Author's Notes:

Jeez! Longest chapter yet!

Gotta thank Witchy for helping me out with Patch's scenes, and then a special shout-out to Calm Wind for the use of a very special guest this chapter. (more on that later)

Just a bit of fair warning, this is my darkest chapter yet, so be warned going forward.
To counteract this, I've brought in a special- WHAT THEaAAGH!

HEEEEEEEEERE'S TWISTER!

Hiya Kiddies! So guess who decided to swipe ol' Hoxy's outline and-

OI! Get back here with that!

WHOOPS! Gotta run, kiddies! Have fun!

Green Pastures, Cloak’s Front Porch, Equestria
50 Years After the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Cloak glanced away as he finished his tale. He knew that this would be a troubling tale to share, but the shame he felt as he confessed wormed its way into his chest.

“So who won the bets?” asked Evening Star, the youngest of the group.

Cloak merely stared in shock. He had just told a story of how his group had been involved with the deaths of five innocent ponies, and the foals all seemed to shrug it off.

“...I’m not sure you really understood what happened,” replied Cloak uneasily. “We-”

“-beat up a bad stallion that hurt five innocent ponies,” finished Evening. “Did you do something else?”

“She isn’t wrong,” smirked Daring.

Cloak frowned slightly, uncertain of how to respond. Clearly, none of the foals saw any blame for the Rat Pack in the last story. Not even the brutal beating that Rat gave to Pitch was objectionable to them. Cold Snap shifted slightly before speaking up.

“Grandpa, you and Great Aunt Dagger have mentioned Jaegers several times without explanation,” observed Cold Snap. “What’s a Jaeger?”

Cloak’s blood ran cold as memories of the brutal JSS enforcers flashed before his eyes. Screams of terror and fear from injured and dying ponies filled his head. He felt his voice catch in his throat as his pulse quickened. He could see that Daring, Dagger, and Arclight were having similar reactions.

“Snap, Janus Security Solutions was a horrible, horrible organization,” began Cloak slowly. “There are times where I’m grateful that ponies don’t realize how terrible they were. The Jaeger Project is an excellent example of that.”

“Why?” asked Kingfisher. “What did they do?”

“The Jaeger was designed to be an unbeatable soldier, capable of withstanding impossible odds for long periods of time,” explained Cloak. “To design such a soldier, Janus had no ethical lines that they weren’t willing to cross, including growing foals from stolen donor material, and putting said foals through brutal live-fire exercises.”

“Why didn’t you stop them?!” exclaimed Kingfisher angrily.

“We did, once,” replied Cloak. “It actually wasn’t too long after the concert heist, now that I think about it…”

The Cirrus, Mess Hall, Equestria
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“You sure you’re alright, Rat?” asked Dagger for the fifth time.

“Yes, Dagger, I’m fine,” sighed Rat, taking a long sip from his mug of tea. “We did the job. It’s over now. We’re all fine.”

It had been three weeks since their groundbreaking concert heist, and the Rat Pack had finished a number of jobs in that time. The group was taking a small break at the moment, relaxing in the mess hall and enjoying some downtime. Cloak and Hawk were engaged in a smoked salmon eating contest as Arclight refereed and Clover and Phantasm watched. Tank was looking on with interest, but his right ear kept turning toward another table as another group was deep in private discussion.

“Rat, I’m calling bullshit,” frowned Dagger. “You’ve been sulking ever since we got back from Canterlot, and don’t you deny it.”

“Under what authority?” grunted Rat. “You know that none of us have any sort of rank. We aren’t the Wonderbolts, Dagger. No chain of command here.”

“I’ll show you a ‘chain of command’ if you don’t-” began Dagger.

“What the fu-aaAAUGH!” screamed a stallion as he tumbled past Rat and Dagger.

An all-too familiar bellow filled the mess hall, accompanied by the screams and yelps of Shadowbolts. Tank was howling and snorting in rage, bellowing as he ripped tables and benches up from the mess hall floor, breaking through solid welds as he tossed them around like a foal’s building blocks. Hawk was up in an instant, at Tank’s side with a hoof on his shoulder.

“Easy, Big Guy! Easy!” yelled Hawk. “Take it easy! We’re safe, remember? We’re home, Big Guy. We’re home. Just breathe… Easy… That’s it…”

With heart in his throat, Rat watched in shock as Hawk stopped Tank mid-rampage. Between Tank’s sudden outburst and its sudden resolution, the entire mess hall had been shocked into silence. Hawk waited until Tank’s breathing had returned to normal before moving away. As he did so, Rat could feel his heart freeze in dread at the cold fire in Hawk’s eyes. He’d worked with the stallion for a few years now, but never had Rat seen Hawk this livid before. Hawk strode with deadly purpose toward the group of stallions that had been chatting before, now gathered around their fallen comrade.

“What did you say?” demanded Hawk, pushing past the others toward the injured one.

“Wha-” began the stallion before yelping as he was lifted by his flightsuit off of the deck.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY, DICKWEED?!” howled Hawk.

“Nothing, I swear!” blubbered the stallion. “We respect you-”

“DON’T GIVE ME THAT SHIT, ASSCLOWN!” snarled Hawk. “TANK HEARD YOU SAY SOMETHING, SO WHAT WAS IT?”

“Hawk! Stand down!” barked Rat.

“Suck a-” began Hawk, but was interrupted.

Tank had walked over to Hawk unnoticed amid the second incident and placed a hoof on the stallion’s back. An unspoken message seemed to pass between them, and Hawk’s anger seemed to subside. Without a word, Hawk lowered the stallion to the deck and walked out the door with Tank. Rat approached the unfamiliar stallion, clearing his throat.

“Are you alright?” asked Rat.

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah, fine,” replied the stallion unsteadily. “What the hell was that about?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” probed Rat. “Of the two of them, Hawk is the more unstable one, but I’ve never seen either of them go off like that for any reason.”

“No, believe me, I know the rep,” reassured the stallion. “You guys are probably the friendliest group on the Cirrus as long as a stallion keeps to the Code. So forgive me when I say that I have no fucking clue why a bunch of recon reports would cause all this.”

“Recon reports?” clarified Rat. “Where from?”

“Sireberia, of all places,” replied the stallion. “Just outside of Moscolt. We’ve been noticing some weird Cossack activity for almost two or three years now.”

“What kind of weird activity?” pressed Rat. “Anything tangible?”

“Just a fair amount of construction and deliveries, but no signs of any sort of expansion of the base on the surface,” reported the stallion. “The weirdest thing was the arrival of a bunch of scientists and what appeared to be small animal crates.”

At this, a faint memory stirred in the back of Rat’s mind. He suddenly had a feeling that he knew what set Tank off, and was amazed that he had not thought of it before. One quick question would confirm his suspicions.

“Those supplies wouldn’t happen to have been from Janus Security Solutions, would they?” asked Rat.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” replied the stallion.

“And how big were the boxes?” asked Rat. “Big enough for a pony, maybe?”

“They’d have to be a really small pony to be transported safely like that,” whistled the stallion. “Again, why do you ask?”

“Because there are only two things that make Tank go savage like that,” explained Rat. “One of them is the Hekate Torch Bearers. The other is Janus Security Solutions.”

“Hot damn, you’re serious?” swore the stallion, before an odd look crossed his face as the full impact of Rat’s questions hit home. “Shit, you don’t think Janus set up some sort of base over there?”

“Hawk and Tank do, and I’m guessing they’re storming Dante’s Quarters right now,” replied Rat grimly. “Thanks for the info, and sorry about my crew.”

“No permanent damage on my end,” chuckled the stallion. “Name’s Matchstick, Recon Specialist. If you ever need another set of hooves, let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” grinned Rat. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few crew members to wrangle back into shape.”

Rat motioned once with his wing, and the remaining members of the Rat Pack rose and followed him. They quickly made their way to Dante’s office, hoping they could stop their comrades before they did something rash. Rat could already hear Hawk’s voice from inside the room.

“...respect, I don’t buy it,” argued Hawk. “There has to be some sort of contract out there!”

“And for the last time, Hawk, there are no active contracts in Sireberia, much less Moscolt,” replied Dante. “Especially none against Janus Security. Now, if anything changes, I will be sure to inform you and Tank, since you two seem so eager to-”

Just as Rat entered the room, a Hummingbird with a scroll arrived in the window, dropping its payload onto the desk between Hawk and Tank before buzzing down to the Pit. Dante raised an eyebrow at the scroll, opening it and reading its contents. The old stallion’s frown deepened as he neared the end of the message, proceeding to reread it several times. Without looking up, Dante then spoke.

“You may enter, Rat,” commanded Dante.

Rat approached the desk, giving Hawk a severe glare as he did so.

“Now, I have no idea how your comrades did so, but they have guessed every single detail of this contract long before it landed on my desk,” stated Dante firmly. “Thanks to their sudden clairvoyance, I’m afraid I have no other option than to pass this contract to your team, Rat. I’d advise you to dress warm. Moscolt is colder than a Windigo’s teat, and its inhabitants are even more so.”

Rat nodded once, not even speaking, before dragging Hawk out of the office by his ear.

“What the hell was that back there?” hissed Rat. “Why was that such a big deal for you? I know why Tank hates JSS, but what gave you the inclination to go batshit insane on a fellow Shadowbolt?!”

“Look, I just needed answers out of him, alright?” retorted Hawk. “It was nothing personal-”

“The hell it wasn’t!” swore Rat. “You better give me a damn good explanation right now, Hawk.”

“Who the hell do you think brought Tank here?” countered Hawk. “I’m the one who helped him evade JSS to get here! He’s my responsibility!”

Rat was silent at this revelation. He’d known that Tank and Hawk were close, but he’d never known why.

“This clearly isn’t the time for this story, but I expect to hear it in detail at some point,” conceded Rat. “For now, grab your supplies, but don’t bother grabbing suits. I think I may need to take Razor up on a piece of advice he gave me.”

The Cirrus, Patch’s Workshop, Equestria
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Rat glanced around the room, uncertain of what he might find. The room itself was a mirror image of Hoxton’s workshop, but the layout and equipment were vastly different. The back half of the room was mostly taken up by shelves piled high with boxes, and the rest was hidden from view by screens with pieces of fabric draped over the top. The front half was dominated by a work area that could kindly be called an organized mess, but more accurately described as chaotic disarray. Large air brush rigs rested in another area where the Heavy Combat suits were made. Graphene polymers were secured in racks with clamps to prevent them from scattering in the event of turbulence or, Celestia forbid, a crash. Metal shears and tailor equipment was tossed haphazardly onto the magnetic racks sitting by her workbench. Opposite the haphazard workspace, discarded flight suits and ponyquins with half-finished suits litter the last corner, filing cabinets with labeled drawers placed against the outer wall.

“Hello?” called out Rat. “Patch? My name is Rat. I was told you could help me with a custom order?”

“Gimme a sec!” came the reply from somewhere in the back. Far longer than a second, and a string of inventive curses in almost singsong Vietmanese that made Rat chuckle, later, Patch appeared from behind the screens blocking off the back-right corner, her yellow-tinted safety glasses perched atop her head and a drafting pencil tucked behind her ear. “Sorry about that… Special order? What for?”

“New variety of suit,” explained Rat. “Also, forgive me, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone call an inanimate object a ‘cow-sucking, dog-fucking child of a drooling whore and a monkey’ in such a pleasant voice before.”

“When a sewing machine chews up everything you put through it, you’d say the same thing,” Patch retorted shortly before grabbing a pad of paper from a desk in the work area. “What’s the suit need?” she asked, pulling the pencil from behind her ear and perching on the edge of the desk.

“You’ll probably stab me with that pencil for this, but I need it to have the properties of the Cold Weather variant with the bolt-stopping capabilities of the Heavy Combat variant,” continued Rat.

Patch’s eyes widened at the description even as she took down the notes muttering more colorful curses. “And I don’t stab ponies with pencils… Waste of a perfectly good pencil.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” smiled Rat. “And I hope I’m not the one that’s supposed to suck the nether regions of an aquatic bird?”

“No. It’s what I might have to do in order to get this to work,” she quipped, sighing heavily and shaking her head. “I’ll have to start with the cold weather, and maybe if I…” Patch trailed off, scanning the chaotic work area briefly before going to the various canisters and looking through them. After a long string of variations on “no”, she holds one for a long moment before setting it beside her on the worktop, scribbling furiously on her pad before giving a firm nod. “Yeah…” She turned her attention back to her visitor, seeming to finally remember that Rat was still there. “Might take me a bit to get the mix right, but I’ll add in some light plates to cover vital areas for just in cases…”

“You’ve come up with a solution?” inquired Rat. “That was very quick. Razor didn’t do your gift justice.”

She shrugged, but there was a little upturn at one corner of her mouth at the mention of Razor that gave away the mare’s pleasure at the second-hoof praise. “I know my materiel. It’ll still be a nightmare to get the mixture right so the graphene will tolerate the cold, though. When do you need these and who for?”

“As soon as you can make them, since there’s no point in leaving before you’ve got them finished,” replied Rat. “We’ll need them for myself, Cloak, Dagger, Hawk, Tank, Clover, Arclight, and Phantasm.”

Leaving her notepad on the worktop, Patch flitted across the workshop to the fitting area, going straight to a filing cabinet. Opening one drawer and rifling through it, she pulled one file out and paged through it. “None of you’ve grown wider since Cross last took your measurements, right?”

“Not to my knowledge, no,” replied Rat. “One could make an argument for Hawk or Cloak, given how the Eating Contest went last night, but nothing permanent, no.”

With a smirk and a slightly malicious glint in her eye, Patch chuckled. “Send Hawk down anyways… Have to be sure, don’t we?”

“Please try to avoid anything permanent,” grinned Rat. “As much of a shit as he can be at times, I really do need him.”

Patch waved a hoof dismissively at him, though her mirth remained undimmed. “Oh, a few pricks with a needle never hurt anypony… I would know. Now you should go send him down so I can get to work.”

“Absolutely,” replied Rat, walking toward the door but stopping before leaving. “You know, you’re actually a lot of fun to be around. The Pack’s having a Poker Night in a few weeks. You should join us. Razor usually cleans out half of us and then calls it a night. You might actually be able to stop that rampage.”

However, Rat’s words were completely lost as Patch vanished in a flurry of cloth, shears, pins, and measuring tapes. Rat simply smiled and walked out of the workshop. If only she realized how similar she was to her next-door neighbor, perhaps the Basement Wars could end peacefully. However, Rat knew that was about as likely as Hawk actually falling in love...

Moscolt, South Quarter, Sireberia
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Frigging nag,” swore Hawk for the fifth time. “I swear she cut this suit wrong on purpose. Blood flow is restricted so much that I can barely feel my-”

“Good,” interrupted Dagger. “Keeps the blood in your brain where it belongs.”

Hawk glared at Dagger as Cloak doubled over in silent laughter.

“Very funny, Dagger, but what if it shrivels up and dies down there?” asked Hawk.

“More than it has already?” quipped Clover.

Hawk sighed in exasperation as the rest of the Shadowbolts broke down and laughed quietly. Rat couldn’t help but chuckle as well at Hawk’s misfortune.

“Alright, let’s cut the chatter down,” chuckled Rat, still slightly irritated by Hawk’s earlier behavior. “We know why we’re here, so let’s get to the task. Phantasm, see about finding an overlook to set up crossbow support. Clover, go with her to see where the best places to plant the breaching charges are. The rest of you follow me. We’ll check the alleyways and sidestreets for good escape routes if we need to lose followers without being spotted.”

The two groups split off to their tasks, moving without a sound. As he saw more of the streets and buildings, Rat was reminded strongly of his youth in Saddle Arabia. Trade the numbing cold for blistering heat and add a few more street urchins, and this could have easily been the downtown marketplace. Merchants argued with peasants over the price of stale bread while drunkards stumbled into and out from the alleyways, while cutpurses looted the rich and naive without rest.

Hell, even the brutes were the same. Down a nearby alleyway, a group of street thugs were beating a pair of stallions in an alleyway, a scene Rat had watched play out countless times in his youth. One stallion, a bright green pegasus with a striking blue mane, was being used as a sort of punching bag, suspended from a hanging set of clotheslines. The other stallion, a tan earth pony with a jet black mane, was being kicked by a group of thugs gathered in a circle around him. Rat felt the anger of the injustice rise and flow through him without effect as he concentrated on the task at hoof.

Tank frowned deeply as he watched the two stallions get beaten. The scene made Rat’s blood boil as well, but they didn’t have time to waste on solving street quarrels. Hawk placed a hoof on Tank’s shoulder and shook his head. Tank huffed in frustration and looked away, allowing Rat to think that was the end of it. The sound of Tank taking off and Hawk’s choked gasp corrected Rat of that illusion.

Tank descended on the nearest group of thugs, bashing them aside by using Hawk as a flail. The thugs hit the nearest wall and slumped over, unconscious. The other group of thugs took one look at the mountain of a pegasus growling at them and ran for their lives. Tank snorted once before setting Hawk back down, pleased with the outcome. Rat sighed in exasperation, but couldn’t honestly fault Tank for his actions.

“Cloak, Dagger, keep watch,” ordered Rat. “ Arclight, check on the victims.”

Cloak and Dagger nodded once, taking up position. Arclight turned his attention to the green pegasus stallion suspended in the clotheslines.

“Are you alright?” asked Arclight, yelping as the green stallion shifted.

“IIIIIII’VE GOT NO STRINGS! TO HOLD ME DOWN! TO MAKE ME SAD! OR MAKE ME FROWN!” the stallion sang obnoxiously offkey. “I ONCE HAD STRINGS! BUT NOW I’M FREE! THERE ARE NO STRINGS ON MEEEEEEEEE!”

“I think those thugs didn’t just knock a few teeth loose,” muttered Cloak, yelping as the stallion was now sitting with an arm resting conspiratorially around him.

“Good thing I’ve got a few spare sets of those, eh?” snickered the stallion, holding up a bag of wind-up chattering teeth.

Dagger grabbed the stallion and pressed him to the wall, glaring.

“Who are you?” demanded Dagger. “What did those thugs want?”

“Names are for friends, so I don’t need one,” the stallion countered in a gruff voice, his unsettling smirk now absent. “And perhaps they were looking for THIS!”

The stallion drew an impossibly long knife from what seemed to be thin air. Faster than anyone could blink, Dagger had drawn her signature weapon to meet the stallion’s weapon. However, Dagger’s blade sliced cleanly through the stallion’s, causing the severed “blade” to flop onto the frozen street.

“GRANDPA BOWIE KNIFE!” the stallion exclaimed suddenly, diving to cradle the rubber blade. “NOOOOOO!”

“Dammit, no one told me this shit was gonna have nuts in it,” grumbled Hawk.

Cloak leaned down with a very serious face and looked Hawk straight in the eye.

“Hey, Hawk,” grinned Cloak. “This shit’s gonna have nuts in it!”

“Cloak… Go f-”

“Both of you be quiet,” interrupted Rat, turning to Arclight and the other stallion. “How is he?”

“Banged up, to be sure,” replied Arclight. “He’s unconscious, but he won’t be for very long, and- oh… this is a problem.”

“What?” asked Rat. “What could-”

Rat glanced down at the stallion’s heavy jacket, which was now open to reveal a Equestrian Royal Navy uniform. The tan earth pony opened one eye, slightly dazed. His eyes locked on the Rat Pack, widening as he saw the matching uniforms.

“...Shit,” swore Rat under his breath.

“Oh, thank Celestia, Special Forces!” breathed the stallion, grinning. “We’ll be home at last!”

“...Um, what?” asked Rat.

“Aren’t you Special Forces from Canterlot?” asked the stallion, confused. “We’ve been sending spell messages for the last three years, requesting aid.”

“What’s your rank and posting?” asked Rat guardedly.

“Ensign White Knight of the HMS Voyager,” replied the stallion.

Rat reeled in shock. Fairly recently, just over three years ago, the HMS Voyager vanished without a trace and was presumed to be lost and destroyed. Hell, it had been all over the news when the youngest son of legendary Admiral Gold Star had vanished with the vessel. According to this stallion, Voyager had not only survived, but was here in Moscolt, and had been trying to make her way home ever since. However, as confusing as this situation was, the fact that they were assumed to be allies was fortunate.

“No messages of any kind have been received,” explained Rat, simply rolling with the “special operations” cover story. “Officially, we’re not even ‘here’ at all.”

“Oh…” replied Knight. “So, what brought you here, or is that classified?”

Before Rat could answer, the comm unit clicked on.

“Rat, we’ve got a problem,” hissed Clover.

“What kind and how bad?” asked Rat.

“We just watched the Cossacks take two prisoners into the camp,” explained Clover. “A pegasus and a unicorn, to be exact. Wait… Shite, it looks like they’re Equestrian Royal Navy… What the hell are they doing out this far?”

“Knight, were you with anypony?” asked Rat.

“Yes, Lieutenant Proton Star and Lieutenant Commander Ice Burn,” replied Knight. “Why?”

“What’s Voyager’s comm frequency?” demanded Rat.

“Seventy four by six hundred fifty six,” replied Knight. “Why? What’s going on?”

Rat didn’t answer, instead setting a new channel on his comm unit to the designated frequency.

“HMS Voyager?” asked Rat.

“This is Chief Lightning Torrent, who are you and how the hell did you get this frequency?” an irate voice crackled over the comms.

“Listen and listen carefully, Chief,” barked Rat. “We don’t have much time. Proton Star and Ice Burn have been captured by hostile forces-”

“WHAT?!” exclaimed Knight and Torrent in near-perfect unison.

“Yes, I’m here with Ensign Knight right now,” explained Rat. “We are a secret task force that was assigned to take out the hostile forces that have your crew-”

“Knight will bring you back to the ship,” snapped Torrent. “Captain Noire will be in her Ready Room. Be there.”

The line went dead. White Knight was looking around in confusion, trying to process all that he overheard. The green stallion had reappeared next to Knight, grinning a very silly grin.

“Having trouble keeping up?” snickered the stallion. “Don’t you worry, kid! Uncle Twister managed to swipe ol’ Hoxy’s outline! Shame I’m going to miss the Poker Night next chapter, ooh and then the funeral in Chapter-”

A giant hammer with the word “Spoilers” in bright red letters appeared from thin air and flattened Twister in a single swing with an inflatable squeaking sound, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. Rat stared at the bizarre stallion with a deadpan expression.

“Don’t suppose we could leave you here?” mused Rat.

“Nope!” grinned Twister. “Dead or alive, I’m coming with you!”

HMS Voyager, Captain Noire’s Quarters, Sireberia
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“So let me get this straight,” repeated Captain Cafée Noire. “Janus Security Solutions is, in fact, engaged in illicit experimentation, from which they created the Jaeger Project, whose three known subjects died holding back an impossible number of Sky Wings during the last war, and they now have set up a similar lab beyond Equestria’s borders to continue their illicit work?”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Rat calmly. “And my task force was assigned to raise hell with said lab, but now my mission has become fairly complicated.”

“I’m sorry that my officers’ peril has inconvenienced you so much,” retorted Noire. “We’re just trying to get back to Equestria without starting another war.”

“Not an inconvenience, but a complication still,” clarified Rat. “We’ll need to get your officers out of there before we carry out our mission. Honestly, everything right now is a mess. We weren’t supposed to make contact with anypony.”

“And your… friend?” asked Noire, glancing at Twister.

Rat glanced at Twister and watched as he ran around the bridge, laughing madly as Torrent chased him around the bridge. In his hooves, the green stallion carried what was without a doubt Voyager’s engine crystal. Torrent swung her claws wildly at Twister, swearing fluently and creatively in Griffonese. The rest of the crew watched in apprehension, ducking as the pair drew near.

“...No, we found that one with your crew member, actually,” replied Rat. “You know just as much as I do when it comes to him.”

Noire sighed in exasperation. “Are you capable of rescuing my officers without aid?” asked Noire. “Knight claims that you’re special forces from Canterlot, but I’m not as convinced. However, given the circumstances, I don’t give a damn if you’re a travelling pantomime group as long as you get them out.”

“The trick will be to lure excess security away,” explained Rat. “Now that they’ve found Equestrian Military, the Cossacks and JSS will be on high alert, making it nearly impossible to slip in at all, much less unnoticed.”

“I assume that creating a distraction of some kind is out of the question?” asked Noire.

“Not without risking the lives of your officers,” replied Rat. “JSS would slit their throats the moment they thought a military operation was in progress.”

“Making all conventional distractions nonviable,” concluded Noire. “So we’ll need something impossible to predict…”

“Exactly,” replied Rat. “Something that is impossible to miss, and has no ties to the Equestrian Military whatsoever.”

Rat stopped, glancing behind him. Lighting Torrent now had a hold of Twister, and was attempting to beat the crystal out of him with a large wrench with little success. Rat moved silently behind her, catching the wrench in one hoof. He then kicked Twister hard in the gut, causing the stallion to cough up the stolen crystal, which he caught in his free hoof.

“We’re going to need him in one piece…” explained Rat as he shook the saliva off of the crystal.

Moscolt, Moscolt Cossack’s Garrison, Sireberia
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“I still say he’d be able to function in more than one piece…” grumbled Torrent over the comms.

“Not taking that chance, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” replied Rat.

“Sir, are you sure this will work?” asked Knight, glancing uncertainly at the Cossack guards.

“First, don’t call me ‘sir’,” replied Rat. “Second, we don’t have any other options, so it has to.”

“What’d ya do to convince that screwball to work with us?” frowned Hawk.

“Nothing, oddly enough,” remarked Rat. “He said some nonsense about an ‘outline’ and ‘sticking to it in spirit’. Ignored it, mostly.”

“He’s approaching the-” began Dagger, before stopping abruptly.

“What, what’s he doing?” asked Rat.

“Boss, what did you tell him to do?” asked Dagger.

“I didn’t tell him to do anything,” replied Rat. “He said that he’d ‘improvise’. Why?”

“You need to see this…” sighed Dagger, passing Rat her field binoculars.

Rat scanned the street below, and had to suppress a sigh of exasperation. Twister was dressed in a full Sireberian military officer’s uniform, marching toward the front gate in a pompous manner. Strangely, no one seemed to be questioning Twister’s disguise, with all Cossacks saluting and standing at attention. Twister returned these salutes in a ridiculously exaggerated manner, nearly knocking his hat off several times. Upon reaching the gate, the stallion marched right up to the nearest guard and stood barely inches away from his face.

"Oleg, you haven't been moving my military medals, have you?" asked Twister in a ridiculously thick Moscolt accent.

“...Nyet?” replied the guard. “My name is not Oleg-”

"Well, they're gone and I have an event I need to speak at today,” huffed Twister pompously. “Where are they?"

“My name is not Oleg!” protested the guard. “I don’t know where your medals are!”

"Dammit Oleg, medals and awards don't sprout legs and walk away!" growled Twister as he paced agitatedly.

“But I’m not-” began the guard.

"OLEG, THIS IS A MATTER OF GLORY OR IMPRISONMENT! WHERE ARE THE MEDALS?!" bellowed Twister, grabbing hold of the Cossack’s face, slapping him with each word.

At this, a rhythmic squeaking could be heard as a set of medals marched by with pairs of what appeared to be military dress shoes. There was complete silence as everyone watching was captivated by the flawless movements of the shoes as they marched around the corner and out of sight. The green stallion then hopped on the guard’s back and pointed at where the medals had gone.

"After them, Oleg!” cried Twister. “They're wearing my good shoes!"

With that, he proceeded to move in mid-air as though riding on the guard’s back, but the guard did not follow, instead continuing to stare thunderstruck at the spectacle that this green stranger presented. After another moment, he yelled out something in Sireberian and chased after the bizarre intruder. Every guard at the gate followed his lead, quickly charging after the intruder.

“...Not bad,” commented Hawk. “We should hire him.”

“No way in Tartarus,” countered Rat. “Dagger would string us all up in a week.”

“Three days,” corrected Dagger.

“I would have said four,” chuckled Arclight.

“You should kiss him…” whispered Cloak loudly to his sister.

Dagger responded with a single hoof to Cloak’s jaw, sending the stallion sprawling in the snow. The group chuckled briefly as Cloak picked himself back up.

“Alright, into the belly of the beast,” sighed Rat.

The rest of the team nodded, taking up a flanking position behind Rat. Rat moved swiftly and silently through the gate, moving from cover to cover. Phantasm tracked their progress through her scope as they made their way into the central complex. Clover silently rewired the door lock, causing the door to open with a hissing clunk.

Rat glanced around at the pristine walls of the base, frowning slightly. The air had a distinctive taste of sterility, like the air of a hospital. The group moved among the shadows, doing their best to hide in the corridors. Tank whimpered uncomfortably, causing Hawk to pat his shoulder reassuringly. Clearly, the complex was bringing back memories that Tank wished he’d forgotten.

The hallway opened up into a large loading area, filled with various crates and cargo containers of various sizes, including the pony-sized ones that Matchstick had noted in his report. There was a stench of desperation and confinement that the air filters could not completely erase, leaving little doubt as to what those containers held. The group remained silent at this, clearly disturbed by the revelation. Rat signaled for the group to move on, as time ran short for the captive officers.

“Dagger, Arc, go search for the captive officers on this floor,” ordered Rat. “We’ll continue exploring the complex and setting charges. Rejoin us when you’ve searched the entire floor.”

“Understood,” acknowledged Dagger.

There were no jokes, no teasing, and no smirks. The atmosphere of the surrounding complex killed any chance of that. Rat kept a close watch on Tank and Hawk as they descended to the next level. Tank was starting to visibly show signs of discomfort, gritting his teeth and groaning slightly. Rat could barely hear what Hawk was whispering, but it seemed to be some form of reassurance. Rat caught up with the pair and spoke quietly.

“Tank, if you need to bug out and wait until we need you, no one would think less of you,” reminded Rat.

Tank snorted once, a look of determination on his face. Rat seemed to have his answer. Tank would not abandon his team, especially not in this hellhole, no matter what he felt. Rat patted Tank’s shoulder comfortingly and returned to the front of the group.

The second floor was much smaller, and seemed to be composed of only two rooms. Rat motioned for Cloak to check out the room on the right. Inside, a clean and organized weapons lab sat undisturbed with all manner of unmentionable devices. Clover quickly set charges on all the support, while Tank grabbed what looked to be a weaponized pneumatic nail driver. A sudden gasp caused the pack to rush out into the hall, ready for combat. White Knight was by the only other door on this level, scooting away across the floor as he stuttered and gasped.

“Wha- Ho- What the fu- why- wha-” stuttered Knight as he tried to return to his hooves.

Rat took one whiff, and instantly knew what JSS had been doing without looking. Sticking his head through the door, he confirmed his suspicions. Countless weapon testing lanes held the corpses of pony “test subjects”, in various states of decay and dismemberment, most likely local civilians if the clothes were anything to go by. Rat turned his head away and shut the door, shaking his head to his comrades. He then placed a hoof on the Ensign’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes.

“You alright?” asked Rat.

Knight nodded numbly. The poor earth pony had paled significantly, sweating slightly.

“If you can’t handle this, please speak up,” advised Rat. “There would be no shame in it. I’ve offered every one of my team the same offer. No judgements. It’s not pretty down here.”

Knight shook his head, returning back to his original position in the formation. Rat sighed, motioning for the rest of the group to head down the stairs to the next level. While the young officer seemed slightly shaken, Knight seemed determined to do his job, no matter what.

The next floor was much taller than the previous floor, once again with a right half and a left half. However, what appeared to be some form of overseer’s office sat at the end of the hall. Rat motioned for Hawk and Tank to check the room on the right with him while Clover, Cloak, and Knight checked the room on the left. Rat braced himself, gripping his knife in one hoof as he pushed through the door.

Around the room, strange rack-like devices lined the walls and formed rows throughout the room. On each of the racks rested a pony, either earth pony or pegasus, hanging limply from the supports. Each one had what appeared to be some sort of ocular implant on the left side of their head, as though replacing the eye on that side for some bizarre reason. Strange horn-like protrusions emerged from the tops of their skulls, looking as though they’d been punched in like a nail of some type.

From there, specifics differred by the race of the pony in question. For the earth ponies, it appeared as though someone had drilled holes in their backs and attached a mechanical wing apparatus to their spines, in some attempt to give them flight. For the pegasi, it was far more horrifying. Wings had been stripped down to bone before being recast in polymers with artificial components. Various other armored plates and mechanical devices were implanted in each subject, giving them a cobbled-together appearance.

As he leaned in to one of the racks for a closer look, Hawk suddenly jumped in surprise.

“WHAT THE FU-” howled Hawk as he was tackled to the ground.

Tank bellowed in rage, prepared to come to Hawk’s aid and rip this attacker apart. Rat lifted his knife, but Hawk extended a wing quickly even as the strange mare leveled her artificial horn at him.

“HOLD IT, BIG GUY!” barked Hawk. “EASY! ...Take it easy… Nice… and easy…”

Rat put away his knife slowly, trying to avoid startling the mare as he observed her. Beneath her headpiece, traces of a close-cropped blonde mane poked out. Her dove grey body was mostly concealed by armored plating. Based on the wing apparatus attached to her, she was originally an earth pony. Her ocular implant whirred and clicked as it focused on Hawk.

“State your name and intention,” demanded the mare coldly, her expression unchanging.

“Easy… My name is Hawk…” replied Hawk slowly. “We’re here to shut this place down… I promise you that you’re safe now… I swear to you…”

“Can you prove this?” countered the mare in a clipped tone.

“I rescued him from Janus when he escaped years ago,” explained Hawk, pointing at Tank.

The mare scanned Tank with her implant briefly before her natural eye betrayed a glimmer of recognition.

“Prototype soldier,” stated the mare briefly as she rose from Hawk and helped him to his hooves. “Project Codename: Achilles. Project Nickname: ‘Jaeger Initiative Batch 1’. Subject Alpha-38. Class Designation: Null. Directive: Termination. Status: Unknown.”

“Well, he doesn’t go by that anymore, sweetheart,” explained Hawk as Tank growled at each mention. “His name is Tank, and I suggest you call him that from now on if you want to keep your body in one piece. Speaking of which, what do we call you?”

“Subject Delta-07/009,” stated the mare impassively. “Project Codename: Ascension. Class Designation: Null.”

“...Well, that’s a bit of a mouthful, Miss,” replied Hawk with a sheepish grin. “Why don’t I just call you ‘Dee-Seven’ or even ‘Dee’ for short?”

“This designation is imprecise,” countered the mare. “I am Unit Zero-Zero-Nine of Group Zero-Seven, Iteration Delta. Delta-07/009 is efficient and accurate-”

“Are there any others that I might get you confused with?” countered Hawk.

“...No, there are not…”

“Then it would be more efficient to call you something that doesn’t have eight syllables in it,” replied Hawk kindly. “Unless you wish to remember your colleagues-”

“Emotions are irrelevant,” interrupted the newly-dubbed Dee-Seven. “They serve no purpose or function.”

“... Alright,” replied Hawk gently.

At that moment, Cloak, Knight, and Clover entered the room, having watched the whole ordeal from the hallway. Dee-Seven tensed slightly, ready to strike, but Hawk quietly reassured her.

“Holy shit…” swore Knight as he walked into the lab. “This is what they were doing in the other room? Trying to make their own alicorns?”

“I’m guessing you found where they made the modifications?” observed Rat.

“Yes, and it wasn’t too pretty,” whispered Clover. “I checked the medication cabinets, but I didn’t find any trace of anesthesia, even though I found disinfectant and blood clotting agents.”

“Sweet Celestia,” breathed Rat.

“What is your allegiance?” demanded Dee-Seven.

“Our friend here is with the Royal Equestrian Navy, and the rest of us, well, we aren’t with Janus, if that’s what you’re asking,” replied Hawk.

“Clearly,” countered Dee-Seven. “You harbor a rogue JSS subject. In any case, I formally request political asylum in Equestria.”

“Rat-” began Cloak, clearly concerned.

“We’ll get you out of here first, and then we’ll hash out details,” replied Rat, turning on his comm unit. “Dagger, status report.”

“Not the best time, Rat,” grunted Dagger.

“Did you locate the captured officers?” asked Rat.

“Yes, but we have a problem,” whispered Dagger. “We’re right outside the barracks, and the base is now on high alert. Something about a ‘surviving prototype’ or something like that.”

“They must mean Dee,” observed Cloak.

“No, clearly they meant that nailer Tank picked up,” snapped Hawk

“Can it!” barked Rat. “Tank, I want you up front with that nailer to clear a path. You don’t have to hit them, just get them to dive out of the way. Everypony else, follow close behind. Let’s move!”

Tank grunted, letting loose a bellow of fury and determination. Rat followed close behind the stallion as they galloped up the staircase to the top floor. Rat’s eyes widened when rows of archers and mages awaited them.

“COVER!” bellowed Rat, diving for cover.

The JSS archers opened fire, sending a volley of projectiles toward the group. For a moment, there seemed to be no salvation, but a brief flash of green filled Rat’s vision. When his sight returned, the JSS archers were bleeding on the ground. Dee’s horn stub glowed a faint green as she nodded at Tank. The large stallion grinned wickedly, hefting the nailer.

“Heh, heh, heh,” chuckled Tank, right before charging the enemy lines.

The JSS soldiers screamed and scattered to find salvation as the group charged past them, with Tank bellowing the whole way. They bolted into the loading bay, sealing the door behind them. Dagger and Arclight emerged from a nearby hallway, each carrying an injured officer. The injured pegasus looked up and smirked at the group.

“What took you so long, Knight?” chuckled the stallion.

“Had to help these guys, plus I figured you’d escape on your own, Pro,” grinned Knight.

“Speaking of which, who the hell are these guys?” asked Pro, glancing around at the Rat Pack.

“Spec Ops,” barked Rat

“You sure about that?” asked Pro skeptically. “Cause I-”

“Clearly, they must be Special Operations, Lieutenant Star,” interjected the unicorn, who must have been Ice Burn. “It is unlikely that anyone else could successfully execute an operation like this.”

Rat glanced at Ice Burn, who gave a knowing look in return. There would be time to deal with this later. Right now, they needed to escape the base before-

“Why don’t you pick on somepony your own size!” challenged an unfamiliar voice.

Rat turned, freezing in fear as he watched two Jaegers approach. They towered over them all, easily as tall if not taller than Tank. The thick armor that covered their hulking forms was capable of stopping blades and shockwaves. Their domed helmets bore thick faceplates of solid steel, covering a pressure-sealed crystal visor. Three of these units were able to hold off a dozen waves of Sky Wing elites for hours during the last war. With two standing in their way, there seemed to be little hope for their escape. Additional soldiers rushed in, armed to the teeth.

Tank roared, pummeling the closest Jaeger with his hooves. The hulking soldier blocked each strike with ease, knocking Tank to the ground. The Jaeger took a step forward, but a faint whistling sound caught Rat’s attention. It was the only warning as a mortar shell tore through the room and detonated against the offending Jaeger, sending it flying into the back wall with a sickening snap. Clearly, Voyager had decided to intervene.

“MOVE!” bellowed Rat, bolting for the exit past the stunned soldiers.

Rat glided his way across the yard to the gate, counting each team member as they ran past him. Clover said that the charges had a forty five second countdown, and they’d need to run quickly if they wanted to get clear. Cloak suddenly stopped and glanced around in worry.

“Wait!” exclaimed Cloak. “Where’s the Looneybucket?!”

Before Rat could answer, Twister appeared from around the corner in traditional Sireberian garb. The Cossacks continued to pursue him, but somehow didn’t seem to be getting any closer.

“MOSCOLT, MOSCOLT,” sang Twister, dancing a native Sireberian folk dance in midair as the Cossacks continued to chase him. “PLEASE RESPECT THE CAVIAR! RANGERS END UP PISSED IN TAR! OHOHOHOHO! HEY!”

At this, the green stallion kicked the lead Cossack in the face, causing the entire line to fall down the staircase leading to the marketplace.

“MOSCOLT, MOSCOLT,” continued Twister, still dancing his way through the market. “COME AND DANCE AND RUB THE FISH! MISTER DISCO SUMMONED IT! AHAHAHAHAH!”

Twister pulled a large salmon out of thin air, tossing it at the Cossacks. The fish began to tick rapidly, swelling as it did so. The Cossacks all dove for cover, unsure what to expect from this insane green stallion. With a light “ding” of an egg timer, the salmon exploded in a cloud of green smoke. When the smoke cleared, a large platter of salmon sushi sat in its place. A large sign with bright red letters said “With love, Mister Disco”. No trace of the insane stallion remained.

“He’s fine, Cloak!” barked Rat. “Now MOVE!”

Rat shoved the stallion across the street, glancing around to make sure he had not missed anypony. His heart sank when he saw Arclight limping away from the second Jaeger. It seemed as though the doctor had wrenched his wing and was unable to fly to the escape. Rat glanced back to see Dagger barely restrained by Tank, thrashing and screaming as she fought to get free. Rat looked back at Arclight for what would probably be the last time, holding his gaze.

A blur of motion caught Rat off-guard as he felt a rush of wind by his head. Dee-Seven crossed the gap in mere moments, helping Arclight to his hooves as she carried him back, her flight pack straining slightly under the weight. A dull thud filled the air just before the JSS lab fragmented from the explosion, sending shards of debris everywhere and setting the last Jaeger ablaze. A small chunk of wood tore through the left side of Dee’s headgear, causing her flight pack to sputter and spin out of control. In a single smooth movement, Dee wrapped her wings around Arclight as the two crashed in the street. Bits of armor and steel scattered with each bounce, leaving Dee’s armor in patches as she skidded to a halt at Dagger’s hooves.

“RAT TO VOYAGER! MEDICAL EMERGENCY! HAVE YOUR DOCTOR READY TO MEET US WHEN WE REACH THE SHIP!”

HMS Voyager, Medical Bay, Sireberia
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“How are they, Doctor?” asked Rat anxiously.

“Better than I expected, to be sure,” replied the strange construct as he worked to remove the damaged headgear from Dee. “Of course, when the expected is ‘smear on a flat surface’, anything better than that could be called ‘better than expected’.”

“I see your bedside manner is as transparent as you are,” quipped Cloak, poking the construct’s side with a hoof.

“Please desist with that,” sighed the medic.

“Also never seen an alicorn with a receding mane before,” chuckled Cloak as he continued to try and pass his hoof through the medic’s head.

“Sir, if you do not desist immediately, I will call security to remove you,” snapped the medic impatiently.

“Cloak, leave him be,” ordered Rat. “Doctor, I don’t like incomplete answers.”

“Your friend will be fine,” huffed the medic. “Dislocated wing, minor concussion, and a few scrapes and bruises. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to the more critically injured patient.”

At this, the construct turned away, continuing to remove damaged components and plates from her. Rat glanced over at the bed where Arclight rested. Dagger, Tank, Hawk, Clover and Phantasm watched in anticipation, waiting for the stallion to open his eyes. Tank bent forward, leaned directly into Arclight’s face and roared as loud as he could. Arclight jolted awake in an instant.

“WHOA!” exclaimed Arclight. “Holy hell! That’s actually kind of terrifying, Tank. I can see why you do that to…”

Arclight trailed off as he finally saw the look that Dagger was giving him. Dagger seemed to become pure wrath incarnate, glaring at the stallion with an intensity that could rival the fires of Tartarus itself. The mare said nothing for several moments as she slowly approached Arclight, causing the rest of the group to move away. Faster than anyone could blink, Dagger had moved forward and pressed her lips firmly against Arclight’s. After nearly a minute, Dagger withdrew and stared directly into the stallion’s eyes.

“Never do that again,” growled Dagger. “If you die before I do, I’m going to drag your ass back here and Celestia help whatever gets in my way.”

“Understood, ma’am,” grinned Arclight.

“I told you that you should kiss him…” teased Cloak.

Dagger’s reply of another swift hoof to her twin’s jaw was met with light laughter by those nearby. Captain Noire had just entered the medical bay, moving to speak quietly with her medical officer. Rat noted that Hawk seemed unusually quiet at the moment, which was quite strange. Recently, the Pack had started a betting pool on when Dagger and Arclight would finally get together, but there was no sign of Hawk’s little black notebook anywhere. The stallion kept glancing over at the bed where the medical officer worked to remove the damaged armor and prosthetics.

“Medic says that she should make a full recovery, despite some of the horrifying things they did,” explained Noire, having moved next to Rat unnoticed.

“Good to hear,” replied Rat. “I only wish we could have saved more of her kin.”

“I’m sure,” smirked Noire. “It’s one of the reasons why I’m comfortable with upholding your little ‘spec ops’ lie in my official report.”

Rat turned to stare at the captain in shock, his blood running cold.

“Relax,” reassured Noire. “I suspected it from the moment you stepped aboard the ship, but as I said before, I honestly don’t give a damn as long as you help us. You certainly did that when you risked your lives to save my officers down there, even though it complicated your own objective, and you saved the life of an innocent young mare as well. You could be the agents of Discord himself, and I wouldn’t care.”

“I’m guessing Lieutenant Commander Burn outed us to you,” sighed Rat.

“In private, recommending that I have you thrown in the brig only if I feared malicious intent toward the crew,” explained Noire.

“So I guess you know that we can’t officially bring you back to Equestria, then?” observed Rat.

“At least without breaking several peace treaties in the process?” sighed Noire. “Yes, I know. Could I ask one small favor from you?”

“Of course,” replied Rat.

“Could you let the Princess know that we’re still alive and trying to find our way home?” asked Noire. “It could be as simple as an anonymous letter on her nightstand, if you have to, but I’d like our return to not be a complete surprise.”

“Of course,” promised Rat. “In return, please take care of Miss Dee-Seven? She needs a family right now, and as much as my group would like to, we can’t be that for her right now.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Noire. “You have my word that I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that she reaches Equestria safely.”

“Well, let me say from one leader to another, it’s been an honor,” grinned Rat.

“Likewise,” smirked Noire.

The Cirrus, Patch’s Workshop, Equestria
7 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T SEND YOUR DAMNED TOYS AFTER THEM!?" bellowed Patch from Hoxton’s workshop.

"RADIO SIGNALS DON'T WORK IN A SNOWSTORM, AND I THINK YOU'D KNOW WHAT SIREBERIA IS LIKE CONSIDERING THE ORDER YOU MADE FOR THIS VERY MISSION!" howled Hoxton.

"YOU KNOW WHAT THE COLD DOES TO GRAPHENE!!! THEY WERE PROTOTYPES, YOU USELESS FUCKWIT!!!" screeched Patch before the sound of doors slamming followed.

"Patches!” exclaimed Razor. “Calm down! They're professionals! They'll be fine! Besides, your work is the best I've seen in years!"

"But what if I messed up the formula?! What if it doesn't hold up in the cold?!? What if one of the ceramic plates cracked and some asshole got a lucky shot?! Oh I'll never live it down..."

Rat sighed and chuckled. Apparently, Patch was eager to hear how her work stood up to the test of actual combat.

“No worries about us, Patch,” quipped Rat. “We’re the best of the best.”

“I’ll argue that point,” smirked Razor.

Ignoring Razor’s jibe, Patch practically teleported from her desk to right in front of Rat. “How’d they do? Was anypony hurt?” asked Patch with a desperate edge to her voice.

“Well, considering I survived an exploding building, I’d say they worked out alright,” smirked Arclight. “Same weakness as the standard Heavy Combat suit, I’d say, considering my injuries were from blunt force trauma. Internal fabric is a little abrasive, making rough landings a little rougher, but that’s a minor issue, at best.”

Patch seemed to visibly melt from relief as her knees gave way and she sank to the floor with a sigh. Dagger lightly punched the stallion in the shoulder, her mood betrayed only by the cheeky glint in her eyes as she stared down Arclight.

“No melting other mares, asshat,” chided Dagger. “You’re still in hot water for scaring me back there.”

“Forgive me, darling,” quipped Arclight with good-natured sarcasm. “I just don’t know how to reign in the sheer animal magnetism- oh, who am I kidding, I’m as awkward as they come.”

“You’re an idiot, Arc,” smirked Dagger.

“And I can live with that,” grinned Arclight. “As long as I’m your idiot.”

“And don’t you forget that,” replied Dagger.

“But what about the suits?!” demanded Patch. “How long were you actually in the cold for? What was the peak minimum temperature that you faced out there? When can you turn in one of the suits for post-action evaluation?”

“Well, I think Hawk is looking to ditch his fairly soon,” smirked Rat.

"Oh really?” grinned Patch evilly. “That's a shame... I worked so hard... On his especially..."

“Yep, he whined about it the whole way out, right Hawk?” asked Rat.

Hawk wasn’t listening, instead staring vacantly out of the window.

“Hmm?” asked Hawk suddenly. “You say something?”

“Your suit, Hawk,” prompted Rat.

“Oh, yeah,” remarked Hawk, tossing the suit to Patch. “It sucks.”

And with that, the stallion continued to stare out the window, even as Patch put him through the verbal equivalent of a Black Dragon attack. Rat suspected that he wasn’t seeing the endless field of clouds, but the Sireberian tundra and those left behind in that wasteland.

To Be Continued...