“This is a bad idea,” Kyo repeated, as the quartet left the Harding’s backyard and began to move down the dirt and gravel alley that ran along the long axis of the block of houses on either side. “Very bad.”
“This is kidnapping Ebon. Everything else aside, we just assaulted and kidnapped a foreign national,” Nao protested, moving alongside the striding major and shooting a look at the group’s veterinarian. “And you, I can’t believe you’re okay with this.”
“Ebon is my commanding officer, and I’m more than willing to follow his lead. If he says this is the right thing to do, then I’m doing it,” Watson replied, shifting the slight burden that was Apple Bloom over her shoulders.
“Help,” the nearly unconscious pony tried to call out, the sedative in her system having robbed her of all her strength. Neither she nor her captors were aware that help was already on its way.
“I’ve got movement behind the Harding house,” said the man in camouflage greens, the powerful spotting scope he was looking through showing him what was going on as if he was right there, instead of almost a kilometer away. “Holy shit! It’s the four Americans who went in a bit ago, and it looks like they're taking a pony with them.”
“Any chance this is some sort of emergency, or at least something benign?” asked the officer commanding the over watch team that was one of four that had been tasked to surveil the ponies of Brightly.
“If it was an emergency they would have called Medevac for help and stayed put, and I can’t think of any reason why they would be carrying a pony down a back alley,” replied the spotter, shifting slightly as he tracked his target. “Hang on, they’ve stopped outside Arnold Kye’s backyard.”
“He’s home, isn’t he?” queried the officer, lifting a set of binoculars to his own eyes.
“Yeah, and Foxfire is with him,” replied the spotter.
“Okay, I see them. Looks like they’re going into Iron Heart’s yard,” commented the officer, grimacing as he brought the microphone of a powerful radio up to his lips. “Squads One and Two, emergency deployment to points Wing and Steel. Possible abduction of an Equestrian national in progress. Contain and secure both locations, preserve the life of any hostages at all, repeat all costs.”
“Roger,” crackled the reply from the radio. “Scrambling teams now, ETA: five minutes.”
“Now what are we doing?” Nao demanded, as Ebon opened up the wooden gate that led from the back alley onto a cement walkway that led past a garage and to a medium sized home that the CIA officer immediately recognized. “Wait, this is Iron Heart’s house. You can’t be thinking of abducting him as well.”
“Will you shut the fuck up with your constant whining?” cursed Donavich, wheeling on the woman, who shrank back a bit in spite of herself. “This is exactly why we aren’t together anymore. You always had to be in charge and you never could stop second guessing me at every opportunity.”
“Fine, then kindly explain why we aren’t grabbing a car and making a mad dash to the ferry dock for extraction?” Nao demanded, voice furious.
“As soon as we get out of this alley everyone is going to be able to see us, and there is no way any of us are going to be able to explain why we have an obviously rustled pony with us,” shot back Ebon. “We need to leave her someplace where she can’t raise the alarm, but will still be relatively unharmed. Yes, this is Iron Heart’s home. We can lock her in his garage at the least, maybe find something to tie her up with to buy us even more time before she can sound the alarm, which I will remind you was the entire point of grabbing her in the first place. Speaking of which, how is she?”
“Conscious sedation level,” Sunday responded, her practiced hands checking the pony’s vitals. “I can’t believe she isn't completely out, Ebon. That was a full dose of ketamine meant for an adult pony.”
“Prism, get this door open,” Donavich ordered, waving a hand at the entrance to Arnold Kye’s shop, and breaking the yellow ‘No Entry’ tape as he did so. ”Sunday, can you give her something that will put her all the way under?”
“Even if I had my kit with me, which I don’t, it would be too dangerous,” the vet answered. “I have no idea why she’s still partially conscious and to try to overcome that without knowing why would be risking an overdose and possibly death.”
A few moments more were all the time that Kyo Pjetrovic needed to bypass the simple lock Arnold Kye had on his shop door, and the four rushed inside, eager to be out of view from anyone who might be looking out a window. In their haste however, they failed to notice the tiny electric eye mechanism the mechanic and blacksmith had placed in the doorway to let him know if customers had shown up unexpectedly.
“Who the hell?” Iron Heart asked, head popping up from the couch on which he had been laying beside the new love in his life.
“What’s wrong?” Foxfire asked. The white unicorn had been spending the early morning with her stallion, drawing support and comfort from him while she continued to struggle with the knowledge of what she had started to become. If Medevac had been the first to feel the brainwashing fires of Nytefyre, as Foxfire was beginning to refer to the egomaniacal part of her, Iron Heart was surely going to have been the second.
To Foxfire’s utter and complete astonishment, her confession to the stallion she loved had not resulted in him ending their relationship and demanding she leave forever. Instead, Iron Heart had been understanding and compassionate, tempered with a more than reasonable level of disappointment and insistence that Foxfire follow Medevac’s demands for regular counselling meetings with Father Addison and openness about what was going on inside of her mind.
“Someone just went into the shop,” Iron Heart stated, heading into the kitchen that overlooked his backyard so he could look out the window. “I don’t see anyone, and the door’s closed, but something’s different.”
“Wasn’t there tape across the door this morning?” Foxfire asked, her practiced eye picking out the missing detail as she joined her husband.
“Oh crap!” Iron Heart exclaimed. “The swords! With everything else that’s gone on, I completely forgot about them.”
“By the Goddess, we’d better get down there,” Foxfire declared. “The Umbral put them into the same category as Excalibur and Gungnir. Who knows what they might do to someone who just picked them up out of curiosity?”
“There, that should hold her,” Donavich stated with satisfaction, as he finished bolting a length of heavy chain around Apple Bloom’s neck and securing it to the large workbench by the door as a makeshift collar and leash. “Now, let’s get… What are all of you staring at?”
“Bohze moi,” murmured Prism, as Donavich saw that his companions had discovered something incredible in their search for something to restrain the tranquilized earth pony with.
There, still lying amongst the dark debris of their forging, lay five golden swords, their blades even now rippling with waves of sunrise colours, telling the world that here lay five items of power. Donavich would never have any memory of the steps that it took him to travel from one end of the shop to the other, but he would never forget how he felt as he stood over the bronze broadsword, or how his hand ached to be filled with the grip of the weapon that shone like the sun.
His hand began to reach out, fingers already curling slightly in anticipation of feeling the warm grip in his hands, until a voice sharper than steel cut through both his will and his intent.
“STOP!” called Foxfire, standing in the door with Iron Heart at her side. “Don’t touch that!”
“Do not move, Baba Yaga,” Prism ordered, Glock drawn in an instant, its .38 calibre barrel trained on the white unicorn’s chest. “You cannot use your magic before I can shoot you.”
“Good thing she isn’t alone then, eh?” Iron Heart asked, stepping in front of his fiancée and putting himself within range of where Apple Bloom lay on the concrete. “You might be able to kill me, but I promise you that my wife will avenge me. Horribly.”
“Horribly is right,” Empress responded. “Without your compassion, Foxfire will become a dangerous, vicious monster. Yes, you will be avenged, but at what cost to everyone and everything around you?”
“The only monsters I see here are you four,” Foxfire shot back, but the Empress could see in the unicorn’s body language that her sally had struck home.
“Whatever you think we’ve done here, it’s not as bad as what you did to your friend earlier, Foxfire,” Empress volleyed back. “How much more out of control will you be, how much of a monster will you become, when you have a true target for your fury? Stand down, let us go on our way, and no one needs to get hurt. We’ll even let you keep the little one here, as a gesture of good will.”
“I… I… Arn? What do I do?” Foxfire begged, no longer sure in which direction her moral compass lay.
“What was that line from that British series you showed me?” Iron Heart asked, face set with iron determination and his voice clear and bright as he raised a forehoof high. “Demons run, when a good mare goes to war.”
With a crunch, Iron Heart brought his hoof down on the chain binding Apple Bloom, summoned power neatly sundering a set of links and freeing the recumbent pony on the floor. The look on his face promised bloody hooved murder toward those who had dared harm a child.
“You only have that one gun, and I swear you are only going to get the one shot out of it,” Iron Heart stated into the silence that followed the sound of the shattering steel. “After that, we’re going to be on you, and not one of you is going to leave here alive. No matter the cost.”
The Empress of Psyops stared hard at Iron Heart, looking for some weakness, some chink in the armour of his determination and fury at those who had invaded his home, kidnapped a foal and threatened both he and his wife with deadly harm. Her mind raced through the psychological profile the CIA had on this pony and she realized with a sinking heart that another quote was very true.
"Beware the fury of a patient man."
“What do we do?” Sunday whispered, standing beside the leader of Team Mercury and realizing that if it came to a fight, she was both without a weapon and utterly unprepared for combat.
“We change the odds,” Ebon whispered back, and breathing a prayer he grasped the hilt of the enchanted broadsword, hoping that the magical blade would allow him to put down the threat to the fame and glory that he deserved.
If it is true that God answers all prayers, it is equally true that sometimes the answer is ‘No.’ So, as Ebon Donavich grasped the hilt of the blade and lifted it up toward the ceiling with a cry of triumph he felt his heart sink a moment later as a voice rang out from the weapon with a single declaration of, “I am not for you.”
Two things happened almost at the same moment just then. With a crash of sound three soldiers burst into the shop’s entrance way, C8 assault rifles at the ready and aimed with deadly intent at the Americans. All of the Americans that is, save for Ebon Donavich, who disappeared into his clothes with a burst of rainbow light as the sorcery of the blade judged the man who would use it for ill intent and changed his form from that of a human being…
… to that of a pony.
A gray head with a mane in shades of ash and lead poked out from beneath the uniform of a major, confusion writ large on the pony’s face.
“You’re all under arrest,” barked one of the soldiers in a commanding voice. “Drop the weapon, Ma’am.”
Prism wasted no time in obeying and putting her hands on top of her head, quickly followed by Empress as well.
“You have no right to detain us,” Donavich called out, struggling to control his new body. “You have no authority over us.”
“I’ve got all the authority I need right here,” the soldier responded, gesturing a moment with his weapon. “We can discuss legalities once all of you are in a nice, safe, jail cell.”
A second twinkle of light marked the disappearance of the other uniformed American into her clothing, as Sunday attempted to pick up the blade that had just so thoroughly rejected her commanding officer.
“What the hell?” Donavich asked, into the new pile of shifting clothing beside him.
“They won’t separate us now,” Sunday declared, a curly bright yellow tail popping out from beneath a uniform blouse. “We’re in this together.”
“Mr. Kye, are you and Ms. Pedersen alright?” asked a soldier, keeping his eyes and weapon fastened on the quartet of Americans. “Do any of you need any medical attention?”
“We’re fine,” Foxfire answered, wisely staying where she was even as her instincts screamed at her to care for the downed foal near her. “But Apple Bloom needs help. I don’t know what they did to her, but we need Medevac here right away.”
More soldiers appeared, with a team of five wrenching open the large vehicle door of the garage through combined brute force. Ebon and Watson managed to control their new bodies enough to get closeups of multiple rifle barrels surrounding them.
“Command, this is Team Two,” said the leader of the group of soldiers into a radio. “All secure at Point Steel. We have a pony down from unknown causes and need a medic here immediately.”
“She’ll be fine,” Watson stated, managing to lean her head against Ebon’s flank. “She’s been given a dose of pentobarbital and ketamine. It should wear off inside of an hour.”
“This is Team One at Point Wing,” crackled the radio, and every ear in the garage oriented toward the device’s speaker. “All secure here. But we have seven unconscious ponies here amid signs of a struggle, plus two adult males in custody and a pair of frantic parents. Requesting backup and medical assistance.”
“All teams, this is Captain Malinski,” came a voice laden with authority. “Hold position and secure your locations. Medical teams are two to three minutes out from your positions. All other units are mobilizing now and we are locking down the town per the BAZ charter.”
Unable to resist the commands of her nurturing side any further, Foxfire darted forward the few feet needed to reach Apple Bloom’s side, utterly oblivious of the series of weapons that almost, but not quite shifted to target her.
“You still with us?” Foxfire asked, laying down beside the filly and nuzzling her gently.
“Why cain’t Ah move?” asked Apple Bloom, her voice barely audible. “I wanna move, but Ah cain’t. Mah legs won’t listen.”
“They gave you and the other ponies something to put you all to sleep for a bit, but it didn’t work on you for some reason,” Foxfire replied, comforting the filly as best she could. “It will go away in time. Trust me, I know potions.”
“Shield Maiden said you were kinda like Zecora,” replied the pony, relaxing and letting the drug cocktail take her now that everyone was safe. “Ah’m jest gonna have a nap, now. Okay?”
“Sure thing,” answered the unicorn, lifting her head to the sound of handcuffs ratcheting against the wrists of the two CIA officers. “When you wake up all the bad people will be gone.”
“Whoa there, big guy!” exclaimed one of the soldiers behind Foxfire, and the mare swiveled her head around in time to see her stallion leaning heavily against the soldier, glossy black highlights shimmering off his legs as they shook with the effort of supporting the pony metalworker.
“S-sorry,” stuttered the stallion, sinking down to the floor in a motion that was more of a controlled fall than anything else. “C-can’t stop shaking.”
“It’s adrenaline bleed off. Combat reaction,” opined the soldier, as a medic arrived and immediately began to assess Iron Heart.
“Check his blood sugar,” Nao called, as she was being lifted to her feet with a soldier on either side of her, over a dozen uniformed CAF personnel now being present. “He’s still recovering from making those swords.”
“No one touch the swords!” Foxfire yelled into the garage, remembering what had drawn her and Iron Heart there in the first place. The unicorn’s clarion call of warning drew every eye toward the glowing weapons that they had all been trying to ignore, with varying degrees of success. “That’s what turned two of them into ponies.”
“You hear that, Ebon? We’re ponies now. A stallion and a mare,” Sunday stated, as she was lifted into an animal carrier big enough to hold her. A carrier that had a solid looking lock on it. “I bet when we get back home we’ll both be asked to do our part to establish an American pony bloodline.”
“I’d like to request political asylum,” Donavich said to a soldier, as he was pushed headfirst into his own carrier. “Please.”
“Not my department,” responded the war-fighter, who closed the lock on the carrier with an authoritative sound. “Once you are at a holding facility you will be provided the opportunity to contact the counsel of your choice.”
“Blood sugar is in the crapper,” noted the medic attending Iron Heart, pulling out a glucose packet from his kit and catching Nao’s eye. “Good call.”
“I just don’t want a murder charge against me on top of everything else,” Nao replied, as she was spun around to be led to a van that had pulled up outside.
“Foxfire, a word of advice,” Pjetrovic called, over her shoulder as she too was led away. “Do not run away from the wolf, only to run into the bear.”
“What?” Foxfire asked in response, tearing her eyes away from where her stallion was hastily gulping down the plastic package of liquefied sugar in time to see the lean Slavic woman ducking her head to enter the vehicle, a thin enigmatic smile on her face.
“This is Team One at Point Wing. Medevac is here and so far it looks like the kids are all out cold, but in stable condition. We’ve released Thunder and Windweaver to help, and we are taking the two men we have here in for questioning,” spoke the radio.
“Who are you people?” demanded Foxfire. “How did you know what was happening, and for that matter, what in the name of Tartarus has happened to my kids?”
“In order, Ma’am,” began the soldier, safing his weapon and lowering it. “A detachment of Joint Task Force Two. We’ve had all of you under discreet surveillance since the first kidnapping attempt, and as far as I can tell from the radio chatter your kids were hit with the same thing that they gave Miss Apple Bloom here.”
“Though I’m not happy we’ve been under a microscope, I have to admit I’m rather glad you were here,” stated Iron Heart, his voice steadier as he sipped on a second glucose pack.
“So what happens now?” Foxfire asked, breathing a sigh of relief and feeling her own heart steady at seeing Iron Heart recovering from the sudden weakness that had gripped him and the knowledge that her children were being cared for.
“In large part, that’s up to you Ma’am,” said a man, stepping into the garage through the open vehicle door.
The newcomer was an older soldier with black hair in tight curls that were only just frosted with the grey of middle age and a name tag on his chest that was otherwise devoid of rank or unit identification read simply, “Malinski.”
“Me? Why?” Foxfire asked, confused until a memory of the deference the other soldiers had shown her began to dawn a dreadful suspicion. “Oh Goddess, they did it, didn’t they?”
“Did what?” Iron Heart asked, pulling himself back up onto his hooves.
“Seems your fiancée is part of the Brightly Autonomous Zone’s civilian authority,” Malinski commented, before moving forward to sit cross-legged by both ponies with the grace of a man half his age.
Foxfire took a moment to look into the captain’s steady hazel eyes, before a twinkle of light drew her gaze to a small silver pentacle the man was wearing. The soldier saw where Foxfire’s eyes had gone and gave her a small tip of his head in respect.
“The ‘Powers that Be’ thought it would be a good idea if someone that you could relate to in some way was in command of the detachment,” Malinski supplied. “Blessed Be, Foxfire.”
“Blessed Be,” Foxfire responded, returning the greeting automatically. “But I turned down the position. I refused power, and for good reason.”
“You did, so they made you an alternate without telling you. A backup in case no one else was available,” Malinski replied, a genuine smile splitting his face wide. “Guess what? You’re in charge.”
“Oh Goddess save me,” groaned Foxfire, putting a hoof to her head just beneath her horn. “So much for the ‘Queen of Brightly, and the Lands Beyond.’ I don’t have a clue what to do.”
“The Green Man helps us all to grow into new roles,” pontificated the captain, smile still very, very wide on his face. “But if it helps, my standing orders to protect the town and the ponies and people within it should cover most things. The only thing I really need you to do is to sign off on delivering the people we’ve arrested to the RCMP for proper, legal processing.”
“Done,” Foxfire stated, with a decisive nod to a concrete choice that she was willing and able to make. “Wait, there is something else I need you to do for me.”
“What do you need?” Malinski asked, simply.
“First, I need you to help me get Apple Bloom and my husband up to the Harding’s house so we can keep an eye on all the kids,” Foxfire ordered, and her eyes fell on the glowing weapons in the building. “Second, I need you to make sure no one comes in here and touches Iron Heart’s gifts until we can deal with them.”
“Those sound like reasonable and sensible orders. Anything else, Ma’am?” asked the captain, having already decided to have active guards on things that could change a person into a pony with a simple touch.
“Yes, once everyone has recovered from the drugs those… people gave them, I need you all to be ready to be turned into ponies,” Foxfire replied, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from more than one of those present.
“Ma’am, the entire detachment, JTF2 and PPCLI both, are all volunteers. But I would like to know why and how you plan on doing that,” Malinski evenly responded, smile gone like mist in the morning sun.
“Those swords need to be dealt with, and the last couple of times we played with things on that scale, everyone in town got to know what it was like to live in hooves,” Foxfire explained, as Iron Heart nodded in confirmation to the couple of soldiers who caught his eye with questioning looks.
“Understood, Ma’am,” replied the captain, smile returning. “Okay people, you heard the lady. Let’s get moving on that security cordon while I order up some hoof polish from Supply. Just in case.”
“How do I get out of this one herd outfit?” asked an unknown soldier from among the squad...