Report From Rescue Company 1

by BRBrony9

On And Off

There was a bar on 2nd Avenue, at 30th Street, called the Ring Of Fire. It looked like any of the other countless pubs and bars across the city from the exterior; gold filigreed writing on the windows and sign, an awning outside, a fug of cigarette smoke in the air. But while this bar was open to all, it had one primary clientele; fireponies. It was the one building they could enter where smoke in the air was not a bad thing.

It had been founded some fifty years ago by a former firepony named Salt Spray, who had enjoyed a long and varied career, starting as a deck hoof in the merchant navy in his youth before returning to his home city of Manehattan and joining the Fire Department. He retired as a Deputy Chief and then turned his hoof to his other love- alcohol. Not just drinking it, of course, but brewing it and selling it to thirsty ponies- and few got as thirsty as a firepony after a tough job, especially in those days when most fires were fought without protective masks and air tanks. Together with a few of his firepony brothers who had put money into the enterprise, Salt Spray had purchased the property in the heart of the borough and turned it into a bar that would cater to his own kind. There was memorabilia on the walls, photos of retired department members, sketches of old Chiefs from before photography was available. Above the bar was a ladder, an old wooden 20ft ground ladder that used to be carried on the side of every Engine Company. They had long since been replaced by metal ladders which were far more reliable and durable, but lacking the charm in the same way that big diesel-engined rigs lacked the romance of the fireponies pulling their own wagons.

Ember Dawn had visited the pub a few times since joining the department, but he had never spent too long there, feeling that it was more a place for the older, more established fireponies who had years, not weeks, on the job. But Striker had invited him for a few drinks, and that was why he found himself sitting in the friendly fug of smoke and clinking glasses, among some fifty or so other ponies, not all of whom shared the same vocation as him. Some were just passers-by, tourists or locals looking for a drink, but most of them were fireponies relaxing when off-duty with a few beers or whiskeys. It was common to find the bar rammed full at the end of the week and in the days after a particularly testing fire or other major incident. With Hurricane Gilda and the steam leak both in the recent past, there was more than a fair share of off-duty members of the department currently enjoying the hospitality of the Ring Of Fire.

Striker sat down at the table he shared with Dawn. 'Here you go, buddy. A beer and a whiskey.'

'Thanks,' Dawn replied, picking up the shot glass. 'Bottoms up...' he poured it down his throat, wincing a little at the sharp taste of hard alcohol, before taking a swig of his beer. 'You come here a lot?' he asked Striker.

'Sure.' The Pegasus nodded. 'Well, depends what you define as a lot, I guess. But yeah. No other bar I'd rather visit...and not just because fireponies get a 25% discount.' He chuckled, downing his whiskey and picking up his glass of beer. 'It's the atmosphere, you know? If somepony made a great save or if we stopped a big bastard of a fire, then it's all slaps on the back and rounds on the house. And if we took a hit, if we lost a brother or if a bunch of foals died or something, then there would be quiet contemplation, heads bowed. Ponies understand each other here, it's just like being in the firehouse...except you can drink.' He took a swig of beer.

'Yeah, I can see that.' Dawn nodded in agreement. 'I get that welcoming feeling. The bartender gave me a free beer the first time I came in here as soon as I showed him my department ID. Said he hadn't seen me in here before so I must be new on the job. It's like he knew everything about me the minute I walked in.'

'Oh yeah, old Pint Puller.' Striker replied with a grin. 'He's a tough old bastard, but what a guy. You know, we had some trouble in here one time. A few cops showed up, and you know what they're like. Now normally they don't make a fuss and we get on just fine. After all, anypony is allowed in here, even the colts in blue. But I guess they'd been at some department thing, they were still in formal uniform and all that, and for sure they'd already hit up at least one other bar on their way. They started kicking up a fuss, you know how they do. They were in danger of gettin' a real kicking by a bar full of fireponies, but old Pint Puller, naw, he wasn't gonna have any of that. He doesn't like violence in his bar...well, unless he's the one dishing it out. So he comes out from behind the bar and marches up to these cops, all still in uniform, right? And he says to 'em, that if they stayed one minute longer in his bar then they was gonna get a hiding, and not from the customers. So he stares them down and one of 'em tries to take a swing at him. Boom! Cop goes flat on his plot and the whole bar erupts into cheers and laughter. Pint Puller says hey, if you were on duty you could arrest me for that, but since you ain't, then get the fuck out of my bar! Off they went with their tails between their legs.'

Dawn chuckled. 'Wow. Sounds like a stallion you don't wanna cross.'

'Not if you're a cop, anyway,' Striker smirked. 'Old Pint Puller was a firepony, you know. Only served a year, though. Got badly burned at a fire out in Hooflyn. Never could pass the physical exams after that. Real sad, you know? He was one of us- you know, one of those stallions who wanted to be a firepony since they was a foal. At least he got a chance, even if it was cut short. But he wasn't done with the department, 'cause he thought hey, if I can't be a firepony, then I can serve them drinks and help 'em out. When he heard about this bar, well, that just about gave him his new purpose in life.'

Dawn looked over at the bar. The dark brown earth pony in question was serving drinks to ponies sitting on a row of bar stools, laughing and conversing with the fireponies. Those who knew his story knew that their bartender was more than just a friendly ear; they could find that in any bar in the city. But if they wanted a friendly ear that was also an understanding one, that would know the reality of the kind of trials and tribulations they had been through on their latest shift, or the money and family woes of trying to support foals on a department salary and with long hours? That was something they could only really find in the Ring Of Fire.

'Sounds like a good guy. I'm glad he could find some way of still being close to the department,' Dawn sipped his beer. 'It's true what they said, you know. In training. The department really is like a big family.'

'It sure is.' Striker nodded. 'If you need something then all you gotta do is post a note up on the firehouse notice board or fire off an email. You'll get twenty guys and gals offering to help, maybe hundreds if it's somethin' really important. We all gotta stick together, you know? Fire doesn't take prisoners, and we gotta have each other's backs the whole way, right from the minute we get on duty to the minute we clock out and go home.'

'Yeah, exactly.' Dawn finished his beer and nodded along. 'I'm glad you have my back.'

'Sure thing, brother,' Striker replied. 'I got yours, you got mine. That's how the department works. Couldn't function without it, without that trust.'

Dawn nodded again. Striker was absolutely right. If you didn't trust the pony backing you up on the line, or if you didn't trust the pony driving the truck, or worst of all, if you didn't trust your officer to give the correct orders, then you couldn't function properly as a firepony. Trust was the key. Trust in the department, in their policies, in your equipment, in your vehicle, in your training, in your protective gear, in your fellow fireponies, and, perhaps ultimately the most important, trust in yourself.

Ember Blaze sat at the housewatch desk, scanning through a few department emails which had been sent out to every firehouse, mostly concerning the administrative aftermath of Hurricane Gilda. Several firehouses had been flooded and some units were being given temporary quarters, while others were being accommodated at other firehouses nearby, as close as they could reasonably get to the areas they were meant to be serving. Another email was all about the schedule for department medicals for those ponies who had responded to the steam leak. There was a list of personnel transfers, a list of names submitted for department medals, and...

Blaze backtracked when he saw something familiar. It was his own name, right there in black and white, under the heading of 'Recommended For Department Medal Of Valor- FP. Ember Blaze, Rescue Company 1, for technical rescue operations at Manehattan Box 7570. Recommended by Captain Grey Spike, Rescue Company 1, & Battalion Chief Firebrand, Battalion 9.'

He blinked, and felt a grin creeping onto his face. The Medal of Valor was the second highest award in the department; only the Cross Of Celestia, the award which shared its name with the military's most prestigious medal, ranked higher. To get nominated for the Medal of Valor, a firepony would have to, 'Demonstrate bravery and skill above and beyond the normal call of duty in order to save life, at a significant risk of personal injury or death, during the operations at a fire or other emergency incident,' according to its own citation. It had been a fortnight since the rescue in question, when Blaze had saved the poor trapped foal from the radio mast, and while he hadn't exactly forgotten about it, especially since it had been on the news and played on repeat by his mother when he had visited his parents, he hadn't got too hung up on it. He had been involved in other rescues since then, albeit not quite as dramatic. While his mother had gone crazy, both over the risk he had taken and also how brave he had been to do it, his father Blaze Beater had simply given him a nod that said more than words ever could. He understood. He had been there, been in the job for so many years, rode the Rescue just as his son was now doing, and he knew exactly what it took, physically and mentally, for Ember Blaze to make the save. What his father didn't know was that Blaze had specifically volunteered for it, to take the place of his Captain, but he was certainly modest enough to not try and score brownie points by mentioning that fact, to his father or to anypony else in the firehouse who hadn't overheard him make the suggestion to Grey Spike on the wet and windswept rooftop. It wasn't about grandstanding, and he hadn't even considered that cameras might be watching. It was just something which had felt natural to him; the right thing to do.

There was a knock at the firehouse pedestrian entrance, off to the side of the apparatus bay doors, where fireponies would enter, as well as any visitors. The door opened and a black mare walked in. 'Oh, hi...'

Blaze looked up from his computer. It was Licorice Swirl, the mother of Sulfur Springs, the other colt that Blaze had helped save recently. 'Oh, well hey there...' He smiled. 'What can we do for you, ma'am?'

'Oh, please, it's...' she began.

'Licorice, right, I remember,' Blaze nodded. 'Sorry. Old habits, you know? We're told to call everypony sir and ma'am when we're on duty. It's good to see you again. How can we help you? How's your son?'

'Oh, he's doing just fine, and, well, it's...it's not so much we as...well, you,' Licorice replied. 'You see I meant to come before, but the storm and everything. I've had to help my mother, she was living with me for the last two weeks because her house got flooded, but she's back home now. She found a really good contractor who helped her, cleaning her carpets and all that stuff.'

'Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that,' Blaze replied, wondering why Licorice had come by again. Last time she had tried to get the crew to accept money in return for their efforts in saving her son. Blaze hoped she wasn't trying the same thing again, because they would have to turn her down again due to department regulations.

'Well, gosh, I'm rambling, aren't I?' Licorice chuckled. 'Sorry. I, um...I should really try to make more sense. Sorry! I just...well, you see...I, uh...I thought...I mean, maybe I was wrong, but I thought you...maybe you seemed, uh...'

Blaze raised an eyebrow. What exactly was she trying to say? 'It's ok. You can tell me,' Blaze informed her. 'I won't tell anypony else if you don't want me to. Are you in trouble?'

'What?' Licorice's eyes widened. 'Oh, no! No, no! Gosh, I'm terrible at this, aren't I? I'm not in any trouble. I was just...' She laughed nervously. 'I was just trying to...well, ask you out on a date...'

Blaze blinked. 'Oh...oh, uh...you were? Oh...'

Licorice looked down at the floor. 'I'm sorry, I knew it was stupid! I just thought, when I came here before, that...I don't know...that you...gave me that kind of look, that said...'

Beep-Boop.

'Rescue.'

Blaze leaped to his hooves. 'Ah...sorry. We've got a run!' He scanned the computer screen. 'But it's a yes!'

'What?' Licorice asked, startled by the sudden noise.

'It's a yes!' Blaze replied, as the rest of the crew piled out of the break room. 'Box 8202, West 70th and 11th Avenue, pony trapped!' he called, before galloping to the rig with the others. He pulled on his bunker gear, climbed onto the rig, and settled into his seat. The door opened and the Rescue pulled forward. Blaze looked out of the window. Licorice had gone almost unnoticed by the other fireponies, it seemed, as they had simply rushed to the rig to answer the call. She gave a wave as they raced out of the door and onto the Avenue. Blaze raised a hoof in reply.