Dammit all to hell.

We managed to successfully decipher the ancient message, but we’re still as far from finding the place it mentions as we were before. We have secret agents and even more secret conspiracies on our heads. And, the worst of it all, we spent two days searching the whole town and we still can’t find Trixie.

“I’m calling it now,” Vinyl mutters, emerging from the sewer by the bay. “She’s pushing daisies. The griffons got her and added her to kebab.”

“No way,” I say. “She was unnoticeable when she ran away. It’s normal that we can’t see her.”

“Great.” Vinyl rolls her eyes. “I’ll now walk across the entire town looking for places where there’s no Trixie.”

Hexie smirks. “Get a shower first. Also, isn’t that, like, most of places?”

“Yes,” Vinyl replies. “But there’s definitely a place where the absence of Trixie is even bigger than in other places, which is where Trixie actually is, because that’s how this spell works.”

“Err… what?” Inkie scratches her head. “How is that supposed to work?”

“Trixie is potentially everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and since she might be under the spell that makes her unnoticeable, the place where she actually is is also the place where she’s not, even more than the other places where she’s not,” Vinyl replies. “That’s the short version.”

“Yes.” Inkie sighs. “So she isn’t here, but she might be here, because there’s no way to tell if she isn’t here more than she isn’t there?”

“If you are skilled enough, you can tell where she isn’t more than here.” Vinyl looks at the place Inkie is pointing at. “No, not here. She just normally isn’t here.”

“How about the strait?” I ask. “Isn’t she there more than here?”

“I’d have to take a look,” Vinyl replies.

“We can get you diving equipment.” I smirk, looking at the nearby store. “Then you’ll be able to ponder about being, nothing, and shitting.”

Lyra walks to us, carrying saddlebags full of stuff that supposedly helps discovering the hidden objects she bought from the local ghost chasers. “This doesn’t work,” she says. “Also, I got a message from Daring Do. We need to go back to Haygypt.”

“What about Trixie?” I ask.

“I’m pretty sure she’ll survive without us,” Lyra mutters.

Oh, please. I grab Lyra and lift her slightly. “She’s a moron who pissed off the half of the royal family shortly after arriving here. She’s totally irresponsible and she won’t survive a week here without us.”

“Hey, no violence please.” Inkie pushes me away from Lyra. “Remember that Trixie managed to somehow, umm… screw the entire Maneaus over. And she didn’t run with a gun to an international summit. I think.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl mutters. “And remember what she did to Ponyville? She’s not as dumb as she looks like. Though not as clever as me.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ll hear about her again,” Hexie says. “Sooner than you think, boss.”

“Okay…” I lower my head. “But if she tries to kill us for leaving her here, you’ll be first in line.”

“We’ll take the risk.” Vinyl chuckles and walks to the plane.

Soon after reaching the seashore, we relax and forget about the adventures in Istabmule. The weather is fine, the ships below us are clearly visible, and soon we’ll get back to Haygypt.

“So, what exactly did Flitter and Cloudchaser tell you?” Lyra asks. She’s sitting in the cockpit and eating some vegemite she found in the back of the plane. I have no idea how it got there, but there’s probably some story beneath it.

“Something about a better agent taking our case from them,” I reply. “And that she’s so good that we can’t even notice where she is.”

“So maybe we should look in all the places where that agent is not present?” Inkie asks, checking the lights on the control board. “You know, to find a place where she’s not present more than in other places.”

“As if it worked with Trixie.” Hexie smirks. “Who knows, maybe that agent is with Trixie in a hotel room, screwing her senseless.”

“I don’t think so,” Lyra mutters, furrowing her eyebrows. “Hmm, do you think I can contact Equestria from here? I need to make a call home.”

“Equestria is out of our reach,” I reply. “You can call home from Haygypt.”

“Did you suddenly feel homesick?” Inkie asks.

“No, I just have an idea I need to check.”

“You’ll check it when we’re on the ground,” I say, looking at the sky in front of us. Suddenly, I notice a barrage of clouds coming from our left. A thick wall of grey, starting at about fifty metres above the surface of water and ending… hell, way higher than we are. Not sure if we can fly above them and I don’t want to try, given lack of proper testing.

“Can you see that?” Inkie asks. “It doesn’t look natural.”

“I’m afraid it’s coming towards us,” I say. “Maybe we should land on the sea and wait till it–” A look down makes me shut up. With waves that big, there’s no way we’re landing. I don’t feel like being thrown around the sea till we puke our guts out.

“Strap your seatbelts,” Hexie says. “I have bad feelings about this.”

“Can we run away back to the Trottoman Empire?” Inkie asks. “I think that’d be a better idea.”

Well, why not? I look into the rear mirror. To my surprise I see that the clear sky behind us is now also covered by clouds. It’s like they’re surrounding us.

Or are they?

“Where’s the nearest weather factory?” I ask. “These clouds… They don’t look natural.”

“Hmm, in Saddle Arabia?” Lyra shrugs. “We pissed off a lot of ponies, but none of them live there.”

“We’re almost above the desert. The clouds didn’t gather here by themselves.” I want to add something, but I’m interrupted by the roar of a thunder. “Lyra, get out,” I say. “We’ll handle the plane without your help.”

Easier said than done. Lyra barely walks out of the cockpit when the wind hits us, almost causing us to do a barrel roll. I grab the yoke harder, trying to get us back ontrack. Inkie helps me, but it’s all for nothing: we’re being thrown around like a kite.

Rain pounds against the windscreen and the lightning almost blinds us. Hexie is yelling curses at the storm. In at least four languages, including Trottoman. I can also hear someone throwing up. I’m pretty sure it’s Vinyl.

Strong tailwind carries us over the desert. It actually makes us much faster, at least in terms of speed relative to the ground. It also pushes us down; I almost have a heart attack, seeing the ground getting closer.

We cut off the top of some dune before I manage to pull up. One of the windows breaks, cold air flooding the inside of the plane immediately. Good thing the props are way above the fuselage, or we’d break them too. Lightning hits near us, causing Inkie to scream and almost lose control over the plane.

“Don’t worry!” Hexie laughs and takes a sip from a bottle she hides hell only knows where. “We’re much too smart to die here!”

“What does being smart have to do with that?” Inkie asks, her eyes wide as she’s looking into the clouds covering us like a big, angry murderous fabric.

“My dad used to say that a smartass like me will get hanged one day!” Hexie chuckles. “I can’t see any folks with a rope here!”

“That’s… very comforting.” Inkie leans forward and throws up on the control board. I’m gonna make her clean that. Unless we crash, then cleaning will be the least of our problems.

At least the wind silences a bit. Despite rain pouring on us, I can fly a bit higher now. The plane isn’t damaged and it seems that everyone is fine.

“You think you have a problem?!” Vinyl yells in the back of the plane. “I almost shit myself! I made it to the toilet, but it’s difficult when you’re upside down!”

“Remind me not to use the toilet,” I mutter. Hours of fighting with the yoke left me sweaty and exhausted and I’m pretty sure soon it’ll be even worse – the sun starts to pierce the clouds, warming the plane immediately.

“I want to know what Lyra’s problem is, though,” Inkie whispers, looking back. “I’d rather not step into… something.”

The weather clears a bit, but we still have one problem: we’re above seemingly endless desert, and the storm was throwing us around for quite a while. Thus, I have no idea where we are.

I turn on the radio, but all I can hear is static. I guess the storm is blocking out all the signals… or we are that far from civilisation. Inkie turns the knob for a while, but all we catch is some upbeat tune, consisting of trumpets and drums.

“Is that an army march?” Hexie asks, grabbing a hoofful of maps. “We’d better find a way out of here.”

“Good idea.” I look at the ground. “I think we’re a bit too far west from Haygypt.”

“Definitely,” Inkie replies. “I guess if we turn back and go right…”

“Stop right here.” The voice coming from the radio is harsh and unpleasant. I look at it unsurely and grab the microphone.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask. “Also, we can’t stop or we’d fall.”

“The Air Force of Northern Zebrican Empire,” the voice replies.

Air Force? Did those wankers actually grow wings? Back when Equestria was seriously supporting the emperor of Northern Zebrica in his efforts to unite the country, there was always a squadron of pegasi stationed there. For some reason, the emperor always wanted them to be stallions. It had something to do with religion and no one in the army ever questioned that.

Shit hit the fan when some of the pegasi came back to Equestria with a nasty case of syphilis. As it turned out, most of them volunteered to take part in the emperor’s “scientific” program the purpose of which was to breed a flying zebra by screwing as many mares as possible and hoping for the best.

The program resulted in a sudden rise in the number of sterile hybrids called zebroids or zonies: sterile, half-striped, half-magical, full-time jackasses. To my knowledge, none of them had wings. Also, a few squadron leaders retired early, and some other ones were reassigned by Celestia herself to such pleasant places as the air base in Stalliongrad, the border with Yakyakistan, or Bug Bear Territory.

Of course, everything of that is classified and will remain as such for the next fifty years. I know that only because during my army days I asked an older pegasus why they called him Stripefucker.

Meanwhile, the air force shows up and I must say that I’m sorely disappointed. It consists of thin griffons wearing mismatched equipment and a few pegasi in uniforms covering them almost completely – the only thing that can be seen are pale blonde manes mostly hidden under their helmets. We could technically outrun all of them, but I’m afraid we’d be shot down first.

“Don’t try anything funny,” the voice says. “Follow us and land where we tell you. Understood?”

“Understood.” I turn away from the radio. “Tell Vinyl to load her shotgun and my rifle. Get ready to fry some balls too,” I whisper. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Inkie replies, stretching her hooves. “But maybe we should be nice?”

“Oh, I’ll be nice.” Hexie reaches under her seat and produces a lead pipe. “Like, broken bones instead of fatal wounds kinda nice. That is, unless it turns out they’re polite.”

The desert below us changes into brownish savanna. Soon, we reach a large, rather shallow lake surrounded by palm trees. The neighbourhood isn’t exactly wild: at the eastern shore of the lake there’s a large building made of wood and rusty sheet metal, with tall chimneys that look like they’d collapse upon being kicked.

“What’s that?” Inkie asks. “Some kind of a factory?”

“A weather factory.” Hexie points at the pipe in the wall. Rainbow concentrate leaks from it in large drops, leaving a charred spot on the ground below. “Perfect if you need to make a large storm on a budget.”

I wonder how poisonous it is. I mean, rainbow concentrate isn’t toxic; it’s even technically edible, though upon burning it changes into a corrosive vapour. However, the whole place looks like any workplace safety inspector’s wet dream, full of fines, paperwork, and decisions about closing the place down.

And that’s not even the whole thing. Right behind the factory, there’s an airship base. Two large fuel storage tanks, tall cylindrical objects that look like something out of this world tower over an airstrip with a hangar and five battered airships standing next to it. They look like they were decommissioned a long time ago and hastily repaired in exactly the same way, despite each of them coming from a different producer. There’s also a pipeline, apparently used to transport water from the lake to the hydrogen generator next to the hangar.

“Land in the lake,” the voice commands. “I know you can do that.”

I fly lower, taking a closer look at the installation on the bank. Some zebras walk around it, all of them armed. It’s surrounded by machine gun nests, made of bags full of sand and surrounded by barbed wire. Something tells me that those guys didn’t invite us for a picnic.

We land on the calm surface of the lake and stop by the shore. I stand up and walk to the back of the plane and take my rifle from Vinyl. To my surprise, I notice a large bayonet attached to the barrel. It looks like something one could castrate a herd of lions with.

“Where did you find it?” I ask.

“The ammo box has a double bottom,” Vinyl replies. “I found it when I was loading it.” She throws me a few stripper clips with additional rounds. I take them, though I think I’ll probably use the rifle as a rather sophisticated club. I’m too soft to kill someone, even if they are a zebra…

Wait, that came out wrong. I don’t usually shoot at others, be it ponies, zebras, griffons, or whatever. I didn’t even shoot that rifle yet. There was no occasion to do that.

To think about it, this merchant probably didn’t know about the bayonet, or else I’d have to pay extra for it.

We stand silently by the door, waiting for our fate. Soon it comes on board of a big, luxurious hovercraft…

Well, it looks more like someone tried to construct a big luxurious hovercraft out of everything that was left after building the weather factory we saw earlier. It is quite noisy, with two large props powered by airship engines. At least three or four similar engines are used as air pumps. The sheet metal used for its hull is probably put together from various scrapped vehicles, judging by the differences in colour, thickness, and the amount of rust covering it.

“Get out of the plane and get on the deck!” someone orders through a megaphone. Having no other ideas, we obey. As soon as we get on the hovercraft, we’re surrounded by about forty armed zebras wearing green uniforms.

“We’re screwed,” Lyra mutters. “I’ve never thought this would happen.”

“Lyra, shut up,” I say. “Unless you have a plan of getting us out.”

“What?” Lyra shrugs. “It’s a new experience to me.”

“I’m more interested in those engines.” Hexie looks at the massive pylons, each of them ending with a turboprop engine. “They look like what Cherry put in Aryanne’s airship when she repaired it.”

Oh yeah. The second source of my money. After I crash landed Aryanne’s airship in the lake near Ponyville, Cherry Berry repaired it for half a price. Well, she also made some innovations that made it probably the fastest and deadliest (for both the crew and anyone stupid enough to attack it) airship on the planet.

“Do you think those are the same engines?” I ask.

“No, those are much more crude,” Hexie replies. “The casings of Cherry’s engines were die forged. Those have the same shape, but they’re stamped to reduce cost. They also added two more holes in them to enhance cooling, just as we did, but they did that independently, since theirs have a different shape and–”

“Spare me technical details.” I turn to the zebras. “Hello, guys. We’re flattered by this welcome, but we’d rather know what’s going on.”

“Oh, soon you will.”

I look up to see a pony standing on the roof of the superstructure in the front of the hovercraft. She’s wearing a uniform and she tied her mane into a ponytail, but it’s not hard to recognise her.

“Aryanne,” I say. “Long time no see. You know you’re the last pony I’d expect to team up with zebras?”

“I learned from you,” Aryanne replies. “I jumped at ze opportunity as soon as it appeared.”

Well, shit. Our airship inflated her ego, or what?

Two more ponies walk to Aryanne. Or rather, one pony—our good friend Kloppenfuhrer—because the other guy is the most peculiar zebra I have ever seen.

He’s wearing a uniform similar to the ones soldiers are wearing, but that’s where similarities end. He’s also wearing a red coat, enough gold to buy a small country, and a crown so tall that soon it’ll collapse under its own weight. I notice Kloppenfuhrer smirking behind his back.

“Let me introduce…” Aryanne throws her head back. “Mshindwi ze Dreaded, ze Emperor of Zebrica, almighty, superior, omnipotent and omnipresent ruler of ze empire zat, vis our humble help vill take over ze vorld!”

“That’s me.” Mshindwi the Dreaded smiles.

“The world is not enough,” I say, trying very hard not to laugh at this unusual trio.

Aryanne doesn’t notice that. “But zere’s such a perfect place to start… Vhen have you last heard of Manegascar?”

“Been a while,” Lyra replies. “I’ve heard they closed the borders because their president was a germophobe and heard that somepony in Hayland coughed.”

“Yeah, zat.” Aryanne nods. “Ein ungewöhnlich Pferdchen. Anyvay, he vas afraid of germs, but never seen Germaney coming. Once ve had a base zere, ve moved here to help our dear ally.”

“That’s me,” Mshindwi the Dreaded says. “Soon, with the help of our friends, we will end the rebellion! Then, with the help of those blonde idiots, I will take over the whole world! That is, right after I learn the secrets of that flying vehicle you have here…” He lowers his head to look at me. “Will you share it with me, or do I have to torture you? Not that I mind…”

I gulp, thinking of the answer. Luckily, Vinyl comes up with one before me.

“Dude, go fuck yourself with a telegraph pole. Your torture is probably my fetish, unless you’ll just stand and talk. Then I’ll tell you all my secrets. There’s a lot of that, you know, starting with the day I first met Minuette and she–”

“Enough!” Mshindwi the Dreaded yells. “By a royal decree, you shall be thrown into the pit with lions that haven’t eaten anything for two years.”

“So, they’re dead?” Vinyl asks.

Mshindwi groans, staring into the sky. “Seize them!” he exclaims. “I need them alive!”

Well, now we’re screwed. I hit the nearest zebra with a spell. He collapses, clutching his balls. I hear another magical discharge and see Inkie with her crystal gun. She aims it at the next soldier and fires, the spell hitting them as hard as if I cast it.

More zebras jump at us. I smack one of them with the butt of my rifle. His companion tries to grab me and ends up with a nice bayonet scar across the face. Next to me, Hexie is already surrounded by fallen enemies. She rolls on the deck, avoiding soldiers, only to suddenly stand up and smack them in the gut.

“Help!” Lyra cries, staring at the spells flying past her. Vinyl runs to her and knocks her out.

“What?” Vinyl asks, noticing my stare. “I didn’t want her to do something stupid.”

Before I can reply, two zebras tackle Vinyl. One of them quickly runs away holding his bitten hoof. They other punches her, but then I fire a spell at his nuts.

“Are you okay, Vinyl?” I ask.

“So many stars around…” Vinyl mutters. “Am I a captain yet?”

“Oh, come on…” I roll my eyes. A zebra flies by me, followed by Inkie, who apparently reached her limits of being nice. Well, unless kicking someone into the boards of the deck counts as nice these days.

I look around, trying to assess the situation. A lot of zebras are unconscious, but so is Vinyl and Lyra. Inkie is still fighting, but the sheer number of soldiers attacking her makes it difficult for her to fight. And what’s worse, two zebras managed to catch Hexie in a net, limiting her to throwing curses and spitting at them.

“Well, damn.” I aim my horn at the group attacking Inkie. A powerful explosion throws them around, cleaning the field a bit.

I feel a sudden head rush and nearly collapse on the deck. Just great. My magic always liked to reach its limits in the most inconvenient times. What’s worse, the zebras turn away from Inkie and charge at me.

“Something tells me this is your bad day…” I mutter, raising the rifle with my hooves. I might be soft, but they’re pissing me off.

I choose the target carefully. Instead of soldiers, I aim at the top of the superstructure, more exactly at Aryanne’s right hoof. I don’t want to kill her, but I want to leave a mark before I’m caught. Like, one day she’ll look at the stump and think warmly of me.

The recoil makes me sit down. What’s worse, either I have a really crappy aim, or the scope isn’t set properly. The bullet goes far to the right and up. Instead of Aryanne’s hoof, it ends up right under Mshindwi’s crown.

The effect is stunning. The guy is now truly omnipresent… Well, he’s mostly on Aryanne, but you get the idea. Upon seeing that, I throw up on the nearest zebra and punch him while he’s distracted.

It’s my chance. Aryanne is motionless, struck by the fact that various parts of the zebra that are normally inside are now on her coat. The soldiers also stand in one place, staring at me. I run for it, pushing them away and trying to reach the plane. How to save the rest? Fuck me if I know, but I’ll think of something.

Suddenly, I’m stopped so violently that I almost spit out my lungs. The rifle falls out of my hooves, but is immediately lifted by someone’s magic.

I try to run, but I’m still held by a spell. All I can do is looking at Kloppenfuhrer who walks to me and raises my rifle, while still keeping me frozen in place.

“Nice thing,” he mutters, pulling the bolt backwards to eject the spent case.

“Are you gonna shoot me?” I ask.

“For offing that idiot?” Kloppenfuhrer clicks his tongue. “Why would I do that, Ms. Turner? You may prove useful one day.” He lifts the gun, butt first. “We’ll finish this conversation later. For now, Aryanne sends her regards.”

Ouch.

Judging by the splitting headache, this wanker must’ve hit me with my own rifle. I hope he gets an anal rash and passes it to Aryanne when he’ll be blowing her. Where am I? I can hear the sound of engines roaring, but I’m definitely in some small room smelling of dust and old drugs.

“Minuette? Are you okay?”

Okay, that explains old drugs. Vinyl is here with me. I take a look at her and notice that she’s chained, with a magic-blocking ring on her horn. It seems to me that I also ended up that way.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“In that hovering thingy,” Vinyl replies. “They’re driving us south, I think.”

“How do you know?”

“One of the guards was complaining about gorillas and shitty food in the south,” Vinyl replies. “The zebras mostly speak in gibberish, but there are also griffons and those pale clones here.”

“So, the southern part of the northern part, right?” I mutter. “Why do they drive us there? And how about the rest?”

“I don’t know,” Vinyl replies. “So, how are we gonna escape?”

“I have no idea,” I say. “We’re on a fast hovercraft, surrounded by zebras. Oh, and I killed the emperor, I think.”

“We can disguise as a camel.” Vinyl smirks. “I’ll be the head and you’ll be yourself.”

“What?” I raise my eyebrows. “Why would we disguise as a camel? We’d still be imprisoned here.”

Vinyl nods. “Yes, but we’d be a camel.”

I sigh, trying not to imagine that. “How would we explain to the guards that we’re here?”

“You know, something like, ‘I was walking there, minding my own business, when those two psychos busted out of the cell and locked me in it’ kind of thing.” Vinyl shrugs. “At least they’d let us out.”

“How would a camel get there in the first place?” I ask. “It’s just zebras here. They’d get suspicious that the camel was in the middle of their hovercraft minding its business.”

A uniformed camel walks to us and bangs at the metal door. “Would you kindly shut up?” he asks. “We’re almost there!”

Vinyl smiles at me and looks expectantly at the door.

“No,” I mutter. “We’re still not disguising as a camel. For starters, we’d need two blankets, a cushion, and two pairs of Trottoman slippers to disguise as a camel. Also, we’re almost there, so it’s no use running away now. I’m pretty sure the place they’ll put us in will be easier to run away from.”

The engines go silent and the hovercraft lowers slightly. At least ten zebras walk to our cell and lead us outside.

“Easier to run away from?” Vinyl asks.

I can feel a certain smell in the air, telling me that we’re close to the jungle, but I can’t actually see it. It’s mostly because the hovercraft is parked in the yard of a big castle from the middle-Celestial era. Thick walls made of limestone resisted all the sieges through centuries, so it’s unlikely we’re getting out soon. Massive towers and bastions obscure the sky.

We’re led to the keep and placed in a quite uncomfortable dungeon, guarded by at least a hundred of zebras. Seems that after the previous fight with us, they started to take us seriously.

“So, what are we gonna do now?” Vinyl asks after we’re left in the cell.

“Don’t worry,” I mutter. “I know that castle. Ages ago, during the crusade against griffons, my ancestor Minuet ‘Jackass’ Turner found a secret entrance to it.”

“And what happened to him?” Vinyl asks.

“They caught him and impaled his head on a pike,” I reply. “And the entrance was never found, mostly because the government of Zebrica had more important things to do than letting archeologists do their job.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed.” Kloppenfuhrer walks to us, standing in a safe distance from the grating. “There’s no way out, although we can think of some kind of gratification if you cooperate.”

“I’ve seen a porn movie which started that way,” Vinyl mutters. “I’m waiting for gags and whips.”

“Very funny.” Kloppenfuhrer mutters. “The thing is–”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, here’s the deal: we’ll help you teach Aryanne to pronounce her th’s correctly and you’ll let us out. How does that look to you?”

“Her accent is the least of my problems,” he replies. “Her mouth has other uses, you know.”

“Aha!” Vinyl stands up. “I knew you two were fucking! Hell, I bet she turned you into her bitch. I know those, trust me. That’s why your rank sounds like something outta weak porn. Yeah, but do tell me why instead of going further than softcore shit Aryanne used to do, you turned into taking over countries?”

“Shut up!” Kloppenfuhrer bangs his hoof against the grating. Vinyl knows how to piss people off. “You don’t know what happened to her. She needs… attention. Modelling was a one way she could achieve it, but those damn instructions in our heads… She just flipped and I didn’t see anything wrong with that. So, we came up with a plan and you’re an important part of it.”

“Yeah, cry me a river,” Vinyl mutters. “Yours is too little for her, so she decided to fuck the whole world over. That sometimes happens with mares. But pray tell, why are we sitting in this shithole? Shouldn’t we party, watching the world die or something?”

“Yeah, that,” I say. “Also, tell us what’s your actual name. As my dear friend pointed out, ‘Kloppenfuhrer’ is one pair of pornstache away from becoming a thing in this business.”

Kloppenfuhrer’s face is bright red. “My name’s Pulli.”

I look at Vinyl and we both burst into laughter.

“It’s an old Griffonian name, dammit!” Pulli yells.

“Don’t shit fire, Pulli,” I say, still chuckling. “Just tell us your offer.”

“We can’t simply take over the world with those zebras,” Pulli replies, slowly regaining his composure. “The late emperor wanted your plane to build an air force, but that’s just a fairy tale for those stripped morons. However, there’s a certain artifact you’re looking for that would help us greatly. I need to know everything about it.”

Vinyl looks at me unsurely.

“Well, we have a problem,” I say, deciding that honesty is the best option. “We don’t know shit about it. Daring Do doesn’t really talk about it.”

“Really?” Pulli looks at the ceiling. “Daring Do wants you to find a crystal that will awake the ancient beasts and let the owner control them and you know nothing about it?”

“Well, now we know a bit more,” Vinyl says. “What ancient beasts? Are they succubi?”

“No. They’re the wicked things that existed before the world itself.” Pulli stares at the wall, probably imagining some otherworldly acts of unspeakable cruelty. “That would help us defeat all the countries and establish the new order!”

“Yeah, sure, mate.” I sigh. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a good idea. And you’re saying Daring is looking for it? How about Ahuizotl?”

“The ponies he hired are morons,” Pulli replies. “Though this may be a good backup. And I’m pretty sure you’re hiding something from me.”

I think of Lyra and the hint we managed to translate. Where are they now? I hope those guys didn’t drown them in the lake.

“How about our friends?” I ask. “They may know something.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get to them,” Pulli says. “If they know something, I’m sure you know something too.”

“There are… hints,” I reply. “But each of us knows only a part of it. You know, for safety.”

“What are your parts?” Pulli asks.

“Go around the centre of the earth,” Vinyl replies. “That was mine.”

“Stop by the hot dog stand and look up,” I say. “Those parts are not in order.”

Pulli gives us a flat look. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Vinyl and I look at each other. “He’s smart. He figured it out all by himself,” I say.

“I guess Aryanne’s the pretty one, he’s the smart one, and Kyrie is the strong one.” Vinyl shrugs. “You’d better teach Kyrie not to bust doors with her head, or else your trio may become a duo soon.”

“Schiess doch, sie Schweinehunde!” Pulli rubs his temples. “Fine! You vill sit here till you vant to talk!” He rushes out of the dungeon.

“It seems he lost his shit,” Vinyl says as soon as he leaves. “You shouldn’t have told him about the hot dog stand.”

“Yeah, he even lost his accent.” I nod. “We really shouldn’t have laughed at his name.”

“Maybe that’s better. His accent felt like someone was smearing honey on my arse. Also, what did he say about that crystal which summons demons or some shit?”

“That Daring wants to find it.” I shrug. “Why does she need it?”

“Maybe she wants kinky sex with tentacled monsters.” Vinyl lies down in the corner and curls into a ball. “Wake me up when they bring food.”

To my surprise, they do bring food, a few hours later. It’s the most popular dish in galaxy, at least among the homeless, students, homeless students, adventure-seekers, and other social margin. It consists of everything the cat dragged in, topped with what one managed to steal from hyenas, pick up in the forest, or find at the bottom of an ancient outhouse, fried together and drowned in brown sauce.

Usually, the ingredients shouldn’t be questioned; asking for them is a serious faux pas, not to mention that it’s not healthy for your brain. However, one can easily estimate their location just by watching what ended up in the stew.

In our case it’s fava beans, lentil, chickpea, grass, and something that looks like meat and pig’s liver. In other words, a mix between Zebrica and Griffon Empire. Not surprising, given the griffon mercenaries.

The inspection of the contents of my bowl gives me an idea.

“Vinyl!” I say. “Do you want to eat my fava beans?”

“What?” Vinyl mutters groggily. “You know that I can’t–”

“Exactly.” I smirk. “You know how it’s always easier to run away from the sick bay?”

Vinyl nods. “So you want me to run away? How about you?”

“I’ll think of something. Also, I guess you won’t leave me here? Call the big guns, cavalry, all the international organisations, even the friggin’ Celestia.”

“Okay.” Vinyl swallows a mouthful of fava beans.

We don’t have to wait long for the effects. After a while, Vinyl gets a fever, and when she takes off her sunglasses, I see that the whites of her eyes turned yellow. Combined with red irises, it looks nightmarish.

“Guards?” I yell. “Come here! My friend is sick!”

Two zebras walk to us. “What happened to her?” one of them asks.

“She has a fever and her eyes turned yellow.”

“Meh,” the zebra replies. “At least she won’t get malaria.”

“Pu– I mean, Kloppenfuhrer will be pissed if something happens to us,” I say. “We’re an important part of his plan.”

The zebras look at each other unsurely. “Okay. Let’s take her to the sick bay.”

They open the door and lead Vinyl outside. I sit back and wait for the results.

Ten minutes later, I hear a large explosion. Someone runs above me, yelling “fire!” and “she’s running away!”. Another explosion follows, ending in a barrage of smaller explosions. Did they bring a howitzer, or what?

“Ammo! For Aryanne’s sake, the ammo!”

Shit.

The explosion shakes all the dust from the ceiling on me, followed by some smaller stones. I lie down, covering my head. Too bad this damn grating is apparently explosion-proof – it didn’t budge.

A few minutes later, everything goes silent. I stand up, trying to clean my coat, when I see Kloppenfuhrer walking downstairs. His uniform is torn and burned and he has a deep cut on his forehead. For some reason, he has my rifle and is accompanied by a couple of soldiers.

“What’s up, Pulli?” I ask. “Bad day at work?”

“Your friend ran away,” he mutters, glaring at me.

“Really?” I smirk. “I’d have never guessed.”

“Shut up, smartass.” He gives me a look that probably is supposed to be menacing. “As you probably helped her, we decided to reconsider your death penalty.”

Death penalty? Why do I learn about it only now? “Wait, mate,” I say. “No trial or anything? I demand a trial.”

“There was already a trial,” Pulli replies. “I was your attorney. I managed to change flaying alive to shooting.”

“Thank you,” I mutter. “My company will send you a check.”

“I’ll be flattered. Now, come on.”

“Now?” I ask. Vinyl should better hurry, but knowing her, she’s in the forest, fucking a bunch of gorillas. “How about an appeal?”

“You can appeal to the emperor himself, Ms. Turner,” Pulli says. “Oh wait, he’s dead. What a shame.”

The soldiers lead me outside. In comparison to my previous visit, there’s a few buildings less in here. The zebras also look kinda scared and their uniforms are usually torn, charred, or completely missing. I don’t have much time to look, because my companions lead me outside the castle.

“Can you take off those chains?” I ask. “It’s hard to walk and I don’t know how far we’ll go.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not far away,” Pulli replies, pointing at the nearby jungle. Just great. After Maneaus, I’m sick of jungle and it seems that I’m going to die in one.

I take a look at the soldiers. To my surprise, none of them looks older than fifteen and they definitely don’t look like zebras. More like ponies with stripes, who are high on something. They’re also not white: it looks more like paler versions of their fathers’ coat colours.

Just great. It seems that the late emperor took what remained of the winged zebra program and changed it into his personal guard. I’m more and more fucked with every minute.

Finally, we stop at the border of the forest and I’m given a shovel.

“Dig,” Pulli says.

It’s kinda hard to dig with my hooves, so it gets dark before I’m done. Pulli’s henchponies (henchzebras?), who previously were wandering around aimlessly, gather together, looking at the sky unsurely.

“Okay, I think it’s deep enough,” Pulli mutters, grabbing my rifle.

“Wait a minute!” I exclaim, hoping that those zebroids know Equine. “I need to perform a ritual before I die, or else my ghost will come back to haunt you all.”

“Oh come on!” Pulli levitates a rifle, but the biggest of his companions puts a hoof on his shoulder, while the others aim their submachine guns at him.

“Ghosts are not a laughing matter.” I was kinda expecting him to speak in monosyllables, but the guy somehow sounds like he is from Whinnyapolis. “She may become a bad Mzimu.”

“Yeah, that,” I reply. “Very bad Mzimu and I’ll cause bad juju to happen to you, yeah. You can count on that.”

Pulli sighs. “You do realise that she’s fucking with you?”

“What if she’s not?” the other soldier asks. He, on the other hoof, sounds like he’s from Canterlot. “Let her do that ritual.”

“Thank you.” I stand in the middle of the hole I dug and close my eyes, hoping that they don’t know Pferdisch. “Leck mir den Arsch recht schon!” I exclaim. The look on Pulli’s face is priceless. “Fein sauber lecke ihn, fein sauber lecke, leck mir den Arsch!”

The zebras stand straight, looking solemnly at the forest, while Pulli nearly loses his shit.

“Das ist ein fettigs Begehren,nur gut mit Butter geschmiert, den das Lecken der Braten mein tagliches Thun!” I nearly break my tongue on Pferdisch and my accent is far from perfect, but screw that. If I want Vinyl to hear me, I have to yell as loudly as I can.

“Drei lecken mehr als Zweie! Nur her, machet die Prob' und leckt, leckt, leckt!” Still, no one comes and I’m running out of song. Not to mention Pulli’s patience.

“Jeder leckt sein Arsch fur sich,” I say, my throat sore. “An advice you should take,” I mutter.

“Are you done?” Pulli asks, aiming the rifle at me.

“Wait!” I shout. “I… I need to take a dump!”

“What’s the problem?” Pulli asks. “You will anyway, when we shoot you.”

“But… I can become an evil demon if I soil the place of my burial,” I reply quickly. “And I’d haunt you for the rest of your lives.”

Pulli sighs and smack his forehead with his hoof. “Okay… You can go in those bushes, but if you try to run, we’re gonna shoot you.”

I crawl out of the hole and hide behind the bush. If only I could take those chains off… I look around to find some rock, but all I see is a pair of eyes.

I blink, trying to get used to darkness. The eyes belong to a large gorilla hanging from the tree.

“Hello,” I say. “Can you help me?”

“Got cigs?” The gorilla smirks.

“The guys who want to kill me have a lot,” I whisper, hoping that they can’t hear me. “You can take them.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the gorilla replies and takes the ring off my horn. “You look better without this.”

“Thanks.” I smirk and turn towards the place where I was supposed to be executed.

“Did you swallow a rope there?” Pulli yells. “Come on, we don’t have all night.”

“I’m about done,” I reply, using my magic to open the shackles restraining me. “Like, now!” I aim my horn and fire a spell blindly.

Well, too bad one of the zebroids stood in its way – I put a lot of magic into it and if it wasn’t for him, Pulli would now lie on the ground, mourning the tragic loss of his balls.

“I’m sorry!” I yell, jumping out of the bushes and kicking two zebroids in mid-air. Behind me, I hear a wailing call. A hundred of dark, muscular bodies jump off the trees, screaming like hell and banging their fists against their chests.

Pulli’s companions quickly reach a conclusion that it wasn’t in their job description – they drop their weapons and run away, leaving only a cloud of dust behind. Pulli realises that a bit too late – he only manages to turn before one of my chains tangles around his hind legs.

He tries to reach the rifle, but I levitate it out of his hooves before pulling him to me.

“I don’t like to have debts, mate,” I mutter through gritted teeth, before smacking him over the head with the butt of the rifle.

To think about it, I could’ve told him to tell Kyrie that I still owe her a cunt punt. I turn to say that, but he’s too unconscious to listen to me.

“I claim his wallet!” a familiar voice calls.

“Vinyl?” I ask.

“Who else?” Vinyl trots to me. For some reason she’s hiding her mane under a soldier’s helmet and she’s painted in zebra-like stripes. “It took me a while to convince these guys to help us.”

“How did you run away?” I ask.

“Oh, that was easy,” Vinyl replies. “Those morons didn’t take my lighter and all those fava beans and meat gave me bad gas. It kinda escalated from there…”

“She gave us cigs,” the gorilla I met earlier says. “And she said good things about gorillas. She says she has a plan to capture the big zebra castle!”

“You have?” I ask.

“Of course!” Vinyl exclaims, a bit too loudly. I can see sweat washing off the stripes on her coat.

“She better have.” The gorilla chuckles. “Name’s Askari. We fight zebras in the south and we’ll fight them in the north. We are proud gorillas! We have class con-sciou-sness!” He shows me a small, green book with a white hoof and horn on the cover.

Belka, Strelka – if I ever meet you again, I’m gonna either kick your flanks, or personally ship you the biggest vat of vodka you’ve ever seen.

“What kind of class consciousness?” Vinyl asks.

Askari stands in attention. “Old gorilla legend says that we ruled the whole planet once. We know that it isn’t true. Our cousins ruled the planet and blew it up for ten times ten thousand years. And when gorilla kind learned to speak, equines took over the planet and enslaved the gorillas. Now our time comes. Now, we shall come back and defeat them to bring back equality–”

“It was a thing a few years ago, but–” Vinyl pauses, probably having a glimpse of my thoughts – I’m currently trying to tell him something like “never argue with a big, armed gorilla, especially if he brought an army with him.”

“So, how are we going to capture the castle?” Askari asks.

I look at Vinyl. “Hmm, we have some chains and you’re already disguised as a zebra… Why did you even do that? I’m pretty sure someone would find that offensive.”

“A pony running away looks different from zebras running away, so I stole a spare uniform and some engine grease so I wouldn’t look suspicious.”

“That… makes sense,” I mutter. “Okay, so the plan is…”

It’s already morning when we reach the castle. Vinyl is walking in the front, carrying my rifle. Gorillas walk behind her in a row, tied with lianas, their heads low. I’m in chains again, dragging unconscious Kloppenfuhrer behind me.

Well, actually, we had to help him stay unconscious. A few times.

Two zebras appear on the wall and look at us unsurely. On one hand, it’s a bunch of gorillas, but they’re all led by what appears to be a zebra, even though her stripes started to blur a bit. One of them aims a gun at us, but soon lowers it, seeing how unflinchingly Vinyl walks.

“Hello friends, I came to make amends,” Vinyl says. “Gorillas surprised us and kicked my soldiers’ ass. Poor Kloppenfuhrer desperately needs a curer.”

Oh, fuck no. Is she that dumb? She saw so many zebras here speaking normally and still thinks they all rhyme? We’re so dead.

“Who are you?” one of the zebras asks. “Why are you speaking Equine? We know Zebrican, you know.”

“I fought brave and well, and gave gorillas hell.” Vinyl doesn’t let such details as linguistic accuracy get in her way. “I took them all prisoner and led to be… prisoners.”

“She must be from the east,” the other zebra says to the first one. “Remember, Ujanja Yaani, how I told you that everyone in the east are insane junkies?”

“Totally,” Ujanja Yaani replies. “Are we letting her in?”

“We have a few free cells in the dungeon,” the other zebra says. “Open the gate!”

“See?” Vinyl whispers to me when we enter the castle. “I knew it’d work.”

“Think how to get out of here,” I mutter. “It seems that the hovercraft isn’t here anymore.”

Vinyl opens her mouth, but at the same moment, hell breaks loose. The gorillas are screaming, showing that they weren’t as tied as they seemed to be. Askari and his companions, armed in machetes, sticks, and various firearms they stole from any unlucky zebras they met before charge at the soldiers.

“Run!” I exclaim, freeing myself from the chains and dragging Vinyl behind me. I don’t give a fuck about gorillas, zebras, Kloppenfuhrer, and the beef they have with each other. I just want to be as far from this place as possible.

“You said no one captured this castle before?” Vinyl asks. “Are we the first?”

“No one captured it by force,” I reply, running towards the keep. “Deception and ruse of war were much more effective.”

Something explodes behind us. Even though Vinyl blew up most of the ammo, zebras apparently had something left in store. That, or the gorillas put their hands on someone’s grenade stash.

“Mommy!” Vinyl flinches when a bullet flies past her. “Have you seen that? They were trying to shoot me!”

“Go and complain to them about that,” I mutter, kicking the door of the keep open. “And stop dodging those bullets when you hear them! They’re all faster than sound. If you hear it, it didn’t hear you… Fuck!” As I’m about to close the keep’s door, a bullet flies past me, grazing the tip of my ear. I dart to my right, hearing its sound.

“Hey, you dodged…” Vinyl chuckles.

“Go to Tartarus and ask the demons to sodomise you with a pitchfork,” I mutter, getting up. Something heavy hits the keep’s door, but it seems that we’re safe here, at least until someone decides to shoot at it with a howitzer. I take a look at Vinyl’s face and it gives me an idea.

“Engine grease,” I say. “Why would they have engine grease if they don’t have anything with an engine? Where did you find it?”

“Near the laundry,” Vinyl replies. “It’s somewhere in the dungeon.”

We go downstairs, leaving the battle behind. The dungeon is kinda decrepit and I expect a ton of limestone falling on our heads at any moment. We run next to a cell with a skeleton of some hapless wanker – judging by the armour, he’s here for at least a few centuries. Then, Vinyl takes a sharp turn and we end up in the laundry room.

Damn. What did I expect? There are just washing machines here.

“Just washing machines here,” Vinyl mutters.

“I noticed that even without your help,” I reply. “So, what’s your great plan now? Are we gonna build a fucking flying machine out of those?” Just when I say that, a grenade explodes outside, causing a dryer to collapse. Behind it, there’s a small, forgotten door, labelled…

Oh, sweet motherfucking Celestia. It’s a garage. We’d better hope it’s not empty. I hit the door with my magic, opening them and walk into the darkness behind it.

“Holy shit,” I whisper when my eyes get used to dim interior. “It’s beautiful.”

In front of us, there’s a damn tank.

Well, as a matter of fact, it’s a light, fast tank, which still means that it can pack a punch with its cannon and despite serious lack in the armour department, it’s still enough to stop bullets. The whole thing is small and agile, not to mention that it looks brand new.

Where did those guys get it? Judging by a couple of hearts painted on its side, it’s Aryanne’s. However, the tank was probably bought in Great Bridletain – when I look inside, the first thing I see is a tin kettle and a couple of teacups and saucers made of the same material. There’s also a heavy-duty gramophone and a complete discography of The Useless Buggers.

“I found shells,” Vinyl says, carrying a green wooden case. “There’s also some fuel and hardtacks here.”

“I guess our friend Pulli prepared himself a getaway in case things went south,” I mutter, smirking. “Well, how thoughtful of him.” I help Vinyl with carrying stuff into the tank and slip inside.

“Okay,” I mutter. “How do you drive it?”

You know, I drove a dozer once, when hunger and lack of employment led me to a nearby construction site. The dozer’s operator was slightly tipsy, so he showed me how to drive it. Thus, I more or less know how to drive something with tracks.

Well, I also crashed the dozer and brought down half of the construction site, but I know the basics. Also, they never caught me.

A big red button catches my attention. If the constructors had a bit of decency, this one turns on the engine. I push it, but all I hear is something that sounds like a click of an enormous firing pin. Oh yeah, that was the second option.

“The manual says this is the emergency trigger, in case the shooter is dead or their trigger doesn’t work,” Vinyl mutters, levitating a book she found under one of the seats.

“How about the starter?” I ask, looking at the levers in front of me. Left lever – left track. Right lever – right track. That’s all I know.

“Set the gear lever to neutral with your left hind hoof,” Vinyl replies. “Then push the green button in the middle of the right steering lever.”

“This small piece of shit?” I ask, looking at said button. Yeah, totally ergonomic. What do I have to do to turn around? Stand on my head and burp the national anthem?

I push the button. The roar of the engine nearly deafens me, so I put on the helmet to dull the sound a bit. The floor vibrates and, for some reason, the gramophone turns on, attacking my poor ears with a loud guitar riff.

“Set the gear lever to D,” Vinyl says, “and push both steering levers gently forward.”

No problem. I push the levers and the tank darts forward, ramming into the wall. We’re no match for the walls of the old castle, but this one was built much later and gives up immediately. The tank jumps, crushing the bricks into fine red mist.

“Gently!” Vinyl exclaims, falling to the back of the tank. She quickly recovers, taking position by the cannon.

Where to go? I can’t see shit through the small visor in front of the tank. Vinyl has a periscope, but her hints are completely useless – as long as we’re in the dungeon, we can hardly see anything.

“Does this thing have headlights?”

“I can’t read the manual, it shakes too much!” Vinyl exclaims. “Just drive forward! It’s a garage, after all!”

I push the levers harder and we pierce another wall. Bingo! The sun almost blinds me, but I can see that the fight is still going. That is, until the zebras and gorillas see a rampant tank rushing across the yard. I only have a general idea on how sharply it turns, so we drive somewhat erratically.

Suddenly, I hear a loud explosion. I duck, hoping that we didn’t get a direct hit. However, the tank still goes forward, not to mention that I hear loud cackling and smell cordite.

“Vinyl, what the fuck?” I ask.

“I issued a warning shot.” Vinyl pulls the lever and a large case falls out of the back of the cannon. “I think I blew up the outhouse.”

“Well, one could say that shit hit the fan…” I mutter.

“If you say so.” Vinyl aims her horn at the gramophone, making it louder.

I was born to fuck shit up;
I was born to tell the truth!
About folks who fight a war,
To get money, fun, and stuff!

Well, at least we have an appropriate soundtrack. I wonder if the vocalist is from the same place as Wild Hunt, or he just really wanted ‘truth’ and ‘stuff’ to rhyme against all odds. A moment of deconcentration causes me to smash into some booth and scare a couple of gorillas away.

“Watch out!” Vinyl yells. “Also, see that cunt with a golden mark on her helmet? Drive close to her.”

Normally, I wouldn’t obey, but the shortest way to the gates happens to be the one next to the zebra in question. When we drive by her, Vinyl turns the turret in such a way that the barrel of our cannon knocks the helmet off her head. Had the zebra been taller, she’d also lose her head. She stops to shoot at us, but Vinyl opens the hatch and levitates the weapon out of her hooves.

“My shotgun,” Vinyl says. “She had my shotgun.”

“You nearly smashed her skull for a shotgun?” I ask, shuddering. “We’re getting out of this country. Like, now.”

I was born to fuck shit up!
I was born to storm the gates!
Of the folks who reap the seeds
of the turmoil, war, and hate!

Well, this rhyme is much better. The tank rams at the gate, smashing it to splinters. The tracks bang against the bridge and we get out on the plain outside the castle.

“Hmm, you said no one ever stormed the gates of this castle,” Vinyl says. “How about storming it from the inside?”

“It doesn’t count,” I reply, taking a sharp turn north. “We didn’t capture it. We ran away from it.”

“Does anyone ever run away from it?”

I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know. I guess we can assume we were the first.”

“Can we go back and be the first ones to capture it?” Vinyl asks.

“No.” I push the levers harder. Despite the sheer awesomeness of the tank, it’s not as fast as Hot Coco. The speedometer shows sixty kilometres or thirty seven miles per hour. Inkie can run faster. Hell, I can run faster, though I risk hacking my lungs out.

“How long did we travel to that castle?” I ask.

Vinyl shrugs. “Dunno, a few hours? That hovercraft seemed rather fast.”

Damn. It may take days before we reach the lake. At least the fact that the hovercraft got through means that the terrain is rather flat. Also, we’re going north, but I only have a vague idea where the lake is and Pulli didn’t leave any maps in the tank. In other words, we’re screwed.

“Do you want some tea?” Vinyl asks.

I barely stop myself from telling her where she can stick the tea. In fact, I’d drink a cup or two. I’d also eat more of that stuff they gave us back at the castle, even though there was meat in it. Or maybe because of that. Interesting what high temperatures do to me.

After a few hours, even tea and ventilation don’t help. It’s getting hotter and hotter. Even touching the walls can result in a nasty burn. At least the gramophone died. Too bad we’re next.

“We’d better stop,” Vinyl says. “The engine makes weird noises and I smell.”

I release the levers and the tank slowly skids to a halt. When we get out, it turns out that the outside is only slightly cooler and we’re in the middle of the savanna where the only source of shadow is our tank. Not good.

Even worse, the cause of the weird noises of the engine is apparently a lack of fuel as well as boiling water in the cooler. We have a few cans of fuel with us, but this machine drinks more than Berry in her best years. Pulli probably didn’t think this through.

I levitate a can and pour its contents into the fuel tank. Vinyl lies in the shadow and waves her helmet to cool herself down. It’s almost noon, no wonder that it’s so hot. Behind us there’s brown ground spanning to the horizon. Same is in front of us – it seems they didn’t hear about roads or road signs.

Suddenly, I hear a loud roar. I duck behind the tank, readying the rifle in case zebras found us. All I can see is a cloud of dust approaching us rather rapidly. What the hell? As it gets closer, I can’t help but notice that it’s another tank. However, something tells me that it doesn’t belong to any Zebrican army or military organisation. The sheer amount of graffiti, stickers, additional fuel tanks, and rather improbable weapons mounted on it makes it totally unstealthy. It even has a spiked grill in the front, complete with a teddy bear holding a plate saying “Have a nice death, cunt”.

The whole thing kinda reminds me of my distant cousin, coming from that branch of my family that never left Oatstralia. We don’t talk about her much. She–

“Fuck a duck! Cousin Minuette! What are ya doing here, old drongo?” A small mare emerges from the gaudy tank, spitting a cigarette. “Actually, nice to see ya. We got kinda lost on our way to Sydneigh.”

“Kinda?” Vinyl chuckles. She’s eyeing my cousin curiously. “It’s Zebrica. A totally different continent.”

“Shit.” A female camel emerges from the tank. “I told you we weren’t in Oatstralia! No giant spiders for three days!”

“I’d remember crossing the fucking ocean!” my cousin shouts back. “We weren’t that drunk!”

“Why so spewing?” a zebra climbs out of the tank and stretches his hooves. “No worries. We made it here, we can make it back to Sydneigh.”

“But how could we cross the ocean?” the camel asks.

“We’d better let that issue through to the keeper.” My cousin shrugs. “We need to get back to Sydneigh as fast as possible.”

“Wait,” I say. “Could you lend us some fuel? We need to go to a lake far north from here.”

“Yeah, and some cigs.” The corners of Vinyl’s mouth drop. “Those damn gorillas stole mine.”

“No worries,” my cousin replies. “Also, there’s a village nearby. It’s still standing after our visit, surprisingly…”

“And about the lake,” the camel mutters, “We were there, like, two days ago.” He points at the side of their tank – the paintjob is somewhat damaged in a few places, as if somepony shot it with a large gun. “They didn’t take us well.”

I nod. My cousin’s friends pour some fuel into our cans and after a few hours, when the temperature drops a bit, we go further.

After another hour, we reach the village. It consists mainly of small huts built of whatever junk you could find in there and is inhabited by about thirty zebras, who hide upon seeing us.

“We come in peace!” I exclaim, emerging from the tank. Apparently we look non-military enough for an old zebra to walk out of the hut and bow.

“Err… Lake?” I ask, looking at the old guy. “Big nasty wankers with too many airships?”

The guy shrugs.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Vinyl says. She jumps out of the tank and grabs a stick. Then she draws the lake in the sand in front of her, complete with trees, the airport, and the weather factory around it. The old zebra looks at the picture and nods.

“Where is it?” Vinyl asks, loudly and clearly.

The zebra raises his hoof and points in the north-eastern direction. Vinyl smiles and levitates a pack of hardtack to him. The zebra smirks and gives her one of the numerous necklaces he’s wearing – the one with a crude cat’s head made of clay.

“Why did you give our food to him?” I ask when we get back to the tank.

“Karma always comes back,” Vinyl replies. “And he was nice to us.”

After travelling for two days across the plateau, I must admit that Vinyl was right. There were abandoned villages. There was a village where the locals were trying to eat us, and the one where they shot our tank with a trebuchet. But there were also villages where we were given food and water… even a village where we became godmothers of a newborn foal.

And now, we’re near this Luna-damn lake. The road towards it is littered with nests of machine guns, and barricades made trunks, bags of sand, and barbed wire.

We take the first barricade by simply riding over it – the zebras who were there simply ran away when they saw that we weren’t going to stop.

“Two more on the left!” Vinyl exclaims, firing above their heads to scare them. A burst of gunfire bounces off the armour. I try to protect the fuel tanks and the ammunition racks, but it’s kinda hard – it’s not easy to turn a shitton of steel on a dime. At least they don’t seem to have anything bigger than machine guns…

Kaboom!

What the fuck is going on? Something heavy falls on my head and I’m afraid it’s Vinyl. I push the levers with all might, but the tank spins wildly. It seems that one of the tracks is damaged.

“Fuckshitcuntcrapdamnbloodyhelldammit…” Vinyl spits out. She stands up, levitating a shell. Another missile hits as just when she loads it and shoots. A sheet of metal almost cuts my head off. Vinyl falls out of her seat again; our shot goes wide, hitting the wall of a large building made of red brick.

We’re still driving like a drunk jackaroo, but at least we’re still moving – in the red building’s general direction. Through the hole in the armour I can see four zebras with a rocket launcher.

“Do we have another shot?” I ask.

“I’d rather not risk it!” Vinyl shouts back.

“I must try.” I aim my horn at the zebras. Soon, one of them rolls back, holding his balls. He drops the launcher on his friend’s hoof. At the same time our tank turns, so I can’t see the results, but the explosion suggests that the whole thing went off.

“Watch out!” Vinyl screams. I only have time to release the levers before we pierce through the wall of the red building. Brick dust gets in my throat and a fit of coughing almost makes me spit my lungs out. With screeching and wailing, the tank stops inside of something that looks like a factory hall.

“Seems that we’re safe,” Vinyl mutters.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of wooden floor cracking.

“Fuck.”

When I wake up, the tank is in the building’s basement, surrounded by broken planks. I raise from the metal floor slowly, checking if my limbs are still in their places. Vinyl is groaning – apparently the case with tea brewing kit fell on her head.

“Come on,” I whisper, levitating the sniper rifle. “We’d better get out of here before they check what happened to us.”

“Your mom will check what happened to us,” Vinyl mutters. “They’ll just assume that we died and leave us alone. That’s what they do in the movies.”

“Yeah, and the guy who comes to repair your washing machine has a dick bigger than the barrel of this tank,” I reply. “Move your arse. We need to get out of here.”

Cursing under her breath, Vinyl follows me. As soon as we leave the tank, she smiles widely. I’m not sure why. The basement is just full of shelves and most of them got crushed when our tank landed on them.

“It’s a brewery!” Vinyl exclaims, grabbing a bottle of beer that somehow survived our landing.

Oh, hell no. I turn to Vinyl to see her staggering towards me and levitating several bottles of beer. She puts them in the belt she found in the tank, used to carry shells in it. After a while, she looks like the Hearth’s Warming tree we made with Berry when we were students.

“So, what are we gonna do now?” Vinyl asks, chugging a beer. Something tells me that it’s not gonna be the only one.

“Upstairs,” I reply, trotting towards the stairs. Climbing takes a while, mostly because the barrel of the tank is now firmly embedded in them, but we managed to find a way around it. Vinyl doesn’t even lose one bottle of beer in process.

The interior of the brewery is dusty and decrepit; in the middle of the place there are a few copper fermentation tanks. One of them looks like it was hit by a shell a while ago, spilling whatever was in it on the floor. Since then, it went moldy, so I immediately start coughing, leaning against some pipes. The windows are boarded and large part of the roof is missing.

“How’s the situation?” Vinyl asks. “Can we get out?”

“Let’s see…” I levitate a copper pipe and knock the boards in the window with it.

Immediately, we hear a roar of heavy machine gun fire. In a few seconds, the boards change into splinters and the pipe is cut in half by a bullet.

Vinyl clicks her tongue. “It occurs to me that some nervous chap wants us dead.” She takes a sip of her beer. “But why don’t they come here?”

“They remember the balls of that guy with a rocket launcher,” I reply. “Also, they think we still have a tank. And even if we don’t, we still have a sniper rifle with messed-up sights, your shotgun and what appears to be a metal closet full of submachine guns.”

Vinyl takes a look at said closet. I guess it’s probably the only reason why the building is still standing – no one would expect an armoury in an abandoned brewery.

“You mean, that piece of junk?” Vinyl asks, grabbing one of the submachine guns. “Della Mortes had those. I did lots of holes in the ceiling when I tried to shoot that. And it only has ammo for two seconds… Kinda like Bacio della Morte.”

“That’s not something I wanted to know,” I say, levitating the remains of the pipe and banging it at another window. Just like before, the reaction is immediate. And just like before, I can see bright red tracers among the rounds that poke holes in a vat behind us. Those stand out like an alicorn in a Griffonian brothel…

“What are you doing?” Vinyl yells. “I nearly peed myself!” She looks at her beer. “In fact, soon I’ll have to…”

I ignore her, looking at the dirty wall. Right above the floor, there are a few bricks missing. The hole isn’t big, but my rifle and the scope should fit.

I take the bullets with red tips – if I recall correctly, the griffon who sold them to me said that those are incendiary. I slide them inside the rifle and pull the bolt.

“Are you gonna shoot them?” Vinyl asks me as I lie down by the hole and put the barrel in it. I don’t say anything, too busy staring through the scope. I must remember how much skewed to the right it is…

The heavy machine gun stands between bushes, about three hundred metres from the brewery. I look at the scope, but apparently the knobs are showing the distance in arshins. What the fuck? How much is three hundred metres in arshins? I raise the rifle slightly and move it to the left. The zebras seem to discuss the strategy. One of them is waving his hooves around, while the other two check their SMGs. Bad idea. Now I know who’s in charge. I aim carefully…

Blam!

My bullet pierces through the cooling system of the gun; zebras disappear in a vapour of steam, shouting and dropping on the ground. It seems that the barrel is now useless.

“Run like motherfucking hell!” I yell to Vinyl, levitating the rifle on my back. We dart out of the brewery. The zebras struggle with the spare barrel, but they’re too slow. Even though Vinyl is drunk and still carries all those bottles, we’re gonna run away before they’re able to change it.

That is, we would run away if Vinyl didn’t choose exactly that moment for her daily dose of going full retard.

“Sniper stop sniping!” she yells at the zebras, stopping in the middle of the plateau. “But this time, the sniper won’t stop!” She takes a sip of her beer while I take cover in the nearby bomb site. “Shit, I need to take a leak… Anyway, beer!” She raises her hoof. “Cerveza! How many cervezas can you chug? Uno! Dos! Tres!”

At “tres”, the bottle she’s levitating explodes, spraying her with beer and shards of glass. With a slight delay, I hear the whistle of the bullet.

“Holy shit!” Vinyl, now completely sober, runs to the ditch. “They have a sniper too!”

You don’t fucking say. The remains of the bottle don’t even manage to fall to the ground when my instincts kick in. The sniper is behind us and either missed Vinyl’s dumb head or tried for a trick shot. He also used a bright red tracer—what’s wrong with zebras and tracers?—so he’s probably an idiot.

A split second later, I turn to him, my rifle ready. He’s definitely an idiot – he chose a thorntree as his hideout. Now he’s looking desperately at the ground, not sure if he should jump off of it.

No chance, sucker. I aim quickly and pull the trigger.

My instincts may be good, but the scope and my aim still suck. The bullet goes right of the crosshair and instead of giving the sniper a second anus it hits the branch he’s sitting on. Through the scope I can see a fountain of splinters. Then the weakened branch breaks and the zebra drops to the ground.

“Minuette!” Vinyl screams. “Let’s get the fuck outta here!”

I turn to see that our friends installed a new barrel on their machine gun and they’re now hauling the whole thing towards us. The only way of escape is going to the sniper, who’s limping away, leaving his equipment behind.

We run to the thorntree, zig-zagging through the tall grass. The bullets fly above our heads. In an act of desperation Vinyl turns towards the soldiers and throws an empty beer bottle at them.

I open my mouth to say that it wasn’t very helpful—not the best last words, but still better than nothing— when I see that the pursuers run away from the bottle, ditching the machine gun. I don’t have time to contemplate this phenomenon – Vinyl runs faster than me, so I speed up to catch up with her.

Suddenly, Vinyl trips over something, losing some of her bottles. I stop and help her up, realising that we’re next to the sniper’s former hideout and that Vinyl just found his stuff.

“Hey! He even had beer!” Vinyl grabs something bottle-shaped. “Strange. It’s made of metal. Must be a limited edition…”

“It’s a grenade, you idiot!” I yell. A typical, bottle-like grenade from Hooviet Union. There’s another one lying in the grass next to me.

Well, that’d explain why the zebras ran away seeing the bottle. Unfortunately, they already noticed that the “grenade” smashed against their machine gun rather than explode, and they’re coming back to their positions.

I sigh and take the grenade from Vinyl. I push the lever with my magic and throw it. The zebras smirk at each other, probably thinking that it’s another bottle. Then, one of them (probably the biggest jackass) decides to show how cool he is and shoots the grenade with the machine gun.

Paradoxically, that’s what saves the lives of those wankers. The grenade explodes in mid-air a bit further away from them. Nevertheless, it throws them on the ground and probably deafens them. I hear ringing in my ears, but I grab Vinyl and teleport with her as far as I can see.

We end up in some ditch, where I throw up – an inevitable side effect of haste teleportation. Vinyl pokes her head outside the ditch and looks around.

“We’re close to the lake,” she says. “But there’s artillery there, not to mention that hovercraft.”

I take a look myself. To my surprise, I see our plane floating in the middle of the lake. A boat is standing nearby. I look through the scope to see Aryanne and some zebra in the boat with Hexie, Inkie, and Lyra. Hexie opens the door of the plane and they all enter it. Weird.

I take a look at the artillery. Well, crap. I can shoot one of the white ponies manning it, but they’ll shoot us back with a shell bigger than Vinyl’s favourite dildo. I look around, searching for an idea and soon I find the large fuel tanks next to the airship base.

“Vinyl,” I say. “I’m trying to find a way of distracting them that doesn’t involve blowing all this shit to hell. Do you have any ideas?”

Vinyl looks at the tanks and smirks. “No.”

“Good.” I check if I still have incendiary rounds, then I load three normal bullets and two incendiaries to the magazine.

“Hey, but I thought violence wasn’t an answer?” Vinyl asks.

“Yeah, and they’re gonna use those airships to drop leaflets,” I mutter, aiming at the fuel tank. “Si vis pacem…”

“... para bellum.” Vinyl says when I poke the first hole in the tank. Fuel starts leaking from it, but I poke two more holes in it, just to be sure. The wall of the tank is now wet with fuel and the next round I have in the chamber is incendiary. What can possibly go wrong?

The fuel bursts into flames. One of the ponies guarding the artillery notices that and shows it to the others. They look at each other unsurely before leaving the cannons on the beach and running away. Well, at least they’re running towards the airport – which means they’ll probably go and fight fire.

“Go!” I exclaim, jumping out of the ditch and running towards the beach. As we reach the water, a loud explosion deafens us, throwing us on the ground. Thick, black smoke obscures the sky. I turn to see that the first tank is gone. The other one, as well as two airships, are on fire. The blonde ponies decide that they’re not paid well enough and flee.

We jump to the water. At least Vinyl can swim well. She put one of her emergency condoms on the barrel of her shotgun so it doesn’t get wet. Too bad I didn’t think of protecting my rifle that way. I wave my hooves, trying to reach the plane as fast as possible.

When we’re halfway across the lake, the second tank explodes, bathing the whole airport in flames. The hangar and airships are burning, shaken by explosions of bombs and hydrogen. Waves almost drown us, but at least the plane is still standing – I hope no one inside decides to fly away, leaving us here.

“Holy shit!” Vinyl yells, seeing as one of the burning airships is lifted off the ground. It flies erratically and rams into the wall of the weather factory.

“Dive!” I exclaim.

The explosion is smaller than I expected, but it’s still enough to be felt even underwater. When I emerge, I see that the airship went kaboom, but half of the factory is still standing, albeit in flames. Freed clouds fly around it, hissing when they touch fire. The main rainbow reactor is exposed. I was once repairing such a thing in Cloudsdale and I know what can happen when it boils…

We reach the plane and climb on it. I don’t think they heard us through all the explosions happening on the shore, but anyway we enter it as quietly as we can, hiding behind the crates standing in the back.

“I’m gonna varn you one last time,” Aryanne says. “Start, or ve’re gonna shoot her!”

I assess the situation. Inkie and Hexie are sitting in the cockpit. Aryanne and some zebra soldier are standing on both sides of the door, holding Lyra at a gunpoint. The zebra has a submachine gun, while Aryanne has a strange pistol with an integral box magazine and attached stock to make using it with hooves easier. A red “9” is painted on the side of the grip panel.

At least they’re not looking at us. I lean from behind my crate and wave at Inkie.

“Turn on ze engines!” Aryanne exclaims.

I nod. Inkie turns on the engines, which roar, props waking up and turning slowly. The plane shakes – I guess something else on the shore blew up.

Vinyl looks at me and at the zebra, readying her shotgun. I shake my head. Lighting my horn, I focus on the small button on the side of the soldier’s submachine gun. I click it, releasing the magazine. The zebra looks at his weapon, dumbfounded, before the stock meets his face. Aryanne turns to us, raising her pistol.

At the same moment, Inkie pushes the throttle lever forward. We dart across the lake. Aryanne loses balance and falls, the bullet from her gun flying above my head. She tries to get up, but at the same time Lyra roars and kicks her in the hoof, tearing the gun out of the stock and the straps holding it. Judging by the sickening crunch, she also breaks something.

“I’m sick of it!” Lyra screams, punching Aryanne. “All the time…” she punches her again. “... you hold me at a gunpoint…” She kicks her and stands in front of her panting. “Why not Inkie for a change?”

Instead of a reply, Aryanne kicks Lyra in the stomach and darts to grab her gun. Inkie turns the plane to throw her on the wall. Vinyl falls on me, while Lyra lands on Aryanne. The zebra wakes up and looks around, but Vinyl quickly smacks him with the butt of her shotgun. Before he can get up again, we take off, which throws us all back.

I get my bearings the fastest and kick the zebra off the plane. The fall is rather short and he lands in water. Unfortunately, just after that I find myself on the receiving end of Aryanne’s punch. Who’d expect she’s so strong? Not me, definitely. The plane makes another wild maneuver, this time preventing Vinyl from grabbing her shotgun.

“Stop helping us, dammit!” I yell to Inkie over the explosions and roar of engines.

“Should I help you?” Hexie runs to us. Lyra accidentally rams into her, but Hexie is much heavier and doesn’t even notice.

“Banzai!” Vinyl yells, smashing a beer bottle on Aryanne’s head. She wants to hit her again, but the sudden turn parts them.

“Fly straight!” I shout.

“They’re shooting at us!” Inkie replies.

Dammit. I look through the window and see the hovercraft following us. We’re pretty far from the ground, but I can still see Kyrie on its roof, firing an autocannon at us. What’s worse, the weather factory eventually blows up, bathing everything in multi-hued, opalising vapour – a product of burning rainbow concentrate. If engines suck it in, we’re dead. It’s heavier than air, but there’s a lot of it. It may burn the air filters and eat through all the sealings.

“Minuette! Watch out!”

I duck, barely avoiding getting shot – Aryanne somehow got her gun back. Lyra rams into her, pushing her towards Hexie, who stands on her front legs, turning rapidly. I’m starting to feel for Aryanne…

“Show her the door!” Lyra shouts.

“Won do piekła, kurwo wściekła!” Hexie yells, her hind legs connecting with Aryanne’s ass, kicking her through the door.

I look through the window. The hovercraft is sinking in the lake, its engines choking and air cushion full of holes burned by rainbow smoke. Aryanne waves her legs helplessly, falling towards the lake which, at this height, will be as hard as concrete.

Shit. I kinda liked her. May the earth rest lightly on her.

A white blur flies below us, trying to reach Aryanne. I look at the hovercraft and notice that Kyrie abandoned her autocannon. She catches Aryanne, or rather, Aryanne lands on her, slowing down. Together, they drop into the water, making a huge splash. Before we get above all the smoke, I notice Kyrie emerging from the lake, holding Aryanne in her hooves.

We circle above the hell we created and fly east as fast as we can, leaving Zebrica behind. For a long time, I just lie on the floor of the plane, panting heavily and listening to Lyra’s bitching.

“Nopony even asked me questions!” Lyra exclaims. “They kept asking Hexie and Inkie about things, but I was only pushed around, held at a gunpoint, poked with barrels… I’m sick of it!”

“We ended up in a dungeon!” Vinyl shouts.

“So did we!” Lyra rolls her eyes. “In the factory, with expired cloud ingredients oozing from the walls! This stuff gives you cancer!”

“They wanted to shoot Minuette.”

“Same. Three times! And they wanted to dip me in the rainbow concentrate! Why didn’t they put Inkie there? They were asking her how the plane worked.”

“They knew she’d die for her friends but wouldn’t want her friends to die for her,” Hexie replies. “Same with me.”

“Shut up for a moment!” Vinyl exclaims. “I think I can hear something.”

“Lucky you,” I mutter. “All I can hear is ringing after all those things blowing up.”

“No, seriously, the radio tries to tell us something.” Hexie turns the knob. “Nah, it’s gone.”

“I’m afraid it’s not,” Inkie says, pointing at something in front of our plane.

I stand up and go to the cockpit to take a look. There’s a large airship in front of us, moving lazily in our direction. Did any of those survive blowing up the airport? I look at it closer. It’s bigger and much more sophisticated than zebra airships, not to mention the rather unusual painting on the side of its balloon: a griffon standing on a crescent moon and waving a sabre at the viewers.

The static coming from the radio disappears. “Good morning, Zebrica! The Great and Powerful Trixie is here to provide entertainment as well as save the lives of her friends!”

“Oh, fuck me,” Inkie mutters, immediately covering her mouth with her hoof.

“Trixie, stop fucking around,” I say to the radio. “What are you doing here and where did you get that airship?”

“The prince gave it to Trixie,” Trixie replies. “He told her to hide somewhere until he becomes a sultan and gave her the airship and twenty janissaries to protect her. Trixie chose to go to Haygypt.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re not in Haygypt anymore,” I mutter. “How did you get there?”

“Trixie met Daring Do and it turned out that you still didn’t come back,” Trixie replies. “And it wasn’t that difficult to find you, you know. Just look behind you.”

I look back. There’s a long, black pillar of smoke hanging above the horizon, far away from us. Oh yeah, there are no better ways of saying, “Minuette and her friends were here”.

“Okay,” I say. “So, how far are we from Haygypt?”

“Don’t worry,” Trixie replies. “Do you have fuel? Just follow Trixie!”

Luckily, we do have fuel, so all we have to do is to follow the airship. Or rather, the airship soon follows us, because it is still a large, not exactly aerodynamic ball of gas with engines. Well, we’re kinda similar, but without the gas.

It’s late evening when we land in Hayiro. I’m tired as hell. The first thing I do is throw up into the river, probably offending some gods or something. Hexie has to carry Lyra out of the plane. I’m dehydrated, bruised, half-deaf, and I really want donuts. Or pickles. Or both. I’m pretty sure that’s some important nutrients simply evaporated with my sweat.

Oh, and while we’re at it: we all smell, even though Vinyl and I took a bath in the lake.

When leaving the plane, I notice Aryanne’s pistol still lying on the floor. I levitate it and take a closer look. It’s old and somewhat classy, but this is all I can say without at least ten hours of sleep.

“Do you want it?” I ask Inkie.

“No, thanks,” Inkie replies. “I’d shoot myself or worse, someone else.”

“I can take it.” Hexie grabs the gun from me and spins it in her hoof. It goes off, the bullet hitting the ground next to Vinyl’s hoof, while the gun smacks her in the face.

“How about no?” I ask, taking the gun from her. “Let’s see what Daring is doing.”

We find Daring Do in a large house made of clay bricks. She’s sleeping on a deck chair standing on the balcony. Ruby is also there, wrapped in her sleeping bag, cuddling her airgun.

“Daring?” I ask. “We’re home.”

“What took you so long?” Daring Do groans, opening her eyes.

“A bunch of Aryanne’s clones trying to murder us,” I reply. “We translated that information and got out alive while you were listening to your ass growing fat in here so you could at least be grateful.”

“I also had important things to do,” Daring Do says. “I was watching Caballeron all the time.”

“Oh really?” I ask. “And where’s he now?”

“There.” Daring Do points at the house on the opposite side of the street. It has an identical balcony, with Dr. Caballeron sitting on a deck chair. When he sees us, he smiles and waves at us. “He’s watching me too.”

I sigh, smacking my forehead with my hoof. “So, you were sitting there, watching each other all the time?”

“Ruby tried to shoot him, but it’s too far away,” Daring Do says. “So, what does this text say?”

“Some nasty things about your mom,” I reply. “And I’m not sure if Lyra still has it, after they tried to make rainbows out of her.”

“Oh, I still have it,” Lyra says, shuddering. “I hid it… well.”

“Where?” Vinyl asks.

“You don’t want to know.” Lyra produces a piece of paper with the translation and gives it to Daring Do.

Daring Do reads the text quickly and furrows her eyebrows. She scratches her mane, then proceeds to scratch her chin.

“Do you have fleas?” Vinyl asks. “Or lice. I got lice once and my mom shaved my mane off.”

“Shut up,” Daring Do mutters. “Fork in the middle of the desert? I know that place.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I thought of some place where river splits, but those probably changed since it was written.”

“Well, not really,” Daring Do replies. “There’s a rock structure in southern Haygypt that does look like a fork when observed from the air. It’s covered in symbols telling a story of mythical war between creatures that came from the sky and demons from the depths.”

“Awesome,” I mutter. “As if Zebrica wasn’t enough.”

“You can always blow it up,” Trixie says. “It appears to be your favourite way to do anything.”

“I’ll consider that possibility,” I say. “But now, I have to go to sleep…”

Author's Notes:

No matter what Pulli wants to think, "Pulli" is not an old Griffoninan name. That'd be "Ulli" (Ulrich). "Pulli" is a short form of "Pullover", though. Which is more of a pony name.

Minuette's "ritual" is basically one of Mozart's less-discussed works. "Lick my ass clean and well" is probably not something one likes to talk about in music schools.

Won do piekła, kurwo wściekła! - Go to hell, rabid/mad whore! Generally, if something rhymes in one language, Hexie says it in this language so it sounds better. For her.