//------------------------------// // The Fight // Story: Bulletproof Heart: The Great, The Powerful, and the Bulletproof // by PaulAsaran //------------------------------// This house was a pile of strange decisions. The substantial basement, the tiny exterior, the contradiction of fancy and rural, and now? No indoor plumbing. Rarity had been flabbergasted that despite all the bits the Apples undoubtedly poured into this place she’d been forced to use an outhouse. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with outhouses, it was just so far outside her expectations. Who in the wide world designed this place? Her business done, Rarity started back to the house, which was a good fifty feet away. Or would have had she not noticed through the crescent-shaped window a certain oddity. Namely, it was Blow Dry leaving out the house’s back door. He had his peridot out, and it was shining a bright green. Curious – and feeling oddly anxious about being seen leaving the outhouse – Rarity chose to wait and watch. Blow Dry’s face was set in a scowl as he spoke into the gem. He strode in circles, gradually moving closer as if unconsciously trying to make some distance from the house. Only when he got closer did Rarity hear his hushed voice. “—chance. She doesn’t deserve to be caught up in it.” Rarity’s ears perked when a new voice, distinctly male, arose from the stone. Though garbled and faint, it was nonetheless decipherable. “She’s a witness now. It’s too risky.” Dry stopped somewhere to Rarity’s left, beyond where she could see in the limited view of the window. “She’s just a kid. A kid! I didn’t sign up to murder children.” It was things like this that made Rarity never go anywhere without at least one of her guns in arm’s reach. She bit back the urge to growl, her thumb tracing itself around Silver Lining’s knub. The voice on the other side of the peridot spoke up after a few moments. “I get it. You like the kid. That’s fair. But they’re already coming, and they have their orders. Nopony in the cabin and the surrounding area gets out. Nopony.” A moment’s silence. “So if I get her out of here, she’s safe?” “She’s safe,” the voice confirmed. “But you better hurry. You’ve got minutes, and I can’t vouch for how they’ll define ‘surrounding area’.” “Got it. Out.” Dry stuffed the peridot in his pocket, turned for the house— —and froze, because Silver Lining’s barrel was pressed against his cheek. A beat to widen his eyes and fold his ears, then? “Discord damn it.” “They’re after McIntosh and Vapor Trail,” Rarity deduced, tone more frigid than the chill in the wind. “They thought that stone was to talk to a marefriend. You had them fooled all along, didn’t you?” He turned his head, letting the barrel of the gun dig a little deeper into his cheek so he could meet her gaze. His hands were raised. “We don’t have time. They’re coming.” “Indeed, I heard.” Rarity pressed the gun even harder against his face, making him lean away a bit. Oh, how tempted she was. By the look in his eye, he knew it. “What was your plan? To take Scootaloo away and let them kill the rest of us?” Despite his vulnerable position, he had the gall to plainly respond, “You didn’t accept my offer to leave earlier, so yeah. That was the plan.” His eyes darted past her, not looking at any given thing but instead roaming. “Look, seriously, they’ll be here any second. Only way we get out of this alive is if we aren’t here when they arrive.” Rarity huffed and indulged one more fantasy of pulling the trigger. Alas, her better nature won out. Pulling back and taking note of the circular bruise on his cheek, she waved to the house. “Come on, inside.” He wasted no time, walking at a brisk pace. Keeping Silver Lining level with his back, she asked, “How many will they bring?” “Don’t know.” When the gun pressed against his back, he reiterated, “I don’t know! All they told me was that a posse was on the way.” Well, that was frustrating. They reached the house, Blow Dry opening the door ahead of her. He tried to make for the stairs first, but Rarity grabbed his arm and dragged him to a closed door. “I need to get to Scootaloo,” he hissed. She shoved him against the door, hard. “Do they know about me and Trixie?” “We don’t have time for—” She caught his head in her magic and pinned it against the door hard enough for the bang to resound through the house. “Do they know?” “Yes!” He squirmed, feeling at his pinned skull as if his hands might dislodge it. “Yes, I had to tell them. I’m supposed to be a professional.” With a disgusted grunt, she released and shoved him aside. “Go get Scootaloo. And wake Trixie. If I don’t see her with you there will be Tartarus to pay.” Rubbing the back of his head and scowling, he ran for the stairs. That done, Rarity focused on her next task, banging her fist on the door. “McIntosh, get up and get armed! You don’t have much time.” She was just about to turn away when the door opened. Rarity had to catch herself at the sight of a wall of muscle that went up past her horn. She’d known McIntosh to be a rugged fellow, but thinking it and being so close to it were two separate things. She clenched her weapon tight to keep that hand from rising up and daring a touch. Big Mac’s eyes were as hard as his abs, and his baritone alone could have crushed skulls. “What’s going on?” Shaking herself out of her momentary stupor, she stepped back and looked to the stairs. No sign of the others yet. “I just learned from Mr. Dry that we’ve got assassins on the way. They aim to ensure that, and I quote, ‘Nopony in the cabin and the surrounding area gets out’.” If anything, his expression grew even harder. Adjusting the jeans he’d likely thrown on in haste, he asked, “How long?” “Not sure and not long. Don’t know how many, either.” Rarity would have continued had a bright flash of light not come from the stairs. They both whipped around to the sound of Dry’s cursing and Scootaloo’s shout. Before either of them could react, Vapor Trail darted from the room and down the stairs, dressed in little more than a silken robe. Rarity only got a brief glance at the pegasus’s face. It was a look that could kill. They followed her to Trixie’s room, where they found the mare herself dressed in loose-fitting pajamas decorated in stars, a wide-brimmed and pointy felt hat, and her bare hoof planted on the chest of one Blow Dry. Her shimmering horn did a great job illuminating her furious expression. “—that it would be that easy? That you could just show up in my room and I’d welcome you with open arms? I’m not some prey in your juvenile fantasies!” Rarity took stock of the situation quickly and holstered her weapon. In the corner was Vapor Trail fussing over Scootaloo, who was rapidly blinking red eyes and appeared stunned, probably as a result of the flash. When Big Mac made his way to them, Rarity decided to focus on the supposed adults in the room. “Trixie.” The mage finally took note of everypony else present. The aura around her horn didn’t fade. “Rarity. Good. You can help me skin this pervert.” Knowing that time was of the essence, Rarity spoke quickly. “I sent him in here to get you. We’re about to come under attack.” Recoiling as if slapped, Trixie took on an expression of utter horror. “No. Trixie didn’t do anything. It’s not her fault, I swear!” Though not sure what to make of that response, Rarity scowled down at Blow Dry as he rubbed at his eyes. “No, it’s his. Mr. Dry led them here.” The room went deathly silent. Trixie’s horror evaporated, replaced first by shock, then a teeth-baring fury. Big McIntosh, Vapor Trail and Scootaloo all looked on in open confusion. For his part, Blow Dry remained on his back, eyes locked with Scootaloo’s. It was the filly who finally spoke up. “H-hey, that’s not a good joke.” A relieved smile came upon Blow Dry’s lips. He rolled to a sitting position. “Right. Bad joke. But we really do need to—” Silver Lining was back out in a flash, aimed directly between his wide eyes. “If you lie to them one more time I swear I’ll waste a bullet on you.” Hands spread wide, ears flat against his skull, he looked from her to the trio of ponies in the corner. They all awaited his word. Vapor Trail and Scootaloo still appeared at a loss. Big Mac, on the other hand, was appearing more grim by the second. As she was behind him, Dry didn’t notice Trixie’s raised hands, little shocks of electricity dancing between her fingers. At last he met Rarity’s gaze. “You wouldn’t.” Silver Lining’s hammer cocked. “You clearly have no idea who you’re talking to.” Blow Dry visibly swallowed at that. He stared into Rarity’s eyes, and whatever he found in them was enough to make his coat gain an extra shade of pale. “Scootaloo will hate you for it.” The barrel pressed against his forehead. “You were going to get her family killed.” “Damn it, I have a job to do!” He leaned against the gun, fear now mixed with his anger. “I still do! The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be to get her out of here. Put the gun away and stop wasting everypony’s time!” Clever. He worded it just so that he technically didn’t lie. In respect for his wordplay, she kept to her word and didn’t redecorate the room in red and pink. Besides, he was right, and they would need every gun they could get their hands on. Rarity stepped back, but didn’t take her aim away from him. “I think it’s far too late to be running away. At this point your options are to either help us fend off the attack or admit your guilt and join it.” Fear flashed across his features then. “W-we might still have time—” “Minutes, he said,” she reminded him coolly. “Minutes. And how long have we been down here?” “Luna damn you!” The stallion climbed to his hooves, all the better to glare at her. “I could have gotten her out of danger! Does my guilt really matter in the face of that?” That struck home. Rarity felt a moment of horror as she realized exactly how true that was. Whether Blow Dry was guilty or not, he’d been trying to get Scootaloo out of here. Wouldn’t that be a good enough reason to let him go? But she’d been so eager to confront him and get a confession that she’d not even thought about the child’s safety. And now it was assuredly too late… It was Trixie who broke the tension with her own hissed, “So you are guilty?” The sparks in her fingers intensified. He spun around to face her. “I didn’t say that!” Barely had the words left his mouth than Trixie’s clawed hand was around his face, traces of energy darting to and from his head. He went stiff and started to shake. “Dry!” Scootaloo tried to run to him, but Big Mac and Vapor Trail caught her and held her back. She struggled and flapped and kicked, yet their combined holds were too much for her tiny form. “Stop, she’s hurting him!” Just as quickly as it had started, Trixie jerked her hand back and Blow Dry flopped to the ground, twitching and sucking down sharp breaths. The mage flexed her fingers to dismiss the last lingering bits of electricity. Her face could have graced a painting entitled ‘Revulsion’. “Rarity’s telling the truth,” she coolly announced. “Truth detection spell. He betrayed us and wanted to leave us for dead.” Her horn let out a sharp flash, and then she was covered in purple and yellow sparkles. The shimmering curtain fell away like a splash of water, revealing Trixie in yesterday’s travel clothes. “Trixie will begin preparing some magical defenses.” She lifted her hand, and the peridot levitated from Blow Dry’s pocket and into her palm. She stalked out of the room, not giving anypony within it another glance. Rarity met Big Mac’s sour gaze. He gave her a nod, so she turned to leave, unwilling to face the look of teary-eyed betrayal in Scootaloo’s eyes for very long. Blow Dry was groaning and sitting up at around the time she’d closed the door. After retrieving Ruby Heart and her ammunition from her room, she found Trixie upstairs, horn glowing as some sort of aura floated like fog under the front door. “What’s your plan?” she asked, habitually checking that her weapons were loaded. “Traps,” Trixie replied, not taking her eyes off her work. “My talent involves enchanting, rather than more direct offensive magics. Anypony tries to come in through this door, they’ll lose their hooves.” She raised her hand, displaying the peridot. “Tried a quick scry to see if I could locate the enemy, but apparently that ass’s relation with his employer is strictly professional.” Rarity nodded, holstering Ruby Heart but keeping Silver Lining in hand. She stalked to a window and looked outside. Nothing but moon-lit shadows. “Make a stand underground?” Trixie hummed, the aura around her horn fading along with the fog. Try as she might, Rarity could see no visible difference from what had been there before. The mage turned for the back door. “Obvious, but we don’t have many other options. We could make a run for it through the orchard. If we’re surrounded, there would be fewer ponies to push through.” Rarity grimaced, her thoughts turning to Ophelia and Princess. The poor dears were outside, and there was no way they’d be able to fit through the doors. Would the hunters kill the lizards? It would hardly make sense, but she discarded the idea that these ponies might be reasonable. If they killed her sweet mount there’d be Tartarus to pay. Refocusing on the situation at hand, she considered Trixie’s suggestion. “They’ll probably have lizards,” she noted. “And we don’t have enough for everypony. They’d hunt us down.” “Basement defense it is, then.” Trixie finished trapping the back door, then seemed to consider her options. “Doubt I have time for the windows, but I can do the stairs. Maybe if I—” She went quiet when she saw Rarity press against the wall next to one of the windows, then followed suit. “How many?” “I counted at least four,” Rarity answered, risking another peek. “Make that six. We have to assume there are just as many in the front, and maybe more hidden in the hills.” They needed firepower. Tugging on Trixie’s sleeve, Rarity led her back to the stairs. They found Big Mac, Blow Dry, and Vapor Trail, all armed. Blow Dry was sporting a black eye and there were wet stains on his shirt. His pistol was in hand and he now wore an over-the-shoulder belt with extra ammunition. Big McIntosh held a shotgun. Rarity had to do a double take; the thing had six barrels! How did that even work? Vapor Trail had a rifle, short-barreled, and she held it like she knew exactly how to use it. “How many?” she asked, all traces of the sweet and playful mare long gone. “I saw six in the back,” Rarity swiftly replied. “As for the front?” She glanced over at Trixie standing near one of the windows. The mage looked about ready to rip somepony’s head off as she spread her hands at them. “Ten in front, then. Maybe more, given poor visibility.” Big McIntosh nodded and shoved Blow Dry forward. The stallion stumbled a bit, but stood straight when he stopped in front of Rarity. He caught her look and scowled. “I’m stuck here with you, and those idiots don’t know who I am. Ain’t got a choice now.” Fair enough, though Rarity didn’t trust him not to try putting a bullet in her back at the first opportunity. She turned him towards the back door and gave him another push. “You and I will watch the back. Vapor, assist Trixie in the front. Mr. McIntosh, put out fires and watch for attempts on the sides. Let’s go, ponies!” Rarity set herself up by one of the windows. She noted Blow Dry approaching the door and waved a hand at him. “Trixie trapped it, use the windows.” He nodded grimly and obeyed. His eye was swelling pretty badly already. She wondered if the punch had come from Big Mac or Scootaloo. Come to think of it, it may have been Vapor Trail. Dry peered out the window, lips set in a scowl. “They’ll assume they have the element of surprise.” “Then let’s take advantage of that.” Taking her own peek, Rarity saw that there were still only six ponies out there. They’d begun dismounting, two to a lizard, and were soon approaching the house among the orchard’s trees. It was unfortunate; they’d have just as much cover as Rarity and Dry did. At least from the front the path would be open, giving Trixie and Vapor plenty to shoot at when the fight started. The six ponies were still little more than shadows. Rarity settled in a kneeling posture, Silver Lining grasped with both hands. She took low, quiet breaths and kept well away from the window for now. Her pale complexion would have served as a beacon of warning at best. Blow Dry’s pale gray colors and multi-hued mane were better, but only marginally. The world was quiet save for the faint ticking of the clock in the next room. He risked a look, ducking back quickly. “They’ll be at the treeline in thirty seconds,” he whispered. She nodded. “Don’t fire until they’re in the open,” she softly replied. “Or we hear fire from the front.” “Vapor will probably fire first.” At her questioning look, he explained, “Rifle. Longer range.” A short-barreled rifle, but she understood his point. “I assume Scootaloo is still downstairs. Did they arm her?” “Yes.” Blow Dry braced after another peek, which Rarity took as the sign that things were about to get loud. “I still can’t believe it, but Vapor gave her a hand cannon. The kick on the thing will probably knock her off her hooves.” Then they’d best be careful when heading back downstairs. Rarity checked her gun one last time, sucked in a sharp breath… The first shot came from the front of the house, exactly as Dry predicted. There came panicked shouts and return fire, and under the noise was the relatively faint sound of what Rarity assumed was Trixie’s magic at work. Even so, Rarity and Dry didn’t open fire. They waited, listening, breathing, staring into one another’s eyes with grim acceptance. More shots and magic from the front. Then they heard the hoofsteps, and the both of them were standing up. Rarity took the first shot, taking down a mare who was a mere five steps from the door. Blow Dry got another one behind her before the others realized what was happening and began to scramble for cover. Rarity was able to take down two more by the time the last two made it the twenty feet back to the orchard and the safety of its trees. They finally started returning fire, but Rarity and Blow Dry were already back under cover. “That went way better than I thought it would,” Blow Dry admitted. “Also, Celestia’s mesmerizing tail, are you a good shot.” Rarity leaped up at a lull in the enemy’s firing to take a few shots, but the last two ponies were making great use of their cover. “Good or not,” she replied after dropping back down, “I’m only one mare.” She swiftly switched cylinders with the smoothness of practice. Trixie’s call came from the front. “They’re trying to flank us! Somepony support McIntosh!” “I’ve got this,” Blow Dry declared, emphasizing the claim by taking some shots at the trees. “You go.” Rarity shot him a critical look, still uncertain whether he wouldn’t try to shoot her in the back the moment she stood up or, worse, let the enemy walk right in. “Damn it, go!” There was no time to argue. She would just have to trust that his concern for Scootaloo would be enough. She abandoned her window and went into the living room. Vapor Trail was reloading while a sweating and panting Trixie fired off bright blue and magenta beams from her horn through the window. Big Mac was at another one to Rarity’s right, his shotgun letting out an ear-ringing retort. That left the room on her left, a small study. It had a lone window, and the only one on this side of the house. Rarity barely had time to raise her shield before a bullet shattered the glass. It bounced off her barrier and pierced a thick tome on the desk. Rarity retaliated with a beam of magic rather than bullets, which stuck the pony on the other side between the eyes. He cursed and fell back, rubbing at his face. She retreated back into the room, taking up the door as her new defensive position even as more bullets flew through it. “Big Mac, watch your back!” He fired a shot, then looked her way. While there wasn’t an easy line of sight to him, it was clear that a stray shot through the study door had a good chance of hitting him. He scowled, fired another shot outside, then stepped aside. This position was now officially compromised. There was no way to protect the windows and watch one another’s backs at the same time, not with the enemy right at said windows. But Rarity wasn’t out of plans just yet. With a spark of her horn, she placed a shield over Big Mac’s window. “Mr. Apple,” she called over the gunshots, “I could use your assistance!” With only a cursory glance at her shield, he ran up to her. “I can’t do two shields at once,” she informed him, turning to fire out the study window, through which a stallion had halfway managed to get through. She hit his shoulder, making him retreat with a cry. “But I can give you cover fire. Do you think you can put that desk over the window?” “Eeyup.” He wasted no time, moving in low under Rarity’s covering shots. Even as this was going on she could feel something impacting the shield behind her, each a tiny whack to her horn. She watched in silent awe as the stallion hefted the entire desk up with barely a grunt of effort and turned it vertical. Rarity stopped firing, and he promptly slammed the desk in the face of another stallion who had tried to take advantage of the lull to lunge at the window. Between Applejack and him, wasn’t he supposed to be the politician? “They’re avoiding the front,” Vapor called, holding her rifle at the ready but not firing. Trixie likewise was no longer casting any spells. She wiped sweat from her brow and turned to face them. “I’m not sure how many are left. I got three.” “Two,” Vapor contributed, wincing at the sound of something slamming into the overturned desk. Big Mac held it steady with an almost bored ease. “Shit!” Blow Dry appeared through the door behind Rarity, keeping a bleeding arm close to his chest but still holding his gun. He spoke fast, his teeth grit and alarm in his eyes. “They’re converging on the back, I couldn’t hold them.” Gunshots arose from the front of the building. Vapor Trail cursed and practically fell away from her window as the frame spat splinters. “They're too close!” Something slipped through Trixie’s window. It was a grenade. Rarity’s first instinct was to make a magical grab for it, but before she could a magenta aura covered the grenade in a dome. The explosion was effectively contained, though Trixie reeled from the impact it made on her horn. “I d-don’t think we can hold this position any longer,” she cried as Vapor helped her retreat. “Everypony downstairs,” Rarity barked, pushing Dry down them first. She caught Trixie’s arm before she could follow. Keeping her voice low and ignoring the increasing sting in her own horn, she asked, “Do you think you could trap the stairs?” Big Mac and Vapor were already hurrying down. The mage shook her head dizzily, blinked, then took on a firm frown. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has not yet begun to fight!” She led the way, legs wobbling but managing to move on her own. Her bravado would have earned either a smile or a roll of the eyes in any other situation. Rarity dropped her shield from the window and put another one over herself. “I’ll buy you time.” There was no chance to plan before the enemy was at the windows and firing on her. Rarity’s shielding was prodigious thanks to much practical use, but there were still clear limits and she knew hers were fast approaching. She fired first at the front windows. One pony had certainly been struck, although in the darkness it was impossible to tell how lethal the blow had been. She pivoted to firing at the window behind the stairs, but the pony there ducked away before her shots could connect. A quick glance at the study showed no further breaching attempts. Every time she changed targets, the others would open fire. Her shield was flashing with continuous impacts and her horn was beginning to throb. Gritting her teeth, she paused to reload and regretted that her position at the top of the stairs offered absolutely no cover. A high-pitched shriek jerked her attention to the front door, just in time to see a unicorn stallion collapsing on top of legs that were little more than bloody, shredded stumps just above the knees. It was enough to give everypony, attackers included, pause. Rarity swallowed a lump in the back of her throat at the site of the sobbing pony clutching at his amputated limbs in a pool of his own blood. By Luna, she’d thought the mage had been exaggerating! Her ears folded flat against her hat as another, equally horrifying shriek arose from the back door. Then the gunfire started up again, knocking Rarity back into the fight. Front windows, side window, front again! She kept waiting for somepony to arrive from the back, but oddly nopony did. Maybe they were running out of bodies. Or maybe Trixie’s traps were making them wary. Rarity wouldn’t blame them. Her horn was practically burning and the shots weren’t letting up. She wasn’t sure how many she’d killed, or even hit, and her bullets wouldn’t last forever. Already, she was adding the last pre-loaded cylinder to Silver Lining. Her reloading would be a lot slower once it was empty. Come on, Trixie, hurry it up! Something rolled in through the back door. She only barely noticed it out of the corner of her eye. Her first thought was to recognize it as another grenade. Her second thought was to grab it in her magic and toss it back. Just as she was readying to do so, however, the thing went off, mere inches from her shield. White-hot fire erupted through her horn. The world spun and her knees wobbled. Eyes clenched shut and weapons held in stinging grips, Rarity stumbled backwards, knowing she had seconds before her only defense crumbled. She had to give credit where it was due; whoever rolled that one had been smart enough to pre-cook it to prevent her usual retaliation. “T-Trixie…” “It’s done,” the mage frantically called. “Get down here, hurry!” Not needing to be told twice, Rarity bumbled her way down the steps, fighting through the pain to maintain her focus and reshape her shield to a curved wall at her back that would fit down the stairs. Twice she almost fell, her vision blurry and still rolling. “I hope you’ve got something g-good,” she slurred at the blue and red blobs below, “because I think I need a nap.” The blue blob – Trixie, she realized – made a motion that Rarity thought was a raise of the hands. “Jump the last five steps.” “I-I can barely stand, and you want me to jump?” The red blob was almost certainly Big McIntosh. He moved closer. “I’ll catch you, Miss Belle.” “Touch me and I will blow both your heads off.” Rarity blinked, abruptly uncertain of herself. “Oh, dear. Did I s-say that out loud?” Big Mac backed away. Very quickly. “Luna’s star-studded flanks, we don’t have time for this!” Trixie’s horn lit, and before Rarity knew it she was flung down the stairs by a magical pull. She hit the floor on her knees, sliding along a few feet before rolling onto her side. She lay there, staring at the ceiling and thanking Celestia that it was at least keeping still. “Oh, Goddess, Rarity! Are you alright?” Scootaloo was there, looking her in the eyes. Before a response could be offered the filly took one of Rarity’s arms, Vapor Trail appearing for the other, and the two dragged her backwards into a nearby bedroom. Blow Dry was standing by the door, still holding his bloody arm close while keeping his revolver at the ready. “I’ll be fine,” Rarity replied as they helped her sit against the bed’s footrest. “Just… had the wind knocked out of me. Give me a minute and I’ll be back at it.” She tenderly touched her horn, flinching at the burning sensation that was produced. “Don’t think I’ll be making anymore shields tonight though. My apologies.” Vapor leaned in close. Worry in her eyes, she asked, “Did you just threaten to shoot my Mackey?” “I apologize again.” Groaning, Rarity focused on reloading some of Silver Lining’s now-empty cylinders. It was slow going, given her trembling hands. “I have a thing about ponies touching me. Especially stallions.” “He was trying to help you!” “I am aware,” she bit back testily. “You’ll find it’s hard to think straight when you just had a grenade explode in your face.” Vapor Trail offered no other criticisms, perhaps due to the acid on Rarity’s tongue. Blow Dry’s sharp tone interrupted the momentary silence. “Trixie, get back.” The mage was standing in the door of the opposite bedroom, one hand on her hip and the other raised as if to snap her fingers. She appeared not the least afraid of whatever threats might come from the stairs. Sparing them a high-browed, haughty glance, she gave a curt “Stay back” and remained as she was even as slow, cautious hoofsteps began to close in. Her attention on whoever was approaching, she commandingly declared, “I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you.” The hoofsteps paused. But only for a moment. “As you wish.” She snapped her fingers. Then the screaming started, hideous wails that had a horrified Vapor Trail covering a wide-eyed Scootaloo’s ears. Blow Dry glanced through the doorway and became visibly green. Trixie stared on coolly, almost as if bored. Morbid curiosity pulled Rarity to her steadied hooves. Ignoring Blow Dry’s fervent gestures to stay back, she stepped right into the hallway. She nearly dropped her weapons at the sight of three ponies lying on the floor, squirming and howling and whimpering. Ivory protrusions poked out of their legs at the knees, blood seeping out where they had burst from the skin. One stallion had fallen directly on the steps, and now he had the same hideous growths coming out of his elbows, his palms, his hooves, even the joints and tips of his fingers. Stumbling back at the hideous sight, she fought the urge to vomit. “W-wha—? W-what did—? What did you…?” She looked to Trixie, and only now realized that the mare wasn’t near as unaffected as she was trying to appear. Her face was pale, and despite the collected expression there was a wild alarm in her eyes. Licking her lips, Trixie hoarsely answered, “Centuries old prototype bone growth enchantment. I-it was meant to aid in healing, but as you can see it has… kinks.” She met Rarity’s gaping stare, taking a few carefully controlled, deep breaths as she did. “I didn’t think it would be that bad. I just thought it would paralyze them a bit.” Big McIntosh had gotten into the hallway at some point. He had been staring at the still-living victims of Trixie’s trap, but now he turned to the mage. His eyes flashed with disgust. “Stop the spell.” Trixie hesitated, her horn beginning to shine… but then it dimmed. Pursing her lips, she met his gaze. “No.” He took a threatening step closer. “Stop the spell.” His looming presence was punctuated by the whimpering and sobs of the ponies on the stairs. Rarity couldn’t resist another look, horrified to see that their bones were somehow still growing. Yet Trixie stood tall. She glared at the stairs and spoke loudly so that anypony above would hear. “The spell stops when they leave! If these ponies want us that badly then this is the price they’ll have to pay. I do not bluff, and I do not back down.” Big McIntosh's arms tensed, their muscles bulging. Yet Rarity understood Trixie’s rationale and did not disagree with it. Even so, she pulled herself up, fought back the sick threatening to rise up her esophagus, and spoke. “At least get those three away from the trap. They’re clearly not a threat anymore.” The mage cringed and nodded, using her magic to pull the three ponies down into the hall. The two with injured legs wept from the pain of the motion. The third one could only whimper quietly. Rarity realized with no small amount of horror that the stallion’s ribs were beginning to poke out of his sides. How he was still alive she couldn’t imagine, and she didn’t want to imagine how much pain he was in. Perhaps it would be best to shoot him now and be done with it. For now she could only watch in quiet horror as Trixie levitated the three of them into another room, perhaps so that Scootaloo might be saved from witnessing such hideousness. Silence followed. Rarity and her companions waited, impatient to see what their attackers upstairs might try next. Big McIntosh kept in the doorway next to Trixie, shotgun in hand and appearing all the more tense for it. A grim-faced Trixie remained in the open with Rarity, mumbling self-recriminations and fiddling with the edge of her cloak with trembling fingers. There was no sign of Vapor Trail or Scootaloo in their room, but Blow Dry was still peering from the door, ready for a fight. Just when Rarity started to wonder if their attackers were even still upstairs – or that perhaps those three on the stairs had been the last of them – there came heavy footfalls on the floor above. The crack of breaking wood, the crash of shattering glass, the screeching of objects being moved. The defenders shared uncertain looks, all wondering what the ponies upstairs were up to. This went on for nearly five minutes before the quiet came back. It lingered, a phantom of stress and anticipation that kept everypony on alert. Seconds turned to minutes, and still there was no indication of a continued presence upstairs. Blow Dry sniffed and leaned a little further out in the hallway. He spoke in hushed, cautious tones. “Is there any way you can scry to figure out what’s going on up there?” Trixie, her eyes on the ceiling, matched his whisper. “Best I have is a detect life spell. Only tells me where they are, not what they’re doing.” “It’s better than nothing,” Rarity informed her. “I suggest you do it.” Trixie frowned and glanced at Big McIntosh, who nodded. Pursing her lips, she lit up her horn. “I don’t think I’ll be able to cast many more spells. We’ve already gone through most of my reservoir.” She then closed her eyes and concentrated, the magenta glow of her aura swirling and twisting along her horn. She did this for only a few seconds before the horn winked out. Perplexity showed in her eyes when she opened them. “There’s nopony up there.” Another exchange of curious looks. “So they left?” Blow Dry asked, his disbelief apparent. “I don’t know.” Trixie’s ears folded back as she pondered, her own lack of faith equally clear. “The spell doesn’t reach very far. If they were standing outside waiting for us they’d probably be outside its range.” “So they might be preparing an ambush,” Rarity surmised with a grimace. Scootaloo chose that moment to poke her head through the door by Blow Dry. “Uh, not to alarm anypony, but it’s getting really hot in here.” Another startled exchange of looks, and then every pony hurried into the room. Vapor Trail was hovering over the bed, her wings holding her aloft as she felt with her hands at the ceiling. She turned to everypony and, tremulously, declared, “I think they set the bedroom above us on fire. They’re trying to burn us out.” And if they tried to leave, the cretins would be outside waiting for them. Not a pony had to voice this, it was as obvious as could be. Rarity was at a loss. She couldn’t possibly cast a shield now, much less maintain one for long enough to stop an ambush. If any of the others tried to flee, they wouldn’t last five seconds. She cast her gaze about the faces all around her, hoping for some ideas to be forthcoming. “Come on.” Scootaloo tugged at Rarity’s sleeve, hope and a little concern in her words. “You’re the Bulletproof Heart. You’re not gonna let a little fire stop you, right?” Rarity met those big eyes and felt a vice crunching her heart to a pulp. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, turning her face away. “My abilities can only carry us so far.” Her eyes landed on Vapor Trail. Or more specifically, Vapor Trail’s wings. A sudden idea struck. “Vapor, have you ever done weather work?” Vapor landed beside the bed as she answered. “Weather work? No. I mean, I can create a little wind now and then, but rain’s right out.” “A little wind might be all we need.” She spun to Trixie who, unlike the worried and confused expressions of the others, was watching Rarity as though expecting instructions. She found the look to be reassuring. “Disenchant the stairs, if you please. We’ll need to fight our way out of this.” The mage nodded and turned for the door. “It’ll take me a minute. This isn’t the kind of magic you can just ‘turn off’.” While she was doing that, Rarity turned her attention to Blow Dry. “Check on our three prisoners. They’ve suffered enough, no point making them burn too.” “Got it.” Though he did not appear to relish his role, he threw a lazy salute and went to do as he was told. “Big McIntosh, if you’ve got something with better range than that shotgun, now might be a good time to switch to it.” “Eeyup.” He left the room just as quickly as the others. Scootaloo took a step forward, her wings spread wide and determination on her puffed up cheeks. “What about me?” Rarity eyed the filly, her first instinct being to tell her to do nothing. Then she realized how that might sound and decided a more… ‘tactful’ approach was in order. “You still have that hand cannon?” The filly reached behind her back and pulled out a handgun so large that Rarity had to agree with Blow Dry’s earlier conclusions; the kickback alone would probably send the filly sprawling. She showed good restraint with it as well, keeping the weapon pointed at the floor and her finger off the trigger, which suggested at least a modicum of experience or knowledge. Nodding at this development, Rarity declared, “You are our backup. If anything goes wrong, it’s on you to make it right. Am I clear?” “As mud.” The filly offered a toothy grin. “But I get the idea.” Rarity grinned right back, even though she felt like scowling. With one last look at a concerned Vapor Trail and a check to ensure her guns were fully reloaded and ready, she turned for the door. “Alright, let’s go.” Big McIntosh met them in the hall, shotgun strapped to his back and a more traditional rifle in his meaty hands. It looked like a toy compared to his bulk, but she preferred to imagine he wouldn’t have picked it if he couldn’t use it. They started down the hall just in time to spot Blow Dry walking out the room close to the stairs, quietly closing the door behind him. He met Rarity’s gaze with a forlorn but firm look. It was all she needed to see to know their three prisoners wouldn’t be joining them. One of them she could understand. The other two? Questioning him about it would have to wait until later, but she did have questions. Trixie was by the stairs and already turning to them. Her forehead was beaded with sweat yet again and she looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. “Trap’s gone,” she proudly declared to Rarity’s questioning look. “I suggest somepony else take point. I need to conserve what little of my reservoir I have left.” Rarity didn’t break stride as she walked by. The top of the stairs were blocked by something large and heavy. Despite awkwardly pushing at it from below, Big Mac was able to shift it aside with some ease. Not enough to remove it entirely, but enough that he could squeeze past. He didn’t, allowing Rarity to go first at her insistence. The object blocking the stairs had been a bookcase, carefully moved such that the books were still on its shelves. Smoke was beginning to drift out of the bedroom, accompanied by the distinct crackle of fire. Rarity swiveled to point her guns at every potential direction of attack. None came, so she gestured the others up. A quick glance through the bedroom door saw that the bed was an inferno, yet the fire hadn’t spread very far beyond it. As far as she could tell, it was the only fire in the house, although the furniture and decorations had been smashed and scattered about. Perhaps their attackers were hoping the mess would accelerate the flames? “Trixie?” “I got it,” the unicorn declared, swiftly moving for the front wall. She was aware enough to stay low and avoid both the windows and the door. Her horn flashed for all of two seconds, then she turned back to them with a grimace. “Five of them within detection range, all waiting in the orchard.” A pause as she gained an uncertain expression. “Two of them were… Oh, right. Our lizards are out there too. So make that three of them.” “Alright, then. If you could—” Big McIntosh appeared out the back room, stoic as ever. “Oh, good. Anypony back there?” “Nnnope.” The stallion hefted his rifle and glared towards the front door. “Back’s clear. Looks like the three out front are all that’s left.” So their plan had been to trap them downstairs, set the house alight and hope they all burned. It might even have worked had they accounted for Big McIntosh’s exceptional strength. The fire likely wasn’t spreading as fast as they’d hoped either. Perhaps they were inexperienced, or just in too much of a rush. They had lost a lot of allies, and Trixie's gruesome trap had to have had a psychological effect. Maybe they were getting desperate. One thing was certain: they’d regret sticking around. “Trixie, do you think you can produce a shield around the blaze?” “As long as nopony tries to shoot said shield, yes.” The mage walked up to the bedroom door, analyzing the crackling fire critically. “Starve it of oxygen?” “Got it in one, darling. Vapor, if you could generate some wind to keep Trixie cool while she’s working so close to the blaze, it would be appreciated.” Vapor Trail, who had spent the last several minutes holding Scootaloo close and looking lost, snapped to attention. “I-is that all? Yeah, I can do that.” “Wonderful.” One problem solved, and relatively easily. Rarity turned her attention to the stallions. “While they deal with the fire, McIntosh and I will go out back and flank the remaining enemies. Scootaloo, Blow Dry, you two stay here in case things go wrong.” Scootaloo’s wings spread wide as she took on a fierce look, or as fierce a look as a foal her age could pull off. “I want to help.” “You are helping,” Rarity smoothly countered. “Just because Trixie detected three doesn’t mean there aren’t more further afield or reinforcements coming. If Big Mac and I need to retreat, we’ll need you to cover us.” Scootaloo scowled, clearly not pleased with this role. Just as it looked like she might object, Big McIntosh spoke up. “Somepony needs to protect your sister.” That gave the child pause. She looked to the bedroom, where already a magenta shield was covering the fire. Trixie stood just within the door, eyes narrowed in concentration and horn glowing dimly. Her pale mane rustled in the faint breeze being blown by Vapor Trail’s slowly flapping wings. Scootaloo watched this for a couple seconds, then looked at Blow Dry. The stallion was by the windows, appearing ready for a fight. He didn’t notice the fierce gaze of the foal, or the way her hands clenched around her weapon. Rarity could see the gears turning in those sharp eyes, carefully weighing how much Blow Dry could be trusted. With a final huff, she nodded firmly to Rarity and went to stand guard near Vapor Trail. Glad things appeared to be settled, Rarity gestured to Big McIntosh and the two of them hurried out the back and into the cool night, making sure to use the windows lest Trixie’s trap was still active. The area didn't have near as many bodies as she'd imagined, but they were still there to add to the morbidity. He gestured, and she nodded; the two went their separate ways, Rarity moving around the west side of the house and him the east. She kept to the orchard, the better to hide among the trees. There was no question their attackers would be focused on the house, so circling wide would almost certainly go unnoticed. Her one great worry was that she might run into more armed ponies that had been hiding beyond Trixie’s detection range. That and her white coat standing out in the dark. It was remarkably calm out here. So much so, one would be forgiven for not knowing anything was amiss. A cloudy sky obscured the moon, making stealth even easier, and her ears were soothed by the gently lapping waves in the near distance. Even the house seemed perfectly normal, the fire not visible from this angle and the smoke blending in with the darkness. Were it not for the odious recent memories, Rarity might have mistaken this for a pleasant nighttime stroll. Flitting from tree to tree for cover made the trip take longer, but eventually she rounded the house and began to approach the front. Unlike her, the remaining attackers made no attempt to hide their presence. Or rather, they were, but only from anypony that might look at them from the house. From any other direction they were so obvious they might as well have cast glow spells upon themselves. They were spread wide amongst the trees, weapons out and ready to ambush anypony who exited out the front door. Once again, Rarity questioned their competence. Had they entirely forgotten that there was a back entrance? Had they even realized that their targets were no longer trapped underground? Rarity sneaked closer, noting that Ophelia and Princess were situated behind the ponies. The former raised her head to look in Rarity’s direction, frill opening and closing in slow motions. That’s right, my sweet, I see you. Do try not to give my presence away to the bad ponies, would you? Ophelia watched her approach for a time, but then turned her head forward. She was gazing at the center pony among the attackers, an earth pony mare. She sunk low, frills fanning out, and flexed her shoulders. Rarity had never seen that behavior in Ophelia before, but knew enough about lizards to understand what was coming. Princess didn’t even bother to wake up. Well, she was a rental. By now Rarity was close enough that when the pony nearest her started speaking she heard him loud and clear. “I don’t think it’s burning.” The mare in the middle didn’t look his way, which was fortunate for Rarity. “Yeah, that house should be an inferno. What gives?” “M-maybe we should get out of here.” “We can’t go back. We have to finish the mission.” “Are you kidding me? Did you see what that mage did?” “Of course I saw, but what do you think they’ll do to us if we come back empty-handed?” “So we run away. Get the hay away from Manehattan. We’re small fry, they won’t come looking.” “You really want to take that risk?” “Better than facing the Bulletproof Heart and some psychopathic mage!” “I… Okay, yeah. You’re right.” “Of course I am!” “What do you think, Indigo? …Indigo?” The mare looked to her right, and Rarity took the opportunity to pistol-whip the stallion. He collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut. She was surprised she’d managed to out him with one blow like that. “Shit, I think Indigo turned tail. We should—” The mare turned to discover Rarity standing over the stallion. She winked at her, Ruby Heart aimed for the chest. She’d expected many things. For the mare to start crying was not one of them. She dropped her gun and threw her hands up. “I’m sorry! P-please don’t kill me!” Rarity barely had time to blink before Ophelia was on the mare, tackling her to the ground in a single bound. “Ophelia, no!” For only a second, Rarity feared her usually docile and pleasant mount had turned lethal in her owner’s defense. Then she saw, with no small relief, that Ophelia was doing nothing more than pinning the sobbing, shivering mare to the ground with a lone foot on her chest. The lizard stared balefully down at the pony, then offered Rarity her usual toothy, charming smile. With a relieved sigh, Rarity holstered her weapon and approached. “A little over-enthusiastic, but well done, Ophelia. Truly, you are the best lizard a girl could ask for.” She scratched under the lizard’s frills, rewarded in turn with a pleasant trill. Big McIntosh appeared from the shadows a few seconds later, an unconscious earth pony mare limp over his shoulder. “Hello, Mr. Apple. I trust you didn’t run into any problems?” “Nnnope.” “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me,” the mare under Ophelia practically chanted, her eyes clenched shut and fingers tugging futilely on the lizard’s talons. Casually kicking the mare’s pistol away, Rarity knelt next to her. “Hush, now. We’re not going to kill you. In fact, I imagine Mr. Apple here will be perfectly happy with some leniency should you agree to tell us what you know about this little raid of yours.” “Y-yes, yes! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, just get it off me!” “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. That’s my job.” Rarity stood and gave Ophelia a hug around the neck, grinning all the while. “My sweet little dust devil wouldn’t harm a fly.” The mare gestured incredulously to where the tips of Ophelia’s sharp talons were. “I’m bleeding!” Indeed, but only a little. “Incidental,” Rarity primly countered, rubbing Ophelia’s frills lovingly. “It’s a few nicks. Come to me when you need a bullet removed and then we’ll talk.” She then looked past the lizard to Big McIntosh. “If you’d be so kind as to deal with this, I’ll go let our friends know that the worst is over.” The massive stallion dropped Indigo. He wasn’t gentle about it. “Eeyup.” Blow Dry spotted her approach. Though he tried to be stoic about it, he couldn’t quite hide his relief. “All clear?” he called out the window. “All clear,” she replied, pausing a few feet away from the front door. Her eyes were set upon the bloody form of the pony who had fallen for Trixie’s trap, a pony who had clearly bled out. Such a gruesome scene had her biting her lip in sympathy. She’d passed several bodies already on the way over here, but none of them evoked her sympathy quite like that one. She didn’t care what the pony had done, they didn’t deserve to go out like that. She elected to climb in through a window instead. On the inside, she adjusted her shirt and jeans, checked her hat and mane, and took in the situation. Trixie was sitting atop an overturned bookshelf, looking weary and perhaps a bit singed, but proud. Vapor sat beside her, her exhaustion seeming less physical and more mental. Scootaloo remained before them, still playing the part of the attentive guardian with her hand cannon aimed at the floor and her face set in a scowl. “I take it the fire has been dealt with?” Rarity asked expectantly. Trixie nodded with a weary wave. “Was there ever any doubt?” She thrust a thumb at Vapor Trail. “All credit and gratitude to this mare, who is the only reason I didn’t boil alive in there.” Vapor offered only a worn smile in response, but then frowned as her eyes darted around the room. “Where’s Mackey?” Rarity couldn’t resist a smile at what she imagined was a pet name. “He’s fine. Just making sure the last of our guests are being entertained. We got three live ones, you see, and I’ve no doubt he’s making sure they’re prepared to tell him all they know about who sponsored this… soirée.” Blow Dry looked up from where he’d been sitting by the window. “So we’re done?” Scootaloo piped in with a hopeful, “It’s over?” She didn't bother to stifle her long yawn. Too much effort. “We’re done, and it’s over.” She cast a wane look at their cluttered surroundings and heaved a sigh. “Although I suppose some cleanup is in order.” “That can wait,” Scootaloo declared. Rarity paused at the dark tone. “There’s still one more thing to deal with.” She promptly pointed her hand cannon at Blow Dry. “Whoa, whoa! Kid. Hey.” Wide-eyed, he tried to raise his hand only to flinch and pull the wounded arm close to his chest. “What are you doing?” Vapor Trail half stood, ears perked and wings flaring out. “Scootaloo, put the gun down.” “He was going to kill you.” The filly’s words were as cold as night in the Frozen North. “He pretended to be my friend for all that time. He’s one of them.” Blow Dry sent Rarity a pleading look. She stepped away from him, more to stay out of the line of fire than anything. What did he expect her to do, draw on a filly? Seeing no help in her direction, he carefully stood up and faced the gun, keeping his own pointed well away from Scootaloo. “Look. Kid. I get it, you’re mad. I swear, I was trying to get you out.” “Get me out?” Tears welled in the filly’s face, the gun shaking in her hands. “Vapor is the only family I had for my entire life. What were you going to do after, try taking her place? I trusted you, I thought you were cool!” She sniffed, rubbing her nose against her shoulder. Though filled with tears, her eyes burned with menace. “You made a fool out of me.” “I… It was a job. It’s what I was hired to do. I—” Abruptly realizing he was still holding his pistol, he dropped the weapon and raised his hand high. “Look, I’m sorry—” “Don’t say that!” Scootaloo’s tiny wings flared and she took a threatening step closer. Vapor Trail flinched as if expecting a shot. Trixie was watching the scene with a sharp, attentive gaze. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me you’re sorry. You’re only sorry because you got caught!” Despite knowing she had no place in this ‘argument’, Rarity couldn’t help thinking an important point needed to be addressed. “If I may—” Without taking her fierce glare off Blow Dry, Scootaloo hissed, “Don’t you dare try to take his side.” “If I may,” she repeated, turning her attention to the stallion. “I feel that there’s one question in desperate need of an answer: do you or do you not, in fact, like Scootaloo?” Scootaloo’s ears perked. She didn’t lower the gun, but she did hold her breath. Blow Dry looked at Rarity with perhaps the most open expression of emotion he’d yet to display. It could be only described as sorrow. He tried to face Scootaloo, but seemed unable to meet her eyes. “Yeah, I do. At first it was just a job, and so were you. But, uh…” He swallowed and turned his face away, as if ashamed. “You grew on me, kid.” “Stop calling me that,” the filly spat. “You don’t get to act so familiar with me.” Still the hand cannon remained poised. “If you cared so much, why go through with this?” “Because I don’t back down on jobs,” he replied immediately, not an ounce of remorse in his words. “No matter how uncomfortable they make me. I gave my word I’d get this done. I do not go back on my word.” He finally met Scootaloo’s gaze, all uncertainty and fear gone. “I told your sister and McIntosh I’d protect you. And I did, didn’t I?” For a moment, Scootaloo considered that statement. Rarity thought that perhaps the filly was starting to show doubts. And then Trixie, her voice level and hard, spoke. “So by that logic, you’re still obligated to try and kill Big McIntosh and Vapor Trail.” Vapor Trail gaped at the mare in much the same way Rarity was glaring. Was she trying to inflame the situation? Even now, Scootaloo was hardening her stance. So much so that the hammer of the hand cannon cocked. Blow Dry certainly took notice, his posture stiffening as he took a careful step towards the door. “I-I don’t think I can do that job anymore even if I wanted to. My employer knows I’m compromised.” When Scootaloo didn’t ease off, real panic began to form on his features. “Scootaloo, please. I swear, this is the hardest job I ever had. I didn’t want to. I was under a lot of pressure.” Another step. “Trap,” Rarity warned. He glanced at her, then at the shredded body on the floor. His face went pale as he sidled away from the door. “Ah, right. Forgot about that,” Trixie noted in a tone that suggested she hadn’t. Cringing, she created a flash of light from her horn. There came the audible sound of something akin to glass cracking. “There, it’s gone.” Rarity had the ominous feeling that she couldn’t trust that statement. All was still. Scootaloo trembled and quaked and sucked in slow, heavy breaths, but her aim was unwavering. Vapor looked as though she wanted to take the gun away but didn’t dare move, whereas Blow Dry looked desperate to start running but also feared what might happen if he tried. To his credit, he never took his eyes off Scootaloo’s. But what really had Rarity’s attention was Trixie. She looked like a pony on the hunt. It was anger, but a carefully leashed and prepared anger, made all the more menacing by the cold intent of it. It was the calculated look of a mare both unforgiving and wrathful, and it put Rarity’s every nerve on edge. Scootaloo might be the immediate threat, but if Blow Dry survived this night then he could expect to be in danger of the mage for the rest of his days. Her careful scrutiny was interrupted by Scootaloo. She spoke with words both low and threatening. “I can’t let this go. You tried to kill my sister. I have to protect her.” Blow Dry’s ears folded back. Slowly, he let his hand fall. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I suppose so.” Then he offered a frail smile. “Do what you gotta do, kid.” So much for this situation untangling itself. Rarity, knowing she had very little influence on these events, nevertheless felt the urge to offer one heartfelt argument. “Scootaloo?” The filly didn’t respond at first, so intensely focused on the stallion as she was. But then her eyes twitched Rarity’s way. “What?” Rarity met her gaze with as level and commanding a look as she could muster. “From one who knows: it won’t make the pain hurt any less.” It had been a shot in the dark. Wholly honest, to be certain, but Rarity lacked any faith that it would matter against the filly’s righteous anger. And yet there was a clear and present change in Scootaloo’s eyes, a distinct awareness of what she was threatening to do. To Rarity’s relief, she could see for the first time that the filly was genuinely and carefully considering options other than just shooting Blow Dry down. Ears twitched, eyebrows rose and fell, fingers trembled. After a seeming eternity of tightly wound tension, Scootaloo closed her eyes and, with a well-practiced thumb, uncocked the hand cannon’s hammer. Lowering the weapon, she muttered a toneless, “Get out of here, Dry.” Blow Dry’s expression was a chaotic mess of relief and agony. He opened his mouth, perhaps to offer thanks or reassurance. Vapor Trail raised a silencing palm. Trixie’s eyes narrowed sharply, and there might have been a crackle of electricity between her fingers. The two combined were more than enough to make him reconsider that course of action. With a final sigh, he nodded, removed his loaned and nearly-spent ammo belt, grabbed his revolver, and left by climbing out a window. Just before leaving from view entirely, he turned and offered Rarity a respectful nod. The moment he was gone, Scootaloo dropped her gun and practically threw herself into Vapor Trail, hugging her close. The filly didn’t sob, but there was no disguising her tears. Before anything else could be said, Rarity looked to Trixie. “So is the trap…?” She gestured to the door. “Hmm? Oh.” Trixie had been glaring at the window, but paused to consider the door with a scowl. “Right. Yes, it’s gone. I just didn’t want him to know for sure.” “Then I propose we get these bodies out of here.” Rarity barely repressed a shiver upon looking at the bloody mess on the doorstop. That poor pony, to say nothing of the ones downstairs. “I for one do not wish to sleep in the same house as a bunch of corpses.” At that the mage visibly deflated, all anger and confidence vacated in a long and weary sigh. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “Let’s hurry it up. Trixie would like to at least try to get some sleep.” Vapor Trail, still holding the inconsolable Scootaloo close, perked her ears. “You honestly think you’ll be able to sleep after tonight?” “No,” Trixie groaned, “but I intend to at least try.”