“Anything else, Miss?”
“No, thanks,” the woman answered, waving the waiter off.
Eric motioned for a glass of water, which the waiter left to retrieve for him. He turned back to the woman before him. “Interesting place to meet.”
“Under a streetlamp and reading a newspaper while wearing a trenchcoat would be a little suspicious, don’t you think?” she replied with a smirk, garnering a chuckle from Eric.
“True,” he answered. “But back to business: you had something to offer me, Miss...”
“Layla. Sarah Layla. I have... sources throughout the Equestrian government,” she informed, taking a small sip from her wine glass. “Troop movements, secret deals, any dirty secret you want and there’s a chance I can get it.”
“Makes one wonder how you could get a spy network on one of the most xenophobic organizations I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Not all ponies agree with how Celestia is dealing with the situation. More than you would think.”
Eric nodded. “So, what do you want me to do?”
“I will just need some of your people for a pet project of mine.”
“Is there a time frame I should be aware of?”
Sarah shook her head. “I will tell you when and where as it becomes relevant.”
Soubre, Côte d'Ivoire
Captain Stormsword pounded his table in front of him, snorting in anger. “What do you mean they just appeared!?”
“Sir, they just appear out of thin air and kill us. It’s as if by magic,” came the calm reply despite the urgency of the situation.
Stormsword sighed deeply. He was a captain of the Equestrian Infantry, second only to the Royal Guard itself. Such an outburst was unbecoming of him, despite the rather dire circumstances. Brazenhead brought up an interesting situation however. How do these reports make sense? Humans were poisoned by raw magic. Magic used for healing poisoned humans; possessing it themselves to such a degree invisibility would be possible?
However, the “why” and “how” of the situation would have to wait. Only the “what” was the concern and how to deal with it. “Get several pegasi to tell the general what’s happening,” he said to his lieutenant. “And tell Brazenhead and Wind Hound to get their flanks in here!”
The two officers, a burly earth pony and stout pegasus, arrived. “Brazenhead, get the soldiers into turtle positions. I want unicorns holding an anti-magic shield around the formations.” He turned to Wind Hound. “I want Wraith squadron’s pegasi in the air with an anti-infantry payload, searching in a scatter formation. Attack on sight. Get Banshee squadron to cover those pegasi I sent earlier!”
“Sir!” the two ponies saluted, turning to exit the command hut. As they pushed aside the door, it exploded inwardly and killed the two immediately. The guards not caught in the blast reacted immediately, aiming spears, crossbows, and whatever else they had at the opening.
And nothing.
Stormsword was confused. This was obviously a result of human explosives, but there had been no detection of them inside the camp. They weren’t close enough to attack him and any human presence this close would have been detected, invisible or not. Unless... Stormsword shuddered at the implications.
“Lights out, asshole.”
Stormsword turned around to see the barrel of a human weapon pointed at his head and the slowly materializing form of a human soldier.
* * * * *
“Target neutralized,” Archer spoke into his headset as the bodies of the four ponies fell to the floor. The three remaining guards were shot by his teammates who were set up outside of the shoddy wooden shelter. He didn’t kill his target, but shot it with a paralyzing dart from an attachment on his coilrifle, which had downed the pony faster than he had expected. He didn’t know whether or not it would be conscious, but it didn’t matter to him as most non-vital movement had ceased.
Thank God for augmented reality, he thought to himself. It made their jobs much easier. Using his helmet’s camera and a passive sensor system built into his gear that detected a multitude of life indicators, the system drew a red outline of the ponies and superimposed them on the team’s eyepieces, virtually allowing them to see through walls. He glanced over the important-looking documents on the table and walls, his camera recording all. Battle plans, troop strength, it was a gold mine of information.
“Good job, Archer,” came Lead’s voice over the radio. “Squad, regroup on me. Overlord, we need extract, over.”
A moment later, a voice answered. “Roger, coming in from the north.”
And with that, he hoisted the unconscious pony over his shoulders and exited the structure. The Falcon, an evolution of the Black Hawk better designed for the deployment and extraction of special forces, came into view. It swooped in low and hot, blasting its chin mounted, computer-controlled rotary cannon at any pony brave—or stupid—enough to poke their head out. This was largely unnecessary, however, as the Equestrians had little to no anti-air and would rarely dare to attempt anything. After a single pass it lowered in front of the team, hovering a foot off the ground.
Archer and the high value target got onboard first, the three other Green Berets following one by one. The strapped in themselves and their captive and then Rambo pounded on the cockpit door, signalling for takeoff.
As they lifted into the African sky, the team’s heads-up display lit up to reveal the face of Colonel Holt. “Gentlemen, I have some bad news.”
“Try me,” replied Conan.
“The Equestrians are getting serious. They’re abandoning their plan of ‘help’ first, shoot last. Serious, lethal military hardware. Cannons, primitive tanks, you name it. Not this potion business or riot suppression anymore. It’s not simple peacekeeping like they’ve been bullshitting the UN with.”
“Aw, shit,” Rambo replied. “You think this woulda happened if we just stayed out?”
“End result would be the same: a gradual conquest campaign in the name of protecting their citizens.”
“They can’t just move them behind the barrier? Into the safe mainland?” Archer asked.
“Now you’re getting it,” Holt replied. “But first things first; we can worry about interspecies politics later. General Stafher wants them crippled and he doesn’t want the US caught up in a political shitstorm the size of The White Bitch’s ego. Discretion, gentlemen.”
Lead sighed. “So he wants us.”
“Precisely. I’m sending you the coordinates now. But first: rest up for a few. You’ve earned it,” Holt finished as the link was cut.
“War. Outright fuckin’ war.” Exasperated, Rambo threw his hands up in the air. “Why can’t those Spetznaz guys deal with this? They love this kinda shit, risking world wars and all.”
Conan shook his head. “Anything above zero-C is too hot for ‘em.”
“Damn straight, C. Damn fuckin’ straight.”
He wasn’t a pony. Jack sighed in relief. He flexed his fingers and reflected on the dream. He had been almost swarmed by rats, hungry vicious rats dressed up as cruel caricatures of humanity. What was that? Was that how all ponies saw humanity? Perhaps just the brainwashed Turned? Perhaps that was how the potion brainwashed people. Doesn’t just make them into docile thralls, makes them want to be.
He opened his eyes, getting up from his bed. He reached for his lamp-
His arm struck a wall, jamming a finger and garnering a small grimace. Although his eyes were hazy he could tell this room looked nothing like his apartment. He tried to remember where he had seen such a place, but he couldn’t tell. Suddenly he flinched as the room suddenly lit up. Someone had opened up the window shades. Blinking, Jack cleared up his vision enough to recognize the man standing in the opposite corner of the room.
“You’re one impulsive son of a bitch, you know that?” Eric scolded. Stifling a sigh, Jack turned towards the HLF agent idly staring outside. “What the hell was that out there?”
“What do you-”
“What do I mean? How about you almost killing yourself? Twice!” Eric hissed.
“What was I supposed to do, let a bunch of kids burn to death?” Jack yelled back.
Eric opened his mouth to talk, but closed it and redirected his thoughts. “Jack, you are a very useful soldier. I can’t lose an asset like you from stupid bullshit like this,” he finished calmly.
“Alright, I get it!”
“Listen, Jack. If it wasn’t for Gene Seed you’d be Turned. You are extremely lucky to be here right now.”
Jack sighed in defeat.
“You were out for three days while he saved your ass. Be thankful. He also wants a follow up to make sure whatever spells and medicine he used on you are working properly. His address is on the nightstand,” Eric finished before turning to leave the room. Almost as an afterthought, he said “By the way, someone’s here to see you.”
“JACK!”
Jack’s eyes went wide with terror. “Oh, hey Rachel,” he muttered weakly.
* * * * *
She was on the verge of tears. She was overjoyed. Spending the last two days in that room, the last two nights on the couch, the last forty eight hours in a constant state of worry of whether or not the man several feet away was going to continue existing. As soon as a pony came out of his bedroom and told her he woke up, she bolted off of the couch she was sleeping on and ran towards the bedroom where her future husband laid. “Jack?” she managed to choke out.
Calm down, she said to herself. He’s alive. She took a deep breath, not letting all of the “ifs” and “would-haves” get to her. Her throat cleared up, she stopped running, and she stretched her abdomen and limbs, a nervous tick she had developed years prior in high school sports. “Jack?” she said as she reached for the doorknob. Her voice was more confident, but still full of worry.
Before she could touch the door, it quickly opened and a tall, bearded man came out. “By the way, someone’s here to see you,” he said into the other room.
She caught a glimpse of the man she had been sick with worry over. The man she thought she might never see again. The man that had caused her so much pain over the last few days. “JACK!” she yelled this time, shoving the door open and walking angrily to the bed.
“Oh, hey Rachel,” Jack said quietly to her.
“Don’t you ‘Hey Rachel’ me!” she wailed. “I’ve been stuck here for the last two days because of you! I’ve been worrying my ass off for five days for your dumb ass!”
“Listen, I-” Jack tried to say, but Rachel cut him off.
“No, you listen! I’ve been at my home, at work, with friends, not knowing anything’s happening, and then I get a call saying you were almost turned into a fucking horse?”
“It’s not what you-”
“It’s not what I think? That’s the best you have? I knew you were fighting those fucks, but holy shit! You’re going off on adventures playing fucking superhero! Damn fucking straight it’s not what I think!”
“But-”
“But what, you going around to save the day? You thinking you’re the God damn Batman? What in Hell were you thinking?!”
Jack stayed silent as Rachel paced the room, hands running through her hair. She stopped and turned to him.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, immediately changing her tone. “I’m sorry. It’s... it’s just been stressful.”
“It’s fine. Let’s just go,” Jack replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“No, it’s not fine,” she said as she grabbed Jack’s arm and helped him to his feet. “You’re almost converted and I’m pissed instead of just being happy you’re still here. I’m sorry.”
“Rachel, it’s fine,” he restated. Rachel nodded her head and put his arm around her neck as he was still dizzy.
“Tell you what. When we get home, we can do anything you want...”
After a moment of thought, Jack answered. “Cuddle?”