//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: A Hero's 'Tail' // by Garamond //------------------------------// A few days after that event is where we find me now. I soared overhead on my artificial wings, spotting for Grit’s APC, which was lugging our new ‘borrowed’ howitzer tow as we drove towards our first target. I’d been surveying the countryside, looking for large groups of enemy troops, or ‘bogies’, as Grit called them, when I had discovered an armored company carrying the labs black-gray colors bearing down on Auxois, an average town about 6 miles northeast of Trottingham. It was clear that Bryant’s forces were going to flatten the smaller town, and then travel on to cripple Trottingham’s defenses from its unprotected north side. My radio buzzed from its perch in its special holster. Grit was trying to get my attention, apparently, for he exclaimed, “Hey, Quicksilver! What’s the situation?” Shouting towards my rump, I replied, “1.5 kilometers northeast of Auxois, heading roughly 10 kilometers per hour. I see three tanks, a long-range rocket launcher tow, and 2 armored cars. They appear to be corralling mutants into the town.” “ No need to shout, kid.” Grit whispered, holding his ear. “We’re adjusting course to intercept. Here’s the plan; the carrier is going to drop the howitzer tow in the company of Foaler and me on the summit of Mount Camarillo. I’ll snipe while Foaler shells the enemy company. Our APC will then proceed to drop off the rest of us to hold the bogies in place while we finish them off.” I nodded, and then inquired, “I will be doing--?” “After each shelling the mortar will need reloading. He’ll be aiming for the anti-air guns on the back of that rocket launcher tow, enabling you to fly in from the sky, flaming the tanks while Foaler’s filling the launch tube. Don’t worry about the enemy infantry. My boys can take care of them, and anypony that manages to react in time to shoot you will either miss or have his projectiles caught by your bulletproof vest,” instructed Grit. “Sounds good. I’ll keep the channel clear so you can talk to the others.” “Alrighty, good colt. Play it safe, Quick. You’re part of the family, and I’ma cry like a baby if you get shot.” “Gee, thanks dad.” I replied, chuckling as I waited for the first shelling. After a short pause, Grit said, “Glad to see you opening up a little, kid.” Did he think I was serious about the Dad bit? I wondered. My ponderings were interrupted by a loud bang, coupled by a whizzing noise. I’ll have to ask him where he got that tow after this, I thought to myself as I watched a shell careen into the missile launcher haul at high velocity, ripping it apart in a fiery blaze. I saw our APC skid to a halt and discharge 5 bandits armed to the teeth, grinding their jaws in rage as the opposing tanks hailed repeater bullets down on our vehicle. Seeing a break in the fire, I zipped towards the smallest of the anti-armor, spitting a fury of fireballs at it. My first shot went wide; second melted a tread, fusing it to the ground, but the third was a jackpot. The turret’s main gun had been amalgamated together, and wasn’t going to be useful for anything any more. I took a quick blast at the gunner of a second vehicle as I pulled up, setting him ablaze. With a couple of loud thuds, the third armor’s gunner fell, and an APC was blasted to smithereens by a second artillery shell. Ponies, 16 in all, began pouring from the unharmed personnel carrier, toting rifles and grenades. I swept down, hurling flame at the only undamaged tank left. A lucky fireball caught the radiator on the stern plate, creating a backlog of heat and flame within the vehicle. As I hurtled upward to pave the way for the next bombardment, the third armor began steaming and vibrating. The outlaw ponies ducked underneath our vehicle, knowing what was about to transpire. The turret blew off the top, and a wretched haze erupted from the tank’s open top in mighty bellows, followed by the wretched cries of the damned crew. Flabbergasted, the masked troopers from the lab began piling into the still-open armored car in order to escape. One last shell bombarded the personnel carrier, taking the cowards with it. Exhausted, I surveyed the carnage as Grit began giving orders. Soon he got around to me. “Alright Quicksilver, let’s head back to the HQ. Don’t forget me now, kid!” “Of course not,” I replied, dropping down to our APC. “We’re heading back now. Nice job taking out that gunner.” “Haha, poor yuppie didn’t stand a chance.” There was a pause in his voice, and I could hear his breathing through the static. “I’m… You’ve taken the worst possible situation in your life and turned it to good. Better than I ever did.” “Wow, thanks.” I said, blushing a bright red. “I’m—“ “Hay now, where are you all? Getting bored up here.” Grit shouted through the radio irritably. One of the bandits, Breadstuffing, beckoned to me. “C’mon! We’ll give you a ride back. Come closer, bud.” I flew down, landing next to him. He whispered in my ear, “Boss doesn’t show emotion well, but he cares for you, possibly more than even his little sis, Scoots. Now,” He said, clapping his hooves. “Let’s get rolling. Next stop, home!”