Nighthaze: Manehattan

Like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of a hoof I peeled myself off my bed and threw my hooves out under me. The headache from that little sun yesterday reminded me it existed and stuck needles in my skull. Drowsily I drug my coat over my shoulders and with my foggy scatterbrain had the wherewithal to grab the gun holster and hide it befor-

It was empty.

What? Where was the gun? The kid, the zebra filly! Heart accelerating my eyes scraped the room and saw a familiar lump on the couch. Rising. Falling.

The coffee table. Laid out across its surface was the BK-10c, it's mags, neat little rows of bullets, and several rags and wires. Everything ordered at ninety-degree angles. It looked like a display case.

Levitating the gun over it's freshly polished surface made it appear neon green as it reflected light from the windows. A sharp smell of cordite filled my nostrils as I pulled the slide back and was rewarded with a satisfying ka-click, like those antique stopwatches.

So caught up was I in the perfect condition I had failed to notice the pair of magenta eyes staring at me from the couch. I looked up at her—she tensed, looking at the gun—and I gently placed it back on the table.

The air became thick, I chose the word to cut it carefully, "Zamora."

Like being cut from a harness she relaxed and eased back into the cushions. A string of zebrican, none of it made any sense except for one word I picked out. Sunny. I repeated the word and she pointed a hoof at me and smiled, her eyes softening.

A shadow fell over her, then Zamora's gaze sank to the floor and she shut her eyes. More zebrican, indecipherable but there was no mistaking the sullen low tones.

I could only imagine what it was like for her. One night living with your family, hiding yourself but still surrounded by people you'd known your whole life. The same ones she'd escaped the war with, they'd all survived together.

And now she was living in a strange city, sleeping in a unicorn's apartment, the same unicorn who'd assaulted her classmates. Even if they were hurting her she'd seen me use my magic against them. Was she scared of me? Sunny sounded like an affectionate nickname, atleast I hoped it was a nickname. Then again, who knew what that meant to a zebra.

Trotting to the table I sat down across from Zamora as she hung her head. I carefully brought the holster over and slid the gun back in; the mags I slotted back into their pockets next to the gun but I just dumped the bullets into an empty tea carton. It would've felt weird to load the magazine in front of her. I floated the stocked holster underneath my pillow.

I sat and stared at Zamora, not sure what to do. She's taken Dusty's gun and cleaned it, set everything up like that. The old DC training lectures would've described this as neurodivergent at the least, some kind of coping mechanism probably.

Even if Zamora could understand me I didn't have any words for her, none that would matter. Instead I heated up some of the spiced dumplings left over from yesterday and tore the paper carton in half. Giving her one piece of the carton with several dumplings I sat down next to her and consumed my portion.

Hesitant at first she eventually got them down, didn't seem displaced the least bit by their spicy kick. Either her mood was that bad or zebras had a high spice tolerance, I had to dab sweat off my forehead through breakfast.

With some hot double-caff tea she perked up a bit and I grabbed some clothes from my overladen saddlebags. We were short on time so I forwent my shower and let her wash yesterday off as I prepped for whatever the hell this day was going to throw at me.

Coat buttoned, tie snug, saddlebags fastened. Zamora had her hoodie and a bandana covering her muzzle. As we left I turned to shut my door only to see someone had painted stripes across it. I sighed, she tightened the drawstrings on her hoodie. Luckily there weren't many ponies around when we left, the afternoons were going to be trouble though.

We stopped by Ms. Siojiu's and got some noodles, spiced dumplings, and even some of that strange tea I smelled last time. The Kirin had smiled at the filly and gave her a whole stock box. Steamed vegetables, fried noodles, double stuffed spice dumplings, and what she called 'Windrider' tea all packed into folded paper compartments. Ms. Siojiu only charged me for my usual. I took it as a gesture of kindness towards Zamora. Shared pain. This time I smiled first, and Ms. Siojiu smiled back.

The first sign that something was wrong were the zebra kids hanging in the alleys. They watched me, some like vultures waiting for a meal and others like looking at a walking corpse. I recognized many of the students from my class and several other faces from the school grounds. I didn't see Zoko or any of his pals. I had thought that was a good thing.

Next was the grave silence of the school as we approached the block. Something was wrong. Zamora pressed close to me and locked her gaze on the broken concrete beneath her hooves. Rain filled the hollow cracks.

When we approached the block and stepped hoof on the grounds a mob of zebras appeared from behind buildings and from doorways. They were all old, had rudimentary augmentation, or were barely adults. Zoko. He was there, so we're his mates. The belligerent punk was leaning on an adult zebra with two cybernetics for back legs. Looked like street breaker models.

I turned around but there stood more zebras. A hoof on my shoulder spun me around and a yelp from Zamora. I was face-to-face with the old zebra Zoko was leaning on; his stone-cold glare trying to punch a hole in my skull. Fuck, Zoko's probably this knuckhead's kid.

"You. A unicorn pony. A school teacher. You blinded my nephew," he snorted, sneering angrily as he towered over me.

"I– I was only protecting one of my students, I didn't mean to hurt him I swear," I said.

"My brother died to griffon mercenaries hired by pony corporations. His last wishes were to take care of his sons, and you have stolen the vision of one of them," he said.

I looked at Zoko, his eyes weren't looking at me. They were glazed over, milky white. Anger cut deep lines in his face, a face that only looked forwards.

Zamora was nearby, every eye not on me was glaring daggers at her. She shrunk into the ground, steaming noodles and gourd scattered around her. What had I done? I shouldn't have interfered. I fucked everything up again mom, I'm sorry.

Zoko's uncle pulled an amber flask from a pouch and shoved it into my chest, "Drink, pony," he said, spitting in my face to punctuate the P.

Something told me that questions would have been unwise at that juncture, so I did as I was told. Levitating the flash up to my muzzle inside the stopped and drained it. It was a bittersweet concoction that left an oily film in my mouth as the smell of burning copper wrinkled my nose. A sharp pain cut a line from the base of my head, through my skull, to my horn. The flask fell and shattered on the ground as I doubled over grabbing my head in pain.

It felt like I had lost a sense, I couldn't feel the magic around me, my horn was numb.

I was drug to my hooves as I staggered trying to refocus my vision, the pain in my head dropping from a stabbing lance to a scalding burn. Zoko stood in front of me with a long black knife as his uncle backed away.

"Had you done this to one of my nieces or my daughter I was had scooped your eyes out myself. But Zoko is a wey'la, his vengeance can only come from him," he said, his face impassive.

Zoko dropped into an fighter's stance and bit down hard on the knife. I shoved Zamora farther from me and turned to face Zoko. He slowly approached me and I just stood there, what the hell was I supposed to do?

Blinding red lights and deafening klaxons overwhelmed my senses. Big warning signs and outlines were projected onto the ground from above. Down wash poured over us, all I could hear was thundering hooves, jet turbines, and blaring sirens.

"Manehattan Municipal Police! On the ground, every zebra on the ground, move and we will shoot!" shouted the voice over the vehicle-mounted megaphones.

Flying squad cars buzzed overhead as wheeled patrol vehicles surrounded us, a few zebras broke free of the encirclement but most were caught. They were forced to the ground by a swarm of black and yellow uniformed MMP officers as plastic cuffs zipped tight.

I threw myself to the ground and waited for my arrest. The noise died down, the hovercraft landed, ordered were bellowed but the cuffs never came. An armored hoof tapped on my shoulder and I looked up to see a cop in full riot gear offer me a hoof up.

"Don't worry, we've got them all cuffed up now. Can't hurt you," said the blue earth pony as she helped me up.

I looked around, zebras were being rounded up and forced into groups of ten and twenty, riot cops were shouting and shoving them around.

Zamora.

There she was, with a group of kids, next to Zoko. She was cuffed and crying. I tried to run towards her but the riot cops stopped me.

"Best keep clear of them, school's principal said they are a dangerous gang," she said.

"That filly, in the hoodie. She's not a part of this, she's with me!" I pleaded.

"Hey look, I don't know what kind of scam they had you in but I promise you this. None of them are innocent. You're better off forgetting them. Besides, after tonight it'll be like they never existed," she said with a reassuring smile.

I felt sick. My insides twisted up into knots and my throat cinched up, making it difficult to breathe. A dark orange pegasus swooped down and landed in front of me. A wide-beam scanner blinded me and left me blinking as the fellow pulled me towards a open waiting aerocar.

"Silver Dusk right? Teacher? Look we just need a quick statement from you down at the blockhouse, it's only some paperwork then you'll be on your way," he said casually.

I was dazed, I followed him like a sheep being led by a shepherd. The back of the car was warm, smelling like vinegar and bleach. Pressed into my seat by the rapid takeoff I looked at the orange pegasus, he looked back.

"Lieutenant Eminent Flame, MMP Insurgency and Terrorism Unit. Get comfy and buckle up, it's a bit windy tonight. Wethr coverage is spotty here," he said.

What the actual fuck. Terrorism? When had they been called? Who? Gabby, that principal. This was bad, if Zamora gets processed with the others she'll get enough charges to put her in an out-of-city work camp for decades. The same was true for the others.

Lieutenant Flame answered a call with a flick of his wing, "Yeah, you with the CT techs? Ok. Scrub it, an hour prior to and hour from now. Make sure it's done before day shift, they already charge enough," he said, tapping a button and ending the call.

I couldn't save her, but I could save them all.

//

The blockhouse was a monolithic structure that bordered the eighth, ninth, tenth, and eleventh districts. A brutalist tower that was dotted with freckles of automated turrets and drone launchers. We landed on an outstretched gantry that grabbed the aerocar and pulled us into the interior as blast door closed behind us.

The lieutenant escorted me past the lines of zebras, there was atleast twenty here with eyes tracking me. None of the kids though. They must be somewhere else. I didn't get a chance to get a good look as I was ushered inside and through a maze of doors and sanitized hallways. Cameras filled every corner and tracked the movement of the police ponies and office workers bustling past us.

Soon I was sitting in a cozy conference room and being handed a bag of crisps with a soda. A pre-filled statement form on a P-Ink pad was slid across the table with a sleek brass stylus. I sat up and scanned through the document while Lieutenant Flame trotted around me with a coffee carrier in his mouth. Setting down on the table and leaned on the table, took his knife-edge cap off and cast a casual grin my way.

"It outlines how you, a simple school teacher, was assaulted, threatened, and robbed by the gang of stripes we scooped up. We won't be able to reimburse you for stolen goods in excess of 500 bits, beyond that you'll have to contact your insurance. Sign and date, please," he said.

"Robbed? Wait but they hadn't taken anything," I said.

"Well, I'd keep that little tidbit to yourself. Even without fighting a claim with your insurance it's still a nice 500 bits. Think of it as some piece of mind after being violated by those terrorists," he said smugly.

"Terrorists?" I said incredulously.

"Sure, they're Karnaugh refugees. War criminals who've fled to escape prosecution. Don't know why the paper pushers bothered with the diplomatic dog show, we all knew they'd be trouble. Now, if you'll just sign right there—" he tapped the dotted line on the pad, "—we can get them out of our city and put to use somewhere that energy of theirs won't be wasted. Pellegro mines is waiting on their next shipment and we're behind on stock."

So that's how it was. I was their excuse to lock up all those zebras. Did the principal know about this? Was she genuinely concerned or did she just want to be rid of the students she was charged with? If I signed that pad it was over.

"Forgive my hesitation, I don't think you fully understand what happened lieutenant," I said.

"Oh? Kidnapping would be an excellent charge, all you'd need to say was that one of them help you or restrained your movement. Another sentence or two," he said.

I shook my head, "No, these charges you've listed against them are false," I said.

He frowned, "False?"

"I was not assaulted, nor robbed, nor kidnapped, nor threatened," I said, leaving out some key parts.

He looked me up and down and scoffed, "You're joking right? What, 500 bits not enough?"

"No, it's not. And no amount of bits would be enough," I said.

The lieutenant brought his muzzle inches from mine and narrowed his eyes.

"It is in your best interest to sign this document, otherwise I might remember you interfering with a riot officer. That's five years right there," he said.

I shook my head, "I'm not stupid, I heard that call. You had them wipe the street cams. My statement will be your only piece of evidence against them," I said.

Lieutenant Flame sucked a deep breath and levelled a cold stare.

"We have a statement from the principal, hers will do," he said, snorting air into my face.

I blinked, "Which won't be as useful if her statement were to be directly contradicted by a first-hand account," I said, voice and tone level.

He tapped his hoof, slowly getting faster until his horseshoes hammered out a steady staccato then stopped suddenly as he let out a deep sigh.

"What. Do. You. Want. And don't say something crazy, this little leverage of yours only goes so far," he said.

"One of the Zebra fillies you arrested, by the name of Zamora. I want all charges against her dropped," I said.

"That's it?" he made some features in the air and a holographic picture of the filly appeared beside us. He tears were fresh, they must have just taken that photo.

"You want to trot out of here with her? Fine, sign the statement and you can have her," he spat.

I grabbed the stylus and went to sign but stopped short. If I did this I'd be consigning everyone else to the mines for decades, not to mention if the other found out I was the one who signed the statement that had sent them out of the city. Zoko was in that group, that kid was a bastard but even he didn't deserve to see Pellegro.

"Well, what's it going to be?" he said.

"I can't do this," I tapped the button to blank the form, "the facts of the case are wrong."

"What, in the ever-loving fuck, do you mean?" he said.

"Because I'm the one who assaulted them," I said, filling in the sections of the pad.

The whirlwind of confusion that stormed over his face was really quite something. I had to fight to not smirk

"I had a knife, a long black one. Grabbed a blind kid and forced it into his mouth and made him bite it so the teeth prints wouldn't be mine, especially since unicorns don't wield weapons with their teeth. It was difficult with them all running from me but I tried hard to stab them, pretty sure I missed but not for lack of trying I assure you," I said, beginning to fill out the form.

Lieutenant Flame stood up straight, gaze hardening as his voice became dangerously low, "I don't know what kind of game you're playing. I'd expect some shit like this from a crackhead, not a teacher."

"No games lieutenant, just the truth. I'm not a good liar you see. And a guilty conscience is too heavy a burden for me to carry," I said.

"You'll spend forty years underground for this," said Lieutenant Flame.

Was I okay with that? Hell, not like I was doing any good out here. Maybe I deserved this. Given the choice it was always going to be easier to condemn myself then someone else.

I finished the form and signed it, pushing it back to the twitching lieutenant. He stared at me before grabbing the p-Ink pad and reading it intently. He whispered a curse as he wiped the pad clean with a gesture.

"As much as I would relish the sight of you in worker orange with cuffs around your hooves I will not be the one questioned by my superiors as to why I'm sending a single pony teacher to prison while I let twenty-eight striped shit stains walk," he said.

I sat in silence, lips tight and eyes wide as he stepped back from me.

"Your little stunt worked this time, whatever the hell it was you were trying to accomplish," he looked down his muzzle at me, "I just want you to know that the ponies they hurt, their blood'll be on your hooves."

He walked to the door and opened it, motioning for me to follow, "Ninth district is a dangerous place, Silver Dusk. When you're neck deep in shit don't call. Distress signals get deprioritized, discarded even. Now get the fuck out."

Within five minutes I was shoved into a cold transport bus without seats, just cold filthy steel. I waited about twenty minutes before the zebras started filing in under heavy escort from armed guards. They were being punched, kicked, and jabbed on their way in. Those cops were probably trying to provoke them into a fight, thankfully the zebras had their heads in the right place. None took the bait.

Finally I saw Zamora and rushed over to her only to be clotheslined by a riot shield and stuffed back into my seat. She was put in the corner across and farthest from me at the back. She looked at me, eyes full of fear, before curling into a ball.

The bus was a ground pounder and had no suspension, though my discomforted posterior was the least of my concern. Every zebra had their eyes locked on me as we rode back, their expressions were unreadable. It was a long hour ride back to central.

When we arrived riot shields forced us out the second we stopped. I was the last out and got a stout kick as I crashed on top of Zoko's uncle. The bus burnt rubber getting out of there as we got to our hooves.

I rushed over to Zamora and hugged her, the relief I fealt immeasurable. Zoko and his uncle approached. I turned and sat, pulling Zamora in close as she hugged my chest.

"My name is Yadar the Fallen Oak," said Zoko's uncle.

"I'm Silver Dusk," I said dumbly.

"Not sure what you said, but that orange pegasus has hate for you. Kept swearing about a zebra sympathizer when he let us go," said Yadar.

"They wanted to take all of you to Pellegro, a horrible place," I said.

"No pony has done a thing like this for us before, you have our thanks," he said.

Zoko made to move forward but was stopped by Yadar.

"His debts are paid nephew, leave him be," said Yadar.

"We wouldn't have been in danger if he wasn't here," said Zoko.

"I'm sorry, I never meant for any of this. I just wanted to protect Zamora," I said, pulling her closer.

"Why?" said Yadar.

"Because if I don't no one else will," I said.

"Zamor must stand on his own, wey'la are forged that way. His kin may be harsh on him but it is better to prepare him for the cruelty this world will thrust upon him," said Yadar.

"She will find her own path," I said.

"As you say, his parents have completely disavowed themselves of him anyways," said Yadar.

"How are the other kids, the ones I used my light magic on?" I asked.

"Recovering, Zoko was the only one completely blinded. Time will tell if his injuries are permanent," said Yadar.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"So you've said, consider yourself and the zebra community even. Keep teaching Silver Dusk. The young ones enjoyed your lecture.

//

Neon holograms backlit the crowds of tattooed zebras, strung-out junkies, and ponies with hive mane cuts and jacko lights embedded under their hides. Tainted rainwater guzzled up from overfilling storm drain as rain poured down in a constant sideways hail. Everything felt greasy, even the thick air stuck to the inside of your nose like a bad odor.

Zamora's gaze jumped around and she kept speaking zebrican words into my ear irregardless of my confused looks. I'd have to get Sable to teach me some zebrican, or teach Zamora some equestrian.

Several people had tried to pick my pockets only to find them empty and my saddlebags double lidded, an old pony in a torn rain slick offered to buy Zamora from me, and a pair of zebras had hassled me but left me alone when they saw Zamora.

"Killer buzz Franko! Up that lin–"

"200 bits, cheap as they come. The best an–"

"Swear those H doses are getting smal–"

"BPI's got double shift bonuses for elec–"

The streets were alive, a few prowling ground vehicles ran the streets suffused with hoof traffic. Vendors pushed their shop fronts to the curb, selling everything from deep fried carrots, to glow-glasses, and even glamour rocks.

With Zamora tucked by my side we made our way through the crowds block by block until not a single zebra was in sight. The crowds thinned out and the bright lights were reduced to sparse projected advertisements here and there. Ponies shot glances but they got on with their day.

Six Salace Way, my apartment building. Without thinking I tried to use my magic to get my phone but pain shot down from my horn, pinning me to the grimy steps. Zamora spoke frantically and helped me up. Whatever was in that potion was potent stuff, I had hoped it'd wear off over the night. Had to make it inside first though.

"You dumb or something? Must have a pain wish dragging that broom head in here," said a dusty brown earth pony in a florescent pink jacket.

"Please, we're just heading upstairs," I said wearily. I couldn't handle much else today, my mind was barley held together and I was drained.

"Ditch the stripe, and soon, or your room will be another vacancy," he said.

I couldn't muster a response, just nodded and hauled myself upstairs while Zamora trotted beside me.

Picking the black paint off the card scanner I unlocked the door and slid inside, locking the door and bolt while Zamora sat on the couch.

"You are a real hoof full you know that," I said. Setting my bags down I pulled my phone out and saw several missed calls and texts from Sable ranging from 'what the hell' to 'where the hell'. I let her know Zamora was ok after which she immediately called, her and Zamora tried speaking through me to little effect so I'm just gave her my phone. I tried to stay awake but as their conversation continued I found myself slipping into sleep. I crashed into my bed and was gone.