Rarity knew that today wasn’t going to be nearly as much fun the moment that she got the call from Wingmare. “What is it, Darling?” she texted back, as she sipped at a virtual cocktail in the hottest “bar” in the Matrix.
“Hey, Gem!” Wingmare texted back. “Could you hop out? I really need to talk.”
Well that wasn’t a good sign. Wingmare always said she was better at explaining herself over a call than by over text. Sighing, Rarity waved her drink away, and signed out, reappearing in her apartment where she lounged on her poor couch, which sat in a desperate need to be reupholstered.
She opened up the call with Wingmare. “What did you do?”
“Hey, I didn’t do anything other than find us a job!”
Gem sighed. “Just tell me what happened.”
“So, you know the payout for the last job?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And you know that bike I’ve been looking at?”
“The Nightmare?”
“Yeah! And you know how the only way to make bikes like that awesome is to take them to a shop where they might have a few of the too-cool-for-the-Star mods?”
“Did you go to a chop shop in the sprawl?”
“Look, the Don has some good shops out there, and I get a family discount, okay?” Wingmare said.
“Did someone steal your bike?” Rarity asked.
“What? No! I stayed by that thing the whole time, it’s a twenty-two thousand nubit bike, Gem! There was no way I was leaving that in the Sprawl by itself.”
“Well, at least we can’t fault you for that,” Rarity said with a sigh, before opening up her fridge, and grabbing a Nova Cola can.
“So, I’m at the shop, right?” Wingmare continued. “I’m sitting there, next to my bike, and this mare comes out of the back, and—have you ever heard of Mad Moll?” she asked, suddenly interrupting herself.
“Can’t say I have, no.”
“So, Mad Moll is old, like, really old. If she were rich, she’d have had plastic surgery three times. Instead, she’s got no chrome, and, like at fifty, she took down a massive earth pony Street sam that was like, three times her size. I swear! She leads the 57 Hellriders, and she’s like, the sixth coolest pony ever, right after the Wonderbolts.”
Gem waited.
“So anyway, Mad Fragging Moll walks up through the back of the shop, and I can barely believe it when all of a sudden I hear a bunch of bikes. Turns out, it’s the fragging 105 Road Devils, and they start shooting up the place in a hit-and-run! So I protect myself, because, you know, 22k bike and all, and what do I see, but Mad Moll runs out into the street, grabs one of the Devils by the neck, and drags him off his bike, before pounding the guy into the dirt! It was awesome!”
"So what’s the job you got us, Wingmare?” Rarity asked.
"I'm getting there," she said. "So Mad Moll completely drags these Devil's over, and sends them packing, but not before they shoot her up real good. I thought she was honestly dead. But, once they drove away, Mad Moll gets back up! The crazy mare’s still alive!”
“The job, Wingmare,” Rarity nearly yelled.
Wingmare was silent for a second. “Moll helped the Don a lot, and he wants to help her complete her dying wish.”
“Great. At least the mafia is bankrolling us,” the decker said. “Go gangs don’t pay nearly as well. So what’s her dying wish?”
“One last oorah with her and her Hellriders,” Wingmare said. “That’s no big deal, right?”
“And what does ‘One last oorah’ entail?”
“One big ride around the territory, before heading to Devil’s territory and shooting them up.”
“So we’re Go Ganger mercenaries now?” Rarity asked.
“We’re doing them a favor, for the Belgrades, since, you know, they’re the kind of ponies that like repaying favors.”
“Right, right. How much?”
“1.5k each, but this’ll be easy for us. This is street-level work.”
Rarity sighed. “We have better things to do, Wingmare. I’ve heard that Spikearunz might be sending us the next big job in a couple of days, we don’t have time to waste doing this kind of stuff.”
“Sure we do, besides, it’s another 1.5k each for ammo and stuff right?”
“Wingmare…”
“Look, one job. It’s you doing something for the Belgrades, they’ll be more likely to do favors for us in the future.”
Rarity sighed. “I hate you right now. Fine. We’ll do the job, but then we need to prep for the next job.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it! Last job until we do the thing for Spike,” Wingmare said. “I promise, though, this’ll be easy!”
<><><|><><>
The team gathered out on the corner of 57th and Sunshine Ave. Candy’s van rumbled down the street, before being joined by Rarity’s Street Dart. Inside the van, Candy, Steel, Web, and the Rookie all waited, armed with their various weapons or fetishes, all ready to go. As the sun began to descend into the evening, the team soon found themselves bathed in the warm, buzzing, yellow light of the streetlamps and the dying sun.
“Any sign of Wingmare?” Twilight asked. “This is her job, right?”
“She said she’s getting her bike ready. We’re going to be doing a lot of riding here in the next few hours,” Candy explained.
The corp mage sighed.
A half an hour passed before Wingmare finally arrived, riding her new bike, the body painted in black with red highlights and ghost flames painted along the body. The engine rumbled like thunder, and Candy gave a low, impressed whistle as the adept pulled up. “Now that’s a nice ride.”
“It is now,” Wingmare said with a smirk.
“Was the paint job necessary?” Rarity asked.
“When are ghost flames not necessary?” the pegasus asked back.
“At the risk of trying to move things along,” Web said from beneath her cowl, “where are we going?”
“We need to head down the 57 to Grease’s Garage. Mad Moll will meet us there. You brought the pain killers, right Web?”
“I brought extra if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied.
“Great, she’s probably going to need it.”
Offering no other explanation, the trio of vehicles began gliding down the road into the Sprawl proper, where dingy, neon-lit billboards began to flicker to life. The morning rain left reflecting puddles along the asphalt, all of which caught the light like a thousand tiny mirrors.
The vehicle train splashed through the street, moving quickly down the 57 before they slowly pulled up to a single building that read “Grease’s Garage” in big capital letters. The Garage looked like it was mostly closed, except for the fact that a small group of tough-looking, chromed up bikers standing in the doorway.
As the team pulled up, Wingmare gave them a nod and one of the toughs approached. “Are you the Runners from the Don?” he asked.
Wingmare smirked. “We’re the ones that were hired, yes. Protip though, don’t ask ponies if they’re Runners.”
“Get inside,” the tough said. “Moll wants to see you.”
Wingmare nodded, and motioned for the others to follow, before parking her bike along the curb.
With only a look between them, the others followed, Candy parking her beloved van behind the new Nightmare, before letting everyone jump out.
Rarity took a moment to compose herself and put on her best friend-winning smile. “Hello boys!” she said, walking up to the guards.
The ponies guarding the door looked them over quickly, before waving them through, muttering to themselves about “fancy Runners and their fancy chrome,” before being led inside, where “Grease’s” proved the worth of its name. Every surface in the building seemed to be covered in motor grease. Whether it was a hoofprint on the wall or a puddle of congealed dirt and mud on the floor, the owner had found some way of getting grease on it. Rarity felt her skin crawl at the sight of it, yes she had been through worse, but she had an image to keep up, and if that wasn’t one of the best parts of her job, then she didn’t know what was.
As they were led further in, they finally came up to an office, guarded by yet another pair of ponies in full go-ganger dress. Their thick, synth-leather jackets, studded with small metal spikes, were dyed yellow and blue, the proud colors of the Hellriders, leaving no doubt as to who these ponies swore allegiance to. Large, and rather expensive looking hoof-guns sat at their sides, and they gave each one of the runners a snarl befitting of a small bear as they approached.
Their escort quickly stepped up for them. “Ey-o, Slug. Dese chummers are chill. The ones the Family sent us. Leave ‘em be, we don’t want no static with the help.”
The big earth pony merely snorted, before stepping aside.
The escort led them inside the office. “Don’t mind the mess. The boss ain’t in a position to clean up after ‘erself,” he said as they stepped into the room, only to find that the whole floor was covered in bottles. Synthol bottles, boxes, cans, along with pain killers bottles littered the office, covering almost every flat surface except for a couch, and the stairs that led to a loft somewhere above them. “Don’t mind Slug either, he’s just worried.”
The smell of booze and rot filled Rarity’s nose, and she resisted the urge to cover her nostrils. She couldn’t appear weak in front of the clients after all.
“Boss! Boss we’re here,” the escort called, before the sound of clinking glass rang from above them. Slowly, a mare wandered down the stairs, holding on to a can of synthol. A fresh, nasty gash ran along her side, and a mess of bandages covered her whole body. She finished beer, threw the can away, and opened a bottle of painkillers.
“You the ponies the Don sent?”
“Yeah, that’s us,” Rarity said.
“Good. I don’t know if I can take the taste of these pills much longer,” she said, before throwing back some of them, and swallowing them dry. “I’m Molly Whop. My crew calls me Moll, and I’m probably too messed up from the pills to remember your names even if you tell me.”
“Then let’s get to business. What’s going on?”
She smirked. “I’m dying,” she said. “I took some bad hits, and the street doc can’t fix me without getting me chrome, and that’s not how I roll. I’m not going to give up forty years of being the toughest fragger on the streets only to ruin it by getting chromed up in my old age. They’re going to say I went weak.” She tossed her bottle of pills onto the couch. “You don’t need to know that, though. I just overshare when I’m buzzed. Anyway, I’m not going to let them say that while I’m still on my four hooves.”
“Okay, so what do you want to do?”
“Pay back the Road Devils for what they did to me, just so they’ll never forget that the Hellriders own this stretch of asphalt. We’re going to go down there, and burn everything they have to the ground, and you’re going to help us.”
“Okay,” Rarity said, secretly enjoying the no-nonsense attitude, even if she was definitely more than “buzzed” if the sheer number of bottles was anything to go by.
“So, since I’m not going to last long, we’re going to get started in ten minutes. We’re going to go out there, get all the Hellriders together, and then burn 105 to asphalt,” Moll said before she began walking through the bottles and mess. She grabbed a yellow and blue jacket at the door. “You know how to ride bikes?” she asked.
“Most of us,” Rarity said.
“Eh, if you need to double up, then fine. Get all the guns you need, grab some jackets, and pick your bikes. We’ve got some hell to raise.”
As the injured mare slipped on her jacket and pushed past them, Rarity glanced at her team. They didn’t seem uncomfortable, though she knew from experience that they normally hated micromanaging clients. It seemed at least, that Moll hadn’t worn out her welcome yet with most of them.
The big exception was Wingmare, who was smiling so wide she could have been mistaken for a colts cartoon character. “Isn’t she awesome?” she whispered.
“Sure,” Rarity said, before she motioned for everypony to follow her.
Moll limped to the back of the building, into the garage, where a small fleet of choppers and power cruisers. She took hers, along with her guards, leaving almost half of them empty, though they did each have a jacket hanging on them. “Pick the ones you want. The bikes deserve to ride, even if the ponies can’t.”
“I’ve actually got my Nightmare outside, can I use that?” Wingmare asked.
“I can respect a Nightmare,” she replied.
“Sweet!” she cried, before running back outside. “I’ll see you out there!”
“Well,” Rarity said. “You heard her, go pick your bike.”
Web found a bike that seemed to be covered in chains, and bad magic fetishes, most of which did little more than look cool, but when the engine roared, looking cool was all that mattered.
Steel picked a power cruiser not-unlike Rarity’s Streetdart, that closed around her, almost sealing her into the bike before the gyros in machine kept it balanced without needing her to use her legs outside the cockpit.
Candy picked a chopper, slid into the seat, pulled PeeWee from her pocket, and duct-taped him to the front. The little Roto-drone buzzed for a moment before it’s gun faced forward, giving her the cheapest weapon upgrade Rarity had seen in a long time.
Twilight chose another chopper, much like Web’s though this one was covered in flames as opposed to magic totems. The seat sat low to the ground, and both of her forelegs had to reach up to grab the handlebars.
Rarity hummed and hawed until she chose a classic-looking cruiser. Stepping on, she double-checked her submachine gun, and gunned the engine.
The bikes roared to life, and Mad Moll waved her hoof in the air to signal them to follow. The rolling garage door opened, and the small fleet of bikes were unleashed. Rumbling and roaring, the bikes moved swiftly across the asphalt, giving Wingmare just enough time to catch up on her own bike before they shot forward.
“Just an FYI, Gem, I stuck your bike into Candy’s van,” Wingmare said over the comm. “Didn’t want somepony grabbing it while we’re gone.”
“Thanks,” Rarity said as the simple GPS control took control of the bike long enough for her to pull out her deck and begin typing away. “I’m getting the bike computers onto my PAN real quick. Just because this job should be easy, doesn’t mean I don’t trust these other Go-Gangers haven’t hired a decker.”
“Are you sure they have the cash for that?” Twilight asked.
“There are deckers desperate enough to take the job,” Rarity said securing the computers with a few more keystrokes. “There always are.”
The bikes slipped down the road, cruising down the 57 as Moll led the pack, popping a handful of painkillers as she did. As she drove past an apartment complex, she drew a large pistol, and fired twice into the air. The shot rang out, and ponies glanced from their windows before quickly disappearing back their curtains.
Not moments later, another fleet of bikes joined them, dressed in yellow and blue, many whooping and shooting their own guns as a handful swung chains. Their bikes roared, shots rang out, fired by the increasingly excited fleet of go-gangers.
Rarity smirked as she watched the ponies around her cheer, excited, before she saw Moll’s bike fall back beside her. “Keep my gang safe!” Moll yelled over the roar of the engine. “Once the Devils know we’re coming, they’re going to try and get us from behind!”
Rarity nodded, before she made a call to the others. “Spread out, toward the back We’re the rear guard right now.”
“Roger!” Wingmare said, before her Nightmare pulled back, followed by the others following close behind.
Taking their new positions at the back of the pack, Rarity began relaying new orders. “Web and Rookie, take the flanks, make sure you have some spells to protect the sides. Candy, in the middle back, and get ready to drop some grenades. Wingmare, Steel, you’re both with me, We’re going to shoot anyone that gets close that’s not wearing the right colors.”
“Gang wars, here we come!” Steel said.
“That is the job we were hired for,” Gem said.
The Hellriders continued to ride down the stretch of 57, gathering more and more gangers as Moll occasionally shot into the air, signaling to the others that they were on the warpath. More bikes, some waving yellow and blue flags joined them, pulling guns and crying out “Hellriders!” in a chant that could just barely be heard over the rumble of the engines.
Despite that, Rarity still picked out the sound of a vehicle coming up behind her.
Glancing back through her mirror, she saw another bike closing in, this one being driven by a unicorn with bright red goggles that glinted with the tell-tale sign of a bad AR projector. He was soon joined by another, and then another, and then another, all of whom kept a large distance between themselves and the fleet of Hellrider bikes.
“Web, do you have an elemental that can check them out for us?” Rarity asked.
“Give me a second,” she replied, before leaning to the side of her bike just as they drove over a large puddle. The wave of water that splashed up and over Web’s outstretched hoof gathered in a single bubble, hovering on the edge of her fur before forming eight small legs. A small water elemental formed, no larger than a brick.
The elemental shot long, web-like strands from its abdomen, before it dissolved to mist in the air.
A moment later, Web spoke up. “Well, I’ve just been told that our shadows here are wearing red and blue jackets with really big devil faces on them.”
“That sounds like some Road Devils to me,” Rarity said. “Candy, can you give them a surprise?”
“One road present, coming up!” she yelled in response, before she just dropped a bouquet of grenades in the middle of the road.
The bikes behind them didn’t seem to notice at first, until the leader of the Road Devil’s swerved crazily before an explosion rocked the asphalt. One bike spun out of control, crashing into the apartment blocks, and splattering it’s driver.
They pulled a handful of guns, and fired their small-caliber fire.
Rarity answered with a burst from her submachine gun, which caused the others to scatter. “Web, can you keep the Elemental tracking them?”
“For a bit, that one is weak, and he won’t stay long.”
“Good enough, see if they report back to the devils.”
“You got it.”
Moll kept roaring forward, gathering her Go-gangers as they rode down the 57, heading toward a park. The park quickly filled with bikes as hundreds of ponies found a place to park, their weapons all turned skyward in celebrations Mad Moll took another swig of synthol before climbing the statue of some corporate scumbag who donated the park for PR. “Hellriders!” she yelled, and the gang quickly quieted down, switching their engines off as needed. “Hellriders!” she called again. “The 105 Road Devils shot up some Riders, and left them dead!”
“Boo!” the crowd leered, firing their guns angrily and trashing wherever they so desired.
“So we’re going to teach them a lesson!”
The gang roared, their engines starting up again, before Wingmare, as directed by Rarity, flew upward, and over to Moll, whispering into her ear.
“And it looks like we can start with a few of the Devils coming to us!” the injured earth pony roared.
The bikers cheered before they mobilized.
Rarity sighed from her seat on her bike and gathered her team around her. “Looks like we’re going to war sooner rather than later, girls.”