Fallout: Equestria - Retrieval

Fallout Equestria: Retrieval

The soaking rain imbedded itself into my coat as crawled along seaside cliffs, my vision was dark as the clouds shrouded the moonlight in the night sky. The tips of my ears were stiff, a cold wind accompanying the rain to form the storm that would be my cloak. Further and further I slowly crawled along the rocky cliffs my body shivering in the dreadful weather, as I crawled I began to recall the briefing to actions I was about to take.

“Lieutenant Strike thank you for coming, sorry for the short notice but time is of the essence,” yhe sky blue unicorn with a white mane and tail said, coming into the room. “One our intelligence operatives has been captured by the griffins while she was attempting to get information of griffin weapon shipments heading to the zebras,” operative Lock Note the unicorn passed some files to me.

“Her name is Pumpkin Tart, she’s one of our most valued operatives in the Griffonia. Our other agents in the country have managed to get the location of her imprisonment,” while Lock Note spoke I looked at the files.

Under the name Pumpkin Tart was picture of an orange unicorn mare with a beige mane and tail, another picture under that was of her cutie mark, a slice of an orange coloured tart resting on a white plate.

As I began to look at the other contents of the file the Note continued. “Tart is being held in an old prison on an island, a fair way off the Griffonian coast, Emerald Island,” Note pointed with a hoof to a map on the wall. “The island has a bad reputation, it is used to hold political enemies of the state. It has horrid conditions that have been condemned by many nations. Many have tried to escape in the past but none have succeeded. We’ve tried diplomatic means to get her released back into our hooves but all has failed.”

Pictures of cages out in the open and old crumbling walls of what once used to be a magnificent castle greeted my eyes, as I looked over the photos of the prison. I turned my attention back to the blue unicorn as he began to speak.

“Given the griffons are more sympathetic to the zebras in this war we can’t run the risk of her being handed over to the zebras, this is where you come in. You will be inserted by the coast of the island by one of our submarines, the HMS Orca.”

“The Orca that’s, Captain Chusa boat?” I asked

“Yes he will get you their undetected,” Note responded. “Given the politically sensitive nature of this mission you will be going alone and all equipment will have to be procured on site, leave no trace of our involvement at all costs to preserve relations with the griffons, any questions?” He asked turning to me.

Giving the files one last gaze I meet the operatives focused eyes. “No sir.”

“Good the Sub leaves at 0430 hours, get it done lieutenant Strike.” He gave a salute which I returned before he left the room. I gave one last look at Pumpkin Tart’s photo before I exited the room, I hope we get to her in time.

As I continued to crawl over the slick rocks as dim light began to break through the dark blanket, it didn’t take long before I could see the whole prison from the cliff edge I now occupy. Around the edges of the compound fence line were some weeds which must have been neglected to be cut down as they have grown to a size large enough to conceal an entire pony.

Guard towers and spotlights face inwards around many caged off courtyards each having a couple cages some with occupants others empty, further inland I could see the old crumbling castle overlooking the courtyards which acted as a HQ judging by the additional guards and modern huts strewn along the intact sections of the castle walls.

I continued my reconnaissance of prison looking for any potential weaknesses in the prisons walls. Along the west side of the prison there was a skyport of sorts resting on a cliff edge, with a few sky carriages resting in marked pads. It was lit up for visibility but the fencing there was minimal probably to give the sky carriages more room to work with. The skyport carriages would make a good escape option depending on Pumpkin Tarts condition. While to the east was what looked like a supply depot. A group of 5 identical huts formed in a horseshoe like shape with a guard tower in the middle. It wasn’t as guarded as the courtyards with its sole guard tower so that could be a source of equipment.

Weighing my options I decided to go for the supply depot as acquiring some equipment will make this rescue a lot easier and if things go south I’ll hopefully have a weapon to defend myself with.

Scaling down the cliff cautiously careful not to slide off the wet rocks, I met the weeds that hugged the compounds fence line and made my way east. The wind and rain masked the sounds of the weeds shuffling as I passed through them, I hope my charcoal coat will somewhat blend in with the dirt beneath. As I approached the depot I began to hear muffled voices closing in, I stopped, lying still in the weeds as the voices became clearer.

I could hear two distinct voices one was a young almost whiney sounding, while the other was old and gruff.

“Why do we have to patrol this fence line in this weather, I can’t feel my wings anymore,” the whiney one coughed out.

“I understand your feeling this patrolling is pointless, no one is getting off this island, no one of value is held here anyway just some old geezers who think they can talk treason around the Emperor,” the gruff one spoke.

“That’s true but did you see that pony unicorn that was brought in a few days ago? I don’t recall any ponies in positions of power back home.” The whiney griffon said perking my interest with those words. To stay in ear shot I slowly crawled along the wet weeds towards the 2 as I followed their conversation.

“No I must have missed it, perhaps the pony is an equestrian assassin or something. Only the worst get sent here.” The gruff continued.

“I haven’t seen the pony in any of the outside cells, she must have done something bad if she’s in the castle.” That whiney griffon continued to give me useful information to the whereabouts of Pumpkin Tart. Unfortunately the conversation went towards a topic unrelated to my current objective, I reverted my course and continued to the depot.

The depot was encased by the fence, there was a door built in the fence leading inside the compound which was locked, the sole guard tower overlooking the depot was occupied by a very bored looking griffon. Without any equipment getting the locked door open would be near impossible, I decide to get the guards attention hoping he would open the door.

I started to shake the fence with my hooves, making it rattle louder than the other sections affected by the wind. I continued to shake the fence, progressively getting louder until I saw the guards head swivel towards my direction, I stopped for a few seconds and started to shake again. The guard stretched his wings before gilding down towards the fence.

I lie very still in the weeds as he began to investigate the noise, I dare not move my head as the griffon was close. I could only listen the pat of his claws in the mud and the wind rattling the fence wire. His claw pats began to become softer as he returned to his post, this time I violently shook the fence before going back to the dirt.

“Who’s there!?” The guard shouted as he stormed back. Slowly I grabbed a rock with my one of my hooves and waited, the cold rain and wind made by body tense as one wrong move would end in my demise. As he stood there looming over me I could feel my heart beat faster from the tension. He waited for a minute this time he was scanning the surrounding areas with the flashlight on his rifle its light briefly coming into view with each pass as time went on.

Once again he left signalled by moving patting sounds in the mud, only then I threw the rock clutched in my hooves. It clanged against the frame of the fence door giving a visible shudder from the impact.

With an audible groan the guard nearly crashed into the fence as he flew over it and landed right in front me rifle raised. “Show yourself!” He shouted in anger sweeping his rifle. He was about to reach for his radio, probably to report the incident. He didn’t get that far as I jumped him before he could speak. We struggled in the mud as we fought, the impact kicked his rifle away from us. I might have gotten the jump on him but he was still alert from my earlier actions.

Twisting and rolling in the mud and rain, while throwing punches towards to his face we fought, I tried to keep his beak shut. He could still warn other guards even without his radio if he screamed loud enough. As the struggle continued taking and returning hits I managed to get untangled from our ball of limbs, I gave him a hard kick to the gut, which caused him to pause for a moment which gave me the upper hoof. That one moment allowed me to wrap my front hooves around his neck, then I began to squeeze.

He kicked and clawed at me as he struggled to breathe fighting to get free of my death grip. A couple times he managed to swing his arms around and claw at my unprotected hide drawing blood with each strike, but his struggle began to weaken as time went on. Eventually his attacks began to weaken, the he stopped claws falling limp. I squeezed for a while longer just in case he was doing a desperate attempt of deception by faking death.

Releasing my grip I let his corpse drop into the mud, I then dragged his body into the weeds after searching for anything useful on his body. Such as a keyring, a knife his radio and his rifle. I took his sling to hold the items of interest before going to the fence door.

Sorting through the keys I tried anything that looked like it matched the keyhole, it was on attempt number 4 that the door opened and I rushed inside, the wind closing it behind me with a clang of steel. I waited behind one of the depot huts peeking from both side of the building watching, for any disturbances in the facility. Everything seemed normal so my presence wasn’t known yet, grabbing the keyring I began searching each of the huts I could access. One had a few bandages and healing potions along with large medical machines like life support units and heart monitors, I downed one potion which healed my wounds from the scuffle outside and I could feel the scratches in my hide mending themselves, bringing a small relieving feeling to my body.

Another hut had a shipment of explosive charges with a detonator along with a note explaining that this was a weapons shipment intended to be sent elsewhere but got mixed up at one of supply bases and that it will be returned soon so that no one should touch it. Which made sense as it would be odd for an isolated prison have explosives at their disposal.

The last hut I checked had fresh uniforms and other laundry a discovery I cherished, I could properly dry myself and put on a uniform that would allow me the walk in plain sight as long as I didn’t get too close to any of the guards. The standard issue uniform was a full body suit from head to hoof covering the flanks too. That was good as griffons didn’t have cutie marks, my pictured would surely stand out.

I put on a cap to hide most of mane tucking it up under the brim. The patrolling guards wore rain coats that covered most of their bodies, so I wore as well to both blend in and keep the rain off me. The only thing I lacked was ammunition for the rifle, it must have been stored somewhere else on the base. So all I had was the two magazines the griffon had on his body. But that didn’t matter too much as the rifle he had was obviously not meant to be used by hooves as the trigger was too small to operate with hooves, and given I had no fingers or a horn I couldn’t use operate the firearm. I would need to get a battle saddle if I want to use it, but in order to blend in with the guards I had to take it with me.

Basking in the dry hut for a small moment I prepared to go out into the cold once more. Before I left the depot I armed the explosive charges as a contingency plan if things got dicey, it should act as a distraction to take some of the heat of me should it come to that. I slung the rifle over my back then went outside into the cold storm once more.

I made my way towards the castle, I was lucky that it was raining hard today for the rain coat easily hid my lack of feathers on my wings to any guard who looked at my direction. I passed by a few guards on patrol, each time I looked away hiding my equine face even if they were too focused on the cold to pay me any attention.

The two guards by the fence mention they couldn’t see any ponies in any of the outside cages, and all the occupied cells I saw from my reconnaissance had winged forms. The guard also said that Pumpkin tart would be inside the castle if she isn’t out here. I had believe Pumpkin Tart was being held in castle itself, so I headed north along the facility’s main road.

Getting in the castle would be a problem, guards stood at each entry point checking the ID of any who dared enter. I didn’t stray to close the wall and its entry points, as I didn’t want to get called over. I instead ‘patrolled’ around the walls trying not to look suspicious while looking for any other way in.

I looked towards the cracks in the old walls of the castle looking at the eroding patterns and the streams of water that formed in the cracks of the damaged wall, the streams all pooled into a small rusted grate over an old neglected drainage tunnel that looked connected to the castle itself. It was also just big enough for me to fit if I sucked in my gut.

So I stood close by the grate looking like I was guarding a post, I waited for an opportunity where I was sure no one could see me. I used the rifle like a crowbar, I placed its butt stock in between the grates bars and pulled with all my might on the barrel. The rusted metal began to buckle as it started to pull free from its bonds. Soon it broke free and landed with a clang beside me, I checked my surroundings again to see if anyone caught my break in or the sound of the grate.

To squeeze into the tight space I dumped the raincoat and dragged the rifle behind me with one of my hind legs. Once inside I placed the grate back in place than I began to shuffle up the tunnel thankful that the rain acted as a form of lubricant in the tight space. Though it wasn’t all easy going as the tunnel smelt unpleasant a mix excrement and rotting flesh as I crawled through the muck covered tunnel.

To make matters worse the upwards incline of the tunnel meant that water was splashing in my face, sometimes it was mixed with disgusting muck each time leaving a horrible taste on the tips of my mouth. Then I could see a stream of light ahead, probably another grate. I kicked the rifle ahead of me in preparation to use it as leverage once more. However when I approached the grate, it was missing so I slowly peeked my head through the hole.

I was now in what looked like an old shower block. Its tiles in the wall were cracked small streams of dim light coming through, some shower heads were missing while the remaining ones were rusted in place. Water poured in from a leak in the cracked wall beside me that pooled at my hooves, I got out of the wet and smelly pit inspecting my uniform.

It was stained brown with muck and stunk from it, the uniform could only hide me from eyes that were afar. Anyone who came close to me would be set off by the ruined uniform or the rank smell coming off me.

My dark coat would be better camouflage than the uniform now that I was inside the castle, I would be able to blend into any unlit areas. I left the uniform behind and gave myself a quick scrub in the leaking rain to minimise the smell before I left the old shower block.

The doorway opened into a large cylindrical atrium with several levels, each having a few cells lining the walls with a few of them were occupied. No rain came in as there was a solid ceiling of earth and concrete above. I slowly approached the railing and peaked over, there were 12 levels in total the bottom and top levels looked abandoned. No lights and open rusted cells was all there was on those levels much like the one I was on now. In the centre of the hollowed atrium was a tower filled with surveillance equipment. I could see 3 griffins in the tower which meant that I was probably looking at the control room. The guards had no guns, only armed with batons and talons.

The abandoned level I was on was a level higher than the control room which would hopefully shielded me from the guard’s eyes. If I were to find Pumpkin Tart that room would hold the answers, but I’m not sure if I could take out the guards quietly with them all in close proximity with each other.

The tower was close to the balcony, close enough that I could jump on the roof. But before I would make such an endeavour I needed to see other security measures. The floors with occupied cells each had several locked doors dividing it into sections of three cells, and outside each cell was a camera that faced inwards towards the prisoners leaving no privacy.

As minutes went by I could see one guard patrolling the floors, 4 in total. He inspected the cells checking if the occupants were present and would bash his baton on the cells doors on a few of the cells making a noise that would wake whoever was inside. He would spend 2 minutes on one before moving onto the next level, his inspection cycle would take him from level 10 through 7. He then went to level 5, the one below mine, he then swapped places with one of the three guards in the control room. He went to rest by one of the security feeds while his replacement inspected the cells.

I waited for the new inspector the reach the 10th level before I sprung onto the roof of the control room. I gave my wings a subtle flap a second before touch down lighting the impact of my hooves on the metal. I dared not move as I listened and waited for any indication that the guards below had heard me, nothing. With quiet and precise movements I slowly extracted the rifle from my back, I ejected the magazine and tossed it on the bridge connecting the tower to the 5th level. The plastic case clattered loudly on the metal plates.

“What was that?” A voice came from below.

“Let’s check it out, Anson stay here,” another said.

Two guards came out onto the bridge batons at the ready. One came forward and went for the magazine, while the other stayed a meter behind. Gripping the rifle in my jaws I pounced on the trailing guard landing all four hooves onto his skull, the impact receiving a crunch and blood stained feathers. The second turned to face me receiving a face full of rifle before I charged.

A caw of pain erupted from him as he dropped his baton, he turned to face me. I crashed into his dazed form sending him sprawling on his back, the bridge beneath us shook from the impact the metal plates rattling against the bolts that held them. I was about to finish the guard off before roar came behind me.

Instinctively I took the air if I was a half second later I would have tackled by the third griffon who charged onto the bridge, he immediately gave chase extending his wings. His claws gave him an advantage in the fight but I was faster, I dove under the griffon as I aimed to finish off the other griffon. He was about to get up, with the flying griffon right behind me I didn’t have many options.

I dove into the ground bound griffon, I hooked my front hooves around his stunned form and with all my strength I threw him around like doll to face the incoming griffon. The flying griffon was coming in too fast to change course and flew into my meat shield of feathers and fur. I could feel some of the force from the impact pass through to me as my wings struggled to keep us elevated.

The three of us collapsed into heap, the griffons being worse off than I, the middle griffon was out cold while the other clutched his head in pain staining his claws crimson. He scowled then charged once more claws at the ready. As he leapt over his comrade’s body I waited, right before he was upon me I turned and gave swift buck. I felt a mass collide with my rear hooves, soon after a metallic clang erupted behind me.

I turned my head to see the result of my work, the griffon was nowhere to be seen, and a large dent in the control room’s wall greeted me, I peeked over the bridges railing and saw his limp body fall to the ground below. That only left the fourth guard who would be on his way in a moment. I took out my knife in my jaw before I headed in the control room.

I hid myself hanging from one of the support beams on the roof while I waited for my prey. The sound of clanking metal soon reached my ears, the clanking got closer and louder. I stilled my breath and closed my eyes as I waited for the opportune moment to strike, my ears tracking my foe as his breathing became audible.

I dropped from ceiling onto his back with all my weight sending him onto his stomach, I then slashed my knife against his neck three times in quick succession, and in return he slumped against the cold steel beneath us blood spilling from his neck.

I was wasn’t done yet, finding Pumpkin Tart would take some time, and these guards could wake at any time. To ensure they would never bother me again I slit each of their throats, by cutting their vital artery I gave them a quick and painless end, then I dragged the three bodies into the control room.

The two guards who patrolled the cell blocks had keyrings each key having a tag on them, while the other had nothing of interest. I checked the security monitors, I gazed over each of the screens trying to find which cell Pumpkin Tart was in. Many of the prisoners were up against their cell doors looking tense, my skirmish with the guards must have woken up a few and caught the attention of rest. Then something caught my eye, in one of cameras there was a cell with a griffon who focusing on the security camera, he then put a claw to his head and stuck out one digit. He then pointed towards the right of his cell, he kept repeating this action. I looked at the text on the screen, ‘level 9 cell B2’. I pressing a few keys on the terminal I switched to the camera that observed ‘level 9 cell B1’.

The light in that cell was dim and I could barely make out a shape in the darkness of the cell, the body looked equine and was suspended from the ceiling. That neighbouring prisoner must have been imitating a unicorn with his claws, which meant he probably knew I was coming for Tart.

I made my way down to that particular cell ignoring the pleas and calls from the other prisoners, Tart was my target no one else was. When I came down to level 9 all the other cells were empty, I approach the divided section with a large red ‘Section B’ marked on one of the walls.

I approached cell B1 and looked inside, my night vision picked out the form of Pumpkin Tart bloodied and bruised, she was suspended by her fore hooves from rope tied to the roof.

I fished out the matching key to the cells lock and opened the door, I cut her free form her bonds with my knife and laid her gently on the cold hard floor. I looked her over, she was unconscious with a magic inhibitor ring on her horn, her breathing was shallow and she was bleeding from small cuts along her barrel.

I brought out a healing potion and some bandages, I slowly poured the potion down her throat, careful not to choke her, and then I wrapped the bandages around the incisions on her body.

I whispered her name in her ear, nothing. I gave her a gentle shake, and still got nothing in return. I went to visit the neighbouring cell, the griffon who guided me to my charge deserved at least a small bit of my attention.

“So the mysterious agent comes to visit,” the griffon said in tone that one would expect from a narrator from a stage performance. “I was beginning to think you would take your mare and leave us all behind,” he continued.

His orange feathers were strained brown with muck, and his beige coat wasn’t fairing any better. His yellow bloodshot eyes were slightly sunken in their sockets, his old age was clear to see even in the dim light. While his wings were tightly bound to his sides with a harness that cut into the flesh, and is claws were shackled together. “And you are?” I questioned.

“Oh me? Well I’m just an old tom who may hay disagreed with a few political actions the regime has taken. Count Fedor is the name, though you can forget the count part,” He gave with a little chuckle. “But you are a busy stallion, enough about me what about you? It’s obvious you are here for my oh so new neighbour, though I and the other prisoners wouldn’t mind if you would to be so kind to set us free as well.”

He put on a face that I could only describe as a mix of pleading eyes and confident grin. “Maybe, but doing so would draw a lot of attention, and we don’t need more guards to play with right now,” I replied bluntly.

“Oh but you see my dear friend, we could also act as a screen for your escape. We won’t start our little riot of liberation until you two leave the building, with all the attention on the castle you should have an easier time avoiding the patrols.” Fedor counted with a smug grin.

“You and the other prisoners will be slaughtered you know that right?” I inquired, “you all stand little chance leaving the castle let alone the island.”

“Friend many of us have been stuck in the hole for months or even years, we’ve been waiting for death to claim us, to free us from our horrid imprisonment. By giving us a few moments of freedom we can die with the dignity of sword in claw, not by disease or a beating gone too far. We don’t expect you to take us to wherever you are taking the unicorn, we just want to die on our own terms!” He cried tears streaming down his cheeks desperate to leave the cell that had held him for too long.

“Are you sure you can control your fellow inmates?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what sort of crime and circumstance would get one to rot in a gulag and not be executed by firing squad. Even if intelligence said most of the prisoners were here for political reasons, there always could be a chance of a few outliers in the mix.

“You have no need to worry friend, all of us on the inside are political enemies of the state. Those on the outside are more of the unstable variety, rapist and psychotic doctors the like,” He said with a disgusted tone.

He made a good point, if those on the inside still had their marbles, they could give us time to escape before they started their own escape attempts. I could also combine the prison escape with the supply depot explosive charges to further divide the guards. This would also make it harder for the Griffonian government to see any equestrian involvement if all the prisoners were released instead of the sole unicorn.

I brought the key ring out, selected the right key and unlocked the door. His face immediately lit up in joyous expression that his face probably hadn’t formed in years “Alright you’ve made your point,” I said passing the keys to him. “Release your fellow inmates I’m going to prepare my friend.”

I returned to Tart’s cell, she was still unconscious. With slow precision I lifted her onto my back, careful not to put any strain on her injuries. She wasn’t a big pony, a little smaller than average, but her additional weight made it hard to move silently let alone quickly. I slowly left the cell with precise steps, I aimed to make our trip as comfortable as I could for Tart while the situation allowed it.

All the prisoners gathered in the control room there were about 26 griffons in total, most were old but there were a few younger ones among them. They all had their wing bindings off, thrown into pile of bodies I left earlier.

Count Fedor emerged from the crowd the rifle I once had now clutched in his claws. “Before we make our escape we’re going to need some weapons, according to the interior maps the armoury is close by, ” Fedor said as he pointed a claw to set of floor plans on a table. “Feel free to join us, after all I can’t help but notice the rifle you left behind. Without a battle saddle you won’t be able use it.”

“That would be wise, but I can’t take point for obvious reasons,” I replied nodding my head back to the still form of Pumpkin Tart on my back.

“But of course, you’ve done enough already by freeing us. Let us do all the hazardous work from now on,” He smiled before he turned towards the crowd.

“Here you’ll need these,” I said as I tossed the remaining magazines onto the table.

“Ah, thank you friend,” he replied before he vanished into the crowd. I could hear his voice once more. “Gentletoms it is time for us to escape this dreadful hole our oh so kind and benevolent Emperor has thrown us into. Thanks to our friend we now the means of making our dream a reality.”

The way he spoke had an effect on the griffons. They seemed far more energetic that ones I saw in cells moments ago, his passionate voice even had an effect on me. His words dripped with fire that brought confidence to us all. “We will storm the armoury and arm ourselves with the tools that’ll light our way to freedom! And if we are to die this day, we won’t die like animals waiting for the slaughter. We will die sword in hand like the warriors old! Now go forth comrades, go forth and take the chance for freedom!”

Then with a collective caw, a caw like war cry that even made me flinch, they all charged down the hall, their collective paw beats shook the tower as they left.

I waited for a minute or two before I followed them, dirty paw prints lead me through the halls of the old castle. I came across the remains of guard, blood pooling around his still form, there wasn’t much left of him. His head resembled a crushed watermelon more than that of an eagle. He was stripped of any equipment he had aside from his now blood stained uniform.

I continued down the halls now following the bloody paw prints. The sounds of struggle reached my ears, shouts echoing down the halls. A few gunshots rang out, rifle calibre judging by the sound of them, then the sounds died down for a moment. Loud cheers erupted in the silence, and Fedor’s voice could be heard once more, “we have the armoury my fellow warriors, now arm yourselves for our battle is about to begin.”

I turned the corner of the hall to find 2 dead guards outside a room with a large sign that read ‘Armoury’. The door inside was broken inwards, inside was the dead quartermaster slumped against a locker. Behind him was Fedor keys in claw unlocking the gun safes.

I stood aside as the prisoners took whatever weapon they fancied, soon they all left the room with an assortment of shotguns, SMG’s and carbines. I gently slid Tart onto a table in the centre of the room, Fedor was the last the leave the arms room. He dragged a battle saddle behind him armed with two battle rifles, and a 10mm pistol with a mouth grip.

“Here you are friend,” he smiled as he undid the straps of the saddle.

I looked him over he didn’t have any other weapons, the rifle he had earlier was gone, “you’re unarmed?” I questioned, looking over him once again.

“Oh I’m not a fighter, even in my youth I spent time playing politics not war.” He sighed.

“So those gunshots wasn’t you?”

He chuckled. “No I gave the rifle to one of the younger toms immediately after my speech and he led the charge. I’m merely the bard that raises spirits among the adventurers in this battle.”

I put on the saddle, stowed the pistol onto my sling and checked that everything was fitted correctly. Then with the help of Fedor we returned Tart to my back, “she isn’t in good shape is she?” He asked with concern.

I looked back to her battered body, her quiet shallow breathing and the little expansion of hide where her lungs were was the only indication she was alive, “no I need to get her out of here as soon as possible.”

“The interrogators were awful to all us, but they seemed to have gone the extra mile with her.” Fedor said in a sympathetic tone, his eyes downcast. “Her screams were, well I hope I hear nothing like that again,” he shivered.

“And how do you plan to escape? If you don’t mind me asking,” I stared at him for a moment, his tone and features didn’t come off with pleading or deceit, only pure curiosity.

“Outside the castle there is a little skyport, there are a few sky carriages inside, I plan to take one while the guards are occupied. I’m counting on the guards to focus their attention on keeping you inside the prison. Since griffons can fly it be pointless to guard the skyport so they’ll try to keep you in, and I have a contingency plan if that is not the case,” I confessed to him.

“I see it’ll be easier to get her out that way,” he turned towards to exit, he seemed to falter unsure about his next move. Gears turned in my head as I thought about our situation.

“You don’t want die in here don’t you?” I asked in a sombre tone.

He turned to face me a forlorn look on his face, “the other toms just want to fight whether it’s to die in glory with sword in hand, or in vengeance for their treatment, we have nothing left to live for. Me I don’t fight, I never wanted to fight.” His once calm and charismatic exterior was gone, the reality of the situation finally coming down on him as the rush of temporary freedom induced euphoria wore off. “I know this is a selfish request, but could you take me with you,” I was about to say no, but he continued not missing his chance. “I’m not asking to be rescued like a refugee, just get me out of these walls alive and I won’t get in the way, I know you’re here for her and only her. I just want to have my final moments not cooped up in these walls.”

His request was reasonable and he had been helpful so far, he’d earned this request as far as I was concerned. I gave him a smile, “alright I’ll do it.” His face immediately lit up at the words, “but once were out you’re on your own understand?”

“Yes of course, secrecy must be maintained for the both of you,” he beamed.

“Well let’s not waste any time,” I said walking beside him. “Say your farewells to your comrades Fedor, we’ll be back in the prison guard tower.”

The walk back to the cell blocks was easy, despite the loud scuffle that occurred in the armoury no one had heard it as I couldn’t hear any alarms or soldiers coming to investigate, the radio was also silent. The storm acted as blanket that muffled our excursion, but that would soon change.

Fedor arrived looking regretful, but he gave a quick grin trying to wash the sorrow away, “so I assume you have a way out? Unless you plan to reunite me with my cell?” He said sarcastically.

I chuckled at his attempt at humour in our circumstance, “the walls in one of the old shower rooms are heavily eroded, with the storm bearing down on it, it should be weak enough to break down with brute force.”

“Well that is a plan I suppose, but you will have to do most of the work. My old body is far from its prime,” he said gesturing to his body with a wing.

“Not to worry, remember you are a last minute addition to my shopping list,” I responded with my own sarcastic remark.

I could just pick up a, “Humpf last minute,” from him as we went to the shower block I arrived in.

We arrived to the showers when alarms started to sound throughout the castle, the radio lit up with chatter, the prisoners must have started their siege. The damaged wall was leaking more water than before, a cold breeze was streaming through the cracks making us shiver. “The storm must be getting worse,” I said aloud, “Are you able to fly?” I asked Fedor.

“It’s been awhile, but I’m sure instinct will make up for lost time,” He replied ruffling his wings.

“Alright, hold her for me,” I said sliding Tart onto his back. He gave a loud grunt in return.

“I said I could fly not carry a…” I didn’t hear any other words he spoke as I charged the damaged wall. With all the speed and force I could muster, fore hooves extended I broke through the wall in a cloud of dust, tile and rain.

When the dust cleared from eyes I could see that the shower block was about 2 stories above ground from the outside. I extended my wings rain pelting the skin, I glided softly to the muddy ground below. Being the old neglected side of the castle there were no lights around, I scanned the perimeter looking for any guards that maybe nearby, nothing.

I turned to the hole in the castle walls to see Fedor gliding down after me his orange feathers rustling in the wind. When he landed, not looking too happy, “next time give my old bones time to prepare before you drop the poor lass on me.” He returned the favour when he carefully rested Tart on my back, making my legs strain under the weight, “well good luck friend,” he said extending a claw.

I gave him a hoof, and we shook. “You’re free now Fedor, you can try to escape and live out your last few years. Or are you sure about meeting your end here?” I asked, my voice came out in a small plea that I barely noticed.

“No one escapes Emerald Island my friend,” he sighed with a forlorn look, head sagging, “but thank you, I can now die outside under the skies, that’s enough for me.”

“Well then, it’s time I make history,” I replied before leaving him in the rain.

I couldn’t hear tarts breathing anymore, even my enhanced hearing couldn’t pick it out through the rain and wind. The whole base was on alert as the prisoners staged their siege, shouting and gunfire pierced the air whenever the wind lulled, and the radio barked orders of containment on occasion. The skyport was about 150 metres away, hopefully it wouldn’t have many guards due to fighting being inside the prison. I had to get to the Orca quickly, Tarts health wasn’t getting any better in this weather.

Swiftly I made my way along the cliffs on the western side of the island, fences were setup along the cliff edge as a precaution with signs of ‘warning watch your step’ with a picture of a falling rocks and griffon along it. I trailed along the fence line, bending my knees to make our combined stature a bit shorter to preserve some form of stealth.

I could begin to see the carriages of the makeshift skyport, their exteriors glistened in the spotlights that surrounded the area. When were closer I hid by the base of an unoccupied guard tower that faced outwards towards the sea. I could pick out 3 tense guards by the main entrance lit up by the lights, each with a rifle at the ready.

I was going so well too. With Tart on my back sneaking past was not an option, and flying over the fence would surely get us spotted. I will have to do my next few action quick. I fished out the detonator for the charges at the depot and gripped it in right fore hoof, I gripped the saddles bit in my mouth and lined up the guards.

A flash lit up the night sky followed by a thunderous crack and a shockwave that rattled the fences around us, right as the sound of explosives went off I fired my guns.

2 of guards had holes punched into their chests, blood spurting from the wounds. The third took one to the shoulder and collapsed from the force of the impact shouting in pain, damn. I realigned my aim firing 2 more times to finish the job, this time the rounds hit him in the neck blood bursting as he tried to get up.

The explosion might have shrouded the first burst but not second so I had to move. With the bases alarms sounding once I sprinted past the bodies onto tarmac I spotted a small logistics wagon with armoured plates mounted on its frame among the rest of the carriages, it was at the far end of the skyport. I placed Pumpkin Tart inside the, laying her gentle onto metal floor, I then covered her form with a tarp sheet that was beside her. I switched on the flux regulator under the wagon before I went to the reigns.

Sharp pain erupted beside my right wing joint as I felt something pierce my unprotected hide. I took cover behind the wagon as the shriek of bullets flew overhead. A squad of 5 griffons hovered by the main gate rifles clutched in their claws, the recoil of the weapons pulled them back slightly with each trigger pull.

Blood mixed with rain as it poured down coat, the joints in my wing root ached from the injury. I fished out a healing potion, my last healing potion and chugged it down, I felt my wound began to sew itself back together but my joint still ached.

I waited for a cease in the incoming fire, I peeked out from the right side of the wagon. 3 of 5 griffons were reloading their rifles, I ran across the tarmac across to a flatbed skywagon drawing fire away from the one I left Tart in. loud clanks and crunches could be heard as bullets impacted the mass of steel and wood I hid behind.

I readied myself for another run, I needed to kill these griffons before more show up, the prison riot and the depot explosion would only split their forces for a short while. When the griffons stop their suppressing fire I dashed out firing my battle rifles in their general direction. They immediately took cover by a few cargo boxes as my rounds cracked past them, while they were down in cover I gave a beat of wings, pain erupted up my right wing and took position on top of a large carriage car.

With the height advantage I began to fire once more, 2 griffons were unfortunate enough to pick cover that was only chest high. With my new found elevation I could easily shoot down at them. Both fell with multiple holes lining their backsides, they both started to thrash in pool of their own blood, their screams of pain cutting through the storm.

I pulled back as the other 3 returned fire, bullets glanced off the steel plates I was just at a mil second ago. With a flap of my wings I gain a little altitude a few metres off the ground, not much altitude as I didn’t want to make myself a target for every griffon in this base. I strafed the ground bound griffons weaving between their shots as they returned fire. I kept them pinned with the rapid firing of my guns, but that also meant I wasn’t hitting anything as I had no time to line up shots.

I began to notice my battle saddle was feeling lighter as I expended more and more ammunition, at this rate I would run out of ammunition before I could kill all of them. With Tart and the chance of enemy reinforcements in mind I had to end this quick.

On the end of one of my passes I clutched my wings close to my body as I dove directly at the 3 below. 1 of the griffons was in the middle of reloading, the other 2 raised their rifles at me. I didn’t fire until I was almost on top of them, they waited as a long I did before they fired, the 3 of us maximising our chances of hitting the target.

I grit my teeth around the saddles bit both in pain and in intent, the 2 griffons fell back into a heap as crimson fluid leaked from the fresh holes in their necks. In returned my own crimson fluids leaked from punctures in my forelegs and rump. I crashed into the final lone griffon, our limbs getting entwined. He began to twist, kick, and claw at me while I tried to do the same. I bit down onto one of his hind legs, I sank my fangs in as deep as I could, before I viciously tore my fangs free taking a chunk of flesh with them.

He momentarily ceased his assault as the rush of pain caused him to release a bloody scream that made the tips of my fur stand on edge. But I continued, again and again I bit and pulled flesh free from the rapidly bleeding griffin. The scent and taste of copper flooded my senses as I continued my act of savagery. I made my way up to his neck to deliver the killing blow, with all the force I could muster I clamped my jaws tight on his neck. Blood rushed like a burst fire hydrant into my mouth, he gave a few more weak kicks before he finally went limp from the blood loss.

My coat was stained with crimson, a mix of my and his blood. I relaxed my jaw freeing his corpse from my grasp. My fore hooves ached from the bullet wounds, walking was a painful task. My scratched wings lifted me a few feet off the air as I returned to the wagon that held Pumpkin Tart.

My wings flared in pain as a rapid series of cracks came from behind, I dropped to my hooves and looked back at my leather wings which were torn with multiple holes punched in each. Behind me came more griffons no doubt coming to avenge their fallen comrades.

My legs protested with each step I took as I dashed towards the flatbed wagon. Rounds flew around me as I dove behind the flatbed, some skipped off side while others struck the ground beside me. I checked my battered aching wings, blood oozing from the holes. I now notice that I took a round beside my left wing joint, agonising pain flared up my wing if I extended it. This is no way I could fly like this.

I slumped, surrounded, wounded and low on ammunition I couldn’t think of any way to get Tart out of here. Without a way to achieve my objective I’d have to compromise.

I detached my battle saddle, a small relief came over me from the weight reduction. I peeked over the flatbed watching the griffons slowly advance while giving suppressing fire. When the opportunity presented itself, a gap between the rifle fire I hobbled towards Tarts wagon. I collapsed by the reigns of Tarts wagon, pain was screaming all over my bloody, my coat was turned crimson by my own blood no trace of brown remained.

I drew pistol Fedor gave me, I clutched the grip tightly in my mouth. I clawed my way over the rails and into the wagons tray, I removed the tarp covering Tart preparing myself for what I was about do.

I couldn’t complete my mission, I had failed. I could only compromise, and tie up a loose end. We wouldn’t get the secrets and intelligence of griffon, zebra weapon shipments. But they wouldn’t get our secrets as well.

“Forgive me,” I whispered as I aimed the pistol at her head. My heart skipped a beat and a faltered. Her ice blue eyes stared into mine, a look of fear, acceptance and sadness. Her look tore its way into my soul, I focused squarely onto her horn avoiding her eyes as I aimed my weapon once more. All sound in the following moments were drowned out, no rain, no cracks of powder or dings of bullets, just my breathing.

Then a voice broke through near silence, “need some assistance friend?” The voice of Fedor broke my trance, l looked towards the shredded flatbed wagon where his voice came from. Fedor was clad in the mud stained uniform I left behind, his orange feathers and sunken eyes were the identifying signs it was him.

I nodded towards the old griffon who hid behind the torn mass of metal and wood. I shouted out, “get to the reigns I’ll cover you!” though with the loss of blood and the gun in my mouth I wasn’t sure it came out that way. But that didn’t matter, he ran as I fired at the advancing griffons the recoil of the gun shook my teeth with each bite on the trigger.

My mission was strictly to get Pumpkin Tart out, rescuing griffons would be an unnecessary risk as well as cause a political mess. But the higher ups will have to deal with that, if they want Tart alive this is the price they’d have to pay.

Fedor strapped himself to the reigns as soon as he arrived, I gave him the best amount of covering fire I could with a singular pistol. Tart and I shifted around the tray of the wagon as Fedor launched us into the sky, “head south over the rocky cliffs!” I shouted to Fedor while loading a fresh a magazine into my sidearm.

The wagon heaved sharply as he changed direction, “sorry!” he shouted back as I regained my footing. 4 griffons flew up after us the rest stayed behind to secure the skyport. At this range and speed in this weather it would be a miracle if I hit any of our pursuers, but I fired anyway if I kept manoeuvring their aim would be just a bad.

Tart kept her head down as we flew over the base, griffons on the ground below fired their rifles up at us as we passed. Some rounds hit the floor of the tray, but luckily they didn’t penetrate the steel. Fedor wasn’t so lucky to have protection from the ground like us, I gave a quick glance of worry at his exposed form. He flapped his old wings with earnest as he tried to avoid fire from both the ground and air.

The ground below us was now replaced by the sea as we left Emerald Island. The trailing griffons broke off pursuit as we got further and further away from the island, the storms harsh weather probably played a role in their decision.

“Keep heading south,” I shouted at Fedor through the wind, “There should be an atoll, a submarine will be waiting for us. Fly low they’ll need to see me or they’ll think you’re a patrol.”

The adrenaline pf battle wore off and my breathing steadied, only in this time of respite I began to feel the severity of my wounds and I collapsed the pistol clattered on the floor as my jaw slackened, the edges of my vision began to blur. I felt sensations of tugging and being embraced by material, a smear of orange came into view. I could make out the bandaged form of Pumpkin Tart, despite her own wounds she tended to my own. Though with her magic inhibitor she had to use her clumsy hooves, but I appreciated the gesture. Her lips moved but with the blood loss my hearing was gone, I lost all feeling to my extremities as I lay there, then everything went black.

I woke to the sounds of a vents and the beeps of a heart monitor, white light flooded my vision as I opened my eyes. Medical equipment was placed around the various tables of the torpedo room turned medical ward. The table I lay on was covered with bloody tarp, the green darkened by my fluids.

The table to my right lay Pumpkin Tart, she was reading a book on arcane sciences. It was levitated in a yellow aura, her horn was aglow now that it was free from the inhibitor. Her body now resonated with life, her coat was bright and cleaned, far from the mess I saw in the prison. Her bruises were only noticeable if you focused and only the deep cuts she suffered were bandaged, the smaller one gone from healing magic.

I looked over my own body, I resembled a mummified corpse more than a pony with bandages all over my barrel and fore hooves. Speaking of which an IV needle was inserted into my right fore hoof, the tube led back to an empty blood pack on a stand. I rose to sit, small throbs of pain greeted my hooves as I moved.

Tart turned to face me as the shuffling of hooves caught her attention, she smiled at me setting the book aside. “Oh good you’re awake,” her sweet voice flew through the air. “You were lucky that the submarine had additional medical personnel for the mission. Otherwise, well…” She didn’t finish, her features momentarily saddened before blighting up a little, “I’m just happy I have the chance to thank you for the rescue.”

I thought back the prison and what had occurred, especially what happened at the skyport, “you shouldn’t thank me, Fedor the griffon is the one who saved you, he’s the hero.” I said solemnly I couldn’t look at her as I thought back to when I was going to shoot her in the wagon.

I heard some shuffling then I felt her hooves touch my own, I look into her eyes finding compassion in those orbs of blue and white. “This is about the wagon right? When you were going to shoot me,” she spoke softly, not with anger or malice, but empathy. I stiffened, as the words came out, then I nodded.

“I hold no negative feelings for you, we’re soldiers the mission must be completed in one form or another,” she said as if reciting a passage from a book. “You tried you’re best, and at that point the preferred outcome would have been to prevent our secrets from getting out, I was a threat to national security.”

She then stiffened herself as she looked lost in thought, she shuddered. “That prison brakes people, and I’ll confess that I would have probably broke as well had i stayed there any longer,” she said as she traced her bandages with a hoof. “In reality both you and Fedor’s convenient timing saved me.”

“If he was a second later we probably both would have died,” I said gripping her hoof. “I should thank you as wll, I assume you stabilised my wounds during the flight, and got the submarine to surface.”

“It’s hard wrapping multiple bullet wounds with bruised hooves, when your patient isn’t cooperating, but I managed.” Tart said in a matter of fact tone lighting the mood.

We both chuckled then laughed aloud, as we let lose all the bottled up stress that came from that horrible island. Right as our laughter died down, in walked Fedor and a zebra. The zebra’s mane had red stripes in place of black that would be commonly seen on others zebras, he was a Proditor.

“Captain Chusa,” I said giving a salute to the zebra. The IV stand clattered to the ground and yanked the tubes from hoof due to the sudden movements. Everyone winced from the sound, while I winced from the pain and fresh bleeding holes in my hoof.

“At ease lieutenant Monsoon Strike,” he said, looking at me with worry. Pumpkin Tart immediately set to bandage my now bleeding hoof, her magic tightly wrap the fabric around the wound. Fedor just smiled as he waited in the background while the captain approached.

Chusa eased his expression has his amber eyes looked over my bandaged form. “It’s good to see you’re up, I wasn’t sure you’d pull through, even with the additional medical staff on board. I’d hate to return to port with a full body bag,” he then smiled, “but you’re alive so that good news.”

He then looked towards Fedor before turning back to me, “though the specifics of your mission said you were to rescue only Pumpkin Tart and no one else.” He said like a parent looking over a foal’s report card trying to hide any semblance of emotion. “But I’d be a fool if I didn’t recognise Fedors contribution to the success of the mission. But it has put us in a bit of a political mess.”

“We can’t be seen arriving into port with a griffon that'll draw unwanted attention.” He said looking over a clipboard sternly before continuing. “In recognition of your efforts in the recovery of these ponies, Count Fedor the equestrian government has granted you political asylum in our lands.”

“Splendid, I’m very thankful for whatever strings you’ve pulled to give me this chance.” Fedor beamed. “But by your tone I suspect there is catch?”

“You’re correct Count Fedor, as I stated earlier we can’t be seen in port with you,” Chusa said drawing out a map and laid it on the floor. “So when we are few miles off the Manehattan coast we will surface and leave you in a raft, where you will be conveniently spotted and rescued by one of our patrol ships.”

“This will go in hoof with the ‘official’ story the government has come up with,” Chusa said before fixed his eyes on the clipboard again. “Due to the recent and unexpected prison riot on Emerald Island, where you, Count Fedor managed to escape with a logistics wagon loaded with supplies. When you were eventually too exhausted to fly you ditched the wagon and drifted in the ocean on a raft you sourced from the wreckage.” He cleared his throat before setting the clipboard down, “you were then luckily found by one of our ships off the equestrian coast, so on, so on you get the point.”

“I suppose one last bit of discomfort is worth the price of salvation,” Fedor sighed, “just don’t leave me out there for too long, all this adventure isn’t good for my old bones.”

“We will arrive off the coast in 18 hours, I’ll leave you 3 to catch up, I’ll be the conn if any of you need me,” Captain Chusa gave a salute, which I returned before disappeared down the hall leaving the 3 us in silence.

“So that’s your name,” Fedor said with a grin. “Monsoon Strike.”

It occurred to me then that I didn’t mention my name at all due to the secrecy, “yeah I’m Monsoon Strike, pleasure to meet you Fedor.”