Shit, shit, SHIT!
 
That was all Meat Hook Sr. could say as he barreled out of the Carrot’s farm with a stolen truck. Someone had snitched on him, and the whole thing was falling apart. He had to ditch the stash, not even having time to hide it before the cops began to pull up. It was lost, but he still had a chance here. He took one of the trucks sitting in the garage and, using his now-stolen keys, revved it up and charged into town.
 
He looked to see one of the police cruisers chasing after him. Apparently they had expected something like this. It wasn’t the first escape he had made like this. Damn reputations…
 

 
Chief trotted alongside Rarity, as silently stoic as ever. He scanned the crowd, but there didn’t seem to be anything out of place in the market. There was nothing but vendors hawking their wares and friends chatting in the middle of the road. The street had been closed off for the market, as it was every Sunday. It was clearly marked at both ends, though everyone knew about Pinecone Street by now. It was almost more a formality.
 
Still, Chief had learned that the worst place to let your guard down is a place that everyone says is safe. he hadn’t brought any of his weapons along at Rarity’s insistence (something about his “therapy” for Equestrian life), which wasn’t doing his nerves any favors. He kept watch, tensed ofr anything at all to go wrong.
 
Rarity stopped in front of the cabbage stand, examining the heads for the right one. Rarity took pride in all her creations, and this salad needed to be perfect.
 

 
Damn! He couldn’t shake this guy!
 
Meat Hook Sr. turned this way and that, speeding though the Ponyville streets. They weren’t exactly wide, or overly well kept. Fortunately the truck was used to rough terrain.
 
Unfortunately, it wasn’t slowing the police car down either. They were well-versed in driving through the old roads, and a high speed chase like this was nothing to them. Meat Hook saw a chance to get away, and took a sharp left.
 
Straight through the roadblocks on Pinecone Street.
 

 
Wood went flying everywhere, as the fragile roadblocks exploded as the speeding truck smashed through them. A large shard embedded itself in the wheel and the vehicle went spinning out of control, heading straight for the cabbage stand.
 
Rarity froze. The truck froze. Time itself froze. Rarity saw it plow through the carefully stacked crates of vegetables, their contents flying everywhere. There was an odd sort of calm as she saw her fate, now inescapable. She never thought it would end like this, or so soon. She could only pray it would be quick.
 
She felt something push her to the sidewalk. She was certain she had been hit. This was it.
 
Then there was an ear-piercing crash and a sound like a fuse-box blowing, followed by a blinding flash.
 
There was also a sharp pain on her butt. It brought her to her senses quickly.
 
Rarity looked around. She was laying on the sidewalk, alive. She sat up carefully, and took in the carnage. Beside her was her grocery basket, its contents scattered all over the ground. In fact a lot of things were, mostly broken planks and cabbages. She looked up, and gasped.
 
In front of her was the car, or what was left of it. The front was completely totaled, as were its sides. The bumper has half-off, the windshield smashed, and the driver-side door had completely fallen off. But that wasn’t all that was there.
 
Standing in front of that was John, still bracing against the ground and holding onto the truck. There was a flicker around him, a few sparks occasionally jumping off his armor. Satisfied the truck was stopped, he turned around and reached a hand down to Rarity, gingerly pulling her to her feet.
 
Rarity wobbled as she stood up, and her high-heeled boots weren’t helping. She felt her cheek - it was wet, but not from blood, thank Faust. She looked at John, and his shields began to stabilize.
 
“Are you hurt?” He asked in his usual gruff tone. She could barely speak.
 
“J-John? What… what was that?”
 
As if in answer to her question, a police cruiser pulled up, carefully weaving around the debris as best it could. It stopped besides the ruined truck and the officer got out. She was a short, yellow mare, with a messy mane to match. She stared at the Spartan as she made her way to the driver, her mouth slightly hanging open. June Badge had seen a lot of crazy things during her years on the force, but this… this was something else.
 
Meathook Sr. stumbled out of his seat, dazed and confused.
 
“Hey, anybody get the number on that, uh… tank?”
 
There was a click of metal, and he felt something wrap around his wrists.
 
“Ten, the same number of years you’re probably looking at after this.”
 
Shit.