A Hero's 'Tail'

After finishing our dinner, Colgate now added to our number, I unfurled my now-tattered map, spreading it across the table. Thinking for a second, I rolled it back up, placing it in my saddlebag.

Retching for a split second, I started. “As you know, tomorrow night we will be going to West Abtenauer, the location of Bryant’s lab. Our group will mount an assault against the compound, and destroy it, ending this insane war once and for all. However, we cannot depend on my abilities or tactical prowess this time. As such, field command will be left to Grit. I’ll accompany you though, helping Grit. Here’s the plan:
“Grit and I will enter the compound from the side entrance. Both the bandits and militia will circle the lab, each holding a pole covered in headlights, as well as four training grenades. When they hear ‘For Equestria!’ they will turn their headlights on, throwing as many training grenades as they can towards the lab. The Braves will then shoot wildly at the air, shouting. Grit and I will detonate several military grade bombs from inside the compound at a few strategic locations. This SHOULD cause a panic, allowing our forces to stroll right in and slaughter them. Remember, numbers are NOT on our side, so we’ll have to win with cunning. Go gear up, we leave at dusk.”

I coughed once more as I stalked out of the bakery, leaving the other ponies to finish dessert.

***

After a long drive, we finally arrived at the West Abtenauer compound under the cover of night. The moon was beautifully full, bringing light to the surrounding forest. Grit was wearing a stolen uniform.

He had decided to sit with me in the back to keep me company, giving the passenger seat to Hoofstavson. “How’d your date go, by the way?”

“Very good. I’m feeling more confident about myself, but still, I can’t help but wonder… What if we fail?” I looked to him for reassurance.

He sighed, saying, “Don’t give me that look. We can only do the best we can do. Just remember our job, son.”

I nodded, steeling myself for what was ahead. The APC’s stopped just inside the tree line, obscuring us from view. The outlaws filed out, followed by the Valiant Braves, with the militia finally springing out the back, looking nervous. Grit and I were the last to leave.
I was manacled, promptly led into the compound using the side entrance. I wore my fuzzy blanket inside to both conceal myself from equine who might recognize me and because my body could no longer regulate its own temperature. This could, probably would be, my last mission.
As we wandered through the halls, Grit placed small but powerful Colt 4 explosive charges under furniture and trash receptacles, making sure to draw as little attention as possible. We meandered into a large, dark vehicle garage.

We turned on our radios, shouting, “For Equestria!”

Distantly, but strongly, like the voices of ten thousand mighty stallions, my army replied, “A sword for Celestia and for Quicksilver!”

I peered out the blast door into the cool night air. Surrounding the compound were hundreds of headlights. Each of them had bright flashes and gunfire sounding off near to them. Panicky masked soldiers began running to man the battlements and vehicles. Grit nodded in satisfaction, setting off the explosives as he did. All training forgotten, the lab guards began pouring from the gaping holes in the inner and outer walls, trying desperately to escape.
The outlaws, militia, and Braves rushed from the trees, putting the guards to the sword, leaving none alive. Suddenly, our revelry shattered as a vehicle from within the dark garage roared to life.

A voice from inside spoke, a twinge of mania and desperation evident in her speech. “I just wanted… The perfect… Son.”

Weeping could be heard as a pair of headlights flashed, illuminating the dark room. By this time, my forces had reached our garage and were standing in the doorway.

The disturbed voice of Ms. Bryant continued, “If I cannot have Brutus, no one can! This new tank is UNSTOPPABLE! You swine will pay!”

The tank spat a few piercing rounds into the crowd of equine, scattering them like ants. Eyes growing wide, I braced myself in the path of those deadly treads. I knew what I had to do.
Before my eyes, all of my positive experiences flooded back into my brain. The cookie from Beaker, the calendar and pillow, my first real encounter with Grit, holding Fluttershy’s hoof that one night I dared not tell anyone about, the lecture on love and heroism, my scouting with Rainbow, Breadstuffing, smoothies, the meals, the friends…

I began to cry. “Go! I’ll deal with Bryant!”

The tank rolled forward, turret pointing at me, hesitating to shoot at the source of its rage.

“C’mon, son! That is a direct order from your superior!” Grit shouted, grabbing my shoulder, attempting to drag me away.

“Grit. This tank will hunt us down, killing us all if I don’t confront my daemon. Let me do this, dad.”

After a slight pause, he shook his head and galloped away without another word. His Stetson hat fell off his head and landed before my fore hooves.

But what if I fail? They’ll die anyway! A battle raged in my head. I set my resolve, nodding. I have to try. Be a hero, for Grit, if for no one else.

“Bryant.” I steeled myself, snorting. “You’re sad, and confused. Please, don’t do this.”

I coughed up blood, spitting it onto the floor. I sincerely hoped there was enough life left in me to do this. “Your attempts to create the perfect child have ended up killing me. However, I forgive you. I cannot hate you. I cannot let you hurt the ones I love, though. I will stop your bloodshed this day.”

The hatch slowly opened.

Out emerged the unicorn, still wearing her usual lab coat, brown mane flowing from her head in a heap. “I respect you, Brutus. You are a wise stallion. Prepare to die now, for your so called friends.”

Her insanity was obvious by this point. She ducked back into the vehicle as the main cannon began clicking and whirring, loading another salvo of armor piercing rounds.

I nodded slowly. “If it must be this way. I will stop you the only way I know how.”

Huddling against the blanket for warmth, I mustered the last of my energy. Using the memories of my family as a prod, I generated heat deep from within. Not heat for a fireball, however.
I closed the blast doors, beginning to produce warmth. I watched the thermometer hanging from an interior window as it quickly shattered past 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
My body began literally burning up. While Bryant’s tank felt nothing, the building did. The drab gray steel glowed red with the sheer intensity of the heat I was creating. Bryant opened the hatch once again attempting to escape what she now realized was a death trap.

Unable to stand due to sheer exhaustion, I staggered to the floor, muttering, “I love you, Grit…”