Il Corvo, Airspace above the Breach, Griffon Kingdom
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

Rat heaved his passenger further up onto his shoulder, struggling to keep from falling into total despair. His gaze glanced to the right as he watched Tank haul out the battered and unconscious form of Descent, his entire body covered in lacerations of varying severity. Nightshade looked as though she were ready to strangle somepony, spreading an aura of malice and hate that even unnerved Starry Skies.

Rat looked around again, his heart growing heavier with every moment. All around him, similar scenes of wingmates helping injured comrades back to the Cirrus played out in similar ways, like melodies in a symphony of sorrow. Screams of pain filled the skies, which was good. While haunting and grim, every loud, soul-splitting screech signified another comrade that could potentially be saved. It was when the screams turned to moans, then whimpers, and finally silence that Rat felt his heart sink.

He glanced down at his belt, trying to distract himself from the bone-chilling sounds of agony around him. Pairs of Shadowbolt goggles hung from a single metal clip, the sight making a lump in his throat. Each one signified another fallen wingmate, of which there had been far too many today. One last glance at his passenger finally saw a crack in Rat’s mental resolve.
How had this gone so very wrong?

Il Corvo, Courtyard, Griffon Kingdom
6 Years Before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War (Thirty Minutes Earlier)

Rat spat blood and grit onto the ground as he took shelter behind a pile of storage crates. Griffon rebels and Sky Wings clashed all around, slinging spears and crossbow bolts with colorful Griffonese curses. Screams of rage, anguish, and fear filled the air, cutting through the smoke and haze like blades. Cloak was bleeding from a fresh cut above his eye, which did little to shake the determination from his eyes. Dagger shook blood from her signature weapon, taking cover with the rest of them. Wasp watched in shock at the carnage around them, while Arclight knocked the nearest griffon out cold with a swift strike to the back of the neck.

Hawk and Clover scrambled to try and make their way across the courtyard, dodging spears and crossbow bolts as they ran. Hawk pulled the detonator from his belt, gasping as a crossbow bolt slammed into his chestplate, knocking the wind out of him. Clover caught the detonator before it hit the ground, slamming the activator and tackling Hawk to cover in one smooth motion. Plumes of flame and debris erupted all around the courtyard, griffons knocked from the sky as the shockwaves hit them.

Rat watched as Clover pulled Hawk to cover with the rest of the group, dragging the stallion behind the crates just as a volley of crossbow bolts rained down upon them.

“Who told the fucking cuckoos where their leader was?!” swore Hawk as he checked his chestplate for any signs of a breach.

“Doesn’t matter now,” dismissed Rat. “We still have a job to do. Arclight, status report.”

“Well, we won’t be bringing in the bird alive, that’s for sure,” grunted Arclight. “Crossbow bolt smashed the hypo. We have no way of tranquilizing him.”

“And I really doubt that we’ll be able to convince him that we’re allies if his cell has any sort of window to the outside,” growled Dagger.

“And we’re trapped in the middle of the courtyard surrounded by crossbow-wielding birdies with attitude problems,” interjected Cloak.

“And we have no way to bring our Heavy and Sharpshooter in to where we are,” added Clover.

“What do we do, sir?” asked Wasp.

Rat scanned the courtyard, looking for options. The team was caught in a deathtrap, and there was no way out. Not only that, but they still had a mission to finish as well. Options were fading fast as the Falchi were beaten back and the Sky Wings were able to devote more assets to the second set of intruders. Already, the Sky Wings had collapsed nearby buildings to seal the breach that the Falchi made. They needed to make an opening somehow, but how could they break through those impossible odds?

“AH FUCKING SHIT!” swore Hawk as a ricocheting crossbow bolt clipped him across the face.

A distant echo of a thunderclap brought the fighting to a brief standstill. There was a faint echo of a roar and a crescendo of thundering hoofsteps, climaxing in the main gate of Il Corvo shaking on its hinges. Thundering hoofsteps trailed off, a distant roar, another crescendo, concluding with another impact. Hawk’s eyes widened in horror as the roar echoed again.

“Oh fuck… DON’T DO IT BIG GUY! YOU’ll NEVER MAKE IT THROUGH!” bellowed Hawk at the door.

Another impact caused the gate mechanisms to groan and shudder in protest, just as a third roar chilled the griffons’ blood in their veins. One final charge saw the gate fly off of its hinges, crushing a nearby squadron of hapless Sky Wings. Tank carried Phantasm on his back as he charged Sky Wings and Falchi alike, trampling them on his way to Hawk. Tank instantly found his way to Hawk’s side, nudging the injured stallion with his nose and moaning in concern.

“Dammit, you big dumb lug,” cursed Hawk. “You can’t just smash your way through everything. One of these days, you’re going to run into something more stubborn than you are.”

Tank grunted and snorted dismissively, lifting Hawk up onto his back.

“Alright, Dagger, get everyone back out through the breach Tank just made,” ordered Rat. “I’ll slip away as they pursue you all, and then finish off Pietro.”

“Boss, have you lost it?” asked Cloak incredulously. “You’ll never make it back through their lines!”

“Not the point, Cloak,” argued Rat. “Remember: ‘A contract is always completed once taken’. The job needs finishing, and I’m not going to waste your lives to do it.”

“Fuck that,” snorted Clover. “We’re staying with you, Boss. We’ve followed you this far. What makes you think we’ll leave now?”

Tank grunted in agreement, snorting as he nudged Rat with his head. Rat glanced around at the others, frustration building as he saw the same unyielding resolve in their eyes. Rat sighed heavily. There would be no dissuading them. With a single wing motion, Rat ordered the crew to follow him closely as they dove into the fire.

The ensuing fight was an absolute failure. The Sky Wings were able to close ranks quickly, and the wing armor was too difficult to breach for any of the Pack, save for Tank and Phantasm. For every griffon Tank knocked out of the sky, two more took their place, and Phantasm was finding it hard to get an opening to fire. The Rat Pack’s charge concluded with Hawk taking a crossbow bolt to the right side of his chest, breaching his suit. Tank lost his focus instantly, diving and pulling his longtime friend out of the line of fire with a mighty roar. The Rat Pack followed the gentle giant into cover, preparing for a final stand. However, the sounds of battle stopped as soon as they were surrounded.

A large griffon stood on the balcony of the main building, flanked by a pair of Sky Wing specialists. His armor and flightsuit, while largely identical to that of a common soldier, bore the six gold dots that designated the Master of the Skies. This was Commander Massimo, leader of the Sky Wings. In his avian eyes, there seemed to be a hint of admiration and respect. He then spoke, a deep accented voice ringing true above the courtyard.

“Equestrians,” intoned Massimo. “You have fought well. Well as any I would be honored to fly beside, but you are outnumbered without hope. Surrender, and you shall be treated with honor and dignity fitting of the greatest warriors.”
Rat glanced around briefly at his comrades, already knowing the answer he had to give and silently begging for his crew’s forgiveness. He cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Honorable Sky Wings Commander,” addressed Rat. “Your offer is kind and generous beyond measure. However, as you have your principles that you live by, we have our own. Surrender is not an option.”

“Very well,” conceded the griffon. “Then we shall honor you in death.”

Crossbows clicked as the Sky Wings took aim. Arclight took Dagger’s hoof, closing his eyes in resignation. Tank stood protectively over Hawk, growling even as blood flowed from his wounds. Phantasm took aim at the Master of the Skies, ready with an explosive bolt. Clover stared up with fear in her eyes, unable to look away but unwilling to flee. Rat kept running through the possibilities of escape but found none that would leave an acceptable number alive and still complete their objective. If only the Falchi had held out a little bit longer-

A familiar buzzing broke Rat’s concentration. The stallion looked up, and gasped. It was a Hummingbird, carrying a brown leather bag. It dropped the bag at Rat’s hooves before releasing a high-pitched whistle that caused the Sky Wings to drop weapons and fall to their knees in pain. A large shadow blocked out the sun from above. A swarm of black and purple rained down into the breach, causing the Rat Pack to breathe a sigh of relief. Reinforcements had arrived.

“Little birds, little birds, see how they fly!” crooned a crimson stallion with a devilish grin on his face. “Little birds, little birds, it’s time to DIE!!!”

Ruin cackled as he dived into the nearest phalanx of Sky Wings, viciously slaughtering them in a spray of crimson, brown, and white as blood and feathers filled the air. The griffons immediately scattered, screeching in shock and pain as they began to fall one by one. Bone-chilling laughter cut through the screams as Ruin danced through the sky with a small scythe.

“Little birds, little birds, don’t fly away,” wheedled Ruin. “Little birds, little birds, come back and play!”

“Ruin, don’t play with your food,” grunted a blue stallion. “You’re making a mess.”

“Oh, you’re no fun anymore, Moony-Moon,” pouted Ruin. “What would Iris say?”

Moon shot Ruin a glare that could have blistered the scales off of a drake, but said nothing as he tore into the nearest phalanx of Sky Wings without a word. Ruin smirked before returning to terrorizing the Sky Wing lines. The Hummingbird carrying the saddlebag dropped in next to Rat, Hoxton’s voice pouring from the construct.

“Rat! Thank the gods you’re alive!” sighed Hoxton in relief. “Everything’s all gone to hell! Someone tipped off the Falchi, but I didn’t notice until-”

“Don’t worry about that now!” barked Rat. “Right now, we need options for getting through the Sky Wing phalanx quickly, and that wing armor is going to be a problem. Any ideas?”

“Why do think I sent the ‘Bird, ya wanker?” snorted Hoxton. “Saddlebag has a few toys I’ve been cooking up since your little jaunt to Sireberia. Armor breaching hoof grenade-blades. Incendiary and High-explosive only, at the moment. They were originally designed to deal with Jaegers, but I figure the next best field test would be Sky Wings. Just be careful, though. I sent you every single one I had ready, and that only amounts to about a dozen, so make them count.”

Rat lifted the bag of grenades, glancing back at the team. A strategy formed in his mind.

“Tank, get Hawk out of here, and then help Nightshade’s group keep the way clear for us,” barked Rat. “Arc, there’s no point in you staying here now, so head back to the Cirrus with Clover. They’ll need every doctor they’ve got. Phantasm, go find high ground and provide sniper support. Wasp, Cloak, Dagger, you’ll follow me with the grenades. We’re finishing this fight.”

“Not without help,” intoned a familiar voice.
Rat looked up into the familiar face of his old mentor. Descent was flanked by a full squadron of Shadowbolts, including Bastion, Lance, Caprice, and Concord, members of another Shadowbolt “clan” known for their combat prowess. Even Matchstick and his Recon group were present. Rat simply raised an eyebrow at his mentor.

“You’re sending half of your team away,” explained Descent. “It would be foolish not to press our advantage while we have it.”

“Just follow my lead, sir,” smirked Rat.

“Even after all this time, you insist on calling me ‘sir’,” grumbled Descent with a small smirk. “You haven’t been my apprentice for years.”

“I prefer to look at it more as a younger brother irritating an older brother,” grinned Rat.

“Well, let’s not waste any more time, Little Brother,” chuckled Descent.

“On me!” barked Rat, activating a grenade and charging at the nearest line of Sky Wings.

The phalanx was slow to notice them as Rat tossed the small green explosive with deadly aim. The device lodged precisely between the feather-plates of the lead Sky Wing on his right side, red light blinking rapidly. A plume of bright orange light and a dull thud announced the detonation of the device, sending chunks of griffon and Sky Wing armor everywhere. Griffons screeched as they were impaled by flying pieces of armor, creating a large gap within their lines. The Shadowbolts charged through the gap, making their way inside the central complex.

Inside the cavernous halls, the true practical artistry of the griffons was placed upon display. There were beautifully carved wood reliefs for each battle the Sky Wings took part in, and tapestries with the names of all Sky Wings lost were woven with tender care and superior artistry. Each mahogany carving was painstakingly carved with the same tender care whether it was a victory or a defeat, and names on the tapestries were only differentiated by a series of six colored dots to indicate the rank of the fallen soldier. Even as the crew rushed down the halls, Rat couldn’t help but admire the griffon artwork and how it spoke to culture of their warriors.

Rebel took point as they rounded the corner to the detention wing of the main complex. The mare’s choked gurgle announced that they had company yet again. Massimo stood with his spear lifting the Shadowbolt up by her impaled throat as he stepped around the corner flanked by high-tier Sky Wings, tossing the spear to the side. Bastion and Lance moved to avenge their comrade, moving with well-practiced synchronization. Massimo caught Lance by his head, snapping the stallion’s neck and tossing him into Bastion in a single smooth motion. Bastion collapsed from the impact of his fallen brother, and was swiftly dispatched by a Sky Wing crossbow. Concord lifted one of the new grenades, ready to throw it before Rat raised a hoof to stop him.

“Too risky,” explained Rat briefly.

“Take that one and the large one alive for questioning,” ordered Massimo, indicating Rat and Descent. “The others are expendable.”

Three griffons stepped forward with pikes, ready to attack, while three more lifted crossbows. Descent moved faster than the eye could see, pulling the lead griffon forward by his pike, catching him in a chokehold while impaling one of the crossbow soldiers with the pike. The other two crossbow griffons fired on Descent, while the other griffons charged, Using his captive as a living shield, Descent caught the crossbow bolts and one of the griffon’s pikes before snapping the wielder’s neck. The crossbow archers fired again, this time killing the last pike wielder as Descent skewered the archers on the last remaining pike, rolling past Massimo.

The other griffons moved to attack, but Massimo lifted a talon to stop them. Descent looked up slowly, smirking slightly as three black feathers hung loosely between his teeth. Massimo seemed to be torn between amusement and outrage as he stared at the Shadowbolt, utter silence falling over the two groups as the full implications hit them.

“A bold move, Equestrian, challenging me to single combat,” commented Massimo. “Some would call it foolish.”

“Do you deny me the challenge?” asked Descent, tucking the feathers into headband of his goggles.

“Not at all,” replied Massimo, tossing aside his weapons. “Do you have a name, Equestrian?”

“You may call me Descent,” replied the stallion, circling back around to a position opposite Massimo.

“Descent of Equestria,” bowed Massimo. “I will remember that name when I tell my grandchildren of this battle. I will see that it is honored when you pass on.”

“I’ll return the favor, provided that you give me a fight to remember,” smirked Descent, before meeting the griffon in battle.

Rat immediately slipped into the shadows with Wasp, slipping past the distracted Sky Wings to the detention block. While concerned for his former mentor, Rat knew better than to waste this opportunity. By challenging the Master of the Skies to a duel, Descent had created enough of a distraction to allow Rat to slip by the griffon lines. Several well-practiced movements placed master and apprentice in the rafters and on the opposite side of the room, allowing the pair to slip through the door.

The prison was sparse, even by griffon standards. Solid concrete walls and oak doors lined the corridor, small barred windows providing the only ventilation for the cells within. Working quickly, Rat and Wasp checked the cells silently, searching for the target. Rat had already made up his mind about what needed to happen next. Wasp suddenly motioned to Rat, having found their target.
Inside the cramped cell, a dark grey griffon rested casually on a pile of straw, yellow eyes exuding the same smug arrogance as his cocky smirk. Rat was surprised that Pietro didn’t have as many scars as his reputation would suggest. The griffon stretched lazily and sat upright.

“Not exactly who I was expecting, but I assume that you’re here to get me out?” drawled Pietro.

“We’re here to release you, yes,” replied Rat.

“About time,” snorted Pietro. “I was beginning to wonder.”

Pietro stretched before rising to his claws.

“Well, nags, are we going to get out of here or-” began Pietro.

“No,” interrupted Rat as he slid his blade between the griffon’s vertebrae with a sickening crunch of bone.

The griffon gasped, falling limp as his face shifted in shock and betrayal. In another moment, the light left the bird’s eyes, a pool of red spreading across the deep grey flagstones. Wasp stared in shock, looking up at Rat.

“We’ll be lucky to get ourselves out, much less a buzzard dead-weight,” explained Rat as he wiped his blade clean on the dead griffon’s feathers. “Come on, we don’t have time to waste.”

Making their way back to the main corridor, Rat and Wasp returned to find Massimo and Descent locked in combat. Blood flowed over dark feathers in a steady stream as Massimo screeched and slashed at Descent. Descent stood firm against Massimo’s assault, even as his suit stained red from the slashes he endured. Still, blood loss was taking its toll on the stallion, causing his motions to slow.

Thinking quickly, Rat tossed his second grenade, marked with a red stripe, into the crowd of griffons. The effect was immediate, griffons screeching and scattering as a brilliant fountain of white sparks ignited their feathers, setting them ablaze. Massimo flinched for only a second to glance back at his soldiers, granting Descent the only opening he needed. A single hoof struck true, a crunching sound of cartilage crumpling beneath. Massimo gave a choked gurgle, his expression merely one of surprise. The griffon clawed at his armor, attempting to pry off his armor plates to reach his neck, possibly in an attempt to perform an emergency tracheotomy, but the lack of oxygen and the blood pouring into his lungs prevented that. And so, the Master of the Skies collapsed, drowning in his own blood as his brain starved from lack of oxygen.

The effect was immediately demoralizing for every Sky Wing in the room. Two lieutenants worked to carry the fallen commander to safety as the temporary truce collapsed on itself. Any Sky Wing that wasn’t burning attacked, sending crossbow bolts and spears into the Shadowbolts. Hag and Lark fell with crossbow bolts through their goggle lenses.

“No!” cried out Concord before his head snapped to the side as a spear struck the side of his head with the sound of crunching bone.

Rat signaled the rest of the Pack to throw grenades to cover their escape, stopping only to retrieve goggles and help Descent to his hooves.

“You look like hammered shit, Sir,” quipped Rat.

“Don’t pull any punches, do you?” smirked Descent through a pained grimace.

“Just like you taught me,” grinned Rat, passing him off to Mercy and Thorn. “Now let’s get moving before the bird brains reorganize.”

The group made their way down the corridor and out of the building. The courtyard was more of a mess than before, with the Shadowbolts barely holding the line against the griffon forces. A familiar face burst from the crowd, wielding a rope dart with lethal precision. Razor grinned at the sight of Rat and Descent even as he fought of Sky Wings back to back with Witch.

“Took the scenic route, did you?” quipped Razor.

“Well, you know Descent: always wanting to go back for seconds,” smirked Rat.

“Seems he bit off a bit more than he could chew this time,” grinned Razor as he pulled an impaled Sky Wing down.

“Go fuck yourselves, the both of you,” grunted Descent.

“No, old nag, I think Rat would much prefer a certain archeolo-” began Razor with a smirk.

“RAZOR!” snapped Rat, eliciting a chuckle from the two older stallions. “LESS TALKING, MORE LEAVING!”

“Isn’t that what she said?” whispered Razor as Rat passed him.

“...You know, I regret telling you about that…” hissed Rat as Razor laughed.

Nearby, a small azure stallion was clinging to the back of a Sky Wing lieutenant’s neck as he bashed the griffon repeatedly with whatever objects he could get his hooves on, ranting emphatically.

“‘SMALL ONE’ AM I?! HOW DARE YOU CALL ME SO FUCKING SHORT THAT I COULDN’T REACH THE BOTTOM SHELF WITHOUT A GODDAMN LADDER YOU TURKEY FUCK!” swore Trance. “I’LL SHOW YOU HOW ‘SHORT’ APPLIES TO LIFESPANS AND BLOOD SUPPLIES! WE’LL SEE HOW FUCKING TALL YOU ARE WHEN I RIP YOUR DRUMSTICKS OFF AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR-”

“TRANCE!” screeched a crimson mare, striking with every word. “WE! ARE! LEAVING!”

Trance glanced at Witch for a full second before growling in the griffon’s bleeding ear.

“You got lucky, chickenbait,” hissed Trance before snapping the griffon’s neck.

The Shadowbolts were in full tactical withdrawal. Mercy took a crossbow bolt to the wing, screeching before Thorn caught her. Tank roared, diving to catch Descent before the stallion fell to his death. Rat was vaguely aware of his barking orders, but all he could hear was the pulse pounding in his ears. They were on the final stretch out of this hellhole. Only forty feet more to freedom. Rat would curse those forty feet for the rest of his life.

“Ah!” exclaimed Wasp softly, so soft that Rat almost didn’t hear it.

Wasp’s chest bloomed dark red as a single black crossbow bolt protruded from him. The apprentice fell, his eyes fluttering. Rat dove to catch his apprentice, knowing it was probably too late, but unwilling to accept that fact.

“Wasp!” barked Rat. “Come on, Wasp! Speak to me! Don’t you die on me now, dammit!”

Wasp stared unseeing at the sky, a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Rat shut his eyes as he felt the familiar sting. His apprentice was dead.

“...Goodbye, Wasp,” sighed Rat, removing his apprentice’s goggles. “We’ll meet again someday-”

“ARGH, SON OF A WHORE!” swore Razor.

Rat whipped his head up to see Razor’s ankles impaled by a griffon spear. Distracted by this sudden injury, Razor was unable to avoid the half-dozen crossbow bolts that impaled his wings. The old stallion fell, yelling and cursing as he did so.

“RAZOR!” screeched Rat, diving after the falling stallion, releasing his fallen apprentice as he did so.

Rat barely caught the stallion in time, struggling to lift the stallion as they moved beyond the range of the crossbow emplacements.

“What the hell are you doing, Rat?!” bellowed Razor. “Wasp needs you-”

“He’s gone,” choked Rat. “He’s gone, Razor.”

Razor was silent as Rat swiftly carried him out of harm’s way.

“Rat, I’m so sorry…” sighed Razor.

“It’s all part of the job, right?” sighed Rat bitterly.

Razor remained silent. Rat made his way back to the Cirrus as the screams of injured comrades filled his ears. A quick glance at Nightshade told him all he needed to know about how the other side of the skirmish went.

“You know, there’s going to be hell to pay when you get back,” mused Razor, wincing.

“I know…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Rat,” pressed Razor.

“Won’t matter, though,” replied Rat. “Hell doesn’t care whether it’s your debt or not when it comes collecting.”

To be continued….

Author's Notes:

Holy hell.... WAAAAAAAY too long to write this damn thing...

Anyhow, would like to again dedicate this chapter to PenumbraGlow0290. Hang in there little sis...

Haven't started on the next chapter yet, but it may take a bit longer than expected. Writing dark stuff is tough, and it's hard to maintain that level of dark without it dragging you down in it. But yeah, Dante's era all comes crashing down...