CHAPTER 36: AN END TO END ALL THINGS

"It all has to end. We all die, one way or another. Just make that final boom count a little before you go."

The front lines were silent. The wind howling like a distant beast high in the creaking steel buildings. Hundreds of Legion soldiers stood at their barricades and sandbags. Dozens of green helmets clustered together behind the barriers. Down the road as far as a soldier standing at the very gates of the Mines could see, was at least a team of ten huddled somewhere.

The gates had their own set of walls amassed to what towered three ponies high. All constructed by piles of wooden crates, and the leftovers of empty steel boxes the heavy machine guns had come in.

Vladimir's cape rippled like creamy silk in the breeze, the other officers crouched at his left and right watching the road. Diligently, keenly, with their weapons ready to draw. But Vladimir's sights were upturned at a surly sky abustle in dark churning clouds silhouetted in a hellish green.

He studied the clouds through a pair of binoculars, held aloft to his eyes by the aura of his horn. An officer, squat down between a tight space on the wall, whispered, "Sir, nobody's show'd up yet. What are your orders?"

Laying a hoof atop the officer's head, Vladimir pushed him back into place, without breaking his skyward observation. "Sit down, and shut up."

Thatch sat on the ground along the base of the fortification. "He's right, what should we do? Shouldn't they have showed up by now to stop us?"

"Perhaps." Vladimir removed the binoculars from his eyes, "We'll wait here for days if we need to. There's no way in hell they'll take us off guard."

Flopping back against the rough wooden planks at his back, he grumbled, "Wonderful."

Posting the rims of the binoculars back to his eyes, Vladimir's ears perk. He leaned forward, a grin slowly manifesting, "Isn't that lovely. They decided to come after all."

"Thatch," Vladimir sweetly chimed, "be a useful lad, and go bring Dahlia to vault. Make sure to fetch a radio inside while you're at it, I need you on standby when the time is right."

Thatch's mind buzzed. He imagined staying out by the wall was his post. His orders assigned to him. "Sir?"

A hint of irritation spiced Vladimir's reply, "You heard me."

"I... I did," he recovered, "b-but I thought you needed me here."

Vladimir swiveled his head around to see Thatch -- eyes wide and burning. "Are we having a miscommunication here, Thatch?"

The Emperor's eyes struck Thatch's soul like an arrow plunging deep through his breast. Quickly, he shook his head, raising a hoof halfway to salute him, "No, sir."

"Good," Vladimir pointed to the Darkmine gates, "now go."

Thatch, in mid-salute waited for his gaze to be pulled of him. Then, lowering his hoof he turned to the gates -- walking away without saying a word.

Scooter felt warm from hoof to ear walking through the center of an empty mine pit. Mine carts, filled to the rim with sharp rock shards, sat untouched. Light fixtures hanging by wire-thin cables flickered dim above. Pickaxes were strewn all over the floor, as vacant shackles lay lined along the pit's walls.

It was like those dozens of slaves, tirelessly digging at the deep ruts carved in the cave walls, had seized all work. Dropping whatever task they'd been assigned at a moment’s notice.

Scooter's eyes soaked in the scene, the deserted mine quietly eerie. A pipe somewhere in a hallway at the end of the pit, billowed a brief hissing cloud of steam. The gentle sough -- a chilling whisper in the mine.

He burred, feeling the uncomfortably calm atmosphere frigidly lance through him. "This ain't natural."

Whopper’s head swayed to one side of the room, then the next, a low note of appall caught in his tone, "There really ain't nobody at all... The soldiers, the slaves. No one. Where'd you suppose they put them all?"

"Might be outside at t' gates. Seems like t' smart thing t' guess, ah reckon."

The two moved on to the sturdy steel beams framing the doorway that lead to a long hallway. Their freshly acquired Legion leg guards clanged softly amongst the rustle of steam. Whopper peaked one more time over his shoulder at the ever distancing pit at the two's backs.

"This ain't the only pit to be empty. I thought the ones at the front should be cleared. Not the ones all the way back here."

"Maybe there isn't no one here at all." Whopper added to his wonderment, "We haven't seen a single soul since we came in."

"There has t' be somethin' in 'ere. They wouldn't jus' leave t' whole place undefended an' naked."

Looking down at his blank, solid green chest plate, Whopper uttered beneath a weak breath, "Let's just pray these get us by, if'n anyone's down here."

The two of them walked the hallway's length, before finding a set of stairs leading to the next level. The pattern of empty pits continued. Everything had been abandoned. Slave master posts, the slave quarters on the following level, all of it. That was until the pair came to the end of a seemingly average corridor.

Unlike the previous passageways the two traversed, the door at the end of this hall was iron. Dense and framed in thick darker metal, rivets the size of milk-caps were fastened to the door's border -- a hatch-like entrance to either a control room or someplace of significance.

Scooter took the lead, hearing signs of life. The voices of three to five ponies carried out of the door and through the hall. The occasional lilting static veiled reply of someone returning messages to them resonating in the ambience. He was ginger in his stride, the unknown seizing him by the heart, forcing it to beat harder.

He controlled his breathing, letting in and holding breaths for seconds at a time. The door was wide open for them, or any should they manage to come across the room. Inside were five ponies -- three unicorns, with the rest being earth ponies. Each adorned in a set of headsets cuffed atop their ears.

The walls were cluttered in colorless screens and radios compacted in what appeared to be a small surveillance headquarters. Images on the monitors came in real-time, of various pits, cells, and rooms in the mine. Without sparing the bars of obscuring static frequently creeping up their corners.

Instantly, Scooter’s attention caught on one far-off screen in the corner. It broadcasted a live-feed in the corner of a wide chamber -- where standing in a squad was Covert. This sudden revelation to the whereabouts of the pony he hunted kindled his curiosity.

One speaker sat between a screen and a multi-knobbed radio. Not like the other radios, messages coming in through it projected out loud. Filling the entire room with the grating noise of someone blaring a choppy, hardly distinguishable sentence. In no time at all, a soldier sitting close by would answer it by means of a microphone they'd have to pull out hidden behind a screen.

Together, the two stood idle in the doorway, unclear of the next move. Whopper, however, leaned to his comrade, "What do we do?"

Scooter shrugged answering in a hushed voice, "See that screen? Ah figure we ask ‘em nicely where they reckon Covert is?"

"Think they know?"

"Better than, nothin'."

Knocking three times on the door's frame, a charming metallic ring reverberated in the air. "Uh... Howdy?"

A unicorn levitated the headset to rest around his neck, then directing himself to face them, he arched a bewildered brow at the two. "What are you doing here?"

Scooter's heart skipped a beat. "W-What?"

"Aren't you two supposed to be with the Vault regiment?"

Whopper very nearly shoved his entire nose into Scooter's ear hissing, "T-The what now?"

"Uh..." Scooter followed up blankly, "t' Vault... regiment?"

"Uh, yeah, why else would you two be down here at this level? Captain Covert did request you, correct?"

A light, snapped in Scooter's mind. At last, a path was set for them. "Uh, yeah... He did!"

He nudged Whopper sharply in the side, "Ain't that t' what we're doin'?"

Whopper paused a moment, the light not clicking quite as quickly. "...Oh! Covert's gang! Eeyep, we're set to be there."

The operator drew a hoof halfway to his face, ready to plant it. "Don't tell me you two got left behind... please don't."

Scooter nodded scuffing the ground with one hoof, "Yep, we sure did! Ah do sure feel mighty embarrassed over it, but that there inspirin' sight out at t' gates was jus' too good t' turn up."

"Well," the operator reached under his radio fishing through a cardboard box, "he's stationed up at the vault leading into Iron Hammer. So he's not too far away."

As he pulled himself away, perched in his hoof was a small personal radio. "I noticed you didn't have a radio on you," he extended it to them, "you could really use one, it might help you out when your minds go adrift."

Scooter took it, feeling the weight of the small device in his hoof. Whopper grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head like he had an inch he couldn't scratch, "Gee, that helps a lot... thanks."

The operator's voice was stern, "Don't lose it."

Hooking the radio to his battle-saddle, Scooter shuffled out of the room, Whopper swiftly following behind him. The moment they were more than ten steps distance from the surveillance room, the two -- in unison -- released a relieved whew.

Scooter's head hung low like he was sniffing the floor. Huffing out air through his gaping mouth, "Whopper, ah'm jus' happy we ain't gonna' do somethin' like that again!"

Whopper slapped a hoof over his friend's mouth shushing him. "We ain't that far away yet. Let's keep it low for now."

While his eyes were placed toward the ground, Scooter's head shifted to the right. A pebble on the floor wobbled. The earth itself shook from a moment. In spurts of vibrations tremors came shaking the mine. Removing Whopper's hoof from his lips, Scooter searched the ceiling as though he was looking for something.

"Hey," Scooter said, "do ya' think it's startin'?"

The ground rumbled, spilling a sheet of dust collected on the ceiling before them. Whopper, legs widely spread to brace the trembling earth, muttered, "There ain't no other thing I can think it could be, boss."

Ironside was among his men in the gunship. Shoulder to shoulder, a herd of beige helmets facing the sealed loading ramp at the ship's back. He stood at the back, sitting on bottom of three steps leading to the cockpit. The engines purred outsides, their vibrating energy passing by the walls.

The hum persisted since take off, numbing his hearing to its singular entrancing tone. Ironside hadn't notice it, but placing both eyes to the floor his right fore-hoof jittered vigorously.

An explosion outside the vessel jostled those within. Soldiers stumbled, and recovered -- a gasp of surprise waving from one end of the crowd to the other. Eyes moved to the walls, concealing what action transpired beyond. Ironside reeled in the the hoof to his chest. Pressing it hard against himself to subside its restless movement.

His own attention drifted to the walls, as another explosion rocked the ship. He slowed the inhalations sucked in through his nose. The shaking in near-sync with his own fluttering heartbeat.

The spiking roar of the horn erupted above his head. Ironside's heart leapt -- the pounding shortly lingering below his throat. A light like hellfire flashed overhead. Soon, very soon, the rap would lower.

He could, in fleeting mental images, picture the coming minutes. Troops would spill out of the ramp like mad cattle, scrambling to escape their cage. Depending on where they landed, oncoming fire could kill those in the front first, giving the next set of bodies a chance to get ahead.

That was a generous consideration -- the Legion had armed soldiers lining the path to the Mines. The likely case rested with heavier fire. The first half possibly dead the instance the ramp was halfway opened.

The moment to discover their fate approached. A solid hollow thud echoed touchdown. The exploding shockwaves of skyward bombs detonating phased past the ship’s walls, coming as tickles to Ironside's skin and ears. He let go of his hoof, standing.

Collecting himself, Ironside constricted anything he could. Stomach, limbs, muscles -- anything that wouldn't offset the uneasy balance of panic and anticipation amongst his fellow soldiers.

"Alright!" He stomped the ground twice, a battle hardening metallic thunder rolling in the floor.

A lump in his throat forced a few words to quaver under the fear he tried to mask, "Whatever you do, find cover. Nothing else matters until you do. Once you're safe -- wait for everyone else to reach our line."

The pistons forcing the ramp down exhumed a piercing hiss. The rap opened. Ironside's breath becoming shorter.

"Ready!" One soldier in the front called to the others.

Ironside stared forward. Unbuttoning his pistol holster.

"Three!"

The ramp was halfway opened, no bullets, no inflamed cries of war.

"Two!"

He gripped the handle of his pistol, burying the back molars on the oak -- cracking the wood under his jaw's bite.

"One!"

A vexing boom signaled the coming event. It was a rare sound, the powerful rap of a steel ramp brushing up on the coarse asphalt. Chaos followed suit. There was running onward out to the street.

Ponies pushed ponies. Shoving one way, staggering the opposing way. Ironside was on autopilot. Legs moving, but mind lost in a lexicon of thought. Ships dashed like dragonflies between the ruined skyscrapers above, while the rest of his senses were overwhelmed by dozens of conflicting sensations.

Sulfur perforated the air, burning his nostrils. Bullets from distant rifles of soldiers garrisoned behind protective walls whirred by. Twanging, and clinging with firefly sparks snapping at the ship's metal. Some struck soldiers beside him, a cloud of red mist spurting out of the point of contact. The wounded would lose their footing and collapse when other stray bullets bombarded them.

Droplets of their lifeblood mottled Ironside's face, as soldiers from the ship sought sanctuary behind the heavenly cover of a few rusting taxi-wagons parked at the curb. A soaring rocket struck a gunship, ringing a bell rung in his ears, an ice-pick to both eardrums that made the world silent.

He didn't think twice -- keeping his head down, he raced to the nearest taxi, crouching next to its rotting silver fender. Once there, Ironside leaned on it, heart pumping thrice the normal beat of a calmer pony. Four soldiers were with him, hooves on the top of their helmets as the bullets pelted the wagon.

Ironside's hearing, returned with time. The wince-inducing twings of bullets being the first of the new sounds. In a matter of moments, as he was allowed to soak in the battle scene, he heard the bloody sheiks of injured soldiers bleeding out on the open street.

He holstered his pistol, before tapping the back of a unicorn mare closest to the corner of the fender, "How far did we land?"

Like a careful mouse, peeking slightly out from safety, the soldier momentarily saw where they were, and returned to him shouting above the war-sound, "Half a mile, sir! It looks like that's as far as the pilot could get us!"

"How long do you imagine we'll be here? Are any of the others making an effort to push up?"

"I can't say, sir! Afraid I'll get shot taking another look."

"Did you at least spot the gates?"

She shrugged, his question lost in the clamor, "What?"

Ironside reiterated, "The gates, did you see them!"

"Yes," she nodded, "why? Is it important?"

"Did you see the anti-air guns there?"

"If you mean the huge ones by the gates, yes! I did see them!"

Ironside swayed his attention to the ground. Eyes darting to and fro in calculating their stance. Thinking to himself, he mumble each idea aloud, "We're too far, and too weak to get there alive to deactivate them..."

"That only means we have out dish out the heavy missiles on our attack ships..."

His eyes froze, growing twice their size while both pupils dilated in shock. "We… We can’t risk it! Must I remind you we have a limited supply of those!”

The soldier had overheard the entire plan, "Would it give us time to push up? And the rescue team to fly in?"

Ironside, drew his eyes to the ground as though he were considering the proposal, "It would be the only way from this point."

The soldier responded, "Is there any other way?"

"Nothing certain."

The soldier replied whole-heartedly, "Then I'd do it! Tear those guns a new one, sir!"

Ironside pulled a short-ranged pocket radio from uniform. Holding it in his hoof, he pressed a red button on the left corner. Raising it to his mouth, a blur a static emitting from a speaker at the bottom. With one order, the missiles would fly. Whether they hit their target accurately was another matter entirely. Nothing could be certain at the time, but either way the missiles traveled something would be hit, and the Legion would feel it regardless at full stunning force.

There is some kind of magic in flying. The wind, cold like the waters of strong stream, winding and bending to the shape of Neo's body. Unicorns could alter their surroundings, perform fantastic feats with a thought. But to be a pegasi, far up in the heavens, the air catching in their wings soaring with the breeze. There could be nothing more magical than that.

The blanket of ashen clouds smothering the sky above was close at their height. Neo, smiling at the gusts run through his black mane, felt like he could reach up overhead, and scrape the cloud-cover.

Lucy's wings threw down powerful strokes, as she flew a wide circle above the mountains. The flyer's aid swelled brightly in a green aura, giving her newfound energy. During their fourth major run through the patient circling, the city appeared to be nothing but a collection of black shapes, tall and short, hidden underneath a vile smoggy haze.

The city, from their distance, appeared miniature in comparison to the mountain's base at which it sat. The faint clatter and momentary flashes of bombs bursting in the building's roots clapped. Even in the serenity of the sky, the wailing fury of war was still present.

Wester dug through the clanking contents of their weapon's bag. A few leftover pistols, and extra saddle equipment remained. What wasn't there, was given to an owner. Everyone had a gun of some nature -- excluding Big Lot.

Pulling a pistol, bundled neatly in its holster, he looked at Big Lot bouncing it in his hold. "We'll be flying in soon," he said, "I'm willing to provide you with this. Ammunition included."

Big Lot was on her best behavior. Sitting upright with a controlled posture, smiling dearly. Wester didn't care for the details, but he could have sworn the filly's eyes sparkled. "Can you handle this as your weapon?"

She nodded, without saying a word, afraid to upset him with a unnecessary quip. Adam's face tensed up into a grimace. A part of him tugged in one way, the logical way where all of them needed to be armed for the coming task. The other fought for her innocence, which arguably had been lost too long ago.

Wester handed her the gun, "Good. Don't shoot your eye out."

He pushed the bag back to one corner, "Or, for that matter, don't shoot one of our eyes out."

She cradled the gift like an infant in her hooves. "I won't pop one in my eye, I promise."

"That'd really suck if you did." Ally remarked, chuckling.

The harsh imagery of a bullet lodged in one of her eyes melted the laughter away. She rubbed on eye gently, feeling a bizarre tickle upset it the more she thought, "Or if you... shot... ours..."

Big Lot frowned at Ally, prepping her tongue to stick out, "I'm not going to shoot anyone's eyes out!"

Wester added, "Statistically speaking-"

"Nope!" She interjected punching him in the shin, "Don't statistically correct me!"

Wester was unmoved by the gesture.

Neo gazed off at the city, squinting at a few slender shapes arch in the sky. High they soared over the heads of the skyscrapers, like a series of volleying arrows let loose. "Hey," he garnered their attention pointing out at the objects, "what are those things?"

Everyone in the wagon shuffled to his side, unevenly titling the entire space to one end. Lucy grunted, "Hey! Easy on the footing!"

The cruising arrow-like missiles dove back to the city, allowing gravity to take them away -- vanishing entirely into the smog.

Adam blinked, "What were those things?"

Wester didn't hesitate to answer Adam, "Missiles."

An explosion, more immense than the ones previously seen, lifted in a fiery plume at the mountain's base. Neo's jaw dropped, witnessing the jarring strength of the Coalition strike, "W-What happened?"

"Perhaps they pushed them back." Wester inferred, "An explosion of that degree would certainly decimate a portion of the Legion's force."

A few minutes later passed, and for a time, the battle in the city was quiet. Then, a squabbling voice masked in a flurry of static, announced from the weapon bag:

"Attention -- this is the Coalition assault force, contacting the rescue team. The missile strike was a success -- I repeat -- the missile strike was a success. Temporarily most Legion anti-air defense have been disabled. You have orders to move in now, over."

Instinct clicked, sending the members of the group scattering themselves around the wagon, reinstilling an even balance. It was here, the time to descend to the fighting.

Ally was first to move to the front of the wagon, cupping a hoof to the corner of her mouth, "Lucy! We got our orders in! It's time!"

Lucy looked over her shoulder, giving Ally a single nod and a salute. Veering off the encircling path they had looped multiple times before, Lucy dived toward the city picking up tremendous speed as wind thrashed their faces.

The Earth shook something fierce. Loosened cave dust cascading like rain. The roaring battle on the surface had taken a turn for the worst, tossing Scooter and Whopper around the hallway.

Reaction dictated that Scooter have a hoof running along the wall at all times. Bracing himself for when the aftershocks of the conflict phased deeper into the mine.

Another rocking blow violently churned the ground they stood on. It brought Scooter to lay flat on his stomach, shutting teeth and eyes alike as the planet convulsed. Whopper was on the floor, a foreleg dusted in the cave dirt shielding the top of his head.

The diminishing shock rippled out of existence. The world returning to the way it once was: still. Lights, strung on the walls flickered back to life, regaining lost power.

Scooter got up quickly, looking to his comrade for answers, "What was that!?"

"Nothin' good." Whopper answered softly, "I reckon from this point on the battle ain't goin’ t' get much smoother."

"Then we ain't got much time!" Scooter started in a sprint hurrying with dear life, "We've got t' get t' Covert!"

Whopper didn't have the luxury of time to add a comment. His friend had briskly taken lead of the charge in their crusade. Scooter dashed past identical sliding doors, breezing past in flashes. The hot mine air whisking through the matted lengths of greasy mane slapping the his single eye.

Scooter's heart burned immensely, twice that of the fire he had stared into those nights long after Big Lot vanished. It fueled every step -- pumped each aching muscle. His eye pinched, sweat beading in perfuse droplets over brow and neck. Covert. He would kill him if it was the last act allowed to him in this world.

Whopper wheezed, feeling the full marathon Scooter took singe his lungs. He staggered, huffing out like an according, saving himself from total collapse by leaning on the wall. "C-Could ya'... settle down a sec'?"

Rubbing the sweat running in his eyes, Whopper blinked focusing on his friend. Scooter had stopped -- frozen. Standing at the the end of the hall at a door similar to that of the surveillance room. It, like the last, was completely ajar.

The room was square, and half the size of the last. The first two distinguishable features were instant the minute his eyes saw beyond the frame: One wall had all eight of the monitors lined atop the other set over a long colorful palleted control panel. Second, three seats ideally were present for the operators, who at the moment seemed to be gone.

An empty room, just as the rest of the mine had been emptied. Whopper shuffled to the door, too tired to lift his hooves entirely, "Is this place part of your plan, boss?"

Scooter lacked the heaving signs of fatigue his partner expressed, "Ya' bet ya' sweet nibblets is it."

Whopper made way for one of the chairs, combing the room as he went, "Ya' might wanna' explain some, cap. What makes this place so special?"

In the center of the control panel rowed in groups of ten was a series of little green buttons. Scooter gravitated to the controls, smiling brightly like a foal at Hearth's Warming Eve. "This 'ere..."

The joy rattled his words, "...this 'ere is t' controls t' 'em electric cells."

"What?"

Placing a hoof at both ends of the control section, Scooter arched his body over the dimly glowing lights. In the bower of his shadow, the buttons were like fireflies in the twilight. "Each one 'ere is a cell... 'Ah saw on them screens back yonder were Covert an' his crew are. If'n they're t' only folks down 'ere, means if somethin' goes wrong, they gotta' handle it."

Whopper's eyes widened, befalling on the panoply of cell release buttons, "Ya' mean..."

"Jus' a few." Scooter snickered, "Jus' 'nough t' make a few of Covert's gang split fer a sec'."

Scooter craned his nose to the screens, feeling the tingling static emit from the glass itch his sensitive nose hairs. "Jus' a few prisoners out, an' a radio call on this 'ere radio, an' we're fixin' t' take 'im out. Fer good."

Whopper's attention passed between Scooter and the buttons. "Who'da' think these cells are holdin'?"

Scooter shrugged, "Ain't non' of mah' concern. Can't be too harsh n' nasty, right pal?"

He spared no more hesitation. Scooter, reluctantly, pressed the first random three buttons that came to him. Neither of them had noticed, that on the farther right screen fading images, obscured by horizontal bars of static, was a camera focused on a cell door. The passing seconds gave fleeting glimpses at the prisoners. Single instances of a group of Darkminers, slinking out of their capture.

From a dark abyss they emerged. Goggles flashing like moonlight lions at the camera, roaming free in the Mines once again. Before, seconds later, the screen's chopping footage cut to static.

Vladimir lay upon his side on the asphalt. He gasped for clean air, inhaling only the rotten air that scorched his lungs. The Emperor's sight was obscured in a misty glaze. Black smoke rose in plumes, towering high from the twisted remains of three anti-air guns.

The wall at the gates configured to stop the Coalition had been torn asunder. The splintering scraps of those crates scattered throughout a dozen bloodied ponies spread out limbless across the bridge. Vladimir's legs felt broken, weakly shaking like the wobbling knees of a foal. He onto his gut, hacking out specks of dirt.

He stood, bones stable. Searching the conflagration the missiles had left. Troops down the road continued the fighting, holding off the pressing Coalition forces. A stream of balmy liquid ran in drops over his forehead. Putting a hoof to the spot, Vladimir investigated the substance.

Blood. His blood, glinting off the waving orange glow of the fires. Vladimir growled, teeth firmly gnashed. The flames climbed the bent barrels with little fingers -- consuming them wholly.

A few fortunate souls wandered the site, limping, and hobbling to groaning soldiers trapped under segments of the blown barricade. Vladimir selected one specific individual of the lot. A soldier with a square object budging from his side pocket.

Vladimir bit the tip of his tongue, drawing the taste of blood as he moved to the soldier. "You!" He called grunting, "Report!"

The pony he chose scrambled to get himself together. His breathing remain deep, as he saluted, "Sir!"

"Where's your captain?" Vladimir inquired hoarsely, "How many of us at the gates are still alive? Answer me!”

Several exposed scrapes, and scars bled under the soldier's saluting foreleg. "I-I can't say for certain, sir."

“What do you mean, soldier? Haven’t you been wandering this desolate fortification for survivors?”

"I-I don't know." Uncertainty quavered his reply, "A few of us, maybe thirty? As for my captain..."

His voice went solum, trailing off with him as he looked to a smoldering pile of wooden planks and charred steel plates. "H-He's underneath there..."

"Well," Vladimir said nudging one plank, "I'm not going to let this go on any longer."

The same hoof extended out to the soldier, ready to receive. "Soldier, give me your radio. I've got a card I'm ready to play."

Lucy flapped her wings, harder than she had in days. The strain of the excess stress put on the newly healed muscles hit decisively, and sore. But the mare was used to navigating the tall, imposing buildings. They were, at least to her, no different to those found at Ironhoof city.

She kept to the twelfth levels of most buildings. High enough to be outside for most shots on the ground to stray, but nearby to spot enemy soldiers aiming for them. Lucy veered at the next coming skyscraper -- jerking the wagon with her.

Everyone inside braced against the wagon's inner walls, heads safety tucked below zipping bullets sparking on their vehicle's hull. Lucy let the air pass under her wings in a smooth glide, weaving right and left missing most fired shots.

At the corner of a fifteen-story hotel, she turned. Darting past several heavy machine guns unloading on the Coalition footmen in the street. None of the passengers had spared a moment to get a full look at the conflict. But the sounds gave a distinct picture of what it was.

Harrowing screams that chilled blood. Overtaking the constant blasts of gunfire, the occasional grenade would explode. The light or where it landed a mystery. All the same, a wail of pain of some unfortunate grunt pierced the clamor.

Lucy pushed harder, hooves extended straight in front of her -- hind legs appropriately out behind. The toxic mixture of soot and sulfur saturating the air, brought fat tears to the corners of her eyes. She couldn't stop moving forward. Not for a moment, with the urgent thought looping:

The sooner we do this. The sooner this ends. An end to end all of this. Forever.

Approaching the end of the street, the title road leading to Darkmines was in sight. Snorting, Lucy pounded her wings, beating the air like it itself had done something unspeakable to her. Lungs and heart together ached.

The vicious, almost callous nature of her heartbeat drumming on the inside of Lucy's ribcage lost feeling. Flying three-hundred feet over the bulk of the battle, she saw the gates of the Mines.

It was the final push. The last stretch.

Lucy broke into a full, energetic sprint in mid-air. The extra potent adrenaline, vital to gaining the speed she needed, suffusing throughout her veins.

Towering bonfires were in place where the anti-air guns would have been. She bolted like lightning down the main road. Forcing the wind to roar around them.

Lucy's heart fluttered, tongue tiredly hanging out of one corner of her mouth. Four-hundred feet, another few well-timed wing strokes, and in they were.

Three-hundred feet. Come on wings! Push!

Two-hundred feet. C'mon!

She pinched her eyes tight, clamping her jaws shut -- every muscle ablaze in burning fatigue.

One-hundred feet. She could feel it at last, the gates were opened for her. Lucy reveled in the familiar sensation of hot mine air nuzzling her fur, bringing a triumphant smirk about. I got us here... we're almost in-

A whistle, a vexatious note of a whirring rocket howled. It lasted for a second, before discharging at the wagon's side. The shockwave thrummed, seizing all movement. The scorching rocket-fire blasted next, lashing out at her wings and legs.

For a moment, they were free-falling. Hurling uncontrollably through the gates. Lucy's wings twitched, the black scorch marks whipped across the grey feathers of her coverts.

All of them, rushing like an iron comet into the vast central mine pit within, came crashing inside. Impacting at the center of the cavern, the side of the wagon skidding on the solid dirt. The vehicle had left a sizable rut from one part of the pit to the other.

The wagon slammed stop at the back wall -- upturned, with one wheel loosely spinning. Neo crawled out of crashed vehicle first, coughing and drunk-footed. Stumbling away from the site, he turned around, seeing his friends roll or crawl their way out. Bruises throbbed and bleeding cuts were marked in different places of exposed skin.

Their armor had essentially absorbed a portion of the damage. It too displayed dents and midnight scrapes that would have otherwise rendered them dead, or mortally wounded. Neo policed his comrades for vital injuries -- helping those struggling to emerge.

Lucy's body was suspended between the two rods, held in place by the harness. Neo hobble to her side, unfastening the myriad of buckles and straps holding her to the wagon. Wester came to help Neo, a unicorn's touch more effective at undoing the multitude of safety restraints.

All in once, the buckles became immersed in his horn's aura. Then, just as agilely, they undid themselves allowing Lucy's body to land on the ground. Wester lay a hoof tenderly on her shoulder, trailing his visor to her stomach. Though faint, the subtle sign of breathing rose and fell at her gut. Of everyone present, she had suffered the bulk of the injury.

A deep laceration cut three inches up the back of her neck, followed by a swelling bruise mounded at the side of her head. Minor abrasions coated areas of the mare's lower jaw, accompanied by the marks left by the rocket.

Wester scooped her up, and eased her onto his back. "She needs medical attention."

Ally's voice was parched, and hoarse, "We all need medical attention of some kind. But we're not going to get it here. Not now, anyway."

Adam had his eyes pointed at the gates, plainly visible from where they stood. "She's right. Whoever shot us down will have friends, and they know we're in here now. Dead or alive, it won't matter. They'll come down here to inspect the crash."

"Then we better make ourselves sparse." Neo said shaking away a headache in his brow, "Adam, take Lucy and Wester -- go into the mine and find mom. I'll go with Ally and Big Lot to Iron Hammer. Do you know where that is on your Pipbuck map?"

Adam pulled his Pipbuck up to his chest, glancing down at it. In a confident nod he answered, "I do... Where do we meet up after we get her?"

"We should have the Vault by then, by the way things sounded out there it seems like they've got the whole army out on the field."

Wrapping his hooves around Neo in a gripping hug, Adam whispered ruefully, "Be careful, brother. And please don't get shot."

Neo scoffed a little, "You be safe too."

Loosening their embrace, they looked each other in the eyes, smiled, and parted in two opposing directions. Leaving long before a team of Legion soldiers could find anyone at the wagon's crash site.

Dahlia paced back and forth in her cell. Waiting for a guard, a servant -- anyone to help gain even the slightest advantage in escaping. The last time she heard the echoed thuds of soldiers galloping throughout the hallways outside was an hour ago.

Now no one stood on guard. No one that she could hear, if they were present.

The battle outside made her pace bounce with angst. Every millisecond a ticking time-bomb to Iron Hammer's inevitable launch. In Dahlia's moment of strife, the door outside of the cell clicked as a body stepped through.

Ears respectively drawn to the sound, reverberate off the walls, she stopped in place facing the new visitor. Thatch, with a personal radio suitably held to his ear, stepped to her bars. He nodded coming to Dahlia's cell, uttering a sighing: Understood.

Snuggling the radio back into its proper place in his uniform pocket, he instead drew a set of jingling keys on a ring. Dahlia gingerly came to the cell door, pointing at the keys the Captain held, "What are you doing?"

Dahlia noted Thatch had sour, dark rims underneath his eyes. Seeming to couple with them, his voice sounded haggard, "You're going to come with me."

He sat down, clumsily fumbling through the loose pair of keys in his hooves. He selected, after a minute, the right cell key on the ring.

"It's Vladimir," Dahlia said, "isn't it?"

"It doesn't matter," Thatch's tone suggested a low level of patients, "if you come clean, we won't have to get violent."

Before slotting the key into the cell’s lock, he pulled a short coiled length of chain hidden beneath his uniform. Setting it beside him, he unlocked the door, pushing it open.

Thatch took the chain in his mouth, ambling to Dahlia's side.

"Where is my escort?" Dahlia asked.

He lassoed it around her neck, his full mouth muffling new words, "Ah am your eshcort."

Tying the restraint off, he fasted the other other end to his belt. "Then you shouldn't have a problem telling me where we're going. You can give me that, can you?"

Thatch sighed, drooping his head, "Vladimir requested I take you to Iron Hammer."

Dahlia recoiled slightly, tugging the chain with her. "What? Why? What am I suppose to do?"

"He ordered it." Thatch retorted.

Aggressively yanking on the chain, Dahlia staggered forward. "Now come!"

When Dahlia's eye level was adjacent to his own, she spotted a feeling. An empty, contemplative feeling. As a mother, she had witnesses such emotions in her sons in times of inner conflict. Those lying battles raging inside themselves were over minor disputes. Thatch's sported vibrant bloodshot veins wreathing his whites.

"What's going on with him?" She asked, ignoring the previous gesture.

"Excuse me?"

"H-Have you noticed it too?" Dahlia inquired further, "That he's different? Changed? Possessed, even?"

Thatch looked miserably soft, his firm stature melting away. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

She came at him bluntly, "I know you do. I'm sure of it now."

Thatch turned to face the door, actively remaining silent in response. "Because it's true. He's not the Vladimir you, or even I knew... Not anymore."

The Captain stared ahead absently. Lost in his own lexicon of clashing ideas. In a few seconds time, he shook himself free of the thoughts. Regaining a foothold on reality. "Ju-Just shut it! We're done speaking! Another remark about him and I'll personally make sure you suffer each step of the way there! I swear it!"

At Covert's back stood, looming in the dim mine light the vault door leading to Iron Hammer. From the bottom of the floor reaching ten ponies high to the entrance lip of its top at the ceiling. It was magnificently awe-inspiring. Launching more than a few rockets alone wouldn't put as much as a dent in it, lest someone attempted to break inside.

Scooter poked his nose around a corner, providing him a view to the open space at the Vault's base. Where twenty guards had been now counted ten. Including the studded Captain Covert, standing in the far back, inspecting a pocket watch.

"It looks like we took a good sized bit outta' 'is gang." Scooter whispered to Whopper, "Ah don't reckon t' rest will be marchin' back anytime soon, pal."

"How many guns do they got?" Whopper asked.

Scooter's face grimaced, as both eyes squinted and the cogs in his brain calculated, "Includin' 'em pistols... nineteen... Some got a few knives too... Covert's got a sword..."

"You figure we stand a chance?"

Whopper's comment triggered a chuckled out of him, "We didn't 'ave much of a shot anyhow... better than what was ‘ere before, ah say."

"What's the plan then?"

"Well," Scooter began, "do ya' got some kinda' explosive on ya'?"

Patting himself down, starting at the buttoned pockets on his sleeves -- moving to the ammunition pouches on the uniform's belt, Whopper searched. Feeling a bulge, lodged in one pocket on his green undershirt, he removed a grenade.

"I've got this." Whopper presented the explosive to his comrade, "Guess it must've come with all that gear we took."

Scooter's eye became alight with inspiration, as he slowly, and carefully took the grenade. "A-Ah," he nodded uttering the best he could as ideas came manifesting in, "ah can make this work."

"What's the plan then, boss?"

Covert studied the time well. Thirty minutes. He thought. Thirty bloody minutes. Stuffing the bronze pocket watch back in one empty ammunition pouch, the Legion Captain snorted fuming air.

Hastily, he singled out one nearby soldier and barked, "You! Tell me, how long do you think it takes to handle a few runaways?"

The soldier wasn't prepared to answer, and when he turned to meet his captain, nothing but a putter of sounds came tumbling out. Covert lost his patients too easily, the temperature in his brow skyrocketing to volcanic degrees.

The selected pony could detect the blistering crimson of infuriated blood flush beyond the hue of Covert's fur. "I-I'm sure they'll be back any time now... they are holding the Darkminers in t-these cells after all."

Covert, in one releasing sigh, exhumed a majority of the steam. "Regardless." He stated punctually, "I'm a Captain now, under the strict orders of Vladimir himself. I don't want a single soul here to ruin the stable credibility I've built for myself! Especially while handling a few loose Darkminers!”

He touched his forehead with the backend of his fetlock, feeling the residual simmer linger. "This is what Thatch must have felt running this godforsaken place. I can see why the poor soldier is acting the way he is."

The same pony Covert spoke to previously elevated an inquiring hoof, "Sir... I-If I may, do you mind if I radio them? Gain a progress report on their position."

Covert turned his back to him, waving dismissively, "Please, if you don't mind. I thought they'd be old enough to not need a check-up call. But, if we mu-"

A muted sound shocked the air, locking Covert where he stood.

Click. The frail tone of a pin being pulled.

A lightening sense of nature jolted Covert's hind legs, flinging him forward ten paces. Upon landing on the ground with a dull thud, he shielded the top of his head tucking his chin chest-ward. The unknowing members of his squad, contained in their helmets and masks, did not have the sensitive hearing Covert did.

“Hit the deck!” He called.

Like a rock, tossed across the surface of a still lake, came skipping by a spherical grey object. It rolled, and bounded off the uneven floor, eventually coming to a stop in the middle of the group. The first soldier saw the grenade halt by his feet.

The soldier's heart stopped. A wave of light flashed blinding the onlookers, followed by an intense explosion of scorching fire. Covert's ears were ringing, the high-pitched whine of the detonation numbing the additional sounds around him.

Three were left, the unfortunate few within the explosive's radius rendered to nothing more than bloodied bits of scrunched armor and charred flesh. A dirty haze hovered about the scene.

Where the grenade had been was nothing but a smoldering crater, and wide smears of blood.

Covert's depth teetered. The world tilting one way, then the next. He stood and shuffled to the vault door, leaning on it huffing to recover his strength. Gradually his hearing grew sensitive to additional stimuli. More acute, and more clear with the receding pitch of the vexatious ring.

Bang!The first new sound came. Bang! Bang! Bang!

The skin below his fur went blanched. Gunshots. Covert thought, spinning to see the fired shots' source.

Two dark figures stood in the palette of dusty clouds, drifting away like brume slithering away in a breeze. Their muzzle flashes igniting in the obscuring haze.

Covert unholstered his pistol, riveting his teeth into the handle. He closed on eye, taking aim at the larger of the two attackers. Lining the sights up with the head of the considerably massive assailant, his tongue wrapped the trigger, pulling it until the clip went dry.

A few metallic pings, zips, and three fleshy splats later pierced the dust. The body of the big marauder stumbled back onto his hind legs, head craned to the ceiling. Then, losing control of his footing, Whopper flipped backward landing back first.

A cringing snap followed, like a thick branch broke in two. The shootout halted as the haze cleared. Scooter grinned, scanning the plane for standing rivals. The extra soldiers had been dealt with. Now Covert was exposed -- pinned against the Vault, an emptied pistol in his mouth.

"We gotcha' now!" Scooter hollered throwing a hoof over his head, "Jus' wait 'till ah-"

Scooter looked to his side. To where Whopper fought during the ambush. Scooter's friend, comrade, and partner rolled onto his side gasping like a fish choking on air. Lunging to Whopper's aid, he slid to a stop.

Bullets from Covert's gun left grazed slashes along Whopper's shoulders and legs. Two had punctured straight through his windpipe. Exasperated bubbles gurgled and popped at the wounds. What air Whopper breathed in mostly escaped.

Scooter flopped him to his back, taking hold of his breastplate to reel Whopper close. He examined the wounds sustained during the fighting starting at his stomach, and scanning up to the gaping holes in his necks.

"Whopper? Pal?" Scooter's heart disintegrated, staring at his friend's limp, motionless body. "Pal? C'mon, don't die! Don't ya' die on me! We 'ave 'im! We 'ave 'im now!"

Tears pooled in the corner of his eye, not yet ample enough to fall. He nudged Whopper tenderly, in some hopes that a miracle would come and deliver him from death. "Don't die! Don’t… don’t leave me… please..."

The first tear was the worst. Curving downward, at the mercy of gravity -- before landing on Whopper's uniform lapel. Scooter nuzzled his face in the fading warmth of his comrade's breast. Hearing nothing but a void, soundless cavity where a heartbeat should be.

Covert's jaw slacked, unbinding the weapon from his mouth. It clattered on the ground, its sound challenged only by Scooters soft, choking sobs.

Panning the scene, the captain found that all of his soldiers were dead. Laying mangled, or shot here and there. It was just the two of them, in the end. Not a living soul in between the fifty steps separating the two.

Covert pointed a jittering hoof at Scooter, "H-Hey! I know you!"

He tromped a step forward, shifting the tip of his hoof to Whopper. "I know him too!"

Covert jabbed at the air distancing them, "I-I know you both!"

"But," Covert's eyes darted the region for invisible answers, "I-I don't understand... Why are trying to kill me? I-I'm your master! Your Captain!"

"Shut up!" Scooter whipped his head around, eye swelled in tears, "An' ah ain't tryin' t' kill ya'. Ah am gonna' kill ya'!"

The Legion captain smirked, mockingly slapping the side of his head, "You idiot! Is this about Big Lot? I thought I told you she was taken by those Guardians!"

Scooter's throat revved, as he got up on all fours at a steadily calm speed, "Ah never bought it. Whopper never thought much of it too."

"Then what," Covert jeered, "may I wonder, is it you believe happened in your own lovely words?"

"Ya' killed her." He snarled like a wolf, "Ya' killed her dead jus' t' get ahead."

The flaring murder in Scooter's eyes did little to alter Covert's mood, "And what proof, might I ask, is it you have to support these claims?"

Scooter barked instantly -- sparing not a moment's thought, "Shut it, ya' bastard! Ah'll kill ya' dead!"

Taking control of his battle saddle's trigger, he aligned the barrel directly with Covert's body. Scooter kept it steady, not bullet he fired would miss -- whatever rounds rested in his weapon's clip were going to be lodged thoroughly in the Captain's chest. He smiled, squeezing the trigger has firm as his tongue permitted.

Covert crookedly grinned, awaiting the plethora of bullets to end his life.

Click.

Scooter pulled the trigger again. Click. Click.

"Having trouble?" Covert quipped, "Because I know what the matter is."

Click. Click. Click. Scooter spit the trigger out, "What did ya' do t' it?!"

Cover shrugged, "I didn't do anything." He pointed to the empty belt feeding ammunition to the gun, "Looks like the well's gone dry Clarence!"

Scooter hurried to unbuckle the saddle off of him, flinging loose undone straps aside. Unstrapped from his body, it slid sideways, crashing on the floor to his left.

Covert unsheathed his sword, sitting his haunches and tightening the leather leg strap. He purposely reflected the gleaming, dim cavernous light at the lanky stallion, chortling, "You know, since you don't have a gun, or any other weapons on you for that matter -- but I have this magnificent beauty with me means that those goals of yours... to kill me, that is, are not looked too promising, wouldn't you say?"

Scooter's stronghold confidence did not falter. Covert's words had yet to pierce his armor. Silently he zipped his attention to the abundance of weapons left by the Legionnaire's fallen soldiers. "So," Covert wrapped the conversation up, "let's just leave it at this, okay? I kill you... just like I did Big Lot. Then, you can bend over for her anytime she wishes! Forever, and ever!"

The first electrifying thought that came to Scooter, burning in his legs, caused him to leap to the nearest caracas. Ignoring the battle saddle, Scooter tussled the leather holster of the soldier's pistol. Covert glared, charging with full speed.

Polished, and refined, the glittering tip of the sword steered headlong to Scooter's neck. Unfastening the holster, Scooter looked up for a split instant, bounding to the right to avoid the lancing attacker. With the holstered gun in its sheath, Scooter lost his grip, sending the weapon twirling out of reach.

Covert regained his composure, flailing the sword in Scooter's direction again. The Legion officer screamed at the height of his voice, a murderous cry -- advancing apace leg reeled and primed to strike.

Scooter dove for the gun, tearing off the button sealing the pistol inside. Spitting it out and drawing the weapon considerably faster for a pony under pressure -- he took aim, sighting Covert up between the leaf-style sights. But he was too close, coming in too agilely.

The blade wasn't as guided with the same accuracy as before. The razor's edge slid effortlessly over Scooter's shoulder, slicing it finely. The two collided together like ravenous beasts. Primitive, and ruthless in their anger.

The fight had flaming energy in the air. Grunts of confusion and pain vibrated off the walls, as Scooter snuck in slamming hits on Covert's face. He felt the contort of bones -- the breaking chips of teeth ejecting from their mouths.

Scooter, during the wrestling, seized the moment. He hugged Covert, giving him complete control on where he moved the captain. Turning the tables, Scooter pinned the Legion officer to the ground, rising high above him.

He crushed Covert's forelegs under his weight, panting blood oozing down his blackened, swollen lip. Covert winced, the courage sapped from his spirit. "Please! Please, no! I-I give up! Please!"

Covert shut his eyes tight, laying the side of his head against the cold mine floor. "I... I... don't want to die," he pleaded like a foal, "please!"

Slightly pushing additional weight on the captain's leg, the biting pain and ache of cracked bone was heard in the quieted area. Covert howled, "AH! Please! No more!"

Hyperventilating, Covert pulled every card he had, just to make the torment stop, "I-I didn't kill her!"

Scooter lighten the forced load, "What?"

Sappy, pitiful drops came pouring down his face like a child. "I-I didn't kill her!" Covert confessed, "If-If anything, I knocked her out... left her in the wastes alive... Please! Please stop!"

"Lies!" Covert felt the purifying stench of Scooter’s breath assault his face, "Ya' killed her! Ya' murdered her! Don't ya' lie to me!"

"It's the truth!"

Scooter's adrenaline-saturated huffs quelled. "Then where is she?"

"I-I-I," Covert's mind drowned in agony, "I... don't know..."

He whimpered, "Just please, let me go..."

Scooter's hold on Covert was at its weakest. The weight no longer binding him to the floor, and subtly he could wiggle if provided the opportunity. Shoving his opponent off of him, the Legion captain sprung to action.

Lurching backward, Scooter's hind legs tripped on the body of a soldier. Thrusting him square upon his back.

Covert, spry and able, prowled to his prey -- sword hoisted like the barb of a scorpion. He simpered, adding a maddening cackle, "I-I did it again! Just as I did with that brat Big Lot! Just as I'll do to you!"

The sword came down wholly through his gut. A pain, unlike any other that he'd felt, filled his stomach. His insides were swimming in excruciating fire. Not now, Scooter encouraged himself, Not now!

His wrangling right fore hoof felt salvation -- a knife, attached to the body of the fallen soldier at his legs. Mustering what he could, Scooter seized the knife. Tearing it from its owner, slashing once at Covert's throat in a single decisive arch.

The knife did its part, cutting a deep laceration across Covert's neck. The blood hosed out in streams, warm and thick painting Scooter's face crimson.

Covert clasped his neck, careening to the left. The captain's coloration was already paling. When he collapsed, he -- like those whom had been under his command -- joined the dead.

Scooter licked his lips, tiny claws ripping and slashing his organs. He fought the pain -- resisted it to the best of his abilities.

His lungs had yet to undergo the strain of dying. Which meant there was time. Precious time, so long as he refused to unsheathe the blade buried inside him.

The front had grown quiet. Bodies of the two armies were scattered across the road. Ironside made his temporary residence in a deep water draining rut up the road. Several soldiers joined him -- coughing and waiting wordlessly with their backs against the dirt.

In many regions of the city, the fighting went on. The isolated continual bang of gunshot bursts fired somewhere echoed faintly. The sound by now had gained a certain level of normality on the battlefield. Shots once aimed at them were at first terrifying, however after a time the sparking ricochet of bullets at the rim of their cover resonated hollow -- nearly meaningless.

Conditions in the ditch were grim. Trickles of blood from fallen soldiers drained in through tiny streams. The dry wind sweeping down on them, assaulting the sense with sulfur and lung-burning soot. Ironside himself, like many of his men, was smudged with splats of blood during the initial push.

Ironside turned over, and poked his head for a second above the ditch. He viewed the gate estimating it at reasonable four-hundred paces away. Behind the ruins of the few hit anti-air guns Legion soldiers stood posted.

He surveyed one side of the street, then the next. Noting in particular the number of Legion soldiers that lived.

"A hundred, I think..." He muttered to himself, using his eyes to tally the visible green helmets.

Looking at his own squad sitting in the ditch, he counted twenty. The battle, should he choose to risk it, would be devastating. It would be a one on five fight. A slaughter. Especially on the charge up the road.

A Coalition soldier by Ironside's legs had a radio strapped to his back, staring vacantly forward at the opposing side of the ditch. "You," Ironside asked, "what's the current number of soldiers we have on the road?"

The soldier shook his head clear before returning, "Our numbers, sir?"

"Yes," Ironside repeated, "what's the current number of soldiers we have on the road?"

"Well," the soldier began, "last I heard we have eighty. Pockets here and there. The rest are fighting somewhere else in the city."

Standing, the soldier added, "If you ask me, sir -- I'd say we're spread a little thin. Considering our gunships had to pull out to the outskirts to refuel."

"And how long would it be until they're ready?"

Glancing at a watch wrapped around his leg, the soldier relayed, "They said thirty minutes. That was ten minutes ago."

"And what would you say our chances are against a hundred Legion soldiers with eighty, well-placed men, and refueled gunships?"

The radio pony paused, humming in thought, "Pretty high, I would say. That's if our guys can keep the Legion in the rest of the city occupied."

"Radio the gunships then," Ironside pointed downwind, "alert the other squads here. We're going to push up in twenty minutes."

"Thatch? Thatch! Answer me damn it! Where's Dahlia!" Vladimir screamed into the mouthpiece of the radio.

His shortening patients heightened the potency of his words, "We already shot down their rescue team. Which means that Dahlia is completely under our control."

"So I call out to you now, Captain… Thatch? Thatch! We need her now! Answer me!" Vladimir threw the radio on the ground, shattering into several pieces.

A soldier scooped up the radio, trotting urgently to Vladimir's side. "Your grace, this is an important tool!"

The Emperor seethed through his teeth, "Dahlia is an important asset to this battle. Yet, Thatch has refused to answer his radio!"

"Perhaps," the soldier purposed hesitantly, "something could of happened to him... perhaps-"

"Perhaps what?" Vladimir asked.

"Perhaps..." The soldier struggled to find words that would ignite the least possible fury, "perhaps... something got to him."

"Like what?" Vladimir cocked his head to the side, venom in his speech, "No one is inside the Mines, and Dahlia is just one mare."

Vladimir's voice grew as he spoke, an angered crescendo of emotion let loose by the failing levy of his patients, "Then tell me, what is it you think happened? Because there's very little that could have gotten to him!"

The soldier's reply faltered, "I... well..."

Exhuming a good deal of the stress in a thorough exhale, he swayed his head toward the gates. "Covert hasn't made contact either..."

There was long lag in the conversation. Neither Vladimir, nor the soldier said anything while the Emperor pondered the situation to himself. He turned to the pony by his side, speaking with newly inspired words, "Give me four of the soldiers here. I'm going in myself to see how alive that rescue team truly is."

Time was running thinner by the moment for Adam. He stared at the screen of his Pipbuck, eyes transfixed as he hobbled with one good leg onward. Wester found it effortless keeping pace, regardless of the injured mare on laying on his back.

Lucy groaned, speaking for the first time since the less-than-subtle landing. Words uttered drifted out lightly -- a grim reminder to her condition. "D-Did we land okay? Was it amazing?"

"Shhh." Wester hushed her, "Rest, Lucky. You're not strong enough."

Cell doors raced past them in fleeting shadows. The focus was ahead, at a doorway to the lower level cells. Adam dropped his hoof braking into a full-on canter.

"It's just up ahead." Adam announced.

"What is?" Wester sliced into the unknown variables, "What do we hope to find up there?"

"It's the control room to these lower cells." Adam hastily included, "And, hopefully it'll tell us where my mom is."

Wester's mind computed the possibilities, "What if it doesn't?"

"There's a few more control centers like it, they should each be on their respectable levels."

The doorway came into view sooner than Adam expected, and together the three halted once inside. Wester took the vital moment of solace from the hurried mission. Moving with a speed and delicateness not often seen for someone of his size, he attentively lowered Lucy to the back wall, laying her back-first.

Her limp head swerved wherever gravity moved, coming to an eventual stop as Wester situated her a controlled, normalized posture. She bellowed again, "I must've taken a real hit back there..."

Lucy's eyes remain shut, as Wester brushed a portion of her disheveled main behind an ear. "It will be fine, Lucky."

Wester rifled through his saddlebag, levitating one of the few healing potions he had, "If we are to succeed, you'll need to be operating at full capacity."

The pressure built within the bottle rushed out in a cheery pop, as the cork came off. "Here," he said placing the cold rim to her lips, "drink."

Adam already traveled to the central controls. Dark security screens loomed above a vast array of green glowing buttons. "Okay Adam," he whispered to himself, overwhelmingly taking in the abundance of lights, "there's just like... a million of these things... which, could let the wrong thing out if you goof up..."

He sighed, popping the stressfully stiffened vertebrae. "No pressure."

Wester had finished emptying the bottle's contents to Lucy, a portion of which streamed in droplets out the corner of her mouth. "Perhaps we should consider speaking to Big Lot."

Adam spun around aghast, one eyebrow profoundly lifted, "What? Why?"

Retrieving another full medical potion, he discarded the emptied one to the side. "Because, at a time not long ago, Big Lot was a slaver. By this logic, she knows about slave cells."

"But, the cells we were trapped in back at the border weren't like the ones here." Adam remarked, "I should know, I've been in both."

"Perhaps." Wester coldly replied, "Though, it is likely to aid us considering her knowledge on slaving quarters trumps any we possess."

Willing the small short-range radio he had been given at the start of their mission, he brought it to his ear. “I’m still not sure about this…”

“It is…” Wester paused, “worth-a-shot.”

“Okay then…” Adam pressed a button at the radio’s top, "Uh... hello? Is anyone there?"

Silence persisted for a minute. Then, Neo's voice arose from the speaker, "Hey, what is it? Are you in trouble?"

"No, no, brother. We're fine. It's just," Adam glanced at the enormous sea of toggles, levers, and buttons, "I'm not sure what cell holds what... or how to even tell which has what in it."

"Aren't you some hacker supreme? Can't you just dig into its code and figure it out?"

"I'm a mechanic, and a part-time hacker." He corrected Neo, "And what if I shut down the system? It'll just eat more time up."

"Well, I'm not sure what to tell you then. If you recall, I'm not exactly the techy type myself."

"I wanted to talk to Big Lot."

Neo's reaction spiked the microphone. Adam flinched, in reaction pulling the radio away, "Huh?! What for?"

"She knows about this stuff," Adam grumbled his ear still ringing, "or, at least, more than I do."

"I guess I could let you speak to her, could you give me a sec'?"

A periodical second of mumbling babbled on in the background. The voices, unclear and fogged by the static signals passing through the mine walls. In mere minutes, Big Lot's squeaky little voice pulsed out of the earpiece, "Hellooo?"

Adam faced the control panel, "Big Lot, I need your help."

The filly's register bathed in confusion, "You need my help? Why?"

"I'm at the lower level control panel for the cells on this level. The ones farther up use keys, but these are operated here. Do you know how to determine who is in what, and where it is?"

The information was an abundance to process, "Uuuh... Let me think..."

She performed a melody of humming tunes, as the cogs of her mind turned. "Well, I can tell you one thing for certain. Your mom won't be down there."

Adam’s eyebrows rose, "Why?"

"Because my uncle told me that if major Legion fortifications were besieged, they’d put slaves or servants to the lowest levels to keeps safe, and under control. So, my best guess would be that a good chunk of those slaves that work here were put down where you are. Maybe more on the upper levels..."

"Are you sure?" Adam insisted, "We can't miss her if they moved her down here."

"You wanted my help remember!" Big Lot burst, "I'm certain she's not there! If you doubt my thinking just type in the cell number at the console! It'll tell you who's in the cell!"

Blinking Adam spotted his gaze to a number pad located at the far right-hand region of the panel. "You mean the number pad?"

"Bingo, smart stuff."

"What about where my mother is? Could I just plug her name into the system and search for her?"

Big Lot was punctually brief, "Sure can."

"Using the keypad," Adam asked, "right?"

"Ding. Though, you might need to get through a passcode for her. The Legion isn't known for keeping somepony like her out in the open. Well, I never did anyway."

"Don't worry about the passcode, that much I can handle." Adam smiled, "And, Big lot... Thank you, it really helps."

While the two were separated by a labyrinth of rock and tunnel, Adam could tell was smiling from the other end, "You saved me Adam, and I've got to pay you back someway."

Big Lot giggled, "I'll see you soon."

"Likewise." Adam laughed.

The second bottle, vacated of all healing liquid inside was tossed aside like its sibling. Lucy's wounds began to heal. The burns, first of the injuries to vanish almost by magic. "Lucky will recover, however, I estimate that it will be an hour before she can walk or fly on her own."

Cramming the radio back inside his bags, Adam witnessed the always inspiring work of medical alchemy heal Lucy. "How long until she wakes up?"

"Any time now." Wester stood and looked at Adam, "Until that moment arrives, she will remain on my back."

Wester included, "I did overheard the conversation. Are you planning on freeing the slaves?"

"First, we find out who is a slave down here. Then, over the intercom we can get them to go someplace safe to evacuate."

"What about your mother?" Wester mentioned, "I assume the search will be continued consecutively."

Adam grinned, rapping a hoof across a clearing on the control panel's surface, "With this, we'll not only figure where she is being held. But get the slaves out too. I did swear I'd come back, and now that we're here I'm not going to back out of my promise."

Click.

Neo gravitated to the wall, his focus set on the battle saddle's mouth grip. While coming to the end of a hallway, moving defensively to the wall as they pushed on, the last remaining vessels of life spoke through the susurration of undisturbed steam hovering in the air.

It was eerily void of active life. From the crash site to where they were now, not a single soul had been present. The presence of lively activity sapped, or diverted to the conflict outside.

With the exit gradually coming into view, Neo paused, the Earth quivering. He looked up, seeming to search the ceiling for the invisible, but evident source, "It's getting worse out there..."

Ally was right behind him, floating in her magenta aura a pistol aside, "Then let's get to the Vault. The sooner we take it out, the sooner it'll be over for good."

She jerked her head to the end of the corridor, "It's right ahead."

"It ish?" Big Lot mumbled with a mouthful of pistol, "do ya' shink there will be anyone guarhdin' it?"

Ally answered in a hushed tone, "It's likely, though we haven't seen anypony so far. Though, I wouldn’t doubt that Vladimir probably stationed someone in the key places for protection."

"Well just have to see." Neo said, continuing to amble onward.

The trio allowed their steps to produce little sound. A weak pitter-patter, stirred under the more loud revving aches of the mine's pipes. Neo hid behind the slender doorway frame leading to the Vault's entrance chamber, the rest of the following party formed themselves against the wall. All of them awaiting the next course of action.

Neo sucked in a calming breath of air, peering over the side of the frame. Ally saw his eyes go wide as he stepped out into the open, slowly. There was, lingering overhead a cloud of uncertainty, while Neo moved in the chamber.

Ally and Big Lot played it safe, sticking to the safety of the wall. "Neo? What is it?" Ally hissed, shocked at his advance.

He was halfway through the doorway when they heard him utter a wan-breathed reply, "What happened here?"

The curiosity propelled the hidden two’s hooves forward, gingerly. The scene before the Vault was ghastly. A sight of a dozen bodies, shredded, torn, and sliced -- laying scattered in the open. A butcher would have difficulty distinguishing what part belonged to who.

Ally strolled with Big Lot following close by along the backside of the chamber. Neo had meandered over the few corpses near the back wall.

"It looks like some kind of battle." Ally said a detection of surprise in her voice, "There's no survivors... and they're all Legion."

"Was it mutiny?" Big Lot thought aloud, holstering her weapon.

Neo stopped at one fallen soldier close by. A pool of blood gathered around the lifeless vessel of a Legionnaire, as he lay on his back looking infinitely with lifeless eyes at the cavern's ceiling.

"Hey," Neo whispered loud enough for those in the quiet room to hear, "I know him."

Big Lot and Ally maneuvered through the maze of carnage, going to the soldier Neo watched. "Who is it?" Ally asked, stepping over a puddle of blood.

"I can't remember his name." Neo cocked his head to one side, hoping to gain a more clear picture from a different angle, "But... I know him."

Big Lot was well within five feet from the nameless soldier when she froze. Her little body seized -- joint-movement on stand-by. Then, leaning and enforcing herself to move she staggered forward. The filly felt her heart sink to the deepest fathoms of her chest as the pony came into view.

She gasped, approaching the body, "Whopper?"

The filly rose a hoof, readily hovering it above Whopper's motionless chest. "W-Whopper?"

Before she could touch him, a wheeze lanced through the quiet. Saying an all-too familiar phrase, "Y-You're radiance?"

Big Lot snapped her attention to the left, where a slender bloodstained hoof stretched out of the battlefield's dead. Her eyes were glazed in swelling tears, "Scooter?"

Neo looked in the survivor's direction, stunned, "Someone's alive?"

Big Lot scuttled away from Whopper, before breaking to a full sprint. She paid the multitude of bodies no mind. Tripping and falling over each one, without losing sight of Scooter.

Determination filled each recovery, springing her back to all-fours with lightening haste.

Slowing her approach, Big Lot came to his side. Scooter was in a petrifying state. The hue of his green coat had faded -- his eyes dimming with the passing minutes.

"Scooter..."

She sat down, cradling his head in her hooves. He blinked a few times in disbelief at her sapphire eyes, "Y-Yer alright?"

Big Lot choked on her words, "Yes Scooter... I am alive."

His jaw quivered as the warmth faded from his body, "Ah-Ah... Ah searched so long for ya'. Whopper... he..."

The next few parts of the sentence were lost in his sore chest, "Ah never thought ah'd find ya'."

Big Lot said ruefully, pushing aside a section of Scooter's mane away from his eye, "I'm right here, silly... Y-You did good finding me."

Scooter smiled, coughing haggardly, "D-Did ah earn that next promotion?"

The first tear dropped from Big Lot to Scooter's chest, "Yes, yes you did... any position you want. It's yours."

"A-Anythin'?"

"Sure." Another tear fell.

"Ah'm happy bein' right here... seein' ya'."

He coughed a few droplets of blood, "Ah'm... Ah'm sorry if'n ah didn't do well findin' ya..."

"No, no Scooter," she shook her head, "you did great. You did more than anyone could."

"A-Ah'm not so useless, huh?"

"No," she smiled again, "you're the best captain a princess could have."

He closed his eyes, smiling. Scooter relaxed his head, finally at peace. "Thank ya’... y-you're radiance."

Life vanished from his chest, as the cold finally consumed him. The tears, pooling in the corners of the filly's eyes broke free. Falling in contorting streams down her cheeks. Big Lot’s defenses disintegrated, burying her snout in his chest, sobbing.

Ally and Neo kept their distance. Paying silent respects to the departed. Time may have been thin, but offering a sliver of that time to her was something they were willing to give.

Thatch guided Dahlia to the Vault. The outside battle shaking the ground. In each earth-rattling jostle, the wall-hung lights flickered. Flashing the hallway in light and shadow.

The radio Thatch had picked on his way to get Dahlia squawked with the orders of both Vladimir and other officers. The Legion captain disregarded the pleas, continue just as he had if the radio was silent.

Inquisitively, she poked a hoof at his radio, "Are you going to answer it?"

Thatch shook his head, answering her like he hadn't been listening to anything at all. "W-What? Oh, the radio? I... I'll leave it be. It's just the same message again and again."

"One of the ponies sounds like Vladimir." Dahlia pointed out, "Aren't you all supposed to do as he says?"

He refused to look her in the eyes. Staring ahead like his neck couldn't move in any other direction. "I might..."

She hoisted an eyebrow at him, giving a pause in the conversation before engaging the subject again. "I can't understand what it is he's saying, but judging by the fervor in his tone, it's something of great importance."

"Listen," Thatch snapped like the carnivorous jaws of a piranha, "I don't have to answer it if I don't want to. Didn't I say what would happen if you spoke out of line?"

"I don't think you'll hurt me," Dahlia replied with confidence, "at least, not without Vladimir's orders to."

He didn't answer her.

"You're the only Legionnaire I've met who believes Vladimir isn't wholly there. Surely, this concerns you, does it not?"

Thatch's jaw slacked, his mouth open for words to be said -- though nothing came out. He breathed for a moment, the rejuvenating air nestling a faint trace of newfound energy in his chest.

"I've just recently been having my doubts." The sincerity in his words was profound, "When he arrived at the Mines I noticed his health. Since the Legion was run by him, he's always had a headache or two, coughing now and again, nothing to worry about. His attitude... the fire in his eyes... it-it was always the same. Since he's been here, seeing him as often as I have, that spark of who or what he was vanished. Poof. And I don't even know why."

"Are you scared of the new him?" Dahlia asked.

Any ear listening to him could catch a nervous vibe on his reply, "He's our leader. One of the most powerful unicorns I've ever seen. Yes, many of us do fear him."

"But are you scared of him? Are you frightened by whatever it is playing Vladimir?"

Thatch paused in the middle of a room with a door at every wall. It acted as a junction did -- four pathways to go.

"I... suppose so, yes."

"Then help me," Dahlia insisted earnestly, "we can take Vladimir and get him the help he needs."

She stomped a declarative hoof, "We can stop this! All of this! And it all boils down to the choice you make here! What happens next is in your hooves, and I ask that you make the right decision."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, flabbergasted. Coming full circle to face the mare, Thatch scoffed, "A-Are you trying to convince me to set you free?"

"No," Dahlia said, "I'm trying to set you free."

He pouted sourly, "What if this all goes backwards? How can I trust you when the Legion has been my family for years?"

"You can't. But you need to have faith that there's some light to be made out of this. Some light you could help make to ensure our world's future."

Thatch's mind was a brutal, never-ending match of tug-of-war. One side furiously fighting for what seemed right. The opposing angle, tugging in the name of loyalty to the Legion. None appeared right to him. They all in some way were distorted by harsh possibilities and noble outcomes. In the end, the two conflicting states of thought swirled his brain in blurred confusion.

Dahlia lay a friendly hoof on his shoulder, "What is it you choose, Thatch? For yourself? What do you want the future to be?"

He overted both eyes to the floor, skimming the ground in maddening haste, "I... I..."

The Legion captain's answers failed, as the lights snapped dark. It had happened in less than a second -- all was dim, but visible -- now the entire world disappeared in a pitch-black void.

Dahlia's eyes wandered the darkness, the only certain direction being the ground she felt beneath her hooves. The four doors, which way lead to where, even the very path to the Vault seemed to be everywhere, and nowhere.

Thatch spun around aimlessly, the sudden change in lighting having a more punishing effect on his already taut mind.

His breathing fluttered, "W-What happened?"

Dahlia shook her head, and shrugged. Thatch couldn't see her, "Is this the Coalition's doing? I-It can't be... I'm certain! We're too far down for the battle to effect the generators."

"Something did it." Dahlia's tone kept an amount of smooth restraint, "Maybe a generator blew a fuse."

A sound resonated in the dark, coming from their left. It was the shuffling of hooves moving apace -- echoing through the small room. It sounded like the brisk movements of twelve ponies. Light, and nimble -- surrounding the two stranded in the center of the black.

"Who's there!" Thatch cried out into the darkness, "Reveal yourself!"

Thatch, in his panicking investigation of those encircling them, paused. He was like a statue. Cold, and stiff -- eyes fastened at a fixed point forward. A pair of monstrous lime spheres suspended in the blackness stared him in the face. They manifested close enough, that the glowing lit the entirety of his facial features.

He gasped, "N-No... T-That's not possible!"

Out of the corner of his eye, another set of eyes exposed themselves. Then another pair, and another. Dahlia's head circled the zone around them. Everywhere, like a cage trapping them inside, were the haunting blank glares of the Darkminers.

In unison the shadowed creatures laughed. The one standing in front of Thatch tittering softly at first like it was building up to the cackle of a hyena, "You did this..."

The miners echoed the leader, "You did this... You did this..."

"We are the mine..."

"We are the mine... We are the mine..."

"Rip," the first hissed, "Rip, tear, cut surface Legion..."

"Rip, cut, tear..."

Thatch instinctively backed himself from them, his heart convulsing immensely inside his chest. "I... I..."

A nervous sweat, developing in clammy pea-sized droplets, dropped like bombs to the mine floor. "You... You have no power here!"

His backside tapped Dahlia who remained still, and weary of the enemy. "Thatch, don't move. Whatever you do, stay calm."

He muttered in an alarmingly hissing tone, "They want me, Dahlia! I..."

The circle tightened, the miners enclosed on them as they savagely chanted, "Rip, cut, tear..."

They came within reaching distance of Dahlia. Thatch had pressed the side of his body to her, shaking vigorously. When the miners were a mere step away from the two, their lights clicked off. For what was an fraction of a second, the room went quiet. Not a breath, or scuff of movement to them.

Dahlia heard a blood-freezing scream. The fear drenched shriek of Thatch shot throughout the room. She couldn't see the miners, but she did feel three bodies -- rushing past her. They shoved the mare, knocking her to the floor.

Her temple smashed on the solid ground. A morbid melody of screams and giggling enraptured the junction. Charging it in a chilling, goose-bump inducing symphony. The miners, hidden by the dark, continued to chant: "Rip, cut, tear! Rip, cut, tear! RIP! CUT! TEAR!"

To Dahlia, the sounds grew fainter by the second. Like the creatures of the mine dragged him away to someplace unknown. The sound of wrestling, flesh beating flesh, and fabric being torn in pieces carried farther.

Within a few minutes the screaming subsided. Lost in the dark. Not long after, the lights flickered to life. The generators once more providing the dim yellow-tinted illumination to the tunneled environment.

The fall had stunned Dahlia, baring her molars as the pain in her head sorely throbbed. She lifted herself up, gently soothing the wound by kneading the injured temple.

Dahlia seethed the pain out of her clamped teeth, stumbling her front hooves around as the world spun. "Thatch?" She blinked, halting in the middle of the spinning scene.

"Thatch?" She viewed the room both of them had once been in together. Aside from a few blood-soaked fragments of torn Legion uniform, Thatch was gone. Taken by the miners to be dealt with.

Dahlia's next iteration was tinged in urgency, "Thatch? Thatch!"

She looked down at the slacked segment of chain links dragging on the floor. Dahlia was, despite what had happened, free.

Laying the chain loose in her hooves, she gasped, "He's..."

Dahlia held her breath, sealing what she wanted to say. "I... I can't stay here."

Slinging the extra length of chain over her shoulder, Dahlia sighed collecting herself. "Okay... I-I need to move on... but where?"

Each of the four door options held promise, but the Darkminers could have easily chosen any of them. She sucked in as much breath as her chest would expand, and letting it all out in a determined snort Dahlia muttered to herself, "I guess... there's just one place I can go..."

Adam stood, eyes larger than plates at the scene before him. It was Dahlia's cell, with no one inside. His mind swam in miry mess of confusion, "I... I don't understand."

Wester walked past the cell bars, scanning like a machine the living space for evidence of life. He had just reached the right wall, turning to face Adam, "It's possible she was here, however recently they may have moved her after our crash."

Lucy, legs and head dangling off of the sides Wester's back groaned, "Where are we? H-How good was that landing?"

She attempted to raise her head, shaking like an autumn leaf. But the pain seared the muscles in her neck, and again the pegasus returned to a flaccid -- immobile state. "Damn... Still out of commission, I guess."

Wester put a hoof to his breather, "Shhh, Lucky. Remain stationary. You are not yet fully recovered."

"Heh," Lucy laughed haggardly, "I'm getting there big fellah. Don't you worry."

Adam came to the cell door, prodding at it. The hinges croaked, and he felt the loose hinges tap the door-frame. "Until Lucy's better, we're going to have to try looking for her again."

He looked over his shoulder at Wester, "Let's say, for a moment, that they did move her. Taking into account they'd need someplace safe to hold her, where do you think the Legion puts relocated prisoners in the mine? Especially ones as important as my mom?"

Wester shrugged, cluelessly shaking his armored head, "I'm not too familiar with the Darkmines. So I couldn't accurately provide a statement on the topic."

"But," Adam turned fully to speak with him, "hypothetically, where do you think they'd go?"

Lucy's husky, pain laden voice spoke faster than Wester could answer, "How about the Vault?"

Adam's eyebrows rose, "The Vault? As in, the vault for Iron Hammer?"

"Yeah," Lucy paused to let a few built-up coughs, "what other place would have protection? She needs to be protected, right?"

"Lucky is correct." Wester agreed, "Over the course of our mission there has been little evidence of major activity. It is likely that she's being held in the safest, and most heavily fortified, section of the mine."

"I could call my brother," Adam recommended, "maybe he's seen or heard of her being moved there."

"It's possible." Wester said.

Adam said to Lucy, "How long do you think it'll be before you're able to walk? We're going to need all the help we can get heading to the vault."

Lucy picked up her head, straining and shuddering just as before. Then, collapsing back with a tired hmph! she replied, "Can't say... Moving my head's getting easier, and I'm awake for the most part. So... soon? Maybe?"

"We'll just have to keep an eye on your recovery." Adam started to the door, "For now, let's see how sound this theory of ours really is."

The chains Dahlia wore at last began taking their toll on her spirit. In the beginning, they weighed no more than a few pounds. But as she dragged on through hallway, after hallway -- veering in the labyrinth of similar tunnel ways, did the atmosphere weigh.

Like the chains she dragged, her mind grew dull. Glazed doubt that lapped over the mare's will. Doubt she'd get out, or at the luckiest instance, find the Vault.

She went off memory, calculating based on the initial pathway Thatch had been leading her. On her journey alone, she had passed numerous doors, opened and not. Those opened were devoid of life. Dahlia was the number one prisoner in the mine, and not a soul patrolled the hallways.

Despite restricting the distance she could step, the chains had an almost cheery jingle to them. The rattling would, like her ever numbing optimism, be lost in the heavy hoof-steps hauntingly traveling throughout the corridors.

Ahead of her was a normal doorway, leading to some massive chamber. Like all of the others, she passed it, entering a new room. Compared to many of the mining pits, this place too sported a high-risen ceiling. Only, in the mild lighting could she make out the shape of a massive vault door.

The draining energy ceased, while a newfound warmth flooded chest and movement alike. The sensation brought a smile to her face, as in the farther right corner of the structure was a group of ponies, huddled in front the Vault's control panel.

"Neo... my son..."

She’d taken to a full gallop, performing an acrobatic display of hurdles over the dozen fallen soldiers. The chains pulled back on her advance, stumbling the landings she made.

The combination of rustling chains, and hoofs in rapid step drew their attention. Upon seeing his mother, he let go of the controls, stepping back from the panel. "M-Mom?"

Dahlia made excellent speed regardless of the chain's opposing force. She didn't come to a stop, or brake her pace. Rather, the mother came at full-speed embracing Neo in a gripping hug.

Neo was the cushion to absorb her speed, sending him back a few steps. The power armor sucked in the constricting wrap, giving him the space to breath.

She buried her nose into his neck, "Oh my boy, my sweet child, you're alive!"

Kissing him on the cheek, Neo returned the gesture, save for the tightness. "You're looking well too, mom."

Ally noted the chains strapped to her forelegs and neck, "How did you escape?"

Still hugging her son, Dahlia pulled her head away to respond, "Well..."

Her eyes grew grey, and mournful. "Thatch, he was leading me here when a pack of Darkminers showed up."

She added urgently, "I'm not sure how the long they'll be gone, so I hurried here as fast as I could."

Big Lot pointed to the Vault's control panel, "It's a good thing you came then, because we're getting no where trying to get this thing opened."

Dahlia blinked, "What? Couldn't Adam get it open."

The question itself enforced her to begin scanning the room for him. "W-Where is Adam, or the others for that matter?"

Neo looked her directly in the eyes, asserting an assuring tone as he answered, "Don't worry. He's with his own group looking for you."

"He'll probably turn around and head up here once he finds out she's not where Legion kept her locked up." Ally stated, "We could always radio him. Let him know to start heading up here to us."

"We're going to need the extra help." Big Lot said, "I bet there's a whole load of bad guys in the Vault. Even if they're not soldiers, they'll be armed and ready to shoot anyone trying to come in."

"But first we'll need to get it open," Neo submitted, "and that alone isn't something we can do."

Dahlia smirked, "Well, you know, I could always hack into it."

Neo shook his head, the very comment lancing a bizarre chill down his spine, "W-What? Since when do you hack things?"

She chuckled, coupling it with a quirky arching eyebrow, "You don't think Adam just learned all of what he knows on his own, do you? I was young and cool at one time too, son."

Adam could murmur a phrase, barely passable for even a breath, "It's open..."

Wester was deadly silent, standing beside Adam witnessing the Vault door to Iron Hammer opened. "It seems so."

"They didn't say anything about having it opened." Adam recalled retrieving his radio, "They said they were having trouble getting it to open, and I know brother isn't the best handling the finer side of computer coding."

There had been a steep decline in the solid nature of Wester's firm register, "Vladimir? Or perhaps a squad of Legion soldiers?"

"I guess having seen the empty crash site would lead some to assume someone was it here."

Not sparing a hesitant thought, Wester had both python revolvers unholstered and floating at his side. "Do we make a move?"

Lucy flopped a foreleg meekly providing input on the situation, "Y'know, I'm really feeling up to standing now. I could help you guys in case someone's in there."

Letting the hoof she moved freely sway, Lucy nodded, "Ooooor not. It's just some food for thought."

Adam didn't earn a degree in physical medicine, but a less than careful examination of Lucy did little to aid the nerves. A tickle, more akin to a prick the longer it lasted, pecked at the back of his rational-thinking mind. "You're still pretty weak. We should take it slow, just for a little while longer."

Lucy pouted, "Fine... I'll have to go rebel then."

"Wester," she commanded sharply, "help me stand up."

"Lucky," his response stifled, "I... I'm not-"

"Do it boy!"

He went to action post-haste, obeying without question. Adam intervened, feeling a nervous sinking in his gut as Wester rolled her off his back, "Lucy, we really should-"

"Too late now," she landed on all four hooves, legs bent and shaking, "I'm already up."

The pegasus elevated herself, straightening her legs. Wester, like the guardian he was, swooped to Lucy's aid snatching one of the mare's forelegs to wrap over his neck.

Lucy put the full amount of her weight on him, feeling like she had bones made of brittle glass. "Y'know, I... I think this'll do for the time being."

"At least until I get my land-legs back." She laughed under a low grunt.

The irritable pecking riveted Adam's mind, "We'll take it slow then. Just don't make any unnecessary movements, okay?"

Lucy nodded, unholstering a pistol from her leg. "Right," Adam said clicking his safety off, "let's head in."

On Adam's Eyes Forward Compass, no life signs were detected. The beginning stretch inside the Vault was a long hallway carved to the shape of the vault door. The trio kept light on their footing, like cats, skulking at an easy stride.

Two doors were at the end of the hallway. One: a service door, a red beaming light perched directly above it. The second: a revolving door. A complicated looking terminal, with a screen and keyboard, placed next to it.

Adam frequently viewed his compass, ready to pause the instant a red marker appeared. But, the closer the three of them came to the service door, not a single blip revealed itself.

As they came within a few step's distance of the service entrance, Adam took the lead. He inched himself to the door, Wester following in from behind. Inspecting the compass for the third time, no lights highlighted an enemy presence on the other side.

The compass hadn't been wrong yet, and there was no reason to deny it now. With his focus drawn to the door handle, it telekinetically turned and gently pushed open.

The service door opened to Iron Hammer's maintenance controls. A smell suffused the room, a homely odor of clean polished steel. A cold, refrigerated breeze gushed out of a vent overhead. Adding a stark contrast to the humid mine.

It was a long white steel room. The left wall cluttered in computer towers of various heights and widths. The opposite side of the operation's center had the control panel. Nearly a dozen seats sat at the panel spread from the far end of the room to the other.

Above was a window, matching the control panel in length, and overlooking the missile chamber inside. The electronic chirps, and buzz of busy machines computing at advanced levels excited the atmosphere.

Blood painted the floor in bright red splashes. Like an artists had taken buckets of their favorite color and tossed it at a blank clean canvass. The bodily fluids belonged to five bodies -- Legion officers with pistols flung out in seemingly random places.

"What happened here?" Adam awed.

Wester motioned his head to the revolving door outside, "Let's go in the chamber, whatever killed them shouldn't be far away."

Adam didn't have much to say on the slaughtered soldiers, as he went after Wester outside and out to the revolving door. On the rotating door's control panel a green light glowed like a beacon. Where below it presented on the terminal screen was the standard Stable-Tech glaucous colored font. Commands surprisingly had been imputed into it. For now, the selection box highlighted the word: Open.

Wester towed Lucy to the rotating door, stopping right in front of it. "Should we go inside?"

Adam glanced at his compass, no markers. "It should be safe."

"What if it's a trap?" Wester presented, "It does seem wise to assume that the Legion would kill its own to convince us."

"It could be anything." Adam countered, "It could have been my brother, or Vladimir. Which ever one it is, we'll never know unless we step through that door."

Wester cocked back the hammers of both python revolvers, "I'm ready for anything."

"I've got SATs ready just in case," Adam added, "so I'm set for whatever's in there. Let's just hope it's my brother, of all things."

Steam rolled like the tides of a churning ocean across the ground. Pipes lining the ceiling and walls, twisting as vines do creeping on the walls of a derelict hallway, spilling out the mist in profuse waterfall quantities.

The wretched stench of petrichor plagued the atmosphere. Rich and dense in the earthy flavors of a newly watered garden. Lamps dangling from the ceiling cast spotlight pillars of light -- isolated in the mists -- spanning to the hallway's end.

Wester and Adam moved onward, the compass yielding no indications of an enemy nearby. Instead, another kind of marker came into being. Four little orange blips, increasing in brightness the closer they approached the end.

Adam whispered to Wester, "Friendlies up ahead."

Wester leaned over to Adam, hooves dragging on the floor as he slowed, "Are you certain?"

"My Pipbuck hasn't been wrong yet." The end was a wide archway made of a thick curved steel beam. "Though, Stable-Tech has been known to have some kind of bugs in their systems. In one way or another."

"Let us assume the worst." Wester lifted the revolvers to eye-level.

They passed through the mouth of Iron Hammer's chamber. A gargantuan rotunda carved meticulously out of the underground rock.

A slender bridge was suspended above a myriad of pipes unfurled like a mess of black thread chaotically intertwined beneath it -- leading to the pedestal Iron Hammer resided on.

The bridge reached to a wide rectangular control space over the pipes. Even then, the control point was three hundred feet from whoever operated the missile there. In the distance, traversing the creaking supports feebly elevating the walkway up, the mysterious source of the blips could be seen.

Four ponies, matching up to the four markers on Adam's compass -- standing at the largest series of buttons and levers Adam had ever seen on a lone control pad. It alone had a wide-spread width of twenty ponies. Closely accompanied by screens and dials with twitching needles wreathing the upper portion of the panel.

The enigmatic ponies had their backs turned to the two of them, concealing their facial features. But Adam noticed the armor -- he could spot the long midnight mane and white dusted coat anywhere. Neo was at the panel, among his team tasked in stopping the weapon.

Adam broke into a mild trot. A hefty sum of evaporating stress slumped his shoulders, "Brother!"

His words echoed clearly through the domed ceiling. Neo turned around to face his brother, a smile awaiting him, "Adam, you made it."

Wester, having to act as Lucy's crutch, waddled with her behind Adam. Upon seeing the rest of his friends, Wester holstered the two beastly pistols.

Dahlia, who had been flipping a number of different colored controls, stopped it all just to hug her son. The two embraced together like powerful magnets -- unable to be pulled apart.

Adam's smile widened, feeling the safe tender warmth of his mother. He nuzzled her neck, "I missed you."

She cooed, "I missed you too, Adam."

Wester and Lucy had just made it to the reunion, "I'm glad I didn't miss the happy occasion."

Neo smirked at the mare, "And I'm glad you're recovering so soon."

"I told you," Lucy grinned, "I'm a tough pony to kill."

Both Adam and Dahlia let go of each other, as Adam circled around to see his brother. "How did you guys get in here? Where's all the guards?"

Ally was the one to answer him, "There were a few here. Nothing we couldn't handle ourselves."

She pointed at a small square shed squat in the corner of the platform area, "That supply shed over there is where we loaded the bodies up."

Adam dove deeper into what happened, "How did you know their numbers?"

Neo poked his brother's shoulder, "You're not the only one with a Pipbuck."

Big Lot rushed herself in the conversation, flailing her hooves around madly. "NO NO NO! You don't know what it was like! Neo had this thing where he went all still, and then the next second every shot he fires hit all the guards SMACK DAB IN THE HEADS!"

The filly sat down and put both hooves to the sides of her head. Then she simulated the booming headshots with her hooves, adding a charismatic boosh! sound spreading them out away from her.

"Like that!"

"Yeah," Neo patted her on the head, "it never really gets old using it."

"So that's how you took them out." Adam said, "Does anyone know about mom, or the Vault?"

"Not that we know of." Ally claimed.

"We need to keep it that way." Dahlia asserted, "We don't have too much time."

She jerked the side of her head to a counter at the center of the panel, "That there is how long we have to disarm this thing."

The counter ticked away, chopping down milliseconds and seconds faster by the instant. The deadline for the automative launch was set to activate in one hour.

Adam whistled, wiping his brow, "It's good thing we have an hour then. We can get this thing offline before then."

The first four's beaming expressions faded. Adam felt alone, as he retained a relieved laugh, "We can do it before then... right?"

"I might be able to do it." Dahlia responded, "But already I've been having difficulty bypassing the walls they've established to keep everyone out."

She returned to the controls, hopping up onto her hind legs to begin hacking once more. "It's one of the most advanced systems I've seen, Adam."

Dahlia almost sounded impressed, "Whoever designed this was a genius."

Adam took a few tromping steps to his brother, "I... I didn't think..."

Neo rested a hoof on his brother's shoulder, "What is it?"

"It's just, while I couldn't find mom, I did free a lot of the slaves."

"So?" Neo nudged him playfully, "Isn't that a good thing?"

Adam shook his head correcting himself, "No, it is... it's just I'm not sure if I could get them out in time."

Neo poked around for more information, "Where are they?"

"Do you remember where we escaped?"

"Yeah," Neo said, "I do. That old shaft that leads to the outskirts, right?"

"I told them to meet there, and start clearing it out. I was thinking I could help them out, maybe check on them too." Adam's gaze turned to the diminishing minutes ticking away on the counter, "But with the time limit... I'm not sure if we can, or even if they have enough time to escape."

Neo roused spirits through a hearty voice, "Hey, who's saying we can't?" He reeled his brother in close, compressing Adam to his side, "We could do that in half the time!"

Neo asked, "Do you think we could pull it off? We wouldn't be gone long."

Dahlia stared at the panel pensively, as though she was considering it. "Can you assure me you'll be back as soon as possible?"

The word: assure crossed a boundary of promise Neo couldn't answer easily. They were in the belly of the beast, anything could be possible. "I..."

He sighed, "I promise, mom. We'll be back quicker than a bullet."

She twisted a few knobs on the controls, smiling dearly, "I guess I'm not going to stop you now. Go on, boys, save them."

Another clump of mirky earth flew through the air, and smushed into a drying mound of mud. The pile of shoveled earth had grown to the size of five ponies, massing by one boiler. In an efficient conveyer-belt line, slaves inside the shaft handed dirt from one body to the next. Constantly the muddy slush moved adding to the mound's impressively increasing size.

Years in the mine had done one fine thing to the slaves: it taught them how to move earth in gratuitous quantities.

Adam stood directly above the shaft, helping those excavating the sludge from below by joining the line. Neo, in the grand picture, did his part working at the end. Ensuring that carried dirt was deposited equally to prevent a collapse of the mound.

Of all the slaves that Adam had called out to, only a fraction arrived. Two hundred souls still hungering for a life outside of the one they lived. Adam saw it in their eyes, levitating a ball of the muck to the next pony. There was a fire burning in them, fueling every motion, propelling each action to clear the tunnel.

They're original coats were caked in mud, their disheveled tuffs of mane stuck together in sloven lumps. But they smiled nonetheless, because it was time to break free. To leave once and for all.

A wad of mud came up to Adam, and respectively he passed it to the pony beside him. He looked down, expecting to see one more piece of the clogged mineshaft handed up to him.

But nothing came.

The slave below him poked her head out of the hole, peering up, "That's it."

Adam shook his head, like what the mare had said was unreal, "What? It is?"

"The rest of the way is clear," the mare said, "that's what the others further in the mineshaft are saying."

Word of the cleared path traveled by whisper down the line of freed slaves. Adam quickly watched the news reach the end, the sound of their murmurs becoming parallel to the hissing steam boiler room pipes.

He returned to the slave awaiting a response, "What are you waiting for?" Adam asked.

"Well," the slave spoke in soft quavering words, "you're orders..."

Adam ruefully shook his head, "No one is your master now. You're all free ponies. Don't wait for me to give you the orders to go. Seize the opportunity yourselves."

The slave averted her eyes to the side, anywhere but where Adam's where, "Ah..."

"Listen," Adam kneeled to her level, "if you want to do something, pass down this: Go. Escape, and be free."

The mare climbed down the ladder into the shaft, as Neo cantered up from behind Adam, "Is that it? Is it clear for them?"

"Yeah," Adam sighed a little, "it is."

Neo checked the clock on his Pipbuck, "Huh, it's only been thirty-four minutes."

"They were at this way before we arrived, brother." Adam remarked.

Slaves began going, one by one down the ladder descending into the mineshaft. The brothers stood aside, letting them evacuate.

As the evacuation continued, Neo kneaded the ground, developing his action to a gentle stomp. He stopped after a minute -- canning his nose to the ceiling.

Adam blinked at his brother, "What is it?"

"I didn't notice it until just now, but have you noticed the shaking stopped?"

For the first time the living veins of the Darkmines went quiet. No longer did they ooze steam or groan like the old things they were. It was like someone had stabbed the beating heart of the mine, and the silence put the two brother's hackle's on-end.

They trotted down the corridor to Iron Hammer. Their hooves clicking on the solid rigid floor. Both of them slowed to a walk, eyes wandering the wide tunnel for a sign to the mine's death.

Neo, out of the corner of his eye, saw his brother stop abruptly. He turned to see him, "Adam, what is it?"

Following the direction his brother looked in, Neo watched Adam stare blinkless at a corpse laying against the wall. The creature was a Darkminer, cloth wrappings torn and tattered as huge whip-like lacerations striped its torso. It's sickly lime-hued blood glowing in a pool around it.

Out of the scars profusely streaming the blood still flowed. Neo approached the miner, dipping the tip of his hoof into the growing pool at the creature's flanks. Warm, and fresh. The miner's heart was coping with having been killed so suddenly, tiredly pumping on though the spirit had left.

"What's he doing here?" Neo rose, wagging his hoof in the air, sending droplets of the creature's blood flying.

"More importantly," Adam began looking about the tunnel, "who did it, and where did they go?"

"I don't know who did it," Neo's sights snapped to the end of the tunnel, "but I've got a pretty good idea of where they're heading."

Adam had been brave thus far, but the thought of a pack of Darkminers assaulting the group sank in his gut, "Do you think everyone's okay? Mom, Wester, Lucy... what if-"

Neo intervened, "Don't think about it. Listen, we there's a good chance they could be in danger, and running in won't help them."

Inhaling a few, brisk breaths, Adam added an ample amount of vigor to a nod, "O-Okay... You're right, we've got to stay calm about this."

Switching the safety on his battle saddle, Neo started walking forward, "Keep your eyes peeled, Adam. We don't know how many of whatever it is that killed that miner is still around here."

"Right." Adam agreed arming his weapons.

The first miner body was not the last either brother encountered. The whole trip to Iron Hammer's launch pad bodies of miners lay eviscerated or mangled like butchered pigs.

The alluring illumination of a few corpses blood appeared splattered across the face of the wall, like the largest shotgun imaginable unloaded at point-blank range aimed straight for the creatures' chests. The more baffling subject, however, was the addition of Legion bodies as well. On the walk to Iron Hammer, the brothers had seen four Legion soldiers -- bruised and bludgeoned with the sharp sides of rocks caked in blood laying around.

"Well, we know what killed them... and what killed the miners." Neo commented, passing by the scene.

The hollow sinking in Adam's gut rose at the news, "Do you think the two parties met in here by accident? Maybe they killed each other off before reaching Iron Hammer."

Neo skimmed the battlefield in his walk, "I don't see the bodies of anyone we know..."

They came to the bridge leading to the control platform, noticing streaked droplets of glowing miner blood on the metal. The marks continued, some shaped in the curved arch of a hoof-print.

Both brothers drew their eyes forward, unmoving. Whoever killed, or fought the two parties lived. Limping to Iron Hammer's control on the platform.

The boys' hearts produced an unnatural rhythm. Pounding faster than the milliseconds ticked by. The adrenaline pumping through their blood urged them forward, making for a mad canter across the bridge.

The old metal supports creaked, and shuddered in their hustle. When they came to the platform, the beating in the brothers' chests stopped cold.

They looked ahead, locking up stiff -- there were scarcely any hairs not raised along the border of their napes. Wester laid his back against the thin railing, head drooped and unmoved. Below him, cradled in his fore-legs like a babe was Big Lot.

The armored stallion was marked in dents, and grey jagged scars carved out in the plates covering his body. Big Lot had a bruise, purple and bloated like a balloon on her forehead.

Ally was across from them, along with Lucy. Together the two sat beside the old storage shed by the controls. Teeth gnashed, as cuts and fine slashes trailed up the mares' necks. Lucy, however, lay limp like a puppet next to Ally.

Ally shouted, her voice echoing throughout the entire chamber, "Neo! Adam! Run!"

The brothers eyes befell the controls, where sitting on his haunches was Vladimir. He supported his weight on folded hooves that rested atop the pommel of a Legion sword -- the tip digging into the platform's floor.

At first, the Emperor's face was hidden behind his cascading silver-streaked mane draped in uneven tousled segments. Vladimir lifted his head up, slowly, a smile with the following words, "Oh, hello boys. I'm happy you could make it."

Dahlia was pinned next to him, a collar of green aura surrounding her neck. He looked down at the immobilized mare, "I'm sure you're mother would say something along the lines of, 'hello' too, but she's unable to come to the phone right now."

The chill in Neo's heart burned away as it slowly became fire. Rage, smothering all other emotion. He, much like Adam, was preparing the trigger to be pulled on his saddle. But, Vladimir rose a hoof, disapprovingly waving it in the air, "Ah, ah, boys. I wouldn't pop off those guns of yours. I could break this little thing's neck in a thought. Quick, and effective."

Neo lowered his barrel, but Adam stepped forward to speak, "Let her go!"

Vladimir cocked his head to the side, "Why should I, exactly? What is it you could offer me: God of the Ironhoof province?"

The brothers didn't answer.

"Huh," He breathed in a fair chuckle, "you know, a lot of things didn't go the way I had planned them to."

He got up, and began to casually pace the area in front of the control panel with a limp in each step. "First, I wanted to take care of Dahlia. That didn't happen, as you can probably tell by the heaps of dead officers. Then, I wanted to gun down the Coalition's ships. But they had to go and volley me with those Celestia-forsaken missiles right off the bat!"

A growl saturated the rest of his speech, "Again... we anticipated there would be a rescue team, and we shot them down. Only to have them survive."

He scoffed, sounding dumbfounded, "And you know what? I never imagined it would be your crew, of all ponies."

Pointing the tip of the blade at their suits of power armor, he said, "Lucky you had that armor on. Without it, all of you might as well be sacks of powdered marrow and bloodied flesh."

"But then," he exclaimed quickening his speed, "I came to inspect what caused all of these damn problems here inside the mine. Only to run into a pack of deranged miners let free from their cages!"

Vladimir stood on his hind legs upright, spreading his arms out like a warrior standing before a crowd, "Not one thing has gone correctly! NOT ONE! Do the Goddesses punish me? Do they even care?!"

Planting his fore hooves down, the sword's end levitated at Wester before panning across the platform to everyone present, "And here we stand... all of us... together. Mere minutes ticking away until it all becomes worth something."

"I've been driven to the precipice of failure." He said, swaying the sword smoothly to Dahlia's throat, "In fact, this little kitten planned on taking that away from me as well."

"Heh," Vladimir scoffed glaring at her, "she help started this interest in sun gem technology, it would -- for the sake of irony -- be only reasonable that she be the one to end it."

"Unfortunately, that will never be the case."

The Emperor sauntered in the most bombastic way possible -- considering the injured hind leg -- to the brothers. Coming well within distance that the two could smell the rancid odor of putrefying blood staining his uniform, "And originally, I planned on letting you live. All of you, actually. I am, after all, a just god."

"I'd let you see the missile launch, allowing the scene to marinate in your minds." He directed the sword to the missile, "Then, and only then, would I kill you."

There was a blissful pur rolling in his throat, "O' the savory emotions you would have been feeling! Of course, had we all met under different circumstances."

He spoke to them in a sarcastic, parenting matter-of-fact tone, "But you know what? I made up my mind on what I was going to do on the way here! Do you know what it is I decided?"

Neither brother needed to shake their heads to answer him, "I decided that I hate you."

Spinning around back to Dahlia, he continued his peppy march to her, "O', how I loathe all of you. So. Very. Much."

Neo leaned over to Adam, whispering, "Adam, listen to me. I have a plan."

Adam snapped wide, worried eyes at him, "What about mom?!"

"If we don't do something mom, and everyone else will die! It's either we act now, or never!"

Adam didn't have the time to think it over, so his reply came spilling out, "What do you have in mind?"

"I'll see if Wester can hear me, his hearing is good. Then, I'll circle Vladimir, drawing his attention away."

"What about me?"

"You'll take out his concentration on mom. Then we'll take him out."

"So enough of this inane natter." Vladimir turned to face Neo, "Who should go first, hmm?"

Neo took a few steps toward him, not overstepping Vladimir's critical boundaries. "Listen, we can all get out of here alive, just let my friends and my mother go."

Neo's offer made him laugh, "Ha! I thought we discussed this, boy. You have no leverage -- nothing to work off of. What? You think you're some great word-weaver? That through your modest choice of words can you sway me to release everyone?"

The older brother subtly creeped to the right -- Vladimir honed in on his position. The two now circling each other like two stray dogs, ready to snap at the other.

"No," Neo said, "but it couldn't hurt to try."

His lips barely moved, as Neo spoke under his breath, "Wester, if you're awake, I need you to use that magic you've got. Do something, anything. So long as it can take him out, even for a moment."

Vladimir took a fighting stance, raising his sword to fight, "It's been fun. But I'd rather finish this venture carefree, without a living crowd gathered around. I hope you don't mind."

Vladimir's back was turned to Adam, and Wester had hardly moved since Neo sent his message to him.

Neo didn't give Adam a sign, as the plan came swinging in like a hammer. Springing off of his hind legs, Adam pounced on Vladimir's back. Neo not long after charged ahead full in a powerful tackle. The armor provided an extra push to his sprint, giving him the feeling of a steam engine unstoppably plowing to his goal.

Vladimir grunted, the heavy armored pony wrapping his hooves around his neck. Neo unsheathed his hoof-blade, reeling it in for a forward thrust. The Legion Emperor saw it, darting to the side.

Thrusting his blade out at nothing, Neo staggered, swiping at Vladimir. The tip of the blade grazed Vladimir’s foreleg.

Droplets of Vladimir's blood dotted the floor. He seethed through his teeth, bucking and wrangling furiously to removed Adam. The glowing neck-collar fastened around Dahlia faded. She tumbled forward, no longer pinned to the panel.

Neo saw his mother gasping like a fish out of water. A part of him wanted to reach out, and help her. Panning his sights to the tussle between Vladimir and Adam, he returned to the fray.

Lashing out at Vladimir, Neo jostled the levitating blade away, sending it flying toward the controls. Delivering a tackle that would make a linebacker envious, Neo knocked the Emperor to his side. Adam quickly rolled off -- springing to his hooves.

Neo, standing over him, took long power-driven sweeps slamming his hooves into Vladimir's face. Flesh rippled, and bone crunched.

Neo’s face had turned entirely red, hot and suffused like heated iron. He punched Vladimir repeatedly, sending his head this way and that. "Never hurt my family again! Do you hear me?!"

Vladimir's horn became alight with magic once more. His voice resonated like cracking thunder, "Enough!"

Freeing his hoof, Vladimir took a clean blow to Neo's cheek. Adam, steps away, could hear the cringing crack of his brother's cheekbone. The hit threw him off, eventually causing Neo to trip over his footing.

Neo, tumbling to the floor, landed flat on his back. He bared his teeth, as Vladimir stepped over him. Individual halos of magic seized him by the collar, bringing the older brother close to Vladimir’s fuming breath.

Adam dashed to help his brother, before an invisible force picked the charging buck up, and launched him hurtling through the air to the controls. The back of his head smacked the metal, reactively making him bite down.

A stream of fresh blood trickled out of the corner of Vladimir's mouth, as his face was covered in black bruises. "Neo..." He revved, the magic's grip squelching the leather of the Neo's duster over the armor, "You do realise that that little stunt you pulled, is a whole new level of stupid..."

Slamming Neo back down onto his back, Vladimir reenacted the same long, fierce swiping punches he had given him. Adam blinked, shaking his head clear. The first thing he saw was the scene of his brother being beaten to death by Vladimir.

Adam extended a hoof, crying out, "Brother!"

Vladimir had his next punch lifted, and primed to come down, "Don't worry Adam, he'll live."

He threw the punch at Neo's face, the crack! of the impact clear, "But first, you'll hear the snap of your brother's bones!"

He prepped the next punch, "And when he's nothing more than a mangled mess of bone and flesh -- I'll move on to you, and together you'll die."

Each word he said was added to another punch, "Broken... Sad... and defeated."

Neo's face was scrunched, and purple. Fat drops of blood contrasting to what white part of his face remained.

Neo spit off to the side a glob of saliva, blood, and a few teeth. "A-Adam..."

"So be a good boy now," Vladimir boomed, "and stay back!"

Options ran low for Adam. His mind was hazy with thoughts all at once presenting themselves to him. He, for a brief instant, noticed his Pipbuck. Like flash, Adam drew his sidearm, pulling into the SATS menu.

The image of Vladimir bashing his brother's face in slowed to an almost still degree. Instantly boxes listing the hit-percentages appeared above various sections of the attacker's body. He aimed at the head, the most effective place to strike listing a sad fifteen percent chance of hitting.

The statistics hovering over Vladimir's exposed sides and flank yielded better numbers. Numbers ranging up to seventy percent. They were his best shot at temporarily stunning him, and Adam took it.

Three shots. That was all his SATS would allow for the moment. One at the flank -- two at the ribs. Hopefully the standard ammunition of his 4mm would puncture the armor enough to do any kind of damage.

The gunshots deeply echoed in a trio of clanks. The first bullet soared, rippling the air around it. It zoomed past Vladimir's head, while the second and third hit his ribs.

Vladimir's back arched unnaturally, as he bellowed aloud at the bullets' bite. The Emperor, shot his gaze at him, eyebrows lowered in a pinching glare. Adam's gun, telekinetically suspended in the air in front of him, became alight in the unicorn's energy, and was briskly ejected far away over the platform's railing.

Neo's attacker returned to him, flinching at the wounds inflicted on his side. As Vladimir hissed, Adam collected himself. Standing on all fours, nimbly light, running at the Emperor.

With his armor, Adam felt like a tank. A good amount of power forced into a shoulder thrust would push Vladimir away, and save his brother. But the odds were against the would-be armored pony, for Vladimir heard the tromping patter of Adam's hooves, rerouting his focus to the sword. The blade pointed at Adam, and flew like an arrow at him.

In the building momentum, Adam crossed a hoof to dodge the flying blade. The armor, plated so closely together, restricted such a change at the speed he moved at. Traveling for the soft unprotected space between his shoulder pad and right foreleg plate, the sword lodged itself deep once again tossing Adam backwards against the controls.

Adam shouted, a searing pain lancing through him. Neo, shaking and coughing heard the sound, drawing his dazed attention to him. "A... Adam..."

Dahlia crawled to her son, using both hooves on the pommel to remove the blade. Adam cried out in pain again, sending a nipping shiver down her spine.

The sword dropped to the floor, blood painting the top blade. Adam's blood.

She bit her sleeve, and yanked hard. Ripping a line of fabric off of her coat, Dahlia used the roughly configured rag -- applying pressure to Adam's wound.

Turning to Vladimir she called out to him, tears pooling in her distressing eyes, "Vladimir, stop this! It's not you, you have to fight it, please!"

Vladimir seized Neo by the collar again, picking up the stallion's limp-hanging head gasping for air. "I'm afraid your son asked for it, Dahlia. And he'll get much worse here in a moment!"

"Mom..." Adam's voice wilted as the pain continued to persist, "l-look..."

While looking at her son, she noted the blade. A crimson aura of unicorn magic encased the weapon. Shooting a glance at Wester, Dahlia saw the guardian's horn aglow.

The blade floated, spinning to Vladimir's direction. With half the velocity of Vladimir's throw, the blade flew, until: Thawk!

It buried a quarter of the blade in Vladimir's leg. Forgoing the armor, passing it entirely. The Emperor howled, stumbling backwards holding his stabbed leg. Adam's limbs felt like warped seeder logs as he rose. Dahlia, with a hoof on his back, plead, "Adam, what are you doing? You can't fight-"

"I have to save my brother," Adam murmured, "he... he... needs me."

Vladimir roared like a beast -- lips peeled back in a deranged snarl. He overlooked Neo, his previous victim, in substitute for Adam.

Vladimir threw his hoof at Adam, like he was tossing an invisible rock at him. A wave, comparable to a gust of hurricane wind, swept the resistor up flinging him back.

Adam's back hit the panel harder than it had before, hammering the wind out of his lungs.

He landed on his stomach, coughing out dry wheezing remnants of the oxygen in his chest. A few items, jostled in the chaos fell out of Adam's opened saddlebags behind him.

Vladimir switched back to Neo, his mind made. A fire glinted in the Legionnaire's eyes. Wicked and murderous as he prowled like a carnivore to his defeated prey. The sword, enveloped in his magic, flung to Vladimir's side -- the bloodstained tip hovering inches above Neo's neck.

"Now," he sighed slicking his mane back, "let's get this over with... I wanted it to be much more fun than this, but you've been nothing but a pain in my ass since the second you've arrived."

Adam shifted in place, groaning as he rolled over onto his side, "B-Brother..."

"Vladimir, please!" Dahlia screamed holding Adam, "I'll do anything, please!"

"Time's up!" Vladimir chirped, "You could've stopped this a long time ago."

Ally begged, "Neo! You have to fight him! Please get up!"

Adam's aching came out muttered, "L-Little Red... please."

The sword was raised, a guillotine armed to sever Neo's head from the rest of his body. "Good bye, boy. It'll be good to have one thing taken care of for once!"

Neo closed his single good eye, upturning his least-damaged cheek at Vladimir -- Bracing for the weapon.

Vladimir's mind, set on driving the blade wholly through the stallion's neck, paused. The fire snuffed out completely at the sound of a music box, distant but clear, chiming a easing-moving waltz.

His eyes went wide, as he turned to the source. The music box lay somewhere behind Adam, currently out of sight.

Vladimir blinked twice, "Mom? Dad?"

He shuffled to the sound, drawn to it like a sailor lured in by a siren's song. Halfway to Adam, he stopped. Shaking his head, Vladimir spun around grousing, "Damn.. I... can't believe I..."

Again he froze, seeing the very sword he owned floating toward him in his aura. "No," he shook his head vigorously backing away, "No, no! You can't! That’s impossible! I won't let you!"

Vladimir's flank bumped into the panel, there was nowhere to turn to now. He crouched himself, the haunted blade gradually honing in on him. "Y-You... You have no power here! I have control, me!"

"P-Please," Vladimir's ears melted into his mane, "I've done so much for us, I-I can make it up to you!"

He flailed himself backward, slapping his back against the cold steel of the control panel. "I MADE YOU WHO YOU ARE!"

The blade tip poked his gut, "NO! STOP! I BEG YOU!"

A fleshy, squishing noise came as the blade slowly ran through him. Vladimir reached out in all directions erratically, his words fading the further the weapon sank inward, "PLEASE! Please! No! I... I... Please..."

When the full length of the blade had stabbed him, Vladimir went completely limp. His eyes plastered with stunned appall made in the dying seconds.

Adam hobbled to his brother, whilst Dahlia came to inspect Vladimir's body. "Brother..."

Dahlia wiped a few of the tears from her cheeks, gingerly stepping to Vladimir, "Is... Is.. he?"

Vladimir's eyes bulged, life rapidly expanding in his chest. He sucked in air like a drowning victim, nearly coughing it all out the second after. The shock caused him to fall over onto his side, hacking out wildly.

Dahlia reeled back, "He's... He's alive?"

Hugging the wound at his stomach tight, Vladimir, feeling the scorching pain pound through him laughed, "It's... It's over...."

The unicorn, overcome with emotion, began to cry while chuckling, "It's over... It's finally over..."

The war, and the battles he had fought against the creature were over. Though the crimson stain of his blood spread the more he lived, Vladimir smiled.

Dahlia stood above the dying unicorn, kneading a hoof into his shoulder, "Vladimir... Are you-"

His eyes moved up to her, silently conveying an answer.

"I was right," Dahlia stroked the back of his mane, "wasn't I?"

He nodded, sobbing.

Ally rose on her hooves, and made her way to Neo. Adam had his brother's leg slung around his neck. Picking him off of the floor, "Ally, my brother's hurt real bad..."

She grunted, applying pressure to an injury on her left leg, "You're not too swell yourself."

Adam motioned his head to Vladimir, "What are we supposed to do now? About him, and the missile?"

Ally smiled, starting to Wester and Big Lot, "Let's get our friends some help first."

Ally peered back at the timer. "We have about fifteen minutes left. We can take five to help them out."

Half of the potion was all it took to correct a few fractured bones in Neo's face. A majority of the scarring had been removed as well, though one eye remain swollen and inflamed.

Big Lot sat, messaging her head in large circular motions, "Gah, this brings back memories."

Lucy while walking by, pat her once on the head, shooting out crude gripe from the filly.

Vladimir was sitting upright, while Dahlia finished wrapping a bandaged around his stomach, "I'm surprised you haven't bled out yet. You're body seems to be more durable than anyone I've ever seen."

"It's because of where I'm from," Vladimir answered a gargling husk to his tone, "I hope."

"Whatever the reason," Dahlia concluded, "you're not going to live much longer if we keep you here."

Neo and Adam walked to Vladimir, listening in on the two's conversation.

He gulped, sounding sincere, "I'm not leaving."

"What do you mean?" Dahlia said, tying off the wrappings.

"I'm not leaving." He repeated, "I can't leave."

"Why not?" Dahlia asked, "You can make it out alive!"

Vladimir folded his hooves, staring the mare in the eyes, "Where, I ask, is there a place for me in the new world? In a world I tried to destroy? A place I tried to tame by force?"

She sat quiet, listening to him finish. "How could I walk in towns I've controlled, or strolled through cities I've had under my hoof for decades -- only to have cause them nothing but horror and suffering? How could I do that without feeling that crippling sense of regret?"

Dahlia countered, "None of it was your fault, not one bit of it."

"It was all my fault." Vladimir said, "I may have not thought up all of those cruel ideas, but I let them happen. I was convinced it was the correct way."

"So yes," he stated, "it is all my fault. And no matter how much I'll try, I'll always be running. From my past, from that thing that had me."

"What life is that to live, Dahlia?"

Neo's jaw, still sore from the beating, ached as he nudged it to Iron Hammer, "W-What about the missile?"

Vladimir sighed, "I'll destroy it."

"How?" Adam wondered, eyeing the weapon up and down.

"I'll detonate it in here... inside the mine. The mountain should hold the blast, but the city outside and the mine itself will be gone."

Neo added, "You sound like you know this will work. How can you be so sure? Especially with a missile that big?"

"Trust me," Vladimir forced a brief smile, "I've been thinking of ways to destroy that monstrosity for days now."

"Can you do it, though?" Adam straightened a hoof to the medical work done to protect his stomach, "Considering your position physically?"

"I can." Vladimir confirmed, "I'll set the missile to go off at the end of the countdown, by then you all should be out of here."

Neo took a gander at Iron Hammer's ticking clock, "We only have nine minutes left, it took Adam and I a good ten minutes just to get to one of the boiler rooms."

Waving a tired hoof at the supply shed, Vladimir said, "In there... hopefully they didn't remove the spare supply cart we used for transporting sun gem ore."

Adam looked over his shoulder at the shed. "Do you think we'll all fit?"

"Ask your pilot." Vladimir replied.

Dahlia spoke tenderly, "Boys, how about you get Lucy and the others to make sure the cart will work for us. I... I want to say a few last things to Vladimir before I go."

Adam blinked, completely silent in disbelief. Once the thought process, he shook his head, "O-Oh, okay. Brother?"

Neo nodded, and together the brothers made their way to the shed. Dahlia watched long enough to catch them calling the others to gather with them.

"Dahlia..." Vladimir's words came out smooth and endearing, "I know what this is about-"

"No," she turned to look at him, "why don't you come with us? I understand why you think it's wrong, but you don't need to die like this."

He smiled, warmly melting her defenses, "Dahlia."

Brushing a dangling piece of her mane to the side, he cooed, "Let me have this... just... for once in my life. Let me correct the mistake I've made... please."

Dahlia's lower lip puckered, he could feel the tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. "Vladimir..."

He elevated her chin so their eyes could remain locked, "Live well with your sons... From the moment I saw them in Ironhoof I knew they were special. So please, let me secure a future for them... for their children in this terrible world."

"Can you do that for me?" He asked.

Her eyes darted in sporadic directions, searching for another reason to take him, "I... I..."

"Please?"

She sighed, the last tear slithering down her chin, "I... I can."

Having wheeled the cart to middle section of the platform, Lucy finished circling it for the seventh time. Her head bobbed comically as the mare combed it for damage and wear.

She stopped at the front, "It looks stable enough."

Adam hopped up on the rough wooden rim of the cart, investigating the interior they'd be using, "Do you think we could all fit in it? Let alone, could you fly with us all inside?"

Lucy poked Adam's breastplate, "Not with this on, no."

"Besides that though," Lucy retrieved her fedora stowed away her bags, "we should be swell."

She whipped it out, shocking out the wrinkles and folds, before lightly dusting it off. "I'll be set to fly any moment now."

Vladimir bit his lip, turning for a second to look at the counter, "You'll need to leave soon." He bellowed, returning to his idle stance against the panel.

"All right then, folks." Lucy placed her hat upon her head, swiping the front brim, "Dis-robe yourselves. It's going to be a long way out."

Outstretching her wings, she flapped them twice, "Especially with the ol' girls still feeling sore."

Neo unlatched his steel bracers, with his brother following. Ally unbuckled her shoulder pads, and Big Lot shimmied out of her leggings. No more than half of the group's power armor had been removed before a profound, stunning noise blared.

Chah-click.

Everyone went into a freeze-frame moment. Armor halfway removed, and some pieces still held in their hooves to be tossed off. Neo turned around to the bridge, seeing Ironside stand at its end.

The barrel of an assault-rifle combat saddle pointed at them, "What do you think you're doing?" He asked.

Neo rose a surrendering hoof, "Ironside..."

His eyes saw the counter, a few minutes remaining, "Were you going to leave it here?"

Seeing Vladimir sit so closely to the controls jolted his stomach, "What's he doing here!? What’s going on here?!"

"Ironside," Neo took a cautious step to him, "listen to me, we need to do this."

Dahlia gestured a hoof to Vladimir, "I know what I'm about to say might sound insane, but he's going to fire off the weapon here. Stopping it from ever being used by anyone, forever."

"You're right, that does sound insane, Dahlia. Coming from you of all ponies!"

"We can't have the weapon in anyone's hooves! Not now, not ever!" Dahlia exclaimed.

He leaned himself inward, cocking his head to one side leering at her, "You do realize what you're saying to me is treason?"

"I know it seems wrong to you," Dahlia urged, "but believe me -- if you have any trust in me, you'll believe what I'm telling you to be the truth."

"I'm sorry, Dahlia," he stiffened his legs, bracing himself to unload the gun's ammunition, "but I won't let you destroy all we've fought for."

Behind his head, coming at full speed was the hilt of Vladimir's sword. Like a bat, swinging a home-run, it smacked him thwack! Ironside coughed out the breath he held while aiming, expelling a short ooph.

Falling on weak, buckling knees, his eyes rolled back as consciousness escaped him. Then, planting his cheek into the floor, he tipped on his side.

Big Lot stood behind him, the blade's end sandwiched in her hooves. "We don't have time for this crap!" She yelled, dropping the sword.

Neo's words were jumbled together, "I... I... Uh, okay then?"

The filly huffed ripping off her chest plate, and slamming it on the ground, "Now let's get out of here before the whole place explodes!"

Lucy snapped the last buckle of the cart around her, "Is everyone set?"

Bits of armor plates littered the platform. Oxygen tanks and ribbed pressure tubes were among detached battle-saddles.

Wester had Ironside slung over his shoulder like a hunted animal. He handed him off to those in the cart, sardined together in the compact space. "Beside myself, it seems everyone is ready, Lucky."

As Wester hopped inside, Lucy began flapping her wings in quick bursts, "Alright-y then, looks like we're all set for take off!"

Dahlia was on the cart's side facing the panel. She waved goodbye to Vladimir, air pushed down gusting unseen dust on the floor away in flurries. Vladimir shielded his face, squinting his eyes watching the cart take off.

All of his muscles felt pummeled, and weak. Even movements as simple as a twitch provoking a sharp stab. Biting through the pain, his teeth came down on his lower lip, allowing himself to giving her a wave in return while the cart hovered further from the platform.

Vladimir sat by himself. The tedious ticking of seconds going by on the counter.

Alone, he stood up, turning to the controls and working the systems.

An end to end all things -- there, and now. By his hooves.

He plugged in the passcode to bypass the firewall -- typing in the final commands to seal both his and the weapon's fates. His hoof shook, laying atop the red glowing crown of the confirm button. A nerve, instinctively, wanted him to survive.

But surviving and living are two different things. Vladimir had had more than his own fill of surviving.

Applying pressure to the button, it clicked. The order sent in. Permanently.

A hot steam enriched the chamber. Vents located at the bottom of Iron Hammer's central exhaust engines spewed storms of the vapor.

He burned, all over, slowly cooking from the outside in. Not a place on his body did Vladimir feel untouched by the fabric of the uniform, drenched in sweat, cling to his fur.

His breaths were short, as the sensation of flaming coals sank in his gut. He reached for the music box Adam had left behind, moisture collecting like morning dew on its surface.

The box felt as though it had been liberally splashed by water. He lay the box on his lap, looking down at the glossy varnish illuminate in the dim light.

Years. It was years since he had run a hoof across its familiar surface. A barking mare's voice exploded from a speaker on the control panel:

"Warning: The correct systems for launch are not in place. Please, activate launching codes to ensure a safe takeoff."

A red light flashed like the sun over the panel. Overtaking the other sources of interior illumination. Vladimir attentively wiped the water off of the box's lid, "There… There..."

The memories stabbed at his heart drawing a few tears. "...All... All better..."

"Alert!" The control systems warned, "Launch imminent, please enter launch codes to begin take off initiatives. Failure to do so will result in destruction of Iron Hammer."

With an unsteady hoof, he unlatched the lid -- lifting it slightly. Holding the music box ajar by merely a sliver, he put a hoof to his mouth. Sealing festering sobs inside.

"Alert! Launch will automatically start in: One minute. Please activate all launch systems before takeoff."

Vladimir swallowed the oncoming break-down, pushing it back into his chest. Slowly, he opened the music box, unveiling two ivory carvings of a mare in an extravagant ballroom gown, and stallion dressed in a blue suit. The exuberant paints, were chipping or faded. Yet, in a graceful display, the two came together. Twirling in a waltz to the tune of ambivalent joy and melancholy.

He watch the two lovers embrace -- investing his attention entirely in the dance.

"Warning: Launch imminent. Engine will ignite in: Thirty seconds."

After a moment, a strange object taped to the top of the inner lid caught his eye. It was a piece of browned parchment, with the a note written in a cursive calligraphy:

"Dear, Little Red. It's been so long since I've seen you... unfortunately, I may not be able to give you this in person. Why, does not matter. What does, is that I tell you how much I miss you. I know that by the time you read this note I’ll finally be with your mother, and together we'll wait for you. I just hope you live a long and happy life, and that we'll always be watching over you. I love you with all my heart.

We miss you,

Dad."

As the notes faded softly to silence, he closed the lid and put a trembling hoof to his lips. A few choking sobs burst through his defenses. Cooling tears, two at a time, trickled gently down his cheeks to the floor.

"Warning: Collision with launch shaft imminent. Starting in: Ten seconds."

Hugging the box, like it was his own parents, he closed his eyes.

"Ten... nine... eight... seven... six..."

"Mom... Dad..."

"Five... four…"

"I..."

"Three.. two…"

"I love you too."

"One."

Little teeth dug in Lucy's wing muscles. Frantically she flapped, veering down corridor upon corridor -- flying a foot off of the ground. At long last, a steel-sported doorway lay at the hallway’s end, leading to the mine’s foyer winning pit.

Lucy's teeth gnashed, as quick pumping veins budged. A shake rattled the mine, unfelt by those in the cart. All around them, however, the quake shattered solid rock walls, engraving long cracks rooting up to the ceiling.

In the chamber, Lucy bolted at twice the speed. Flapping and subconsciously cantering in mid-air.

Snorting, Lucy mumbled, "C'mon... don't get to us yet... j-just a little more."

The gate came well within view. Crossing the threshold between the inner mine, and the outside -- starkly cooler air rushed by their heads. The entire ground, amidst the detention broke, tearing the streets below apart. Coalition soldiers, having felt the rumble, raced to the gunships landing on firm regions of land unaffected by the quake.

They ran for dear life, some dashing with a swiftness parallel to three ponies pushing out all they had. Adrenaline does that to a pony in danger, and Lucy could feel the energizing chemical drive the next wing stroke in her quest to vacate the city.

Geysers of white surly steam towering ten ponies high erupted from the ever-widening crevasses in the asphalt. Ships, already loaded with soldiers, soared beside her -- more joining the further she flew.

The skeletons of old charred buildings succumbed to the trembling earth. Beams snapping, and metal grinding on metal in a chill-inducing wail. Gracefully the skyscrapers swayed, at the mercy of their failing supports.

Until, at their bases, everything fell. Like lofty trees sliced at their bottom, the buildings slashed the ashen smog, dropping to the lower city. Adam looked back at the mountain, watching the city crumble one massive structure at a time.

Lucy's strong rhythm of flapping faulted. The cart shook like a whip, as she gradually descended to open land, with nothing but rolling hills in all directions. A few gunships had touched-down in the same vicinity, a few curious soldiers emerging from loading ramps.

Coming to a landing, Lucy flapped her wings three times, bringing the cart to slow. A twister of dust and dirt kicked up in her gusts while she landed between two smaller gunships. A few Coalition soldiers, spotting them out, rushed to the group's aid.

The moment Lucy's hooves touched stable earth, the rest of her legs caved-in to burning fatigue. The mare's tongue inflated, as she huffed dry torrid breaths grating her throat like sandpaper.

She lay her head flat on the ground, rump harnessed to the cart still propped up in the air. "Are... are we safe?"

One Coalition unicorn, unhitching her from the wagon, nodded, "Yes, we're at a safe distance from the mine."

"Good." Lucy shut her eyes, "I'm not going to fucking fly any more..."

Another soldier helped those inside hop out of the wagon one at a time. The mountain in the distanced gurgled and thundered like some frightening storm out of sight. Adam leapt to the ground hard, helping his brother afterward.

Neo, having exited the cart, broke out into a hearty guffaw, "We did it! Hahaha! We really did it!"

Adam bounded onto him, wrapping his brother in a grizzly hug. "We did it! We did it!"

The unicorn who helped Lucy, levitated Ironside's unconscious body in a quirky pink sparkling aura, "W-Wha... What happened to the Captain?"

Ally rubbed the curls behind her head, "Well... Ironside found us, and on the way out he got hit with a pretty bad rock."

"A rock?" The unicorn recalled.

"Yeah," she confirmed, "a falling one from the ceiling. A pretty good sized one too."

"A rock." Big Lot snickered walking by.

The brothers, feeling the planet quake another time, walked to the top of the nearest hill, and looked out at the far-away mountain. Plumes of billowing steam ascending out of fractured rock in its face. Dahlia ambled between them, partaking in viewing the expansive vista.

"It's finally over, boys... it's finally over."

"Mom?" Adam asked, "What do you think is going to happen to the mountain?"

She clamped a hoof on his shoulder -- pulling him in to her, "Let's find out."

The snow-capped peak of the mountain imploded -- sinking into itself. Like an active volcano, a rush of rock and fire enriched the grey sky in a bleeding crimson hue. The dragon's breath bellowing out of the mountain's lid, sent a shockwave coursing through the region.

The trio felt a breeze whisk by them a few seconds after, followed by the clouds dissipating and retreating from the blast. In Iron Hammer's conflagration scorching the city squat at the mountain's base beamed an exuberant golden light. Pillars, blinding like floodlights phased through the parting cloud cover.

The three squinted, eventually raising a hoof to shield their eyes from the rays. Ally trudged up the hill with the others in-tow, to meet them. Protecting their own vision.

As Neo's sight cleared -- adjusting to the excessive shine, he blinked seeing a flawless pallet of baby-blue where the grim cloud blanket had once been.

Adam's jaw hung open, the sky wiped clear, "Mom..."

He rubbed one eye after the other in disbelief, "Is... Is... that?"

Looking at his mother, her lower lip quivering. "Mom? Are you-"

The sunshine twinkled in her tearing eyes like glistening sapphires, "Yes... Yes," she said sweeping the tears away, "I'm fine..."

Neo's could hardly breath, "I-Is that really it? Is it-"

Dahlia nodded, "It is, Neo. It's the sun... It's the sun."

Someone had rigged the most elaborate speaker-system for a record player to-date in Steelhoof Keep. Out of stereos towering to shoulder-height, blasted a flurry of popping swing tunes -- charging the atmosphere with rhythm and mirth.

The tables in the cafeteria were cleared aside, leaving a wide dance floor for dozens to move. Pairs of ponies in celebration took one another twirling underarm moves. Others sat around the chairs laid outside the border of the dance space watching, clapping and smiling.

A few soldiers, too injured to partake in the dance, tapped their hooves to the beating drums, and nodded their heads to the songs. Neo walked outside the celebration into the outside hallway, dozens of bloodied linens wrapped over his wounds sustained in the fight.

He traveled a way down the hall, Adam charging behind him calling out as he went, "Brother! Where are you going?"

Neo paused, and turned to meet his brother, "Adam?"

Adam slowed himself, huffing, "Brother," he said motioning his head back to the celebration, "aren't you going to stay for the party?"

Even from outside in the hall did the ecstatic music resonate transparently clear, "I will, it's just... I want to see it again. Just one more time, you know, before it sets."

"Oh," Adam looked behind him like he’d left someone at the dancefloor.

He was quiet, for a second, pondering, "D-Do you mind if I come with you? I wouldn't mind getting the view before nighttime."

The two brothers walked a few more steps until they came to two doors. A gentle nudge, and they parted, exposing a pleasant little cobblestone balcony overlooking a wide expanse of wasteland territory.

Half the sun rested behind the waving hills in the distance -- the sky tinged in a bleeding magenta brushing the lean transparent clouds left by the blast in a deep crimson. It was their first sunset, and both gawked at its majesty.

"Whoa..." The sight stretched the limits of Neo's cheeks muscles, "It's... well, it's one thing to read about."

"Yeah," Adam nodded, "It's sure something."

"You know, it's a little hard to believe it's over." Neo said.

"I wonder what'll happen now brother... with most of the Legion's forces caught in the city, and their leaders dead -- do you think they'll get together again? Try to retaliate the best they can?"

"Nah," Lucy's voice neighed from the doors, "at best they'll be bickering too much on who should run the dying army... what's left it, anyway."

Neo faced her, "Lucy? What you are doing out here?"

"What's it look like?" She smirked, "Looking for you two bozos."

"Why didn't you stay for the party?" Lucy inquired.

Her question spurred a hearty chuckle inside Neo's chest, "For the once in lifetime view, of course."

"Of course." Lucy scoffed, making her way to the balcony railing.

Lucy stared out into the sunset, "Your mom's coming up, and so is your dad. Thought I'd give you fair warning. It won't be long before more follow."

"Heh," Adam laughed, "I guess we'll have the whole keep out here, huh?"

"Seems like it." Lucy hopped down from the railing, trotting to the doors, "Ironside's gonna' wake up soon. He's probably going to need someone to let him know it's over."

"Is he going to be okay?" Adam wondered, as Lucy stopped at the doors to answer him.

She shook her head, braying, "He'll be fine, royally pissed, but fine."

The pegasus poked her snout out of the door for a moment, "Whoa! Okay, looks like it's my time to split."

Pushing the door ajar, she looked over her shoulder at the two, "Don't stay too long out here. You really shouldn't miss out on too much of the fun."

The instant Lucy vacated the balcony, Dahlia and Ronan together came through. Dahlia paused in the doorway, a hoof touching her breast as she gasped at the colors woven in the sky, "My goodness, boys! What a view!"

"It's something, isn't it?" Neo replied.

Ronan strolled to the rail whistling impressively, "I haven't seen a sunset like that since... well, since Neo was just a babe."

"Though," Dahlia included, "everyone's going to wonder where you two went off to soon."

Ronan nodded, "That little one, Big Lot, she's already wanting to know where Adam went off to."

A warmth flushed Adam's heart, "She's sweet."

Adam blinked, a thought coming to him, "Hey, what's going to happen to her? With the Legion exiling her, what's next?"

"Well," Dahlia began factually, "I heard she's going to be put back on the border as the new Captain there."

Ronan interjected, "Of course, Ms. Luck and that armored fellow are going to stay a week or two with them... just to be sure."

All four of them swayed their gaze to the bronze beaming disk sinking into the horizon. Neo, for a second, saw his entire family -- happy and together. "We're all here."

The statement perked Adam's ears, "What?"

"We're all here." Neo repeated, "Our family."

Dahlia jumped up on her hind legs, spreading her arms out wide to swoop all three stallions in a massive group embrace, "And nothing -- not wastelands, nor wars can keep us apart."

Adam giggled, putting a hoof around her, "We love you too mom."

The family, together directed their attention to the sun. All but the star's top, protruded from the distant hills. The world was shaded in a deep hue of purple, the period transitioning to nightfall. While the curtain of dark fell they watched the burning orb vanish completely. Nighttime soon approaching.

Foot Note: Max Level Reached

New Perk: Older Brother: You've reached the maximum level, all of the stats for your next game are increased by +5. You also have access to a variety of new and diverse perks. Don’t wait too long, the next adventure awaits!

Foot Note: Level Up!

Would you like to level Adam to the maximum level?

Yes-

No

New Perk: Little Brother: You've reached the maximum level, all of the stats for your next game are increased by +5. You also have access to a variety of new and diverse perks. Don’t wait too long, the next adventure awaits!

Author's Note

This was it -- the last chapter of Brotherhood. While I believe the ending here worked as the closing to the chapter, it is by no means, the end. Having said this, the true ending can be found in the epilogue, coupled with my final thoughts on the story.

As for how I thought this chapter turned out, I can say confidently that it came out well. There are scenes here which did their job remarkably well. However, writing this I struggled immensely finding a narrator's voice. I truly think this is what made drafting the chapter a challenge. In the end, having been the soul editor for it, I've found that I did do well. (All things considered.)

As I mentioned before, I won't say too much here, because everything I really want to tell you is in the epilogue.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you liked it, why not click the like button? Really enjoyed it? How about favoriting it? Have a compliment, thought, or criticism about the chapter -- then please, don't be shy to leave a comment!

• Noakwolf