Crackshot: New Beginningsby Cold Cuts the batponyChaptersThe MeetingA Stallion Called CrackshotA Mare Called BomberA Stallion Called DeltaOn the JobBelle and the GriffonsPegasi Vs. GriffonsDelta DistraughtThe HuntThe MeetingI poured over sheets of technical data amidst the hum and whir of computers running complex algorithms and simulations. An old unicorn with a vast grey mop of a mane and bristling mustache approached me. "Any new developments?" He asked, thickly accented. "Not anything promising Dr. Einstein," I said, glancing up at him, "just too many pieces missing from this puzzle." "Well hopefully with this new hire, we will finally be able to make some progress," the unicorn nodded to himself, returning to his own work area, "Yes, with his talent we should be able to make advances in leaps and bounds." I looked at my watch, "As a matter of fact, I should be leaving, I'm meeting our new friend in Canterlot tomorrow." I filed away the papers I had been studying and gathered my saddlebags, rising and exiting through a sliding glass door. I breathed the fresh air as Bomber Belle and I trotted through Canterlot to the "Cloud 9" Pegasus inn. An inn on a cloud that catered specifically to pegasi visiting Canterlot. We arrived at our destination and entered through the arching doorway. I paused a moment to scan the room, my gaze settled on a red Pegasus in a black vest and hat. I smiled, I had found a piece to my puzzle. ====== I stood a moment at the end of the street, smoothing my moustaches. It had been a long time it seemed, since the incident with Dirty Dan. I had only just been released from royal custody back into Equestria, and I already had orders from the princesses. As a vassal and servant of the twin thrones, I had to do as I was told. I had to meet someone, some science tech and his assistant who needed my particular talents. That, however, was tomorrow. Today I was going to rest and have a few drinks. I hitched my saddle bags and rifle case higher on my back and proceeded down the fastidious white streets, too clean for my liking, making my way to the "Cloud 9" inn. Not too original, but the drinks were good. As I ambled in through the arching door, I heard a familiar voice. "Longshot! I haven't seen you around in awhile!" I turned to see a stout Pegasus mare stepping from behind the counter. "Peggy, it's good ta see you too. It's sure been a long time," she hugged me tightly and I gasped for air, she was strong as ever, "I brought a few things," I said, gently lowering my bags to the floor. I reached in and began pulling out the two dozen bottles of homemade liquor and arranging them on the counter. I had gone to visit my dear friends immediately after my release. "Are these Dill's?" Her eyes widened in envy. "As a matter of fact they are. Finest moonshine in all of Equestria!" I drawled," We got a half dozen each of apple pie, rye, blackberry, and good ole fashioned white lightning. I trust this'll be 'nuff to cover room and board?" I chuckled as the mare gathered the bottles close. "And meals too I expect!" She bustled them away under the counter as I retrieved my bags from the floor. "So what's the news 'round here?" I asked settling onto a barstool. Peggy poured me a tall mug of her darkest stout, her finest work, and proceeded to catch me up on the goings ons of Equestria. The next afternoon, I sat in the dining room eating a bowl of dandelion oatmeal. Peggy's cooking was good, but, just like Cloudsdale fare, seemed airy and unsatisfying in my belly. My appointment was due any minute, so I bolted down the last of my lunch in order to clear the table. Fiddling with the strap of my rifle case, I watched the door intently. Pegasi came and went till finally a gray unicorn in a white shirt walked in and scanned the room settling on me. I did a double take. Unicorn? He strode confidently towards me. "Hello my name is Delta Wing, this here is Bombardier Belle," he offered a hoof in greeting and I only then noticed the Pegasus that had followed him, "Mr. Crackshot I presume?" I cocked my head a little, the Pegasus had a metal wing. It took me a moment to snap out of my surprise, "Uh, yeah, howdy, that's me." I stammered dropping my cigar as I jumped to my feet and shook his hoof and tipped my hat to the lady. "I can tell by your astonishment that you're wondering how it is I'm here," he stated taking a seat across from me, the Pegasus remained standing behind, "the short answer is, I was born of Pegasus parents and inherited cloud walking magic, but am a unicorn as you can see." "Yupper, I can see that. Didn't mean ta seem so rude there a moment ago, just caught me by surprise," I responded, returning to my seat. "Not too worry, I'm used to it by now," the unicorn chortled,"Down to business, I suppose you're wondering why I've asked for you?" "Yessir, I am. What could a science type want with a burnt out markspony like me?" I asked, not sure if I'd like the answer. "Well the reason I've asked you here is for your unique talent," he said pressing his hooves together and leaning towards me. I looked at my flank and frowned, "My talent?" "Yes, as I understand it, you have a latent ability to calculate a vast number of variables and parameters, including windage, elevation, ballistics, and flight time to be able to make the long shots you are so famous for," he looked at me expectantly. "I...I'm sorry, can you repeat that? That was just a little too much too fast for me," my brow furrowed and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I wasn't stupid, I just didn't generally deal with many folk, especially folk with a higher education. Delta Wing sat back abashed as Belle looked on, "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend. What I mean is you can tell exactly what will happen to your bullet when it leaves the chamber and how to compensate for it," he said, slower than before. This time I understood. "Yeah, so how does this help you?" I asked a little leery, I had been used too many times before. Delta leaned forward again, "I'm hoping you can use that talent to aid me in my research of flying machines and Pegasus magic. If you can apply this 'awareness' of yours to the effects that wind currents will have on my machines, maybe you will be able to help my test pilot make them better!" The unicorn was beaming now. It was difficult to mistrust someone who seemed so passionate. "Pegasus magic?" Delta opened his mouth and I waved a hoof through the air, "Explain that later. Yeah, alright, I'll do it," I agreed. "Excellent!" Delta clapped his hooves together, "How soon can you start?" "I can start immediately, I just have one condition, we can't do it in Canterlot, I need away from here. I like to feel dirt under my hooves." "That won't be a problem. Our main lab is being set up in the Kittyhawk military research base," he rose and I followed his lead, "Mr. Crackshot, I look forward to working with you." "And I you," we shook hooves, "and just Crackshot if you don't mind, or Longshot. Seems that last one rolls off the tongue better." "Crackshot it is. We'll be in touch," he and his silent partner walked out the door. What a strange duo, I thought to myself, turning to head towards my room. "You ain't the only one who thinks so," Peggy remarked from behind the counter, reading my thoughts. A Stallion Called CrackshotI waited expectantly at the Canterlot train station. Delta and Ms. Belle should be arriving any minute now. Sitting on a bench, I settled my baggage in front of me and lit a cigar. "Those are terrible for your lungs," Belle dropped onto the bench beside me. I turned, eyebrow raised, "An it's yer business how?" I knew it was a terrible habit, but one I hadn't yet shaken. "Come now Belle, it's Mr. Crackshot's vice, you have your own," Delta cut in walking down the platform. Belle harrumphed. "Jus Crackshot if you please," I stood up and gathered my bags, "so which train is ours and when does it leave?" "Whenever we're ready I expect," Delta said, rubbing his chin and looking down the platforms at the waiting trains, "ah that one's ours!" He took off at a brisk trot towards a drab looking engine coupled to a plain boxcar and a private coach. "We get a private train?" I asked, leaning towards Belle. "Yup," she hovered along beside me, prosthetic ticking slightly with every sweep, "Didn't ya see it in the 'perks and bonuses' section of the paperwork?" "Paperwork?" I asked confused. "Never mind," she groaned, "you really need to get out more!" We loaded into the passenger coach. Not exactly luxurious, but much more pleasant than riding with the rest of ponydom on a cramped passenger coach. After informing the engineer we were ready for departure we settled into a few chairs in a lounge area. Small talk ensued, weather, the Wonder Bolts, etc. And we eventually fell silent, accompanied only by the clackity clack of the tracks. I pulled my rifle from its case and began to polish the brass fixtures, slowly and methodically. Belle piped up. "So what's the deal with the rifle?" She asked looking intently at it. I paused and looked up, "It's a long and sorry tale. Sure ya want ta know?" "We have nothing but time right now," Delta chimed in, "I'd actually like to hear myself." I sighed, "Suit yourself." I ran a hoof down the long barrel, reminiscent. "My talent is rifle shooting, though some seem to think it's a little more complex than that," I gestured towards Delta who nodded, "I wasn't always the upstanding member of society you see today, in fact at one point my face graced the front of a wanted poster, dead or alive, 1,000 bits." I was unsurprised to see the look shock on each of their faces, I returned to my polishing and storytelling. "I was third in command, and most notorious of the Dirtfoot Crew under the late Dirty Dan. Head of the Pegasus division and the only markspony for a hundred miles in any direction. We robbed, and extorted, and killed...." I trailed off, hooves falling still, "killed so many." I almost whispered. I shook myself out of my reverie. "Anyways, me and Dan eventually had a falling out, and I got shot in the process," I extended my left wing to show the pocked scars on the inside, "blast from a shotshell. Anyways, after.... a job went bad.... I swore I'd never kill again, I'd maim and cripple in the right circumstance, but life was no longer mine to take," my hooves became still and my eyes glassed over. "I dedicated myself to destroying the Dirtfoots. It wasn't easy, one pony against so many, but I did it. I picked at threads and made tears here and there in the perfect places," my voice turned harsh, "and when everything was in place, I gave a final tug and the Dirtfoots collapsed on themselves." My jaw was set and my eyes were hard. "You needn't go on if it's not something you don't want to discuss," Delta ventured cautiously. My eyes snapped to him, he shrank imperceptibly. "No it's fine," I said, softening my gaze I went on, "Only the top brass of the Dirtfoots survived the infighting, including Dan, a few of my old friends, and my own brother. I spent the next few years hidden in the mountains of Apple-achia learning skills useful to the final demise of the Dirtfoots." I shrugged, "I had almost decided to let it go and live at peace when they somehow found me up in the mountains. By then I had a few new tricks. Did you know there are herbs and poisons that will strip a unicorn of his magic, a pegasus of his flight, and the strength from an earth pony?" Heads shook in bewilderment. I chuckled, "Neither did they. I left three magicless unicorns, five flightless pagasi, and two feeble earth ponies on the mountain that day. From then on, it was my goal to hunt down the last of the Dirtfoots and destroy them completely. Long story short, I did. The last of whom being Dirty Dan himself." "I thought you said he was dead?" Belle interrupted. "He is, he took the coward's way out," I let that sink in before I carried on, "after that I was aimless, I didn't know what to do and I fell into a deep depression. What good is a markspony that won't kill. The Royal Air Guard was out of the question, and I still had a royal bounty on my head." I leaned forward and showed them a thin pale scar on the inside of my left foreleg, just above the hoof. Sitting back I continued. "One night I tried end it all. I had nothing left anyway. But my attempt was foiled by none other than the princess of the night. I had made the cut and lay there awaiting my fate, I was light headed and ready to pass out when I saw her. I thought I was hallucinating, but she bound my wound with magic carried me away, to weak to do anything, I resigned myself to my fate." I pondered a moment, reflecting. "I don't remember much of what happened after that. I woke in a dungeon, and was questioned constantly. I answered truthfully, confessing all my sins, giving names of everypony whose blood I'd shed," I chuckled, humorless, "making up names for the ones I didn't know, and hoping to be convicted, hoping to die. I don't know if it was weeks or days later, but I was brought before the princesses and given a full pardon. I didn't understand. The lady Luna stepped forward and told me it was her doing. She had heard it was me that destroyed one of the biggest gangs in Equestria almost alone, and that, like her, I deserved a second chance." I frowned, "but I didn't want one. I begged them to kill me, I threatened that if they didn't, I would bind My wings and throw myself from a cliff. I was imprisoned again, only this time in a tower, in a luxurious room." "The lady Luna herself waited on me, spoke with me, and for the first time, someone cared for me. I felt hope for life again," I fell silent, "Truthfully, I fell in love. Even though deep in my heart I knew my affections would never be returned, that it would never be. Regardless of my feelings, I was always aware of what I was, a bird in a gilded cage. Till finally a few weeks ago, Luna came to my room, she had my rifle with her. She returned it to me and informed me that I had been given a royal commission. I was to be a servant and vassal to the twin thrones. She said I had a few weeks of freedom to myself, but to return to Canterlot by a certain date. With that she left and I was escorted to the castle door." I stopped here and looked around, "The few days after we're uneventful, I visited a few friends, and then I met y'all." The others looked on in silence and I felt uncomfortable under their gaze. "I ain't lookin for no pity party, so stop lookin at me that way," I snapped, "It is what it is, the past." I returned to my polishing vigorously. "Well Mr. Crackshot, I'm glad you're here. There's nopony else in all of Equestria with a talent so similar to yours." I sighed. I knew Delta was trying to be comforting, but sometimes that head of his was just too full of words. "Thanks," I said anyways, Belle seemed awfully quiet, but I wasn't going to complain. Packing my rifle away, I stood up. "I'm gonna get a little shut eye," I said moving towards the bunks in the back, "wake me when we get there." A Mare Called BomberThe train arrived at Kittyhawk Military Research base early the next morning. I didn't know much about the town,except that it was just over the border in Griffon territory, and it was a research project in and of itself. It was the only town where Griffons and ponies lived together. We were greeted by a rigid, uniformed Pegasus with a short cropped mane, and a Griffon in an unfamiliar uniform. "Welcome to Kittyhawk," the Pegasus barked as he snapped a salute, "I am Colonel Strike Flight, you may call me Col. Striker. I am the commanding officer of the Equestrian Royal Air Guard unit posted here." Delta and Belle both returned the salute with military precision, I belatedly returned it with a sloppy salute of my own. "And I am Oberst Katze Feder, commandant of the the of the 12th Griffon Luftwaffe wing," the Griffon introduced herself, thickly accented, "On behalf of the Griffon's Republic, I welcome you." We saluted her as well, I was a little more prepared this time. "We hope you will enjoy your stay," the Griffon spoke again. A few uniformed ponies began to unload our luggage and the boxcar was uncoupled from the coach. "Come along, we will show you to your housing," the Colonel and his partner turned together and we followed. We had been settled into military housing, we shared a four bedroom house in the senior officer's district. There were four districts to Kittyhawk, the base itself, the largest swath; senior officer housing, the smallest; basic housing, for junior officers and enlisted; and finally general populace, or GP, for civilian residents. GP also contained shops, restaurants, and all the makings of a normal town. It was there that Belle and I found ourselves wandering the streets. Delta was overseeing the unloading of the contents of our boxcar and Belle and I were left to our own devices. We spied a small pub and decided to get a few drinks. Sitting down at the bar we were served tall mugs of very dark strong beer. It was good. We sat in silence amidst the hubbub of the bar before I finally broke our silence. "So I'm just gonna ask, what's with the wing?" I blurted out, echoing Belle's question to me. Belle snorted and rolled her eyes, “I knew that would come up. But after yesterday, what was I expecting? Not that I really care anymore, after so many tellings, the story gets old. You can only read the same book so many times ya know? But, since we’re gonna be working together, and I doubt you’ll get any less curious…” She sighed and took a swig of her drink. “Where to begin?” she asked, staring at the ceiling, “I guess from when I was only a young filly. I don’t know when I decided I wanted to be a guardspony, but for as long as I could remember it was my dream to join the Royal Air Guard. My parents were reluctant at first, but they did a lot to support me. Like when it was time for me to be weaned, instead of sending me off ta some relative, they sent me to a military stabling school. Personal, I think they hoped I would be deterred, being put in that environment at such a young age, but I loved it. That’s where I found my cutie mark. First in my class!” Belle expounded pridefuly, shooting a smug look at Crackshot. “After that,” she continued, “the folks had no choice but to accept my decision. An’ they did. In fact,” she added slyly, “with their permission, and my Junior Guard record, I was able to enlist a year early. I never had any desire to be an officer. Too much administrative work, even in combat units. I was a weapon to be aimed and the back-blast cleared." "Right out of basic I was approached by a special forces commander who offered me an opportunity to join his unit. I didn’t even know the RAG had special forces. Guess they don’t talk ‘bout it much eh? But more danger, excitement, and chance for adventure? I was asking where to sign before he had finished his speech." "Training was some of the best times of my life. Don’t get me wrong," she laughed, "it was extremely tough, and often miserable, but I loved every second of it. Very few mares are taken, and especially not ones as young as me, but you’d better believe I wasn’t ‘bout to be outdone by any of those macho stallions. Nearly half our class washed out before the end, but those of us who were left shared a comradery I hadn’t before known. My life seemed to be right on track." "But, as they say, all good things come to an end,"she sighed, "It was near the end of training when I had my accident. We were on a night op, practicing taking down a dirigible. All was running smoothly. My wingpony and I were in position on the port side, just waiting for the squad leader to give the signal to move against the craft when it all went wrong." "The pilot made an unexpected turn to starboard. This wasn’t a problem, we were trained to compensate for any change without notice, but the rear pair, who were responsible for watching out for opposition, didn’t notice the course change right away and suddenly found themselves out of position, with the window of opportunity closing fast," she paused somber. "Our orders were strict silence after surrounding the ship, and they had no way to communicate their predicament. Their only option was to fly as fast as they could back to the rear. But it was night, the moon was covered by cloud, and we were all in blackout gear. In a panic, my squad mate never saw us and ran headlong into me. The impact threw me into the side of the ship and my right wing was struck by the propeller. For a moment I was pinned between the hull and the engine, the wing taking repeated strikes form the blade, before I came dislodged, quickly passing out from pain and shock." "I came to a bit later, having been born to the ground by my wingpony. By now I had been stabilized and secured in a rescue harness and was being carried between him and my squad leader. The morphine I had been given reduced the pain to little more than a throbbing ache, so I chanced a look at my wing. The sight nearly caused me to pass out again. It was heavily splinted, and not much was visible, but what I could see stopped my heart. Most of the feathers were stripped off, the skin was sliced and bloody, and I could see a lance of bone sticking out where it shouldn’t ‘ave been.” Here Belle took a break and downed the remainder of her drink. For a time after that she stared into the empty glass. Soon, a full one was placed in front of her. She ignored it for the time being and continued. “I think I knew I was going to lose the wing, but I refused to accept that, even as the doctors told me the extent of the damage. But, ‘fore I knew what was happening I was put under, and when I woke up, it was mostly gone. I really think I might have tried to kill myself then. My life thrown off the only path I’d ever seen for it and ‘ad no idea what to do. I despaired of everything at that time, but my CO had dealt with similar injuries before and put me on 24 hour suicide watch. I was under constant surveillance, but I was so immobilized anyway that I don’t even know what I could have done." "Depression set in next and I was visited regularly by a psychologist. I had no desire whatsoever to get better mentally, so there was little he could do. But, it seemed some of my luck remained." "At the time of my accident, my platoon was stationed under Colonel Sky Lark’s command and he had a son who it seemed might be able to help me. I was deep in my lethargy, when, becoming aware of my surroundings, I think it might have been lunch time and I was used to the regularly delivered meals, I found a young unicorn stallion, no more than two or three years older than myself, sitting beside my bed, reviewing my x-rays. He introduced himself as Delta Wing and claimed to be an inventor of flying devices, though this meant nothing to me at the time. I remember we talked for a very long time, but not about my injury. He seemed friendly, and I wasn’t in a talkative mood, so I mostly listened, which was more than I had had done for a few weeks. Some inner sense told me that this was an important meeting. He left saying he’d see what he could do, which seemed odd because I had somehow missed why he was there in the first place. But it was the first interesting thing to happen since I had been in the hospital. Over the next month things began to change. Delta visited several times along with a doctor I hadn’t seen before with a foreign accent. I began talking to the psychologist and trying ta work on his advice. I was transferred to a small apartment in the independent living ward, and this little bit of freedom also helped improve my mood. I was unsure why I was still in hospital though, despite already receiving my honorable discharge. There was no physical rehab, and my psychological visits could continue after I left. Part of it may have been continued worry of suicide, though I only seriously considered it once after the first visit with Delta." "Half way into the next month, Delta and the other doctor returned, though it had been more than a week since their last visit. This time they explained their plan. They wanted to try an experimental and risky procedure to attach a prosthetic wing. They showed me the wing. It looked odd, a thing of metal and wood like I had never seen before, but it was clearly a wing, and if it would let me fly again, I didn’t care. I naturally agreed, ignoring their repeated warnings about the risk and high likelihood of failure. Those conditions had never stopped me from trying anything before, why let them now," her voice was filled passion and she thumped a hoof on the counter. Her cheeks were turning rosy as she continued to drink and tell. "For a while I was wired to a bulky sensor that had to be taken everywhere I went, and encouraged to move and flex my left wing and the stump of my right as much as possible. Finally I went into surgery again. This time when I awoke I felt whole again. The mechanical wing did feel odd, but it moved and responded just as well as my real one," she demonstrated by snapping them open, "Delta stayed at the hospital for the duration of my physical therapy. He explained that part of the wing was a complex spell which relied as much or more on my desire for the wing to work as it did the magic in it. This was no problem." "Finally I had the chance to fly again," her voice was jubilant, "to put my life back together, to be returned the biggest part of a pegasus’ life. In fact, the therapists had to keep me from over exerting myself during the early stages of my rehab. As I regained more and more of my old ability, I grew hopeful, and petitioned to be reinstated. But the Guard wouldn’t take me back. They said that, despite the outlook of a successful recovery, my injury was too severe, and the prosthesis too untested. Again the depression set in and I began performing poorly in therapy." Her face fell again. "Now, for the second time, Delta came to my rescue. He had left for a while, but upon hearing of the poor performance he returned, fearing some problem with the wing. Learning the cause of my loss of enthusiasm, and subsequent weakening of the spell, he decided to stay for a while, spending most of the day with me. Oddly, I found it easier to talk to him than I did the shrink. Maybe because he wasn’t so obviously analyzing everything I said, though I knew he was reporting it all to the shrink. After three days, of no rehab, and just hanging out, I was feeling a little better, but still not particularly hopeful about life in general." Belle swillled the dregs of her drink around the bottom of her glass. "That’s when Delta proposed a partnership. For a while, he had been looking for a pegasus to act as a test pilot and research assistant, unsuccessfully. It was hard to make a pony who could already fly see the point in his inventions. Plus, he explained, he needed to keep an eye on my prosthesis for diagnostics and study and he couldn’t always be taking time to travel out here. It was also clear I needed some sort of work, and something that interested me would be better than something I would quickly get bored with." "I agreed with only a little thought. I owed Delta everything, but even more than that, the job sounded exciting and occasionally dangerous. Plus, I had personal experience with the application of his work and wanted to help further it,” Belle sighed, stirring the fresh drink that had been given her absent mindedly, “So I moved and started working for Delta. The job has been great, sometimes tedious, but always fun, and I love taking out his inventions, though I think he wishes I didn’t fly them so aggressively. But at any rate, that’s me. That’s how I got here, wing and all.” I nodded slowly, mulling all of this over, "It seems we are not as different as we might have expected." Belle laughed out loud, "No I suppose not! I am cripple in body and you are cripple in soul! The Pegasus who can't fly, and the sniper who can't kill!" She was laughing so hard now the she nearly keeled over off of her stool. Reaching out to steady her, I laughed too. I couldn't help myself. Together we rose and staggered out of the pub and back home. Home. How long had it been since I used that word? A Stallion Called Delta“Delta, you have a minute?” I asked stepping into the workroom. The unicorn was bent over a large drafting table, his stool lying on the floor behind him, apparently knocked over and forgot at some point during the drawing. He held a T-square with one hoof, and magically directing a pen across a sheet of mylar. Several other instruments were suspended in the air in front of him, occasionally drifting down to the drawing to be used, before floating back up. “Oh, sorry, you’re busy.” “Mmmffmfmffsssk,” Delta replied incoherently. He spit out the pencil he’d been holding in his mouth, leaving deep tooth marks in the soft wood. “No. I’ll just be a bit. I’m almost finished. Make yourself comfortable.” Delta had been setting up ever since the move and I had seen very little of him. Taking a moment to look about the room, I had to admit the unicorn had done a good job with what he had. The workroom was one large space, with tall windows along one wall and a high raftered ceiling. Along the windowed wall, three desks were spaced, presumably one for each of them. On the opposite wall stood a work bench, soldering station, and even a small forge, I was sure I could find use of the forge. The back wall was lined with shelves and cabinets. In one corner, almost appearing out of place, sat a large sofa, and a small table and chairs, apparently for relaxing and dining during long projects. A record player sat on a small shelf and upbeat music played softly, amplified by the room’s wooden construction. Just then a piece of folded paper swooped low over my head, causing me to jump. I watched it with growing astonishment as it banked and soared back up to the rafters where it glided in peaceful circles. Bomber Belle was lying on one of the beams wearing a mischievous grin. She winked and beckoned me up. Declining the invitation, I shook my head and moved to the corner with the seats. I found myself wishing I had joined the mare as Delta’s ‘bit’ stretched into half an hour, and was well on its way to forty five minutes before the sound of a stool being drug across the floor drew my attention. I looked up to see the unicorn straightening his workspace before trotting over to the join me. “Sorry about that. What time is it?” he looked at a clock on the wall, “Oh my, that late? I hope you weren’t getting impatient. I sometimes get lost when I’m working.” “Not in the least,” I replied suppressing a yawn. “It gave me a chance to look around some.” “Excellent! Well, I’m going to call it a day at any rate. Would you care for refreshment?” Delta opened a cabinet and summoned a couple bottles and tumblers. “Whiskey, gin, vodka? Or I could get something soft if you prefer?” “I’ll take whiskey if you’d be so kind.” “Right away, I hope you don’t mind it straight up,” I shook my head, “I don’t keep an ice chest in here.” Delta poured two generous helping of the caramel colored alcohol into a pair a glasses and passed one to me before taking a slow swallow from his, sighing contentedly and relaxing into his chair. “I get stiff leaning over that table too long. Belle!” he called out, looking around the room. “Up here,” she replied, rolling from the beam and gliding to the floor. “Would you like anything?” “No thanks. If we’re done for the day I’m going to go for a fly. Ya know, stretch the wings, work up a sweat. I’ll meet you guys for dinner,” rolling her shoulders and flexing her wings, she left the room and we sat in silence for a short period. “So,” Delta expounded, breaking the silence, “what’d you want to see me about?” “Well,” I started, “If we’re going to be working together for a while, I thought we should get to know each other a touch more.” “Fair enough,” the unicorn replied, “What do you want to know?” “Whatever you’re willing to tell. I don’t want to pry, but honestly, I don’t know much about you or your history. Y’all know mine and I know Belle’s, but you’re still pretty well a mystery ta me.” “I may have been a unicorn raised by pegasi, but my life has been practically boring compared to yours. Shortly after I was born, by mother was transferred to ground duty, so I never felt out of place, at least not physically,” he shrugged, “In other aspects, I did struggle a little.” “Our natural magic works in strange ways that not even the Princesses have a complete understanding of. That is the magic inherent to all ponies, not just unicorn abilities which the word is usual attributed to. In respects to unicorns, we each have a natural affinity for a narrow aspect of magic. It is perhaps the most recognizable manifestation of a pony’s special talent. And there is a lot of magical theory, and cutie mark theory that I won’t get into because that is an exhausting subject on its own.” I nodded, preferring to avoid the headache. “My special talent was flying magic, but it wasn’t for years that I realized it wasn’t just as simple as having a special talent. I was almost completely gifted with the natural abilities of a pegasus, but rather than having wings and being able to fly, I could project it as a unicorn.” “One of my early teachers recognized my unique understanding of my talent and convinced my mother to send me to Canterlot Academy. I don’t think I was necessarily more gifted than other unicorns, but maybe more in tune with my abilities. For my entrance exam, I demonstrated a spell of my own creation,” Delta whistled and the folded piece of paper glided over and landed on the table. “The same spell on this, I call it a paper airplane, though I’ve modified and improved it over the years. At the time I didn’t see anything special about it. It was just a silly thing I’d come up with while bored in class, but the board of examiners thought it was quite impressive. From then on my education was directed to the study of flight,” he paused a moment to take another drink. “Most of my schooling was easy, my instructors having little more than a theoretical understanding of the subject. After graduating the academy as joint valedictorian, I could have gone to any university in Equestira. I ended up at Marechusetts Institute of Technology. After my first few semesters, I completed my studies in Cloudsdale, working mostly with the Wonderbolts.” I raised an eyebrow, impressed. “While in the pegasus city, my desire for flight was rekindled. The theory was no longer enough. My inner pegasus wanted out, wanted to leap free from the bonds of gravity and ride the wind. I decided it was my purpose to achieve this goal. To invent flying machines. Upon graduating I moved to Las Pegasus to get my graduates degree in mechanics. I think this disappointed most of my professors, as well as many of the ponies I looked up to. Soarin’ however, whom I had become good friends with, encouraged me to go for it. He was still a cadet at the time and did many of his mandatory volunteer hours in my research program,” he explained. “After school I spent a little while apprenticed under an airshipwright. But zeppelins were too slow, too bulky and cumbersome. So I decided to go off on my own as an inventor,” Delta’s eyes lit up with the same fire i had seen that day in the “Cloud 9”. “The day I opened my first office was one of the proudest of my life. My name on the door, all the space inside devoted to the creation of my ideas. No one to tell me what to do. No one to tell me that my dream was pointless. A bold statement to all the naysayers. Delta Wing: Inventor of Flying Devices!” “At first things looked like they might work out. I got my first personal flying platform built. I was getting royalties from the publishing of my master’s thesis. There was a steady trickle of commissions, though some of them were rather odd. One pegasus with a rainbow mane and tail wanted me build here a flying harness for her pet tortoise.” “I know that pony!” I cut in, “She lives in my town. Well, sort of, I lived in the forest outside of the town. But I’m interrupting. please continue.” “The bills started piling up, and I didn’t have enough work to cover them. I canceled the lease on my apartment and moved into my office, not being able to afford both, and too stubborn to give up. Many days I went without meals. I was about ready to turn in the keys and write some old contacts for work when I finally got a break,” he sighed, reminiscent. “It came in the form of a letter, from no pony other than my father, whom I had never been close with. He said that there was an injured pegasus in his unit who, he thought, my inventions might be able to help. The Guard was willing to pay me a salary under contract as a civilian consultant. Naturally I accepted immediately.” “It was at the Royal Guard hospital in Fillydelphia where I met Bombardier Belle. She was in pretty bad condition. Not so much physically, the doctors having done a good job with the amputation, but mentally. I could imagine how she felt. I’d been trapped on the ground my whole life and I learned to live with it, but she had had the chance to fly, and it had been taken away. I don’t know if I ever worked so hard on a project, spending many sleepless nights devising the mechanics, the spells, and the integration. Seeing her in that bed, so detached from the world and wrapped in her inner sorrow was heartbreaking. I spent the little free time I had talking with her.” “All the long hours were worth it when we finally got the prosthesis attached. Seeing expression and joy the first time she was able to get off the ground after the accident was such an uplifting feeling. Finally knowing that I had done something useful and truly important for another pony,” Delta smiled to himself. “After spending a few weeks at the hospital, helping with the rehab, and making adjustments to the wing I returned to my office. But there I found it empty, lonely, and still didn’t have any work. I found myself often thinking about Belle and wondering how the wing was working out. I was planning to visit her soon when I got a letter from the hospital. Her recovery had been going well when I left, but now two weeks later, she had quit improving, and was actually beginning to regress. I loaded some gear and left fearing that I had miscalculated the wing’s design, or some aspect of the spell. When I learned the problem, I found it simpler than that, but at the same time much more complicated to repair,” his brow furrowed as he prepared to explain, “The spell which allows the wing to work relies on the users desire to fly. Belle had been told she would not be able to rejoin the Guard and had become depressed and had lost much of her drive to recover. I didn’t know how to fix this. I talked with the psychologist, I spent long hours talking with Belle, but couldn’t find a solution.” “One night, or very early morning, I can’t remember, I was sleepless, struggling over the problem, and found myself walking the lawn under the stars. I became aware that a pony walked beside me, though I hadn’t noticed their approach. When I looked to see who it was I was astonished to find Princess Luna.” “You know the Princess too?” I asked, wondering if this wasn’t the true reason she saved me. Delta shrugged, “We had an extended conversation, discussing many subjects, not only the trouble with Belle, but also my worries about my work. It was she who convinced me to return to my research and with her encouragement I published my first book. It was also the Princess who suggested that I offer Belle a job assisting with my research and invention. She has incredible insight into the psyche and desires of ponies.” I nodded in agreement. “The next day I offered Belle the position, and she accepted eagerly. From that day forward we’ve been working together, inventing, experimenting, delving deep into the ancient libraries of the Crystal Empire and Everfree Castle. But the mysteries of pony magic don’t give themselves up easily. I kept in contact with the princess, and during one of our regular correspondences she suggested another pegasus with a curious talent who she thought might be able to help. And that’s how I found you.” I nodded again, mulling this over. With difficulty, I dispelled the thought that the princesses were just using me, like everypony else had. “Well I still don’t know how I’ll be of much use,” this thought had been circling my brain ever since I had taken this job. “That will have to be a conversation for another night,” Delta said, gazing at the clock. it was well past midnight, “I believe we should return home and get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll be putting that talent of yours to work.” Delta returned the tumblers to their cupboard and we both rose, extinguishing the lights as we exited the building. On the JobIt had been almost a week since we had arrived in Kittyhawk and Bomber and I were finally getting to work. Delta had worked hard the entire time directing the unloading of his lab equipment and spending many tedious hours filing away his research notes. The final component to be unloaded had been a tangled mass of cloth and wood and wire. It was beyond me as to what it could have possibly been. That night I was told to be on the airstrip, with my rifle, by six am the next morning. Arriving at the airfield with rifle case in tow, I found Bomber and Delta waiting for me next to an alien looking contraption. Constructed of wood and cloth, it had wings that looked like bat wings, with five ribs and a jointed arm stretching the fabric taut across the frame. Stretching out behind it was a long bare frame, ending in more fabric fins, presumably the tail. An empty seat was nestled into the middle of it all. “Well what do you think?” Delta spoke up as I approached. “I think I’ve never seen anything like it,” I stated matter of factly, it was true. Delta chuckled, “I can understand how that would be true. I know you’re curious as to why you’re even here, and I bet you’re wondering even more why I had you bring your rifle,” it was a statement, not a question, and I nodded my head in agreement. “I’ve mentioned several times before that your talent extends beyond ‘just rifle shooting’.” I nodded again, “from what I understand, you can read the imperceptible changes in the wind, predict how much each individual bullet will drop, and determine how the slightest changes in everything from air pressure to humidity will affect the flight of your slug.” “If you say so,” I said, unsure about all of this. “To help you become aware of this, we’ve set up an exercise with a few of the marksponies stationed here. If you’ll follow me,” with that he turned and Bomber and I followed along in silence. Bomber seemed different, stiff and precise, compared to her usual pranking and joking. Sometimes it was hard to remember that she had been RAG special forces. We arrived at some cliffs where five ponies in military garb stood waiting. They each carried sniper rifles, four held Remington 700’s chambered in .308, and the last, a grizzled old veteran, held a Barrett M95 .50 cal. anti-material rifle. I cocked an eyebrow as I inspected each of them for signs of wear, anything I might exploit. I was out classed and out of luck. Each firearm was in pristine condition, as they should be. “Alright,” Delta started, “We’re going to have a little precision shooting match. The kicker is that it will be through these cliffs, which have the worst wind gusts anywhere around.” “You realize I’m outmatched in bullet velocity and range don’t you?” I cut in, feeling a little frustrated and that I was trying to be set up to fail. “It won’t be measured who shoots the farthest fastest, it’s just who hits it,” Delta explained, “First you’ll go against the Corporals, and then the Sergeant.” The four ponies toting the 700’s stepped forward. I unslung my rifle case and opened the end gently sliding my Sharps out butt first. It seemed antiquated by comparison. I heard one of the Corporals snort as I brought it out in full view. “Hold your tongue, Corporal!” the Sergeant barked, “or would you like to make fifty laps of the base?” Silence followed, “That’s what I thought.” We lined up shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the cliff. “Alright, we’ll start with something easy,” Delta said, “three hundred yards out, there are five targets, orange shooting clays. Fire when ready.” I located the clays on a small butte about three hundred yards distant, like he said. The wind was pretty unpredictable and could cause some serious bullet drift. Taking a deep breath, I lined up the shot and squeezed the trigger. A moment later, the orange clay at which i had been aiming, disintegrated into a pile of dust, the next four did as well. “Well done everypony,” Delta congratulated us, “ your next target is at five hundred yards.” The next five were placed at the bottom of the ravine, good for me as that eliminated most of the bullet drop, but the winds were stronger down low. We all lined up again, only this time, the four all fired before me. They stood waiting as I prepared to fire, this was the extreme limits of my rifle, so I had to take my time. Somepony snickered. “Corporal Fleetfoot, step out and lay down your firearm!” the sergeant was barking at a blue pegasus. The Corporal obeyed, and stood stoic. “As you were please Mr. Crackshot,” the sergeant said turning to me. I returned to the cliff edge and took aim again. Taking another deep breath, I squeezed the trigger again. A full second later, my clay exploded into dust. The sergeant stepped forward, “Before we get started, Mr. Crackshot, would you be so kind as to allow me to borrow that beautiful rifle of yours to prove a point?” Startled, I nodded and handed it over. “Corporal, come here!” he barked, turning to the shamed pony, who snapped into position. “I want you to take this rifle,carefully or its your hide, and I want you to shoot the sapling on the butte at three hundred yards. Can you do that corporal!?” “Sir! Yes, sir!” the corporal stepped to the edge, took aim, and fired. Nothing. “Mr. Crackshot, would you be so kind as to tell us where the bullet went?” “He hit the side of the butte, about a foot low and to the right of the tree,” I told him. “And would you also be so kind as to inform my Corporal where he went wrong?” “The .45-70 is a heavy round, a lot of stopping power, and a lot of drop. The wind is also gusting and you need to compensate for that,” it all came so simply to me. “Would you like to use the Corporal’s rifle?” “Sure,” I said. The Sergeant made the corporal retrieve his rifle and hand it to me. “Choose a target and fire when ready,” the sergeant said. “That rock that looks like a pear, ‘bout eight hundred yards distant,” I pointed it out as I unloaded the rifle. Everypony watched on, intrigued, as I rolled a few cartridges around in my hoof. “What’s this zeroed in at?” I asked, licking a bullet before chambering it. “Three hundred yards, sir,” Fleetfoot answered. I nodded and shouldered the rifle. Breathing deeply, I steadied the unfamiliar firearm. I watched the wind closely, making note of it, and finally squeezed the trigger. The bullet pinged off of my targeted rock and sent it tumbling, it bounced off of more and more, causing a rockslide and the ravine was filled with dust. Fleetfoot’s jaw hung open in astonishment, we traded rifles back. “I hope this serves as a lesson to you all,” the sergeant said, “That there is always somepony better than you, and that your equipment does not make you better,” he turned to me and shook my hoof, “You are a better markspony than I, I feel no need to test you.” With that he turned and the rest followed, leaving Delta, Belle and I to ourselves. “Well that didn’t go as planned,” Delta broke the silence. “Yeah, but it was awesome!” Belle exclaimed. I nodded, putting my rifle away. “I hope this was helpful though,” Delta said as we turned towards home. “I think so, especially when I had to use someone else’s rifle, made me think harder. Now I think I know what you’re getting at.” “About that,” Belle asked cutting in front of me as I walked, “why in Equestria, did you lick the bullet?” I chuckled, “Oh that? No reason at all, just to make them wonder.” Belle’s jaw dropped, “You can be a real prick, ya’know that?” she said falling into step beside us, “I like that.” I smiled to myself. Life was going to be good here. Belle and the GriffonsBored, I dangled my hoof from the rafter on which I was laying, and watched it swing slowly back and forth. The weather was gray and drizzly outside, and Delta had called off all test flights for today. I was only halfway aware of the two stallions discussing something about bullets over by the forge where Crackshot was carefully working the bellows as Delta watched intently. With an exasperated sigh, I rolled off of my perch and drifted lazily to the floor. “I’m going for a fly!” I called, “Be back later!” Neither of the two even acknowledged that they had heard me. I snorted in frustration and trotted out. Emerging onto the grid of concrete walkways that connected the laboratories to the rest of the research and development buildings, I looked up into the cold drizzling mist. Not ideal weather for flying, but that was perfect for me. I crouched, extending my wings, and paused a moment. Filling my lungs with air, I leapt, rocketing into the sky. I closed my eyes and felt the cool mist sting my face as I accelerated ever faster. Breaking the cloud cover, I snapped my wings shut and hung weightless propelled by my inertia. no matter how many times I looked at it, the rolling cloudscape before me always took my breath away. The sun was low to the west and the tops of the clouds were painted amber and caramel. Peaks of white emerged here and there as surface roiled and pulsed in the winds driving them. I began to fall as gravity caught up with me, and I glided over crests of frothy white, trailing a hoof and gently sculpting the clouds into no particular pattern. Suddenly the cloud erupted right in front of me. I was surrounded on all sides by bursts in the mist. My training kicked in, and I began to evade, tucking my wings in and dodging for the narrow gaps between bursts. “Halt! Junges pferd!” a sharp avian voice broke out, “This is a restricted training area!” I stopped and turned, the cloud bursts had been eight griffons in full gear, now hovering in place and turned towards me. I snapped a salute, “My apologies,sir,” I had not realized I might have strayed into restricted area, “If you would direct me away-” he cut me off. “This is not a playground for little ponies!” I saw his eyes stray towards my wing, “Especially halbe flügel.” The other Griffons smirked maliciously. I frowned I didn’t know much of the Griffons’ language, but I did not like the way he said that last bit. “My apologies,” I repeated slowly, Delta had insisted before we arrived here that I keep out of trouble, “If you would direct me out, I’ll get out of your feathers.” “Are you sure you’ll be able to make it? What with one wing?" I saw black, and before I realized what had happened, I had the offending Griffon in a strangle hold with his own dagger point pressed to his temple. "Wanna say that again bird brain!?" The rest of the Griffons tensed, unprepared for this turn of events. Tossing the dagger away, I let the Griffon go. "I challenge you to an aero-batics competition, tomorrow at noon." "Hmmph. Little pony, why should we?" The lead Griffon asked, crossing his talons. "Would you want to be the ones that dissolved Equestrian/Griffonian relations?" I shot back, echoing something I'd heard Delta say. The group frowned collectively. I'd hit a nerve. "Very well," the lead Griffon decided, "you and your wingpony better be ready." "Me and my wingpony are the best in Equestria! We're ready all right!” With that we parted. I immediately knew I was in trouble. Col. Striker would never allow me to borrow any one of his flyers and that left me with one option. The gunpony. I was doomed. Arriving back at the lab, I slunk in, hoping that the news hadn’t reached them. The two stallions were still at the forge, presumably working on the same project as before. Phew. It’ll be better coming from me. I sidled up to them and looked interested in what they were doing. “Whatcha doing?” I asked. Crackshot looked up from the crucible he was heating before responding. “Making a new bullet to help with the tests,” he fished a lump of metal from a bowl on the table beside him, “We’re calling them ‘zingers’. See these striations? They make whizz as the bullet flies. That’ll help me judge wind and distance and everything.” I nodded, “Interesting.” He returned to his work and his conversation with Delta. “Soooo… what’re you doing tomorrow?” I watched as he carefully poured the molten metal into a series of moulds, impatient. “Nothin’ in particular. Far as I know anyways,” he said slowly. Putting the empty crucible to the side, he looked me straight in the eye, “What’d you do?” “Gahh!” I exclaimed, offended, “Why would you think something like that?” Delta leaned to peer around Crackshot. “What DID you do?” the unicorn asked with the hint of a glare. I looked at the ground and mumbled. “Ikinachalngeddagrifstoanaerobatikscompetishuntoomarowatnoon,” I rattled off, “anineedcrakshottobemawingpony.” Delta looked confused and Crackshot looked reserved. “Wha-” Delta started but Crackshot cut him off. “She got in a fight with the griffons, challenged them to a flight test, and needs me to be her wingpony,” Crackshot stared at me, his expression unreadable. I squirmed under their gaze. “How could you do such a thing!?” Delta flew into a fit , stepping around Crackshot to pace the floor, “Do you understand the implications of your actions!? What this could mean for Griffon Pony international relations!?” “Settle down,” Crackshot broke in. He closed the flu to the forge and damped the coals, “What’s done is done, and we’ll just have to deal with it.” “How can you be so calm!?” Delta turned on the pegasus. I watched the exchange in nervous anticipation of the conclusion. Crackshot continued to close down the forge. “Because I’ve spent the majority of my life under pressure heavier than this,” standing up from sweeping ash from the floor, he turned to the unicorn, “I’ve been in tougher situations facing meaner opponents. A friend has asked for my help, and I intend to deliver.” “But… this could turn into an international incident…” Delta was practically pleading. “Then sounds like I need to get practicing,” the moustachioed stallion turned to me, “What do I need to do?” We stood at the edge of the airfield. Crackshot looked embarrassed and uncomfortable in his borrowed RAG bdu’s, and Delta still looked nervous about the whole ordeal. “Alright,” I said, pacing before them drill sergeant style, “The Griffon Luftwaffe is known for their agility and high speed maneuvers. Being naturally lightweight, they will attempt quick strikes, retreating before we can counter attack. We as ponies-” “Whoa! Hold up a country minute,” Crackshot interrupted, looking startled, “Counter strikes? I thought this was a demonstration of flying skills?” “This is Aero-batics, aeronautical combat. I thought this was common knowledge?” I was growing more and more worried, “This’ll be an exercise of hoof-to-hoof, er claw, combat.” “You know I’m a gunpony right?” Crackshot grimaced. I slumped in discouragement. “Do you have any close quarter combat skills?” I sighed, exasperated with myself for letting myself jump into this fool’s gambit. “I could fight with my rifle,” Crackshot offered. “That won’t work, no firearms allowed…” we were doomed. “What if…” Delta spoke for the first time since the announcement, “What if we mocked up a dummy rifle… like they use in training exercises… as a cudgel staff. Is that allowed?” I pondered a moment, “Hoof held weapons aaarre allowed so long as any blade is blunted or sheathed… I suppose it would work.” I turned to Delta. With a heavy sigh he turned and walked away, “I’ll get to work on mocking up a training dummy balanced exactly like your rifle.” With Delta on board I finally felt some hope for the next day’s coming events. Pegasi Vs. GriffonsWe had spent a long hard day training yesterday, and most of this morning brushing up. Crackshot had come a long way in a short time, but he was still untrained, and I was worried. "Remember, we're fighting under match rules, disabling shots only, don't try to kill them," I reminded the stallion, he nodded stoically. "And they might be faster and more agile, but we have weight on them, so if you hit em, hit em hard," I was getting antsy, they weren't here yet. I turned to Crackshot again. "And also-" Delta cut me off. "Leave the poor fellow alone, Belle, you think you're nervous? Think about him, you dragged him into this," the unicorn scolded me and I hung my head in shame. "Chin up now, ya hear?" Crackshot's voice was heavily accented, a sure sign he was nervous too, "If we're agonna do this, we gotta keep our heads high 'n in the game. Understood?" Encouraged, I reset my stance in one of firm determination, head high and hooves apart, jaw clenched and shoulders set, ready for anything. The griffon squadron arrived shortly. Stepping forward, the lead Griffon, the oberfeldwebel, something like a sergeant, addressed me. “Are you ready Kleines Pferd?” the griffon was taller than me and I had to look practically straight up at him, he was standing so close. “My wingpony and I both!” I spoke with a conviction I didn’t entirely feel. The Griffon sneered at me and turned to his assembled comrades. “Vogel und Lowe, schritt nach vorn,” two griffons, not the biggest, but maybe the meanest looking, stepped forward, “We have chosen our combatants, choose yours now Kleines Pferd.” “Crackshot, now’s the time,” I said cooly, never breaking eye contact with the griffon. Crackshot stepped forward in grim determination, or was it grim resignation, and took up his position next to me. Delta stepped forward to referee. "Let's keep it clean on all sides," he said firmly, "Hoof and claw held weapons, properly padded and sheathed, are freely usable. Projectiles of any kind are not," he looked sternly at both teams, "Combatants, take flight!" The griffons shot into the air with their superior speed and acceleration, had the match begun then, we might have been in trouble. Thankfully it did not, and as we reached the assigned altitude, I felt my heart lift, this is what I was built for. Crackshot was doing decently well keeping formation, and the griffons and us began to circle, watching each other's every move. "Ready?" Delta called out, both sides signaled affirmation, "Go!" "Remember the plan!" I shouted. We had time our circling to be between the griffons and the sun when we started, and we used this cover to quickly gain more altitude and hopefully the upper hoof. The griffons, however, had the same idea, and they too shot skyward. The griffons gained altitude over us and moved into position to strike. "Get ready!" I could only hope Crackshot remembered the maneuvers we had practiced. As the griffons dove towards us we shifted to fly abreast each other. The gap closed rapidly between us and as our combatants closed in to strike we flipped onto our backs, hooves up, blocking, and simultaneously counter attacking. The griffons veered aside before we could land a strike, but their momentum carried them below us. Now it was our turn. As one, Crackshot and I wheeled around to face our opponents. He drew his mocked up rifle and I drew my training knife. We dove, using our weight and wing power to drive us downwards towards them. In an attempt to dodge, the griffons split. I pursued the lead as Crackshot took the second. I heard a cry of alarm from Crackshot's adversary, but I didn't look, intent on my own. Tucking my wings in I plummeted, committing everything to this attack. With the full weight of my body, I struck the griffon and wrapped myself around him pinning his wings. Drawing my knife across his throat, I whispered, "Dead," before breaking away. Turning I saw Crackshot and the other griffon in freefall, grappling with each other face to face. Crackshot broke away, striking the griffon across the face with the butt of his "rifle", but not before the griffon could gore his belly with his lion's claws. Blood flowed and he plummeted like a rock. "Stop the match!" Delta exclaimed from the ground. I looked on in horror as the rest of the griffon squad took flight, catching flailing pegasus, expertly detaining his wild thrashing. A lump rose in my throat as I rocketed towards my friend. Reaching his side, it was all I could do to keep from crying. "This is my fault," I whispered to myself as we reached the ground. Seeming to hear me, Crackshot shook his head before collapsing into the griffon's claws. The oberfeldwebel turned on his subordinate, Lowe I think, yelling at him in their foreign language, and all I could do was feel numb. I heard the scream of sirens as the medical carriage made its way across the airfield. I watched as the medic ponies lifted the red pegasus onto the carriage, carrying him to the base hospital. I only broke from my stupor when I was approached by Col. Striker and Oberst Katze Feder. "We should like to see you," the Col. said to me. "Und you," the Oberst said to her griffons. "In my office," the Col. finished. Head hung low, I followed. We assembled in Col. Striker's office. I was ready for whatever punishment he had in store. "We are disappointed in you," the Col. started. "All of you," Katze interjected. "We here in Kittyhawk work hard to maintain peace between the Griffon's Republic..." "...and Equestria. Your little stunt..." "...could have cost us all of that." The officers seemed to speak as of one mind. And they were right. My foolhardiness could have cost so much more. "You will all be-" the Oberst started. "Frau Feder, may I interrupt?" The oberfeldwebel cut in. "You may, Oberfeldwebel Hans," the senior officer raised an eyebrow in expectation. "This Kleines Pferd, this little pony, fought valiantly in defense of her honor. She was provoked by mein self und mein squadron. If anybird is at fault it would be us," the griffon's head hung low in shame. "Is that so?" the Oberst asked, "in that case, you will be put on probation, und you will see to it that the red pegasus is well tended to. Dismissed.". The griffons saluted and exited the office. "You, Ms. Belle, on the other hoof, are not under my direct command," the Col. Looked at me sternly, "the only thing within my power is to remove you from my base." He pressed his hooves together and leaned across the desk, "is that what you want?" "Sir. No, sir," I said slowly. "Then I need to be able to count on you to not undo what we have done here." "Sir, yes sir." "Very well," he sat up, " Dismissed." He took up some papers on his desk as if I wasn't there. After a moment I turned and left, making my way to the hospital. Arriving at Crackshot's room, "You weren't in too much trouble were ya?" The stallion coughed. Delta stood by his side and one of the griffons sat in the corner. "No," I said, "not at all. You fought well out there." "Good," he sighed, "anything for a friend." He drifted off to sleep. Delta DistraughtI walked to the laboratory alone, Crackshot was still in sick bay, and Belle hadn’t left his side since the accident. Opening the door to the dark lab, I sighed heavily. The weather reflected my mood, cool, drab and grey, with overcast skies. The royals in Canterlot were not pleased with the progress I was making. By the guidelines of the grant, I was supposed to be studying Pegasus magic, not inventing flying machines. I frowned to myself as my paper airplane swished post my nose at that moment. I had invented the auto-aeronautical spell, what more was there to offer except new and useful applications of it? With a weight in my chest, I turned towards my desk to gather the mail deposited there. Without looking, I collected it and proceeded towards the sofa and cabinets in the corner. Before settling heavily into the plush cushions, I gathered a tumbler of my favorite scotch from the cabinet and began to sort the mail. A few postcards for Bomber from some old squad mates, legal mumbo jumbo for me, hmm, a letter for Crackshot. He hadn't received any mail before. I was curious, but resisting the urge to look at the return address, I set it aside. On the bottom of the stack was a thick, heavy parchment envelope bearing the royal seal. My hooves froze as I hesitated to open it. Why would the princesses be contacting me now? With an overwhelming sense of foreboding, I broke the seal and unfolded the parchment within. "From the Royal court of the Twin Thrones, To Mr. Delta Wing, We would like to take this time to express our gratitude to you for your advances in the scientific pursuits of Pegasus flight magic. However, considering the lack of progress in the past few months, despite vast expenditures, it is with great regret that we must inform you of the impending termination of your grant...." My mind went blank as I stared. "....termination...." Breaking my stupor, I returned to the letter: ".... However, due to the highly meritorious nature of your studies, we are willing to postpone the termination of your grant for the duration of one month. Should you make significant progress in that time, we are willing to hold a hearing discussing terms of extension and continuation. We hope this finds you well. Sincerely, Etc. etc..... I sat, numb, scotch forgotten. How could this be happening? I had made so much progress in the study of flight, I had made prosthetics and devices to allow flight where there had been none before. Suddenly I became angry. Leaping to my hooves, the mail slid to the floor and I stormed from the lab and back to the hospital. It had begun raining during my short respite inside. "BELLE!" I shouted, bursting through the door with a loud bang and an accompanying clap of thunder. The Griffon on duty in the corner jumped to his feet and Belle whipped her head around in surprise, an expression not often seen on her features. "Belle," I said again, a little softer, but still quite firmly, "we have work to do." Without waiting I turned and began striding back through the downpour towards the lab. “Delta?! What is going on?” she exclaims catching up to me, “What has happened?” she cuts in front of me blocking my path. Rearing my head back, I look down on her. “Nothing,” I snapped, breaking my glare, “we’ve just spent too much time and energy on frivolous pastimes. It’s time to get to work.” Brushing past her, I continue my course to the lab, Belle following at a distance. Upon entering the lab, I went straight to my drafting table and cleared it with a sweep of my hoof. "Delta, what is going on?" Belle inquired again, more forcefully this time. I could hear the concern in her voice and elected to ignore it, laying fresh paper across my desk. She walked up to me, gripping my shoulder, she jerked me around to face her, "Talk to me." She said softly. I hesitated a moment, expression softening, before silently plunging myself back into my work as determined as before. "It's time we made some progress," I said tersely. Animated by my magic, pencils flowed across the sheet before me in an erratic ballet. Defeated and falling silent, Belle stepped back, prepared to come to my aid. I continued to lay my brain child on paper. Every last detail and minutia, not a thing forgotten. "Belle," she snapped to attention at the sound, "Go to Crackshot's desk and retrieve the blue leather pouch from his top right drawer." I turned and crossed the room to where a small carpentry station stood. Lathes and planes sprang to life under my control. "But..." Belle hesitated, "That's Crackshot's stuff, are you sure it's alright?" I could tell she was thrown off kilter by the events that had taken place thus far. "Yes yes," I snapped,"It'll be fine." I was only half paying attention to her as I moved back over to my drafting table with a few bolts of fabric and the scraps of wood I had just lathed. Belle returned to her position behind me, blue pouch in hoof. From the fabric, I cut two large swaths and a few basic straps and belts. Binding them with magic, I affixed the wood to the fabric and stitched the straps into place. Leaving the jumbled mess on the table, and a still confused Belle in her place, I walked to the liquor cabinet and retrieved a bottle of the gunpony's clear moonshine. Half filling a small glass I returned to my desk. "The pouch, Belle." I held out a hoof and the mare deposited the satchel in it. Sprinkling a few dry leaves in the fluid, I turned to Belle and extended it towards her, eyes cold and calculating. "Drink." "What?" she cringed away, "Why? What is it?" "DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!" I bellowed, seething with pent up rage. Belle cowered before me, but I felt nothing except for the anger that had been pushed below the surface for so long. Reluctantly, she took the glass and drank. Satisfied, I watched the tide of magic within her. It was a strain, but I could do it. I watched it ebb and flow, like a heartbeat. Then it began to slow, and recede, as the drink took effect. I watched it, traced it to its source as the final wavering light flickered out, but just before it did, I extracted it in a thin stream of glittering aura. It clumped between us like a glob of mercury. Belle gasped and fell to her knees, "What did you do?" She whispered weakly. I turned to my table, guiding the shining liquid sphere. Slowly I allowed it to sink into the amalgamation of wood and cloth. It shimmered slightly before returning to normal. Breathing with heavy anticipation, I strapped it on. Every piece fell into place. Two, four ribbed wings folded themselves against my sides, they shuddered slightly. Though their weight was unnatural, the sensation felt anything but. It felt as though this is how I should have lived. Turning, I exited the lab, deaf and blind to Belle's faint whimpers and weak movement. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still drab and dull. I looked up and my new wings snapped out. My heart fluttered in ecstasy and my breath caught in my throat. Crouching low, I felt the muscles in my haunches bunch, springs loaded to fire, and they did. Before I realized what had happened, I found myself accelerating upwards towards the clouds. My new wings stroking swiftly, powerfully, gracefully. I sighed in deep relief and with great joy. I had done it. I had captured the magic I needed. The HuntA din of excited voices roused me from my slumber. I heard the whinnies of ponies and the sharp chatter of the Griffons' foreign tongue. "Vogel," I said, turning to the Griffon sitting guard in the corner. He and his squad mates had tended to me since the accident, and I was not yet fully recovered, "What's going on out there?" "I do not know, Herr Cracks-shot," the Griffons seemed to struggle with the pronunciation of my name, but I gave up trying to correct them. "I shall go and see." With that he rose and strode to the door and inquired of one of the Griffon orderlies. "Das ein flugel pferd, frau Belle," he turned to me, "has been found unconscious, zey know not vat has happened." Suddenly alert, I sat up, "Where is Delta at? What's he doing about it?" The Griffon shook his head. "No-Bird knows where das Einhorn is, he is nowhere to be found,” I flipped back the sheets and slid out of the bed, hooves clopping on the tile floor. Vogel stepped forward to stop me. "Herr Cracks-shot! You shouldn't!" I felt a sharp pain in my belly where the wounds are still tender. "Belle needs somepony with her," I growled through gritted teeth,"help me get to her, or get out of my way." I took a few steps before Vogel came alongside, lending me the support of one of his wings. Together we hobbled down the hall and to Belle's room. A flurry of doctors and nurses greeted us. "Doc, What's going on?" I shouted over the commotion. Through the press of bodies, I could see Belle lying limply on a gurney, her prosthetic wing seemed to be malfunctioning, twitching and jerking sporadically. "I'm sorry, I don't know, Mr. Crackshot. One of the guardsponies found her on the floor of the lab like this," the doctor replied impatiently. During a momentary lull in the activity, I caught a glimpse of her face. Sunken cheeks and pallid lips gaped at me from beneath unseeing eyes, and my heart stopped in my chest. Breaking free from Vogel, I rushed into the room, plowing through the assemblage of nurses. Leaning close, I sniffed her breath, and my worst fears were confirmed. Feather Fern. Grabbing the nearest orderly by the collar I snarled in her face, "Bring me my saddle bag from the top drawer of my work station!" I released her roughly. "Do it NOW!" I below and she scurried off in fear. "Mr. Crackshot!" The doctor exclaimed, "I will have you removed if-" "Listen to me, doc!" I rounded on him, panting heavily and twinghing at the pain in my belly, "I know what's wrong, and there isn't a damn thing YOU can do about it, so clear the room!" The doctor stared at me a moment before ordering the rest of the personnel out of the room. At last, the orderly returned with my saddle bag. Snatching it from her, I dumped it on the floor, strewing its contents around. Finally locating the bottle I needed, I gently tilted a few drops of it's clear blue liquid into Belle's mouth. "C'mon, c'mon..." At last she gasped, taking in a deep breath of air, and I released the breath I didn't know I was holding. "Care to explain?" The doctor said at last. Weakly helping myself into a chair, I sat down and mopped the sweat from my brow. "It's Feather Fern," I explained, "one of the Tirekian trio. It suppresses a pony's magic, and we all have magic in our right, not just unicorns. And if you couldn't guess, Feather Fern is the anti pegasus magic. But Belle knew that. I don't understand why she would've taken any, let alone the amount she did." I pondered dubiously. "And what's worse, it's not even there," I'm greeted by confused looks, "her magic is completely gone, feather fern just suppresses it, bottles it as it were. But why would she take it in the first place?" "Unless frau Belle vos poisoned," Vogel supplied. "But the only other pony on the base who knew about their existence was...." sudden realization dawned on me, making me sick, "Delta... where is Delta?" "To my knowledge, nopony has located him yet," the doctor said, confused, "but why would he do this?" White fury filled my vision, "I know exactly why." All pain forgotten, I rose from my seat. "Vogel, get my rifle and bandolier." The ecstasy of flying left me more suddenly than it had come. And in its place was left an empty hole, greater than had been present before. My wings faltered and I plummeted briefly. The tears that stung my eyes were no longer from wind shear, but from sorrow and guilt. Landing heavily on a rocky outcropping, I howled my woes to the sky in a fit of remorse and regret, and there, I wept bitterly, for I had betrayed the one pony that had always been there. I was tracking Delta across the skies, his false wings leaving a clearly identifiable wind trail. Despite the clarity of trail, it took all my willpower to block out the pain of my injuries, screaming for attention. Vogel and Lowe accompanied me, grim and worried expressions fixed to their faces. They exchanged quietly, and at intervals, in their foreign tongue. "Keep your eyes sharp," the harshness of my tone disguised the underlying strain in my voice, "He is close." "Understood, Herr Rote Jaeger." I knew not what they meant, nor did I care to ask, for I was hunting. Exhausted from my wailing, my senses and faculties returned. I was disgusted with myself. Wrenching the infernal device I had created from my back, I threw it upon the mountainside and reared, poised to pummel it into scrap. But I stopped, and realized with horror, I could not. Not yet at least. If I destroyed it now, with no way to contain the magic within, Belle's magic, what made her a Pegasus, would disperse, unable to be retrieved. Carefully and with great reverence, I donned the contraption once again, and began winging back to the base. Suddenly I sensed a new set of wing beats in the air and I looked around. There, to the southwest and 50 yards beneath our current altitude, was Delta Wing. I stopped, mid flight, and hovered, the two Griffons whizzing past, before wheeling around in confusion. My heart beat loud in my chest demanding vengeance. Pulling my rifle into my shoulder I aimed, pulling the trigger, just as white hot pain flashed across my vision, wracking my body in convulsions. The shot flew wide. Abandoning the hope of a rifle shot, I plummeted in a stoop towards the unicorn, eyes, unseeing to anything but my target. A sharp report broke the air and I turned my head seeking its source. Above me and to the northeast were two Griffons. A shadow passed over me and I glanced up in time to see a streak of red, rocketing towards me. "Oomph!" The object struck me full broadside and we fell together. We grappled for a moment before pulling away long enough for me to recognize my assailant. "Crackshot!?" The ground rushed up to meet us with ever increasing speed, and we broke apart to avoid crashing into it at full speed. We both land heavily. "Let me explain!" I exclaimed, but my cries fall on deaf ears, and he closes with me again. It took all my limited skill to avoid his advances. A flash of movement in the corner of my eye drew my attention, and I felt scaled claws close around my wrists, slamming me to the ground. Crackshot's rifle butt pressed against my windpipe, and he leaned down to whisper in my ear, his moustaches tickling. Bending down, I could feel blood, hot and sticky, soaking my bandage, I ignored the pain, focused solely on interrogating my prisoner. "Are you aware of what you've done?" I asked, cool as ice, and I watched the blood freeze in his veins, as he tried to choke out an answer. "Shhh..." I whispered quietly, pressing firmly down on the rifle, "don't worry, I won't kill you, I have my vows. These fine gentlebirds however..." He struggled against his captors trying to speak, "Hh-wait!" Delta choked out. I straighten, releasing the pressure on his throat, slightly. "I know I've messed up, but I can fix it," he said hoarsely. "I know, and you will," I said, "I know you took her magic-" I leaned down to speak some more, but am interrupted by a flutter of wings. Vogel, Lowe, and I turn to see the approach of a third Griffon. His wings were ragged and he began to converse quickly with the other two. Their feathers wilf. After a moment I asked, "What's happening?" Lowe turned to face me expression grim, "Griffonstone has fallen."
The MeetingI poured over sheets of technical data amidst the hum and whir of computers running complex algorithms and simulations. An old unicorn with a vast grey mop of a mane and bristling mustache approached me. "Any new developments?" He asked, thickly accented. "Not anything promising Dr. Einstein," I said, glancing up at him, "just too many pieces missing from this puzzle." "Well hopefully with this new hire, we will finally be able to make some progress," the unicorn nodded to himself, returning to his own work area, "Yes, with his talent we should be able to make advances in leaps and bounds." I looked at my watch, "As a matter of fact, I should be leaving, I'm meeting our new friend in Canterlot tomorrow." I filed away the papers I had been studying and gathered my saddlebags, rising and exiting through a sliding glass door. I breathed the fresh air as Bomber Belle and I trotted through Canterlot to the "Cloud 9" Pegasus inn. An inn on a cloud that catered specifically to pegasi visiting Canterlot. We arrived at our destination and entered through the arching doorway. I paused a moment to scan the room, my gaze settled on a red Pegasus in a black vest and hat. I smiled, I had found a piece to my puzzle. ====== I stood a moment at the end of the street, smoothing my moustaches. It had been a long time it seemed, since the incident with Dirty Dan. I had only just been released from royal custody back into Equestria, and I already had orders from the princesses. As a vassal and servant of the twin thrones, I had to do as I was told. I had to meet someone, some science tech and his assistant who needed my particular talents. That, however, was tomorrow. Today I was going to rest and have a few drinks. I hitched my saddle bags and rifle case higher on my back and proceeded down the fastidious white streets, too clean for my liking, making my way to the "Cloud 9" inn. Not too original, but the drinks were good. As I ambled in through the arching door, I heard a familiar voice. "Longshot! I haven't seen you around in awhile!" I turned to see a stout Pegasus mare stepping from behind the counter. "Peggy, it's good ta see you too. It's sure been a long time," she hugged me tightly and I gasped for air, she was strong as ever, "I brought a few things," I said, gently lowering my bags to the floor. I reached in and began pulling out the two dozen bottles of homemade liquor and arranging them on the counter. I had gone to visit my dear friends immediately after my release. "Are these Dill's?" Her eyes widened in envy. "As a matter of fact they are. Finest moonshine in all of Equestria!" I drawled," We got a half dozen each of apple pie, rye, blackberry, and good ole fashioned white lightning. I trust this'll be 'nuff to cover room and board?" I chuckled as the mare gathered the bottles close. "And meals too I expect!" She bustled them away under the counter as I retrieved my bags from the floor. "So what's the news 'round here?" I asked settling onto a barstool. Peggy poured me a tall mug of her darkest stout, her finest work, and proceeded to catch me up on the goings ons of Equestria. The next afternoon, I sat in the dining room eating a bowl of dandelion oatmeal. Peggy's cooking was good, but, just like Cloudsdale fare, seemed airy and unsatisfying in my belly. My appointment was due any minute, so I bolted down the last of my lunch in order to clear the table. Fiddling with the strap of my rifle case, I watched the door intently. Pegasi came and went till finally a gray unicorn in a white shirt walked in and scanned the room settling on me. I did a double take. Unicorn? He strode confidently towards me. "Hello my name is Delta Wing, this here is Bombardier Belle," he offered a hoof in greeting and I only then noticed the Pegasus that had followed him, "Mr. Crackshot I presume?" I cocked my head a little, the Pegasus had a metal wing. It took me a moment to snap out of my surprise, "Uh, yeah, howdy, that's me." I stammered dropping my cigar as I jumped to my feet and shook his hoof and tipped my hat to the lady. "I can tell by your astonishment that you're wondering how it is I'm here," he stated taking a seat across from me, the Pegasus remained standing behind, "the short answer is, I was born of Pegasus parents and inherited cloud walking magic, but am a unicorn as you can see." "Yupper, I can see that. Didn't mean ta seem so rude there a moment ago, just caught me by surprise," I responded, returning to my seat. "Not too worry, I'm used to it by now," the unicorn chortled,"Down to business, I suppose you're wondering why I've asked for you?" "Yessir, I am. What could a science type want with a burnt out markspony like me?" I asked, not sure if I'd like the answer. "Well the reason I've asked you here is for your unique talent," he said pressing his hooves together and leaning towards me. I looked at my flank and frowned, "My talent?" "Yes, as I understand it, you have a latent ability to calculate a vast number of variables and parameters, including windage, elevation, ballistics, and flight time to be able to make the long shots you are so famous for," he looked at me expectantly. "I...I'm sorry, can you repeat that? That was just a little too much too fast for me," my brow furrowed and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I wasn't stupid, I just didn't generally deal with many folk, especially folk with a higher education. Delta Wing sat back abashed as Belle looked on, "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend. What I mean is you can tell exactly what will happen to your bullet when it leaves the chamber and how to compensate for it," he said, slower than before. This time I understood. "Yeah, so how does this help you?" I asked a little leery, I had been used too many times before. Delta leaned forward again, "I'm hoping you can use that talent to aid me in my research of flying machines and Pegasus magic. If you can apply this 'awareness' of yours to the effects that wind currents will have on my machines, maybe you will be able to help my test pilot make them better!" The unicorn was beaming now. It was difficult to mistrust someone who seemed so passionate. "Pegasus magic?" Delta opened his mouth and I waved a hoof through the air, "Explain that later. Yeah, alright, I'll do it," I agreed. "Excellent!" Delta clapped his hooves together, "How soon can you start?" "I can start immediately, I just have one condition, we can't do it in Canterlot, I need away from here. I like to feel dirt under my hooves." "That won't be a problem. Our main lab is being set up in the Kittyhawk military research base," he rose and I followed his lead, "Mr. Crackshot, I look forward to working with you." "And I you," we shook hooves, "and just Crackshot if you don't mind, or Longshot. Seems that last one rolls off the tongue better." "Crackshot it is. We'll be in touch," he and his silent partner walked out the door. What a strange duo, I thought to myself, turning to head towards my room. "You ain't the only one who thinks so," Peggy remarked from behind the counter, reading my thoughts.
A Stallion Called CrackshotI waited expectantly at the Canterlot train station. Delta and Ms. Belle should be arriving any minute now. Sitting on a bench, I settled my baggage in front of me and lit a cigar. "Those are terrible for your lungs," Belle dropped onto the bench beside me. I turned, eyebrow raised, "An it's yer business how?" I knew it was a terrible habit, but one I hadn't yet shaken. "Come now Belle, it's Mr. Crackshot's vice, you have your own," Delta cut in walking down the platform. Belle harrumphed. "Jus Crackshot if you please," I stood up and gathered my bags, "so which train is ours and when does it leave?" "Whenever we're ready I expect," Delta said, rubbing his chin and looking down the platforms at the waiting trains, "ah that one's ours!" He took off at a brisk trot towards a drab looking engine coupled to a plain boxcar and a private coach. "We get a private train?" I asked, leaning towards Belle. "Yup," she hovered along beside me, prosthetic ticking slightly with every sweep, "Didn't ya see it in the 'perks and bonuses' section of the paperwork?" "Paperwork?" I asked confused. "Never mind," she groaned, "you really need to get out more!" We loaded into the passenger coach. Not exactly luxurious, but much more pleasant than riding with the rest of ponydom on a cramped passenger coach. After informing the engineer we were ready for departure we settled into a few chairs in a lounge area. Small talk ensued, weather, the Wonder Bolts, etc. And we eventually fell silent, accompanied only by the clackity clack of the tracks. I pulled my rifle from its case and began to polish the brass fixtures, slowly and methodically. Belle piped up. "So what's the deal with the rifle?" She asked looking intently at it. I paused and looked up, "It's a long and sorry tale. Sure ya want ta know?" "We have nothing but time right now," Delta chimed in, "I'd actually like to hear myself." I sighed, "Suit yourself." I ran a hoof down the long barrel, reminiscent. "My talent is rifle shooting, though some seem to think it's a little more complex than that," I gestured towards Delta who nodded, "I wasn't always the upstanding member of society you see today, in fact at one point my face graced the front of a wanted poster, dead or alive, 1,000 bits." I was unsurprised to see the look shock on each of their faces, I returned to my polishing and storytelling. "I was third in command, and most notorious of the Dirtfoot Crew under the late Dirty Dan. Head of the Pegasus division and the only markspony for a hundred miles in any direction. We robbed, and extorted, and killed...." I trailed off, hooves falling still, "killed so many." I almost whispered. I shook myself out of my reverie. "Anyways, me and Dan eventually had a falling out, and I got shot in the process," I extended my left wing to show the pocked scars on the inside, "blast from a shotshell. Anyways, after.... a job went bad.... I swore I'd never kill again, I'd maim and cripple in the right circumstance, but life was no longer mine to take," my hooves became still and my eyes glassed over. "I dedicated myself to destroying the Dirtfoots. It wasn't easy, one pony against so many, but I did it. I picked at threads and made tears here and there in the perfect places," my voice turned harsh, "and when everything was in place, I gave a final tug and the Dirtfoots collapsed on themselves." My jaw was set and my eyes were hard. "You needn't go on if it's not something you don't want to discuss," Delta ventured cautiously. My eyes snapped to him, he shrank imperceptibly. "No it's fine," I said, softening my gaze I went on, "Only the top brass of the Dirtfoots survived the infighting, including Dan, a few of my old friends, and my own brother. I spent the next few years hidden in the mountains of Apple-achia learning skills useful to the final demise of the Dirtfoots." I shrugged, "I had almost decided to let it go and live at peace when they somehow found me up in the mountains. By then I had a few new tricks. Did you know there are herbs and poisons that will strip a unicorn of his magic, a pegasus of his flight, and the strength from an earth pony?" Heads shook in bewilderment. I chuckled, "Neither did they. I left three magicless unicorns, five flightless pagasi, and two feeble earth ponies on the mountain that day. From then on, it was my goal to hunt down the last of the Dirtfoots and destroy them completely. Long story short, I did. The last of whom being Dirty Dan himself." "I thought you said he was dead?" Belle interrupted. "He is, he took the coward's way out," I let that sink in before I carried on, "after that I was aimless, I didn't know what to do and I fell into a deep depression. What good is a markspony that won't kill. The Royal Air Guard was out of the question, and I still had a royal bounty on my head." I leaned forward and showed them a thin pale scar on the inside of my left foreleg, just above the hoof. Sitting back I continued. "One night I tried end it all. I had nothing left anyway. But my attempt was foiled by none other than the princess of the night. I had made the cut and lay there awaiting my fate, I was light headed and ready to pass out when I saw her. I thought I was hallucinating, but she bound my wound with magic carried me away, to weak to do anything, I resigned myself to my fate." I pondered a moment, reflecting. "I don't remember much of what happened after that. I woke in a dungeon, and was questioned constantly. I answered truthfully, confessing all my sins, giving names of everypony whose blood I'd shed," I chuckled, humorless, "making up names for the ones I didn't know, and hoping to be convicted, hoping to die. I don't know if it was weeks or days later, but I was brought before the princesses and given a full pardon. I didn't understand. The lady Luna stepped forward and told me it was her doing. She had heard it was me that destroyed one of the biggest gangs in Equestria almost alone, and that, like her, I deserved a second chance." I frowned, "but I didn't want one. I begged them to kill me, I threatened that if they didn't, I would bind My wings and throw myself from a cliff. I was imprisoned again, only this time in a tower, in a luxurious room." "The lady Luna herself waited on me, spoke with me, and for the first time, someone cared for me. I felt hope for life again," I fell silent, "Truthfully, I fell in love. Even though deep in my heart I knew my affections would never be returned, that it would never be. Regardless of my feelings, I was always aware of what I was, a bird in a gilded cage. Till finally a few weeks ago, Luna came to my room, she had my rifle with her. She returned it to me and informed me that I had been given a royal commission. I was to be a servant and vassal to the twin thrones. She said I had a few weeks of freedom to myself, but to return to Canterlot by a certain date. With that she left and I was escorted to the castle door." I stopped here and looked around, "The few days after we're uneventful, I visited a few friends, and then I met y'all." The others looked on in silence and I felt uncomfortable under their gaze. "I ain't lookin for no pity party, so stop lookin at me that way," I snapped, "It is what it is, the past." I returned to my polishing vigorously. "Well Mr. Crackshot, I'm glad you're here. There's nopony else in all of Equestria with a talent so similar to yours." I sighed. I knew Delta was trying to be comforting, but sometimes that head of his was just too full of words. "Thanks," I said anyways, Belle seemed awfully quiet, but I wasn't going to complain. Packing my rifle away, I stood up. "I'm gonna get a little shut eye," I said moving towards the bunks in the back, "wake me when we get there."
A Mare Called BomberThe train arrived at Kittyhawk Military Research base early the next morning. I didn't know much about the town,except that it was just over the border in Griffon territory, and it was a research project in and of itself. It was the only town where Griffons and ponies lived together. We were greeted by a rigid, uniformed Pegasus with a short cropped mane, and a Griffon in an unfamiliar uniform. "Welcome to Kittyhawk," the Pegasus barked as he snapped a salute, "I am Colonel Strike Flight, you may call me Col. Striker. I am the commanding officer of the Equestrian Royal Air Guard unit posted here." Delta and Belle both returned the salute with military precision, I belatedly returned it with a sloppy salute of my own. "And I am Oberst Katze Feder, commandant of the the of the 12th Griffon Luftwaffe wing," the Griffon introduced herself, thickly accented, "On behalf of the Griffon's Republic, I welcome you." We saluted her as well, I was a little more prepared this time. "We hope you will enjoy your stay," the Griffon spoke again. A few uniformed ponies began to unload our luggage and the boxcar was uncoupled from the coach. "Come along, we will show you to your housing," the Colonel and his partner turned together and we followed. We had been settled into military housing, we shared a four bedroom house in the senior officer's district. There were four districts to Kittyhawk, the base itself, the largest swath; senior officer housing, the smallest; basic housing, for junior officers and enlisted; and finally general populace, or GP, for civilian residents. GP also contained shops, restaurants, and all the makings of a normal town. It was there that Belle and I found ourselves wandering the streets. Delta was overseeing the unloading of the contents of our boxcar and Belle and I were left to our own devices. We spied a small pub and decided to get a few drinks. Sitting down at the bar we were served tall mugs of very dark strong beer. It was good. We sat in silence amidst the hubbub of the bar before I finally broke our silence. "So I'm just gonna ask, what's with the wing?" I blurted out, echoing Belle's question to me. Belle snorted and rolled her eyes, “I knew that would come up. But after yesterday, what was I expecting? Not that I really care anymore, after so many tellings, the story gets old. You can only read the same book so many times ya know? But, since we’re gonna be working together, and I doubt you’ll get any less curious…” She sighed and took a swig of her drink. “Where to begin?” she asked, staring at the ceiling, “I guess from when I was only a young filly. I don’t know when I decided I wanted to be a guardspony, but for as long as I could remember it was my dream to join the Royal Air Guard. My parents were reluctant at first, but they did a lot to support me. Like when it was time for me to be weaned, instead of sending me off ta some relative, they sent me to a military stabling school. Personal, I think they hoped I would be deterred, being put in that environment at such a young age, but I loved it. That’s where I found my cutie mark. First in my class!” Belle expounded pridefuly, shooting a smug look at Crackshot. “After that,” she continued, “the folks had no choice but to accept my decision. An’ they did. In fact,” she added slyly, “with their permission, and my Junior Guard record, I was able to enlist a year early. I never had any desire to be an officer. Too much administrative work, even in combat units. I was a weapon to be aimed and the back-blast cleared." "Right out of basic I was approached by a special forces commander who offered me an opportunity to join his unit. I didn’t even know the RAG had special forces. Guess they don’t talk ‘bout it much eh? But more danger, excitement, and chance for adventure? I was asking where to sign before he had finished his speech." "Training was some of the best times of my life. Don’t get me wrong," she laughed, "it was extremely tough, and often miserable, but I loved every second of it. Very few mares are taken, and especially not ones as young as me, but you’d better believe I wasn’t ‘bout to be outdone by any of those macho stallions. Nearly half our class washed out before the end, but those of us who were left shared a comradery I hadn’t before known. My life seemed to be right on track." "But, as they say, all good things come to an end,"she sighed, "It was near the end of training when I had my accident. We were on a night op, practicing taking down a dirigible. All was running smoothly. My wingpony and I were in position on the port side, just waiting for the squad leader to give the signal to move against the craft when it all went wrong." "The pilot made an unexpected turn to starboard. This wasn’t a problem, we were trained to compensate for any change without notice, but the rear pair, who were responsible for watching out for opposition, didn’t notice the course change right away and suddenly found themselves out of position, with the window of opportunity closing fast," she paused somber. "Our orders were strict silence after surrounding the ship, and they had no way to communicate their predicament. Their only option was to fly as fast as they could back to the rear. But it was night, the moon was covered by cloud, and we were all in blackout gear. In a panic, my squad mate never saw us and ran headlong into me. The impact threw me into the side of the ship and my right wing was struck by the propeller. For a moment I was pinned between the hull and the engine, the wing taking repeated strikes form the blade, before I came dislodged, quickly passing out from pain and shock." "I came to a bit later, having been born to the ground by my wingpony. By now I had been stabilized and secured in a rescue harness and was being carried between him and my squad leader. The morphine I had been given reduced the pain to little more than a throbbing ache, so I chanced a look at my wing. The sight nearly caused me to pass out again. It was heavily splinted, and not much was visible, but what I could see stopped my heart. Most of the feathers were stripped off, the skin was sliced and bloody, and I could see a lance of bone sticking out where it shouldn’t ‘ave been.” Here Belle took a break and downed the remainder of her drink. For a time after that she stared into the empty glass. Soon, a full one was placed in front of her. She ignored it for the time being and continued. “I think I knew I was going to lose the wing, but I refused to accept that, even as the doctors told me the extent of the damage. But, ‘fore I knew what was happening I was put under, and when I woke up, it was mostly gone. I really think I might have tried to kill myself then. My life thrown off the only path I’d ever seen for it and ‘ad no idea what to do. I despaired of everything at that time, but my CO had dealt with similar injuries before and put me on 24 hour suicide watch. I was under constant surveillance, but I was so immobilized anyway that I don’t even know what I could have done." "Depression set in next and I was visited regularly by a psychologist. I had no desire whatsoever to get better mentally, so there was little he could do. But, it seemed some of my luck remained." "At the time of my accident, my platoon was stationed under Colonel Sky Lark’s command and he had a son who it seemed might be able to help me. I was deep in my lethargy, when, becoming aware of my surroundings, I think it might have been lunch time and I was used to the regularly delivered meals, I found a young unicorn stallion, no more than two or three years older than myself, sitting beside my bed, reviewing my x-rays. He introduced himself as Delta Wing and claimed to be an inventor of flying devices, though this meant nothing to me at the time. I remember we talked for a very long time, but not about my injury. He seemed friendly, and I wasn’t in a talkative mood, so I mostly listened, which was more than I had had done for a few weeks. Some inner sense told me that this was an important meeting. He left saying he’d see what he could do, which seemed odd because I had somehow missed why he was there in the first place. But it was the first interesting thing to happen since I had been in the hospital. Over the next month things began to change. Delta visited several times along with a doctor I hadn’t seen before with a foreign accent. I began talking to the psychologist and trying ta work on his advice. I was transferred to a small apartment in the independent living ward, and this little bit of freedom also helped improve my mood. I was unsure why I was still in hospital though, despite already receiving my honorable discharge. There was no physical rehab, and my psychological visits could continue after I left. Part of it may have been continued worry of suicide, though I only seriously considered it once after the first visit with Delta." "Half way into the next month, Delta and the other doctor returned, though it had been more than a week since their last visit. This time they explained their plan. They wanted to try an experimental and risky procedure to attach a prosthetic wing. They showed me the wing. It looked odd, a thing of metal and wood like I had never seen before, but it was clearly a wing, and if it would let me fly again, I didn’t care. I naturally agreed, ignoring their repeated warnings about the risk and high likelihood of failure. Those conditions had never stopped me from trying anything before, why let them now," her voice was filled passion and she thumped a hoof on the counter. Her cheeks were turning rosy as she continued to drink and tell. "For a while I was wired to a bulky sensor that had to be taken everywhere I went, and encouraged to move and flex my left wing and the stump of my right as much as possible. Finally I went into surgery again. This time when I awoke I felt whole again. The mechanical wing did feel odd, but it moved and responded just as well as my real one," she demonstrated by snapping them open, "Delta stayed at the hospital for the duration of my physical therapy. He explained that part of the wing was a complex spell which relied as much or more on my desire for the wing to work as it did the magic in it. This was no problem." "Finally I had the chance to fly again," her voice was jubilant, "to put my life back together, to be returned the biggest part of a pegasus’ life. In fact, the therapists had to keep me from over exerting myself during the early stages of my rehab. As I regained more and more of my old ability, I grew hopeful, and petitioned to be reinstated. But the Guard wouldn’t take me back. They said that, despite the outlook of a successful recovery, my injury was too severe, and the prosthesis too untested. Again the depression set in and I began performing poorly in therapy." Her face fell again. "Now, for the second time, Delta came to my rescue. He had left for a while, but upon hearing of the poor performance he returned, fearing some problem with the wing. Learning the cause of my loss of enthusiasm, and subsequent weakening of the spell, he decided to stay for a while, spending most of the day with me. Oddly, I found it easier to talk to him than I did the shrink. Maybe because he wasn’t so obviously analyzing everything I said, though I knew he was reporting it all to the shrink. After three days, of no rehab, and just hanging out, I was feeling a little better, but still not particularly hopeful about life in general." Belle swillled the dregs of her drink around the bottom of her glass. "That’s when Delta proposed a partnership. For a while, he had been looking for a pegasus to act as a test pilot and research assistant, unsuccessfully. It was hard to make a pony who could already fly see the point in his inventions. Plus, he explained, he needed to keep an eye on my prosthesis for diagnostics and study and he couldn’t always be taking time to travel out here. It was also clear I needed some sort of work, and something that interested me would be better than something I would quickly get bored with." "I agreed with only a little thought. I owed Delta everything, but even more than that, the job sounded exciting and occasionally dangerous. Plus, I had personal experience with the application of his work and wanted to help further it,” Belle sighed, stirring the fresh drink that had been given her absent mindedly, “So I moved and started working for Delta. The job has been great, sometimes tedious, but always fun, and I love taking out his inventions, though I think he wishes I didn’t fly them so aggressively. But at any rate, that’s me. That’s how I got here, wing and all.” I nodded slowly, mulling all of this over, "It seems we are not as different as we might have expected." Belle laughed out loud, "No I suppose not! I am cripple in body and you are cripple in soul! The Pegasus who can't fly, and the sniper who can't kill!" She was laughing so hard now the she nearly keeled over off of her stool. Reaching out to steady her, I laughed too. I couldn't help myself. Together we rose and staggered out of the pub and back home. Home. How long had it been since I used that word?
A Stallion Called Delta“Delta, you have a minute?” I asked stepping into the workroom. The unicorn was bent over a large drafting table, his stool lying on the floor behind him, apparently knocked over and forgot at some point during the drawing. He held a T-square with one hoof, and magically directing a pen across a sheet of mylar. Several other instruments were suspended in the air in front of him, occasionally drifting down to the drawing to be used, before floating back up. “Oh, sorry, you’re busy.” “Mmmffmfmffsssk,” Delta replied incoherently. He spit out the pencil he’d been holding in his mouth, leaving deep tooth marks in the soft wood. “No. I’ll just be a bit. I’m almost finished. Make yourself comfortable.” Delta had been setting up ever since the move and I had seen very little of him. Taking a moment to look about the room, I had to admit the unicorn had done a good job with what he had. The workroom was one large space, with tall windows along one wall and a high raftered ceiling. Along the windowed wall, three desks were spaced, presumably one for each of them. On the opposite wall stood a work bench, soldering station, and even a small forge, I was sure I could find use of the forge. The back wall was lined with shelves and cabinets. In one corner, almost appearing out of place, sat a large sofa, and a small table and chairs, apparently for relaxing and dining during long projects. A record player sat on a small shelf and upbeat music played softly, amplified by the room’s wooden construction. Just then a piece of folded paper swooped low over my head, causing me to jump. I watched it with growing astonishment as it banked and soared back up to the rafters where it glided in peaceful circles. Bomber Belle was lying on one of the beams wearing a mischievous grin. She winked and beckoned me up. Declining the invitation, I shook my head and moved to the corner with the seats. I found myself wishing I had joined the mare as Delta’s ‘bit’ stretched into half an hour, and was well on its way to forty five minutes before the sound of a stool being drug across the floor drew my attention. I looked up to see the unicorn straightening his workspace before trotting over to the join me. “Sorry about that. What time is it?” he looked at a clock on the wall, “Oh my, that late? I hope you weren’t getting impatient. I sometimes get lost when I’m working.” “Not in the least,” I replied suppressing a yawn. “It gave me a chance to look around some.” “Excellent! Well, I’m going to call it a day at any rate. Would you care for refreshment?” Delta opened a cabinet and summoned a couple bottles and tumblers. “Whiskey, gin, vodka? Or I could get something soft if you prefer?” “I’ll take whiskey if you’d be so kind.” “Right away, I hope you don’t mind it straight up,” I shook my head, “I don’t keep an ice chest in here.” Delta poured two generous helping of the caramel colored alcohol into a pair a glasses and passed one to me before taking a slow swallow from his, sighing contentedly and relaxing into his chair. “I get stiff leaning over that table too long. Belle!” he called out, looking around the room. “Up here,” she replied, rolling from the beam and gliding to the floor. “Would you like anything?” “No thanks. If we’re done for the day I’m going to go for a fly. Ya know, stretch the wings, work up a sweat. I’ll meet you guys for dinner,” rolling her shoulders and flexing her wings, she left the room and we sat in silence for a short period. “So,” Delta expounded, breaking the silence, “what’d you want to see me about?” “Well,” I started, “If we’re going to be working together for a while, I thought we should get to know each other a touch more.” “Fair enough,” the unicorn replied, “What do you want to know?” “Whatever you’re willing to tell. I don’t want to pry, but honestly, I don’t know much about you or your history. Y’all know mine and I know Belle’s, but you’re still pretty well a mystery ta me.” “I may have been a unicorn raised by pegasi, but my life has been practically boring compared to yours. Shortly after I was born, by mother was transferred to ground duty, so I never felt out of place, at least not physically,” he shrugged, “In other aspects, I did struggle a little.” “Our natural magic works in strange ways that not even the Princesses have a complete understanding of. That is the magic inherent to all ponies, not just unicorn abilities which the word is usual attributed to. In respects to unicorns, we each have a natural affinity for a narrow aspect of magic. It is perhaps the most recognizable manifestation of a pony’s special talent. And there is a lot of magical theory, and cutie mark theory that I won’t get into because that is an exhausting subject on its own.” I nodded, preferring to avoid the headache. “My special talent was flying magic, but it wasn’t for years that I realized it wasn’t just as simple as having a special talent. I was almost completely gifted with the natural abilities of a pegasus, but rather than having wings and being able to fly, I could project it as a unicorn.” “One of my early teachers recognized my unique understanding of my talent and convinced my mother to send me to Canterlot Academy. I don’t think I was necessarily more gifted than other unicorns, but maybe more in tune with my abilities. For my entrance exam, I demonstrated a spell of my own creation,” Delta whistled and the folded piece of paper glided over and landed on the table. “The same spell on this, I call it a paper airplane, though I’ve modified and improved it over the years. At the time I didn’t see anything special about it. It was just a silly thing I’d come up with while bored in class, but the board of examiners thought it was quite impressive. From then on my education was directed to the study of flight,” he paused a moment to take another drink. “Most of my schooling was easy, my instructors having little more than a theoretical understanding of the subject. After graduating the academy as joint valedictorian, I could have gone to any university in Equestira. I ended up at Marechusetts Institute of Technology. After my first few semesters, I completed my studies in Cloudsdale, working mostly with the Wonderbolts.” I raised an eyebrow, impressed. “While in the pegasus city, my desire for flight was rekindled. The theory was no longer enough. My inner pegasus wanted out, wanted to leap free from the bonds of gravity and ride the wind. I decided it was my purpose to achieve this goal. To invent flying machines. Upon graduating I moved to Las Pegasus to get my graduates degree in mechanics. I think this disappointed most of my professors, as well as many of the ponies I looked up to. Soarin’ however, whom I had become good friends with, encouraged me to go for it. He was still a cadet at the time and did many of his mandatory volunteer hours in my research program,” he explained. “After school I spent a little while apprenticed under an airshipwright. But zeppelins were too slow, too bulky and cumbersome. So I decided to go off on my own as an inventor,” Delta’s eyes lit up with the same fire i had seen that day in the “Cloud 9”. “The day I opened my first office was one of the proudest of my life. My name on the door, all the space inside devoted to the creation of my ideas. No one to tell me what to do. No one to tell me that my dream was pointless. A bold statement to all the naysayers. Delta Wing: Inventor of Flying Devices!” “At first things looked like they might work out. I got my first personal flying platform built. I was getting royalties from the publishing of my master’s thesis. There was a steady trickle of commissions, though some of them were rather odd. One pegasus with a rainbow mane and tail wanted me build here a flying harness for her pet tortoise.” “I know that pony!” I cut in, “She lives in my town. Well, sort of, I lived in the forest outside of the town. But I’m interrupting. please continue.” “The bills started piling up, and I didn’t have enough work to cover them. I canceled the lease on my apartment and moved into my office, not being able to afford both, and too stubborn to give up. Many days I went without meals. I was about ready to turn in the keys and write some old contacts for work when I finally got a break,” he sighed, reminiscent. “It came in the form of a letter, from no pony other than my father, whom I had never been close with. He said that there was an injured pegasus in his unit who, he thought, my inventions might be able to help. The Guard was willing to pay me a salary under contract as a civilian consultant. Naturally I accepted immediately.” “It was at the Royal Guard hospital in Fillydelphia where I met Bombardier Belle. She was in pretty bad condition. Not so much physically, the doctors having done a good job with the amputation, but mentally. I could imagine how she felt. I’d been trapped on the ground my whole life and I learned to live with it, but she had had the chance to fly, and it had been taken away. I don’t know if I ever worked so hard on a project, spending many sleepless nights devising the mechanics, the spells, and the integration. Seeing her in that bed, so detached from the world and wrapped in her inner sorrow was heartbreaking. I spent the little free time I had talking with her.” “All the long hours were worth it when we finally got the prosthesis attached. Seeing expression and joy the first time she was able to get off the ground after the accident was such an uplifting feeling. Finally knowing that I had done something useful and truly important for another pony,” Delta smiled to himself. “After spending a few weeks at the hospital, helping with the rehab, and making adjustments to the wing I returned to my office. But there I found it empty, lonely, and still didn’t have any work. I found myself often thinking about Belle and wondering how the wing was working out. I was planning to visit her soon when I got a letter from the hospital. Her recovery had been going well when I left, but now two weeks later, she had quit improving, and was actually beginning to regress. I loaded some gear and left fearing that I had miscalculated the wing’s design, or some aspect of the spell. When I learned the problem, I found it simpler than that, but at the same time much more complicated to repair,” his brow furrowed as he prepared to explain, “The spell which allows the wing to work relies on the users desire to fly. Belle had been told she would not be able to rejoin the Guard and had become depressed and had lost much of her drive to recover. I didn’t know how to fix this. I talked with the psychologist, I spent long hours talking with Belle, but couldn’t find a solution.” “One night, or very early morning, I can’t remember, I was sleepless, struggling over the problem, and found myself walking the lawn under the stars. I became aware that a pony walked beside me, though I hadn’t noticed their approach. When I looked to see who it was I was astonished to find Princess Luna.” “You know the Princess too?” I asked, wondering if this wasn’t the true reason she saved me. Delta shrugged, “We had an extended conversation, discussing many subjects, not only the trouble with Belle, but also my worries about my work. It was she who convinced me to return to my research and with her encouragement I published my first book. It was also the Princess who suggested that I offer Belle a job assisting with my research and invention. She has incredible insight into the psyche and desires of ponies.” I nodded in agreement. “The next day I offered Belle the position, and she accepted eagerly. From that day forward we’ve been working together, inventing, experimenting, delving deep into the ancient libraries of the Crystal Empire and Everfree Castle. But the mysteries of pony magic don’t give themselves up easily. I kept in contact with the princess, and during one of our regular correspondences she suggested another pegasus with a curious talent who she thought might be able to help. And that’s how I found you.” I nodded again, mulling this over. With difficulty, I dispelled the thought that the princesses were just using me, like everypony else had. “Well I still don’t know how I’ll be of much use,” this thought had been circling my brain ever since I had taken this job. “That will have to be a conversation for another night,” Delta said, gazing at the clock. it was well past midnight, “I believe we should return home and get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll be putting that talent of yours to work.” Delta returned the tumblers to their cupboard and we both rose, extinguishing the lights as we exited the building.
On the JobIt had been almost a week since we had arrived in Kittyhawk and Bomber and I were finally getting to work. Delta had worked hard the entire time directing the unloading of his lab equipment and spending many tedious hours filing away his research notes. The final component to be unloaded had been a tangled mass of cloth and wood and wire. It was beyond me as to what it could have possibly been. That night I was told to be on the airstrip, with my rifle, by six am the next morning. Arriving at the airfield with rifle case in tow, I found Bomber and Delta waiting for me next to an alien looking contraption. Constructed of wood and cloth, it had wings that looked like bat wings, with five ribs and a jointed arm stretching the fabric taut across the frame. Stretching out behind it was a long bare frame, ending in more fabric fins, presumably the tail. An empty seat was nestled into the middle of it all. “Well what do you think?” Delta spoke up as I approached. “I think I’ve never seen anything like it,” I stated matter of factly, it was true. Delta chuckled, “I can understand how that would be true. I know you’re curious as to why you’re even here, and I bet you’re wondering even more why I had you bring your rifle,” it was a statement, not a question, and I nodded my head in agreement. “I’ve mentioned several times before that your talent extends beyond ‘just rifle shooting’.” I nodded again, “from what I understand, you can read the imperceptible changes in the wind, predict how much each individual bullet will drop, and determine how the slightest changes in everything from air pressure to humidity will affect the flight of your slug.” “If you say so,” I said, unsure about all of this. “To help you become aware of this, we’ve set up an exercise with a few of the marksponies stationed here. If you’ll follow me,” with that he turned and Bomber and I followed along in silence. Bomber seemed different, stiff and precise, compared to her usual pranking and joking. Sometimes it was hard to remember that she had been RAG special forces. We arrived at some cliffs where five ponies in military garb stood waiting. They each carried sniper rifles, four held Remington 700’s chambered in .308, and the last, a grizzled old veteran, held a Barrett M95 .50 cal. anti-material rifle. I cocked an eyebrow as I inspected each of them for signs of wear, anything I might exploit. I was out classed and out of luck. Each firearm was in pristine condition, as they should be. “Alright,” Delta started, “We’re going to have a little precision shooting match. The kicker is that it will be through these cliffs, which have the worst wind gusts anywhere around.” “You realize I’m outmatched in bullet velocity and range don’t you?” I cut in, feeling a little frustrated and that I was trying to be set up to fail. “It won’t be measured who shoots the farthest fastest, it’s just who hits it,” Delta explained, “First you’ll go against the Corporals, and then the Sergeant.” The four ponies toting the 700’s stepped forward. I unslung my rifle case and opened the end gently sliding my Sharps out butt first. It seemed antiquated by comparison. I heard one of the Corporals snort as I brought it out in full view. “Hold your tongue, Corporal!” the Sergeant barked, “or would you like to make fifty laps of the base?” Silence followed, “That’s what I thought.” We lined up shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the cliff. “Alright, we’ll start with something easy,” Delta said, “three hundred yards out, there are five targets, orange shooting clays. Fire when ready.” I located the clays on a small butte about three hundred yards distant, like he said. The wind was pretty unpredictable and could cause some serious bullet drift. Taking a deep breath, I lined up the shot and squeezed the trigger. A moment later, the orange clay at which i had been aiming, disintegrated into a pile of dust, the next four did as well. “Well done everypony,” Delta congratulated us, “ your next target is at five hundred yards.” The next five were placed at the bottom of the ravine, good for me as that eliminated most of the bullet drop, but the winds were stronger down low. We all lined up again, only this time, the four all fired before me. They stood waiting as I prepared to fire, this was the extreme limits of my rifle, so I had to take my time. Somepony snickered. “Corporal Fleetfoot, step out and lay down your firearm!” the sergeant was barking at a blue pegasus. The Corporal obeyed, and stood stoic. “As you were please Mr. Crackshot,” the sergeant said turning to me. I returned to the cliff edge and took aim again. Taking another deep breath, I squeezed the trigger again. A full second later, my clay exploded into dust. The sergeant stepped forward, “Before we get started, Mr. Crackshot, would you be so kind as to allow me to borrow that beautiful rifle of yours to prove a point?” Startled, I nodded and handed it over. “Corporal, come here!” he barked, turning to the shamed pony, who snapped into position. “I want you to take this rifle,carefully or its your hide, and I want you to shoot the sapling on the butte at three hundred yards. Can you do that corporal!?” “Sir! Yes, sir!” the corporal stepped to the edge, took aim, and fired. Nothing. “Mr. Crackshot, would you be so kind as to tell us where the bullet went?” “He hit the side of the butte, about a foot low and to the right of the tree,” I told him. “And would you also be so kind as to inform my Corporal where he went wrong?” “The .45-70 is a heavy round, a lot of stopping power, and a lot of drop. The wind is also gusting and you need to compensate for that,” it all came so simply to me. “Would you like to use the Corporal’s rifle?” “Sure,” I said. The Sergeant made the corporal retrieve his rifle and hand it to me. “Choose a target and fire when ready,” the sergeant said. “That rock that looks like a pear, ‘bout eight hundred yards distant,” I pointed it out as I unloaded the rifle. Everypony watched on, intrigued, as I rolled a few cartridges around in my hoof. “What’s this zeroed in at?” I asked, licking a bullet before chambering it. “Three hundred yards, sir,” Fleetfoot answered. I nodded and shouldered the rifle. Breathing deeply, I steadied the unfamiliar firearm. I watched the wind closely, making note of it, and finally squeezed the trigger. The bullet pinged off of my targeted rock and sent it tumbling, it bounced off of more and more, causing a rockslide and the ravine was filled with dust. Fleetfoot’s jaw hung open in astonishment, we traded rifles back. “I hope this serves as a lesson to you all,” the sergeant said, “That there is always somepony better than you, and that your equipment does not make you better,” he turned to me and shook my hoof, “You are a better markspony than I, I feel no need to test you.” With that he turned and the rest followed, leaving Delta, Belle and I to ourselves. “Well that didn’t go as planned,” Delta broke the silence. “Yeah, but it was awesome!” Belle exclaimed. I nodded, putting my rifle away. “I hope this was helpful though,” Delta said as we turned towards home. “I think so, especially when I had to use someone else’s rifle, made me think harder. Now I think I know what you’re getting at.” “About that,” Belle asked cutting in front of me as I walked, “why in Equestria, did you lick the bullet?” I chuckled, “Oh that? No reason at all, just to make them wonder.” Belle’s jaw dropped, “You can be a real prick, ya’know that?” she said falling into step beside us, “I like that.” I smiled to myself. Life was going to be good here.
Belle and the GriffonsBored, I dangled my hoof from the rafter on which I was laying, and watched it swing slowly back and forth. The weather was gray and drizzly outside, and Delta had called off all test flights for today. I was only halfway aware of the two stallions discussing something about bullets over by the forge where Crackshot was carefully working the bellows as Delta watched intently. With an exasperated sigh, I rolled off of my perch and drifted lazily to the floor. “I’m going for a fly!” I called, “Be back later!” Neither of the two even acknowledged that they had heard me. I snorted in frustration and trotted out. Emerging onto the grid of concrete walkways that connected the laboratories to the rest of the research and development buildings, I looked up into the cold drizzling mist. Not ideal weather for flying, but that was perfect for me. I crouched, extending my wings, and paused a moment. Filling my lungs with air, I leapt, rocketing into the sky. I closed my eyes and felt the cool mist sting my face as I accelerated ever faster. Breaking the cloud cover, I snapped my wings shut and hung weightless propelled by my inertia. no matter how many times I looked at it, the rolling cloudscape before me always took my breath away. The sun was low to the west and the tops of the clouds were painted amber and caramel. Peaks of white emerged here and there as surface roiled and pulsed in the winds driving them. I began to fall as gravity caught up with me, and I glided over crests of frothy white, trailing a hoof and gently sculpting the clouds into no particular pattern. Suddenly the cloud erupted right in front of me. I was surrounded on all sides by bursts in the mist. My training kicked in, and I began to evade, tucking my wings in and dodging for the narrow gaps between bursts. “Halt! Junges pferd!” a sharp avian voice broke out, “This is a restricted training area!” I stopped and turned, the cloud bursts had been eight griffons in full gear, now hovering in place and turned towards me. I snapped a salute, “My apologies,sir,” I had not realized I might have strayed into restricted area, “If you would direct me away-” he cut me off. “This is not a playground for little ponies!” I saw his eyes stray towards my wing, “Especially halbe flügel.” The other Griffons smirked maliciously. I frowned I didn’t know much of the Griffons’ language, but I did not like the way he said that last bit. “My apologies,” I repeated slowly, Delta had insisted before we arrived here that I keep out of trouble, “If you would direct me out, I’ll get out of your feathers.” “Are you sure you’ll be able to make it? What with one wing?" I saw black, and before I realized what had happened, I had the offending Griffon in a strangle hold with his own dagger point pressed to his temple. "Wanna say that again bird brain!?" The rest of the Griffons tensed, unprepared for this turn of events. Tossing the dagger away, I let the Griffon go. "I challenge you to an aero-batics competition, tomorrow at noon." "Hmmph. Little pony, why should we?" The lead Griffon asked, crossing his talons. "Would you want to be the ones that dissolved Equestrian/Griffonian relations?" I shot back, echoing something I'd heard Delta say. The group frowned collectively. I'd hit a nerve. "Very well," the lead Griffon decided, "you and your wingpony better be ready." "Me and my wingpony are the best in Equestria! We're ready all right!” With that we parted. I immediately knew I was in trouble. Col. Striker would never allow me to borrow any one of his flyers and that left me with one option. The gunpony. I was doomed. Arriving back at the lab, I slunk in, hoping that the news hadn’t reached them. The two stallions were still at the forge, presumably working on the same project as before. Phew. It’ll be better coming from me. I sidled up to them and looked interested in what they were doing. “Whatcha doing?” I asked. Crackshot looked up from the crucible he was heating before responding. “Making a new bullet to help with the tests,” he fished a lump of metal from a bowl on the table beside him, “We’re calling them ‘zingers’. See these striations? They make whizz as the bullet flies. That’ll help me judge wind and distance and everything.” I nodded, “Interesting.” He returned to his work and his conversation with Delta. “Soooo… what’re you doing tomorrow?” I watched as he carefully poured the molten metal into a series of moulds, impatient. “Nothin’ in particular. Far as I know anyways,” he said slowly. Putting the empty crucible to the side, he looked me straight in the eye, “What’d you do?” “Gahh!” I exclaimed, offended, “Why would you think something like that?” Delta leaned to peer around Crackshot. “What DID you do?” the unicorn asked with the hint of a glare. I looked at the ground and mumbled. “Ikinachalngeddagrifstoanaerobatikscompetishuntoomarowatnoon,” I rattled off, “anineedcrakshottobemawingpony.” Delta looked confused and Crackshot looked reserved. “Wha-” Delta started but Crackshot cut him off. “She got in a fight with the griffons, challenged them to a flight test, and needs me to be her wingpony,” Crackshot stared at me, his expression unreadable. I squirmed under their gaze. “How could you do such a thing!?” Delta flew into a fit , stepping around Crackshot to pace the floor, “Do you understand the implications of your actions!? What this could mean for Griffon Pony international relations!?” “Settle down,” Crackshot broke in. He closed the flu to the forge and damped the coals, “What’s done is done, and we’ll just have to deal with it.” “How can you be so calm!?” Delta turned on the pegasus. I watched the exchange in nervous anticipation of the conclusion. Crackshot continued to close down the forge. “Because I’ve spent the majority of my life under pressure heavier than this,” standing up from sweeping ash from the floor, he turned to the unicorn, “I’ve been in tougher situations facing meaner opponents. A friend has asked for my help, and I intend to deliver.” “But… this could turn into an international incident…” Delta was practically pleading. “Then sounds like I need to get practicing,” the moustachioed stallion turned to me, “What do I need to do?” We stood at the edge of the airfield. Crackshot looked embarrassed and uncomfortable in his borrowed RAG bdu’s, and Delta still looked nervous about the whole ordeal. “Alright,” I said, pacing before them drill sergeant style, “The Griffon Luftwaffe is known for their agility and high speed maneuvers. Being naturally lightweight, they will attempt quick strikes, retreating before we can counter attack. We as ponies-” “Whoa! Hold up a country minute,” Crackshot interrupted, looking startled, “Counter strikes? I thought this was a demonstration of flying skills?” “This is Aero-batics, aeronautical combat. I thought this was common knowledge?” I was growing more and more worried, “This’ll be an exercise of hoof-to-hoof, er claw, combat.” “You know I’m a gunpony right?” Crackshot grimaced. I slumped in discouragement. “Do you have any close quarter combat skills?” I sighed, exasperated with myself for letting myself jump into this fool’s gambit. “I could fight with my rifle,” Crackshot offered. “That won’t work, no firearms allowed…” we were doomed. “What if…” Delta spoke for the first time since the announcement, “What if we mocked up a dummy rifle… like they use in training exercises… as a cudgel staff. Is that allowed?” I pondered a moment, “Hoof held weapons aaarre allowed so long as any blade is blunted or sheathed… I suppose it would work.” I turned to Delta. With a heavy sigh he turned and walked away, “I’ll get to work on mocking up a training dummy balanced exactly like your rifle.” With Delta on board I finally felt some hope for the next day’s coming events.
Pegasi Vs. GriffonsWe had spent a long hard day training yesterday, and most of this morning brushing up. Crackshot had come a long way in a short time, but he was still untrained, and I was worried. "Remember, we're fighting under match rules, disabling shots only, don't try to kill them," I reminded the stallion, he nodded stoically. "And they might be faster and more agile, but we have weight on them, so if you hit em, hit em hard," I was getting antsy, they weren't here yet. I turned to Crackshot again. "And also-" Delta cut me off. "Leave the poor fellow alone, Belle, you think you're nervous? Think about him, you dragged him into this," the unicorn scolded me and I hung my head in shame. "Chin up now, ya hear?" Crackshot's voice was heavily accented, a sure sign he was nervous too, "If we're agonna do this, we gotta keep our heads high 'n in the game. Understood?" Encouraged, I reset my stance in one of firm determination, head high and hooves apart, jaw clenched and shoulders set, ready for anything. The griffon squadron arrived shortly. Stepping forward, the lead Griffon, the oberfeldwebel, something like a sergeant, addressed me. “Are you ready Kleines Pferd?” the griffon was taller than me and I had to look practically straight up at him, he was standing so close. “My wingpony and I both!” I spoke with a conviction I didn’t entirely feel. The Griffon sneered at me and turned to his assembled comrades. “Vogel und Lowe, schritt nach vorn,” two griffons, not the biggest, but maybe the meanest looking, stepped forward, “We have chosen our combatants, choose yours now Kleines Pferd.” “Crackshot, now’s the time,” I said cooly, never breaking eye contact with the griffon. Crackshot stepped forward in grim determination, or was it grim resignation, and took up his position next to me. Delta stepped forward to referee. "Let's keep it clean on all sides," he said firmly, "Hoof and claw held weapons, properly padded and sheathed, are freely usable. Projectiles of any kind are not," he looked sternly at both teams, "Combatants, take flight!" The griffons shot into the air with their superior speed and acceleration, had the match begun then, we might have been in trouble. Thankfully it did not, and as we reached the assigned altitude, I felt my heart lift, this is what I was built for. Crackshot was doing decently well keeping formation, and the griffons and us began to circle, watching each other's every move. "Ready?" Delta called out, both sides signaled affirmation, "Go!" "Remember the plan!" I shouted. We had time our circling to be between the griffons and the sun when we started, and we used this cover to quickly gain more altitude and hopefully the upper hoof. The griffons, however, had the same idea, and they too shot skyward. The griffons gained altitude over us and moved into position to strike. "Get ready!" I could only hope Crackshot remembered the maneuvers we had practiced. As the griffons dove towards us we shifted to fly abreast each other. The gap closed rapidly between us and as our combatants closed in to strike we flipped onto our backs, hooves up, blocking, and simultaneously counter attacking. The griffons veered aside before we could land a strike, but their momentum carried them below us. Now it was our turn. As one, Crackshot and I wheeled around to face our opponents. He drew his mocked up rifle and I drew my training knife. We dove, using our weight and wing power to drive us downwards towards them. In an attempt to dodge, the griffons split. I pursued the lead as Crackshot took the second. I heard a cry of alarm from Crackshot's adversary, but I didn't look, intent on my own. Tucking my wings in I plummeted, committing everything to this attack. With the full weight of my body, I struck the griffon and wrapped myself around him pinning his wings. Drawing my knife across his throat, I whispered, "Dead," before breaking away. Turning I saw Crackshot and the other griffon in freefall, grappling with each other face to face. Crackshot broke away, striking the griffon across the face with the butt of his "rifle", but not before the griffon could gore his belly with his lion's claws. Blood flowed and he plummeted like a rock. "Stop the match!" Delta exclaimed from the ground. I looked on in horror as the rest of the griffon squad took flight, catching flailing pegasus, expertly detaining his wild thrashing. A lump rose in my throat as I rocketed towards my friend. Reaching his side, it was all I could do to keep from crying. "This is my fault," I whispered to myself as we reached the ground. Seeming to hear me, Crackshot shook his head before collapsing into the griffon's claws. The oberfeldwebel turned on his subordinate, Lowe I think, yelling at him in their foreign language, and all I could do was feel numb. I heard the scream of sirens as the medical carriage made its way across the airfield. I watched as the medic ponies lifted the red pegasus onto the carriage, carrying him to the base hospital. I only broke from my stupor when I was approached by Col. Striker and Oberst Katze Feder. "We should like to see you," the Col. said to me. "Und you," the Oberst said to her griffons. "In my office," the Col. finished. Head hung low, I followed. We assembled in Col. Striker's office. I was ready for whatever punishment he had in store. "We are disappointed in you," the Col. started. "All of you," Katze interjected. "We here in Kittyhawk work hard to maintain peace between the Griffon's Republic..." "...and Equestria. Your little stunt..." "...could have cost us all of that." The officers seemed to speak as of one mind. And they were right. My foolhardiness could have cost so much more. "You will all be-" the Oberst started. "Frau Feder, may I interrupt?" The oberfeldwebel cut in. "You may, Oberfeldwebel Hans," the senior officer raised an eyebrow in expectation. "This Kleines Pferd, this little pony, fought valiantly in defense of her honor. She was provoked by mein self und mein squadron. If anybird is at fault it would be us," the griffon's head hung low in shame. "Is that so?" the Oberst asked, "in that case, you will be put on probation, und you will see to it that the red pegasus is well tended to. Dismissed.". The griffons saluted and exited the office. "You, Ms. Belle, on the other hoof, are not under my direct command," the Col. Looked at me sternly, "the only thing within my power is to remove you from my base." He pressed his hooves together and leaned across the desk, "is that what you want?" "Sir. No, sir," I said slowly. "Then I need to be able to count on you to not undo what we have done here." "Sir, yes sir." "Very well," he sat up, " Dismissed." He took up some papers on his desk as if I wasn't there. After a moment I turned and left, making my way to the hospital. Arriving at Crackshot's room, "You weren't in too much trouble were ya?" The stallion coughed. Delta stood by his side and one of the griffons sat in the corner. "No," I said, "not at all. You fought well out there." "Good," he sighed, "anything for a friend." He drifted off to sleep.
Delta DistraughtI walked to the laboratory alone, Crackshot was still in sick bay, and Belle hadn’t left his side since the accident. Opening the door to the dark lab, I sighed heavily. The weather reflected my mood, cool, drab and grey, with overcast skies. The royals in Canterlot were not pleased with the progress I was making. By the guidelines of the grant, I was supposed to be studying Pegasus magic, not inventing flying machines. I frowned to myself as my paper airplane swished post my nose at that moment. I had invented the auto-aeronautical spell, what more was there to offer except new and useful applications of it? With a weight in my chest, I turned towards my desk to gather the mail deposited there. Without looking, I collected it and proceeded towards the sofa and cabinets in the corner. Before settling heavily into the plush cushions, I gathered a tumbler of my favorite scotch from the cabinet and began to sort the mail. A few postcards for Bomber from some old squad mates, legal mumbo jumbo for me, hmm, a letter for Crackshot. He hadn't received any mail before. I was curious, but resisting the urge to look at the return address, I set it aside. On the bottom of the stack was a thick, heavy parchment envelope bearing the royal seal. My hooves froze as I hesitated to open it. Why would the princesses be contacting me now? With an overwhelming sense of foreboding, I broke the seal and unfolded the parchment within. "From the Royal court of the Twin Thrones, To Mr. Delta Wing, We would like to take this time to express our gratitude to you for your advances in the scientific pursuits of Pegasus flight magic. However, considering the lack of progress in the past few months, despite vast expenditures, it is with great regret that we must inform you of the impending termination of your grant...." My mind went blank as I stared. "....termination...." Breaking my stupor, I returned to the letter: ".... However, due to the highly meritorious nature of your studies, we are willing to postpone the termination of your grant for the duration of one month. Should you make significant progress in that time, we are willing to hold a hearing discussing terms of extension and continuation. We hope this finds you well. Sincerely, Etc. etc..... I sat, numb, scotch forgotten. How could this be happening? I had made so much progress in the study of flight, I had made prosthetics and devices to allow flight where there had been none before. Suddenly I became angry. Leaping to my hooves, the mail slid to the floor and I stormed from the lab and back to the hospital. It had begun raining during my short respite inside. "BELLE!" I shouted, bursting through the door with a loud bang and an accompanying clap of thunder. The Griffon on duty in the corner jumped to his feet and Belle whipped her head around in surprise, an expression not often seen on her features. "Belle," I said again, a little softer, but still quite firmly, "we have work to do." Without waiting I turned and began striding back through the downpour towards the lab. “Delta?! What is going on?” she exclaims catching up to me, “What has happened?” she cuts in front of me blocking my path. Rearing my head back, I look down on her. “Nothing,” I snapped, breaking my glare, “we’ve just spent too much time and energy on frivolous pastimes. It’s time to get to work.” Brushing past her, I continue my course to the lab, Belle following at a distance. Upon entering the lab, I went straight to my drafting table and cleared it with a sweep of my hoof. "Delta, what is going on?" Belle inquired again, more forcefully this time. I could hear the concern in her voice and elected to ignore it, laying fresh paper across my desk. She walked up to me, gripping my shoulder, she jerked me around to face her, "Talk to me." She said softly. I hesitated a moment, expression softening, before silently plunging myself back into my work as determined as before. "It's time we made some progress," I said tersely. Animated by my magic, pencils flowed across the sheet before me in an erratic ballet. Defeated and falling silent, Belle stepped back, prepared to come to my aid. I continued to lay my brain child on paper. Every last detail and minutia, not a thing forgotten. "Belle," she snapped to attention at the sound, "Go to Crackshot's desk and retrieve the blue leather pouch from his top right drawer." I turned and crossed the room to where a small carpentry station stood. Lathes and planes sprang to life under my control. "But..." Belle hesitated, "That's Crackshot's stuff, are you sure it's alright?" I could tell she was thrown off kilter by the events that had taken place thus far. "Yes yes," I snapped,"It'll be fine." I was only half paying attention to her as I moved back over to my drafting table with a few bolts of fabric and the scraps of wood I had just lathed. Belle returned to her position behind me, blue pouch in hoof. From the fabric, I cut two large swaths and a few basic straps and belts. Binding them with magic, I affixed the wood to the fabric and stitched the straps into place. Leaving the jumbled mess on the table, and a still confused Belle in her place, I walked to the liquor cabinet and retrieved a bottle of the gunpony's clear moonshine. Half filling a small glass I returned to my desk. "The pouch, Belle." I held out a hoof and the mare deposited the satchel in it. Sprinkling a few dry leaves in the fluid, I turned to Belle and extended it towards her, eyes cold and calculating. "Drink." "What?" she cringed away, "Why? What is it?" "DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!" I bellowed, seething with pent up rage. Belle cowered before me, but I felt nothing except for the anger that had been pushed below the surface for so long. Reluctantly, she took the glass and drank. Satisfied, I watched the tide of magic within her. It was a strain, but I could do it. I watched it ebb and flow, like a heartbeat. Then it began to slow, and recede, as the drink took effect. I watched it, traced it to its source as the final wavering light flickered out, but just before it did, I extracted it in a thin stream of glittering aura. It clumped between us like a glob of mercury. Belle gasped and fell to her knees, "What did you do?" She whispered weakly. I turned to my table, guiding the shining liquid sphere. Slowly I allowed it to sink into the amalgamation of wood and cloth. It shimmered slightly before returning to normal. Breathing with heavy anticipation, I strapped it on. Every piece fell into place. Two, four ribbed wings folded themselves against my sides, they shuddered slightly. Though their weight was unnatural, the sensation felt anything but. It felt as though this is how I should have lived. Turning, I exited the lab, deaf and blind to Belle's faint whimpers and weak movement. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still drab and dull. I looked up and my new wings snapped out. My heart fluttered in ecstasy and my breath caught in my throat. Crouching low, I felt the muscles in my haunches bunch, springs loaded to fire, and they did. Before I realized what had happened, I found myself accelerating upwards towards the clouds. My new wings stroking swiftly, powerfully, gracefully. I sighed in deep relief and with great joy. I had done it. I had captured the magic I needed.
The HuntA din of excited voices roused me from my slumber. I heard the whinnies of ponies and the sharp chatter of the Griffons' foreign tongue. "Vogel," I said, turning to the Griffon sitting guard in the corner. He and his squad mates had tended to me since the accident, and I was not yet fully recovered, "What's going on out there?" "I do not know, Herr Cracks-shot," the Griffons seemed to struggle with the pronunciation of my name, but I gave up trying to correct them. "I shall go and see." With that he rose and strode to the door and inquired of one of the Griffon orderlies. "Das ein flugel pferd, frau Belle," he turned to me, "has been found unconscious, zey know not vat has happened." Suddenly alert, I sat up, "Where is Delta at? What's he doing about it?" The Griffon shook his head. "No-Bird knows where das Einhorn is, he is nowhere to be found,” I flipped back the sheets and slid out of the bed, hooves clopping on the tile floor. Vogel stepped forward to stop me. "Herr Cracks-shot! You shouldn't!" I felt a sharp pain in my belly where the wounds are still tender. "Belle needs somepony with her," I growled through gritted teeth,"help me get to her, or get out of my way." I took a few steps before Vogel came alongside, lending me the support of one of his wings. Together we hobbled down the hall and to Belle's room. A flurry of doctors and nurses greeted us. "Doc, What's going on?" I shouted over the commotion. Through the press of bodies, I could see Belle lying limply on a gurney, her prosthetic wing seemed to be malfunctioning, twitching and jerking sporadically. "I'm sorry, I don't know, Mr. Crackshot. One of the guardsponies found her on the floor of the lab like this," the doctor replied impatiently. During a momentary lull in the activity, I caught a glimpse of her face. Sunken cheeks and pallid lips gaped at me from beneath unseeing eyes, and my heart stopped in my chest. Breaking free from Vogel, I rushed into the room, plowing through the assemblage of nurses. Leaning close, I sniffed her breath, and my worst fears were confirmed. Feather Fern. Grabbing the nearest orderly by the collar I snarled in her face, "Bring me my saddle bag from the top drawer of my work station!" I released her roughly. "Do it NOW!" I below and she scurried off in fear. "Mr. Crackshot!" The doctor exclaimed, "I will have you removed if-" "Listen to me, doc!" I rounded on him, panting heavily and twinghing at the pain in my belly, "I know what's wrong, and there isn't a damn thing YOU can do about it, so clear the room!" The doctor stared at me a moment before ordering the rest of the personnel out of the room. At last, the orderly returned with my saddle bag. Snatching it from her, I dumped it on the floor, strewing its contents around. Finally locating the bottle I needed, I gently tilted a few drops of it's clear blue liquid into Belle's mouth. "C'mon, c'mon..." At last she gasped, taking in a deep breath of air, and I released the breath I didn't know I was holding. "Care to explain?" The doctor said at last. Weakly helping myself into a chair, I sat down and mopped the sweat from my brow. "It's Feather Fern," I explained, "one of the Tirekian trio. It suppresses a pony's magic, and we all have magic in our right, not just unicorns. And if you couldn't guess, Feather Fern is the anti pegasus magic. But Belle knew that. I don't understand why she would've taken any, let alone the amount she did." I pondered dubiously. "And what's worse, it's not even there," I'm greeted by confused looks, "her magic is completely gone, feather fern just suppresses it, bottles it as it were. But why would she take it in the first place?" "Unless frau Belle vos poisoned," Vogel supplied. "But the only other pony on the base who knew about their existence was...." sudden realization dawned on me, making me sick, "Delta... where is Delta?" "To my knowledge, nopony has located him yet," the doctor said, confused, "but why would he do this?" White fury filled my vision, "I know exactly why." All pain forgotten, I rose from my seat. "Vogel, get my rifle and bandolier." The ecstasy of flying left me more suddenly than it had come. And in its place was left an empty hole, greater than had been present before. My wings faltered and I plummeted briefly. The tears that stung my eyes were no longer from wind shear, but from sorrow and guilt. Landing heavily on a rocky outcropping, I howled my woes to the sky in a fit of remorse and regret, and there, I wept bitterly, for I had betrayed the one pony that had always been there. I was tracking Delta across the skies, his false wings leaving a clearly identifiable wind trail. Despite the clarity of trail, it took all my willpower to block out the pain of my injuries, screaming for attention. Vogel and Lowe accompanied me, grim and worried expressions fixed to their faces. They exchanged quietly, and at intervals, in their foreign tongue. "Keep your eyes sharp," the harshness of my tone disguised the underlying strain in my voice, "He is close." "Understood, Herr Rote Jaeger." I knew not what they meant, nor did I care to ask, for I was hunting. Exhausted from my wailing, my senses and faculties returned. I was disgusted with myself. Wrenching the infernal device I had created from my back, I threw it upon the mountainside and reared, poised to pummel it into scrap. But I stopped, and realized with horror, I could not. Not yet at least. If I destroyed it now, with no way to contain the magic within, Belle's magic, what made her a Pegasus, would disperse, unable to be retrieved. Carefully and with great reverence, I donned the contraption once again, and began winging back to the base. Suddenly I sensed a new set of wing beats in the air and I looked around. There, to the southwest and 50 yards beneath our current altitude, was Delta Wing. I stopped, mid flight, and hovered, the two Griffons whizzing past, before wheeling around in confusion. My heart beat loud in my chest demanding vengeance. Pulling my rifle into my shoulder I aimed, pulling the trigger, just as white hot pain flashed across my vision, wracking my body in convulsions. The shot flew wide. Abandoning the hope of a rifle shot, I plummeted in a stoop towards the unicorn, eyes, unseeing to anything but my target. A sharp report broke the air and I turned my head seeking its source. Above me and to the northeast were two Griffons. A shadow passed over me and I glanced up in time to see a streak of red, rocketing towards me. "Oomph!" The object struck me full broadside and we fell together. We grappled for a moment before pulling away long enough for me to recognize my assailant. "Crackshot!?" The ground rushed up to meet us with ever increasing speed, and we broke apart to avoid crashing into it at full speed. We both land heavily. "Let me explain!" I exclaimed, but my cries fall on deaf ears, and he closes with me again. It took all my limited skill to avoid his advances. A flash of movement in the corner of my eye drew my attention, and I felt scaled claws close around my wrists, slamming me to the ground. Crackshot's rifle butt pressed against my windpipe, and he leaned down to whisper in my ear, his moustaches tickling. Bending down, I could feel blood, hot and sticky, soaking my bandage, I ignored the pain, focused solely on interrogating my prisoner. "Are you aware of what you've done?" I asked, cool as ice, and I watched the blood freeze in his veins, as he tried to choke out an answer. "Shhh..." I whispered quietly, pressing firmly down on the rifle, "don't worry, I won't kill you, I have my vows. These fine gentlebirds however..." He struggled against his captors trying to speak, "Hh-wait!" Delta choked out. I straighten, releasing the pressure on his throat, slightly. "I know I've messed up, but I can fix it," he said hoarsely. "I know, and you will," I said, "I know you took her magic-" I leaned down to speak some more, but am interrupted by a flutter of wings. Vogel, Lowe, and I turn to see the approach of a third Griffon. His wings were ragged and he began to converse quickly with the other two. Their feathers wilf. After a moment I asked, "What's happening?" Lowe turned to face me expression grim, "Griffonstone has fallen."
