Arnold watched in confusion as Allen turned and drove the completely wrong way. “Where the hell’s he goin’?”

“C’mon Arnie.” Skeeter said as he approached the massive engine block. “Ya’ll really expect him to take on a bunch of feds with a silenced pistol? He’s goin’ home to gear up.”

“He better hurry.” the marine replied anxiously.

“Twilight?” called Celestia.

Twilight hurried over to the portal. “Yes, princess?”

“Is it possible for you to take this portal with you, or for us to follow you?”

“I don’t think so. As far as I know, the Breach was only created as a means for transportation, not communication. I think you may have to power down the Breach until later, maybe sometime late in the evening.”

“Would nine o’clock be a problem?”

Twilight looked over at the twins, who simultaneously shook their heads.

“One way ‘r another, we should be settled by then.” said Skeeter.

“Hopefully, beside a cozy campfire in the desert.” Arnold added.

“Indeed.” Celestia agreed. “In that case, we’ll leave you to prepare. Good luck to you all.”

“Twiley? You stay safe little sis.” Shining said, worry evident in his tone.

“I will. I’ll talk to you all tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” her mother replied. “We love you dear.”

“I love you, too. Goodbye.”

She sighed as the portal closed, hiding the worried faces of her family once more. Skeeter exchanged a look with Arnold, then turned back to Twilight. “Hey Twi.”

Her head snapped up and turned towards him. “Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, but this’ll probably go a lot faster if ya’ll help us.” he replied.

“Of course.” she said getting up and walking over to them, wrapping the engine in her aura as she did so.

She continued to hold it as Skeeter and Arnold undid the metal fasteners keeping it attached to the mount, giving a small grunt as it was finally released. She slowly carried it out back, taking care not to bump it into anything and potentially damage it. The twins hurried past her, Skeeter carrying a toolbox and impact wrench while Arnold unraveled an extension cord. She reached the end of the lot, where Skeeter climbed onto the plow to guide the massive contraption into position, then began securing it in place from the top while Arnold worked on the underside. Her job done, Twilight sat down on a nearby stack of tires, once more falling back into depression while the twins immersed themselves in their work.

Really, what would it have hurt? Simply letting somepony…anypony…know that she’d figured out how to operate the Breach could have prevented all of this. Instead, like the fool she was, she’d charged straight into unknown territory without a care in the-

“Hey Twi, what’s on yer mind?”

She looked up as she was abruptly dragged from her self-deprecation, noticing the mechanic staring at her in concern as he continued to work. Ignoring the fact that he was managing delicate mechanical work without looking at what he was doing, she shook her head.

“I think we have more important things to worry about right now than me.”

“Lady, until this here metal giant’s up n’ runnin’, we got nothin’ but time.” Arnold called from underneath the behemoth on wheels. “Is it about yer family?”

Twilight sighed resignedly. If she’d learned anything about the twins, it was that they were stubborn. While she would prefer that they simply worry about what was immediately important, they obviously wouldn’t let this go until she cooperated. “Yes. In the chaos of the past week and a half, I’d completely forgotten that I have a family back home that’s worried sick about me.”

“No one can blame ya fer that. Ya’ll went from a peaceful life o’ studyin’ to the Vegas life o’ bein’ beat up and shot at. That’s a lot for one gal to stomach.”

“And who’s fault was that?” Twilight replied, somewhat angrily. “I jumped headfirst into a world that I knew nothing about, with no precautions or defense or plan of any kind. If it weren’t for Allen, they may have spent who knows how long wondering what happened to me.”

“Except he did show up, and you’re fine now. Yer folks know that, just like they know we’re gonna see you through this nonsense. So what’s the issue?”

“What’s the issue?” she repeated. “I scared the living daylights out of everyone I care about! I could’ve been killed or worse! They should’ve been unbelievably furious with me for what I did, so why aren’t they!?”

“Probably because they’re too happy knowin’ that yall’re still okay.” Arnold called.

“Twi, yer folks just spent over a week worryin’ that ya’ll might be dead. Now that they finally managed to get through to ya and found out that yall’re alive, ya really think they’re gonna ruin the moment by bein’ pissed at ya? Ya’ll think they’d want that?”

Twilight looked away in thought. If it were one of them here in her place, how would she react to finally seeing them again? Probably the same way.

“Yer folks are smart, Twi.” Arnold continued. “They know there ain’t no point bellyaching’ about coulda’s n’ shoulda’s. What’s happened has happened, so just make the best of it.”

“I suppose…” she said.

“Hey, c’mon. Quit worryin’ about it.” Skeeter said with a smile. “Yer folks’ll still love ya when ya git home. Worry ‘bout this then.”

“Alright.” Twilight relented.

“Great. Now do me a favor and hand me that impact down there.”

The requested tool floated up to the mechanic’s hand, and Twilight winced slightly at the racket it made as it finished bolting the engine in place. Five minutes later, Arnold crawled out from under the bus as Skeeter hopped off the plow.

“Ya got everythin’?” Skeeter asked his twin.

“Exhaust, bottom mounts, fuel injection, fuel return…” Arnold said quietly, counting the parts on his fingers.

“Plugs?”

“Got ’em.”

“Then let’s bring this thing to life.” the mechanic said as he turned to the door, wrenched it open, and climbed up to the driver’s seat. The key was already in the ignition, as he’d had no need to worry about anyone stealing a bus with no engine. He gave it a turn and listened as it turned over several times, then grinned as it rumbled awake.

“IT’S ALIIIIVE!!” he heard Arnold scream outside.

Skeeter climbed out and started jogging back to the garage. “C’mon! We ain’t got much time left! Let’s grab what we need and git on the road!”

((((((*******))))))

Allen practically threw the front door of his house open and immediately descended to the basement, searching around for anything he could use to survive the approaching conflict. In mere minutes, the worktable that had once been used as a place to clean and repair his various firearms was littered with spare magazines, a folded pocket knife, and even two grenades. It was the best armed he’d ever been in his life, and yet still he searched.

“C’mon…where the hell did I…” he trailed off as he thought for a moment, the drawer before him remaining half-searched. He suddenly snapped his fingers and darted all the way upstairs to the attic, searching around for the large plastic crate of things that he’d removed from his room before giving it to Twilight. Upon locating it, he dragged it out of its hiding spot and began sifting through its contents until he found what he was looking for.

“Hey there.” Allen said with a smile as he extracted a brown leather belt with holster attached. The smile only widened as he pulled out the shiny top-break revolver resting in said holster.

He remembered when he’d first seen Larry use it. It had been on his twelfth birthday, which his stepfather had decided to celebrate by taking him to the shooting range, much to the chagrin of his mother. Allen had been practicing with a pretty basic handgun when he heard the revolver go off all six times in rapid succession. Larry had grinned at the open-mouthed expression directed at the target sheet, which now bore six perfect headshots arranged in a crude imitation of a smiley face. When asked how he’d managed such incredible accuracy, his only response had been ‘Practice’.

For the next two years, Allen had practiced almost religiously, determined to achieve that same level of accuracy. Only when he entered high school and his education started demanding more attention did he hang up his holster. Then, the Christmas before the incident, Larry had surprised Allen by taking him to the range and letting him use the revolver. He’d attempted to recreate his stepfather’s masterpiece from two years ago, marveling at the perfect smiley face that he’d added to the faceless target sheet.

Good times… Allen thought as he removed the holster from the belt and attached it to the harness hidden under his jacket. He paused just long enough to take the two accompanying speed loaders out of the pouch on the belt, then went back downstairs to retrieve the rest of his gear.

His phone rang as he descended the stairs to the basement, and he quickly put it on speaker and sat it on the worktable. “Hey.”

“Jam’s ready to fire. Are you ready?” the Administrator asked.

“Almost, just grabbing a few spare necessities.” he replied. “By the way, quick question about that jam…”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you suggest that the other night when the feds were chasing us?”

“The jam doesn’t do anything to cameras or radios. Using it then wouldn’t have helped you.”

Allen looked up from the revolver he was loading to stare at his phone. “Hold up…they'll have radios? I thought you said they wouldn’t be able be able to coordinate?”

“I did? Huh…my bad.”

He stared blankly at the phone. “Wow. Professional.”

“Shut up.” replied his accomplice defensively. “I’m only human, after all.”

Allen sighed in annoyance. “Whatever. It’ll have the effect I want anyway, and maybe there’s a small chance they won’t have radios.”

“About as small as the chance that the Outlaster won’t be noticed. Seriously, why not just get a minivan or something? The trunk and passenger space are both huge, and there’s no way they’d expect you to try escaping in one.”

“Cyrus, think for a second.” Allen responded as clipped the pocket knife to his belt. “What would you do if you were looking for someone in a specific area, but didn’t know what car they were driving?”

The call was silent for a moment as he thought. “Run the plates and find where the car came from.”

“Exactly, and any cars I’ll radio you once I’m out. plates are also fair game. The Outlaster is really the only good option here.”

“Alright, but shouldn’t you make a plan B in case the bunker stops being an option?”

“Yes we should.” Allen replied as he picked up his phone and dialed Skeeter, mentally chastising himself for not thinking to do so before leaving the garage. The dial tone sounded twice before the mechanic picked up. “Skeeter?”

“Yeah?”

“You guys almost done?”

“We’re grabbin’ some essentials to stick in the back. Might be a long trip.”

“Probably. Listen, in case the bunker isn’t an option, do you have anywhere else we can go?”

“Huh…there’s Malcolm up in Alamo. He’ll help us ‘s long we don’t bring the feds to his door.”

Allen did his best to ignore the bad omen inherent to that name. “To the north? We’ll have to go through the city?”

“Yeah, but Ah know a good straightway. Maneuverability’s the problem with this thing, but if it ain’t got no reason to slow down, chances are it won’t, ya know?”

“Good. You still have your radio?”

“Yeah, and yours should be in the glove box.”

“Alright, tell me if you have to abort to plan B.”

“If I may make a suggestion gentlemen?” the Administrator piped up.

“What?”

“Destroy your cell phones.”

“Right. Skeeter, got that?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell Arnie, too.”

“Alright. I’ll radio you once I’m out. Otherwise, radio silence unless you change to plan B.”

“Gotcha. See ya’ll in a bit.”

The call ended, and Allen made for the front door. “Alright, I’m leaving.”

“I’m launching in ten minutes. Sound good?”

“Perfect. I guess-”

He suddenly stopped at the door.

Pausing, he turned around and took a long look around the room. His eyes darted around as he recalled various events of the past decade. The day he’d first stepped foot inside, the day he’d introduced the twins to his parents, the day Logan had come home wrapped in his baby blanket…

…the day he’d found his stepfather plastered against the wall opposite him and his brother literally hacking up a lung, the day he’d unpacked his rifle in preparation for Frost’s assassination, the day he’d spent curled up below the couch in fear of the demon in the mirror…

“Ghost?”

Allen shook his head, then shut and locked the door and turned to his car. “Sorry. I just had the weirdest feeling that I’m not coming back here.”

“You don’t sound too bothered by that.”

He slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. “Oddly enough, I’m not.”

“Well…I’m hanging up. Don’t forget to toss your phone. It’s the only way they’ll be able to track you when you leave.”

“Understood. Bye Cyrus. Thanks for your help.”

“Likewise.”

The line went dead, and Allen dropped his phone underneath the front tire. He backed out of the driveway, listening to the small ‘crunch’ the device made as it was crushed under the wheel, then shifted gears and made for the east end.

((((((*******))))))

Carl stared anxiously at the road leading further into the Southern District, occasionally stealing glances at his partner. Said partner never took his binoculars off the road, save for the occasional glance at the monitor hooked up to a device on their dashboard which pinged every time a car passed by.

There was no mistaking the impact that Simmons’ death was having on him, just as there no mistaking the reason for it. The captain had done so much for Jeff since his entrance into the CIA, and thanks to Ghost he’d never be able to repay him.

A fact that he and Carl were all too aware of.

“Nothing yet?” asked Carl.

“No. Just civilian after civilian.” replied his partner.

“We’ll get him, man.”

Jeff shook his head angrily. “Can you believe Remus wants him alive? After everything he’s done?”

“Didn’t give a reason, just said we need to capture him, too. I don’t freaking know.” Carl said as he mimicked his friend’s action. “I do know one thing, though.”

“What’s that?” Jeff asked, taking the binoculars away from his eyes to look at him.

Carl grinned devilishly. “He said alive, but he didn’t say unharmed.”

“That’s true…” Jeff said, considering his options as he returned his gaze to the road. “Dibs on his kneecaps.”

Once more, they were waiting in a silver Jaguar on the side of the road, watching around for any signs of their quarry. One of the other lieutenants had attempted to assign Carl to gunner duty, only for Jeff to intervene and reassign him to driver duty. Carl couldn’t have been more relieved that his friend had stepped in, since his prowess behind the wheel was matched only by his terrible aim.

“What was Larson thinking, anyway? Me on gunner duty?” Carl said with a shake of his head.

“I think he transferred from a different unit. I haven’t seen him around until just recently.”

“That new unit Remus called in?”

“Yeah. Can’t understand why he called them, though. It’s not like we’re taking very heavy casualties.”

Carl nodded his agreement. “The most damage Ghost did to us was in that chase the other night, and even then we only suffered minimal casualties. Maybe they’re here specifically to help storm the district?”

“Maybe…that would also explain where the new armored cars came from. We had…what…ten before?”

“If that.”

“I guess Remus is just getting impatient. Wouldn’t surprise me after what…heads up.”

Carl leaned forward to peer past his partner, also noticing the black car approaching them at what could hardly be considered the speed limit.

“Start the car.” Jeff ordered, tossing the binoculars in the back and pulling the slide on an SMG.

“Here we go.” the wheelman muttered as he mentally prepared himself for yet another chaotic game of cat-and-mouse.

((((((*******))))))

Here we go… Allen thought as he approached the edge of the district, suddenly much more conscious of the empty passenger seat. The confidence he’d displayed at the garage was gone, replaced by the urge to keep the gas pedal pressed all the way down until the feds were gone. It was one thing talking about taking on an army, but actually doing it and surviving would be a miracle wrapped in a blessing.

He glanced in his rear-view mirror, immediately recognizing the silver Jaguar from almost a week prior, flanked by several other sports cars and at least half a dozen armored SUVs. He made a right, heading north towards the main city, and picked up the radio off of the passenger seat.

“Skeeter! Come in!”

His call was answered in half a second. “Skeeter here.”

“I just left South!” Allen shouted as he heard gunfire behind him. “Looks like I got at least the majority following me! Now would be an outstanding time to leave!”

“Understood. We’re boardin’ now, should be past city limits in twenty. Hopefully.”

“Good! See you th-” A shot suddenly tore through the side of his headrest, making him jump. “Going quiet! See you there!”

He tossed the radio back into the passenger seat and gripped the wheel tightly as slid around another corner.

It’s gonna be a long-ass twenty minutes.

Author's Note

Who is that Remus guy? And why does he want Allen alive?
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Peace.