"You're lucky to be alive after a clang on the head like that," the lieutenant growled as he turned a black helmet over in his claws.

"Wasn't... so bad, sir," the pegasus sitting next to him mumbled. They were ten stories up, concealed in a crumbling alcove that had once ornamented the hotel's top floor. "It was that... or get spotted by the guards... up there."

"I should ground you." The gryphon turned her helmet over again, then produced a screwdriver from a pocket. "You're already injured from just getting out of that inferno alive, and you haven't been to Pendulum yet. You're not trained to focus through it." He began to tinker inside the helmet.

The mare smiled weakly at him, and ran a fetlock through her short mane. There was a small lump on her head, but the helmet had soaked the impact just like it was supposed to. "I might be a local girl, sir, but I've protected this city for five years. I have six months of Branch Crosstraining, and I was in the Kids Club." To prove her point, she reached into a pocket and pulled out her decoder pin. "I know what's at stake, sir. I won't let you down."

He reached out and took the little brass pin from her, then held it up to catch the sunlight. The insignia of the Bon Hadescream Candy Company shone bright, and the touch of solar power energized the tiny cipher machine. One of the small jewels set into its surface turned a friendly shade of green.

"Did you ever... I mean, were you one, sir?" She pressed a hoof to the side of her head and winced. "It was the greatest day of my life, joining the Kids Club. Well, I mean, at the time." The mare blushed. "You know what I mean? Then I earned my place in the Inner Circle, and that was the greatest day of my life." She smiled. "Were you in the Kids Club, sir? When did you find out about the big scary world?"

"I..." Rollins found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for a comeback. The question had caught him off guard, and he mentally kicked himself for not seeing it coming. They always ask if you were one, you dope. Yeah, but they did not always ask about that day. He closed his talons around the little pin. You don't have to say a thing. You're her commanding officer. She's talking to focus on something other than the pain. Just... "I... I was a stringer, still saving up my wrappers to join." His eyes widened, and his wings flared reflexively as he heard the words coming from his beak. "I... uh..." The gryphon coughed, then turned his head to look out over the city. "Friend of mine... turned out to be Inner Circle in the Kids Club. I had a really bad day... and he was there to pick me up, show me there was a reason to keep going." Good. You're nothing special, there's a thousand more with stories like yours.

The mare nodded, thinking she understood. "Bad grade on a test?"

"Y-yeah." Close enough. Focus on the mission. "Bad... grade." He squeezed his eyes shut. Don't think. Don't think about anything. Breathe in, breathe out. Everything you know is Corporate. A lot of ponies are relying on you, and you won't let 'em down, Rollins. He turned the decoder pin over, and started to pass it back to the mare. However, his eyes chanced to fall down on that embossed insignia of the Corporation, and for one second he smelled it. All of it, everywhere, like paint spilled and brushed out, running over the floors, the walls, the table, the chairs, the closet door, and the spoon... but worst of all, spilling out of him. No, no, that was not the worst. The worst was where all the rest had come from. Them, lying lifeless on the floor, and the thing that did it all was laughing. Laughing and condemning him to survive, as being not worth killing.

"Sir?"

Rollins felt an involuntary jerk run through his body, as if he had just tripped over an unshielded power cable. He forced a smile from years of practice, and set the pin on the mare's front. Her mouth opened, but her voice was different. Instead of "Thanks, sir." he heard...

"You'll be fine, Roll. Just fine. Look at me, Roll. Today was the day, right? Keep your eyes on me, birdbrain! Yeah, I called you that. I know you hate it. I'll call you that again if you shut your eyes. Today was the day, you had all the wrappers. I helped you save 'em, that's right."

The gryphon shut his eyes and balled his claws into fists. He was not sitting ten stories up, he was on an earth pony's back, a torn tablecloth holding his guts in, wishing he was dead.

"You're gonna be fine, Roll. Just fine. Your mom an' dad, they always said you'd be somebody special. You ain't gonna make liars out of them, are you? So help me, if you chicken out and croak, I'll box your head. It's not much farther now, and you'll be fine. I've a patch in trauma aid, I do, an' I say you'll be fine. Don't you make a liar out of me either, you birdbrain!"

"Sir? How long have you been awake?"

Rollins forced his eyes open, and the memory faded away. Was it a memory? Maybe this whole life was just some sick hallucination his mind was forcing him through while he lay on that kitchen floor. Maybe everything he experienced was just the last sparking of his neurons as they died out, one by one. With two trembling talons, he unlatched a pocket on his armor and pulled out a brown pill, then swallowed it dry. After a moment, he felt his consciousness reassert itself.

"Lieutenant, are you sure you should be fighting?" the pegasus asked. She straightened up, her headache forgotten after seeing the gryphon break out in a cold sweat and go deaf to the world around him. "You've been running hard ever since you got into town, trying to keep up with those two maniacs, and you just gulped that pill quicker than a rich kid downing a jelly bean."

"I'm fine," he lied outright, then sighed. "I'm... I'm just as battle-ready as you, lance corporal. And I've been dry-swallowing fast ever since my red pill." His claws clenched again. The stimulants were kicking in now. "Helmet. Gotta fix your helmet." He turned the piece of armor over and inspected the technomagery crammed into it. "Huh. This is custom-pattern stuff... local?"

"Fabbed it up ourselves," she replied proudly. "That's only a month old, was part of the last batch before we lost the workshops." The pegasus swallowed hard. "Ah... sir, thank you. If you an' those two crazy girls hadn't gotten into town when you did, we'd all be dead."

"I didn't exactly do a sterling job of keeping everyone alive." The gryphon replied, fiddling at a panel with his screwdriver.

"You sweet-talked an Educarchy burner-girl!" she leaned back against a hunk of fallen rock and checked the lasgun powerpacks she had set out to charge in the sunshine. They were still low on power, but she could make each shot count. "And as soon as you got into town, you had that hunch and made us all-"

"Swapping communication methods is standard procedure," the gryphon replied. "So were the changes in combat tactics and squad loadouts. I'm not a genius, I just have a cookbook for these kinds of situations." Frack. She had somehow managed to mess up the voxcom relay. That would take an average repairpony two hours with a workshop and a new hunk of galena crystal. "The Assets do all the work... well, one of 'em at least." Rollins pulled a pouch off his voxpack and set it on the ground between him and the pegasus, then unzipped it to reveal a small toolset. "The other one just jumps around and makes noise." There we go, pull you out and have a look... "I shuffle papers, keep 'em on task, pass down orders from up top. Supervising officer stuff."

After a few moments of silence, the mare could resist no longer. She had watched the gryphon peel her helmet apart as easily as she might strip down a lasgun for cleaning. Though their equipment was designed to be easily maintained and repaired, she already had a lurking suspicion about the snarky gryphon. "Sir? Are the rumors true?"

"I deal in both facts and paranoia," he replied with both claws wedged into the helmet's guts. "Purple putty."

She passed him the hunk of malleable goop, which he stuffed into one of the helmet's circuits. "I heard you trained with the Ghosts of Onyx."

Rollins kept his eyes on the job. "Where did you hear that?"

"The Branch Commander mentioned it when she finished reading a report you filed for one of the Assets."

"Next time I'll make Strings do her own paperwork," the communications officer grumbled. Poor girl had passed out in the Chimera after cleaning up a mess of wrigglers that had turned out to be under the sway of a minor member of the Elderati. She had taken him out with one shot, but that just sent the wrigglers into a frenzy. After all the action, she needed a shower and a nap, not a stack of paperwork, so he had done his job and made sure the Asset remained focused. He was their voxop, because the Lady Bon Hadescream pointed and he obeyed. "The Ghosts of Onyx are a myth."

She raised an eyebrow. "Sir, I know you spent a lot of time at Pendulum. That's why the Branch Commander mentioned it in the first place. Folks don't spend time out there unless they're really special material."

"Or they got noplace else to go." The gryphon sighed as he squinted into the helmet. "I grew up at Pendulum, that's why I have so much time logged. Took a bunch of courses, bounced back and forth between there and little courier jobs."

The pegasus grinned. "You're a Spireborn? I thought that was just ponies, didn't know we had gryphons too."

He shook his head slowly. The Spireborn were a breed apart. "Nope. My parents were immigrants... but the Company's my family now." Rollins laughed bitterly. "You cut me and I bleed red ink."

She waited until his brow unfurrowed and the part clicked into place, then smiled at him. "That's what they say about the Ghosts of Onyx too. They're Corporate to the Core."

He twisted a piece back into place, then shook his head. "No. I'm not part of some super-secret special missions unit. I fix voxcasters, carry communications, and do office work. That's it."

The mare leaned her head to the side. "Sir, that's not what I asked." Of course he's not one of them right now, he has two Assets to look after. But who better to keep them in line than a hard-boiled supersoldier who can kill with a mean look! Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but she had heard awesome stories about the Ghosts of Onyx at Branch Crosstraining. Even heroes needed heroes.

"Here's your helmet. Try it out."

She smiled at him, then pulled on the helmet and made sure it was snug. "Check one, check two..."

Rollins nodded, one earpiece of his headset pressed to the side of his head. "You're transmitting. That'll do for now until we can get some real repairs."

"Thanks, sir! Oh, let me test out the vox passthrough-psssshSSSSSSHT!" A hiss of static screamed out of her helmet. The gryphon lunged forward, clawed it off her head, and slapped the internal override before the stunned mare could respond. Even so, he knew it was too late.

"I overrode some of the safeties and repurposed a few unneeded components," he whispered into her ear as he straightened up. She was still stunned from the sheer force of the sound. "You have squadcom. You don't have safeties for your mic talkback, which is why the feedback almost blew your eardrums just now. Don't switch off squadcom. Understood?"

She nodded meekly, having caught just enough of what he said to understand her mistake. "Sorry... sir."

"Not as sorry as you two are gonna be," laughed a pegasus hovering outside with a hefty submachine gun pointed at them. "Thought you could sneak up on the Fellowship, eh? What gang are you two with, anyway, I don't-"

Rollins lunged. The cultist had no clue just how far a gryphon's powerful hindlegs could propel him from a full stop, nor had he expected those claws to rip his gun away before he could react and clamp around his muzzle. The sudden addition of a gryphon's body weight sent the pegasus hurtling toward the ground, but before they could fall three stories a soft zorch-thwap came from something in the lieutenant's left claw. Rollins wrapped an arm around the limp body and spread his wings, then flapped upward. He perked his head up over the rooftop, then shoved the guard onto it, careful to pose him as though he had fallen asleep or simply sat down. The gryphon dove back down into the alcove, then took a deep breath.

"Did you... is he-" began the lance corporal, her lasgun at the ready.

The communications officer pointed an innocent little green pistol with a white dish array where its muzzle should have been at her. Little red and orange sparks of energy flickered over the array, and his talon was wrapped around a strangely shaped will-rune.

"Neural stunner. Good enough for the Commander during the Great Crusade." He glanced out of the alcove and noticed that a pair of birdies had begun circling the stunned cultist above. If anyone found him, they would assume he had partied too hard. "Good enough for me."

"Do they issue those to Ghosts of Onyx?" the mare asked with a wink before putting her helmet on once more.

"I dunno. I made this one m'self." He pulled on his headset and adjusted his voxpack, then holstered the neural stunner. "Sorry I didn't warn you." Another grand screwup, almost got both of you killed. Good job, Rollins. Their cover was intact, nopony else had noticed, and if the cultist had told anyone else they would already have attacked. Wait. Strings knows what she's doing. Trust her. Stick to the plan.

A few moments later, the pegasus' ears were still ringing. "Sir... I know you can't get a signal out with that pack, but... is there any help coming? What if we miss a check-in in a week or so, will..." her voice trailed off as she saw the expression on his face.

"Y'know in the cinema, when there's no hope left for the heroes, but things just work out somehow?" The lieutenant twisted a dial on the voxpack. Only red runes lit up... then a green one at the very bottom flickered. "Backup comes, or the bad guy has a change of heart, maybe the power of love pulls 'em through?"

"Yessir?"

"Those two Assets and I were the backup." He glanced up at the blue sky. "No use lying to you, we're in a bad way on a strategic level, not just the tactical that you and I see every day. This city had a lot of really valuable resources, and you were bringing in a lot of needed revenue." The gryphon pressed one earcup of his headset close, then frowned. "What I'm saying is that you did everything right. That's why you got hit. That's why we were sent to help." And when we got here, you didn't even imagine that ARGUS would be crazy enough to go full force forward. Good job, Rollins. The Lady would have seen that one coming ten kilometers away. The fact that she had fallen into a similar trap in Manehattan two years ago slipped his mind. "Now, we need to save what we can, because..."

"Because there's nopony else left to come save us," she finished quietly.

"Correct. It's up to us, because there's a hundred other cities on fire right now, and a thousand more unsung heroes in 'em. That's the way this war is fought." The gryphon smiled at the mare, imparting confidence that he did not have himself. "You and me, we're strong, and lucky to be born sharp enough to deal with all this. It's up to us to do our part, and up to the norms to keep on making the world worth fighting for. The Great Crusade was a long time ago. Now, we fight in the shadow cast by the sun."

"And we're the original defenders of Equestria." She nodded. "Everypony else is just imitating us and trying to do it better. That's why Celestia set us up after the Great Crusade, right sir?"

Rollins nodded. "Yeah. Because every generation needs its own revolution. We gotta fight, because there's always someone out there causing mayhem. And we're gonna hold, no matter how bad it gets." He looked out over the city. "Because that's what she wanted, and what she still wants. We're here to hold the line, and maybe save a few hearts where we can." The lieutenant looked back at her. "That's why we're here now, on the side of this building. We hold, be it a monster, ARGUS, cultists, or Nightmare Moon herself come down with an army out of Tartarus." There. That was decent.

A snicker escaped her. "Nightmare Moon, that's an old pony's tale for Nightmare Night..." she noticed the expression on his face. "Right, sir?"

"Sure it is, lance corporal." He glanced at his chronometer. "Sure it is." She's never looked a Nightguard in the eye. They're as grim as it gets. He sighed. Guess I would be too, if I had a thousand years of somepony else's guilt on my back. To them, there's only war. That's all they have left. "When we get the word, you know what to do?"

"Yessir, stick to the plan."

He nodded. "Until we reach the part where my plan fails horribly."

"Murphy's law, and Murphy was an optimist," the operative confirmed, referencing an aerospace engineer of her breed.

"It's the 'shooms, that's what makes it so good, duuuude." The unicorn with a chef's hat trotted over to the table, a plateful of noodles and sauce held in the glow of his horn. True to his word, there were several large mushrooms mixed in for flavor. He set the plate in front of the grey mare. "I don't, like, think it's my best work or anything, but everypony was all over it last night!"

The factory worker shot him a glare, then made a cutting motion across his throat with a hoof. Their cook tended to eat at one's nerves, and the last thing he needed was a moron with a poofy hat messing up what the Great Glow had provided. However, the one called Victoria just nodded her thanks.

"I am grateful for anything." Her stomach grumbled again, but she took a deep breath and willed it to be still. The mare slowly tied a white napkin around her neck, then made sure it was straight. She looked up at the cook and smiled at him. "I cannot remember the last time I smelled something... quite like this."

"That's the 'shrooms, get that good, pungent aroma." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Like, totally wild. Mushrooms are great for your life meter. We grow 'em here, I never saw anything like 'em before! Woah, made these awesome brownies last night too," the unicorn licked his lips. He had only gotten one before the rest of the Fellowship descended like hungry vultures. "But like, they went faster than... uh... you ever read those comic books about that speedy blue hedgehog dude?"

She leaned her head to the side and thought for a moment. "Why... no. No, I do not think I have." They sounded familiar, but she had never been a comic book kind of girl.

"Whaaaat?" the chef's jaw hung open, and his unfocused eyes widened even further. "Like, he's totally my hero and stuff! That's why I joined the Fellowship, we're all like family goin' up against The Machine, y'know?"

The cellist smiled innocently, and fiddled with the napkin around her neck. A lady did not eat and talk at the same time. Her escort was about to mention that, and suggest that the chef shove off, when she said, "no, I really do not. I came because I was hungry... what is it you do here?"

"Uh... do?" the chef blinked. "We fight The Machine!" He tossed back his dyed-blue mane and raised a hoof in what he must have thought resembled a noble pose. "Like, there's these evil dudes who go around cramming innocent bunnies and birdies into these robot suits that draw power out of the poor lil' bird!"

The factory worker groaned. He was a practical pony. "We've told you again and again, cook. The Machine is a metaphor. There is no such thing as a human, and if there was they would just use steam or magic like everypony else." He smiled apologetically at Victoria, and reached out to touch her hoof. "I'm sorry, he's just-"

"You might not believe that the Roboticizer is real, but I know it is!" interrupted the cook, his poofy hat wobbling with indignation. "That's why I joined, it's just like in the comic books!" His voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper, and he winked at the grey mare. "This here is the secret village of the Resistance, and Scornful Song is just like Princess Sal-"

"That's Daughter Scoffing Song, cook!" The factory worker growled at him. "You'd think you would learn that by now after all the-" He bit his tongue and avoided the grey mare's gaze. "After all this time, I mean." Even when pursuing your inner spark, there was still a path to follow. Only those who were truly bright could see the path, others had to follow them. To stray from the path was to invite punishment, but the destination was worth the pain of passage. There were secrets best kept from those not yet bright enough to bear them, their minds were simply not ready to know such great truths.

"After all this time, you'd think you'd learn my name." The unicorn grumbled. "And she's cool, dude, you know I'm totally her personal chef, right?" A sly smile spread across his face. He flicked his tail, also dyed blue, with a note of pride. "I'm practically her champion, you can call me-"

"Your title is not Hot Trot the Excellent, and you are not the Wielder of the Mighty Frypan!" roared the factory worker. He had heard this drivel time and time again. Keeping the cook's delusions intact was vital to keeping him productive, but the earth pony was in no mood for it right now. The stallion pointed at the unicorn's hind hooves, shod in red sneakers with a white stripe running over the middle. "Those are not 'Power Sneakers', the Daughter barely knows you're alive, and the only reason you cook for her is because you are the only cook we have!" The last one had been even worse. Hot Trot at least knew the difference between tasty and toxic. Fortunately, their old chef had always sampled his own food first, and the factory worker had never liked those other ponies anyway.

The unicorn groaned. "Dude, why you gotta be such a buzz-kill? Like, we all spark an' stuff in our own way." He winked at the grey mare, who was still sitting patiently with a fork in one fetlock, and a spoon in the other. "Woah... I've never seen an earth pony eat spaghetti with a spoon before." The chef paused, and his eyes actually came into focus for a moment. "I mean... I have, but it's been like forever an' a day."

"Well, you are wearing a toque blanche, and this is the correct way to consume such a dish." She said in an almost embarrassed tone of voice. The musician pointed at the plate of noodles, sauce, and strange mushrooms sitting before her. If one did not know better, one might suspect she was hesitant to eat it, and was flattering the cook in the hope that his loose tongue might reveal more secrets.

"Yeah, but isn't it hard and stuff?" he scratched his head. "I mean, you don't have magic, isn't it hard to do fine manipulatin' with just your hooves? I saw earth ponies do it all the time when I was... I mean... but..." he glanced around at the makeshift kitchen he had cobbled out of the ruined hotel. "Nopony ever bothers with that kind of fancy stuff here. You can just eat, y'know?"

"Good things are often hard to accomplish, but worth the struggle." She held up the fork and spoon with the intent of demonstrating proper technique without actually getting any noodles on the utensils, lest they somehow make their way to her stomach. The sniper wondered if just the smell of the mushrooms would affect her mind. At least it covered the hint of smoke and ash that still clung to her fur. After this morning's escapades, looking the part of a ragamuffin musician had taken only a few minutes and some potting soil. She had also declined any rations, in the spirit of completing her disguise.

The unicorn's eyes lit up as he watched her flawlessly twist the fork against the spoon, then lift the invisible noodles to her mouth. "That's totally right! Woah, déjà vu..." he pressed a hoof to his forehead, then shrugged. "And what you said was really deep. That reminds me about tonight, we're gonna-"

He was interrupted by the factory worker, who jumped up and clamped his mouth shut by force. Victoria gasped, and froze the both of them with a terrified stare. Very slowly, the factory worker smiled at her. "He... has been working on a special dish! Mustn't spoil the surprise!" The burly earth pony shook the unicorn. "Right, cook?"

"Mmph-mmm!" he replied, eyes wide with pure terror.

The grey mare glanced from one to the other, then nodded slowly. "That... would be unfortunate." She nervously twirled the fork in the air. "How long have you been working on it?"

"Oh, shoot, probably a year an' six months..." prattled the chef. The earth pony elbowed him. "Uh, it's a really, really big summ- recipe!"

Victoria continued nodding slowly. "A summer recipe?"

The chef bobbed his head. "Yeah! Woah, you're really mellow..." Then his spine stiffened, his eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped to a suspicious tone. "Wait, wait, waaaait... you're not..."

She stopped breathing, and gripped the fork tightly.

"You're not a bunny in a robot suit who just looks like a pony, are you?" He rubbed his chin and leaned to the side, as though looking for a power plug in her mane. The factory worker groaned.

"I'm going to strangle you," hissed the burly stallion. Deafened by curiosity, the cook reached out and was about to poke at the grey mare's bow-tie. He had read in the comic books that bow-ties were sometimes buttons that controlled the access hatches for the robotic suits. It would be a simple press of a hoof, and her head would pop open to reveal a little bird with a bunch of wires wrapped around it! However, he was yanked back by a pair of mighty fetlocks that clamped around his neck. "Why you little-"

"It is all right, really," she interjected before the earth pony could shake Hot Trot's brain out of his head. "I am not a robot. Your friend would not have let me in if he doubted my mortality, would he?" She cast a trusting glance at the other earth pony, who flashed a charming smile and let go of the unicorn.

"You understand, Miss Victoria, and you were in need. That's why I invited you in." And when the fruit is ripe, it is a sin not to indulge.

The chef coughed once, then bopped himself on the side of the head to realign his spinning eyeballs. "Uh... yeah!"

Having had quite enough of his shenanigans, the factory worker knocked the cook off to another corner of the hotel's kitchen with a solid hindquarters slam. He straightened his leather apron, then settled down on the chair next to the grey mare. "Don't mind him. The Fellowship has room for everypony." With a cough, he added, "even those who aren't right in the head."

"I see. How kind of you to look after even those who are feeble in mind." Her expression remained completely earnest.

He smiled wide. This was goin' good! "Yeah, well, somepony has to. That's what the inner spark is all about, each of us following our own desires instead of taking what the rich dish out. We listen to the brightest, not the ones born with silver spoons in their mouths." The stallion looked into her eyes, those deep, purple eyes, and saw... nothing. For one brief instant, before she glanced away and blushed, there was absolutely nothing. No fear, no anger, no joy, or even that spark of hunger he had seen outside. Just an abyss of emotion that seemed to stretch on forever. To a pleasure-cultist, there were few things more terrifying. He swallowed hard. "I... umm... we..."

"Thank you."

"You're... welcome?" he replied uncertainly.

"For welcoming me into your home, I mean. This is your home, is it not?" She glanced up, still fiddling with the fork in her right fetlock, but her eyes were warm again. Had he truly seen something cold in them, or was it just his anger with the chef playing tricks on him? Regardless, she had a hint of a smile on her muzzle. "Thank you, kind sir."

A snicker from behind him broke his gaze away. "Oh dude, you didn't even tell her your name, did you?"

He turned around and glared at the upstart cook, then back to the grey mare with an apologetic expression on his face. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

The grey mare bit her lip. "No, no, I was the one who was impolite. You were being so kind, inviting me in, offering what I needed... I was afraid if I asked your name, it would be like a dream that melts away when you poke at it too much."

With an embarrassed rub of his mane, and another angry glare at the cook, he said, "I'm-"

"Lay-brother Grip Steel!" boomed a voice from the kitchen's entrance. "You have deserted your post!"

He froze, Victoria's eyes turned cold once more, and the even the irreverent cook did not dare to make a joke about "dessert". In the doorway stood two mighty unicorns clad in leather armor, and in their hooves were ornately decorated spears.

Author's Notes:

Another really big chapter, because I felt that these two parts were best read together. "Marche Royale Du Lion" means "Lion's Royal March", and it is another part from the Carnival of Animals. It seemed to fit a certain half-eagle, half-lion, and all-operative gryphon well enough!

Personally, I felt that the chef was a bit overdone... oh, bother. Now I'm making puns. Anyway, I hope you got a chuckle out of his antics. As usual, those were intentional references to "mushrooms" and "blue hedgehogs". I always enjoyed those comic books, and the SatAM cartoon in particular was great!

As always I hope you enjoyed this, and I'd love to read your thoughts!