“The police can't protect consumers. People need to be more aware and educated about identity theft. You need to be a little bit wiser, a little bit smarter and there's nothing wrong with being sceptical. We live in a time when if you make it easy for someone to steal from you, someone will.”
—Frank Abagnale
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Chapter Eighteen: Cool Explosions and Super Secret Espionage
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[15th of November, 989. 9:45 am]
You know when you take those super slow steps? But this ‘deceased velocity’s’ purpose is to actually abbreviate my walking style, foreshadowing the idea, of a ‘cool’ or ‘awesome’ feel to my personality, exaggerating my actual physique’s attitude?
In short, it’s to contribute my other, ‘cool’ item, that I just —literally a second a go— slammed onto my face, tinting my eyesight a tinge of black, inducing my entire peripheral perception to be of an un-illuminated shade.
Black sunglasses.
But not just any sunglasses.
Cool, sunglasses. The kind of style you’d normally think, big, buff, crazy action heroes would be wearing.
As I’m walking reasonably slowly, (with the other griffon soldiers directly in front of me, literally sprinting away as fast as possible), an incredibly mc-massive explosion occurs behind my physique. Blowing dust, particles, and wind currents in all directions. The colour orange infected the entire region, spreading its breathtaking colour on every object in the surrounding environment. Plants were uprooted, animals were spontaneously cooked, and hair waved in the ridiculously strong gale. Specifically, my hair. Nobody else's.
I never flinched and persisted with strolling —as if nothing happened— with the massive detonation behind me. To any onlookers from the outside world, I must look God-like, and most importantly—truely awesome.
As I gaze around, rotting my head in a series of directions, I notice a mix of green and black fleshy chunks falling from the sky, coating the atmosphere in a sickly emerald. Guts and other disembodied char remains landed randomly, and without reason all across the land. The fluid living inside proceeding to SPLAT, combusting into a disgusting mush.
It’s funny what someone can accomplish with a few barrels of packed gunpowder, or in other words, a couple of sticks of dynamite.
Oooop.
One fell directly on my head.
It’s slowly sliding down the side of my muzzle, leaving a green slug-like trail behind, until it graces my lips, and falls onto the Earth below. I can imagine half my face is literally covered in green, insectoid blood.
I give it a little lick.
Okay, that is..weird. Its like..no, I can’t even begin to describe it. I’ve tasted nothing like this before. Not in the entirety of my considerable life, I, however, have never tasted flies or mosquitoes before, so, it could be something similar to that. I nevertheless, de-testify that hypothesis.
I’m glad that I had it, but I don’t need to have it ever again.
Like, ever.
Now that my little monologuing session is over, I decided it was in my best interests to shout our next objective, in clear earshot of my subordinates, “ONWARDS!”
I point at a 50-degree angle towards the sky, “TO MORE EXPLOSIONS!”
I, after all, still have a few more outposts I want to blow up, the Griffon Republic needs to be cleansed of this horrible manifestation.
That, although, is a side objective in my book, as apparently these vile creatures—they incline to refer to themselves as ‘Changelings’ —, actually have something, of what I’d consider, pretty major in my book planned. That is, they plan to attack Equestrian soil.
Normally, I wouldn’t give two shits about the Equestrians, I think they’re total dumbasses, what I am concerned about, however, is the fact they’re not going to accomplish this ‘normally’. In fact, very far from that prospect to a relatively large degree. Not only are they assaulting the Capital (Canterlot) directly, but they are also utilising, as quoted by a ‘drone soldier’ we (Well, when I mean we, I really mean me) were interrogating, “W-we’re ap-pparently u-using some ne-newly changeling d-developed weapon-ns, though, no-chan-nglings have heard much about it, it’s t-totally secret, all w-we know about is the a-attack order! Honest!”
Now this ^^^, right there, really pisses me off. Not only did they steal my weapons, but they have the nerve to say that they developed it??!!! Those species of shit! I wiLL RIP OUT THEIR HEARTS AND SHOVE THEM SO FAR UP THEIR ASSES THAT THEY’L—you know what, I’m pretty much getting worked up about nothing. It’ll be pretty easy to essentially eliminate the entire species, I could literally utilise a death ray from space, that would be really easy. That’s why it’s so tempting.
And I could possibly use other techniques, like a homing missile, for example, to track and destroy them. But where’s the fun in that? I want to manually hunt them down — like a predator would do to its prey— and utterly dismantle them to pieces, even if it takes one atom at a time.
I want to thrill of catching them, painfully exhibiting mental and physical traumas, and especially, watching the leader— the one responsible for claiming all this. To bleed, and die, right before my eyes. In fact, that’s all I really care for at the moment, after all, all the other soldiers are just..soldiers (If I could call them that). All they do is follow orders, it’s not necessarily their fault for any of this.
That doesn’t mean, however, that I can’t unveil some of rage upon these ‘people’, they after all (unlike me) are pawns. Nothing more, nothing less. To be employed by someone else for your own benefit.
Honestly, it’s a bit ironic, and shameful that these insects call themselves ‘predators’, well, if that’s the case, I’m the annihilation inducing occurrence, like the meteor during the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event.
And thus, that final line of thought brought me to my next exclamation to the Republican Griffon soldiers, “AND TO THE PONY CAPITAL! TO VICTORY!”
[16th of November, 989. 12:00pm]
A clenched paw pounds on a table, leaving a considerable mark in its wake.
“FUCK!”
And the lengthy continuous string of emotional profanities…
“SHIT! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” The unmentioned griffon leader looks at his surrounding subordinates/servicemen in a fit of rage, staring at each one intensely, until he finally, raises his fists up in the air, and shakes them repeatedly.
That is, until they slam back onto the table, seeding even larger cracks and holes withered throughout its surface.
“FUCK!”
His voice continues to rise in volume, “I DON’T WANT ANY MORE CONFLICTS TO OCCUR IN WET WEATHER, ALRIGHT?!! THIS CAN NOT HAPPEN EVER AGAIN!”
He points to the ceiling, shaking his appendage slightly, “ESPECIALLY NOT UNDER MY WATCH!”
That was pretty much a given.
“Ummm, sir,” one griffon begins, he, however, is stared down by the aforementioned person, “My apologies, I mean, President Senatus, don’t you think we should do a counterattack? We’ve been taking this war slow so far, to limit our loses. But now I’m afraid that’s not going to cut it.”
The President took a few deep breaths, in an attempt to stabilise himself, “Yes,” *breath in* “perhaps we should,” he looks back at the person just vocalising his concern, General Bridges, “What plans do you have exactly?”
General Bridges leans down, underneath the table, and grabbed a reasonably thick document out of his military-issued saddlebags, “When the war first took off, I illustrated up a stratagem for a direct assault on their Capital, but no-griffon—particularly at the time, thought much of it,” he chucks the aforementioned documentation on the table, “Frankly, we’ve been too preoccupied with attempting to win by attrition and achieve support over the Empire populous.”
He quickly flips through a couple of pages, until he lands on a drawn up battle design, clearly showcasing to all of the surrounding military servicemen his plans.
“This plan was obviously originally drawn up for the outdated weapons we possessed, so it’ll be a lot easier to inmate this scheme with musket divisions instead. Honestly, this method is a bit generous on the troop side,” he points out a few more key symbols on the parchment of paper, “But we can obviously descale them, muskets are undeniably much more reliable in achieving results. I recommend obtaining all our muskets in reserve— that is, the ones produced here. Not by Mrs Atomic Discharge. For this plan to work, it would need to utilise every resource available to us.”
Another random General in the room decided to add in a little quip, “But they also have serious weaknesses—what’s to say there are more? We aren’t aware of all the unknowns.”
“I’m going to have to agree with the Lieutenant,” General Garrison pokes his thumb at the mentioned character, “We simply can’t sustain a full assault, there’s a reason we’ve been taking this war ‘slowly’, is because our supply lines are already stretched to the limit.”
He leaned forward slightly, “Also don’t forget that the enemy loves burning everything in its wake (this is called the Scorched earth tactic), our troops literally can not achieve any more provisions, especially not from pillaging the enemy’s provinces.”
The discussion involving every character in the room lasted for another 40mins, incredibly, the votes seemed to be split. Some liked the way things were going, that—after all, the previous battle was only one defeat. While others believed the enemy had more tricks up their sleeves and needed to be taken out quickly, by a concentrated, large force.
This all boiled down to the President’s decision, his vote was essentially worth three, and with the split ties of 16 to 17, this was principally up to him. He—was to determine the fate of the entire country. By one, single decision. Which, may or may not, lead to their downfall.
His raised paw, quickly silencing the whole room, “I’ve made my decision,” he briefly paused, “I believe the best source of action, is to swiftly take them out by force. I want this done by the end of the month. The quicker, the better.”
Some of the surrounding griffons started to voice their objections, they all, however, were stared down by the President, and fellow Generals that already agreed to the prospect.
Nobody could change the Republican’s fate.
He has made his decision.
[14th of November, 989. Midnight]
The surrounding atmosphere was dark, very dark. In fact, some old 21st-century experts would vocalise it would be relatively necessary to wear night vision. Nothing would be able to penetrate through the never-ending night.
This gloominess of light appeared to narrowly infect one portion of the Canterlot Castle, an exceedingly small one at that. If people were to gaze closer at this known, anyone with enough intelligence in accordance with a squirrel has the mental capacity to realise that this ‘darkness’, is, in fact. Not normal, without a doubt, it was artificially made by the presence of dark energy, or ‘magic’, as what the locals prefer to allude to.
It’s as if…the darkness was hiding something.
The only section of the Castle affected appeared to be the guest living quarters, the, what most consider ‘first class.’ So, what’s the intention of this, unknown? Is it to slay a Nobel who may be residing in one of these bedrooms? Is it setting a trap?
No, definitely not. It’s after someone…someone, who in a few days time, would be getting married, one relatively new pony princess expressed to the world stage. Her name is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.
‘Ah, yes,’ the one controlling the darkness thought, ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for a, very, long time. Its time to indicate the steps in my petrified scheme.’
The still, unknown entity, quickly sends a message hypothetically through a mental link, this is only possible through the use of finely controlled, and manipulated dark energy, ‘General, is the area secured?’
‘Yes,’ the high ranking soldier quickly declared back with his own mental message, ‘My queen, no guards will be coming your way, all have been apprehended and replaced by your drones. They’re now acting as forward standing outposts.’
‘Excellent,’ she responded.
The darkness seemed to spread from one location to another like a mist, it quickly descended on a particular room, with a specific occupant in mind. ‘Are you sure this is the correct room?”
‘Yes, my Queen,’ the same soldier as previously mentioned said, ‘the drones confirmed it.’
The entity simply nods her head.
Gloominess continued to spread comparatively like flowing water as it circulates into the broached room. Evidently, all this mist completely concealed itself within the space, bunched up like packing peanuts in a delivery box.
Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, or Princess Cadence for short involuntary shivered in her sleep, the average kinetic energy (or temperature) of the room dropped as the darkness arrived within this space. Dark green eyes appeared from the mist, boldly staring at the living fecal matter in front of her, these eyes contained a millennia worth of anguish and pain. That would, soon enough, be released.
Eventually, more body parts arrived from the darkness, next, a whole-fully black insectoid face with an algae green mane and crown perched upon her head, the neck, shoulders, front hooves, torso, back hooves, and finally, the hindmost tail. On top of that, holes randomly transited on different body parts, however, this mainly consisted of the legs, where they were clearly the biggest by an extreme long shot.
All of these characteristics simply scream ‘evil’, anybody gazing at her would involuntary shiver, the mix of fear and unnatural dark energy perpetuates the very living soul of any onlooker. Any smart pony would run away without even a second thought.
This little pony princess, nevertheless, was asleep.
She couldn’t run, even if she wanted to.
A somewhat pleasant (in comparison to the rest of the figure) dull green light filled the room, as the previously referred to creature lighted up her horn (dark energy controller) to activate or achieve something. The light appeared to have surrounded the princess in an almost comforting way, slightly lifting up the pony above the bed covers.
And then, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, a pink pony, disappeared in a flash.
The creature smirked, ‘That was easier than expected,’ she looks down where the princess previously inhabited, ‘you could be of use as a bargaining chip later on, down to the crystal cabins you go.’
Flames suddenly erupted from the sides of the entity, lighting the room in a massive bland of algae artificial light, and regular green. Once this inferno cleared, what stood in its place was Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, exactly the same appearance as the pony formally on the bed.
As the entity settles down in the exact position marked from the previous being, she begins to think to herself, ‘This invasion has so far, gone without a hitch. The ponies will think I’m their real princess, and I’ll easily be able to perform a surprise attack with my changelings on the wedding day. Every pony will be occupied with stuffing their throats with food and wine. No one will ever expect a thing.’
And with that last thought, she falls asleep, taking the place as a significant infiltrator in the Equestrian kingdom.
Six pristine ponies of importance sat in relative jubilation as they ate, and participated in small communication. They were attempting to enjoy themselves in the current picnic, watching the absolutely stupendous scenery, and natural ecosystem.
These ponies consisted of what many would refer to as ‘heroes’, ‘a great, never-ending friendship’, or ‘the barres of the Elements of Harmony’, this consisted of; Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy. Which, in all honesty, are comparatively stupid names.
It was at this moment a small group of butterflies decided to fly above this gathering, showcasing their extreme beauty and fragrance.
One particular pony, a white one named Rarity inclined to voice this, “Ahh!”
This sudden realisation was mildly undertaken by the small thundering footsteps in the distance, and Applejack’s (the Orange pony’s) loud slurping noises.
But she decided to continue the sentence anyway, “It is gorgeous out. Just gorgeous!”
The incoming footsteps continued to gain speed and decibels, fourth-going the conclusion that the particular person/animal was decreasing the distance relative to the group, evidently, this being came into view off all the participants, a small, baby dragon to be exact. He proceeded to ‘huff and puff’ and furthermore, fall onto his stomach, attempting to gather his breath.
His name was Spike, “Twi… light! ...I... have…” he was obviously exerting effort to convey important information, but it was almost pathetic how much he was failing at it, “Lemme just…" *deep breath*
His loud and repetitive breaths were suddenly interrupted by a loud *BLEACH*. This unwarranted sound came with a small spire of green fire, and ambiguously, a scroll.
This, however, didn’t seem to surprise any of the surrounding occupants, if anything, the purple pony, named Twilight Sparkle seemed to ignore the dragon as if he was never there, proceeded to grab the scroll with her ‘magic’, and read its contents out loud, for everybody to perceive.
The letter appeared to be from the White Princess, Ruler of the Day, Twilight Sparkle’s Mentor, Princess Celestia.
“Dear Twilight, I’m sure you’re as excited as I am about the upcoming wedding in Canterlot.” The lilac unicorn decided to quickly question the fact they were supposed to be aware of this important ceremony, creating an incredulous facade, “Wedding?”
This expression was short-lived, however, as the unicorn continued to read the rest of the letter, “I will be presiding over the ceremony, but would very much like you and your friends to help with the preparations for this wonderful occasion. Fluttershy, I would like you and your songbird choir to provide the music.”
The mentioned person voiced her enthusiasm, “Oh my goodness! What an honour!”
“Pinkie Pie, I can think of no one more qualified than you to host the reception.”
She too was ambiguously thrilled, “Hip, hip, hooray!”
Twilight continued, “Applejack, you will be in charge of the catering for the reception.”
“Well, colour me pleased as punch!”
The traction seemed to be gaining attitude, that is, everyone became more elevated by the second, nobody had any idea what was going on, but it sure seemed significant, “Rainbow Dash—“
This ‘traction’ however, was somewhat stolen as the multicoloured pony gave a large ‘yawn’ at the mention of her name—which meant she had to do work. She hates work.
Twilight just quickly continued to explain before it the conversation could become off track, “...I would very much appreciate it if you could perform a sonic rain-boom as the bride and groom complete their ‘I do’s’.”
Though, after Rainbow Dash actually listened to what she would be assigned to enact, it was obvious that she transmitted into an excited state, excited, to present her talents to the open public.
“Yes!”
“Rarity, you will be responsible for designing the dresses for the bride and her bridesmaids.”
Out off all the orders from the scroll, this appeared to please the white unicorn the most, “Princess Celestia wants me to– *mumbling*…wedding dress? For a Canterlot wedding... I, ah, ooh, oooh!” She was so flabbergasted that, she promptly passed out, manufacturing a loud *THUMP*.
“And as for you, Twilight,” (the writer addressed the person currently reading the letter), “you will be playing the most important role of all: Making sure that everything goes as planned. See you all very soon. Yours, Princess Celestia.”
The lilac unicorn still appeared…puzzled. “But… I don't understand. Who's getting married?”
Of course, the dragon surprisingly ‘on accident’ forgot to provide Twilight all the documents, despite the contents on the parchment had a high probability of causing her a heart attack, “Oh, wait! Uh, I was probably supposed to give you this one first.”
And so, Twilight continued to read, “Princess Celestia cordially invites you to the wedding of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and…” her eyes widen the size of dinner plates, almost bulging out of their sockets, her breath becomes practically stagnant as she addresses the last bit of crucial information, *gasp* “My brother?!”
Being the element of honesty, Applejack decided to voice her opinion, despite is being quite obvious that Twilight’s expression was furious, “Your brother's getting married? Congratulations, Twilight! That's great news!”
Twilight’s mindset was a swirling mess, a bunch of jumbled questions, and swear expressions all in-bedded into her brain, as a result of all this, she decided the best course of action was to go into a detailed rant, “Yeah, great news. That I just got from a wedding invitation! Not from my brother, but from a piece of paper! Thanks a lot, Shining Armor. I mean, really, he couldn't tell me personally?* She attempts to duplicate her brother’s voice with a high amount of sarcasm and exaggeration “Hey, Twilight, just thought you should know I'm making a really big decision that changes everything. Oh, never mind, you'll hear about it when you get the invitation!”
“Isn’t he aware of HOW MUCH STRESS I’M GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW??! DO ANY OF YOU—“ she pointed at her friends, “KNOW HOW DIFFICULT IT IS TO FIND THAT MARE ATOMIC DISCHARGE??! I’VE ALREADY SEARCHED EVERYWHERE IN PONYVILE! AND OF COURSE,” she waves her hooves around, “I GET NOTIFIED, THROUGH A LETTER, THAT MY BROTHER IS MARRYING WITHOUT EVEN PIROR KNOWLEDGE TO THE EVENT, OR ANYTHING ABOUT HIS FIACCEE!” She took several deep breaths to steady herself.
All her friends, appeared to be leaning slightly away from her, attempting to remove themselves from the explosive individual, nevertheless, all of them remained where they were sitting prior to the incident, one particular pony, Fluttershy, tried to defuse the situation by asking a relatively simple question, “Um-m, T-twilight? Are you okay?”
“I’m…sorry,” her eyes seemed to slightly moisturise and glisten in the mourning light, “It’s just… I had an important schedule I needed to upkeep, I had quite a lot planned, in fact, I even was going to travel to the Griffon Empire to gather more information. But this sudden drop—which could’ve been avoided if I was notified— just derailed my deadline. Not to mention that Shining Armor and I have always been so close.” Her expression merged into some resemblance of excitement as she stated the next sentence, “He’s my B.B.B.F.F!” But that all but disappeared within the next few seconds.
This one single letter appeared to decrease the overall mood of the picnic, one of the many friends attempted to comfort Twilight Sparkle, “I’m sure he’s just been busy…being the Captain of the Royal guard must take most of his time.”
“Yes,” Twilight sighed, “its probably just that.”
Editor's Note:
So “a canterlot wedding” is here and a Desperate Last Push for the Imperial Capital in the civil war, when I think about this I remember hoi4…….Why not just Parachute into Paris GriffionStone?
Music used:Deus ex:human Revolution/Mankind divided ambient Mix 2 hours
Character Sheet: