by Sub Warden Sun Nov 25, 2012 5:10 am
While Trails was being his hard headed self in the hideout the Khans were letting out a collective death rattle. The sound was music to Cuss' aged ears. The fuckers that had dogged the NLR from the day they arrived in the Mohoofe lie at his hooves now, dead or dying it didn't matter, they'd been crushed no ifs about it. He smiled cruelly and lit a smoke while trotting over to his son.
The pair had taken an uncharacteristically hooves off approach to the attack. Neither wanted to be responsible for something slipping through the cracks, or to be more accurate somepony. The risk of a Khan regroup was something they'd all considered, and it was generally agreed that a reformed Great Khans with their 'Papa' wasn't a threat they wanted to tackle. A threat that could be better prevented from mass organization, and fighting in the trenches, as much as both stallions wanted to do it, wasn't conducive to that end.
“We've done it kiddo.” Cuss patted his colt on the back and smiled at the sight of the burning encampment.
“Sure did,” Pot mumbled, the younger buck looking much more distracted than his father, “once cleanup's done what're we doing, going back to McMaren?”
“I suspect Shoe and Date Tree are gonna both want a debreif soon as we get back, sooner the better. I can't speak for higher up will want, but that's for later. We're taking some well earned leave, your mother's been bugging me for news about you ever since you got posted here.”
“Ugh.” Pot moaned. “Mom's never gonna stop is she?”
“She's your mother, what do you think?”
“Point ta-”
“Shadowhooves one to Whiskey Seven.” the radio cut over Cuss' emergency band.
“What is it?”
“We've got movement down the back canyon, like we figured.”
“Then what's the hang up?”
“Well it's the tangos, somethings not right.”
“You're not paid to think soldier, fire till you run out of targets or ammo. Understood?”
The radio was quiet for an eerily long time before the voice quietly answered, “Roger.”
Rake jumped over a collapsed yurt and sprayed his carbine at the latest pair of NLR troopers to show their ugly muzzles. This whole day had been a shit storm and a half, leaving more good ponies dead than he'd ever cared to see. What rested worst with him wasn't the loss, it was the responsibility. He knew full well this was nothing but retaliation in the highest degree for their drug dealing and attacks. Retaliation for attacks he'd too long tolerated. If he and any remnant of the Great Khans survived past today it was time for a change, for them to finally listen to reason. They had needed a wake up call and dear Luna did it come.
Moonshine skulked around the edges of the camp for a long time, doing his best to stay away from the fighting. He was just a chem cook after all, not some super soldier. Papa had given him a job to do, an impossible job, but he knew why it had to be done. He'd never been fond of Rake, nopony at the table was, other than+++ Betts for some reason. The stallion had a nasty holier-than-thou streak left over from his bitch sister. That whole fucking family had the habit of raising shit over the dumbest things. Life would be simpler with him dead.
At least that's what the scrawny chem cook told himself as he passively hunted the VP. In his heart he was terrified of the stallion, who he'd seen routinely kill ponies much stronger than himself as if it was foal's play. Truth was Rake was a warrior, somepony with strength that presented a real threat to Papa Khan. Shine was just a weak pawn in the game of giants, and he was being sent to capture the knight fast turning white. When he finally did find his prey he felt more scared and cornered rat than predator.
He fumbled with the pistol, nearly dropping it as he pulled it out of the holster. Rake shot at a couple of NLR troopers, the sound made Shine jump, convinced the shots were directed at him. He took a second to make sure of his aim, shaking so badly that it was more of a hope than a carefully drawn bead. He fired with a jerk of his tongue, seizing up in terror as the gun went off.
Rake froze as he felt the old familiar pain of a slug tearing through him. How? Was hi first thought, oddly enough. He'd been so careful to keep himself covered, knowing full well the NLR were going to surround them after flooding the canyon. He'd been deliberately walking to the caves in the back, being sure not to broadcast his destination. Still here he was, wounded by some sniper. He spun around, no scope flares. He looked lower....Shine with a smoking gun.
“You little...”
Shine panicked, how in the name of Clestia's glory did that asshole survive. Rake started speaking, no doubt promises to end the small stallion who'd shot him. Near hyperventilating, Shine fired wildly at the big Stallion. The gun clicked dry and still the VP slowly trotted forward. His chest was a tapestry of bleeding wounds now, half a dozen rounds having found their mark.
The old war pony struggled to breathe as he staggered after his murderer. He'd known this day would come, known that his hackle raising would eventually get him killed killed by one of 'Papa's' little lapdogs. He'd thought he'd had more time though, at least until he'd gotten to see his son really become a man. It wasn't rage that filled Rake's dying heart as he died, it was regret. Perhaps that was his punishment for all his failures as a Stallion, to die full of regret.
