Lovikov. With extreme prejudice.” “Which would be the best birthday present I could ever ask for,” Kraber says. “But it’s not your birthday,” Heliotrope says, confused. “Just let me dream,” Kraber says. Heliotrope She resisted the temptation to scream as she flew towards Lovikov. It was… well, it was certainly tempting. BANG Blood from the man’s skull spattered against the railing, and - Heliotrope hoped - not against her. ...he shot one of his own men, Heliotrope breathed, drawing to a stop out of sheer surprise. She made a tiny, involuntary gasp. Oh, buck. “And you’re done,” Lovikov said, “When I say you’re d-” He froze, and slid into cover. He doesn’t see me, does he? There was silence for a moment. Even Heliotrope was still. “BACK TO FUCKING WORK!” Lovikov roared, all of a sudden. “OR DO YOU WANT TO JOIN WILLIAMS IN THE FUCKING OCEAN!?” But he still stood there. Then he seemed to relax. Letting his shoulders slump, he walked back towards a door, then- Almost the second that Heliotrope flew at him, Lovikov opened fire with a little 9mm pistol. Heliotrope yelped, and banked to the left. How did he know?! The- She thought about it. The little yelp she’d made. The blood splattering. Then- “I can see you moving into the light, you goddamn kickstand!” Lovikov yelled. I thought I patched that out! Heliotrope thought, hiding behind cover. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shi- “We’re gonna fucking get you!” Lovikov roared. “Everyone! Heliotrope’s on the rig! A MONTH’S PAY TO WHOEVER BRINGS ME HER MARK AND WINGS!” Heliotrope’s eyes went wide. There’d been rumors that some HLF from the Carter side of the split had done that, talked about it. That when he’d been caught, Michael Carter had been midway through doing it. And she had met a pony or two or three with U-shaped scars where cutie marks or horns had once been… At that moment, Lovikov’s pistol ran out of ammo. The only way out, she thought, is forward! She rushed towards Loviokv in the moment that he was reaching for something, a look on his face that spoke his clear- Triumph. Heliotrope had just enough time to think “oh, shit,” before Lovikov tossed something towards the floor, just under her. “Here,” he said. “Catch.” Time slowed, and Heliotrope watched the object Lovikov had thrown. it looked to be a series of plastic tubes over a centrifuge. At the center of the centrifuge was a dark blue-green lump of chitin or stone, glowing lightly with a sickly blue-white-green light. Thoughts raced through her brain, as she struggled for a new option. Bat it out of the air. No. She was too far away, flying towards Lovikov’s head. And looking at the thing made her eyes water, made her ears hurt. Shoot it. The Assault Yoke with her two silenced SMGs was too inflexible. She had to turn to aim it. And who knew what it’d do? Just go for Lovi- THWAAAUUUUUU There was sound like a taut string snapping, and everything went blue-white. Heliotrope felt numb all over, in her back, behind her hooves, in her mouth. She could barely feel, barely see. She was dimly aware she was hurtling through the corridor- -She collapsed against a metal wall in a heap, feeling blood oozing from her nose. What was that?! She struggled to move her legs. They felt fine, but her hooves - it was like there was an absence of feeling right near the fetlocks, and her wings felt like dead weight at the sides of her barrel. Lovikov walked down the hallway, a big, nasty-looking knife in one hand. A Kukri, Heliotrope thought. “WE GOT HER!” Lovikov yelled, stopping his walk for a moment. “A MONTH’S PAY, GUN OF YOUR CHOICE, FREE HOMEBREW, I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU WANT AS LONG AS YOU GIVE ME HER FUCKING MARK AND WINGS!” She looked to the door behind him. HLF were filtering in. The door in front of her. More HLF, edging through the doorframe. For a moment, lucidity: I can’t fight them like this. Then panic. So she ran - unfamiliar to her, she was far more used to flying - and stumbled down the stairs. Her hooves betrayed her, and she rolled down the staircase a quarter of the way down. Find somewhere defensible, she thought, picking herself up. She flapped her wings. Nothing. Do I have a concussion?! No, no, I’m… that did something to me. To my body. To my alicornal tissue. She galloped into a bunk room. One with a window at the back, looking out on the sea… and a view of Portland, in flames. Almost feel my wings again! She thought. What was tha- As the HLF surged towards her room, as Lovikov ranted and raved, the answer came to her. It disrupted magic. That blue stuff? My ass it’s anything Lovikov should be able to afford! “Yael!” Heliotrope yelled into her comms. “They got me pinned, I need hel-” Someone hammered through the window. “The PHL didn’t stop us when we fired on Portland,” said one man with a voice that sounded like nails against a chalkboard. “Let’s see what they think if we go to work on one of their most loyal soldiers…” Oh, shi- Kraber Slightly Earlier Portland was so in sy moer in that it looked far too much like a city from the Bad Old Days. On some level, Kraber had known that this would happen. That if Lovikov had fired, then of course he would’ve shot at the city, that it didn’t fit his chommies to just shoot a warning shot and let it fall in the ocean. It was still shocking to see one of the buildings burning from the top three stories up. A warehouse burning. Rubble in streets. A city that had easily as many humans as ponies, that Lovikov he’d left moertoe. It’s a damn malhuis out there. “What have you done,“ Kraber whispered. “No. What have I done.” Huh, the newfoal said, that’s not how it goes in Gargoyles. That’s not a gargoyles quote. Hou jou fokkin’ bek. “You couldn’t have stopped it, Bliss,” said one woman, a hand on his shoulder. “You’re… not at fault.” But I am, Kraber thought. I fokkin’ well am. I was there for all of this. I didn’t do anything to stop it. I was either along for the ride or controlling it most of the time. It was me. All this fokkin’ time. He stared at the city. “Take the wheel a second,” Kraber said, not sure to whom he was talking. A pegasus grabbed the wheel, and Kraber didn’t have it in him to be mad, to yell at the FOKKIN G- Yelling at ponies just didn’t seem so important anymore. Not compared to what he was seeing in the city. Not compared to what he saw as he grabbed a telescope and stared through a patch of windshield that looked relatively clear. People stood in the streets… fighting? One threw a brick through a storefront and jumped inside, running out with a bulging sack. Another was running through the streets, in the middle of an angry mob, with what Kraber only hoped was an effigy of a pony on a stick. He looked to another street. There he saw a group of HLF standing, holding signs, aiming guns… He looked to another street. Ponies and humans rushing towards the ocean, in the direction of the same protesting HLF... Then a shell flew over the boat, impacting them. Kraber saw smoke. A crater. Rubble from buildings and remains of pavement. Where there’d once been that group of fleeing ponies and humans, there were only a few scattered survivors left. A pair of shoes dropping to the ground. A set of limbs, a bleeding arm with no visible body. Still more viscera. The HLF descended on the survivors. Fokkin’ varknaaiers, Kraber said, expecting to feel sick... Kraber didn’t feel sick. He felt… Hollow. Sat. Blasted out. Why?! He thought frantically. Throw up! Scream blou moord! Why can’t I fokkin’- He looked to the floor, shaking ever so slightly. Breathing heavily. He felt so sat he couldn’t tell if he was going to start laughing hysterically or cry. His mouth was dry. The lyrics of his favorite Biting Elbows song played in his head. Smile, my mouth is dryyyy…. It’s a hell of a thing from outside, he thought. If I was there, I’d be enjoying this. Caught up in it. And why can’t I be angry?! Why can’t I fokkin’... “What the hell did you see?!” the pegasus yelled. The humans, ponies, and others in the wheelhouse, even a few desperately hanging to the outside of the boat looked in, at the two of them. “You don’t want to know,” Kraber said. “I… I let me take the wheel again. I need to do something else. I fokkin’ insist.” “Trust me when I say he’s right,” said a middle-aged, weatherbeaten man scanning the screen of his phone. “You don’t want to see this.” A pegasus foal fluttered up and slapped Kraber on the back. Belgrade, Kraber thought, taking the wheel again. He remembered the Bureau in Belgrade. He remembered being with Helmetag and Lovikov during the Purple Winter, the PER and Solar Empire herding people in like cattle, armed with shock-spears and guns, shooting or electrocuting people - anyone who ran. Anyone who looked at the PER in a way they didn’t like. He remembered blikseming one pony. Nailing a man in the crotch with a 12-gauge slug from mounted his old pump-action Mossberg, causing him to fold in half like an accordion. Steeking a charging pegasus newfoal with a bayonet the size of a small machete mounted to that same Mossberg. He missed that Mossberg. This is no fokkin’ different. It’s a bunch of fokkin’ bosbefok kontgesigs convinced they can save the world by corralling people like livestock, killing them or destroying them just because they fokkin’ can. “Mother of God!” cried out one man. “That last one came down just a block from Mercy Hospital...” “Fuck me!” added a mustard-yellow earth pony, practically galloping up to the tugboat’s bridge wing to get a better view, placing a pair of binoculars up to her eyes. “They hit my cousin’s house! And that’s… Huh. They hit the ruins of the Convie Bureau. Well, no loss there.” “Portland had a Bureau?!” Kraber asked incredulously. “This…” (He was about to say ‘Plakkerskamp’ but stopped himself) “...wee little city?” he finished. “They never finished it, though,” the earth pony explained. “It started construction early during the Three Weeks of Blood, and when the riots broke out, they started to convince PER doctors at Maine Medical to put patients in the Bureau, herd them in like cattle…” “I remember that,” Kraber said, shivering. “Hope tae Goad I never see it again. Did… did most people make it oot?” The earth pony turned his head back to Kraber. “Aye. Me and Patrick Saunders, this one hitter for the Portland Seadogs helped get them out. And the city burned the damn place to the ground.” The pony looked melancholy all of a sudden, his snout and ears angled downward. “Don’t know if there’ll be much left after th-” The boat rocked as something impacted the ocean next to them. The window cracked. “...They’re firing on us,” whispered one rose-colored unicorn mare. “FUCKING FUCK, THE HLF ARE FIRING ON US!” It wasn’t intentional, Kraber guessed. Lovikov was just indiscriminately firing on the port facilities. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch. “Lovikov, you fokking kontgesig!” Kraber screamed to nobody in particular. “WHAT THE FOK DOES ANYONE HAVE TO GAIN FROM THIS?!” Another shell came down, and a plume of fire rose up from what looked like it’d once been a quiet residential neighborhood. “Hold on, everyone!” Kraber yelled, remembering everything he could about handling a boat. He had to zigzag - but no, fokkin no, this thing handled like a fridge! Another shell impacted the sea next to them, a spray of superheated steam splashing up into the air. Right. Just. Keep. Fokking. Zigzagging. I did this, Kraber thought watching the explosions and fire in Portland. Me. Curiously, there wasn’t a follow-up barrage. It was just those shells, slamming right into Portland. “We can’t get into the city proper!” he called out, seeing burning wrecks blocking the harbour channel. Well. That and the bombardment. “We’re going to press on, up into the bay…” There was an island ahead. One of the many small islets on the fringes of the city. Kraber couldn’t remember its name, but he remembered seeing it on a map. That didn’t matter though. All that was important was that, even though he knew the island to have been taken over by the PHL, the rig’s fire appeared to be ignoring it. The sprawling school had yet to take a single shell. ‘Where’s a fokking dock when you need one?’ he thought, scanning the island. A shell carved through the ceiling just above Kraber, impacting the windshield and harmlessly landing in the water in front of them. Water, blown by the rising wind, speckled Kraber’s face, hitting him like tiny needles through the broken window. Kraber had just enough time to think ‘Oh, SHIT,’ before his mind went into overdrive. I know what I must do. “Hold tight!” he called out, and shoved the throttles to their stops. The coffin ship’s stocky bow lifted itself up, as Kraber steered it toward the island… Yael Minutes ago, she’d gotten the call. “Yael! They got me pinned, I need hel-” “Heliotrope’s in trouble,” she’d said. “I need some good people to get to her.” “I almost wonder why you let her go it alone,” Gardner had said. Do you just enjoy being like that? Yael wondered. Something rubbed her wrong about the way Gardner had said it - he sounded like he could’ve meant it to be well-intentioned criticism, but something was… off with him. Yeah. Off. “Cap… First Lieutenant,” Oscar said. “Am I joining the mission?” “No,” Yael said. “I’m going to need you to pilot the power armor Gardner has on this thing. You’re the best one I know.” “Are you… planning to have me shoot HLF with it?” Oscar asked. “The thought had crossed my mind,” Yael said. “But no. I was thinking more… it’s powered armor. Use it to carry things. Lift up the rubble.” “Right,” Gardner said, sounding almost disappointed. “That was really the first thought that occurred to you?” *** She was in the freezing Maine water, now. With Summers swimming towards the rig’s girders in a perfect breaststroke, andSmoky and Quiette Shy levitating above the water. Four human soldiers she barely knew, and one pegasus with a green coat, a blue and yellow mane, and a cutie mark of a sun fluttering above. He had a patch on his suit that read ‘STRANDED’. Will Carson - everyone calls him Wild Bill. Transplant from Nevada. Has red hair and a mustache. Lorne looking at him, suspicious. I decided that Lorne was probably not coming with. Mckinley Zhang. Curly hair, half-Chinese, shorter than me, but most women are. Grey eyes. Carries a short carbine instead of an SMG. Everyone calls her Zhang. A. Walker. Everyone calls him Bro. No idea what the A stands for. Kind of a dirty blonde. Doesn’t seem to meet military grooming standards that well, with a face covered in stubble. Huge widow’s peak. Has a machete. From the deep south, apparently. John L. Boniface. Everyone calls him Bowie. No idea why. Bald, sharp features, has pounds and pounds worth of tactical accessories on his M4. The pegasus with the sun mark, however,  went by the name of Chinook. A word which had no equivalent in Equus. He’d never said what his real name was, and Yael hadn’t pressed it. Yael, much like her cousin, sometimes had a bad memory for names and faces. It took awhile for it to really sink in. The mass of the rig loomed above them like a giant ceiling. Gunfire roared out above them, more bullets than Yael could imagine the HLF holding. How does Cousin Nny swim in this, anyway? Yael wondered. The water was freezing, and it didn’t help in the least that she wasn’t wearing a wetsuit. Yael grabbed the girders, effortlessly scaling the mass of the rig despite the vibrations as the guns fired again and again. Summers followed, as did the four others. The rig vibrated as the cannons fired, again and again. Monsters, Yael thought, disgusted, when- Glass shattered, sounding almost (but not quite) musical as it clattered to the ground. “RAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” “AIEEEEEEE!” Yael didn’t know the source of the second scream, but she knew the first: Heliotrope! “Fuck em up,” she said, surprising herself with her calm. Quiette Shy stared at her, surprised at a rare expletive from Yael. If they weren’t going to kill her earlier, they are now, Yael thought. The gunfire, if she killed a guy who got in while she was pinned- “On it, Ma’am,” Chinook said, nodding before he spread his wings and flew upwards. Smoky followed closely, placing second in the race up to the railing. Yael and Summers were second and third. Before Yael could get a clear view, the two pegasi struck. Chinook dove town, his wolvers - common slang for hoof-mounted claws - plunging through one HLF man’s armpit. He ripped his right foreleg out from the gunner, his entire foreleg coming out slick with blood. Before the other HLF man could react, Chinook bit down on the mouth trigger for his assault yoke so hard Yael wondered for a moment if he’d break it. Silenced 9mm rounds buzzsawed out the barrels, shredding the gunner. The ones Chinook had killed had been running. Towards the stairs. But there was a weird sort of resignation as they did it. Like they’d just stopped. Are they trying to escape? Yael thought. Then: Well. Obviously! But how… where… Smoky, however… Chinook had made it quick. Smoky had not, smashing one foreleg against the skull of a man rushing down a set of stairs. In an instant, he feel slowly, struggling to stay upright… “AAAAAAAIEEEERGK!” Smoky’s victim screamed. “They’re here! The PHL are-” “Eat this,” Smoky hissed, jamming the barrel of his assault saddle's carbines again the man’s face. He bit down on the trigger, the rounds ripping through the HLF man’s skull. His corpse tumbled down the stairs, one limb lying at an angle that would’ve been painful if he wasn’t already dead. So, stealth is out, Yael thought, vaulting over the rail and drawing her Jericho in one fluid motion, as Chinook and Smoky hit the HLF on the rig like a train. She fired the Jericho into the nearest HLF soldier, a woman with auburn hair who’d been trying to throw herself over the edge. Suicide? Escape? Who could say? “MY ARM!” the woman screamed. Summers followed suit, armed with a club of some kind. He jammed it down against one HLF man’s skull with a crack, and Yael winced as she heard the noise. “YOU WANT TO FUCKIN’ GO?!” Summers yelled. “COME ON, STOP RUNNING! HIT ME, I DARE YOU!” Summers hammered it down against a man’s shoulder, and he fell down, screaming. Looks almost like a tonfa, or a nightstick, Yael thought, firing into one woman, nailing them in the back of the leg. They haven’t fired a shot, she realized, before John did just that, firing a wild spray of silenced .223 at one gun’s crew, watching them crumple to the ground. Then where’s the gunfire coming from? “We’ve got them now. Walker,” Yael said to the stubbly soldier. “Zhang. Guard these bastards. Do what you want if they cause trouble. Summers, Smoky, Carson? You do it for anyone on the other side of the rig. Walker, QS, and I are getting Heliotrope. Then we’re killing the rest.” That bloodlust surprised her. Please, God, Yael prayed, Do not let me lose control again... "Looking forward to it," John said. ...And don't let him lose control either, she hastily added. “Yael. Something’s Wrong,” Quiette Shy said, as they headed towards a doorway. “They’re Leaving. And Heliotrope Said She Was Pinned. How Long Would It Have Been Before She-” It was then that she heard Walker yell in anger and surprise, and crumple to the ground… Heliotrope Minutes ago She’d seen the boot jamming through the window, and - with only one option, not sure if her suit worked, barely certain she could fly - flapped her wings and shot forward like a Wonderbolt strapped to a rocket. She’d closed her eyes as she hit the boot, feeling all the pressure backing up the boot just vanish, the studs digging into her back. The man with the terrible voice, screaming in a way that made her eyes water and ears hurt as Heliotrope - wing blades and wolvers extended - cut through something, feeling blood splash against her. Vision returned, and Heliotrope was watching the man she’d knocked against, seeing him staggering back near the rail. With a wordless scream, she turned her back to the man and bucked him towards the railing. He fell over the side of the rig, screaming. It was then that she heard a sound like someone ripping through flesh stabbing into a melon just like she did back at home when she was cooking. Heliotrope wouldn’t rightly be able to think of what she was thinking. She saw a man, armed with an M4. She flew faster, ready to unfold her wolvers, outstretching her arms and- Wait, that’s not a - he’s with Yael - I’m gonna- She managed to slow herself, but not come to a stop as she barreled into the man. There was a crash, and she tumbled to the deck.   “Can you get the fuck off me?” the man was asking. Heliotrope saw his name stitched on the vest - ‘A. Walker.’ “Dammit,” Heliotrope said. “I thought you were….” she sighed. “I’m sorry! I just, they’re still on the rig, and I panicked, and-” “The gunners! They’re gone!” someone called from the other side of the rig. “As Is Everyone Else,” Quiette Shy said. “What We Are Hearing? It’s Recorded.” (“Aw, sonovabitch,” A. WALKER said. “Nothing I hate more than these scum pulling one over on us,” said Summers.  Next to him, Smoky nodded.) “WHAT?!” Heliotrope yelled. They tricked me?! Those goddamn apes, how could they, how… they… She trembled with rage. “She’s right,” Yael said. “I can see one of the speakers, now.” “Literally can’t believe that worked,” one of their prisoners said, through gritted teeth. Someone - possibly John - had shot her through the leg. “...Where did they go?!” Yael yelled in her face. “I don’t know,” the woman said, still gritting her teeth. “Lovikov told us to keep firing no matter what. Until he didn’t. Told us to fllow him, then you...” “Escaping,” Yael hissed. “DAMMIT!” She kicked the wall, leaving a dent. Heliotrope backed away from her friend, worried. “He made a mess and left you in the middle,” said a green-coated pegasus that Heliotrope vaguely recognized as being named Chinook. And to Heliotrope’s surprise, he held out a hoof. “You know, I can really relate to that.” “You,” the woman said, looking Chinook over. “Really, gluestick?” “Lady, I’m one of the Stranded,” Chinook sighed, irritated. “I’m from a country that uses wave tactics, has state-sanctioned brainwashing that they’re trying to push as therapy, and barely batted an eye when they left us here. I am almost convinced they hoped I’d, I don’t know, die in some unspeakably graphic manner while being livestreamed on youtube so they could use it as propaganda.” Their prisoner flinched. Somehow, that made Heliotrope feel better. Good, she thought. “Where would they have gone?” Heliotrope asked. “He… he said said there was a boat,” their prisoner said. Heliotrope shared a look with Yael. As did the rest of their new squad. “Carson, Zhang? Keep an eye on the prisoners until a chopper gets here,” Yael said. “They’re not getting away that easily. We’re finding them. And we’re going to tear them up.” “Go for it,” their prisoner said. Any tension evaporated. “You seem… pretty enthusiastic about that,” Heliotrope said. Wow. What happened to loyalty? “Fuck Lovikov,” the prisoner said. “I work for him for years, and he drags me into this? He deserves what he gets.” Kraber Kraber had expected a sickening smash or a sound like freight train running over a million marbles. Instead, there was an upward surge like an express elevator, and a sudden roar like a million beehives as propellers left water. He fisted the ‘emergency stop’ plunger, and the motors died… Somebody took a breath, a child (or was it a foal?) cheered... "IDENTIFY YOURSELF!" screamed a voice from ashore. Spotlights swept through the dark, blinding Kraber. What to do what to do what to do... "We're workers from the Sorghum!" One of the evacuees yelled. “There’s a guard with us! He’s drove the boat aground, and…. And…” “It checks out,” said one voice, just behind the spotlights. Kraber only read them as the whitish outline of a person. “There’s a Cold War-era bomb shelter on the island. Follow us there.” It was jsut then that another shell impacted the a nearby dock that Kraber had simply not noticed, sand spraying up next to them. “MOVE!” Kraber’s first instinct was to rush towards the side of the boat…. Before stopping himself. He grabbed the rope ladder and threw it over the side of the railing, waiting as everyone made their way off. Or, more accurately, stampeded off - the creatures that could fly did, and people were jumping over the side, flinging themselves off and landing awkwardly in the sand. “Next time, get someone who knows how to dock a boat!" someone called out. And then Kraber noticed something. Awful quiet there, now... "It's over!" someone called. "The PHL have them on the ropes now!" Everyone nearby cheered, and the next few moments were a blur to Kraber. It's fokkin' over, he thought. And I'm out of it. He climbed down the ladder he'd set. First things first, get out, he thought. They'll find out about me sooner or later. And honestly? The HLF are so fokkin' gefok after that. The further I get from that, the better. Now I need another boat. Maybe a car. He would've continued, maybe found a car, maybe gotten halfway across the country if not for the pale unicorn mare with a red mane highlighted in purple, who walked up to him as he disembarked. “Quite an escape,” she said, her cutie mark indistinguishable in the gloom. “ I see you’re wearing PHL armor without a shield. How’d you-” “Ah,” Kraber said, trying to put on an act of ‘silly-me-how’d-I-forget’ but mentally screaming. “Ah, eh…” and here, he tried to act embarrassed. “When the HLF attacked the rig I kinda traded in my older kit for one of the newer suits…” The mare eyed the ill fit of the armor and shook her head. “You took this stuff off a dead guy, didn’t you?” “Oh, no, definitely not, noooooo, no…” Kraber said. The mare looked at him. “Yes.” The mare rolled her eyes, clambering up a ladder surprisingly easily for a pony. “You’re just lucky you didn’t get caught with your pants down.” “Ah eywis can get dressed and undressed real quickly,” Kraber said quickly, trying to channel a bit of the old suggestiveness he’d used back in med school in Boston. That was what… Ah, fok, he felt so gross doing this! Like he’d just proposed to have sex with a moose, or, well, a horse. Siff, even if it did talk! But that was what PHL did, right? Fok horses? Had to stay convincing. “I’ll remember that,” the mare said, a contemplative edge to her voice. Oh, fokking SIFF! “Anyway, look here?” She pointed at a round device with a V-like symbol on it, two knobs coming out the top. “Tap the right knob to turn it on. Congratulations! You just passed training,” the mare said sarcastically. “Ah, okay,” Kraber said. “Can it… Can I shoot while it’s on?” “Yeah, it’s calibrated to let nothing in, but stuff can go out just fine,” the mare explained. “Thankfully, you’ve already got a few PHL guns that’d work with it…” "Lekker," Kraber said. "Thanks so much, ah..." "Socket Wrench," the mare said. "I'm Socket Wrench." If ever I owed a pony, Kraber thought, amazed. Oh, thank God, I can keep the MG2021 and that Fostech! And Lovikov thought that'd kill me.... YES! EAT MY KAK, LOVIKOV! Wait. Kraber stared out into the ocean, watching a pair of running lights that were heading away from the Sorghum. South. “...Do you see that shit?” he asked, jamming a set of binoculars against his face so hard his eyelids felt almost bruised. “What?” Socket Wrench asked. “You’ve better eyes than me,” Kraber said. “Tell me, does that boat look like it should be leaving right now?” “Those bastards,” Socket Wrench hissed. Yael Once they saw the ship leaving, they’d commandeered a boat, fast enough to catch up to the other boat Lovikov had stolen. The owner had practically thrown it at them. “Those bastards shot my friends. You tell me how much Celestia paid them for it when you get Laurie-Anne back to me, y’hear?” “Laurie-Anne” was the boat in question, a former PT boat of some kind. How it had crossed the entire ocean on the Europe Exodus, and why it was this fast were questions Yael didn’t know how to answer. Though these questions didn’t seem too important. William - Wild Bill, Yael reminded herself - had taken the wheel. Much to her surprise, he’d proven to be excellent at handling it. Heliotrope walked up to her. Yael could see Lovikov’s boat on the horizon, speeding past the burning city. Towards the shore. We’ve got you now, she thought. “You alright?” Yael asked, looking down at her friend. Heliotrope stared at her, and for a moment, Yael had to reassure herself that her friend wasn’t glaring at her. That she was fine. “No,” Heliotrope said, curtly. “They tricked me. They walked all over me. Those bastards, they…” She was silent for a few seconds. “They bucking cheapshotted me,” she said. “Yael, Lovikov had… something. I don’t know what. It was like a wireframe over a centrifuge, with this bluish or greenish thing in the middle. It hurt to look at.” What? Chinook and QS looked to Heliotrope, looks of concern on their faces. Well, presumably on QS’ face. At least, she feels like she’d be concerned… Yael thought. “What was it?” Yael asked. “I don’t know, but it…” Heliotrope said, unsteady. She was backing away slightly. She looked… Defensive. “...It was magic,” Heliotrope said, finally. “Or, maybe not magic, but something from Equestria. With human technology added on.” “What,” Quiette Shy says. The electronic voicebox does not make it sound like a question. “It hurt when I looked at it,” Heliotrope repeated. “Tell me that’s something Lovikov’s supposed to have.” Yael looked at her friend. It was impossible. It had to be impossible. It couldn't... But Yael would trust Heliotrope with her life. Her very soul. No, Yael thought. She saw it. "You don't believe me, do you?" Heliotrope said, not looking at Yael. "No," Yael said. "I absolutely do. I just..." The ship that Lovikov had taken drew closer and closer. "I'll think about it, okay?" Yael asked. "Promise." She could see those monsters now. Milling around on the deck without a care in the world. Yael was almost certain that some of them were laughing, but later she wouldn't be sure. Maybe some of them were trying to cope. But at that moment, she saw red. I'm going to destroy them, Yael thought. Rip them to shreds. “Everyone!” she yelled. “Fire on the that boat! Colonel Gardner, we are engaging…” I’m already on it,” Gardner said. “Directing our choppers towards the stolen boat We’ll drown those sons of bitches! Delilah Two, take it on - We’ll be bringing Samson around to follow you!” In the admittedly long list of terrible moments of August 8, that one would always stand out to her. Samson and a PHL helicopter, a Blackhawk they’d bought on the cheap, following the stolen boat. The stolen boat speeding away. The blackhawk - Delilah Two - firing missiles at the tugboat, surprisingly fast. “We’ll show these HLF bastards what happens when you decide to-” Gardner’s voice rang out from Yael’s earpiece. For a few seconds, Gardner was silent. “I… I Feel Something,” Quiette Shy said. It was impossible for Yael to tell what emotion she was feeling, with her hidden face and electronic voicebox. "Something. Wrong." “What in the hell is that?!” In several seconds, it would become easier for Yael to believe that Lovikov had procured something like what Heliotrope had described. Kraber They were almost settling in when they saw it. “Can you ID my pistols so they work with it too?” Kraber was asking, holding out his .45 and .50. “I know how it fokking looks, but these are old friends of mine.” “Another time,” Socket Wrench said, as they walked along the beach. “For now just shut up and let me do the talking… and for what it’s worth, thanks for getting them out of that madhouse. Good job sol-” Her jaw dropped. “Good Luna, what’s that?!” she yelled, pointing at something with one foreleg. Kraber, the motley crew he’d rescued, the people of Mackworth Island stared over at the scene in awe. There was the PHL helicopter gunship, (What the fok was that thing, anyway?!) the Blackhawk… And the thing that had just appeared. Kraber couldn’t rightly say how - one minute, there was nothing. Then it was just there - a dark gray vehicle near identical to the massive gunship that Gardner had brought, bristling with guns, and marked with a red symbol not unlike a horse-skull. Something hit Kraber like a train. Not physically, but mentally, and his brain jolted ever so slightly. ...Have I seen this before? Kraber wondered. There was something familiar about the symbol, but something was deeply wrong. Something was screaming at him ‘No, this isn’t how it goes!’ Something in the back of his head ached. He looked over to Socket Wrench, who seemed to be getting a nosebleed. Snoutbleed? “This isn’t-” Socket Wrench hissed through gritted teeth. “Is it some kind of weapon?!” the not-quite-griffon Kraber had rescued yelled, looking around frantically. Curiously, she was unaffected. As was another one of that same species. The ship floated, still curiously silent despite the rotors that kept it aloft. Below it, Kraber could see the stolen boat, speeding along towards the shore. The PHL chopper and other leviathan vehicle followed the stolen boat, ready to fire. Though there was a curious sense of… hesitance to them. “Who in the hell is that?!” someone next to Kraber whispered. “Like I’d know!” someone else put in. The PHL chopper fired a missile down towards the stolen HLF ship. Several things happened. The mystery ship fired one of its turrets down at the missile, which harmlessly exploded just above the stolen HLF ship. The same turret paused, then… Incredibly, impossibly… It fired on the PHL, raking them with tracer fire. What the fok?! Kraber thought frantically. The smaller PHL helicopter swerved to side, machinegun fire spraying out from its door. “YOU BASTARDS!” Kraber yelled, shaking his fist at the craft, though he knew it couldn’t possibly even notice him. “Do you know what that man’s done?! You can’t let him get away with it! You can’t-” As if to punctuate it, the other craft - the one with the skull on it - fired a missile straight into the helicopter’s open door. It broke in half, tail section spiralling into the ocean below, the cockpit dropping like a stone. Dayoung Dayoung would never really be sure whether it was the best or worst thing that happened to her. The three of them rushed out of Portland, heading north. Back to Rangeley, perhaps. This can’t be happening, she thought. Can’t be happening. I’m back home. I have to go. And I’ll tell Grapevine I’m sorry- “GO!” Benning was yelling to the driver of the HLF APC they’d all fled onto. It was full beyond capacity, and the sound of the homemade DsHK behind them was near defening “GO GO GO GO GO!” The radio spat out a series of meaningless syllables Dayoung could only barely follow in the midst of the chaos. “National Guard dispatched on Portland - war zone-” Next to them, another truck full of HLF raced towards the city outskirts.   We have to get out! Dayoung thought. Before they get us, before I’m one of those Things…! “Leonid,” Benning said, “What have you done.” THOOM Dayoung would later swear that she saw what happened next, but Megan would paint a different picture. So would Megan. As best Dayoung would later be able to puzzle out, a heavyset red-orange pegasus wearing a flightsuit with the words ‘THE STRANDED’ stitched on had flown alongside the other HLF truck, a molotov cocktail in their mouth, of all things. She’d dropped it into the bed. “THIS IS FUCKING WAR, BABY!” the pegasus yelled. “Don’t let it get me,” Dayoung whispered. “Don’t let it get me, don’t let the gluestick get me, I won’t be one of those things!” “You’ll be fine,” Benning said. “I promise.” It was a lie and Dayoung knew it. A National Guard vehicle - Dayoung didn’t know what - sat on one corner. Benning floored their truck, throwing the improvised APC to the left. “There’s another neighborhood we can go through,” Benning said. “It-” A burst of automatic fire drowned out whatever she was about to say. Bullets pocked the sides. National guard, rioter, PHL, it was impossible for Dayoung to guess. Everything simply blurred together, as Dayoung sat in the front seat, hunched over, hyperventilating. “COME ON!” Someone who sounded like Megan but simply couldn’t be yelled, from behind her. “SUCK IT!” The homemade DsHK roared as their truck rushed towards the city limits. They were near the seaside now, through a series of buildings that Lovikov apparently hadn’t destroyed. Dayoung watched the sea. Her vision tracked to a small boat, rushing madly towards the shore. For a fraction of a second, she had a perfect view of it allt. The helicopter, the massive gunship chasing Lovikov’s boat. “That’s Lovikov!” Dayoung yelled, staring at the boat. “He’s escaping!” Somehow, I almost feel disappointed. “What?!” Benning asked, staring over at it, catching only a fleeting glance. Someone fired on the truck, bullets spattering the windshield. Bits of glass and upholstery sprayed against Dayoung, and the wind whipped against her face. They turned right. Towards the ocean. “No,” Dayoung whispered, but inside she was hoping they’d get him. As they turned the corner, she saw it. There were two of the massive gunships now, except one was dark gray or black and emblazoned with a red symbol. “Where did that come from?!” Dayoung yelled, just before it began shooting on the PHL. “I don’t know,” Benning said. “Whatever that was, Lovikov never told me about it.” He has that kind of help?! Dayoung thought. What in God’s name is going on?! Lovikov was going to get away with this. And so was she. Somehow that didn’t comfort Dayoung. Heliotrope “No,” Heliotrope whispered, staring at the falling helicopter. “WHO ARE YOU?!” Gardner was roaring over her earpiece. “YOU’RE LETTING A TERRORIST, A MASS MURDERER GET AWAY! HOW DARE YOU, HOW FUCKING DARE Y-” His voice cut out, as the mystery ship fired a missile at Samson. THOOM “NOT YET!” Gardner yelled over the radio. The Samson wobbled in midair, flame spewing from its engine. “Yael,” Oscar said, “We’re going down. I just want you to know, I-” “No,” Yael said, quietly. Then, substantially less quietly: “No… NO!” The Samson banked to the side, and Heliotrope’s earpiece was full of static. She watched in rapt fascination as the Samson swung around, valiantly trying to stay aloft. As it to the ground, the mystery ship fired another missile at Samson. Another explosion. For a few, terrible seconds, Yael couldn’t see any lights on in the Samson, which was tumbling tail over teakettle towards the coast. Towards South Portland. “What kind of deus ex machina bullshit is this?!” Summers roared, spitting over the side of the rig. With the Samson careening towards the ground, the mystery ship floated aimlessly for a second. Then, floating up towards the cloud cover, disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Once it passed through a sufficiently large cloud, it was like it’d never been there in the first place. “Whoever this is,” Heliotrope said, “They’re going to pay.” Dancing Day December 2022 “Oscar lived, though” Heliotrope says. “Same for Lorne, and Eva. Smoky, too.” “Why would you spoil it like that?” Dancing Day asks. “I thought it was going to be some big thing…” “...It’s not a spoiler, we all knew,” Rivet says. “Honestly,” Amber Maple says. “What would it do if we sat on it like that? This was months ago, it’s perfectly obvious.” Kraber beams at her. “I’m so proud of you, Amber,” he says. “Why thank you,” Amber Maple says. “On the subject of people that survived,” Yael adds, “Unfortunately, it included Gardner.” “You really hate him, don’t you?” Vinyl marvels. “I’ve felt hate before,” Yael says. “Usually when I do that, things end up…” she looks to the side, then quiets down ever so slightly. “Things get broken.” Her voice hardens. “What I feel about Gardner,” she continues, growing in intensity, her stare hardening, “makes everything I felt when I decided to give in and burn something down look like anemic, mewling little kittens.” Heliotrope cringes ever so slightly. “Still,” Aegis says, “It turned out alright in the end.” “I still have the duik in my boot,” Kraber says, a smile on his face as he raises up one combat boot to almost the same height as his chin. “You are crazy flexible,” Aegis breathes. Mommy blushes and starts giggling. After a few seconds, so does Aegis, and then Heliotrope. “I don’t get it,” Amber Maple says. “We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Rivet says. “But I am older than you,” Amber Maple points out. “And ‘duik’ is…” Dancing Day asks. “Dent,” Kraber says, tapping the front of the boot. Indeed, on Kraber’s scuffed and worn boots, there is a dent in the front, just above where the biggest human finger (or whatever those smaller little fingers on the hindlegs are called, Dancing Day thinks) is. “You could’ve gotten that boot replaced by now,” Spitfire points out. Which is a surprise, Dancing Day had almost forgotten she was there. “It’s jus-” “DAGA KOTOWARU!” Kraber interrupts. “Wha-” Babs Seed starts. Dancing Day does not know what that means, but it’s pretty clear that it’s some sort of refusal. “I earned that duik!” Kraber says. “PHL also got me a medal. Far as I’m concerned, this dent-” he points to his boot, still held in a position that hurts Dancing Day just to look at- “-And my medal are the same. It means I came, I saw… and I kicked gat!” “Well said,” Aegis says, nodding. “Well, more like you kicked face in this case,” Heliotrope says. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what is with you and kicking people in the face?” Kraber shrugs. “Blame my upbringing.” “There’s just one thing I’m wondering, though,” Babs Seed says. “What he just said?” Scootaloo asks. “No,” Babs Seed says, “Like… who were those people that saved Lovikov? Why would they do it?!” “It’s…” Yael looks to Heliotrope, who looks to Aegis, who looks back to Kraber. Then they look at each other. “A real mess?” Vinyl suggests. “It was worse than that,” Heliotrope says. “We’ll get to that. Soon enough.” “I do get it,” Aegis says. “I was confused too. Back in the Neighborhood, everyone was watching a blurry cellphone video of the thing for days. Months, even.” “Cherry Tomato?” Rivet asks. “Y’know, parents were Independents? He said his parents said that they thought it was a PHL conspiracy, that they wanted Lovikov alive.” “Oh, that’s just some horseapples,” Soarin’ snorts. Those four again - Yael, Heliotrope, Aegis, Kraber - stare at each other. Uncertain. “Right,” Yael says. It’s not a question, agreement, or disagreement. To Dancing Day, it sounds more like a noise, like a sigh or a whinny or something. “I wonder, though,” Dancing Day said, “Why don’t we ask Verity what happened to her?” Verity “It’s time,” Lovikov had said minutes earlier, into a cheap-looking phone made mostly from plastic. “Code Moloko.” And then, Verity had been watching the PHL gunship - like a giant metal plate with rotors attached -  careening towards the ground. Watched the other, identical black (or dark gray?) gunship vehicle which seemed to be melting into the night as it drifted upwards into the clouds. It didn’t make a sound as it floated up through the heavy gray clouds, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. And then, as their stolen boat sped towards shore, far from the wreckage of the PHL gunship, all was silent. “What…” Verity breathed, staring up at the space where it had been. Menschabwehrfraktion and Thenardiers alike staggered up from the hidden deck, from the cabin, staring at the sky. “How did you…” asked Sullivan, the bear of a man that’d been seen restraining Kraber. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” Lovikov said. “But… but…” Verity said. “You never told anyone you could do that! If you had that kind of power, why didn’t you-” “Verity,” Lovikov laughed, “I’m not going to pretend this was a minor setback. This was…” His eye twitched. “Galt used me,” Lovikov said. “Thought I was expendable. Tried to force me into this.” He gestured to the Sorghum. Verity nodded, something about Lovikov piercing her carefully manufactured calm. “Thought so,” Lovikov said. “Sure, he didn’t come through. But my backing did.” “Who were they?” Verity asked. “Who… how… where…” Lovikov raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Verity let that line of questioning drop. “Anyway, me and my backing, now that I know that they trust me,” Lovikov said, “We’re going to have some fun.” “How?!” Verity yelled. “One of your best is missing, there’s a bunch of us dead, and you’re branded a terrorist! As far as I can tell, your plan is pretty much-” Lovikov smirked, and stepped towards Verity, who then found herself backing away, almost involuntarily. Verity could see Portland behind him - the skyline of a burning, bombed-out city. The lights from the tug gave his face an eerie look. “Oh, Verity,” he said. “That was Galt’s plan. Mine hasn’t even begun.” Dayoung The truck rounded the corner, moving along the seaside, passing restaurants, a Starbucks. Dayoung saw from one sign that there was a narrow-gauge railroad ahead. “Gotten quiet,” Benning said. “Alright. We’ll regroup, and then I’ll ask Lovikov wha-” The words died in her throat. As they drew closer to what had once been the Portland bureau, they saw men, women, and ponies. Dayoung’s heart sank. “Halt!” someone yelled. Ponies and humans rushed forward, rifles ready. “We’re here to help. We have a safe place we can-” “Oh,” Benning snarled, “Like hell I’m stopping for these jumped-up jackbooted little horsefuckers.” “Are you going to ram them?!” Megan asked, sounding unsettlingly gleeful. Benning raised an eyebrow. Stared into the mirror. “It sounds cool, but…. are you high?” she asked, and turned the truck around. “Don’t shoot at then. Any of you. We’re up to here in the shit already.” Which surprised Dayoung, but then, it wouldn’t have been altogether sane or logical to ram a barricade of PHL. They were turning around, heading south when it happened. A unicorn nearby fired off a gray-white beam the color of mist at their truck, and it drew to a halt. “Shit,” Benning hissed. “Typical PHL. I should’ve seen it coming.” “Do I shoot them yet?” Megan asked, and Dayoung was more convinced than ever that something had broken deep within her friend. She… almost sounded like she was beginning to look forward to it. “Not yet,” Benning said. “We don’t know what’s going on.” “And… this could be the best way out that we have left,” Dayoung heard herself say. “That’s bullshit!” someone yelled from the back of the truck. “That’d be abandoning Lovikov!” “We fired on a city,” Dayoung said. “Any court would convict us. Maybe we just… shouldn’t make it worse.” “Coward,” someone hissed as the PHL rushed towards the broken truck, weapons ready. “Perhaps you didn’t hear us clearly enough,” a pony said, their face concealed. “We have somewhere safe for you. There’s no need to be afraid.” The back of Dayoung’s neck tingled. She looked the soldiers over, and- Wait a second. The armor looked… odd. She remembered the armor that the PHL from her hometown had worn. This stuff was… old.  Scuffed. Worn. It looked…. Almost half-melted. Like it’d been twisted into the shape of a PHL hardsuit hazmat. Something just looked wrong. And there was a faint smell in the air. Like rotten grapes. It was familiar, hauntingly so, but what?! “Sir,” one human said, looking over to the pony that seemed to be in command. “Tinderbox. These aren’t residents. They’re HLF. Aligned with the ones that fired on the city.” “Are they now?” the pony said, a smile curving along their face. “Well then, at least nobody’s going to miss them.” “I say we do it to them,” one human soldier said. “Here. Now.”   “Not yet,” the pony said. “Get out. All of you. Right bucking now.” “I will not,“ Benning said, “Obey some little gluestick who thinks he’s a soldier.” “My M16,” another human soldier said, “Says you will. You do it, right now, or I say you resisted arrest and maybe leave a little… collateral damage.” “Come on,” another pony said. “Babineau. There’s no need for that sort of violence. We’re only here to help.” And with those words, it clicked. They’re being evasive. And if they could have shot us, they would have. And that smell - those words- “You’re PER!” Dayoung yelled. “We have to get out of here, they’re PER and they have potion!” All hell broke loose.