//------------------------------// // Ch.3 Ah...Los Gatos // Story: War Games Equestria // by Ghost-111 //------------------------------// A lone figure stayed staring out of her second story window. She kept her arms crossed and was slowly fiddling with a quill, tapping it on her chin in a constant rhythm. 'What was that?' She slowly lifted a sheet of parchment off the desk next to her and began to record her observations. A low light above the forest, the sudden howling of the Timber Wolves, a strange magical surge that shook her out of her blissful time. "Twilight dear, you really need to come back...we're not finished yet." Twilight didn't respond, she only pulled up a nearby chair and started to write out every observation and feeling that she could remember, completely ignoring the others' pleas to come back to bed. "Hmph! And we were having such a grand time." "She wasn't, it looked almost as if she was being tortured!" "Oh hush now; I wasn't that bad was I?" "Well um... Rarity...your styles are the best...but..." "But what exactly dear?" "..." "What was that? You really do need to start speaking up dear." "Er...nd..." "Oh for Celestial's sake! She was trying to say that even though you're the best at this, you aren't exactly user friendly with this!" "..." "Well I never!" “Besides, it looks like she's suffer’d enough fer’ one night." "So are you volunteering to go next dear?" "Oh…um…heh, heh" *Tackle* *Shake* EEP! *Shove!* "Hey what was that for?" "Oh so it's Rainbow who volunteers to be next?" "What NO! I won't..." "Oh hush you really could use one, please? Just for a little bit?" "I said no dammit! I like my mane just the way it is! Here take Applejack!" "What?! Cons’arnet NO!" "What do you mean no? You're the one who volunteered me, so I volunteer you! Ha ha!" "YAY! It's a double makeover time! And you know what a double makeover needs?" "Pinkie dear I really don't think it can classify as a..." "A triple makeover! And you know what a triple makeover needs?" "Pinkie dear, would you please calm dow..." "CUPCAKES!!!" "TAKE COVER!" Whizz...SPLAT "Oh my beautiful mane! WHYYY!?" Whizz...POP "Party Cannon!" "Oh buck me..." BOOM Squeak! "Ha ha you miss..." SPLAT! The sounds of the sugary struggle continued on in the background as a crouched figure slowly crawled, jumped, and 'eeped!' her way out of the line of fire. All the while the lone girl stayed poised by the window, scribbling down notes of the most recent anomaly, completely oblivious to the chaos behind her. "What could it be?" {-----------------------} Michael I marched out of the sorry excuse of a command tent in a huff. Normally I wouldn’t get upset so easily, but these guys… I leaned up against a tree and rubbed my face, feeling my skin stretch as I tried to work out the headache. So that bastard just goes and leaves us here without even explaining what our first job would be…and kind of apology gift is a barrel of chocolate supposed to be? Furthermore why the hell do these things keep on saying that it was rain that came from cotton candy clouds? What in Sam Hill have these guys been high on? I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to calm down. Once again, I usually don’t frustrated that easily, but that was when I was talking to intelligent people who knew basic tactics and how to handle themselves as well as the men under their command. These guys, that I’m going to have to be dealing with, single handedly made my eye start twitching within the first few ‘rolls’ of information that they gave me about their world. (----------------------------) This had happened to me once before when I got a new captain under my command, and he was as incompetent as someone that I could pull off the street. The only reason he got the elevation in rank was because he came from an ‘upstanding’ family. We quickly put him in his place as he realized that no one would follow his ‘glorious’ orders because they would end up as cannon fodder. Overall between finding clever ways to demote him, and convincing him of the true responsibilities of a commanding officer…it was the most challenging part of our year. Eventually he relocated himself to the economics part of War Games and became one of our best CEO’s. (-----------------------------) “Sir?” “…” “SIR!” Who…what! My head shot up at the small jabs to my side. I quickly realized that I had been dosing off and just stopped myself short of bashing the poor dog’s head in. ‘You know when you’ve been pranked one too many times when you lash out at things in your sleep.' I gazed into the frightened eyes of the do…pup. I made notice of the still glossy fur and the small stature as I looked around us. I turned back to the pup and scratched the back of my head sheepishly. Luckily no one had seen my minor outburst, but the little one was probably scared out of his mind. ‘Bad Michael…no scaring the children!’ I kneeled down in front of the poor guy as he backed away until he hit a tree. I tried to appear as calm and non-threatening as I could possibly be so as to not alarm the kid any more. ‘Hmm…a little joke would go nice he…got it!’ “Sorry ‘bout that mate, just some wake-ups in my time.” The look in his eyes quickly changed from that of fear, to that of ‘You’re (place expletive here) crazy!' ‘Hah! Gotcha now ya’ little bugger, I’m not gonna have a bad impression with the young ‘uns just yet.’ I gave him a slight smile and received a tentative one in return; it wasn’t much, but it was progress. “Now,” I continued as kindly as I could, “what were you coming to tell me kid?” His face quickly transformed from a slight smile to a disgusted frown. “I’m not a kid! I’m just short…” he grumbled before stomping away. ‘Ummm…that was awkward…’ Note to self: Learn Age to Size ratios as soon as possible. Before he could disappear from my sight, I called out to him once more, but all I got was a grunt for a response and a small wrapped parcel thrown at my head. I caught it and quickly opened it up to reveal my worst nightmare, well…one of them. I glanced around frantically before setting my eyes on a changeling who was sharpening a spear, occasionally testing the blade with his finger. “Oi you! Where’s the kitchen?” He looked up at the sound of my voice and noticed that, yes, I was talking to him. He looked flustered as he pointed down a small path to my right. I didn’t catch the first part of his response as I took off sprinting down the path, but I caught the tail end of it. “…next meal’s not until sunrise, no exceptions!” I knew thanks to my recent meeting that they were on a strict three-meal schedule, but I knew for a fact that that wasn’t going to stop one person from getting his snack. {---------------------------} Adrian I slowly jogged away from the medium-sized tent that they called an ‘Armory’. I had a spear in one hand, a knife in my belt, and some leftover portebellos from my earlier incursion into the kitchen in the other. My actions hadn’t gone unnoticed, and I knew it wasn’t long before Michael caught up with me. I had gone back to check on the cook and found that I hadn’t injured him too badly, but their animosity I could deal with. It was Michael’s nagging when it came to impressions and Code of Conduct that I feared. He’s one of the smartest guys I know, and now one of the most athletic bookworms I know because of my suggestions. I knew from experience that if I caused some unwanted trouble I would eventually have to pay for it. So now I was off to go hunting for any game, and any familiar, edible, plants that I could find in order to repay the cook who was kind enough to allow me to snack on his store of food. He was even kind enough to point me in the direction of the last know position of any game animals. (-----------------------) I was quite a ways into the forest when I heard my first hints of life in the underbrush. I crouched low and unbuckled my knife before readying my spear. I peeked through the bushes in front of me and spotted a nice plump deer that was standing unsuspectingly in a small clearing. ‘This place really is loony, I mean, where else are you going to find such a storybook situation?’ I thought back to my childhood days when Michael used to come over and he would talk about stories that he read, as I explained the continuing cannibalistic traits of my chickens. In one story a situation like this had two outcomes, either it was as perfect a shot as I would ever get… GGGGRRRRRRRR… ...or it was a trap. Nice kitty?