After the first few minutes of takeoff, Keith and Captain Valve slowed the ship down to cruising speeds. I went up to the bridge at that time to talk to Keith, who was leaned back in his chair. He swiveled around to meet me with a wide grin.

"So you do like my company." He pulled out what looked like a roughly rolled cigar and lit it with a match. "What can I do you for?"

"I wanted to ask you something about how my brain works now." I took a seat opposite him, folding my hands. "What have you studied on the subject of human instinct?" Keith lowered the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose and folded them.

"Well that's something unexpected. Give me a second." He scratched his chin to try and recall his earlier studies. "Okay, Neurophysiology, semester 2, lucky I did a thesis project on this type of shit. So basically, how I rewired your brain is giving you willing control of half of your instinctive functions, which is active at maximum output in a natural phenomenon known as the theta state (Not to be confused with theta rhythm). It occurs when our basic needs are threatened, e.g. our lives. Instinct in it's basic form is your body's ability to just 'do' things, like how bird's build a nest, and how wolves know how to go for the jugular in a killing bite. The reason being is in theta state, the natural motions associated with such a state are called fixed action patterns (Abbreviated FAP ehheheh).

"Now over the course of human evolution, and modernization, this essential state of mind became somewhat less significant, with it now only being a bit more active than average in say war-like situations, say when you know just that right moment to duck so that a bullet nearly misses your head due to FAPs being associated with reflex arcs. It's because we developed the concepts known as 'will' and 'thought' which in practice overrides instinct, why we don't kill each other immediately for a scrap of meat. You don't really know half the shit I'm saying to you, do you?"

"Somewhat, I don't really know much about brain output or anything like that, but I get where your saying on how we've lost the ability to react on instinct. Inugami said the same thing."

"Who the hell's Inugami?"

"Wolf, about as tall as you, red markings."

"Oh THAT guy, right, I just called him big fluffy." I blinked twice in response. "Dude, you're a fucking liar if you say you've never hugged that big-ass puppy and 'fluffy' wasn't the first thing that came to your mind."

I shook my head and got back to the main topic, "Regardless, so your saying that my instinct is better?"

"Oh hell no, how you got that is way out of the ballpark. I'm saying that you are more in tune to it than most, having a true military background, as well as the virus, which let's you control many subconscious instinctive functions, but not all. Those functions are something that no amount of mental tinkering can do. The fight or flight response is the closest to pure natural instinct I could get you to. Even that, because of our mental processing, has been dumbed down considerably over generations of 'civilized' lifestyle. I bet Inugami used this analogy, when you hear a bullet, you don't do, you think instead 'It's a bullet, where did it come from, and who's it for?' by that time you're probably already dead. But animals, the first thing that comes to mind once they hear the sound is 'GET THE FUCK OUTTA THERE!'"

"So, how do I supposedly 're-enter' the theta state."

"Hell if I know, but once you achieve it, you kinda have a sixth sense for danger then. Personal experiment I'm theorizing, do that meditation shit you do sometimes in your room, then have someone fire arrows at random intervals at you, and you're not allowed to use your bullet time, even though imitating Max Payne is fucking awesome. You'll know when you've hit it when instead of thinking 'dodge', the first thing you do is actually dodge when you hear the bowstring snap. Either that or just fight a 24 hour war, see how that feels."

"All cynical theories aside, I think you might have something there." I stand back up. "I'll try that sometime."

"Cynical? I was actually being serious (for once). Welp, I'm going to drop in some R&R time. Imma be honest, working on this ship has made me pull more all-nighters than junior-year in college." He swiveled his chair around to the controls, putting his rear hooves on the panels.

"Before I go though, i wanted to ask about one of the rooms: the one with the tools and the beds."

"Oh that one?" He craned his head back. "That one's the surgical ward."

"We have a surgeon on board?"

He nodded. "Yep, his name's Stitch, creepy ass mo-fo, doesn't talk much, but insisted we build a surgical ward, he always keeps it clean, and is an excellent doctor. Problem is..."

"...Go on."

"He lost his medical license."

"Like you did?"

Keith sighed, "Yep, no one knows why, and I give the colt his privacy to not tell. We actually talk a bit sometimes. Hell, I'm the only one he actually talks to, like how only Ubi really talks to you."

"Right." I left after that, hoping that I could make some headway of finding Ubi's mother soon.

We met with Captain Valvette later for lunch swapping various misadventures over the decades.

"Oh yes, you've yet to meet my brother."

"Brother?" I queried.

"Yes." He leaned in close, "Although he's kind of a hermit, he is, keeps himself locked up in his room."

"What's his name?"

"Steamson, Steam for short." At this Keith sprayed his mouthful of brew all over the captain.

"You gotta be shittin' me." With a sour face, the Captain pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face of tea leaves before answering.

"I'm quite serious, and please do be mindful, you are drinking a 3200 bit blend, imported from Germaney," he quipped. In all honesty, I preferred Gyokuro to Chamomile, but I smiled politely and sipped the flowery blend.

"Do you think we could meet him sometime?" I requested.

"I'm afraid not, he doesn't take too kindly to strangers, especially diamond dogs like yourself."

"Pardon me for correction, but I'm not a diamond dog, I'm a wolf."

"Oh, a wolf you say? Why, you're not at all what ponies make your kind out to be."

"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Why yes, there were rumors of a wolf, a changeling, a dragon, and a griffon completely making the Grand Galloping Gala into a rambunctious hoopla, completely devoid of class and grace." I blinked twice. Keith poorly withheld a laugh, biting his lower lip. "Whereas you, sir, have been very well mannered thus far." I stole a glance at Keith, who bore an enormous grin as if to say...

=Keith=

'Come on man, I'M FUCKING DYING OVER HERE!!!'

=Aoi=

"I'm ashamed to here that." I finished my tea with a long sip. "Not to be intrusive, but what exactly does your brother do in his room."

"Well, I've only peeked in there once or twice, he seems to be building some clockwork device from parts he managed to save." As curious as I was, I opted to leave the matter aside.

When we were just a few miles from Bitsburg, everyone met on the bridge to go over the plans. In my room, I slipped on the coat that Keith had commissioned for me. The embroidery flashed in the dim lighting, the silver blue embroidery gleaming their patterns.

"The plan's going to be straight recon at first," I briefed, "I go in alone, carrying the flare that Keith made in case things go bed and I need backup, once the flare goes, Varg will rendezvous with Keith and form an assault force to storm the city. Keith, what have you got on terms of communications?"

"We got cups." Everyone went dead silent. "No seriously, Loose Hobby managed to rig a spell to link two ordinary cups with some kinda thread that extends and retracts infinitely (Zeno would be turning in his grave).It's crystal clear (as clear as cup radios get), and you can hide it with no problems."

"Varg, Are your troops in position?"

"I've got my dogs stationed near Clovenhoof Pass, ready to strike with the signal." Varg pulled out a letter. "Also, this came in for you, from Celestia."

"What?" I grabbed the letter and read it:

"To whom it may concern:

I took the liberty of going over inter-region sanctions, and you are cleared to engage if any derelicts of the city attack first. After all, it IS a criminal offense to attack an Equestrian Knight..."

"Wat..." Everyone deadpanned in that instant. From my recollection, Griffin and I bailed on that ceremony several months ago. I continued to read aloud:

"Sir Aoi Windclaw. You have my authority to arrest any citizen who means you or your companions harm, as well as defend yourself... by any means."

Keith burst into laughter. "LIKE A SIR! *OW*" I smacked him on the back of the head for that one. My mind reeled back to how she was able to name me knight in the first-

The Newspaper, Griffin declaring Celestia as best Pony, Knightmare's ability to change...

"That... little... bastard..." I growled. If I ever saw him cross my path again I was going to...

"Dude, you okay?"

"I'm fine." I rolled up the scroll. "The plan doesn't change, if anything it gives us a bit more leeway legally. But for future reference, anyone who references me with a 'Sir' will get a face full of my fist, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" A measure of smacks filled the room.

"Continuing onward, stick with the plan. I go in alone, see what we're dealing with and find out who or what planned the assault. If all goes well, I can contact the princess to make the arrest, no loss of life. Eol, Ubi, it's important that you stay with Keith on the ship and organize the airstrike. It's not that I don't think you can handle yourselves. From what I can tell, we have an entire city against us."

Eol objected. "Are you sure? What if everyone in the city attacks you? You can't take on a city by yourself."

"You're right, I can't, but I can hide in the shadows until I get a shot open with the flare. From there, you have to be ready at a moment's notice." I place a paw on Eol's shoulder. "Remember we're not here to start a war. We're just here to make sure that what happened to us won't happen again. Let's just hope worst doesn't come to worse." I turned to Keith. "Keith..."

"Yes?"

"Try not to do anything stupid." A couple of snickers were scattered across the group.

I went back to my room, loading up a few magazines for the pistol. The crow's nest reported that we had arrived at Bitsburg. I flipped up my hood and walked on deck.

The city shimmered in luscious opulence, buildings towered high in a warm bronze and silver tone. The hiss of steam was audible in span, traveling through the city as its lifeblood. The city itself seemed to beat with a metallic pulse. Its creaks and groans and stuttering clanks gave the indomitable aura of a ponderous giant. The airship began to cruise into the wet-dock of the city, the opaque water reflecting brass sparkles. Keith and Captain Valvette took care of the customs, identifying us as an emissary priority airship, and I was the emissary.

Ships departed and arrived in steady waves, the water inside the massive docks drained and rose to allow safe takeoff into the air. Passengers came from all over Equestria: a diplomat form Saddle Arabia, performers and DJ's from Las Pegasus, and even a few ponies I had recognized from Sri Flanka. We greeted them warmly.

"Auburn, how's has it been?" One guard pony said, dressed in full metallic armor. Keith switched accents and returned the greeting.

"Not too bad, I'm traveling with a crew now."

"So I see, got bored of the quiet life, did you? Could've at least said good-bye, what with you and that fella saving the town and all."

It had already seemed like a distant memory, Sri Flanka. I first reunited with Keith, and he had this whole back story planned out about how he wanted to be in the guards. I played along.

"And how is your city fairing, by the by?" I questioned. He went wide eyed when he saw me.

"Sweet Celestia, It's you again!" He went up to me and placed a bag of bits into my paw. "Courtesy of the town. You really saved our flanks way back when, I mean seriously. Thanks to you, strangely enough our town became a hotspot for diamond dogs, one of their alpha's or something deemed the town a holy place after hearing you were there. Dunno what that was all about, but boy did it bring in the tourists. We're actually somewhere on the map now. On behalf of the mayor of Sri Flanka, I want to thank you and Auburn for all we've done." I responded by returning the bag to the guard.

"I'm glad you are doing well, but I can't accept this." After all, the only thing I really did was defend myself, nothing worthy of a reward. Keith and I left the guard and his entourage to their business with a curt nod and a farewell.

Keith handed me the cup and gave me instructions on how to use it. "Just put the cup up to your ear to listen, and just speak into it, simple really."

"I'll meet you at the ship when I've dug up what I need." Keith was silent for a second. "What?"

"Nothing... Nothing at all." He shirked aside with a stupid grin on his face. I shrugged and went towards customs.

"Name please?"

"Aoi Myoujin."

"Business?"

"Investigations on behalf of Gem Fido and Princess Celestia." The customs guard's ears perked up when I mentioned the princess.

"You know the Princess?"

"Of course, what of it?" He changed his bored expression to a facade of reverence.

"Right this way, si-"

"You won't get any favors trying to spoon feed that polite bullshit with me. If you don't mind, I'll be on my way." His jaw dropped when I saw right through his act. Here was where my investigation began...

The Airship docks had an appearance like oversized train stations, the walls made of a mix of mortar and cement, giving a rustic feel to them. Pipes ran along their face to feed the wet-docks with the necessary amount of water, the metallic tubes pumping hundreds of gallons a second. Through the heavy steam I could detect the faint hint of salty air, accompanied by the loud squalls of seagulls echoing through the docks. They must have flown in through a window, unable to find their way back out again. Sure enough I saw one frantically circling the rafters of the monstropolous building.

I whistled to the poor thing and headed to the double doors that lead to the main city. The sea fowl swooped down just as I had cracked open the large doors. Free at last, It flew across the pale yellow panorama composed of the bulk of the breathing city and it's jagged skyline. The air was warm and humid with the billowing exhaust emanating from broken pipes to chimneys, dancing through various exposed gears. A clock at the very center of the city chimed once, twice, three times, and then went silent. From a few locals, I heard the tower was named Big Basque, or Bass for simplicity.

I took to the streets. The local ponies wore Victorian era attire: haughty frills, brass watches tucked away in their coat pockets, medium loose vests. Some wore stereotypical monocles, others wore obscene headgear like magnifying glasses attached in three scope groups, metallic feathers in top hats, and complex arrays of opaque goggles, complete with a blueish-gold hue. Even more ponies had extravagant displays of machinery attached: Sharp and piercing wing braces, geared to the joint prostheses that ran like clockwork, and piecing arrangements of brass bracelets and gauntlets galore. It was like the cities citizens were drenched in a rustic golden aura, clinging to something new and something old all at the same time, unable to choose between the two.

Even my coat's design changed in hue from the black and blue to a sleek dark brown and swimming silver. Many ponies looked at my appearance, some with curiosity, others with the unsurprising disdain. I pulled the hood over my face, hiding my eyes. Courses of action were laid out before me.

The rules of societies often take their precedence from history. The Grandiose high class is built from the oppressed foundation of poverty and perversion. Although the bourgeoisie attempt to hide the blood of its downtrodden, those who know what lies underneath the rug can smell it's festering odor and shrieking cries. The Victorian age was no exception, with the rich indulging in succulent pleasures while the poor languished in their pitied existence.

It didn't take but one glance down a darkened alleyway between the towering heights to see that the era matched perfectly with the city. But would the others look as well and take notice of what went right on beneath their levels of awareness? I doubt it.

"Excuse me, but could you tell me where the mayor's office is?" I ask a well dressed mare. She takes a single look at me and scoffs with disgust.

"Just came from there," she sassed. "Though I don't see what riff-raff like you would want with someone so prestigious as the mayor." She batted her eyes with scorn and continued, leaving behind a trail of heavy perfume. It stung my nose, sickeningly sweet.

The persona of those high in class are too predictable for their own good. Their gain attention merely by dropping information to catch an ear who takes the bait. She had already given me what I needed. I followed the scent down the road, careful not to breath too deeply from the noxious odor of the perfume.

Of all political leaders in a society, it is the lower tiered who seek means to go higher. How is varied upon morals and motives, some use direct force, but others simply use less direct methods. Mayors, for one, aren't usually brawny, but they manage to have the entire town under their thumb.

And how do people of political statue retain their hold in times of bread and circuses?

"I'm afraid the mayor's office is closed to the public without an appointment." Guards stopped me at the entrance to the manor, the red bricks forming Gothic architecture, complete with the eerie watching presence of gargoyles.

"I'm here to discuss an important matter dealing with an international attack between a radical group from Bitsburg and Gem Fido with the mayor." The two guards shared brief glances before answering.

"Name?"

"Aoi." I met their imposing gaze with one of my own. "Sir Aoi 'Windclaw' Myoujin. Knight of the Royal Family of Equestria." The words were hard to say, my tongue almost gagged on the syllables. The guards suddenly stood straighter. Well trained, knew their place.

"Right, sir, go on ahead," they permitted without hesitation. I walked pasted them through the doors to see the door across the room opened, revealing the mayor at her desk.

The mare possessed a thin figure, with half moon glasses perched atop her pallid, stern muzzle. She glanced up at me before looking back down at a form she was filing.

"I thought I told my guards not to let anypony into my office when I'm working," she mumbled.

"I'm not a pony," I corrected. "Your guards gave me the courtesy of letting me in so I can discuss the-"

"-The rogue ponies that attacked Gem Fido. What about it?" I took a moment to glance around the room. Book shelves to imply a cultivated mind, a globe to imply her interest in travel, and a plethora of hoof carved mahogany furniture to imply wealth.

"First off, how much do you know?"

"Beyond the event that happened, not much." She flicked her pen of excess ink. A manipulator. "I was wondering when some dog would come asking, not that I care." A few flicks of my eyes found what I was looking for, a tilted painting on the side.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"I'm not responsible for it, and hay, no one in Bitsburg even batted an eyelash over it. So no, I don't have any information for you, mutt."

"You seem pretty poorly-disposed to diamond dogs, mind telling me why?" I pressed. She took off her glasses and folded them.

"Seeming that it does involve your business, I'll oblige." She pushed back from her chair and went to the window. Cue monologue.

"About a decade back, diamond dogs took some ponies hostage, demanding all the minerals we've mined in the past year for their release. The previous council of the city, being the sentimental old fools they were, gave in and paid the ransom, leaving the city almost bankrupt." She brushed her hoof across the painting, tilting it back to a righted position before continuing. "The dogs killed the hostages anyway. We were at the edge of collapse, the city was up for the highest bidder. I took control and brought the city back to it's glory, even though I had not a bit to my name. We did away with the council, fearing the same thing happening again.

"In this city, my word is Law. Now my question is this: You, a diamond dog, are in my domain, which is against the law. How are you even here?" she finished, leaning against the bookshelf. I faced her and pulled down my hood.

"Because, madam, I am not a diamond dog. I am a wolf by the name of Aoi Myoujin. You could say I'm an ambassador of sorts between Gem Fido and Equestria. According to the Princess herself, I have free reign in this city until the matter of the attack is solved, or do you claim to have higher authority than her?" She glared at me with immense scorn.

"Like I said before, you'll find no information from me, feel free to play Fetlock Holmes and ask you like, but I'm afraid you've hit a dead end here."

"Shame. Feel free to decline, but I must ask how you manage to take back control of the city?"

"You'd be surprised how you can quell a rebellion with the simplest things." I had her.

"Like something valuable, something powerful, something incriminating?"

"What what are you suggesting?"

"Blackmail, Miss Mayor." She let loose a slight gasp. I walked toward the painting.

"What do you mean?" She was fuming, yet the slight twinge in her muscles told all, she knew I was right.

"How do you keep an entire city under your hoof, with rarely any defense whatsoever?" I ran a digit across the inconspicuous framing of the painting. "Well there are two ways off the top of my head. One, by sheer force of numbers to quell the city. Direct force, in other words. The Second, according to the events you had described, would be to become the highest bidder. Like you said, you had naught a bit to your name." Each opening her testimony was visibly exposed, striking her at her ego. "But you had something more valuable than gold.

"Probably unrelated, but where did you get this exquisite painting?" She swallowed.

"Oh, that, that's nothing, just a sentimental gift from an admirer."

"Ah." I take out Kokuryu. "Since you are an admirer of art, let me show you a piece of my own." I draw the blade from its sheathe. "This is Kokuryu no Saishu-bin, a blade I made myself, made of pure black dragon scale." I swing the blade down, the air rending the feeble carpet underneath its razor claws. "Its blade is sharp enough to pierce through any common metal as if it were butter, regardless of density." She smirked.

"You think flashy tricks are going to intimidate me? GUARDS!"

"Before you call for them, might I remind you that this piece is of sentimental value to you, shame to see it destroyed."

"Why would I care about a stupid painting?" I smiled as the guards came in.

"Wonderful. The reason why you would care isn't the painting itself, it's this." To her horror, I bring the blade back and thrust the tip through the painting, a loud screech emanating of scale against metal. I tear down with the blade and flick away the two halves of the painting to reveal the safe hidden behind it, the peeled back door of which revealed hundreds of pieces of parchment. I shove my paw into the safe and pull out a few. Just as I thought, thousands of pieces of evidence against hundreds of the richest denizens of the city. The guards' horns glowed with a hostile aura.

"Now mayor, you both know that right now, you are on the losing end of the situation. I want information now, or your little safety net goes in tatters, and you can bet that the names on these pieces will know your hold on them will be gone." The mayor gave a few glances to the guards, giving me precious seconds to change my pistols holster to my sleeve.

Deadlock, two sides could not act until one gives.

"Alright, I'll play your little game." She huffed. "There's a group, in the city, rumors of vigilantes hunting diamond dog clans. Rumors are that they're somewhere in the old residential district. That's all I know. Now put the papers down, or I have my guards send you straight to the moon." I set down the papers back into the safe. She smirked as if she had won a grand deal. "Now you're coming with me, after all, you destroyed my property, which is against the law."

I snickered into a full laugh. "How about no?!" At this I bashed the papers into the three unsuspecting faces and whipped out the pistol, loaded it with explosive ammo, and sent a chambered cartridge straight into the safe. The round detonated with a resounding boom, shell-shocking everyone. The spells went off, bursting through the window behind me. In the confusion, I dove out the broken window, pieces of paper going off in flames. I stood up in the courtyard of the manor, recovering from the violent ringing in my ears. I batted away four bolts of fire from the inside, the singing balls deflecting off of the flat of Kokuryu.

The Rules of engagement had changed, lethal force had been applied with lethal intent, course of action: return in kind. I changed magazines and sent two rounds into the guards horns, the rounds slicing through the bony appendages. They screamed in agony as blood spurted from the stumps. I pointed my pistol at the mayor, who was slowly beginning to stand up.

"And you are under arrest for the assault of a member of the Equestrian court, not to mention embezzlement, coercing with known criminals, and the suspected murder of over 300 ponies and griffins. Consider yourself a prime suspect of the investigation, Madam." I took out the cup and barked my orders. "Keith, get a letter to Princess Celestia for me, tell her we got a suspect. I repeat, a SUSPECT, this shit's far from over."

"Loud and Clear, wait WHAT! You want me to send a friendship letter?"

"No, a request for an arrest warrant!" Suddenly an alarm went off, followed by thousands more across the city.

"DAMN, AOI! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?" Keith blared in my ears.

"I'll brief you later. As you would say..." I pull up the hood back over my head. Up above, I saw small airships taking off, waving colors of red, white, black, and blue. "Shit gets real."

"This is the Bitsburg Guard! We have an assailant on the loose, If you see any suspicious figure, report to the nearest guard immediately. Threat is deemed code black, all ponies are to remain indoors."

"Shit! You got the popo on your ass?"

"Not helping Keith." I point the gun at the Mayor's legs and send a round smashing through her left shin, pinning her in place before making my way across the courtyard.

"You... won't... get... away!" I heard the mayor faintly breath before a click followed, almost like the click of a-

DRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

'Shit.' The ground erupted from under me as two shrieking behemoths split the ground, bringing fourth hissing steam and bellowing gears. I turned to behold them: they were giant machines in the form of ponies, complete with jagged teeth and the trademark insignia of the city. The mayor stumbled out from the window with her gray mane frazzled and a single frame remaining in her half moon glasses. She was bleeding profusely.

"Hahaha, you thought you could get away, didn't you?" She held a control panel of sorts in her hoof. "State of the art PON-Mechs, made by the best engineers."

I holstered the pistol and brought out the Corvat, the blade unfolding seamlessly. "I was hoping that you would take it as a sign of me letting you live. But since you seem so insistent on bringing out the big guns, I guess I'll have to do the same."

"You're joking..." She gasped. "Two swords against war machines?"

I corrected, "No, me against your mechs."

She cackled, "Oh I'm going to enjoy parading your furry pelt across the city. You'd make a nice coat." The mechs armed and fired harpoons stationed on their shoulders. I sliced through both with a cross slash, the spears sticking cleanly into the dirt. The mechanical ponies creaked as they reloaded for another salvo. I took my chance and dashed forward, my paws dancing weightless across the grass, closing the distance between me and the mayor. She flicked another switch and the farther mech brought out a buzz saw from it's back with out warning. I dove to the side, the circular saw grinding the dirt to my left into mulch. A swift flick of my wrist amputated the arm that held the blade, wires and sparks flashing across the grass.

I pulled out my pistol and delivered three rounds into the harpoon's firing mechanism, clogging the chamber. The turret combusted, sending shrapnel careening past my face. I reduced the distance between me and the first metal pony and dove upwards, delivering a severing slash straight through it's warm metallic body. The mayor's jaw dropped as I turned to her, pulling out my pistol and training the sights at her head.

I was interrupted by a piercing screech ripping through the air as the second mech send a cannon ball at me. I sheathed my sword, then cleaved the ball with an air rending iaigiri, the two halves of the lumbering mortar crashing into the ground. I dropped the current magazine and loaded explosive rounds into the gun. The trigger was pulled once, twice, thrice in rapid succession, each heavy calibered round pounding against the groaning giant's gleaming armor. I sprinted towards the swaying mass, bringing out the rope dart.

The wire wound tight around the mech's legs as I swung it wide. I stamped my paw into the ground and reel back, pulling the leg towards me. The Corvat carved through the metal joints like a scissor through chase silk, crippling the artificial mammoth as it toppled to the ground, the collapse bringing up dirt and dust.

"No... way..." She gasped, dropping the control panel. The dust cleared with me walking through with only a few scratches where the shrapnel scraped me. "What the hay are you?!" She was helpless across the courtyard, back against the wall, crumpled in a pitiful heap.

"I told you already, you're just too arrogant to listen." I pointed my pistol at her.

"NO! Stay Back!"

"And let you ambush me again? No thanks." She started to cry. "What happened to parading my pelt through the city?" I fire a shot, the bullet skims her mane and explodes in the burning room behind her. "You speak with lofty, proud words when you have the means to crush people under your hoof. Strip that all away, and you're weak, just another pony."

I kneel down to meet her at eye level. "Here's what you're going to do: You're going to use those pompous frills of yours to dress that wound--wouldn't want you to die of infection now, would we? Then you're going to sit here and wait until either Celestia's Guards or my Men come and take you into custody. While in your cell, you will contemplate the meaning of 'silent as the grave'. But before all that, you are going to let me continue with my investigation and forget that I was ever here. Do I make myself clear?" She nods. From this close, she reeked of fear.

I left her there, her manor ablaze, her property in ruins, and her shin broken and mangled. It was all the same, in the end. People find means to use the backs of others to ascend, instead of using the sweat from their own. They exploit, they feed, they grow. They multiply in numbers, yet keep their numbers small. They are the pyramid's apex in worldly power, they are the ones who oversee through bulletproof glass, they are the ones who live off of the land without having to lift a finger. Occasionally, it's required to remind those at the top why they need the bottom.

I made my way back through the city, headed towards the southern side, through the various districts of the city. The airships were still scanning the streets for me. I weighed my options: take down the airships, or go static. I slipped into the alleyways, taking to the shadows. An abrupt thundering of hooves brought my attention to a group of policemen rushing past the alley. Worst comes to worst, I go loud.

I darted from alley to alley, avoiding the occasional patrol. The city had gone from pedestrian jammed streets to complete lock-down. The rhythmic hoof-beats marked every squads' location. I took swift, weightless steps, keeping to cover as much as possible until I made it to the old residential district.

Here was where the city kept the dirt it swept under the rug, derelict apartments condemned became shelters for the poverty stricken. It sickened me how all this would go unnoticed. From here I scaled the ladders onto the roofs. My target became one of the apartments. If I could find a well fortified one, I could hold out there for the night.

Hot steam soon grew to a violent torrent, gears turned faster and faster. The city was in full panic, full scale disarray. I kept a level head, making my way from roof to roof, the sun beamed a wary orange color as it was lowering down into the horizon. My eyes widened as I saw an airship directly in front of me. I made a long jump through a window, startling the ponies inside. A few seconds reprieve gave me some cover to speak.

"Keith, What's the status on the letter?"

"Sent, reply hasn't come yet. Where's the signal?"

"I'm holding off, this is police we're dealing with, not our targets. Do NOT Send anyone into the city."

"Like we could, they closed off the docks, we're stranded at customs."

"Shit!" I cursed. "We've got a lead, apparently we're dealing with a vigilante group, stationed in the old residential district of the city. I'm right there now." The sun sank into the sea horizon, and I entered night's dominion. The ponies now seemed terrified of me. I looked around, seeing their squalor.

"Y-Y-You're the one they want aren't you?" A colt asked. Unknowingly, I had just barged in on a family of three, their coats dirty and matted.

"I'm just passing through, need someplace to catch my breath." They had a young filly cradled between them. I sifted a paw through my cloak and took out a few gems I was hoping to use as payment for information. I tossed them a high quality diamond.

"This should help." The colt hesitantly took the diamond in his hoof. "You stole this from the bank didn't you? That's why their chasing you?"

"No, that gem's completely legal. As for me however." I stood up. "I'm not, so I best be leaving. If anyone asks, you never saw me. The glass is broken because a rock fell through it, understand?" They nodded. I left through the bottom floor.

=Eol=

I paced back and forth, back and forth, edgy. Aoi's friend, Keef or something, came out of the bridge.

"Any word from Aoi?" I almost barrel over the poor stallion.

"He says he's got a lead, but the city's on lock-down."

"Lock-down?" Ubi asks.

"Where they lock up the city. No one gets in or out. Aoi's alone out there." My ears shot up.

"Well we gotta do something!" I bark. "We can't just sit on our paws doing nothing!" Keef just gave us a sigh and rubbed his temples.

"The fluffball said to sit tight, stick to the plan, and wait for the signal." I smash a punch through his head that sends him flying into the far wall, a large imprint of his pose indented in the metal.

"Listen, KEEF, or whatever your name is, Friend or not, you do NOT, I repeat do NOT refer to Aoi as a 'fluffball'." I think I broke him. Keef cracks his neck and rearranges his nose with a snap.

"Dayum, son, you punch like a motherfucking freight train!" Ubi whispered something into Keef's ear.

=Ubi=

"For the record, calling us 'fluffballs' means the same as calling us lazy cowards. It might mean something different to you, so I'll let it slide, once. But if I ever hear that again from you, I will stitch your eyelids to your forehead while you sleep."

=Keith=

These people scare me...

=Eol=

I was torn between following orders and making sure Aoi was alright. Was it something he was trying to prove? If so, what was it? The only thing he was proving was that he's biting off more than he could chew with this stunt. Or maybe he did just want to make sure that we were safe? Ubi put his paw on my shoulder.

"If Aoi says to stay put, then we stay put."

I snarl, "Easy for you to say, all you really care about is finding your mom. I bet you don't even give two SCATS What happens to Aoi, do you?!" I shrug off Ubi's paw and go topside. Night time was high above us, small stars twinkling in the smoggy air.

We were in a giant box, the roof was gone, letting in what little light there was. in front of the ship was a set of doors leading to... customs, was it? Never had to go through all this weird pony things just to get inside a warren. I propped myself on a banister and sighed. A group of guards stood guarding the doorway, holding heavy spears and wearing armor. I hopped off the boat onto the dock and went up to them.

"What's going on?"

"Bitsburg's on lock-down, no pony allowed beyond customs. We're trying to catch a criminal who assaulted the mayor." I knew it, Aoi was planning on taking the city alone.

'Now hold up. Who knows if that really is Aoi? Maybe something else happened that involved a criminal inside. That still leaves a criminal with Aoi. He can handle one person, can't he?'

"Thanks for the news," I said before getting back on the ship. I sat down, back against the bow front banister, my mind changing course from worrying about Aoi to worrying about Ellie.

I wondered what she was doing. Traveling with that griffin captain we met a few moons back, I bet. I took out her jeweled necklace, the one she gave me before we left the airship. It gave off a small glow, like a blue firefly. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss her. I missed her, only slightly less than I missed dad. Is this what it's like to be lovesick? To want to be with someone so bad you feel a pain in your chest so bad it hurts to breathe, and yet you don't want to take any medicine to fix it?

If so, I was lovesick, right now. It all comes so suddenly. Even though I had only known her for a few short weeks, it's like they were years and seconds with us together. Even so, I felt kind of ashamed of it all. No one really had any relationships for love, only single matings to whoever the males could find. Anything to relieve the tension and monotony of life in the mines. I never took a mate before, never had a reason to. I always found my nose in a book, reading about the blooming romances between two ponies, or two griffins. There weren't any books on Diamond Dog romances, not that anyone would even write about us.

But what would they write? They being whoever actually decided to take an interest in our kind and write about our stories. What would they say about us? I know we aren't the most beautiful species on the planet, or the most heroic, but still. We have stories too. We could be heroes, we could be lovers. It's unlikely, but we could be. Even then though, would anyone write about a romance between two different species? Would anyone take the time, take a chance, and write about something never heard of before?

I still felt a bit ashamed of it. It felt so nice, having someone to share a story with, to share your past with, to share your feelings with. At the same time though, it felt... a bit wrong. Am I suppose
to be falling for someone completely different than me, someone with a completely different lifestyle, different anatomy, even a different origin.

I didn't think about all this before. I didn't think about what Elli looked like. Neither paws nor snout, nor whiskers, nor tails different between us were what I was thinking about when we first talked. At the gala, we just danced, having no other partners to dance with.

I remembered it being a waning moon, crescent, when what would pass as love in the warrens was at its prime. It was... nice dancing with a complete stranger. We got to know glimpses of each other just through a single song playing in the background. Then one, two, and three songs later, the night was over. We went to our beds, and we didn't see each other again until Aoi told us we were hitching a ride with the crazy griffin. That was when I got airsick.

Now, it's been entire moons. I wondered if she still remembered me, if she still remembered our dance at the gala, our picnic on the airship, our... last... kiss...

"There you are." It was Ubi, stepping onto the deck.

"What do you want?"

"I want an apology," he said flatly.

"For what?"

"You were wrong in saying I don't care about Aoi."

"Then why are we just sitting here?"

"Because Aoi said so," Ubi reasoned. "And because I trust Aoi. If he says he wants us to stay put, he's probably doing it so he won't have to worry about us in the way."

"So he thinks we're a burden?"

"Yes and no. You've spent so much time reading books that you forget the lessons your superiors taught you in fighting. In stealth, anyone with you is a liability." He sat down across from me, cross legged. "Aoi's been trying to tell you that this entire time. But you wouldn't listen, would you?" His words stung. "You just wanted to be on the front lines. For that, I think you owe me an apology for saying that I don't care."

"... Alright, I'm sorry." Ubi nodded and then left for the galley. I thought about what he said.

He was still wrong.

The coming dawn bore a crown of fire as ships sailed at a distance towards patient horizons. See how the world fascinates even the youngest minds with something so simple and pure as the vermillion sunrise from the east. Even while knowing that the skyward entity is commanded by a known, living, breathing entity, the scheduled miracle never ceases to amaze to those who still retain an inkling of wonder within them.

It was next to the face of Big Bass, the clock tower, where I fixed my weary eyes upon the warmth of the yawning sunlight. The airships gave up their search, but the troops remained, storming the cobblestone grounds below. I heaved a sigh of shallow depth; the air swaying and hissing with the drowsy steam of the city. The breeze settled down amongst the rooftops, bringing in the salty sea air, tasting of the delicacies of the ocean.

All throughout the night, I had been scanning the city from my ticking vantage point. Whispers and hushed voices were scattered from building to building, pipes acted as verbose speakers. But all in all, I could find nothing to further advance my investigation. The 'deadzone' was what some inspectors called it at the precinct, a period in which everything ground to a stop: leads ran dry, forensics found all to discover, and interrogations became fruitless. All there was to do at this point was one of two things: call the big guns, or wait for a deus ex machina.

I was here, the boundary line between the old and the new, the rich and the poor, the past and the future. Here was a completely demilitarized zone in which north met south, none able to make a move, none able to speak a word. The city needed an outside force to break the ice.

I took the peace I could get from the morning and resorted the magazines. I counted a total of 42 rounds standard and 6 explosive. I had laced the entire rooftop of the clock tower with the wire from the rope dart, tying the end of which to my finger. Anything that came on the roof, I would know in an instant.

“A bit early for a morning stroll, isn't it?” I direct towards a gang of four colts, bandanas wrapped around their faces. Typical thugs.

“And if it is?” one remarked with a heavy accent, “S'not like we're out disturbin' anyone. You on the other hoof—hehe—have been causing quite a lotta trouble.” He clapped his front hooves twice. “I gotta hoof it to you, mate. Takin' out the mayor's manor, that's gotta take some big apples.”

I stood, loading a fresh magazine into my gun. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“Ready Set, fastest draw in the west.” He pulled out a composite crossbow, his lackies following suit. “And you?”

“Aoi Myoujin. I think you've already heard of me.” I paused a second to think about how the mayor knew neither hide nor hair of me. “But then again, maybe not.”

“Mongrel like you? Hay no! Right now, you got two options: one is to give us all the bits on your person that you stole from the manor and come with us, or die. Take your pick.”

“I choose option three. Reasons being one, I didn't steal anything, and two, option three being the one that leaves me alive and free.”

He chuckled. “Oh yeah? Take him out.”

A set of four simultaneous snaps gave me the cue to raise my paw to intercept each bolt, the pointed tips sliding to a stop between my digits. Their jaws dropped, smashing against the tile.

“I think I'm getting the hang of the whole instinct thing.” Rules of engagement, lethal force with lethal intent; fight to kill. “My turn.”

“Wait... wait me and my boys didn't mean no ha-” I sent the bolt back through his neck.

“Speak.” The second fell with a gurgling choke. “With.” The third half-blinded with a bolt through his eye. “The.” Fourth was downed when he attempted to run, the bolt sent through the back of his head. “Dead.”

It was crystal clear that the city had declared war on me from when I first stepped through its brass gates. I had learned a long time ago that only fools trust their necks with backstabbers, and I could no longer afford war's precious luxury of mercy.

This was a war I refused to fight in the first place, but declarations know not the voice of neutrality, they only know the voice of battle cries. So let the generals send their troops by the hundreds, the thousands, even the millions to strike, I will cut them down in defense. But I will not raise a hand of offense until I find my sure target. In that iron-clad rule of warfare, that condition of arms, I stand proud to admit...

War is kind.

I recalled my defensive wire, and searched the bodies one by one, taking the crossbows in possession for Keith to re-purpose and do what he wills with them. It was from them I found a pilfered wallet, one made of crusted and dirty cloth. Inside was a small card, a membership card reading “The Freepony Society”.

'Freepony society?' A slough of items ran through my memory and made an unlikely connection to the Freemason Society. Considering how our two worlds share parallel aspects, this was the best lead I had found.

But the city was still too hot to travel freely, and so I snuck from roof top to rooftop of the boundary line, using the vents as sidewalks, using every inch of shadow for cover. I had to thank Keith later for ordering my coat in black as the warm dark threads blended into the walls with a chameleon-like quality.

The alleys provided welcoming shade, away from the morning light. As the hours went on, the guard thinned out, platoons one by one giving up on the search. A lowly atmosphere silenced the town, the patrols growing more and more weary, easier to slip past as I switched hiding places.

Tourists left town maps fluttering in the damp streets. I grabbed one and perused the small pamphlet to locate myself and the nearest pub.

“The Rusty Cog.” I murmured.

It was a few blocks down the main street, the establishment bearing diamond stained glass windows, and a cracked wooden overhanging sign. The inside was barren except from a few stragglers that hiccuped foul breaths.

“What can I get you?” The barpony asked, wiping a mug clean with a muddied rag.

“Information and a dram of milk.” His ears perked up, small round glasses sat on top of his nose.

“Well, I've got some juicy bits, for the right price.” He leaned on the table.

“How much to warrant a full rundown on this-” I hand him the card. “-The Freepony Society.”

He gnawed on his upper lip, speculating the price for info. “Not much info there, but I've got some inklings. I'd say 5000 bits would cover it.” I take a large ruby and place it on the table.

“That should cover it.” I bargained. He deftly swept the gem under the towel and brought his voice to a hush whisper, head near level to the table. I strained my ear to listen.

“The Burg calls 'em the society for short. They've been here ever since ponies from all across the realms started disappearing. They say they're a rescue group, wanting to find missing ponies. Hoof to heart though, recently, they've been getting more and more shady. They've been bringing in shipments of Celestia know what.”

“Anybody know their headquarters?”

“Hay if I know, from there it's rust and rumors.” He shuffled through his shelves and brought out a bottle of cider.

“Thank you for your time.”

“Much obliged,” he returned, “Oh, and one more thing, you didn't hear it from me.” I make a pinching motion across my lips.

“AOI! WE GOT A PROBLEM!”

=Keith=

We woke up the next morning in the Cap'n's room. I slept on the sofa, Valve at the helm. Poor guy, pulled a five night shift once. How you even do that without lapsing into dementia I'll never know. I tapped him and he woke up still dreaming about something.

“Oh my, how long have I been asleep?”

“'Bout 15 hours.” Suddenly the far door opened. We turned our necks to see the door that had been closed this entire flight here.

“It's nice to see you up and about, Steam.” Valve noted as his brother finally creaked open his door. The guy looked emo to say the least: dark circles under his eyes, hair in a fringe, a look halfway between a glare and a straight up 'fuck you'. “Did you manage to finish whatever it was you were working on?”

The kid stayed silent, he kinda looked about the size of one of the Crusaders, pint sized filly carrying a...

...a...

… Oh shit...

“Steam...” Okay, don't panic, whatever it is, do not panic. “Is that... what I think it is?”

I knew what it damn well was, what I want to know is:

“Steam, what the hell are you doing with a bomb?” It was TICKING.

“Steam, what on Equus were you-”

“Stay back...” he pointed at me. “You there, with the goggles, where's the engine room?”

“Hey now, let's just take to seconds and chill.” I take a step forward.

“STAY BACK OR EVERYPONY DIES!” I looked at Captain Valve, absolute shock on his face. Guy must be going through all kinds of mind fuck right about now.

“Steam... why?”

“YOU! Engine room, NOW!” he shouted, oblivious to his big brother. In all my years of working with Aoi, this was literally the first time I had to legitimately ask:

“What... the... fuck...”

“Can't we talk about this?” Valve pleaded.

“There's nothing to talk about.”

“Brother...”

“DON'T CALL ME THAT!” he yelled. “You stopped being my brother the moment you started to work with those... monsters...” It hit me... the kid was one of them.

“No fucking way...” Brain please, If there's anytime where I wanted you to work coherently, throughout all the liquor, now would be a good time.

“Take me to the engine room, or I blow this place out of the sky.” He demanded with a halting tone. We could hear it. He was scared.

Now, brain... nothing, dead silent. My mind was drawing a complete blank. I was being held hostage by a who knows how young year old with a bomb in his hooves. I'm gonna die... again...

We got there, and the kid went to work with the screw driver, placing the bomb on the ground.

“Steam... Why are you doing this?” The kid paused.

“Of all the ponies to ask, it's you? Have you forgotten all the things they made us go through in those mines, Valve?!” He turned around. “These dogs are a threat to us. We have to take a stand.”

“And what about Varg? He helped us escape, have you forgotten all he's done for us?”

“He's a liar! The Mare told me so. Soon he's going to turn on us, and we'll all be in chains again. We need to take him out right now!” At that moment, I remembered something.

Last night I asked Varg to head out to see if the troops were all ready. He's not on the airship.

“Steam, you're making a mistake. Listen, Varg's-”

“NO! I won't listen to your lies!” he snapped. “We'll be free, Valve. We'll be free. Don't you want that?”

“We're already free, brother.”

“No... not while these monsters are still on this planet.” He started to screw the bomb to one of the exhaust manifolds. OH NO FUCKING WAY!

“Not like this, we are not going out like this...” Shit shit shit gotta think. Gotta think. VALVE BUY ME SOME TIME HERE! If I can only get to that bomb.

“Steam, what would mother and father think?” For activating your trap card, I thank you Cap'n. Steam turned and looked at us, tears in his eyes.

“What would they think of you, doing this, huh?” Valve slowly leaned towards him. “This isn't the way mother and father raised us to be. This isn't the way they raised you-”

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! I loved them more than you did, and what did they do, they showered you with attention! Now I can make them proud, by wiping out every bucking mutt on this-”

Shlick.

“-ship...” Everyone froze. Steam had a long gash going over his neck. He started to gurgle before falling to the ground, gasping and wheezing. It was dark in the engine room, the light only able to show what was right in front of the open doorway. The bastard was hiding in the shadows.

It was a cold silence, like all the air had been sucked out in a single second. We held our breaths. I finally got enough sense back into my head to get the screw driver and focus on disarming the bomb. Perfect timing, brain.

Then came the stereotypical bomb scene, cut one wire to save every... FUCK!

Steam apparently had more sense and wired the thing with ten different fuses. I looked down at the bomb hanging off part of the hinge. The small clock on it read about a minute and thirty seconds.

There goes my hero moment... It was nice knowing you all: Aoi, Ubi, Eol, the dog with the funny tongue thing, the guys at the academy, mom, dad, Susan, Katherine, Jezzebelle, Delilah, Soi Fong, wait... Sui Feng—there we go—and all those at Madam Butterfly's palace, the biker chick who brought me here, Amy Winehouse, Chuck Testa, Chuck Norris, and lastly Demoman. I had a good run, two in fact. At the very least, I get to die with a raging-

Wait, what happened to the ticking. I looked down at the bomb again and the timer stopped right at 3 seconds. I looked at the wires and saw that all of them had been cut, the hoof holding the shears was non other than the Captain's.

“Captain,” I admitted with manly tears of relief in my eyes, “If I were a mare right now, I'd totally suck your dick.” Yeah, not the best words I could say at that moment, but when you've just survived almost getting blown up, you tend to blurt out the first thing that passes as gratitude.

We sat down over some tea—which I threw out and replaced with some brewskis—and got our shit together. Valve was still crying over losing his brother. After the waterworks, he finally took a chill pill and could talk without slobbering all over me.

“I never thought that my own brother would do something like this.” Eol and Ubi came in.

“Where were you guys?”

“Lunch,” Ubi said bluntly. How in the blood-soaked, protestant hell does he do that? Eol however had something in his paw.

“I found his journal.” Eol handed it to us. “Saw his door open and went in. You're not gonna like it...”

We read through the entire thing, uncovering runaways, dogmas, everything, finally ending up to a secret, anti-diamond dog group known as the Freepony Society. It was horrible, like the Nazi's all over again, and Steam was caught up in the youth group of it. Pieces of information were all over the place: names, locations, everything.

By the end, Captain Valve couldn't take it, one of the final entries being one that broke the poor guy's heart.

Valve's not my family anymore. He wants to play with those mutts and be friends with them, fine, he's not my brother anymore... I have a new family now.

He was a broken gentlecolt after that, outside and in. Later he said that he felt horrible, torn between wanting to catch the untimely murderer and thanking him. Damn. No guy should ever have to go through their own family hating them.

The bright side of the situation was that we managed to piece together the information from the journal, at least what we needed, where these sons of bitches were located. I wanted to get Eol down here, after all, he found the journal, he should be the one to tell him.

“Eol, could you please report to the bridge?” We waited ten minutes. “Eol?” Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. An entire hour. Not one sign of him.

Ubi came up to the bridge instead, holding a note. “He's gone,” he deadpanned.

I'm going out to help him, he's up against an army who hates us. Screw the signal, I'll take the barking lecture when I get back, but I'm NOT leaving him out there alone. And that was it.

“Oh shit...” I plucked the cup from the comm's table and broke the bad news to Aoi. “Aoi! We got a problem here!”

=Aoi=

“No need to tell me, he's already here.” There he stood, barring the door with his entire body, his massive paws stretching from door post to door post, chest heaving up and down to catch his breath.

“Whoa, fella, you look down right terrible,” the bartender stated.

“Aoi, I know where they are!”

“Are you insane?” I barked, grabbing him by the collar. “I told you to wait for the flare! Why didn't you stay put?!”

Eol whimpered. “I wasn't going to leave you alone out here, not with the Freepony Society after you!” I recomposed myself, letting him go. I couldn't blame him for wanting to see me safe, nor fault him on being able to get here.

“Right.” My mind rewound to when he first came in. “Wait, you know where the Freepony Society Headquarters is?”

Eol nodded proudly. “It's right across from Big Bass!” A gong played off in my head. It was right in front of my nose, and I didn't even notice. How did I not even notice? No signs, no activity, nothing, how could I even let it slip by me?!

“We have to move.” I was about to go through the door before Eol barred it again.

“Well, about that...”

“This is the Bitsburg Guard, come out with your paws up!”

“Wait, you're wanted?” The barkeep panicked.

“Yes,” I reply, blunt as a club. “Eol, on three, punch the door. THREE!” I sliced through the hinges of the bar door, Eol punching it with massive force. The wooden door slammed into the middle of the bulk of the guards waiting. We scattered and headed for the building across the way. I shot a hinge to drop down a ladder. Onto the rooftops we went, back tracking to the large clock tower.

There it was: a tall six story building with an inconspicuous presence, opaque windows, no outlying features. No wonder no one noticed, there was nothing to notice. I turned towards Eol, who was anxiously cracking his knuckles—each joint producing a satisfying pop—and eying the building.

“Are you sure this is the right building?” I asked.

“Building beside Big Bass, of course.”

I hesitated for a bit. This seemed all too easy. No outer defenses, relying only on disguise.

“Eol, can you see if there's anything in there?” Eol closed his bad eye.

“Two vibrations inside, as well as a strong scent marker, but that's about it.” Why would there be a scent marker? “Not anything I recognize.”

“Where are the two vibrations?”

“One grouping on the top floor, and one near the second.”

I mulled over point of entry. “We could probably enter in through the third floor window, give them some room so we can secure our escape route, then-” A faint twang echoed off in the distance. “Eol, look out!” I lunged my arm in front of Eol's chest, a crossbow bolt stabbing into my flesh.

“Aoi!”

“Snipers, to the north!” I snarled and brought out my pistol. “Eol, can you see them?”

“Got 'em, one a few buildings to your right.” Eol swatted a salvo away with his metal gauntlets. I brought the barrel over his shoulder and lined up my shot.

“Cover your ears.” He plugged them and the round went careening across the way, my aim rewarded with a puff of red on the rooftop. I shifted the barrel under my arm and drew Kokuryu. “Try and spot the next one.” I smashed through a few bolts, the tips splintering into fragments.

“Two more to your right!” The air exploded with two bangs as the slide ejected two more shells, the barrage from my targets ceased immediately.

“Take this and give me some cover fire,” I tossed him a crossbow. “Get behind the clock!” We shoved our backs against the tower, bolts peppering our position. Eol returned fire and took out a few on the west side.

The clock sounded with a loud bong as the hands aligned to one 'o clock.

“Bloody murr! I can't aim, too many vibrations!” Eol shouted over the noise of the bell. I holstered the pistol and held the bolt near the wound. This was gonna hurt.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” I growled as my arm seared with pain as the metal grated against muscle, sliding out inch by inch until it was free. I dropped the soaked bolt on the ground and held my arm close to my body, the blood slowly spreading through the coat. I grit my teeth and took a bandage I had looted earlier in paw and wrapped it tight around my arm. I held the sleeve in my teeth in lieu of a sling and peeked from behind cover and took out three more.

I had to hand it to them, catching us off guard, but now wasn't the time for friendly congratulations. I pumped a few CCs of adrenaline through my bloodstream, as well as a coagulating agent.

“Aoi, you alright?” Eol yelled as the bell stopped its rapacious tolling.

“I'm fine,” I lied. “How many are left?”

“Four,” he reported. “They're all on the same building. Too far for me to reach.” A bolt broke a shingle two inches from my foot.

I took a deep breath, I counted three more rounds in the magazine. I wasn't going to risk the reload. I looked around for a source of cover. The bodies from this morning were still there.

“Eol, grab on of those bodies up there and cover me, we're making a jump.” The meat shields would suffice, but only for a moment.

“You got it.” He nodded and grabbed one of the corpses, spanning the limbs out in a wide meat-shield.

“Let's move!” I got up and started towards the ledge in a full sprint, Eol to my left providing cover. At the last moment, we made a leap of faith towards the target building.

We broke through the windows, landing on the second floor. I took a few precious seconds and drew my sword and wrapped my fist in gauze, holding the sword in place. My grip was near dead in my injured arm, but at least I could still move it from the forearm up.

I looked up to see the entire floor empty, no guards.

“Are you sure you saw vibrations in here?” I asked.

“Yep, and they're right in front of us.” I froze. What made the movements weren't guards. They were wires. Near invisible oscillating wires that could cut flesh with a single touch. Had we made our move, we would have been dead.

“Shit,” I cursed under my breath. To even see them, my eyes had to be two inches away from the deadly thin wire. “How many?”

He paused as he counted. We shifted our backs to the wall, aware of the snipers still after us.

“54.” That meant 54 traps to disarm and pass, and considering that they already know we're here, we were already pressed for time. We needed to get them all at once.

“Eol, how deep did you say your punches could go?”

“About four yards through solid rock, Why?”

“Think you can break down the wall?” At this he smiled.

“Count on it.” He pounded his fist into an open paw and shifted towards the wall next to me. He reeled his arm back and blew a humongous crater in the wall. Faults through the wall traveled along the the face, disconnecting the wires at their source, each consecutive string snapping into the other wall. After the last wire was disarmed, Eol turned to me.

“All clear.”

We made our way to the sixth floor, the end of the hall terminating with a pair of double doors. Eol gave a status report.

“Scent marker's in here, nine heartbeats, regular.” Either they still didn't notice us, or they were lying in wait. I took this time to empty the magazine and reload, taking the gun in my teeth and pressing the release with my canines. The clip slid out gently, allowing me to load a new one silently. We took cover on each side of the double doors. I made a call motion with my paw. Eol nodded.

His paw ran over the door knob and turned it slightly. The frosted glass shattered immediately as one of the hostiles inside sent a steel arrow through the door, the shaft embedding itself into the far wall. Inside we heard a string pulled back taut.

Eol took out the crossbow, sticking a bolt into the string, claw poised over the trigger. The weapon looked like a toy in his enormous paw. I pulled back the slide and motioned for him to open the door.

He kicked it down, we went in. Boom! In went an explosive round, kicking up smoke and dust. I dove in low and eliminated five, cleaning house with precise slashes with Kokuryu. Eol let loose a few bolts—his senses giving his eyes the advantage through the cloud—and made light work of the remainder. I heard a bark of pain accompanied by a stabbing sound.

“Eol!”

“RAAAH!” A splattering crack emanated from his direction. The clap of a hoof brought my pistol to an unknown direction. The dust cleared, leaving a single pony, stationed in a seat across the room. I glanced at Eol, his knee pierced with a stray arrow. The brains of the pony who fired it were scrambled in a gory pool on the green matte carpet. My eyes shifted back at the pony in the chair.

He wore an iron mask, eyes hiding behind tinted glass, ears tucked in molded metal. He clapped.

“Congratulations, scum. You finally won. You get to be the villain who finally defeats the hero.” He wheeze through the muffling mask. He said it so casually, as if what he had done was part of a game.

“You still think yourself a hero, after all you've done?”

He laughed, “I've saved ponies from your greedy paws, kept them from spreading. What have you done? All your kind has done is spread pain and misery.”

My claw tensed over the trigger. “Me? All I've done is kill condescending, pretentious jack-asses, like the one sitting in front of me right now. Since I'm a tolerable man, I'm going to ask you something: are you coming quietly, or am I going to have to drag you kicking and screaming?”

“Heh, you think you've won haven't you, think that this will all end with me? No, somepony else will take my place, take my role and wipe-”

SCHLOSH! A single shot separated his leg from its socket.

“Urusai,” I shouted in an attempt to drown out the cries of pain coming from him. I walked over to the window and slammed the butt of my pistol through the window. Unloading the magazine, I switched the top round with the flare, replaced the clip, and shot the flare into the sky, a red trail following it into the distance. I pulled the cup to my muzzle.

“Keith, we got him, get a team to meet us at Big Bass. Flare's up, Varg's taking over now.”

“Dude, I heard a whole shitload of stuff on your end, what in the literal fuck happened?”

“We're wounded right now,” I said. “Snipers with crossbows got us on the roof of Big Bass, I took a bolt to the arm. Eol's immobilized at the moment.”

“What happened to him?”

“He...” I paused, looking at Eol's pained expression and the debilitating injury. “...took an arrow to the knee.”

=Keith=

I dropped my fifth of vodka, the glass shattered as it hit the ground.

“God... dammit...”

Part 3

=Aoi=

The team cut through behind us like a hot knife through butter. Varg bypassed customs and his troops went right in, bringing the city under Gem Fido's jurisdiction. The entire city feared it was another invasion, many scattered pockets of FPS members engaged Varg's entry team. Needless to say, they were quickly suppressed. After all, not many stood against an army of the undead, much less a division of twenty.

Keith and the relief team personally took Eol by stretcher back to the airship, and after arresting every member of the Freepony Society we could find, the Royal Guards from Canterlot took over and brought the mayor of Bitsburg into custody. According to a few military bylaws, mechanical constructs built for war were illegal to possess in residential cities. It seemed like everything was going well, until...

“Aoi, Keef, stop for a second,” Eol murmured painfully as we were passing Big Bass. “There's something wrong.”

“What is it?”

“Vibrations... heartbeats... fear marks... tons of them... inside...” he strained. He lifted his paw and pointed at the building. We looked at the building, a citizen helping with the evacuation heard this and remarked.

“That's impossible, The Basque had been abandoned for years.”

Abandoned? Heartbeats? I ran towards the gates of the clock tower, Keith and the evac team followed. Varg stayed at a distance, keeping an eye on the masked pony.

I strained to open the magnificent doors to reveal a horror before the city. Inside were hundreds of diamond dogs, gagged and tied, crying. Males, females, betas through omegas, and even pups. They looked like they had been here for days, their figures lanky and starving. The giant room was in disrepair, the rafters reaching high. Abandoned was right, but empty... no.

Everyone's eyes were focused on was a large gray container in the very middle, wires and gear coiled around it. Keith paled at the site of the wires. The object's identity was unmistakable. It was a bomb, and the hands ticked from 3...2...1...0...

Contrary to the stereotypes painted by modern media, samurai aren't indestructible. We don't live on honor and loyalty. We don't survive by the will of our masters. We aren't bulletproof or fireproof. We eat, we drink, we live, we die. We aren't always heroes, and we aren't always villains. We live by the way of the sword, to kill for what we believe is worth fighting for. Be it something as intangible and unrewarding as honor, or as irresistible and irreplaceable as true love. The difference between us and the rest of society is that we live to kill. We are murderers. Do we enjoy it? Out of vengeance, yes. Out of necessity, hardly. But we are not madmen, we do not enjoy blood lust, we do not revel on corpses piled high, we do not believe that every notch on our hilt is a symbol of power and greatness. We duel, we wage war, we defend ourselves, be it for our masters, or ourselves. We are not the politician who builds his image on lies and deceit. We are not the rapist who defiles others to slake his lust for power. We are not the noble that lives and dies by his gold. We are but blades.

We are blades, we are killers, we are warriors, we are people. We don't ask for mercy, because we know we do not deserve it. We offer our heads to the guillotine, or fight until our blade breaks under the clashing brawls of battle. We will do with our own lives as we see fit, because with the strength of our own arms and the razor edge of our katanas we carve our own destinies in life, and thus, we are free.

But what about all the others? Those who cannot hold a sword, those who cannot defend themselves, those who have nothing to shield their hearts, their heads, their face from the cruel onslaught of the world. What of them? Do they not also deserve the right to life, do they not also deserve a chance to glimpse the sunlight from the mud they rise from, do they not also have the right to bear witness to the rest of their own lives as they see fit? Of course they do!

Each and every day, they fight not with swords or guns or weapons of mass destruction, but with their fangs and fists. They fight by living, they fight with each and every individual cell of their existence. But against the world, they are doomed to fail.

So to help even the playing field, we took it upon ourselves to swear our blades not to our masters, but to ourselves, to use them as we see fit, to help defend who we deem is worth defending, and kill those who we deem aren't worth sparing.

Even then, does it make us noble? Does it make us heroes? Does it make us better than those we kill? No. Because if we were heroes, then we would always triumph over evil, able to save any and all who ask for help in danger, be they friend or foe. If we were heroes, we would be able to play God and decide who lives and who dies, and our decisions would always be right.

We are not gods, we are killers. At the end of the day, at the end of a battle, as the blood red sky pulls its tainted shroud around the earth to comfort it to sleep, we kneel, wounded and contrite, content to face the undertaker with the undeniable truth of our mortality. It is because we are mortal...

… that we are allowed to fail...

The masked pony laughed when the bomb went off, then finally fainted from blood loss. We cauterized his wound and sent him to the airship on a stretcher. Keith and I avoided the explosion by diving into the moat, but everyone inside the building was either atomized by the blast or died soon afterward from burns or shock trauma. There were no survivors.

I walked in silence back towards the airship, my arm hung limp at my side. The bleeding had stopped, but I needed medical attention as soon as possible. Keith, Ubi, Varg and I escorted Eol's stretcher to the airship. I looked down at Eol, he had fallen asleep. I guessed it was either from the pain or just exhaustion. As much as I scorned him for leaving the safety of the airship, I admired him for wanting to get the news to me immediately. I had only wish he could have gotten here sooner.

Over 50 wooden coffins were built on site to house the remains of the victims. The majority of Varg's entourage now acted as pallbearers for the shabby coffins. Ironic, really, the undead carrying the dead themselves. The city had ground to a complete standstill, only residual puffs of steam leaked out now and then, but the gears themselves stopped turning. The city that ran like clockwork now paused its bungling motion in respect.

I retired immediately to my chambers, the surgeon coming in for my examination. I had some tearing in my muscles, some damaged tissue, but nothing too worse for the wear.

“Give your arm a few weeks to rest. Don't flex,” he ordered. The surgeon had a few unusual scars, skin graphs on his face, and a snout that knew the violent companionship of a fire. “Anything you need?”

“A newspaper,” I requested. He pulled one out of his coat and tossed it onto my chest, then left me be for the night.

I browsed through the newspaper's articles, not many new developments occurring as the autumn season was readying its transition to winter. I had gotten out of my coat—sent back to the tailor for repairs—and undressed down to my kosode, the right sleeve of which still bore splotches of red on the white fabric.

Many of my clan came to congratulate me on the capture of who they called the “Mare in the Iron Mask”. It somewhat shocked me to find out that the he was actually a she, due to the mask distorting the voice. It didn't change the fact that she was responsible for the deaths of possibly hundreds of diamond dogs.

Many briefed me on how the Mare was to be judged. Since Gem Fido has rightful claim to her as her crimes involved its citizens, she was to be judged by Varg's clan as soon as we got back to the warren. Some even said that they hoped she would get the death penalty, and that I should be the one to carry it out.

“That monster doesn't deserve to even eat our scat,” one dog colorfully described. Rumors were spreading about that I might be chosen as one of the judges to decide the mare's fate. Keith came in later and told me Eol's condition, he'd be walking again in a few months, but until then, he's bedridden. After that, I delved into a lapse of should-haves and would-haves before resolving to put aside the guilt for now.

After visiting hours were done with, I continued to peruse the paper until I stumbled across what passed as the classified ads of the newspaper. New toothbrush, old clippings, and a copy of Fifty Shades of Hay.

I must have been desperate to entertain myself with reading advertisements as I soon tossed the paper aside and closed my eyes to rest. Underneath the dark cover of sleep, memories came flooding back, pounding at my skull, toying with every strand of misguided guilt, ripping at every single mistake. Every preventable casualty, every life lost because of my misguided action, and the weight of an undeniable reality hanging by a thread like the sword of Damocles, all to scream in my face that I could not rewrite what has been done. I woke up in an irritable frenzy, the garish emotion of helplessness mixed with anger. Part of me forced myself to cry, just to let something out.

The scars, it all came back to the scars. A new body, Griffin said, but I still felt them. “Failure,” they reminded, taunts and jeers every time I set eyes on one that was suppose to be there, but gone. “Move on,” he said, “try not to make the same mistake.”

“BULL FUCKING SHIT!” I screamed. “Tried that, didn't work! PEOPLE! STILL! DIED!” I cradled into a small ball on my bed, a soft hum in the engines chimed throughout my room. “People still got hurt...” On instinct, I started to lick the bandages. “Part of my team got hurt, and I'm still in the hospital...” Not sure if it was because of my new body or what, but licking my wounds felt calming. Tears came soft and slow, welling up at the corners of my eyes before bursting into a small stream.

The memories that help us the most prey on us when we least expect them to, we despise them dearly, but love them so. We never forget them, no matter how long it's been. They lace the walls of your psyche, like aged photographs, and occasionally your gaze locks onto one. All it takes is that single, subconscious glance that brings back everything related to that photograph. The memories branch out, until it reaches that right graft, something you think is completely unrelated, yet somehow, it fits.

Elena used to always kiss the bandages on me whenever we got back from a mission and had our moments of solitude.

“Now, shug, how is it gonna get better if no one kisses it for you?” she teased whenever I would shy away due to an especially sensitive injury. She would always manage to sneak it in before we went our separate ways for the night. I thought it rather childish, no real scientific reasoning behind it. Yet I could never bring myself to outright say “no” whenever she did. Her lips felt soft to the touch, smooth and sublime, always lit up in their crimson blush.

There was one time when we came back from a particular rough mission, and I had shrapnel scarring my back when a car exploded and I rushed to shield her from the glass and stray metal. Instead of kissing each and every scar, she just kissed me on the forehead.

“For thoughtfulness and thoughtlessness,” she said. The scars on my back were the ones I never really got bandaged, nor really hated for that matter.

Now, though, I felt no enmity towards my new war wound. I stare at the blot of blood through the bandages and loomed on the thought that maybe I was somewhat proud of this. Maybe instead of scorning it as a failure, I could actually deem it a success. Why not? An injury gained to save a live in my mind rang a much sweeter tone rather than the ones of regret that my old ones tolled.

Kindness's brevity stays but a moment for a small greeting and a farewell, but in those luxurious indulgences of time, we dare to see the world through Kindness's bright, blooming view. Through fields of delicate sakura blossoms and rich golden chrysanthemums, we transverse all secular sorrows and return to the wondrous sanctuary—that eternal domain that comforts all the injustices brought against us by the punishing day—in our hearts as we tuck ourselves in and kiss ourselves goodnight that we can forevermore call...

...home.

Author's Notes:

Ass kicking, world-building, and ending with a tender moment. I guess that kinda covers it. Also for some terms I bet you didn't know:

Gyokuro - Japan's highest grade of tea, having a sweet but medium bodied taste and a nice green color to it.
Iaigiri - Noted as a quick-drawn slash. The sword is drawn into a slash, using the power of the body to amplify the strike, then resheathed.
Urusai - Meaning: Shut up.

P.S. Don't tell me you didn't expect the Hyperion music to play with that much bad-assery just sitting there in the steam punk capital of Equestria.