The Story of Reik: The Communist Revolutionary: MLP

by Reik

Chapter 9: Fight or Flight

REIK CURSED LOUDLY and sharply drew his hoof away from the engine bloc of the flier. The unconscious owner of the dwelling groaned where he laid, several paces away near the door, right where Reik had left him. Reik, wanting both to keep his stealth maintained and to release some of his anger, scurried over to the pony’s prone form and gave him a sharp kick to the back of his head. The owners grew silent but Reik noted his continued breathing as he walked back to the flier. The air in the small garage was practically frozen and the moaning wind radiating from the bottom of the large retracting door taking up the garages back wall only added to the frigid motif. Reik continued his work on the flier’s engine, the vertical prop driven aircraft had three broken pistons out of its six. Reik had successfully replaced two of the pistons, which now lay in a hatefully discarded pile in a corner of the garage. Now he was working on removing the third piston. As he jerked and pulled at the cylinder, long ago forfeiting the old and broken tools, he heard the roar of a crowd outside. Quiet at first but growing in pitch. Reik froze in fear; visions of a massive mob dragging him through the streets of Canterlot to the steps of the keep filled his mind. The door was forcibly flung open as Reik rushed to hide his peaked cap. In the doorway stood a guard, young by his appearance and state of his shining armor hinted a recent recruit. Behind the guard Reik could see a massive parade of ponies marching down the street, Reik realized the city was being evacuated. Reik felt a small amount of warmth in his being, everything was going according to plan, but what of Vladimir, and he should have arrived by now.

“Sir, the city is being evacuated, gather what you need and follow the guards out of the city.” Reik suddenly registered that the guard was talking. He nodded sincerely. “Yes, thank you, err, you may leave I’ll only be a minute.” He casually stepped over to the workbench and pretended to gather the tools into a pile. The guard immediately turned to leave but stopped when his gaze fell upon the unconscious form of the houses true owner.

“What’s wrong with him?” The guard snapped, with both fear and suspicion in his voice. Reik turned from the workbench and stifled a gasp. He walked over to the sleeping pony, feigning concern. “Oh the poor old man must have drifted off; this new medicine he’s on really puts him out.” Reik spoke the planned back-story with ease; he had gone over the projected conversation in his head multiple times. The pony groaned slightly and twisted his limbs, Reik made a mental note of the infectivity of his non-lethal attacks. Reik, with the help of the young guard, pulled the pony to his shaking feet. Reik gave the guard an innocent and convincing tone. “Would you be so kind as to help him out of the city, I have things to prepare and he is in such a weak state.” Behind his mask of compassion, Reik was virtually radiating panic. Get out, get out, get out, his mind screamed, he glanced at his watch. Ten-twenty, the bombs were set to detonate at roughly midnight, Reik heavily doubted Vladimir’s skills in demolitions, so his life was not in immediate jeopardy but he was supposed to be on the ground by now, gathering the elements of harmony. To his relief the guard gave a crisp nod and took the old pony’s weight and began lifting him out the door. He turned to Reik before leaving and spoke. “Be quick, we need to escape, err, leave the city as soon as possible, oh, excuse me sir.” Reik grumbled to himself as he moved to shut the door. If the guards are that bad at hiding their own fear then it is a mystery how they would deal with a full on mass panic. Another issue with the status quo he thought to himself. As Reik closed the portal, a massive hoof shot out of the doors corner and blocked His attempt. Reik backed away as the door flung inwards. In the doorway stood a giant, Reik backed up to the tool bench, searching out of the corner of his eye for weapon to use against the intruder. The giant stepped into the dwelling and turned to shut the door. Reik took advantage of the giants pause and launched himself at him, more as a sign of defiance than a legitimate attack. The giant, still turned around, extended his back hoof to meet Reik’s charge. He was thrust back from the blow and sprawled out upon the floor. The giant turned and advanced on the prone pony. Reik breathed a sudden sigh of relief as his suspected attacker entered the light.

Vladimir gazed down at Reik, a confused look on his face. Reik chuckled and rose to his feet. The cold numbed his being.

“Sorry comrade, you frightened me.” He smiled and looked at his friend. Vladimir still held a confused look on his face. Reik paused and examined his friend. Vladimir was a mess. His helmet was gone and several aspects of his armor where either torn asunder or missing entirely. His front was covered in soot and he reeked of black powder. The black substance hung in clumps onto his mane. The area in and around his ears where caked in dried blood. Reik, immediately understanding the problem rushed to Vladimir’s side. He produced a stolen magnified monocle from his coat pocket. Before his passion for politics, Reik prided himself on the vast expanse of medical books in his study as a young colt. Although the ears were not specifically his forte, Reik had a decent understanding of what his comrade was experiencing. Reik peeled away flakes of the dark red crust and gazed into the ear canal. A ruptured eardrum became easily apparent. Evidently Vladimir had been a tad too close to the rocket during launch. The damage did not seem too severe, the damage would heal and Vladimir would hear again, but not after at least three weeks. Reik shook his head and looked to Vladimir.

“What is the damage comrade?” Reik cringed at his friends booming voice. Seeing this, Vladimir lowered his volume. “Will I be ok?” Reik nodded and told the grey pony that it would be at least three weeks, making sure to exaggerate lip movement so Vladimir could understand. The two stood in solemn silence, once again the revolution had hit a brick wall. Reik returned to his work on the flyer, lost in his own form of denial. Vladimir's head snapped up. He walked over to Reik and spoke, silently and loudly due to his impaired senses. "The aspects of harmony." Reik didn't break his gaze with the machine in front of him, the piston clicked as it left the engine block. "Elements, my friend, elements." Vladimir continued, unable to hear the remark. "They are magic, so could we possibly repair my ears." Reik paused. He looked to his friend grinning widely. "Vladimir, where would I be without you?" Vladimir looked at his friend oddly, Reik remembered his disability. He pointed to the flyer, signaling its functionality and the completion of his work. Vladimir climbed into the aircraft; his training in this particular vehicle during his stay in the royal guard would now prove its worth. Reik marched over to the far end of the garage and flipped a small switch located on the side of a control panel bolted to the wall. Upon his action the metal garage door creaked into life. It pulled above the entrance and disappeared into the ceiling’s framework.

The first thing to hit Reik was the wind, not nearly as strong as what it once was but still causing his bones to shake and rattle. But as if in some hidden exchange, in absence of the wind there was snow, it rained down on Canterlot in a slow motion monsoon. The garage sat on the outskirts of the third level, across a few blocks worth of roofs, Reik could see the great wall that represented the barrier between the great capital and the unforgiving fury of nature. Reik felt a twinge of sorrow at the coming destruction of the great city. He began to hope that the capital of his new nation would be even half as great as the one that spanned out before him.

“Comrade, time is a luxury we don’t have.” Vladimir’s remark pulled Reik from his thoughts and he reluctantly walked back into the garage. He pushed the machine out of the garage, just barley clipping the rotor blades on the exit as he did so. As Vladimir adjusted the controls and mumbled to himself in his own foreign language, Reik walked back into the garage to gather up his possessions he left on the workbench. The talisman sank into his coat pocket swiftly and was followed by a small dagger he had relived the old home owner of, served him right for attacking me with Reik thought. The design of the blade was vaguely familiar to Reik, it had popped up numerous times in his studies and the curved design shared by both the hilt and blade where interesting to him. A ‘Karambit’ they called it, a very common farming tool in the east. Reik gently placed the weapon into its sheath before placing it into his coat pocket. The door suddenly blew off its hinges and fell to the wooden floor as Reik placed the peaked cap on his head.

Apparently the old pony had come to his senses for the young guard Reik had left the old one with was standing behind the tall brute that broke down the door.

“Yes, that’s him, that’s the communist!” the young guard shouted, his voice cracked with suppressed panic, the secret was now officially out. Reik looked back at Vladimir, the grey pony had already started the engine and the rotor where spinning with such force that the shook the aircrafts frame. His comrade’s face pleaded with him to board the flyer. Reik didn’t take a single step backwards; he wouldn’t leave this city without giving his opponents something to legitimately fear. He was not acting out of hatred, every movement and thought was as precise as the gears of a watch. The karambit hissed as it left the protective sheath and the blade shined in the dim lighting. The brute charged Reik, roaring at the top of his lunges. Reik searched his memory for some ounce of useful knowledge. The memorized techniques and movements of the weapon he was armed with responded to the mental call. He mechanically sidestepped to the left and brought the curved blade into a slashing motion, Reik was pleasantly surprised as the blade made a mockery of the guard’s armor. Wanting to avoid unnecessary death, Reik targeted his enemies leg tendons, a wet tearing followed by a deep scream filled the room. The revolutionary had successfully severed the tendons in the guard’s forward and back legs along his right flank and the brute fell into a screaming heap onto the floor. Reik, disregarding the gasps of the guard’s allies, turned and fled to the flyer. Vladimir pulled hard on a cord next to the pilot seat as his comrade jumped onto the aircraft. Immediately, the machine quickly rose into the air, shedding the falling snow with its rotating blades.

The flyer zoomed across the buildings, nearly crashing into numerous smoke stacks or spires. The wind whipped at Reik’s face forcing him to turn his head away from the oncoming snow. In-between blinks and rubbing his eyes Reik could have almost make out a large white pegesus flying far off in the distance. Before they made it far enough out and it disappeared behind the snow and clouds, Reik looked back at the massive city he had once called home. The snow and clouds parted momentarily like strangers would part when coming upon a photographer in mid shoot. From where they flew, all three levels of the city stood out against the mountain, without the clouds and storm blocking the sight, intricate streets, widow, walkways, and buildings could be seen as clear as if it was mid day. For a moment he forgot the monuments imperialistic significance, all the memories of his past in the great city became devoid of anger and sadness until only happens and joy remained. The vision was magnificent and Reik committed the sight to memory.