Chapter 13: Ashes to Ashes

From the balcony in the diplomatic quarters of Canterlot Castle, Prose cannot help but marvel at how fast Canterlot is rebuilding. The city is still mostly in ruins, much of it completely uninhabitable, but the feeling within the city is one of compassion and caring for each other. Ponies, of all classes and walks of life, are lending what help they can to each other, opening house and business for those who have lost everything.

If Prose had to bet, he would put his bits on it being Twilight’s influence. The Princess of Friendship had an aura about her that causes ponies to work together and put aside their differences. If nothing else, the very presence of a Princess is enough to make most work together, and hopefully Shiro’s added weight is helping. But then, with all the cooperation and open smiles, Prose knows that just below the surface something else is brewing.

Just because the sun is out, doesn’t mean all the shadows of fled, afterall.

The sound of hooves outside the door draws Prose’s attention away from the city, and he pulls out a pocket watch from the breast pocket of his uniform. Noting the time, he sighs and puts the watch away as he composes himself.

A knock at the door comes shortly, and Prose calls out as he looks back out over the city.

“Enter.” Prose’s voice is calm, but not unwelcoming.

The door swings open and a small squad of guards enter, followed by the large lumbering shape of a heavily scarred pegasus mare who looks around the room passively. Her eyes eventually land on Prose, and her face becomes slightly less passive, slightly more surprised.

“We were told to bring this… prisoner to you,” one of the guards, clearly the most senior, states, hesitating slightly as though trying to remain professional. “I do not know what you wish of her, but she has said little and clearly does not wish-”

“She is mute,” Prose interjects, turning to look at the guards and the Jaeger. “If the scar on her neck is any indication.” He then smiles slightly. “But, you wouldn’t know that.”

“Yes, sir…” The senior guard says slowly. “In any event, we were instructed to remain with her, and to make sure she causes no problems for you.”

“Of course, Princess Twilight is very protective of her friends,” Prose chuckles as he picks up an apple from the table in front of him. After a short pause, he extends the blade from one of the collapsible blades on his fetlocks, and starts peeling it. “However, I do not require you to remain in the room. If you would all please leave her in my care and exit the room, you will find refreshments and a place to rest has been prepared.” For a moment the lead guard hesitates, then shrugs and nods to his group.

“Alright, but if you need any assistance, we’ll be just outside the door,” the guard salutes sharply as he turns and exits along with the rest of his group.

Returning to looking out over the city and continuing to peel the apple, Prose waits patiently for the large mare to feel at ease, or at least curious, enough to wander over. It will take a while, but in meetings like this trust is a commodity worth more than all the gold in the world. As the sun reaches it’s apex, for he had been sitting out here since just after the tolling of the tenth hour of the morning, the sound of heavy hoof falls heralds the approach of his guest, and from the corner of his eye he watches her take a seat on the other side of the table and look over the spread of food.

“It is for you,” Prose says absently, causing the mare to look up at him. Blinking a few times, she opens her mouth to speak, but Prose holds up a hoof and puts down his apple before lifting his wings and hooves and signing to her. ‘Do you know how to speak like this?’

The mare nods slowly, her head tilting to one side in confusion before she replies simply, ‘I do.’

“Good,” Prose smiles picking his apple back up and taking a bite. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of looking over the medical report the navy filed after your capture.”

‘Why would I care?’ the mare replies hesitantly, looking between Prose and the food. ‘And why give me food?’

“Because, they don’t feed you well down in the dungeon,” Prose answers, gesturing to the food. “They feed Blueblood three square meals a day, even the JSS officers get better meals than you. I figured you’d be hungry.”

“W-why?” the mare asks, her voice raspy and soft.

“Am I not allowed to show respect to the pony who bested me in combat?” Prose asks in kind. “Plus, I do not hold you in contempt for your part in the riots, as I know a thing or two more than most when it comes to how Jaegers are made.” He gestures to the food, his smile growing. “So please, eat. I insist. And while you do, we shall I need to speak to you about something.”

Shaking her head, the mare sighs a raspy almost death rattle-like sigh, before she looks at Prose again. ‘There is always a catch.’ She then starts eating, albeit slowly as if unsure of what exactly to eat first.

Prose waits a few moments before he reaches over to a stack of folders on the side of the table. Selecting one, he flips through it for a few moments to allow the mare to eat a small amount before he speaks up. “Now, I know you don’t trust me, and in all honesty I do not trust you. But, if the food and the dismissal of the guards did not make it clear, I wish to trust you and mean you no ill will.” He pauses to allow the mare to reply, when she continues eating, sparing him but the briefest of glances, he continues. “So, to that effect I want you to know that as of the end of the riots, Janus Security Solutions was dissolved. Its assets were seized by the crown, and liquidated. The majority of their… less than savory experiments were destroyed, and are reported missing.” The mare stiffens at the mention of the experiments, and sits up sharply, glaring daggers at Prose who once more holds up a hoof. “If you will allow me to finish before you join my wife in wanting to rip my guts out, I am sure I can put your fears to rest.”

The mare holds her gaze on Prose for a few moments longer, but eventually she settles down again and relaxes.

“Good,” Prose says simply, his smile never slipping. “Now, if you are worried about a certain collection of young ponies, I would direct your attention over the balcony to the gardens.” The mare pauses in her eating and scoots over to look over the edge of the balcony, starting slightly as she looks down into the gardens. As she does, Prose likewise looks down into the gardens that are usually reserved for the pleasure of visiting diplomats.

Today, however, what is left of the garden is full of young ponies and their caretakers playing amongst the flowerbeds and bomb craters. A few of the foals are wearing capes, but the majority are looking around at everything like they’ve never been in a garden before, and likely many of them haven’t. The large group of gawking foals are being escorted by a buttery-yellow pegasus with a pink mane who is gently answering the questions as they come up, and even helping break the ice between some of the more adventurous animals that have returned to the garden and the foals.

The next caretaker, a fiery red unicorn, is calmly sitting with the foals that aren’t following the pegasus. A book levitating in her magic, she seems to be reading them a story from the center of a large picnic blanket, the story obviously enthralling them and helping put them at ease.

And last, but not least, a third mare seems to be playing hide and go seek with the last group, which contains mostly foals wearing capes and various uniforms. This one, however, keeps changing in flashes of red fire as she hides, often times taking on the form of one of the foals. The foals laugh each time she changes, the fact that she is cheating by doing this lost in the novelty of her ability to do so.

“One hundred and fifty foals,” Prose says calmly, his voice full of pride. “One hundred and fifty scared, confused, and most importantly safe, foals came to the Castle two days ago via some of my friends.” The mare looks up at him, but Prose keeps looking down into the garden. “Currently, my wife -- she is the red unicorn reading to the group down there -- Dame Fluttershy -- the Pegasus --, and Doctor Emerald Haze -- she is the one changing form -- are keeping watch over them.” He looks up at the mare, who blinks slowly. “They speak fondly of you, by the way, their big sister.”

Glaring at him, the mare raises her wings again and once more speaks in sign language. ‘What do you want?’

“What do you mean?” Prose asks, raising an eyebrow.

‘For their safety, what do you want?’ The mare demands, her motions forceful.

“I want nothing for their safety,” Prose says slowly, his brow furrowing. “In fact, I am slightly insulted you’d ask that. I would never harm foals! Shadowbolts have standards, you know!” He sighs and shakes his head. “No, I want to make this clear. I will not, nor will anypony, ever harm those foals. Nor, I should add, the foals that have yet to emerge from the growth tubes my compatriots found when they raided JSS’s HQ.”

“R-r-raided?” The mare’s raspy voice once more comes forth, followed by a coughing fit.

“Please, don’t use your voice, it’s clearly painful,” Prose says gently as he pours her a glass of water and offers it over. “As to your question, on the night of the attack on Canterlot by JSS and the upstart nobility, a group of Shadowbolts entered JSS’s headquarters outside the city.” he picks up another folder and offers it to the mare, the words ‘TOP SECRET’ and ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ are stamped on the front of it along with the seal of the Royal Equestrian Navy. “The group included a former Jaeger, much like yourself, outfitted in modified Jaeger armor. As I am to understand, with the exception of those foals, the entire facility was slaughtered to the last.”

The mare takes the folder and opens it, scanning through the images inside as she sips her water and eats a little more. Her body language slowly relaxes as she looks through the pictures, as if the confirmation that JSS has been wiped out takes a weight off her shoulders, or perhaps all the fight out of her. As she looks at the last picture, which depicts the inside of a bunkhouse that looks like a vat of ground beef exploded in it, the mare opens her mouth as if to speak, then closes it and raises her wings.

‘Why?’ she asks again. ‘You’ve shown me all of this, the pictures, my…” she hesitates, looking out over the edge of the balcony again before continuing. ‘My family. Yet you’ve not said why I am here.’

“I need your help,” Prose states calmly. “I need your help and in return I am going to offer you something nopony has ever offered you before.”

‘What?’ the mare asks, her gestures slow as she leans her head to one side.

“Your freedom.”

-----

“Helm, slow speed to half power,” Noire says calmly from her chair, her eyes fixed forward out the large viewing window. Beside her, Prose smiles slightly at the sound of the bells denoting the decrease in speed.

“I have to thank you again, Captain, for ferrying myself and my group out here,” Prose says with a chuckle. “I would have thought you and your crew would be enjoying your leave.”

“I think we’re all a little too used to action to sit on our flanks,” Noire replies with a smirk. “Besides, I agree with you on the fact that there is something more going on here. Blueblood has always been special in the head, but never so much so to start an entire uprising. Not unless he was pushed to do so.”

“All the same, you didn’t have to come, I could have requisitioned a ship through Twilight,” Prose continues with a warm smile.

“Well, nopony is more experienced with dealing with JSS in the Equestrian Military than us, Prose,” Noire counters. “And I believe you wanted to keep Twilight’s involvement under wraps for the time being, at least that’s what your wife said.”

“At this rate, all the mares I know are going to become friends with my wife, and I’ll never escape,” Prose sighs, putting a hoof to his face in mock frustration.

“You can’t escape us, Prose,” Noire says in a comforting tone, patting the stallion on the shoulder. “All mares know each other, and it’s part of our code to make the lives of the stallions hell.” She then stands and stretches before turning towards the back of the bridge. “But, enough gossip, we’re here on a mission.” She nods her head towards the door leading to the hallway leading off the bridge. “Walk with me, Renegade, we need to talk.”

“As you wish, Captain,” Prose states calmly, his tone professional.

The two walk from the small dias the Captain’s chair occupies, and through the bridge, which is about the size of Prose’s living room and dining room combined. Currently, the stations on the bridge are not all staffed, as the ponies that normally stand at the tactical, damage control, and map stations are currently elsewhere on the ship. The few that remain, mostly the navigation and comms stations, are currently enjoying the lazy cruise their ship is on, and are taking advantage of it by talking back and forth about idle topics such as mares or asking after each other’s families post riot.

Prose hasn’t been listening to it, though, the gossip. He already knows that the Helmsman's father is quite alright even if he is currently being chewed out by the Admiralty and Princess Twilight for crashing his ship into the Everfree. The Comms officer’s family was likewise okay, even if his father was currently pulling his mane out in worry over Luna and having to deal with his co-commander and the general insanity of the city.

And then they’re out of bridge and into the cramped inner part of the ship, the tight walkways lined with pipes and reinforced bulkheads, which are normal. What catches Prose’s attention is the unorthodox upgrades that have been integrated into the ship’s inner workings.

“This looks like Drake forged steel, Captain,” Prose states as they pass a bulkhead, which including the surrounding area looks as if it had been replaced.

“A gift, actually, from our time lost floating around up north,” Noire replies.

“So the stories really are true?” Prose asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Dee-Seven told us you know the Rat Pack,” Noire inquires, continuing as Prose nods his head. “Then you should already know the answer to that.”

“My day job is publishing stories, Captain,” Prose counters. “There’s just something different about hearing them from the source, and not a third party, you know?” He shrugs. “Perhaps I can convince you to tell me them sometime?”

“Perhaps,” Noire chuckles. “If you think the bulkhead is cool, should talk to my engineer. She’ll fill an entire conversation talking about the stuff she’s done to this old floating rust bucket.”

“I might just have to,” Prose agrees as he starts forward again. “Now, where are we off to and what do you need to talk about?”

“The armory,” Noire replies as she starts leading Prose again. “The large friend you brought on board and the others are there, getting ready for our landing. I figured we’d converge there and talk about what we’re doing once we get to our destination.”

Nodding, Prose follows after, the pair lapsing into silence as they pass through the ship and down two flights of stairs to reach the armory in the center of the ship. After the first flight they find themselves surrounded by the crew, who stop and salute to their Captain as they pass while also barely giving much attention to the strange companion with her. Their indifference to Prose’s uniform and appearance speaks highly of their training, and also their comfort with things they’ve never seen before, which makes Prose glad that Noire bullied him into accepting her help and her ship to get him to the former JSS HQ. They also pass the ship’s weaponry, the majority of which seems to be small caliber flak and anti-boarding guns. A few, though, catch his eye as they’re larger caliber Griffin breach guns ranging from blood chilling twelve pounds to a pair of massive sixteen pounders mounted just below the bridge. Prose keeps his eyes on the sixteen pounders until they’re out of sight as Noire leads him around a corner and down the second set of stairs.

Once they’re at the bottom of the stairs, he opens his mouth to ask where the hay they’d gotten those guns, but Noire speaks up before he can.

“We’re here,” Noire states calmly, opening a large reinforced bulkhead door and holding it open. “After you, Prose.”

“Thank you, Noire,” Prose says warmly as he steps into the armory, stopping a few feet in as he spots his team.

That team is comprised of five hoof picked guards, Daring, Leaf, and the large armored form of the recently freed Jaeger. Out of all of them, them the Jaeger shows the most emotions, her scarred face moving through the gambit of confusion and anger, to even a calm blank mask whenever she spies someone looking at her, which happens quite often due to her armor and the fact she is quite a bit larger than a normal mare.

Prose had taken the Jaeger armor she had been captured into the Royal Armory, and along with his wife the armorer and given it a small makeover once they’d finished poking around at it to see what made it so damn deadly. They’d given it a fresh coat of paint in dark purple and gold, removed the rank insignias and added in a few reinforcements in key points Prose had discovered after his fight in the city. If not for the fact that she was an imposing figure to start out with, the armor made her more so, and Prose was counting on it to keep any potential JSS stragglers from interrupting them.

Walking forward as Noire closes the bulkhead behind herself, Prose makes straight for the Jaeger, who is currently sitting on a bench near the weapons racks. As he draws close, her eyes flick up towards him for a brief moment, before returning to looking at nothing. He stops in front of her, and raises his hooves and wings, signaling he is going to talk to her and drawing her full attention.

‘How are you feeling?’ Prose gestures, a warm fatherly smile on his face.

‘Empty,’ she replies, her gestures slow. ‘I do not know how to feel about returning to the place we are going,’

‘Would you like to talk about it?’ Prose asks gently.

‘I do not know if I can,’ the Jaeger replies.

“Grace, I am here for you if you need to talk about it,” Prose says aloud, slowly reaching out and placing a hoof on the large mare’s. She jerks back instinctively, her entire body tensing. “You don’t have to, though, I understand.”

‘Too painful. And my name is not Grace, hasn’t been for a long time,’ Grace replies slowly. ‘JSS called me Vengeance.”

“It was the way you looked at them, wasn’t it?” Prose sighs. “The looks you’d give them after each time they’d beat you down to the mats in training. The way you’d always get even with the ones who mistreated the foals.”

Narrowing her eyes, Grace glares at Prose, gesturing quickly, ‘How do you know that?’

“I’ll tell you when we get back to Canterlot,” Prose remarks softly. “Suffice to say, this isn’t our first meeting.”

Grace stares at him blankly, her brows furrowed, and move to continue talking, but another voice cuts in before she can start.

“Jaeger unit Vengeance,” a monotonous voice states from the other side of Grace. “I have finished the calibrations on your helmet. They should be up to current military standards.”

Looking around Grace, Prose smiles at the mare who was speaking. “Dee, I see you’ve met my friend here?”

“I have,” Dee replies as she holds the helmet out for Grace.

The larger pony takes the helmet slowly, holding it in her hooves for a few long moments as she looks at the black visor and new dark purple and gold paint. With a rasping sigh, she turns it around and puts it over her head, the hissing of the seal locking the only sound for a few moments before she looks at Dee.

“Thank you, Subject Delta-Seven-Slash-Nine,” an artificial voice issues from the helmet. “It is serviceable.”

“I am glad,” Dee answers, the ghost of a smile on her face. “I was worried the vocal processor had been damaged when the armor was tampered with at the Castle. That seems to not be the case.” She turns and without further comment walks away.

“I see JSS was just as lazy as ever,” Prose comments as he slides onto the bench with a sigh. “I bet a lot of your handlers didn’t bother learning how to talk to you using pegasus-sign language, or that most of them were even pegasi.”

“I cannot comment on their motives, Renegade Prose,” Grace replies as she faces forward. “I am a weapon, a tool, they only gave me the technology in this helmet because even as a tool I still needed to offer field reports.”

“I see,” Prose sighs. “It’s good to hear you speaking, even if it’s a fake voice.”

“This is my voice, Renegade Prose,” Grace states. “I remember having no other voice, except for vague memories that may very well be the wishful dreams of a filly now long dead.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Prose says absently. “I think she’s still in there, somewhere.” He then slides off the bench and looks to Grace. “Well, I think it’s time I briefed the team as to why we’re going into where we’re going.”

“Lead the way,” Grace states as she stands as well, the bench creaking as her weight is lifted.

With a nod, Prose starts towards the others, who have gathered on the other side of the armory to prepare their own gear, openly leaving room between themselves and Grace. As the two approach the quiet conversations that had been going on die down, and all eyes instantly turn towards Grace where they linger for a moment longer than is polite, before moving to Prose as he clears his throat.

“I hope everypony is prepared.” Prose asks in a calm voice, his face taking on a neutral expression as all gathered nod, including Noire. “Good. Now, Captain Noire wished to discuss why we are heading where we are, and in the interest of full disclosure I think it’s time I told you all exactly what is going on.”

“About time, Prose,” Daring interjects. “Usually I’m all for going into places with no idea what to expect, but I think this time I’d like to know what I’m jumping into.”

“Of course,” Prose smirks before reaching up and patting Grace’s shoulder. “But, before I get into the gritty details, I’d like you all to properly meet our guide; Everypony, this is Graceful Melody, also known as the Jaeger Vengeance. Her and I are going to be leading this little outing, and I expect everyone to treat her with respect, alright?” Everypony nods, though some slower than others. Lowering his hoof from Grace’s shoulder, Prose clears his throat and continues. “Now, Captain Noire and Senior Master Sergeant Yearling know this, but a few days ago as we fought through the streets of Canterlot the JSS HQ outside Canterlot was attacked, and subsequently destroyed. The group that destroyed it was comprised of friends of mine and Yearlings, Renegades led by a young stallion by the name of Rat,” at the mention of Rat Daring starts, her eyes going wide which causes Leaf to look at her with a raised eyebrow and Prose to smirk. “The group unleashed one of their own, a former Jaeger named Tank, into the facility as well as set explosives of different types. The end result was the complete destruction of the facility and all staff within.”

“So, what, we’re going to go pick through the pieces and see what’s still useful?” A guard asks with a snort. “Sounds like crap work. By now everything that was useful has likely been taken by scavengers, or the official investigation.”

“Knowledge,” Prose answers simply. “Knowledge is the only thing worth gaining in this world, my dear friend. I’ve been in the business of gathering knowledge for a long time, and when I don’t know something, I find it out.”

“And what are we looking for, Prose?” Leaf asks, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, I’ve followed Daring into ruins before, but we usually know what we’re looking for.”

“We’re looking for who is pulling the strings, Leaf,” Prose states. “I found evidence that some of my… former associates have their hooves in the riots, and if that is the case then if it is of the utmost importance we find out who, and why.” He gestures to Captain Noire and Dee, who has taken up a position beside her captain. “Noire and the crew of Voyager will be providing C.A.P during the mission, as well as a ground team of her marines and an engineering team, as I doubt we’ll find anything that isn’t beat to hell down there.” he looks to his group, a sad smile on his face as he does. “Our job is the fun one. We’re going to be wading into the ruins to find the computer core and the records. Now, when I say the staff were slaughtered, I mean it, we’re going to be wading knee, if not chest, deep through bodies and Celestia knows what else. I heavily suggest you eat a light lunch, do not wear anything you’re not prepared to burn, and wear masks.”

“Oh, lovely,” Daring sighs before she turns to Leaf. “Dear, I think we’d best leave our uniforms here….”

“Don’t have to tell me twice! Remember that time we fell into that burial chamber?” Leaf snorts. “I had to burn my favorite vest!”

“You look better without it,” Daring smirks.

“Save the honeymoon for later, you two,” Prose coughs. “I know you just got married basically today, but can you wait to jump each other until we’re not on a mission?”

“Unless you two want to wash the armory floor,” Noire comments with a smirk

“Dear, my cousin and your publisher are ganging up on us!” Leaf chuckles.

“We’ll save it for later, Prose, Noire,” Daring promises with a chuckle of her own. “So, is there anything else we need to be aware of, Prose?”

“Just that if we run into any JSS straglers, they’re kill on sight,” Prose states with a finality that causes a few of the ponies present to shiver. “Princess Twilight has branded JSS employees as traitors to the crown, and they are to be treated as such. If they surrender to you, they are to be considered prisoners of war, pending a war crimes trial.”

“And if they don’t surrender?” a marine nearby asks slowly.

“Vengeance belongs to me,” Grace’s artificial voice declares softly. “I shall pay them back a thousand fold for what they have done to my siblings.”

----

The muted sound of the groups hoof falls is the only companion to Prose and his group as they tredge through the front gates of the former HQ of Janus Security Solutions. The once well guarded reinforced gates are blown open, the charred remains of the security guards barely seen beneath the discarded metal and overturned carts.

Even this many days past, fires still smolder in some of the buildings, their concrete faces glowing faintly as wispy trails of smoke escape the shattered windows, lending them the appearance of charred skulls, causing many of the group to shiver or shy away from the hellish buildings.

“Be on your guard,” Grace states calmly. “With all the destruction here, ambushes could wait around any corner.”

“Thanks, I feel much better,” Daring smirks under her filter mask. “Anything else we should know? Like did they mine the driveway? Oh, how about pitfalls?”

“Fear not, Senior Master Sergeant,” Grace intones, “I am sure any of the many explosive traps they set beneath the walkway detonated or were rendered inoperable during the attack.” She then pauses in her advance, causing everypony else to pause as well. “But, if not, and you hear a clicking sound, please inform me so I can put proper distance between us.”

“Was that sarcasm, Miss Stoneface?” Daring asks with a weak chuckle.

“No, standard Janus anti-personnel mines have an effective explosive radius of two pony lengths, and a shrapnel cloud of at least four,” Grace answers, looking over at Daring, her face hidden beneath her helmet. “I would prefer my armor not become damaged due to inattention after it was just returned to me.”

“Okay, I’m going to treat that like sarcasm, and pretend you’re actually a normal pony,” Daring sighs, shaking her head.

“If that makes you feel better, Senior Master Sergeant,” Grace shrugs before continuing forward, the group in tow.

Shivering once, Daring continues forward, making sure to step in the hoofprints of Grace, just in case there are undetonated mines. Not that she is afraid of it, after all she has been in worse places than this, Canterlot a few days ago for one, and then there was that one time in the jungle…

The appearance of a large shadow overtaking them draws Daring from her thoughts, and draws her attention upwards towards HMS Voyager as it passes overhead. Captain Noire had informed them that she’d be patrolling over the vast grounds of the security compound, and had given them some smoke signals ‘just in case you need something dealt with’ which Daring had presumed meant if they needed Voyager to blow something up. Of course, she had added in a hug to Leaf, and one for Daring, congratulating them on their marriage and telling her cousins to come back safely so she doesn’t have to explain to Fine how she got them killed.

Looking back at Leaf, she finds her husband currently next to one of the Royal Guard accompanying them. Both him and the guard, who is a friend of theirs named Lode Stone, are carrying the equipment that Voyager’s engineer had informed them they’d need. Prose had argued it a bit, some of the items had been very unorthodox, but there had been no arguing with the hot-tempered hippogriff, and in the end he had simply agreed with it so they could disembark and get on with their mission.

Chuckling at the memory, Daring starts to turn around when there is a loud clicking sound. Freezing instantly she looks down to her hoof and for a moment is afraid there is a mine beneath it. But chuckling from nearby draws her attention up to the head of the group where Prose is holding open a mostly intact door.

“Something wrong, Daring?” Prose asks, his eyes twinkling with the familiar mischief they usually hold.

“Nope, just eager to get inside,” Daring replies stiffly.

“Very well, let’s get inside then,” Prose agrees, turning to the door and pausing. “Oh, and do mind the bodies and the smell…” He looks to Grace who is standing beside him. “Time to take point, my friend. If you could clear a path through the bodies, I am sure the earth ponies and unicorns with us would be thankful.”

“As you command, Renegade Prose,” Grace says automatically as she tries to open the door fully, only to find it’s jammed. She rips the door off it’s hinges with a grunt, allowing for the body of a badly mangled JSS employee to fall backwards in front of her. The body is too badly charred and damaged to tell if it’s a mare or stallion, and Daring watches as Grace simply steps over it and into the darkness with one final word back to the others. “Wait here for a moment, I shall make sure the room is clear before the rest of you enter.”

Doing her best to avoid looking at the body in the doorway, Daring stiffly waits for Grace to return or call for them to enter the building. She has no idea why she is so nervous, she has gone into dangerous ruins before, why should this one be different even if it has only been ruins for a few days? The sound of another pony coming up next to her draws her attention to the side, and she smiles warmly as she spots Leaf come to stand next to her as he extends a wing to rest over her back.

As he does, she realizes exactly why this time is different. Why she is suddenly so worried. Looking down to Leaf’s left fetlock, she looks at the gold band wrapped around it, marking him married. The matching one is on her own left fetlock mirroring his, declaring to all that she is married to him. And that’s what frightens her, they more than anypony else know how dangerous places like this can be, possible death simply one of the many things that you accept when you’re in the line of work they are. But, now? Now she doesn’t want to accept that risk, now Leaf is her husband and not simply her partner, and if one of them die…

“The way is clear,” Grace’s artificial voice drones out from the room. “You may all enter, as I have cleared a path through the barracks of bodies. Be warned, the hallway beyond is considerably worse, and is damaged badly.”

Take a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Daring starts forward right as Prose enters the dark barracks. She braces herself mentally and physically as she starts to cross the threshold to prepare herself for whatever horrors lay within, for even with the Shadowbolt attack and the riot she knows she’ll never get used to seeing dead bodies.

And then she is inside, and her stomach does backflips at the sight, as well as the humid and cloying smell she can taste as much as smell in her mind’s eye. The entire barracks is a scene of carnage and devastation with bunks thrown in seemingly random directions and some even bent completely in impossible angles as if they’d been bowled over by a freight train. And amidst the broken bunks are bodies, strewn like discarded dolls against the walls and all over the floor save for a single path which Daring and the others walk towards the charred door on the other side.

Despite her fury at Janus, the anger and the outrage for what they’d done, Daring cannot help but feel slightly sorry for them. Many, if not all of them, must have been taken in their sleep, as more than a few aren’t even wearing their uniforms, and those who are look like they’d been thrown on in a quick and haphazard fashion.

“This is the world of a fellow Jaeger alright,” Grace comments from her position beside the far doorway. “Quick, brutal, efficient. I am surprised any of them had time to put on their uniforms.”

“Damn,” Lode breaths from behind Daring, his mask masking most of the sound. “Why’re the ones not in their uniforms mostly pegasi?”

“They’re the lucky ones,” Leaf comments, his voice sounding strained as if he’s trying not to vomit. “All their throats are slit, they’d have gone quickly.”

“Standard Shadowbolt extermination procedure,” Prose states calmly without looking back as he moves out towards the hallway. “Kill the flyers first, they’re the first to usually raise the alarm, and if they get away reinforcements are often on scene in less than five minutes.” He pauses at the door and sighs. “Plus, if you can’t fly, there was only one way out of the hell that descended upon this place, and if he is as angry as I think he was, you’d might as well have slit your own throat and ended it quicker.”

“He like our lovely guide?” Lode asks slowly.

“He smiles more,” Prose responds. “And, he’s a lot happier most days.” He gently nudges the body of a mare, her neck ending in a stump half way up. “This was one of the other days.”

“I’d hate to see him when he’s truly mad,” Leaf chuckles uneasily. “Or when someone tries to take his lunch money.”

“There’s a reason our cleaners are some of the best, Leaf,” Prose states as he reaches into a pouch on the tactical harness he is wearing. “When someone does do those things to him, you never hear about it.” He pulls out a small globe and strikes it against the wall, causing a second glass sphere inside to shatter and the globe to glow brightly. “Now, if they’re as lazy as I remember with their base layout, the computer core should be deeper into this building, and down in one of the sub-basements.”

“And if it isn’t?” Daring asks calmly.

“Then we keep looking,” Prose answers. “Let’s just hope Lieutenant Torrent gets the power back on soon, because whatever we find will be mostly useless unless she does.” He puts the light globe into a small holder on his harness and starts down the hallway. “But, no point in standing around, I’d rather we not be here for long as there are less questions to be asked if Voyager isn’t spotted by random ponies in the area.”

Wordlessly, the group follows, Prose and Grace in the front and Lode taking the rear with Leaf and Daring in the middle. Daring does her best to ignore the carnage, but more often than not as they walk through the hallways she brushes against a fallen pony, or is forced to gingerly step over a body part that lays discarded in her path. The state of everything claws at her, mostly her stomach, but she does her best to tell herself that they deserved it, that it was their end result of their actions in Canterlot and likely a hundred other places. That these ponies were evil, vile, creatures who had not deserved to be citizens of Equestria.

But, no matter how much she tells herself that, the part of her that is the explorer, the archeologist, keeps finding little details to poke holes into those thoughts. Stopping for a moment as Grace and Prose work on opening a sealed door, Daring looks off into a room that looks to have been a break area. The door is out of its frame and is lying inside the room as if it had simply fallen inward, and inside are bodies. One of them catches her attention, as it’s sitting up against an overturned table, one hoof held against a bloodstained bandage and it’s face turned down towards an object dangling from one hoof. Looking over at Grace and Prose, Daring decides she can take a moment to sate her curiosity, and gets a little closer.

Walking into the room, she squints at the object in the darkness as she draws close. For a moment she thinks it’s a watch, or perhaps some random object. But as her eyes adjust she realizes, to her horror and dismay, that it’s a locket with a picture inside that is partially obscured by dried blood. Backing up, she realizes that the pony in front of her must have survived the initial attack, only to bleed out on the floor, alone and surrounded by the bodies of their coworkers, and the last thing they had done as the life had drained from them was to look at the pictures in the locket.

She turns to leave the room, and runs right into Prose who had walked silently into the room after her. She looks between Prose and the dead pony behind her, her eyes wide. When he doesn’t reprimand her, she starts to walk around him.

“Sometimes, we forget our foes are ponies too,” Prose says softly, stopping Daring in her tracks. “I hope you never forget it, though, Daring. Killing is horrible, and wars are the greatest sin we can ever commit.” He turns, and nods to Daring. “I take no pleasure from seeing this, but for now we must put from our minds the death and focus on the mission, so please refrain from wandering off.” He then leaves the room, forcing Daring to follow him.

As she rejoins the group, Daring sticks close to Leaf, the image of the bloodstained locket seared into her mind and leaving her in need of the close proximity of her husband. She stays there as they continue through the dark hallways of the facility, eventually reaching a stairwell that is mostly in tact, though Grace is forced to break the door down as it had been barricaded and from the other side. The stairwell, unlike the hallway, isn’t full of bodies, though there are a few that look to have fallen down the stairs, or suffocated as the fires that had raged on the other floors had sapped the air from the stairs. Grace once more takes point, and they descend down the stairs, deep into the underbelly of the compound.

They go down three levels until they reach the bottom of the stairwell which contains a large reinforced steel door. Looking it over, Prose sighs and looks to Grace. “I don’t think we’re going to get this open by brute force.”

“Agreed,” Grace grunts. “These doors are usually opened via a keycard or other such things. If Lieutenant Lighting Torrent of Voyager can get the power back on, we may be able to open it using the one off of my former handler.”

“Why do you call them ‘handlers’?” Lode asks, looking up at Grace. “Why not just call them ‘boss’,” He pauses as Grace turns her head to look down at him. “Erm… ma’am.”

“Because, as a Jaeger, I was not a soldier as you understand it,” Grace replies, hesitation in her voice. “I was not equal to what you would call a normal pony, I am… I was property of the company, to be used, expended, and discarded as they saw fit. The officers were not my boss, they were my handlers. An officer gave an order, and I obeyed, without question, or thought, I simply did.”

“That sounds awful…” Lode whispers, continuing to look up at Grace. “How could you live like that?”

“I knew no other life,” Grace shrugs as she looks back at the door. “Even now, ‘freedom’ is an abstract concept, an idea just beyond my ability to comprehend as I do not have anything to compare it to.”

"Even from the life I came from, we still had some form of freedom. I don't think I could live if my qu...er... mother had ever treated me worse than dirt,” Lode starts, looking at the door and sitting down next to Grace. “She treated me and all my siblings with the utmost respect, and always asked us to do something."

“Then you are blessed,” Grace replies, looking back down at Lode. “I have no parents, at least not what most would consider parents.” She sits down as well with an echoing sound as her armor hits the floor. “But again, such things are beyond my comprehension.”

Lode opens his mouth to continue the conversation, but is quickly cut off by a loud hum and a few sparks from the lights above them as the power comes back on. Daring herself starts slightly, blinking as the magical lights glow brightly.

“Well, looks like Noire’s engineer is as good as she says she is,” Prose mutters as he reaches into a breast pocket on his uniform and pulls out a keycard. “Right, mares and gentlecolts, from here on out I’m pretty sure we should be past the worst of it, but just in case keep your eyes and ears open.” He swipes the card through a small port beside the door, and with a loud hiss and resounding boom the locks disengage and allow the door to swing open. Grace stands up and walks to the door, looking to Prose for instructions. “After you, Grace.”

Nodding, Grace starts into the hallway beyond, the sound of her armored hoofsteps echoing out to the rest of the group as they follow after. Beyond the door Daring is struck by the difference in atmosphere from the rest of the compound. While the air is still heavy it no longer feels sickly, and there isn’t as much damage.

“So, what is this place used for?” Daring asks Prose who is just ahead of her.

“Storage, I think,” Prose replies. “There is also some labs down here, but we’re not going to go into those as my friends doubtlessly looked them over for things when they were here.”

“What kind of labs?” Leaf asks, looking around.

“Research and Development,” Prose answers. “Mostly they’d use them to grow the Jaegers, research better and deadlier weaponry. Dee-Seven came from a lab much like the ones they’ve likely got here.”

“Oh,” Leaf whispers, falling silent as he continues to look around, though his eyes now hold less curiosity and now hold more revolusion.

The group continues on in complete silence save for the echoing sound of their hooves and their breathing. The hallway eventually opens up into a larger room, different hallways branching off from it to other places with colored lines on the floor to help lead ponies to where they need to go. In the center is what used to be a security checkpoint, but is now nothing more than a twisted mass of metal, a charred leg sticking out of it speaking of what happened to the security that staffed it.

Without stopping, Prose and Grace lead the group along a purple line on the ground, the words “Computer Core” marked on the ground next to it every few feet. They enter another tunnel, and after a short walk they come to another large steel door which Prose opens with the keycard, allowing them to walk into another large room.

Unlike the last room, this one is dominated by large metal cases which hum softly, quite a few of them look damaged, the scorch marks stating that they likely overloaded when whatever happened to the power happened. Daring wanders to a nearby desk, and picks up a clipboard that looks like it’d been discarded in the middle of whatever the pony holding it had been writing. It looks to mostly be a maintenance sheet, the last entry stating that they’d been forced to remove the surge protectors from a few of the servers due to them malfunctioning.

“Looks like everything is in order here,” Prose says from across the room. “Grace, if you’ll watch the door, I’ll see about booting this computer up and getting what I need.”

“Right away, Renegade Prose,” Grace answers as she moves over to the door where she stands looking out.

Moving over to where Prose is, Daring tucks the clipboard under one wing as it looks like the tech had scrawled a password along one side. As she reaches where her friend is, she finds him fiddling with a large, and obviously very expensive as it is rare, computer.

“You sure you know how to work this thing?” Daring asks as she stops beside him.

“Yeah, it’s not as hard as it looks,” Prose replies as he presses a button, causing the contraption to hum to life. “Honestly, I prefer writing by hoof, or even using a typewriter, but as an infiltrator I have to be able to work with the newest pieces of tech these ponies think up.”

“Honestly, I’ll never understand these things,” Daring shrugs. “Something about them makes me uneasy.”

“Might be the price tag,” Prose shrugs, tapping a key on the large keyboard a few times as the computer boots up to the login screen. He pushes his glasses up his face and squints at the screen. “Well, time to figure out what they used for a password.”

“Here, this might help,” Daring chuckles, offering the clipboard. “You’ll love the password.”

“Oh?” Prose asks, smiling as he takes the clipboard. He raises an eyebrow as he looks at the password and chuckles. “Really? ‘Celestia sucks’ is the best they could come up with? No numbers or anything?” He types it in and the password and gets to the next screen, which is a command prompt. “Now the real work starts.”

Daring settles down and watches her friend work, her interest in the other life he has led coming to the forefront and blocking out whatever worries she had been having earlier. Prose works the keyboard slowly and somewhat awkwardly, but progress continues forward until he attempts to access internal memos on recent contracts.

“Restricted, should have guessed,” Prose sighs as he fishes the keycard out of his uniform again, swiping it in a nearby slot. However, the computer beeps and the words ‘Insufficient Clearance’ comes up on the screen.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Daring mutters as she looks to Prose. “So, Mister Shadowbolt infiltrator, what now?”

“Well, I don’t have time to hack my way around this,” Prose sighs, looking over his shoulder towards Grace. “So, I am going to pray that they’re just as lazy as I remember them being…” He types in ‘voice authorization’ into the command line, and pulls a mic over towards him on the desk. Clearing his throat, he waits for the computer to flash ‘ready to receive authorization’ before he presses the button on the mic and speaks. “Command level authorization; Sierra, Bravo, Foxtrot,” He pauses and swallows. “Steel Strike, Jaeger Training and Conditioning.”

Daring stares at Prose, her eyes wide, her expression becoming only more shocked as the computer finishes processing and the command line reads ‘Authorization accepted’ and starts listing documents.

“Where’d you get that?” Daring asks slowly, her voice unable to keep at a whisper.

“Exactly where you think I did,” Prose states numbly as he starts typing again.

“Exactly… I’m thinking a lot of things, but I’m hoping I’m wrong,” Daring states bluntly.

“Keep your voice down, I don’t want Grace to…” Prose asks, but is cut off by Daring.

“Don’t want her to what? Know you helped those monsters make ponies like her!?” Daring retorts just a bit too loud.

“I’m not proud of what I did,” Prose argues. “I was under orders to get into JSS and find out what they were doing. I never expected to get in as deep as I did, nor was I ready for the horrors they were unleashing on foals!” He turns to Daring, stopping his typing. “I did my best, I tried to make sure they were ready for what was coming. Tried to train them so that they could take care of themselves!” He growls, placing a hoof on the desk. “If I regret anything, it’s having to walk away seven years ago and abandon all of them to the tender mercies of the monsters I had tried to shield them from.”

“You need to talk to Grace,” Daring says slowly as she stands up and turns. “But it explains why you’re so comfortable around her and those foals that suddenly showed up.”

“I already planned on it,” Prose mutters, returning to typing, though to Daring it looks more like he is trying to murder the keys. “But not now, it’s too soon.”

Shaking her head, Daring heads towards Leaf, who is sitting next to the door absently toying with the contents of his saddlebag. She sits down next to him, her back against the wall, and watches Leaf, a small smile on her face. She stays there for what feels like hours, the sound of Leaf’s rummaging and Prose’s distant typing making her feel like it’s a normal day. Almost.

“THAT FUCKING BASTARD!” Prose suddenly shouts from the computer, slamming his hooves against the desk, causing all the objects on it to jump up and clatter to the floor. “I should have known somepony as slimy as him would have their hooves in this! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN!” He picks up the keyboard and types something into the command line, inserting a small device into a port on the computer. “I am going to kill him, slowly, with hot branding irons.” he mutters, typing again in the command line as Daring comes over with Leaf and Lode in her wake.

“What's gotten into you?” Leaf asks from behind Daring, a worried frown on his face.

“An old drunken ghost is rearing its ugly face,” Prose growls as he pulls the device from the computer and pockets it. “We need to get outside, right now.” He spreads his wings and ushers the group towards the door, pausing as he passes the one of the computer core’s memory banks to place another device on it. Once they’re at the door, he looks to Grace, “Time to go. I’m going to blow the server room.”

“Very well,” Grace says softly. “I’ve heard no movement from the hallway, we should still be alone.” She pauses, looking down at Prose, her expression unreadable behind her visor. “I would also like to remind you, I have excellent hearing.”

Taking a deep breath, Prose sighs and nods. “Right, just let me know when you wish to talk, and we’ll talk,” he looks up at Grace, a somber yet determined look on his face. “But, you can hate me after the mission is over. What I’ve found is important if we’re going to keep everypony in Canterlot safe, your siblings included.”

“I believe you mistake me for somepony like the Senior Master Sergeant,” Grace states. “I am always a professional on a mission.”

“Okay, now I know that was sarcasm,” Daring sighs.

“Right, well can we cut the chatter? I’d like to be out of the creepy ruins full of mangled ponies,” Leaf says quickly. “I mean, I for one want a shower, and I think you all do too.”

“Leaf is right,” Lode offers from the back. “If you have something important, let’s get moving.”

Nodding again, Prose gestures to Grace, who takes point again and leads them back through the hallway. As they get to the junction again, Prose holds a hoof up for them to stop, pulls out a small device which he clicks twice in rapid succession. A muted boom echoes from the hallway they just came from, followed by a cloud of dust as they start off down the hallway to the stairs.

They reach the stairs, then the ground floor, and then outside, all in quick succession as nopony wishes to stay in the hallways and continue to look at the massacre.

Once outside, Daring pulls off her mask and takes a deep breath, wiping the sweat and condensation from her muzzle as she looks around. Voyager is still overhead, and it looks as if the world is as they left it. But they’re not out of the woods yet, as Prose moves quickly into the open air and rips his own mask off as he turns his face skyward and shouts.

“HOX! I know you’ve got one of those infernal things floating around here!” Prose’s voice echoes sharply through the ruins, causing Daring to fold her ears back. The stallion waits, a glare on his face that makes Daring’s blood run cold, as a small device suddenly comes into view from nearby and hovers in front of him. “Hox, I know who's behind all of this, and I need you to tell Rat. I need you to tell him, RIGHT. NOW.” He pauses a moment then continues.

“Hox, Pitch is back.”

Author's Notes:

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

So, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you all are very curious as to who Pitch is ;3

Unfortunatly, I can't tell you who Pitch is, because that's Jim's department. So, go read Shadowbolts: A Memoire and bask in the horrible, terrible glow, of just who Pitch is.

Anyway, I wonder what Prose's deal is with this whole "Steel Strike" buisness!? I mean, just what did he do inside JSS? How was he involved in the Jager Program? And more importantly... what happened seven years ago?

All this, and more, next time!

~Sylvian