Morning came about 5 minutes later. I was sleeping too hard to bother dreaming, something I only realized because Ida had to actually shake me to rouse me. It took me a few seconds to come to terms that I'd actually fallen soundly asleep twice in a row, but as tired as I still felt I didn't question it much. I rolled over and found Ida looking down at me, bleary eyed. “Come on, you've got to get going early. Have to see Sam, remember?”

Sam? She must have meant the quartermaster. I nodded and blinked the sleepiness away while I waited for her to wander off and do whatever she needed to, but she didn't budge. Guess she wasn't going to take chances on me drifting back to sleep again. She really was looking out for me. “Right. Armory is... it's, uh... where is it again?”

“In the old repair shed at the far end of the rail yard. The only one still standing.” She nodded toward the front room. “Got some coffee brewing if you're interested. Go ahead and get suited up, it should be ready by then.”

“Thanks.” I kicked the covers off, realizing as I did so that it was going to complicate making the bed. Did they really have to have such stringent rules on appearance? In this dump of a city?

After Ida left I set to it anyway. It took just a few moments to get my cot presentable again and moving around helped me wake up some. Only after I was halfway through snapping the clasps closed on my armor did I realize that I wasn't alone. Isaac's orange plumage was just visible at the head of his cot, and above him in the second bunk Leigh's brown and cream peeked from beneath her sheets. Funny that I'd barely even met or spoken with them so far. Or to them in the case of Isaac. He hadn't even said a word back to me, just letting a nod and grunt do the talking for him. Creepy.

I found Ida seated at the table stirring a mug of gently steaming coffee as she tapped a pack of cigarettes. “Coffee's ready. You've got an hour and a half before you have to be back here, which ought to be more than plenty of time.” She pulled two paper tubes out of the pack and twiddled one at me. “Want a smoke before you go?”

That sounded like a fantastic idea. Where'd she get the cigarettes from anyway? I didn't have any so I graciously accepted the one she offered me. “Sure, would love to.”

“Great. Meet me outside when you're ready. The lieutenant gets pissy if she thinks we're smoking in here, and that makes Serge pissy.”

Naturally the coffee I poured was hot enough to power a plasma rifle, so I settled on letting it cool while I smoked. There wasn't any sugar to be found so it would have to be black. Really, I was impressed that there was even coffee at all so I took it without questioning it. As trashy as Fillydelphia was, this was a little nugget of civilized living. I could put up with being scrutinized by Lieutenant Blackfeathers and chasing down the occasional runaway pony for this.

Outside I found Ida sitting against the train car and somehow sipping at her cup despite it possibly being classed as a magical energy weapon. Without a word she flicked out her lighter and started her smoke. After offering the lighter to me, she set her cup down and asked, “So, how do you like things so far? Is it everything you thought it would be?”

“Uh, well... it's not quite what I was expecting, but I'm adjusting. I think.”

She grinned and puffed smoke out of her nostrils. “Just messing with you. Yeah, I know it's not what you were expecting. Everyone says that. Heck, even I thought I'd be off shooting raiders all day every day when I signed on.” She coughed and waved a hand over the camp. “Really though, this is what you're going to see more than anything. Most of the time we're here in Filly keeping an eye on the place. It's not a bad gig.”

“Yeah, it's not too tough. I'm sure it gets bad from time to time though?” Probably shouldn't have asked that. That sort of question never has a good answer.

She nodded. “Yeah, but not much recently at all. The first year I was here we were getting called off to repel raiders every other day. I hear before then the Steel Rangers used to probe the place pretty regularly too but we rarely hear a peep out of them anymore. Which is a-okay by me.”

Me too. I'd never seen a Steel Ranger in person but I didn't need to to know what would likely happen. Powered armor with anti-tank weaponry was not something I was looking forward to ever witnessing. I took a long drag on my cigarette and pondered the situation. “So... I saw Isaac and Leigh were back. I still haven't really met them and it's starting to look like I won't get a chance.”

“Schedules will change up again soon enough and it'll be them you see all of the time instead of Lita and Serge.” She downed the rest of her coffee in a big gulp. “Leigh's a good gal. Great with tech of all kinds. And don't let Isaac scare you too bad, he's a big softie inside.”

Right, so... what was that supposed to mean? “Does he not talk much or is it just me?”

Her eyes widened a bit. “Oh, you haven't heard that yet? Wow, sorry, I didn't even think to tell you.” She ran her talon across her throat. “He got hurt real bad a few years back. Actually... wow, guess that was right after I started here. Anyway, have you ever heard of the Grimscythes?”

The name did sound familiar. “Isn't that a raider band? Disappeared a few years back?”

“Mmhmm, that's the one. They disappeared for a good reason.” She pointed a thumb back to her chest. “I was part of the team that took care of them.”

“Oh, wow. You wiped them out?”

She took another puff of her cigarette. “Not quite. A lot were killed, but some are still slaves in the city here. It was risky, but our orders were to capture as many as we could.”

Risky indeed. Why would they do that? “Aren't there much... easier sources of workers?”

“Sure, but that wasn't the point. It was an experiment of some kind. The Grimscythes were a real nuisance, attacking caravans or even patrols. Red Eye saw an opportunity to get workers and make our lives easier, so we tried capturing them.”

“And it worked I take it?”

“Sort of.” She coughed and frowned. “Part of the experiment was to see how well raiders would work as slaves. A few were eventually 'conditioned' alright, but most didn't work out, you see. We also lost a few good people in that fight. The results overall weren't very good so we never tried it again, as far as I know we won't be in the future.”

Suddenly I was feeling like retracting my sentiments on being a Talon not being so bad, but if they had wiped that raiding band out put them to use rebuilding what they'd helped destroy maybe I could even take a little pride in the organization I was working for. “So, I guess Isaac was wounded in the fight?”

“Yep. Some unicorn with a knife got him. We thought the fight was pretty much over, but some of the craftier raiders hadn't given up yet. Some had spells that let them turn partially invisible, which made it just about impossible to shoot 'em. Never saw it coming.” She crossed her legs and said, “Nadine was right there so he didn't bleed out, but he hasn't said much since then. Hurts to talk I think, and his voice is messed up and all.”

“I could understand that.” Hmm, time to change the subject. “So, Nadine. I've heard that name a few times. Who is she?”

Ida coughed and sighed. “Nadine Ripbeak. She was our platoon medic until about three months ago.”

I could sense that 'was' was a key word there. “What happened?”

“KIA.” Ida pointed a single talon under her chin. “Shot by a raider. We were escorting a supply caravan on the way in. Some drugged up psychos, not the Grimscythes by the way, ambushed the caravan and opened fire. We retaliated. When they realized we were there they started shooting at us instead. Hundreds of shots fired, and the only griffon even hit was her.

“Complete horseshit, really. She was the only medic for thirty kilos, but it didn't matter anyway. Dead before she even hit the ground.” Ida shook her head. “She didn't deserve that. Don't let the name fool you, she was a good griffon. She was nice and cared, made a good doc.” She gave me a sad smile. “Guess that's part of the job description, huh?”

Even someone as socially dense as I was could tell what she was saying. I scratched the back of my head and chuckled nervously. “It helps anyway. Sorry to hear about what happened.”

She finished her cigarette and thumped it off into a small puddle choked with used cigarette butts. “It's tough, but it happens.”

Silence fell as I realized I hadn't even started my coffee yet. I sucked down half of the cup and tried not to dwell on the image of the griffoness who previously held my position having most of her skull blown away by a stray bullet. Okay, maybe this job wasn't worth it for just the coffee. I knew when I signed the papers that this would be dangerous, but that hit a little close to home.

Ida yawned and pulled out another cigarette. “Well, that's probably enough filling your ear holes. You should probably get going before too much longer.”

“Right.” I polished off my coffee and tossed my finished smoke into the same puddle. An hour or so to get my gear and get back should be plenty, but I wasn't going to risk cutting it so close as I did with the inspection.

“Just meet me back here when you're done.”

With a nod and verbal assent, I spread my wings and hopped into the air. Once airborne I stretched my back and legs, then soared off toward the far end of the rail yard. The yellowed glow of lights inside the enormous shed confirmed that there should be someone there to greet me at least.

The armory wasn't much to look at from the outside: a corrugated metal building standing a single story tall and maybe thirty meters to the side. A veritable mountain of collapsed bricks and cinder blocks to its side was probably once a station for storing trains that were damaged or in need of service, but had long ago been scavenged for anything useful. From where I stood, I could see that half of the shed was unlit, and that most of the light inside came from just the front room. There probably weren't a whole lot of people stopping by this time of the morning.

I apparently approached the shed from the wrong side, finding myself on something that looked like a shooting range that thankfully was unoccupied at the time. Propped against the side of the building was a metal sign of an obnoxiously pink pony whose name I had learned a decade ago was Pinkie Pie. She used to be an important pony in the Equestrian government, and I was never quite sure how she got the honors of having her image smeared all over the theme park. Regardless, she was everywhere in that part of the city, and that was clearly where this sign had come from. 'You must be this tall to shoot!' she was saying with that expression of irrational exuberance that she always wore, at least after someone took a spray can and replaced 'ride' with 'shoot.' Two dozen bullet holes clustered around her chest and skull told me all I needed to know about what its purpose now was. I smirked and wound around the corner to the front.

The door was unlocked and swung open with a startlingly deep groan, spilling sickly light onto the ground before me. Idly I wondered if that was ever going to get lubed too, then slipped inside, letting the door clatter shut loudly enough to hopefully alert whoever was on duty that I was there. As I strolled along, I took stock of the contents in the front room. Or the lack, really. A couple of lockers adorned the wall on my right and two lamps hung from the ceiling, but the only thing of note was the glass window ahead of me with what appeared to be a drawer of some kind beneath it. A heavy door with no obvious handle was just to its left. No signs of life. “Hello?”

Muffled scrabbling of talons against concrete came from behind the window, and the white head of a young griffon popped up. He whipped around to face me, and the momentary worry he wore drained away into grogginess. “Uh, hi. Can I help you?”

This was not the quartermaster I remembered. This kid was... a kid. Ten, maybe twelve years old at most. I knew better, but asked anyway. “Err, are you Sergeant Bladewind?”

“No sir, he's asleep. I'm Otto Springbreeze.”

When he said nothing else, I took the hint and got to the point of why I was there. “I'm here to pick up a medical kit that's supposed to be issued to me. Private Kasimir Longtalons.”

His face scrunched up. “Um, okay.” He scratched his cheek. “That's really something he should approve...”

“Can you get him?”

Otto looked back toward a door on the wall behind him. “Um. He really hates to be woken up. Can it wait until morning?”

Sorry kid, but no. I shook my head. “I need it before my patrol. Lieutenant Blackfeathers is going to have my ass if I don't get it now.”

Using her name clearly didn't mean a whole lot to him, but he relented regardless. “Okay... let me go check.” He lowered himself from the desk behind the window and started exploring the maze of shelves behind him. “Longtalons... Longtalons...” he repeated, waving an extended talon over tags hanging from various containers. “Oh, here it is.” He dragged the pack off the shelf and hurried back over, then set it back on the desk only to realize that it was far too large to go through the little drawer that was likely supposed to be used for handguns or ammunition. “Uh, right... over here,” he said, signaling the door to my left. A heavy mechanism of some sort clicked and slid open, letting the door crack. Otto popped out and dangled the pack for me. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” I grabbed the bag and was immediately shocked by its substantial weight. What all could they have stuffed inside this thing to make it so heavy? I almost started digging through it at that moment, but Otto slamming the door dragged me back to the present. “So, do I need to sign anything or anything like that?”

“No, I'll take care of it,” he called through the door.

“Alright, thanks again.” I ran the sling around my middle and attached it to the webbing of my armor. Already I could tell I was going to hate dragging so much more weight around with me everywhere I went, but it was a necessary evil this time. I finished securing the kit and turned to leave, noticing Otto was nowhere to be seen again. It was quite strange that they'd let a kid watch the armory and hand out equipment like that, and I was beginning to question if perhaps this wasn't within regulations. Oh well, not my problem.

The door flung open with the rattle of flimsy tin banging against slightly less flimsy tin. “Hey, is Sam here or is the runt watching the place again?” a female asked.

“Otto? Yeah, he's here. I don't think you're going to get to talk to the quartermaster.” I was too busy poking through the contents of my new property to pay her much heed, which was pretty rude. Satisfied at seeing a few purple vials of health potion nestled in padded pockets and an array of other emergency supplies, I snapped the flap back shut and looked up. If it wasn't attached to me already, I'd have dropped it.

“Kid better not give me shit about getting my gun back,” the tall gray griffoness said in an elevated tone, easily loud enough for him to hear. She stormed in, tail twitching as she went. Her eyes drifted to me briefly, then snapped back again. Her pace slowed to a crawl and she stopped next to me.

“Liese?” After the last couple of days of running around constantly, I'd forgotten she was here.

Her face lit up. “Kaz? Is that you?” She grabbed me by the shoulders and scrutinized my entire body. By the time she was done she had a nauseating grin plastered on her face. “I always knew you'd look great in uniform. So you're a Talon too now?” She cocked a frown. “Papa must finally be dead.”

“No, he's not.” I glanced back toward the window. “Look, can we talk about this somewhere else?”

“What, you think Otto cares?” she scoffed. I persisted, so she groaned, “Fine, whatever. Hey kid! Get my gun ready, Liese Longtalons! I'll be back for it in a minute!” We returned to the early morning gloom outside and rounded the corner leading back to the shooting range. Liese gestured to the spot next to the Pinkie sign and asked, “There, this private enough for you?”

Not really, and one of the light towers was shining annoyingly in my face. But then again she was probably right. Who'd care anyway? “I guess.”

She sat back on her haunches and crossed her arms. “Alright then, spill it. Let's hear the story. You know if papa's not dead you're killing him by being here.”

“He doesn't know,” I stressed.

Her eyes flew open and she raised a hand to her chest. “I think I'm going to faint. You're defying him, and you're here? Did someone slip some dash in my drink last night? Am I imagining this, or did you take a blow to the head?”

“This isn't funny,” I said, crossing my arms now. “He thinks I'm working private security for Crimson's Caravan.”

“Oh wow, so you're just lying to him? What the hell happened in the last three years? Jeez, you two never returned my letters so I thought you'd disowned me or something. Knowing papa that's exactly what happened.”

“No...” To be honest I was feeling a bit guilty right then. I knew she'd sent at least one letter, but papa never mentioned another word of it. How many had she sent? I really should have written her, but things were pretty tense about the whole thing back then. Maybe I'd think up a decent excuse later, and for now I just wanted to talk about something else. “...but it did really hurt him when you left. And before you ask, no, I didn't want to come here. This wasn't exactly my first choice.”

Liese glowered. “Don't take that high and mighty tone with me. Nobody cuffed you and dragged you here, so why are you here, hmm? It obviously wasn't to be with me.”

“I needed the money. Papa's getting sicker and can't work anymore, so he can't afford his medicine now.”

If she felt anything she didn't show it. “Uh huh, so why here? Why aren't you working for Crimson's Caravan? Or heck, whatever happened to that doctor you were working for back in Oatsfield?”

I looked away, anywhere but that smirk. “Crimson's Caravan wasn't hiring. None of the caravans were hiring a griffon with no combat experience, medical training or not. Red Eye was. If I didn't know better I'd say he's desperate, or maybe just has more bits than he knows what to do with. Either way, it's a lot of money.”

She nodded. “Oh, sure. Still, I never thought I'd see the day you were putting holes in ponies rather than sewing them up. Finally get sick of that?”

“No,” I growled. “Dr. High Hopes didn't need me anymore. A unicorn with some medical spells came into town a couple of months ago, and quite frankly I couldn't compete with the ability to wave a horn over someone and regrow a missing rib.” I kept my eyes locked on a set of paw prints at my feet and the brass casings sitting in them. “And... there were a couple of accidents. I was 'better off finding something else to do with my life.'”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah, exactly.” I looked back up at her and tapped the medical kit at my side. “I am a medic here, so I'm still hoping I'll be doing more healing than hurting.”

It started with a snicker that slowly grew into a deep cackle. “Oh, that's good, haha!” She mocked wiping a tear from her eye. “Just keep thinking that. That's what I always loved about you, you're so adorable when you're being optimistic.” I growled again as the feathers on the back of my head stood on end. Yeah, I was beginning to remember why I wasn't in a hurry to run into her. Her grin widened. “Oh, and you're cute when you're mad too.”

I turned and started away. “I don't have time for this. I need to get back to the barracks.”

She cut me off by landing directly in my path. “Hey, hey, I'm sorry, don't run off so fast. I won't give you a rough time anymore, promise. How long have you been here anyway?”

“Four days,” I said, circling around her to keep on my path.

Unfortunately, she fell in right beside me. “Aww, and I'm just now finding out? I wouldn't have wanted to miss my little brother's first day.”

“Didn't know where you were,” I said honestly.

“Hmph. Bet you didn't bother to ask either. I'm in second platoon, fifth squad. You?”

“First platoon, third squad. Liese, I really need to get back.”

She nodded grandly. “Oh, okay. Hey, before you go though, let me leave you with this.” She hopped into the air and drifted close enough to drape an arm around my neck. “That unicorn taking your place is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you. You'll see.” She swept a hand over the rail yard and added, “We've all got our places in life, and this is ours. It's what we're meant for. We can't regrow bones like a unicorn, and we shouldn't try. We do what they can't, and that's being the most badass soldiers in the world.”

With a little twirl she flew ahead and turned to face me. “You'll come to love it. Forget all of that junk about trying to be griffon doctor in a pony town. You're one of us now.” That nauseating grin returned. “The few. The proud. The mercenaries!”

“I'll bear that in mind,” I said flatly.

Liese banked and gained altitude. “Whatever. Look me up when you get a chance. We've got a lot of catching up to do. Hey! The Pit is in a few weeks, that'll give us plenty to chat about.”

“Yeah, sure.” I had no idea what The Pit could be other than a big hole you dumped garbage in, but at the time I was more interested in getting back to Ida and on with my duties. I was sure there would be too much time to converse with my dear sister later already.

When I got back I found the door open and Ida waiting at the table inside, stirring a bowl of something. She looked up and yawned. “There you are. You took longer than I thought so I grabbed breakfast for us from the mess hall.” She slid a bowl across the table to me. “Sam give you trouble?”

“Thanks,” I said, trying to ignore the fact that it was oatmeal. The bowl had a few stains ground into it and the spoon was tarnished, but both looked like they'd been washed pretty thoroughly. Its contents did at least look edible, for the most part. Unless I was seeing things there were even a few specks of dehydrated fruit in it. I hoped that's what they were anyway.

“Don't worry, it's not the same stuff they feed the slaves.” She smirked and shoved some into her beak. “There's like twenty years of this stuff left in a warehouse somewhere, last I heard.”

“Ah, good.” I stirred mine and sampled it, finding it a little watery but surprisingly not terrible. “And no, I, uh... ran into my sister at the armory.”

“Really? Didn't know you had family in the Talons. What's her name?”

I chewed for a bit, using the opportunity to decide how forthcoming I should be. “Liese. Liese Longtalons. She's the only family I have here.”

Ida continued to devour her food with disturbing ease. “Liese... the name sounds familiar but I'd probably have to see her. It's good you've got someone here though, a lot of us don't.”

“I guess so.” Saying it like that was inviting a few questions I'd rather not answer, so before she could pose any I posed one of my own. “You don't have any family here?”

“Nah.” She went back to slurping her bowl. In a moment hers was empty before I'd half finished mine.

There was that momentary question of whether I was supposed to press her for details or accept that since she wasn't volunteering them she didn't want to share. I knew which option was safer, so I changed the subject. “So, Liese mentioned something called The Pit. Seems to think it's something I'd enjoy. I take it that's not just dumping stuff in a hole?”

“You could say that,” she replied, propping her elbows up on the table. “It's this thing Red Eye puts on every so often. The slaves get a day off to watch the show.” She grimaced. “And by show I mean gladiatorial combat to the death.”

Which sounded exactly like something Liese would appreciate me going into blind. Hilarious. I dropped my spoon into my mostly empty bowl. “Joke's on her then. She isn't dragging me to that.”

“She doesn't have to,” Ida said, standing and collecting our utensils. “Our platoon is on city watch this time, and that means we get to do security detail. Serge might know if we're going to be in the stadium itself, but I don't know for sure. Last couple of times it came up we were, so probably not this time.”

I rolled my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“I know it sounds bad, but try not to let it get to you too much. The reason Red Eye holds it is to get rid of dangerous slaves, or make them into something useful. Murderers and the like are thrown in, and those that survive the whole thing a few times get a shot at being in his army. Most of the 'untrainable' Grimscythes went into The Pit, and I don't think any came back out.”

Effective maybe... but I could think of better ways to deal with murderers than rewarding them killing more ponies by handing them a gun and hoping they'd shoot at the right people when the time came. “Right. Guess I'll do what I have to anyway.”

Ida grabbed her rifle from beside the table and slung it around her midsection. She pointed to the door with a hand full of bowls and said, “That's all we can do. Let's get going. Need to run these back by the mess hall on our way out.”

Duty called, and for once I was looking forward to going on patrol. There were clearly many worse things I could be doing.

To my relief the patrol started out much less interesting than the patrol from the day before. We passed Serge and Lita on the way out, heading this time not for the Stirrup Business park but for the populated areas of the city. Our route took us over a strip of functional factories and plants this time, something I'd only caught a few glimpses of before. In the premorning light they were a sight to look at. Noxious as the surroundings were, before I came to Fillydelphia I'd never seen anything so... grand. Hundreds of ponies plodded along in the windows, backlit by forge fires, or took turns hauling and dragging carts of scrap and detritus to and fro. The amber hue of the city at this hour was a little unnerving, but seeing it all come together and actually work was simply amazing. People could say what they wanted about Red Eye, and believe me I had said a few things myself not long prior, but he got results.

We wove between the towers of two smaller factories, which must have been condenser towers judging by the cleaner looking fumes spilling from their tops, and continued along past the first batch of factories. All of this was well beyond my knowledge of course. I could recognize pallets of refined metal ingots being loaded up on a cart with two powerfully built stallions at the lead, but pretty much everything else was a mystery. The crates and boxes of finished products were far too distant for me to read, but the heavy presence of barking slavers and guards told me that whatever it was they didn't trust the slaves to handle it on their own. Weapons? Probably not. Those were likely only manufactured by highly trained and trusted slaves somewhere even more secure. In any case, it gave me a bit of an excuse to be lazy. The slaves were all apparently behaving themselves, and with so many other armed personnel standing watch the odds of me having to take action were approaching nothing.

As a result, the hours wore on while we made our rounds. By the time we reached a sprawling field of filthy storage tanks sectioned off by fences topped with razor wire and more patrolling guards, my mind was starting to wander in dark places. There wasn't a whole lot to think about, aside from what I was looking at. In this case that was the slaves dragging themselves around during a shift change. A few fortunate souls were going off duty, being escorted back to their rest areas by their masters, but all too many were just moving on to the next place of back breaking labor. To get my mind off of that I thought back to what Liese and Ida mentioned to me: The Pit. Naturally, that wasn't a much better topic to dwell on. Were any of the ponies below me destined for that? Would Red Eye make a pony with a death sentence like that keep working alongside his or her peers? No. No, I didn't think so. It would be too risky. Letting a known murderer work beside everyone else? Nobody could be so reckless.

I shook my head and tried yet again to find something to distract myself with. The building up ahead was interesting. It was set off from everything around it with a deep and wide ditch surrounding its perimeter. No guards patrolled the defensive embankment that I could see, which left its purpose a bit puzzling. A factory with giant smokestacks billowing black fumes, isolated from the rest of the city and flanked by a farm of storage tanks? Must have been something flammable. In all likelihood I didn't want to know what was being produced inside. We weren't even remotely close to the plumes of smoke, but already my feathers and armor were caked with a thin, grimy film of black soot. I was going to smell like smoke for weeks! Clean water was too scarce to throw away on a shower for something as frivolous as smelling like, well, Fillydelphia.

We banked and swerved to give the exhaust towers a wide berth. From this angle I could just make out warning lights spluttering beneath the haze of ash, but any griffon would have to be blind, unable to smell and completely insane to get close enough to risk flying into the towers. I smirked at the mental image of someone plastered against the metal and rolled in a little flourish of aerobatics to fall in behind Ida.

Now, there was something to distract me. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, or was behind the permanent blanket of clouds anyway, and maybe the fresh light was doing funny things with my night vision, but my eyes kept drifting to her backside weaving through the air just ahead of me. Her long, white tail could have brushed against my beak if I drifted to the right just a little. Her armor might have concealed everything of interest, but I'd seen her out of it and my imagination was starved for things to do. She was a little curvy, but what was wrong with that? Not a thing!

I've done a lot of things in my life. A few of them good, most of them neutral, some bad and some downright stupid. I'm still trying to figure out how I flew through that window. I looked up just in time to see my own startled face, then crash!

The world was lost in a cacophony of glass crumbling and spraying in every direction while I instinctively let go of my gun and threw my claws out ahead of me. That succeeded in catching shards of the discolored and foggy glass in the scales and scutes on my palms, then catapulting me over a rotten desk when my claws caught its top. I sailed through the air for a second before rolling head-over-paws for half of the room, finally ending on my back and staring up at exposed duct work through the collapsed ceiling. Dust rolled and drifted everywhere.

“Oww...” I groaned, flexing every part of my body to make sure I wasn't badly hurt. No stabbing pain, so that was a good sign. I laid there a second more to be sure, then rolled over onto my feet and started picking myself up. Oh, yeah, there it was... everything felt sort of numb. It was going to start hurting in a second...

...there it went. “Oww...” I whined like a griffawn, confident nobody was around to hear it anyway. My back felt tight and a little tingly still, but my knees ached. Worse, there was a distinct burning sensation in my palms. I sat on my haunches with another grunt and looked at the wounds, finding two small pieces of glass had penetrated deeply enough to draw blood. Just a little trickle on each hand. Not even enough to need stitches from what I could see, even after yanking the chunks out. I sighed and raised the flap on my medical kit before digging out a bottle of disinfectant and a small roll of honest-to-pony-goddesses clean bandages.

I'd just finished taping squares of the cloth to the wounds when the beat of wings tipped me off that my wingmate had noticed my absence. Ida swooped through the fresh opening in the wall and pulled her rifle up. “Kaz? Are you alright?” she asked, lowering it again.

“Yeah, fine. Just, uh... had a little 'mishap' there,” I replied, pointing at the sagging window frame.

“Mishap? I'll say.” She drifted further in and touched down on a spot devoid of glass particles. “The hell happened?”

Hmm, be honest or not? 'Your butt was just so enrapturing I didn't notice the gigantic building in front of me.' No, probably not a good idea to say that. I shook my head rapidly to pretend clearing it and lied, “I don't know. Was getting a little sleepy, just wasn't paying attention I guess.”

She didn't look like she was buying that, but I really wasn't paying attention. After glancing back to the crumbling entrance I'd just created, she put her rifle away and recovered mine from the coat rack it was miraculously suspending by the strap from. Good thing it had a strap, else it would have ended up in the street below. “If you say so. You sure you're okay?”

I clasped the medical kit closed and flexed my elbows. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just a few little cuts, already taken care of.” She offered my gun back to me. “Thanks.”

Ida's eyes again swept over the astonishing mess I'd made. “Good thing this building wasn't being used for anything. It's a wonder you didn't really get hurt.” She hopped over the desk and stopped at the window. “You've got to be more careful, there's plenty of stuff to fly into in this city you won't just fly back out of.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” Those smoke stacks would be a perfect example. “I'm not sleepy now, that's for sure.”

She shrugged. “Place is abandoned, don't worry about it. Come on, let's get this over with and back to the barracks.” She cut me a playful grin. “Maybe you should get another nap?”

“Heh, maybe.” I joined her at the window and tapped at an intact pane of glass. It was pretty surprising that most of these windows were still there anyway. Two hundred years should have-

My hand went through the window. Not in a punched-it-and-it-shattered sort of way, so much as the-window-wasn't-there-anymore way. It took a second for me to realize the glass had fallen out and was currently tumbling down toward the street below. An ominous creaking sound was followed by pane after pane of the grungy brown glass slipping free of their frames and hurtling down toward the broken asphalt. Panic flared in my chest and I leaned out to see if anyone was in the way. I couldn't see any ponies down there...

Crash! The detonating windows echoed resonating shatters through the street all the way up to whatever floor we were on. Anyone within a kilometer would have heard the calamity unfolding and would surely be headed for the hills. Or coming to see what idiot broke something. “Oops...”

“Shit, nobody got hit, did they?” Ida leaped out of the window and spread her wings.

I followed her down, scanning the street for any sign that I'd done anything worse than make sure that this particular road wouldn't be used for anything in the near future. No ponies were visible, no blood was anywhere... I did demolish an old newspaper box though. We hovered just above the razor sharp carpet and looked around, still finding nothing but that twisted heap of metal to call a casualty.

“Just not your lucky day, huh?”

Yeah...

A weak moaning emerged from somewhere to our left. “Oh... oww...”

“Who's there? Are you hurt?” I asked, checking the windows to our left. The ground floor of the tower had a brick facade, which was now decorated with scintillating glass powder. Most of the windows were now just rusty window frames, having recently been annihilated by shrapnel from other windows, and through the remaining fragments I could see shadows shifting inside. This was starting to feel familiar in ways I wasn't happy with. “Come out so I can see you.”

A red earth pony stallion with a tangled black mane popped up, followed by a brown unicorn mare. Their eyes snapped open when they caught sight of us, and they backed away while avoiding our gaze. “We-we weren't hiding!” the stallion said, lowering his head.

“Y-yeah, we're on break!” the mare added.

I found a door that still looked intact and tried the handle. Surprisingly it opened without protest, sparing me the need to climb through broken glass to get to them. The interior was dark, but I could make out more than one blade of glass embedded in the faded wall paper. “Relax, I'm just checking everything out. Are either of you hurt?” Sure sounded like it.

“Uh... um, y-yeah.” The stallion removed a hoof from his shoulder, uncovering a bleeding gash. His coat color had done a good job of disguising it, but now I could see that that blood was running down most of his leg. “Wh-what just happened?”

Ida followed me inside, wielding her gun again but at least not pointing it at either pony. “Some stuff collapsed above,” she said, mercifully not throwing me under the sky chariot as the cause.

“Let me take a look at that,” I told him while slinging my rifle. The wound looked like it was going to need stitches for sure. Someone would have my neck if I used any healing potion for this, but there was also a container of some surgical glue. That couldn't be exactly common either, so that left just the old fashioned way.

“It's... it's not that bad, really,” the stallion said, trying to wipe the blood away while wincing.

“Sorry, but it is.” I produced a pack of sutures from my kit and gestured for him to come closer.

His eyes went wide. “No, no, uh... no need for that. It's okay! I can... I can...”

I took the step instead, not wanting to argue with him. “You probably wouldn't bleed out, but if I don't close that up you're going to get an infection for sure. I don't have any anesthetic so this is going to hurt, but it's this or die in serious pain later, got it?”

“O-okay...” He turned to present the wound and clenched his eyes shut.

A terse whimper came from his mouth as I dabbed disinfectant onto the cut. He really wasn't going to like what came next. Each time I inserted the needle into his flesh he flinched, twisted or scraped a hoof against the floor while whinnying softly. The entire process didn't take but a minute, but twice I had to stop because he almost broke away. When it was finally over and done I taped a strip of bandage over my rushed stitching and backed off. “There you go. I know it might be hard, but try to keep it dry.”

He rubbed a hoof over the cloth as if it was a valued treasure that he'd only heard of in myths. “Y-yeah, okay. Thank you.”

“No problem.” I glanced over to his mare friend, who was seated on a grungy yellow couch with gaudy floral print. “What about you, any cuts?”

She shook her head rapidly. “Oh, no, no, no, I'm fine, thanks.”

“Alright then.” I stowed my gear and looked back to Ida, only to find that she was back in the street and talking to a growing congregation of bewildered ponies. Time to get moving. “What were you two doing in here? Where are you assigned?”

The unicorn mare said, “We were trying to, uh, sleep. We've still got a few hours before our next shift, and it gets so hot out by the incinerators that we can't sleep.”

Red pony nodded. “Yeah, we... we're assigned there.”

“Then head back. You know you're not supposed to be away and if you miss head count it's going to get ugly. Is there another way out of here? You don't want to walk out there right now.”

Fortunately, they assured me that there was indeed another way out. I left them to their devices, since whether they went where they were told or not ultimately wasn't my problem, then joined Ida back in the street. I hovered over the minefield of glass and drifted to a stop next to her. “What's up?”

A lanky green unicorn with a messy orange mane swept a hoof over the mess. “This is what's up. How am I supposed to get shipments from the scrap yards to the foundries through this catastrophe? The other streets go all the way around and would take twice as long!” I should have probably recognized him for a slaver just by his cleaner appearance, tidy jacket and pistols hanging in holsters from his sides, but that removed all doubt. “Who did this? I swear, when I find out who's responsible they'll be shoveling coal for a month straight!”

“I don't know what to tell you,” Ida said, shrugging. “Petition for more workers to help clear it if you want, but the sooner you get to it the sooner it'll get done.”

He kicked a chunk of glass at his hoof. “Sounds easy to you, griffon, but we're the ones who have to actually move it.” With a snort he turned to a small mare at his side and started barking orders about ponies I didn't know.

Ida shrugged again. “Sorry.” She waved a hand upward and floated higher. “Come on Kaz, we need to get moving.” We flew out of the street and past the window I'd flown through, leaving the slaver kicking things and cursing volubly. Ida glanced back to me and said, “I wouldn't mention any of this to anyone, okay?”

I looked down at the small army of slaves choking the road below and felt a pang of guilt at making more work for them. It shouldn't be too hard to get it clear again though, right? “Yeah, I hadn't planned on it.”

“Don't worry about the damage, this sort of thing happens from time to time.” She banked and took us around the cracked corner of a building and added, “Not speaking of this includes what you did for that pony, by the way.”

“These supplies are only for Talons,” I stated, not asking a question. That was the main reason I hadn't used some of the less painful methods for closing the wound.

“Yep, exactly.”

I sighed and tore my eyes off of a small red dot leading a brown dot down a side street toward the incinerators. “I couldn't just leave him like that. Especially when it was my fault...”

She flashed a smile back at me. “Oh, don't worry about it. You did the right thing. Just don't let Lieutenant Blackfeathers hear about it, okay?”

“Got it.” The little knot of queasiness that had settled in my stomach started to ease off. I might have made the lives of a few slaves a little harder just now, and clearly there were a few Talons here who wouldn't have batted an eye that that, but I wasn't one of them. There were at least two griffons in this city that didn't go out of their way to hurt the ponies. Really, all of the griffons in my squad seemed like pretty decent folks.

Maybe working in Fillydelphia wouldn't be such a terrible thing after all. Maybe I could even make a difference in the lives of one or two of the poor souls trapped there.

I was still young and naïve back then.

Gain Experience – You gain 1,500 experience points for following orders and honing your skills.