Beep-Boop.
'Engine. Battalion.'
'Box 9122, West 51st and 12th! Kitchen fire in apartment 6C!'
Ember Dawn climbed up into his seat.
'Engine goes first due!'
He strapped up his seatbelt.
'Getting smoke in apartment 6B and 5B, too!'
The engine roared into life, and the rig rolled out of quarters along with the Battalion, swinging north, then west.
'Hey, it's tonight, right?'
Dawn looked round. Striker was talking to him, it seemed. 'Huh, what's tonight?' he questioned.
'The big event!' Striker grinned. 'Your brother's date with what's-er-name. That mare with the, uh...ample plot.' He smirked. 'It's tonight, right?'
'Oh, that. Yeah. Yeah, it's tonight,' Dawn replied with a nod.
'You'd better believe we'll all be awaiting the juicy details on the next shift,' Striker chuckled. 'Gotta show an interest in your fellow fireponies and their romantic dalliances, right?'
'If you say so...' Dawn replied. 'I mean...it's not really anypony else's business, but...'
'Are you kidding? It's firehouse gossip!' Striker grinned. 'If we don't take an interest, who else will? We don't wanna know the gritty truth of it, you know? We just wanna know what happened. And if he managed to, you know...dance the horizontal tango.'
Dawn rolled his eyes. It would have been embarrassing enough talking about his own love life; somehow it was even worse talking about that of his brother. 'Well I'll be sure to relay every sordid detail to everypony who will listen. Assuming that Blaze actually tells me anything, which he won't. He never has. His love life is his own, you know? I mean, I've met his other marefriends before, but I don't pry, you know? I figure it's not my business to get too nosy.'
'Right, right. Point taken. But still...' Striker gave him a nudge. 'We'll take any info we can get. I'm sure Blaze won't spill the beans himself. Not unless we really make him. Tie him down or something. Tickle him with feathers, you know. That kind of thing.' He chuckled, and Dawn had to chuckle too.
The Engine pulled onto the block, with Chief Firebrand following on behind. A few wisps of smoke were coiling from an open window on the 6th floor of a building up ahead. it didn't look like a structural fire, but clearly something was burning. Deep Blue pulled up past the building and came to a halt, and everypony climbed down. Firebrand exited his SUV, looking up at the source of the smoke. 'Alright, standby with a precautionary line in case we need the standpipe!' he ordered. Ladder 4, the first-due truck, pulled up outside the fire building a moment later, and Firebrand ordered them inside and to the 6th floor to check the affected apartments.
Dawn and Striker pulled a length of hose from the rig in case it should be needed, while the Ladder ponies climbed to the top floor to check things out. A second engine arrived before they had sent a report, heard over the Chief's radio. 'Ladder 25 to Battalion 9, we have a 10-26 with slight extension to the cabinets in apartment 6C as in Castle. Can we get a line up to the 6th floor, K?'
'Battalion 9, 10-4,' Firebrand replied, giving a gesture to Striker and Dawn. 'Alright, take it up.' Striker led the way, with Dawn carrying the rolled up hose. Stretching it all the way from the engine to the 6th floor was time-consuming, energy-intensive, and mostly unnecessary with the majority of taller buildings. City regulations required any building over 5 floors in height to have an internal standpipe system, a system of pipes which fed water to each floor, from where the system could be accessed by firepony hoses for high-rise firefighting. The system could be charged either by a gravity-feed from a roof tank or, if necessary, by the pumps of one or more engine companies from the street below, in order to pressurise the water and provide the power necessary for the hose's stream to extinguish a major fire.
Six floors took them a while to climb, but the building had no elevator, giving them no alternative. At the top floor, they found a fair amount of smoke in the hallway, and the fireponies of Ladder 4. Apartment 6C was the source of the smoke, where a 10-26, food on the stove, had caused a fire. It was not enough to engulf the room and require the transmission of a 10-75 signal for a working fire, but it had extended from the oven to the kitchen cabinets above. Just in case it had also spread into the walls, Striker and Dawn hooked up their hose to the standpipe system, fed by a water tank on the roof. The ladder ponies checked the cabinets, tearing them from the walls so they could check behind them, inflicting necessary damage to make sure that the whole floor, or indeed the whole building, might be in danger. As it turned out, there was no extension into the walls or the floor, meaning that other than superficial damage, the rest of the apartment would be just fine.
With the danger passed, Striker and Dawn unhooked the hose and headed back downstairs, rolling it back up and loading it onto the engine. 'Battalion 9 to Manehattan, we used two engines, one truck, the rest standing fast, for a 10-26 with slight extension to the kitchen cabinets. All units are taking up and will go 10-8 when they become available, K,' Firebrand informed the dispatcher, at the conclusion of another job well done. 'Alright 25, take up and head home,' he ordered.
Dawn climbed onto the rig. The rest of his shift was uneventful, consisting mostly of medical calls and fire alarm activations. He headed home at the end of his day, looking forward to spending an evening with Rosebush Roulade. His brother, meanwhile, was heading off for a rendezvous with a different mare.
Ember Blaze had smartened himself up, putting on a shirt and tie to look presentable, not something he ever had to normally bother with when off duty. This was an exception, of course, for he was out on a date, instead of simply slumping on his couch at home like he normally would have done, watching the tv and hearing the troubling news about floods in New Zebrica, a further uptick in rhetoric from the New Lunar Republic terror group, and fluctuations in the financial markets, and indulging in a few cans of beer before heading to bed. He hadn't been on a date, not a real one, for some time, as the demands of the firehouse had kept him busy. Like a lot of fireponies, he filled many of his off hours with helping others, just as he did during his actual job. There were countless charity projects run by members of the department, providing transport for retired fireponies to attend medical appointments, delivering medicine to them, performing repair or construction work for injured fireponies' homes, organising blood donation drives or visits to old pony homes, or delivering toys to the foal's ward of a local hospital. Charitable causes were close to the hearts of the majority of fireponies across the country, and the MFD was no different.
Tonight, however, was just for himself. Well, himself and his date, of course. He liked Licorice- as a pony, at least. She seemed like a nice mare, and a good mother, childish misadventure and dental misunderstandings notwithstanding, and she was certainly attractive. This would be his chance to get to know her better, beyond the relatively superficial connection he currently had with her.
Blaze made his way into the restaurant. It was rather fancier than he was used to, but after all, it was a date. There were ponies in fancy suits and dresses all over, but he had decided it was worth splashing out a little bit on a decent place instead of taking Licorice to the usual kinds of diners or fast food joints he might find himself frequenting under normal circumstances. Once he had returned from the trash compactor incident, he had found, or rather been given by his brother, with much fanfare and wolf whistles from the others, a note with Licorice's phone number on it. Since they had only had a chance to speak briefly when she arrived at the firehouse, and Blaze could only shout a yes to her as he headed to the call, a phone call was the only way they could establish proper contact, since Licorice had had to return home to look after her son and couldn't hang around for too long at the firehouse.
Blaze had given her a call as soon as he could get away from the others, since they would only have continued their teasing if he had made it known to them that he was calling her. Ember Dawn, naturally, had done that anyway, calling him the next day while they were off duty and putting on, or trying to put on, a feminine voice to attempt to impersonate Licorice, with very little success, but a good deal of laughter from the younger brother at his siblings' expense.
Blaze spoke to the maitre d' who led him to his table. Licorice was not there yet- that was alright, it was fashionable, from what he understood, for the mare to be slightly late for a date. He sipped at a glass of wine, waiting for her, giving an occasional glance at the clock on the wall, just in case the whole thing was an elaborate joke at his expense. He half expected Dawn to walk through the door instead of his date, or perhaps the whole of the Rescue crew, ready to take photos of the empty chair opposite him.
But that didn't happen. Instead, a few minutes after their appointed time, Licorice Swirl entered the restaurant. No fireponies were in tow, and Blaze had conducted an intensive primary search of the restaurant from his seat to make sure Flagstaff or Striker or any of the others were not hiding behind newspapers or peeking out from around a plant or pillar. Licorice approached him, and gave him a smile. She was wearing a black gown and a gleaming pearl necklace, with just the right amount of makeup and her mane nicely styled, smoothed back and drawn up into a bun. Blaze stood up and returned her smile. 'Hey, you made it.'
'Of course!' Licorice replied. 'I just had to make sure Sulfur was settled in with my mother for the evening first.'
'How is he doing?' Blaze asked, pulling her chair back so Licorice could sit down before returning to his own seat.
'Oh, he's doing so much better now,' Licorice replied. 'He should be out of the wheelchair by the weekend, according to his doctors.'
'That's really good news,' Blaze smiled. He had taken a liking to the little guy as well as to his mother, and he was certainly glad to hear of any further progress in his road to recovery after his fall which had nearly ended in tragedy. 'I ordered us some wine,' he pointed out a glass for her to drink. 'You, uh, you look really nice, by the way,' he hastily added, hoping he hadn't already messed up by not pointing out that obvious fact right at the start.
'Oh, thank you...' Licorice smiled back at him. 'You look good in that getup...but I have to say, I do prefer you in your uniform.'
'Oh, really?' Blaze felt his cheeks flush, and not just from the wine. 'You mean my bunker gear? Or my dress uniform?'
'Well, both, probably,' she replied. 'Although I haven't seen you wearing a dress uniform yet. I'm sure you'd look wonderfully smart in that. But I meant just in your work gear. You know, mister handsome firepony and all that.' She giggled a little, which Blaze found he liked very much.
'Oh, well, you know, it's not designed to make us look good,' he pointed out. 'Just to keep us safe when we're at a fire. So if you still think that, then...well, I guess that's a bonus, huh?' She nodded, and Blaze smiled.
'Please, order whatever you like from the menu. I'm paying,' he informed her.
'Oh, that's so generous, Blaze,' Licorice smiled again. He found that he liked her smile even more than her laugh.
Salads were their starter, followed by fish and potatoes in all kinds of fancy herbs and sauces, some of which Blaze didn't even recognise the names of. He would normally be content with a hay burger, a sandwich, something simple, but this fancier cuisine was nice too, and it was pleasant to eat in a nice restaurant instead of his dimly-lit apartment. It was even better to share it with Licorice.
During the meal, he found out more about her. She worked in the makeup department of Pony's, the famous department store located some two dozen blocks south of the Rescue's firehouse. That insider knowledge certainly explained why she had managed to strike the perfect balance, just a little blush and eyeliner and lipstick without going over the top and looking a little too easy. She had been married, though only for a little over a year, resulting in the birth of her son and then a relatively smooth divorce from her husband, named Colt Python. She had married young and regretted it, though she had no regrets about having a foal, repeatedly describing Sulfur Springs as her little darling. Blaze could clearly see how much she cared for her son, demonstrated ever since he had encountered her sobbing in fear for Sulfur's life.
Licorice was also the same age as he was, and had an uncle who was a volunteer firepony out in the small town of Clopham Junction, a coincidence that made Blaze smile. He had never been to the town, but all fireponies were brothers, wherever they served, and he raised a glass to her uncle, draining his wine. A delicate slice of cheesecake formed their dessert, and Blaze offered to walk her home to her apartment since he knew where she lived. She accepted; it wasn't too far from the midtown restaurant, and it would save money on a cab, of course. They wandered through the bustling evening streets, at one point hearing the wail of a siren and the roaring air horn that Blaze immediately recognised as the Rescue, which raced around Columbine Circle ahead of them, under the command of Lieutenant Steel Rain who was on duty tonight.
'Oh, is that you?' Licorice asked, pointing to the mighty wagon as it deftly maneuvered through traffic. 'Well, your unit, I mean?'
'Mhm,' Blaze nodded. Rescue 1 headed straight down Celestia Park South, whizzing by them. It was dark and Blaze was wearing clothing he would not normally wear, and so nopony on board noticed him strolling along with his date. They headed east to some unknown incident, just another run for the fireponies of Rescue 1.
After a pleasant stroll, cutting through the lower end of Celestia Park, they reached Licorice's apartment building. It was late, and Sulfur Springs was staying overnight at his grandmother's house, and Blaze wondered if he might be invited in for coffee. But Licorice told him she had to work in the morning.
'I had a nice time tonight,' she added with a smile. 'You have my number, and I have yours...I'd definitely like to spend some more time with you, if you want.'
'Absolutely,' Blaze nodded. 'I'd like that...I'll give you a call, then? Or you can call me. I'll definitely answer.' He smiled.
'Then I'll look forward to our next date. Get home safe!' Licorice gave him a wave with her hoof as she entered her building, and Blaze headed for the subway with a smile on his face.
Ember Dawn leaned back in his seat as the Engine headed south. They had been third-due at an apartment fire up on West 68th Street, which had given the first engine on scene a tough time. Engine 25 had stretched a hose line to the adjoining building in case of any extension through the partition wall, but both buildings conformed well to the fire codes of the city and held the fire within the apartment where it had originated. They didn't have much to do beyond monitoring the situation and standing by, and now they were returning to the firehouse to grab some dinner. Rush hour traffic was slowing them down, however, with Columbine Circle and then 7th Avenue moving fairly sluggishly. It had been a week since his brother had gone on his date with Licorice, and in that time they had been out again, this time to go see a movie. Dawn had taken great joy in ribbing his brother, but really he was happy for him. He knew what pleasures having a stable relationship had brought him with his Rosebush, and both his parents had remarked that Blaze could do with a similar influence on him. Dawn knew that his brother, while not exactly an alcoholic, had a dangerous habit of letting one or two beers after work become six or seven, or perhaps sticking to just the two but adding half a dozen shots of vodka on the end as well. It didn't stop him doing his job, and he would never drink on the job or the night before he had a shift, but Dawn knew from one of his old college dorm-mates that things like that could go south rather quickly if it was allowed to fester for too long.
'Manehattan calling Engine 25, K?'
'Engine 25,' Coppertop replied into the radio.
'Engine 25, are you available?' the dispatcher asked, getting a 10-4 from the Lieutenant.
'Engine 25, take in box 7163, the A/C/E Line at 42nd St, Port Authority Bus Terminal. Reported a pony unconscious on the southbound platform, K.'
'Engine 25, 10-4,' Coppertop responded. Deep Blue pushed the rig through traffic to 42nd Street with surprising rapidity, considering how the traffic had been much thicker farther up 7th Avenue. The bus terminal was a huge concrete edifice, stretching from 40th to 42nd Streets and occupying the entirety of the space between 8th and 9th Avenues. It served long-distance buses and coaches from all across Equestria, as well as interborough bus transit within the city, local buses across Manehattan, and had the A/C/E subway lines running beneath it. It was massively busy, especially at rush hour, with ponies boarding trains and buses to take them to the other boroughs and home after work, and tourists in their droves coming and going from other major cities.
There was a subway entrance just on the corner, and Deep Blue parked the Engine. Striker, Dawn and Coppertop climbed down from the rig, grabbing the medical supplies and heading down the stairs. Ponies were coming up, some running, evidently late for their connecting bus. The stairs led to turnstiles which the fireponies could bypass with special keys, but the station was not simply one platform. It served five different lines, with numerous complex services- the A, C, E, 1, 2, 3, 7, S, N, Q, R and W trains all passed through at different times and on different days. Truthfully, it was not even a single station, but a complex warren connecting the lines underneath the bus terminal with the Celestia Square station at 7th Avenue, with numerous passageways and pedestrian tunnels linking different parts of the complex. Together the two separate-but-linked stations formed the busiest hub on the entire subway network, serving tens of millions of passengers every year.
Coppertop used the key to open the turnstile gate for access. He saw the prostrate body of the victim lying on the platform. He took one step through the gate, and then stopped, his eyes widening in horror.
'Get back!' he shouted. 'Upstairs, NOW!'