//------------------------------// // Eye of the Storm // Story: Wild Card // by Barrel-of-fun //------------------------------// Edited by: PieisGood4U The inside of Summer’s old house had evidently decided that the exterior had a certain amount of style and had endeavored to emulate it with gusto. Much of the remaining furniture was smashed into splinters, whilst some spaces were conspicuously absent of furniture. Ugh, looters. How inelegant. Summer wandered through the house like a ghost, Iron staying close to her. I saw her pause before a smashed portrait frame, running one hoof over it softly. Iron knelt down next to her and spoke some soothing words that I didn’t catch. I tore my eyes away from my devastated friend, knowing there was only one thing I could do to console her. Find whoever did this and, presumably, find her dad. First I went to examine the door, noting the cracked wood around the busted lock. The bar had been broken in two from the force of a very strong kick, though the amount of hoofprints that the door was permanently marked with indicated they didn’t have the greatest hoof-eye co-ordination. So they were big, strong and not overly smart...that doesn’t exactly narrow it down by much. After all, we can’t all be devilishly handsome, brilliant satyrs can we? Someone has to be the stupid brutes. After they had managed to break down the door they had stormed into the house, not overly carefully judging from the scuff marks in the wooden floors. After that my job became much more difficult. Distinguishing the evidence from the original attackers from the damage left by various hooligans and looters added a new level of difficulty. Luckily, I had a lot of experience with crime scenes. Mainly causing them I admit, but still experience. Our big stallion had charged forward at the head of the group, his inelegance causing him to bash into a corner and leave a noticeable dent in the woodwork. His companions had followed, practically galloping to keep up with their eager leader. They must have come upon Summer’s dad in the living room. Even an amateur such as me could read the signs of a struggle here. The old stallion must have heard them breaking down his door and prepared to repel the invaders. A cast iron fire poker lay in one corner of the room, bent out of shape from its time as a bludgeoning weapon. That must have really hurt some unlucky bastard. Swift Storm had been disarmed though, probably due to some annoying unicorn magic. He was far from done though. Judging from deep hoof prints in the wooden floor, the big one must have tried to bull rush him, seeing his opponent disarmed. Father Storm must have been a spry old bugger though as he had evidently avoided the attack, leaving his opponent to bash headfirst into the wall, creating a large hole there. I leaned forward to examine the hole, noting the bloodstains on the jagged wood. The big guy must be either stupid or extremely quick to anger, his thrashing about had just caused him greater harm. The other attackers must have charged forward now as the evidence dissolved into an unreadable medley of hoof prints. Presumably, Summer’s old man had been overwhelmed by sheer numbers, although the bloody teeth I found scattered around the room indicated that he hadn’t been taken easily. I picked up some of the teeth and broke off a chunk of wood from the jagged hole, looking closely at its blood covered point. I’m no detective - in fact I usually tried to avoid them - but perhaps Summer can use some freaky magic on this stuff to help us find them. I’d heard of people who claimed that they could divine the location of an individual using just an item of their clothing. I don’t know if such a thing actually exists in this world but it’s worth a shot. Placing the evidence in a pouch, I went to find Summer and Iron. I came across them upstairs in one of the bedrooms, Iron was standing well back whilst Summer examined more broken picture frames. “How is she?” I whispered to Iron. “Not good.” He replied. “She blames herself.” I gulped before stealing my nerves and approaching Summer. Time to charge headfirst into an emotional shitstorm. “I should have been there for him.” She announced suddenly as I approached, causing me to freeze in place. I had no idea what to say to this, no words that wouldn’t sound pathetic or facile. Lacking anything worthwhile to say, I simply stayed silent. I don’t think it mattered though; she simply needed someone to talk at. “I shouldn’t have left. He was too old - far too old - to be left on his own. He should have been in a home.” She continued, not removing her gaze from the picture in front of her. I began to slowly close the distance between us as she began again. “I should have placed enchantments on his house, or even hired somepony to guard him, or even-” “Summer.” I interrupted gently. “Would he have let you do any of that?” Judging from the evidence of the fight downstairs, Summer’s dad was an old warhorse. Not one to use others as a crutch. He was probably incredibly stubborn as well, which kind of explains where Summer gets it from. “...No.” She sighed. “He wouldn't have...He raised me by himself you know?” I had finally managed to get close enough to get a good look at the picture she was staring at. It depicted a grizzled looking pegasus stallion, steel grey with a rough brown mane. His muzzle was almost entirely taken up by a large bushy beard, although it failed to hide the wide grin he wore. One of his wings was rested atop a mare beside him who, at first glance, I initially presumed to be Summer as they looked so similar. It was only when I noticed the baby foal that she held in the crook of her leg that I realised who I was looking at. Summer’s mother. She had the same coat colour as Summer, a light blue. They even shared almost identical manes, a pure radiant white. The only difference between them, other than their age in the photo, was a slight difference in their mane colours and their eyes. Where Summer’s mother had completely white hair, Summer’s was tinged with electric blue at the ends and spiked out far more than her mothers. Summer definitely had her father’s eyes, a deep grey colour that seemed to radiate the strength and determination of their owner, whereas Summer’s mother had light green eyes that spoke only of gentleness. “She died soon after I was born. Apparently she never fully recovered from giving birth to me...and then when she fell ill, she just couldn't handle it.” Summer explained. “For a while I thought...I thought he might have blamed me for her death. I asked him about it one day, on my birthday, he just...he seemed so sad. A lesser stallion might have blamed me, but not dad. He went right up to me, a tearful little foal, and embraced me. He said “Your mother was a great mare. She passed all that onto you. How could I possibly hate you for the gift she gave?” I never doubted him from then on. He was the greatest stallion I ever knew...and I left him on his own.” “Summer,” I began, kneeling next to her and throwing one arm around her in a hug. “We’ll find him, I promise you. We’ll kick the flank of whoever took him and bring him home. And then, he will tell us a lot of embarrassing stories about your foalhood.” Summer gave a little half-chuckle at this, despite the tears still running down her face. “You really think so?” “We know so.” Iron said, walking over to the other side of Summer and putting an arm around her as well. “We’ll make them regret messing with the Storm family.” We sat there for a while, Summer looking at the picture and crying her heart out whilst Iron and I did our best to console her. Someone is definitely going to pay for this. “You got everything?”  I asked, standing outside of Summer’s home. The mare in question had just finished collecting together several pictures of her family and putting them safely inside her saddlebags. She had undergone a, rather terrifyingly, radical shift in temperament. Once all her tears had dried up she had become completely calm, almost scarily so. It was obvious that she had a lot of rage bubbling away beneath the mask, and god help anyone she chooses to unleash it upon. “Pretty much. So, how are we going to find those bastards?” She replied. I restrained my shock at hearing a little pony swear; after all, she probably has every right to use some naughty language considering the circumstances. Reaching into my pouches, I retrieved the teeth and the bloody splinter. “I think the teeth belong to some goons, the blood is either their boss’ or just a really big stupid goon. Hard to tell really. Can you get anything from them?” “Hmm.” Summer began, her expression turning completely professional. “I’m afraid the blood is useless in a tracking spell. It contains no white blood cells and, thus, no DNA that my magic can lock onto. Those teeth however...” She grabbed them from my hands in a telekinetic grip whilst I tossed the splinter aside. Levitating them up in front of her face she began to examine them from all angles. She selected one in particular, a rather grotty looking subject but then I don’t think the perps dental hygiene really matters any more. If he even has any teeth left right now, Iron Will will probably fix that. Advertising Iron Will’s speedy dental services. No longer will you be bothered by annoying little things like ‘chewing’ and ‘talking coherently.’ Don’t like eating solid food? Iron Will’s got a solution for you! “Now then, I just need to drill through the enamel layer and get to the core of the tooth to extract the root.” The tooth shattered down the middle and split in two. “Or break it in two...that works as well. Alright then, tracking spell.” Her horn lit up and a small spark leapt out from it to one of the tooth-halves. Another spark joined it and, before long, a constant stream of magic connected the horn and the tooth. Summer’s head began to jerk, as though her horn was pulling her along. “He’s close.” She announced, beginning to gallop away. “Follow me!” Iron and I looked at each other and shrugged before rushing to follow her. We had to sprint to keep up, our puny bipedal frames having trouble following Summer’s quadrupedal advantage. Still, at least we didn’t lose sight of her. Kind of. Alright, so we may have slightly lost sight of her when she reached a tavern on the dockside, blasted a hole through one of the walls with her magic and leapt inside. It was only for a minute really, maybe two, as me and Iron put on an extra burst of speed to try and catch up. You would be amazed just how much damage a pissed off Summer Storm can cause in around a minute. As we leapt through the convenient hole in the wall and into the tavern, we beheld a scene of awesome devastation. Chairs were smashed to splinters and tables had been overthrown. More than a few rough looking ponies lay twitching on the floor, suffering from a malady known as ‘being-damn-stupid-enough-to-get-between-Summer-and-her-target.’ It was a malady that a surprising amount of ponies in the bar suffered from apparently. Iron and I leapt over the incapacitated idiots and toward Summer as quickly as we could; she looked about ready to kill the stallion who was cowering in front of her. “Where is he!?” She demanded, horn still crackling with wild power. “Please don’t kill me! Please! I didn’t know!” The stallion cried in terror. I can’t really blame him for that, I’m pretty terrified of Summer right now as well. “Where is he!?” She repeated, taking a threatening step forward and lowering her horn right in front of her target’s face. “Oh Celestia! Thick Skull has him! Captain Thick Skull! Please don’t kill me!” He whimpered. “Where is this Thick Skull?” Summer asked, stepping back from the stallion. “At the docks! He has a ship there. A big one! A flag with a pony skull wearing a helmet!” The stallion blabbed hastily, eager to direct Summer’s anger elsewhere. Summer glared at the stallion, her burning eyes narrowing and causing him to whimper in fright. For a moment I thought she was actually going to do it, that she was going to kill. Some would say that she had good reason to do so. This stallion had attacked and kidnapped her father, her only family in the world. Liam Neeson slaughtered his way through half of Europe when his family was taken and he’s generally regarded as a ‘hero’ for doing so. That’s the thing about heroes though; no one questions when they kill a bad guy. No one ever wonders about the families of all the goons they slaughter their way through. Heroes never have to pay for damages, or wonder if the choices they made are morally correct. Heroes have no place in the real world. In the end, Summer wasn’t a hero. She was a morally upstanding pony and a member of the Equestrian National Guard. She was raised by a good pony to be a good pony, and would follow his teachings to the end. So, instead of frying that dirtbag to a crisp, she simply turned around and walked away. She bucked him in the face first of course. I said she was a good pony, not a great one. The stallion fell to the ground, unconscious, and Summer was walking away before he even hit the floor. Iron and I shared another look before following after her. Men can say a lot with a single knowing glance. Entire scripts of prose and brilliant wit can pass unheard between males with as little as a single moment of eye contact. You can judge more by what a man says with his eyes than anything he will ever say with his mouth. I should know really; I am an unrepentant liar. In this case, however, only a single sentence of great importance was shared. What the hell have we got ourselves into? Author's note Some of you may be wondering where Iron's warhammer went. To be honest, I found myself wondering the same thing. I had completely forgot about it for ages and realised he must have been lugging it around with him the entire time. After some consideration I realised that it isn't really necessary and doesn't contribute anything to the character so I have gone back and edited it out of the story. This note is here purely to avoid any confusion with readers who are thinking 'Why the hell did Iron just punch that guy? Doesn't he have a giant hammer?' Well, now you know. And now, a very special Editor's Note! Editor's Note PieisGood4U: Hello readers, by checking through the comment section I see I missed things and you pointed them out. I will take this as a declaration of war between us. Eventually I shallt win this war and leave you a chapter with 0 faults(probably not this chapter). Until then always be on guard when pies are nearby. They will strike when you least expect it. hidden note: just to be ironic I decide to leave a spelling error I did in this text left. PS: Keep pointing them out