"How do I look?" Meadow Spring asked before taking several steps in a circular pattern, as if she were chasing her own tail. She had traded out her standard Initiative issued snow suit for one of the many that had been left behind on the dead mercenaries.

"Like you're out for blood," Nightfall answered from his seat on the bottom bunk, simply staring at her with a worried look in his eyes.

The suit was far different from Initiative uniform. Instead of the digital winter camo that came standard, the suit was mostly made of solid greys and blacks. The small first aid kit had been replaced with a bandolier of rifle ammo and the wrist display was now nothing more than a small temperature gauge and watch.

The helmet was also different, with a much thicker sheet of plating over the forehead that ran all the way down the back of the head and formed somewhat of a skirt around the neck, which lacked the thick fur collar. This helmet had been taken from a separate corpse. The helmet that went with the rest of the suit was damaged nearly beyond recognition and scraps of gear had been cobbled together from several others, all to make a single unique loadout.

Meadow sighed. "Good," she said, before doing her best to offer a small smile and moving to join him at his spot on the bed. "You worry too much, y'know."

"I cant help it," Nightfall replied after not saying anything for a few seconds. "Remember how you felt when I told everyone back at The Hideout about being blackmailed?"

Meadow just nodded.

"Well, I think I'm feeling a lot like that," Nightfall finished.

Meadow responded only to this by moving closer and placing her head on his shoulder, her warm breath blowing gently against his fur as she closed her eyes and simply rested, feeling his head lean back into her. They were together and for now that's all that mattered. Him and her against all odds. She could still remember how they met. All those years working together, watching each other's backs, and taking care of one another. It had all lead up to this.

"Better?" Meadow asked.

Nightfall's heart was beating so fast in his chest and his usual nerves of steel felt so fragile that he had been shaking, but now it all evened out, slowing down and becoming steady, his nerves finding comfort in her touch.

"Yeah," he answered looking down to her. "For now."

Meadow didnt reply, just allowing the time to slowly pass by, the heat of the fire in the fireplace creating a warm and radiant feeling. Her mind slowly faded into nothing, no thoughts of the risk or the danger or of how much she wanted to go home taking up any space in her head. It all melted away like a candle made of butter. She was simply present, feeling every breath and heartbeat and for now she knew she was right where she belonged, even if it was only for a little while.

There was suddenly a knock on the door. Without even enough time for a reply, the portal to the outside world was thrust open, allowing a dense cloud of snow to shoot into the room, the wind whipping around like a windigo that had been set loose and now desperately searched for a way back into the blizzard. The fire was snuffed out and the bed sheets were practically tossed into the air as they caught the rampant flow of air.

"God damn," Bastion said as he struggled to close the door, but eventually managed to seal it. He removed his helmet and brushed the frost from his mane. "Sorry," he said, standing back up a chair that had been toppled like a bowling pin. "Storm spires are still down. They're still trying to get someone to go out and figure out what happened."

"Probably a final parting gift from our friends," Nightfall suggested, patting the top of the mercenary helmet that lay on the bed beside them.

"Speaking of whom," Bastion began, "Foxtrot and a few others have been prodding the prisoner for any additional info, but I don't think we're going to get anything else out of him. You sure we have enough to get past their sentries?"

"More than enough," Nightfall answered. "Stalwart got him to spill everything while we were away. Pass phrases, call signs, even what their attack plan was. If he isn't saying anything else, it probably means he's run dry."

"Damn," Bastion said simply. "I dont know what you did to get him singing, but I get the feeling I don't want to know."

"Yeah, well, with what he gave us and what that Red Fern kid spilled, I think we'll be fine."

"I know we will," Meadow said confidently. "I've been practicing for the last few hours. I'll stick to the script and everything will go smooth."

Bastion smiled, very much appreciating Meadow's confidence. It did so much to alleviate his worries. "You look good, Meadow," he said. "If you were wearing the helmet, I dont think I'd recognize you."

"There's just one issue," Nightfall said. He stood up and placed a hoof on Meadow's shoulder, having her turn around so that he could see her chest. He leaned down and gripped a piece of the fabric in his mouth before jerking his head back, the action being accompanied by the sound of velcro. He spit out the small patch, a morale patch that said "F-Bomb" with a picture of an aerial dropped bomb just below. "The fewer identifying marks you have, the better," Nightfall explained.

"Oh, thanks," Meadow said. The only patch that remained was one on her shoulder, a white emblem in the shape of a bear's claw that most of the dead mercenaries outside also had.

"So, you guys ready to head out?" Bastion asked. "The storm is picking up and we'll want to get moving so we can make our rendezvous on time. I'd hate to keep Striker and Grace waiting."

Nightfall and Meadow grabbed their respective helmets and placed them snuggly on their heads. He looked like something official, a soldier that fought for a nation, while she looked completely different, like a warrior that fought for profit and cared not who they trampled over.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Meadow said enthusiastically as she made to follow Bastion outside.

Nightfall followed close behind, simply muttering, "Let's get this over with."

Outside was an absolute whiteout, with the small exception of the barely visible silhouettes of the surrounding buildings and piles of rubble where buildings once stood. Other than that, visibility was at near zero. Had it not been for the street lights, the ones that still worked at least, it would have been nearly impossible for them to find their way out.

"Y'know," Paper began after having joined up with the group at the front gate along with Foxtrot. "This storm may be annoying, but it's actually a really good thing. We'll be lucky if it keeps up like this for the rest of the day."

"What makes you say that?" Meadow questioned. They had only been outside for a few minutes and she was already more than ready to get within some sturdy walls. Anything to get away from the whipping wind that threatened to knock her off her hooves.

"Think about it," Paper replied. "With this storm, it's likely that any mercenary teams out in the city will hunker down. They're looking for the crystals too, remember? If they're out there, then that's less you have to deal with when you're on the inside."

"Couldn't they just go back through the tunnels?" Meadow asked.

"Sure, but it would be a waste of time," Paper answered. "They're much more likely to set up camp and wait out the storm."

"We'll also be harder to detect or track," Bastion added. "If we have to pull out fast, the snow will provide adequate cover for us to slip away."

"I suppose that's a good point," Meadow said, as the group began to make their way away from the base and towards the river.

They would need to cross in order to get into the city. Usually, they would have simply followed the trail that lead straight onto the island and right down main street, but taking the only way in was risky and made their movements predictable. Instead, they chose to ignore the path, walking across the ice plain where no path had yet been marked. Had it been clear outside, they would have been completely exposed, but the blizzard provided good concealment and it only took ten short minutes to cross into the city.

"We really couldn't have asked for a better time for a blizzard to hit," Bastion said.

"Celestia told me in one of our interviews that they were actually able to schedule these things out," Paper began. "Back when pegasi controlled the weather and all. Apparently they could schedule out the weather for an entire year ahead of time and make adjustments when they needed. If we were living back then, we could use the weather to our advantage whenever we wanted.

"If we were living back then," Foxtrot retorted matter-of-factly, "we wouldn't need to be doing any of this in the first place."

"Imagine that," Meadow Spring said, her mind drifting to the image of large pine forests and lush fields of grass with snowy tipped mountains off in the distance, "a world without windigos; where the TRST wasnt needed." Of course, having known only snow and desolate tundra her entire life, she knew that the images that danced around in her head were probably woefully inaccurate. Still, it was nice to dream.

"It's something to strive for," Bastion said optimistically. "With every alicorn we find, we get closer to achieving that goal."

Everyone suddenly went silent, each of them fully aware that this entire mission had gone to hell in a handbasket. Could they even continue after this? Was there any hope that they would be able to find Princess Luna? Right now, they had to focus on the task at hoof, but the thought remained in the back of all their minds. They had come here, to this city, for a very specific reason and now they were reentering it for a different one entirely.

The rest of their trek was quiet, through the snow, over the ice plain, and back into the streets, the harsh winds and dead buildings being the only thing to greet them. The first hour went by slow and without anyone saying so much as a word. They had elected to stay on the streets rather than cut through the buildings. It was slower, but the storm provided them with concealment and they couldn't afford to run into anyone.

By the end of hour two, they had reached their destination, high up on the twentieth floor of a building only a few blocks west of their objective. Sure enough, Grace and Striker were waiting patiently for them, having kept an eye on the target building in their absence. It had been less than twenty four hours and Grace had done several fly overs. While the snow made it hard to fly, it did keep her hidden. From her own angle in the air, it seemed as if the facility was abandoned, though it was hard to tell with the blizzard. Still, Nightfall insisted that he was correct.

While Striker worked his way into his new snow suit, brought straight from the outpost, everyone gathered around to go over the plan one final time. It was simple. It had to be. They couldn't afford for this to go wrong.

"The facility is comprised of several buildings," Grace began, a small map that she had drawn now spread out on the floor. There are several warehouses and a few smaller facilities. Outside activity has been at absolute zero, so we can rule out the smaller buildings. That only leaves the warehouses, which are connected. Plenty of room for a mercenary band to set up an ops center. It's likely that the stockpile is somewhere in there as well."

"Foxtrot and Paper," Nightfall began. "You guys are setting up in the buildings to the North. Bastion and I are taking the South. Grace will be overhead. Remember, we cant afford for this to go wrong, so dont do anything unless the order is given."

Everyone just nodded in silent agreement.

"Okay," Nightfall said with a sigh. "Let's go over everything one more time. There cant be any mistakes."

One by one, each member stated where they were and what they were going to be doing. Paper began. "Foxtrot and I are in the North. We'll stand by and cause some noise if we need to draw some of them away or move in if the plan goes pear-shaped."

Bastion was next. "I'm with Nightfall down South. We're on recovery duty. If all goes to hell and we need to pull our infiltrators out, we're tasked with getting them.

"I'm overhead keeping an eye on things," Grace began when it was her turn. "I'll feed information to the recovery teams and offer support where needed."

Striker was last. "Meadow Spring and I are the infiltrators on this op. We have two objectives. Confirm that the MSAD mages are in fact being held at this facility and locate their munitions stockpile for later sabotage. We'll get in, take a look around, and get out before they even know we were there."

Nightfall took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he found his center and committed his focus to the mission. Still, a part of him worried.

"Okay," he said. "We're ready. There is one more thing though," he added. "We are on our own on this. The Initiative has been compromised, which means we are the only ones who know that we are out here. There will be no reinforcements and no evac. We cant afford to be sending random radio waves through the air either. So it's total communications blackout between the infiltrators and outside teams. As of now, we are rogue. We have one chance at this, so lets get it done right."

"Hell yeah," Foxtrot said confidently, pounding his hooves together. He was more than ready to finally take action.

"Absolutely," Grace said.

The others all just nodded, before heading to their assigned spots, knowing that it was now or never. As they all packed up, Nightfall suddenly stopped Meadow.

"Don't worry, Nightfall," she began. "I'll be fine. You taught me everything I know, remember?"

"I know," Nightfall replied. "I just wanted to let you know that... I'm proud of you for going through with this."

Meadow smiled. "Thanks," she said, before exchanging a quick hug.

"You got your lines?"

"Yeah," Meadow answered. "I've been rehearsing them in my head all day."

"Good," Nightfall said, giving Meadow her helmet, which she placed snuggly on her head. He patted it on the side, a resounding thud echoing as his hoof met the ballistic material. "Go make me even prouder."

The tunnels under Manehattan were dead silent, just as they had been previously, save for the soft sounds of water dripping and slowly rippling as small chunks of ice lazily floated about, disturbed only by the hooves of the two ponies who now slowly and cautiously advanced through the darkness.

Meadow and Striker had come across one crystal already. It shown like a beacon in the darkness, directing them to where they needed to go. They each had a copy of the route that Nightfall had marked down for them to follow. Left, right, and left again, they slowly got closer and closer to their objective.

Underneath her armored suit, Meadow shook like a rattle as her nerves flared up and her thoughts began to race in her mind. Her legs felt heavier and heavier with every step she plunged into the freezing water. Her heart was beating away in her ears. What was she doing? How had she gotten herself into this? It was simple. She was the only one. She had to be the one to do this. At least, that's what she continued to tell herself.

Striker suddenly stopped, noticing that Meadow was beginning to lag behind. By now, they were only a single block away from their target. If anything, this was a bad spot to be having any doubts.

"You okay?" Striker asked, having heard the heavy breaths from under that helmet.

Meadow just stopped, holding her head low and looking away, before snapping back up and trying to look like she was doing just fine. "Yeah," she said as if it were nothing. "I'm okay. Just nervous is all."

Striker put a hoof on her shoulder. "Deep breaths. Stay focused on the mission and everything will be fine."

Meadow followed his instruction, taking several large breaths and letting them out again. She was going to be just fine. Everything was going to work out. "Sorry," she said as she composed herself. "It's been a while since I've done anything like this, but I'm okay now. Promise."

"Good."

From there, they moved on, taking only another few minutes to reach their destination and before they knew it, there it was. Right before them was a dead end, a brick wall that just suddenly appeared before them and seemed so out of place that it was suspicious.

"Well, now I see why Nightfall was so certain that this was it," Striker muttered. He ran a hoof across it, noticing that it was far smoother than any surface made from the rough weathered bricks should have any right to be. On contact, it almost seemed to contort slightly, like still water that had suddenly been disturbed by the lightest of leaves falling, but still refusing to ripple. "Here we go," he said, before dipping his head down and slowly moving through the barrier.

Just like that, they were on the other side, the enchanted strips in their hijacked armor having granted them access to an entirely new section of the sewers. Before them was yet another crystal, burning hot and bright. Just outside its light, came the sound of weapons being raised and rifle actions being cocked.

"Who goes there?" a voice called out, as two heavily armed ponies stepped into the light, each dawning their own sets of armor that made them look like they were more than ready for a fight as they kept their rifles raised at Striker and Meadow.

"Friendly, friendly," Striker suddenly called back, raising his hooves into the air. "Don't shoot!" Meadow mimicked this action.

The weapons that had been trained on them were lowered, but only a little bit, and a third pony stepped forward. "Who the hell are you?" the unicorn who didn't wear any kind of headgear asked. "We aren't expecting any returning patrols until the storm lets up."

"We aren't a patrol," Striker replied, sounding confident and at ease. "We got separated from our group during the attack on the Initiative base. They were sweeping the area so we had to lay low before returning. Unfortunately, we weren't able to make it back to the staging area in time."

"Yeah?" the merc responded. "What's your call sign?"

"I'm Bear Three-Five," Meadow interjected before Striker could open his mouth, her hooves still raised above her head. "This is Bear Three-Two. Group C. We were assigned to take the northern side of the base and then press south to provide interference so Viper and Wolf could extract the targets, but things got rocky."

"I see," the merc said, not seeming to care too much about the details of their escape. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"We're all that's left," Striker lied. "Everyone else got themselves killed in a firefight during the last stage of the battle."

"The pass phrase is November," Meadow added. "Unless it got changed since we've been gone."

"No, no. You guys are good," the merc assured them before cursing out loud. "Dammit," he muttered, clearly annoyed that more had not survived. He sighed and motioned for the sentries to lower their weapons. "Alright, head up and check in. You're not the first ones to arrive, so we're still trying to get a head count. Turn in your weapons for cleaning and get some food. There's plenty of open bunks, so take your pick."

Striker nodded. "Is there anything new we should know about?"

"Not much," the unicorn replied. "Command wants us to double down on search parties so I dont think we'll see any more action for a while. As long as the Initiative keeps to itself we should be fine."

Striker sighed in a way that suggested he was annoyed, all a part of his act. "And if they don't?"

"Then we'll kick them until they stay down," the mercenary answered. "I wouldn't expect any kind of offensive any time soon, but we'll deal with them if we have to. Right now, we're stretched a bit thin, so we're focusing on what we came here for."

And what exactly would that be? Meadow wanted to ask, but instead kept silent. She quickened her pace, trotting up behind Stiker until she had caught up. As she did, the sewer quickly turned into a tunnel with dirt walls on every side as it spiraled up to the surface, before opening up into a large warehouse, the sounds of ponies going about their business reaching her ears as they passed the threshold of a soundproofing spell.

It seemed that they had been correct in their assumptions. This wasnt only a base for this band of mercenaries. In a way, it was its own bustling city, with ponies and impromptu structures, most being shipping containers, all around them. None of the ponies paid them any mind, each set on their own business and any looks that they did receive were weary and only lasted for a moment before those that they belonged to returned to their drinks or game of cards.

"See anyone you recognize?" Striker asked in a whisper as he scanned his surroundings. Nothing of importance caught his eye.

"No," Meadow answered after taking a look for herself. "No one familiar."

"Good."

They proceeded forward, checking in their weapons as they had been instructed in order to not seem suspicious. It was actually a nice little set up they had. A few large oil drums and a plank of wood formed a counter where a pony waited. Behind him sat three shipping containers. From where Meadow stood, the first appeared to be lined with rifle after rifle, easily numbering in the hundreds. The second appeared to be filled with machining tools, the kind used for making and repairing firearms. The third was closed, but Meadow imagined it contained something similar to the other two. Stockpile located, she supposed.

The pony behind the counter was pleasant enough, though he seemed to be mostly apathetic, much in the way that a store clerk was in the last hour of their shift when they just wanted to be done so they could go home.

"What now?" Meadow asked as she joined Striker once again.

"Now?" Striker answered as he removed his helmet. "Now, we get to work." He looked over to where a few ponies had gathered, a long counter with milk crates as seats forming a sort of bar. "I'm gonna get a drink. See what I can pick up."

"Uh. Are you sure that's okay?" Meadow asked, quite a bit of alarm rising in her tone as she pointed to his helmet.

Striker smiled. "It's fine. They don't know me, though it would be best if you stayed hidden. Stay close by and if I give you a signal, be ready to move."

Meadow nodded, joining him as they made their way over to the impromptu bar, where several ponies were at least trying to enjoy their drinks. It was a rough looking bunch, that was for sure, but not in a criminal way. It was in much more of an experienced determined way. The way that was respectable to any seasoned soldier. Everyone present had at least some form of battle wear, whether it be scars, burns, or just that faded look in the eye.

While Striker was bold enough to actually take a seat at the bar, Meadow leaned up against a concrete support just across from him, keeping an eye out and waiting to see what happened. The first few minutes, little to Meadow's surprise, were uneventful and Striker had wasted no time taking a few shots with a few of the mercs and starting up a conversation. He certainly seemed to have a knack for this sort of thing. Meanwhile, Meadow stood guard, nervously trying to look inconspicuous.

"Hey, you," a voice suddenly called.

Meadow paid the voice no mind until it repeated itself, only then realizing that it was her attention that it was seeking. She looked over to see a group of young stallions all sitting at a table.

"Yeah, you," one of them called, waving her over. "Come here. Come here. Come here."

Meadow hesitated, not at all liking the fact that she was being flagged down like this. She cast a sideways glance in Striker's direction. He seemed just as cool and relaxed as he had been only moments earlier. He took a second to glance back at her, winking once before returning to his conversation.

That's right. This entire time that she had been watching his back, he too had been watching hers. This was no different than the old days when she worked with Nightfall in the TRST. All that had changed were the stakes.

Meadow slowly approached the group, not saying a word, but instead listening as they began to run their mouths.

"You're with Bear, right?" the first to speak said, standing and pointing at her.

Meadow looked to the patch that adorned her shoulder, a single white emblem in the shape of a bear claw that clung to her uniform. It was just then that she noticed that each of the mercs before her all had their own patches, similar, but different. Rather than a bear claw, they were patched with the heads of wolves.

"I heard Group C had a hell of time in that fight," the same mercenary continued. "Also heard Bear was wiped out after running into the Initiative security forces."

"Something like that," Meadow replied, not caring too much to continue this conversation. Though they could not see it through her visor at this distance, she was staring at those patches on their shoulders.

Wolf She thought to herself. This was the group directly responsible for extracting the MSAD. Perhaps...

"Well, we're all pretty sad to hear it," the merc continued. His words were accompanied by a series of agreeable nods around the table. "I hear most of our experienced fighters were in Bear. Glad to see some more of you guys actually survived."

"More?" Meadow questioned instinctively, the idea of there being more putting her at unease.

"Damn right," another merc began. From under the table, he kicked a chair out, motioning for her to take a seat as an invitation, before leaning back and calling to another table of two at the other end of the room. "Hey, Bunker," he called. "Another one of yours showed up. Looks like you aren't all alone after all."

Meadow suddenly felt a weight sink in her. This was exactly the kind of attention that she had hoped to avoid. Nevertheless, she was getting it and she would have to improvise.

"What's this all about now?" Bunker asked as he joined the group, bringing the total to seven as another merc followed right behind him. His own uniform was adorned with the same white bear claw.

"This mare's with Bear," the first merc said happily. "Turns out you aren't our soul survivor anymore."

"Really now?" Bunker replied, pulling up a seat and joining the table. "I didnt realize there were any mares in our little band of misfits. It's good to see that you made it. Though, I could have sworn I saw everyone from Bear get taken down in that fight... in the courtyard. Remember?"

Meadow wasnt exactly sure what shootout he was referring to. She had been chased straight into that hospital the second she stepped hoof outside the shower unit, but she did her best to play along. "Yeah, with the security forces," she answered, before staring back down at the table. "How could I forget? I guess you were mistaken."

This answer didn't seem to satisfy Bunker, who just kept his critical look leveled at her. He continued his line of questioning. "It just seems weird to me, y'know? That volley of fire tore through our line like a hot knife through butter." He leaned back in his chair. "I only survived thanks to plane dumb luck. How'd you get out alive?"

"Lucky too, I guess," Meadow shrugged. "Barely managed to slip away from getting caught."

"Sure," Bunker continued, taking a sip of his drink. "I can understand that. You do what you have to to survive. I just don't take too kindly to cowards is all."

"Oh come on, Bunker," one of the mercenaries across the table complained. "What's this all about? Cant we just enjoy some calm without you stirring shit with someone?"

"What exactly are you accusing me of?" Meadow was bold enough to ask. She was fairly certain that her cover hadn't been blown. Something else was going on here and yet this pony scared her half to death. She felt it was best to proceed cautiously, even more so than she had been.

Bunker leaned forward with his hooves planted firmly on the table, no longer in a relaxed position. "What I mean," he began in an accusing tone, "is that you weren't in that fight. I saw it with my own eyes. Everyone one in Bear was cut down. The only way you would have survived was if you either hid or played dead."

Meadow wasnt exactly sure where to go from here. It certainly wasn't what she had been expecting, though she got the distinct feeling that if she didn't handle this here and now, this guy was going to be trouble further down the road. She sighed. "Yep, got me," she said with a nervous laugh. "I played dead."

Bunker just cocked an eyebrow, not seeming too convinced.

"I got hit in the chest," she said, standing up to reveal a burned up piece of uniform where a bullet had struck the chest plating. The original wearer had additionally been shot through the head, but switching the helmets had covered up that little fact. "I wasnt able to retreat with the rest of the teams, so I had to lie low until there was a break in the fighting. It's like you said. Do what you can to survive, right?"

Bunker opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the pony beside him. "Hey now," the clearly not-so-sober stallion began, raising his drink in the air. "Enough of all this serious talk. We're alive and we're going to be alright once the money rolls. We should be celebrating while we still got the chance. I know! How about a toast!"

"To one hell of a party when this is all over," another mercenary declared, standing and raising his own drink.

Another mercenary followed suit. "Ah what the hell. And to the fallen! May their souls rest easy!"

"And may each of our shares be larger now that they're gone," another mercenary added, initiating an eruption of laughter as they all lifted their drinks into the air, cider within sloshing around and spilling onto the table below before they each tried drowning themselves in the alcoholic substance.

It was at that moment that Meadow realized she did not have a drink and that even if she did, she would not be able to drink it without removing her helmet. She could already see one of these guys offering to buy her one. She was surprised someone hadn't already, if she was being honest. She figured this would be as good a time as any to slip away.

Before standing up, she looked around the table. It was strange really. Here they were, all ponies, all sharing a common language, and living in the same apocalypse. So then why were they fighting? How could anyone care that much about money that they'd kill innocent ponies and turn against their own kind for it? Was there something more motivating them to do all... this?

She stood, taking her leave as the table became more and more rowdy, the infectious excitement spreading to the other tables. Despite the lively atmosphere, her head was dominated by the sound of her own heartbeat thumping away in her ears. She tried to calm herself, but her breaths were short and her damned hooves wouldn't stop shaking. She had been trembling lightly ever since they arrived, but her close call really amped up the stress. Stop shaking. Stop shaking. You're going to blow your cover and die. Stop shaking.

She rushed over and plopped down in the seat next to Striker, taking her place just a little too hard to the point that a few glasses rattled. She took several deep breaths, trying to steady herself until she finally got a grip on her nerves. She was doing it. She was okay. Just keep going. They dont know.

Meadow was pulled from her thoughts by a nudge on the shoulder. To her right, Striker sat with a drink on the bar top. "Drink?" he asked.

Meadow just shot him a critical look through her visor.

"Right," he said, turning around and leaning back on the bar in a casual manner. He held his bottle up in the air as the mercenaries around them continued their song. "You're squad leader was right," he said under his breath. "They've got jammers in west side of the city. The guy I just talked to was a technician hired on to keep them running."

"What's he doing here then?" Meadow asked, turning around and leaning forward in her seat, attempting to look as casual as possible.

"Apparently he messed up his hoof real good," Striker answered. "Came back here to see a medic. Anyways, I asked and he said that their little attack was successful. The MSAD is being held here somewhere, but he didnt say where."

"You think their in the next warehouse?"

"My money's on them being outside in one of the outer structures," Striker said, taking another drink. "Keeps them isolated and separate from all these hooligans. If they're being forced to work on something, it would also give them room, but the other warehouse would make it easier to keep an eye on them, so that's a possibility too. Also probably just as spacious."

"You want me to check and see?" Meadow asked.

Striker sat up in his seat, turning to the mare as he cocked an eyebrow. "You volunteering?"

"I think I might have attracted a little too much attention earlier," Meadow said, faintly motioning towards the mercenaries that were now caught up in their songs and drinks. "That and you seem to blend in here a lot better than I do. It might be best if I get some distance from this place."

Striker nodded. "Agreed," he said, smiling, seeming very satisfied with himself. "Hanging out at bars is what I do best... Anyways, I'll keep an eye out for you, but once you're through those doors, you're on your own."

Meadow sighed heavily. "I'll be quick then. Don't take off without me," she said, hopping down from her seat as Striker turned around to order another drink. She trusted him to not over do it with the alcohol, but given that she didnt really know him too well, a part of her was still concerned and held on to the idea as a possibility.

Still, Meadow Spring pressed forward, away from the rowdy bunch of mercenaries at the bar and towards the set of double doors at the opposite end of the room, leading to the second warehouse. She passed by the large group of cots, laid out along the floor where several ponies slept and rested, and passed the series of storage containers being used for a number of purposes. She walked slowly, giving mind to each step in an attempt to not seem like she was in too much of a hurry, despite wanting to get where she was going as quickly as possible.

Just stay calm. You're doing fine. Don't draw attention to yourself. She kept walking until she was finally only a few steps away from the doors. They were guarded, but not very well, only two ponies, one on either side. The one on the left was clearly asleep at his post and the other sat with the back of his head resting on the wall. There was probably no way he was going to let her through, but she could at least check before heading back to Striker to come up with some sort of plan.

Meadow Spring took a deep breath, letting it out and steadying herself. She continued on, only to be stopped suddenly.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" a familiar voice sounded angrily as its owner stepped out in front of her.

"Wh-what?" Meadow asked nervously as a wave of shock and fear shot through her body as the larger mercenary advanced at her.

"Oh dont give me that! What do you think I am, stupid?" Bunker demanded angrily as he continued to march on Meadow. "You aren't one of us! You don't belong here!"

Meadow's mind raced at a million miles per hour. She was caught. It was over. "I-uh..." she sputtered before feeling her rear hit a wall, having been backed straight into it.

"Quiet!" Bunker snapped. "I don't want to hear your excuses. You didn't stay and fight and you know it. You're a liar and a coward. This is exactly why we shouldn't recruit outside help and why we shouldn't send mares into combat."

"Look, I know you think a ran, but I didn't," Meadow shot back, trying to think of anything she could say to get this guy off her back. All she could do was commit to the act and hope she was convincing enough, though her confidence was quickly wavering. "I was in that fight. Why is living such a crime?"

"It's not," Bunker said simply, crossing his hooves. "It's getting paid that's wrong. We all signed on for this op, because we were willing to put in the work. We're getting a second chance. We're fighting and dying for what we care about and -"

Crash! The sound of glass shattering suddenly cut Bunker off as small brown shards rained down, the bottle having hit him on top of the head with enough force that his body slumped forward into unconsciousness, before staggering and falling over sideways.

"Whoa there! A little too many drinks for this one! Am I right guys?" Striker said, calling to guards at the double doors. "Getting a little grabby there." He laughed like it was the simplest thing in the world, casting a quick look to Meadow that said, I got you, before waving back to the guards. "Could you give me hoof dragging my friend here back to his cot?"

The one guard who wasn't asleep sighed as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, let's get him taken care of," he said as he set his rifle down and let it lean against the wall. As he joined Striker in dragging Bunker away, Meadow Spring saw her chance and took it, quickly trotting over to the double doors and pressing her way through into a short, narrow hallway with a set of identical doors at the end.

She ran to the doors and entered the next warehouse. It was dark, being mostly empty. It all looked much like how the rest of the city did. Cold, damp, and weathered. She noticed her temperature gauge fall several degrees. The conditions here were far less livable than the warmth of the other warehouse where these mercenaries had set up shop.

"You here for a progress report?" a tired sounding voice asked from just behind her. It had come from another mercenary, leaning against the wall next to the door from which she had just entered.

"I am," Meadow said simply. "Go get some food. This will take a few minutes."

The mercenary stood up and stretched, a few popping noises coming form his body. "Yeah, alright," he mumbled. "Thanks." He gathered his gear and left through the doors, leaving Meadow alone with the mages at the other end of the room.

Meadow proceeded forward, finding herself in the center of the room where the light quickly began to fade as she moved away from the set of double doors. This warehouse, compared to the other, was entirely dead with little to no signs of any kind of activity. "Hello?" she called out into the darkness in a hushed tone. "Anyone here?"

There was no reply. Despite the continued silence, further investigation revealed that the site was not completely abandoned. There were some tables at the far end that had initially been out of sight. She clicked the button on her flashlight and continued, the bright circular beam showing her exactly what she was looking at. Tools. All kinds of tools were spread out across the tops of the tables, many she did not recognize as being such.

The ground around the table was littered with discarded metal drums, the tops of which had been pried off and the contents removed. What is all of this? she wondered. It was nothing like anything she had ever seen. The remnants of what appeared to be small containment units had been neatly stacked in the corner.

Her curiosity hit its peak though, when she was presented with an object that had a dark black tarp thrown over it, something she would have never noticed in this darkness had she not turned on her light. What lied beneath, she could only imagine, but knew that there was only one way to know for sure. She stopped suddenly as she heard the sound of hooves on the concrete floor just behind her. She spun around as quick as she could shining her light on whoever had approached.

The two mages held their hooves over their eyes, shielding themselves from the blinding light.

"You think you could point that in another direction?" Etcher complained.

Meadow was quick to adjust her flashlight so that it now longer shined directly on the two mages who looked far worse for ware. They had bags under their eyes that suggested they had gone without sleep for quite some time and their manes and coats were unkempt, though they were not dirty.

"Sorry," Meadow apologized. "You guys scared the hell out of me."

"We scared you?" Etcher said.

"I suppose you're here for a progress report," Mythic mumbled, walking past Meadow and towards the work stations. He pulled a cord, springing a set of overhead lights to life, before dropping his head into his hooves and rubbing the spots from his vision.

Etcher just stood in his place, eyeing Meadow Spring down with a critical glare. If looks could kill...

"We're almost halfway done," Mythic began to explain pulling away the tarp to reveal what lied beneath. "We've assembled as many as we could, but I'm afraid we need more pieces to continue. We cant build off this with what we have," he said, pointing to the complex apparatus that he and his fellow mages had constructed.

It was a series of metal stands and thin strings, curling around a large crystal the size of a grapefruit, that was round and smooth along the bottom and jagged on all other sides. Though it made no noise and gave off no light, reality itself almost seemed to bend and contort around the contraption.

"We've already triangulated a rough location for the other fragments," Etcher added in a tired voice after stifling a yawn.

Meadow was just silent for a moment, entirely captivated by the sight of the crystal. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before and yet she couldn't quite place her hoof on how. It just seemed different, almost unreal and intangible, like a two dimensional object impossibly existing within a three dimensional space. It took her an extra second to come to her senses.

"Actually," she began, removing her helmet. "My name is Meadow Spring. I'm with the Initiative. We're working on a plan to get you guys out."

"You're with the TRST?" Mythic suddenly shot up, no longer seeming as tired as he had been only seconds ago.

"I am," Meadow confirmed.

"So you're here to save us," Etcher replied, also now seeming to be fully awake. "When are we leaving?"

"I'm sorry, but I dont know," Meadow answered, one that she knew was not good enough. "I'm only here to confirm your location recon this place. We are working on a plan though, so be ready to move in a day or two. We'll get you out as soon as we can, I promise. Please, just hold on a little longer."

"Wait," Mythic said, grabbing Meadow by the leg before letting her go. "This doesn't end with us," he began. "It was never just about us. These mercenaries, what they have, I dont believe it's just about the money for them. They're having us reassemble the crystal fragments. I don't know why, but it can't be for any good reason."

"What do you mean?" Meadow asked. "I thought the crystals were unstable. You can actually put them back together?"

"I'm afraid so," Mythic nodded. "The fragments are highly unstable on their own, but when reassembled, they slowly begin to restabilize. If enough are put back together, it will reach a point that the crystal, even in an incomplete state, will be able to be wielded as a weapon. The power, we are dealing with is insurmountable. It could destroy Equestria if it fell into the wrong hooves."

"So you're making it for them?!" Meadow protested, not even realizing that she had raised her voice in doing so.

"What choice do we have?" Etcher asked. "They demand results or else."

"If we havent accomplished at least something by the time they send someone to come check on us, he's threatened to begin executing us, beginning with the assistants," Mythic said. "I am the Arch-mage. The rest look to me for leadership and hope in this situation. I cannot let them die one by one like that."

Meadow sighed. "I understand," she said. Dammit. These mages were powerless to do anything except the bidding of their enemy. She hated that. Powerlessness was a feeling she was all too familiar with. They needed to end this all as quick as possible.

"There's more going on here than just that," Mythic said, "but we can talk about it once we're on the outside. I need to speak with leadership in Canterlot as soon as possible. In the meantime, I have something for you." He returned to the tables where their work had been taking place, fishing around for several seconds before finally seeming to find what he was looking for and returning. "These crystal fragments are all a part of a whole and are thus magically tethered to one another in some ways. We've been able to use this fact to speed up the search process to some degree." He handed her a small slip of paper. "These are the rough locations of where you might find the next fragments. Even if we are saved, there is the possibility that someone else will put them together. You must cut them off at the source."

"Steal the fragments out from under them," Etcher simplified, "but be careful. Once you do, you'll be a target."

"And another thing," Mythic added. "Do not trust anyone until we are able to get back to Canterlot. We have been betrayed from within."

"I understand," Meadow replied. "We've found some evidence to suggest that someone in the Initiative is feeding these mercenaries information."

"I fear that this betrayal may go deeper than just the Initiative. Somehow these mercenaries were able to get their hooves on fragments from our very labs in Canterlot" Mythic said. "Trust no one with this information. Acquire those fragments and save us if you can."

Meadow nodded. "We'll get you guys out. I promise."

Mythic smiled a hopeful smile, handing Meadow's helmet to her and motioning for her to go. "Go," he said. "Time is short."

"Good luck," Etcher added. "We must return to the others and let them know of this development."

And with that, they parted ways. While Mythic and Etcher turned out the lights and disappeared back into the darkness, Meadow returned to the double door, the windows of which the only light now shown through. Out of one darkness and into another.

When she emerged, the guards at the door did not stop her. Either they did not notice or did not care enough. She supposed she looked a bit less suspicious coming out of somewhere than trying to sneak in. Nothing had really changed since her absence. The cots were still lying there in the middle of the room, the gunsmiths were still working away at their impromptu workshop, and the bar was still lively with activity, though it had died down just a little.

There was one difference that disturbed her though. Striker was absent from his usual spot at the bar and a quick look around revealed him to not be anywhere out in plain sight. Regardless, Meadow kept calm. There was no need to jump to any conclusions, even if it did strike her as odd. Any second now, he would emerge. They had each others backs. She just had to trust him.

"Gentlecolts!" someone exclaimed over the racket of the room, as he jumped up onto an empty shipping container in the center of the floor. The pony in question was strange, not only because he wore a cloak that concealed his identity, but because he was what Meadow would only ever later be able to describe as being "hard to look at."

The way he had jumped up and glided onto the container suggested that he was a pegasus, and Meadow was quite certain that she had seen a pair of wings sprouting from his back, but only a split second later, her eyes were telling her that he was actually a unicorn, and now he was an earth pony. The cycle continued in no given order, but it was all happening so fast and with such intensity that it almost appeared as if he were all three at once while also only being one. It was like staring into three alternate realities at the same time and it made Meadow's head hurt like it had been struck with a hammer. His form was fluid and the colors of his cloak were not contained within its outline. Who... what was this pony?

"If I may have your attention please," the pony continued in a thunderous voice that echoed across the warehouse and attracted everyone to the center of the room, gathering around to witness what this pony had to say.

Meadow did not like where this was going. It was becoming far too crowded for comfort. Where the hell was Striker?

"We have all come here, because we fight for a cause that we know to be righteous," the pony continued. "Currently, our brothers in arms are out scouring this city for the remainder of the crystals that shall bring us all salvation! Soon, all our problems shall be resolved and we will be allowed to return to society, not as debtors, slaves, criminals, or outcasts, but as stallions. As men! Dignified and whole, free of the shackles that have been placed on us all!"

There was a roar of applause. The crowd seemed to be quite happy with what they were hearing, and judging by their expressions they seemed hopeful. A few even seemed to be crying.

"But there is a rat in our midst!" the pony suddenly proclaimed. "A worm in our apple! An agent of the TRST Initiative now walks among us. They would see to it that all our work was undone and that you would be robbed of the very lives you sought to restore!"

Not good. A sense of panic suddenly over took Meadow and she looked around frantically for Striker. He had been caught, she just knew it. They had found him and soon he would be brought before the crowd and executed like a criminal in the streets of the medieval age.

Something different happened instead.

"Seize her," the pony said simply, his eyes, those colorless spheres that pierced through the dark of his hood, leveling their gaze straight at her.

"What?!" Meadow yelped as she suddenly found hooves on her and she was thrust to the ground, quickly being stripped of her weapons and helmet. No. No. No! NO! Her mind raced at a million miles per hour as her eyes shot across the room, desperately searching for some form of help that was not there. Striker, where are you?!

Despite her dire situation, Striker was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a flash and a bang. And then only darkness.

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the wait. I wanted to have this one out by the end of last month, but life got in the way and I think I rewrote this chapter at least five times just trying to get it right. Hope you enjoyed reading it.