> Fool's Gold
>  by Merc the Jerk
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Heist
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The streets were empty when Isabelle rolled her car into a handicapped parking lot square by the bank. She took a breath, scratching at her rose-colored nose stud as she stared at the building. The athletic girl was scared shitless--she wouldn’t admit it, but it was true. Things were about to get wild.

“Ya alright, sugar?” one of her passengers drawled out. Jack reached across the armrest and gave Dash’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Y-yeah. I’m frosty. Ready to get this shit on,” Dash lied. There was a small click of static as the earpiece she wore came to life.

“Testing, testing.  One, two, three,” Spike said. “How do I sound?”

“Like a little angel, darling!” Rarity proclaimed from the back seat. Spike chortled quietly over the line, then coughed, trying at least to sound professional.

Twila’s mouth twitched into a near smile as she marked a checklist in her head, going over everything that needed to be done in order for this to go on without a hitch.

“W-well, I suppose we know why we’re here and what needs to be done, right?” Spike asked, doing his best to be in command.

“G-get in. Get the money. A-and get to the escape car,” Chylene whispered, twirling a small lock of her hair as she sat in the back seat. She reached behind her and grabbed a large metal case. The quiet woman checked the clasps, flipping them open and closed repeatedly as she nervously stared at the bank.

“There’s more to it than that,” Spike corrected. “I have a contact on the inside. He’s agreed to help us out.”

“Spikie’s branching out! He’s got contacts, and aliases, and popcorn, and plans!” an excited Diane listed, counting on her fingers. She paused, adjusting the pink poof she called her hair. “Uh, what is the plan, exactly?”

The group could hear Spike put his palm to his face. “Ok,” he slowly started. “We separate into two teams, Brawn and Brain. Brawn is in charge of controlling the lobby and the civilians. Brain is responsible for meeting my contact in the employee break room. He’ll inform you how to approach the vault. Team Brawn is going to be Pinkie, Dash and Jack. Brain is Chylene, Twila, and Rarity.” He took a breath. “Once you put on your masks and open the car doors, I’m calling the mission underway. Remember, we’re sticking to codenames once we’re out the car--in case we have some ears listening in. Everyone, sound off your codenames.”

“Stetson,” Jack grunted, taking off her signature hat and placing it on the dashboard. She glanced over a white synthetic mask with a trio of apples on its cheek. With a world-weary sigh, she slipped it over her face and donned a pair of gloves.

“Books,” Twila said, flexing her covered hands before grabbing her own mask--this one adorned with three purple starbursts.

“Shouda been ‘Egghead.’” Dash grinned, happily ignoring the brief glare the studious woman gave her. “Oh, right. Uh, Bolt reporting in,” the athlete added as an afterthought.  Her mask went on, bearing a rainbow colored lightning bolt.

“Party!” Pinkie exclaimed. Her bubbly personality fell slightly. “Can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said, a rare serious thought escaping her lips beneath the three pink balloons on her mask.

“Mouse here. And I-I wish we didn’t have to, Diane, but it’s the o-only way we’re going to have enough money t-to... you know...” Chylene said, hiding deeper into her pink hair.  After another moment’s hesitation, she pulled on a mask marked with three yellow butterflies.

“I cannot believe we’re condoning something so barbaric,” Rarity bemoaned. “Robbing banks is one thing, but hiring those... brutes?”

“Hush now, Gems. Ya know why we’re payin’ ‘em. Jus’ somethin’ we’re gonna have ta deal with,” Jack snapped back.

“Fine, but did you really have to pick disguises that are just so... just so... dull?” she said, adding her own triple amethyst tagged mask, hers of a slightly higher quality.  Rarity gave a distasteful shake of her head and reached into the pocket of her low-cut dress. She pulled out a semi-automatic pistol from one pocket, and a silencer from the other. As she screwed the pieces together, the beauty checked her clip. Eight shots.

“Ok, Drake. We’ll be ready in sixty seconds,” Twila said, readjusting her mask. One by one, the others got ready.

“Kevlar?” the former librarian asked.

“Never leave home without it,” Dash quipped, tapping her chest.

“Guns?”

“Guns?” Jack repeated, her tone suggesting she was smirking. “We got guns comin’ out the ass,” the blonde replied, tilting her head towards the trunk of the car. She gave her hat a tap with a finger--a gesture she hoped would bring good luck.

“Supplies?”

“I... I have a medkit. I hope we don’t have to use it,” Chylene said in her quiet, thoughtful way, clutching the briefcase as if it was a talisman against evil. 

In a way, it was exactly that.

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Make sure to exhale when you’re taking a long shot,” Twila advised.

“I-I know.”

“If no one has any complaints or reasons to turn back now, we’re starting in thirty seconds. Get a move on,” Spike replied.

Dash shook her head, taking deep, calming breaths as she squeezed the life out of the driver’s wheel.

“It’ll be ok, sugar,” Jack quietly said, putting an arm around Dash’s shoulders. “I’ll keep an eye out fer ya.”

“I... I know you will,” Isabelle said, far more gently than she was used to. She straightened that slip-up out in an instant. “But let’s drop the sappy act--we’ve got this.”

“Ten seconds,” Spike warned. Everyone sitting at a window seat grabbed hold of their door handles.

“Five.”

Pinkie seemed almost overjoyed for it to start. She gave a disbelieving look to all the well-dressed women in the car with her. “This is like a dream I had once!” she chirped. “Except there was less of a dress code and I was a lobster! I--”

“Mission’s a go!” Spike commanded. The group shot out in an instant; four gave one last, intense look at the building while Dash and Jack ran to the trunk of the car to get the guns.

“Let’s get this party started,” Pinkie said, sounding both nervous and a little excited. The adrenaline was kicking in already. 

The bank was a two story affair. The lobby they were quickly preparing to enter was lined with rows of glass windows, showcasing over a dozen civilians waiting patiently in line, none aware of what was approaching.

“Break room’s on the second floor. There’s a stairway in a room to the right,” Spike commented.

“We’re on it, Drake,” Twila replied. Jack and Dash arrived, each carrying a large duffel bag.

“We ain’t hurtin’ nobody that don’t deserve it,” Jack ordered, adjusting the holster she kept at her breast.

“You don’t have to remind us, Stetson, we know. You’ve said it like twenty times now. No civvies,” Dash answered. She felt the reassuring weight of her berettas dragging her suit jacket down. “Let’s do this.”

“Um...S-Stetson?” Chylene asked quietly, “What if they decide to f-fight back...?”

Jack didn’t have an answer for that. “We take it as it comes to us, Mouse. Best I can say.” Chylene nodded at the answer but she wasn’t entirely satisfied with it. The farmer reached for the door, sucking in a breath as she pushed inward. A single bank teller looked up at their arrival, her mouth formed a silent ‘O’ of surprise, and she sucked in a breath, preparing to scream.

Stetson quickly reached into her holster, pointing her revolver towards the ceiling. With an almost lazy gesture, she cocked back the massive iron piece and fired a single bullet.

As the shot roared across the lobby, panic ensued as a flurry of screams graced the women’s ears. Several began to run in half-crouches across the lobby, and several tellers hid behind their large mahogany desks.

“Get down, motherfuckers!” Isabelle bellowed, tossing her duffel bag to her side and drawing out her nine millimeters in each hand. “Down on the motherfucking ground!”

“We’re just making a withdrawal!” Pinkie chirped, contrasting with Dash’s authoritative shouts. 

Yer lucky we’re not at home. I’d make ya put a quarter in the swear jar, Jack thought wryly. She pointed her gun across the flinching civilians. Each seemed to draw a terrified breath as her barrel swept across the masses. “Ain’t nobody needs ta get hurt, alright? Jus’ keep calm an’ don’t do anythin’ dumb.”

“Too late on the ‘dumb,’ Stetson,” Spike replied after a beat. “Just saw that a silent alarm’s been triggered. I cut the signal as soon as I could, but it still got through. Cops’ll be there soon. ETA ten minutes.”

“Already?” Jack snarled. “Damn it! Unbelievable.” 

“Shit,” Dash swore under her breath, gritting her teeth and tightening her hold on her weapons. “We better make this quick then or we’ll be in the fuckin' doghouse’.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. Party! Bolt! On me! Zipties!” Jack quickly ordered, gesturing at the civilians. “Tie ‘em up. I’ll get the duffel's unzipped!” The farmer pointed east. “Books, Gems, Mouse, upstairs!”

After the order had been sounded, Dash and Pinkie were quick to go up to Jack. The farmer tossed them a package she had in her jacket pocket and opened one of the duffel bags. She withdrew a sawed-off shotgun and checked the two rounds inside. Without any hesitation, she shoved shell after shell into her pocket, along with a handful of rounds for her revolver. Lastly, she reached inside and grabbed an empty, crumpled backpack. She slung it over her shoulders.

“Party, I’ll zip, you suit up,” Jack called out, returning to the civilians. Across the lobby, to their left, Jack noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. A guard was peeking into the lobby from the archway, pistol drawn and at the ready. He was quick--the man ducked low and aimed straight for Diane.

Jack was quicker. 

A bullet ripped from her fifty caliber, slamming into the guard’s throat amid a torrent of screams from the civilians lying prone on the ground. He collapsed to the bloodstained floor, dead instantly.

Pinkie stared at her now dead attacker, her hands trembling slightly. She nodded at Jack as a thanks, then opened up the gym bag, getting out a P90 for herself. Following this, she also picked up a backpack and slung that on. 

Then she grabbed some zipties and set about cuffing the civilians. Most of them were silent, except a man in a blue suit.

“Bastards,” he muttered coldly at Diane. 

“It’s for a good cause, trust me,” she replied reassuringly. 

“Sure. Sure it is.” 

Pinkie opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. She was glad that she had a mask on now; it obscured her sad face. The man said no more, not resisting Pinkie’s efforts. Once he was cuffed she stood up and looked at Dash, who had just finished cuffing another person.

“We’re good,” Isabelle stated, nodding at Pinkie and Jack. 

“God help us all,” Jack said darkly, empathy rattling her stomach on seeing the pool of blood slowly expanding past the guard’s body. She did her best to squelch the hurt--there’d be time to grieve later. What mattered now was making sure the poor bastard didn’t die in vain. She jammed a finger to her ear. “Books, we’ve got the civvies tied up and a dead guard in the lobby. What’s yer end lookin’ like?”

There was a measured, but hard swear before Twila’s reply of, “Well, that didn’t take long.” And it looks a lot like I’m taking a big important test, but don’t know the subject, or even if I’ll be able to read it or... She shook her head, returning to her outward calm focus, and instead said, “We should be nearing the break room; one more corner, according to Drake--stupid design to put it behind all the offices, if you ask me.  The time wasted by--”

She was cut off by a gunshot hitting the wall near her, causing her to reflexively jump back, pulling her two compatriots back with her.  Rarity screamed and began to complain when another pair of gunshots rang out from down the hall.  The trio scooted behind the corner, Chylene shaking in fear as she had never felt before.

“Books!  Report!  Are you ok?” came the worried drawl of Jack at the same time as Spike’s, “Tw--I mean, Books!  Talk to me!”

“I’m fine,” she said calmly, though her breath came a little faster.  Though her insides were broiling, she’d convinced herself to never break on the outside--that was the only way she could commit such a terrible act and not go mad, she had told herself.  “There must have been a guard or two in the break room when we started.  They’re holding their position down the hall, taking shots of opportunity if we so much as show a hair.”

Chylene began crying out, quietly to herself, “I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home...”

Dash put a finger to her ear. “Aw, Mouse...we can’t back out of this now. We just gotta do it...try not to think too much. It helps.” 

“So business as usual for you, then, right Bolt?” Twila said, all cool confidence.  She examined the panicking young woman and saw nothing of immediate concern.  “Mouse, get a hold of yourself.  You must think this through logically: if you check out now, and one of us gets hurt, what’s going to happen?”

Chylene slowly looked into Twila’s face, the horrors of her friends’ injury or even death playing through her mind.  And worse: of it being her fault.  She closed her eyes and counted to ten, taking big breaths of air and swallowing a dozen times before nodding and getting back up to her feet.  “I’m ready, I can do this!” she said quietly, but emphatically.

Twila nodded and turned back to the problem at hand.  A solution instantly presented itself.  “Deploying a flashbang.  Gems, be ready to take point.  Try and disable, not kill,” she said the last word with extra emphasis, thinking of the Brawn team.  Removing one, she pulled the pin and counted off a moment before tossing it down the hall.  All three of the would-be criminals held their eyes and ears closed.  There was the sound of a gunshot, a cry of, “Oh shi--” before the stun grenade went off, sending out its bright flash and sharp sound.

Immediately, just as they had practiced, Rarity quickly stepped into the hallway, scanning for the hostiles.  As expected, the comparatively untrained security guards had fallen to the ground, holding their eyes closed, their firearms dropped to the ground in the process.  Rarity had no desire to shoot either guard--though in their practice, her marksmanship had been rather impressive, attributed to her fine eye to detail and steady hand from years of needlework--so she quickly kicked away the two weapons and turned her own against them.

“You’ll regain your sight in about three to five seconds.  When you do so, please come up slowly, hands behind your head.  Allow us to restrain you and you won’t be harmed,” she commanded quickly, aiming her gun at a space equidistant between the two.

Back in the main room, Dash was peering out of the windows. “Won’t be long now...” she turned to Jack, “What’s next?” 

“That guard came from the other room. Bolt, with me. Party, keep an eye out on the hostages,” the farmer promptly replied. “How much time we got, Drake?”

“Looking at eight and a half minutes. Warning you guys ahead of time--they’re not pulling any punches. They’re pulling in a SWAT group.”

“Not unexpected,” said Twila. “Standard procedure for any hostage situation involving armed criminals.”  Chylene let out a pained whimper.

Spike paused. “Actually, I’ve been listening in on their radios. They haven’t mentioned anything about hostages--the cops have just been instructed to make sure the cash doesn’t get grabbed. Weirdest damn thing.”

“Sounds ‘bout right fer our ‘illustrious leader,’” Jack said crossly, glancing once more at the corpse on the floor. “Doesn’t care ‘bout the people, jus’ has ta make sure her goodies don’t get snatched away.”

Dash rolled her eyes upon receiving the news. “Great. Just fucking great,” she started to head to the room where the guard came from, “Come on, Stetson.”

“Be careful you two.” Pinkie said, keeping her eyes on the civilians. “I’ll make sure I’m the only one doing any funny business around here.” She giggled slightly.

Jack loaded two more bullets into her revolver’s chamber and leaned against the wall by the archway. She nodded over to Isabelle, and quickly ducked into the room, gun at the ready.

There was a young guard to her left on the other side of the wall--only a few years Spike’s senior. Sweat caked his face as he held a pistol up with both trembling hands. Jack felt her trigger finger instinctively twitch, but restrained herself. He was just a kid.

Shit.

“Drop it,” she ordered. His trembling increased, his finger nervously fumbled towards the trigger--Jack couldn’t wait anymore. The tall woman took a few strides forward and twisted to the side just as the boy finally regained his composure enough to fire. The blast deafened her ear--she retaliated by twisting the gun free from his hand and pistol whipping him in the temple. He groaned, weakly clutching at his welting and bleeding wound.

“On yer knees,” the farmer hissed. He groggily complied, still limply trying to clutch his injured head. “Cuff yerself,” she instructed. The guard meekly reached behind himself. Jack held the gun in his face until she heard a satisfying ‘click.’

She took a breath and examined the room. There were a few offices to her right, windows behind her and on the ceiling, and straight ahead was a metal grating that sealed off a hallway leading deeper into the bank.

“Grating like that? Bet it’s leadin’ ta paydirt,” Jack said. “Bolt, check the offices, I’mma take a gander at our little problem here.”

Dash nodded and wasted no time in trying to be subtle. She kicked the office door’s open and messily searched through them. On occasion there was a terrified worker, who she promptly handcuffed. 

Meanwhile, upstairs, Chylene had administered a sedative to keep the now-tied guards groggy.  With Rarity taking point, Twila reported, “Coming up the break room. Time?”

“Six,” Spike said.

“Then we’re ahead of schedule, excellent.  Opening the door now--anything I should know about your contact, Drake?” she asked the young man over the radio.

“Only that he wants the tyrant taken down as much as we do, Tw--Books,” he corrected. “Though he didn’t complain too much when I promised him ten percent of our pull-in here.”

Rarity tsked. “Well, at least we can afford it.  Some people will really do anything for money.  Anyways, coast is clear, Books.  On your mark.”

Twila nodded, gripping the door handle tightly, some of her inner nervousness exerting itself.  “Three... Two... One... Mark!” she called, opening the door quickly.  Rarity immediately swung in, bringing her weapon to bear left, then right.

The break room was moderately sized, with a large table in the center, a couch against one wall, and a couple recliners.  An ash tray--well used--and a water cooler completed the image.

A man sat next to the water cooler. He nervously regarded them with gray eyes as he took a puff of a cigarette. “Gunshots already?” he asked, battling with his crumpled tie as if his life depended on it. “Plan still going, or are we fucked?”

Despite herself, Twila rolled her eyes.  “We are hardly ‘fucked’,” she said, the harsh word a little clumsy to her tongue.  “The plan easily accounted for the bank’s security personnel.  We’re at five minutes before SWAT arrives.”

“And they’re not playing particularly fair, it seems,” added Rarity.

“Celestia’s own haven’t played fair for some time now,” the man replied, scowling. He stuffed out his smoke and stood, walking towards the three. “So, Drake tells me you three need inside the vault. I think I can help you--hell, I know I can help you.”

“We best make this quick then, ‘Mystery’.” Rarity gave the man a sly smirk before looking out of the room and into the hallway. 

“I would have prefered ‘Deep Throat,’ but Drake vetoed it,” he said, returning the slight smile. “Ok, let’s get to business. My uncle was one of the men who built the vault--there’s a weakness in its foundation. All you need is a little dab of C4 and you’ll be able to get the door open without a hitch.”

“Why on earth would your uncle leave a weakness in its design?” Twila asked.

“The vault’s fairly old, despite the new security systems around it. It intentionally had a weakness in the concrete that could be broken open with a sledgehammer in case the inner door became faulty while someone was inside. He was a cautious man...” He glanced at the women as he handed Twila a map of the vault doors. “Just like me. We’re straight that I’m getting ten percent, right?”

Twila nodded. “As agreed.  We’re bank robbers, not swindlers.  Did you read all that, Stetson?”

“Loud an’ clear, Books,” the farmer said.

The speaker in Twila’s ear crackled to life once more. “Not to hurry you guys, but there’s a cop car arriving earlier than I expected. I think he’s a beat cop that was closer than the main force. He’s holding back right now, but it’s something to be aware of.”

“Not a pig!” Pinkie whined, her voice coming out of everyone’s speakers. Back in the main room, she ran to the windows and hid underneath them, peering out like a meerkat now and then. 

“Party, that’s very rude,” Rarity said, checking back down the hallway leading out of the break room.  “We’re still clear, Books.  I’d say we move before we overstay our welcome.  Besides, that nasty cigar smoke is working absolute terror on my skin, I just know it.”

Twila nodded, turning to Chylene.  “Mouse, stick with Mystery.  He’s the VIP right now and must be protected.  Brain, move out!”

With Mystery and Chylene leading, the group went quickly but carefully back down the halls, encountering no issues.  When they reached the stairs heading back down, Twila spoke into her mic again. “Stetson, Bolt--how’s containment?”

“We’re square here--had a few more chips to add to the pile in the offices,” Dash replied.

“Party’s been with the people. I’m jus’ tryin’ ta get this grating off.” Jack wiped her palms on the seat of her pants as she craned her neck, popping it. From one of the windows, on a neighboring rooftop, a small, faint gleam briefly twinkled across her vision. Thinking nothing of it, she returned to her work. “I jus’ ‘bout got it.” With one more heaving yank upward, she heard a pop as the latch gave way and she threw the shutters upward.

In the distance, sirens were audible to everyone’s ears.

“Girls! Hurry!” Spike frantically called. “Less than a minute!”

“Don’t worry, Spike. Got that damn grating open. We’ve got smooth sailin’ n--”

She was silenced by the thunder of a rifle blast. Jack glanced down, noting a trail of blood leaking from a hole just below her collarbone. Kevlar or not, it wasn’t designed to take a bullet of that caliber. With a glance towards Dash, she slumped forward, collapsing hard onto her stomach.

The group was stunned, but Spike finally managed a squeaky, “Stetson!  Stetson, do you copy?  Report, damn it!”

“S-She’s breathing. Fuck. Oh... oh fuck. She’s gotta be breathing still, right?!” Dash asked, her voice cracking.

“Everyone, calm down and get the hell over there, someone!” Twila cried, taking control.  She turned to Chylene. “Change of plans, go back Bolt or Party up, whoever gets there first.  Keep Stetson alive.”

“Fuckin’ wait!” Dash called out suddenly, gesturing towards the shattered window. “That sniping son of a bitch has got to still be watching her. He knows she’s still alive! Any one of us takes a step towards that window, and we are fucked!”

The sirens grew to a painful crescendo as the group stood, paralyzed by indecision. 

“Guys, they’re here!” Pinkie cried out to everyone, “I’ll try to keep them back. Just get to J--” she halted, preventing herself from rhyming, “Stetson!” 

With that, she smashed open the window above her with the butt of her gun and took a quick look before ducking back to cover again. A horde of SWAT vans and cop cars had amassed outside of the bank. Police were getting out of their cars and getting guns out of the boots, whilst SWAT squads exited from the back of the big, black vans. 

They were rather grouped up, so now was the perfect opportunity to confuse them, if only for a short time. Pinkie grabbed a frag grenade attached to her belt and took in a deep breath before pulling the pin. “Alright then, you pigs, let me hear you squeal!! Hyaaaaaaaaah!!” she yelled before tossing out the frag. 

The officers saw it land and desperately tried to get away from it, but for some, it was too late. The explosion knocked some officers off their feet and even nearly knocked a car over. Pinkie didn’t expect it to kill anyone, but what she had hoped for was for them to split up, which they had. She rose up and started taking shots at the forces; it wasn’t long before they started firing back. The force had been thrown into chaos and were attempting to restore some order, but Pinkie’s suppressive fire wasn’t exactly helpful in that regard. The civilians who had gathered screamed in terror, not helping Pinkie keep her cool. Luckily, the adrenaline was starting to pump into her system. 

Dash licked her lips. Narrowed her brows. She swallowed hard. “Fuck. I-I’m goin’ for it.”

Twila glanced to the athlete. “But you just sai--”

“I know what I said, Goddamnit. But I’m not leaving without her!” she snapped back. 

Isabelle crouched low, entering a runner’s stance. She pressed down hard on her hands, trying to stop their violent shaking. “One...” Her breathing intensified. “Two...”

Jack shifted under the covers of her bed as the red glow of morning began to peek through her room’s curtains. For a brief, fleeting moment, she resisted the need to rise, instead tightening her grip around the well-toned stomach of Dash. The athlete let out a small grunt, but remained asleep despite Jack’s best efforts.

The farmer kissed the back of Isabelle’s neck and rose, stretching out her nude body and moving to the chest of drawers in the corner. After getting halfway presentable, she made her way across the hallway and entered the bathroom.

Jack was surprised that she was the first one awake--usually Mac was up and fixing breakfast by the time she left her room. As she washed her face off and gurgled a glass of water, she glanced out the bathroom window and froze, a trail of water leaking out her mouth at the sight.

There. On the horizon. The tell-tale sign of smoke gave away what the glimmering light really was.

She swallowed, fighting back raw, feral panic. “Aw shit. Aw fuckin’ shit!” she yelled, tearing out of the bathroom like a bat out of hell. “Mac! Izzy! Ya’ll get yer asses out here pronto!” she cried, running downstairs and donning her boots, not sure what she was gonna do, nearly naked and without anything to put the fire out, but knowing she at least had to try.

“Jack...” mumbled a sleepy Alice Bloom Apple, still wearing her yellow pyjamas with red apples on them, “What’s going on?” 

The blonde turned her head, glancing at her younger sister. “Fire in the east field. We gotta try ta get it out!”

Alice’s eyes widened, the news shocking her awake. “Well what are we waitin’ for?!” she exclaimed, quickly putting on her own boots. She then took a deep breath and yelled far louder than her older sister: “EVERYONE GET DOWN ‘ERE NOW!!”

The heavy footsteps of Macintosh rumbled through the house as the giant of a man came barrelling downstairs. They were followed by the light, borderline rhythmic tapping of Dash’s bare feet as she followed, hot on his heels.

Jack looked at everyone and immediately went to issuing orders. “Bloom, get containers! Feed buckets, milk jugs, whatever you can find out in the barn! Fill ‘em up from the hose outside!”

“Got it, sis!” Bloom saluted Jack and scurried out of the house like a bullet. 

The farmer had inspiration strike moments later. “Mac,” she barked. “That ol’ milk tank we put in our junkpile--grab that an’ fill it up. You might be our best chance savin’ what’s left!” 

The big man simply nodded, and with a deep, “Eyup.” he was out the door, headed to the junkpile as ordered.

Jack took a shuddering breath. “D-Dash.”

“Hit me with what you need,” Isabelle quickly said.

“Get ta town, rouse the firemen.”

“On it,” Dash said, reaching by the farmer and grabbing the keys to her car off the counter. Before she could leave, Jack grabbed her shoulder.

“An’ get Twila, too,” Jack quietly said, flicking her eyes eastward. “There ain’t no damn way this fire was natural.”


000




Jack stood somberly with a few of her friends, looking at the desolated, still smouldering field. Despite their best efforts, and the efforts of the firefighters, the entire eastern plot was ruined. Mac had left to talk to the brave men who offered their assistance in putting out the blaze, but Jack didn’t have the heart to move from where she was rooted.

Alice went up to her sister, eyes focused on the destruction and gently grabbed Jack’s hand. “What are we gonna do now sis...?”

The tanned woman squeezed the younger girl’s hand. “W-we’ll think of somethin’. We’ve been through worse.”

Jack just couldn’t remember when.

The blonde weakly smiled, crouching down to get face level with Alice. “Go back ta the house an’ get washed up fer lunch. Don’t worry, ok?”

Alice nodded, sniffing. “O-Okay...” she looked to the house, then back at her older sister and enveloped her in a hug, resting her head on Jack’s shoulder. “Love ya, sis.”

“Love ya too, sweet pea.”

They remained there for a small while before Alice broke off, giving Jack the smallest of smiles before heading off to the house.

The farmer’s expression darkened within moments of the young girl leaving. She sank to the ground and put her arms on her knees. “Ya’ll...” Jack trailed off, forcing back a choked sob.

Dash quickly went to her side, wrapping up the larger woman in as tight an embrace as she could.  But it was Twila who spoke up first, “Whatever you need, Jack--we’re all here for you.  Somehow... Somehow we’ll help you through this!”  She herself was on the brink of tears.  The studious woman almost didn’t believe her own words.  How could they find a solution for something like this...?

“Twi... There ain’t no way... That wasn’t jus’ our money source, ya know? We ain’t gonna get through the winter without them crops.” She paused, then decided to continue, “This wasn’t no accident either,” she said, her eyes sharp and cold.

“...Yes, I think we all know who is responsible.  I just didn’t expect...” She gestured to the still lightly smoking fields.

“I knew what she was sayin’ was too damn good ta be true. Shit!” Jack swore, slamming a fist into the ground. She grimaced. “We’re gettin’ even,” the farmer muttered.

“How?” Dash asked the question Jack didn’t have an answer to yet.

“However we can,” Twila said.  “We’ll get the others, we’ll figure something out.  This won’t go unpunished, Jack.” Her face hardened, but her voice became steel.  “I promise you that.”



000




Dash choked back a pained grunt and sprang forward, sprinting faster than she ever had before. Just before she reached Jack, she juked to the right. Her prediction was on the money--a bullet exploded near where her chest would have been, showering the room with pieces of tile. Dash grabbed Jack’s hand without breaking stride and, with one burst of strength and speed, shifted direction and dragged Jack’s body towards the group. Isabelle did her best to ignore the trail of blood the farmer was leaving behind.

“Got her! Ho-lee-shit I got her!” Dash screamed, her entire body throbbing with nerves at the very near-miss.

“We’re nearly there!” called Twila.  “Chylene, get your kit ready!”  The nervous woman nodded, her face uncharacteristically calm, determination in her eyes that no friend would die this day.  Not on her watch.

“Hurry guys! I really really really can’t hold out against these piggies much longer!” Pinkie cried out, at this point taking cover far more often than shooting.

“Damn it, we need something, anything--ideas, Drake?” Twila called to the radio.

“Stay the course!” Spike called out. “Regroup and head towards the vault--there’s only one entrance to the room it’s held in, making a stand might be the only chance we’ve got! I’ll see if there’s anything I can do on this end.”

“Ya want me to fall back or keep feeding the pigs?” Pinkie asked, currently reloading. 

“Fall back! That’s an order, Party!” Spike commanded. “You’ll be overwhelmed shortly--stick with the others--Mouse, you’re not going to have time to play doctor out there! At the rate they’re coming in, you won’t have a chance to bandage her until you make it to the vault.”

“Okie dokie lokie!” Pinkie replied, beginning to crawl as fast as she could out of the main room and reuniting with Jack and Dash. Once she was there, she kept low and looked at Jack with worried eyes. “She’s gonna be okay, right...?” she asked Dash.

“Of course she is,” said Twila as Brain group entered.  “But we need to move.  Party, Bolt, can you carry her?”

“Uh-huh! Bolt, grab her legs. We ain’t gonna give her no piggyback!” Pinkie held Jack by the arms and Dash held her by the legs. Together the two were easily able to carry the farmer. “C’mon, we can’t start oinking around!”

“Party...drop the pig puns. That last one didn’t even make any sense,” Dash deadpanned, focusing on the task at hand.

“Mouse,” Twila snapped, “Work as you can on the move and be ready for when we have a more stable position.  Gems, you and I will cover the retreat--Mystery, if you would be so kind, please lead the way.”

“What about the sniper? Your friend got lucky--I doubt we’ll be able to say the same,” Mystery quickly said.

“Don’t worry, Party’s got you covered!” Pinkie chirped, grabbing a smoke grenade from her belt and tossing it over to Mystery, since she was carrying Jack. 

I wondered where those went, thought Twila. “Good idea, throw as many as you have where you can.  That’ll buy us time.  Drake, see if you can call in the smoke as a fire, get the fire department here.  The more chaos out there, the better for us in here.”

“In that case, don’t just settle for one smoke grenade, have some more!” Pinkie cheered, tossing Rarity and Twila a smoke grenade each.  Mystery immediately threw his in front of the nearby window, which quickly filled with thick smoke.  Twila nodded at him when it was safe for the group to move out before throwing her own down the hall they had come from.  

She began to follow the rest, then something hit her, The blood!  Glad I took the time to do that extra research on forensic technique.  She reached into the carrier bag she wore and pulled out a small spray bottle, which she then used to spray Jack’s blood wherever she saw it.  Immediately, the smell of bleach filled the air.  Though it slowed her down, she sprayed as she went, wherever her keen eyes saw dripping blood.  “Gems, when we retreat towards the vault, throw the last one.  Then you and I will keep the rearguard until we reach the vault itself.  Party, as soon as we get there, get the C4 ready.  Now, move!” Twila yelled.

Pinkie nodded at Dash and the two worked in tandem, quickly moving Jack through the smoke cover. There was a flight of stairs and upon getting there, they walked down it very carefully, gripping Jack just a bit tighter. Once they reached the bottom, they waited for the others as they found themselves at a T-intersection. The pair sighed in relief. They were safe. At least for now.

“To the left, ladies,” Spike quickly said. “Right leads to the underground parking lot. Don’t dawdle--the police are going to be hot on your heels shortly. I’ve been listening in on their radio chatter. They’re planning an assault. The fire report I put in might give you a few minutes, tops. Hurry.” 

“Roger that,” responded Twila, as Pinkie and Dash headed to the vault with Jack in tow.  “Gems, this’ll do.”  She bit her bottom lip.  “If only we could do something else to slow them down...”  Suddenly an idea hit her.  “Gems, after you throw the grenade, head to the garage.  See if you can find a gas cannister anywhere--there could be a spare in an emergency unity.  If not, improvise some tubing, siphon some gas and make a makeshift molotov or three, if you can.  Fifteen minutes, tops.”

Rarity gave a nearly pained look.  “You’re asking moi to...to... I am not some mechanic to root around gre--”

“I don’t fucking care, just do it!” Twila yelled.

“I...” Rarity faltered at the outburst.  Shaking her head, she said, “I’m on it, Books.  I’ll do it in ten.”  The two women gave each other a knowing look, nodded, then went after their objectives.

“Keep guns on that stairwell, girls. Drake--call when they actually breach the front doors,” Dash barked into her headset.

“I kinda planned on it, Bolt,” Spike snapped back.

“Hey, Bolt, I kinda used up a lot of gun juice back there...do you mind if you could,” Pinkie inclined her head towards the T-intersection, “you know? I’ll look after Stet--wait. Mooooouse!” Pinkie yelled and Chylene came running to the vault. 

“Stetson! Stetson! If you can hear me, just nod!” Chylene squeaked, kneeling down beside the farmer.

Jack didn’t respond. Her breathing was unsteady. Labored. Chylene bit her lip and quickly set to work.

Dash knelt down besides Jack and gripped her cold hand. “Damn it, Stet--” she interrupted herself, saying her next words quietly, “C'mon Jack, pull through for us. Your family needs you... hell... Ineed you.” 

During this time, Pinkie had slipped away to the others by the stairs, giving the trio some privacy.

The farmer weakly sucked in one more shuddering breath, and it was over. Her head tilted to the side, and her limbs finally relaxed. Dash only gripped her hand tighter, closing her watering eyes.

Twila entered from the hallway, saying, “Mouse, are you working on...on... Stetson!”  She began to rush towards the fallen woman, but Pinkie held her back, slowly shaking her head.  It was too late.

“N-no...” Chylene whispered, sinking to the floor and, clenching her eyes shut. She took a deep breath, trying not to cry--refusing to cry. As she took another breath, she felt a part of herself harden, turn to steel. She looked at the body, her eyes the embodiment of determination.

 “No. I-I won’t let her--” She cut herself off, and dug deeply into her medical bag, withdrawing a large syringe. It was a crapshoot, but it was the only chance they had at bringing Jack back. She looked over the farmer’s body and with one loud yell, she plunged the syringe directly into Jack’s heart.

The effects were instant as the shot of adrenaline kicked in--Jack sucked in a deep, pained breath and began thrashing against Dash’s grasp in her state of confusion.

“Stetson--Stetson!” Isabelle barked, holding desperately onto one of Jack’s arms. “H-help me out, guys!”

Pinkie simply nodded at Twila and went to the stairwell, awaiting Rarity. Twila moved to Jack’s side, helping Dash hold her up as she continued to fight against terrors unknown.  Chylene, meanwhile, began working as fast as she could, bringing out a pair of scissors and deftly removing the cloth around the wound.  “I need you to hold her still, this will be pointless if I don’t stop the bleeding right away!” Chylene’s voice was steady, her usual reservation and nervousness gone in the rush to save her friend.

“Almost done...” Rarity spoke through her headset, “Aaaaaaand...voila! Finished! I must admit, I never saw myself doing something like this but, I suppose that’s the way life turns out sometimes, hm?” 

“Pigs are gonna need feeding, Gems!” Pinkie exclaimed, watching the stairwell.

“Yes yes, be patient. And please stop referring to them as ‘pigs’.”

Pinkie giggled lightly. “No can do, Gems!” 

Twila looked up, glaring at Pinkie. “Party, don’t you have something you should be doing?  Mystery is waiting, get on it so we can get the hell out of here!”

“But then no one’s watching the--nevermind. Boom time!” she skipped to the vault door and set to work on planting the C4, humming a merry little tune, no doubt inspired by Jack’s now slightly more hopeful prospects.

Jack gave one more thrash, slamming her elbow into Dash’s nose.

“Fuckin’ damn it!” Isabelle snarled, blood already soaking the cloth mask. “Snap outta it!”

The blonde finally stopped convulsing and drew a breath on her own. “Wha..?” she quietly asked.

“You were shot, Stetson. Y-you’re going to be ok,” Chylene reassured. “You just lost a lot of blood and went into s-shock.”

“Can you stand?” Dash bluntly asked, realizing they didn’t have time to be anything but direct.

“Can. If I could lean on ya,” the farmer panted, holding her hand up. Isabelle instantly grabbed it, hoisting the woman up and resting Jack on her shoulder. 

“Stetson’s alive! Stetson’s alive! And soon we better diiiiive!” Pinkie sang, nearly finished with the C4. She motioned for everyone to fall back with a wave of her hand. 

“Gems, we’re about to blow.  Be ready,” Twila called before ducking her head below her arms.

“On my way as we speak, darling,” Rarity replied. 

“Just in time,” Spike announced. “I did what I could to stall them--made a few false emergency calls across town--but they’re breaching the door in one minute and they’re not holding back. We’re talking SWAT and fuckin’ military-issue gear.”

“I... hate all this timed shit...” Jack weakly panted. She pressed down on her earpiece. “A-an’ watch that mouth, Drake.”

“We all do,” Dash agreed. “Just hang on--you’re doing great.”

“Okay guys, here we go!” Pinkie sprinted past the others and dove onto the floor. “Three...two...one...baboom!”

The explosive did wonders on the vault's weak spot. It blew the massive iron door clean off its hinges; the large metal piece slammed into a nearby wall, creating a resounding clang that made everyone feel vibrations in their bones.

“Yes! Goddamn!” Isabelle cheered. “Get to looting--I’ll load mine and Stetson’s bags when you guys are finished.”

The others rushed inside, hearing a roar from Rarity and another small explosion. The molotov had been thrown and a few more bits of precious time bought. 

“Wowie! Look at all this loot!” Pinkie ran around in the vault, grabbing whatever she possibly could, a massive grin on her face.

“Remember,” said Twila calmly, having regained her composure, “stack it in as neatly as you can.  We’ll get at least ten to fifteen percent more that way.  Let’s hit her as hard as we can!”

“Did I miss something ladies?” Rarity said as she entered, giving Mystery a playful smirk, “and gentleman.” After a slight snicker, she began to collect what money she could. 

“Fire’s not gonna stall them long--the fire trucks are still outside,” Spike advised.

“Just our damn luck,” Dash grumbled. “Plan out something and it bites us in the ass.” She glanced at her current passenger. Or, more accurately, Jack’s revolver. “Can you shoot it, or is it just a showpiece right now?”

Jack weakly nodded, adjusting her weight briefly off of Dash’s shoulder. She unholstered her gun and pointed up the stairwell. “I’ve already got one under my belt. Ya reckon you’ll be alright...?”

“It’s either us or them,” Isabelle spoke with finality. “And I think you make better company.”

The farmer made the mistake of laughing. The pain shot through her like a punch to the gut. “Y-yer such a sweetheart when I get hurt. Maybe I need ta get shot more often.”

“Don’t tempt the Lady now, Stetson.  You may well get your wish,” Twila said, darkly.  “I want bags full in two minutes, then double time to the garage.  Gems, you’ve the best eye, look in the safety deposit boxes--jewelry is compact cash.”  She threw the now-emptied grenade duffel at Mystery.  “There, call it a bonus if you work for it.”

“Who am I to refuse such a well paying employer?” Mystery quipped, getting to work rutting through the shelves of money.  Twila began filling her own methodically.

Dash caught movement from the stairwell. In a flash she had her pistol aimed and fired. Two shots struck a heavily armored man, the first in the chest, and the last square in the forehead, punching through his helmet and leaving a stain on the wall behind him.

“Guys! Get fuckin’ moving!” Isabelle roared. “I can’t hold ‘em off forever!”

Pinkie had rapidly filled her bag up with all the loot it could possibly hold, then practically skipped out of the vault. “Coming Bolt!” she chimed, setting down her bag as she reached Dash and Jack. Weapon in hand, she fired at the approaching officers and gestured with a nod of the head to the pair, telling them to get away.

“Drake, darling,” Rarity spoke calmly into her mic, picking up a bag full of loot, “will you kindly give us an escape route?!” Her last words were louder than intended but the situation was rapidly getting tenser and tenser. 

“Calm down, Gems,” Spike reassured as best he could. “The plan for escape remains the same. Take the stairwell to the underground parking lot you were in a moment ago. From there, make it out to the streets, then to the rendezvous point.”

“Ah, right,” she replied with an embarrassed chuckle, “thank you Drake.” Running a hand through her hair, she took her bag and proceeded to Dash and Jack’s location just as another police officer came running down the stairwell towards the four. He clutched a ballistic shield tightly against his heavily armored body and had a pistol in his free hand.

“A fuckin’ shield!” Dash cried out, shooting towards the man regardless. As expected, her bullets bounced easily off the reinforced metal. The man took aim through the small slit in the center of his defenses and fired his gun. The bullet slammed into the wall beside Dash. The athlete squeezed her trigger once more, only coming up with a sound she dreaded the most right now.

A dry, empty click.

“Shit! I’m out!” Isabelle said.

“Just get to the parking lot with the shinies, I’ll lay down some super suppressive fiery fun!” Pinkie announced, the adrenaline in her system causing her to grin almost maddeningly. She took aim and unleashed a storm of bullets at the riot officer, all the bullets pinging off but impeding his progress nonetheless. “Gogogogogogogogoooooooooooo!!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice!” Rarity remarked, sprinting past the trio, screaming all the way then laughing with delight when she made it through intact. She was down the flight of stairs leading to the garage in a heartbeat.

“Quick!” Twila commanded, having finally filled her own bag near to bursting, pointing the way for Chylene and Mystery.

“On it,” he said.

“R-right,” Chylene agreed.

The three quickly made their way up the stairs, past the landing Dash, Jack, and Pinkie were on, and down the flight leading to the garage.

Pinkie nudged Dash and Jack, reloading her last magazine. “Now you two. Go go go,” she ordered, eyes locked on her target. Jack ducked just as the heavily armored man fired once more.

“Come on, Stetson. Let’s head down the stairs,” Dash quickly said, heading down the flight with Jack in tow. As they made their way down, Jack’s nearly numbed feet got tangled together. She fell wordlessly, landing on the steps with nothing more than a quiet, pained grunt. The blonde’s vision swam and she briefly shut her eyes, her head feeling like it was prepared to crack open.


The farmer took a deep breath, trying to put her nervous thoughts behind her as she stood on the dust covered road by her barn. She took a glance over her friends in turn. From observant Twila, to almost unnervingly excited Pinkie, to the fearful Chylene, and the reserved Rarity. Finally, her eyes looked over Isabelle. The athlete’s multi-hued hair blew in the harsh night winds as she nodded in a quiet encouragement to Jack. 

“I did some... renovation in the barn,” Jack simply stated, reaching behind her to toss the door open. The others peered in.

At first glance, nothing seemed to have changed. There was still the unmistakable odor of hay and sweat. Feedbags lined the right wall and farming implements hung from carpenter nails from the west wall. In the back were a few feed stalls, currently unoccupied.

“Er...I’m not seeing it, Jack,” Twila commented, folding her arms across her chest. 

“You’re not looking hard enough.” Dash smirked. She gave a small gesture towards the stalls, pointing towards a fairly unnoticeable piece of wood laying on the floor.

“That’s just a plank of wood...but I suspect it’s what hidden under it, yes?” Twila gave Jack a knowing smirk. 

“Eyup. It used ta be a storage celler--like the one we got out back by the house. This one’s where we kept things we didn’t want Alice ta touch.” Jack moved over to the wood and hoisted it up, revealing a ladder leading to the inky blackness.

“Such as spirits, I’d imagine,” Twila said dryly--she never touched such things herself.

“Best booze I’ve ever had,” Dash said.

The farmer went down the ladder and waited expectantly for her friends. When everyone’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the underground room, they noticed a shelf lined with dusty bottles to their left, and a saddle sitting on the ground next to a wooden wall straight ahead. Jack weakly smiled and grabbed a bottle from the top shelf. She brushed off the gathered dust and read from the label.

“Ian’s own brand Applejack. Bottle date, 1982. Pa’s favorite drink. He kept this bottle ‘cause of it bein’ my birthyear an’ all--said I should save it fer somethin’ important. Well...” She uncorked the top. Instantly, the room was graced with a scent of cider so powerful, Isabelle’s mouth watered instinctively. Jack took a heavy swig of it and winced as the beverage socked her gut. The farmer extended the bottle towards the other women.

Dash reached for it first. She slammed the drink back and recoiled, coughing from its potency. The athlete offered it around.

Surprisingly, Twila took it next.  She took a whiff and winced, but finally she said, “For all of us, just this once, I suppose.”  Then she brought the bottle to her lips and took an impressive swig, giving a rough cough as she finished, offering the bottle to the next.

Rarity gently grabbed it, saying, “This is so uncouth, drinking from the bottle...” Jack gave the woman a flat look so she hurriedly continued, “...but in this case, I think an exception can be made.”  She daintily tipped the bottle back, tipping it a bit further when the deliciously potent beverage hit her tongue.  Letting out a satisfied and rather undignified sound of satisfaction, she handed the bottle to Pinkie.

“Cheers!” Pinkie exclaimed before taking a big swig from the bottle, although there was still a bit left for Chylene. “Mhm, that’s got a mighty kick to it!” she commented, before handing the drink over to Chylene.

“Oh, um, I’ll only have a little bit...” the shy woman said, flinching as Pinkie let out a large burp. She gingerly put the bottle to her lips, drinking only the smallest portion before giving the bottle back to Jack. “Thank you for sharing...”

The farmer’s expression briefly fell. “Nah,” she quietly said. “Thank y'all fer comin’.” She moved towards the saddle by the wall. “Well. I ain’t the type fer speeches, so I guess I’ll jus’ show ya what we’ve done down here.”   The group watched the farmer with immense interest as she pushed down on the horn of the saddle. They heard a click, and a part of the wall sunk into the floor, showcasing a far more modern hallway, with concrete flooring and walls. “Jus’ down this way.”

“Man, can’t wait to see their faces,” Dash gloated, rubbing her hands together.

The hallway expanded after a minute of walking, reaching out into thick blackness. Jack felt along the wall briefly and flicked on a switch nearby. The room was suddenly illuminated in harsh fluorescent lighting, showcasing its expansiveness. It was well furnished, stockpiled with foodstuffs and emergency supplies, along with several comfortable chairs and a massive television screen. Near them were several heavy and tall blocks of wood--each wearing indentions that suggested they had suffered quite a bit of abuse. In the distance was a gun range, with automated targets and a large stockpile of guns and crates of ammunition.

“Ladies,” Jack grimly announced. “Welcome to the Hub.”

Pinkie scanned the room, eyes widened. “Oooooooo! This is so cool, Jack!” She ran over to the chairs and jumped over the back of one, landing on the seat. “What channels do you have?!”

“Mind the stuff, Pinkie,” a young voice announced from the television. Spike instantly appeared on the screen, completely exhausted. He rested his head on a fist and yawned. “I spent too long wiring everything up for someone to break it.”

“The Spike channel? Never heard of this one, Jack. Is there a Dashie channel too?” She raised an eyebrow at the screen before turning her head to the farmer. 

“I wouldn’t mind watchin’ it if there were.” She smirked, giving a meaningful look over to the athlete.

Chylene was the first to break the good mood. She glanced towards the farmer. “H-how did you afford all of this renovation, Jack?”

The Apple frowned. “Despite how much we fight ta make a profit, this farm’s been debt free since my grandpa’s time. I, uh, used our good credit history an’ took out some loans.” She bit at her lip. “Then Dash had ta sell her vintage car collection.”

“No worries. Besides, I still have my two custom jobs--I’m keeping them hell or high water.” Dash nodded.

“An... I had ta sell over half our acreage. I made sure ta stipulate a buyback period on the deal--if I can meet it, then I’ll be able to set things right.”

“But if you can’t...” Chylene trailed off.

“It’s a fuckin’ crapshoot, but there’s no other way we coulda pulled this kind of cash together. She did what she had to,” Isabelle defended, stepping by Jack.

Twila raised her hands.  “No one’s saying she didn’t, it’s just, your farm, it’s always been in your family.  It’s the most important thing...” she trailed off, unsure exactly what words to say.

“My family’s more important ta me than the whole world. The farm ain’t nothin’ but a piece of dirt compared ta ‘em.” She glanced to the side and shook her head, fighting back a sharp anger in her gut. “An’ as long as someone like her sits on the throne, I’m scared fer ‘em.” The farmer took a breath to calm down. Eventually, she was able to meet Twila’s gaze. “Ain’t nothin’s gonna stop me from makin’ sure they’re taken care of.”

Jack felt a pair of arms go around her and hug her tightly. Surprisingly they weren’t Isabelle’s. “We’re here for you, Jack,” Pinkie said reassuringly. 

“I-I know.” The farmer morosely nodded. “Thanks, y’all.”

A yawn came from the television. Spike was close to dozing off in his seat.

“Spike, what exactly are you doing, transmitting like that this late?” Twila asked with her usual concern for the young man.

“Well, I figured you might want to know exactly what we’re planning. I told Jack earlier--thought I’d let everyone else in on the plan, now that we have enough money to start turning the wheels.”

Her eyebrow raising in mild irritation, Twila asked too calmly, “Planning?  And I’m only just finding out about this?”

Spike raised his arms defensively, looking nervous despite being safe behind a screen. “I only didn’t tell you because I needed to keep the plan, uh, loose for a bit. S-see where the wind took it, you know? You’re... sometimes, uh, a bit too... precise with your ideas?” he offered, already wincing slightly.

Before Twila could respond, Rarity spoke up, “Oh, Spikey-wikey is such a smart young man, I’m sure the plan he’s devised will be ingenious--if we could just hear it?” She gave Twila a slightly pleading look.  Scoffing, Twila crossed her arms under her breasts and gave one quick nod of the head.

“I have some associates that live outside of the country. A few... powerful associates. People with connections. People who know people. If we can funnel them some money for supplies, they’ll provide bodies to help us. They’ve never been fond of Celestia.” He darkly laughed, seeming far older than he really was for a brief moment. “Especially now. Our interests are the same. We just have to nail one big score.”

“O-one big... s-score?” Chylene muttered, drawing in a breath sharply.  “Do you... Do you mean... stealing the money?!”

“If there was any other way, I’d do it, sugar. Ya know I would,” Jack quietly said.

“Wait,” Pinkie said, breaking away from Jack, “are we gonna rob a bank?!” she asked excitedly. 

“The First and National in Manhattan, to be precise,” Spike said.

“Oh my gosh, that’s gonna be so cool! Are we gonna use explosives and shooty things?! Oh boy, oh boy, this is so exciiiiiiting!” Pinkie sang, bouncing around the room. 

“This ain’t no game,” Jack barked to Diane. “If we mess up, someone might...”

Pinkie stopped her jumping. “Might what?”

“What the hell do ya think?!” the farmer snapped, glaring daggers at the energetic woman.

“Easy, Jackie,” Dash warned.

“Oh,” Pinkie said somberly, looking down at the floor sadly, “I’m sorry...”

Jack put a hand to her temple. “Naw. Sorry I got onta ya, Pinkie.”

“No no,” Pinkie shook her head, regaining some of her lost energy, “I got waaaaay ahead of myself.”

“We’re all getting ahead of ourselves,” Twila said calmly.  “There’s untold risks involved, it’ll take weeks--months of planning to pull off!”

“Seventy days,” Jack said. The group looked at her. “Seventy days is all I got, if I wanna buy back my land.”  Twila’s jaw dropped, her eyes nearly bugging.

“Guess you’d better get crackin’ on ideas, egghead,” Dash weakly joked.

Jack stole a glance once more at everyone. She moved farther into the room, towards the range. “An’ it ain’t ‘bout jus’ gettin’ a feel fer what we’re doin’. Question fer y’all: Ever shoot a gun?”

There was a general chorus of nays and the shaking of heads.

Chylene said, “Um... I-I have, a few times.  Sort of...” Jack waited patiently for her to continue.  She squeaked before saying, “Oh, well, it was a-a tranquilizer gun.  For the animals.”

“Mmm. I gotcha,” Jack said. “Well, the real deal is a bit different from a tranq. Same principle, at least.” She reached over to the large collection of guns and pulled out a hefty revolver. “Ya try ta keep yerself fluid when ya shoot. Unless it’s a long shot, ya draw, aim, an’ fire in one go.”

She demonstrated, holding the gun to her side. With one blurred snap of her wrist, she lifted the piece, aimed, and squeezed off a round. The noise echoed across the large room, causing Chylene to squeal and crouch, frightened, as a bullet ripped square through the chest of a target.  

“Like that,” the farmer said. “Do it too slow, an odds are your aim’ll lock up on ya. Too fast, an yer shot’s goin’ wide. Jus’ a nice, lil’ rhythm--ya hear?”

Pinkie stared at one of the guns, a P90. “Ooooo, that one looks weird!” she said, pointing at it. 

Jack nodded. “Military make, from what Spike told me. Said his associates gave us some heavier hardware as a ‘token of good faith.’”

“Am I gonna shoot it?” Diane replied, sounding a little bit in disbelief herself. 

“I reckon it might work well fer ya. Thing doesn’t have quite the recoil a heavier gun has.” She then added under her breath. “That, an I have a feelin’ yer gonna need a big clip ta actually hit anythin’.”

“Uh, okay then.” She carefully took the gun and aimed it at one of the target. Sticking her tongue out in concentration, she hit the trigger. There was only the sound of clicking. “Jack, this one’s broken I think.” 

“Check the foot of the trigger. Is the dial set to ‘S?’”

Pinkie rotated the gun, eventually finding said ‘S’. “Yep.” 

“Turn it ta the ‘1’ fer semi, ‘A’ fer automatic. An keep that damn barrel pointed away from everyone!”

Pinkie nodded, doing so and making sure that the barrel was well away from her friends. She aimed down the range once again and pulled the trigger. A short barrage of bullets flew from the gun, but not many hit their intended target. That didn’t stop her from giggling though. “Ooooo! That was fun!”

“Glad you’re enjoying it at least,” Dash said.

Pinkie put the safety back on before turning to the others. “You should try it. Gives you a buzz!”

“Eh, let someone else first--don’t wanna discourage ‘em by how awesome of a shot I am.” Dash examined her fingernails disinterestedly.

“Well, if you can do it, surely I can,” Rarity said haughtily.  Pinkie offered the rifle to her, but she gave a distasteful tsk while shaking her head.  “Don’t you have anything more suitable for a refined lady such as myself?”

“Hell, I dunno, Rare. Rut around in the boxes, I’m sure you’ll find somethin’ that meets yer fancy-pants tastes,” Jack remarked, taking out her spent bullet and replacing it with a fresh one.  

The woman sniffed and replied, “I don’t ‘rut’, thank you very much.  Twila, let’s go find something we civilized young women can use.”

Twila blinked, saying, a little unsure on her own preferences, “Oh, r-right.”.  She’d never given much thought to firearms. “I’ll have to scour the library for any books on modern weaponry--obviously a rifle like Pinkie has is out of the question.  Perhaps a simple handgun?”



000




“Come on... fuckin’ get up... get up!” Dash barked, hoisting the farmer up and around her shoulder once more. She performed a balancing act, awkwardly reloading her pistol with her free hand.

“Oh shit!” Spike shouted over the headset. “Guys, more bad news--”

“Give me a fucking break!” Dash shouted, glancing frantically to the rest of the group.

“The ramp leading to the streets. They’re sending in cops from there--they’re trying to pincer you!”

“What are we gonna do? There’s no way we can--”

“There is a way,” Jack panted out, her glazed eyes looking hard at Dash. “We go through.”

“You’re fucking crazy! They’ll--”

“They’ll do nothing to us. We jus’... jus’ can’t be afraid.” The farmer let out a rough cough.

“I hate to admit it but...it is probably the only viable option we have right now,” Rarity added. 

Twlia gave everyone a worried look, frowning in thought. She then blinked in realization. “Where’s Party?”

“I’m here. Here!” Pinkie was walking towards the group, at a rate slower than her usual energetic skip, bag in one hand, P90 absent in the other. “I ran out of juice but I slowed the pigs down,” she said, gritting her teeth.  “Oh, and I made sure to do the bleachy thing, Books.”

Chylene gasped. “Party! You’re hurt!”

Pinkie looked down to her limp arm, blood trailing down from the upper end. “Yeah. It stings real bad. Like a big wasp just stung me!” Pinkie winced. “We can worry about it later, let’s get to the car. I want back on the open road!” she cheered, her cheerfulness seemingly unaffected by her wounds.

“Um, o-okay,” Chylene mumbled, then spoke up with a motherly tone, “But as soon as we’re in the clear, I’m tending to it.”

“Gotcha!” Pinkie replied, then looked at Dash. “Let’s go then!”

“Twi... get us inta position,” Jack said, trusting the woman to set up a good ambush spot.

“Let me think, let me think!” she responded.  When they’d reached the bottom of the stairs into the garage, she stopped, closing her eyes tight and concentrating.  She’d studied all the blueprints, perfectly memorizing their pictures mentally.  

Quietly at first, but picking up speed and volume as she went, she spoke to herself, “They’ll be following us up these stairs, coordinating with the teams from outside.  If we saw one riot shield, there’s bound to be others.  They’ll lead with the shields, having seen what we’re capable of.  Behind will most likely be the better marksmen, popping up to take shots at targets of opportunity.  At least if they’re following standard procedure.

“We’re not long for ammunition or supplies and we’ve wounded to take care of and slow us down.  They’ll see the signs and probably assume as much.  So.  It’s full out assault versus...” She looked at her friends one by one. “...us.”  She put her hands behind her back, wringing them together as she paced for a moment, still thinking.

“Party, Bolt--what exactly do we have left?  And, I know I gave you the list of supplies to bring, but did you sneak any...surprises?”

“I don’t got shit save for an extra clip for my nine!” Dash quickly said.

“I only got my pistol now...” Pinkie admitted, wincing a bit at her wound. Then she suddenly brightened up. “Hey! Why don’t we take a car and batter them down like a bowling ball?!”

Twila gave a firm shake of her head, “No, that won’t work.  They’ll just pepper the car, shoot out the tires, or even just get us through the very not-bullet-proof window.  No, we’ve got to disable them, here and now.  Here’s what we’ll do: Stetson, you’re clearly wounded.  So... you get to play bait.”

“I... I can still fight,” the farmer grunted, trying to muscle through the pain.

“I can too! Just with one arm ‘cause the other’s all limpy and numb,” Pinkie added with a few quick nods. 

Again the shake of a head.  “No, Stetson, I don’t need you to fight.”  She gestured to the open lane heading out towards the exit.  “You’ll wait there.  Completely unarmed, exposed.  If you show no resistance, they won’t shoot you, they’ll come close to capture.  And that’s exactly where we want them.” She gave a wicked grin as her eyes flashed with malicious intelligence. “They want to pincer us?  Let’s pincer them!

“Party, I want you to go and get a car on this end, fast.”  She gestured to the up ramp, leading to the spaces on the floors above. “Get one of these on the slope so it’ll roll, and direct it towards the stairs here.  Wait until they’ve come on in and gotten closer to Stetson, then let it go and make your way to the central garage stairs.  That’s how you’ll rejoin us over on the other end.”  She paused, thinking, then nodded.  “And when you’re over there, hotwire a car and get it going up the outramp, if you can.”

“Ooooo, okie dokie lokie!” Pinkie chirped, rushing off at a moderate pace towards the cars. 

“Bolt, keep yourself hidden on the opposite side--when the force comes in and nears Stetson, it’ll be your duty to...take as many of them out as possible.  That is absolutely vital.  Normally I’d say disable--try if you can but don’t waste a single bullet.  Take Stetson’s weapon, too.  When they’ve passed you, their shields will be useless.  Hopefully the crash on this side will keep them busy, but as soon as they see the second car, they’ll be paying full attention to that side.”  She gave her a serious look. “Don’t get caught in the open when that time comes.”

“On it.” Dash gave a serious look of her own to the injured farmer hanging from her side. “Hand the piece over, Stetson.”

The farmer scowled, but did as she was instructed. “Not a scratch.”

Twila took a measured look at Rarity and Chylene.  “What to do with you two...”

“Please, I’m not some hunk of meat to be judged and graded.  If that ruffian can ambush them on that side, I’ll take this side.  I’ve plenty to spare, myself.”

“Huh?  But how?” Twila asked, disbelieving.

The fashionable woman gave a knowing blink.  “In the things I have to wear, you have to know how to utilize every last inch of space.  I’ve a few magazines tucked here or there.”  Chylene blushed.

“OK, then you’re on this end.  It’s not as important for you to take them out as Bolt--the car should handle most of that.  Just keep your path to the exit clear.  And this also means you’re responsible for getting Stetson up and out when it’s time to split.  Now, Mouse...”



“It’s time for the big guns--you’ll provide covering fire.  I know you’ve limited ammo, but every bullet you’ve got will count for a full clip of what we’ve got left.”  The improving tactician looked around for a good spot.  “There’s a booth over there, get in it and stay down until you hear the first shot fired.  Then help Bolt clear this end until you’re empty.”

She turned to Mystery who had kept quiet but followed closely.  “You, Mystery, stick with me--we’ll split on the way out.”

“Suits me well enough, I’m just here for my early pension, not a Spaghetti Western shootout,” he replied drily.

Twila raised her voice so that the distant Isabelle and Pinkie could hear.  “The escape plan is the second car, but not in it.  We’ll run alongside it, using it as cover!  I’m not sure what exactly will await us outside, so listen for my orders as we go.  Are we all ready?!”

“Ready and steady!” Pinkie called out, before smashing the window of the car she had picked with her pistol. 

Dash moved over and gently laid the farmer on the concrete. “I’ll take care of you,” she quietly said, moving to position. Jack weakly smiled, doing her best to control her nervous breathing.

“Know ya will... sugar...”

“Hey, Books,” came Spike’s nervous voice.

“Not now, Drake.  We’re about to enact the plan!”

“But Books--”

“I said, not now!” she cried, cutting him off.

“But what will you be doing?” he yelled over her.

She stopped short and blinked a couple times before giving a flat, “Oh.  Uh...”

Mystery smirked at her, laughing darkly. “The overzealous tactician--keeping track of every resource but herself.  Sounds like the punchline to some bad joke.  Hope you can handle the hecklers.”

“Incoming, girls!” Spike called from the radio, interrupting Twila’s sharp retort just as heavy footsteps echoed from the stairwell. On the other side of the room, the girls could hear the sound of the shutter blocking the street access being lifted.

“Game time,” Isabelle grunted, checking her 9’s.

“I’ll figure it out, everyone just follow the plan!” ordered Twila, ignoring Mystery’s widening grin.

The girls went to position as Twila ducked behind a column, just as a squad of eight guards came up the stairwell, with a shield at their front and flank. They slowly, cautiously prowled the lot in a box formation, their guns at the ready. From the shutter side, a group was carefully heading down the slope leading outside, their assault rifles scanning over the lot with high-powered flashlights. One man from the stair unit stopped his sweep upon seeing Jack’s body. He raised a fist--his unit stopped alongside him.

“Spotted one perp. Looks to be unarmed and injured,” he said through his gas mask.

“Roger. Moving into position,” another to his side agreed. The shields altered their positions around the group, protecting their sides as they approached Jack.

“Fuck,” Dash whispered as quietly as she could into her earpiece. “One of the shields is blocking his friends from where I’m sitting. Twi, shit, anyone, can you get me a... a distraction or something?”

“Party--find the nicest, most expensive looking car near you and break the window,” Twila whispered.

A loud battle shout from Pinkie could be heard, followed by the smashing of glass and the repetitive noise of a car alarm. 

The guards whipped around at the noise, the shields included. Dash was on them in a heartbeat; she rose from her hiding spot, a glock in each hand and Jack’s revolver tucked into her pants. She indiscriminately unloaded her rounds, netting shots in the kidneys, the lungs, legs, anything exposed by their position. The masked woman shot until her fingers hurt and her clips ran dry, leaving a ring of corpses around the farmer. A shield slowly toppled over and clanged to the floor, landing beside its dead owner. Before she could celebrate, shots rang out beside her lithe body--one coming so close as to graze her shoulder--shattering the wall behind her. She jumped to the side, ducking once more into cover as the remains of the stairwell group retaliated.

“Any fuckin’ time, guys!” she bellowed, not caring that they could hear her just fine over the mic. She briefly knelt down in her cover, tearing off her sleeve to tie up her bleeding shoulder.

Pinkie meanwhile, had decided to commandeer the car she had just broken into. The pigs had merely dismissed it as a distraction, giving her time to drive it. She quickly hotwired the car (something Dash taught her to do), although it was a little awkward with only one good arm. Despite that, she got the car working and began to drive it to the top of the slope while humming a delightful tune. “You know, I should really get my licence.”

“I wonder if this radio works...” she thought out loud to herself, twiddling the knobs. All she got was static. She pouted slightly and used the handbrake when she was in position. Considering Dash’s loud words, she didn’t need permission to get the car rolling. 

“Time to get a strike. And maybe a turkey!” she giggled, releasing the handbrake. The car slowly went down the slope but it rapidly gained momentum. Pinkie swung open the door and dived out before the car hit its targets.

She yelped in pain as she hit the floor, unfortunately landing on her wound. Through the pain, she forced herself up, hurriedly bleaching the red stain that she had left on the floor. 

The police weren’t so lucky. The sound of the car alarm had blocked out the sound of the car rolling down the slope, so before any of them had time to react, the vehicle had bowled them over. Some went right under the car and others were knocked to the side, breaking their line of formation completely. 

That didn’t mean it was a time to take a quick break though. Pinkie briskly headed down the stairs and made her way over to a car. Breaking the window of her new vehicle with a gunshot, she opened the car and began the process of hotwiring it. 

During all this, Rarity had been ducking in and out between a support pillar and a large SUV parked too close to it.  Unlike Dash’s nearly spray and pray shooting, she’d been picking her targets--gun hands and lower legs for the most part.  Though some of the officers had gotten wise to her, blocking all her shots with their shields.

Then Pinkie’s car crashed into them.

Right, she thought. Time for me to run along!



Chylene gripped the rifle tightly, her hands shaking terribly.  She’d not wanted to take the weapon up, but someone had to, Dash had said.  And she’d had some experience with rifles before, though it had taken a lot of practice for her to learn how to handle the kick.

She didn’t start right after the shooting began, she couldn’t.  But finally, slowly, she lifted the impressive weapon over the open booth window.  The scene outside was a terror of blood and carnage, Dash having effectively gone crazy, as far as Chylene could tell.  Forcing her eyes open, she steadied her aim at a particularly skillful officer--his shield was a mass of cracks and dents from blocking Dash’s assault.

Completely letting out her breath, she cleared her mind.  It wasn’t so different, she had found, from doing a few of the less enjoyable things to her animals, such as certain surgeries, or when it came time to breed them.  Or, worse, when an unsavable animal had to be put down.  So she simply went into the same near trance she took on during those times.  She wasn’t wielding a rifle: all she envisioned was the syringe, needing only one little push.

With one little pull of the trigger, she felt a terrible discomfort hit her shoulder and watched, strangely fascinated, as the bullet found its mark, tearing through shield and man alike.  She breathed in, then choked as she saw two others behind him go down.  It was very possible she had just killed several men.  And she wasn’t done.

Twila watched all this with careful eyes, monitoring every move and keeping track of everyone’s position.  She counted in her head, estimating when Pinkie would arrive with the second car.  Mystery simply stood near her, his features calm for the most part, but his sweat-soaked shirt and wringing hands betraying just how terrified he was.

The young woman couldn’t blame him--they were all terrified.

“Gems, grab Stetson and get to cover, watch for Party.  Bolt, calm the bullet storm and try and force them to cover, if you can.  Don’t let them pick up those shields again!  Mouse, fire until you’re empty or we pass you, whichever is first.  Wait for my signal--and Party, hurry up with that cover!”  She reached into the inner pocket of her bag, pulling out the last surprise she had; their contact’s eyes bugged a bit when he saw it, his mouth taking on an almost half-crazed grin.  It was almost time.  Pinkie just had to get them that car...

The energetic woman finally did arrive with the car but her driving was slower and more conservative than normal. She slammed her fist on the horn, a loud din echoing across the room. “Let’s go ladies!”

“Damn it, Party,” Twila said under her breath.  “You heard her, everyone move out! And Party, once you’ve got that car heading out, get OUT of it!”

Pinkie started driving towards the exit ramp. Now was the time to move out.

Rarity had reached the wounded Jack, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and half carrying the nearly spent farmer.  Dash peeked out of her cover. On seeing the coast relatively clear, she made a quick run to Rarity. 

“You cool?” Dash asked, glancing over to her wounded companion.

“F-fine. I’m jus’... woozy,” the blonde said, teetering on her feet.

“Hang tight. We’re almost home free, babe.” She stopped consoling the woman and quickly looked around the area. “Any fuckin’ day, Books!” Dash roared.

“Already there,” she replied. “At the trunk of the car with Mystery.  Open the doors and walk behind the car as best as you can.  Party, punch it!  Mouse, be ready, we’ll be passing you soon.”

Pinkie looked in the back of the car for something to weigh down the pedal. She found a white carrier back on one of the seats and took it, placing it down. She didn’t know what was inside but it weighed down the pedal so that the car went by at a moderate speed. Her hands were still on the wheel though, just in case.

In a very short amount of time, they were at Chylene’s location.  She fired one last shot, taking down an officer who was getting back up.  Swinging the rifle behind her, she hurried out of the booth and took a spot next to Pinkie.

“I’m g-going to h-h-have nightma--” She choked back a sob.  “Forever!”

Pinkie gave her a single glance, mostly focused on driving. “Me, too,” she said solemnly, although her tone steadily became more hopeful, “But...maybe not forever. That’s why we’re doing this right? Escaping the one we’re in now.”

“Is everyone accounted for?” Spike’s voice broke over the radio.

“A-ain’t dead yet, Drake,” Jack weakly joked. She spasmed, clutching Rarity’s shoulder tightly as she weathered a coughing fit. “Jus feelin’ like it.”

Nudging her lightly with an elbow, Rarity called, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, or so you’re always telling me about all that dirty farm work you make me do on occasion.”

Dash chimed in, “I’d hate to see you give in now, so close to the end--not like you to lose.”

“I didn’t go through that shit jus’ ta... ta die now.”

“Me and Mouse are ready and definitely not deady!” Pinkie said through the radio, “I’m hurting though...”

“Just one more good push, girls. One more,” Spike encouraged. “Make it over to the parking garage across the street. Your carriage awaits you on floor three.”

The group of girls had all gathered around the car, which was picking up speed slowly as it went up the outramp.  Pinkie still inside with Chylene beside her, Twila and Mystery at the rear, and Rarity, Jack, and Dash along the passenger side back door.

“OK, guys--listen up.  I’m sealing the garage behind us,” said Twila matter-of-factly.

“With what?” Rarity called.

“We used all the fuckin’ explosives at the vault, didn’t we?” Dash asked.

Twila giggled.  “I’m so disappointed that I was the only one with a surprise. Party!”

“Gotcha, Books. Just hurry up with it. This car ain’t go no brakes!” Pinkie joked. 

“Party, unless you want to see the finale first hand, I’d advise you to get out of the car...now!” she replied tersely.

Pinkie blinked, giving Chylene a short nod before carefully exiting the vehicle, Pinkie nearly tripping over. The car kept on moving and they hid behind the open doors. 

“Uh...Books, what are you planning?” Spike’s nervous question rang in her ear.

“Do you honestly think I’d not hold something back for an emergency, Drake?” she explained, pausing to throw something back towards the bottom of the ramp.  “We need to move, fifteen seconds!”

As the car sped up, it became more difficult for the now almost totally drained group.  For most, the adrenaline high was fading fast, replaced by the slow weight of fear and exhaustion. But to their hopes, the light at the end of the tunnel was becoming clear--literally.

About two-thirds the way up the ramp, Twila’s surprise went off.  She’d kept some of the C4, leaving a packet behind.   The concussion wave pushed them forward, causing Rarity to nearly trip and take Jack with her. Chylene turned back to see a cloud of dust and debris, most likely hiding the collapsed walls of the garage, blocking any possible pursuit from inside.

The group’s ears were ringing as Twila continuously shouted, “Everyone, stop, now!”  It took her nearly a dozen shouts before finally being heard, her voice breaking and going ragged from the effort.

Pinkie and Chylene both froze the moment the explosion had begun and looked back at Twila, Chylene trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

“Hooo-leee shit. Nice! That’ll stop the cocksuckers dead in their tracks!” Dash remarked, pointing a thumb towards the blockade.

“But, Books, why stop?  You need to get out of there and fast!” Drake called when everyone could hear again.

“I concur, stopping is goddamned madness!” said Mystery, a little bit of panic in his voice.

“And run right out into the officers outside, dying in a blaze of glory?  No thanks.”  She winked at Rarity, who gave her a confused look.  Then, with a cocky grin she pulled out a detonator.  “I kept two blocks--the other is on the back of the car.  Five...four...three...two...and--now!”  She pushed the button.

Another explosion rang out from the opening above, this time softened somewhat, failing to deafen the group.

“Through the debris, watch your footing and go!  We’re almost home free,” croaked Twila, breathing in deeply as she forced her tired legs to walk forward.  Chylene wrapped an arm around Pinkie, the two helping each other to walk quicker. They both coughed harshly when they reached the black smoke. 

“Get Jack the fuck outta here!” Dash ordered as they broke out into the street, gesturing towards the garage with her pistol. “I’ll bring up the rear.”

Putting more of Jack’s weight on her own shoulders, Rarity groaned and whined, “I’m going to need at least a week’s worth of baths to feel clean again. I hope we grabbed enough, because I am not doing this again!”

“When we get back... I wanna drink ‘till I’m numb,” Jack grunted, squeezing her eyes tight as she tried her best to support her own weight.

It was nearly impossible to see anything through the roiling black smoke as the group hit flat pavement.  The wind occasionally broke the wispy cloud, granting them a sight of a nearly endless collection of police cars, SWAT vans, EMTs, and fire trucks.  The sound of a large crowd could be heard over the roar of the nearby flaming wreckage ahead of them.

Twila could feel the sweat soaking her suit as she neared the fires. “Left three feet!” she called, pulling the stumbling Mystery along with her just before he barbecued himself.

“Thanks,” he wheezed. “Can’t see a damn thing.  So glad this is almost over...”

“Go go go!” Dash called from the back. “Almost to the garage! Just cross the fuckin’ street!”

“Guys!” Drake yelled. “They’re giving the order to fire into the smoke!”

“Mother of--stay low!” Dash cried out, her voice cracking slightly. 

Pinkie grabbed Chylene and dove to the floor with her. At this point, she could tell that the shy woman was crying. She hugged her with her good arm and hoped for the best. It was all they could do. 

Since he had no radio, Twila had been forced to tackle Mystery to the ground. She found it odd that, despite the seriousness of the situation, she could feel just how rigidly calm his entire body was. Terrified, but desperate to hold onto sanity. So close to the end...life clings to life with desperate abandon, I guess, she thought to herself as the bullets began to fly.

Dash scowled. “Everyone, get the hell outta here!” she said, pushing down on her earpiece so hard she heard a small cracking noise. The athlete backtracked towards the entrance of the ramp and began shooting her pistol back through the choking smoke. “I’ll see if I can distract them, go!”

As much as she hated it, Twila could tell the gunfire had been turned back the way they came, so she called, “Run for it, Gems--do not drop Stetson!”  Helping Mystery to his feet, she ran forward as fast as she could, not noticing if anyone came with her.  At this point, though it cut her worse than the sharpest knife, they had to each just hope and try.

“Run, Gems!” Jack said weakly. “Leave me... I’ll slow you down too much...”

Rarity shook her head and gave the wounded woman a distasteful look.  “Why would I do such a foolish thing?”

“I... I’ve been nothin’ but worthless through this whole damn shitstorm,” she hissed, blinking away bitter tears. She lowered her already weak voice. “I’m dead weight, Rare. Drop me.” 

“If you weren’t so hurt, I’d slap you,” she replied coldly.  Hefting Jack in a more comfortable position--which wasn’t easy, as she wasn’t exactly light--she trudged as fast as she could. “Saying such a... a... ridiculously foolish thing!  What do you think I’m here for?  What we’re all here for?”

“Yeah, Ja--Stetson,” Spike’s voice came over the radio. “If we left you behind... what sort of friends would that make us?”

“He’s right, you know,” said Twila. “This whole plan was for you. Without you, it fails. And I. Do not. Fail!”

“We’d hate to see you give up now! Not after everything we’ve been through!” Pinkie chimed in, she looked over to the weeping Chylene. “I know Mouse agrees with me.”

“Y-Yes...” Chylene sniffled, “Think of your f-family too...”

“Guys...” Jack trailed off as they continued making their way across the street. She wiped her eyes with a shaking hand and sucked in a breath. “God. Y’all... I--”

A shot punched through one of the concrete pillars of the garage, stopping Jack’s words.

“I owe ya’ll,” she quietly said. After a beat, she shifted in Rarity’s grasp. “But move yer asses--there’s too much heat fer all this feel-good shit. Floor 3!”

Everyone gave their affirmatives and double-timed as best they could.  “But what about Bolt?” Spike yelled.

“I trust her,” Jack said simply, clenching her hand into a fist.

“Twenty feet to the entrance,” Twila reported.

“After this, you’re going on a diet,” Rarity told Jack with a grunt, readjusting her carrying stance again.

The group quickly drug their bruised and beaten bodies into the garage, one by one. Some of the cops had noticed when they’d cleared the smoke and began shooting, but too late. They were home free.

“We did it.” Jack let out a small laugh. “We actually did it.”

“W-what about Bolt?” Chylene pondered.

“She’s fine. I know it,” the farmer dismissed. Going by the tone under her mask, Jack was scowling.

“Oh. I-I’m sure she is,” the meek woman hesitantly agreed.

Pinkie knelt down and layed on the floor, laughing lightly with relief. It was hard to tell due to the mask but her face was noticeably paler than it was before. “Whew... thank goodness... someone gimme some yummy cupcakes and then I’ll fall asleep...”

A small red dot shone from across the garage, nearby the stairwell. It reminded Twila a lot of a laser pointer, only--

“Not another step,” a man’s voice boomed from across the lot. The laser adjusted, quickly finding its way to Rarity’s heart. “It would be a pity to ruin a pair of perfect breasts.” She merely rolled her eyes in disgust. 

“Books, what’s going on?  I heard a voice--”

“Everyone stop!” Twila cried. “Stupid... Of course they’d put a sniper up here.”

“No games. Hands above your heads. Down on your knees,” he barked. The group could barely make out his silhouette as he reached to his belt, producing a radio. His gaze flickered for only the briefest of moments as he pushed down the talk button. “I have the suspects in the garage across from first and national. Requesting reinforcements.”

“Granted. ETA one minute,” a voice replied. Within a second, the groups earpieces buzzed on again.

“They’re heading to the garage! Move!” Spike called out.

“Day late an’ a dollar short on that one, sugar,” Jack muttered as the man began walking towards them. 

Chylene began to panic; the woman took breath after flustered breath, but couldn’t fight her nerves. When one of his steps caused his sights to briefly move from Rarity’s body, she took a chance, moving with a speed that could only be matched by Dash. She lunged and grabbed Mystery from behind by the neck, hugging him tightly against her chest. The woman then pressed a pistol to his temple and gazed defiantly at the sniper.

“One more step,” she growled, her voice low and ominous, like a feral dog’s snarl. “One more Goddamn step and I swear I’ll blow his brains all over the walls. Ya hear me, ya fuckin’ cunt licking pig?! Try me! One. More. STEP,” she roared, her eyes hard, burning coals and her lips curled back in an unseen sneer.

There was dead silence in the room. The others looked briefly at one another as Spike spoke over the mic once more.

“Woah,” Drake said. But the threat seemed to have done the trick--the sniper held his position, looking grimly at the group of robbers.

“You sure said it, Drake...” Pinkie replied, although it was mainly to herself. She stared at Chylene with disbelief, steadily getting up with heavy breaths. No doubt about it, the woman was terrifying. 

Mystery took the cue. “Oh God, she’s fucking crazy!  I don’t wanna die!  Somebody do something!”

The sound of dozens of heavy footsteps from behind alerted the group that the cavalry was here.

“Hold!” the sniper bellowed, looking past the women. “They’ve got a hostage--no one move in yet.”

“I thought so,” Chylene said, staring hard at the man, who was radioing the situation but otherwise stood stock still.

Jack didn’t like this. It was a standoff that they couldn’t hope to win. Between the rifleman in front of them and what could be dozens of guns behind them, there wasn’t anything they could do. If she just went by odds, the police had a winning hand.

However, there was always a wild card in the deck, just waiting to be drawn...


000




Isabelle dashed across the smoky wreckage. She had stalled them for as long as she could--eventually, they stopped taking her bait and had simply stopped returning fire at her direction, instead focusing on the garage. Dash figured that they must have seen her friends enter it and were now fully concentrating their efforts on the others. As she got closer, she saw something that made her gut ache in fear.

Her friends stood inside the garage, a dozen or so steps deeper inside the building. The only thing separating Dash from the group was a squad of ten cops, all with their weapons drawn and aimed at her friends. Dash squinted and noted Chylene had her arm wrapped around Mystery’s neck. Some kind of fake hostage attempt, maybe?

“Damn. We’re in a tight spot,” Dash muttered to herself, running a hand along her mask. She hid behind a large piece of rubble and checked her ammo.

Eight rounds. Four from Jack’s revolver, four from her own gun. Even if she got a kill with every shot...

Dash took a breath, trying to install some courage into her system. “You got this, motherfucker. You got this.”

She didn’t have this. She was so dead. 

Even as she thought this, she crept forward, getting closer and closer to the cops.

When she got about ten feet away from the force, she acted, aiming and firing her beretta directly into the back of a man’s skull. Before he had even collapsed or the others turned around, she moved her aim to another, popping off a second shot. They collapsed to the floor, dead. By now, the group had begun to turn around. She moved forward and squeezed off another shot from her beretta--it went wide, just missing another’s head. Her last shot found its mark, punching another directly in the chest. He went down like a sack of bricks. Not dead, she noted. His body armor soaked up the shot. Even then, the impact left him writhing on the ground and clutching his sternum.

“Guys!” she called out, dropping her gun and reaching into her pants for Jack’s handcannon in one blurred motion. While she wasn’t the best shot of the group, she made up for it by being the quickest. She pushed forward, burying the barrel of the gun directly into a man’s gut and firing. The shot ruptured through his body, soaking one of the others in a sea of gore. A cop to her left finally managed to aim his pistol and fire. The bullet slammed into her own gut like a punch, but thanks to her kevlar, Dash was simply winded. She countered by rising the .50 caliber and squeezing the trigger.

The revolver’s blast impacted against the man’s shoulder, nearly blowing it off of him. He looked down in horror at his ruined appendage as Dash fought back the urge to vomit. She gave him mercy in the form of another bullet that connected with his forehead, dropping him.

Dash swore under her breath as a policeman on either side of her aimed their guns and fired. She dropped down prone to the floor to avoid the policeman’s rounds and fired her last shot, busting a melon-sized hole into one of their groins.

“Fuck!” the athlete roared, turning around onto her back and pointing the empty revolver at the still standing men.  Dash closed her eyes, awaiting the inevitable gunshots.

They did come. But they didn’t hit her.

Dash opened her eyes, seeing the fallen bodies of the policemen in front of her. Standing just behind them was Rarity, gun drawn and still smoking.  She had a particularly smug look on her face.

“Not the most straightforward way of escaping but I’ll take it,” Twila said, giving Dash a hand up.

“After all that bragging, I still save your uncouth ass,” Rarity said haughtily.

Meanwhile, between the threat against a supposed-hostage and the ensuing slaughter, the sniper stood half-dumbfounded for a moment too long.  A moment enough for Chylene to trade rifle for pistol and fire three shots at the would-be assailant. One missed, but two met their mark and, with a grunt, the sniper fell to the ground, clutching his kneecap in agony. She then let go of Mystery, who briskly stepped away.

“Well there goes my eardrum...” he said quietly with a sigh, rubbing the side of his face. “But I’ll take the hostage route out, if you don’t mind.  Then I’ll get my payday and keep my job.”

Twila looked the man over carefully, whispering  “You know what this means, don’t you?”

He winced but nodded.  “I think I can handle a bump on the head.  Just be--”

With a loud shout, Rarity pistol-whipped the back of his head, sending him falling flat to the ground, unconscious.  “Useless hostage!  We don’t even need you anymore!”  Her voice was shrill but hard, and she gave a melodramatic flourish of the weapon while putting on a pose.

“Nice one, Gems,” Spike said flatly.  “Now... Get out of there!”

Dash moved forward, past the group. “On your feet, ladies! Move!” she commanded, twirling a finger in a circle above her. “I’ll scout ahead--make sure we don’t hit any more surprises.”

With that, she took off like a bullet, sprinting up a flight of stairs. She paused and gave the wounded sniper a once over, taking his pistol and rifle. She paused briefly at his wallet, noticing a photograph in one of his sleeves.

“Nice lookin’ kids,” she commented, tossing it back onto his chest.

 The others followed her lead at a slower pace and by now it was easy to see how tired Pinkie had become. Her steps were sluggish and heavy, as were her breaths. 

“Watch out fer Party,” Jack panted quietly to Rarity, leaning hard on the lady’s shoulder. “She’s startin’ ta look tuckered out.”

“When did I become the medic?  Besides, I’ve got you to look after.” she said, though she did give the wounded woman a worried look.

“I know, jus... shit,” Jack spat in weary frustration, putting a weak hand to her forehead as she walked through the garage. “We hosed this one up good, didn’t we? Surprised I ain’t got everyone hurt, let alone killed.”

“You can’t think like that, Stetson.  The good news is, no one did die and we’ve got the loot.”

“Drake’s right, Stetson.  Though it didn’t go perfectly, our mission has been completely successful,” Twila said confidently.

“And best of all,” Rarity added, “we’ll never have to do anything like this again!”

“H-Hopefully...” Chylene squeaked, calmed down by now.

“Yeah...” Pinkie let out, her voice sounding like a drawn out sigh. She cleared her throat, adding in a more cheery voice: “Yep. Yep!”

The group trudged up the flights of stairs leading to the next floor. As they came to the apex of the second flight, they heard the tell-tale sign of an engine revving. Dash came barrelling around the corner, behind the wheel of one of her favorite custom jobs. She wordlessly beckoned the group over with frantic gesturing of her hands.

With everyone heaving various sighs of relief, the group managed one last burst of energy towards the vehicle, hefting their bulging duffels of money and depleted weaponry.

Jack grunted as she sat down at the passenger seat. She flicked a glance at Dash. “Can ya handle this thing good enough ta get us the hell outta dodge?”

“Glad your sense of humor didn’t get shot off out there.” Dash smirked. She gave a firm grip of the wheel and revved the engine. “This baby fits my hands like a pair of gloves. Just listen to how much she likes her mama.”

Chylene ushered Pinkie into the car and the wounded woman almost collapsed against the seat. “Phew...I’m real hungry so take us home, Boltie...”

“Oh, home would be lovely,” Chylene added, trying to find her seatbelt as Twila and Rarity entered the vehicle. When she couldn’t find any seatbelts at all, she gripped the seat firmly, eyes widened.

“You know we can’t do that--we’ve got to make sure they don’t follow us to any recognizable location.”  Twila began organizing the duffels and empty guns, opening the compartment via the backseat to the trunk.

Dash shifted into gear and launched the car across the empty lot. She flew through the downward ramps, going so hard and fast that at one point the bumper hit the floor, showering the area behind them with sparks.

They skidded out onto the road; the athlete made a quick choice and turned left, roaring past a few wide eyed police standing near the bank. She blared her horn and flipped them off.

“Dash,” Jack warned.

“Couldn’t resist.” She smirked.

“Please slow down! We’re way above the speed limit!” Chylene screamed. 

“Bolt! Bolt!” Spike’s voice called out. Jack put a finger to her earpiece. 

“She damaged her set,” Jack explained.

“What?” Dash asked, glancing at the farmer.

“Barricades ahead, on 5th, Carney, and Main!” Spike exclaimed. The farmer could almost imagine how terrified he must look right now.

“Barricades?! Are ya shittin’ me!” Jack spat, coughing hard into her hand.

“Fuckin’ what!?” the athlete bellowed, clenching her fists against the wheel.

“He said on 5th, Carney and Main. There has to be another route we can take!” Rarity exclaimed.

Dash rolled up her mask halfway up her face. “Light me, hayseed. Glove compartment.”

Jack reached down, letting out a small gasp when she grazed against her wound. She pulled out a package of smokes and a lighter. With a weak shake of her head, she produced two cigarettes and lit both. She put one in her own mouth and one in Dash’s.

Isabelle took a grateful inhale and held it. After a beat, she let the nicotine out through her nostrils. “I memorized possible escape routes. The bookworm ain’t the only one who makes plans. We can take a back alley just before hitting Main. Should be alright, as long as there isn’t much junk through there.”

“And if there is?” Twila asked. Dash laughed under her breath, the noise lacking humor.

“Well, eighty miles into a dumpster doesn’t need too much of an explanation.”

Chylene squeaked, wrapping her arms around her legs and closing her eyes. Pinkie had apparently fallen asleep, saying nothing. 

The athlete skidded a left turn, nearly plowing into a gravel truck that was turning right.

“That fucker needs to watch the road!” the athlete shouted, leaning on her horn. She blasted through the traffic and cut a hard turn port side, screeching her wheels into a dark, dreary alley. She shot past the narrow aisle; at one point the walls closed in so tight that she lost both her side-mirrors.

“Sonofabitch,” she mutely swore, so focused on not wrecking that the words had no heat or corrosive feel to them. Her unfinished smoke hung limply from her narrow lips. Then they were out into the open again, no worse for the wear. Isabelle cackled maniacally, nodding her head.

“Fuckin’ right!” she exclaimed proudly, turning to look at her passengers in the backseat. “That’s how you do things in my hou--”

“Watch the damn road!” they shouted in panicked unison.

“OK, OK. Damn,” she muttered, turning to glare over the wheel.

They drove along the streets. Behind them, they could finally start to hear the faint cries of a police siren.  “Too little, too late.” Isabelle grinned, gunning down the gas pedal. “This bitch’ll outrun anything!”

From behind a tall skyscraper came a sight that instantly dropped the smile from Dash’s face. A black, sleek helicopter began heading straight towards them, lowering itself and turning to the side, opening a cargo hatch and exposing the faintest traces of a single man, laying in a prone position near the helicopter's rear. Though he was simply a speck at this distance, the group could already guess what he had.

Rarity gulped, staring at the chopper in horrified awe. “Drake, darling, I don’t suppose you have any ideas up your sleeve right now?”

“If I did, I would have used them now, Gems. If you can somehow shake the helicopter, you’ll be home free, but...”

Rarity frowned, rubbing her brow. “Even with Bolt’s impressive driving skills, I don’t think we can--Mouse, what are you doing?!” 

Chylene was holding her rifle up, looking down the sights straight at the chopper. Her face was a visage of grim determination despite her shaking hands. “L-Line me up, Bolt,” she instructed, pressing her window button. Dash moved the car slightly to the right--Chylene leaned out of the vehicle and looked grimly down the rifle’s scope. Through the sights, she could see that the man on the helicopter was preparing to aim. She aimed at him, then paused. Her finger flirted with the trigger as panic bubbled inside her stomach.

What if I can’t make the shot? she thought. If she missed this, they were done for. The sniper could pick them off at his leisure, or simply blow out one of Dash’s tires. As fast as they were going, it would be a death sentence. The thought continued to swim in her head.

What if I can’t make the shot?

What if I can’t make the shot?...

“What if I can’t make the shot, Jack?” the taciturn girl asked, as the farmer and she stood overlooking one of the hills at Sweet Apple Acres. The stars and moon shone brightly on the two as they stared out into the distance, where a single, solitary tin can sat on the horizon, near the burnt, broken skeleton of what was once a persimmon tree. 
The farmer looked dumbfounded at her friend. “Then ya shoot again. We got all night. We’ll make a good shot of ya yet.”

Chylene blushed, embarrassed that she was misunderstood. “N-no. I mean, what if I... what if I can’t make the shot w-when it matters?”	
The farmer grinned and tilted her hat back. “Oh, that’s all yer worried about? Don’t be.”

“W-why not?” the pink haired girl stammered. Jack looked hard at the woman.

“Because I know ya, sugar. Yer one of the most dependable gals I know.”

“But--”

“If something like that ever happens. I know you’ll do fine. You know the most important part ‘bout shootin’ when it’s all on the line? Ya don’t aim with yer eyes...” Jack looked expectantly at her friend, waiting for the meek woman to finish.


“You aim with your heart.” The quiet woman ignored the sniper taking aim from the helicopter, instead aiming her sights to the flying vehicle’s fuel storage. She knew it would be a long, arching shot that would be affected by wind and distance. If she was off even slightly, they were dead.

She aimed with her heart, pulling the trigger and hoping.

The crack of thunder sounded off in her hands and her shot was brilliant--it missed the tank, instead punching through the glass of the cockpit and hitting the helicopter pilot square though his helmet. His corpse twitched a violent death throw and brushed against the helicopter's controls, causing it to spin erratically towards the ground. It crashed behind a building, but judging by the smoke, they didn’t have to fear it coming back for them.

The group stared wide eyed at the telltale sign of the crash; except Pinkie, who somehow managed to sleep through the fiasco.

“Damn Mouse,” Dash said, putting her focus back on the road. 

“I... I meant to hit the gas tank...” Chylene quietly replied under her breath, reclining back in her seat. 

Letting out another collective sigh of relief, everyone paused as an obvious realization hit them.

“W-we made it,” Dash said, unbelieving. She tore off her mask and broke out into a full-toothed grin. “I-I can’t believe we made it!”

The sound of Spike’s laughter went through everyone’s radios, “Haha! Yes! We did it! Man...I knew you girls could pull it off. Okay, maybe there were some bumpy moments but still...success!”

“Well ladies, drinks are on me tonight,” Rarity stated, running a hand through her hair. 

Twila shook her head.  “I won’t have any time... I’ll have to count our takings, compare it to what we owe, make sure any necessary bribes are paid... I’m afraid the work is only half over!”

Rarity made a sound of disapproval. “Really Twila, you should allow yourself this after everything we’ve gone through.” 

The farmer stared out her window. She rolled it down and flicked out the remains of her cigarette. “I’m gonna have ta raincheck myself, Rare. Though I expect ta cash in on yer offer later.”


000




They rode for just shy of an hour once they escaped the city, taking back routes and doubling back across the suburbs. Once Twila made absolutely, positively certain that they weren't being followed, they hit one of the lonesome, rarely used roads leading west. The road took them across the grasslands. Their green seas contrasted the evening golds. Even Dash, with her urge to fly the beast they rode in, slowed down to take in the view.

By now, everyone had calmed down. Chylene had bandaged Pinkie’s wound to stop the bleeding, and Pinkie herself was now leaning against her. Both were fast asleep.  Twila was lost in her own world, doing the initial calculations to see where they stood financially, while Rarity was having a quiet conversation with an increasingly tired Spike.

Jack weakly smiled at the open and free fields crossing past her window. “Reminds me of the farm. Or, well, the farm back... back before...”

“Yeah. It does,” Isabelle agreed, running a hand through her rainbow-hued hair. A memory came to her. “I remember when we used to race, like, all the damn time on foot. We’d go from one fencepost in your west forty and touch a tree on a hill. Remember that?”

Jack shifted in her seat to face the athlete. The pain in her chest briefly reminded her of the gravity of their actions, but she pushed it away. She needed this. “I remember, Izzy. It was a persimmon tree, all up on its lonesome there. Do you remember... anything else ‘bout the tree?”

Isabelle smiled, reaching for the tanned woman’s callused hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “You know, until that night I never knew you could moan quite li--”

Jack’s mood did a complete reversal, she slapped Dash hard on the shoulder. “Shush. We got ourselves others in the car. I was talkin’ bout what we put on there.”

“Oh yeah...” Isabelle said, rubbing her shoulder. “Our initials.”

“Eyup.” Jack turned, facing the front once more. “It’s gone now, the tree. I know it’s dumb ta... ta be thinkin’ bout somethin’ like that when we lost jus’ bout everythin’ there, but... but...” She sniffed hard, wiping her nose with a sleeve. Her face contorted as she fought back the urge to cry.

“I know, babe. I know.” Dash reassured, rubbing Jack’s outstretched hand with a thumb. “We’ll make it. We’re gonna make it right. OK?”

“OK,” Jack agreed, nodding her head once. She stared at her wound.

“How’s that feeling?”

“Like I got shot, sugar.”

Dash narrowed her eyes as she kept her attention to the road. “You know what I mean.”

“It hurts like hell, but I think I was lucky. Now that I’ve sat a spell, I don’t feel so weak.”

The athlete nodded grimly. They drove for a few miles in complete silence. 

“I gotta know something... after all that, how you feeling...?” Dash made a small gesture towards her own chest. “You know.”

The farmer quirked a brow. “Nah. I don’t.”

“You know...” She gave a blunt look towards the farmer. “Inside.”

The farmer caught onto her meaning. “I, uh, reckon I hadn’t thought ‘bout it. I’m tryin’ not ta think ‘bout it as hard as I can, ya know?”

“Y-yeah. Same.” She blew out a breath. “Hell, who am I kiddin’? I’m going around in fuckin’ circles in my head about the whole damn thing.” Isabelle looked to the makeshift bandage around her arm. “We’re killers.”

Jack sighed in mute agreement and returned to staring out her window. “Eyup. Ain’t no matter how ya slice it. Not all of those fellas coulda been the Queen’s lapdogs. Some of ‘em had to of jus’ been doin’ their job.”

“They had families. Friends. Shit, Jack.” Dash heaved a sigh. “It hurts, man.”

“I know, sugar. I know.” The farmer empathetically nodded. She gave a sideways glance to the backseat’s occupants.  “But we gotta be strong. Fer their sake, we gotta be the cold ones, ya know?”

The athlete bit at her lip. “I just wish they didn’t have to get their fuckin’ hands dirty.”

They drove into the fading evening light for almost an hour of silence. Just as Jack was about to fall asleep, Dash blurted out, “When we get back, I’m gonna plant a persimmon tree. Right out front.”

Jack cleared the cobwebs from her mind and took a moment to process the athelete’s words. After a beat, Jack smiled, touched at Isabelle's gentle action. “Y-yeah, Dash. That’ll be somethin’ ta look forward to.”

The night came, and with it, thousands of stars, each one promising a bright morning.


000




“What the fucking hell do you mean, ‘we’re still shy?’” Dash roared at the cell phone. Spike winced at the athlete’s temper, despite being safely behind his monitor on the other end of the line at the Hub.

“I don’t know what happened!” the young man said defensively.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” came Twila’s calm, steady voice.  She raised one finger. “Jack.” Then another. “And Pinkie. Not only did we have to pay for all of their hospital bills, we also had to bribe the doctors.” Then she made a general gesture around the five. “Not to mention, Jack only borrowed to pay for this. We had to pay it back, or risk detection.”

On the other side of the speaker phone, Pinkie sat upright in her hospital bed, swallowing a cupcake harshly and putting the bowl of them to the side. “Oh... I’m sorry Twila,” she said sincerely, “But only eating cupcakes wouldn’t make me feel better. Trust me, I’ve tried,” she peered into the bowl. Only one cupcake was left. “They sure were tasty though!”

Pinkie looked to Jack, in the bed next to hers. “Want the last one?”

“I reckon she’s fine without,” the deep, rumbling voice of Big Macintosh spoke up from the side of the bed. 

“Don’t be silly, Maccy! A cupcake makes anything better!” Pinkie outstretched her arm, cupcake in hand. 

“Well if you’re offerin’, don’t mind if I do!” Alice said, snatching the cupcake and gobbling it down. 

The brickhouse of a man seemed to debate saying something to Dash, but held his tongue. He instead gave a small pat to the sleeping Jack’s shoulder. No matter how strong she looked, no matter how strong he knew she was, seeing her like this, with his massive hand wrapped around a shoulder hurt worse than he could imagine, always brought to home just how fragile they each were--and just how important their family bonds were.

“Sorry, sis,” he quietly said, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to hear him through the drugs and painkillers they had pumped her with, but not caring. It wasn’t like he was used to being heard anyway.

“Don’t worry about her, Mac,” Alice said, going up to her older brother and squeezing his hand. “She’ll be fine. She’s always fine.” She frowned a tad at Jack, a pit of worry still in her stomach. 

“Well duh! She’s Jack Apple! The Jack Apple!” Pinkie exclaimed, waving her arms about. The rapid movement sent some sharp pain through her wounded arm, so she stopped, wincing.  

“So... i-if we’re still short,” Chylene’s voice sounded from the phone, “what does that mean for... what we did?”

Back in the Hub, Rarity gave a worried look and cried, “We’re not going to need to do something like that again, are we?”

“Maybe me, Belle and Scoots can get a paper route or somethin’.” Alice suggested. 

“I’ve got an idea, actually,” said Spike cooly. He began clicking furiously at his computer, Twila behind him, watching. “I’ve been keeping tabs on the Camelot upper crust scene--politics, alliances and the like.  And there’s something big planned in a few months--I think we could snag an even bigger score than we did this time! It should even be easier: no guns, no cops. Just snatch and grab.”

The woman behind him made a curious noise as she scanned the web pages he had brought up.

“But there’s something even better at stake. The Tyrant has a listing of every single guard and diplomat under her beck and call. If we can get that...” Spike smiled. “Well, you know what it means. And it might be just be here, if the rumors I’ve been hearing are true!  Just one more leap of faith, guys. I promise.”

Twila looked down at the ground. “I don’t know how many more ‘leaps’ we have left, Spike. Jack and Diane were both so close...” Her gaze hardened. “But that listing. It could literally change everything regarding the Tyrant. It’s something we just can’t toss aside. You know it, I know it, everybody in the room knows it.” She sighed deeply and ran her hand across her neck. 

“So what are we gonna do, Twila?” the young man asked, his eyes gleaming with eagerness.

She took a readied stance.  “Set the wheels in motion, Drake. We’re going in again.”