//------------------------------// // Chapter nine: The man who sold his world // Story: Soldier of Equestria // by Silver-Spirits-and-Ales //------------------------------// The hounds of Camp Gamma knew that this newcomer was nothing like the marines who escorted him. And he wasn't anything like the captives either. This one did not smell of fear and dread, like most captives did, and his dark-blue uniform didn't look like one that the camp's personnel would be wearing. He was a mystery to the hounds. And they did not tolerate mystery. They barked and barked relentlessly as they heard the jeeps approach their installation. "Don't let them scare you," said the driver to his guest, as he stopped the car in front of the gate . "They won't bite unless we tell 'em to." Behind the fence stood the menacing building of Camp Gamma, with its concrete guard towers and walls. And next to the gate, there stood a sign, which had brought dread to the hearts of many. CAMP GAMMA 1- MAXIMUM SECURITY JTF 180- Ad Excelsum Conamur Authorized Personnel Only The driver showed his ID to the sentry, who nodded, and opened the gate for him. The car drove on into the complex. The marines looked at the man wearing a foreign naval uniform. Usually, only detainees with orange uniforms, blindfolds and ear protectors came in escorted through that gate, never to come out. The naval officer dismounted the car, and headed towards the door, where a US marine was waiting. "Commander Jennings, Secret Intelligence Service," said the officer. "We've set up an office for ya," answered the marine, as he led the way into the administrative building. "Your boy's already waiting for ya." The pair went up some stairs, and entered a corner office. There was Brian, sitting on a chair, wearing a tracksuit, drinking a can of Tango. "I'll just leave you to it," said the marine, before leaving the room. Jennings sat down behind the desk, and placed his briefcase on it. Then, he took a deep breath, and said "I've been trying to think of words to express my sorrow. You have my deepest condolences." "How kind," answered Brian carelessly, before taking a sip from his can. "Of all the places we could meet, why didn't you just come round my place for a cuppa tea?" "High security, limited traffic, and it was close to the both of us." answered Jennings. "What's not to love?" "Fair enough," sighed Brian. "So what do you want?" "I think that letter of mine was very clear," said Jennings. "Well, a man I killed almost twenty years ago is alive, and he's the one who ordered my wife's death," stated Brian. "And if I remember well, the first time we met, you told me that if I fucked it up, you'd have me 'behind a desk, pushing pencils'. Is this my new desk? An American black site in the arsehole of the world?" "Basically, we're in the same boat." Trying to relieve the tension, Jennings reached into his tunic, and produced a pack of Benson & Hedges. "Smoke?" Brian nodded, and took one from the pack. "So," said Brian, as his former handler lit his cigarette, "thanks- what's gonna happen to us?" "Difficult to tell," said Jennings. "As you were the shooter during that mission, the US government is holding you responsible for Salvador Bachmeyer still being alive. I mean, you can probably imagine my shock when I got a call at three in the morning from the my contact at the CIA, telling me that he was alive and at the head of the biggest cartel in South America. Right under our noses, too. Everyone's feeling pretty embarrassed about it." "So, does that mean we're going to be charged with treason or something?" asked Brian. "Not quite," responded Jennings. "Let's just say that... neither one of us is going to be made a national hero out of this." "I see," said Brian. "And where does that place you?" "In the same boat as you," answered Jennings. "Suffice to say that the government is finally going to get a reason to get rid of me." Brian smirked. "But I'm guessing you've got a plan. Probably seven different countries already headhunted you, right?" "Well I'd be lying if the thought of letting everything go hasn't crossed my mind," said Jennings. "And if you've brought me here, it's because you need me." "Well, I was informed of the whole affair straight after the link between the shooter and Bachmeyer was established. I had you informed, as you have a right to know, and I set about analysing the facts. And the facts are that Bachmeyer left a lot of breadcrumbs right to his doorsteps. He wants us to find him. And after reading more into his mental state and interrogating a few of his associates, it seems that he's been obsessing over you. And you're what I want to deliver to him." Brian burst into a fit of laughter. "That's your plan?" he snorted. "Sending your favourite savage to his wife's murderer, and calm him down?" "I was planning to send you to kill Bachmeyer," said Jennings. "No deal," said Brian, drily. "Trust me, I could have chosen any number of trained killers," retorted Jennings. "But... the government wants proof of your loyalty. This mission will be that proof. They've made it part of the deal. I need you to do this for me. Besides, I'm guessing you want some retribution?" "What's the bloody point?" snorted Brian, taking another drag. "You know what they say about revenge..." he said. "You'd better be ready to dig two graves..." "We dug one for Bronco, and we dug one for that whinging little shit. Now's the time to fill it." "But why?" asked Brian, getting pretty annoyed. "I enlisted in Her Majesty's Forces to fight the good fight. To fight for Queen and Country. I'm not interested in a life of political assassinations... or revenge, for that matter" "You're talking shit, Brian," retorted Jennings. "An international drug lord, smart enough to fake his own death, convince British and American Intelligence, disappear without a trace and come back into view almost twenty years later, having rebuilt his father's empire and essentially bought South America. You honestly think this job has anything political or personal to it?" "If it's to help some naval-pansy-turned-bureaucrat regain his position and help the government save face, it's political." Jennings stayed silent for a good twenty seconds. He genuinely liked Brian, and the last thing he'd ever want to do to the man was bargain with him or threaten him. But the handler had just run out of options. "Don't give me that," he said. "I saved your sorry arse when I pulled you from Court Martial to work for us. I think it's your turn to-" "Oh yeah?" interrupted Brian, through gritted teeth. "You sent me on one of your jobs and I angered some psycho who killed my wife. If I could, I'd go back and beg the court to discharge me with disgrace!" "Speaking of family," said Jennings. "Let's talk about your daughter." "Don't you dare!" warned Brian. "I will dare if I damn well please," said Jennings. "As I've told you, my arse is on the line too. Because I learned that your wife had been assassinated, I decided to place your daughter in a... protective custody of sorts, run by my friends at MI-5. She is in danger, after all." "What's your point?" asked Brian. "What I'm trying to say is that I can't ask them to keep her indefinitely, despite the fact that she's in danger of death. And trust me, the next guy in the line-up for my position is more interested in making deals with foreign armed groups and criminals than fighting them. He'll probably use her as a bargaining chip. And you too, for that matter." "Rose is a smart girl," retorted Brian. "She can outsmart any of your lumps of men." He said that last sentence almost shakily, as if it was an ill-rehearsed lie. The truth was that, even if Brian had no doubts about his daughter's intelligence, even he knew that a college girl couldn't outrun or outsmart spooks. Especially if Jennings or one of his friends was bossing them around. "Alright," sighed Jennings, getting up from his chair and picking up his briefcase. "I'm offering you a way to clear your name. A way to bring justice. A way to send that heathen back to the hell he came from. You want to put a wrench in the government's plans, while Bachmeyer masses political power? Go right ahead. But remember the answer you gave me when Bachmeyer dissolves Rose in a vat of acid before your very eyes. Goodbye, Brian." "Oh, alright," said Brian. "Fine. I'll do it. But I'm not doing this for you." Jennings sat back down behind his desk. "Your motives don't matter to me," he said. He pulled out a stack of paper from his briefcase, and placed it in front of Brian. "As long as you do it, it doesn't matter. Sign these." Brian was walking down the streets of Canterlot City. It was his last day in suburbia before he went off to set the records straight. It had taken weeks of preparation, careful planning by the top brass, and the entire thing was finally ready. Cigarette in one hand, an enormous shopping bag in the other, Brian contemplated the calm houses of the American neighbourhood for one last time. The city had always had a certain charm to visitors, but to Brian's eyes, it had lost all of it when Grace had been assassinated. All of a sudden, out of the corner of his eye, Brian saw a football come in his direction. He agilely kicked it back to where it had come from. "Sweet kick, bro!" shouted a tomboyish girl who was exercising on the football pitch across the street. Brian looked up, saw the girl, smiled, and lifted his hand in a "don't mention it" kind of way. The girl'd had her hair dyed in a rainbow colours, which was an uncommon sight, to Brian anyway. "Kids these days..." he thought. The operative looked down at his Rhodesian Ridgeback, Tavish. There he was, calmly walking alongside his master. The two had reunited a week ago, and Tavish couldn't have been happier. Little did he know that he was about to be left at a shelter, his master never to return. It saddened Brian dearly, as he had raised Tavish from a pup and there was a great bond between the two. Brian'd had to wrench him away from the grave at Grace's funeral. As he walked down Rockefeller Street, Brian saw a makeshift market stall, the three owners of which seemed to be packing up. Brian saw the stetson hat that the girl was wearing, and immediately recognised them. They were the son and two daughters of the local apple farmers, who had died a while ago in some tragic accident. Brian had offered his condolences to the three remaining children, though he doubted they'd remember it. He smiled compassionately as he passed, and stopped in front of the stall. "Hello," he said. The oldest sister turned around, and saw Brian. "Howdy, Mister H," she said. "We were just packin' up." "I can see," said Brian. "But still, you got anything left?" "Only fritters," she answered. "They're usually popular, so we baked s'more. We got leftovers." "I'll have three," said Brian. "Actually, I'll have four. Oh, damn it, five." The girl put five of the fritters in a paper bag, and handed them to Brian, who extended a one-hundred dollar bill. "Keep the change," said Brian. The girl looked perplexed. "But that's a lot of money." "Family's always more important than money," smiled Brian. Applejack nodded, and pocketed the bill. A few minutes later, Brian arrived at his next programmed spot: the animal shelter. He looked down at his dog, sighed a long sigh, and entered. As he entered, the operative was surprised to find that the shelter was very silent. There was a great deal of cages behind the front desk, with cats and dogs, but they weren't barking or yowling, they stayed calm. Intrigued, but at the same time too caught up in his emotions to care, Brian nudged his dog over to the front desk. "Oh, hello," said the girl behind the desk. She was asian, with bright pink hair (kids these days...), blue eyes and she was wearing a white tank top. The young volunteer, who was much shorter than Brian, seemed daunted by the soldier's gruff appearance. "Hi," responded Brian. "I'm here to leave my dog." The girl peered over the desk, and looked at Tavish, who stared straight back. He seemed mesmerised by the girl for some reason. "Oh, isn't he cute?" she asked, sweetly. "What's his name?" "Tavish," answered Brian, promptly. "Do I have to fill in a form or something?" "Here you go," said the volunteer, handing a piece of paper and a pen to the man. Brian filled in the blanks of the form, trying to hold back his tears as he did so. "So, um... why are you leaving him?" asked the volunteer. "Let's just say I can't take care of him anymore," said Brian. "I'm leaving." "I'm very sorry to hear that..." "Done," said Brian, once he'd finished completing the form. "He's all yours." "Alright. Do you want to... say goodbye?" asked the girl. Brian kneeled down in front of his dog, and gave him a hug. "Goodbye, mate," he said, softly. Tavish whimpered back. As Brian left the shelter, he felt the urge to go back in and get his dog back, but there was just no point in doing so anymore... There were only two things left for Brian to do. Tightly holding his shopping bag, he went down the street, and stopped in front of a charity shop. He entered. The volunteer behind the desk was a brunette, who looked hard-at-work mending a shirt with a thread and needle. "Good evening, sir," said the girl, in a mid-transatlatic accent that almost gave Brian goosebumps by how annoying it was. "Do you want to buy anything?" "No, thanks," answered Brian, squarely walking up to the counter and placing his massive bag onto the surface. "I'm here to give these old suits." Intrigued, the volunteer looked into the bag, and gasped as she pulled out an all-black Ted Baker suit from it. "These are anything but old, darling!" she said. "I mean, sir." "Do with them what you like," said Brian turning around and making for the door. "Have a good evening." Brian stopped in front of his old friend's house. He looked at the suburban house that had nothing different from all of the others in town. The operative knocked on the door. Doug opened the door, and gazed at his friend. "Hi, Bri," he said. "Hello," said Brian. "Do you have a minute?" "Yeah." Doug lead his friend inside the house, and the two sat down in the living room. Knowing Brian's old habits, the former Ranger and Delta Force operative placed an ashtray on the coffee table. "So, why did you come?" asked Doug. "I wanted to see how you were doing," answered Brian. "I suppose the feds've come by." "You betcha," said Doug. "But I don't have it anywhere near as hard as you." "Tell me about it," responded Brian, as if the death of his beloved wife was nothing more than an annoying tax return. "So what's next for you?" asked Doug. "I heard you was going back to kill the guy we missed. What was his name? Salvador?" "Yeah," responded Brian, lighting a cigarette. "It's funny. We've always got a bit of innocence to lose." "What do you mean?" "I was born in Rhodesia, in the middle of a battlefield. I saw my dad get stabbed to death by five men. I joined the Marines, saw some of my boys get car-bombed by the IRA. I've killed a lot of people. And here I am, about to go and kill a man as a revenge for killing my wife." "I guess you're right," said Doug. "Sounds like you don't want to kill him." "Trust me, I do," said Brian. "I want to make him suffer. I want to give him a slow and painful death. And at the same time, I know I'm not gonna get any closure. I know I'm not gonna be satisfied with anything." "I guess you're right," repeated Doug. "And what'll you be doing after that?" "You mean if I don't die?" asked Brian. "Probably retire," he lied. In fact, Brian didn't have any plan at all. "Okay," responded Doug, getting up and walking Brian to the door. "Look," he said, as Brian was about to cross the threshold for the last time. "When Grace died... I was the first person you came to see. And as this is probably the last time I ever see you, so I'll tell you now: I never liked her. I just wanted her to leave." Brian took a deep breath, turned towards his friend, and said, "I'd tell you to go to hell, Doug, but... God's honest truth? I don't really believe in that crap anymore." Brian was back at the old house, sitting on his sofa, drinking some yuppy-level uselessly expensive whisky, and smoking a dictator-level uselessly expensive cigar. He was waiting for the person who was supposed to buy his house. The money he'd get from it was going to go to Jennings, who had promised to get it to Rose. "Fuck me," he said aloud. "Fuck this. Fuck it all." The doorbell rang. Brian sighed, and got up. "Fuck me dead." Brian went to open the door. Out on the pavement was a tan girl with flaming red hair, although locks of it seemed to have been dyed yellow, and pale blue eyes. She was wearing a black leather perfecto, under which she had a purple T-shirt, which had a sun printed on it. To complete her look, she was wearing an orange skirt, and some knee-high boots that were very fashionable among the girls of the city. All in all, she was conventionally very pretty, and the smile on her lips was very sweet. But Brian wasn't one to care for prettiness. She had a large sports bag slung on her shoulder, and a guitar case on the other. "Hello," said the girl. "I'm Sunset." "I figured," answered Brian, eyeing her shirt. "Please, come in." Brian gave her a tour of the house. There wasn't much to see: a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom on the ground floor, a large bedroom on the first floor. "So, what d'you say?" asked Brian, when they'd finished looking around the house, sitting on the sofa and picking up his cigar. "It's very nice," answered Sunset. "I think I'll take it." "Well I'll set up a meeting with the agency, and you can get..." "Can I buy it now?" asked the girl. "Please?" Brian snorted. "How? I'm betting you don't have a..." Sunset dumped her duffel bag onto the coffee table. Intrigued, Brian looked inside. It was cash. Loads of it. "That's all of it. A quarter of a million." Brian reached to the bottom of the bag, and pulled out a bundle. He examined the notes closely. They were real. "I don't want to seem impolite," he said, "but I'd like to know where you got all of this." "Where I come from, there are some gemstones so common that the locals throw them away for a dime," answered the girl. "They fetch a high price, here." "Alright," said Brian, partly because he didn't want to dispute her claims (as unlikely as they seemed), and partly because he wanted to sell the house quickly. "I'll get the papers." Friday, in the other world "Letter for you, sir," said Jennings' secretary, placing an envelope on his superior's desk. "Thank you, Jane," answered the spymaster, before taking a sip of his gin and tonic, and replacing his glass. "What have I got planned for tonight?" he asked. "Just dinner at seven." "With whom?" asked Jennings. "Foreign Secretary? An MP? The Queen?" "No, sir," answered Jane. "Your wife." "Oh," said Jennings. "Where?" "Your house, sir. And before you ask, it's your anniversary." Jennings hadn't slept for a few days, and he had gone to great lengths to hide it. But on that day, he was at breaking point. "Thank you, Jane," he said. "Continue." "Yes, sir." Jane left the room. As soon as his secretary had left the room, Jennings reached for the envelope, and tore it open, displaying a rather grumpy look. "What is it about this time?" he thought. It was another letter about the MI6 potluck that was set to take place later that month. Jennings didn't care in the slightest for social gatherings, and he was infuriated by his subordinates' use of office paper for anything else than memos. He crumpled up the letter, and tossed it into the bin. "A call on line two," said Jane over the intercom. Jennings picked up the phone. "Jennings," he said, automatically. "FOXHOUND has gone astray," said the person on the other side of the line. "What should we do?" "I see," answered Jennings. "I'll notify the right people. In the meantime, make sure FOXHOUND can't be linked to us." "Will do. And his daughter?" "I'll break it to her." Jennings slammed the phone back, and took a deep breath. "Bollocks," he thought. Back in Equestria Brian was sitting in his cell, reflecting on what he'd seen and heard in his mind the day before. Luna had promised to make things better, but they seemed worse than ever. He took a long drag on his cigarette, flicked the ash into his glass, and rolled over onto his sheets. "Maybe they can't be trusted," he thought. "Maybe they're just as bad as I am." The soldier lay back and started thinking of a long-term plan. His chances of returning to his world anytime soon seemed pretty remote, and Celestia had told him that he'd be let free when they'd proven that he wasn't a threat. But the operative's thoughts about the future were soon crushed by the ones he'd had mere seconds before. If the ponies were indeed just as bad as he was, he could be on death row and not even know it. Soon enough, Brian realized how futile it all was, so he just rolled another cigarette. There was a loud knock on the door. It was time for dinner. The door opened, and a unicorn guard levitating a tray entered. "Your dinner, sir." Brian, who was bored, had made a game out of trying to scare the meal pony as much as possible without doing anything. He simply gave the pony an extremely filthy look. At that, the pony gulped, placed the tray on the floor, and left the room as quickly as possible. "What's on the menu?" thought Brian, picking up the tray. By the smell of things, he was having French onion soup. "Well that's nice," said Brian to himself, trying to forget his thoughts about death row. He started eating his dinner, trying very hard to forget about his worries. The soup was good, albeit a bit hot. Once he'd finished, Brian picked up the small napkin that sat next to his bowl, and was going to wipe his face with it, when a small piece of paper and a key fell out of the folds. Intrigued, Brian looked at the paper. Some words had hurriedly been written on it. "Human. They plan to execute you at dawn. This is the key to your cell. We've indicated the access to the river. Escape down the stream." Brian's heart somersaulted. At that moment, he realized that the ponies of Equestria were indeed just as bad as him. He turned the paper over, and saw that a small map of the castle had been drawn, and the access to the river had been indicated. "I need a plan," thought the operative. Indeed, he couldn't just kick the door down and make a bee-line for the docks. He'd need a reliable plan. If the castle guard operated similarly to other guard units he knew, the guard rotated at sunset. Those sort of rotations created holes in the placement of sentries, so Brian figured that such a time was the best to escape. Looking at his watch, Brian saw that it was half-past seven, and the sentries would theoretically change in a half hour or so. The questions of when he'd escape and where he'd go were sorted, so Brian just needed to figure out the finer details of his plan. Surely he couldn't leave his equipment in the castle, and having his gear on him would give him a tactical advantage. But where was his gear? Given that these items of his were almost certainly inexistant in the ponies' world (and as such, potentially dangerous), they were probably being kept under close surveillance by the guard. Or given how down-to-earth and implicated their leader was, Princess Celestia was probably studying his belongings herself. So the Princess's "work station" was Brian's best bet. But once again, where could it be? Brian walked over to his window, and looked across the courtyard. On the other side of it, was a very high tower, that corresponded to Brian's idea of where a Princess would work. Brian's heart started thumping with excitement, and the operative grinned at himself. The idea of breaking out of a jail and escaping through a dock was his idea of fun. All he needed now was to eliminate the sentry in front of his cell's door. And he knew exactly how to do just that. The captain took a deep breath, opened his mouth wide, and violently shoved his middle finger into it. He slid it down his tongue, and brought it as far into his throat as he possibly could. Brian felt the acid climb up his throat and into his mouth, and he threw up onto the floor. He forced a few whines and moans as he did so, and fell to his knees. The more noise he made, the better it would work. Sure enough, a few seconds later Brian heard the scraping of a lock, and the door opened, revealing the sentry, wearing his metal uniform. He rushed over to the human, and tried helping him up. "Sir, are you alright?" asked the guard. Brian put his hand onto the pony's back, and used it as support to help himself up. And after he'd done so, he quickly brought his arm around the guarspony's neck, and held him in a chokehold. Then, Brian grabbed the soldier's helmet by the crest, ripped it off the guard's head, and whacked his head with it twice, to knock him unconscious. Once that was done, Brian placed the unconscious pony onto his bed, and covered the body with sheets, so as to confuse potential viewers into thinking that was Brian sleeping. Then, the operative gathered his tobacco, cigars, and journal, and rushed out of the door, closing and locking it behind him. The operative crouched down, looked at his map, saw that some stairs were indicated, and went in their direction. He constantly checked corners as he moved forwards, making sure he wasn't being watched or followed. When he arrived at the top of the aforementioned stairs, he checked for some more precise indications of where the Princess's office was. But all of a sudden, he heard some hoofsteps from the floor above. Two sets of them. They were getting closer, and their echo indicated that they were using the same staircase as him. Preferring to avoid any confrontation with the guard, Brian hid behind a conveniently-placed stone pillar. "What about the... thing in the western tower?" a voice asked. "It's being kept under control," answered another. "I told Her Highness that it was better to have it sent somewhere else, like the Crystal Palace, but she didn't want to hear it." "As long as it's under control..." Brian peeked his head around the corner, saw two white rumps making their way downstairs, and he took his chance. Silent like a ghost, he crept up the stairs, and followed the signs to the princess's office. Brian made his way up a very tall tower, at the top of which was a door, behind which he could hear two voices arguing. The operative crouched down again, and looked through the keyhole. From what he could see, the study was empty. The operative bent his knees, and pushed the door open. As soon as he was inside, he scanned the room, looking to see if anyone was there. He saw that his gear had been placed on a table in the corner of the room, so he rushed over to it and did a quick inventory check. Everything was there. Quickly and quietly, Brian donned his fatigue jacket, harness, and belt. He carefully picked up his Colt 1911, checked to see if the ponies had damaged it, and holstered it. Then, he grabbed his M16, checked it in the same way, and slung it over his shoulder. He was ready to roll. "Your Highness, you wanted to see me?" asked Rainbow Dash, as she cantered into the Captain's office. There were Celestia and the newest captain of the guard, whose name no-one really knew. "Ah, Rainbow Dash, I'm glad you could make it," said Celestia. "We wanted to talk about your encounter with Brian back in Ponyville." Rainbow's smile dropped. The pounding he'd given her was clearly still on her mind. "What about it?" she asked, bitterly. "Well, you are the only pony to have had a close-up, physical encounter with him," explained the Captain. "We wanted to know if you saw any, erm..." "Any what?" "Weaknesses." "Weaknesses?" "Yes." Rainbow Dash was about to answer, but a unicorn guard stormed into the room. "Your Highness," he panted. "It's the human. He's escaped!" "What?" bellowed the captain. "How could we let this happen?" "I don't know, sir," said the guardspony. "He knocked out the sentry who was posted next to his cell. We've checked the study, his gear's gone!" "DAMN!" shouted Celestia. The captain went to the intercom station at the corner of the office, and spoke into the microphone. "All stations, be advised, there has been a breakout in sector Whiskers-Four, block all exits and prepare to engage the enemy." Then, he pressed a big red button, which activated the alarm. "Where can he be?" asked Rainbow Dash. "Even someone with passing tactical knowledge would know that it's suicide to break out through the main doors. That means that he'll be escaping through..." "The waterfall..." said Rainbow Dash. Brian inserted his lockpick and torque wrench into the keyhole of the metal river access door, and applied pressure to the left. The lock moved slightly. Then, he applied it to the right. It moved slightly more. "Bingo," he thought. The operative applied pressure on the different pins of the lock, trying to find the one that resisted more. He eventually found it, and pushed it upwards. Once that was done, he repeated the process of looking for the most resistant one and pushing it. He did that about six times, when the lock became loose, and Brian turned it fully. Not wasting any time, the operative held his sidearm over his shoulder, and opened the door, slowly making his way into the next room. It was a sort of tunnel. Brian was standing on a stone walkway, and in front of him was the large river that the castle was built upon. He looked at the flow of the water, and quickly discerned where the water was flowing to. He looked downstream, and saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Dozens of hoofsteps could be heard approaching Brian's position at an alarming pace. Not wasting any more time, Brian started sprinting towards the light. He had run about fifty meters, when he heard a voice behind him, over his echoing footsteps. "He's there!" shouted Rainbow Dash. Brian upped his pace, and ran as fast as he possibly could. The light was getting closer, but so were the dozens of guards that followed him. "Come on! Come on!" he thought to himself, his heart beating impossibly fast, his teeth gritted. "Brian!" shouted Rainbow Dash. The operative ran and ran, but as he neared the end, he saw what awaited him: a waterfall. There was a sort of bridge that stood in front of the fall, with security railings. Brian elected to stand on it. He turned around to face his assailants. The guard detachment, with the rainbow mare at its head, ground to a halt, about ten metres away from Brian. Rainbow Dash fluttered in front of them, over the water, facing Brian. She had a broad, determined grin on her face. "I've been waiting so long for this!" she exclaimed. Brian grabbed his rifle, and pointed it at her. "Stay back!" he ordered. "All of you! Stay back or I'll truss you all up like fucking rabbits!" The guards froze completely. But Rainbow Dash fluttered her ground. Brian looked behind him, and saw that the waterfall was big. And he didn't know the depth of the basin, but he probably wouldn't survive the fall anyway. But a probable death, jumping into the water, was preferable to a certain death at the hooves of the ponies. He probably didn't have enough bullets to fend off the entire Castle guard, not to mention however many ponies were in their army. Brian grabbed the railing firmly, and without further hesitation, he thrust himself over it, shouting "See you all in hell!" as he did so. "BRIAN!" shouted Rainbow Dash, leaping after him. She caught up to the falling human pretty fast, and stuck her forelegs under his arms, flapping as fast as she could to bring them upwards, but Brian was heavier than she'd expected. "NGGGGGGGGGH!" And just as they were about to hit the water, she managed to bring them to an almost horizontal flight path, but her best efforts weren't enough. They both went heads-first into the murky water below. Rainbow Dash felt her lungs fill with water, and her limbs were sore. She lost consciousness.