EQUESTRIA; 03;00
She was on a beach, and the salty water lapped at her hooves. She lay on her side, wings twice the length of her body splayed out in an awkward, painful angle underneath her. Many of the white feathers were snapped and broken, a sandy mess, scraps of seaweed tangled in the feathers.
Her mane was in a similar disastrous state, tangled and knotted beyond repair. Lightning Hoof’s once ivory white pelt was discolored to yellow tints, caked with dirt, sand, and seaweed. Arching her neck, Lightning Hoof flared her nostrils, inhaling the scent of the dark red gashes on her side, and rippled her pelt. As she suspected, along with the dirt, dried and caked blood was among the mix.
Groaning, Lightning Hoof struggled to her hooves, shaking her pelt over vigorously. Folding her wings in proved to be a painful mistake, as her right wing sent a shot of liquid fire pain up her ligament, forcing her to keep it hanging at her side limply. The other folded in with less struggle, though it creaked and cracked like an only pony’s arthritis. Her own scent clogged her nostrils, making her wrinkle her nose in disgust. Between grime, seaweed, fish and blood, she didn’t smell the freshest.
She supposed she would need fresh water and food first, so scenting the air, Lightning Hoof turned her gaze inland. She wasn’t sure where the nearest source of her needs would be, so -
“Are you alright?”
Panic shot through Lightning Hoof’s system, causing her to whip around and rear with a flurry of panic, sending sand flying, whinnying and tossing her mane. The actions caused her to wince in pain, which she managed to hide from the onlooker. She quickly dropped to all fours, keeping her dirt caked horn aimed and between her and the intruder.
Stiff and ready for flight of fight, Lightning Hoof eyed over the pony before her.
The male pony stood a couple feet away, his head lowered in a respectful posture, to signal the paranoid alicorn that he meant no harm. He sported a soft faded green pelt, with an earthy brown mane. Kind, golden brown eyes peered at her from under his mane, as curious about her as she was him.
Standing at his flank, a dark brown pony was peering at her as well, ears pricked and head tilted in curiosity. The wind was blowing the wrong way as Lightning Hoof flared her nostrils, trying to catch their scent. They didn’t appear to prove any threat, so slowly she lifted her head, shaking her mane with a snort.
“Sorry for startling you,” the green pony spoke, his voice sturdy but soft spoken.
Her mouth dry, Lightning Hoof spoke in return, her voice cracking. “Who are you?”
The dark pony nickered in amusement, while the other made introductions. “I am Forest Canter, and this is Mud Skipper.”
Legs stiff as a newborn filly, Lightning Hoof let them approach, extending her neck to exchange breathes. Forest Canter’s velvety muzzle touched hers briefly, and she inhaled deeply. His scent was earthy and reminded her of a mix between pine trees and grass. She released her breath, allowing him to take in her scent, and then arched her neck to meet Mud Skipper, repeating the process.
“I’m Lightning Hoof,” the mare said after taking a step back.
“Pleased to meet you,” Forest Canter dipped his head, and then eyed her over. She was aware of his gaze grazing her wings and bloody flank, and she was surprised he didn’t turn his nose up at her reeking scent. “Where do you come from? What happened?”
“I…don’t know,” Lightning Hoof admitted.
Mud Skipper snorted, flicking an ear at her, “What do you mean?”
“I…I can’t remember anything, other than waking up on the beach. All of it is blank. I don’t know how I got these injuries, and I haven’t the faintest idea of where I am, or where I come from.”
Mud Skipper’s eyes were below her legs, and he spoke in awe and wonder. “Well, whatever happened, it must have been quite the fight. You also are clearly not from anywhere around here.”
Following his companion’s gaze, Forest Canter whickered in surprise, ears flicking. Lowering her head, Lightning Hoof went to look at what had caught the attention of the two.
The sand must have grinded and cleared out the mud and grime, because black hooves peeked out from the sand line. But they clearly weren’t normal hooves; they appeared to be made of some sort of metal material that capped her normal hoof. Snorting in disturbance, Lightning Hoof lifted a hoof, and saw the print in the sand was deeper than her back hooves, and that the tip of the metal was sharp and slightly curved, as if like a claw. Something triggered in her mind, and she knew automatically that they were for rearing and scraping, and that they would help her run faster when her hoof steps fell into the ground.
Looking herself over more thoroughly, Lightning Hoof noted that some of her own wing feathers had been tampered and adjusted with, sliced in such a way that would help her fly through the air faster, and at the base of her wing where it met her shoulder, a small metal cuff was ringed around the ligament. Scrutinizing it, she saw some letters etched in, some sort of code or series that she had no recollection of.
Glancing back at Forest Canter and Mud Skipper, they were looking at her with equal confusion and awe. Lightning Hoof rippled her pelt in unease. Not only was she a stranger to others, but to herself. With an alien body and no memory, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to retreat and seclude herself. Rumors of her odd appearance and lack of memory was the last thing she needed.
“We need to get those injuries looked at,” Mud Skipper spoke finally, tactfully refraining from commenting on her appearance. “Can you make a small trip into town?”
Once more, something snapped in Lightning Hoof, and she stepped back slightly, shaking her mane with a snort. “No. Not town. I must not be seen.”
Confusion etched in the buck’s gaze. “You’ll be fine, nobody will notice.”
But that was the thing. Somebody would notice, and though it may not be any normal pony, Lightning Hoof knew that if she was here somehow, there had to be others, and they had to be the ones that injured her. And being found, especially with not mental recollection on anything that happened, would be dangerous for her.
“No towns,” Lightning Hoof snorted firmly.
Mud Skipper looked like she was about to protest, but Forest Canter interrupted, gently touching Mud Skipper’s flank. “Fine,” he said, his gaze level with understanding. “No towns. I know somepony that might be able to help you, and possibly trigger your memory. She’s just outside of town, and we won’t have to travel through to get to her. Can you manage?”
Though it wasn’t ideal, Lightning Hoof supposed she had no choice. She dipped her head with a resigned snort at Forest Canter. “Very well. Lead on.”
Looking relieved, Forest Canter reached and touched Lightning Hoof’s muzzle once more, and then turned, starting up the sand bank slowly, Mud Skipper trotting ahead.
Lightning Hof started to follow, and then on second thought, turned and spread her wing. Rearing, she unfurled her wings and moved them in a circular motion. It stirred just enough wind to shift the sand, and the lapping water erased evidence of where she had been laying. Satisfied that no evidence of her presence had been left behind, Lightning Hoof lowered back to her fore hooves, and then cantered after her new companions.
EQUESTRIA—Knicked Hoof Headquarters, 2;00am
The black stallion was having a bad day. In fact, the entire bloody week had been problem after problem piled up on another as if they were going out of style. And then with everything else going on, three of his best ponies had failed, and to what? One scummy mare that wasn’t supposed to be there at the base in the first place, yet had the skills to defeat his ponies. Because of their mistakes, Lock was now assigned to take care of the one bothersome mare, and it was turning into a project. And Lock did not like long term projects.
Things couldn’t get any worse, Lock had seethed, only to be proven wrong a few minutes later. He had been informed by Storm Trotter, of all ponies, second hoof spy, that his ponie’s target had gotten away, and was un-traceable and lost. This in particular would be enough for him to be sentenced to death if Scarlet Demon was informed. So Lock was warned to clean up the mess before things got any further. And he would, but he had other matters to take care of first.
Lock liked to be punctual. In fact, he would have been at his destination even sooner if it weren’t for Brown Tail’s apprentice; some young colt called Super Bank. Apparently, mixing pure cesium and water didn’t super saturate it; it just imploded. Last week, the colt had been mixing water and lithium.
After cleaning up that mess, Lock was free to his assigned business. Thought it was a project, he enjoyed this one much more than any other assignments he’d been given. And today, he would enjoy causing pain to the lowly Princess in revenge for the muddle her companions had caused their company.
Counting the door numbers, Lock’s hooves clopped with satisfying authority as he treaded down the metal grating. He reached door 14-B, and arching his neck back to his saddle bag, took hold of a ID card between his teeth and flashed it in front of the scanner stationed at the side. A red light glowed, and there was a beep as the monitor confirmed his ID. There was a hiss as the air-sealed doors slid shut behind him again. Pausing, he observed the room before him.
Moniters and machines beeped and blinked against the windowless, concrete doors, going about their programmed commands like they were supposed to. Various computer screens blinked and flashed numbers while the others beeped steadily, showing a constant update on the prisoner’s condition.
The prisoner herself was in the center of the room, laying on the cold ground, tethered in place by several ropes around her neck, muzzle, and legs. The mare’s eyes were closed as she breathed slowly, not acknowledging Lock’s entrance. Her light golden mane splayed around her head, her face dirty matted from left over debris from the explosion days earlier, and recent interrogations. Her black uniform, covering her normally white pelt, was torn, dirty, and burned through in some places, giving her an overall exhausted, dirty appearance. Where the fabric on her forelegs had been burnt away, there were angry, red burns eating away at her skin, some starting to fester. She had been fished out of the middle of a fire, after all, Lock remembered, and was not given the privilege of recovery. The entire company knew what the mare here was capable of, and letting her recover to her normal health was dangerous. No, it was better to keep her weak and injured. Easier to handle that way. Despite her youth, Lightning Hoof’s sister was more hazardous than Lock and his men combined.
Lock observed his subject, listening to the computer’s beeping and shallow breathing of the mare. He had to commend Scarlet Demon for the capture of this mare; she was quite the prize. This was the most valued player in the Herd’s little rebel band; she had been put on their radar years ago, when she had just been an apprentice, for her hacking skills. They had lost many valuable documents and files because of her. Their security had been improved and enhanced because of this mare. And yet she made it seem so easy every time she breached a large fire wall or coded security, and Lock wanted nothing more than to pick her brain apart and see how she was wired. But that would come later. For now, the actions of her sister was what mattered, because Lightning Hoof was unpredictable.
((TO BE CONTINUED…UNDERGOING SEVERE EDITING))
