Tempest once again found herself sitting at the center of the observation deck, passively glancing at the now thoroughly memorized operational plans. Her focus had been centered around one thing, and that was the stakes this mission held. It had been a lifelong struggle living without the ability to properly cast the very magic unicorns were heralded for, and the very injury she sustained so long ago served as a constant reminder of that. Yet at the same time, she found herself distracted by a strange curiosity about the circumstances surrounding Fireteam Storm, the newest asset at her disposal, as it seemed that she was not the only one with an end goal that differed from the Storm King's.
"Uhhh, Tempest? You okay?" Grubber asked.
Tempest focus shifted to her second-in-command's query. He had been standing there talking her ear off about something or another, most of it she was able to drown out.
"I'm fine, Grubber." She replied bluntly.
"Oh, okay. It's just, you seem really tense. Plus you've been staring at those things for like, ten minutes straight without so much as-"
"I said I was fine, Grubber!" Tempest reiterated more sternly. "Leave it at that."
Grubber went silent and meek upon Tempest's command. Tempest questioned why in Equestria Grubber was even here some days, as he seemed to lack both the courage and moral grey to serve the Storm King. Sure he wouldn't argue against any command she'd give him, but he seemed to do it out a sense of either obligation or self-preservation rather than any sense of loyalty. Alas, that was a more redeeming quality in some sense, as it meant Tempest didn't need to fear a potential rival undermining her in an effort to take her place.
Diverting her attention once again to the plans before her, any effort to memorize them further was found to be redundant by her at this point. And just like before, Tempest once again found her attention fixated around that strange curiosity towards the newest troops at her disposal. Normally she wouldn't care about the motivations of others so long as they didn't involve her, but the motives of Fireteam Storm undoubtedly differed from the Storm King's, and their personalities differed immensely to what she was initially expecting. Those two facts alone did enough to garner her attention to the fullest extent, and made her even more curious when she recalled Carter's statement from before.
"*Make good on his promise?*" Tempest whispered to herself. "*But how? And why?*"
Tempest pondered on the ramifications Carter's statement held for quite some time. Knowing little to nothing about their race did her no favors in deciphering whatever potential motive they may have had, and Carter's reluctance to elaborate on it made her suspicious. Had they been sent with accomplishing a secondary task? Did said task involve her? Was her lack of knowledge on it intentional?
These questions served to plague her thoughts, and finding that she had some time to spare, Tempest decided to indulge herself in reassessing what information she had on the rather infamous group in an effort to get a grasp on who she was dealing with. She turned to Grubber once more, ready to give him a directive.
"Grubber, get me all the records on Fireteam Storm and bring them to me." She ordered.
Grubber, caught off guard by the order as he was currently distracted with something in between his toes, haphazardly stood to attention.
"R-right away, boss!" Grubber stammered with a rather haphazard and crooked excuse for a salute.
Like frightened prey ready to scatter, he darted over towards the ship's archives to retrieve what was requested, almost hitting the wall on his way out. Tempest rolled her eyes at his clumsy exit as he raced out the door and down the hall. Now left to her own thoughts, she began to decipher a potential end goal that these humans had, and whether or not they involved her own goals, or worse, undermining them, or her. Though the possibility of her being subjected to some sort of purge was low, as she hadn't done anything to make the Storm King question her loyalty, nor had she any intent of doing so, she couldn't rule it out.
But perhaps this was just paranoia thinking. Upon giving it a second thought, what sense would there be in Carter alluding to his own reward if it had any ill effects for her? What sense was there in essentially tipping her off if they were just going to off her later? Perhaps it was just an arrangement like hers? A few minutes passed and soon, Grubber returned to the room, the items she requested in hand.
"There they are, boss." Grubber announced as he placed them before her on the table. "All the files on Fireteam Storm."
"Did you check the entire archive, Grubber?" Tempest asked in scrutiny.
"Yes, ma'am. The files were all in the confidential section. In fact they were the only files in the confidential section. You'd figure a guy like the Storm King would have more secrets. Like what he plans to do after he conquers the world. Or that nacho supreme recipe the chef serves us every Tuesday. Or-"
It was at that moment Grubber noticed the gradually growing look of annoyance spread across Tempest's face, a clear message that she didn't wish to hear his statement go any further.
"-I'll just..uh...go announce lights out." Grubber finished.
"See to it that you do." Tempest pressed with the clear desire that she wished to be left alone.
Tempest looked at the stack of scrolls and manuscripts. Though quite small, it was about the only information on the team that was available to her. Upon her initial read, much of the details on past missions and each member's background were crossed out in black ink. A simple fix for a unicorn with a proper horn, though in Tempest's case, the method of extracting the necessary information would prove to be a lot trickier.
One thing was clear though, she couldn't afford to trust them, not until she knew what the details of their relationship with the Storm King entailed. As far as anyone was concerned, Fireteam Storm was the Storm King's shadow, and the possibility of them having an alterior motive was evident, and even if they didn't know it, Tempest would be keeping a close eye on them and everything they'd be doing. She'd come so far in her quest to restore what she lost, and just like when she requested their presence to mitigate risk, she wasn't about to risk the possibility of them undermining that goal, no matter how little the potential of it occurring was.
"What are the odds the Commander doesn't trust us?" Green asked to his squadmates.
"Rock fucking solid." Carter answered bluntly. "She'll probably be watching us like a hawk from now on."
After the formal introductions with Fireteam Storm had concluded, Carter proceeded to fill them in on the mission details, a surprisingly easy task considering their previous engagements. After that he and his team proceeded with unpacking their gear and stowing it away in their quarters. After a short meal and a quick workout, the time was now drawing on 9:00pm. The Operation's early start required a good night's rest, but despite that, the team continued to last minute tasks whilst engaging in the usual banter to discuss their mission, and in turn, their new CO.
"You really think so?" Green asked once more for verification.
"Your introduction didn't do us any favors, Green." Carter so bluntly stated. "Same could be said for the rest of you damn clowns."
"How was I supposed to know she was the Commander?!" Green said defensively. "But do you honestly think that's grounds for second-guessing us?"
Sanchez, who was working on the equipment they'd be using in the mission ahead, looked up to add his two cents to the conversation.
"It's without a doubt, amigo. Shit, one look at Jackson and she was like, 'Fuck that, I'm watching my ass around this creep!'" Sanchez chuckled.
"Yuck it up, hombre." Jackson quipped right back. "Her ass isn't the one you should be worried about tonight."
Sanchez had been accustomed to many of Jackson's idle threats at this point, and decided to play along for laughs.
"What, you going poison me or something while I sleep? Huh?"
"Nah, that's too clean. Don't worry, I'll think of something creative, just know there'll be blood."
"Alright you fucking sociopath." Sanchez said rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say."
Carter had just jumped into his fatigues when he added another query to the conversation.
"So.......................team. Jumping back to the subject of our Commander, any thoughts? Observations?" Carter asked curiously.
They were silent for a moment, before Jackson rose up to speak.
"I'd say she's like any other melodramatic basket case her kind has to offer, like that pink cult leader bitch we ran into last year. But if I'm gonna be honest, she didn't really strike me as such." Jackson admitted. "More of the no bullshit, get things done, kill you in a heartbeat if you get in my way kind of girl."
"So like Carter here when he's had a bad day?" Sanchez insinuated with a shit-eating grin.
"Couldn't said it better myself." Jackson concurred.
Carter simply rolled his eyes, not really phased by the slight mocking from his men.
"Very perceptive." Carter quipped as he gave them the finger. "Dickheads."
"Certainly wasn't expecting her to be a pony." Sanchez said.
"With a name like Tempest Shadow? What were you expecting?" Carter asked.
"I dunno. Female Minotaur?" Sanchez shrugged.
"Eh, fair enough." Carter guessed.
"Yeah, but instead we got a little angry edgy-looking unicorn pony who almost vaporized Green's ass." Sanchez concluded. "What are the odds?"
"Again. I didn't know." Green reiterated.
"Doesn't really matter what she is. From the looks of her alone, she's a fighter, and a damn good one at that." Jackson noted.
"And what exactly gave you that impression?" Sanchez asked.
"Are you really that damn stupid?" Jackson said in held-back disbelief. "Was the busted horn and scar not enough of a dead giveaway?"
"Okay, so what? She's got a few bruises. Carter here has got one too, but that doesn't make him Bruce Lee."
"Oh, I'm sorry, have you tried to pry a unicorns horn off with nothing but a combat knife and your bare hands under a blood moon, desperately trying to pin the fucker while blotting out his desperate cries of terror?"
The rest of the team was silent for a moment, contemplating the rather disturbing way Jackson had worded that sentence.
"A little too descriptive there, Jackson." Carter informed him. "But go on."
Jackson, unphased by his terrible social skills being pointed out for the umpteenth time, continued to explain.
"It's not like that horn is a piece of glass. The thing's tougher than bone. I gave her wounds a good look while she was talking to El Stupido over here. Looks like she garnered both at the same time, and by pissing off the wrong thing."
"You're saying another thing did that to her?" Green asked.
"No question about it, and that means that whatever did it was big." Jackson explained, before looking at Sanchez directly. "Meaning that she went toe-to-toe with whatever it was and lived. You understand that now?"
"Or she tripped down the stairs as a kid." Sanchez suggested in defiance. "It's really fucking weird when you try to piece shit together about people you don't know, Jackson."
"Whatever." Jackson mouthed. "That's all I gotta say about her."
"I dunno guys, I kinda feel really bad for her." Green admitted.
"Why?" Carter asked.
"Well, when I usually hear about unicorns, I always imagine them as these happy and magical creatures. But she looks so upset."
"That's probably cause she's a bitch who's pissed about losing her horn, amigo." Sanchez pointed out. "Plus you touched her face without asking. I'd say she's within her right to look upset."
"If you ask me, she seems paranoid. Afraid to fail." Carter pointed out.
"She have something on the line?" Jackson asked.
"Seems so. Something about a reward the Storm King promised her. Doubt it's anything traditional, though."
"So, like us then?" Green inquired.
"So our Commander made a deal with the boss?" Sanchez shrugged off. "What about that makes you think she'd be paranoid?"
"Sanchez, she had a backup plan involving a method to combat a possible temporal displacement scenario. No sane person would even conceive of that unless something big was at stake, and if we're being honest, I'm surprised none of y'all aren't just as nervous."
"¿Hombre, quién cuida? We got nothing major to worry about. One more op and were done this bullshit." Sanchez noted.
Everyone in the room savored that fact, so many years of working for the Storm King and they'd finally put an end to nearly a decade's worth of problems, yet Carter wasn't so convinced just yet.
"That's only if the mission goes off without a hitch." Carter pointed out.
"Guess that depends on how good the Commander says she is, right?" Green asked.
"That it does." Jackson answered. "Shouldn't be too hard. How much fight could four princesses put up?"
"Quite a lot." Carter indicated. "Tempest said herself they're the most powerful of her race, thousands of years old with plenty of experience under their belt. Any direct fight would probably end in getting your ass handed to."
"Yet you said the Commander calculated every possible move they could make." Sanchez insisted. "We got nothing to worry about, Cap."
"And if things go wrong?" Carter questioned.
"If things do get bumpy, we can handle it. It wouldn't be the first time shit would go wrong on an op. But if we handle like we do every other mission, we'll be fine. So take it easy already, alright emano."
While Sanchez's statement could be seen as naive bravado, he had some merit to his statement. As a team least they had the experience to handle just about any situation, with years of training both physical and mental to back it up. That alone more or less bolstered everyone's confidence that things would go smoothly. With a somewhat defeated sigh, Carter relented.
"Yeah, maybe your right." Carter admitted.
"Well duh, I'm always right." Sanchez insisted.
"Like hell you are." Jackson mouthed.
All of a sudden, the ship's intercom went live, broadcasting the voice of Grubber for all to hear, whether they like it or not.
"*All hands, uh, lights out. Tomorrow's the big day! T-the day we're...y'know, gonna conquer all the ponies. So......yeah........everyone, uh, go to bed I guess. Except for the patrol guards, uh, you guys gotta stay up and...........y'know.........guard...........the ship. okayI'mdonenow!*"
As the intercom turned off, the members of Fireteam Storm were left to make of that what they would.
"How the hell is that little shit gremlin even here?" Jackson asked. "Figured he'd have like two days to live after joining these ranks."
"It doesn't matter." Carter cleared up. "Best to follow the little turd's advice and turn in for the night. We got an early start."
The rest of Storm agreed and proceeded to hit the rack for the night. Carter walked over the the oil lamp, the one remaining light source in the room, giving out one last statement before extinguishing its flame.
"Tomorrow's a new day gentleman. One more mission. One more task ahead of us. Do shit right, and be smart. We move out at 0400."
Three hours had passed, and with it Tempest had only managed to scratch the surface of only a handful of the documents. Courtesy of some rare concoction found only in the most isolated parts of Abyssinia, Tempest was able to remove the black ink on the personnel records and a few of the combat reports concerning Fireteam Storm, but much to her dismay, it turned out that the personnel records themselves were rather sparse with information, with only their names, combat roles, and general assessments available.
Captain Andre Carter,
Age: 32
Height: 5'11
Combat Roles: Commanding Officer, Grenadier, Combat Medic, Team Coordinator
Assessment:
Shows distinguished leadership skills even in situations of duress, with the highest success rate of any Commanding Officer in the entirety of the Storm Fleet. Despite his injury to his left eye, Captain Carter displays heightened senses, with an almost innate ability to think on the fly. Personality is direct, methodical, yet still sustains a slight level of charisma.
Lt. Joshua Green
Age: 29
Height: 6'2
Combat Roles: Heavy Weapons Expert, Support Gunner, Ammo Bearer, Pointman
Assessment:
Despite Green's rather tame behavioral tendencies and general friendliness in non-engagements, he is quite capable in combat, bordering on being a downright juggernaut when on the battlefield. His combat effectiveness exceeds the regular intervals by at least 70%, and his knowledge of handling a variety of firepower to maximum effectiveness is almost unmatched.
Lt. Eduardo Sanchez
Age: 30
Height: 5'10
Combat Roles: Combat Engineer, Explosives Specialist, Sapper, Tech & Equipment Specialist
Assessment:
Sanchez shows a rather confrontational attitude to authority by means of jokes or otherwise comical remarks directed towards both his peers and superiors. Despite this though, he displays a high-level of knowledge on operating with and on a variety of mechanical constructs and equipment. He's also crafty with demolition work, able to point out and take down key points in just about any structure.
Lt. Seth Jackson
Age, 31
Height: 5'11
Combat Roles: Designated Marksman, Reconnaissance Scout, Stealth Operator, Saboteur.
Assessment: Jackson displays a high level of sociopathic behavior, very few with words and when he does speak, his mannerisms come off as unsettling. Works best at long range engagements exceeding anywhere from 500-1500 yards, possessing an accuracy unrivaled by any in the Storm Fleet. His Stealth skills are also noteworthy, capable of a variety of Sabotage ranging from diversionary to crippling in effect."
The level of skill each member possessed both impressed and concerned her simultaneously, this was only increased when she read over the operational history. Unlike the personnel records, the mission reports were quite detailed, and as she scrolled through the missions, the more her eyes began to narrow. Some of the stuff seemed almost unreal, as if it couldn't have been carried out by the hands of the men she met today, well, Jackson maybe, but the others seemed almost unfit for this kind of stuff. Yet it seemed to be legit, giving the clear picture that these guys weren't to be underestimated.
The Assassination of Saddle Arabian dignitaries and their kin to rob them of their magical heirlooms. Burning an entire Yak village and its inhabitants to the ground for harboring a deserter of the Storm Fleet. Destruction of an entire Diamond Dog colony who stole precious cargo from the Storm King with the use of high level seismic charges, effectively caving them in. Turning a loudmouthed informant to stone, some dragon named Gravedigger, after the fool threatened to rat one of the Storm King's top secret excavations in the Dragonlands to Dragonlord Torch. And the icing on the cake had to be one of their more recent tasks, the assassination of Strife, Tempest's predecessor. While that might be cause for concern, she knew all to well that Strife had it coming. You don't just steal right from under the Storm King's nose, damage his ship, and make off with most of his fleet and treasures and expect to get away with it.
Tempest continued like this throughout the night, trying to find some indication at what Fireteam Storm was hoping to gain out of all this bloodshed and secrecy. What drove them to do what they did, whether it was money or power, though Tempest doubted that it was anything so material, as they seemed to already possess things almost out of this world. Tempest sat and pondered for several hours on end, the gears of her mind set into overdrive in an effort to try and formulate what they could be after. Alas, her efforts were not going to yield fruit on this night. As Tempest glanced out the window, she judged it had to at least be nearing midnight, and she felt almost irritated at herself for spending so much time dwelling on someone else's goals when her own was about to near its end. She quickly condensed the contents of the table back into a neatly piled stack. Thankfully the concoction had an after effect in restoring erased contents, effectively covering any traces that she had accessed them in the first place. Once she had returned them to the archives, she deduced that she needed to rest. Tomorrow would be the day Equestria would fall, and its conqueror would need to be at her best.
"Remember your priorities, Tempest." She sighed. "Focus on what you spent years dedicated to. You have your mission, they have there's. Tomorrow, everything comes to a close."