//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: The Whip-Cracking Crusader // Story: Spectrum of Lightning // by Seriff Pilcrow //------------------------------// Daring Do dipped her head low—whip in one hoof, custom sharpened trowel in the other. Shadows flickered past her quarters, her breath held as she hid from an earth pony mercenary hungry for the bounty on her head. “Just another ordinary workday.” Not that she had planned this in her schedule. Just minutes before, she was recuperating on a large Abyssinian steamer making its way down the Turquoise Nile to the Valley of the Queens. If the notes she scribbled on Gallant True's map were correct, she would be one step closer to finding the Crystal Sphere of Khnum. Daring allowed a small smile to crease her lips. She could already hear the cheers from the Society of Equestrian Archeology congratulating her for such a historic find. Maybe they'd forgive her for all the temples and dig sites she'd inadvertently collapsed in the process of playing tomb raider and thwarting Ahuizotl. But most of all, she could see her uncle among the crowd, tears of joy in his eyes. Daring lay on her stomach behind her bed and retreated from the light shining through the window, just as a mercenary walked into view. His tall frame and his AK-793 "Avtomát Karabín" rifle cast a shadow into the room, made uneven by the design of his camouflage-pattern jacket. Damn assault rifles. Now she knew why Uncle Ad pined for his former bolt-action days. Captain Iskinder and his crew were supposed to stop by one of the fishing villages for supplies, but Dr. Caballeron and his mercenaries boarded the ship and had other ideas. It was par for the course of an adventure: some other greedy bastard always had to try to seize the treasure at the end with violent force. Daring would have rolled her eyes if she hadn't already done so the past 317 times this happened. Daring licked her lips and tightened her grip around the trowel. Part of her mind wanted to take to the air and fly out the window. If Caballeron had brought his usual posse of unarmed, unobservant guards, like he did back when he teamed up with Ahuizotl to obtain the Ring of Destiny, she would probably just hightail it. But a quick look told Daring that Caballeron had changed tactics. He'd saved enough money to buy more seasoned bounty hunters, many armed with rifles and machine guns. She couldn't leave the crew behind, though—they wouldn't stand a chance. “They didn't dig this hole… I did,” Daring muttered to herself. “Well, at least I brought the trowel.” “Come out, come out, my little Do Dare…” the mercenary cooed. “Give yourself up now, and maybe Boss'll take good care of you. I promise, he ain't like Volt. You still remember her, right? Heh-heh, don't worry—I miss her, too.” Daring's eyes widened. These weren't just bounty hunters from the Zebrican underworld hired solely to hunt her down in Abyssinia. They—or at least this particular merc—were veterans, ex-special forces experienced not just with fighting hostile forces, but also with fighting her. She should know. That merc's voice didn't have any trace of a Zebrican accent. “Focus, Daring—now is not the time,” she scolded. Not when the mercenary had just turned his head to see Daring's prone form behind the bed. “Ah, there you are!” Before he could raise his rifle, a crack reverberated inside the cabin. The rifle slipped from his hooves and clattered to the floor. Dropping the whip, Daring got up and charged into him shoulder first. Their bodies smashed a nearby wooden desk into splinters. The earth pony fell onto his back, and then Daring threw two punches into his head. He tried to reach for his combat knife, but Daring was quicker to her trowel and sank its blade into his chest. Bloodstains spread on his clothes as he writhed, then fell motionless on the debris. Daring's ears twitched at the sound of beating wings coming from down the hall. She picked up the stallion's AK, crouched behind her bed, and aimed down the hall through the window of her cabin. Two pegasus mares, dressed in the same camouflage-patterned jacket, flew down the hall and spotted their fallen colleague. “Contact! Con—” A burst from Daring's rifle interrupted the first pegasus. She grunted as her body tumbled across the floor, her rifle flying from her hooves. The other pegasus mercenary dove for cover behind a wall, narrowly missing another burst of bullets. “Get me some damn backup!!” Daring ducked her head. The surviving mercenary returned fire with a submachine gun. Daring dragged the stallion's body toward cover and pulled her trowel out, suppressing the urge to cough as bullet impacts kicked dust into her face. The firing stopped. Daring holstered her whip and trowel. She assumed a bipedal stance and crept towards the door, her rifle aimed at the mercenary's hiding place. Her eyes caught the mercenary's snout peeking out the window. “You missed a spot.” Bang. Bang. Bang. The AK breathed out a wisp of smoke. There was a thud. Daring raced out the door and into the hall, her rifle trained on where she had last seen her attacker. When she saw the perforated pony skull, she lowered her gun and eased her tensed muscles, sucking in a breath. Somepony tackled her from behind. The rifle flew from Daring's hooves. Her hoof stretching for it even as she hit the floor. Her chin smashed against the wooden floor, her teeth piercing her tongue. The taste of iron flooded her mouth as she struggled against the mercenary on top of her. “I got her!” a stallion's voice said amid several grunts. “Take the shot!” She tried to turn her head to look at him, but a punch to her cheek sent her face back to the floor. “Hold her still!” said a mare's voice behind the stallion. Daring grunted as she pawed the floor near the rifle. Her breathing quickened when the tip of her hoof touched its pistol grip. Just a little further… A pair of green hooves walked into view from the side and kicked the rifle away. “Damn it!” Daring's mind raced. As she continued to struggle against the stallion behind her back, she saw the shadows of the stallion's marefriend and the shotgun she wielded in front of her. Why hadn't she taken the shot yet? “What are you waiting for?! Shoot her already!” the stallion shouted, echoing Daring's thoughts. “Do you think I'm getting paid extra if I hit you too?” the mare mercenary said. “Hell no!” “Listen, I can't hold her down forever! You gotta—” Daring elbowed the stallion in the face. He recoiled, clutching his snout. Before his colleague could take the shot, Daring dove towards the green mare's hind legs, using her wings for extra speed, and then knocked the mercenary off her hooves. Daring got up and unfurled her whip. In a split second, it curled into a lasso, yanked the green mare's shotgun from her hooves, and brought it to Daring's own. The gunshot's boom echoed through the hall. Daring had painted the walls red. The green mare's body trembled and then collapsed. Daring had barely pulled the pump of the shotgun back when the stallion grabbed its barrel with his front hooves. He twisted the gun upwards and slammed the buttstock into Daring's chest. A pained gasp escaped her mouth. Her grip loosened, then she fell to her knees. “Enough of this!” shouted Daring. Before the stallion could step back and take aim, Daring whipped her trowel from its holster, swinging her whole body as she cracked the blade against the shotgun. Small metal pieces flew as the trigger mechanism busted apart, the stallion's eyes widening. Daring danced backward, flourishing her weapon like a mythical blade of old. “You're kidding, right?” the stallion asked with a small chuckle. He unsheathed a Bowie knife and pointed its blade at Daring's trowel. “You think you can kill me with that?” “Tell that to the first guy,” said Daring. “Let's dance!” The stallion slashed left. Daring dodged. Another slash, this time towards her stomach. She stumbled backward, glancing downwards to avoid the bodies on the floor. The stallion's blade shone in the corner of her vision, and she blocked his right arm with her left one before the blade could skewer her eye. The stallion gasped: he'd opened himself up for attack. In an instant, Daring delivered two quick stabs into the stallion's elbow. He gritted his teeth, his knife falling to the floor. Daring raised her trowel-wielding arm at the stallion's neck. The world muted. Daring's vision shifted into blurred lights and fuzzy shapes. The hard wooden wall scraped against her face as she tried to refocus herself. Daring scowled as she tried to stand. He had a hell of a left hook. Daring roared as the stallion's hooves yanked her shoulder and mane. She struggled as his hooves slammed her head to the wall, causing her vision to tremble. Her pith helmet dented, saving her from a deadly skull fracture. Sensing he was about to slam her head in a second time, Daring flapped her wings onto his face. They weren't strong enough to injure him, but it did make him flinch. Opportunity knocked. Daring Do answered. She spun around and slashed her trowel across the stallion's face. He stumbled backward and covered his mouth with his hooves, muffling his scream. Daring followed up with a left hook to his temple, a knee strike to his solar plexus, and finally, a smash to the back of his skull with the handle of her trowel. The stallion staggered, his eyes glossed over in a daze. Taking full control of the situation, Daring grabbed him by the shoulders as she took to the air, roaring loudly, and then slammed his body to the wall. The plaster cracked. A wall lamp shattered. Daring smashed him into the wall once more. The crack became a hole, then the stallion's body slumped to the floor. “See how you like it, asshole!” Heavy breaths escaped Daring's mouth as she glanced around, her ears perked. Nothing: no hoofsteps, no wing beats, silent as death. She was out of the woods for now. Daring's body shivered as the adrenaline left her system. Her legs trembled from exertion, and her wings hung from her body. Bits of paint were strewn across the floor, along with the bodies of four unlucky ponies. A few seconds passed as Daring sat on the floor and breathed out a sigh, followed by a relieved, if strained, laugh. “Another day, another…well…this isn't quite a dungeon, I guess. Damn it.” Daring stood up, straightened her shirt, and took a map of the riverboat out of the shirt pocket. “Right, time to save the crew,” she said, scanning the map for the shortest way to the bridge. R&R would have to wait. “Not too far off. I can take the fire escape at the ster—” A click. Daring's eyes widened. She turned to the second mercenary she had downed. Blood poured from her mouth as she wore a weak, yet sadistic grin and let a cylindrical object roll from her body. Daring gasped at its missing spoon and pin. Her world turned upside down. The explosion blasted Daring against the ceiling and carved a hole on the wooden floor. Splinters shredded her clothes. Her limp body fell through the smoking hole and into the boiler room below, denting the steel grate floor. The hot steam suffocated Daring as she coughed and attempted to stand, a familiar rush of pain coursed from her right wing. Broken…again. It's always the same wing. Can't it be the other one for a change? Just as Daring had gotten to her knees and was about to start looking for her map, the sound of cocking guns echoed in the boiler room. The smoke cleared to reveal two squads' worth of mercenaries, both inside the room and surrounding the hole where her cabin used to be. Daring scanned the mercs aiming at her, groaned, and raised her front hooves above her head. “Celestia damn it.”