“You might not be alone in harboring that sentiment. We’re to visit an old acquaintance of yours who is renting out a room to some other persons who decided that running was a better option than facing the music” I hinted at the particulars of my mission, “I’ll tell you more once we’re underway and in a secure spot. Are you packed?”

She nodded, “I don’ carry ‘round much, and mah things are at the station right now bein’ loaded by the attendants. Let’s not keep ‘em waitin’, huh?”

I inserted my arms between the loops of the adventure pack as I slung it onto my back, “Ladies first” I motioned for her to lead.

The train (a regular non crystalline one this go around) was at the station, steam venting from its boiler as it sat idly on the tracks. Because the Krystal Kingdom’s railway line was rarely used (save for shipments of explosives and food to the sparsely populated mining settlements near the icy mountains) before its reappearance (its handy location a foresight on the Princess’s part mayhaps?), it had to take the long route around the bend from Steelhatten so that it would be oriented south. Cadence had mentioned a proposal the day before involving the construction of a parallel line to complement the existing one and facilitate two way traffic, but it would likely be months before a project of that undertaking could reach finalization even if they initiated it today.

We stood in line behind the ticket counter to purchase our passes with the wherewithal in our pockets, dozens of people around us who were preparing for the journey home or were chatting amiably about whatever they considered to be the unforgettable highpoint of their stay. Someone official from the Citadel spotted AJ and I and notified us that we were cleared to board the first class passenger car by the front of the train (the Engine reminded me heavily of an R Class steam locomotive, crowned with Red metal trimming) without further ado. The cowgirl’s forehead scrunched up in confusion at the fancy treatment, but if she had any misgivings about it, she kept quiet on them as we climbed the grated steps and entered the car where we’d be spending the next few hours in transit.

Speaking of which, the distance between Magiville and the Krystal Kingdom was about two hundred and eighty five kilometers as the Skyborn flies (its proximity to the capital was all but adjacent in comparison to the distances of the major cities in Arcania running lengthwise West to East), so it would be a couple hours after noon when we pulled into the Magiville train station after being redirected via a one of a kind locomotive complex situated at the base of Concordia mountain with the biggest clockwork style turntable you ever did see, integrated with brass and bronze gears the size of monster truck tires, jets of scalding steam, and a jerky lifting platform like that of a carjack. The first class accommodations that the Princess treated us to were luxurious, with silken curtains over the windows, electric ceiling lamps that gave off pleasant lighting, chairs with plush upholstery, and artwork on the ceiling that was reminiscent of renaissance paintings.

Applejack whistled what she thought of the passenger car, “It’s slightly glitzy for mah tastes, but who am I to argue with the Princess’s commands?”

“She didn’t send you and I out on a simple shopping errand, Applejack. This extravagance is a subtle reminder that we’re to be professional, and therefore we must behave professionally” I saw fit to inform her as I plopped down rather unprofessionally onto a seat, keeping my bag of implements nearby, “Take a seat” I compelled her, to which she complied, “You want the full details to our mission yes?”

She shuffled in her seat as she resisted getting suctioned into its depths, “The truth about what we’re goin’ to be doin’ together would be mightily appreciated, yes”

I double and triple checked our surroundings to ensure that no one was listening in on us, “Your cousin has gone off the grid. We’re going to pay him a visit in Dodge Junction, along with somebody else of importance that he… associates with” I termed it tactfully.

“Uhh… alrighty then” She scratched her head, “Which cousin would that be? Ah’ve got quite a few of ‘em, Zenith”

I leaned forward, “Maybe this will narrow it down for you. He resided in a town whose name he’s quite fond of drawing out the pronunciation of” It was presumptuous of me to think it was the same here, but she did nothing to refute it.

His identity clicked in her head by that trivial feature alone, “Braeburn? But why are we goin’ after him? What’s he done wrong?”

“He’s followed his heart” I answered her, “Which isn’t necessarily a crime, but who he’s chosen to do it with is more of a gray zone” And a political hot button that’s dangerously close to being punched.

“Who is she?” Applejack demanded to know, slamming her fist onto the laminated wooden table separating us, “Who’s seduced mah cousin into a life of crime?”

“You’re going to have to take a step back here and breathe before I divulge that one to you” I warned her, “We haven’t even set out yet and you’re losing your temper over a girl your cousin happens to care for?”

“Right… A’hm sorry for gettin’ steamed” She didn’t sound completely apologetic, “But the apple isn’t suppose to fall from the tree only to roll into some ditch to rot. My family keeps in touch over everythin’. Don’t matter none if it’s somethin’ private like who’s captured the affection of our hearts. If a man or woman is unworthy of being considered one of the Apple Family, then they don’t enter the family. It’s as plain as that”

“Seems a bit… over controlling to me” I remarked, reevaluating my appraisal of the Apple family.

“Nonsense!” She exclaimed, “We’re jus’ lookin’ out for the best interests of the family. That’s the way it’s been since mah ancestor Tough Cookie popped out eight squallin’ babes and settled down with her hubby to begin growin’ only the most delectable apples in the world!”

‘I knew she and AJ were directly blood related!’ I thought with an invisible fist pump. Though the plumpness in Tough Cookie was not evident in the buxom blonde, who was mostly tanned flesh and muscle from years of fieldwork.

“A historical ancestor? Tell me about her” She was unfortunately unconscious for most of the time that I had with her, so Applejack likely knew more about her than I did. The story I told the Elements at the dining table that one night was sufficient, but bare bones when it came to specific identities of the people I interacted with.

We felt a jerking sensation of the car as the train engine whistled and signaled its departure from the station. I was puzzled that we were given the first class train car entirely to ourselves, but it was an early train and more were scheduled to ferry the passengers back home after the Athletic Game’s conclusion.

“Gladly” Applejack acquiesced with zest, “Mah ultra great grandmother Tough Cookie Apple was the first matriarch of the Apple Family after they had started anew in Arcania under the Princesses. Before that, the Apple Family was subject to the whims of their Stellar Mage overlords, and the Combine government that they worked for before which was even worse, with both of ‘em taking most of the profits they made from sellin’ their produce and leavin’ ‘em on the rack to hang while they were mistreated by people who should have been livin’ alongside ‘em in Harmony. But that’s jus’ the way things were then”

She exhaled tiredly, “Times were tough for mah family over a thousand years ago, and I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for a mystery savior that had saved her from succumbin’ to a dastardly poison that she was afflicted with fighting in the name of truth n’ justice”

“Is that so?” I murmured thoughtfully. Did Tough Cookie forget about my name? The Hartsbane poison that was burning in her veins could have had any sort of unfortunate side effects, including short term memory loss.

Applejack heard me, “Eeyup! The feller even left a missive for her that she saved for posterity. Mah Granny has it preserved and laminated somewhere in the farmhouse attic away from the sunlight. A lot of the words were beginnin’ to fade even before its legibility was protected by pricey enchantments, but I’ve read it enough times to have committed it to memory”

She cleared her throat and spoke in her ‘refined’ voice, “Dear Tough Cookie. I hope this letter finds you well rested and well recovered. We hadn’t known each other for very long, but I shan’t be forgetting you anytime soon. I just wanted to tell you that you have one heck of a future ahead of you, filled with life, love, and happiness. The road getting there will be bumpy and full of potholes, and times may get desperate… but there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that will take away all of your woes, your regrets, your hardships, and make them seem immaterial in comparison to what you have gained. Your sister will have a hand in bringing this about, and you need to be supporting her the way you have been alongside that wizard friend of yours. Speaking of whom, he and I have gone out to seek two very special somebodies that will be pivotal to the events to come. Don’t question how I know this… it’s a simple answer with complex implications. I’ll be keeping you in my thoughts though, and I pray that your life is as fulfilling as possible… signed, The Hooded Man… AKA that handsome feller who had never ridden a horse in his life”

She scoffed with amusement, “This man saved mah ancestor’s life, according to the healer who had filled in the blanks for her after she awoke. The ancient Valkyrians had made a foray into town and the folks there had somehow beaten them off, but they knew that they would feel the retribution for their actions before long, so most people packed their belongings into carts and moved to other towns. Mah ancestor followed their example and returned home after recovering from the slight amnesia she had been afflicted with. She and thousands of others migrated over the sea to this land that they would christen Arcania after settling their differences with the other clans and burying the hatchet”

‘Interesting how that’s an expression here’ It likely had differing origins though.

“Sounds like her savior was quite the man” I said impassively, knowing full well the truth behind that.

Applejack examined me closely from her seat across the table, “You can’t pull the wool over mah eyes, Zenith. After that story you spun after dinner the other night, I have an inkling as to who this hooded fella really was” Her eyes narrowed at me, but I gave her nothing.

I was unfazed, “Perhaps you do, perhaps you don’t… but you’ll never hear an admission from my lips” I told her contrarily.

She huffed and crossed her arms together, “Why do you constantly hafta be a wise guy? It’s really irritatin’ sometimes”

I shrugged flippantly, “A man must have some enigmatic aspects to him, if only for abstruseness’ sake” That and I derived amusement from frustrating others who attempted to glean too much from me.

“Fine!” She hissed, “Keep up that pointless charade of yers. But explain to me mah role in all this hullabaloo”

“It’s quite simple my dear Applejack” I started, to which she snorted, “You and Braeburn are of the same bloodline, so he’s more liable to listen to suggestions coming from you than some recently appointed Royal Agent that he’s never heard about till now. In turn, he will make returning the woman he ran with to her home, and hopefully prevent a conflict from igniting between the settlers and Buffalo Braves”

“Buffalo Braves? Then who i-…” She paused before piecing together who the lady in question was, “…Strongheart” She seethed as she stamped her fist into the table, rattling the silverware that wasn’t wrapped in those nice napkins, “I knew they had eyes for each other! The way he kept going on about her and her people at the last family reunion, you’d think that there was somethin’ goin’ on between ‘em, but I passed it off as admiration!” She sighed, “Brae always had an open mind about things… but to pledge his heart to a woman who’s not even Arcanian? Unthinkable!”

Oh no, there was that semi racist side of AJ that I had no desire to see, “What does her nationality have to do with it? The Buffalo Braves have been living here long enough that they’re Arcanian citizens in all but name, based on what Celestia implied to me over brunch”

Applejack diverged from the topic at hand, “You and the Princess, Zenith… is there more goin’ on between you than I originally guessed?”

“Yes, our relationship has evolved” Though in what manner was not yet definitive, “But it’s not my relationship to the Princess that is relevant at the moment. It’s your cousin’s to this Buffalo Chieftain’s daughter”

She looked at me crossly, “What are ya lookin’ at me for? No one told me about this before you, least of all Braeburn” She mumbled bitterly. This was a huge deal to her, wasn’t it?

“If I hope to get these two factions from tearing each other’s throats out, I need them to parley first. Retrieving Strongheart, reminding her not unkindly of what’s what, and returning her to her people will be crucial to this effort” The people of Appleloosa were settlers, apple farmers, frontiersmen with few lawmen or guards to keep them safe from a sizable threat. They were not hunter-warriors and gatherers like I’d assume the natives (more native than the Arcanian natives anyway) were. If the Buffalo Braves decided to take up arms against the settlers for the perceived attacks and kidnappings of their people, it could get real bloody real fast. I had to prevent this from occurring at all costs.

“How do ya know for certain she’ll be a big help when it comes to keepin’ the peace?” AJ reasonably voiced her doubts.

I shook my head, “I don’t know anything of this for certain, but it stands to reason that the Chieftain’s daughter who was against the Buffalo Braves clashing with the Appleloosans over an apple grove on their doorstep would prove a useful ally when a similar scenario has developed like the one embroiling them now”

“I guess…” She accepted tentatively, “Why’d she run away with mah cousin anyway?”

“Celestia didn’t get too specific with the details, but Strongheart was pressured into marrying an influential member of her tribe who is championing the idea of attacking the Arcanians in the region in retribution for their losses. Strongheart does not think highly of him, enough that she’d book it with your cousin to avoid that fate” I informed the cowgirl.

And if the war hawk still retained that unwise idea of violence in his head when Strongheart was restored to the Braves and united by holy matrimony to him, then I would have to get my hands dirty again… and incidentally Strongheart would be free to marry whomever she pleases. I should be bothered that I’m contemplating murder so apathetically, but I’ve accepted that I must do what I have to if I am to safeguard the realm and those I care for. I could only hope that Strongheart could get this man to see reason. She’d be miserable, but there was little and less I could do for her that didn’t tread into a political no-no zone.

“What losses?” Applejack was out of the loop, “Why are the Buffalomen and the settlers down south coming to blows again?”

“No blows have been exchanged as far as I know, which is why we must work quickly. Tensions will be nearly impossible to relieve if they explode before our intervention” I did not have the heart to tell her that Celestia would send an armed response to ‘deal’ with a disturbance within her borders… and that the Buffalo Braves would likely either be forced to find a new home or would be killed. I couldn’t afford to fail here, for their sake and the sake of peace.

“There is more” I continued, “There’s a good reason for the Buffalo Braves to foster anger towards the settlers. They believe that their people, specifically women and children, are being stolen by men wielding terrible weapons that crack like thunder” Though none so terrible as the weapon now sitting patiently in my pack.

“Are they?” Applejack could not believe the words coming out of her mouth, “A’course they aren’t! The Appleloosans ain’t kidnappers! Jus’ honest, hardworkin’ folk!”

“These men, outlaws really, appear to be Arcanian. Which means that they might be using frontier towns such as Appleloosa to supply themselves before they stage raids on the Bufflo Brave villages” Though how and why they are doing this remains unclear.

Applejack got a determined, steely glint in her eye, “We need to stop ‘em. I won’t abide by these men tarnishin’ the good name of those settler folk, I won’t”

“Glad to see that you’re on board with me” I quipped, before watching the white, snowy scenery pass us by and the tip of the Crystal Citadel sink beneath the horizon, “Dealing with these outlaws will be a serious proposition, AJ. They have already shown that they are willing to kill in order to achieve whatever objective it is that they have. Can I trust you to look after yourself?”

“Don’t talk to me as if I were some helpless newborn calf, Zenith” She rebuked me, insulted that I would even bring it up, “Mah brother and I have dealt with plenty of danger in the past. Wild critters come crawlin’ out of the Neverfree from time to time. Some wander onto our farm and Mac and I teach ‘em the error of their ways” She pounded her fist against her palm in emphasis, “When we stop in at Magiville, I can run home and grab mah Claymore”

“What, like the kind that I used during the games?” And done a poor job with in spite of my training, I neglected to add. I was the most deadly with my Mage-blade, but that was because it was an extension of myself.

She mentally compared them in her head, “Mine’s not as long as yers was, but mine has a thicker blade and cleaves into flesh like warm tallow”

I eyed her critically, measuring what her reply would be, “You ever used it on a man before?”

At that Applejack faltered and recovered sloppily, “I-I could! Ah’m not half bad in a scuffle, and can keep mah head on mah shoulders in all situations. Me and the girls have been in heap of ‘em over the years!”

“Really?” I countered, watching her flinch from that word alone, “You could look a man in the eyes and kill him without hesitation if you had to? You and the girls have done that?” I would be shocked if they had. The Elements weren’t killers as far as I knew.

“W-well I wouldn’t want to have to k-kill anybody!” She protested, “But if I were forced into a choice between protectin’ those I cared about an- and some no good brigand, I would choose the former, every time” She vowed, ridding herself of the vocal tremors.

“Honest answer” I acknowledged without irony, “And a sentiment we share. Sadly, bringing a sword, even a really big sword like a Claymore, into a gunfight would likely end badly for you”

Applejack crooked her head, “Huh? Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Guns. Firearms. Slug throwers. Lead tossers. Projectile weapons. Boomsticks” I listed casually before recalling the last and most apposite title relevant to this conversation, “And as the Buffalo Braves are calling them: Thunder-Horrors”

“These outlaws are using ranged weapons that outclass melee weapons in most cases” I simplified for her, “The basic premise of a firearm is that a metal projectile is loaded into a tube along with a propellant charge that when ignited will cause that projectile to exit the tube at incredible speeds. All the kinetic energy behind the projectile can result in catastrophic damage to living creatures. To put it bluntly, you point a gun at whatever you want to die, and pull the trigger” I don’t think that the Magnum in my pack is capable of doing much else besides that. I would also have to find out where these men acquired these guns, though I had a nagging suspicion that it involved the only people in the world who could craft them across the Eastern Sea.

Applejack grimaced, “Sounds awful. Why would people make such a thing?”

I gave my answer some thought, “The same reason they made swords like your Claymore… to protect those they care about, or to kill those who stand in their way” ‘Guess which category the outlaws fall under?’ My eyes were imparting to her, and she got the message.

“How are we supposed to stop ‘em?” She questioned, “If the settlers are innocent, as I know they are, then how are we gonna root out these good for nothin’ lowlifes?”

I got up from my seat, “We’ll worry about these issues one step at a time, Applejack. When do the rest of the girls head back home?”

She scratched her head, “Later today on the next train, I reckon. Supposin’ that Rarity found all the fabric she needed to start her new ‘Krystal Fashion’ line”

I bobbed my head once, “Right. I’m going to find a bunk and take a nap. Feel free to wake me when we get to Magiville” I had crossed the distance between where we had sat and where the side doors leading to the beds were before she could utter another word.

I was fully aware that whatever noise she was in the middle of making was about how I had just slept in, but I was suffering from a different kind of weariness. One that affected neither body nor mind. The bunks themselves were spartan in their furnishing, being only a thin mattress that wasn’t quite lengthy enough for a man of my growing stature, a feather pillow, and a blanket… but the basic amenities were sufficient for me to lie back, close my eyes, and drift off to a state of quiescence; with thoughts of my first mission as an Agent of the Crown weighing heavily on me.

⁂

My vision was incoherent and a blur of shapes and hues as I skipped the Conception Canvas and delved straight into what I believed was a regular, pre rendered dream. The scene I was a part of once the fog had lifted was an underground parking structure of some sort. I examined myself to see what kind of attire my dream self was clothed in and frowned when it wasn’t quite what I was expecting, though not disappointing. On my thick, calloused hands were traction grip gloves that I couldn’t help but find distantly familiar, and my body was covered from neck to toe in some kind of sleek black jumpsuit that had crimson trimming (always a nice touch in my book). There was a streamlined pack on my back that instantly felt vital to my presence here as its weight registered in my head. Underneath the jumpsuit was a specialized heavy duty, bullet stopping vest filled with special ballistics gel that mitigated and absorbed the impact of bullets ranging up to five point five six caliber rounds and below. It also cost a good chunk of change that a poor, starving runner (this body had no stores of fat on it whatsoever) like myself could never afford the legal way, not in this kind of repressive society with my ‘socially undesirable’ skills.

What threw me off most though were the shoes on my feet, if I could even call them that. It was closer to some kind of rubberized covering for my feet; so all ten of my toes were individually visible as I flexed them. I personally never cared much for that style of foot padding, but it did give me a better feel for the ground I was treading on as I paced five steps in practice. The ground I was standing on currently was asphalt pavement inside that underground parking structure, if the warm, condensed air and lack of outside ambience was any indication. Behind me was an eighteen wheeler’s uncovered trailer door, the gate pulled all the way up to reveal a jumbled, haphazard assortment of boxes and metal crates, one of which I had apparently smuggled myself inside with. To my front was a locked door with a keypad adjacent to the handle. Next to that were the offloaded crates that were doubtlessly filled with gear and supplies for the men manning the building. I blinked as ‘memories’ blinked in front of my mind’s eye. I was here for a reason, to accomplish an objective of sorts. Anyone who got in my way had to be bypassed or brought down.

I checked my immediate surroundings for any signs of life, but nobody was present. The driver’s cabin of the truck still had the keys in the ignition and the radio would sporadically pick up on incoherent chatter and buzzing, so I was not strictly alone in this building. I probed my ‘memories’ and learned that I had waited until the time was right to surface. The men with the truck were on break for fifteen minutes and their replacements would arrive within five. With this information in mind, I climbed back onto the platform and debated my next course of action.

Just then, the light on the keypad blinked and the door swung open as a short, squat man dressed in a uniform that would not look out of place on a S.W.A.T or Marine member emerged. He looked up and his eyes widened in surprise as my body’s instincts took over. I crossed the small distance between us in the blink of an eye, his hand on the handle of his pistol as he rushed to rip it out of its holster and gun me down. I knocked the weapon from his hand before his finger was on the trigger and a lightning fast jab to his throat had him stumbling back as he swung a blind, feral haymaker at me that was easy to duck underneath and seize his neck in a chokehold. His wild flailing managed to bruise me on the noggin the few times he landed a hit, but I held firm until the lack of air had him unconscious and slumping in my arms.

“Foxbat Four, come in Foxbat Four. Do you read me? Report in” A voice that was altered by the radio static checked in.

Hastily picking up his radio, I answered it in an ambiguously gruff voice that was a mixture of professionalism and repetitive boredom, “Mobile One, this is Foxbat Four” My contact had kept me apprised of their primary call signs in case I ran into a situation like this.

“Code in Foxbat Four” Came the other person’s response, a cautious edge underlying its tone.

‘Crap… what do I say, what do I say!?’ I thought with slight worry, before a slip of white paper jutting out of the unconscious man’s left breast pocket caught my eye.

I grasped at it and pulled it out, my eyes rapidly scanning its contents. I had to resist the urge to heel click right there. The man had a code in cheat sheet right on him! Guy must have been a newbie or just plain incompetent at memorizing his parlance like he should have. It would certainly explain why none of his coworkers were around to hear the racket from his subduing.

“Foxbat Four codes in Everest Zulu Niner” I relayed professionally, not believing my luck. A tiny part of me griped that I wouldn’t be able to test out my blockade running skills, but I shushed it.

“Code in confirmed” The voice on the other end droned, “State the nature of your radio absence Foxbat Four” She, I determined from the subtle inflections, requested impatiently.

I scratched at my head out of habit, “Sorry for the delay Mobile One, I thought I heard a disturbance…” I paused as if rechecking my findings, “Turns out it was just a rodent”

The woman on the other end sighed, “And we just had this place sprayed. Furry little bastards must be more resilient than the pest controller gave them credit for. All right Foxbat Four, finish the remainder of your perimeter patrol and clock out. And Gary…” The woman broke operational professionalism for a moment, “…stop leaving the toilet seat up at my place. You’re not some caveman out pissing in the woods. Keep my bathroom floor tiles dry” She was overtly incensed by this man’s atrocious bathroom habits.

“Sorry luv, force of habit” I automatically replied with a choked snicker, “Anything I could do to make it up to you?”

“I’m dating a man-child, I swear” The woman groaned near inaudibly, “Just remember to take me to that sashimi place off Fifth and Decker street like you promised this weekend. Can you do that?”

‘I’m frakking mad for the taste of sashimi. She is my kind of woman! Too bad she’s working for the Feds… and is dating this pudgy lump of fat’ I mused, nudging his plump body with a foot. I shook my head. Such a cryin’ shame.

“I will be an absolute gentleman, just for you. Foxbat Four out” I promised for the stirring man who I had to kick to put him back under, turning off the radio and slipping it back into his vest before dragging and restraining him with his own handcuffs in a poorly lit corner where his colleagues could not happen upon him without actively searching.

Swiping a pen off his person (‘Knocking him out was pretty easy, but at least he comes well equipped’), I wrote down on the back of his cheat sheet in bold lettering strongly reminding him of the Japanese dining date he had planned with his woman. Part of me was confused that I was playing Cupid’s advocate when I had a mission that permitted few distractions, but the other half was too busy laughing its ass off to argue with my seemingly odd actions.

Using his keycard, I swiped it on the pad’s card scanning crevice and was elated when the light flashed green and the door unlocked for me. Closing the aperture behind me, a lengthy maintenance hallway of sorts greeted me, with recycled air that was crisp and cool in contrast to the warm stuffy air in the parking structure. And yet it had a stale vibe to it because of how sterile it was, like inside of a hospital almost (‘Not that I’ve been there often, what with the Feds monitoring every patient like they were automatically guilty of mischief and all’). The bricks were white and the metal water pipes were an assortment of yellows, blues, and the occasional red pipe that was just screaming at me to climb it for some perplexing, almost primal reason. There was a practical incentive for this attraction though. The red pipes led up to some rigging that was mostly wires and scaffolds, with a vent grill that was also red. Therefore I was compelled to climb up those pipes and use the scaffold to gain entrance to the ventilation system that would lead to where I needed to go. I rubbed a hand on my chin as I devoted a minute to contemplation.

There was stubble on my chin brushing against the gloves, like the body in this dream was in the process of cultivating a beard, which I thought was dumb. A pinch in my chest answered that thought, and I scowled and shook my head. It might just be a dream, but I might as well enjoy myself while I was here. Nothing was happening at the nonce, so I had time to do an inventory once over. There was the messenger bag on my back that was weighed down with a feather light cargo. I swung it off my shoulders and unzipped it to peer into its contents. Inside the bag was an organized set of items including a mechanical mouse, some multipurpose tools, a few magazines of heavy duty pistol ammunition that I proceeded to insert into straps on my thighs, a chunky block of plastic explosives, and a large, rectangular carbon fiber casing that had metallic strips on the surface that crisscrossed each other on the pristine body and a port to plug a cord into. There was confusion for a moment before it clicked that this unassuming item was essential to the dream’s overall objective. With that remembrance came a rush of memories that finally specified what my main objective was and what I had to do.

Apparently I was here to infiltrate the edifice where the Fed’s kept the mother of all servers clusters, with which they stored the data that they collected from years of invasive surveillance of the populace, as well as continued to monitor them in their workplaces, houses of worship, and even their own homes! With this information, the government could blackmail or indict anyone they wanted, though politicians under their sway never were, while reformists were either assassinated or thrown in the slammer on some bullshit charge or another. The clear breaches of trust and privacy involved here were enough to make me grind my teeth just thinking about it. I was sent on a nigh suicidal mission to download what I could from the servers as additional evidence to put the final nails in the coffin of the Feds, ensuring that a successful regime change would ensue in the chaos. Being the dashing ladykiller I am, I accepted without any reluctance, though for additional reasons that I quietly kept to myself.

If there was a revolt in this country, it would likely become bloody havoc. People would take to the streets in haphazard groups that were loosely united thanks to the Federal stranglehold on most communication lines. Hopefully, the new regime installed would resemble the free democracy that this country once held dear many decades ago, even if they abused its liberties and took them for granted. It’s amazing how sobering it is when simple things like the right to privacy are taken away from you. It’s even more sobering when the authorities show up at your door to cuff you simply because they deemed your activities to be ‘a clear and present danger to the public’ or so they excused themselves. The infiltration scenario hazily reminded me of a dream that I shared with Luna not so long ago where we had to infiltrate a casino owned by well armed thugs who sucked at the poker table. The memory of how much fun Princess Luna and I had during the car chase on the highway brought a reminiscent grin to my face.

The time for reminiscing passed, and something in my gut urged me to get a move on before I was discovered. The Feds had relocated their main server cluster to an unassuming, ostensibly emptied high rise in the commercially vibrant Golden Condor District. It was by the waters of a river that was so clean (one of the few upsides to the strict Federal laws) that you could take a cup and drink from it directly without fear of spending the next week worshiping at the temple of the porcelain god. Regardless of its innocent outside impression, their big and bad (not to mention slow and clumsy as hell when it came to the chase) security personnel were not a rare sight on the premises. I was only able to sneak past their security scanners by hiding in a crate lined with material that obfuscated their systems. Still, the personnel that were here were armed to the teeth, and they did not mess around when it came to intruders. If I got caught out in the open and was spotted, chances were that I would make a stunning impression of a piece of bloody Swiss cheese within seconds. I planned on living for some time yet, so that wasn’t going to happen.

I kept my handy dandy Five seveN close in its holster on my hip, the weapon’s practicable weight was an unfaltering reassurance in a cold, cruel world of gun toting government lackeys that would unleash hot lead into a gaggle of elementary school students if they were merely ordered to. They were just machines with human skin in my eyes, blindly relinquishing their free will to a government that wanted to suppress the most basic of human rights in the name of communal safety (As if that justified their hidden atrocities of breaking up ‘marked’ families. Their hypocrisy made my blood boil). I did not hesitate to kill those bastards when they got in my way, nor was I prevented from feeling a grim satisfaction from the act afterwards. My fellow runners (the ones that were still loyal to the cause anyhow after that schism some time ago) worried about my vindictiveness being my undoing someday. I’ve managed to consistently prove them wrong by keeping a tight lid on those emotions when circumstances got too hot. I always fled from a fight when I knew that it was unwinnable. There was no point in martyring myself when I could still make a difference. I may be a violent bastard when push comes to shove, but I am smart enough to know when it was time to run and time to fight.

A faint beeping noise emanated from the large screen of the multiuse watch on my wrist (more of a wrist mounted GPS from its size really), and when I gave it a glance I saw a trio of dots that pulsed with every heartbeat. In fact, that’s what they were… heartbeats. I vocalized a “Huh, neat” in that same voice didn’t sound truly like my ordinary self and made me question why my dream self deviated from the norm. The gut feeling became a pinch and my legs began to stride forward of their own accord, propelling me towards the red piping leading upward. I gripped at it and clambered up like a monkey until I reached the scaffolding, grunting as I shoved aside some wires bundles to make room for myself. The scaffolding was sturdy enough to handle my weight, but small to the point where I had to belly crawl my way to the vent cover.

For such a site of high importance to the Feds, they were awfully lazy with their vent coverings. This one was affixed to the wall with regular screw bolts for cripe’s sake! I dug into my bag and produced a multi-tool with a screwdriver attachment on it and cycled through the settings before it flicked out like the beer opener on a Swiss Army knife. I unscrewed the bolts and silently removed the grated lit to set aside as a patrol of guards with the falsely peace loving emblem of an olive tree with wings and some pretentious Latin inscription on their breast passed below, their radios echoing in the hall with their crackling chatter. I slipped into the vent like a modern day ninja before any of them could randomly look upwards.

While gaining entry to the ventilation system in this building was without laborious effort on my part, maneuvering the maze it entailed once infiltrated was a wholly different matter. On top of that, the schematics for this place (which were surprisingly difficult to obtain) stated that there was a motion detecting system installed every few meters that scanned for crawlers with counterproductive intentions like myself. Thankfully, I had another nifty tool in my bag of tricks to deal with that obstacle. That mechanical mouse wasn’t just for playing hunter and prey with your pet cat, but a means for fooling system’s like these before it got close enough to unleash a burst of scrambling data that pinged the sensor’s information processers and ran a loop of the last five minutes before the mouse came scurrying up to work its magic. It was amusing to note that it squeaked like an actual mouse every time it unleashed its ping, which made me admire the designers’ apt sense of humor. This building would have a rodent issue indeed.

I expended thirty damn minutes in those vents, stopping every few meters and cueing up the controls for the M. O. U. S. E (Micronized obfuscating universal stultifying emitter) device for it to squeak and permit me undetected passage. Every next few meters, the horizontal air ducts went vertical, and I had to press my back to one side of the vent while using my feet and hands to slowly shift my weight skyward. As much as I abhorred them, the Feds weren’t entirely stupid. Sooner or later, one overly observant crony eyeing the video screen would notice something was off and alert his superiors, who would put security on the alert and flush the ducts with something undesired or seal them completely. The fact that they hadn’t sounded the alarms by now meant that they must not have installed computer monitored meta-inspecting data subroutines in the servers that were my end goal here. This could either be a fortuitous thing, or a very unfortuitous thing depending on what I extracted from those databanks. The ventilation shafts could only take me so far though, as they cut off about midway up the building. There were separate sets of shafts for ventilation in the building so that efficiency was retained and so infiltrators like me could groan in exasperation.

The only other method for reaching the top of the building where the servers were held was to use the elevators, and that required an officer’s clearance that could not be easily obtained, and the scanners in those elevators were biometric. I would need an identical retinal set keyed to a member of the personnel with appropriate access level, the code for the keypad, fingerprints… basically the whole nine yards if I wanted access to the server room. Isolating an officer and taking what I needed the hard way was out of the question. They always had a heavily armed escort and reported in even more frequently than their underlings. I had no time to waste on dilly dally and as soon as gunfire was heard (as it frequently was when I was on the job), the building would be on full lockdown, which would be problematic to my plans. As luck would have it, I came prepared for the picky elevators as well. I’d been waiting too long for this night to come here unrehearsed.

But first I’d have to get to the lifts. The vent shaft I was in terminated above a mostly empty cafeteria, with only a couple off duty Feds cruising the aisle to satisfy their pastry fix. The kitchen staff was absent, perhaps being given the night off or went home early. This was relieving, as I hated getting civvies caught between men like me and the government’s minions. I waited until they left the room bandying words about some trivial topic they disagreed on before I kicked the grill out of its moorings and caught the rim with my toes to prevent it from hitting the floor with a clatter that would undoubtedly attract attention. The vent was thirty feet from the ground, so I had to dance about the wide tops of the hanging ceiling lights before using the last one as a handhold to swing safely on top of a flat cart lined with serving trays, sliding to a halt in front of the chicken strips. Swiping a couple oily pieces and popping them into my hungry maw, I found a spot in the kitchen where I could refer to my wrist map while watching the cafeteria doors and staying out of sight.

I pulled up the map function and studied the page it displayed. There were only two cafeterias in the building the first one was at ground level. Which meant that I climbed about twenty floors to get to where I was now. The closest elevators that could take me all the way to the summit of the edifice were located five floors above me… and there was a barracks interposing itself between me and the elevator call buttons. There was a microscopic chance of me slipping past security unnoticed, so I had to get creative. An idea popped into my mind that was crazy, but just might work. The barracks that was presently an obstacle to me could also prove to be my salvation, as the Feds usually had spare uniforms stowed away in the locker rooms thanks to some kind of dress code mandating an emergency set in case the men on the security staff had to be called in from off the grid for an emergency.

It wasn’t the most refined of plans I’d admit, and I still had to reach the barracks without being spotted, but it was the only option I could think of. The heartbeat sensor would aid me immensely in this endeavor, and I used it as a crutch as I snuck through the hallways and rounded the corners. I had the M.O.U.S.E scurry through the hallways beforehand to loop the security feeds on the individual cameras, so there were no worries on that end. As this had been an office building before the government had appropriated it for their own uses, there were plenty of places like janitorial closets and dusty office cubicles for me to duck inside and wait out a passing patrol as they listlessly scanned for threats. Somewhere in the portion of their brain that wasn’t absolutely chained to unswerving obedience they probably didn’t think a threat could materialize in their midst. Their supposed hubris would leave them with egg on their face before the night was out. After ten minutes of tediously evading or hiding from the patrols, I made it to the barracks. There were a couple heartbeats inside the large room, but their slow rhythm led me to believe that it was just men snoozing or lazing in their bunks.

With a tight grip on my gun and the other on the first guard’s keycard that I had kept, I unlocked the door and carefully made my ingress. Intuition paid off again, as those lone heartbeats were punctuated by the light snores of sleeping guards. Across the spacious room was the door leading to the lockers and showers. I tiptoed past the dozing men while keeping any eye on my heartbeat sensor for any returning patrols. Flashing the keycard a third time, I closed the door to the lockers behind me. I chose a random locker to break into using a rapid code guessing app on my wristwatch and factoring in the greasy fingerprints on four digits of the number pad. The app took less than a minute to do its magic.

Meanwhile my eyes were watching the door in case of stray guards in need of turning in for a wash. If they were, then I’d give them a hosing down of bullets. Gunfire would inevitably set off the alarms, but non-conducive as that was, there was always that part of me that was itching for a fight. I was fortunate that no such event occurred, as the fatigues inside the locker were only a marginally bigger fit on me rather than smaller, which would have cost more time that I did not have the luxury of wasting. I checked the name on a miniscule black and white patch on the blue urban camouflage chest fabric and it read ‘Branton’. As an afterthought, it was an unusual name, but it was disyllabic like mine and of no consequence to me. I donned it, some combat boots, and a fully enclosed helmet from a rack on the locker door to shadow my face from unfriendly eyes.

Even in this disguise, anyone who knew me by this name would strike up a chat or address me the dutiful way, and if I responded wrong, they’d suspect something. The Feds also followed established routines, so men wandering the corridors on their own would be instantly inconspicuous. I exited the locker and proceeding barracks and made for the stairs. Using the radio on my vest, I could also keep an ear fixed on their communications. The thumping in my chest rose in frequency as I heard one patrol reporting a discrepancy with one of the crates in the garage, likely the one I smuggled myself in from the sound of it. Mobile One dismissed their concerns and passed the empty crate off as incompetence on the shipping company’s part. I chortled at that. The shipping company they were using for their hardware shipments was one of the few that supported our resistance movement, though they did so seldomly for fear of being uncovered by the Feds. My employer had a few friends in their ranks however, so I got a free ticket inside the compound.

Jogging up the stairs of the fire escape until I was at the level where the nearest full scale elevators were, I opened the door to the shock of a man on duty there, who soon composed himself and spoke to me.

“What are you going by yourself, officer?” He asked formally.

“I have business on this floor” I said in a sandpapery voice.

“You sound like shit, man” He observed bluntly.

“Yeah. I’ve got a bit of a sore throat” I rasped in pretend.

“If so, then you should be res-…” He read my name patch and smiled, “Branton! You’re supposed to be on the detail shadowing Agent Neilson to City Hall for the annual Convention. What happened?”

I rubbed at the back of my head as I cooked up a believable excuse, “He found somebody else for his security detail that he deemed ‘adequately sufficient’ and made me look like chopped liver in front of the guys is what”

He fought down a chuckle as he dipped his head, “That sounds like the self superior jaghole alright. My condolences. Hey, have you heard from Gary in the last twenty minutes? He isn’t answering any of my texts, ” He took out his phone and checked the message screen in emphasis, “Nope, still nothing”

“Think he’s clocked out already (‘In more ways than one’). He better treat his lady right, or I might move in on his turf and show him up” I boasted semi truthfully. Too bad dating those working for the Feds was against the rules.

He crooked his head in confusion, “Aren’t you with a dame already? Leslie, I think was her name? Brunette, nice hips, chesty as hell too. I’m jealous of you man”

I shrugged without a care, “Don’t be. She stepped out on me. Think she has a grudge against the people I work for” Though I guarantee that any grudge of hers could be trumped by mine any day of the week.

“You reckon she’s one of the sympathizers?” He asked conspiratorially in a whisper, as if his bosses might hear him and take offense to him even broaching the touchy topic.

Up and down went the shoulders again, “I never bothered her about it and she never told me”

“She might be red flagged, dude. You don’t want them examining you in depth due to association. It’s unpleasant, trust me. It’s probably for the best that you two split” Then his lips curled pruriently, “But I get the sloppy seconds if she’s nonpartisan”

I scoffed, “That’s disgusting. Anyways, can you let me get back to what I was doing? I’d like to use the elevator and then leave this glorified hovel we waste away in”
“Why take the stairs up if you wanted to leave?” He poked holes in my logic.

I was above his rational retorts, “I have special business upstairs that I’m in no position to elaborate on without putting my job in jeopardy, what with it being classified material. Please… Nelson” I fake begged, skimming his name patch, “I’ll owe you a huge solid for this”

“Have the big wigs turned you into their errand boy?” Then he grinned wolfishly, “You cover my expenses the next time we have a trip to the bar together, and you’ve got yourself a deal” He held out his hand, which I cautiously accepted and shook, “Great. Now hurry off before my supervisor sees me shooting the breeze with you”

No need to be told twice, “Will do. See ya, Nelson” I waved back to him as I stalked down the hall.

“Don’t forget to set aside half your check for this weekend!” He called to me in humored tones, “I’m a heavy drinker, remember?”

I waggled my hand absently in the air as I ignored him, perturbing thoughts cycling in my mind. These people were no friends of mine and never would be. Though I was having greater difficulty with demonizing them the more I interacted with them and the more words were exchanged instead of bullets. These people wouldn’t be so friendly if they truly knew my purpose here, yet seeing their humanity reminded me that we were all just people in the end. People caught on opposite ends of an argument that went deeper than just who was in charge, but who was in charge of determining our destinies. The Feds considered individuality and resistance to being told how to live one’s life to be dangerous characteristics that had no place in their false ideas of utopia. Kids went to government funded schools to be ‘educated’, or indoctrinated really, as to what their role in life was and how they could best serve their country by offering all they were to Big Brother. The resistance, by whatever names it went by, is soundly opposed to this. We stress the ideals of self determinism for all denizens of the nation. The government was meant to serve the people and provide an environment for them to flourish, not the other way around.

But I was just a runner, an up-jumped courier and unspoken hero in the fight against the oppressive government. People like me simply didn’t have the time for an active social life outside of their job, even less so in my case. I couldn’t have one, not after they ruined my chances at a normal life, one that was unshackled to the conflict being waged in the shadows and on the city rooftops. My lot in life was consigned to delivering important packages, maintaining the verbal communications network between resistance cells, and the occasional snuffing out of a particularly brutal government official pushing for a violent crackdown on society; a tactic they were all too willing to adhere to in the opposite situation. As I reflected on that ultimate tidbit, I was consumed with vengeful urges that made me clench my fists until my nails dug into my flesh, though the part of me that still saw this as nothing more than a dream was puzzled that it couldn’t recall why that roused me to anger. I shook my head fervently as the elevators came into sight. It mattered naught. I had a duty to fulfill, and a means of vengeance to exact from those who so dearly deserved it.

With the elevators out of range from the surveillance cameras, I loosened my outfit and unstrapped my pack of versatile goodies. From its contents within the second zipper, I produced a dual capsule piece containing specially forged contact lenses that would fool the retinal scan into confirming it as some significant official on the Feds payroll, tape strips stamped with the fingerprints of that man, a recorder with the verbal code that was cunningly lifted from the official via a bug attached to his safe, and a sheet of paper with numbers on it… because even I couldn’t memorize every passcode out there. The panel for summoning the lift was a complex thing, with a speaker grill, a number pad, and the retinal scanner.

I had to do a little dance and jig for my ticket to the peak floor of the edifice to be punched, but soon the express elevator was on its way. I finished stripping and disposing of my disguise apparel in the lift. I reserved no doubts that my usage of the lift was noted in some kind of log, so as I entered my means of conveyance to the top floor, I stuck the block of plastic explosives I carried with me to the ceiling light fixture (no cameras in the elevator meant that I could keep it a surprise) and primed the detonator. I couldn’t risk a remote detonation failing, so I also set it on a dead man’s switch of six minutes. The initial estimates of how much time was required to carry out my objective left with me a couple minutes of leeway to disable it if I felt it necessary, which was unlikely. Once the bomb went off, it would destroy the elevator I was presently in while also disabling its twin in the adjacent shaft, thus preventing any reinforcements from ruining my evening. As an additional measure, I pressed every floor button on the console to keep the elevator as unavailable to security as possible.

The expeditious elevator stopped at the top floor of the building with a ding and the doors gaped wide. The spacy main server room was bathed in white light, giving off the impression of immaculate purity, though a man like me knew better than to entertain that idea for more than an attosecond. The windows had an extreme tint to them that severely restricted what would have been a stunning panorama of the city’s edge next to the river. There were elevated grated catwalks that crisscrossed the room and permitted access between multiple rows of server core modules, which were stacked atop the other like the building blocks holding up an oppressive government. That wasn’t the cleverest analogy I could devise, but it seemed the simplest. The aisles between servers were narrow and terminated abruptly, which gave the place the impression of a being a maze. The room was also bristling with cameras, the closest of which were rotating to center on me and my handsome mug. There were too many cameras for me to obfuscate with the M.O.U.S.E, so I beamed brightly as I walked forward, held out both arms to form a T shape, extended my middle fingers, and did a trio of spins as I waltzed into one of the government’s most closely guarded dirty secrets in the most defiant manner I was capable of.

In the middle of the room was a raised platform of slick white material bringing to mind the sheeny case of a music player, which I had to climb onto the catwalks to reach. Standing erect in the center of that platform was an access terminal that would suit me nicely. The feminine, artificial voice of the P.A loudly announced that there was an unauthorized intruder in the Black Zone and that security forces were being dispatched to deal with me. There were only two elevators (for the moment) that could bring the Feds up here, and they were only roomy enough to transport eight to ten armed soldiers at a time, which were odds that I could cope with if I used the labyrinth like passages of the server banks as firing lanes. They would essentially have to bottleneck themselves in this room filled with expensive hardware. Unless they brought in reinforcements from the roof by way of helicopter, which wouldn’t very inconspicuous to the public, who would demand to know what the people in power were hiding here. I was putting the Feds between a rock and a hard place before I had even bloodied their noses, which augmented my morale and increased my resolution to see this night to its climax.

I approached the terminal and tapped a random button to light the screen up. The message displayed notified me that all access was revoked until the proper codes could be input. I did not possess these codes, and they updated them every other day, so my contacts could not help me with that. Auspiciously for me, they didn’t need to lift a finger to aid me in extracting what my employers wanted from this place. Pulling out the carbon fiber casing in my pack, I plugged it in and powered it up, the device thrummed once before tiny clicks emanated from its internal mechanisms. The screen distorted before reverting to a basic black background with green lettering, which soon proliferated as a stream of code was analyzed before my eyes.

As I began to work, I heard only the barest traces of shoe padding treading the catwalk to my right. The Five seveN was out and ready for trouble, instincts honed from years of experience automatically guiding my movements with a smooth hand, whipping it in the direction of the disturbance. The interloper paused some ten paces away from me and held their hands up in a placating gesture, retaining the rare sense of a rational thinker and not some goon hired by the Feds to babysit their stuff. My vision shifted the barest amount until I was able to recognize the form and shape of this person in my side view, though I did not implicitly trust them yet.

“Ah-ah-ah! Not one step closer… Faith” I commanded, my eyes not leaving the terminal screen in front of me, “After that nasty run in with the splinter faction last year, I’m not taking any chances” I kept her in my peripherals with my finger on the trigger, in case she might have joined them.

It was rather unlikely though, the girl was an idealistic Free Runner who shared my distaste for the domineering regime, through and through. She wasn’t too shabby to look at either, albeit that could have been my partially Asian ancestry speaking to me. Being a walking melting pot, I found beauty in many an ethnic group. Now was not the time to muse on my preferences when it came to females though. Speaking of, the woman was clothed in a black jumpsuit similar to mine with a courier’s bag with pouches strapped diagonally to her chest. The difference between our outfits was that hers had these garish yellow streaks running up and down the shoulders, and her crimson gloves were fingerless for improved tactile sensation instead of grip. On one of her arms were tattoos that reminded me of circuitry, though the most mysterious of those marks was the one under her right eye, reminiscent of two inky spikes and adding to her exotic factor.

She kept her hands held in a nonthreatening gesture of compliance, “Easy… Runner, I’m on your side” She said, using the standard, if not unoriginal, impersonal greeting that runners gave each other when meeting on neutral terms, “How’d you know it was me?”

“We have worked together enough times that your gait has become recognizable. No matter how stealthily you try sneak up on me, I’ll know it’s you” I answered idly as I holstered my pistol and returned to what I was doing, judging her as friendly. My fingers tapped up a storm on the console in a non peck typing style, another weird detail with this dream that didn’t match myself. Part of me was speaking the words to the woman, another part that wasn’t me thought of what to say. To have such dissonance with dominance over my body was disconcerting, but I passed it off as unimportant.

‘This dream gets more confusing with every passing moment’ Lucidity was supposed to rationalize things, wasn’t it?

She stifled a chuckle, “I don’t know whether to feel flattered or worried by that”

“Neither” I curtly clarified for her, “I have a meticulous mind for these details. How did you infiltrate this building?”

She pointed her index finger skywards, “The roof. I called in a favor from somebody who snuck me in on one of those Skycrates they use to ship replacements parts for the two dozen or so air conditioning units they have here. The rest was just exploiting the camera’s blind spots and waiting for you to show up. You’ve got a pair on you if you’re thinking you can take down the Feds in their den all alone. They’ve hired PK as the guard dog for this place. They’re well funded private security with intimate ties to the government, and should not be taken lightly or be engaged alone. I had a few run-ins with them before, and they nearly killed me each time. I’m here to back you up so the same doesn’t happen to you”

I involuntarily spared her a cursory sidelong glance, “I’m not strictly alone on this solo operation. A.I.M, what’s our status?”

Two electronic voices, one male and the other female, which were overlapped over the other responded from the grill speakers on my wrist mounted computed, “Initiating data slicing subroutines… spooling… spooling. Slicing sequence initiated. Time to completion… five minutes, twenty eight seconds. I have also commandeered other systems linked to this building and beyond. Recommend doing a perimeter sweep to check for and neutralize hostile patrols. The Runner designated Faith might prove an invaluable asset in achieving successful data extraction and egress”

The device pulsed with every word it spoke, and Faith peered at the device with barely concealed shock, “I forgot that you have a thing for serious tech. Where did you get that?”

“I ambushed a military convoy disguised as common eighteen wheeler freight. Took months for me to track the damn route down and assemble a crack team with a death wish to stage the ambush” I grumbled, and her eyes seemed to shine with amusement.

“And that… hard drive was the prize?” She guessed, bemused. This was probably the longest conversation we’ve had in over a year, so I couldn’t blame her for fumbling with her words.

“Not specifically, no. My… employer, shall we say, believed that the convoy was delivering a new shipment of crowd dispersing firearms to deal with the recent string of civil protests in the streets that the CPF couldn’t disperse on its own without resorting to lethal force. Instead I secured myself a prototype Artificial Intelligence Matrix and some other cool toys worth quite a pretty penny. My employer let me keep some of them as a token of our cooperation and friendship, which was kind of her” That invaluable package I carried for her almost two years ago opened up a brand new door chocked full of lucrative opportunities. My employer and the people she associated with doubtlessly benefited more from the info in that package than me, but I wasn’t in this for the money.

‘Many Bothans died to bring us this information’ I mentally japed, which that other part of me that somehow wasn’t me found inordinately funny.

“I ran interference for you on the job that garnered you the extra attention, didn’t I?” She retorted, “I don’t recall receiving so much as a thank you for it either”

“Thanks” I sarcastically obliged her, “And you were doing a wonderful job of it, until the Feds realized that something was amiss and sent choppers laden with their fearless enforcers after me. The situation looked sketchy, but instead of perfecting the art of the fail, I powered through fighting tooth and nail” I summed up with a shrug, “Bastards tried to drop a building on top of me in their fervor. First time I’ve had that happen” And merciful lord above willing, I prayed it was the last.

She laughed, a pleasant sound from a pretty face, “Ha! That was because of you!? They covered that up as a faulty demolitions triggering, and you downplay being the real reason cool as a cucumber. Spoken like a true blockade runner” She crossed her arms together and frowned, “Bringing down the building on top of you was a bit excessive even for the government in its efforts to rid itself of us runners. Many bystanders minding their business below were injured by falling debris; one of them was the niece of wealthy politician who exited out of the scene. You inadvertently gave him second thoughts about that choice. Now Candidate Forester’s following is well on its way to becoming the dominant voting party”

I scowled, “Don’t you know that the elections are rigged? Half the time the leader of the progressive party doesn’t even live to see the people cast their ignored ballots. Forester will be no different”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me, “Have you always been this cynical? The populace is inflamed by how intrusive the Feds have gotten, thanks to the carefully leaked information that we have been acquiring and that our clients have been dispensing publicly. Nothing is forbidden to the rampant regime, and folks are just beginning to realize that and stand against it vehemently. Our efforts will fan the flames until it becomes an inferno” She stood confidently as she spouted her zeal, “There is a prospect for positive change in the future, all due in part to our tireless work”

A.I.M intervened before I could reply, “Runners. Scans indicate that you both are in for a round of unpleasant company. Security has overridden my owner’s primitive yet effective delaying tactics and forced both lifts to head straight for this level. I estimate sixteen individuals total. All are undeniably armed and dangerous. Recommend caution when engaging”

I sighed and un-holstered my gun, “Might as well give them a warm welcome” I let A.I.M resume slicing and dicing the encrypted data so vital to this mission and made to greet our guests.

“Woah, woah!” Faith stepped in front of me, “The doors to those elevators are going to open and over two dozen guys are going to pour out of them spitting hot lead. Are you bulletproof?”

“My torso area is adequately protected” I assured her, sidling past her and down the stairs of the catwalk, “And I have a nasty surprise awaiting half of that number” I brought up my wrist computer and cued the application for remote detonation of the plastic explosive I hid in one of the elevators.

One tap of a digital detonation button later and the floor rocked violently from the reverberations of the bomb, the lights overhead flickered sporadically before they shifted to a red, the warning siren began blaring like a wounded banshee, and the P.A system announced that the building was under assault and that the authorities were mobilizing all units in the region to converge here. Faith looked at me in concern before I gave her a look saying ‘This is how I roll. Either get with the program or go home’, to which she inhaled and steadied herself. She seemed exasperated that she was putting up with my reckless modus operandi, but she was in too deep to withdraw herself now.

“You have a weapon?” I asked her, taking out the clip of my pistol to ensure that it was at full capacity with one in the chamber before shunting it back into the gun with a shuffling scrape.

She shook her head, “That’s not how I normally do things. We should just grab what we need, trash the server banks, and leave” She spoke as if from personal experience.

“The timer for A.I.M’s extensive work has to expire before we just up and go. You can’t always take flight, Faith” I told her, “Sometimes you got to hunker down and fight. I’ll draw their fire and focus their attention on me. You see an opportunity to attack, you take it”

She was about to argue, but the doors to the undamaged elevator slid open and flashbangs were tossed into the room. I lost track of Faith as my instincts kicked in again. I took cover in a depression behind the stairs where there was a groove in the ground allowing passage beneath a row of server banks to perform maintenance. The flashbangs went off with an explosion of light and tremendous bang that had my ears ringing despite covering them. Men in combat gear came forth in groups of two wielding compact submachine guns and body armor. I briefly took aim and squeezed off a round. A flash of the muzzle was accompanied by a spray of blood as the bullet tore through a man’s unarmored jugular and he went down with a thud. His partner on the right saw where the fire came from and unloaded the clip of his submachine gun in my direction. I ducked down into the makeshift trench as the bullets impacted harmlessly overhead, with some hitting the bullet resistant glass encasing one of the server banks and spider-webbing it with ugly cracks.

“Watch your fire you fools!” An aggravated voice that I vaguely recognized yelled over the constant screaming of the siren, “That equipment is worth more than any of you would make in ten of your lifetimes! If any of it is damaged in any way, then it’s on your head! Kill the culprit only if you have a clear shot away from the servers!”

They were warned against accidentally destroying the server equipment, and they only knew that I was here with them. That could prove advantageous in this fight. I crept to my left and rolled in between a row of banks underneath the glass caging. A duo of men passed by as they swept over the area I was previously and notified their leader over the radio. I scaled the groove and opened the door to the glass cage before rounding the corner to begin stalking my clueless enemy. Faith hadn’t made her move yet, though I was reasonably sure that she was doing the same, but from above in the poorly lit area above the top row of servers. Singling out the most isolated duo of government lackeys, I dropkicked the one on the right, sending him sprawling forward onto his face, and shot his partner in the ankle as I landed none too gently on the ground.

The howling man accidentally pulled the trigger to his suppressed automatic weapon and discharged bullets all over the place, two of them striking me in the chest like a one-two punch but failing to penetrate the reactive gel in my protective wear, as well as weakening the glass to several server banks and demolishing a tiny section of the outside glass panels, exposing the room to the outside elements. I ended his misery with a follow up shot to his chin and painted his helmet with brain matter. The man on the floor hastily got to his feet and spun around with his weapon ready, my foot sprang forward and kicked his aim aside as I did the same to him. With the penetration values of the bullets I was using, it wasn’t really necessary for me to exploit their unarmored regions, but it was a judicious practice that I stuck to.

The Five seveN roared like a particularly peeved beast though, and as soon as my weapon had gone off, everybody knew precisely where I was. I heard and saw on my heartbeat sensor that two squads in the vicinity were running my way and about to close off my only avenues of escape, which was when Faith made her move. Dropping down from above as one squad rounded the bend, she landed on the shoulders of one shocked security guard and used her momentum to spin around with her legs wrapped around his neck. The man let out a strangled croak and lost his footing, tumbling to the clean floor in a heap. She latched on to his helmet and punched down into his throat, stunning him and preventing him from throwing her off as she strangled him into a state of unconsciousness. His partner had noticed what was going on and skid in his tracks before rotating in place with his gun trained on the woman. He was about to pump Faith full of lead when I unloaded three cartridges of 5.7×28mm into his spine, causing him to fall bonelessly to his knees before plunking his face onto the floor tiles. I sensed gratitude in her brown eyes as an unspoken understanding passed between us.

I accessed our surroundings with the heartbeat sensor and noted that the men were pulling back to the elevators after our demonstration, “They appear to be holding off at the moment. They know we can pick them apart if they split up” I searched the bodies of the dead security officers and lifted two grenades that they had no need for anymore.

She stared at me peculiarly, “I don’t remember you being so composed when the bullets started flying, nor so serious when they were. Usually you’d be grinning like a madman when your blood was up”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think” I countered, pressing on the magazine catch by the trigger of the pistol to eject the nearly half emptied clip. When given some breathing room by your opponents, always reload the weapon. It’s far better to have a full magazine at all times.

She wasn’t pleased with this response, I could tell, “Well do you at least have a plan for dealing with these bastards? I’m not proud of my uselessness in these cramped spaces, and it’s unlikely that they’ll continue to let us divide and conquer”

“You’re doing fine, Faith” I assuaged her with sincere words, “Our plan is simple. Observe our enemies and react accordingly, as dictated by the circumstances” I inserted the fresh mag and felt the urge to pull the slide back to chamber a round despite there already being one in there, “At least take a sidearm with you. There’s not much space to maneuver in here the way we’re used to, so guns will have to be the order of the day”

She shuddered but acquiesced, “Firearms make me feel dirty. It doesn’t help that I feel like a trapped bird in this glass and metal cage”

“The beneficial news is that they want to protect their invaluable servers more than they want us dead, so sticking by those should make them hesitate with pulling the trigger. Plus I have a few tricks on my sleeve” I reminded her, before raising my left arm to my mouth in emphasis and speaking into the miniscule microphone on the wrist computer, “A.I.M, can you get me the camera feed to this floor?” If we knew where our opponents were, we could outmaneuver them if they chose offense.

“Indeed I can, Runner” It responded in a hushed voice, “Diverting camera feeds to your device. I’ve taken the liberty of presenting you with the closest one to your adversaries. Audio was scrambled from the stun grenades, but I’ve rebooted it for your convenience” It added, sounding eager to please us despite its lack of a true personality.

The screen on my wrist computer switched to a fuzzy camera feed of the remainder of the security forces huddled by the elevators. Berating them and giving frenzied commands was a classily suited man who had a hand in making me who I was today.

“Andersen” I growled, “The fates are smiling on me tonight, for they have delivered you to me”

“You know this man?” Faith questioned, unsettled by the concentrated venom in my tone.

“I know that he’s a dead man walking” I seethed, grinding my teeth, “Leave him to me. He is mine to kill”

Faith cringed at the unadulterated hatred in my voice and watched the screen as the men nodded to their leader, equipped breathing filtration gear, and pulled out multiple cylinders with troubling markings stamped on them before yanking at the rings and tossing them our way, “Wait… what are they doing? Are those…?”

“Tear gas canisters. Not something we want in our lungs” I realized, before indicating to the corpses, “Quick, put on their gas masks!”

We frenetically ripped the M50 masks off of their persons and donned them straightaway, right as the obscuring smoke began to fog around the spot we where hunched down in. I made a single glance down at the screen and confirmed that our antagonists had not moved, likely waiting for reinforcements from below since they hadn’t the manpower to overwhelm us now. Faith and I couldn’t handle too many men, or we’d be overrun. I motioned at her using standard silent Runner signs for her to create a diversion to draw most of them away from their positions, handing her both of the submachine guns from our felled opponents. She understood my meaning and stalked off to set up her ambush. With two guns and the thick smoke limiting everyone’s field of vision, she could reasonably trick our opponents into believing that both of us were in one place when the reality was not so. If she was persuasive, I could use the distraction to toss a grenade into the last elevator’s doors when they opened and permanently deal with that threat.

I switched to thermal video imaging and studied the screen on my watch closely, feeling somewhat impressed that Faith was still sneaky enough to bypass the viewing fields of the cameras. I repositioned myself by running up the window to jump onto the glass caging of a server bank before traveling to the other side of the room from there. The popping report of dual gunfire erupting and men shouting as some were hit and returned fire occurred to my left as I palmed my grenades like they were precious jewels. Once I had tiptoed into the space in front of the elevators, I discovered another dead security guard lying in a pool of his own blood as his comrades fought to avenge him in the fog. There couldn’t have been more than three of them left at this point, and if they were foolish enough to fall for our tricks then we might pull this off. I pulled the rings to the grenades and held them primed for a two second delay until detonation. The elevator arrived promptly within the next ten seconds and its occupants had those two seconds to let out a strangled curse before they were engulfed in flames of orange and yellow. The sheer force of the blast severed the lift from its cables and it plummeted below to crater into its final resting place.

I heard a yell of rage behind me as the man I had waited over eight years to kill finally showed his face in person. I felt him tackle me to the floor and my grip on my pistol was wrenched away as he turned me about and pummeled at my face with his meaty paws. I begrudgingly let it go and brought my arms up to defend my rugged good looks. Agent Andersen wasn’t liable to recognize me with the gas mask covering most of my features, but I knew his shape, his impatient movements, and the jagged scar on his nose that he probably earned for being a ruthless murderer. I also know that he was personally responsible for the deaths of at least fifty of our people, leading covert assaults on dens where the resistance movement coalesced its numbers. They barely had the slightest warnings from the outside sentries before his men had charges planted on our doors and stun grenades at the ready. Taken off guard as they were, each of the resistance cells they assailed were slaughtered almost to the very last man.

Before all of that bloodshed, the man was part of a botched assassination job involving my father at our lakeside cabin over the waters of a lake. It had been a secondary home that we infrequently used for vacation when my mother had still been amongst the living. Before the regime rose to power, my father was an influential member of the old government and was respected among his peers and rivals alike for establishing a common ground between opposing parties. It came as no surprise that the regime would crave having him onboard to support their new platform of safety and security through acts of wiretapping, (then) illicit subterfuge, and intimidation. They increased the budget for both defense projects and police forces to put them in their pocket, they limited and outright forbid certain rights of the citizens that were ‘unsafe’ for them to exercise, and began a wave of surveillance reforms that gave them eyes on even nonthreatening places that were ordinarily mundane. I grumblingly concede that this government did maximize efficiency and praised shrewd stewardship over the environment, championing renewable energy as the primary energy source for the country. For his future role in ridding them of what they perceived as a substantial challenger, they would elevate Andersen to his current position as one of their loyal attack dogs.

Why did I hate Andersen so much? Well, when my father refused to jump on the bandwagon of the newly elected administration, the regime officials saw this as a blatant act of defiance and considered him a possible risk to their consolidating power. So they scheduled an unofficial ‘accident’ to take place as my father and I sojourned to our privately owned picturesque cabin in the woods for ‘Some quality time together away from the worries of the world’ as he ironically put it. Officially, the tale was spun so that I was to take the blame for the murder of my father; supposedly shooting the man in his sleep and setting the cabin alight as I fled the scene. This fabricated story was only so because I was awake sipping at my iced coffee when they broke into the place, aspiring to find us easy kills. I ran to the fireplace to retrieve our aging eight gauge, double barreled hunting shotgun and tore it off the rack nailed over the mantelpiece. I leveled it at the two men who were to silence me and the massive buckshot rounds gibbed them in that close quarters range. Seeing that his comrades were messily dispatched, the last assassin drew his suppressed gun and was about to kill me as I fumbled with reloading the clunky weapon’s tubes. Instead my father had heard the racket and was awake. He saw the peril I was in and lunged at the assassin to throw the man’s aim off, swinging his fists and shouting like a man whose home had been invaded.

Brave as he was, my father was a retired politician, not a fighter. All the cussing assassin had to do was backpedal and dodge my father’s nigh rabid hooks until he had a clear shot, which he took no less than six times. As my father sunk to his knees and spat up blood, I screamed in despair and sought to kill his murderer. But the bald man recognized that he had achieved his task and bugged out as the wood where his head had previously been splintered into a thousand fragments, but not before he glowered at me for making his job more complicated… which permitted me to memorize his facial characteristics after I had committed his gruff voice to memory, which was a mistake he would come to rue someday. He detonated an incendiary charge that set the cabin on fire as he ran into the woods, hoping to destroy all evidence of what happened there. The conflagration spread ravenously, and I had only a short amount of time before the flames threatened to consume us.

I was hardly into my adult years as I cradled my dying father in my arms and sobbed like a lost child. His last gurgled words were a plea to me that I would run, run from these men who had taken everything from me in one fell swoop and live my life freely. He begged me to take the hatch under the living room rug that we used for swimming in the lake that the cabin was suspended over, caressing my cheek once before going limp in my arms and giving up the ghost. I shut his eyes with my trembling fingers and gingerly set him down as the fire blazed around us, feeling strangely calm inside. I honored his final wishes and escaped a death by cooking alive, swimming to an island overgrown with foliage in the middle of the lake where I could wait out the men who were unquestionably watching the cabin turn to cinders to verify that there were no survivors.

A day came and went before I crawled ashore on northwest end of the lake with a different kind of fire affecting me. A burning desire for revenge. My father had emergency sums of money stowed away on offshore accounts he told me about that were not accessible to the government, and in the event of his death, would be dispensed to me… along with passports and falsified documentation, presumably for undergoing an identity change. They were accounts that I could use to easily disappear, but instead I used the wherewithal to purchase equipment and train rigorously for the day that I could exact my vengeance on the people who were directly involved in my father’s senseless murder. They couldn’t even respect his memory, indicating him in several false unsavory acts that depicted him as a relic from a corrupt and rotted past, inciting me to further heights of fury. It didn’t even register with me that I was accused of being the one to kill him. The evidence at the crime scene had been altered as to best inculpate me as the likeliest suspect, with the charred bodies of the assassins claimed as my father’s protection detail. This was corroborated my total disappearance, which admittedly did not lend me much credence as to my innocence in the matter. Not that I had much of a choice between that and being put in kangaroo court and being subsequently ‘disappeared’ while on the truck to prison.

With my unflattering unsmiling face photo plastered all over the nation’s news agency feeds and a ridiculous backstory made up by government investigators of my sociopathic tendencies being kept a secret by my father until it killed him being narrated by grinning bimbos with unnaturally white teeth, it was not long until I was anonymously contacted my somebody who personally knew my father, and by extension myself through him. He didn’t believe a single spoon-fed word of what the recently established regime had to say about my father or myself, and offered me a choice. I could remain in the shadows preparing to wage a one man war against a government that could lazily snuff me out the second I materialized from hiding, or I could wage it alongside a newly created movement that operated out of the public eye, delivering messages and packages between clients whose interests aligned with ours. Knowing that it was the best opportunity for vengeance that I could wish for, I accepted and joined the nascent liberty seeking Runners. They taught me how to make best use of the environment to facilitate my movement, showing me the ins and outs of making a drop, coaching me in underground training facilities far removed from the government’s notice, and instructing me on keeping cool when the situation grew hot.

Back in the present, Andersen had left an opening that I exploited, catching his fist and punching him in the face with the force required to crack the eye lens on his mask. His head whipped back from the blow and shifted enough of his weight for me to toss him off with a heaving motion. We both got to our feet and rushed at each other with murderous intent in our eyes. Andersen’s style of fighting resembled dirty boxing, trying for grapples to the neck to hold opponents in place as they sustained withering uppercuts, elbows, and knees to the face. To counter this, I slid and spun away his attempts to grab me. I wasn’t the greatest at martial arts, preferring to just shoot my enemies (I was lucky that Andersen was vicious enough that he chose to beat an opponent into submission first before killing them with guns) instead of smacking them about. Still, as I danced around my hated enemy, I felt my body begin to move in ways that I had never trained in. I countered Andersen’s hooks and haymakers by intercepting them at their fulcrum before striking at his body’s pressure points with my fists.

My body stance was like a rod of bamboo, firm yet flexible, rooted yet unyielding. I idly wondered where all this Feng Shui nonsense came into play, but didn’t complain since it was granting me the ability to kick this man’s ass, which he was sorely in need of. Any punches of his that made it through my solid defense were absorbed as I adjusted for the sudden shocks like a human block of gelatin. Andersen’s inability to find any weaknesses in my defense made him angry, which in turn made him act rashly and foolishly. Two minutes into our clash I blocked a sluggish lead fisted overhand swing and kissed his solar plexus with my knuckles and everything I had, essentially driving the wind out of him and engendering him to take a few steps back. He vocalized a muffled cursed at my obstinacy and his hand slipped into his suit, undoubtedly clutching for his gun. I saw the shiny silver of a Desert Eagle’s chrome casing aimed right at my forehead and his fingers tensing at the trigger before a single shot rang out.

Andersen yowled as the high powered pistol clattered to the floor, along with a few of his fingers attached. He held up the afflicted hand and gaped at the fleshy ruin sprouting from his palms, where bits of bone could be faintly seen. He backpedaled in the direction of the elevator, the doors of which had been ripped ajar from the grenade blast. I seized the opportunity presented to me and darted full steam ahead before putting all of my weight into a dropkick, sending him careening into the black maw waiting to swallow him up. In a last desperate attempt to save his sorry skin, he grasped at the edges of the elevator doors to keep from tumbling over the precipice. I retrieved my Five seveN and immediately shot his uninjured left hand, destroying his grip with that hand as his bloodied right began to slip from the lubrication of the sanguine fluid.

As I prepared to finish him off, I switched my gun to my left hand and grabbed him by his fashionable suit tie to pull him close to me with my right, “For my Father” I whispered, and his gray eyes widened as he recognized me. My pistol barked and his right hand was obliterated as I callously let go of him, resulting in Andersen taking the express route earthward. For such a vociferous man in life, he was remarkably quiet on the way down to his death.

“A.I.M!” I snapped commandingly to the wrist computer, my need for vengeance partially satiated, “Filter this room for me please! I’m sick of wearing this frigging mask!”

The pint sized artificial intelligence obeyed, and the vents in the room roared to life as they worked overtime to flush the tear gassed room and replace the fouled air with unadulterated oxygen. I did away with my gas mask and breathed deeply of the recycled but now purified atmosphere, under the impression like a massless weight had been lifted from my shoulders. There was an abrupt sound of a submachine being discarded and I turned about-face. A likewise unmasked Faith wandered up to my side looking a bit worse for wear, covered in scrapes and scuffs along with a sizable chunk of shredded flesh by her bicep where a bullet tore clean through in a close call, the wound now oozing with blood. I saw this injury and was concerned for her. We had worked in coordination loosely before, but this was the first time we faced down death together and came out on top, so she had earned my implicit trust.

“So you finally killed him, huh? He and the last of his men were pinning me down by one of the servers when he heard the explosion and realized that he had been duped. I was preoccupied but got back here in time to prevent him from putting one in that skull. Though with how thick that thing is, chances are the round would’ve bounced off” She apologized as my expression let her know how unamused I was by her jest, “Feel any better?” She asked, not unkindly.

“I’m underwhelmed, honestly” I admitted. It was half a lie and half the absolute truth, “Though if I wasn’t a proper gent, I’d kiss you for creating that opening for me” That I meant unanimously.

“It’s a shame you’re such a prude then” She retorted lightheartedly, eyeing me indecipherably.

“Anyways… you’re wounded” I stated the obvious, ignoring her teasing, “Here. Let me help you” I unzipped a pouch on my pack containing a container with analgesic foam that would also speed along the healing process while stanching the blood loss.

She tried to dismiss it, “Ah, it’s not a big deal” She said, hissing as I applied the heady smelling foam to disinfect the wound.

“Just a flesh wound, as it were?” I replied with a smirk. The Monty Python reference had her chuckling. Both halves of me thought up that reference, and now both sides were arguing over who conceived it first.

She stood on one foot and shook her right leg, “My leg’s not off, so I’m in relatively okay shape all things considered”

‘You gotta love a girl who can share your appreciation for cliché humor’ A part of me missed making allusions that other understood, though the other part had no idea why.

“I see our senses of humor are still intact” I dryly observed, wrapping the wounded area in sterile gauze. After that was done, I began to climb up the stairs and towards the platform where the visual display terminal was standing, unscathed from all of the violence that had taken place in the form of bullets and shrapnel. Though most of that had been constrained to below the stair level.

“A.I.M. Is this terminal linked to the grid perchance? Do you have access to all telecommunication networks from here?” I inquired of the glorified talking supercomputer in a can as I approached the terminal, the case containing the artificial intelligence was still hooked in and was wreaking havoc with the Fed’s information systems, as well as bypassing its security and downloading data simultaneously. A.I.M was truly one of a kind, worth countless dollars, and would prove central in eroding the government’s remaining credibility with the uninformed public.

“Indeed I do have full media access, Runner. Additionally, every satellite owned by the nation is now permanently under our control” It chirped cheerfully, “Do you wish to patch yourself through? I have several pre-written inspiring, call to action speeches at your disposal should you desire to utilize them. Furthermore, my data slicing subroutines have run their course. We need only extract ourselves before your mission is complete”

“That’s great news, but I think I’ll speak from the heart on this one” I told it in a genuinely relieved voice, “Now lets see if we can make some history”

I stood in front of the screen camera of the terminal, my face dirty with sweat and drying blood that wasn’t mine from the intense firefight just prior, and spoke into the microphone, “Citizens of the City, we interrupt your regularly scheduled bullshit to bring you a message. I’m here with a friend in the recently torn up server room located at the top of a seemingly abandoned edifice in the Golden Condor District” Camera feeds of the room we were in were shown to me and the viewers on the mirroring screen, showcasing the server banks used to store and encode the information gained from the government’s acts of unregulated surveillance, “In this chamber are stored all the events of your daily lives. From the time that you sat down with your favorite bowl of bran flakes to when you pulled the blankets over yourself to get some shuteye. Every single thing that you’ve been doing… the government has been monitoring… and if they see something they don’t like about you, guess what happens?”

I snapped my fingers and glared at the camera, “You’re gone! Vanished! Poof! Wisps of smoke! It’s already happened to three dozen people in the last two weeks alone, and according to the information I have here… over half that number are now deceased from the initial trauma they’ve inflicted on them, and the other half are being ‘behaviorally reprogramed’ via a nasty concoction of drugs injected into their bloodstream, solitary confinement in a pit devoid of light and all human presence, and a regimen of periodic shocks to both mental and physical integrity. In short… they’ve broken these people beyond repair. To the regime the common people are merely sheep prancing about to their tune. If they don’t like the way they dance… then they shear them. If they still don’t see an improvement… they butcher them” I emphasized, bitterness seeping into my every word and imbuing them with resolution.

Pictures and media clips were inserted into the video feed of these poor souls going through hell. Some of them were teenagers barely on the brink of adulthood. Half of them were screaming in agony as men dressed in white calmly and clinically interrogated them, punishing them with more pain when they refused to answer their questions or were too scared to muster up words. The solitary confinement pits were nothing more than shallow holes dug into the earth that were too narrow to sit and recuperate, and too short for a person to stand entirely. This senseless cruelty was intended to maximize the shock factor and incite anger at the indignity of what the Feds had done to its own citizens. I did neglect to mention the detail that a quarter of these people were with the resistance and technically insurgents, since that didn’t excuse the other three quarters of the prisoners. There was plenty of evidence highlighting the sins committed by the government in their quest to keep their boots firmly planted on our necks, but they would have to wait before it came to light.

“I’m seeing helos in the distance!” Faith warned to me in the background over the incrementally increasing noise of whirring chopper blades, “We’re running low on time here! Get to the point already!”

I grunted in frustration, before obliging the woman pressuring me and getting to the point for my audience, “The people who are in power… are monsters. Paranoid to the point where even regular Joes droning away in the background are perceived as threats for having an undue fascination with the color of crimson. Don’t think that this is something that can be rectified through the system of law, or through litigation, or even with peaceful demonstration. None of us have forgotten the November Riots so many years ago, nor the good people we lost once the government took its gloves off. The issue was that when they played their hand… the populace folded. We as a society have become too lax, and yielded up too much power over our destinies to those who would abuse it at the first chance. It’s high time we had some of that power back”

“What a repressive government never seems to comprehend about its citizenry is that the harder they tighten their grip on us, the more control slips through their fingers” I gesticulated with a contracting fist to the camera. My voice was almost pleading, “No one can take away your ability to choose, not even the government, try though as they might. So I’m outlining your options for you so you can make a legitimately informed decision about how you’ll face the future. If you don’t like what I have to say… if you prefer the fragile peace of the lie that you’re living… then you can shut off the screens you’re viewing this on and go about your lives like nothing has happened. However… if you agree that the will of the people takes precedence over the will of the few…” The symbol of the organized revolt my employer was a member of flashed up on the screen, “…then look for us… and we’ll find you. We are the Free Runners. Signing off”

The screen went dark and I could tell even through the tinted glass that the searchlights of the choppers were within range to illuminate our silhouettes through the window. A.I.M disconnected itself after purging the servers of all data and rendering them blank, its purpose having been served flawlessly. The fourth estate would soon receive a tidal wave of data enlightening them to what the government had been up to over the years, both illicit oversea and domestic affairs. The Press was one of the few non partisan entities to resist government influence with little to no negative consequences to them. They could spread the word with virtual impunity. And if the government acted against them, then the people would have no choice but to take to the streets. I had a hunch that the resistance would be expecting a significant increase in recruitment within the next few weeks. I snatched up the case and stuffed it in into my inventory before Faith motioned for me to follow her as we took another maintenance access that led to the roof. The roof itself was studded with spinning air conditioning units and a discreet helipad that was unlit. Next to the helipad was an offloading zone where an uncovered Skycrate and a couple of large bags could be found. Upon closer inspection it was revealed to be parachute gear. Rimming the edges of the rooftop were concrete walls that kept all of this concealed from anyone with a pair of binocs.

“Strap this on for size” Faith directed to me, handing me the larger of the two harnesses, “We’re going to glide to our means of evac. Don’t pull the ripcord too soon, or those choppers will catch up to you drifting in midair and dice you into chunks. Pull the second ripcord to detach the chute once you’re certain you’re over the boat”

“And where is this means of evac?” I inquired askance, putting on the harness and making sure the straps were securely fastened.

“See this boat bobbing up and down on the river water waiting for us? At the terminus of the second wooden pier on the left concrete embankment?” She pointed it out after hijacking usage of my wrist computer to switch to camera view of the river piers, “That’s going to be our ticket to the extraction point”

The shadowy speck didn’t appear all that impressive from where the camera was suspended, being a simple four seater motorboat by my reckoning. And I somehow doubted that my opinion of its capabilities would change once we were down there running for our lives.

“I’m not exactly reassured by your arrangements” I expressed those doubts. Though perhaps I was being a whiner. Powerboats were deemed unsafe by the regime and were scrapped, though I believe only because they could evade anything hounding them with ease.

“Would you rather swim?” Faith retorted without skipping a beat, “Besides… it was the best I could lay my fingers on with what I was given. Not all of us Runners have the luxury of generously wealthy clients. There is a time for fighting as you say, and there is a time for flying. Now would be one of those times”

“Fair enough” I conceded, “Albeit even I would be denied if I requested my employer to provide a speedy Hydro-craft for dodging the Feds downwind of one of their most treasured complexes”

“Oh, poor you…” She crooned, before grinning devilishly at me, “Race ya to the bottom!” She immediately began to sprint ahead, jumping on top of and hurdling between the boxy AC units with bounding strides, as if she was a gazelle.

I cursed confoundedly as my competitive nature kicked into gear, chasing after her. It took more effort than I was willing to confess to negate her head start, but before I could overtake her, she had already leapt off the ledge. There was a part of me that was secretly terrified of heights and dreading what I was about to do, but the part that had me in motion was an adrenaline junkie that loved the sensation of free fall. I vaulted over the edge and there was an instant pinch in my chest, the portion of me that hated heights was railing as my bladder went into my throat. I didn’t care though… I was having too much fun. I spread my arms and legs out midflight to increase the air resistance on my body and manipulate a miniscule bit of my descent. The drop didn’t last longer than a few seconds before I had to yank at the ripcord to avoid becoming a splatter of guts on the sidewalk.

Faith’s ram-air chute blossomed out of her pack, exhibiting a circuitry design in the moonlight much like the tattoo on her arm. I glanced up at mine and was disappointed to see that it was featureless, but it was a petty complaint that had no real bearing on its function. The once intermittent reception of helicopter blades went from a dull white noise to a pertinent din, warning us that danger was right on our tails. I spared a look to our rear to see that transport choppers were circling around the building and troops were rappelling onto the rooftop. What was worrying though was that they had an agile Little Bird helo with them that seemed to take notice of us as we glided to our getaway vehicle, which was a classy looking wooden boat with fiberglass coating the hull to give it that glossy texture when illuminated. Faith and I tugged at the second ripcords and detached from our chutes as the lines automatically severed themselves, landing inside the watercraft.

“I’ll take the wheel!” Faith shouted, manning the helm and starting up the ignition. The dual engines growled as they began working before settling on a rumble, signaling that they were primed and ready. I sat next to her and watched our six.

The Little Bird was in the middle of its descent to begin pursuit as Faith pushed all the way forward on the lever of the accelerator and we rocketed out of the pier and down the river. The river itself followed a snakelike meander and became wider as we progressed past docks and fat cargo ships loading and unloading their cargo containers. The boat we were on wasn’t slow by any means, but the Little Bird nipping at our heels was a good deal swifter and was gaining ground on us by the second. From this distance I could tell that it was armed with rocket pods and twin miniguns that could mince us to pieces if they got in an accurate strafe. The pilot of that chopper must have had an itchy trigger finger, since he tried his luck when he was a range greater than two football field’s lengths. The miniguns sputtered and a barrage of bullets sent up sprays of water scarily close to the mark, and that was just a ranging shot.

“Gonna need some evasive maneuvers here!” I called to Faith, clutching at my seat with a viselike grip.

“How would you like to drive!?” She snarled back at me, the pressure of having an attack helicopter on our ass abrading her patience.

Regardless, she jerked the wheel back and forth to send us into a serpentine zigzag to confuse the bloodthirsty pilot’s aim. She was smart about it as well, never trying the same pattern more than once. I desperately wanted to be more than a helpless passenger, but my Five seveN wasn’t rated for disposing of choppers, even if I could make the shot at the cockpit. The Little Bird pilot was persistent though, even launching unguided missiles at us that we were fortunate enough to skirt around the splashes of, the waves battering us like a ruby ducky in the bathtub of a rambunctious two year old. The river was amply broad by now that the cargo ships chugging along it could pass each other abreast with the narrowest amounts of space separating them. Faith seemed to have the same idea forming in my head as she spun the wheel and put us in line with passing ships.

The chopper on our tail had to pull up and swerve to the side to avoid crashing into the navigation bridge of the rightmost cargo ship. The cargo ship on the left’s steersman must have been spooked by the sudden appearance of the chopper, as the medium sized vessel began to veer into its counterpart. The metal buckled as the bow of the massive ship smashed into the stern of the other, a horrific groaning noise grated at our ears as the vessels collided. Multiple containers had been displaced from the violent sideswipe, their fastenings snapping from the shearing stress, but thankfully those splashed over the side we weren’t speeding through. I was worried that the Little Bird would be laying in wait at the other end, but he must have pulled back to avoid causing any more collateral damage.

“They must really want us dead!” I remarked as we emerged from the channel betwixt ships.

“No kidding!” Faith agreed, “We obtain some footage of this maniac and post it online and people will have another reason to despise the Feds!”

Before long, the Little Bird was on us again and spewing away with its guns whenever its pilot had the opportunity. Faith appeared to have a general idea of where she wanted to go, steering us into busy shipping lanes where it was too risky for the chopper pilot to fire upon us and flanking smaller ships when it wasn’t. By some miracle, the Feds hadn’t organized a response on the water beyond the whirlybird of doom, otherwise this experience would have been even more nerve racking. We were running low on room though, and we coming up on a waterlogged tunnel burrowing underneath an urbanized landmass leading to the open ocean. The pilot in the attack chopper anticipated our plans and sped ahead, blocking the entrance as his miniguns began to spin menacingly. We were only two hundred meters out and rapidly closing the gap.

“In the rear seat is a long, dark green metallic case” Faith described urgently, “I want you to remove what’s inside and take careful aim with it”

I obeyed and unlatched the case, my eyes widening once I saw that there was an AT4 rocket launcher. I lifted it out of its container and hefted it in my hands. I pulled out the transport safety pin, unsnapped the shoulder stop, adjusted the iron sights, and cocked the launcher. I steadied myself as best I could with the boat rocking up and down on the water and aimed at the enemy Little Bird. The pilot made the job easy by hovering in place while zeroing in on us. Once I was certain of my aim, I held down the safety and pressed the trigger button. The rocket zoomed out of the tube and left behind practically no recoil. The missile impacted the pesky chopper laterally, the force of the explosion sending it careening into the cranes of a nearby dry dock, where the tail section broke off before the bubble canopy struck the main support beams and wrecked itself there in a twisted jumble of metal, fire, and smoke.

“Nice shot!” Faith congratulated me, her voice as relieved as it got from a harrowing attack heli chase.

With the obstacle no longer a risk to us, Faith maneuvered us into the tunnel, sheltering us from further danger. The tunnel was pitch black, with the only illumination being provided by the boat’s lights. She eased off on the throttle about halfway through until we came to a stop. Ignoring my questioning gaze, she relieved me of the AT4 and commenced with drumming it against the metallic handrails lining the edges of the boat in a what was ostensibly a random clanging, until I listened closer and discerned a pattern. It was a signal in Morse code. Though the code was of an abbreviated term, the meaning of which eluded me at the moment. When she was satisfied she returned the launcher to its case and sat back in her seat with a heaving sigh.

“I’m curious” She began, “If I hadn’t helped you abscond from that building, how would you have escaped the wrath of the Feds? Even you wouldn’t be so rash as to fight your way out of the building with their whole army bearing down on you”

“I would have resorted to stealth” I patted the pack on my back, “A.I.M would have selectively shut off all the power and engendered a blackout, effectively veiling the city in darkness. I would have used the elevator to backtrack, and the heartbeat sensor on my wrist mounted computer to bypass the patrols. The second option was having A.I.M remote pilot a hybrid manned-unmanned transport chopper to the building’s roof and use that. Though that would have meant contending with Federal air support… and we’ve both seen how crazy they are” She and I shared a laugh at that, it being too true.

“What was the Morse code for?” I motioned at the handrail she had been tapping.

“You’ll see” She smiled mysteriously.

As if on cue, the dark, murky waters beside our boat gradually became illuminated as a submersible craft breached the surface. The vehicle was flattish for the most part, save for three, streamlined bubble canopies dotting the main body. There were viewports on the sides that ensured full degrees of visibility. It had searchlights mounted on the front and rear frame to penetrate the overwhelming darkness of the late night waters. The sub was painted an ugly mustard yellow and as a hatch flipped open, I could hear apt Beatle’s music piping from inside reminding us of just that quality. An older man with graying hair wearing a captain’s hat and smoking from a pipe with a crab insignia embossed onto the wood waved to us as he poked his head through the aperture.

“Howdy” He greeted us in a slight Dixie accent, “You two called for an underwater taxi?”

“Taxi?” I slumped my shoulders dramatically, “I left my wallet in my other jumpsuit” I looked at Faith and waggled my eyebrows, “Far be it from me to request a lady to foot the bill but…”

Faith in turn stared hopelessly at the older man, “Ignore this joker, Denton. He successfully infiltrates the Fed’s most vital building in this city, broadcasts a rousing call to action for the citizenry, and then he thinks the world of himself after blasting an attack helicopter to smithereens”

Denton grinned, flashing us his poorly maintained teeth, “Is that so? Then I’d say he has sufficient reason to feel like a million bucks. Now’s not the time for chitchat though. The Feds on the radio frequency are in total disarray, though they’re still coordinated enough that they’re huntin’ for ya” He gestured for us to climb aboard, “C’mon. We can wait out their manhunt underwater until it’s time to get you two lovebirds home safe and sound”

Faith was aghast at the implication, “We’re not dating! Hell, other than a few meet and swaps and tonight’s excitement, I barely know the guy!”

The old man wasn’t buying it, perhaps noting the evident complementing chemistry between us, “You’ll be spending a fair amount of time with me until the heat blows over” Denton said, puffing smoke through his nostrils, “And there’s nothing like some classic rock for young folks to bond over” He fished a media device out of his pocket and tapped the screen. The music then changed tracks to ‘Something’ sung by George Harrison, the smooth baseline grooving in the sub’s interior.

I stifled a chortle as Faith’s face lit up like a Christmas tree with only red lights strung about it, the chortle fully leaving my lips as she glared balefully at me.

“Okay, that’s ample ribbing for tonight” I spoke, as Faith pouted and muttered a word that sounded suspiciously like ‘Men’, “We should ditch the craft in a way that the Feds won’t suspect trickery”

“They know you were last seen entering this tunnel” Denton apprised us, “They’re waitin’ for you to make a reappearance, and as soon as ya do… kaboom. I’d recommend only givin’ them the boat to blow sky high. If you’re lucky, they’ll presume ya dead and call off the hunt”

“Got any dummies stowed away in there?” Faith flicked a finger at the sub, “Would be partially credible at first glance, if they restrained themselves from erasing us forthwith so they could snap a picture to put in the funny papers”

“Only one dummy, I fear” Denton exhaled sadly, “And he’s kinda indispensable, ‘less you folks prefer to sink and swim”

“I think I shall pass on that most generous offer” I quipped in monotone, before sweeping a hand toward the sub to Faith, “Ladies first”

She rolled her eyes as she obliged, with Denton ducking down to make room for her. I propped the steering wheel in place and pushed the accelerator to maximum throttle. I hopped onto the deck before I had to doggy paddle to the submersible, closing the hatch behind me as Denton operated the controls and we dived to a depth of fifty feet. The quarters of the submersible weren’t terribly small, though with three people jammed inside of it like a sardine can, personal space was at an all time low. The instruments measuring underwater acoustics picked up on an explosion ahead of us as we chugged slowly down the tunnel, which we confirmed as the Feds taking the bait on the other end. Only time would tell if they truly considered us eliminated, but for now it looked like we were in the clear. It was then that Denton produced a bottle of Port wine from somewhere along with three diminutive wine glasses. He poured into all three of them by knuckling the stems of the glasses in his left hand while he poured with his right.

“How’s about a toast to our success?” He proposed distributing the glasses among us, “It’s not everyday that the resistance strikes a debilitatin’ blow to the regime, as y’all well know”

“I’ll drink to that” I agreed wholeheartedly, lifting the glass in the air as vertically as I was allowed to in the cramped interior of the sub, “To the Free Runners! Long may we prosper” I finished the wine in a single gulp, relishing the sweet, fortified flavor.

“Hear! Hear!” Denton bellowed, before remembering that the Feds might be listening and lowered his voice, “To kickin’ ass, takin’ names, and stickin’ it to the man” He whispered, and went bottom’s up with his glass.

Faith shrugged, “To drinking” She forwent the toast speech, taking ladylike sips. She kind of killed the celebratory mood by doing so, but we were alive, we had won a victory against our repressive government, and my faith in the future had been renewed.

⁂

“-enith? C’mon, wake up. The time for catchin’ Z’s is over” Applejack’s twangy voice, paired with her rough, uncouth nudges, roused me from my slumber.

My brain hadn’t quite caught up to my body though, and words passed through my lips unbidden. I bolted straight up in the bunk, “I read them for the articles, I swear!” I exclaimed, a cold line of sweat beading down the nape of my neck.

I then proceeded to give my face a good thwack with the palm of my hand, in part to punish myself for being stupid and partly to shake off the residual drowsiness. AJ shuffled nervously in place beside me, too nonplussed to make any sense of that.

“Errm…” AJ’s lovely green eyes flicked back and forth in bemusement, “… right, I’m sure you do. Anyhow, we’re back home”

“We are?” I muttered dumbly, my brain still in the painfully slow process of rebooting.

“We jus’ pulled in not two minutes ago” She informed me, “You’re a real heavy sleeper if the sound of the brakes screechin’ to a halt did nothin’ for ya”

“I once dozed through a four pointer on the Richter scale” I told the cowgirl, “Objects were scattered onto the floor and folks afraid of quakes were shivering in their skins, yet I slept soundly through it” I woke up and discovered that I was no longer in my bed, but that’s what I get for sleeping on the edge.

“Y’all had ground quakes where ya came from?” Applejack inquired, looking at me in curiosity.

“Are they not a common occurrence in this world?” I asked in return by way of answer.

She shook her head, “Not that I know of. Though I’ve heard from Twilight that the volcanic areas somewhere beyond the badlands to the southwest where the Dragons sometimes migrate to are sei-… seis-” She struggled with the word, furrowing her brow in frustration.

“Seismically active?” I filled in for her.

She stamped her boot on the floor. “That’s it! Seismically active” She stood tall and looked proud of herself, as if she had figured out the word on her own and considered it a personal achievement, “Though Heavens know why that is”

“Likely because of the volcanoes” I surmised, “Magma flow and pressure changes combine to sporadically produce ground tremors that can be felt. They aren’t very substantial though and rarely felt unless it’s a major shift in plate tectonics, which I offhandedly don’t think operate here the same as they do in my home-world, otherwise the Dragons wouldn’t choose it as a migration worthy spot”

“I forget that you and Twilight received a formal education” Applejack commented, “Ya can be pretty smart about things I’ve never heard about”

“Meh” I summed up my feelings towards the many years I expended on schooling, “Book Smarts and Street Smarts are equally desirable, and you have abundant reserves of the latter, I believe. Which is why I’m glad that you going to be with me when we head south”

“A’hm pleased that you think so highly of me, Zenith” She smiled, a faint reddening appearing on her cheeks before she cleared her throat and looked elsewhere, “I’ll be gatherin’ mah belongins’. Meetcha outside” Without waiting for a response from me, she promptly exited the room to fetch her luggage.

My head plopped back onto the pillow with a dull thud. My mental processes were consumed with thoughts concerning the absurdly vivid dream that I wasn’t sure was really a product of my imagination. It was so familiar too… like I had experienced it sometime before, though with a lesser degree of self-awareness. A memory materialized in my head of Discord warning me that crafting my newfound weapon using my own magic as raw material would have the side effect of affecting my dreams. It was evident that the man was not kidding. But I was having serious doubts about what I had experienced being solely a fanciful dream. It was too visceral… too emotionally provocative… and those conflicting thoughts and feelings. It was like I was sharing a body with somebody else, and neither of us were completely in control nor cut off from influencing the other’s actions. I would have to pick Luna’s brains about this sometime later, figure out how deep this rabbit hole went.

I swung my legs over the side of the bunk and my feet touched down on the floor. I retrieved my invaluable, expanded storage adventure pack and strapped it over my shoulders. I exited the cabin where the bunks were and to the door where the metal steps led down to the platform. My breath was vaporous in the crisp winter air. The sunshine hit my face and I felt reenergized by its warmth, as if its handler was bequeathing her strength to me herself.

People native to the town of Magiville were in the midst of unloading their luggage as they debarked from the passenger cars. Presently they were being greeted by loved ones who had skipped out on the games to manage responsibilities at home, or were waiting to be picked up by transport coaches that would drop them off at their homes if they went together. With all the hubbub and activity, scarce few of them recognized me from my outfit, and those that did bowed their heads respectfully to me and left me to my own devices. I could see in their eyes that they knew I was more than I initially appeared, and some ingrained sense of reverence for their rulers was extended to me. Though whether it was as one of their Agents or as another Trifect as many in the Press speculated was difficult to discern.

Since it was December, the climate was chilly as was scheduled, with ornate flakes of snow occasionally drifting down from the clouds above. The local weather team guaranteed that the conditions didn’t require the roads to shoveled or snowplowed, resulting in interesting looking formations lining the skies over the town. The physical wrangling of the weather would always be something uniquely alien in my book, though the sheer list of benefits that meant could not be understated. A brief wintertime of a month was mandatory for the magic in the soils to rejuvenate, ensuring the optimal growth of crops for the rest of the year. Since it was only a month and fairly mild in intensity, winter here had that magical charm in the heartland that was romanticized in the Christmas Carols. Agrarian settlements to the south that had a lack of Skyborn to tend the weather had to forgo winter seasons, though with all of the copious quantities of space with which to expand with on that frontier, building mega farms and orchards offset the decrease in marketable crops. It was incredibly probable that Miss Jubilee’s orchard dwarfed Sweet Apple Acres in terms of acreage if it was the premiere supplier of cherries in all of Arcania.

Applejack saw me standing there reflecting on all of this and trudged over with all kinds of bags and cases slung over her body, “Ya ready to head out, Zenith?”

“Ready when you are” I nodded in affirmation, “We’re just stopping at Sweet Apple Acres for you to deposit your bags, yes?”

“Eeyup!” She adjusted the weight of those bags on her shoulders, “Then it’s back here for the train’s next departure for Dodge Junction” She squinted her eyes around, searching for a coach to relieve her of her burden, “But first we gotta hail a…”

I intervened, wrapping an arm over her, “Hold on tight to your things, if they aren’t in physical contact with you, they’ll be left behind… and I don’t want to backtrack any more than I have to”

Before Applejack could form a response, I channeled magic from my internal font and commanded it to convey us from the station platform to the front of the farmhouse that Applejack called. The world flashed and warped around us as the spell was released. When being the person to initiate a teleport, the sensation of your guts being scrambled is absent… or mitigated to the point where it cannot be perceived without effort. In no time at all, we were firmly in the center of the Sweet Apple Acre’s farmhouse, a faint dust cloud being kicked up from our instant displacement. Activity at the orchard was virtually nil, which was to be expected since the town was in the clutches of winter. No snow covered the trees of the Acres itself, with the Apple family’s property being safeguarded from frost by the Skyborn.

Applejack grunted, holding a hand to her stomach and swaying queasily, “A little warnin’ would’ve been nice” She reproached me, bending over a tad to recover.

Yeah I knew how that felt, “Sincerest apologies, AJ. Allow me to bear the yoke of that baggage with you”

“I got it!” Applejack protested, turning my help down, “Don’t let me trouble you none. You’re an honored guest here, and that means you don’t hafta pull any of mah weight so long as you are. Since you were so kind as to bring us here right away, I guess you’ll have time enough to say hello to mah brother” She encouraged me to socialized with one of the few people here who shared my propensity for reticence. The poor guy had to mind the farm and his aging grandmother while most everybody else got to go to the Athletic Games, not that he’d wear his disappointment on his face if he felt any.

“Sure, I’ll say hi to the big man” I agreed as we walked up to the house, having nothing better to do during the layover.

Granny Smith was napping on the porch in her rocking chair, wrapped up like a burrito in several layers of apple theme quilts and blankets. The family dog Winona was likewise resting by her feet, her ears twitched and her head perked up when she spotted us, but she did not bark her excitement. Applejack and I tiptoed past her as quietly as we could as light snores emanated from her lips, with me scratching the friendly pet behind her ears by way of greeting. The interior of the barnlike farmhouse was cozy, retaining commendable insulation despite being constructed of regular lumber. Applejack deposited a few of her bags filled with groceries from the Krystal Kingdom and climbed the stairs to put away the rest in her room. I relocated to the kitchen area where I found the man of the house halfway done with eating his lunch, which consisted of slices of apples, country fried steak, and mashed potatoes.

Macintosh noticed my entry with one eye and swallowed a bite of steak before speaking in his succinct manner, “Afternoon”

“Macintosh” I reciprocated, sitting down at the table with him.

“You and the girls back from the North?” He inquired, stabbing at another chunk of fried steak and chomping at it, flecks of breading falling from his lips and dotting the table surface.

“Just myself and your sister” I answered, “The older one, anyway”

He hummed thoughtfully and went back to eating. His eyes widened minutely as if he had forgotten his manners, he pointed with a fork to the stocked pantry (eighty five percent of which was apple based vittles), “Fancy gettin’ yerself a bite?”

I wasn’t hungry, so I had to decline, “Considerate of you, but I wouldn’t want to infringe upon your hospitality”

He hummed a second time, “Not to be nosy, but why have only you and mah sis returned to Magiville?” It wasn’t an outright accusation, but I could sense that the man suspected chicanery.

“That… is sumthin’ I need to discuss with you” Applejack’s voice interjected from the archway, “Mac. Zenith and I are leavin’ again in twenty or so minutes”

Big Mac processed this, “Where?” He tersely continued his questioning.

“Dodge Junction” AJ replied, “And once we’re there, we’re gonna pay cousin Braeburn a visit”

Mac’s eyebrows lifted imperceptibly, “Braeburn? When did he move to Dodge Junction?”

“He didn’t” I took over, “He’s there on account of somebody else. Somebody of great importance to the Buffalo Braves”

“Explain” He rumbled.

I did so, “You cousin had eloped with the daughter of the Buffalo Brave’s Chieftain. The Princess has entrusted us with restoring her to her people. Tensions between the settle folk and the Braves are in jeopardy of igniting like they nearly did before”

Mac put down his fork and gave us his undivided attention, “Why?”

“Their people are being killed and kidnapped by men the Braves are mistaking for Arcanians” I hesitated, “And if they are… then they’re outlaws… and I have to bring them to justice” It will be a violent affair, if my record proved consistent, I refused to add.

Mac kept his face neutral, “Alright. What does mah sister have to do with this unpleasant business?”

“Zenith hasn’t been to the southern regions, Mac” AJ piped in, “He’ll need me in case he gets lost there”

“Can’t he jus’ hire a guide? He’s in with the Princesses, ain’t he?” The burly man actually sounded worried. My mentioning that these Braves were being savagely slain by outlaws must have had his protective Big Brother routines working overtime.

“I’m goin’ with him and that’s final, Macintosh!” She used his whole name, making him wince, “A’hm a grown woman now, brother. I can make mah own decisions… been makin’ ‘em for a while now”

Mac sighed in defeat, “I’ve never tried stoppin’ you before, an’ I won’t start now. You, on the other hand, should start guidin’ him by fixin’ his attire. He’ll stick out like a sore thumb if he dresses like that” He pointed above with an index finger, “He’s about mah size, so he can borrow from mah wardrobe. I never wear half of that stuff anyhow”

“Ya got a point there. We’re mighty grateful, Big Brother” AJ tipped her hat before grabbing me by the arm and yanking me out of my seat, “C’mon. It’s time for you to play dress-up”

“I’ve played that game with Rarity on more occasions than I can count” I idly commented as I was dragged out of the kitchen, not failing to catch the amused curl on Mac’s lips.

Our shoes clattered up the deteriorating stairs until we were on the second floor. AJ and I entered Big Mac’s simple yet neatly organized room, which only had a bed, a dresser, and a scant few other furnishings of low import. The cowgirl raided his wardrobe and threw all kinds of sundry and comfortable looking apparel that I wasn’t aware Mac even had onto the bedspread. The man himself was fond of his jeans and red checkered shirt combo, but what I saw laid out before me was a varied assortment of vests, dress shirts, hats, gloves, boots with removable spurs, frock coats, oilskin dusters, pants, jeans, chaps, and more.

Once she was done emptying his wardrobe closet, AJ politely left me to change in privacy, “Take yer pick, see whatcha like, and call me in once you’re set to get mah opinion on it”

As the door shut behind her, I stared in disguised awe at the number of clothes Big Macintosh never wore. Many of these clothes were in pristine condition. It was as if on the day he received them he simply consigned them to the closet till he was forced to wear them. Taking my time, I deliberated on how I wanted to be perceived once I was boots on the ground in the southern regions. ‘Clothes are just as much a part of your first impression as your manners, darling’ had been Rarity’s thoughts on the subject, which I had to mostly agree with. It was superficial nonsense to me, but I knew that people on average appraised the whole package rather than singular details. That being said, I wanted my outfit to match my personality while still having a Wild West aura to it. I set my adventure pack onto the floor and stripped off my robes, reverentially folding them up (while employing extra precaution with the handling of the Mage-blade shards tucked within) and stowing them in the pack for another occasion, along with the belt with the infinite triangle symbol on it and all its accoutrements. I kept my sword hilt on me though, since it was my badge of authority.

My decided combination of clothing were black jeans, a long sleeved beige shirt that I rolled up till it went no further than the elbows, a shortened denim vest to cover that with, my robe boots with ten pointed roweled spurs attached to the heel, black deerskin gloves, a dark oilskin duster with plenty of pockets that would conceal my gun belt, and a black Stetson hat of leather material with a metal band hugging the crown, which had a teardrop shaped crease on the top and white trim on the brim. It was the tiniest bit loose on me, but it was made for an owner that had a greater bulk.

“Okay, AJ” I announced toward the door when I was done evaluating my appearance in the dresser mirror, “Can you tell me if I look the part?”

The door squeaked on its hinges as Applejack opened it, “Well I’ll be… Don’t you look fine an’ dandy!” AJ exclaimed, eyes prowling up and down my form and approving of the aesthetic changes. Her gaze lingered on the belt with confusion, but dismissed it in favor of everything else.

“I certainly feel like I could go toe to toe with Angel Eyes and come out on top” I remarked, my image in the mirror fitting the profile of a darkly dressed, bounty hunting cowboy.

The name reference didn’t register with her, “Who?”

I shook my head, “Just something from a famous movie I saw once”

“If you say so” She had grown accustomed to these allusions of mine, “I ought to bring some spare clothes mahself. We’re liable to be out there for a while, huh?”

“As long as it takes to guarantee that the Buffalo Braves and the frontiersmen don’t butt heads” And that could mean anything from a week to a month, depending on how quickly I could hunt down these outlaws and disrupt their operation, as well as ascertain what they were doing with the people they had kidnapped, if they were still alive, and reunite them with their kin.

“And fetchin’ Strongheart so she can marry somebody she dislikes is goin’ to prevent that?” AJ expressed reasonable doubts with that plan, albeit she was automatically biased against her for her infatuation with her cousin.

“We can only hope and pray it does” Or find another way to curb the bloodshed. Perhaps if I hogtied members of the outlaws and gave them to the Buffalo Braves to do justice on… but that would present its own problems.

“A’hm sure it’ll work out for the best” Applejack optimistically spouted, “Pack what else you need. I’ll do the same” She retreated to her room and I heard the sound of a traveling bag being unlatched and items being interchanged.

I glanced at the rest of the clothes splayed out on the bed. There weren’t any other articles worth hauling with me, so the outfit I was wearing now would have to suffice. I politely replaced the clothes in Big Mac’s wardrobe so that he wouldn’t have to clean up the mess his sister made of it himself. As I was doing so, I noticed a dense book squared away in the closet, tucked beneath boxes stuffed with various objects which may have been broken or replacement pieces of farming equipment. I ironed the wrinkles out of a shirt using a spell that Rarity taught me and hung it on the rack before I stooped down to pick it up. It had been sitting there long enough to have accumulated a thick coating of dust on the cover, which I proceeded to wipe with my forearm. I ambled out of the closet and sat down on Mac’s bed with the book in hand. My curiosity was piqued and I still had minutes to spare before we had to leave for the train.

My fingers pinched at the rim of the cover as I flipped it wide. The book was some kind of picture album married with a scrapbook. It depicted the story of Big Macintosh’s life growing up on the Acres with his grandmother and his parents, starting with his toddler years with notes about how cute he was on the side written in what I presumed was his mother’s hand. His father incorporated notes as well, assuring him that he would grow to be big and strong someday, like his old man. There were pictures of a young Macintosh learning the tools of the trade, his achievements and blunders equally included in the album. Mac started writing notes himself once he had learned how, remarking on how great it was that he was getting a sister. With it in his possession, Big Macintosh must have been the designated keeper of this book. The years melted before my eyes as I sifted through pages and pages of memories.

Applejack followed her older brother’s example, cultivating and harvesting apples alongside her family as she gradually became the woman that she was currently. She learned the nitty gritty nuances about farming from her pa while her mother taught her how to optimally pitch it to prospective customers that Sweet Apple Acres grew the most delectable, juicy apples in the county. She even affixed her first lock of golden hair to one of the pages; proud of the way she had braided it. She’d never hear this from me, but Applejack made an exceptionally adorable infant, and that cuteness carried on all throughout her childhood… until it was marred by the tragedy that claimed both her parent’s lives before their time. Neither Applejack nor the then scrawny Macintosh smiled as much after that, though I saw signs of that happiness returning to them, as their mother left with one last gift in the form of Apple bloom. The book ended with multiple blank pages waiting to be filled in by the young girl as she experienced her own life, as was her birthright.

There was a knock on the wall as Applejack reappeared by the doorway, “Whatcha reading there, Zenith?”

I looked at her strangely, “You don’t remember? This book contains memories of when you, Mac, and Apple bloom were in your adolescence”

“That ol’ thing?” Applejack was indifferent towards it, “It’s jus’ a bygone family tradition of ours. Someday Big Mac will show it to Apple Bloom when she’s ready to learn more about our parents”

“Why hasn’t she learned yet?” I posed a difficult inquiry, “They’re her parents! She has a right to ask about them doesn’t she?”

“What makes you think she has?” She countered, an odd inflection tinting her words, “If my little sister had asked it of me, I would have sat her down all day to relate to her how wonderful our parents were. I would have done everythin’ I could to give her an idea of what they both were like, since she was too young to remember them” AJ’s posture sagged, “But she’s never asked… not once. It’s almost like she doesn’t care”

“Maybe she’s afraid to ask” I retorted, “Maybe its because whenever the topic involuntarily comes up, she witnesses how internally withdrawn everyone else gets. It wouldn’t take a great deal for her to see the notion of her parents as a forbidden subject. One of these days, you’re going to have to have a serious discussion with her about them”

She exhaled and scratched at the back of her head, “You assume an awful lot, Zenith, but in this case ya happen to be right. Whenever ma and pa are brought up in conversation, we become ‘sad sacks’ as Pinkie Pie would put it. I do what I can to suppress it, but Apple bloom knows that it’s a sore spot for us. I was so afraid that if she learned about what happened to our parents, she’d lose the happiness that she found for herself without them, but I can’t keep her in the dark forever” She planted a hammer fist into her palm, “I promise that one day Mac, Granny, and I will take turns explaining to mah sister that we were blessed with the most incredible parents… who loved her with everythin’ they were, even if she didn’t know it”

I placed the book on the nightstand next to Mac’s bed, so he could see it, “Forgive me for prying in such intimate matters. It didn’t concern me”

“No, no!” She held up her hand forbearingly, “Don’t say yer sorry. You had an appropriate reason… and it took you pointing it out to me to get past my own misgivings towards it. Mah family means the world to me… and if sumthin’s amiss with it, it’s mah duty to fix it!”

“Your devotion to your own blood is admirable” I complimented her. Though her inability to accept that her cousin might be in love with a woman of the Buffalo Braves lessens that somewhat.

“You betcha it is!” She chirped enthusiastically, “I told ya that the Apple family is connected close as the fruits we’re named after on their branches. You should be there for our next reunion. We’ll show ya the joy of being part of sumthin’ more profound that one person! You wish you were an Apple yousel-…” She saw my passive expression and was worried that she had crossed a line, “oh… shoot, Zenith I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright, Applejack” I effected a pained smile for her, “It doesn’t hurt anymore” I was family oriented in the same way that the cowgirl was, which made it easier for me, “We should be prepared to depart for the station soon. Did you say your goodbyes to your brother and grandmother?”

“I did to mah brother” She affirmed, “Though granny is still asleep, so I jus’ kissed her forehead and whispered mah farewells to her”

“Excellent” I rubbed my hands together impatiently and magicked my pack over to me, “All that remains is for you to hold on tight to your baggag-”

Applejack interrupted me before I could get to the end of that sentence, “Can we walk this time? I don’t think mah stomach can go through another round of torture”

I scoffed, “Being unexpectedly teleported by another person isn’t that jarring” I acquiesced though, “But… if you insist”

The walk back to the train station was uneventful, and given how eventful my life could be at times, I found myself welcoming commonplace occurrences more often. Mayhaps I was subconsciously seeking a balance between extraordinary and mundane. The sandy gravel of the Acres transitioned to snow that crunched beneath our shoes with the weight of our steps, with Applejack’s footfalls eliciting louder crunches than mine as we plodded down the meandering trails (Though to be fair, as an Agrarian she was naturally heavier with all of the muscle she was sporting, while my feathery Valkyrian aspect negated the majority of my heft). The train at the station was near the final phases of refilling its coal car and taking on water for its boiler from two towering dispensers on stilts. Because Applejack was unyielding with her inclination for a stroll past Magiville, we barely made it in time for the conductor to bellow the last call for boarding. I deduced that he must have been briefed on our identities, since he personally bid the train’s driver to hold off on departing with us. The special treatment made me want to roll my eyes, but I wasn’t one to complain about blessings, as biased in favor of VIPs as they were.

Once we were inside the decadent train car reserved especially for us, the conductor signaled for the train’s operator to continue what he was doing before he restrained him. With a strident tweet of its whistle, the train pulled with a jerk from the station and we steamed along the track, our destination bound for the south. This time I stayed awake, partly out of anxiety that I would fall into a dream that wasn’t a dream if I slept, and partly because I wanted to enjoy the passing scenery from my seat by the window. The clothing tailored for Big Macintosh wasn’t quite as comfy as the robes designed for my by Rarity, but they guarded me against getting too accustomed to softness, lest I become soft myself, and we couldn’t have that. Applejack was virtually silent for the entire ride there, only occasionally speaking when asked whether she wanted a beverage from one of the train’s attendants or yawning and remarking how she could do with some shuteye. She napped peacefully while I availed myself of the train’s fine dining menu, all costs covered by the Crown of course. I attempted to pay for my fare regardless, but they would not take my coin.

The landscapes whizzing by the window as the train chugged on were stereotypical forests at first, the darkest and most forbidding of which was the Neverfree as was the norm, but after we bridged the gap over a flowing river and then the Ghastly Gorge, there was a dramatic shift in backdrops. Snow capped forests petered out and were replaced by rolling hills and grassy fields that were sporadically populated by tile roof houses with solitary farmers minding their paddocks and crops. That grass eventually withered away, as did the trappings of civilization and for a while there was nothing but open expanse. For the entirety of the journey there, my mind was preoccupied cogitating on what my course of action would be once I was on site at Miss Jubilee’s ranch. Would I apprehend Strongheart and her lover off the bat? Or should I observe them first, ensure that their love was genuine and not some excuse for Strongheart to run from an undesirable marriage partner? What if they had ignored Miss Jubilee’s coaxing and escaped again? Would I have to hunt them down like vermin, or would I have to resolve the hostilities without her as a bargaining chip?

By the time the train had slowed to a halt in the Dodge Junction train station, the trip had consumed another three hours of the day. The sun was sinking closer to the horizon and the world had an orange tint to similar to the color of the shirt that AJ was wearing. From the polished window of the train car, the town of Dodge Junction itself looked like a scene out of a desert frontier movie. Wooden buildings with awnings to shelter people from a glaring sun in the summer were hanging signs that displayed what goods they had to offer. Traffic was a mix of people on foot and horses pulling carts or bearing riders to where they needed to be. In the distance were wooden enclosures that fenced in herds of cattle of innumerable quantities. Ranching was apparently the order of the day in the town of Dodge Junction.

The environment was generally dusty, gritty, and dry… which came as no surprise. The climate reminded me greatly of the west coast where I used to live, and the apparent shortage of water to facilitate life in this arid region struck closer to home than I could have believed. Contrary to this initial impression, there were a number of active, anti-desiccation water wells scattered throughout the town. Tumbleweeds rolled in the breeze and cacti were the only greenish plants to be seen, with the rest being shriveled up bushes and twigs as dry as bones interspersed here and there. The town of Dodge Junction was roughly half the size of Magiville, and was erected on the flattest hides of land nestled between hillocks and stony ridges. The people living here were predominantly Agrarians, with each of them wearing fashionable to not so fashionable headwear to cover them up from the heat of the sun’s rays. The cowgirl was awake by now and staring out the window with an expression bordering on apprehension and emotional tension, with there being tough memories of a personal failure associated with this location.

“Nervous?” I inquired in what I hoped was a comforting tone.

“A’hm shakin’ like my sis whenever she lies about completin’ her homework” She confessed honestly, “I thought I would be over it by now, but just seein’ this place flashes me back to when I exiled mahself from Magiville for failin’ to bring home the blue ribbon and the prize money that went with it”

“Prize money?” I feigned ignorance.

“Some Skyborn gal who delivers the mail around Magiville managed to wreck the Town Hall’s roof once” She told me, unable to figure out how she accomplished this feat of destruction on her own, “There was a rodeo event bein’ hosted in Concordia that I was goin’ to anyway, and I promised to return home with the prize money necessary to repair it. Locally, I was a champ, but up there in the capital city? I was small fry competin’ with the big fishes”

Her teeth set in her jaw, “Mah skills weren’t up to snuff next to some of the professionals there. It was humiliatin’ for me. Enduring round after round only to receive second or third place ribbons and medals. I smiled as I stood to the lower side of the victor, but each occasion stung like a slap to the face”

“That’s hardly anything to be ashamed of” I started, but she wouldn’t have any of it.

“Second and third place didn’t cut it for me!” She snapped at me in frustration, “Whenever the opportunity to win money that I could donate to the town was presented, I screwed up bad at a critical point or underperformed”

“I’m sure the townsfolk of Magiville would have understood. You can’t be the one to win them all” I reassured her.

“Back then, I wouldn’t have accepted that answer” She was morose, “I was so ashamed of mahself that I took a job offer to raise money for the repairs while avoidin’ the people at home from a woman that I befriended while I was at the Concordian rodeo, the same woman we’re paying a visit to today”

People were disembarking from the train and I knew that we couldn’t stay there in the luxury car all afternoon, “Your story is going to have to be put on hold for now. We should get a move on towards the ranch”

We gathered our stuff before we stepped off from the train platform and onto the sand. There were fewer people piling out of the train than there were at Magiville, but this location was geographically out of the way compared to idyllic Magiville. As I examined our surroundings, I took note of the cargo being loaded in the back of the train where the cargo cars were. Men sweating in the sun struggled and heaved up sizable wooden crates from their transport carts with logos on the panels reading ‘Flim & Flam’s Magically enhanced fertilizers!’ in lurid yellow and red lettering. One of the men let out a yelp as a crate tumbled from his grasp and fell on the sandy dirt with a heavy thud and metallic clattering within the crate that didn’t sound right. His supervisor, stating that their bosses wanted these crates handled with the utmost of care, immediately chewed the man out for his foolishness. I filed this in the mental cabinet for later scrutiny as I focused on the task at hand.

“So we’re finally here” I announced to myself, my mental objectives kicking into gear, “Show me where Miss Jubilee’s Cherry Orchard is if you would please, Applejack”

“Sure” Applejack listlessly replied, waving down a coach, “Howdy there, pardner. Mind dropping us off at Cherry Hill Ranch?” She flashed the driver a few bits to persuade him to take us on.

“Nah, I don’t mind” He swapped bits with her, “You got business there?”

This man was nosy, in my opinion, but I dismissed it as idle curiosity, “Something like that” I spoke up, flanking Applejack, “My friend here is close acquaintances with the owner and boss, Miss Jubilee. She believes that it’s been a while since she’s spoken with her and wants to remain in touch. Letters can be so impersonal though, and my friend is of modest means and therefore cannot employ the services of bottled dragon fire to send any messages expeditiously even if she wanted to. So being the wondrous gal she is, she’s calling on her in person. I’m just here to see her there safely”

The driver was not unnerved by any hidden implications at the end of my longwinded speech, “Is that so? I thought she seemed kinda familiar” He gestured for us to come aboard.

Our baggage was insignificant, so we carried it onto the carriage before settling into the stiff, cracked leather seats that were in dire need of dusting. Once we were in our seats, the driver uttered a ‘hee yah!’ and whipped the reins, urging the two horses pulling the coach to get us underway. Since Jubilee’s ranch was situated on one of the few grassy hills in the area, we were several minutes out.

“You ought’a adopt the local accent, Zenith” She whispered to me, “Your outer appearance blends right in, but as soon as you talk, people will know that you’re from outta town. It’s a wise practice”

I sneered at her, “I’m never losing my accent-less accent, AJ” I laid back in the chair to get comfy, “So you were telling me about working under Miss Jubilee?”

She grumbled unintelligibly at my scorning of her advice, but relented, “It weren’t much different than harvestin’ apples, really, jus’ a mite tinier and more numerous. Pluckin’ those suckers could take a whole workday and you would never even clear a couple rows of trees. Miss Jubilee’s ranch hadn’t incorporated any kind of complex machinery, so I would often have to give this gigantic wheel a whirl to power a conveyer belt that her workers would use to sort out the individual cherries accordin’ to their color; yellow cherries in a yellow bin, red cherries in a red bin, and rotten cherries in a disposal bin. Miss Cherry Jubilee was a fair boss, as far as ranch bosses went. She provided room and board, and she paid me twenty bits an hour with bonuses if I exceeded my daily quota. I would only have to wait a week or so before I had the funds to recover from mah disgrace and return to Magiville with my head held high… but it was not to be”

“What happened next?” I droned, already having a crisp idea.

“Mah friends followed me, is what happened” She appeared annoyed at the memory before her expression softened, “Mah family had acquired my letter tellin’ ‘em that I wouldn’t be back home for a while, and mah friends must’ve gotten scared when they read it. They tracked me down be retracin’ my steps, gradually bein’ pointed in mah direction from there”

She sniffed, “I was exitin’ an outhouse when they found me. They questioned me, chastised me for disappearin’ on ‘em, and pleaded with me to come back with ‘em, but I was in no mood to see ‘em, let alone listen to what they had to say. I brusquely told ‘em to leave off and tell mah family that I was doin’ fine”

“Knowing your… our friends, it doesn’t seem likely that they would give up” I remarked.

“No… they didn’t” She agreed, “I came by work the next mornin’ to find ‘em sortin’ cheeries on the conveyer belt. Why didn’t they listen to me? I asked mahself. Why couldn’t they jus’ go home and leave me to wallow in mah repentance?”

Her fists clenched together, “I don’t know why, but seein’ ‘em there roiled me up somethin’ fierce. I thought to mahself that maybe they were tauntin’ me somehow, maybe they knew about mah failures in the Concordian rodeo and were rubbin’ it in mah face. It was an awful thing to conceive of in retrospect. But mah head was so clouded with anger that the ridiculousness of that thought must not have registered with me. Did ya know that I was voted the most dependable person in Magiville once, after corrallin’ a stampede of cows? They even hosted a fancy ceremony for me and pulled all the stops for it”

She laughed mirthlessly, “That was close to the same time that I wrote a report to the Princess on how foolish it was to refuse a friend’s offer of aid out of some misplaced sense of stubborn arrogance. A’hm still guilty of causing half of Magiville food poisonin’ from the ‘Baked Bads incident’ as it was labeled” She shyly divulged, to which I bobbed my head and pretended like I had heard a juicy piece of gossip, which I myself learned to do by emulating Rarity, “I might have learned from that lesson well, but Dodge Junction was an instance where I forgot”

Her teeth grit, “They attempted to be subtle about their intentions there, statin’ innocently that they were workin’ for Miss Jubilee, jus’ like me. Then they broached the questions again. What did I see at the rodeo? How did I meet mah new boss? They were so incessant that I couldn’t help but sprint, wishin’ to escape all of it. All that ended up doin’ was creatin’ an ugly mess that mah friends had to clean with buckets of soapy water and mops… which I felt bad about”

Applejack chortled, “Mah friends must’ve have switched their tactics to avoid that occurin’ again. Over the week I encountered them individually or in pairs while workin’ mah rounds on the orchard. I did what I could to avoid ‘em and pretend like they weren’t there… but then they sicced Pinkie Pie on me” She groaned, “Ugh… she yammered on and on and on about chimmicherries and kumquats and pickle barrels. It was enough to make ya lose yer mind, I swear! I had to swear to her a Pinkie Promise that I would spill the beans on why I prolonged mah homecomin’ at breakfast the next day to get her off mah back”

“And did you keep that promise?” I narrowed my eyes at her, “Pinkie guards those fervently” And may the Lord have mercy on your soul should you have the gall to break one.

She exhaled tiredly, “I tried… I really did try to keep it. But the shame of havin’ to admit mah failure to somebody, even mah closest friends, was severe enough that I resolved to leave town and repeat what I was doin’ elsewhere on another ranch if they’d have me”

“They would’ve trailed you to the next place even if you made a clean getaway” I reasoned, “They would have followed you to the ends of the Earth if it meant having their friend Applejack back”

Her eyes watered up and she wiped at them with her sleeve, “I know. I’m so blessed to know ‘em. They’re family beyond family to me. Which is why if I could time travel to the point where I had risen earlier than the rooster to sneak out of mah bedroom window, I would have slammed it shut on past me’s fingers. Unfortunately, Twilight says that the time travel spells invented by Starswirl could only take a person so far in time and only for so long”

“Time travel isn’t all it’s cracked up to be” I opined to her, “You might have to fend off Chaos worshipping Acolytes, save a poisoned woman from dying by collecting rare ingredients for usage in her recovery and convalescence, tussle with an Ursa Major, defend a town against an air raid, slash your way out of an underground mountain passage chocked full of Grimworts, come upon a ruined town with only a single survivor shivering at the bottom of a well, hunt two mystical figures across an expansive valley, fight for your life in naught but your skin, interrogate someone for the location of their hidden base, convince somebody who wants to both kill you and shake your hand for outfoxing them to assault that hidden base, eviscerate a hydra from within its putrid stomach, climb a rocky spire of two toned rock, save the day from the villain, and walk amongst the stars as your destiny is mapped out for you”

“Errm… right” Applejack was perplexed by my oddly specific list, “It’s probably for the best that I stick to the present where I’m needed, huh? Gettin’ back to mah tale, I had snuck out of mah room and was waitin’ at the train station to get the heck outta Dodge when mah friends gave chase. Hoo wee! Can Pinkie Pie get scary when she’s mad. I ran like the wind and commandeered a stagecoach, with mah friends likewise in pursuit. It was a bumpy ride too… makes this feel like napping on a cloud in comparison” As if on cue, the carriage jolted into the air as one of the wheels struck a rock and the suspension absorbed the energy directly, “They managed to get alongside mah stagecoach and Pinkie jumped aboard to confront me over breakin’ mah promise… which I technically didn’t because I never met them at breakfast”

“Exploiting the loopholes of a carefully worded promise, Applejack?” I beamed at her as we were in the middle of an ascending climb, “You may have a distaste for cozening people, but there is hope for you yet”

“A’hm the virtuous Element of Honesty” Applejack reminded me strongly, “I was sick to mah stomach takin’ advantage of mah own words like that. I promised that I would tell ‘em the truth, and yet there I was runnin’ from ‘em like a craven coward”

“What obstacle blocked you from doing so?” I asked her.

“Mah pride, mah damned pride” She bemoaned her stubbornness, “I risked their lives by tryin’ to lose ‘em via a game of chicken involving an oncomin’ train. They only made it by the slimmest of margins, with the train clippin’ the back of their wagon. I comprehended then that mah selfishness had put mah friends in danger, so I yanked back on the reins and slid the coach to a halt. I took mah satchel and emptied it in front of ‘em, tears blindin’ mah eyes as the truth came forth from mah lips like water from a fountain. They reminded me that I didn’t need to win all the rodeos or collect all the prize money in the world to be worthy of ‘em, I was their friend from the start, and nothin’ would change that”

“And the money for Town Hall came from what source then?” The roof of that building was undamaged from what I saw.

She waggled a hand in the air, “The Mayor hosted some kind of fundraiser event that the whole of the town chipped in for. After relating the same story to the crowd as to why I had kept away from ‘em, they had given so quickly that there was a surplus of bits one hour into the event. There’s still a budget excess that the Mayor hasn’t decided what to do with yet”

“We’re coming up on Cherry Hill Ranch” The driver declared to us, and I tore my gaze from the cowgirl to see what I could of Miss Jubilee’s cherry orchard.

My educated guess about the ranch surpassing Sweet Apple Acres in size was not unfounded. Cherry trees were laden with fruit that ranged from growing to ripened and were lined up as far as the eye could see. The leaves on the cherry trees were very pretty shades of purples and pinks that were reminiscent of cherry blossoms, except that these trees actually sprouted fruit. There were workers hauling tubs brimming with cherries under each arm, the branches of the trees contributing to the level of shade and mitigating the dry heat factor common to most arid regions. Along the same vein, Cherry Hill Ranch was bizarrely verdant when compared to the town it was based in. Grass carpeted the ground by the cherry trees and didn’t seem to be gasping for hydration as far as I could tell. The Agrarian green thumb sure was special. Almost as if it could magically irrigate the land where seeds had been planted. The Cherry Ranch had to have been a fixture here for years though, which was ample time to tame the sandy soil and remake it into fertile loam.

As the driver took us through a natural corridor between aisles of cherry trees, buildings could be made out through the gaps in the trunks. Each was structured disparately and was clearly suited for a particular purpose that made the Cherry Ranch the number one supplier in the country. The structure with the chute for dumping the wooden baskets of cherries had to be the sorting center, while the building connected to it via a brick hallway had to be a packaging center. This was confirmed when I saw a horse drawn cart stacked with crates pull around the side and converge on the road we were cruising, its driver tipping his hat politely at us in passing. The building with smokestacks spewing a thin line of smog had to be where the cherries were converted into scrumptious pastries ready for consumption. There was a building in the midst of construction whose purpose was unknown to me, though judging from the cola like bottle insignia, it was in all likelihood going to be a juicing center. I whistled to myself in awe. Miss Jubilee had her own private industrial complex going on here. The concentration of trees dispersed in increments until we were inside of a broad clearing where a farmhouse styled like a lodge stood stoically, the dull colors of its exterior contrasting with the varicolored grounds.

Standing in the center of this clearing was a slightly plump woman in a yellow dress with a red corset fasted around her waist, engendering her bust to bolster itself. There was a cutaway in her dress and my farsighted eyes could discern that she was wearing nylon stockings to go with her heeled boots. There was a cherry themed hairband binding her rich, dual toned cerise and dark red hair. She was halfway through barking out orders for her workers to obey when she saw us in the peripherals of her vision. Showing a common courtesy unexpected in a business owner (mayhaps it was because she seemed like a hands on kind of entrepreneur), she waved at us and shouted her acknowledgements.

“Well hello there!” The owner and proprietor of the ranch greeted us in a refined southern accent. For reference, it was on the middle ground between AJ’s usual way of speaking and when she put her Steelhatten vocal lessons to use. The driver halted us just shy of the road on the grass dividing cherry tree and trodden gravel. We climbed down and the woman who had been giving instructions walked to meet us in person.

She half curtsied for us once she was within conversational range, “Welcome to my home and place of business. I’m Cherry Jubilee. How may I serve you this fine day?”

Miss Jubilee’s green eyes brightened as they spotted Applejack, “Why if it isn’t Magiville’s best come to see me again! It’s been far too long, my dear Applejack. Have you returned for another change of scenery? Hmm? Hmm?” She embraced the cowgirl, eliciting a faint blush on her cheeks from what I presumed was embarrassment from the way she phrased it.

Miss Jubilee’s vision shifted to me and I saw a spark in them that put me on edge, “And who might this tall, winsome feller be? Another hand to tend my orchard perhaps?” She batted her eyelashes thrice at me in swift succession before settling on a half lidded leer.

‘Oh God, please tell me that wasn’t an innuendo’ This southern belle of a woman was nearly the same (from a relative viewpoint) age as Crystal Clear! Objectively speaking however, Miss Jubilee was still quite the looker. Though it did beg the question of why this majorly successful businesswoman slash secret servant of the Crown was unmarried. And now I realized that I just answered my own question.

“You may call me Zenith, Ma’am” I said, civilly tipping my hat to her, “And we’re here on…” I reached into a pocket in my duster and pulled out the hilt to exhibit to her, “…official business. Specifically concerning some guests you may have taken in?” I hinted to the woman so precisely that I might as well have screamed their names.

Jubilee’s eyes scanned the symbol on the hilt with razor like sharpness and her flirty demeanor morphed ever so slightly, “Yes… I might know a thing or two about that” She twisted her neck behind herself and hollered for one of her supervisors to justify his income while she saw to her guests, “Let’s continue this discussion inside, shall we? Come, bring your things. You’ll have free reign in my home for as long as you require it”

We obliged and followed her inside her house. The interior of the lodge like building was like a scene out of a Bass Pro Shop. There were stuffed heads of animals including deer, bears, and buffalo hanging from the upper halves of the walls, staring down at us with something like suspicion mixed with distrust. Fluttershy would probably dislike this place for those unsavory decorating choices alone, but Applejack’s attention only lingered on them long enough for her to look away with a vaguely unsettled expression. I couldn’t help but wonder if Miss Jubilee had hunted and killed these animals herself to bring home as trophies, or if she purchased them from somebody who had. Tanned hides of animals were draped over the railed of the stairs and only added to outdoorsman feel to the place. The air smelled of scented wood and nature in general, threatening to send my mind hurtling into an imaginary locale by a roaring river rapid where bears were catching salmon migrating upstream in their jaws.

The spurs on my boots clinked with regularity, producing noise again with each step forward I took. Miss Jubilee led us through her spacious home and into an area that had to be a kitchen, despite the lack of floor tiles that would designate it as such. The kitchen wasn’t exquisitely designed, with only a swirly granite countertop exuding any aura of sophistication, but I never cared much for elegant kitchen design anyway. There was a lengthy mahogany table close to an unused fireplace whose surface was waxed so thoroughly that you could see your own reflection on it if you looked at it carefully enough and at the correct angles. There were expertly handcrafted Victorian dining chairs with emblems of cherries embroidered above the seam lines of the cushions that were rather inviting to sit down in. It was becomingly exceedingly obvious that Miss Jubilee was extremely well to do for herself, though what we saw only seemed to be representative of less than a fraction of the wealth she possessed. I wouldn’t claim that she was living modestly, by any means, but she wasn’t as nestled into the lap of luxury as she could have been if she had only wanted it.

“Have yourselves a seat” She bid us, swinging her cabinets wide in search of some item, “Would any of you two care for some tea?”

I retracted a chair from the table and sank my keister into the plush, upscale cushion, “Pearl Grey if you have it, please” I recalled how it was the first tea I had tasted since arriving in this world, and I was oddly yearning for its flavor.

“Of course, Sugar” Some her flirtatious inflections seeped into her voice, “How about you, dear Applejack. Fancy a spot of afternoon tea?”

“Kind of ya to offer, Miss Jubilee. But I think I’ll pass” Applejack forwent the teatime niceties.

“Suit yourself ” She idly hummed a blissful tune out loud to herself as she poured scalding water into cherry themed teacups (‘These fruit cultivating families wear their crops like coats of heraldry, I swear’) using a kettle that she kept heated over an open flame. Once the teabags were inserted and properly steeped, she claimed her position at the head of the table, which was understandable since she was the independent lady of the house.

She set the cups on the table and motioned for me to take mine. Not bothering to get up and assert my ownership of it, I laid hold of it with a levitation spell and floated it over to me. My hat concealed most of my forehead, so my lack of a Focal Gem didn’t draw any negative notice. I blew at the steaming liquid and stole some of its excess heat with a leeching spell. I sipped at the fluid and was pleased that it was firmly in the Goldilocks’ zone. I loved how useful magic was when it came to both life threatening and mundane scenarios.

Miss Jubilee got straight to business after her second sip, “Do you wish to know about the physical conditions of my guests?”

I swigged at my drink, “Any information would be appreciated, yes”

She nodded, “Mister Braeburn is doing well. His mental state of health has improved markedly since he and Miss Braveheart first showed up at my doorstep” She had herself another dram of tea, “They had taken shelter in my cherry tree groves when there was a nasty dust storm not so many days ago. One of my workers discovered them huddled together beneath a tattered blanket and saw fit to notify me first thing. I came out to them once they had awoken and persuaded them to live under my roof as guests. I assured them that it wouldn’t cost them a bit, but Braeburn insisted that he pay their way and proffered his services as an orchard hand himself. Unsurprisingly, he is not the greatest with cherries, but he is persistent enough that he meets his daily quota with extra”

Applejack hummed proudly, “Darn tootin’! No self respectin’ member of the Apple family lags behind when it’s time to wet their brow with sweat”

“That he certainly did, and is doing now, Applejack” She agreed, before tittering, “Oh I do hope that my ranch doesn’t become a fallback location for employment to your family. Much as I cherish the times we had together, undue excitement follows those connected with you. It’s in the early stages of becoming a trend, if I’m not mistaken”
Applejack looked unsure how to respond to that.

I had emptied my teacup by then, “And what about Strongheart?”

“She taken to secluding herself in her room, preoccupying her mind with my personal collection of books” She had an admiring smile on her lips, “She has a ravenous hunger for knowledge about the world outside the plains her people call home, it’s quite charming”

We were off topic, “You’ve been briefed on what’s at stake, haven’t you? Strongheart is betrothed to a member of tribe who promotes aggressive policies regarding the string of kidnappings and killings affecting their people. A man who will doubtlessly see her disappearance as the work of the settlers and encourage his kinsmen to strike out at whom they perceive as the guilty party. This cannot be allowed to escalate into a full scale conflict, or it will end very badly for all those involved. Can I rely on you to assist me in doing what needs to be done, Miss Jubilee?” I stared at her with the unrestrained might of the stone face.

At that she hesitated, “I would love to assist you in any way I could, Agent Zenith” She was pensive, “But you need to know that the circumstances have become… more complicated than they were to begin with. Particularly in regards to this arranged marriage”

“How complicated are we talking here?” I inquired of her neutrally, planting my elbows on the table and steepling my fingers in contemplation.

Cherry Jubilee was sheepish about how to put it, looking anywhere but at us, doubly so avoiding eye contact with AJ, which did not bode well, “Hmm, you see… I only recently found out that the native girl… she’s…” She sighed and let the cat out of the bag, “She’s expecting”

The air in the already stuffy room stilled and the temperature rose a few degrees Celsius. I felt a mounting vibration under my elbows and instinctively knew whom it was emanating from. I cautiously crooked an eye to my side to survey the imminent catastrophe and need to effect damage control. I believe it was in that moment that Applejack surpassed her previous record of turning so red that she resembled her namesake fruit.

Author's Note

I find it a tad perturbing that I as a writer can bring up a plot objective and yet only brush the surface with only a few thousand words of it near the end of the chapter. Oh well... even I go into my writing process having only a hazy idea of what I emerge on the other side with. And for people with concerns over the dream sequences, just know that I won't make them too frequently or even the same scenarios. It's mostly a gimmick to give me an unconstrained hand to write with, to keep myself inspired to write. The next chapter should definitely feel like a old spaghetti western mixed with Red Dead in some scenes, while also advancing a plot point that I hope I can do justice with. Until then!

~ Best wishes

Zenith