//------------------------------// // The Approach // Story: Trials of the Republic // by TheDarkNight775 //------------------------------// Chapter 3- The Approach Once again, I don't own MLP, or the NLR, blah-ble-blah-ble-blah. Here's where the real fun starts. I'd like to thank GreenRing for offering his OC Saran Bloodcolt, (Who I get the feeling shall be very fun to use) Wiggedy for Gizmo Sonota, and Omega 445 for Airis. They will play no small role in this chapter and those to come. Thanks to all who looked at, faved, or, expecially reviewed, this story, and those that WILL. I appreciate your input, and I want to hear it. With that aside, FOR THE LUNAR REPUBLIC! (Trips and falls on his face) Ow. Celestia yawned boredly. The war grew tedious. She had expected to crush her sister's rebellion within months, if not weeks, yet here she was, almost a year later, listening to the boring old man in front of her droning an about these casualties and these missing men and this town destroyed by her own troops... Didn't he realize she didn't care what happened to the commoners? Stupid man. "Pinkemenia!" she called. The pink-haired mercenary materialized from the shadows behind her throne. "Yeah?" she said laconically, leaning against the side of Celestia's throne, stifling a yawn. "Remove this man from my presence. In an entertaining way." "Yup." she said, stifling another yawn, and stepping down from the dais. Her posture instantly went from loose and relaxed to lithe and pantherlike, ready to pounce. The old man shivered, backing away form the mercenary. "Please... have mercy, young lady- My grandson is being born today... I was going to meet him." "Sorry, chum. Orders are orders." Pinkemenia said, shrugging helplessly. The man gasped, glancing down. Both the mercenary's black katanas were buried in his chest. Pinkemenia had never visibly moved- she was just There. She planted a foot on his chest, her skirt rising revealingly, showing a flash of pink lace, before she used her unfortunate victim as a kickboard to launch herself into a somersault, rising impossibly high. As she jumped, she unlimbered her trademark flamethrower from her back, swinging the sixty-pound weapon into line one handed, and unleashed a spray of liquid fire, the smell of napalm filling the room. The man screamed, the holes in his chest forgotton as he ran in circles, flailing wildly, a human inferno. Pinkemenia flipped once, twice, and landed in a crouch, skirt billowing. But she didn't stand still long. She launched into the air, flamethrower over her back again, drawing her heavily coustomized pistol, the bastard son (or daughter?) of a shotgun and a revolver, known coloquially as "the Party Cannon"- a two-foot piece of iron and steel that fired shotgun slugs. Despite apparently only having a six-round capacity, the frankengun never seemed to run out of ammunition. At least, no one had ever seen her reload it, in combat or otherwise. As she flew, she began firing. The human inferno that had once been Celestia's war minister jerked and juddered as the rain of lead tore through him, merceleless and unceasing. Finally, the succesion of gunshots ended and Pinkemania landed, legs splayed, palm on the ground, waist-long straight hair swinging around her. The sorry charred piece of flesh that had been a man called Silvermane, father, uncle, son, and grandfather to be, slowly crumpled and fell with a wet squelch. Calestia clapped and laughed delightedly. "Oh, well done!" she said. "I'll ad another thousand celestians to your paycheck, just for that!" Pinkemenina smiled forcedly as Celestias' servants moved in to remove the corpse, giving the ruthless mercenary a wide berth. Celestia's smile became even more wicked as an idea came to her. "Pinkemenia, how would you and your squad like to see some real action?" "They'd be delighted, ma'am." "Well, I think I have a mission for you. Just let me call down to the airship decks and have them prepare a transport for you..." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Cut me a fuckin' break." Pinkemenia growled in frustration. She grabbed the pilot by the hair and violently dragged him out of the cockpit and into the cargo bay. "You are the most irritating, incompetet piece-of-shit pilot I've ever..." he protested and struggled. "What are you doing? No- NO!" he screamed as Pinkemenia planted a booted foot on his back and shoved him, hard. He staggered out the open bay door, arms flailing. his screams faded away as he fell. Pinkemania peered after him. "Did he have a parachute?" she asked absently. No one answered. She shrugged. "Eh. I feel sorry for the one who cleans up the mess." She turned back to her squadmates. P.A.R.T.Y. (Professional Assasination, Retaliation, Termination, and Extermination- the E had somehow turned into Y at some point...) had four members, counting herself. she pointed at their pilot and macinist extrordanaire, Gizmo Sonolta. "Gizmo, take the helm. screw the anti-air batteries, we're not going to spend two days going around the damn lake." "You didn't have to kill him." Airis, their sniper, scout, and spy extrordinaire said sulkly as Gizmo clambered into the pilot's seat. Pinkemenia ignored her second-in-command, peering out the front viewport as Gizmo turned the Butterfly class cruiser due north. Pinkie turned her head slightly, a frown creasing her face. "Airis, belay the dramatics and head for the roof." Gizmo flicked a few switches. "Incoming flak shells." he deadpanned. Airis quickly swooped out the baydoor and onto the upper deck of the airship. The upper deck was open to the elements, and only accesable to non-pegusi by a set of wielded ladder rungs on the side of the airship. they weren't ment to be used during flight, but they were accesible if the person in question edged along the small protruding ledge along the bottom of the cabin for about two meters. this method, however, was extremely dangerous and not worth the effort or danger unless it was a life-or-death situation. "Saran bored." the fourth and final member of the squad said. "Saran want kill something." Their close-combat specialist was an odd case. No one really knew where he'd come from or what he'd done for a living before he'd joined P.A.R.T.Y.; Pinkemenia had her guesses, and none were pleasant. He was a legitimate phycopath, killing anyone and everything that crossed him or even mildly irritated him. he took a sick pleasure in the pain of his victims, and Pinkemenia was pretty sure he drank blood. "We'll be there soon, Saran." Pinkie said, tousling his black hair fondly. of all of her squad, he was her favorite. He was uncomplicated. He knew what he wanted, and he got it. deal done. "Then you can have all the fun you want." He gave a pleased growl, returning to sharpening his combat knife. Up on the top deck, Airis manipulated the air itself, pushing the flack shells away from the airship. Sending them off course was much easier than just blocking them, and drained much less of her energy. She fell into an easy rythm, the air thrumming around her as she bent it to her will, whistling through her ears and in her hair. Until the violet fireball arced up from the ground below. It resisted all her efforts to divert its path, even curving around so it seemed to be heading right between her eyes. She had no choice. "Brace for impact!" she yelled, and put all her strength into creating a barrier of air between them and the crackling violet flames. There was a massive explosion. Purple light blinded her, the deep THOOM deafened her, the shockwave blasted her away like a leaf in the wind, tumbling, whirling, twisting, turning. She miraculously did not go over the edge of the deck, sliding to a stop less than a centimeter from a fall that would be more than lethal in her current disoriented state. she blinked, and then her eyes slid shut as she fell into unconciousness. The others inside the cabin of the airship fared little better. Gizmo cried out a warning, diving out of the pilot's seat, but not quick enough. The viewport exploded, shards of glass turning into lethal projectiles, spinning thorugh the air like jagged frisbees In one of Saran Bloodcolt's twisted dreams. Gizmo cried ot as on shard embedded itself in his cheek, another in his sholder. Pinkemenia tumbled backwards, taken by the shockwave, headed for the open maw of the bay doors. she barely managed to grab hold of one of the support rails at the edge, her body from the waist down hanging over 15,000 meters above the ground. Saran tumbled by her, roaring his displeasure. He caught his hand just before he went over, heart in her throat. She was not loosing one of hers. With a growl, Saran gripped her hand with both of his, and with her help, pulled himself back into the relative safety of the airship. "Gizmo, report!" Pinkie yelled over the whistle of the wind. "Wev'e lost all port engines, and two of our stablizers. Engines Five and Eight are on fire." he yelled back, tugging glass from his sholder as he checked his instruments. Pinkemenia made one of her common split-second decisions. she grabbed a parachute and shoved it into Saran's chest. "Gizmo, put her in a dive! Aim her right at the enemy camp!" she yelled. "Strap on your parachute!" Saran gave her a questioning look as he cinched the 'chute tight. She gave him no reply except a boot in the chest. He staggered back, teetered, and went out the bay door with a growl of anger. Gizmo staggered back into the bay as a loud explosion rocked the ship. "What are we.." She grabbed him by is collar and belt and very literally threw him out the bay doors. She herself slung her chute over her sholders and cinched it tight over her ribs, and carefully balanced at the edge of the doors. she carefully stepped onto the four-centimeter strip of steel aling the outer wall. As she edge along the wall, chest and stomach sucked in as far as she could, she started to envy Rainbow Dash's B-cup. As she slowly, excruciatingly made her way, the airship tilted further and further from horizontal and closer and closer to vertical. Fianlly, after what seemed like hours, but was probably only about thirty seconds, she was at the rungs of the ladder. she grabbed the seventh rung, planted her boots on the bottom two rungs, and began her acent, the wind tearing at her as the airship's speed increased, blowing her hair across her face and into her mouth. Finally, she reached the top deck and hauled herself up. She glanced up at the airship's hydrogen-filled shell, and felt fear tug at her heart as she saw flames licking at the outer shell. Just then, a nearby engine exploded violently, throwing her like a ragdoll through the air. She hit the deck and started sliding towards the edge. More from reflex than anything else, she drew her katanas and slammed them through the steel plate of the deck like it was tinfoil. her sholders were nearly wrenched out of their sockets, but it did the trick. she stopped dead. Getting to her feet, she ran to where Airis lay, limp and unconcious. Quickly, she tied their harnesses together, hoping that the cord would hold, and, cradling her second-in-command in her arms, staggered for the edge, expecting any moment to hear the Whoomph of igniting hydrogen that would be the last noise she heard in her mortal life. As she leapt, she heard a crackle, then a deep THOOM. Then, the sound she'd dreaded. She felt the explosion in her chest, and she felt the flames on her back, smelled the singing hair. her fingers scrabbled across her harness, then found the comforting cold steel ring of the release cord. She pulled, hard. The FWUMP of the parachute unfolding behind her was the best sound she'd ever heard as they drifted away from the burning, plummeting wreck of the airship. But something was wrong. They were going too fast. she'd opened the chute too late. This was gonna hurt. At the last minute, she released the parachute, and twisted around so her body would protect her teamate from the fall. She felt it throughout her entire body when they hit the dirt and bounced. she gritted her teeth, refusing to scream, because if she opened her mouth, she'd probably bite off her tounge when they hit next. She bounced, once, twice, three times. she felt a jagged rock tear her thigh as she slid, and she was pretty sure she'd broken at least one rib, if not more. Finally, mercifully, she came to a stop. she hurt everywhere, but Airis was safe and unharmed. She comforted herself with this fact as she drifted into unconsiousness.