Horizon Falls

“There are very few personal problems that cannot be solved through a suitable application of high explosives.”
-Scott Adams

«««✧✦✧»»»

Spitfire awoke with a light gasp. Her breathing was heavy and rapid. The first thing she noticed was she ached all over, particularly her back and right side. She felt like she’d just flown a marathon and then fallen down a set of stairs the size of the Canterlot castle. Yet oddly she felt warm and somewhat comfortable, ignoring her pain that is. She felt something that seemed to be a thick blanket was placed over her. Her head, she felt, was resting a soft pillow; the kind of pillow that let half of one’s head sink into it.

The third thing she noticed was she couldn’t see.

She groaned and rolled over. The world that returned to her was greyer than she remembered. It also had a ceiling fan. And it was smaller. She sat up and glanced around the room. Grey walls, a screen on the wall opposite her bed. An arm chair sat in the corner to her left near a radiator. A painting stood where the window should be. To her immediate ten O’clock was a doorway that led to another part of wherever she was. To her right she found a cot on the floor and a small table on the opposite wall with a mirror hanging over it. As soon as she saw her reflection she gasped.

Her entire left eye was covered by a white medical patch. Bandages originating from her patch ran around her head. Farther down her body she noticed that her torso was bandaged and her right wing was in a cast. She reached up with her hoof and tapped the patch.

Instantly a stinging pain ran through her head and she retracted her hoof. She heaved as she began to cry. Tears only flowed down one side of her head.

The sound of a door opening and closing reached her ears. A few seconds later Gears stepped through the doorway with bags hanging from his good wing. He still wore his hat and coat but she noticed a long series of stitches running across his face and onto his forehead. The stitches on his mouth were gone leaving him with a permanent smile.

Immediately he noticed she was awake and dropped the bags and ran to the bed. On the table he found a box of tissues and began to dab away her tears.

“Hey, it’s alright.”

Spitfire sniffed and nodded. He handed her a few tissues and she blew her nose.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded, “Wha-what happened?”

He sighed, “There was a bomb in the station. The explosion collapsed the entire building.”

She glanced at him.

“I’m sorry. From what’s known it looks like we’re the only two who made it out.”

“Why-why can’t I remember anything?”

“You went unconscious at the top of the stairs. There was gas.”

“Gas?” she asked.

“I would guess that whoever put the bomb there used the gas to knock everyone out.”

“You said only we made it out?”

He nodded, “I’m sorry. I only had time to grab you and get back down the stairs. By the time the bomb went off we were only back in the basement near the morgue.”

She nodded, “What-what happened to me?”

He sighed, “Again, I’m sorry. You were bleeding out and I didn’t have much time. I got you into the car and we made it here. I had to… operate.”

“Operate?”

“You had a large piece of glass embedded in your eye. I couldn’t do anything but remove it. I’m sorry.”

“Are you saying I’m now blind in one eye?”

“For the moment? Yes. I’m sorry but until we can get you an implant you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

She sighed, “Alright.”

“There is one piece of good news,” he said.

“What?”

Gears gave a small smile, “We’re dead too.”

“What? The hell are you talking about?”

“Most of the bodies were vaporized in the blast. There isn’t exactly a large amount of remains for the police to search through.”

“Police?”

“District 8 has led the investigation.”

“Great,” Spitfire scowled.

“Why?”

“They fuckin’ suck at their jobs.”

“Well that’s good for us. There’s barely any remains to autopsy and since our last recorded position was at the parking garage the police just assumed we were killed in the explosion.”

“Why the fuck is that a good thing?”

Gears grinned, “Because the fucks who did this think we’re dead too.”

“Great.”

Spitfire glanced around the room, “How long have I been out?”

“Five days.”

“Where are we?”

“A safe house. I found it in your car’s database. I had it drive us here.”

“Really?”

“After I pulled the car’s transponder.”

“You had the sense of mind at that time to pull the transponder?”

“Not really,” he smiled, “I’m not that smart. It wouldn’t stop beeping so I tore it from the casing and smashed it.”

“Those are hidden-”

“Under the driver’s side wheel hood. I know. It was just hanging there when I got there so I tore it.”

“Lucky us.”

“Yeah.”

“So what’ve you been doing since I went out?”

“After I got you all bandaged up and stable I did a little background checks on the lead to our lead.”

“And?”

Gears pulled a small pad out of his saddle bag, “She’s a fire drake from Erta Ale region or what’s left of it at this point. She was banished after failing to pass the trials.”

“And the burns?”

“She was burned in the banishment ritual; kind of savage. But she was banished. She made her way around the world as a leach more or less until she arrived here.”

“And then what?”

“Apparently she got sick and almost died.”

“You say almost.”

“Yeah well I give you three guesses on why she didn’t.”

“Our good doctor?”

“Bingo. He found her on the street and took care of her for a few months until she recovered.”

“Guess that would make sense onto why she’d cover for him.”

“Oh yeah. Then a little while later she mysteriously got her job at that diner we found her at.”

“Thinking what I’m thinking?” Spitfire asked.

“Yeah. I’m thinking our good doctor pulled a few strings and got her hired.”

“Hmm. How long until I can move again?”

“A few weeks until you’re ‘fully’ recovered. Why?”

“We’re going to revisit our dear Thorn.”

“Are you sure you want to do continue this?”

“Yes. Why are you asking?”

“It’s just… I’d figure you’d want to focus more on who wanted us dead.”

“I do. And when I find them, I’m going to kill them. And I’m going to do it slowly. But right now our little fire breathing fuck is the closest thing we have to finding them. Find the doctor, find the girl, find the fucks who blew up my station and killed all our friends.”

“You sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

“Well in that case, relax for a bit while I get some dinner ready. We’re gonna have a lot of work ahead of us.”

“Alright.”

“And in that database, I found a few ‘unmarked’ armories scattered about.”

“Planning on doing some hunting?”

“A little. If I’m not here when you wake up tomorrow don’t panic. We should have all the things we’ll need for this… investigation when I return.”

“Good boy. And Gears?”

“Yeah?”

Spitfire smiled sadly, “Th-thank you for taking care of me, again.”

He smiled back, “No problem. And don’t worry, there’ll be time to mourn after we finish the job.”

“I know. And I wish we didn’t have to.”

He sighed, “Me too, Spitfire. Me too.”

«««✧✦✧»»»

A week and a half later Spitfire and Gears had mostly recovered from their injuries. Spitfire’s bandages around her torso were removed and her fur was beginning to grow back. The cast on her wing remained however while Gears’ wing was settled into a sling. Spitfire’s eye however was a special case with a white medical patch remaining tapped to her head. Her mane, instead of being candle flame shaped was now falling in front of her now very bad left eye. Gears’ now permanent smile seemed to grow creepier as the two realized that the stitches dissolving didn’t mean that they would go quietly. The scars on the sides of his face now bore little indented marks where the stitches had dug a little too far into the skin of his cheek, making the scars look like they almost had teeth.

In the following days they picked up some clothes using a few untraceable cards as well as some other necessities. Gears earlier had to sneak into Spitfire’s now sealed apartment to pick up a few personal effects.

Their safe house was now starting to become a more permanent sort of home for the two as the pair slowly recovered and researched more on their now very personal case.

Gears cracked open the hard plastic case. Inside, encased in a layer of foam was a gun. It was a long rifle with a thumbhole stock and a retractable scope that flipped to the left side of the weapon when not in use. The ‘barrel’, if it could be called that, was considerably longer than his previous weapon and consisted of a vertically resting rectangular section with for the barrel at the end of it. And unlike his previous rifle the gun inside his case was capable of being disassembled and reassembled rather quickly. And unlike his previous weapon which fired plasma arcs, this one fired cold, hard, metal bullets.

He cracked open the stock of the weapon: fully charged. Finding power for the weapon wouldn’t be much of a problem as its batteries could be recharged through solar means or by plugging the gun into any universal socket. Three ten round magazines sat encased in foam as well as what appeared to be a silencer.

Spitfire glanced over his shoulder, “Nice. Not exactly standard issue.”

“I figured it would do the job. Plus my other gun kinda went bye-bye.”

“Just remember, this is a railgun. This isn’t that plasma gun or whatever the fuck that thing was that you used to have. This won’t make people explode.”

“Kinda figured that out. This gets back to the basics of punch holes in something until it stops moving.”

“Kinda, this is a police sniper rifle; modified from the military variant of the SRC-60. It’s designed to go through sixteen centimeters of solid concrete or cut through the engine block of a car. Recoilless and easy to carry, it shoots off depleted Uranium rounds at Mach 6 though any metal that you can get into the chamber will do just fine from nails to ball bearings, though I can’t say you’d get the same kind of stopping power from either of those.”

Gears grinned, “I think shooting anything at Mach 6 would do the job just fine. By the way, how do you know so much about this thing?”

“I read the manual.”

“Sure you did. Anyway, what’re you carrying?”

“AR-33. Battery powered weapon that shoots off plasma balls,” Spitfire said glancing back at her case, “Not exactly as powerful as yours but is certainly easier to carry.”

“Is this what I think it is?” Gears asked holding up the silencer like device.

“Yeah. The gun is recoilless not silent.”

“How does that work?”

“Don’t ask me. It does something with the plasma exhaust but if you’re far enough away from your target they shouldn’t hear a thing. The only downside is that when it vents it adds recoil so be prepared for that.”

“So we’re all set?” Gears said glancing around the apartment that was now filled with cases of equipment and weapons.

“Yeah. Bloody happy now that I lost my left eye and not my right.”

“When we can we’ll get you a prosthetic.”

“Later. For now, let’s go dragon hunting.”