After successfully retreating to the relative safety of the office building Swift had found Handy in, the pair follow the same route through the interior. And down. They remain quiet through most of the trip, only whispering to each other here and there as they make steady progress through his previous path of destruction.

When they come to the room of his most recent carnage, Handy points in and comments, “We left before checking their packs. They might have something we can use.”

Swift nods, but quickly hops over and gets in his way of one of them as she points over by the wall. “I’ll take care of checking their bags. You keep watch… Over there.”

Handy lets out a sigh and shakes his head as he obediently complies. He sits down, and starts looking around as he asks, “You not going to trust me with that, now?”

Swift lets out a sigh as she disconnects a bag from the barding of the mare she’d pummeled. “I trust you, Handy.” She looks over at him and smiles lightly. “I love you… but…” She shakes her head. “There’s no reason to tempt fate.”

Handy shrugs and starts looking around in the small office room with just his eyes to see if he can find anything immediately useful. “I guess that’s fair… considering I screwed up… again…”

Swift sorts through the bag and raises an eyebrow. “The pistol you’re carrying…. Is it a 9mm or a 10mm?”

Handy shakes his head as his attention’s focused on a grouping of tilted metal filing cabinets along the back wall. “12.7mm… it’s a Proditor’s Gladius, why?”

Swift holds up a couple long magazines and flicks one over to him with a wing. “Think you can use these?”

Handy catches it with his hooves then spins it around to look at the ammo. “Well the magazine’s useless. It’s for an SMG of some kind. But the ammo looks about right, yeah.” She tosses him a couple more and Handy’s eyes go wide. “You’re kidding!? There’s almost a hundred rounds here!”

Swift chuckles and shrugs. “Well, SMG’s are basically bullet hoses. Those three magazines are probably like… what… six seconds of fire time?”

Handy nods as he starts popping the individual rounds out of the magazines into a pile. “Something like that.”

As she’s sifting through a few items that look more like some form of food wrapped in old world packaging, Swift asks, “So, are you going to tell me what that was all about, Handy?”

Handy chucks the empty magazine out into the hallway and starts on another as he asks, “Which part?”

Swift lets out a sigh and looks over at him. “Handy, she was one hair’s width away from killing you.” She shakes her head. “I mean, she did keep telling you ‘no’, but, even so, that was a massive change… and,” She raises an eyebrow as she says softer, “Not to mention what she’d said.”

Handy shrugs. “Who knows what’s going through the head of a busted machine.”

“Handy…”

“Before Sable was put into that chassis, they were overloading the stable with their fooling around.” He shrugs. “I just had them knock if off while I got the modifications to the chassis complete.” He points a hoof off towards the roof of the next building. “I even gave her one of my protectapony chassis as part of the deal. I don’t see why she’s bitter at all. She has no reason to be. She should be thankful.” He shrugs with his forehooves high in the air at his sides as he shakes his head. “She’s obviously malfunctioning. Not acting or thinking right... No idea what’s gotten into her besides getting dropped at high speed.” He points a hoof at Swift. “I’d say blame Gearing for it… but… well... he’s already paid for his error in judgment.”

He conveniently leaves out the fact that the ‘deal’ that was struck between them wasn’t so much a deal, but an ultimatum he gave Sable. One that left her with no true choice in the matter if she wanted to be with Gearing at all.

Swift looks at Handy blankly then hisses at him, “Handy, he’s dead, that’s cold and too soon!” She points over at him and frowns. “He did what he could. Would you have rather we all been on the wagon when it blew up?”

Handy waves it away and doesn’t look at her. “If he didn’t wreck it, it wouldn’t have blown.” He dismisses the idea with a few limp waves of his forehoof. “Again, his own fault.”

Swift shakes her head and quickly stows the few remaining items from the pair of mares she deems worthy of the carry weight. “Well, let’s get going.”

“Are we still heading towards this tournament and Megamart, or going to just turn around and head back to 68?” Handy asks as he watches her pocket a glass jar that seems to be filled with creamed corn.

Swift looks over at him and lets out a long sigh as she was just wondering the same thing. She shakes her head then replies evenly, “Even with Gearing dead, we still need those components for the stable.” She bobs her head around as she thinks it through and simply reconfirms what she was already feeling. “If the tourney pays well enough we can just outright buy them. We won’t have to go out and hunt around for them elsewhere.” She waves a hoof dismissively. “Pay somepony else for the danger they’d already been through and avoid it ourselves.” She nods and smiles at him. “That way the only dank pit we’ll have to trot around in, is our own 68.”

Handy chuckles as he steps over to the door and starts looking around in the hallway. “Once it’s self sufficient again. We won’t have to leave again. Not for a long time anyway.”

“That was your plan anyway, wasn’t it?” Swift asks as she steps up next to him.

“Till the kids are grown enough at least?” He nods a few times. “Yeah.”

The pair wander around the fourth floor of the office complex as they keep trying to find a way down. Each set of stairs they come to, at least where they think the stairs down are supposed to be, has either collapsed or been completely blocked by debris. The entire time they can hear the fighting and echoes of screams coming from seemingly everywhere around them.

“What’s got them so riled up?” Swift asks as she peeks down the next hall then starts walking down it.

Handy shrugs and shakes his head. “Given the practical pharmacy they all seem to be running around with... I doubt they need an excuse.” He points off towards where they’d come from. “It wouldn’t surprise me if all the fighting is them fighting each other until someone else shows up to fight. They’re all drugged-up nutcases.”

“Then, we’ve got just perfect timing to decide to fly by, huh?” Swift asks with a snort. She’s looking back and forth as they continue quietly down the hallways, trying to minimize their own hoofclops on the grimy tiled floor. She passes a room as she’s looking into it, looking for wayward attackers, but then turns around and looks into it properly after actually passing it. She turns to Handy, who’s likewise turned around to see what had drawn her attention, and asks, “If we can’t go down here, maybe this will let us find a way down over there?”

Handy frowns as he looks at the gap in the side of the building’s wall as he says, “As long as you don’t plan on trying to fly me out. They seem to attack anything they notice, and a flying mare dragging an overloaded buck is sure to count.”

She shakes her head and walks over to the gap as she says softly, “Wasn’t planning on it. Would prefer to have as much between me and their high powered automatics as possible.” She examines the pile of rubble at the base of the gap and notices the very clearly built path that’s been laid out to connect the two buildings. Some form of scaffolding, made of metal pipes, comprises most of the base of the improvised bridge. Almost like a radio tower that has been felled and moved here just for this purpose. On top of that are a combination of sheet metal and multiple layers of rotting planks of wood. All cobbled on to try and make a solid path, but would fail utterly to allow a wheeled vehicle to smoothly traverse it.

Swift peeks over the edge slowly, looking down at ground level, and up at the roof of the adjacent building only a story up. She slowly turns her head as she takes in the view, then pulls back and looks at Handy. “It looks clear, let’s get across before anyone notices.” She nods her head across the improvised bridge.

Handy walks up next to her and looks it over. He leans forward, and looks down the alleyway four stories below him. “You… you sure this is such a great idea?”

Swift shakes her head and snickers. “Well…” She leans over and licks his cheek. After he finishes shaking his head and looking at her, she flutters her wings and nods towards the gap. “Could just fly you over, but that’d still be flying.”

Handy reaches over and starts pushing and prodding the construction. “I’d prefer to keep my hooves on solid ground…” He rears up then puts both forehooves on it as he bounces a bit. “Actually, it’s a lot more solid than it looks.” He hops up onto it the rest of the way and slowly starts walking forward. “Yeah, this’ll work.”

Swift hops up behind him and smacks his flank with a wing. “Well, don’t worry. If you do start to fall, I’ll catch ya.”

Handy looks back at her and grins. “I’ll hold you to that.” He turns and starts crossing slowly as he mutters, “I’ll haunt you if you don’t.” Swift rolls her eyes and nickers before following behind at a close distance.

After making it across safely, Swift steps up next to handy and leans into him sideways as she nuzzles his neck. “See, the big ole scary bridge wasn’t that bad,” she teases.

He frowns and looks at her sideways. “Not all of us were born with wings… and you have even more tricks than just that. So, of course, you wouldn't be worried about it.”

She leans over and gives him a kiss on the cheek while looking him in the eye. “Which means you shouldn’t be worried about it either. Not with me around.”

Handy shakes his head, but can’t keep the ghost of a smirk off his muzzle as he heads through the doorway of this room that was once somepony’s office. He peeks out into the hallway through where the door used to be, then slowly heads out and starts down the path to the right. In short order they come to a much wider open area, where a series of catwalks crisscross over the manufacturing area further below.

Swift looks down over the edge at the littered factory floor and asks, “Need me to hold your hoof?” She glances at him sideways with a grin.

He shakes his head and starts across the catwalk at a steady trot. “That outside was cobbled together from scrap. This walkway was made by somepony that knew what the hell they were doing for sure.” He gets a few dozen paces down the catwalk before looking over his shoulder at Swift. “You coming? Or you scared of a little solid construction?”

Swift purses her lips to one side and quickly catches up with him. Then starts passing him as he picks up pace again. “Don’t be silly.”

They get almost a quarter way across before the commotion that had been all over the industrial complex, gets a lot louder. And a lot closer. A large collection of voices spring up from the lower level and their owners start spilling into the factory as they scream.

“Up there!”

“There they are!”

“Get’em!”

“More shooting less talking!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! More lead. More lead. More lead!”

Swift and Handy quickly look over and down, at the growing group of ponies coming into the factory floor, and spilling around the equipment. Their eyes simultaneously bug out as a line of firearms raise and point in their direction. As the muzzle flashes begin to erupt from the ever growing number of weapons, Swift and Handy have already started running full tilt down the catwalk towards the other side.

As bullets whizz by and ricochet off the catwalk they are running across, Swift screams at the top of her lungs, “I hate guns!” She quickly outpaces Handy as she practically flies across the catwalk.

With the fast moving target seemingly being unfairly impossible for them to shoot, and quickly getting away from the group, the shooters start focusing on Handy. And, as is understandable with such a large collection of devotees of the ‘Spray and Pray’ method of weapon’s discipline, a few of the rounds do strike true along Handy’s side.

For the most part, his armor takes the haphazardly thrown lead as intended. A few of the rounds simply bounce and ricochet off the metal. A few actually impact and shatter or get stuck in it. But others, and more problematically, actually defeat the armor. With enough thrown at him, a few find gaps in the armor either from a lack of coverage or from previous damage.

He screams out in more pain and frustration as he tries to pick up the pace despite the wounds in his side and haunch. “This day’s been screwed up since we got out of bed this morning!”

“Quit your bitching and run!” Swift screams as she starts heading down the part of the catwalk that follows along over a hallway on the next floor down.

As Handy is approaching the corridor, the floor plating on the catwalk gives out under his stampeding earth pony bulk.

Swift comes back with a jump and quick snap of her wings and looks down through the hole. As Handy is picking himself up with a hacking cough, as a lot of dust was kicked up from his impact, Swift yells down, “Hey, Handy!” He looks up at her and raises an eyebrow. “‘Solid construction’, huh?”

He scrunches up his muzzle and is about to yell something at her, when their gun toting pursuers realize the slower target isn’t in view anymore. At about the same time, they realize the faster pony they previously couldn't hit, is suddenly much more in the open, and standing still.

Fortunately for Swift, she realized this wasn’t the best time for some good natured ribbing a moment before their opposition had, and was already springing away when the volley of fire comes up at her location.

Handy watches Swift jump away, and go fleeing from the incoming sparks bouncing off the railing and framework around her. He stands up and pulls out his hammer as he looks down the pathway between the machinery and plans to rush their attackers. His mind whirls with which swings to prep and where. Taking in the limited distances and areas of maneuverability so he doesn’t accidentally hit them and throw off his swings. He grins as he imagines planting one skull after another into the floorboards. But then reality hits him.

Along with a half dozen rounds of ammunition.

It wasn’t one pony coming around the corner. It wasn’t even three. It was practically a whole herd of automatic weapons that decided to take their ponies out for a ride.

Before the point where Handy loses count on the number of muzzles, both pony and automatic, that are pointed in his direction, he’s already: replaced his hammer, turned, and begun sprinting away through the side offices.

He runs through a meeting room of some kind, with a long table running the length of it in the middle, and makes for the door on the far side. He tramples various debris and kicks up both dust and ancient papers. Whether they are financial reports or love letters, Handy doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is the growing group of hoofclops behind himself.

And that shadow he just saw coming through the window on the left of the doorway he’s running towards.

The far wall has a window running it’s length, going from about chest height to the ceiling. The only break in it is the exit door set slightly off center. Handy changes his trajectory slightly as he pulls out his hammer again. He jumps, soaring towards the far wall. To the right of the door. And swings the hammer with all of his might as he prays to sweet Celestia that this window is of the cheap variety and doesn’t have some unicorn cheating magic making it nigh invulnerable.

He’s greeted with the pleasant surprise, and sight, of the widow shattering into a crystalline cascade as he soars through the new opening. In mid air, he readjusts his forehooves to brace for impact, and slightly turns his head to his left, looking at the other side of the door.

Handy lands with his forehooves, proceeded with his hind, against the far wall. As the glass is still clattering against the same wall, he springs off the wall and swings his hammer with a wide cut through the air, catching one of the bucks and a mare with the follow through. The third pony, a very surprised looking grey buck, had enough time to look at Handy, before the back swing of Handy’s pneumatic hammer caught him on the side of the head, and drove it straight through the wooden door he was preparing to shoot.

He twirls the hammer around, as the grey buck’s body is still deciding if it wants to go limp or not, and brings it back at an angle towards the mare and buck that were picking themselves up off of the ground. The strike lands true, and shoves the mare’s forelegs backwards, awkwardly, before slamming into the side of the head of the buck she was trying to untangle herself from.

As her screams turn shrill and sharp, with both foreknees broken, Handy prepares to bring down another blow on the buck to make sure he’s out for good.

But a couple of mares appearing at the far end of the hall, and starting to shoot at him, make a very persuasive argument on why it would be a bad idea to dawdle at the moment.

He turn and runs a few yards before jumping sideways and crashing through the next office door to get out of the arc of fire. He charges through the room and heads towards the door on the far side of it. To his great relief, it’s not simply a supply closet, or private bathroom, but a door into another section of hallway. He turns and heads down and away from the rest of the group as he looks around for a way down and out.

He may have found a way down to the third floor. But he’d really rather find another, better, way of doing it besides the ground giving out from under him spontaneously.

Handy makes it to an intersection, and turns his head right in time to see a trio of automatic barrels already pointed in his direction and just waiting to fire.

And they do.

The two mares and a buck unleash a wall of lead in his direction, and decorate the wall next to where he’d been standing with a massive array of craters. All while laughing and enjoying the target practice.

But, being too focused on their over armed fun, they didn’t really plan the attack very well. Or at all, really. And they all simply held down the trigger and let luck guide their shells.

But every one missed.

And, after barely beginning, the guns all click dry. Simultaneously.

Handy takes the opportunity and jumps back around the corner. He swings with his hammer, knocking two of their weapons away, and smacking the one mare hard enough that she tumbles to the side. On the back swing, the other two work in tandem and jump onto the handle portion of Handy’s hammer, causing him to stop and drop it. Though, dropping it was, despite what they may be thinking, entirely intentional.

As they are taking a split second to mentally gloat about disarming him, he springs around and plants a double hoofed applebuck kick to the mare, sending her crashing through the window of an office next to the other mare. The buck was at least lucid enough to realize the trick, and likewise drops the hammer as he rears up and starts swinging blows at Handy.

Handy sways side to side to avoid a few strikes before likewise rearing up and going hoof to hoof with the buck gunspony. They strike one blow after another at each other. Both earth ponies not giving an inch as they try to knock the other down for the finishing blows. But, Handy’s on a timer, and he knows it.

They both know it.

The moment even one of the mares gets enough sense back into them to reload and level their gun, Handy’s odds will be reduced to practically zero. And that’s to say nothing of the rest of the gang of drug crazy maniacs flooding the building.

Handy every so often spares a glance in the direction of the two mares. And each time it costs him a blow. The mare that’d gone through the window is still in there, and hasn't gotten up yet. The end of her orange tail is still drooping out of the window while the rest of her is heaped up in the room. The mare that’d taken the full strike is still slowly shaking her head, on the ground, and seems to be talking to her grandmother about baking cookies instead of going to school.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?! Don’t want to be in the middle of a three way tonight?!” the buck says with a mad laugh and a glint of glee in his eyes.

“Only if my hammer’s head is shoved up your ass and they’re spinning on the other end of the handle!” Handy retorts as he manage to get a strike past the buck’s guard and make a solid connection with the side of the buck’s muzzle.

The ganger laughs it off, literally, and asks in a condescending tone, “What was thaaaat… a mosquito?! You’re gonna have to do better than that for me to feel it!”

Handy growls, “If I had a Buck you’d be fucking glue by now!”

The buck laughs and smirks as he blocks, counters, and strikes at Handy. “Poor baby out of his medicine?” He manages a kick that makes Handy stumble back a bit. “Too bad! I’m ridin high, and you can’t take me!”

The mare that had been crawling around looking for some imaginary toy she’s lost looks over at them and frowns. She shakes her head then wobbly starts fumbling with her bag for a new magazine for her automatic pistol.

The buck grins at Handy over their hoof blows between them. “Times up, Buttercup.”

A blur of sky blue zips over and between them as Swift flies by at extremely close range coming from down the hall at a full tilt. The buck had enough presence of mind to glance at the incoming shape, but it only made the surprise attack that much more effective.

For as she flew by, at high speed, she gave her tail a snap, and slapped the ends like a whip right across his eyes.

Instantly his eyes started watering and he blinked involuntarily against the sharp sting.

But that was more than enough of an edge for Handy to take advantage of. Handy dropped down and sprung away, taking his hammer with him from the ground where the buck had dropped it. As the buck is opening his eyes again, wondering where Handy went. He finds out. As Handy’s hammer comes swinging bank in.

The last thing the buck ever hears is Handy’s pneumatic hammer going off, before he gets his soul smacked right out of him.

Ka-ta-TSSHHH.

The buck flips backwards from the impact with an unnatural bend in his back as he crumples to the floor from the first impact. The second impact, straight down on his form, was for good measure. But the third was, arguably, overkill in the strictest of sense.

Swift had bolted by Handy, giving him just the advantage he needed, as she went and took care of the other two. It didn’t take long, as one was still in a bit of a blurry eyed stupor. And the other was still trying to get herself untangled out of an office chair and desk.

She hops back through the broken window, flicking off the gore from her power hoof as she snorts. “I really hate guns…” She looks at Handy and asks softly, “You okay?”

Handy looks over at her and frowns. “Yeah… but I coulda took him on my own…”

Swift waves it off with a wing and turns to head down the hallway they were coming from. “I know, but we gotta get out of here before the rest of their friends show up.”

Handy looks her over, and notices the wide array of blood splatter covering her clothes and body. “You’ve been busy… huh?”

Swift walks by him and kicks the buck that has more in common with a can of red paint than a pony at the moment. “Yeah. These creeps are everywhere. Not that tough though.”

Handy nods as he pulls out a potion from his bag and quickly downs it. “Nah. Not that tough at all. Without their toys and their drugs they’re pretty weak it seems.”

Swift trots along with her head held high and her eyes closed. “Agreed!” She pauses and opens her eyes as she looks at the ceiling. “You know… I bet… we could just take them all out.” She looks over at Handy. “Just the two of us.” She grinds her power hoof into the floor. “What do you say? Wanna get a bit of payback for shooting us down?”

Handy’s eyes go wide as he looks at her. He trails his eyes over her form for a few moments, and slowly a smirk crosses his muzzle. “You know what. You’re on… we going to try and keep tally and see who wins?”

Swift turns towards him and shimmies her shoulders. “A competition? …If there’s a competition… there’s gotta be a prize.”

Handy shrugs. “We can figure that part out later.”

Swift frowns as she looks around. “Well that’s not very fun. Might as well not have a reward then…” Her ears perks up and she steps up close to him, getting muzzle to muzzle as she asks softly, “How about… If I win… You have to do whatever I want…?”

“‘Whatever you want’?” Handy parrots. “What’s that mean?”

Swift gives a shrug of her shoulders, “Oh nothing too serious.” She sees the questioning look in his eyes and grins as she says, “Oh don’t worry, I already have a few things in mind. Nothing too outlandish… and…” She turns around, using her tail to curl around and caress his neck and cheek. “I’ll make sure to limit it to when the kids are asleep…”

Handy’s eyes go wide and he opens his mouth and closes it a few times as he starts to ask something, but can’t quite seem to get it out. He simply shakes his head and smirks as he says, “Sounds like a plan!”

Swift grins at him over her shoulder. “What… not going to ask what’s in it for you if you win?”

Handy shrugs and slings his hammer over his shoulder. “Something tells me I might not want to win this time.” He looks at her and grins. “But I’m gonna try anyway.”

Swift giggles as they continue off down the hallway.

She leads the way, going from one hallway and office room to another as they wind their way through, and down through, the floors of the office. Their original estimations that this building would be easier to get down with were true. As none of the stairwells have been collapsed in on themselves, like they had been in the building across the alleyway. But, this building seems to have far more of the automatic wielding ponies hopped up on drugs.

However, they quickly discover that Handy wasn’t the only one fighting a timer.

The drug addicted ponies start slowing down. They start acting even more erratic. And, in some cases, even start fighting each other as tempers flare. A few simply curl up in a corner, sweating heavily and rocking themselves as they mutter incomprehensibly. A few go so catatonic that Handy and Swift walk right by them, and they don’t even care. Not even when Swift relieves them of their weapon so they can’t shoot them in the back.

They only brought so much with them, and the fight had been going on for a while. And now, after hours of running around and fighting, they are running out of their various drugs of choice. They are crashing hard. A few who manage to keep their faculties still try to fight despite the shakes. Which just makes their spray and pray tactics that much more laughable as the bullets don’t even seem to know where they are going or what they were supposed to be aimed at originally. Some suffer withdrawal symptoms so bad that hitting the broad backside of an Ursa Major might be an impossibility for them.

Despite this apparent bit of luck, Handy and Swift still hear ongoing fighting outside of the building where they are currently. And much fiercer than whatever you want to call the pitiful display this factory floor has turned into.

Despite the bravado, Swift still doesn’t feel right about tracking down and killing defenseless ponies. Several she’d come across were so pitiful, she simply walked by and, in more than one case, actually right over them. A few that tried to fight, she obliged. But even of those, most she simply lost the enthusiasm for and went on about her business as they simply yelled at her.

In one case a mare actually cried and called her a coward for not killing her.

They make it to ground level, and outside, and the fighting picks back up as they continue on their route. While the fighting spirit has risen, probably from an increase in available drug stock, the actual danger level has gone down considerably. While the other groups were true groups. Sometimes much bigger and crowded together enough to make taking a head count impractical if not impossible. The ‘groups’ they are running into now are few and far between. And always, always, much smaller.

The largest group they’d encountered since making it outside was a group of four that seemed more interested in trying to suck out the last few microns of dust from a Dash inhaler than doing anything else. But, the moment they saw Handy and Swift, they charged them.

After the first one screamed that they could smell Buck on Swift.

The rest of the fighting has been duos or singles. Always seemingly caught off guard. And always in a daze as they are walking around. The fighting ability is a joke. But they try anyway. And present just enough of a hint of danger for Swift not to feel too guilty about it.

Handy and Swift swath a path through them. Not even bothering to stop to check their bags. They don’t know who else is fighting. Or where. But they can hear it. The ever present din of war all around them. Their movements become methodical. Almost mechanical. And very predictable:

As Swift is picking up a mare, who’d jumped at her with a broken kitchen knife, and throwing her limp body into a dumpster nearby, she looks at Handy and frowns as she says, “You know, we could just wipe out the whole gang.” She uses a wing and flicks the mare’s hindleg the rest of the way into the dumpster as she says, “I mean look at these pathetic excuses for ponies!”

A buck jumps out from near the dumpster and swings a rifle at her head. No. Not simply a rifle used as a club. This one had a bayonet on it. She dodges the blow, watching the blade go harmlessly over her shoulder, before springing forward and striking the buck in the face with her power hoof. He falls forwards as she’s removing her hoof from his face. She steps into him, sweeping his legs out from under him and throwing him to the ground behind herself.

He hasn’t even gone still from the throw before Handy’s hammer swings around and down onto the buck’s head. Ensuring he’ll never get up again despite whatever chance he may have had before.

Handy flicks the gore off of his hammer as he looks back at her and grins. “Well. Looks like I’ll be the one winning then, huh? If you’re giving up that is.”

She grins at him and waves a single feather back and forth. “Tut, tut. I never said any such thing.” She turns and continues down the alleyway at a casual trot. “I’m just saying that this is a lot easier than I expected, and maybe we should pay their base a visit and see if they have any real competition.”

Handy looks over at her and purses his lips to the side as he asks, “What, I’m not competition enough for you?”

She waves it away with a wingtip. “It’s not much of a competition, if we’re working to... gether…” She gets a twinkle in her eye as she grins widely and gets an idea. “I bet we could cover more area if we split up a bit!” She hops around, then turns and runs as she giggles. “Keep count! And no cheating!”

Handy’s eyes go wide as he waves after her. “Aw come on, don’t go running off on your own again!”

She yells back with a giggle, “I’m a grown ass mare, and I can go where I want!”

Handy sits down and tilts his head back as he silently lets out a string of profanities at the sky. As far as excitable ponies go, no one would ever accuse Swift of being easily excitable. But, when she did get to that point, that’s where the problems come in at. The over enthusiasm of youth overtaking her more hard earned knowledge and experience. Combined, it turns into a disaster waiting to happen. And Handy knows it.

The only question is: who’s going to be on the receiving end of it this time?

He only hopes it isn’t her, him, and their children.

While Handy is still back there having a heart to heart with the universe on how much the current situation sucks, Swift zips down the alleyways. Each time she comes across a pony that seems to be looking for a fight, she obliges, then continues on down the way. The individuals are getting more scattered and harder to find, but they are still around.

Not to mention the roar of the fighting taking place in the complex seems to barely have quieted down. If indeed it has lowered at all.

She comes to a t-intersection, where another alley coming from her right dead ends into the one she is running down. She gets to the intersection in time to see a pair of automatic rifles emerge into the alleyway with her. As she’s getting right up on the intersection, a mare with a fully loaded battle saddle comes into view, and checks both directions as she’s entering the alleyway.

But, unfortunately for her, Swift’s direction was the second way she looked. And by the time she’s looking in Swift’s direction, Swift is swinging around under her, and slamming her back against the wall of the building that makes up this alleyway. She manages to get a few rounds off from each of her automatics, but they are wild shots that seemed to have no real purpose, or target, other than simply firing.

Swift rears up with her, holds her pressed to the wall with one hoof, and starts unleashing strike after strike with her power hoof as she screams. “I. Really. Hate. Guns!”

The most recognizable sound in the universe greets her ears from her left, and causes her to freeze solid as she’d pulled back to make another strike.

The little pony in Swift’s head’s hair stands on end, all of it, from tail to mane, as it huddles back with both forehooves in it’s mouth in terror.

In the time it took her to have that thought, she turned her head to look at the mare that’d just stepped into the alleyway not far from her. Practically point blank. But it’s not the average looking yellow earth pony with the orange eyes staring at her that’s making her mane crawl. No.

That honor belongs to the combat shotgun that just had a fresh round racked into the chamber. And is currently pointed right at her head.

Swift agrees with the little pony in her head with a mental confirmation, Aww shit…

A wave of darkness sweeps over her as the barrel erupts with fiery death.

Ka-BLOW

---

Footnote: Connection lost, attempting to reestablish, please stand by. . .

Next Chapter: 35 Shotgun Diplomacy Estimated time remaining: 41 Hours, 54 Minutes