~~~|*/\*|~~~

I lost everything stumbling through Ponyville, but I wasn’t exactly starting from square one. My second time leaving New Appleoosa, I didn’t have fear in my heart or a feeling of uncertainty about what would happen next. I knew exactly what to do, and exactly where to start.

Don’t get me wrong, you don’t take a fall like I did and hit the ground galloping again. My first few outings were rough. Downright brutal, really. I was working with kitchen cutlery, my hooves and my horn against armed thugs. It honestly felt a little more difficult, too, like somehow the lawless fuckers I was cutting down were better prepared. I figured I was just a little off from coming within inches of my life, but who can really say?

About a month into it, I got my second wind. Newer, better guns and clothes that were much nicer than the rags I had been wearing around. Pockets still felt a little light as far as caps were concerned though, and that didn’t sit well with me. While the bands of raiders I found were maybe better equipped, it seemed like there were less of them in general, which made sense I guess. You shoot enough of a certain kind of animal, you’re going to thin the herd. Even so, I didn’t dare try for Ponyville again. Call it whatever you want, but even scouting the place from a distance gave me chills. A feeling like I was being watched right back.

It was discouraging, to say the least. After several nights of scouting the wastes and coming up with nothing to show for it, I started doing caravan escorts again, and eventually ended up protecting the train that ran between New and Old Appleoosa. It was boring, and I hated it, but caps are caps. Without raider hunting to take up my time, I spent my nights in bars drinking away my pay. It wasn’t unlivable, I guess, and I made a few good friends, but being a mercenary—a glorified body guard—it just didn’t suit me. I missed the thrill. I missed the adventure.

And then one night, just like that, adventure found me.

I was sitting at a bar in New Appleoosa, trying to forget the fact that I had tasted glory and lost it, when all the sudden I heard this commotion behind me. With the place being a bar and all, I figured it was just a drunken brawl at first. When I didn’t hear any bottles breaking or shots fired I realized it was something else.

When I turned around, I laid my eyes on the prettiest little griffon at the front door. Now, when I say little, I mean I thought she was just a kid at first since she was so small for a griffon. Mare sized, practically.

Second thing I noticed was that she had a slave collar on. I thought maybe she was an escaped slave, but the Appleoosas do business, so it wouldn’t make sense for an escapee to come right to the bar in the middle of town. Nopony else seemed to be in a hurry to corral her. I was familiar with New Appleoosa’s regulars at the time and I knew none of them had any slaves, so I figured maybe she belonged to someone who was passing through. Her left hind leg was wrapped in bandages just above the heel, stained a reddish pink.

I noticed that she had a PipBuck on her wrist, too, and that only made me more confused.

She didn’t seem to notice me, and I was sitting close enough to the door that when she took a few limping steps into the bar, I was basically behind her. I was pretty damn hammered at the time, but the gist of what she announced to everyone inside was that she needed help tracking someone down and killing them, and she was offering payment. The response was overwhelming. I went back to my drink, but kept an ear on her. She added that the ponies she was going after were basically raiders, and that there were a lot of them.

You could say that got my attention. But, uh...

Like I said, I was really, really drunk, and this was about four years ago, so I don’t remember exactly how this next part went.

Anyway.

I started to turn, but I blacked out a little in the process. When I came around again, there were only two ponies still making eye contact with her, instead of a room full of drunken stares: a young mare and an older stallion. The remaining volunteers looked at each other, then back at her, and then returned to what they had been doing. The griffon frowned and tapped the side of her beak, looking almost hurt as she began to pout.

She was just turning to leave when I reached her, looking a little surprised that I had come up behind her so suddenly. After the shock wore off, she started to look me over, cocking her head every so often. She didn’t seem hard or tough, like most of the griffons I had encountered in my travels. She seemed downright girly, which was kind of weird in the wasteland, even for a girl.

"You say something about killing for pay?" I asked, adding that I didn’t actually remember the rest, on account of blacking out.

With a shake of the head and a smile, she told me that I didn’t miss anything important, and offered to buy me a drink. I followed her to the bar, watching her haunches sway as she tried to keep her weight off her wounded hind leg. At the bar, she got up on her good hind leg, turned, and leaned back, propping herself up against the counter with her elbows. She watched the door like she was expecting someone to follow her in, which was funny considering how easily I had startled her.

“You a slave?” I asked after a minute or two.

She glanced over at me and grinned. Said something like, “Do I look like a slave?”

I got quiet and she ordered a drink. I didn’t even know New Appleoosa’s bar had tiny umbrellas.

“So we’re killing raiders?” I said.

She said, “Is that a problem?” Then she took a sip from her glass and winced as she swallowed.

I think I grinned when she asked that. “More of a plus, if you ask me,” I said. “Hate those trashy sons ‘a bitches.”

She grinned back, and asked for my name. I told her, and asked for hers.

“Paharita,” she stated, like it was the name of a country, doing a little bow. She staggered a little when she tried to stand up straight on her hind legs again. “So let’s get down to business.”

I blacked out once or twice while we were going over the plans, but she would either summarize what I missed or tell me that it wasn’t important, so we didn’t end up spending too much time sitting around at the bar. Once I had everything I needed to know tucked away in my noggin, we set off into the night.

Used to be that I would fly solo. I always figured that having someone else with me would just slow me down, and I didn’t want to have to babysit when I could be focusing on planning and killing. To tell the truth, though, having Rita with me, especially that first time… It felt nice. Natural, even. She kept pace with me, flying low enough that she wouldn’t attract attention, checking her PipBuck and telling me if there was any hostile wildlife I needed to stay clear of, or how close we were to where we were going.

The where part of that turned out to be…

Fucking hell, stop barging in here like that. Wait, sorry... what's on your mind?

Well… I’ve just finished preparing dinner!

I do hope you’ll be joining us. You’re fond of curry, aren’t you?

Was that even a question? I’ll be right there, let me just…

Shit, which button was I supposed to—

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Chapter Three – Employee Orientation

|[o’o ]|[o8- ]|[(  ) ]|

Double Tap swung his binoculars just a bit too high, getting a glaring eye-full of sunlight pouring in through a rare break in the clouds. He grumbled and tried to blink away the lingering blotches of color in his vision. Rita snickered and turned a page of her comic. Something funky was softly streaming through her PipBuck’s speaker.

“If she gets around by flying in a passenger carriage,” Tap mumbled as he glanced back at the griffon, “how the hell are we supposed to catch up to her?”

Rita peered over the edge of her comic, brow arched. “We have to figure out where she’s going before she goes there! It’s kinda like detective work! Takes a lot of really hard thinking though, so you just leave that to me, mmkay?”

Tap narrowed his eyes and went back to scanning the skyline.

“So…” he started after a few minutes of watching a pack of ghouls tear apart a raider.

“Yeah?” Another papery sound reached his ears as she turned a page.

“Yeah… About Littlepip.”

Paharita’s tone changed immediately. “What about her?” He could just imagine her perking up.

Tap closed his eyes, bracing for the gushing that was sure to follow. “The Steel Ranger file on her was great as far as describing her talents and traits, but it wasn’t really heavy on tactical information beyond her little Ranger killing party in Stable-Two. What uh…” He grit his teeth; Rita was already squealing. “What can you tell me about—”

“I can tell you just about everything there is to know about Littlepip! Next to the Ministry Mares and DJ Ponethree, she’s probably my favorite thing ever!” She had already nestled in beside him, her eyes nearly twinkling as he met her gaze. “What do you wanna know?!”

Though he already regretted asking, he swallowed his pride and began his line of inquiry. “What are we up against, exactly? What else has she done that I should know about?”

“Oh geeze, where do I even start?” Rita rolled onto her back, stretching her paws and talons into the air.

“What was the very first thing you heard about her?”

“Oh! Okay, I heard that like, one day out of the Stable, she took on the raiders of Ponyville all by herself!”

The scarred unicorn went rigid at the mention of Ponyville, eyes wide. He relaxed a moment later. “That’s no big deal. I’ve done that.”

“So you say, but I dunno… You could have gotten those scars anywhere, and your story is full of holes!” Tap snorted, and she grinned, glancing off to the side. “Besides, she won! I heard that she cleared out the whole library! Twilight Sparkle’s library! She even set a bunch of captives free in the process! Walked away from it like it was nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered.

“Nuh-uh! Totally true! DJ Ponethree told me all about it!” She waved the foreleg with her PipBuck for emphasis, the wrist secured computer spinning loosely with the motion.

“Okay, so she apparently killed a bunch of raiders. I could have done that too if I had gone back to Ponyville. What else has she done?”

“She killed a dragon!”

“That’s not funny, Rita. I seriously need to know what...” He glanced down at the griffon, and she tapped the speaker on her PipBuck, wearing her smuggest grin. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“Killed it with a magical shotgun of dragon-slaying! Didn’t even stand a chance. I almost feel sorry for it!”

“If it was a magical shotgun of whatever, then of course it didn’t stand a chance.” He lowered his binoculars, jabbing a forehoof at her.  “The shotgun was made for that. If you made a gun for killing things, and it kills things, then it’s doing what it’s supposed to do.”

Paharita rolled back onto her paws, giving him a sideways glance. “You wish you had the chance to kill a dragon.”

Tap snorted and returned his focus to the binoculars. “What else?”

A distant explosion briefly stole their attention. Tap centered in on the drifting smoke several blocks away, spotting several heavily armored ponies. The dark pits of the eyes gave their helmets the look of metal skulls, while the air filters around their mouths reminded him more of a gas mask. It was the traditional Steel Ranger design, but it seemed like the armor had been painted with streaks of red. As they ducked into cover to reload, some of the smoke cleared, revealing a trio of three tall, regal looking mares; one blue, the other two green. Each one possessed both a horn and a set of wings.

Oooh, alicorns, he mused to himself, attempting to get a better view of the frost blue mare’s backside. What are those Steel Ranger fuck-sticks shooting at them for? Probably fighting over a toaster or a light bulb or something.

One of the armor-clad ponies broke cover, immediately going down as a green alicorn struck it with a bolt of lightning. Residual currents flowed over the metal shell, wisps of smoke curling out from the fried circuitry.

Power armor, Tap mentally scoffed. Totally overrated arcano-tech garbage. Maybe instead of depending on a fancy robot suit, try not getting shot next time, jackass.

Another Steel Ranger stepped around to provide covering fire, unleashing a volley of grenades. The alicorn’s shields rippled as they steadily held their ground against the assault.

“Oh! She killed a whole bunch of ponies in Old Appleoosa too!” Rita blurted, having seemingly lost interest in the battle. “Just swooped in and shot them all dead! She even killed an alicorn by dropping a house on her!”

“A house,” Tap flatly repeated, still focusing on the firefight.

“Yep, a whole house! And then more slavers were trying to recapture the ponies she set free by taking over the train, and she killed all of them, too! She even rode the train off a cliff and walked way without a scratch!”

Both of the green alicorns erupted under a sustained barrage of explosives, covering their surroundings like bright red confetti. The remaining alicorn—the frost blue one—tried to retreat, turning and tearing through the air. Several missiles screamed after her, liquefying their target as they all impacted at roughly the same time. A distant cheer went up from the street as her remains spattered the concrete.

Tap sighed softly. “What a waste of a perfectly good ass.”

“You can go get a piece, if you want.” The griffon snickered as he scowled at her.

“So the Appleoosa line is down now because of her? I guess that’s worth a pat on the back. I hated that fucking train.” He licked his lips, levitating the bottle of scotch he had stolen from Shattered Hoof. After taking a swig, he decided that Gawdyna had very good taste. “What was an alicorn doing there, though?”

Paharita shrugged as he glanced at her, curling up and resting her head on a talon. “Red Eye stuff, probably. Alicorns and Red Eye are like sardines and peanut butter.” Tap gagged silently as he tried to keep himself from imagining how that would taste. “Pip and Red Eye don’t really see eye to… eye, either.”

“That’s not surprising. Red Eye is probably too deep for her. Most ponies expect everything to get better with the flip of a switch, but you can’t just fix everything with some kind of super magic. Gotta take steps.”

Rita continued to ramble on, as though she were ignoring him. “I heard that when she was in Fillydelphia, she volunteered to enter the arena and killed every single pony that she fought. She won an audience with Red Eye...” The little griffon giggled, balling her free talon. “And she spat right in his face!”

He felt his jaw go slack. “That cunt! Who does she think she is?!”

Rita shrugged again, trying to yank the binoculars out of Double Tap’s levitation. “Oh, just the Light-Bringer and savior of the wasteland. Besides, you’ve killed ponies on Red Eye’s payroll, too.”

Tap chewed on his lower lip, releasing the binoculars just as Paharita gave a strong pull. She squawked with surprise as she tumbled onto her back. “Yeah, but we were getting paid for that. She’s just running around and ruining his plans for… fun, I guess. I dunno.” She glared at him as she rolled back onto her paws. “Killing his dudes and spitting in his face are two very different things.”

“Well, you’re wrong, but okay!”

“Whatever. What else can you tell me?”

Paharita tapped her beak several times. “Uh… She kills alicorns like a champ!”

The unicorn frowned. “Of course she does…”

“She even killed the really, really big alicorn at Fillydelphia!”

“Great,” he replied in monotone, slowly scanning the horizon.

His thoughts flashed to the massive, jet black haunches of that once impressive creature, and the taste of the radiation purging cocktail he had put together. Even though he had nearly died from radiation poisoning, it was quite the experience. The fond memories faded as he reflected on what Rita had told him.

Was that the same super alicorn from the last time I visited Fillydelphia, though? Or… do they take turns being the super alicorm? Tap peered over the side of the building they were perched on, brow furrowed. And even if it was a different alicorn that runt killed, would she still remember me? Or do they all share the same memories? Or… ah, fuck it…

Several pony-like forms milled around at street level. They were all emaciated, and looked to be in various stages of falling apart, but he couldn’t tell if they were mindless shamblers or if they were still intelligent creatures. A moment later, they all turned and opened fire on a pack of mangy dogs that had been barreling toward them.

Curiosity satisfied, he sat back and looked around the crumbling skyline. The Statue of Friendship stood proudly to the east, in Manehattan harbor; a relic of the old world, now home to hundreds of ponies. Sometimes Paharita handled contracts that came from Friendship City’s seedier underside, but very rarely had he set hoof inside the city itself. Aside from Tenpony Tower, the only settlement they visited regularly was Arbu—for food, trading, and pleasant company—with the occasional trips to the Appleoosas and Fillydelphia.

His gaze lingered on Arbu. He couldn’t make out much more than the silhouette of the settlement, but he could easily imagine all the ponies going about their usual business. Suddenly, he remembered that there was a birthday he was supposed to remember. He mentally kicked himself for not taking some of the manticore’s teeth, or some hairs from its mane, or at least some of its meat to give as a gift.

Damn it... she would have loved that. It’s probably not too late for me to go back there and-

A sharp prod brought him back to reality. Rita grinned and bobbed her head. “Thinking about your giiiiirlfriend?”

Tap shoved her away. “Fuck off, Rita. She’s not my girlfriend.”

A glint of light moving around Tenpony’s roof caught his attention. He lifted one forehoof and started pointing, nudging the griffon with the other.

“Yeah, I see it!” She started to hop in place, wings fluttering as she looked through the binoculars. “That’s them!”

“Any idea where they’re going?”

“Nope!” Rita slowly turned her head, following the tiny speck of the passenger carriage as it zipped over the ruins of Manehattan. “But if I had to guess, it looks like they’re heading westish, off toward the Everfree… Er… not quite… Ponyville, maybe? ”

“Fucking…”

|[  7 ]|[ /_\ ]|[o8- ]|

“It would have been safer to take the road…” Paharita quietly whined. Tap hadn’t been keeping count of the times she’d said it, but he knew that this latest complaint crossed the line from a few to a lot. “It’s one thing if you want to put your own life in danger, but—”

Tap grinned back at her, meeting her flighty gaze. “Are you afraid of a mutant diamond dog or two?”

“Yes!” she replied in a shrill whisper, narrowing her eyes. “I’m terrified of them!”

“Sucks.” He shrugged mid-stride. “Yes, it would have been safer to take the road, but they already have a lead on us, and if we don’t catch up to them and do this now, we’ll have come this far for nothing more than a huge waste of time. Once we get past Old Olneigh, we’re pretty much in the clear to Ponyville. If that’s even where they went, anyway…”

He quickly scanned the darkened horizon, the last glow of the sun fading fast. “We just passed Maripony, and last I recall, Red Eye and the Goddess are on the same team. Worst comes to worst, we high-tail it to her doorstep. Maybe we can get some alicorns to help us.”

“Goddess or not, we can’t stop there! This is hellhound country!” The griffon continued to frown. “Also, do you think the alicorns remember that one job we did?”

“If they remember that, they definitely remember what I… was that gunfire?”

Rita arched a brow. “I didn’t—”

“Shhhh…”

Double Tap held his breath, swiveling his ears ahead of him. The sound of Rita’s feathers against the air filled the silence as he waited for the sound again. There was no encore, but the faintest of shouts reached his ears. The silhouette of a town loomed in the near-distance. Suddenly, he had a fairly good idea of where their target had ended up. He figured it to be ten to fifteen minutes away at a full gallop. Rita swallowed heavily as he locked eyes with her and gave a single nod.

Without another word, they set out at full tilt, Paharita gaining altitude as she flapped as hard as she could. The unicorn took a deep breath as he ran through his repertoire of spells. The first on his list was a light dampener, practically nullifying the glow of his horn as darkness warped around it. Next was a spell for his hooves, his every step magically producing counter vibrations to cancel out the sound of his movement. He wasn’t sure how well that would work against creatures that essentially sensed any sort of vibrations in the ground, but Littlepip was more of a priority at that moment.

He was fast approaching the edge of the town. The sound of gunfire had come and gone again, but Paharita gave no sign that the Sky Bandit had departed. With his levitation, he quickly went over his inventory.

Two dozen grenades clustered together in the pouches of his bandoleer, along with half as many proximity mines, accompanied by a spool of metal wire. Rita carried plenty of extras in the event of an emergency resupply. Comedy and Comedy—his twin, silenced nine-millimeter pistols—rested snugly in their holsters, both loaded with armor piercers. He had ten extra magazines on him, but like the explosives, he knew Paharita was carrying at least twenty more. The Punchline was holstered on his back, and its weight felt foreign. There were only ten enormous rounds for that, not counting whatever Rita had in reserve, but he wasn’t expecting to use that on anything other than Steelhooves. Multitudes of throwing knives were tucked into his vest and sweater wherever he could do so without stabbing himself. He wasn’t sure on the exact number, but there were more than enough.

Tap sped by a few houses and turned just short of the brick wall of a larger building, rearing up and pressing his back against it. He cracked his fetlocks, then his neck, shaking himself off and taking a moment to catch his breath. Once he had his bearings, he took a small hit of dash, priming himself for the much larger dose to come. He could hear movement; lots of movement, distorted and drawn out by the drugs in his system. None of it sounded equine in nature.

Just as he was about to peer around the corner, a soft feathery noise reached his ears. He turned, finding himself face to face with a blurry, barely visible silhouette.

“Remember when I said I was afraid of hellhounds?” Rita whispered. Before Tap could answer, she continued. “Well there are a lot of them running around just down the street.”

“What about—”

“I circled around. No Sky Bandit, but I saw Calamity and Velvet on the roof of the hospital. I think their phoenix was with them.”

“That’s…”

“The medic unicorn and the sniper pegasus, yes. Pip, Steelhooves and that zebra are probably inside.”

Tap started to move again, only to feel a talon clenching his collar. “They’re literally surrounded by hellhounds!” She immediately let go of his collar, and he could just imagine her clasping her talons over her beak.

“I’m just gonna take a look,” he whispered. “If you stop me again, I’m gonna sock you.”

The alley was clear. He reached around the corner and motioned for her to follow, slowly advancing until the alley opened into the street. “A lot” didn’t quite capture the number of huge, bipedal, canine-like creatures filling the streets of Old Olneigh, all of them staring up at the hospital’s roof. Their front paws were almost comically over-sized, rendered much less amusing by the enormous, flesh and metal shredding claws they housed. In some of those massive paws, he spotted energy weapons, modified to accommodate their use of fingers. Their eyes glowed in the dark, catching and reflecting the light of their torches. It was a mob if he’d ever seen one, and he had seen plenty.

An enormous hellhound climbed above the rest, standing on what looked like some kind of wagon, and held up a megaphone. Before her brutish grunt of a voice even reached his ears, he realized she was a she, his attention shifting directly to the parallel rows of tits that spanned from her chest to just shy of her pelvis. Her tattered vest barely covered them. She had something of a mane, but the hair looked coarse and greasy.

“We know you in there, ponies!” she barked into the megaphone, pointing up at the roof. “Come down! Even after you kill my pups, I ask nicely!”

Wow, he mouthed.

Tap receded, waving a forehoof around until he felt feathers and fur. “The fuck am I supposed to get through that?”

“I dunno!” came a shrill whisper in response. “Maybe we can cause a distraction and you can sneak in.”

The unicorn nodded, leaning around the corner again. This time, he felt a warm, feathery presence with him, clinging to him for dear life. His gaze passed over the crowd, momentarily lingering on the multi-breasted hellhound with the megaphone before focusing on the task at hand. On the first visual sweep of the streets, nothing caught his eye, but the second time around, he noticed something strange in the flickering light of the torches.

A few buildings from the gathering, something seemed to jut out of the ground itself, with a long pole protruding from it. Tap squinted through the dark, but it continued to elude him. He dropped back again, turning and rounding the building, following the edge of Olneigh in the direction of the mysterious object. Another cautious passage down an alley deposited them back at the main street, on the other side of the hellhounds. Even in the relatively poor light, he began to get an idea of what he was looking at.

“Is that…” He paused, briefly glancing down the street at the hellhounds. “Is that some kind of tank?”

Rita cooed quietly, but her excitement came across anyway. “That is, in fact, a tank. An earth pony tank, no less. Rifled, one-hundred twenty millimeter cannon… automated, roof-mounted heavy machine gun… These are pretty rare. I mean, there are plenty of pegasus operated tanks, but not a lot of resources were put into ground-based armored transport. Most war tech went to the airforce or the Steel Rangers. Applejack once said that—”

Even though he couldn’t see her, he knew exactly where to put his hooves to clamp her beak shut. “Rita, shut the fuck up and can you get this thing working?”

“Since it’s really kinda dry and stuff around here, and it doesn’t look like anyone has really touched this thing in the twoish-centuries since it was last used… Yeah, I think I can get it running without much fuss. Probably needs a severe tune up, and there might be some dust in the engine, but I can definitely get it started.” She paused. “They’re gonna be all over it as soon as I fire it up, though...”

“Well, don’t be here when that happens.”

“Are you kidding? This is a pre-war artifact! The Steel Rangers would totally pop their rockets if they saw this!”

Tap grimaced each time she raised her voice, glancing over at the already alert and impatient swarm of mutant canines. “Okay? So you’re gonna drive the thing out of here, then?” He held out a hoof, horn glowing dimly. “Give me all the explosives you’re carrying.”

A brief, one sided transaction followed. The extra grenades and mines felt heavy, but he knew he wouldn’t be carrying them for long. A dead griffon was useless to him. For that reason, his first objective while waiting for the distraction was to lay traps, in the hope of buying her some time.

A series of soft clicks reached his ears. “When you’re finished here,” she whispered, her voice becoming more distant, “head for Maripony.”

Paharita’s instructions were punctuated with the sound of rustling feathers, followed by a worryingly loud creak as the hatch next to the turret mounted gun opened and closed. He breathed a sigh of relief as the mob continued to give the hospital roof their undivided attention.

“Second time I ask!” growled what he assumed was the hellhound pack’s mother. “Ponies try my patience! Come down or we make you come down!”

The dull glow of his magic wrapped around several mines, lifting and spreading them evenly across the street. Shadows danced around him as he ducked into the entrance of what was once a convenience store, pulling three grenades from the cluster and delicately securing them behind a chunk of concrete. The spool floated next to him as he pulled a length of wire from the pins to the far wall, tying the loose end through all three rings. After, jamming a throwing knife as far into a crack in the wall as it would go, he cut the wire and tied the other end to the handle. With one hoof on the pins to keep them secure, he plucked the wire, grinning with satisfaction at its tension.

Double Tap turned from his good work, casting a decoy spell on the closest mine. It was nothing fancy; just a blur of motion and the sound of his voice directed into the store, but he figured a frenzied hellhound would take the bait without hesitation. He stepped over the wire and into the store itself, laying down a few more mines as he slowly found his way through the dark to the rear exit. The last mine he set gave off a gentle shimmer as he cast his decoy spell again, aiming it out into the empty expanse of Pleasant Valley. He circled around through an alley, placing another three grenades under a heavy trash can and tying their pins to the decayed masonry of the adjacent wall. The unicorn crept along the edge of darkness, laying more mines as he crossed the street.

There was nothing to secure the grenades with at the entrance of what he assumed to have been a daycare. Instead, he set the wire first, stabbing into cracks in the masonry and threading it through the handles. He stuck a knife in the ceiling next, threading through a hole in the handle. After testing the purchase of the knives, he levitated another three grenades to the loose end, tying up their pins and letting their weight settle before letting them go. They hung heavily, just begging for something to brush them and set them off.

“You come down now!” she barked, her voice carrying. “Final chance!”

Why haven’t they just stormed the fucking place? After setting another decoy spell, Tap glanced up at the gigantic hellhound bitch and her restless kin. What are they waiting for? They can’t seriously be interested in settling things peacefully.

In the absence of flickering torchlight, his eyes re-adjusted to the darkness of the Daycare’s interior. Carefully, he made his way through, laying the occasional land mine and covering it with the worm eaten remains of a stuffed animal.

A rumble shook the building just as he reached a doorway in the rear, never quite fading. The doorway fell in on itself, taking a chunk of the ceiling with it. He narrowed his eyes to shield them from falling dust and crumbling plaster, turning back toward the front door. Another, much more intense tremor rocked the building and nearly knocked him off his hooves, a series of deep cracks forming along the walls and in the ceiling. Tap reached out with his magic just in time to catch his grenade bouquet, holding the three metal pineapples steady as everything around them shook violently. Part of that door frame collapsed, too, taking the wire and all three pins with it. With a grunt and a flare of his horn, all three grenades sailed out into the street, exploding seconds later.

Tap pulled both pistols and squeezed a grenade, holding his breath in anticipation. He was very glad for that when moments later, a cloud of dust billowed into the building, forcing him to close his eyes. A distant, rapid whooping sound came into sharper focus as the rumbling ceased, the sudden calm peppered with the occasional clop, like a stone striking another stone, or a dry tumbling. Whatever happened outside had clearly masked the premature detonation of his hanging grenades. While he was thankful for that, the circumstances had clearly changed, and the uncertainty as to how made him feel sick to his stomach. Meanwhile, the whooping became increasingly faint, until it was gone altogether.

The unicorn cracked an eye open, the briefest flash of a smile greeting him, vanishing again in an instant. Fuck off, he darkly mused.

Squinting through the dust, he pushed himself off the floor, ears high and slowly turning, listening for anything that might help him assess the situation. Out on the street, a few coughs started to break the silence. His eyes were drawn to a staircase that had missed coming in, listening attentively as he crept to the second floor.

“Any sign of ponies?!” He immediately recognized the brutishly feminine voice of their leader.

“Maybe we crush them!” shouted another, this one male. “You say roof stay in one piece when it come down, but it look broken to me!”

“It not my fault ponies so puny!”

A less gravelly sounding female asked, “Do we still dig them out and eat them?”

The unicorn peered out of a second story window, watching hellhounds resurface in droves around the smoldering rubble that had been a hospital minutes before. The cart that the huge bitch had been standing on was buried under debris, and she was now standing on top of that debris, a crowd slowly forming around her. At her side stood a smaller, much less bulky hellhound with slightly more slender paws. The hellhound turned his way, and he ducked, grinding his teeth.

“Sure,” the hellhound mother muttered. “Not as fun if we can’t chase them first… Oh well.”

He slowly peeked over the windowsill again. The big one was leaving, but the smaller one remained, still turned toward his building. On closer inspection, he realized that the smaller one was also a she; probably the one that had asked about digging out Littlepip. Her fur was mostly reddish brown, almost the color of chocolate, with patches of dirty white spilling down from her face to her crotch. She wasn’t as well endowed as the other bitch, wearing what looked to be a zipped up kevlar vest with “MARIPONY M.P.” across the front in faded white letters. What she lacked around the chest, however, she made up for below the waist. She appeared to be much wider in the hips, bearing powerful looking hind legs. The intense blue of her eyes glinted in the light of the torches as he gave her face a better look.

The final thing he noticed was that she was looking right at him. A big, toothy grin spread across her muzzle. His heart skipped a beat.

Oh fuck.

The odds were not in his favor. He didn’t even need Rita to run the numbers to know that. The feeling in his gut was as far from good as it could get. Instinctively, he snapped a dash inhaler to his mouth and bit down on the mouthpiece. What would have been a quick hiss was drawn out as he drained the canister, slowed way down as the amphetamines went straight to his head, seeping in through his blood stream and lighting up every inch of his nervous system. His eyelids fell heavily, like curtains.

The blue eyed hellhound was down on the street. So far, she was the only one to notice him. She barged in through the first floor and set off the mines. On top of the fact that the mines had exploded under her, she also tripped the decoy spell, alerting just about all of them and sending them running.

A single hellhound poked up from the stairwell, and he unloaded into the hound’s eyes, where the hide wasn’t as thick. The body tumbled limply. Tap turned and tossed several grenades down the stairs as they charged up after him, slowing them down at best. He continued to fire until the Comedies were empty, bringing up the Punchline and firing into the thick of them as he swapped magazines. He backed toward the window, filling the air with grenades and bullets. The hellhounds continued to advance, coming faster than he could kill them.

Tap pulled the pins on every grenade he had left, lobbing them, along with every single land mine, into the room. He jumped out through the window at roughly the same time, pushed a bit further by the blast.

The hellhound mother was waiting for him on the ground, fangs bared and claws poised. His magic welled up under him, violently shoving him back into the air for just a few moments more, but she leapt after him. Her claws carved through him as though he were made of papier-mâché.

His insides came out as he hit the ground. The hellhounds fell on him and immediately began to tear him apart.

-^v-^v------

The blue eyed hellhound was down on the street. So far, she was the only one to notice him. She barged in through the first floor and set off the mines. On top of the fact that the mines had exploded under her, she also tripped the decoy spell, alerting just about all of them and sending them running.

He was already at a window in the rear of the place, tossing more mines behind him and lunging at the planks barring his path. Splinters clung to his form as he smashed through. He hit the ground hard, but the dash kept him on his hooves. Several more explosions sounded from within the building.

Pip or not, he was cutting his losses.

As he galloped off into the dark, a red dot circled the ground in front of him, then swept off into the distance. Paharita had also aborted the mission, guiding him to a rendezvous point via laser pointer while airborne.

They regrouped at Maripony and decided to call it a night.

-0-

Double Tap’s vision blurred for a moment as he opened his eyes again. Even a blink felt as though it had lasted for hours. His eyes focused on the hellhound, still standing where he had left her, but she was moving. Lurching, even, shifting her weight forward as she slowly dropped to all fours. Her poise seemed off somehow, as though it weren’t intended for a four legged sprint. Tap remembered her thick hind legs.

FUCK.

Without hesitation, his body turned, still watching the window as he made for the stairs. Tap lost sight of her, and then, just as he was dropping through the stairwell, those blue, predatory eyes met his a second time. The hellhound had jumped straight from street level to the second story window, ripping the frame apart as she viciously clawed her way inside. He quickly reviewed the changing scenario as he bolted to the front door. So far, she was the only one that was definitely aware of him. There were still other traps to distract the other hellhounds. Provided he could lose her, a clean getaway was very possible.

Several chunks of plaster and concrete drifted loose just above the front door. Long, sharp claws followed. She was burrowing through the floor. Her slender paw whistled through the air, swiping at him through the hole she had made just as he was about to pass under her. Tap dropped to his knees, sliding, tilting his head as far back as far back it would go. Her claws skimmed his throat and chin, shaving off any fur they came in contact with. As his vision leveled on the front door, he could see other hellhounds starting to take notice. He threw his weight back, rearing up on his hinds and straighting out his forelegs, landing on all fours with a thump.

A thick layer of dust and debris from the surprise building demolition now coated the floor. While the mines he placed indoors were still covered by decayed stuffed animals, he imagined that the mines he had scattered across the street were effectively invisible now thanks to the collapse. He looked back and made eye contact a third time as his gaze passed over the ceiling. She was snarling, eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed with carnal fury as she continued to try and claw through the floor to get at him. The instant passed, and he set his sights on the street again.

Several hellhounds were lumbering closer, more taking notice behind them. The decoy spell on the mine at the entrance was still in place.

It occurred to him, as his horn flared dimly, that a great deal of his plans hinged on Paharita realizing that salvaging the tank was not going to happen, now that the hellhounds didn’t have a hospital to gawk at. He fired a tiny, barely visible sphere of light at the ground ahead of him, halfway between the approaching hellhounds and himself. The spell exploded harmlessly, a wall of smoke spilling out from the focal point and blanketing the front of the daycare. He tucked his legs and his head as he rolled clear of the entrance, unfolding his forelegs to pivot.

The entrance was a bit closer to the center of the building than he remembered. It was a minor detail; he slinked along the wall and rounded the corner as his own voice cut through the commotion behind him.

“Coooommmeeee aaaannnnd geeeeeet iiiiiiit sssssssshiiiiiiit heeeeeeeaaaaadssssss!”

A long rumble of an explosion followed as they triggered the mine to which he had bound the spell. The side alley blurred past as he galloped through, putting distance between himself and the larger buildings, briefly hesitating as he stood on what was once somepony’s front lawn. A few more extended eruptions reached his ears, but they sounded farther away. The hellhounds were starting to trip the mines in the street. Their startled, distorted yelping followed, and then came the shouting. The hellhound mother’s grunting voice was like sandpaper on his ears, every drawn out syllable making him grit his teeth. He did his best to ignore it, looking around for Rita’s signal.

The red dot never came.

Instead, a new sound greeted him. His first instinct was to aim at the ground, expecting a hellhound to lash up at him, but it was a different kind of rumbling; less earthy and more mechanical. His jaw hung slack, and he doubled back, galloping right into the chaos he had just left behind.

You stupid feathery asshole, he seethed with his thoughts, what’s the fucking matter with you?! 

Just as he was debating how difficult he was going to make it for Rita to walk when they got home, a voice echoed in his ears, making his blood run cold.

“This is pretty risky,” Tap shot a look to his left, the ghost of a smile fading into the darkness, “don’t you think?”

I don’t have time for this shit. He shook his head, trying to clear her voice out of his thoughts.

The unicorn began to feel slower, the world gradually speeding up around him as he cleared a fence on powerful strides. His lips sealed around a mouthpiece, taking a smaller hit to keep him sharp. Passing by a side alley, he could clearly see that the street was absolutely filled with hellhounds again, all of them staring in the direction of the tank, a few of them firing crackling bolts of energy from their rifles. He couldn’t tell if it was the novelty of the engine’s purr or the chance that they had realized the street had become a minefield that kept them at bay. He filed the reason as irrelevant, knowing that their hesitation would only last for so long. Or perhaps, as the use of energy weapons showed, they weren’t hesitating at all.

Five of them suddenly burst from the ground in front of him, staring down the same alley he had intended on traversing. There were undoubtedly more of them in position on the other side, and probably even more burrowing their way under the tank at that very moment.  He reflected on the positives; the fact that they hadn’t come up with their sights set on him was proof enough that his muting spell worked against hellhounds. Even so, he had no intention of slowing down for a pack of mongrels.

He attempted to dart around them, galloping on ahead. They dodged his mines and grenades, caught up, and gutted him like a fish.

-^v-^v------

He attempted to dart around them, unloading into their midst as he swung wide. One of them doubled over, clasping its knee. Another dropped dead from a few bullets to the brain. The others shrugged off their injuries and gave chase. They dodged his mines and grenades, caught up, and gutted him like a fish.

-^v-^v------

He jumped as high as he could with a magical assist, shooting down at them for the full arc of his flight. Three of them hit the ground dead or severely wounded. Two gave chase. They were too injured and disoriented to dodge the mines and grenades he tossed back at them. None of the explosions killed them, but they were crippling enough to aid his escape.

-0-

They had just started to look his way when his eyes opened. He tensed up, lunging forward, all four hooves striking the ground. Tap’s horn flared, pressure building under him, exploding upwards. He soared over the pack, twisting hinds over head, grinning down at them. Their expressions were priceless. Pistols alone wouldn’t be enough, so he let loose some explosives; three grenades tumbled into their midst, all while he emptied two magazines full of armor piercers. Spurts of red misted the cool night air as bullets bored through dense hide, making their frenzied scramble to regroup all the more difficult. He doubted the attack would kill all of them, and he knew the explosion would bring more, but his objective was no longer to evade detection. At the very least, it would slow this group down long enough for him to reach the main road.

A flicker of motion registered in the edge of his vision just as he reached the apex of his jump; a red blur colliding with the hellhounds as they tried to flee. His grin faded and her grin spread, wider and sharper than a pony’s grin had any right to be.

She erupted before the grenades, skewering all but the one closest to him with long, black barbs of flesh in a single, horrifying instant. The hellhounds didn’t even have time to cry out as she yanked them into her epicenter, pulling them apart as though they were poorly made toys. All the while, the one that she missed at first suffered the worst of it, legs ripped out from under it in jagged, uneven chunks. The body never hit the ground. Several glistening hooks lashed out and dug into the hound from all sides, pulling taut. Tap met the poor creature’s pleading gaze as it tried in vain to claw its way to safety. A series of sickeningly wet cracks split the air as the hellhound was ripped toward her, piece by piece. And then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone again. 

The combined force of the explosives scattered the pack’s unrecognizable remains. A pair of mutilated paws jutted out of the earth, long claw marks stretching toward Tap. He felt a wave of nausea.

Lady Luck had smiled.

Despite what he had just witnessed, Tap pulled himself away and put his mind back to the task at hoof. A fresh set of magazines replaced the empty pair while he tossed four mines amongst the bits of hellhound. He knew there would be many more coming his way to investigate the blast, and he wanted to keep them busy. For Rita’s sake, he was counting on that. The silhouette of the tank lay ahead, framed by the walls of the alley. Its barrel slowly leveled as his hooves pounded concrete, treads jerking experimentally. Several bursts of prismatic energy broke across the hull, but the tank seemed no worse for wear.

From across the street, another round of distorted percussive outbursts rocked the night. The unicorn realized they were nearly out of traps to set off. A long howl rolled in from behind him, followed by an earthy crumbling that reverberated in his ears; weathered cement shattered around geysers of loose soil. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a lashing claw. Even with the drugs to alter his perception of time, the alley was quickly becoming crowded with fur and fangs. He somersaulted away from another swipe, a sharp pain shooting through his right flank as the hellhound carved into his flesh. Another explosion echoed in from the street. He holstered his pistols. There just wasn’t enough time to deal with the hounds occupying the alley.

Double Tap jumped, not to avoid another attack, but right toward a wall. His forehooves made contact first, bracing and tensing as his hinds followed. He kicked as hard as he could, sending himself just a bit higher as he twisted to meet the opposite wall. He felt too heavy to keep it up. Most of the explosives would have to go. A shower of metal rings on thin metal stems fell away from him as he crossed the alley a third time, hellhounds leaping into the air to swipe at him in passing.

What followed as he leapt again was a downpour of grenades, with the last of his mines tumbling out of his pockets like over-sized coins. He kicked again, harder, soaring higher. With a push from his magic, he cleared the railing of a fire escape. There was no time to rest. He counted down with every step he took, pushing himself to move faster as he ascended the rusty stairs.

Just as he stumbled onto the roof, the alley four stories below lit up with enough force to shake the building.

The world began to spin, volume and pitch increasing as the dash started to wear off. He gasped around another hit. A small fit of trembles ran through his legs as he lifted himself off the floor, but he steadied himself and took a few steps in the direction of the tank. When he peered over the side of the building to get a look at it, he found himself face to face with a hellhound. Several more were well on their way to reaching him. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding a swipe that would have taken his head off.

Putting a fetlock to his chin, he realized he hadn’t avoided it as cleanly as he had thought. A shallow groove stretched across the underside of his jaw. Blood and pain followed as his nerves and blood vessels caught up. He put a healing potion to his lips and chugged it down, then tossed the bottle away.

A very brief moment of repose was spent reflecting on the changing situation. There were lots of them climbing up to get him, and he could only guess that they were scrambling up through the interior as well. A scraping sound from below confirmed his suspicion. He could see movement in the building across the street as well, canine faces torn between snarling up at him and snarling down at the tank in the middle of the street. The hellhound that had nearly decapitated him began to pull itself onto the roof, glaring at him all the while. Tap closed his eyes.

He jumped off the roof, aiming for the tank. All four of his legs snapped on impact. Several sets of claws tore through the hull of the tank, severing his hinds in the process. He caught the look of horror on Rita’s face just before they cut her to shreads. The hellhound mother picked him up by the throat, put a single claw to his breast, and split him open.

-^v-^v------

He tried to step around the closest hellhound, but it took a swing and split his skull horizontally, at eye level.

-^v-^v------

He leveled the Punchline at the closest hellhound and took its head off, then slipped over the side of the roof, aiming for a climbing hellhound about a floor below him. The hellhound cut him in half just as he was about to land on it. He hit the pavement, head first.

-^v-^v------

He leveled the Punchline at the closest hellhound and took its head off, then looked over the side of the roof and cast a flash spell at the wall. After that, he slipped over the side, aiming for the climbing hellhound about a floor below him. The hellhound swiped blindly, its face crunching as he landed on it with all four hooves. He cast another flash spell mid jump, twisting around another swipe as he landed on the next closest hellhound. The hellhounds had already begun leaping from the buildings on either side of the tank, landing on top of it and ripping it open. There was nowhere to go. Rita watched as he let them tear her apart. He was next.

-0-

Everything blurred as Tap opened his eyes, a nervous chill running down his spine. No matter how he ran through the scenario, one or both of them ended up getting dissected. In his quick glance down to the street, he had seen that the hellhounds were getting worryingly close to the tank. However, they were apparently assuming it was surrounded on all sides by mines, even though he had only rigged the street in the direction of the hospital.

Another explosion carried into the night. They were clearly getting bolder, and if they didn’t outright charge soon, they would definitely start jumping from the windows. Tap attempted to wrap a grenade in his levitation, but ended up grabbing his spool of wire instead. A thought occurred as he circled the edge, stopping at a collection of thick looking pipes that jutted up from the roof.

The spool floated out in front of him, unraveling with yards of slack. Several sets of claws sheered through the concrete a few paces behind him. He wrapped the loose end of the wire around one of the pipes and tied it off, tugging to make sure it was secure. He glanced over his wither as the climbing hellhound finished its ascent, getting its footing on the edge of the building. Tap took a deep breath and raised a charge, galloping toward the creature at full speed. 

He squinted, the glow of his horn manifesting as his flash spell. The hound yelped in shock, stumbling forward as it shielded its eyes. Tap jumped right onto its back. The spool followed, unraveling until he could loop the other end of the metal thread around the hellhound’s neck. He prayed its hide was durable enough to hold up against the wire, and that the wire and the pipe were durable enough to hold up against the hound’s weight. After giving a tug and getting a distorted but satisfying gag from the hound, he focused his magic on the roof beneath them and aimed out toward the street. When he had enough force built up, he wrapped his forelegs around the hellhound’s neck and released. Hundreds of glowing eyes focused on him as they fell away from the building.

Tap had just begun to believe that his last ditch plan had fallen apart when the wire tensed, biting into the hellhound’s flesh. A harsh crack resonated in his ears as the hound’s neck bent at an unnatural angle, but the wire held, and he rode its body as it swung back toward the side of the building. A drawn out roar of snarling and barking filled his ears just before impact. He felt a heavy blow ripple through the hellhound’s body as it roughly struck the brick façade, knocking the breath from his lungs. A burst of light sizzled through the air and turned several bricks to glowing sludge, just narrowly missing the side of his head. The other hellhounds crawled toward him like insects, while some seemed more interested in reaching the wire itself.

Just as the hellhound he had snared began to bleed from the deep furrow around its neck, he let go and kicked with all his might. A set of claws burst through the masonry, reaching out for him and severing the wire in the process. He glanced down; the tank still seemed so far away, its treads starting to grind against the street where it had sunken in. Without warning, it seemed to jump in place, dust rising off it as if it were some sort of aura. A jet of smoke and fire poured from the barrel, followed by a tapered metal cylinder that shrieked through the air. The hellhounds in the direction of the hospital simply had no time to react.

The hellhound mother did, however, have time to glance up from the artillery shell spiraling toward her, giving Tap a sad, defeated sort of look.

The shell plowed right through her, taking her torso apart as if she were a piñata. It kept going, slowing down just a little more each time it pulverized a hellhound in its path. A scant few instants after being fired, the shell exploded, taking some of the street and at least a dozen hellhounds with it. Tap cast a long shadow in the glow of the fireball as he hit the hull of the tank a bit harder than he would have liked. His knees and hocks ached from abuse, but he couldn’t afford to slow down. Reaching Rita and getting out of Old Olneigh were his top priorities. He darted to the hatch, and to his surprise, the hatch opened without any trouble. The tank let out a low groan under him, engine churning, the entire machine rattling and shaking as it pulled itself out of the sinkhole.

“RRRRRiiiitaa!” Double Tap felt his stomach lurch as he came down hard. He swallowed, attempting to focus. “Rita, we need to get the fuck outta here!”

A hellhound came crashing down on the rear of the tank, claws digging into the hull from the force of impact alone. Both he and the hellhound nearly lost their balance as the tank heaved, slamming against the street. He sluggishly leveled the Punchline, struggling to hold it steady as his temples pounded. Even after hearing a one-hundred and twenty millimeter cannon fired just about underneath him, the sharp, reverberating crack his anti-machine pistol made as he pulled the trigger was still satisfying. In the blink of an eye, the advancing hellhound was missing its head and left shoulder. As the tank started to roll, a beam of crackling energy pulsed by, searing some of the fur off his left flank. He gritted his teeth and peered into the cockpit, then his jaw immediately went slack.

There wasn’t a soul inside. His eyes bulged in their sockets.

“What the fuck, Rita! Where the fuck are you?!”

Rita’s voice crackled from within. “I’m already heading toward Maripony! What are you doing down there?! You were supposed to head there, lunkhead, not rodeo the diversion! I spent five minutes watching a ghoul chase my laser pointer because I thought it was you!” Another hellhound hit the tank, growling as it locked eyes with Tap. “Ugh, get down!”

The unicorn fumbled to reload, slipping a massive bullet into the Punchline’s breach. In the same moment, the hellhound leaned back, looking ready to lunge. Its chest exploded in a spray of blood. A quick succession of echoing cracks split the air, the mounted machine gun next to the hatch unloading into the hound until it tumbled over the side. Another hound dropped to the roof directly behind Tap as he put a forehoof on the rim of the hatch. The machine-gun turned his way, and with wide eyes, he dove beneath a stream of bullets. The tank lurched backwards, breaking his grip and sending him sliding. His hooves scrambled against the hull, struggling to find purchase, his hinds hanging over the edge of the turret by the time he stopped himself.

On top of all the rumbling and rattling under him, the entire turret began to turn, the barrel of the tank’s cannon crashing through the wall of an office building as they picked up speed. He pulled himself back up, staying low as the mounted gun swung independently, aiming in the direction the tank was moving before the turret could catch up. A thick, wet sound underscored the harsh crack of machine gun fire as Rita peppered the furious crowd of hellhounds with hot lead. Those that fell were crushed under the treads seconds later, whimpering, yelping and wet crunching reaching his ears. Others went for the ground, burrowing down into the street. He glanced back, past the thick black plumes that billowed from the sides of the hull, watching survivors of the shelling do the same.

Paharita’s voice crackled out of the radio. “If you wanna help, that would be pretty great right about now!”

With a vigorous shake of his head, the unicorn managed to center his thoughts, reaching for grenades with his telekinesis. Before he could throw them, the tank rocked to the left.

Tap was knocked onto his side, sent sliding toward the edge again. The unicorn stopped himself by grabbing for a groove in the hull, peering cautiously over the side. Where there had been solid pavement a moment ago, there was now a deep trench into which part of the road had collapsed. Despite the hound’s attempted roadblock, the treads kept on turning, barreling toward the edge of town. His horn flared as he lobbed three grenades into the fresh pit, a few startled yelps reaching his ears, drowned out by the ensuing blast. The tank jerked, this time to the right, sending him sliding right into the hatch.

From the cockpit, he watched the barrel of the mounted gun flash almost continuously, a mechanical hum echoing through the cramped quarters every time it turned toward a new target.

“Hey, see those big, blue cylinders there?” Tap turned toward the source of Rita’s voice. It was a radio after all.

“Can you even—?”

“Yes, I can hear you. I can see you, too.” A tiny, circular camera in the ceiling produced a dry buzz as it did a full turn. “Pick up one of those cylinders, open the firing chamber thing, and slide it in, pointy end first.”

“I know how to load artillery.” The tank tilted again, nearly causing Tap to smack his head on a scope of sorts. He pulled the chamber open, grunting as he levitated the shell into place and then sealed it. “Would it have killed you to tell me you weren’t going to be inside this thing?”

“You didn’t ask! Besides, you’re the one that deviated from the plan.”

“Well I hope you like being bedridden,” he half growled, grinning lewdly up at the camera, “because you’re not gonna want to use your hind legs for a while if we survive this.”

“Ooooh,” she cooed as he climbed back out of the turret. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both!”

The tank had already put Olneigh a fair distance behind them as he pulled himself back onto the turret. Behind them, through the trail of dust the treads kicked up, the earth itself seemed to undulate, rocks and clumps of dry grass dislodged by the scores of hellhounds burrowing after them. They were slowly falling behind, however, the tank more than capable of speeding across uneven terrain. He crouched as the turret began to move, aiming for a small hill in the distance. Squinting through the dark, he made out at least ten bipedal figures. An orange glare cut through the night, a plume of smoke stretching out behind it. Tap furrowed his brow and dove back down the hatch.

An explosion rocked the tank seconds later. A much, much louder sound followed as Rita returned fire. When he peered out, the hill had been reduced to a smoldering crater.

“How many shells do we have?!” Tap shouted down the hatch.

“Lots! Load the cannon, I’m gonna see if we can shake them.”

Tap dropped back to the floor of the cockpit, wrenching the chamber open again. “Save the cannon for now, I’ll take care of this!”

Chewing his lower lip, Tap spent several moments looking through the available ammunition stored within the tank. Several direct-action fused shells caught his attention. Straining so hard that he could only keep one eye open, Tap lifted three shells with his levitation, gasping with relief as he deposited one of them in the chamber and bucked it closed. The other two he dragged out through the hatch, sitting on one of them to keep it from rolling over the side. He held the other steady in his telekinetic grasp as he slowly lifted it skyward, blinked away a few beads of sweat, and took a deep breath.

The edge of his vision flashed red as he shoved the shell as hard as he could, the glow of his horn completely snuffed out. He dipped forward, panting, and followed the shell with his eyes as it soared through the air. A few seconds later, the shell came whistling back down, sinking right into the earth. An enormous sinkhole formed, dirt puffing up toward the sky around a rolling fireball and then dropping back down into a crater.

Clearly discouraged, the burrowing stopped, hellhounds pushing their way out of the earth to snarl and howl as he sped away. Tap sneered and struggled to lift the second shell into position. The commotion immediately ceased, at least one yelp reaching his ears as they scattered, tails tucked between their hind legs. Only one remained unturned. A chill ran down Tap’s spine as he recognized the hound; the one that had chased him through the daycare. She stood with her paw raised, a claw extended toward him. A glint of whitish-blue in the darkness, and she was gone.

The unicorn put the shell back down and groaned, rolling onto his back. Heavy clouds drifted overhead, broken up by the occasional glimpse at a star through gaps in the overcast. He spotted Rita circling high above, strobing a laser pointer in his face.

“Rita,” Tap grumbled, shielding his eyes pushing himself closer to the hatch. “I think our contract just expired.”

“I already told you that this contact doesn’t have a time limit, silly!”

Double Tap shook his head, staring into the camera built into the mounted gun . “No, I mean... I don’t think Littlepip made it out of there.”

He recoiled as the gun spun around several times. “You gotta have some faith in her! Of course she made it out! There was a griffon-chaser on the roof of that hospital!”

“A what?”

“She flew it out and carried everyone with her! Aw, you shoulda’ seen it!”

Suddenly, he began to feel very deflated. “Whatever... Where are we going?”

“We’re circling around the edge of Splendid Valley.” The mounted gun did a slow turn, and he followed its barrel, assuming that was their course. “Can’t just go charging through the thick of them all willy-nilly!”

“Alright, just making sure. This thing can make the trip, right?”

“Well,” she began, pausing for several seconds, “we’re gonna find out!”

Tap buried his face in his fetlocks and sighed.

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