//------------------------------// // Chapter 135 // Story: Unshaken // by The 24th Pegasus //------------------------------// Flee: 13 Votes After a moment of indecision, Kestrel quickly concluded that the situation in New Oatleans was simply not going to improve if she decided to stick around. Dealing with the policemare had been necessary; she had recognized Kestrel, and she had the ability to make the Law aware of the Gang’s presence in the city. There was a chance she’d get lucky with the three patrons that had walked out of the nearby tavern. Maybe they didn’t recognize her, or maybe they had had just enough to drink to cloud their judgment. At this point, leaving New Oatleans without anypony recognizing her was all up to Lady Luck’s hooves, though considering the hoof she’d already dealt her today, Kestrel wasn’t too enthused about that prospect. In one quick motion, Kestrel turned away from the onlookers and drew her bandana over her muzzle, obscuring most of her face from view. Her wing snatched her hat from the ground and jammed it on her head, and then she hopped over the railing and fanned her wings to catch herself on the air before she landed in the salty water below. Her feathers spread to their fully dappled glory, and then she was flap-flap-flapping away as fast as she could, using a nearby ship to break line of sight back to the quay before she changed direction and dived down a street, hoping to disappear into the crowd of ponies going about their daily business. She only stopped when she’d covered almost a good mile by wing. She zipped down an alleyway and came to a stop on the dirt between the buildings, her wings shaking a little from the sprint to safety. She pulled her bandana down off of her broken nose, grimacing when she saw the dark red stain of blood in the fabric. “What a mess,” she grumbled to herself, and she fell down on her haunches as she caught her breath. “What a damn mess. You really gotta start us off on this hoof, ain’t ya, you moody bitch?” She turned embittered eyes skyward, as if she expected to see her fickle patron of luck looking down at her from somewhere in the skies, but saw nothing. Baring her teeth, Kestrel stood up and trotted out of the alley, quickly taking wing again and climbing to rooftop level as she made her way north out of the city. Only when she had put enough distance between the population center and herself did she finally climb higher to get out of the humid air near the ground and take an easier flight back to camp—but she never stopped looking over her shoulder, as if she expected Pinks to come bursting out of the trees all around her, ready to take her down before she made it back to the rest of the Gang. But none did, and Kestrel eventually saw the abandoned harbor that the Gang had turned into their hideout near the city. From up above, she spotted a few figures standing down by the water’s edge, so she angled her wings toward them and began to descend. When she got closer, she recognized Tumbleweed and Roughshod standing in the water up to their knees, a bucket positioned between them. She alighted on the shore in time to see Tumbleweed pick up a writhing armored crustacean with his magic and toss it into the bucket, making a face all the while. “Glad to see you two got lunch taken care of for me,” she said, garnering both stallions’ attention with a quip. Roughshod looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. “You been in a fight, Kessie? Or you fly into a window in town?” “I almost wish it was the latter,” Kestrel said, and she gingerly rubbed her broken nose with her wing. The bleeding had largely stopped, and Kestrel could feel the clots in her nostrils; she was going to have a fun few days while she waited for it to set and start to heal. “Policemare in town recognized me. I had to deal with her, but she weren’t gonna go down without a fight.” That made Tumbleweed frown. “Did anypony else notice you?” he asked her. “Some ponies came outta a tavern right as I finished up,” Kestrel said. “I got outta there fast as I could. We just gotta hope they didn’t recognize me.” “That we do.” Tumbleweed sighed and picked up the bucket in his magic, starting to walk back towards the buildings in the center of the camp. Kestrel and Roughshod followed him, hanging back a little bit off his shoulder. “I was hopin’ we’d be able to get at least a little more time ‘fore we start causin’ a ruckus in town, but I suppose we shoulda figured that there’d already be posters for us all ‘round town and that the local law would be keepin’ an eye out for us. Pinks probably made sure every town within a few days of Hoofston’s keepin’ their eyes peeled.” “Maybe we woulda stayed hidden a little while longer if we’d sent Silvie instead of our spotted bird,” Roughshod said. “Can’t trust Kessie to keep things quiet.” Kestrel shot a frown at the stallion. “I don’t think you’d get very far without somepony takin’ note, big guy.” “I know. That’s why I weren’t suggestin’ I go do it.” “Fillies…” Tumbleweed warned them, and before they entered the main building where they’d been preparing meals, the Gang’s leader stopped and turned around to face them. “Look, it ain’t good that we didn’t even get a day in New Oatleans without somepony sniffin’ us out. Now, I don’t know how long we got ‘fore the jaws of this bear trap come slammin’ shut, but we ain’t got the time to sit in the middle and point hooves. We gotta act fast, lest the Law get the first move. Now, Kessie, were you able to uncover anythin’ while you were there? You were gone for some time; I can only hope you was at least a little productive ‘fore you were seen.” “I only got a general idea of things down there,” Kestrel said. “There’s a big bank on the corner of town square that’d get us everythin’ we need and more supposin’ we could pull it off. But it’s busy, and it’s modern. It could be a tough nut to crack.” “Maybe too tough,” Tumbleweed muttered as he thought to himself. “It’d be difficult with only the six of us. Splittin’ off from Starlight and losin’ Trixie and Wanderer in Hoofston’s got us short of ponypower.” “But it’s possible,” Roughshod countered. “We just gotta hit ‘em so hard we knock their shoes right offa ‘em.” “The other idea’s the ships in the docks. New Oatleans is a big ol’ trade town. I bet there’s a lotta valuable cargo we could get our hooves on and sell off for the right price. However…” She stopped and rubbed the back of her neck with her hoof. “I ain’t got the faintest idea what might be worth hittin’. We’d need to take some time to work ponies over, see if we can get access to any shippin’ registries or logs. Maybe buy a few drinks for somepony in charge of the dockyards and see what they spill. Pickin’ a ship at random and tryin’ to steal a box of freight ain’t likely to get us the money we need to get outta here.” “Agreed.” Tumbleweed thought for a moment, then looked out into the bayou. “Silvie mentioned somethin’ ‘bout some moonshiners out in the bayou. Reckon some fellow unsavory souls might be willin’ to trade for some information?” “Makin’ shine’s easy. Smugglin’ it’s the hard part,” Roughshod offered. “They fix us up with their smuggler pals, we might be able to find somethin’ good.” “Or they could just shoot us,” Kestrel cautioned. “They got the place guarded; don’t seem like they the bunch to enjoy drop-by visitors. We’d be takin’ a risk tryin’ to make contact with ‘em. We don’t know what they’re like or what we stand to gain save for a bullet to the brain if we try.” Tumbleweed nodded. “All valid concerns,” he acknowledged. “But all I know is we ain’t got the time to sit around on our flanks in indecision. We gotta make a choice now on which one we wanna pursue. We wait any longer, the Pinks’ll be on us like flies on pig shit. So, keepin’ that in mind… which one’s our best chance at gettin’ outta this country alive?” 1.     The bank. We know there’s enough money just sittin’ there, waitin’ for us to grab it. Only question is, are we bitin’ off more than we can chew? 2.     The ships. All them ships sittin’ in harbor’s like a bunch of surprise boxes. We just gotta tilt the odds in our favor and pick the one that’s got the best goodies if we want to make it worth our while. 3.     The moonshiners. Our best bet’s throwin’ in with scoundrels like us. There’s a chance they might know somethin’ we don’t. There’s also a chance they might shoot us ‘fore we can ask ‘em what it is. 4.     We need more time. This is still too early to be makin’ a decision on what to do. We gotta get back into the city, scope it out more, try to find somethin’ concrete to work with.