//------------------------------//
// Driving Under The Influence 
// Story: Report From Rescue Company 1 
// by BRBrony9 
//------------------------------//

Beep-Boop.

'Rescue.'

Ember Blaze sprung from his bunk. Fireponies on a 24-hour shift slept at the firehouse, and it was common enough for them to be roused from the depths of sleep and expected to hurl themselves down the metal pole to the apparatus floor below in the middle of the night with no time to prepare.

Blaze had his boots and bunker pants by his bed, standard practice when sleeping. He was able to swing his hooves into the boots and pull up the pants, adjusting the braces over his shoulders, in a couple of seconds, before hurrying to the pole. A tradition in the fire service, not every firehouse still possessed the slick metal pole that could transport a firepony from the bunk room to the apparatus floor in a moment, ready to board their rig without having to worry about descending a flight of stairs in a mad rush which could easily lead to a trip and an injurious fall. Then again, there had been several cases of fireponies falling down the pole hole and suffering serious injuries, so each fire department had to judge for itself as to which method offered the safest route down.

Blaze slid down the pole with practiced ease, and ran for the rig, pulling on his jacket and helmet. Dark Flash, from the Engine Company, was the unfortunate pony picked to have housewatch duty- the pony responsible for greeting any visitors, keeping an eye on things, and recording incoming phone calls, department messages, and alarms- during the overnight hours. That kept her awake while the others slept, which, depending on one's temperament, disposition, and natural body clock, could either be a very good or very bad thing. Dark Flash seemed to relish it, for she was sounding altogether too eager when she called out the run.

'Rescue goes! Box 7173, West 123rd Street and Broadway. Motor vehicle accident!'

The Rescue crew climbed on, and Fairway rolled them out into the darkness, just a toot of the air horn. Ponies were sleeping; not in the firehouse any longer, but elsewhere. It was the dead of night.

'What time is it?' Flagstaff asked with a yawn. She did not like the reply from their Captain.

'Four-oh-five AM,' Grey Spike answered, drawing grumbles from every crewpony. Blaze had been in the middle of the most wonderful dream, involving cake and flowers and fireworks in some fashion he could no longer recall. But now he was called into reality.

'Manehattan calling Rescue 1, K.'

'Rescue 1,' Grey Spike answered.

'Rescue 1, we're getting more information now that this is a car struck by a train, K. Rescue 1 received?'

'Rescue 1...10-4...' Grey Spike frowned, and so did everypony else. There were very few surface train lines in Manehattan, and most of them were far to the north of 123rd Street. Several subway lines did come to the surface in the northern areas of the borough, but they were all most decidedly grade-separated from any streets that they ran alongside, either in cuttings or elevated tracks.

'Hit by a train? How?' Blaze mused. 

'Hey, who knows,' Flagstaff shrugged. 'Any dumbass stupid enough to be out driving at...what was it? Four-oh-five AM? They're probably drunk, or fucked in the head or something. No telling what they'll manage to do to themselves.'

The Rescue roared north, sparing the siren as traffic was so light, quite the rarity in Manehattan, but then it was 4 in the morning. They passed Columbine Circle and continued on up Broadway.

'Battalion 13 to Manehattan.' The radio crackled.

'Battalion 13, go ahead, K.'

'Box 7173, we have a confirmed vehicle struck by a train...uh, a subway train. We are requesting power off from Transit on the A-Line from south of 110th Street to north of 125th Street, both directions, K.'

The members of Rescue 1 shared a concerned glance. A car shouldn't have been able to get anywhere near the tracks of the A-Train subway line. Yes, they emerged from underground at about 120th Street, but they did not run down the road like a tram would. What exactly had happened?

A minute later, the dispatcher got back to the Battalion Aide who had transmitted the call. 'Battalion 13, MTA is advising that as of 0408 hours, power is off in both directions on the A line between 110th Street and 135th Street, K.'

The MTA, the Manehattan Transit Authority, operated the subways and buses in the city of Manehattan, serving all five boroughs. Their dispatchers were responsible for coordinating any emergency responses with the MFD. In this case, a car had apparently struck a subway train, as incongruous as it sounded to the crew of Rescue 1. Power had been removed to the tracks, which relied on electricity to move the trains, as a result of the incident, meaning the tracks were safe to walk on.

A couple of minutes later, Rescue 1 arrived on scene. They had not been cancelled on route to the job, which sometimes happened when an incident was deemed to be less serious than it seemed in the initial emergency call. Not in this case, however. Any serious subway accident could often see a major need for the Rescue. The subway network of the city of Manehattan was expansive, the largest and most complex in Equestria, with several hundred stations, some of which, despite the name, were above ground. Parts of the various lines ran above the surface, and that was where the potential- remote potential, but potential nonetheless- existed for cars to come into contact with the rail line.

That was exactly what had apparently happened in this instance. There was a sizeable hole in the brick wall which separated the road- Broadway- from the subway tracks which rain through the middle of it, in between the two lanes of traffic. Somepony had clearly driven their car right through the protective barrier, somehow or other, by accident or design.

Numerous emergency vehicles were on the scene already. Police cruisers were trying to stop vehicular traffic, and ambulances were parked up awaiting patients. Fire Companies were in position on both sides of the cutting down which the subway line ran. It was some fifteen feet below the level of the road, one lane of vehicular traffic running down each side of the cutting, which had a thick brick wall that was in theory meant to prevent anything like this happening.

The crew of the Rescue climbed down from the rig. Having so far to travel to the incident, despite the light traffic, they were the last normally-assigned unit to have arrived at the scene, apart from the Squad, the kind of mini-Rescue and mini-Hazmat unit, which was coming from downtown. Red Rock, the Chief of Battalion 13 and the incident commander, was peering down into the hole in the wall. Grey Spike approached him.

'Rescue 1 reporting in. What have we got?'

'Take a look for yourself, Captain,' the Chief replied, pointing with a hoof. Grey Spike and the rest of the unit moved forward to see.

On the tracks below was a subway train, six silver train cars in a line, stationary when they should have already been up in the Ponyx on the way to the end of the line. There were barely any subway services actually running at such an hour of the morning, but, in the way of things, when somepony had bad luck, then it just seemed to stack up, and that was why the train had been passing by just seconds after the sporty red car with alloy wheels and a rear spoiler had somehow smashed through the wall and plunged onto the tracks below. Now it lay contorted, on its side and bent in the middle, having the shape of the average banana rather than the average car. A dent in the far brick sidewall of the cutting showed where the vehicle had smashed into it before dropping onto the rails below. Momentum had carried it back far enough that it had been lying half across the northbound track and had been struck bodily by the oncoming train, rolled onto its right side, and smashed into a contorted mess.

Fireponies had deployed several extension ladders down into the cutting, and paramedics were peering into the car. Fireponies held flashlights, and the car had already been chocked and cribbed with wood and plastic supports to hold it in place.

Grey Spike shook his head. 'Ponies will always find some way to fuck up their day, huh?'

'Too right, Captain,' the Chief replied with a sage nod of his head at Grey Spike's wisdom.

'Got the rest of the collapse matrix coming in?' Grey Spike asked, getting another nod. The collapse matrix- which despite its name was not limited to collapses- was the assignment of MFD units that were dispatched on technical rescue or other unusual or major incidents. There were two sections, the minor and major technical responses. The minor matrix was for incidents like this; relatively small scale, such as a pony under a train, scaffolding collapse, debris falling from a building, or a pony trapped in machinery. The major response saw the assignment of a huge number of special units from SOB, and was reserved for incidents of a large scale or a particularly tricky and technical nature, such as cave-ins, trench rescues, major building collapses, plane crashes, and train derailments. The minor response to this car accident meant that the Rescue and Safety Battalions, Chiefs specialising in both of those aspects of firefighting, a Tactical Support Unit, a truck with a variety of additional specialist gear, and a SOB Support Ladder, a regular Ladder Company with additional training and equipment carried in a second vehicle, would be assigned to provide extra help if it was needed.

'We got the car stabilised. One patient, some dumb kid. Might know he's drunk out of his mind,' the Chief replied. 'I'm guessin' the cops are gonna enjoy grilling him about this one, assuming he pulls through. He's pinned in there pretty good, but he seems more cut up about his pride and joy of a car than he does about himself.'

'Maybe if they can get him to sober up he'll realise what a mess he's made,' Grey Spike mused. 'What do you want us to do, Chief?'

'Get down there and take a look at the victim,' he replied. 'Let me know what you think the best way of getting him out is gonna be. The medics say he's stable but we wanna get him out as soon as we can. Plus, Transit are already asking when we're gonna have the A Line open and running again.'

'Jeez, the guy only just crashed, Chief!' Flagstaff commented. 

'Yeah, but you know what Transit is like,' Red Rock replied. 'Anyways, check that car and we'll decide on a plan of action, Captain.'

Grey Spike nodded and led his company down the ladders to the track bed. The train's driver stood nearby, shaking his head. 'The hell, dude...he just came out of fuckin' nowhere. Like, I thought I was dreaming. I saw this in a movie once I think. That's what it was like. Car just comes out of the sky and boom! The fuck...'

The car was crumpled up around the impact point, the front of the train showing moderate damage as a result. The car, however, had naturally come off worst. Inside was a dark grey stallion and several bottles of beer; open, empty bottles. The impact of the car with the brick dividing wall and then with the wall of the cutting had crumpled up the front end significantly, and the side had been stove in by the train, as well as being rolled over. Two fireponies were on top of the car trying to gain access to the driver, who they could reach, but not free.

Grey Spike ordered Blaze and High Line up onto the car to check on the driver for themselves. They replaced the other ponies, and Blaze peered down with his flashlight mounted to his helmet. The stallion was clearly pinned in by the steering column and also the driver's door. He tried to wave a hoof at the beam of light shining in his eyes. 'Come on, bro...quit it! That's fucking bright...' he muttered.

'Alright, take it easy, buddy,' Blaze replied. 'Just relax, ok? We'll have you out of there in no time.' The two fireponies examined as best they could from their vantage point, while others awaited their report. Blaze and High Line climbed down and returned to their officer. 

'He's stuck in there for sure,' High Line explained. 'Best bet is gonna be to peel the roof off and get him out that way. Steering column's pinning his hind legs, but once we get the roof off we can use the spreaders on that.' Blaze nodded in agreement.

'Alright, get to it,' Grey Spike nodded, and they scrambled up the ladders while he got on the radio. 'Rescue 1 calling Battalion 13. We're gonna take the roof off and then extract the driver with a backboard. Have the Ladder Companies set up extra cribbing around the car, K.'

'10-4, Rescue 1,' Red Rock replied. The Chief issued the orders while the Rescue crew grabbed their gear, the hydraulic spreaders, hydraulic cutters, and an air chisel to help take the roof off the car. Once it was more secure and unlikely to wobble or move during the operation, Blaze climbed back onto the car to reassure the driver while the tools were set up. Where before he had found a pony concerned only about the brightness of his torch, now the young stallion was almost in tears.

'A-am I gonna die...?' he asked, with a trembling lip, perhaps having sobered up enough to realise his predicament. 'Please, I don't wanna die...please! H-help me!'

'Easy, buddy, easy,' Blaze answered. 'We're gonna get you out ok? You're not gonna die. The paramedics say you're stable, ok? Now we're gonna cut the roof off of your car and get you out, nice and safe. Alright? What's your name, buddy?'

'M-my name?' the stallion sniffled. 'Uh, m-my name is Iron Powder. Can you...can you not take the roof off? I mean...my dad...he gave me the money to buy this car and he'll kill me if you take the roof off...!'

'Sorry, pal.' Blaze shook his head. 'It's the only way to get you out safely. But I wouldn't worry about the roof. I, uh, somehow think the rest of the car is kinda beyond saving anyway.'

'Really?' Iron Powder closed his eyes. 'I-i guess I really fucked up...'

'Hey, don't sweat it. Just so long as you recover from this, that's what matters,' Blaze assured him. 'What happened, anyway?'

'I was just driving,' Iron Powder explained. 'You know, cruising. And I guess the pedal stuck or something, 'cause I was racing down to the end of the road and there was this wall and I just went through it...I dunno. I don't remember...'

'Alright, buddy. Don't worry about that now. Just relax for me, ok? Try not to move, 'cause they're going to be cutting the roof off, so just stay still, alright Iron?' Blaze requested. 

'Yeah, ok...' Iron Powder closed his eyes again. Blaze climbed down from the car and Flagstaff moved in to provide a magic shield that would protect the driver from any sparks or shattered glass. Fairway and High Line got to work with the air chisel and the cutters, slicing through the roof posts of the car after knocking out what remained of the windshield. With the roof gone, the medics were able to slide a backboard in between Iron Powder and the seat, and gingerly he was removed and placed into a rescue basket, a simple but ingenious device that was basically a rigid and easily transportable plastic stretcher with sides and hoofrails, so that ponies could carry it, and so that the victim would not fall out of it. Straps allowed the basket to be hoisted with ropes and pulleys, too, and that was what the fireponies did with Iron Powder.

One of the Ladder Companies swung its aerial out over the subway cutting, and ropes were lowered. The rescue basket was attached and made firm, and slowly but steadily, it was lifted to street level, with a Pegasus firepony flapping alongside and keeping watch, making sure the ropes did not get snagged on anything or entangled in each other. Once up on Broadway, Iron Powder was loaded into an ambulance and hurried away to hospital.

'Alright, good job, Rescue,' Chief Red Rock gave a nod and a firm hoof shake to Grey Spike. 'You guys can take up. I'd better tell Transit they're not gonna get their line reopened any time soon...or maybe I should let the cops do that? After all, they're the ones who are gonna be conducting the crash investigation. Far as I'm concerned, we could just lift the car off the tracks with magic and be done with it.'

Grey Spike chuckled. 'Don't worry, Chief. Just put all the blame on the cops in your report.'

'Oh, don't you worry, I will,' Red Rock laughed, turning away to oversee efforts to recover the wreck and restore the subway line to working order. The Rescue crew returned to their rig. It had been another successful operation; another routine operation, all things considered. They headed back south to their firehouse. It was not yet 5AM; perhaps they could scrounge a little more sleep before their shift ended.