For those of you who have read CyberFire: She's back.

The last stretcher with a sheet over it rolled by just as the medic finished stitching the edges of Gears’ mouth; the stretcher was shortly followed by a unicorn levitating a metallic ice box. A CSI team as well as a bomb squad was investigating the entire terminal of the port.

“Alright,” the medic said removing the stitcher from his face. He pulled out a small spray can and sprayed the edges of the wound before shinning a neon blue light over it.

“Try not to open your mouth too wide for the next thirty six hours at least. Honestly you should be fine after twenty four but to be safe I would wait a good forty eight before washing the stitches out. And your wing was dislocated and broken in two places so it’ll have to stay in that cast for the next few weeks. You should be flying again in about three weeks give or take but I wouldn’t take any chances.”

Gears poked the stitches lightly, “Will these leave any scars?”

“Any cuts like that will leave scars,” the medic said packing up his case, “But any Cosmo in the city can get rid of those.”

“Alright.”

“Police should be by soon to ask you some questions.”

“Alright, thanks doc.”

“No problem.” The stallion stood up and trotted away.

When the security finally broke the safety glass and police arrived, they quickly cornered off the area from the general public and began a rather hasty investigation that was still underway. Part of said investigation was going up at the street level where an airship had fallen from the upper level down onto the street below.

Most of the cops that showed up all had a look Gears had seen before: like they didn’t get paid enough and that every night when they went to sleep they hoped they didn’t wake up in the morning. But unlike the Canterlot PD that could barely deal with a hostage situation, these ponies had experience as well as guts. If they’d been hit with a similar hostage situation they would have no problem killing each one of the kidnappers in the most creative ways possible. Still, in this city you had to be creative and bend or break the rules if you were to survive as a cop.

But that didn’t stop most of them from being depressed/borderline suicidal. Gears figured that’s what made them a success. Well, most of them were borderline suicidal. A certain few had the guts and gall without the depressive attitudes that went along with them.

“Well, well, well,” a smooth yet slightly creaky female voice said, “I’d know that shitty hat any day of the week.”

Even in his current condition, Gears let a small smile grace his face, “Hello Spitfire.”

He turned to get a view of her. Standing before him in a standard police uniform was the Captain of Horizon District 9. She never wore a cap, keeping it clipped to her belt, preferring to let her flame like mane flow freely from her head. Her brilliant orange eyes focused on her childhood friend.

She cringed, “Geez, you look like shit.”

“Feel like shit,” he said indicating to his wing.

“Aw dude! That right there sucks.”

“Meh, it’s not that bad. You were always the better flier than I was. It’s not as crippling for me as it would be for you.”

Spitfire frowned and trotted over to him and started walking in circles around him, “Oh? And what is that supposed to mean?”

Gears scoffed, “I know who you are Spitfire.”

She flicked her tail under his chin, “And I know who you are. Partners in crime remember? But back to the question: what do you mean by that?”

“If you’re still anything like you were last time I saw you, your strong points are your wings. On the ground and in most things that don’t require flying I always beat you.”

She turned around quickly and stared right into his eyes, “That’s debatable.”

He grinned but quickly grimaced as pain ran through his mouth, “Oh-gah! Fuck that hurts! Is it?”

Her frown melted, “Forget it for the moment. Geez you got beat up.”

Gears laughed, “You should have seen the other guys.”

Spitfire glanced over his shoulder at the bloody mess that was being cleaned up. Chunks of a dead dragon were being loaded into a large black bag.

“Don’t worry. I get the idea.”

Gears glanced at the patch on her shoulder, “So you’re the hardass captain of District 9 I’ve been hearing so much about?”

She smiled, “Yup, captain of District 9 now. Moving up in the world. So I guess this means you’re the psychotic son of a bitch detective the commissioner’s been barking down my neck about?”

“Good guess. Someone high up called in a favor and here I am,” he said pulling himself to his hooves.

“Great. So you’re my problem now,” she smiled.

“Yeah. I am. Better start getting used to it ‘cause we have a job to finish.”

“So I can see. Next time someone tries to kill you, try not to make such a big mess,” she said as they trotted over to a squad vehicle.

“I’m sure you’ve done worse with a dragon.”

“I wasn’t talking about the dragon.”

“What then?”

“You cut off traffic for a key part of the city. There’s gonna be a lot of pissed off ponies.”

Gears climbed into the passenger seat of the car, “They can deal with it. I’m sure there’s a few dead bodies inside that thing so if they want to start digging to get it out of the way.”

“Wow, you’re an even bigger asshole than I remember,” she laughed climbing into the driver’s seat.

“I just got a Glasgow Smile within an hour of being in this city. I think I’ve earned the right.”

“We’ll see about that,” she grinned, “For now, let’s catch up.”

«««✧✦✧»»»

“The Wonderbolts?” Gears scoffed?

“Fuck off bud,” Spitfire said as the pair trotted out of the parking garage. It was raining now, or what passed for rain in this part of the planet. The rain was multicolored due to the variety of chemicals mixing in with the evaporated water. Fortunately most of them were benign to flesh but certain types of stone statues were having trouble. The lights from the skyscrapers glowed and bounced all through the water as it fell. Various signs advertising a plethora of services were scattered all about the street level entrances. Overhead, a monorail glided past, a mobile billboard attached to it. A club was being promoted on it though neither Gears nor Spitfire caught enough for a name.

“How’d that nickname come about? The best police force in Canterlot is the Psychological Criminal Profiling Unit or the Psycho Squad as we’re used to calling them. Why not something cool like that?”

“The hell should I know? Word on the street is that some kid started calling us that after Soarin’ helped him cross the street one day. However it got started it stuck like herpes.”

Gears laughed, “Glad to know Soarin’ is at least still alive. I’m surprised his carelessness hasn’t gotten him killed yet.”

“Hey, he’s gotten better in the past few years. And considering he’s still living and it’ll be ten years on Thursday, you’re gonna owe me a round,” Spitfire giggled.

“Can’t believe you still remember that,” Gears said shaking his head.

“I remember a lot of things,” She declared proudly, “I remember the time you fell off that fire escape and broke your leg trying to catch me. I’m the one tail you could never chase.”

Gears cringed, “Wow, ouch, were you waiting all this time to use that one?”

“Maybe,” she said tossing her now wet mane.

“How long did it take you to come up with that one? You must’ve been rolling that one through your head for at least a week.”

“I can be witty when I want.”

“Yeah, sure you can. You gonna remember where you parked or am I going to have to do that for you?”

She blushed, “That was one time!”

“Yeah, one time. And because of it Rapidfire and I got second assholes.”

“Oh come on! Rapidfire says he wasn’t chewed out that bad.”

“I certainly hope you haven’t forgotten where his parents live.”

“So they live on the upper side, big deal,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, when he doesn’t come home his parents assume he’s with someone. When I don’t come home I’m assumed beaten, mugged, stabbed, shot, burned, disposed of in acid or raped. And all because you lost your remote and couldn’t locate the damn car.”

“Yeah well you two could’ve flown home.”

“You fly right now and tell me why that’d be a horrific idea,” Gears replied.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she laughed.

“So what’d you been up two these last few years?”

“Well I’m a police captain now as you can see.”

“I’m not blind yet you know.”

“Yet?” Spitfire asked skeptically.

“If the last few hours are any indication it’ll be a miracle if I DON’T lose one of my senses on this trip.”

“I see the stick up your ass hasn’t gotten any smaller.”

“And I can see your ego hasn’t either.”

“OH really? How can you tell?”

“Trust me,” Gears grinned, tipping his hat.

“Tip that thing again, Neckbeard, and I’ll castrate you.”

“Oh why must my fair mistress be so cruel?” came his sarcastic reply.

“Are you into Sadomasochism now? If you’d like I can help you out there,” she teased.

“Oh will you please mistress? I’ve always wanted you to chop my fucking balls off,” Gears rolled his eyes.

“I have a knife in my pocket if you’d like,” Spitfire grinned.

“Really? That’s how far you’re gonna take this?”

She stopped and reached into her jacket pocket. A large switch blade flipped out of her jacket and into her hoof. The blade was sharp as a razor.

“Wanna find out?” she smiled.

“You don’t have the ovaries for that kind of thing,” Gears confidently replied.

“I don’t know, Gears. You haven’t visited in three years. A lot can happen.”

He turned to face her, “Like what?”

She trotted towards him and leaned in close until their muzzles were almost touching. She grinned and narrowed her eyes.

“Wanna find out, cowboy?” she said allowing a sultry tone to flow forward.

Gears scoffed lightly, “Another time perhaps, cowgirl. Soarin’ will have to keep you satisfied for the evening.”

She reeled back, “Dear fucking Goddesses!”

Gears grinned and laughed knowing exactly what he said, “What?”

“It’s been a fucking DECADE and you STILL haven’t let that go?! How many fucking times do I have to tell you that I haven’t and don’t have anything going on with him?!” she yelled blushing.

“Your face says otherwise,” Gears said pushing all the buttons as he remembered them.

“Oh my goddesses! I cannot believe it’s been this long and you haven’t changed a fucking bit!” she said with a shocked expression on her face.

“It’s only been three years,” he grinned.

“The fuck you mean it’s only been three years?! It’s been TEN YEARS!”

Gears snickered, “And you want ME to believe you’ve changed since I last saw you when you’re still getting worked up over THAT old joke? Holy fuck Spitfire, you may be a bit older than last time but the buttons still work just as I remembered them.”

Her jaw sat agape, “You son of a bitch.”

“Of course I know you’d never CONSIDER doing that,” he said, drawing out the statement with a slight bourgeois accent to it, “I mean, even YOU have standards.”

“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult,” Spitfire deadpanned.

“Take it as you will. As far as I’m concerned,” he grinned, “you’re still the same Spitfire I knew three years ago, five years ago, six years ago, nine years ago, ten years, all the way back. You haven’t changed a bit accept for the bars.”

“I hate you sometimes,” she frowned as they resumed walking.

“Sure you do, Captain.”

“Are you patronizing me? I’m a POLICE CAPTAIN. I worked very hard to achieve this position and I deserve the respect that comes with it,” she smiled.

“Sure you do, Captain.”

Spitfire sighed, “And you haven’t changed a bit either, Gears.”

“I guess that was the point of this exercise.”

She grinned and removed her cap from her belt and placed it on her head and buttoned her jacket. Gears smiled.

“It looks good on you.”

Spitfire turned, “Thanks.”

“So what next?”

“You’re an idiot sometimes,” she said shaking her head, “Come on, let’s go get some lunch then we’ll head to the station.”

He flicked her flank with his tail, “Be nice, Captain.”

She blushed, “Start walking asshole.”

“Ooh. Yes sir, Captain Sir.”

“That’s MA’AM to you!”

“Yes mom.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Of course I am.”

The pair resumed their trot down the rain soaked sidewalk.

“And Gears?”

“Yeah?”

“The hat looks nice.”

Author's Note

No, I'm not fucking dead. I have been busy college shit like spending half a thousand dollars to buy books and that's with the discount for buying used books or finally sorting out the fucked up business of getting my test scores transferred to my college. Fuck it's been a busy last few months but I'm getting back into the swing of things. I'm still alive.