"Sneaky, got to be... sneaky." Hammond muttered to himself as his bright pink Land Rover crept through one of the few densely wooded tracks within range of the portal. As the woods receded from the sides of the path, the short driver panicked at the sight of a huge military compound. The densely packed collection of demountable buildings was barely five hundred metres away, about halfway between the edge of the woods and the portal, a well lit area with floodlights illuminating the ground the whole distance.
Throwing the car into reverse, Richard pulled back into the cover of the woods and pressed his head against the wheel, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the headache he had been cultivating over the past hour of 'sneaking'.
"I'm going to get shot" he muttered despondently as he turned the car around to look for a different way around.
---
Clarkson had been having similar problems. For the past half hour (The rest of the time had been spent searching frantically, and ultimately fruitlessly for a Kevlar vest of his own) he had been creeping in and out of ditches and gullies, and he was at his wit's end. The suspension on the high-end sports car was bruising his ass, he was terrified that he was soon to be shot, and he'd made absolutely no progress whatsoever.
"Right" he said firmly. "I'm going to need a road."
---
James sighed. While the tea was quite good, the conversation overall had been rather uninteresting. The aging General was an avid viewer of the program, but he knew next to nothing about cars in general and was instead talking enthusiastically about his 'conquests', both on the battlefield and in the bedroom, neither of which were of particular interest to May.
To almost any other man, driving slowly into a military compound that you were trying to bypass might have seemed a bad idea, but so far it seemed to have worked in James's favor. He had worked his way through the rings of security via conversations much like the one he was having now. It just seemed strange to him that on the eve of such a monumental moment in human history, all these people could talk about was themselves.
Carefully suppressing a yawn, May's thoughts turned idly to his comrades and their well-being. He hadn't heard any sirens or the rallying of troops, so perhaps they had been successful in sneaking through. Or maybe they had simply given up.
"POWER!!"
The roar of the V8 engine as it sped past shook the walls of the demountable building. Suddenly invigorated, James rose from the table to the surprise of the eccentric General.
"Very nice to meet you sir, but I have to go and murder a complete and utter pillock."
---
"Feel the speed!" screamed Clarkson, shifting up a gear and flooring the accelerator. Somehow, the confusion generated by a very loud sports car being driven by an even louder man had given him enough time to cover a substantial amount of ground. Even now, as troop carriers pulled out of the base, the powerful V8 put more and more distance between them, the bright light of the portal growing brighter and brighter until his car was enveloped, disappearing completely from sight.
---
"Clarkson you imbecile!" James yelled as he frantically sped towards the portal, trying to pull away from his heavily armed, highly trained military pursuers. Sadly, the Jeep was quickly losing ground to the troop carriers as Captain Slow fully lived up to his name. James could see the glint of cold metal reflected in the dim moonlight, could make out the rifles bristling from the vehicles as they came closer and closer... and then slowed abruptly to a crawl. Confused, and more than a little relieved that he'd had no need to test his bullet-proof vest, James followed his fellow television host and disappeared into the light.
Five hundred meters away, an aging gentleman smiled. Laying down the radio and collapsing into a leather armchair with an indulgent sigh, General Melchett smiled slightly as he lit his cigar.
"I'm expecting a good show from you three m'boy. A good show indeed."
---
"I've got to be subtle, got to stay calm, got to think this through." Hamster was having a bad time. Unable to commit to any route in particular, he had spent the last ten minutes parked in a ditch hyperventilating while alarm bells sounded and troops mobilized across the countryside.
"Why pink?" he whispered softly, hanging his head in despondence. "Why did it have to be pink?"
---
"Well I must say that this 'Equestria' place seems rather pleasant so far" James remarked cheerfully. A polar opposite of the dark, windy night in Dorset, the mid morning sun that they had greeted them on their arrival had come as a pleasant surprise.
The two men had unpacked a small set of folding chairs and table that they had discovered in the back of the Jeep, and set up camp atop a grassy hill overlooking a small village. With a grunt of admittance, Clarkson frowned a little as something occurred to him.
"What should we do if Hammond does die back there?" the taller man asked nonchalantly.
"Well, I suppose we'd have to go on without him," James replied evenly leaning back in comfort as he enjoyed the warm rays.
A bright flash of light from the nearby portal interrupted their musings however, as a bright pink Land Rover came rocketing through the wall of light, closely followed by the Camera crew in their own car. As the two cars rolled to a stop near the makeshift camp, a familiar brown haired man stumbled from the driver's seat of the Rover.
"Clarkson, I am going to murder you." Hammond spoke slowly, his left eye twitching slightly as he neared the pair of reclining men.
"What? They didn't shoot you, it's all fine" Clarkson stated with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Didn't shoo... Look at my Windscreen and tell me that again!"
"Wait, what?" James asked, shocked. Standing up and walking over to the Land Rover, he reeled a little in surprise at the sight of two neat holes at around average head-height on the drivers side. Looking back at Hammond incredulously, he made to ask, but was suddenly cut off by the small man.
"For the first time in my life I'm really glad that I ended up so short" Hammond answered the unworded question with a serious look on his face.
"Ah, well at least no-one was injured" May said, strolling back to his chair and sitting down.
"Actually, the Stig was riding with the camera crew and well..." Hammond trailed off, finally attracting Clarkson's own attention.
"Wait, what happened to old Stiggy?" Jeremy asked, finally involving himself in the discussion.
"See for yourself, he's in the back."
Walking around to the camera crew's F250, the two men noticed the bullet holes and blood almost instantly. Sure enough, a quick peek into the back of the truck revealed the gruesome truth.
"Well that's just rotten luck" James said, slightly saddened by the departure of their famed racing driver.
"We were going to get a new one soon though" Jeremy replied, dragging the body out of the car. "But I can't help but wonder..." he reached down, grasping the helmet in both hands, sliding it up to reveal...
"Oh." Hammond remarked. "Well that's rather unexpected."
---
It was a simple ceremony. The Producers had seen fit to provide the team with some basic tools including a shovel, perhaps in case of this very eventuality. Few words were spoken, though each member of the Top Gear team did make a small speech in honor of their compatriot.
"Some say his only weakness was bullets" James began gravely.
"And that he left this world the same way he came into it." Richard added. "In a car."
"All we know is, he was called the Stig." Clarkson concluded. The three men had a moment of silence to remember the times they had shared with the mysterious Stig, and then turned away.
"Right." Clarkson said. "Now that we're in Equestria, where the bloody hell are we going from here?"