Chapter 5: East-Side Standoff
"Run."
Dreams are fascinating things. A dream can take you to places far beyond imagination. A dream can show you your innermost demons. A dream can also point you in the right direction when adrift in a sea of uncertainty. They can enchant and terrify and be more real than real. Windows to the mind and doorways for us to explore ourselves, a dream is gift given for surviving the day. There are more ideas, thoughts and philosophies about dreams than there are stars in the sky. Truly, awe-inspiring adventure awaits the intrepid dreamer at the end of a dull daily life.
Thank Luna for dreamless sleeps.
I woke up in a world of complete darkness, blind and helpless. I fought against the darkness with all the fury and technique expected of a pony just waking up. After valiant combat against the forces that blinded mine, I took the blanket off my head. That I was still in the room that served as a dirty window to the world gone past told me I was still alive. I picked up the pieces of my shattered dignity, rubbed my eyes, and looked about the room to get my bearings. I didn't see Fizzy, though her pack bags were still sitting by the bed.
I found a note on the floor while I was picking up the blanket the phantom coverer had given me. "Pump works. Bathe," it said. I silently thanked Fizzy and sloughed off my barding.
The washroom was small but had all the necessities. I blinked at the cracked mirror, and took a drink in the sink. The water was most likely irradiated, but I was thirsty and needed to get the taste of sleep out of my mouth. Once I was awake enough to work the faucet for the washtub, I drew a bath for myself and dove in.
The note only said the pump worked; it never said anything about the water being hot.The chill hit me like a shot to the head. The freezing flash jolted me more awake than I had ever been before. Most of that energy spent on trying to get as dry as possible, as quick as possible.
Old towels, a pre war dress from the armoire, the blanket, nothing was too good in my search to get warm and dry.
Wrapped myself in the blanket, awake and quiet, I could hear the sound of voices downstairs. The sound of rising and falling laughter took hold of my attention and refused to let go. Unfortunately, for my eavesdropping, I couldn't make out the particulars of the conversation, but it sounded like significantly higher spirits were in order for the morning. Heaving a sigh of relief, I doffed my blanket of warmth and donned my barding again so I could poke my nose in other ponies' business.
The dust motes danced in the light as I made my way downstairs. The pleasant smell of cooking food wafted in the still air. The noise drew me towards the source of the happy talk; the smell dragged me to it.
"About a one to one ratio on all four parts," Cherry was explaining as I walked in on her and Fizadora, "But I prefer using the flower to produce healing potions. It's an amazing reagent."
"Considering the risk in acquiring a manticore's poison sac, I am doubtful I can find much use for it. I am thankful, though. Any alchemical notes you have are appreciated."
Cherry noticed me first. Looking over, she gave a wicked little grin. "Were you tired from last night?" she asked, leaning on the question, grin grown wide. "I knew you'd feel better after a little relaxation. Me and Fizzy were just discussing medical alchemy, you're welcome to join us."
"He isn't the most scientifically minded," Fizzy noted aloud. "I don't think he'd gain much from the conversation we were having."
I looked back and forth between the mares. Cherry Pop's teasing look, directly opposite Fizzy's innocent one.
I pointed toward Fizzy. "What she said."
The former lounge room was spacious, though not as much as the lobby. The walls were plush, deep red in the places they hadn't worn to the wood underneath. Paintings and pictures, or at least blank squares that used to be paintings and pictures, hung all over the walls in no pattern whatsoever. Chairs and tables scattered the room, sitting silent and empty save for the one that held the two chatting mares.
"Is that another plate?" Daisy called out from another room, the source of the smell.
"Yes!" Cherry called out.
Daisy entered balancing a pair of plates on her flank.
I stared. I couldn't tear away my lustful gaze. After all, I hadn't eaten in days and there were a pair of genuine salads right there in front of me.
"Entirely not sorry for imposing but could I get one of those?" I asked Daisy, adding a drawn out "please" for good measure.
"I see how it is. Beg for her," Cherry interjected with a forced pout. She caught the look of puzzlement on Fizzy's face and that pout morphed into another grin and wink.
Fizzy tilted her head, her brow knitted in thought. Then her eyes went wide, coupled with a low "oh". Her attention turned to me, soon followed by the other two mares.
Since I already had one hoof in the water, so I might as well jump in with all four. I drummed my hooves on the table and shot the trio the biggest, toothiest grin I could muster. "So I broke rule number three, if this is the end of my ill spent life, at least I end it with a bang."
Cherry rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face was plain as day. "Don't give yourself that much credit."
Fizzy shook her head and focused her attention on breakfast.
"If I grab you a plate, you going to stop drooling?" Daisy's voice made me look up. She was halfway into the kitchen.
"I'll do you one better," I told her, "I'll stop telling jokes."
Daisy disappeared into the kitchen. "Deal."
I grinned, triumphant.
"Fizzy tells me you guys are going after Sparkle-Cola?" Cherry Pop questioned.
I nodded, shooting a sidelong glance Fizzy's way to see if it was okay to elaborate.
Fizzy ignored me, closing her eyes. A tacit answer in my book.
"We are," I answered, "I'm not certain exactly where it is, but Fizzy has the map. Did she tell you she threw me at a robopony without letting me now? Or that she didn't feel the need to let me know about what she was looking for until after I risked my neck?"
Cherry nodded with a concise, "Yup."
Fizzy's head bobbed in unison.
"Well damn, looks like that's all covered. All I can say about it is I still have no idea what she's planning on using the soda for. Isn't that right, Fizz?"
Fizzy nodded. "It's," she stopped to swallow the mouthful she was trying to talk through, "I was sworn to secrecy. It's for the benefit of my home but that's all I can say."
I shrugged. "I don't know it any better than you do, but it isn't like I'm doing anything else out here. I figure I might as well help some ponies out."
The pink mare thought the matter over a moment, rubbing at her chin with a hum. "I'm going with you guys," she stated, raising her hood and grinning at us with impish delight.
The suddenness of the statement had come at us like a shot. We all stared at Cherry Pop. Fizzy and I from the table, and Daisy midway from the kitchen.
Cherry looked between all of us and stared sheepishly at the floor. "What? I think it's a good idea," she claimed, turning back and forth to keep all of us in line of sight.
"We've been here a while, but we haven't done much for anypony except ourselves," Cherry was speaking to all of us, but her focus was on Daisy, and her tone was meant for herself.
"I'm a doctor. I need to help ponies. I want to help as many as I can. If I have to leave I'll do that."
Daisy was silent as she walked to the table. She sat my plate on the table, turned, and left without another word.
Cherry watched the whole time, hurt by her friend's taciturn response. There were not tears in the pink mare's eyes but the hurt was there, she wasn't doing a thing to hide that.
The scene left me uneasy. I knew that sleeping with Cherry had nothing to do with her decision, and I knew she knew that. Daisy was intelligent, and I felt safe in assuming she knew as well. What scared me was that I couldn't trust her to care about what she knew. I come in, have a one-night stand, and now her friend wants to break their group up. Truth or no truth, I made for a great scapegoat.
Cherry stared at the kitchen door. Fizzy watched Cherry as though the other mare was some sort of puzzle to figure out. I didn't feel and couldn't find a place for myself, so I ate the food Daisy had brought for me.
It was an amazing salad.
"So when are we moving out, Cherry?" Daisy's words as she came back into the kitchen broke the silence, and had all of us looking up in surprise. She had been gone for a few minutes, leaving us to our awkward silence. Now she was wearing some kind of piecemeal barding, constructed out of scraps of metal and old world sport equipment outfitted with spikes. A battle saddle rigged automatic rifle topped off the combat gear.
Cherry zipped over to Daisy, excited laughter filling the hotel's dining room. The two friends embraced each other. Cherry did most of the embracing. Daisy's general spikiness kept her from much more than a single foreleg around her friend.
Fizzy and I swapped questioning looks and simultaneous shrugs. Neither of us knew what to say.
"Did you really think I could let you go off with these two alone?" Daisy asked in a quiet tone, "As much as I'd like to stick around our little fortress, it wouldn't be the same without you. I wouldn't be happy without all of us together."
"Thank you, thank you so much, Daisy," Cherry Pop was grateful as she slipped away from her friend giving the mercenary pony some breathing room. "It'll be so much better to have you with us."
"What about Two-Shot? How are you going to convince him to leave?" Fizzy was the one who asked the question. I nodded to go along with the question. The thought had been sitting in the back of my head. It cuddled up nice and close with the ever-growing fear that Two-Shot was going to hold me responsible for all of this.
Daisy had a sad and knowing smile as she looked over to Fizzy and me. "He won't have much of a choice," she explained in the soft, piteous tone reserved for lost causes. "Cherry is the source of his fix. She knows how to cook what he needs. He wants it, he comes. I know it sounds harsh, but he needs us to look after him as much as he watches out for us. So if we have to yank his leash a little, I'm fine with that."
"Makes sense," Fizzy noted without much conviction. Cherry had a similar look of accepting, if not approving of the idea. I felt the plan was just fine.
"Speaking of Two-Shot," I interjected, curious as to the absence of the sniper. "Where is he, anyways? He missed a fantastic breakfast. By the way, Daisy, thank you."
"I've been on the balcony." The words ran down my spine like ice water. I shivered and looked over my shoulder. Two-Shot was strolling in. He looked like a mile of bad road. His disheveled mane hung wildly; his bloodshot eyes had deep bags underneath them. "And I'm a better cook than either of them, thank you very much."
Two-Shot walked by all of us without actually looking at any of us. Past Fizzy and me, past Cherry and past Daisy, he walked into the kitchen. All of us remaining in the lounge followed the small white unicorn in his long trek toward food.
"You look terrible," Fizzy's terse comment came from concern. She crossed her forelegs on the table, resting her chin at the crook as she studied Two-Shot.
"I look sober."
We all sat quiet. Each of us exchanged glances with one another, wondering just how much Two-Shot had heard and noticed. Even if he hadn't heard the talk of desertion, he must have noticed Daisy decked out like she was. All four of us leaned over to peer into the kitchen as well we could.
Two-Shot was standing near the salad, levitating small clumps to eat sans plate. He looked at us, chewed on his food, and completely ignored our stares. Another mouthful, and another, and another before Two-Shot sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"You make this, Daisy? It's good." He blinked at the air in front of him, shook his mane out, and blinked some more. "They're moving out there."
Our "What" quartet assailed Two-Shot. He looked at the four of us, leaned into view as we were, and slowly tilted his head to match ours. "Oh goddesses, it's too early to be sober," he muttered with a shake of his head.
"Alright, fillies and gentlecolts," Daisy projected her voice as she spoke, moving into the cluttered kitchen. She stood tall as she stepped back and forth, looking to each of us in turn. "If they're moving then they're getting ready for an assault."
"What about the minefield?" Fizzy asked, "That should detain them."
Daisy nodded to the silver unicorn. "It'll buy us time to prepare, but we shouldn't count on it. We don't know how many of them there are. All they have to do is throw ponies at the mines until we run out."
I stepped in. "He won't. I've talked with the pony leading them. I've seen him in action. He wouldn't waste them just throwing them at a grinder like that."
Daisy frowned. "Not raiders?"
"Manticores. The gang, not the critter." Two-Shot spoke around a small inhaler in his teeth. A single sharp inhalation later and the inhaler clattered to the floor. The unicorn's eyes bulged as he took a deep breath. "That's more like it," he said, faint, as he was nearly airless.
"Scorched Earth?" Daisy asked as a cruel curl scrawled across her muzzle. Her attention fell on Fizzy and me. "You guys pick the good ones, don't you?"
I raised my hoof. "Me, just me. Fizzy is just an accomplice against him."
"I don't see how any of that matters, can we figure out what we're going to do?" Fizzy gave a hard-eyed look to the lot of us, like a teacher scolding foals.
Two-Shot floated a few more chems around himself; the distinctive dash inhaler along with some larger, cobbled together out of a soda bottle versions. "Got what I need. I'll be on the balcony. I'll keep them back as long as I can."
We watched Two-Shot head out to take up his post. Daisy nodded to his parting before she turned on the rest of us. "I'm going to start up there with Two-Shot. I'll provide his cover fire and take the front lines if they manage to breach."
She looked over toward Cherry Pop, pointing a hoof at the pink mare. "Get your supplies ready. We're going to need you stocked and good to go when we make our break for it. We can push them back, but it's going to hurt."
Cherry saluted Daisy, gave us all a keen smile and bolted out of the door. We watched her for a moment, all three of us, before Daisy set her sights on Fizzy and I.
"Fizadora, go down to the basement. The door is right under the big stairs," Daisy instructed Fizzy. "I want you to set up a surprise in case this goes wrong. We have more than enough down there for you to work with."
A wicked little smile curled on Fizzy's face. She casually adjusted her bent glasses. "If you're correct, then I will send them to the moon."
With Fizzy's tail disappearing from view, just Daisy and I remained. "So," I said with a shrug, "That leaves useless old Curtain Call. I don't think talking to them will do me any good here. I can kick hard, and I'm good in close, but that doesn't leave me with a lot I can do. I can stop bullets, but only for a little while."
"You said no more jokes."
"Wasn't one."
Daisy shook her head to hide her amusement. "You may be more important than you think. Head downstairs after Fizzy. You'll find a bulkhead in the back. That's our way out of here. We need you to make sure that way is cleared for us. Worst case, if they get wise and come in that way it's tight quarters, you'll be needed."
I nodded, glad to have some kind of part in this that wasn't bullet shield. "Gotcha. Now go kick some ass."
Daisy and I traded smiles before we parted, she upstairs, and me down.
For all the luxury and pomp the public areas of the Hotel Haflinger had, its underbelly belied the utilitarian mind of the designer. The walls were bare, the floor covered in the dust of age. Lanterns rigged with spark batteries hung from the ceiling, casting an uneven glow over the halls. I looked up at them as I passed underneath, walking the narrow corridor. It was strangely warm down here and I could taste the smell of old fruit on my tongue as I wandered the narrow hallway.
I found myself confronted by a collection of metal vats, tanks, pipes, pots and tubes. A series of stills sat all lined up and boiling away. My jaw dropped as I trailed over the stacks of bottles, all filled and waiting. There was enough liquor down here to get Equestria through the next apocalypse with a comfortable buzz.
I walked among the stills, ducking under a pipe here and there to get around the moonshine operation. I stopped over by one of the stacks and sniffed at it. The sharp scent of the liquor hit my nose and made me reel back. That was when I noticed the little brown bag sitting among the bottles. Curiosity won out and I leaned over to inspect the bundle.
"Don't," Fizzy's sudden voice made me stand bolt upright. "It's a satchel charge. You don't want to touch that."
Slowly, very slowly I backed away from the incendiary pile. "This is your plan?" I wondered.
The look of pride on Fizzy's face spoke volumes. She pranced about the basement distillery as happy as could be. "Ayuh," the unicorn replied. "With all the ammunition that Daisy and Two-Shot have around here, I can make a bunch. Therefore, I have." She stopped by one of the bottle piles. "I could use a hoof moving the fuel around."
"You weren't gone that long," I voiced my thoughts even as I went over to gather the bottles of whiskey. "You came up with this that quickly?"
Fizzy floated another bundle explosive about her, studying the trigger spells she was applying. "I figured I was blowing something up when Daisy told me to go down here. Finding all this fuel just made the how all the more obvious." Her explanation came casually. She was having fun with this, the idea of detonating an old world hotel.
I followed the mad bomber to the only other sizeable room in the basement. It was a workshop. The reek of powder and oil in the air that managed to cut out even the strident smell of spirits. At Fizzy's instruction, I placed the liquor in a small stack. Then I got as far away as possible when she set and primed her little bundle of boom.
"We're using this basement as a way out," I said to Fizzy as she came out from the workshop. "You do know that, right? There's a bulkhead down here I need to make ready. How many more of these little set ups do you have planned?"
Fizzy glanced down the hall and back to the workshop. She chewed on her lip a moment. "One more in the workshop, one by the stairs we came down, and probably another one by the other door. Which I suppose is the bulkhead you mentioned. I suspect I can get everything ready on my own if you don't wish to."
I didn't have to think much on the matter. I could carry more than she could, and her magic was better served setting up those explosives. The door could wait for a minute. "No, no. Let me lug the booze and you stick to making sure I don't go up in a fireball unless absolutely necessary.
"What constitutes necessary?"
I gave a careful look to Fizzy. She was grinning, obviously proud of herself. "That was a joke," I said, my own smile growing. "Good. I like an explosives expert with a sense of humor."
A self-satisfied Fizadora and I set about gathering up more supplies to burn down the Hotel Haflinger. We finished up in the workshop first. A few more bottles tucked in amongst jars of munitions powder did the trick. I shut the door to the room on my way out just so I could ignore the powder keg I just had a hoof in creating.
"So, Fizzy," I broke the work generated silence as we finished up planting and setting the final incendiary plot by the bulkhead door. "I saw Two-Shot leave your room last night. Looked like he left some things in there." I let the statement hang in the air and hoped Fizzy would pick up the conversation ball.
Fizzy just nodded, looking down at the small fireball cache. The mare was not the best at catching onto these sorts of things.
"What were the bag and little ball?" I flatly stated my question, looking down at the mare with expectation.
"Oh," Fizzy said, pulled from somewhere inside of her own head. "It was some information and supplies. That and he wanted to apologize for offending me."
I was curious and pressed the subject as we headed back down the basement hall. "What kind of information and supplies?"
"He had some information regarding a method to get your Pipbuck in working order and attuned to you. Some technology he buried in a cave years ago."
"Why does it seem everypony around here knows more about this thing than I do?"
"Because we do."
I shrugged. "Fair enough," I admitted, stepping aside to let Fizzy go upstairs first. "But let me ask you this, why do you trust Two-Shot?"
Fizzy stopped on the stairwell. "He showed me a memory orb. One of his. I have no reason not to take him on his word."
"Your word is good enough for me," I told the silver mare with a nod, remaining at the bottom of the stairs.
She turned around to look back at me. A quizzical look about her threatened to cover the flattered smile she had as well. "How is it that you trust me? I've deceived you already."
I played it casual, off the hoof. "You've saved my life a few times. That goes a long way for me. That and you're the kind of pony that sucks at lying. It's why you choose to just not say things rather than come up with any sort of fast talk."
We looked at one another for a pregnant moment. I with my smug grin looking out from under my old yellow helmet, her with her scrutinizing parasprite under glass stare of deduction. She broke first, a wide smile on her face. "Good. At least you have a proper reason," she stated with a quick nod. Now as she went up the stairs, she stood a little straighter.
When Fizzy was gone, I made another pass through the basement. I dug around the distillery and took a few bottles of liquor for myself. I didn't want it all going up in smoke, after all.
The booze wasn't my only haul while I was down in the basement. My second go over and I braved the little firearm workshop. Amongst a pile of scrapped pieces of this and that, I found a battered old shotgun. Blowing off the dust and powder, I looked the weapon over. It took me a minute of useless staring to admit I really didn't know much about guns. I still figured I could sell it if anything. However, I didn't want to lug around any more useless things than I already had, so I tucked the shotgun away by the doorway into the distillery room. I could always grab it on my way out.
The muffled crack of gunfire reached the still air of the hotel lobby. The fighting had already begun outside. I was hesitant. Not being a complete idiot, I knew when my talents would be useless. I stood and listened to the distant sound of the gunfire, quieted by the thick walls of the old hotel. To me, the battle sounded a world away, even if it was just outside my doorstep. I looked over to my radio, still sitting where I had left it and silent as the grave. It figured that my noisy little eavesdropper wouldn't show up at a time like this. I sighed, and looked up at the ceiling, taking a seat there on the floor.
"Hey, what are you doing down there? We need your help, Curtain Call!" The voice came from above. Specifically, the voice came from above and to the right. It was Cherry. A yellow and pink set of saddle bags rested on her back, a ribbon of magical bandages floated above her. "Come on, silly pony, let's get moving or our friends are going to die!"
The cheery admonition threw me from my stupor and shunted me back to reality. I charged up the stairs, and on my way out to the balcony. Cherry skip-stepped toward the door as she called back to me, "Go back to my room," she told me, "Grab the rest of my stuff."
I did as ordered. Sure enough, there were a few of those pink on yellow cases lying on Cherry's bed. I quickly scooped them onto my back and bolted for the outside.
Daisy was the first pony I saw as I ran out onto the balcony. She stood at a gap in the balcony wall. The big gun she had rigged to her saddle aimed down toward the maze of carts and scrap that was the hotel courtyard turned minefield. The rapid pounding of her gun filled the air to nearly deafening levels.
Fizzy was crouched beside Daisy. Ducked out of view, she pressed her body against the balcony. A box magazine floated, held by her telekinetic tether while she focused on the Daisy's chugging machine gun.
I looked to the right and left for Cherry. She was low, laying out medical supplies for quick retrieval and a shotgun I suspected was just in case. I joined her, crawling low to stay out of sight from the whistling shots that came from down below. "Hurry!" she shouted above the raucous din. "Get them here; I'll take care of this. You go help the others."
I falling bits of plaster rained down on my helmet as I tried to make out Cherry's words. "Do what?" I shouted. "There isn't much I'm good for up here."
"Bullets, make sure they have bullets!"
Plaster and wood splinted and clouded the air as more round dug in from below. Cherry waved her hoof over towards Fizzy. I got her message loud and clear.
"I'll take this. You have better things to do." The gunfire nearly drowned out my voice when I threw myself aside Fizzy. She blinked at me, her concentration broken. Her ears flicked, tried to listen to me. I screamed, "Make them go boom," at her to get my point across. I am indeed an eloquent pony.
Fizzy got the hint. Soon she stood alongside Two-Shot, a few tin can constructed scrap grenades floated beside her in a line. The first can lobbed and tumbled through the air. Following its trajectory, I could just barely make out the grimy armored hides of the gangers. They were staying mostly out of sight, using the carts as cover and staying away from the cloud of fire that Daisy was lying down upon them. Much as I tried, I could not see their big blue leader.
Daisy's machinegun fell silent. I was still watching the gang down below. One of the gangers, moved, Two-Shot's rifle cracked, and the ganger left his thoughts on the ground behind him. A short burst strafed the balcony. I ducked back down, out of sight. I heard the sudden bang of one of Fizzy's tin grenades.
"Call!" I heard a voice. "Call!" I heard a voice saying my name. My ears swiveled, my head followed, and I ended up looking Daisy in the eye. "Load!" she ordered and she received. I clapped the box magazine into the side of her machinegun. Two-Shot's rifled reported behind me, but it was easily masked by the sudden burst of fire Daisy sent down at the gang's hiding point.
"They're not moving," I shouted to anypony capable and willing to hear me. A shot whistled through the air, cutting just past my head, burying itself in the wall behind me. I hit the deck.
Two-Shot turned his head, his rifle followed. Once again, the rifle's report split the air. "Your ass is safe," he told me, never taking his eye from his rifle's scope.
Daisy ceased her fire and ducked out of her gap in the balcony. Two-Shot spun to take aim. "Still not moving?" I asked, popping my head up to look down.
I couldn't see any of the gangers. "Still not moving," I reassured myself. The courtyard was quiet, out balcony point was quiet. The world was still as we kept look out down below.
"Wounded?" Cherry asked, slinking around behind our lookout line. Her horn and eyes glowed as she stopped at each one of us in a line. She looked me over, or at least I think she looked me over, for a brief moment before she moved on to Daisy.
"Diagnostic spell, "Two-Shot spoke up. He was down on the ground with a small bottle of whiskey. He floated it to his muzzle and began to drink.
I moved on toward Fizzy. She was busy assembling more of those tin can grenades. Steadily she packed black powder into the tin can. The entirety of her focus on the careful task, she looked like she was at peace. "How're you holding up?" I asked, dead set on interrupting that peace.
She packed and sealed off the can, floating it over with its mates. "I'd rather be escaping, but we're holding our own," she answered, adjusted her skewed glasses and looked up at me. "You probably should be checking on our route out."
I nodded, looking behind me. "Yeah, shit. You're – "
There was a hiss and the world exploded. The balcony bucked and rolled. Wood, plaster, and concrete flew through the air. Angry, violent chunks of shrapnel peppered the walls, cut through the windows and threatened to tear through us on the balcony. Dust filled my eyes, a whistling piece of hotel clanged off my helmet. Many smaller pieces blasted into my side. A hundred smaller blows hammered against my side. A stone and wood rain clattered off my barding. My ears rang, I couldn't breath, I couldn't see.
Muffled voices shouted around me. I couldn't make out the words but their panic rang loud and clear in my muzzy head. It felt like being under water. Disoriented, I stumbled and swayed around the balcony. I only found air where there was balcony a moment before.
I slammed to the remains of the balcony. Half my body hung out over the drop to the street below. My left legs wheeled in the air, uselessly flailing for nothing. I bit down, literally, on the balcony, pushing with my legs still in contact with the floor. Desperate to gain a purchase on the partially destroyed walkway, I tried to swing myself back up. I ended up doing little more than flapping like a flag in the breeze.
A white leg stamped down into my limited field of vision and I suddenly felt a lot lighter. Voices that sounded encouraging even if I couldn't make out the words were being shouted at me as I pushed myself up onto the balcony and onto my back. Two-Shot looked down at me, his mouth moving but unintelligible as he shoved a healing potion into my mouth.
The potion coursed its way through my system. I coughed, gagging on the liquid magic as it flowed down my throat. The faint fuzz that lingered around everything began to fade. Sound poured into my ears like ice-cold water; clear, crisp, and loud enough to sting. I could hear the crumbling and cracking of the piece of balcony falling to the ground. I could hear the dull, heavy thudding of Daisy's gun. I could hear Two-Shot shouting at me to get up and move my ass.
Not being in a position to disobey such a wise command, I rolled back to my hooves. Then it struck me harder than the explosion just had. Where was Fizzy? I shouted for her, dashing to the edge of the balcony to look down. There was a lot of gray, but none of it the unicorn I was looking for. She was obliterated. She had to be.
Cherry screamed my name. I looked. For a moment, my day go a whole lot better. She was standing over an unmoving lump that I recognized as Fizzy. I blinked; I couldn't believe my eyes.
"Get her inside!" Cherry shouted at me. A soft pink aura flowed around her supply boxes and they rose up after her mad dash for the way inside.
I looked over toward Two-Shot and Daisy. The looks on the two mercenaries were stone grim. They didn't need me, Fizzy did. I left them and hefted Fizzy onto my back, knocking aside a few spent healing potions. One more look at the two giving us cover fire. I caught Two-Shot's eye. The sniper gave me a nod.
Carrying her through the hotel, I couldn't help but notice just how light Fizzy was. I always knew I was strong, and I'm a fairly large pony. Fizzy was tall, and she always wore that big lab coat of hers, but with her weight hanging limp on my back, I found out just how thin she was. I won't deny that it scared me. She felt frail and broken.
Cherry already had her equipment out and at the ready; a pile of homebrewed and homemade medical supplies and magic. "Right here," Cherry pointed at a spot on the floor where she had placed a blanket. "I want her close to the exit in case we have to make a break for it," she explained when she caught my uneasy look at the lobby door.
It was a good idea, but I jumped around the lobby to gather up whatever furniture I could to form something of a barricade between the rest of the lobby and ourselves. A wall made of chaise longues, a table or two, and Two-Shot's big liquor cabinet would have to do for protection.
I checked and rechecked the finished barricade. Even though I wasn't a builder by nature and had no real clue if it would hold, that it hadn't fallen on me was satisfaction enough. "Alright, looks good. So what can I do?" I asked Cherry, my voice wavering with my uncertainty over the situation.
"She's hurt, but I think she'll be okay," Cherry informed me, looking up from the prostrate form of Fizzy. Cherry had already started mixing potions together, a spent syringe lay on the floor. I understood none of what Cherry was doing. "I've gotten the base potions working. I'm just waiting to see her reaction before I step up the treatment."
The words helped. I knew Cherry was a competent doctor first hoof. Though I don't think she would be sleeping with her patient this time. Probably for the best, I figured. "Okay. I'm going to secure our way out of here. Do you have any way to stay safe?"
Cherry hummed in the affirmative, briskly nodding her head to the side. I tracked the movement and saw a shotgun resting on the floor among her supplies. "Get going," she told me softly, looking up at me to give an encouraging smile.
I didn't really need the smile, but it was good to take with me down into the basement. I made my way down the hallway, turning the corner and heading to the bulkhead. There I stopped dead in my tracks.
I could barely make out a voice, and then I could really make out the banging on the door. It sounded like somepony was trying to hammer their way in from the outside. I looked down the hallway, looked back at the bulkhead and steeled myself for what I had to do.
My kick threw the door open, the clanging loud enough to echo in the empty streets outside. I spun around to see that it wasn't somepony that was trying to get in. It was some griffin, two to be exact. One stood and stared at me with a mixture of surprise and angry disbelief. The other came to a stop at the end of a trip tail over teakettle in the wake of my kick. Worse than the look I was getting from the standing griffin was the black body armor he and his partner wore.
I had to act fast. I had the element of surprise and I could take advantage of this situation. I pounced, verbally. "Finally, you guys show up," I rattled off, heading over to the fallen Griffin to offer him a hoof up. "I've been waiting for hours. Why didn't Scorch send you sooner?"
He took my hoof in his talon and rolled to his paws. It must have been instinctive because once he righted himself; he gave me a look of a griffin who just say a pony with three heads.
"What're you going on about?" the other griffin spoke up, drawing a boxy looking beam rifle. I was immediately unsurprised by the griffin's choice of firearm, but it did give me an idea.
"Scorch didn't tell you, did he?" I asked, heaving the universal sigh of those working under the incompetent. "I'm here to give you a hoof in. Did you really think he was going to just let you bang on a door until it gave?"
The two mercenaries looked to one another. Briefly, the one I had helped up rose a talon and opened his beak to talk. He thought better of it and closed up. The other, keeping his beam rifle pointed at me, managed to cobble together a thought. "Alright, alright, meat, that buys you a minute. Why didn't he tell us about you?"
I threw up a shrug. "Why would he care about you? He cares about his ponies, not griffins. You're mercenaries, right? Not part of the Manticores."
"You got a point," the griffin said, bitterness rising in his voice. "I hate it when these wannabe warlords try to play coy."
Praise Celestia for the smart ones! If he could think, he had imagination. If he had imagination, he could be deceived. I stamped on the ground in my false indignation. "I hear you. Look at this, he pays me to risk my neck infiltrating this place and probably expects me to get vaporized by you."
"He did say kill every pony inside," the one I helped up came in with the assist.
I swung my hoof out at the helpful griffin, pointing at him for emphasis of my clear exasperation. "See what I mean? He hires us and that's the treatment we get." I shook my head and heaved another weighty sigh to sell myself. "Let's get this over with, get our respective pay, and find a place to get shitfaced?"
Never say nothing can bring ponies or griffins together for there is still booze in this world. The two griffins agreed with my suggested course of action. I let them lead the way into the basement, very kindly holding my hoof out to invite them inside.
"So I bet you guys know a few good watering holes?" I asked to keep everyone talking. Talking griffins don't get wise to ruses.
"I do. Over out on the other side of Manehattan. Beyond that big tower," Helpful was living up to the nickname I had given him. "They got this lounge and everything. Whole show is run by a griffin, too, so you know it's legit."
I nodded and trotted along after the pair. Smart Guy still kept his beam rifle out. I didn't really like that, but I already had the pair where I wanted them. We got around a corner and I paused. "Hold up a moment. I need to grab something so I don't die up there."
The shotgun was still sitting there, propped against the doorjamb. I looked from it to the two griffins while I leaned over. It struck then that I really wasn't good at using shotguns. When I caught the two griffins looking at me, it struck me that I wasn't good at using shotguns in the manner intended. The thought made me grin as I took the barrel in my teeth.
I swung. Smart Guy hit the deck, his rifle clattered beside him. Helpful did not. The shotgun cracked with a sickening crunch as it struck Helpful. His head wrenched sideways, soon followed by the rest of his body in a pirouette of unconsciousness. He crashed to the floor in a heavy heap. A spattering of blood painted the wall a shocking red against the dull backdrop.
"Sorry about that," I said, dropping the shotgun turned club to the floor. "But I can't let –"
Someday I will learn to stop being interrupted mid sentence. Smart Guy was on me like a shot. He slammed me bodily into the wall. He held me against the wall, talons clamped on my throat, keeping me from getting to Sharp Retort. I coughed, the air expelled from my lungs. The griffin looked me eye to eye for the split second before he raked his talons across my face. It would hurt more later on, but it still hurt a lot now.
I struck out with my fore hooves. He already had me up by my neck; I just had to snap them forward. A one-two jab to the beak and his eye and his grip began to loosen. I curled my hind legs up against me and unleashed as strong a kick I could muster into his gut. The griffin crashed into the wall opposite me and landed, doubled over. I ran like a coward.
The distillery room, with it's hidden explosives, homemade stills and vats, piping and tables, made for a good place to duck into. I grinned to myself as I walked among the piping. I ran like a coward, but I ran like a coward with a plan. I quietly counted to myself. "One. Two. Three,"
Smart Guy Griffin tore into the room with his beam rifle clutched in his talons. "I'm going to fucking fry you, meat!" he snarled, storming about the room viciously as he lashed about, looking for me. The rage and fury lasted just as long as it took him to realize just what kind of room he was standing in. I really liked the smart ones.
"Hi there," I said with casually self-assured cheer. "Didn't expect this, did you? Let's talk." I kept moving around the room, my eye on the griffin. He held his gun with unsteady talons, his eyes going from me, to the stills, to the bottles along the wall.
"I read a lot as a colt, and I still do. A lot of those old stories talk about the elements of harmony. You know what; I like that idea, harmony. I want there to be harmony between us. So I'll start with being honest. You're a smart griffin, and I bet you can figure things out. You know we're both surrounded by things that like to explode which means you can't exactly use your little pew-pew gun. That means we're left with handling things hoof to talon and let's be honest with ourselves; you can't dance with me."
The griffin was watching me. I was watching him. I circled around and he moved with me. He held his beam rifle low.
"But let's hold on a moment. I'm a kind pony and I really don't want any of us to get hurt any more than we already have been. So let's talk about how we can all just leave here. I think we can all get along. Now I know you're being paid by Scorched Earth to come in here and kill me and my friends, but is it really worth it? It isn't like it's your vendetta. So let's do each other a kindness and let bygones be bygones."
I smiled and backed from the griffin. He looked at me, and I nodded over to the moonshine whiskey lining the walls. He followed my gesture and looked back at me with narrow, questioning eyes.
"That's right. I've got a gift for you and your friend. I'm a generous pony and I want to make sure you don't leave with empty talons. I'll let you take enough of the finest whiskey in the wastes to wet your beaks and whet your wallets. Consider it a payment in post, a last minute bid on your services. All you have to do is gather your friend, leave, and never see me again. None of us gets hurt, more, and we all leave the richer and wiser. I give you all that, for you to give me nothing. Just leave."
The griffin sneered, squirming at the position he found himself in. He started to circle again to find better position against me. His eyes began to scan the room. Gears were turning in his head. He was thinking, and him thinking was dangerous for me.
I knocked over a few bottles and exposed a hidden explosive charge. The griffin focused with the same intensity as the beam rifle he carried. That would do for a distraction.
"That is not my only offer. Because if you don't take that booze and get your tail out of here, we all go up in smoke. Bang, zoom. Straight to the moon. Because I don't want anyone laying a hoof, or talon, on my friends. Let me make myself a little clearer in case you didn't catch my euphemisms. I will kill us all. I will blow up. You will blow up. Your friend will fry. I will die for my friends, because that's how much they mean to me. Loyalty; it's a bit of a bitch like that."
The griffin was starting to get the hint and see the worth in my offer. He frowned, scowled, and stared daggers at me. He further sighed, looked to the bottles, the bomb, and to the hallway. "It ain't worth it," he spat.
"There's a bag over there. Take your fill."
The griffin did. He filled the bag with whatever he could carry. I never left the bomb as he did. Neither of us took eyes off the other for any more than needed. The whiskey would be worth quite a bit, most likely more than whatever a ganger like Scorched Earth would pay. I still added what amount of caps I had on me to the griffin's pay. Helpful was still out like a light, sprawled I the hallway, his beak busted up badly. I helped get him up onto Smart Guy's back. We did it all without a word, but still parted with a nod to each other. Didn't need to like one another, and we weren't expected to, but we could both share respect.
At least we shared quiet respect until the griffins had gotten out of sight and I was back in the basement. I burst into laughter and danced down the hallway. Scratched face be damned, aches in my ribs doubly so. I had won and how sweet it was.
My laughter died down as I skipped through the basement. "What's that about magic?" I asked the audience invisible, "Look at me, I am magic!" I laughed at the bombs and booze, basking in my triumph.
"Hey, Fucko," a radio on a high shelf I could have sworn was off crackled and popped to life with a familiar voice. "Stop stroking your ego and get upstairs. You still have shit to do."
I shrunk from the chiding radio and ran for the stairs. I hate it when inanimate objects make good points.
I found Cherry behind the barricade. She was low, peering through a hole in the furniture pile. Her shotgun floated beside her, ready and waiting to fire on the rest of the lobby. I looked down to find Fizzy lying on her side, breathing deeply. Her lab coat covered her like a blanket. Her eyes were open and she looked up at me with a squint. "Call?" her voice was croaking and indistinct.
"Yeah, Fizz?" I leaned closer to hear her better.
"I want that gun."
I laughed, louder than I should have. It made Fizzy wince. "I'll get your glasses back first, and then we'll work on the missile launcher. You just rest. Celestia knows you earned it."
The grey unicorn mumbled something and curled back to her side. I stepped over her to get to Cherry. "Any idea how it's going?" I asked her, keeping my voice to a whisper.
Cherry looked to me, leaning her gun against the barricade. Her expression shifted to concern. "You've been cut. What happened?"
"Pair of griffin mercs. I'll be fine and the coast is clear. How is it up here?"
Cherry gave me a nonplussed look. "Quiet so far. I only heard one more explosion outside. So long as I can hear the gunshots, I know they're alright." Her words were grim and tired, but her look up toward the walk around that ringed the lobby held hope.
We both stood and listened to the cracking of gunfire going on outside. Cherry split from me to check on Fizzy again. Her magic surrounded a syringe, floated it, and stuck it into Fizzy's foreleg. The gray unicorn groaned, closing her eyes.
"Just to keep the pain down, honey. Your insides are all in one piece again, but you're going to feel really sore and weak for a little while at least," Cherry spoke soft words to Fizzy, setting a hoof on her head, stroking her with the care of a mother. The bristly Mohawk of Fizzy's still stood resolute. Wonderglue indeed.
Something exploded outside. My attention shot up to the doorway above. I swallowed, a sick feeling rolled around in the pit of my stomach. Glancing down for a peek at Cherry, I could see far worse fear in her eyes. I was afraid to lose my front lines. Cherry was afraid of losing her closest friends. The sickness in my stomach grew worse.
The door above swung open. The report of Daisy's gun echoed off the walls of the lobby. Two-Shot backed in first. He held himself against the door. Daisy backed in soon after, tearing roar of her gun ceasing.
As Daisy danced by, a small pair of glasses floated down toward me covered in a white aura. "Catch!" she shouted down to us. I snagged the specs out of the air with my teeth and sat them beside Fizzy.
"Rocketmare's dead but the balcony's wrecked," Two-Shot called from above, running round the lobby overlook. "Everyone still breathing?"
"Well as we can," I answered back, not bothering to hide the laughter in my voice.
The laughter died when the big lobby doors exploded inward. Splinters flew inside; a sharp cloud filled the area. The world slowed to a crawl. Pony shaped shadows appeared in the dusty smoke. The shadows coalesced into ponies. Ponies armed to the teeth, charging in guns blazing.
Like a morbid call and response, Daisy's gun opened with a terrible roar and violent deluge of hot lead. A bellow from the gunner above managed to echo even over the sound of her weapon. "Rain on them!"
The gangers stopped their charging and began a violent dance as they broke the dust cloud. They shuddered, jolting with each heavy bullet that cut into their bodies. Their own shots were wild and useless against the torrent of death that fall upon them. They first few landed in their own blood. The ones that came after fell atop their comrades.
Just as soon as it began, the killing stopped. The charging stopped. Everything went quiet that, compared to the din a moment before, was as the grave. We held our collective breaths and waited.
Several metal apples bounced into the lobby. They exploded, clouding the room with shrapnel, blood, and body parts.
The roar came up once again. Daisy's gun took the lead. I heard the steady crack of Two-Shot's rifle count time. Even Cherry came up to the hole in the barricade and sent volleys of peppering shot at the door.
The next wave was smarter. I saw a few make it inside. A yellow stallion broke to the right, firing upwards at Two-Shot and Daisy's position, only to be cut down by Cherry's shotgun. I could barely make out the hides of a brown unicorn and an orange earth pony hit the stairs running before they tumbled back down a torn apart mess. They weren't making it far, but they were pushing. It was just a matter of time before they pushed too hard.
I was useless in a gunfight like this. I looked to Cherry. She fired on, pumping round after round into the fray. She cried the whole time and flinched with each shot. Daisy's words from the night before hit somewhere deep in my chest. Cherry had never taken a life. She was a doctor and until now, she had managed to not compromise herself and take another pony's life. She didn't look back at me. She just fought for our lives.
Fuck it, I thought. I scooped Fizzy onto my back; coat, saddlebags, and all. Her glasses I put with my things, she wasn't going to be using them anytime soon. "Come on, Fizzy. We're getting out of here."
Fizzy murmured something but I couldn't make it out in the chaos.
I kicked the basement door open and rolled Fizzy into an easier to haul position. She was light, but gangly. I didn't want any parts of her to get caught on anything.
"Cherry, come on, we got to get out of her!" I shouted. I froze when I turned to look for the doctor.
A blue shape charged through the bloody morass of the lobby. It ran through the insanity with a fluid and predatory calm. I saw a faint aqua glow began to hover about the big blue earth pony. Cherry turned her gun on the leader of the Manticore gang, Scorched Earth, the reason for all of this.
Everything moved fast, faster than it should have. Scorch blurred with the glow. I saw the triple nozzle of his flamer fill the hole in the furniture wall, inches from Cherry's recoiling face. A jet of flame burst forth from the weapon, reducing everything in its path to char and cinder. I cringed away from the sight and searing heat of the terrible flame. Turning and running for the basement, I couldn't look back. I wouldn't look back.
Cherry Pop never had the chance to fire. Thank the goddesses that she never had the chance to scream.
"I can walk."
Fizzy's words brought my stampeding through the basement to a sudden halt. Her words, that is, and her sudden interest in flailing about. I waited for her to flop from my back, she landed flat on her face, and to get back up again. She stumbled about, trying to get her hooves back under her while I looked back at the way we came. My heart thudded in my throat.
I could see it now, Scorched Earth, tearing through the hallway with his flamer scouring everything in his path. He would set off the distillery, and all of us with it. "We need to run, Fizzy," my foreboding made my voice quaver.
"You need my magic to prime the initial charge," Fizzy stated, blinking blearily at me before settling on a squint. "Do you have my glasses?"
I dug the lenses from my saddlebag and plunked them on her muzzle. They sat even more askew than before. Still, if Fizzy could see, they were doing the trick.
"I could have done that myself," Fizzy stated, tipping her glasses into a marginally better position. "I'll go get ready to set off the charges. Can you get the pony with the flamer down in here? Preferably without dying?" She started off toward the bulkhead at a wobbly pace.
"Why would you want him down here? Aren't we just blowing him up?" I took a hesitating step toward Fizzy, and then away again. I could do it, I knew I could convince him down here. I just didn't want to.
"Not for certain. The charges are not shaped nor at structural weak points, not enough time to build or place properly," she rattled off like a machinegun. Filly couldn't walk a straight line but she could talk bombing. It figured. "It'll make a lot of fire, burn the place down, but I want to be certain that one gets his for what he did to Cherry."
The nonchalance of Fizzy's motivation got to me. "On it," I told her, turning back to the stair leading to the lobby. "Hey, Big Blue!" I shouted up, "we're waiting." I didn't want to risk getting closer than I had. Too far in and I'd put myself at risk for an ambush. Of course, he could just come tearing down the stairs and do me in all the same. He liked to talk last time we met, I hoped for a repeat performance.
"Do not presume I am an idiot, scavenger." I bristled at his use of the s-word. "Your trap is not so fiendishly clever as you wish it to be. I have far better things to do than to fall for such simplistic tactical machinations."
Scorch liked to speak. I still had that going for me. "You mean like charging head first into a machine gun placement?" I asked in as sickeningly curious tone I could manage. "Or maybe hiring mercenaries with better business insight than you." I made sure that carried acid.
"Weaknesses brought about by the lack of my acumen. Rest assure that I refuse to repeat such mistakes. Now if you are quite finished, I believe I have a unicorn and his mare to cleanse from the planet. Do enjoy your escape, scavenger. I hope your coward's life is good to you."
I winced at the words. How bad could this pony be? I wondered to myself if Scorched Earth could possibly think I would fall for lines that bad. Of course, he would. He was egotistical, pretentious, and thought he had the upper hoof. Since he felt the need to converse with me through shouts from another room, I didn't bother to hide the wicked grin that stretched across my face.
"Yeah? Well, guess they're dead then. Toodles, Scorchy!" I rattled off in a cheer, giving a little salute to the air before I trotted off.
It took all of a half second for Scorch to scream down at me. "I burned one bitch, I'll burn the rest!"
Just as I figured, and just like last time. The pompous ass could not handle being disregarded. I hummed a merry tune to drown the righteous rage that told me to pound Scorch's head to the consistency of pudding. I needed to be irreverent; I needed to shrug Scorch off. The less I was hurt by his words, the worse he was by mine.
"I know it doesn't look it, but Two-Shot's actually a guy. That's the sniper who's putting holes in your gang's head while you're shooting the shit with me."
Scorched Earth's forehoof stomped heavily at the top of the stairs. He burst into the stairwell and started down the stair. Filled with self-important rage, he started at me.
I grinned at him, sat on my haunches at the other end of the hall.
Scorch stopped half down the stairs. His rage turned to fearful realization. The disgustedly panicked grimace on his face as he looked at me was priceless. Shame it was so ephemeral. The big blue earth pony corrected his course and started backing up the stairs. "I'm beginning to see that talking to you is of little use and lesser consequence. I will not expend anymore of my time on you, scavenger."
I turned my back on Scorch for one last attempt at drawing him into the basement. He didn't take the bait. He was still smart, for all of his pretentions and I so help me I couldn't think of a bluff to take advantage of his imagination. I hit the stairs. Fizzy was up there, sitting on the ground waiting. I shook my head to her. She nodded, understanding.
"Can you run on your own?" I asked, concerned for both of our hides at this point. There was still a firefight going on upstairs from what I could hear. I wanted to hope for Two-Shot and Daisy, but I couldn't bring myself to. Fizzy and I had a chance to bolt, and I knew we should take it.
Fizzy nodded and got to her hooves. "I'm healthy enough to stay alive," she pointed out, even if she did look like she was about to puke, she was mobile. "I'll give us time to get clear." And with that, she focused her magic on the basement stair payload, surrounding it with magic.
A crash from above brought the sound of gunfire to my position below. I looked up to see a large hole where a window used to be, up on the second floor of the hotel. My heart leapt in my chest. I made my way along the building and what I saw made my heart leap again. A white pony with a reticule on his flank stood in the shattered window. The large revolver of his floated about, cracking off a round at an unseen assailant.
Two-Shot looked down at me and shouted, "Catch!"
A blue body surrounded in a white aura hovered out of the window and promptly began to fall. Daisy, the thought made me freeze. I scrambled to get myself under the body. I wished I could have been a pegasus, or griffin or unicorn. I just wanted to be something better than a mobile cushion. Two-Shot did his part in slowing Daisy's descent, but it was still all I could to keep her from crashing to the pavement. Daisy's weight, coupled with her gun, landed smack on my back.
I sent a quick thanks to the goddesses for my strength. I sent it between pants and grunts, at least. Looking up, I watched Two-Shot continue his fusillade against the gangers bearing down on him. Then, without warning, he threw himself into the air.
Two-Shot made a faint crunching sound when he struck the ground. My jaw did the same when he stood back up.
"How in Celestia's sun are you still standing?" I asked, looking over the small white unicorn. He was a wreck. His coat was splashed with blood, both his and not. I counted a few open wounds in his flank and one foreleg. The other foreleg had some kind of strip that bound a syringe in place. A long, if shallow, slash mark ran over the side of his face. His eyes were wide and wild, and he was now standing slightly crooked after his swan dive.
Two-Shot took a deep breath, and exhaled a broken laugh. "I'm good. I'm good," he told me, bellowing in his amplified voice. He took a few more hyperventilated breaths. "See? I can smell all the sounds of the rainbow. Shut up, I'm talking."
His revolver, which had clattered nearby, swung into the air with a sudden pull of magic. It spun round, angled up, and fired. A pony fell from the window above and cracked his skull on the pavement.
Two-Shot pointed toward Fizzy. "Tell Cherry to finish patching that guy up and let's go. There's no good tech here. Nothing worth keeping. Just wastelander shit."
I found myself at a loss for words. "Daisy?" I whispered. I could feel the mare's weak breath on my ear, it was comforting, but I had no idea how to handle a drugged to the nines Two-Shot. I just watched him stand there. Even stationary, he seemed to vibrate in place.
"Just go," whispered the wounded mare on my back. "Get to safety. Don't want to die here."
My hooves were under me now, the sudden strain of catching Daisy gone. I hiked the mare on my back and turned to make for Fizzy. I was a little late in the matter.
"It's rigged," Fizzy stated and was off less like a shot and more like a poorly thrown ball. I trailed after to stay with her. I couldn't run quite as fast with everything I had plus Daisy and everything she had. Two-Shot, somehow managed to figure out which hoof was which and keep up with us. How easily he did so unsettled me because I didn't think he knew just where and what was actually going on around him. I dreaded what would happen when he learned.
We all ran. We all ran for our lives. Not a one of us got a chance to see the Hotel Haflinger, which had withstood war and time, finally succumb to the flames of fresh conflict.
I could only hope it was fitting enough a tomb for those buried inside.
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