Green Pastures, Southern Residential Block, Equestria
50 Years After the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Cloak sighed heavily. The foals looked up in confusion, not daring to speak.

“Sir… What does any of that have to do with Nightshade?” asked one foal.

“Truthfully?” replied Cloak with a bitter chuckle. “Absolutely nothing. It’s the last mission the crew took before things went sideways.”

“So why bring it up, Grandpa?” asked Cold Snap.

“Because you need to know how high we were before we fell,” grimaced Cloak. “You see, we were ‘the Rat Pack’. We were an elite team. We felt invincible. We could do no wrong.”

“So what happened?” asked Kingfisher.

“Dante’s age finally caught up to him, to put it simply,” explained Cloak. “He finally got cut by the knife edge he chose to walk along.”

“What do you mean by that, sir?” asked one of the younger foals.

“Well, you have to understand the first tenet of the Code,” explained Cloak. “In the Shadowbolt Code, our very first tenet is ‘The Strongest Leads’. There’s a damn good reason for that. It brings order to what would otherwise be chaos. The organization would be unable to function without it. Therefore, at the first sign of weakness, the leader must be challenged so as to minimize the amount of time we remain without a leader.”

“So why was Dante in danger?” asked Starlight Harmony.

“Dante led the Shadowbolts for a good long while,” continued Cloak. “He was well respected for his tactical ability and his combat prowess. However, Dante was getting old. The stallion was fifty-five by this point, ancient by Wonderbolt standards and venerated by Shadowbolt standards. The only reason he retained command was that he seemed to be of sound body and mind.”

“So what was the mistake?” asked Cold Snap.

“Il Corvo,” whispered Cloak. “The War that Never Was…”

The Cirrus, Briefing Room, Equestria
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Rat moved swiftly down the halls to the briefing room, knowing that Dante had said that his presence was urgently required. The last time he had said that, the Pack had rescued Crystal Rose from the Hekate Torch Bearers. Whatever this mission was, it would change the course of the future for the Pack. Of that, Rat had little doubt. Inside, Dante stood conversing with, of all things, a wyvern, with both looking up as Rat entered.

“Rat, thank you for arriving promptly,” greeted Dante. “I’d congratulate you on your last mission, but I’m afraid there isn’t time. Allow me to introduce Lóng Zhǔ, leader of the Huǒxīyì Tiānwáng from Vietmane.”

“Good evening, Dragon Lord,” bowed Rat. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“Indeed,” replied Zhǔ. “I have heard of your exploits from a friend of yours that I trust.”

“I see,” replied Rat. “We should get to business as soon as possible, though.”

“Agreed,” nodded Zhǔ. “Tell me, young Shadowbolt, are you familiar with the conflict between the Drakes and the Griffons?”

“Forgive my bluntness, Lord Zhǔ, but who isn’t?” replied Rat. “That conflict has defined the history of both races in equal measure, and has even affected Equestria’s own history.”

“Indeed, but I was more specifically referring to the Falchi di Montagna,” replied Zhǔ.

“‘Mountain Falcons’?” asked Rat in clarification. “No, I haven’t heard much about them.”

“They are an extremist group born out of the last Griffon-Drake War,” replied the wyvern. “They are led by a griffon by the name of Pietro.”

“I see…” nodded Rat.

“This leader has been making a severe push to overthrow the current king,” continued Zhǔ. “And the most damning part is that he has a more legitimate claim to the throne.”

“Seems unlikely,” smirked Rat.

“Only if you ignore the infidelity of the previous Griffon king and queen,” sighed Zhǔ. “The current king is not the son of the previous one. Pietro, on the other claw, was born of by a dismissed scullery maid, who ended up retreating to a colony burned by the Drakes. Naturally, after watching his mother roasted alive in front of him, little Pietro grew up to be rather… brutal towards the Drakes. They called him ‘Myasnik’.”

“The ‘Butcher’,” nodded Rat.

“Indeed,” replied Zhǔ. “He’s slaughtered hatchlings while their parents watched in horror, burning them from the inside out, as a prelude to maiming the parents horrifically.”

“Tartarus…” cursed Rat. “So the contract is to capture him?”

“No, unfortunately,” replied Zhǔ. “He’s been captured by the Griffons, but given that his war crimes were privately sanctioned by the Griffon Warlords, they have a very unusual problem.”

“Oh?” asked Rat.

“The problem is the Equestrians…” sighed Zhǔ. “You see, any trial of Pietro will result in severe reprisals from Equestria, perhaps even war, but summarily executing without a trial will surely result in war.”

“Princess Celestia is very big on ‘justice’,” agreed Rat. “But what interest do the Drakes, much less the Huǒxīyì Tiānwáng, have in Griffon Kingdom affairs such as this?”

“The Drake Empire is no more prepared to see another war than the Griffon Kingdom is, perhaps even less so,” explained Zhǔ. “And if Pietro is allowed to speak, there will be more than a fair share of embarrassment for the Drakes as well.”

“Let me guess,” sighed Rat. “Funding? Weapons? Supplies? Intel?”

“All of the above, and all under the table, I’m afraid,” nodded Zhǔ gravely. “A shift in power in the Griffon Kingdom would have given the Scale Guard the time they need to recover after their massacre at the hooves of the Wonderbolts.”

Rat nodded. According to reports, a large contingent of the Scale Guard had managed to ambush a squadron of Wonderbolts on patrol. Led by the legendary Second Captain Blizzard Strike, the Wonderbolts made a significant last stand, decimating the Scale Guard forces at the cost of their own lives. If rumors were to be believed, that incident on its own ended the war months sooner than it would have otherwise.

“I’m guessing that’s why the Drakes went to the Huǒxīyì Tiānwáng to pass on this contract,” mused Rat.

“Griffons and Drakes both,” corrected Zhǔ. “Neither side is prepared for war, so the current griffon King and the Tsar have agreed to set aside their differences and allow Pietro to be… dealt with. They’ve even set aside five percent of their yearly income each to pay the contract.”

“I see…” nodded Rat, before turning to Dante. “You know that I don’t take assassination contracts, sir. Why choose my crew for this?”

“Your crew is one of the best stealth teams we have period, and all other teams that I’d trust besides yours are away,” explained Dante. “We need to strike immediately. Besides, you won’t have to kill him. Just extract him and get him back here. The Wyverns will handle the rest.”

“Alright, where is he being held?” asked Rat.

“Well, that’s the- how does the phrase go? ‘Fly in the lotion’?” continued Zhǔ. “You see, while the leaders of the two nations have agreed to cooperate, they cannot inform their subordinates of the matter. So, as a war criminal and traitor to the Griffon Crown, Pietro has been taken to one of the most secure locations that the Sky Wings control. They call it-”

“-Il Corvo…” finished Rat. “...Shit.”

The Cirrus, Starboard Corridor, Equestria
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Rat strolled through the hall, nerves all live wires. Shortly after the meeting with Zhǔ, Rat had taken a few moments to gather his courage before calling the Pack together. He’d expected protests and proclamations of his insanity, but, to his shock, they never came. There was a sort of silent acceptance upon hearing their mission, waiting for Rat to give them their orders. Somehow, their complete and utter faith in him was more unnerving than complete and utter doubt would have been. They depended on him completely. He couldn’t afford to fail them.

As he passed the Mess Hall, Rat spotted Pitch out of the corner of his eye. Since the Sunbeam Hotel job, Pitch had thankfully stayed out of the Rat Pack’s way, whether out of fear or some other motivation.

Of the group at the table, Rat only recognized a few, and by reputation only. Sever was a berserker with a truly disturbing reputation, built by actions on and off of the battlefield. Thankfully, Dante had put a tight leash on the stallion after the first three incidents. Spider was something more of an enigma, reputed to be similar in ability to Rat himself. However, his plans seemed to maximize collateral damage, solely for “entertainment value”. There were two more that Rat didn’t recognize, a seafoam green mare and a brown and white stallion, and they all seemed to be speaking to somepony that Rat couldn’t see.

“Once again, Sever, your capacity for cognitive reasoning never fails to astound,” chuckled an unfamiliar voice in rich, smooth baritone.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” snapped the grey-green stallion, crimson eyes blazing. “All I’m saying is that the old codger is growing soft.”

“And in what way would you mean?” countered the voice. “Soft in mind, resolve, body, or stallionhood? Because I question how you’d know that last one for certain...”

“The first three, you arrogant-” snarled Sever.

“Simmer down, Sev,” chided Pitch. “You know he can’t help being a pompous asshole.”

“Oh dear, is your flask running dry, Pitch?” interjected the voice. “You should have said something sooner. I’m certain that none of us wishes to deal with your sober temper. Apple Family brandy, yes?”

“Yeah, 979 to be exact, why do you-” began Pitch, suddenly stopping mid-sentence. “How the fu- nevermind. As long as this stuff doesn’t turn me into a parasprite, booze is booze. I ain’t gonna give two shits whether it came from your freaky voodoo magic tricks.”

“As amusing as your parlor tricks are, you haven’t explained why you brought up the subject,” asked the brown and black stallion, a disinterested look in his yellow eyes.

“Why, my dear Spider,” answered the voice with a grin. “It’s natural to be concerned with the direction that our great organization is going. ‘The Strongest Leads’, do they not? It is our responsibility to ensure that remains true at all times, and therefore we must consider this topic constantly.”

“Dante has yet to fail us so far,” commented the mare. “His decisions have been sound as they always have, so honestly this discussion does seem pointless.”

“Not pointless, as I said before, Banshee, but certainly brief,” chuckled the voice. “There’s no sense in beating a dead griffon, now is there?”

“Says you,” snorted Sever, sneering. “In my opinion, he’s always been useless.”

“You’re just mad that he has you on a leash, Sever,” snorted Banshee.

Sever snarled and lunged forward, only to be stopped by the brown and white stallion, braided black mane whipping with the sudden motion. He held firm beneath Sever’s glare, despite the slight hint of fear in his yellow eyes. Sever held his glare for a few moments before snorting with a smirk.

“Your brother is brave, stupid, or crazy, Banshee,” sneered Sever. “Can’t decide which, but I will say that I can respect his resolve.”

“‘Devoted’ is the word you’re looking for, Sever,” chuckled the voice. “Although that may be a bit too polysyllabic for your vocabulary.”

Sever snarled, but sat down without another word. Banshee guided her brother back to his seat. At that moment, another group entered the Mess Hall from the opposite side of the ship. Descent and Starry Skies moved to grab food from the line while Nightshade went to claim a table for the group. As she passed, the voice spoke up.

“Ah, Nightshade,” politely greeted the unfamiliar voice. “Wonderful to see you aboard the Cirrus again. We were just discussing the approaching twilight of Dante’s career. Care to weigh in on the matter?”

Nightshade stopped midstep, looking down at the ground and taking a deep breath. She smiled briefly. Suddenly, Nightshade whipped around with seemingly impossible speed, gripping the unknown speaker by the throat and slamming him to the ground. A blue-grey stallion with a maroon mane and gold eyes was grinning beneath Nightshade even as he wheezed in pain. A patch of pure white fur could be seen beneath a fine leather great coat.

“You want my two bits, Curse?” replied Nightshade calmly, leaning down to whisper in the stallion’s ear. “Here’s my two bits: How about I tell Dante what you think of his leadership, and we’ll see how far said ‘twilight’ really is?”

“Not my thoughts on the matter, my sweet Belladonna,” smirked Curse. “And if you really wanted me so badly, all you had to do was ask…”

“Cute, but I’m afraid I must attend to business before pleasure,” smirked Nightshade. “And whose opinion was this, pray tell?”

“Oh, but why don’t we let them speak up right now for themselves?” grinned Curse before addressing the room. “Complaints about how Dante is leading us?”

There was no sound. No voice rose up in complaint. Curse turned to look at Nightshade again.

“Well, that’s certainly quite odd,” mused Curse. “I could have sworn there were complaints before you arrived. Perhaps you provided a significant counterargument?”

“Perhaps,” smirked Nightshade, standing up and pulling Curse to his hooves. “Let me know if you find any who disagree.”

“Of course,” grinned Curse. “But, forgive my curiosity, you never gave your opinion on the matter of Dante.”

“If you are so insistent, then fine,” sighed Nightshade. “If he’s reached the end of his career, I’ll kill him myself. Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes, that satisfied my original question,” replied Curse, a devilish look entering his eye. “However, I did mean what I said about you only needing to ask…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” smirked Nightshade. “However, for now, it’ll only be in your dreams.”

And with a flick of her tail to Curse’s face, Nightshade walked away to find a table. Curse grinned before taking his seat again, and the Mess Hall began moving normally. Rat sighed and turned away. Ponies that messed around with Nightshade would only find themselves burned… among other things…

Right now, Rat needed to make his way to the flight deck. He’d instructed the Pack to gather survival gear and rations for a three-day march as well as their equipment while he gathered as many maps and reports on Il Corvo as he could. As he approached the deck, a surprisingly familiar pair of voices appeared to be in the tail end of a heated discussion.

“Patches, for goodness’ sake, I’m only going to be away for a few days,” grumbled Razor. “It’s not like I’m going to march off to my death.”

“Well how in Tartarus am I supposed to know that when you won’t tell me where you’re going?!” demanded Patch crossly.

“I told you before,” replied Razor with thinning patience. “I’m taking a bit of leave for a couple of days to handle some personal business. I’m not going on a mission, which I have left for on countless occasions without telling you at all and have returned safely. This will be no different.”

“But it is different, Razor!” protested Patch. “Every other time I’ve asked, you-”

“Patch, listen to me,” interrupted Razor. “There are some things that are personal that we don’t tell anypony, no matter how close they are to us. You have them just as much as I do. This is something that I have to do alone. If I tell you what I’m doing, will you promise to stop worrying?”

“You know perfectly well it won’t stop me worrying,” grumbled Patch. “But it’ll make me feel better, especially with Rat’s crew going out too…”

“I’m going to bury some old ghosts of my past,” explained Razor. “That should be sufficient. Besides, you and I both know that you would still worry even if I did tell you where I was going.”

Still, Patch wavered, chewing nervously on her lower lip. “You could distract me and let me get Hoxton back for that ‘middle-aged mare’ comment…” she suggested, somehow managing to sulk at the same time.

“And let the Rat Pack risk their lives without the intel and equipment he provides?” chuckled Razor. “Somehow, I think you’d be more unhappy with that…”

“I wasn’t gonna kill him…” protested Patch. “Just hurt him a little… Nothing permanent…”

“You and I both know that your definition of ‘a little’ is severely skewed in Hoxton’s case, even life-threateningly so,” chided Razor. “Besides, on the off-chance you don’t actually kill him, do you really want the Rat Pack to be without his benefits right before their mission?”

“If he hasn’t given them the information already, he has it written down somewhere… And don’t tell me I’m wrong because I’ve been over there hunting for my supplies when you mix up the crates.”

At that, Razor didn’t say anything, simply smirking slightly before embracing Patch. Rat couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn he saw a tear in Razor’s eye, but that had to have been a trick of the light.

“I’ll be back, Patches,” grinned Razor before taking off into the sky.

“You’d better or I’m hunting you down and killing you… AGAIN!”

“Don’t think it works that way, little sister,” smirked Rat.

“I’ll make it work…” grumbled Patch even as she kept her eyes on Razor’s rapidly diminishing form.

“You know, you don’t have to worry about him, right?” asked Rat. “He’s one of the best fighters aboard the Cirrus, and I’m pretty sure I saw his rope dart and meteor hammer on his belt.”

“When all you’ve known is ponies leaving you, you always worry about it happening again,” murmured Patch with a sigh, and she turned to head back inside.

Rat didn’t respond, instead opting for a silent hug before walking to join the crew. Tank had somehow unfurled one of the survival tents and now sat sheepishly with a swearing Hawk tied to his back in the ropes and tarp. Rat sighed and chuckled. Some things never change.

“He looks kinda cute all swaddled up like a foal, don’t he Boss?” quipped Cloak.

“Well, we don’t have time to untangle him now, so I hope he’s comfortable,” chuckled Rat.

With a single wing motion, the Pack took to the skies once more. Rat once again pushed the uncertainty he felt earlier to the back of his mind. There was no time for that, either. After all, the job had begun.

Forest, Infiltration Point + 1 Day’s March, Three Day’s Journey to the Equestrian-Griffon Border
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“So let me get this straight,” began Cloak. “The Griffons agreed to let the Drakes hire the Wyvern mafia to contract us to whack this Griffon turncoat quietly just so that Momma Celestia doesn’t bring the hammer down on both of them?”

“Don’t forget that this guy is a war criminal as well, and they need to hush up his crimes,” added Hawk. “I’m more curious as to why we’re hoofing it for three days rather than deploying directly on site.”

“Tactics, Hawk,” replied Rat. “Wasp, care to explain?”

“S-sir?” stuttered Wasp.

“You have been studying, haven’t you?” pressed Rat.

“O-of course!” protested Wasp. “Well, um, the griffons are a naturally-airborne species and culture, so virtually all of their military doctrine is based upon the air and defending said airspace.”

“Correct, Wasp,” nodded Rat. “And this is especially so, given that the traditional enemies of the griffons would be the drakes. As a result, all of their early warning systems focus primarily on air-based attacks.”

“Well, I guess a sore back is better than a griffon’s talons to the face,” grunted Hawk.

“Better than a sore ass!” quipped Cloak. “Oh wait…”

“And to think you’re going to be a married stallion,” sighed Dagger. “Rose must have hit her head on something.”

“You’re talking as though she’ll say yes..” murmured Cloak in confusion.

“Oh, come on, you think she’ll say otherwise?” smirked Dagger. “She waited five years to see you again, brother. Mares don’t do that unless they like you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Cloak, really.”

“Wow…” marvelled Cloak.

Tank chuckled gently, patting Cloak on the back. Rat couldn’t help but smile at his crew.

They really had become a family over the years. As members of society, they were outcasts and misfits. As Shadowbolts, they now could say that they found where they belonged in the universe.

Rat frowned slightly as he glanced at his own apprentice. The Lone Digger Job still weighed on Rat’s mind heavily. Wasp was excellent when it came to infiltration and stealth. It was one of the reasons that Rat had been eager to train him. During one of their later Sirejevo jobs, the young stallion had managed to steal part of a Loyalist weapons shipment they were raiding. It didn’t take the group too long to track him down, and in spite of the headache he’d initially caused, Rat decided that the young stallion’s talents would be better utilized elsewhere. Thus far, Rat had been impressed by the young stallion’s progress.

However, it appeared that Wasp had picked up very little from their combat training, if anything at all. The dive Wasp made was sloppy and easily dodged. Furthermore, the counterattack that the guard had made could have been easily blocked at any point.To an outside observer, Wasp appeared to know nothing of hoof-to-hoof combat. However, Rat knew for a fact that Wasp was capable of better. He’d seen it for himself dozens of times in training, and quite recently at that. So why did everything go wrong?

They continued their trek through the woodlands, being sure to keep low to avoid potential patrols and watchful eyes. Eventually, they stopped to set up camp, wordlessly setting up tents with rapid precision. No fires were lit and dry rations distributed, so as not to leave any sort of trace evidence. Rat volunteered himself and Wasp for first watch, allowing the rest of them to turn in once dinner was finished. Night fell quickly, bringing with it a slight chill.

For a while, Rat said nothing, sharpening his blade carefully while scanning the treeline and skies by the light of the Mare in the Moon. Wasp seemed to look everywhere except in his mentor’s direction, saying nothing. The silence grew thicker and thicker, like smoke in a sealed room. Rat sighed and set his knife back into its sheath. Wasp flinched at the sound, but said nothing.

“So, how long are we going to avoid the subject?” asked Rat.

“...I’m sorry, sir,” murmured Wasp. “I just- ...Well I don’t know what I can say.”

“How about the truth?” replied Rat. “What happened that night?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out myself, sir,” mumbled Wasp in shame. “And honestly, I can’t think of any acceptable answer.”

“Then let’s try for any answer, then,” pressed Rat.

“I guess, well…” sighed Wasp. “I guess I just froze, sir. It just didn’t register in my mind, I guess. I couldn’t think straight until it was all over.”

“Why now, though?” asked Rat. “It doesn’t make any sense. You were nearly flawless in training. It should have been reflex. So why wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” mumbled Wasp.

“You ‘don’t know’ or you ‘don’t want to say’?” pressed Rat.

“I really don’t know,” affirmed Wasp. “If I gave my guess, I guess I don’t have a killer instinct like you do, sir.”

“It’s not a matter of having a ‘killer instinct’, Wasp,” chided Rat gently. “I actually don’t have a ‘killer instinct’ at all and avoid it if at all possible. What I do have is the ability to act in order to protect my family, whatever the cost may be. Killing isn’t easy, Wasp. I do not take it lightly. And you don’t have to either. All you need to do is take action when needed to defend our family. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Wasp.

“We’re going into a very dangerous mission, Wasp,” replied Rat. “I don’t think it’ll go sideways, but if it does, we’ll need to fight our way out. Can I count on you in there?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Wasp.

“Really?” pressed Rat. “This isn’t a training exercise, Wasp. If things go wrong, death is a very real possibility. There’s no shame in waiting on the sidelines.”

Wasp looked up at Rat for the first time that night. His eyes burned with cold fire, resolute and unyielding.

“Where my brothers and sisters go, I go,” affirmed Wasp. “I will not fail again.”

“Good,” smiled Rat. “If everything goes well, that won’t be necessary, but in our line of work, we’re either prepared or dead.”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Wasp.

Il Corvo, Front Gate, Griffon Kingdom
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Well, if I ever wanted to know what the Gates of Tartarus looked like, all I’d need to do is visit their source of inspiration…” hissed Hawk.

Despite the flat look he gave Hawk, Rat couldn’t help but agree. Il Corvo was truly a marvel of engineering and a testament to the sheer will of the Griffon Kingdom, even in its state of disrepair. The entire fortress was carved into the center of the mountain, with sheer cliffs on all sides surrounding it. Griffons swarmed around the fortress like wasps near a hive, phalanx patrols gliding around the peak, scanning the skies for intruders. Each side entrance was secured by a massive stone gate, guarded by ballista turrets and search towers. Even the massive breach near the peak, a wound from the last war, was heavily guarded by temporary ballista and firebomb sling emplacements. Getting an army through the breach would be very costly, even with the element of surprise. Fortunately, Rat only had to worry about a small squadron, and he wouldn’t be bothering with the breach anyhow.

“So Boss, how are we going to breach this monstrosity?” quipped Cloak. “Because I forgot to pack a shovel.”

“We’ll use you for a sledgehammer,” growled Hawk.

“Really?”

“Of course not, you dolt!”

“Quiet!” hissed Dagger. “Boss, how are we going to take this one?”

Honestly, it was probably one of the most secure locations that Rat had ever seen. There seemed to be no way to slip within the walls of the fortress besides the gates and the main breach. Patrols made both options impossible, however, as they’d spot anything before it got within thirty yards. It seemed that the fortress was only vulnerable to the wind, rain, and-

Rain…

Rat glanced around his environment, an idea sparking within his mind. Lush vegetation sprawled around the mountain, vibrant and healthy. It was an indicator of heavy rainfall. Rainfall would fall directly within the breach. So why wasn’t Il Corvo a lake rather than a fortress? A quick glance at the sides of the mountain confirmed his suspicions. A plan began to form in his mind.

“Well, Hawk, I have a plan, but you’re not going to like it,” admitted Rat.

“...Oh hell, not sewers again,” swore Hawk.

“Not this time,” chuckled Rat. “Still, you won’t like it…”

Il Corvo, Below Courtyard, Griffon Kingdom
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Dammit Boss, why the fuck are we always crawling through places like this?” grumbled Hawk.

“We’re a stealth team, Hawk,” chuckled Cloak. “Places like this are how we make our living. Just be glad that the Boss decided that the storm drains were better than the sewers.”

“Shame, since we could have put your distinctive shit-eating grin to good use,” grunted Hawk.

“Are you two going to do this right now?” hissed Dagger. “Right in the heart of a Sky Wing stronghold with a metric ass-ton of Griffon warriors above our fucking heads right now?!”

“All of you, be quiet,” snapped Rat.

Once the method of entry was determined, the rest of the plan had been straightforward enough. Rising up through one of the storm drains closest to the prison, Rat would lead Hawk, Dagger, Cloak, Wasp, Arclight, and Clover to silently break in and search for Pietro. Once located, Arclight would administer a fast acting paralytic on the griffon, and the crew would quickly make their way back to the escape. In order to cover their escape, Hawk and Clover would set up decoy explosives around the stronghold to draw attention away from the prison, which would be remotely detonated when the crew was safely away. Thus, the cover story for Pietro the “Butcher’s” escape from Il Corvo would become a legend and fade away with time, with the extremist fading into obscurity as he never resurfaced.

Rat reached the upper grate that they were looking for, quickly removing the mounting screws. With well practiced precision, the crew emerged from the storm drain and split into two teams to complete their objectives. Rat reached the door of the prison, pulling out his lockpicks and his blade, working quickly to breach the door. In that moment, Rat glanced around at his team. Dagger was examining the edge of her weapon while keeping a close watch for patrols. Wasp was glancing around anxiously, clearly nervous given how his last time in the field had gone. Cloak silently stretched his wings, loosening his joints as best as he could without making a sound. Arclight was removing air bubbles from the hypodermic.Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Rat would always remember this moment, for the rest of his life, as the moment it all went wrong.

“-AT! CAN Y- -EAR ME!” bellowed Phantasm over the comms.

“Phantasm?” asked Rat. “What’s wrong? You’re breaking up.”

“G- -UT OF- -ERE!” bellowed Phantasm. “-LCHI INCOMI-”

The com circuit went dead. Rat’s blood froze. He turned to the group to issue a command to scatter and hide, but soon found his ears ringing. A large hole was blasted into the side of the mountain. Falchi di Montagna poured through the gate, armed to the beak. The Sky Wings responded immediately, pouring out of the nearby buildings. Immediately, a search light fell over the group. For the first time in their long history, the Rat Pack had been spotted. The team turned to Rat, looking for orders. Rat grit his teeth.

“PREPARE FOR COMBAT!” barked Rat. “FIND COVER!”

To be continued...

Author's Notes:

Well, here we are at last. After over five months of struggle against writer's block, I've finally managed to release this.

Thanks to Calm Wind for giving me the character of Curse. Hope he turned out as well as you envisioned him.

And I'd like to give a very special thank you to PenumbraGlow0290 for the brand-new cover art she did for the story. Honestly, what she came up with was better than the vision in my head.

Anyhow, will be starting work on Chapter 15 right away.