Ponyville Noire: Rising Nightmares

by PonyJosiah13

Case Twenty-Three, Chapter Seven: Short on Time

Daring panted as she carried Phillip over the sleeping city, fiery adrenaline racing through her veins clashing with the lack of sleep that had settled into her bones and the chill that was pervading her coat from the drizzling rain. “Dammit, they just had to go and do this now,” she growled, racing south.

“Set us down on the docks,” Phillip instructed, pointing towards the concrete wharves beneath them, illuminated by swirling red and blue lights from the gathering police cruisers. “Flight wards won’t let you get close and we should wait for backup.”

“I hate waiting,” Daring grumbled, but nonetheless banked down towards the dock.

“Wait for me!” Strider called from behind, swooping down after them.

They landed amidst the growing crowd of police officers and RBI Agents that were surrounding the docks, checking equipment and bustling about, seemingly trying to figure out who was in charge and what the plan was. Most of them were staring out at the dark shape of Clovenworth Island far out into the bay. The island could only barely be seen in the muted moonlight that managed to leak out from behind the heavy cloud cover; the lighthouse was ominously dim.

Heads turned as the trio landed, eyes widening in shock.

“Detective Finder! Daring Do!” a younger officer cried, snapping to a crisp salute.

“At ease,” Phillip grunted impatiently. “Who’s in charge?”

“Agent Swift Judgement is on her way,” one of the RBI agents replied as the thestral pulled a shotgun out from the trunk of his car. “Yeah, here she comes now.”

Phil, Daring, and Strider turned to see a Neighzer Manehattan approaching, the spinning red light mounted on the roof cutting through the rain. It screeched to a halt in the lot and Swift Judgement exited the driver’s seat almost before it had fully stopped.

“You should be Wonderbolts, as fast as you two are,” she commented to the trio, drawing her sidearm from beneath her coat: a .44 Desert Griffon.

“Reckless as always,” Swampfire grunted as he exited the passenger seat, giving Strider one of his customary glares.

Swift Judgement made her way through the dock. “What’s everypony just standing around for? Where’s the damn launch?” she barked.

“The launch was gone when we got here, ma’am,” a senior RBI agent replied, looking up from a radio set. “We’re trying to get in contact with the prison, but no one’s answering the radio.”

“Dammit,” Judgement replied. “Well, we’d better start looking for boats. I don’t care if we need to commandeer a rowboat, we need to get over there!”

She turned to look back at her consultants, only to find that all three of them were gazing at her Neighzer Manehattan, the rain pattering against the light purple coat.

“Nice car, ma’am,” Strider said.

“Hmm?” Judgment asked with a frown. “Thank you. I bought it when I became the SAC here two years ago.”

“When’d you paint it purple?” Phillip asked, slowly trotting around the circumference of the car.

“Just a couple of months ago,” Judgement replied, the confusion on her face increasing by the moment. “What is this about?”

Swampfire was scowling at Strider, but his eyes were darting over to the SAC, hints of suspicion in his eyes.

“So, where were you around nine-thirty two nights ago?” Daring asked, approaching from behind Judgement.

Swift Judgement turned on her, her stoic expression flickering briefly. “I…decided to go home for the night,” she said.

“And you live alone, I’m sure,” Daring replied as Phillip knelt next to the front right wheel. He pulled out a magnifying glass and studied the chassis for a moment, then nodded.

“Look, what’s this about?” Judgment scoffed.

“The scratch on your car eighteen inches off the ground,” Philip said.

“What scratch?” Judgment replied. “There’s no scratch.”

“There isn’t because you buffed it out,” Phillip answered, slowly standing and facing her, his gray eyes glowering darkly beneath the brim of his trilby. “I can see the marks where you cleaned it off. After you scraped it on the lamppost on Twenty-first. After you shot and killed Salmon Fillet.”

Judgment’s mouth opened to protest, but the words died in her throat as they locked onto Phillip’s penetrating gaze. She tried to take a step back, then whirled around to see Daring and Strider standing behind her, all of them glaring, closing in like wolves on a lamed deer.

“Swift?” Swampfire asked, but there was no pity or confusion in his voice, merely a quiet demand for answers.

Swift Judgement’s eyes darted back and forth as if searching for an escape, then hardened. “Damn you!” she snarled, her horn lighting up. A shield spell erupted from her and slammed into Phillip and Daring like a brick wall. They took the hit and rolled with it, popping back to their hooves as the traitorous agent drew and aimed her sidearm.

Strider got there first, pouncing on Swift and thrusting her gun arm up, sending her shot up in the air.

“Get off!” Swift snarled, turning towards Strider with a punch to the gut. He blocked it with his fetlock, trying to push her away, but she seized his own right foreleg and pulled him in, driving his knee into his thigh and causing him to instinctively fire his own sidearm into the air. The two agents began to struggle in a tangle of limbs, twisting and turning about each other like partners in a violent dance, neither willing to let the other go, curses and grunts bursting from their throats as they kicked, punched, and slammed into each other.

One of their guns went off and Phillip ducked as the bullet passed less than a foot next to his head. He, Daring, and Swampfire surrounded the duo, trying to line up a clear shot or close in to aid, but the dancing combatants constantly circled each other, their guns randomly barking as they struggled, preventing them from getting close. The other officers and agents were scattering, staring agape in disbelief.

“Hold her still!” Swampfire shouted, his own sidearm at the ready.

“I’m trying!” Strider replied, slapping aside Judgement’s Desert Griffon with a wing and aiming a kick at her shin. She stepped back to avoid it, tugging then pushing at him to try to knock him off-balance.

Both combatants reared their heads back and simultaneously tried to headbutt each other, the result being that their foreheads bashed together with a sound like two coconuts striking each other. They reeled back, stunned, but still clutching each other.

Judgment recovered first, driving a knee into Strider’s thigh and making his leg buckle, dropping him to a knee. His grasp on her right foreleg slackened and she tugged it free. “Die!” she growled, aiming the enormous pistol over Strider’s shoulder at Daring Do.

Strider’s wing came up and slapped her foreleg aside, sending her shot wide once more. With a grunt, Strider pulled on her left foreleg while turning into her, sweeping his wing across her legs. Judgment screamed as she was pulled over him and slammed onto the ground, the breath expelled from her lungs with a wheeze.

She looked up to see three guns aimed down at her. She glared up at them in defiance for a moment, then sagged in defeat, hatred simmering in her eyes. “Damn you,” she growled at Phillip.

“Didn’t think you’d be enough of a drongo to use your own vehicle,” Phillip replied as Strider pulled her pistol from her foreleg and extracted a set of hoofcuffs. He slapped the cuffs on her and hauled her to her hooves, passing her off to two nearby agents. “Get her out of here.”

The agents glanced at each other, then carried their former leader to a waiting cruiser.

The unicorn agent at the radio stared for a beat, then turned to Swampfire. “Well…guess you’re the ranking agent on scene, sir,” he said.

Daring let out a groan. “Ah, fuck. Should’ve waited until later…”

Swampfire hesitated for a beat, then his face settled into an iron countenance. “Right. Find us some damn boats.”

---

A fleet of commandeered speedboats roared through the choppy water of Manehattan Bay towards the dark shape that sat brooding over the water. A flash of lightning streaked through the sky, casting the island in stark black and white, like an image from a nightmare. A sound carried over the water, barely audible over the crashing waves, rushing wind, and roaring engine: a muted, wailing siren, like the groan of a dying animal.

In the lead boat, Phillip stood alongside Strider and Daring, his wife at the helm, crouched behind the windshield, teeth gritted as she guided the boat through the sea. Phil pushed his trilby down low over his face to try to keep the spray and wind out of his eyes as the boat crested the waves. He squinted through the darkness that the boat’s lights were struggling to penetrate. The concrete pier that served as the entrance and exit for Clovenworth Island was abandoned; there was no sign of any officer awaiting them.

Strider yelped as the boat crashed down onto the water, sending spray everywhere. “I’m glad you don’t have a car!” he stated, pushing his own fedora down onto his head.

Daring responded with a Flying Feather, pushing the throttle forward for the final leap.

“Load up!” Swampfire barked at the armored SWAT team that was waiting in the back of the boat, bracing themselves against the buffering of the wind and the waves. Weapons were unslung and hammers were cocked.

Daring pulled back on the throttle and swung the speedboat wide, pulling it into the pier. The SWAT officers immediately hopped off the boat, sweeping the empty docks with their weapons, mounted flashlights penetrating the shadows. The sound of the siren was louder, the wailing distorted.

The officers entered the small guardhouse, the door creaking loudly as they pushed through. They swept the small cabin on the dock, flashlights casting shadows over the interior. The silhouette of a pony sitting in a chair was cast against the windows. The white-gold unicorn commander approached the chair and checked it, then shook her head sadly.

“Clear,” she reported.

Phil, Daring, Strider, and Swampfire hopped off the boat as well, Daring efficiently tying the boat off on one of the cleats. Phil and Strider entered the guard’s cabin to find a gray-maned officer sitting in the chair, a thermos of coffee and a newspaper spread across the table in front of him. Blood from his slit throat was sprayed across the paper, the dried stain obscuring the printed words. The officer was staring up at the ceiling with wide, unseeing eyes.

“Slit by a left-hooved pony,” Phillip mused, briefly scanning the wound, then sweeping over the entire room with his eyes. He crouched down to study a dark, mostly dried puddle next to the door.

Strider frowned at the dried newspaper. “How can the blood be dry already?” he asked. “The alarm went off not even an hour ago.”

“Worry about it later, Strider,” Swampfire replied as the SWAT team headed up the stairs, rifles at the ready. “We’ve got a prison to take back.”

Daring paused briefly to put her night vision contacts into her eyes, then fell in behind Phil, drawing her pistol.

The SWAT officers led the way up the stairs, following the sound of the still-groaning siren, the Netitus security gates buzzing in alarm as they passed through. No spotlights from the towers snapped on, but the unicorns up at the front kept shields at the ready nonetheless. The agents and detectives followed behind as more boats arrived, unloading more backup. A faint orange glow could be seen cast against the overcast skies as they approached.

When they crested the top of the hill, they found that the gates leading into the prison proper were open, a passageway into hell. The small guardhouse on the exterior of the gates was riddled with bullets, the bloodied corpses of the officers within laying half out of the door. Debris had been jammed into the motor controlling the gates, preventing them from closing.

The rest of the prison was even worse. Corpses were spread everywhere, blood mixing with the rain. Nearly every building in the prison was aflame, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows and colors across the ground. The wailing siren was coming from a lone pole that had been pulled down onto the ground and appeared to have been battered with blunt objects. Many of the gates that divided the prison grounds into sections had been knocked over, as had the sign reading “Inmate Rules.”

To their left, the warden’s home looked like it had been through a war: flames danced in the upper windows and the walls were pockmarked with bullets. To the right, the barracks were in ruins. The doors hung open and smoke billowed from within, carrying the metallic reek of incendiary grenades.

“Wait here,” the commander ordered the agents and led her team inside. The agents waited outside, shivering in the rain.

A flash of lightning illuminated the doorway momentarily, revealing corpses sprawled across the hallway, their blood staining the tiled floors. Daring let out a brief hiss.

“They locked the guards in,” Phillip stated quietly, observing the stampede of muddy prints in and out of the doorway and the broken chain and padlock dangling from the door. “Then when they had more backup…”

“Bastards,” Daring exhaled.

The commander returned, her eyes heavy. “Clear,” she reported. “They’re dead. All of them.”

“Fuck,” Swampfire breathed. “Okay, let’s, uh…clear out the rest of the prison.”

They checked the watchtowers overlooking the stairs. Each had a single dead officer within. Their heads both had dark circular burns.

“High-powered castfire sniper rifles,” Swampfire commented with a scowl. He nodded to the bulletproof windows that surrounded the watchtowers. “These wouldn’t stop a round from those.”

The group next went to the infirmary, where the doors hung off their hinges. Piles of debris lay on either side of the entrance hallway, shoved aside as though a giant hoof.

“They tried to barricade themselves in,” Strider observed as they entered.

There was no sound save for the rain and thunder still roaring outside. Bodies of nurses and janitorial staff decorated the darkened hallways, their blood mixing with discarded bullet casings. Beds that had been previously occupied now stood barren. A door to a storage closet hung open, the jamb bashed open: shelves were knocked over, medicine and supplies scattered over the ground.

They found the first body of one of the attackers in the infirmary: a blue thestral wearing a bulletproof vest, staring up at the ceiling sightlessly, his throat slashed open. A BAR lay discarded on the ground next to him amidst the wreckage of knocked-over equipment. Facedown nearby was the body of a nurse, the scalpel in her talons still wet with his blood.

“No one,” Strider declared as they completed their search.

When they entered the female cell block, they were greeted with the same ominous silence that hung over the rest of the building. The lights illuminated a battleground: corpses of officers were laid in puddles of their own blood and fluids, their bodies riddled with bullets.

Every cell door of the panopticon was open. But they didn't have to look far for their former occupants: gathered on the bottom floor about the base of the guard tower were the bodies of inmates, spread about like scattered sticks.

Phil bent down next to the body of one of the inmates, a dark green unicorn sprawled facedown on the concrete. She had a bullet hole in the back of her head, a feature that most of her inmates had. Some of the inmates were spread out from the rest of their comrades, tunnels carved through the sides of their heads or drilled into their backs.

"They executed them," he breathed. "Lined them up and shot them."

Daring counted the bodies, examining their faces. A scowl crossed her face. "They're gone," she hissed.

"Who's gone?" Strider asked.

"The Family mares and the changelings and Xixphy," she answered. She picked up a broken silver band on the ground and studied the rune-etched surface with a deeper scowl. "And they broke off the restraint rings, too."

The male cell block was much the same story: flames and blood, every officer dead, every cell open, most of the inmates executed on the floor, and the Family members and changelings vanished.

The interior of death row featured a long concrete hallway lined with offices that then split into two doors: one cellblock for females, one for males. Each cell block had a dozen cell doors on the walls surrounding a large sitting room with tables secured to the floor.

Every one of the cell doors was empty, taunting the would-be rescuers with their inadequacy.

"Great," Strider sighed. "Of course they decided to let the serial killers, traitors, and war criminals out."

“Where’s the warden?” Swampfire asked as they proceeded down another hallway toward the execution chamber. “We’ve been all over this place and haven’t seen her.”

The commander entered the viewing room and paused. “Found her,” she reported in a flat tone.

On the other side of the glass, Brick Wall dangled from the gallows, the noose digging into her neck. Her wide eyes bulged from her purple, bloodied face as if accusing them of failing to save her. Strider, Daring, and Phillip all winced and looked away, hearts instinctively speeding up as their vision flashed before their eyes.

“No one,” Swampfire exhaled, collapsing into a seat. “There’s no one left. They’re all gone. But it wasn’t even an hour ago, how did they….?” He seemed to sink into himself, dropping his face into his hooves. “What am I going to say in my report?”

Strider rolled his eyes at Swampfire’s back and led his companions back up the stairs and outside into the rain. They stood there, shivering in the cold darkness, staring out into the silent shadows as they slowly started to trudge towards the stairs.

“We’re too late,” Daring breathed. Almost on instinct, her hoof went up to her neck and she pulled the Awely-Awely totem out from beneath her shirt and began to rub the carved wood as if trying to draw some comfort from the necklace.

“There’s gotta be some way we can track them down,” Phillip said as they returned to the barracks. “They had to have taken a ferry or something.”

“They planned this out well,” Daring replied. “By now, they’ll have gone to ground, and they’ll be out of the city by sunrise.” She gestured at the burnt-out shell of the barracks. “And they get away with all this shit.”

“You can still save them.”

Phil and Daring turned around to see a figure in a rain-drenched cloak emerging from around the corner of the building, pulling back the hood to reveal the face of a white-bearded Aborigineigh stallion.

“Rolling Thunder,” Phillip said, relaxing at the sight of the former guide.

“Huh?” Strider asked, eyes sweeping back and forth the area. “Who are you talking to?”

“A friend, mate,” Phillip reassured Strider.

“Why can’t I see them?” a clearly unconvinced Strider asked.

“Because you are unfortunately not part of my covenant, beloved nephew,” Rolling Thunder answered, smiling at the RBI agent before his face turned serious once more.

“Listen to me, alerenheng,” the Aborigineigh said, his eyes intense. “The invasion is still ongoing.”

“What?” Daring asked, gesturing. “Looks pretty over to me.”

“The time spell is still ongoing; what you see is both currently happening and has happened already,” Thunder replied. “And you have the means to undo these wrongs.” He pointed at Daring’s chest, where the hourglass-shaped amulet that Starlight had sent them dangled from around her neck.

Daring frowned and took the amulet in her hooves, the metal anomalously warm in the cold, rainy air. “How do we use them?”

“Turn the amulets so that the sand falls,” Thunder explained. “You will be transported within the spell’s effect. You may save many lives, perhaps even avert this disaster entirely.”

He placed a hoof on Phillip’s chest, right over the totem of Angkakert tucked beneath his shirt. A comforting coolness spread through Phillip’s body at the touch, like a gentle embrace that banished fatigue and fear.

“We will be with you,” Rolling Thunder promised before fading away.

The trio was left alone in the rain, looking at each other uncertainly, each holding their amulets. Another crackle of lightning and grumble of thunder sounded from overhead, the sound oddly encouraging.

“Well, hell,” Daring said. “It’s not the craziest thing we’ve done. On three, right?”

“On three,” Strider and Phillip both nodded.

“Okay, one…two…three!”

The three simultaneously turned the hourglass-shaped amulets, causing the ground gems within to fall to the bottom. The rain that was falling from the sky suddenly froze, then started to fall upwards, into the sky. The SWAT team reappeared, running backward at superequine speed, then rushing back down the steps as the inmates that had been looting the warden’s house rose, then retreated back towards the cell blocks. Figures raced past them at blinding speed, inmates, armed invaders, and officers; corpses rose from where they lay, blood retreating back into their wounds as they raced back and forth.

For a moment, all motion froze, then resumed. The sound of the rain was now joined by the roars of battle: shouts, screams, gunfire, the wailing of sirens. The fresh scent of blood and cordite hung in the air: in the distance, they could see flashes of light in the windows of the male cell block. Below them, an orange ferry was tied off at the docks, bobbing in the choppy water; the words "HARMONY ISLAND FERRY" was painted on the sides in white. A semi-translucent sphere of dark purple energy surrounded the boat; a trio of ponies with machine guns and sniper rifles stood on the deck, prepared to fend off any attempt to take their transport.

The doors to the barracks were chained shut, the chains rattling as ponies inside strained against the locks, the reinforced windows thumping loudly as the trapped officers tried to break themselves out. Outside the doors were two figures in bulletproof vests, BARs at the ready.

“What the--?!” a female unicorn cried, whirling around and bringing her weapon to bear on the trio that had suddenly appeared. Her partner, a pale gold earth pony, was slower to turn.

Daring was faster than them both. Her whip snapped out and seized the unicorn’s weapon, tugging it from her grasp as a salvo went wildly into the air. The earth pony instinctively ducked and paid for it when Strider put a round into his head, followed by another for the unicorn.

Recoiling her whip, Daring seized the BARs and tossed them to the two stallions, then hurried over to the chained door. “Hang on, guys, I’ll get you out,” she reassured them, digging into her pocket and pulling out her lock picks.

It took less than five seconds for her to defeat the padlock. “Good thing they went cheap on this,” she muttered, tugging the chain off and throwing the doors open.

Officers stumbled out of the doors, bulletproof vests thrown over clothing that had been hastily tossed on, guns at the ready. “Where did you come from?” Sergeant Stargazer asked, gaping.

“Long story,” Phillip replied. “What can you tell us?”

“Not much,” Stargazer replied, looking around wildly as more officers filed out. “By the time we heard the first gunshots, the doors were already locked and those two were standing watch. We saw them attack the warden’s home and drag her out.”

“How many?” Strider asked.

“I…I’m not sure,” Stargazer shook his head. “Maybe twenty? Regardless, we can’t stay here. We need to get to a more defensible position.”

“Maybe one of the cell blocks?” Strider suggested.

Stargazer nodded, his fear and confusion melting away to reveal a countenance of determination. “Right. We’ll go to the death row.” He turned to the other officers. “Okay, team, we’re outnumbered and outgunned, so we need to fall back to the death row cell block and wait out…wait, where’s Shepherd? She was on security crystal duty.”

“We’ll find her,” Phillip said, heading inside with Daring and Strider. Phillip paused at a coat rack hanging on the wall, studying the coats and umbrellas hanging up on the hooks, then nodded grimly as he headed further inside.

They passed one door which creaked open. Sticky Note and Counterpoint peeked out through the crack, eyes wide, both of them dressed in rumpled undershirts.

“D-Detective Finder?” Sticky Note gasped, shivering and pulling the door open further. Behind her, Phil could see a line of bunk beds, the sheets tossed aside. The door had been barricaded with a metal bed frame.

“You two okay?” Phillip asked.

Counterintelligence nodded with a swallow. “We barricaded ourselves in here once we heard the gunshots. What’s happening?”

“Where’s the security room?” Phillip asked.

“Just down the hall and to the left, across from the armory,” Counterintelligence replied.

“Thank you,” Phillip said, moving on down the hall.

At the end of the hall were two doors. The door on the left was open, displaying empty weapon racks. Daring opened the door on the right.

A desk and a chair faced a wall of crystals projecting images of the rest of the prison. The trio could see images of officers and invaders running through the male cell blocks, cheering inmates being freed from their cells. A control panel of buttons and switches and a radio were set on the desk.

Phillip’s flashlight fell on a few drops of blood on the floor and he grunted, sweeping the area with the flash. It fell on a closet in the corner, which he ripped open.

The corpse of a white unicorn mare with a fluffy, cloud-like mane tumbled out. Phillip gently caught her and lowered her to the ground, studying her slit throat.

“Left-hooved,” he confirmed, gently closing the mare’s grass-green eyes. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the office, storming back down to the bunk room with the other two following.

The two secretaries looked up at their approach. “What is it?” Counterintelligence asked.

“Where did you put the heart?” Phillip snarled at Counterintelligence, shoving aside the bed frame blocking the door and entering the room, closing in on the warden’s secretary.

The unicorn blinked, quailing slightly. “I-I beg your pardon?” he stammered, backing away.

“You killed them,” Phillip hissed as Daring and Strider closed in around him, like wolves around a lamed deer. “Shepherd, the guard at the docks. You’re left-hooved and your umbrella is wet. Where did you put the ritual?”

“Counter…?” Sticky Note gasped, backing up against the wall.

Counterintelligence’s eyes darted from one to the other in desperation, then his face turned to a snarl.

"These animals don't deserve to live here, fed and housed on my tax dollars," he spat. "They need to be wiped out, all of them! What 'justice' is there from letting these bastards live?!"

"And what right had you to slit your coworkers' throats?" Phillip snarled, his voice pitched as low as the thunder outside. "You're no different than the ones on death row."

"I helped bring real justice!" Counterintelligence spat back in rage-fueled defiance, but his knees trembled and his eyes darted between the three cold-eyed ponies that were surrounding him. "Right now, the others are giving those animals real justice, and then--"

"You bollocking, traitorous idiot," Phillip growled, looming over him. "They're not killing the inmates, they're letting them out. And they were going to burn you with the rest of them!"

"Liar!" Counterintelligence roared, lighting up his horn.

The bed frame that had been blocking the door was sent spinning across the floor as if flung by a tornado, scraping and banging against the floor. “Watch it!” Daring cried, leaping out of the way. Strider dove to one side, while Phillip did a backflip over the bed frame.

Counterintelligence’s spell hit Phillip in midair and he tumbled to the ground, landing with a grunt as he rolled. The traitorous unicorn leaped for the door.

"No, you don't!" Strider shouted, leaping at him and tackling him out of the air. The two ponies tussled together on the floor, Counterintelligence snarling and spitting as he grappled for Strider's weapon.

"Get...off!" Strider shouted, pinned beneath his foe and trying to simultaneously tug his weapon from his grasp while also keeping ahold of the unicorn.

"Hold him!" Daring shouted, charging in.

There was a flash of light and a roar. Sticky Note screamed from the corner where she was trembling. Everypony froze for a moment.

Counterintelligence slowly toppled over with a groan, his eyes rolling back into his head as he wheezed out a few final breaths. Dark red blood ran from the gunshot wound in his chest, pooling about his body.

Strider stared at him, panting. Smoke rose from the Navy .44.

"I just..." he protested. "I didn't...it went off..."

"It's okay, Strider," Phillip reassured him, helping his friend back to his hooves. "Not your fault."

Stargazer ran in from outside, followed by other officers. "Counter!" he cried at the sight of the body. "What in...you...what the hell happened?!"

"He sold you out," Daring spat. "He was the one who killed Shepherd and let these bastards in."

"What? Him?" Stargazer protested. "No, no, there's no way--"

"It's t-true," Sticky Note said, allowing Daring to help her up and wiping her eyes. "H-he confessed. B-b-before they..." She gestured sadly at the body.

Stargazer slumped, disbelief frozen on his face for several seconds before it slowly melted away to disgust. "Well. Then I'm not gonna waste time missing him. C'mon, let's just get out of here." He gestured for everypony to follow him out of the barracks and back into the rain. Sticky Note leaned against Daring, passively allowing the pith helmet-wearing pegasus to guide her back outside. The secretary flinched at the barrage of noises, the continuing sirens and gunshots and shouts through the rain and wind.

Daring Do looked about at the warzone that the prison had turned into, then turned and looked down the steps at the ferry waiting in the water. She hesitated, then turned back to the prison, towards the sound of battle.

“Sticky,” she told the trembling secretary, grabbing her shoulders. “Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be okay. The officers are gonna escort you to the cellblock.”

Sticky squeaked.

“It’s gonna be safer than here,” Daring replied. “Just go with them. It’s gonna be okay.”

“O-o-okay,” Sticky stammered, nodding. “What are you g-gonna do?”

“What we do best,” Daring replied, watching Strider and Phillip looting the bodies of the two invaders for extra ammunition for their BARs. “Stop the bad guys.”

Author's Note:

Yeah, I think you can guess what video game this is based off of.

Not much to say about this other than I hope that you enjoyed and are looking forward to more!

Comments

[TheDoctorRet]

Cool chapter

Can't wait to see the baddies to fail once again!

[SolarisLunaris]

I did not see Swift Judgement being the mole, I totally expected Swampfire to be it!!

[Titan Commander Sebaste]

*racks bolter*
Cleanse and burn, brothers! Time to teach these cultists some lessons!