Paradise
Chapter 23: Preparations
Previous Chapter Next ChapterHank stood silently at the workbench, the only sounds coming from the jigsaw in his hand as he cut through another sheet of aluminum. The jigsaw made short work of the stop sign and soon Hank was holding up to his Interceptor body armor referencing the size of his makeshift chest piece.
Lucky for Hank his measurements held true and he sat the rectangle missing its top two corners back on the bench, marking where he would need to bend it to conform with the body armor. Throwing the yard stick and sharpie roughly onto the bench the young man stood up quickly, the tightness in his lower back from leaning over too much reaching aggravating levels.
Walking out of the artificially lit workshop and into the night he looked up to the sky, half admiring the stars, half stretching his back. Savering the brief moment of clarity his mind had Hank groaned as the whispers seeped back into his mind. So many things he had to think about, so many things he needed to remember, so many things he did but didn’t.
Hank had become increasingly worried about his mental state, he knew that the whispers could lead into screams and he knew what that meant. He was afraid he was relapsing, not from a physical ailment but a mental one. He had broken after his father died before him, his dad was the only thing keeping him in reality after the world had had enough, and when he was killed that tether snapped. Violently.
The months after his father died were a blur in his mind. Nothing mattered to Hank anymore, his life did not matter to him, the only thing that mattered was killing whatever was unfortunate enough to look him in the eyes. It was a dark time. It was a time where being covered in blood was normal, where killing for the fun and power rush was Hank’s only mission. Sure he had pulled himself out of it but only when his body was completely used up and he was starving in the beginning days of winter.
The effects of his first “Break”, as he had decided to define it as, were still prevalent: his brutality, his lack of fear and respect for bodily harm, and the presence in the back of his head silently promising that he would become who he truly was once again.
Hank let out a labored breath as he thought about slipping back into what he knew he could be. It had happened before, the relapse, all it takes is too much stress and a little bit of anger. Both things Hank knew he had plenty of.
Gritting his teeth Hank balled his hands into fists and he turned around but immediately stopped.
Thinking back to the blur of carnage he was disgusted at himself that he at least knew that he liked it. HE liked it. Not the crazed psychopath he was that had done it. He held fond memories of what he had done he, it was like it was the first time he truly had meaning. The looks of fear and the crying eyes of the people he had killed made him feel good. Really good. It wasn’t the power that he lusted after, though it was nice, it was the look on a person's face as they realized they were going to die.
Clamping his eyes shut he tried to push the images from his mind. He knew it was wrong to like what he did and he tried his hardest to repress it but repressing the memories only made the whispers louder until he was forced to yield and think about it.
“I get it. I’m not wired right, never have been. I like seeing the terror I inflict on people.” Hank’s voice came out gravelly and rough.
His simple admission making the whispers and cloudiness in his head fade he knew it had just won once again. Not thinking about it a second more Hank straightened up and steped back into the workshop, still having gauntlets to make.
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Morning came slowly and peacefully as always. Celestia no doubt standing on her balcony a small satisfied smile on her face.
“They’ll all died.”
Squeezing the arms of the pop riveter together Hank had put all of the aluminum plating on the legs and now the arms of his heavy ballistic riot gear. Using a simple systems of hooks made out of the sheeting itself to loop into the molle webbing that was stitched everywhere around the armor he would then rivet the hooks to the main sheet through a small hole. For how simple it was he was surprised at how firm it held
“They all died because I wasn’t good enough.”
All that was left was to mount the bracket that would hold the flashlight on the side of his helmet and to attach the breast plate but to do that he would need to be in the armor first.
“MY CONVICTION WAS NOT ENOUGH.” Half growling half shouting Hank struggled to pop the last rivet, his tired arms deciding they were done listening to the man.
Taking a step back from the workbench, his arms hanging down by his sides, a sleep deprived Hank took a series of deep breaths in and out, “Never again.”
Repeating the words to himself over and over as the flashes in his mind started to come he was not going to let them take hold. His eyes and teeth clenched as hard as possible he counted breaths as he tried to focus on the outside world.
Hearing Hank’s voice call out Zecora had been drawn from her place on the couch to investigate what was going on. Looking at the man worried as he stood still ,breathing heavily, Zecora didn’t get any idea of what was going on.
“Are you okay?” She asked softly taking a step forward but quickly taking it back as he violently twitched. Noticing that his breathing slowed and the muscles in his triceps relax a little Zecora cautiously walked up to the man as he stood in place. She wasn’t afraid of Hank but she also remembered that he expressly told her to keep her distance if he started acting strangely, even going as far to say to leave him and never come back.
Zecora knew she could never do that. But still. She was a little nervous that he might lash out without knowing what he was doing. She couldn’t leave him like that though could she? No. Hardening her resolve she walked up next to to Hank and looked up at his face, a look of immense pain twisting his every feature.
Softly placing a hoof on the side of his thigh she could the powerful muscles tense and harden at her touch but also saw his face soften for a second before his entire body seemed like it had just been shocked.
Jolting back the leg she wasn’t touching shot back into a more stable stance before the leg she was in contact with pulled up in an instant scaring her. Stepping back away from the human as he fell forward Hank’s large body collided with the ground hard, his head smacking of the dry dirt floor kicking up a small cloud of light brown dust.
Watching in horror as the rock Zecora saw Hank as started to convulse on his side she stood shocked, not knowing what to do.
His hands clasped behind his ears Hank pulled on the hair hard as his mind tormented him endlessly. Watching as he pulled the hair from his own scalp Zecora quickly ran over to Hank and grabbed onto him, yelling at him to snap out of it.
His skin quickly becoming clammy to the touch Zecora continued to hold on and repeat that she was here and that he was okay. His shaking dying down after a few more seconds she felt his body relax under her before he went completely limp.
Panicking Zecora quickly started to try to pull him onto his back, his weight making it hard for her to do so. Heaving with all her might she finally got him flipped onto his back and took a deep breath to see that he was breathing easily and strongly. Feeling his pulse she could feel it in strong beats as it circulated through his body.
Legs shaking Zecora sat down next to Hank watching him breathe as a few horse laughs escaped her throat. She had never seen him collapse and start having a near seizure before. There was the one time before but it was nowhere near as violent as what had just happened.
The picture of his head smacking off the hard dirt floor replaying in her mind Zecora could feel herself start to tear up before completely breaking down and crying. Lying her upper body across his chest as she wept Hank stayed completely still, unresponsive to the outside world.
It took three hours before Hank’s body started to respond to outside stimuli. Even then it was just his eyelids trying to close tighter to keep the light out. Zecora had stayed by his side the entire time, lying next to him on the cold dusty floor. Nothing much had happened until Zecora practically jumped out of her skin has Hank took a long desperate breath in as his right hand shot to his throat.
Taking a few more breaths and pulling his hand away to see no blood Hank relaxed and let his arm fall back down to his side once he realized it wasn’t real.
“Uuuugh.” He groaned his entire body feeling sore. Taking a few more breaths Hank tried to get onto his hands and knees only to find that he lacked the strength, falling back onto his side before rolling onto his back. Rolling his head to the right to where Zecora was slowly walking back towards him, a small smile on her face, he looks back up to the open studs in the ceiling.
Looking down at Hank as he laid there Zecora’s small smile faded as she looked at his eyes, their usual sharp piercing gleam traded for an unfocused glazed over stare. She didn’t even recognize the man in front of her. Sure it was the same body but the confidence, strength, and power the Hank seemed to exude was all but gone. Something was very clearly wrong with the man. It was much worse than she previously thought.
Watching over his he laid on the floor, Zecora had no idea what to do or how to help, she figured it would be something Hank would want to work out at his own pace.
Still looking up at the ceiling Hank could feel as his eyes started to focus normally and the response in his extremities return, slowly working into his core. Rolling back into his front he grit his teeth and pushed himself up onto all fours and then into a kneel, fighting his dead limbs all the while.
“C’mon you piece of shit.” He swore at himself grabbing onto the metal shelving next to him. Pulling himself up onto wobbly legs with the help of the shelving. Huffing and puffing as he stood Hank quickly leaned over and spat out a small amount of bile that had worked its way up his throat.
Weakly kicking some dirt over the small puddle Hank stood hanging onto the shelves until his stomach settled. Once it had he slowly turned toward the exit but stopped once he saw Zecora. Flashing her a brief smile he let go of the shelving and started to walk out of the shed.
Only making it to the Humvee, Hank leaned against the hood and brush guard filling his lungs with fresh air while letting the breeze dry the sweat from his skin.
Walking up next the the vehicle Zecora jumped up onto the hood and sat herself next to him. Ignoring the zebra’s antics Hank kept looking forward until she spoke.
“Are you okay?”
It was a stupid question and Zecora knew that but she couldn’t not ask; even if she knew the answer.
“Y-yeah. Never better.”
At least his inappropriate sense of humor was back Zecora thought as Hank pushed off from the Humvee and headed inside. Falling back onto the couch making it rock onto its rear two legs Hank groans as he lays back.
Climbing up onto the couch and then Hank’s chest like usual Zecora sits down while Hank pats and runs his fingers through her mane and down her neck making her sigh and push in to the magical appendages.
Straightening herself back up not wanting to let the temptation of the fingers make her docile she sighs and looks down to the human pausing as she looks into his eyes looking back up into hers. A strange look she had never seen before stops her for a second before she shook it off.
“You’re not well Hank.”
His fingers stopping as his face fell a little for a second he quickly resumes running his fingers down Zecora’s neck. Annoyed at his ignorance Zecora pokes a hoof onto his nose.
“Really Hank. I know you know this.”
Taking a deep breath that raised Zecora up he resting his arm next to him. Looking off to the side not wanting to look at Zecora he grumbles something unintelligible that the zebra could not pick up.
“Hank. I’m scared.”
His attention back on the zebra he looks right back at her.
“You’re strong. Incredibly strong. But I think whatever is bothering you is something you need outside help with.” Zecora could tell Hank was dismissing what she said by the look on his face and body language. All the time spent with the human had made her quite adept at reading him, even with his subtle cues.
“No. You need to listen to me. I know you’ve done things alone for a long time but you do not have to do that anymore, I’m here.” She gestured to herself, “The Apples are there. Fluttershy is there. All of these people care for you and what you to be well, there is no need to fight your demons alone any longer.”
Sighing deep and long Hank shakes his head. They just didn’t understand. His demons were just that, his. There was no way he would push his issues onto anyone else; and even if he did there was no way they could ever understand.
“I haven’t been well for a long time Z. The only thing that I think will help me at all is time. Talking about it only makes me angry and makes me think about it more. And I know you want to help, but… I just ain’t going to trouble you with my issues more than I already have.”
“Getting you better does not trouble me at all! I know you have gone through some things beyond my comprehension but I swear to be understanding.”
Shaking his head again Hank blows air out of his nose, “No Zecora. You said it; it’s beyond your comprehension. There is no way you could understand some of the things that happened. I know you think you could but you can’t! And that’s great!”
A hand on either side of her face as he cupped it he smiles, “I wish I couldn’t understand some of the things that happened. I wish I didn’t understand what it meant to kill someone out of compassion; because death was a preferable option to what was going to happen to them.”
Shaking her gently Hank sat upright and moved her between his legs, “My problems are mine, and they’ll stay locked in my head until the day they die with me.”
Looking into each other's eyes for a long time Zecora breaks eye contact first knowing there was no way she was going to change the stubborn human’s mind. Lowering herself down Zecora latches onto his lower stomach in a hug as she started to tear up again.
As much as Hank hated seeing Zecora upset he preferred it to the alternative. Running his fingers through her hair once again he decided that he would lay there a little longer to let the zebra get a little more comfortable before he had to go again.
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Turns out “a little more time” turned into three more hours of lying on the couch and dozing off together. Once Hank had finally awakened and pried the clingy zebra off him he was in a rush to get to town and talk to who he needed to.
Shifting the bike into neutral as he coasted down the hill Hank brought a hand up away from the bar and rubbed the side of his head where he had pulled the hair out, the skin extremely sensitive to the touch.
Returning his hand to the handlebars Hank kills the engine as he rolls to a stop twenty feet from the entrance of town. Dismounting the bike and pushing off to the side of the road into the grass he clicks it down into first and leans it down on its kickstand.
Approaching the guards he stops and points to both of them, “If anything touches that bike-” He points behind to the red Honda, “I’ll break each one of your arms.”
Gulping at the threat Hank nods knowing they got the message before turning and entering the busy town.
It was just a regular busy lunch hour in Ponyville, the skies were blue and dotted with light puffy clouds, ponies milled about happily, taking a break from work or meeting someone for lunch at one of the many eateries. All was well in the town and it was business as usual.
That was until the light atmosphere became more tense as ponies started to notice who was in their midst. Watching through restaurant windows and from the sidewalks as Hank made his way down the side of the street conversation became a murmur.
Everypony in the town knew about him sure but the sight of him was still a shock to some of them, and even more so for ponies who were from out of town and had only heard whispers or even nothing. Not all ponies were like this though, a select few made sure to greet Hank as if he were just another resident. These ponies found themselves getting an awkward wave and “hello” in response as he continued down the street.
It wasn’t long before Hank had made it to his first stop, the barracks. It had taken even less time to find the building. It was a massive two story white building that had “Ponyville Guard Barracks” carved into a massive sign that hang off the front of building after all.
He really didn't want to walk into the hornet’s nest but the M16 that was slung over his shoulder gave him a little comfort.
“Maybe most of the guards will be out and about, though I didn’t see many.”
Hoping aloud to himself Hank looked at the door a little longer before approaching and resting his hand on the door knob, that he had no idea how ponies used, he gave it a gentle twist finding it was locked. Looking at the knob curiously he gave it another twist to the other side confirming it was locked.
Pressing his ear to the wooden door Hank knew he could hear very lively chatter and even laughing from the other side of the door. Grumbling to himself Hank took a half step back and unslung his rifle from his shoulder and quickly affixed the bayonet under the barrel.
Picking up his right leg and loading it Hank felt a familiar feeling rinse over him as his eyes rapidly shrank to pin pricks
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“BREACH!”
“HA!” The blue door flew inward and twacked against the wall as a hail of gunfire erupted from inside the home.
Two puffs coming from Nickolus’s vest and a round cutting through his right thigh as he stumbled back the hulk of a man stumbled backwards and fell down the concrete stairs, his rifle flying off in a separate direction. Gunfire still pouring through the door Hank ran and vaulted over the iron guardrail right as a bullet tore through the wall where he had been standing.
“Shit! Get off the wall!”
The other members of his party scrambling off balcony as well Hank slid next to Nickolus as he coughed. Reaching the downed man's side Hank started pulling at the vest in a rush to get it off enough to see if the rounds made it through
“I don’t think they made it through man… just knocked the wind outta me.” Nickolus groaned and spoke in a strained voice.
Pulling the vest up and seeing no blood Hank was relieved to see that it wasn’t too bad.
Two loud bangs coming from his left Hank looked over his shoulder to see a large splatter of blood on the inside of the bay window.
“Shot that son of bitch right in the throat!”
“Good shit dude!” Hank yelled back enthusiastically while Nickolus gave a weak thumbs up. Quickly turning back to his charge and the hole in his thigh Hank reached over and pulled the tourniquet from Nick’s Ifak.
Noticing that Nick looked very worried at the large amount of blood coming out of him Hank looks at him while slipping on the tourniquet, “Don’t worry it’s not spurting. It didn’t get an artery.”
Putting a hand on the injured man’s shoulder in reassurance a pipe bomb flew out of the door and rolled directly next to Nick causing him to panic.
“Jesus christ!”
Scrambling to his feet and running away from the ordinance, at a surprising speed for someone who had just been shot, Hank stays in his kneel and slowly picks the bomb up in his right hand.
“Throw that shit away kid!”
Hearing John off to the side Hank watches as the long fuse slowly burns down. Looking back to the open door where gunfire was still flying through a young Hank chuckles, waiting for the fuse to burn down a little more before throwing it back inside.
Unslinging his rifle and readying himself Hank tenses his legs for the blast. The gunfire stopping he hears panicked voices from inside.
“Fuck! They threw it back! GET O-” *BANG*
Dust flying out of the door as the bloodied bay windows shattered outward Hank charged up the stairs and into the smokey room, not wanting to let the opportunity go to waste.
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Shaking his head and lowering his leg from the door Hank quickly took the bayonet off the rifle and decided to just knock. Like a regular person.
Knocking three times Hank hears a gruff voice from behind the door annoyedly call out.
“Who locked the bucking door?!”
Nobody replying Hank heard heavy hoof steps approaching from the other side of the door before the lock clicked and the door swung open to show an earth pony a little smaller than mac, but no less muscular, with a well kept mustache.
“How can we help youuuuuuuu?” The pony trailed off as he slowly looked up until reaching Hank’s face.
“I need to talk to Clover.”
Looking at Hank for a few seconds longer a wide smile slowly spread across the ponies’ face before he started to heartily laugh. Not knowing what was so funny Hank looked at the pony curiously much like the full room of guards still inside. Ironhoof was a pony not known to laugh much at all, an outlier for much of the species, so the entire group of guards was watching silently at the rare occasion, not really believing their eyes or ears.
“Sorry Sorry… it’s just… heh.” Ironhoof wipes a tear from his eye, “Come on in.” Holding the door open with one hoof while gesturing inside with the other Hank stood still observing the room in front of him.
“Something the matter?” Ironhoof lowered his arm while still holding the door. Not knowing what was stopping the human.
Something was wrong. The entire scenario screamed trap. Even if it was an unplanned one Hank would not let himself underestimate the ponies’ cunning or opportunistic attitude. He knew that they didn’t know he was coming or that he would even show up here but now that he was here who was to say they wouldn’t try something, especially with easily over fifty guards.
“I ain’t comin’ inside.”
Surprised at the skittish behavior of the beast in front of him Ironhoof shook his head, “Why?”
“You’re too friendly.”
“I’m too friendly? Would you rather I be an angry plothole?”
Looking over the situation further Hank figured he had good reason to believe this was s trap, just waiting to be sprung.
“It’d at least be believable.”
“Believable? What are you getting at?”
Ironhoof could feel the creature’s eyes scanning over every inch of him and then the inside of the barracks, watching such small eyes with even smaller pupils moving around so snappily was a small bit disturbing to the pony as he watched the creature analyze seemingly everything. Ironhoof was watching Hank closely as well, he didn't know what to expect with the man.
“That’s a trap.” Hank states plainly pointing at the inside of the barracks.
“Why do you think that?” Ironhoof asks. Curious to how the human had broke down what he was seeing.
Squinting at the pony Hank frowns, “Why in the hell would I tell you?”
“Because I have no idea how you got that Idea.”
Grumbling to himself at his willingness to entertain the pony and waste his precious time Hank told himself that maybe if he entertained him he could find a way to Clover.
“You’re too friendly and not scared, I haven’t met a single pony who wasn’t immediately off put at the first time seeing me. On top of that you quite literally invited me...ME inside of a guard barracks, as a guard you should know that like water and oil we don’t mix. Plus you have over fifty bodies in there, sure they are unarmed, from the looks of it, but the numbers advantage in such an enclosed space with so many angles of attack would be unfavorable for me. But you already knew that."
Looking over the room once more Hank huffed at the situation in front of him. "I wouldn’t be so cautious if I didn’t know how damned opportunistic you little shits can be. Out of all the ponies I’ve been hurt by all of them have tried to get me while I was unaware or tried to stab me in the back, so yeah, I’m a bit wary of you and whatever this is.”
His face showing a small amount of surprise internally he was much more than impressed at the human’s skill of reading possible threats, even if he was wrong. Ironhoof could see the human had experience in using his head and not just his brawn like he first presumed. It made sense to him why Hank would be a bit wary. He couldn’t fault the human after what he had been through for thinking what he did, but still, he was wrong.
“I get what you mean, but you’re wrong. This wasn’t planned to be a trap and now that you’re here that doesn’t change. This is a celebration for the new recruits that just got here last night.”
Looking inside at the room full of ponies again he did see the cake and cider most of the ponies had in front of them.
“Who the fuck celebrates before anythings been done.” Hank scoffed looking back to the pony.
“We’re ponies son. We have a celebration for just about everything. Now if you excuse me I still have pie and cider to eat before somepony else gets to it.” Turning and walking back into the room the Ironhoof looks back to the human, “You can still come in, Clover is right there.”
Looking in the direction that Ironhoof pointed Hank could see the familiar face of the pony after a few seconds of looking. His body and mind screamed at him to walk away, get as far from the trap as possible, the thought of leaving such a large point of his plan and in extension the ponies suffering in the caves neglected was far stronger.
Grumbling to himself as he looked from the full room to the safety of the landscape behind him growing more and more torn. Finally letting out a low growl Hank took the magazine out of the M16 and made sure it was full of rounds before press checking the chamber to make sure it was loaded.
Everything loaded Hank switched it to burst for good measure and looked back forward stepping into the confines of the barracks. Expecting the room to erupt and the door to slam behind him Hank quickly glanced over his shoulder seeing that both of those things didn’t happen.
Scanning over the room again all Hank saw was the usual look of wide eyed shock he was used to minus the pony who opened the door for him, he was rapidly eating pie and washing it down with cider.
Locking eyes with Clover as the pony sat himself up a little more upright Hank cleared his throat, “We need to talk.”
“What about?” Clover asked, a tinge of nervousness in his voice.
“Alone.”
Quickly getting up from his seat at the table Clover started walking toward the stairs that led to his office on the second floor, “My office is upstairs.” Clover didn’t know what Hank had to tell him but if it was something that he was willing to come into the barracks for he could bet it was important.
Following the pony, Hank kept his back to the wall as he snaked his way to the stairs before clearing the staircase and making his way up, the entire congregation of ponies watching his every move.
Upon reaching the open door to the office Hank stepped inside closing and locking the door behind him, before picking up a chair and wedging it underneath the knob for added security.
“That’s a little unnecessary don’t you think?” Clover asked already sat behind his desk.
“No.” Sitting down in one of the two chairs Hank lays the rifle across his lap.
“So what do you need to talk about Hank?”
A heavy sigh coming from the human as he took off his helmet and ran his right hand through his unkempt hair Clover could tell he was stressed and tired.
“I need two soldiers who have been at least been in battle and preferably taken a life before.”
“Wha-What?”
Putting the helmet back on Hank repeats himself, “I need two soldiers with battlefield experience and no hesitation to take a life in defense of themselves or others.”
“I thought that’s what you said.” Clover rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Why do you need that?”
“I know where the twenty one missing ponies are.”
His eyes snapping open wide Clover was suddenly full of energy and stood up in his chair, “Where?! We’ll send all ponies we have. No. We’ll get reinforcements and then go get them and bring them back.”
“I ain’t gonna tell you where.”
“WHAT?!” Clover screamed stopping his pacing and staring angrily at the human as he looked back with a blank expression.
“I ain’t gonna tell ya. What I am gonna tell ya is how you’re gonna help me get them back.”
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It took a small amount of convincing and a long back and forth before Clover finally folded. By the end of the conversation Clover was crying at the weight on his shoulders, the stress of his job and recent events becoming too much for him with the talk of plans and his inability to protect the ponies he swore to do so.
“So you’ll have Ironhoof and whoever else he chooses at the entrance to town at 5:15 tomorrow morning right?” Hank asked, feeling a small tinge of empathy for the pony.
“Yes.” Clover wiped his red eyes and sniffled.
“You have the time frame wrote down?”
“Yes.”
“Repeat it.”
“5:15: Have guards ready to be picked up. 5:30: Fighting and extraction begins. 6:15: As the sun rises you plan to be back but have all troops ready to deploy and give the hospital a check to make sure they are ready for the influx of patients.”
“Good.” Hank nodded, “I will also give the hospital a time table and an estimate on what to have ready and what to expect, just check up on them. Continue.”
Looking back down at the sheet of paper Clover sniffled again: “7:00: Something has gone terribly wrong, send in regular infantry. Expect heavy casualties on both sides including hostages. At all times have a group of pegasi watch the western sky for a bright red burning flare above the trees. If one flare is spotted the transport has failed or is not viable for other reasons, if two flares are spotted immediate support is needed. Also if it is before 7:00 listen for either one, two, or three long soundings of a horn. One honk means inbound. Two means inbound with those in need of serious medical treatment. And three means inbound with dead onboard.”
Going over the plans in his head as Clover read Hank nods and slowly raises to his feet, “I’ll give you the location of where this is happening tomorrow morning. Do not send anything preemptively, only respond to what I have laid out for you here.”
“Yeah. Got it.” Standing as well Clover cleared his throat and gave his eyes one last drying, “I don’t know what your side of the plan looks like Hank but please bring them back.”
The human ignoring him as he removed the chair and opened the door Hank looked back to the pony as he exited the room after him, “I’m gonna do my best.”
Waiting for the pony to go down the stairs first, where the conversation had picked back up a little, but not to its original level, Hank could hear utterances of his alias and other things coming from down stairs. It didn’t bother him that they were talking about him, they were going to do that either way, he just wished they had the spine to confront him and ask about some of the things they were talking about instead of letting small mostly factual details devolve into wild lies.
His rifle snugly pressed into his left shoulder, Hank leaned around the edge of the wall that exposed him to the entirety of the room, checking it for any changes. A pony staring back at him through the medium range scope, his fear was quickly picked up my the others at his table and then the entire room.
Already down the stairs with his weapon lowered by the time the bulk of the ponies had been alerted to his presence. Looking back at the full room of guards the silence returned as the ponies starred unsettled in the presence of Hank.
“You look tired. Better get some cider and deserts, it’ll perk you right up.”
Half the room quickly looking to Ironhoof as if he had just started the apocalypse he just smiled and leaned over close to the ear to one of his trail guard sergeants, “That barrel is empty, I got the last mug out of it. I wanna see if all these mutterings about him being incredibly strong is true, I’m hoping he’ll try to switch out that empty one with that big one we have left.”
The entire table of senior guards watching the man closely as he walked over to the table and held his canteen under the spicket only for nothing to come out the sergeant leaned back towards Ironhoof, “You think he really is that strong? I have my doubts.”
Nodding his head Ironhoof smiled once he saw Hank lifting up the end of the barrel for nothing to come out and angrily grumble to himself something he couldn’t understand, “I do too. I think a lot about what he has said is blown way out of proportion. Sure he killed that Shuck on the trail and get that pony to the hospital in record time but there’s no way he lifted a wagon full of gold bits and massacred an entire pack of Shucks on his own. Oh here he goes..”
Both ponies watching excitedly as Hank removed the empty barrel, sitting it next to the full one, Hank looked at the full barrel and jostled it around a bit to make sure it was full. Sizing up the barrel and doing some quick math in his head about the weight Hank decided that the lift would be more than possible. After all it equated to just a little over a hundred and fifty pounds. Easy work for the human.
Bending over while leaning the barrel on its edge so he could get a firm grip on the barrel’s lower lip he put his other hand on the top lip and readied himself. Even if it wasn’t much weight he didn’t want to unnecessarily hurt himself before the big day.
Bending his knees slighting Hank took a deep breath before standing up with the barrel. Standing up with relative ease Hank let the liquid inside settle while laughing at himself for thinking that would be a challenge.
The barrel quickly finding its place in the wooden holder Hank gave it a firm pat before resuming to fill his canteen. The vessel quickly becoming full Hank moved to the cake and used the provided knife to cut himself a sizable slice.
Thinking about how good the cake looked in its double decker glory Hank started to unconsciously spin the knife in his right hand before stabbing it sideways into the barrel. The thunk of metal entering wood snapping him out of his sugar induced trance he looked over and saw the knife sticking out of the barrel.
“Oh shit.”
Surprised at the sight he started to laugh as he pulled the knife out of the barrel. No cider escaping from the slim gash Hank decided to call it good and set the knife down before he started stabbing anything else… like a pony.
A canteen full of cider, paper plate with a sixth of a cake on it in one hand and his rifle in the other Hank walked toward the door, a content smile on his face. Looking down at the cake as he walked he couldn’t take anymore and had to take a bite.
Hank stopped mid step as the flavor spread across the inside of his tongue. Everything was perfect. The consistency of the icing and cake, the rich yet not overbearing flavor mixed with hints of vanilla and… Lemon?
“Tha seo iongantach! How do you make cake this good?”
“You’ve never had cake before?”
The young mare couldn’t help it anymore, she just had to say something to the strange creature even if her friends would yell at her later for communicating with him. She was tired of only having rumors and small snippets of information leaked to her about the terrifying Monster of the Everfree. But now that he was here in front of her and talking! She had to have a small discussion with him, even if it was just a few sentences. Her curiosity was peaked.
“Course I’ve had cake. I had a cupcake just a while ago. Other than that it just been uh….. It’s been a long time.”
Ruby was amazed at how articulate he was. It was a far cry from the unintelligible muttering and screaming she had heard about through her peers and the few papers she had read. She wanted to know what else was also a fabrication now. Does he really kill and eat anypony that wanders too far into the Everfree? Did he really put captain Thorn on his near deathbed? Twice? Did he really save those ponies in Appleloosa? Or was that an elaborate hoax to drum up readers for the RPO like the Canterlot Press had said.
“Yeah it’s good but I think you may be over exaggerating a little.”
Everypony including Hank looking to Ironhoof as he looked across the room at the man huffed at the pony, “Have you ate nothing but shuck meat and raw vegetables for the past three months? No? Didn’t think so.”
“You eat the wolves?”
“Course I do. The sons a bitches try to eat me so I eat them. Shame their meat is stringy and chewy though, it’s like biting into a fuckin’ tire.”
Both amazed and disgusted, Ironhoof could imagine Hank tearing into a dead shuck, blood covering his face. Slowly nodding as he mentally pictured the image the pony stared off into space, “Well then.”
“What does it taste like?”
An elbow jabbing her in the ribs Ruby winced and looked over to her friend and read: “Stop” from his lips as he mouthed to her.
“Why do you care?” Hank replied harshly making the mare start at his rough tone and suddenness.
“I’m just curious.”
Shrinking back a little under the human’s gaze as his small pupils moved around in small snappy movements as he looked deep into her wide eyes he finally shrugged.
“Tastes like fear.” Stopping his explanation he could see that she, and the rest of the ponies, were interested and confused, likely having no idea that meat can taste different, which made sense.
“When an animal is scared adrenaline is released into bloodstream….” Turning and setting down his plate and slinging his rifle he turns and continues, “When adrenaline gets to the muscles they tense.”
His arms bent at roughly ninety degrees and leans forward and tenses them, balling his hands into fists.
The Everfree Monster giving her an impromptu lesson in anatomy Ruby’s eyes were already locked onto him but she couldn’t help but ogle at the muscles and veins that bulged against the skin when he flexed. She’d seen muscular stallions everyday for the last year during her guard training but this was different. Maybe it was the lack of fur concealing anything or maybe it was just how he was built but something about how Hank moved along with his muscles was mesmerizing to watch. Focusing on the large vein that traveled all the way up his forearm and ran along the topside of his bicep Ruby realizing he was still talking shook her head and looked up to his wild eyes, immediately feeling nervous when she looked into them.
“Really "fear" is just adrenaline. Adrenaline is what you taste or smell in meat and blood but usually when something has adrenaline coursing through its body it’s doin’ one of three things: fighting, running, or locking up. If they do either of the first two they’re gonna do it hard so lactic acid is going to build up in the muscles fast; it too has a bad flavor. Shucks though, they always go hard. And they always die scared.”
The cake and plate already back in his hand Hank shrugs, “So their meat tastes like shit, and their blood smells terrible. Hope that satisfied any of your curiosities.”
Not waiting for a response Hank quickly made his way to the door, cake still in hand. Exiting the building and closing the door behind him the ponies looked at the door for a few moments to make sure he was gone before turning to each other and expressing just what had happened. The hall once again returning to excited conversation the ponies loudly talk to each other in amazement and shock with who they had just been visited by.
The rookie guards fresh from Canterlot the most awestruck, they had never seen anything like Hank before, thus questions streamed from their mouths asking about just what he his, are any of the myths true, what does he do?
The guards that had been in Ponyville for a while wanted to answer but they had most of the same questions, all they knew for sure is that he dealt in death and pain, and not to anger him. Soon the lack of answers and abundance of questions was focused onto Clover as he sat eating his cake trying to keep himself out of the conversation as much as possible. With the rising volume of the questions being thrown at him soon he could not ignore them any longer.
Gritting his teeth he quickly sat up from the table and slammed a hoof down silencing the barracks.
“I don’t know what he is. Nopony does! I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know his motivations. All I know is that he calls himself Hank…”
The ponies repeating the name and trying to figure out what it could mean Clover keeps going.
“And that he does not like being told what to do. Just don’t antagonize him, it’s easier that way.”
<><><><><><>
Walking in the middle of the road on his way to the hospital Hank had a smile on his face as he ate the cake, savoring every sugar filled bite.
By the time Hank was nearing the hospital he had gotten many surprised looks and stares. The ponies of town were just starting to get used to seeing Hank in his usual dead faced state but seeing him smile while walking down the street following some beat in his head was something else entirely. It was eerie. Seeing a man so good in ending life bounce down the street while using his knife to eat a large piece of cake without a care in the world was understandably off putting and put many ponies on edge.
Pushing the hospital doors open with his shoulder Hank stepped into the lobby his tongue pressed to the side of the blade as he licked the icing from the cold steel. A very petite nurse along with her friend walking out of the hospital right as Hank was walking in they stop to avoid running into his thighs.
Looking down at the two ponies as he licked the other side of the blade clean of icing they looked back to him as they took a half step back. Slowing reaching the tip of the knife as he slowly licked upwards on the blade he could feel the edges of his lips want to tug up at the scared / flustered look on their faces.
The side of the blade clean Hank slid the knife back into its sheath while standing to the side and pushing the door open with his left arm while motioning for the two to go on through with his right.
A snaggle toothed grin across Hank’s face as he watched the two mares cautiously walk past him he lets go of the door as they leave and then turns toward the empty lobby, minus receptionist who was sat behind the horseshoe shaped desk.
Slowly walking over to the desk not to alarm the young mare Hank smiles.
“Is the head of the hospital in?”
“... Yes. He should be in his office on the top floor.” Her voice having a hint of confusion in it she didn’t have a chance to get his reason of visit before Hank had already started into the hallway, leaving with nothing but a curt thank you.
Walking down the sterile hallway Hank finally reached the white swinging doors at the end of the hallway he had only looked at before and paused. Hank hated these types of doors. These types of doors meant tight spiraling staircases; and he’d seen what had happened in these types of staircases.
Taking a deep breath Hank pushed through the barrier rifle raised and braced across his left forearm as he held onto the cake, expecting to see dried blood and rotting bodies of the ones that had tried to flee. He expected to see torn apart bodies covered in hospital gowns. No doubt the staff and patients of the hospital that got choked up in the staircase and were eaten alive, the concrete white stairway becoming their final resting place.
Instead he was met with pristine polished floors and bright light flooding in through the windows. A breath of relief escaping his nostrils Hank continued into the stairs, clearing them as he went.
Walking backwards up the stairs slowly Hank leveled his rifle at the landing above him making sure nothing was in position to shoot him in the back. Nothing was there of course but Hank continued on like he trained himself to do.
His every movement efficient, practiced, he made it up to the second floor doorway in no time. Peeking through the windows in the doors his entire body locked up once he realized it was at least part childrens’ ward.
Hank’s eyes looked over the floor, watching as kids and nurses happily moved about despite their situation. He looked at the brightly colored walls and doors that had cheerful scribbled artwork plastered all over them.
It was a stark contrast to what he had seen before. He was still plagued by the nightmares becuase of what he had seen in those hospitals and it was something that would likely never fade. It had been over a year and those images still flashed fresh in his mind, he could smell the blood and rot in the air, feel the dead bodies of the children as he stepped over one only to find his boot crushing the body of another.
The memory made his stomach roll and face fall in a deeply saddened gaze as he stared unfocused at the ward in front of him. He didn’t know he had walked through the door until the sound of it closing behind him almost made him break his own neck spinning around so fast.
The smell of antiseptic was still present in the air but lessened by the more powerful scent of what seemed to be vanilla. Now completely immersed in the atmosphere of the second story it all hit him at once.
Within a single blink the happy pleasant scene in front of the human was replaced with the fading weather worn walls of a hospital back on Earth. His breath shaky as he looked around Hank could see his own breath condensing in front of him as his skin started to rapidly cool. Panic starting to overtake the man he tried his best to stay calm and turned to see if there was a way out. The clean well maintained door he entered through now chained shut with lots of scratches and other signs of strain on the same side he was on his stomach dropped in the revelation that he was trapped.
Quickly turning around Hank felt his heart practically stop as he looked at the blood stained walls and dead ponies littering the floor that had just seconds ago been happy and very much alive. The infected weren’t here too were they?
The thought angered Hank deeply. Looking down to his rifle preparing himself for what would come next the piece of cake in his other hand caught his attention first. The desert seemed somehow brighter than the world around him, like it was shaded differently, almost as if it had a different light source entirely.
Focusing on the piece of cake intently Hank ignored the dead pony on the ground staring back at him as the light started to spread from the plate in his hand. Getting brighter and brighter Hank closed his eyes tight and listened to his own ragged breathing before opening them again to find nothing but clean halls and alive ponies.
Looking all around him in shock Hank was amazed that no one had seemed to notice him yet. Focusing on the congregation of nurses and kids at the very end of the hall in what seemed to be a play and community area Hank was about to leave the cursed place forever before a faint whimper came from the room closest to him.
Hank’s body acted on its own, pushing him toward the sound of distress. Peeking around the door frame he saw a slightly older looking pony than the other patients, maybe thirteen? Fourteen years old? Hank wasn’t good at guessing ponies ages, he could just barely tell apart their sexes at distance.
Stepping into the room fully from out in the hall Hank watched as the pony tossed and turned muttering something in his sleep, kicking his blanket off in the process. Hank frowned knowing exactly what the young pony was feeling.
<><><>
Soft glow was in a panic. At first she thought the large shape in the corner of her vision was just an effect of her exhaustion from such a long day but the second it moved and she was forced to focus on it her heart dropped.
It was a situation she had told herself would never happen. Sure it had been on the first floor a few times but it had no reason to come up to the children’s wing. She had hoped this day would never come, the monster terrified her to the very core.
Ever since she’d seen what he had done to those ponies and the amount of doctors it took to keep them from dying she hoped she could go through the rest of her life never encountering the creature, but now her hoof was forced.
“Is everything okay Ms. Glow?”
The soft voice of the young filly she was playing checkers with made her stop thinking.
“O-oh yes little one I just have to go check on something really fast okay?”
Soft Glow’s voice just as smooth and motherly as ever the young filly had no reason to doubt the nurse as she got up from the small table.
“I’ll be right back.” Cosy said reassuring herself just as much.
“Okay Ms. Glow.” The filly said looking down at the board and thinking about her next move.
Slowly walking down the hallway her heart beating in her ears, breathing heavy and labored nurse Glow made it toward the room she had seen it enter. She didn’t know what to do. Her talent was comforting and helping foals, not defending against terrifying forest dwelling monstrosities.
Eyes locked on the door her body felt heavy and harder to control with every step she took as fear took control. Wanting nothing more than run Soft glow gulped and continued on as a cold bead of sweat rolled from the side of her head to the floor below.
She didn’t know what she would see when she got to the room. Would he be trying to take the young colt as its next meal? Was she next? Or was he finally going to start killing as many ponies as he could starting with the weak and helpless first? Oh she hoped it couldn’t smell weakness and fear like she’d heard because she was sure she absolutely reeked of it. Too late to turn back now though she thought reaching the door.
Closing her eyes and preparing herself for perhaps her last seconds alive Glow opened them before stepping into the room. She didn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t what she was seeing.
Running his fingers through the cold and damp mane of the young colt Hank softly whispered reassurances as the colt calmed down. His thrashing slowing and then stopping completely Hank pulled the blanket back up noticing the large scar running down the chest of the boy.
“Heart problems.” He said to nobody but himself as the pony started to move again, “Shh shh shhhhh…. You’re fine. You’re doin’ just fine.”
Watching on in astonishment at what she was seeing Glow noticed that the creature was looking at her through the corner of his small angry eyes and took a small step back. Turning his attention back to the boy Hank’s eyes softened as the pony slipped back into a deep sleep. Patting his head gently Hank looked down at the pony as he breathed steadily with a small bittersweet smile on his face.
Looking at the creature standing over their oldest patient in the children’s wing Glow noticed the large piece of cake that was left on the nightstand next to the water glass before the clear glass was lifted away by the tall beast.
Looking up to his face as he inspected the glass of water she felt her legs weaken as his gaze switched to her, his eyes full of anger directed right at her. Tracking him as he calmly moved to the small sink on the wall opposite the bed she noticed the large red cross surrounded by white circle on his strange green helmet.
Was it possible that this creature knew something about medicine? It seemed unlikely since he spent most of his time hurting not helping or healing. But yet the cross was still there and so was the name “Doc Harmacy” Written in red cursive.
Throwing the water angrily into the basin Hank turned on the tap and re filled the glass after rinsing it out. Sending a sideways glare to the nurse that made her legs start to visibly shake Hank huffed and gently replaced the now fresh water on the nightstand.
Walking back over to the nurse slowly and methodically trying to be as intimidating as possible he smiled internally as her rear legs gave out as she tried to back up, putting her on her ass.
Leaning down a little closer to her level a faint whimper escaped the mares throat betraying her desperate efforts to stay quiet.
“There was dust floating on top and in his water.”
Staring into the mares eyes Hank could feel his temper rising.
“I ain’t seen a speck of dust in this place so for there to be so much in his water that means that you,” Hank jabbed a finger into her chest, “And your fellow nurses have neglected him for quite some time. I don't know how fucking inept at your job you have to be to not check on a goddamned heart patient every half hour but fuck.”
His voice raising a few levels Glow flinched back at the sound of his voice and the truth in his words.
“I-I- We do check on him but he sleeps most of the time a-a-and when he’s awake he just sits quiet. He doesn’t talk. ” Looking at the human as he coldly stared back at her Glow realized what she had said was not the right thing.
“You leave him alone? Away from everyone else? You don’t make the fucking effort to even speak and try to brighten his day?”
Each word coming out in an anger filled grumble the muscles in Hank’s neck started to tense. Noticing his posture becoming much more hostile Glow started to scoot back away from the angered human.
Springing to his feet Hank followed her as she scooted away from him, “How old is he?”
“F-fourteen.” This only seemed to anger him more. Getting back up on all fours, Glow made it a few steps backward down the hall before falling back down again. By this time the foals and other nurses had noticed what was approaching them now and were frozen in shock at what was chasing Glow down the hall toward them.
“You leave him alone all day with nothing but stale water, his suffering, and thoughts at fourteen years old!? You know how social ponies are. Have you any idea how important it is to have stimulating social contact in the years as formative as those!?”
“I-I-I.” Falling over herself as they made it further down the hall.
“Do you know what happens when you don’t get the stimulation you need in those years? Huh!? You… You… You get me!” Hitting himself in the chest with an open hand Hank continues to push the scrambling mare further down the hall completely blind to his surroundings.
“Do you realize how bad you can permanently fuck a person up like that? Cause you should.”
Bumping into the leg of a table Glow could push herself back any further as the human continued to approach before stopping and crouching back down in front of the panicked mare.
“You made an oath to aid in the healing both mental and physical of these children and if I find out somehow that you ain’t doin’ that…” Hank pauses realizing that he was very much not alone with the mare. A frown coming across his face at the sight of the children around him he takes a deep breath to calm himself a little.
Leaning in and bringing her ear close to his mouth he places his hand on the other side of her head so she couldn’t pull away like she wanted, “I don’t care how shatterproof these windows may be. I’ll ram your fucking skull through them.”
Pulling away from the mare Hank rested his elbows on his knees in his squat and stared at her terrified expression, a tear running down her face. Looking at her Hank started to curse himself knowing he had gone way too far with the pony. Pushing himself up from the squat causing his right knee to click loudly he grimaced as he turned and started down the hall.
Reaching the doors Hank turned and quickly peaked into the room with the adolescent pony and smiled as he continued to sleep soundly. Pulling himself out of the door way Hank unslung his rifle and re entered the staircase, clearing it just as he had before.
The doors right in front of him Hank rested a hand in the entrance to the third floor and looked back down toward the second, the events that had just transpired nagging at his mind. Trying to push the feeling away Hank found that he couldn’t like he used to be able to. Perplexed at his sudden weakness he clenched his jaw and looked at the floor, it seemed like he would have to apologize. Not now though, he couldn’t walk back onto that floor after what happened. Thinking about what to do Hank decided to worry about feelings if he survived tomorrow. Keep his priorities straight. After all feelings didn’t matter if he bled out on a cold cave floor in the morning anyway.
The sound of typewriters and calm conversation reaching his ears the second he walked into the completely administrative third floor. There was no hint of antiseptic in the air as he proceeded through the hall checking the plaques next to doors for on that said “Head of Hospital” or “Administrator”, anything that seemed upper management.
Coming across a door that had the exact words he was looking for Hank cleared his throat and knocked on the door with his usual pattern no response coming from behind the door Hank hoes to open it before turning around to the sound of a voice.
“We are in the meeting room.”
Hank didn’t like the sound of “we” but he pushed it to the back of his mind; getting out of the hospital before his mental state deteriorated was more than enough motivation. Going three doors further down the hall he came across a door that was propped open with a door stop and had a “Conference Room” plaque hanging on the wall next to the open door.
Hank heard a few of the ponies gasp as he walked into view but kept his face flat and eyes forward, locked right onto the head of the table.
“I presume you’re the head of the hospital?”
The pony didn’t respond at first; instead looking back at Hank as he inspected the human and well worn gear that hung from his body. The pegasus sat at the end of the table was known for being analytical and decisive. It was what had made him such a rising star in the medical field after all.
The first time he had gotten to see Hank up close the pegasus could certainly say he lived up to the description of terrifying, seeing the injuries the creature in front of him as capable of making at seemingly anytime he chose didn’t help in making the human any more approachable.
“Are you just going to stare at me?” Hank grumbled as he looked back at the still pony.
His analysis cut short Caliper looked up to the human’s face from the blood stains on his torso armor he had been staring at, “You’re quite the unique thing aren’t you?”
The question catching Hank off guard his disfigured lips pull up into a scowl, “And you quite the annoying. Now I have something I need… and I think your interests coincide with mine.”
Listening to Hank’s words Caliper laughs to himself, “And why would this hospital give you anything?”
Ignoring Caliper’s comment Hank pulls out the folded piece of paper with the time table on it and walks past the long table of ponies as they all scoot their chairs in further to get as far away from him as possible.
Standing next to Caliper as the pony looked up to Hank unamused at his persistence he leans down and spreads the piece of paper out in front of him, “You can keep that.”
Standing back up Hank cracks his knuckles and opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by pegasus’s laugh. Looking down to the pony perplexed while the others in the room look on nervous about what Hank might do at the outburst Caliper keeps laughing.
“I’ve seen foals with better hoof writing than this! And you misspelled like three words in here. I mean, I suppose it makes sense. You are not the image of intelligence.” The pony finally gets out causing Hank’s confused look to subside into a neutral one.
Looking square at the back of the pony’s head Hank could imagine the feeling and sound of his hatchet burying itself into Caliper’s brain matter while the impact forced his head into the hardwood table.
Chuckling a little at the thought he looked away from his proposed target, “And I’ve met toddlers with better social skills. But you’ve miraculously read what I’ve written despite my handwriting so you have an idea.”
“Yes that you are trying to play army.”
Pinching his nose Hank groaned at the ponies continued quips, “No. I need you to be geared up by 6:15 tomorrow to take in twenty one malnourished and dehydrated ponies that will have a varying degree of physical and mental trauma including rape.”
“Emptying out your personal collection I see.”
Looking to Caliper out of the corner of his eye Hank smiles widely causing an uneasy feeling to settle in the pony’s stomach even if he wouldn’t show it, “Funny joke. Ha ha ha haaaaaaa…”
The others in the room not feeling the need to hide away their unease and discomfort they all showed it openly minus one who instead had a frustrated look on her face at Caliper’s words. After Hank had opened up to her a bit and explained his past and his “code” Red knew how much an accusatory statement like that would anger him. Let alone with his own admission of a notoriously short fuse when it came to such things.
“Dr. Caliper I think this is something to take a little more seriously than you are.”
Rolling his eyes Caliper leaned forward, “Why is that, nurse?” He let the title slide from his mouth in a degrading sense.
Ignoring the charming personality Caliper was known for Red heart meets eyes with Hank for a second before looking back to her superior, “He obviously is not joking about this. So we shouldn’t either. If he says be ready to help twenty one ponies tomorrow at 6:15 we have a duty to provide that service don’t we?”
Looking to her other colleagues in the room it was clear that most agreed even if they didn’t like who they were helping by extension. Caliper, however, seemed less receptive. The abrasive, elitist personality the pegasus had blocking any ideas that came from his subordinates.
“And why would I listen to you on this Redheart?” Caliper sneered leaving out her title entirely, “Everypony here knows about your night with… that.” He points to Hank with a hoof while Redheart’s face turned into a frown.
“What I do in my personal life is no business of yours Dr. Caliper. Nor is it appropriate to bring said things up in an attempt to devalue my position.” A short cough coming from Steady Hoof next to her she looks at the surgeon and tracks his eyes to where he was looking. The look of cold rage on his face the look in his eyes chilled her even though she was not the target of such a glare.
If there was one thing Hank hated it was an ego, a sense that for some reason you could think you were better than everybody else, that you felt like you could talk down to others completely forgoing any humility. The second he had targeted Red though? The fuse had started to smolder.
“Your personal life does concern me when you’re fraternizing with whatever that is beside me. I believe it calls into question your decision making; maybe it’s time that I put that probation report through. You’ve been quite disorderly lately.”
Red at the face in anger Redheart was going to reply to the power hungry stallion but held her tongue as she watched Hank close the distance behind the stallion. She didn’t know what he had planned but she was sure going to like watching.
“What are you smiling at?” Caliper narrowed his eyes at the mare, “What do you think is so funn-aahhH.”
Finding himself spun around completely with a large hand clamped around his throat the air in his lungs was then forcefully removed from his back slamming into the table.
Hank didn’t mean to use enough power to remove the stallion from his chair completely but either through Caliper’s surprising lack of weight for an average sized stallion, increased muscle mass or perhaps a mix of both Hank had gotten more than his intended result. Oh well though, humans are made to adapt and roll with the flow.
Kicking the ponies chair out of the way Hank pulled the pegasus upright, “ I’m real sick of your holier than thou bullshit Caliper. I don’t know where you was born to think you could treat folks like shit, and I really don’t care, because watching you act like you’re the malevolent king of this stupid hospital; ruling over your subjects like you have any say in what they do outside of these walls is fucking pathetic. You’re pathetic. Your asinine smug prick attitude makes me want to beat the ego out of you. And I suggest that you pull a complete one-eighty with how you act because you sure as hell don’t have the muscle to back up your words. If you keep this stunt up someday somebody's gonna get tired of your shit and break you like the insignificant twig you are.”
Not letting go of the panic stricken stallion Hank leans down and picks up the chair he kicked over before plopping Caliper down into it unceremoniously. Sitting with his hooves between his legs, head down, eyes on the tabletop in front of him like a scolded foal.
“Hey. Hey. Look at me.” Hank flicked the pony’s ear causing Caliper to move his eyes to the man but not his head, “I’m the captain now.” A smile on his face Hank laughed a little, “But no. If you don’t have stretchers, water, food, IV’s, and everything else to deal with malnutrition and months of slave labor ready tomorrow morning at the time I’ve specified, if I come back alive, I’ll kill you.”
Pausing to let his words sink in Hank nodded, “There will be no yellin’ or fightin’, it’ll be cold and calculated, no passion involved, like a business transaction. Don’t get in my way of helping these people.”
Satisfied that his message had gotten through Hank stood back up and turned to the door, leaving without another word as the room stood still.
“Oh-” Hank peaked his head back around the door frame causing everypony to turn and look at him, “And have some morphine or an equivalent ready as well. I’m gonna be a little beat up. Plussss… I need my artery clamps back, might come in handy if shit goes south.”
Slipping out of her chair and quickly making her way to the human as he saw her getting out of the chair he turned and made it out into the hall. Walking up next to the large man, his gear clinking as he moved Redheart didn’t know what to say. Thank you may have been a good start but there was so much more to unpack than that.
“I… Thank you for putting Caliper in his place.” Red said walking through the door to the staircase that Hank had held open for her.
“No problem. Self important assholes like him have always rubbed a raw nerve with me; and they cross a line when they go after people I like.”
Looking at the human out of the corner of her eye trying to read his face for what he might have implied with “like” she couldn’t tell what was going on behind those piercing grey eyes as usual. Looking away before he caught her staring Redheart decided not to think about what he meant. At least not until later.
Walking through the swinging doors that opened to the ground floor hallway Redheart looked behind her at Hank who had his rifle pointed back up the stairs; making sure they weren’t followed.
“You know that you don’t have to do that anymore, right?” Red said to Hank as he caught up with her.
A long exhale coming from the human’s nose he glanced down to her, “Telling myself to stop doing that would be like trying to stop breathing. Ain’t gonna happen.”
“The compulsion is that strong?” Redheart asked remembering some of her old squadmates and their problems… She wondered how they were doing now. Shaking the thought out of her head she looked up to Hank watching as he thought of a way to explain, the muscles of his jaw flexing all the while.
“Yeah.”
Waiting for him to continue she quickly realized he wasn’t and looked back forward, not wanting to press any further.
Walking the rest of the way to the main lobby Red went behind the half circle reception desk to the door that lead to the break room that held her, and many other nurses, desks and belongings. Waiting for Redheart to return with his artery clamps Hank rested his hip on the edge of the desk causing the nurse on reception duty to scoot back.
Catching her movement out of the corner of his eye Hank couldn’t help but look to the nervous mare, “Look I’m not gonna hurt you blah blah bl-” Pausing and looking at the nervous pony as she looked up at him with massive eyes he realized the pony was much smaller than usual and that he had seen her before.
A smile slowly spreading across his face only causing the small mare to become more nervous.
“You’re that tiny little thing, aren't you? Well, I’m afraid there’s no beds to burrow yourself under around so I guess you’re stuck here looking at my ugly ass.”
Drop didn’t like the tiny eyes of the human to begin with. She certainly didn’t like them looking at her and what seemed like observing everything they could. The human scared her for many reasons that she felt were completely acceptable: he was large, dangerous, and just scary. He looked like he crawled out of somepony’s nightmares.
“You’re adorable.”
The simple statement shocking the small pony greatly Drop looked at Hank’s grin causing her to shiver, “W-what?”
“You’re adorable.” He repeats, “You’re like a kitten.”
Not knowing whether it was an insult or compliment Drop didn’t worry about it and instead went with unsettled. Not knowing how to escape the strange situation Drop was saved as Redheart walked out of the break room and saw the situation.
“Will you stop flirting with every nurse you come across Hank? And with Drop really? The poor mare is already jumpy enough.” Red said from around the clamps held in her teeth, amusement in her tone.
Looking from Drop to Red Hank grinned, “I wasn’t flirting. I was just expressing how adorable she is.”
“That’s flirting Hank.”
“No...” Reaching down Hank takes the clamps out of Redheart’s mouth and puts them in his pocket, “She’s adorable like a kitten or puppy, or any small fluffy animal for that instance. Kinda like you, but smaller.”
“Ponies aren’t cute like that.”
Hank couldn’t disagree more, “Yes you are. You’re all small, have big expressive eyes, little fuzzy rotating ears, noses that scrunch up when they’re poked, chest fuzz. I can go on and on. It really doesn’t help that humans have the need, the pure desire, to pick up and squeeze absolutely everything they find cute.”
“Well don’t think you can just go around doing that to everypony.” Redheart said nervously backing up from Hank as a deranged look came across his face.
“Of course I can. You can’t out run me, you’re not strong enough to escape my grasp.” Taking a step towards her Hank held his hands out.
Backing further away from the human Redheart saw that he had corralled her so he was blocking the hallway; her only route of escape.
“Don’t you do it Hank.”
“Eeeeeehehehehe.”
Redheart had never heard a more terrifying sound in her life. She didn’t know how the human had managed to laugh in such a way but at the same time she didn’t want to know; she had more important things to do. Like avoid Hank's grasp as he toyed with her.
Hank had long ago caught on to the advantages and disadvantages to being a quadruped. Sure they had straight line speed and power but moving sideways was hard and moving in diagonals was nearly impossible without them tripping over their own legs.
“Ya know red four legs ain’t always great.” Hank smiled as Red side stepped him again.
“In straight lines you’re fine, and I’ll admit you’re surprisingly nimble sideways, but in diagonals…”
Starting to push her back and to the side at the same time Red started to stumble almost immediately even as she tried to keep track of her hooves. It wasn’t much longer she found herself on her side and then scooped up into the human’s tight grasp.
“There is no denying the inevitable Red.”
Glaring up at the human as she was held like a filly her stern stare instantly melted away as soon as his fingers reached that spot on her neck right under her jaw. It was hard to be mad while you were getting the best scratch of your life Redheart found as she closed her eyes and leaned into Hank’s hand.
“See? Told ya you were cute.”
Far too comfortable to even consider sending a snarky comment back to the man whose arms she was in Red contently rode in the human’s arms as he walked around the lobby enjoying the serene smile on her face. Catching a glance at his watch Hank’s smile faded as he remembered the time table he was on.
Taking his hand away from her jaw he ruffled the fur on her chest, waking the pony, before setting her back down. Finding herself without the comfort she had just had Redheart was going to say something about the premature stoppage of scratches before she saw the solemn smile on Hank’s face.
“You’re going to make it back tomorrow right?”
“No promises.”
“You’re supposed to say “yes” you know.” Red says taking a few steps toward Hank as he opened the door to the world outside.
“I’m not one to offer false comfort.” Looking back at the pony for another second Hank smiled before exiting the hospital.
<><><> 3rd-ish person, Hank, Cabin<><><>
The sun having set about an hour ago the lights were back on in the workshop as Hank tested out the rigidity of the bracket that held the medium sized maglight to the side of his heavy ballistic helmet by shaking the helmet crazily and whacking it off the table much to Zecora’s amusement.
“I think that’ll do ‘er.” Hank said with a smile as he turned to look at the Zebra who was sat behind him on an old square of foam he had drug out.
Hank found he liked working in the workshop with company more than he thought. Even if Zecora wasn’t saying anything he found just knowing he wasn’t alone calmed the presence in his head that tormented him oh so often. Even with all of the questions that Zecora had he was happy to explain why he did this or what that was for. He was just glad to have someone around him that wasn’t trying to directly end his life.
“Are you absolutely sure you have to do this? Can’t the guard do their job? I’ve never seen you prepare like this and I’m getting very nervous about the peril you’re putting yourself in.”
“I think you and me both know how useful the guard is Z. If I let them do this the ponies already down there will die and so will a large portion of the guard force.” Setting the helmet down and picking up three green screw cap Perrier bottles he said walking towards the large drum of gasoline, “Hell. I don’t even know if any ponies would make it out alive.”
“Still I think this is even over your head.”
Filling each of the bottles three quarters of the way full Hank wiped the outside of the bottles off before wiping off his hand as well, “You’re probably right Zecora, but the odds have never stopped me before and they sure as hell won’t now.”
“I figured you’d say that.”
I’m sorry Z but there just ain’t no way I can leave those ponies down there knowing what’s goin’ on.”
“I knew you would say that too.”
“You know me so well.” Hank smiled and laughed while taking two large styrofoam pepsi cups down from the large stack he had on the top shelf.
Extremely confused at just what he was doing with kerosene, glass jars, and now strange plastic cups Zecora got up and walked toward the workbench. Standing herself up on Hank’s right side she watched as he crumpled and ripped up the two cups into smaller pieces.
“What are you doing? None of this makes sense.” Confusion heavy in her voice she watched as he started dropping the crushed up pieces into the fluid in the bottles where it… Melted?
“I am making molotov cocktails. Well my recipe at least.”
Not answering Zecora’s question at all she watched what he was doing further, trying to understand, but failing completely. “Can you explain. I don’t understand this alchemy.”
“It’s a fire bomb. The Finns came up with it first when they were fighting the soviets I believe. Basically you put something flammable in a breakable container with some kind of wick, light the wick, then throw it and hope it breaks open on your enemy.”
“That sounds terrible.” Zecora said in disgust, “Death by immolation is a cruel and prolonged way to die.”
“You’re goddamn right it is.” Hank said with much more enthusiasm.
Slightly taken aback Zecora looks down at Hank’s hands as he started dropping the rest of the bits into the last bottle, “But what is your recipe for this terrible weapon?”
“Well… If I was getting really fancy I’d put some used motor oil in here along with the rest just make these things as nasty as possible but right now I’m just putting some styrofoam in to make this gasoline more like a gel than a liquid. This way it has a much better chance of sticking to things like walls and people while burning longer.
“Is that all you do?”
“No.” Taking the rags and thumbtacks from the left side of the bench Hank set them down in front of him and the zebra, “What I also do is make the thing self contained so it doesn't spill all over me. A lot of people just stuff a rag down the mouth of a bottle and then when they carry it around the rag spreads gas around on them and their clothes making them for one: Flammable, where they could light themselves on fire on accident and two: Smell strongly of gas announcing their presence to anything with a nose.”
Watching his hands as they completed their task with practiced ease Zecora listened with rapt attention.
“I use a screw cap with an internal wick so I lose none of the payload and so I can carry them around in a more compact package. So what I do is tack the rag to the bottom of the screw cap, then bend the tack flat and tape it down, after that I push the knot in ( ÒwÓ ) so I don’t pull the wick all the way out under stress. And then bada bing bada bip you have yourself a homemade self contained firebomb, perfect for shutting down enemy movement, covering a retreat, killing morale, or just making sure that you don’t just send some son of a bitch to hell but do it so he arrives lookin’ like a forgotten piece of bacon on the griddle.”
Both amazed and disgusted at the knowledge Hank held Zecora looked at the bottles with a new sense of respect and fear, “You really have this down to a science don’t you?”
“I’m good at what I do.”
Zecora definitely knew that to be true but she wondered what kind of highly engineered way Hank had of lighting these terrifying weapons of death, “So how do you light these?” Tapping one of the bottles she asked.
“Oh I duck taped a zippo to my left forearm armor see?” Holding up the gauntlet Zecora could see a small grey rectangle held down by the black tape.
Seeing the flat stare on the Zebra’s face Hank set the gauntlet down, “Hey, it don’t have to be pretty to work well.”