Greet, Ivan and Mikhail carefully skirted the edges of the guild hall. The entire smoldering ruin of a building looked ripped straight from a war movie, vaguely echoing pictures of London after the Blitz. The smell of smoke hung heavily in the air, another symptom of the chaos that had mysteriously happened prior to their arrival.

Despite all that, she forced herself to look past all the damage and focus on anything that may tell them what happened there. She could spot some bullet holes all over the pavement of the plaza that surrounded the hall, as if someone had shot down at it, some of them next to scorch marks that looked very much like lightning had struck down. Defenders firing from the upper floors then? With a couple hedgefogs? It would make sense, the building looked viable to set up a budding colony. By the looks of it, it had been used as such, though not fully developed. She could see the remains of barricades here and there, and a row of wrecked vehicles on one side of the building.

There were also blood stains in places, including a bigger one, probably a place where someone had been left to bleed out. The corpse or casualty had been removed at some point, a crimson trail pointing them past the city’s former medieval walls, towards a castle-like building.

“Eh Greet!” Ivan called. “Found a couple things over here.”

The scarlet macaw spared a last look towards some charred sandbags before she walked over to her subordinate who was picking at some stones among the remains of what used to be the clock tower. The griffon struggled lifting a couple of them off of…

Greet jerked back. That was a corpse alright, or more of a charred husk. The smell of burnt flesh was making her queasy. At a glance it looked like a hedgefog, curled up cradling what used to be a lever-action rifle.

Apparently the parrot was the one having it the worst with the smell because neither Mikhail nor Ivan seemed overly bothered by it. Carnivores…

“Looks like a colony that was attacked, but by what then?” She wondered aloud.

“Got your answer already.” Mikhail replied automatically, the purple dragon jabbing his thumb-claw towards…

A summoning circle. Demonic. Of course. The bloody thing was partly hidden under some rubble, but it was clear as crystal that it had been the cause of the attack. Greet sighed.

Whatever it was that had popped out of the circle, it had been enough to wipe out the colony. Most likely by accident if the standards of where those things popped up were anything to go by. So what did that leave her?

Judging by the lever-action the dead hedgefog wielded, that colony hadn’t looted the police station’s weapons. So that still left them with their main objective.

And they had a blood trail, non-monstrous in origin, heading towards the castle. Or tower. It was a bit small to be a proper castle.

And no idea as to who had actually won the altercation. Was it a draw? Did the monster flee? What happened? Greet rubbed her beak in frustration, the smell of smoke, blood and burnt flesh not helping her mood. She didn’t even know if the fire had been an accident caused by the defenders (not impossible with hedgefog lightning), or if the monster was actually something that could breathe fire.

Not that she recalled any that could do that off the top of her head anyway.

“Say Artemis...” She grabbed her walkie-talkie and called the trawler. “Do we have a bestiary on board? Over.”

“Negative. Want me to ask for a .pdf via satellite? Over.”

“Yes please.” She chirped. “And try to find anything that can set stuff on fire in there. I’m taking a look at that castle-dash-tower behind the city walls. Got a trail leading there. Over.”

“Will do, just be careful. Out.”

Careful? Greet scoffed mentally as she paused to cock the charging handle on her P90. She always was careful. It’s just that sometimes it wasn’t enough. Like with the timberwolves in Zeebrugge. Her hip throbbed in pain at the memory.

No way she was getting a repeat of that.

As far as Londonderry went, the Guild Hall (at least what was left of it) was situated on the outer side of the old ramparts. They weren’t very high by European standards – Derry was just a small town after all-, their short size made all the more apparent by the taller buildings that had sprouted on either side of them over the years.

But at least they had kept them. Many other cities had gotten rid of their ancient fortifications for the sake of room and mass transit. Derry though? To the sailors it looked like the city council had preserved everything, down to the cannon positions and gatehouses.

If anything, the only change they had made to the defensive structure was widening the gatehouses to let cars through, which unfortunately included removing the doors. Greet’s taloned feet clicked against the pavement as she walked past and took a turn towards the ‘castle’, Ivan and Mikhail just a few steps behind. It really wasn’t much of one, probably more of a gunpowder storage, an armory or a garrison; just an old gray squarish tower with small windows, crenels and machicolations at the top.

The blood trail she was following stopped right in front of it, where they had replaced the lower floors with a modern lobby and lettering that said: ‘Tower Museum: Derry’s History’.

A local museum then. As good a use for that kind of building as she could think of. Some steel blinds blocked off the entrance, not that she needed a way in: there was a torn piece of paper duct taped right next to the entrance where she could also see some skid marks on the pavement.

“So they didn’t fall back inside the tower...” Ivan commented aloud.

“Looks to me like they fled.” Greet sniffed before snatching the piece of paper and throwing it a look.

“So what does it say?” Mikhail inquired.

“Hold on...” She raised a talon. “Let me read that aloud…

Soph,

You probably saw the ruins… sorry you had to see that. We got jumped by a sea serpent this evening, damn thing came out of nowhere. Lou was on watch in the tower and he tried to do his best, but the bloody thing collapsed it and caused a fire with the generators.

I don’t think he made it. Too much fire, even if he survived the fall.

The serpent managed to hurt Frank too. Poor guy was bleeding out on our doorstep outside the barricade and then a friggin’ ZEPPELIN came out of nowhere. With ALIENS in it. I wish I was kidding.

Anyway, they (a pair of unicorn: a pink one with hair like toothpaste and a GREAT AND WONDERFUL SORCERESS)

Finn: the capital letters are important, trust us. Try to loot some ear defenders before you catch up, gonna need them.”

“They sound surprisingly laid back for a group that just lost their new home.” Mikhail interrupted.

“Shush I’m reading.” Greet squawked back. “And the letter is covered in booze anyway.

… they jumped right off the airship and drove it away. Like, Harry Potter levels of magic and shit. The serpent is hurt, but if it’s hiding in the river we can’t risk staying. Not with the Hall in that state. So… you probably guessed it but we’re on the move.

The Aliens (a couple Equestrians as they call themselves, plus extras) are gonna help us with that. We salvaged Lou’s truck to haul some stuff, and they’ll follow with their airship.

Finn: Yeah I asked. The ponies are Equestrians but the non-ponies aren’t from the same country. They say they’re from the Infernal Lands. Weird name, but what can I say about a place with Gargoyles and Centaurs, right?

We managed to get some of your stuff from the ruins, so it’s not completely desperate, but it will be hard. Now, we got some ideas about a better place in County Donegal. Try and catch up, we’re going to...”

“To…?” Mikhail trailed off inquisitively.

“I don’t know. I think that Soph girl already came by and took that part of the message.” Greet sighed, sticking the paper back on the wall. “Least that tells us they have survivors, and they’re making a new colony. Somewhere.”

“You think we’re gonna go after them?”

“We? Absoluut niet! Leave that to the locals, we’re not going to scour an entire county just looking for a colony.” Greet firmly said. “We’ll just have to tell Finnegan and Codsworth back in Belfast that there is another group on the loose in County Donegal and leave it at that.”

“That leaves the sea serpent then.”

“That it does...” Geert nodded. “And we didn’t bump into it on the way in.”

“...which means it’s upstream of us.” The dragon completed.

“Let’s warn Artemis. We’d better be ready for when it turns up.” Greet said, a grin creeping up on her beak.

Ivan stared wide-eyed at her superior.

“Zachekay – err, hold on I mean. You’re not worried?”

“With two .50 cals? And a grenade launcher?” Greet scoffed.

“Oh… sushi tonight?”

“For you catbird, I use the vegetarian menu, remember?”

Aleksei cast a wide look over all the safety measures they had levied to secure the Giant’s Ring.

The CV90 had been moved into position atop the berm at the edge of the crater, its engine shut down. For now, the IFV was immobile, but she knew Sri and Artyom were inside, respectively as Gunner and Commander, ready to act if anything threatened the venue. From time to time, she could even see the commander’s periscope move a bit, probably when the Russian threw a glance at what the thermal optics were showing.

Less obvious but no less dangerous were the two machine gun nests they had hidden on opposite ends of the circle, both camouflaged underneath some nets and bushes. An extra precaution as a well-hidden backup. They fully expected anything that showed up to be too focused on the big Swedish IFV to realize there was more to the defensive perimeter than met the eye.

Beside her, a Pegasus landed with a soft thud.

“They coming?” She asked, not turning away from the monolith that occupied the center of the crater.

“Eeyup.” The Equestrian nodded firmly. “Spotted them leaving the city hall. Two piranhas, as planned.”

“Good… good.” She muttered under her breath.

It turned out that her ‘Golden Band of Speechcraft’ made it easier to convince the colony leaders than she’d expected. Much easier. It didn’t seem to force them into agreeing with her, but it did seem like it had made the two of them much more receptive to her ideas and far less entrenched in their positions. She was even surprised by the fact Codsworth had met her with Father Smith, and the hedgefog hadn’t even objected to the pagan nature of her solution.

The caveat to the artifact being that using it even once felt like she had shifted back and forth between hippogriff and seapony forms half a dozen times. Plus she’d also tried using it on other occasions for more petty stuff… and then it just didn’t work, instead sending her vibes of disapproval. Aleksei had an inkling of an idea Epona hadn’t told her every little detail about the bracelet.

She still didn’t take it off. The Celtic goddess didn’t strike her as untrustworthy, so if people could live with Chinese listening devices on their person she could live with one tied to a fertility goddess.

Eventually, her ears flicked as they finally caught the loud thrumming of the Piranha’s engines on either side of her. Good, the drivers were keeping to the plan. There were two ‘accesses’ on opposite sides of the crater where the berm at its lip sloped down enough to let a vehicle through. Both Piranhas picked one, backing up against the entrances before they finally lowered their rear ramps.

Codsworth was the first to emerge. The constable was still wearing his uniform, but he had left his weapons behind as had been agreed upon. She could see he had made some efforts to be more ‘presentable’ by brushing his mane and tail, but it was clear his colony’s limitations didn’t allow him to turn up with a fresh set of clothes and proper grooming.

At first he looked confident enough, but he faltered the moment his eyes landed on the magical vortex that rose up from the passage tomb. Seeing that, Aleksei stretched out her wings and flew over. She’d best assuage his worries before he chickened out.

“Good morning constable.” She greeted him. “I take it if you’re here, then our security team is keeping an eye on your companions in Carrickfergus?”

“Ah… Yes, they are. Thank you Miss Klavins...”

She winced internally at the ‘miss’. Don’t dwell on it, you got a quest to sort that particular issue out later anyway.

“I’m just...” He continued.

“Don’t worry about the vortex. I went through and back once, it’s safe.” She put her talons on his shoulder to reassure him.

“I’m just afraid. You said it’s a Celtic goddess, so won’t she completely side with...” He jerked his head towards the opposite side of the crater. “Him?”

Finnegan had just exited his own Piranha. The IRA sniper had come dressed for the event, his camouflage fatigues replaced by a black-cotton-trousers-and-white-shirt combo above which he was wearing a more militaristic bottle green jacket. Judging by how well it fit the dragon as he strode towards them, he had the seamstress in his colony help with the suit (Miss Hawkins if she recalled? They were scheduled to pick her up as passenger when they left). She could see the extra touches here and there: some fittings to better adapt to his wings, the revamped combat boots and their glossy black leather, and the heightened collar that framed his longer-than-human neck.

Contrarily to Codsworth, he was also groomed to near perfection. His scales shone in the sunlight like miniature emeralds, a clear change from how he usually dulled them with soot to better blend in.

And of course he’d respected the rule about no weapons.

“I must remind you constable: you are a unicorn, and Epona is a mare. The conclusion may not actually be as foregone as you think it is, just remember to play your cards right.” She patted him on the back. “Come now, best not keep a goddess waiting.”

Aleksei ushered the pony over to the magic vortex, soon joined by Finnegan near the passage tomb. She greeted him with a nod.

“Well, here we are gentlemen.” The Latvian said. “Hopefully this will lead to a solution that’s favorable to all survivors in the Belfast area.”

“It sure will. Eire deserves this peace.” Finnegan grinned.

Without further ado, the dragon strode over to the vortex and passed through to the Otherworld. She saw him disappear as soon as his claws touched the white magic that raged around the passage tomb. Codsworth was a bit more hesitant, but he did go through as well once she gave him an encouraging smile. His own form faded away seconds later.

“You’re not going?” Radiant questioned, landing behind her.

“Why would I? I’m not Irish, why would they need input from someone that was born on the other side of the continent?” She explained. “Epona only asked me to bring them to her, not to manage the negotiations. Leave meddling to politicians.”

“Oh… that makes sense then...” The gray pegasus blinked. “What now?”

“Now...” Aleksei settled down on her haunches and pulled out a book from under her coveralls. “We wait.”

Following the discovery of what happened to the Guild Hall, Greet’s little team had made their way back to the ship and swapped Mikhail for Artemis and Marta, if only so that the dragon (their best fighter) would keep an eye on the ship with Diethelm in case the sea serpent decided to show up.

After that they had finally made their way towards their actual goal, which was the Strand Road Police station, just a few minutes’ walk away from the quays.

“That’s a police station?” Ivan squawked out incredulously, the Ukrainian griffon not believing her eyes.

A dark gray stone wall some two or three meters tall surrounded the entire station, and if that wasn’t enough it was then topped by a chain link fence –two extra meters in height- which was also topped by a row of razor wire. Adding to that, the wall was positively bristling with CCTV cameras in all places; along the wall, on masts, watching the gates. She couldn’t find a point in the security perimeter that wasn’t watched by at least two cameras.

What kind of seriously fucked criminality justified that level of fortifications outside of the Middle East, she had no idea of.

More than just the perimeter, were the gates blocking access to the police station’s compound. There was a recessed part in the rampart, with twice the surveillance cameras and a complete army-style checkpoint setup. A hulking black sliding gate barred the entrance, protected by multiple bulletproof-glass screens for officers to take cover behind, anti-ramming ramps, and enough spotlights to open a tanning salon.

“You know… seeing that, I kind of understand why some would call Britain a police state.” Artemis mused aloud.

“Yeah… don’t see that kind of shit in Vlissingen or Groningen, I can tell ya.” Greet shook her head ruefully. “Regardless, how do we get the door open?”

“You know we can fly now, right?” Ivan deadpanned.

“You try and fly back out carrying a loaded gun crate, I’ll watch.” She snarked right back. “Arte….” She stopped. “...Mis?”

The tall minotaur cow had confidently made her way over to the gate. She pressed an open palm against the smooth dark metal, feeling its cool texture past the fur that covered her hand. Now… she’d managed it once. She just had to replicate it, in practice now.

Minotaur strength boost.

She closed her eyes and slowed her breath to focus. It was as she had mentioned to her brother: minotaurs were already strong, but they could channel magic into their muscles to go even beyond that point. She’d tried it once in Belfast, on an old, dilapidated Scania truck she’d found in a shed in the repair yard. An eight-wheeler flatbed, about as heavy in tons as it had wheels.

Might as well have been heavy as a feather with the boost.

She found the trickle of power inside her. Mentally, she wrapped her fingers around it and pulled.

From an outside perspective, her whole body became wrapped in a white-blue aura. Underneath her white and black spotted fur, her muscles rippled and bulged, stretching the fabric of her coveralls to its limits. She opened her eyes, now two shining orbs of power.

Artemis pulled back her arm.

She hit the door. Once. An open-palmed strike.

The air rang with the sound of a thunderclap, and the entire team watched the metal ripple as the impact spread out in a shockwave. They heard the groaning of strained steel before, with a crack, the stones that held the gate upright crumbled. Slowly, as if in slow motion, the now loose gate tilted back before hitting the ground with an eardrum shattering ‘clang!’.

Greet’s beak nearly hit the floor, Ivan mimicking the gesture half a second later.

“Godver… what the Hell was that?!” She finally managed to ask.

“Minotaur strength boost...” Artemis replied. She flexed her fingers and rolled her shoulder after the energy dissipated, her muscles slowly returning back to their original size. “I was a bit worried at first, but the magic also improves my durability so that I can withstand the impacts.”

“Gee, and here I thought you got the short end of the stick.” Greet gave a little kick at the now-destroyed door.

Bad idea. She winced when the prehensile talons in her foot sent a tremor of pain running up her leg.

“Eh, I’m only beginning to train that stuff. Don’t underestimate us minotaurs.” Artemis smiled. “Now… the armory?” She jerked her head towards the station proper.

There were a couple buildings inside the compound like a little shed and a gatehouse, but their little size was overshadowed by the main building, a titanic office building of dull red bricks that was surrounded by a couple of the PSNI’s armored riot-control Land Rovers, along with the cars of whatever officers had been on duty at the time of the Event.

Greet suspected the set of garage doors she spotted at the bottom of the building would lead them to the motor pool and maybe even where they parked all impounded vehicles, but they instead settled for walking over to the grimy glass doors of the station’s lobby, with Artemis acting the role of an ever-helpful skeleton key whenever a door refused to open.

Funny thing really: in most cases where the door was reinforced or made of metal, the hinges or even the wall around the door were more likely to yield to the minotaur’s strength than the door itself. Marta took the lead inside the lobby, managing to locate a floor plan of the building and pointing them towards a staircase that led to the cellars. As expected, the place where the armory had been built.

Marta led them down, the hedgefog plucking one of her quills and lighting it up with the blue crackle of her own lightning magic to serve as a makeshift flashlight. The crisp white painted halls with their squeaky floors and dust-covered furniture soon traded place with concrete prefab with apparent piping, cobwebs that were starting to cover the ceiling, and the pale faint glow of evacuation lights. Dust rose up in the air as they made their way down the stairs, past the locker rooms, past the garages where they could see a couple patrol Vauxhalls ready to be taken out into the streets, and down inside the most secure parts of the police station. Its armory.

Artemis made short work of the grill door barring the way, its magnetic locks far from enough to halt the minotaur in her march towards the weapons hidden inside.

They didn’t have much trouble getting the guns. With any door in the way being more of a nuisance than an actual obstacle, they soon found themselves breaking open the weapon lockers and unloading their contents in military crates they found in a nearby workshop. Glock 17’s were the first thing they took, the typical polymer police-grade pistol. Joining that pile afterwards were some Remington 870 shotguns, G36 rifles and even a couple old G3 and L1A1 battle rifles (for the stopping power 7.62 rounds provided). Marta even found grenade-launchers.

Granted, they were just the shoulder-fired M79 thumper stuff meant to fire tear gas and rubber balls at rioters, but Greet was more or less certain the weapons could accept the same ammunition they used in underbarrel M203 launchers. Which meant high explosive and frag rounds.

“That all?” Ivan wiped some sweat that was clogging up the feathers on her forehead after pulling yet another crate back in the hallway.

“Weapons? Yes.” Greet confirmed. “That leaves… Armor, I think. Could you go check out their locker room to get some? Plus some K9 armor if you can find any. It’s always useful for ponies.”

“Will do boss...” Ivan puffed. “Mind if I take a breather?”

“You go ahead girl.” Greet jabbed a thumb-claw towards a door the Ukrainian hadn’t noticed yet. “I’ll be checking the evidence room with Marta. You got any trouble, Artemis is loading up a trailer in the garage.”

“A trailer? I mean… it works but can’t we just hotwire a car?”

“You know how to?”

“I- I mean… NO!” She sputtered, only for her superior to give her a cheeky grin.

“Kidding. Go ahead if you feel like it, but I’m not sure how their batteries fared after being left in the garage so long. Plus it’s just a short walk back to the quays. Artemis can pull the trailer.”

And with that the scarlet macaw rounded on her feet and disappeared past the evidence room’s door.

“C’mon lil’ snake… I’m just a tasty snack completely unaware of the danger...” Mikhail muttered under his breath.

Except that was kind of a lie. The purple dragon was lying in ambush with his back to a building on the quays, a .50 cal in front of him and his gun in his lap, a grenade already loaded in the underbarrel launcher.

Now he just had to wait.

“You know, calling it won’t make it come any faster.” Diethelm slowly mumbled next to him.

“Wha- you talkin’ Ukrainian now?”

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you were sayin’ you know.” The German appaloosa unicorn said.

“Okay… so maybe that was a bit obvious.” The dragon acknowledged. “But still… we’ve been waitin’ here...”

“Dreißig minuten. Thirty minutes.” Diethelm filled in. “Got a problem with that?”

“The serpent? Nah. It’s just I could really use a nap right now, and I can’t do that as long as it lives. So… COME OUT AND FIGHT YOU DUMB PUDDLE SNAKE!” He stood up yelling, claws around his maw.

“Puddle snake? Original, much?” His companion gave him an unimpressed look.

“Aw shut it.” Mikhail sat back down. “Just tryin’ to move away from the f-word. Keepin’ it fresh and original, ya know?”

“Well, I rate it 3/10.” Diethelm snorted.

“Only a three? C’mon, like you got any better in store. English ain’t very original with insults.”

The pony quirked an eyebrow at that before standing up.

“C’ME HERE YOU WATERLOGGED SCALY DILDO, WE AIN’T GOT ALL DAY!” He sat back down. “So?”

“4.5...” The dragon made a so-so gesture with his claw/hand. “But I like the dildo analogy, got some potential. By the way, chamber a round.” He said, motioning towards the pony’s C8 carbine.

“I got a round in the chamber.” He protested.

“Bet?”

“Bet what?”

“One hull cleanin’ of the trawler when we get back.”

“For a bullet in the chamber?”

“Sounds like you’re not very confident. Chicken?” The dragon snarked.

“I ain’t no chicken.” The unicorn bristled.

“If you’re no chicken, you’ll rack that handle.” Mikhail tauntingly poked the unicorn in the snout with his claw. “So?”

“Deal.” He scowled defiantly, igniting his horn with magic.

The rifle came off his back, right between the two of them. He pulled the cocking handle once.

No bullet came out.

“I so fucking hate you...” Diethelm sighed, letting himself fall down on his belly.

Before the dragon could come up with a witty remark to flaunt in his face, both heard a growling noise coming from where they’d moored the trawler, followed by the waters of the River Foyle churning.

“’bout damn time...” Mikhail rolled his eyes, leveling his grenade launcher at the threat.

To be fair, the message left behind at the tower was correct in saying that the Equestrians had injured the sea serpent. Mikhail could quite clearly see the patch of charred and broken scale just below its jaws.

The serpent itself looked – at least in his profane eyes- like a mix between an anaconda on steroids and a Chinese dragon. It towered above them, easily as tall as a three-story building when it rose up on its tail, and with a body about a meter wide at most, covered in aquamarine blue scales with a white underbelly.

Its head sported a mane that looked like seaweed, swept backwards, its texture and color just like that of its whiskers, one of which had been burned off by the Equestrian’s spells.

Mikhail also took note of the two arms the monster was gifted with, their size worthy of a T-Rex’s, each ending in four-fingered webbed claws.

Its head swung around for a second, scanning the ground and briefly examining the new arrival in its territory in the form of the trawler, white milky eyes cautiously surveying the ship. That caution soon turned into pure fury as soon as it spotted the two sailors.

The serpent roared, opening its maw wide to reveal rows upon rows of serrated teeth, spittle flying in all directions, some even landing on them. Mikhail distastefully wiped off the goop, silently thanking the monster for offering him such a nice shot.

He let the shot on his M203 fly, feeling the kick of the underslung launcher bump against his shoulder as the telltale ‘thump’ was heard. Unfortunately, he may have misjudged his drop a little because instead of flying right into the waiting mouth, the grenade impacted it at the shoulder. Not that it lessened the effect by much, because the shrapnel ripped right past its thin scales and dug deep in its flesh.

Mikhail weathered the explosion effortlessly, with Diethelm taking shelter from the blast just behind the dragon.

“Not enough.” He ground out, dropping the rifle – the M203 now empty- to take control of the .50 cal. The shrapnel had gouged a large hole in the sea serpent, but it still stood tall, one of its tiny arms rendered useless.

His claws depressed the butterfly trigger, and the machine gun began to sing its deadly anthem, a loud booming staccato that made his lungs shake every time a round was sent downrange. By his side, he also took note of the noticeably quieter 5.56 fire courtesy of Diethelm’s carbine.

Mikhail was no fool. He had studied the Equestrian Bestiary, and he damn well knew how tough these creatures could be.

However it was a bit odd to see it behaving like that. Their entry specified sea serpents should be intelligent, talking creatures. With demonic influence though, all bets were off.

And the sigil on the side of the serpent’s mouth was more than enough proof for that.

.50 cal rounds were more than enough to blow through the scales, each ripping small holes in the flesh and tearing through the tough muscles of the creature that. Just. Would. Not. DIE! 10 rounds, 20, 30, 40, he dumped half the belt downrange and still it would not fall.

It wasn’t until the gun clicked empty that he stopped, glaring at the monster rising out of the river’s waters. There was blood all over the quays and in the river, a dark red slick that flowed from the myriad of open wounds the bullets had torn in the monster’s front and back, fist-sized holes, some with bone shards emerging out of them.

The serpent’s gaze crossed his, and in an instant he swore he saw a flicker of intelligence in them as the pupils broke through the savage milky surface before once more being swallowed up by savage fury. And he saw pain, sorrow, a sentient creature reduced to a mere beast by whatever torture had been committed upon it. Then, slowly, it crumpled on the quays, still alive, but broken beyond repair, wheezing in pain.

“Svyata maty, probach mene...” He muttered in his native tongue.

Solemnly, he grabbed a fresh belt of ammo he had piled behind him, watching the dying creature stare at them as life fled its body.

“Mikhail?”

“It must be finished off...” The dragon scowled.

He swore he could see the monster’s eyes fixate on the still-smoking barrel as he took the time to line up the last shot with its forehead.

The .50 cal rang one last time.

The white milky eyes were vacant.

It was only after three hours of wait that Codsworth and Finnegan finally emerged out of the vortex in a flash of light. The dragon and the pony stood there for a couple seconds, a little dazed, before they made their way over to Aleksei.

She herself decided it was time to cut short the ‘lesson’ she was giving Radiant on all the sensors and digital tech they used to monitor Amandine’s machinery. She tucked the tablet she’d been using under one wing before standing up calmly and wiping some of the grass stains on the underside of her coveralls.

“So how did it go?” She asked them.

“It went… well.” Finnegan frowned. “The Morrigan and the Dagda were there. The solution isn’t exactly what ah wanted, but it’s somethin’ ah can settle with in the fo’seeable future.”

“Which is?” She prodded.

“Britain and Ireland are no more.” Codsworth told her. “Epona and the other Gods made that clear. We are far too small as colonies to lay claim in the name of, or maintain allegiances to countries that no longer exist. Instead… we’ve established rules. Rules that will work for any colonies founded within the borders of the Celtic Nations.”

“All colonies are considered separate, fully sovereign entities.” Finnegan continued. “Any feud or conflict can and will be taken to the nearest passage tomb or access to the Otherworld, so that the Gods may act as neutral arbiters, and record keepers.”

“That’s… great I guess? A bit vague. Did you agree on anything concrete?”

“We did.” Codsworth nodded.

The unicorn pulled out a rolled-up scroll from under his uniform.

“This here map marks the borders of our two colonies, as well as the first clauses of agreement between us. Finnegan is to provide guards and patrols in Carrickfergus, while we shall provide fishing, freshwater, and, most importantly, power, from Kilroot.”

“Among other things. We didn’t go very far in so little time, but the system can be expanded upon anytime we feel necessary by visitin’ the Otherworld.” Finnegan said, crossing his arms over his chest. “For instance neither o’ us laid claim on O’Connell’s farm. For one, it’s too far, and for second the guy might actually wish to go to Epona and declare himself his own colony.”

Aleksei glanced alternatively between the two. She could see neither was entirely happy with the outcome, but it looked like they would stick with the agreement.

“So… no risk of either of you going to war against the other?”

“Ne’er.” Finnegan swore, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Epona was very clear on that and made us swear an oath on it. Any declared, legitimate colony within the Celtic Nations will be met with divine punishment should they dare go to war against their brethren. Now ah don’t know ‘bout you, but if a Goddess that ah can see in the flesh makes me swear on her name, ah ain’t tempted to go back on me words.”

“Likewise.” Codsworth snorted. “This… is a weird fate for Ireland. Not as a united country anymore, but as a confederation of settlements.”

“This is a weird time to live in for the world as a whole. Get in line.” Aleksei threw him an unimpressed look. “Still, you should focus on what’s at hand. As long as you both keep your end of the deal, then everything should work out, right?”

“Yeah… right.” Codsworth sighed. “Still, I wish we didn’t have to resort to paganism to get to that… Feels like regressing.”

“You think what you want of it.” Finnegan snorted. “Least o’ all we won’t be killin' each other in the future. If preventing death needs me to soil St Patrick’s memory, then let it be so. There’s one God ah can’t see, and another dozen that ah just did. Pretty simple if you ask me.” He then turned towards Aleksei. “We might need some technical expertise though, for a couple of things.”

“Which we will provide. Just state the stuff, and I’ll tell it to the Captain.” Aleksei sighed, pulling out a notebook.

“Okay, so here it is...”

There was a noticeable layer of dust in the air the moment Greet and Marta stepped inside the evidence room, each particle highlighted by their lights as they swept the shelves. And there were a lot of them. Rows upon rows of shelving units lined up one after another until they disappeared in the murky darkness beyond her light’s reach, each and every one of them covered with manila envelopes, zipper bags and cardboard boxes of all sizes and makes.

Greet’s talons scraped against the bleached cinder blocks that made up the walls, flicking a switch just by the door. The neons above her remained dark.

Worth a shot.

The room was silent, save for the sound of the two’s footsteps as they headed deeper inside, eyeing the contents of the shelves. Greet could see a couple interesting things here and there: stolen electronics, stack of counterfeited cash, lost bicycles, drugs. And mold. A lot of mold, dark fungus gnawing at the foundations of the building. Left on its own it was highly likely it would keep weakening the structure until it made it collapse in the coming months or years.

A minute later they found the confiscated weapons. A lot of them, likely snatched from the hands of various IRA cells all over the county. Marta pointed at a couple smuggled kalashnikovs, a crate of old rusty Lee Enfields and Webleys, all probably very interesting if only for their ruggedness, but lacking the non-NATO ammo with them to be of much use. Except for one Marta picked up in curiosity.

An oddity. It was an old bolt-action rifle, scoped, and with a bright yellowish wood for its stock. The stamps along the barrel sparked their curiosity, because it sported writings both in Kanji and Latin script pointing towards the Royal Navy’s reserve corps, and the ammo boxes they found with it pointed to it coming from Japan, of all places. Moreso if the ammo was any tell then it came from pre-WW1 Japan.

Marta decided to keep it. A nice hunting rifle to add to Rhine’s arsenal. If Amandine could have a Sako to hunt gazelles then they could have that…

Arisaka was it?

Greet was about to tell Marta they’d explored enough and should go back to the garage with Artemis when she felt something. A soft pull, comparable to what she’d felt when she first saw the Congo Sword, only more pleasant. She put down the Nagant revolver she’d been inspecting and moved on, deeper in the room. Her flashlight highlighted something golden, protected behind some translucent plastic sheets that hung from the ceiling.

She pushed them aside, in passing catching a mouthful of cobwebs as the house spiders skittered away on their tiny spindly legs. The scarlet macaw let out an irritated squawk.

That squawk, however, died down once she got a look at what the plastic screens were hiding. The art theft section, and extras. Framed paintings, statues, engravings, all of them stashed there waiting for their rightful owners to be found. The magic she could feel was actually coming from a couple cardboard boxes deeper inside.

“Dank u wel meneer Sinterklaas… Marta get over here I found something.” She grinned widely, hefting up a gilded golden shield from which she could feel magic radiate, its rubies casting a faint red glow around it.

She’d just found the Celtic collection, and it was loaded with artefacts. Cloak buckles, brooches, miscellaneous jewelry, chalices, all of them apparently retrieved when the PSNI arrested a couple burglars after a heist in an archaeological museum. She even found a shortsword in the lot, its nature as an artefact evident when she pulled it out of its scabbard and the pure-iron blade gleamed with an orange-hued light.

It was even a bit odd really, because she knew the thing should look older than that, yet it was pristine, as if the magic in the air had knitted it back together to the state it had been when its smith put the pommel in place – a bead of amber in this case-.

Greet inspected the tag hanging from the scabbard. It read: ‘Chieftain Sword, Dùn Duchathair, County Galway, est. 4-5 century AD’.

She twirled the blade in her talons and grinned.

Author's Notes:

I kind of undertand why so many police stations in Northern Ireland would have a militaristic look like that, but you gotta admit having a station that looks like it could host an ISAF unit on the edge of Kandahar won't help with the 'Hearts and Minds' stuff.

That being said, the PSNI packing that much heat (though maybe less than the earlier RUC) is exactly why Greet's team got so much loot out of it. The artifacts are just the lucky 20 on the loot roll added on top.

About the Celtic solution... I wonder if the CCC would be a good name? Celtic Confederation of Colonies? Worth a shot, though I doubt they'd stick with English for too long. I try to stay as neutral as possible when handling the IRA and Northern Ireland stuff.