Trials of the Republic

by TheDarkNight775


The Infiltration

Chapter 4
The Infiltration
Sorry this one has taken me a while to get up. But now I have Christmas break going for me, and I shall be more diligent.
Once again, I own nothing except a few OC's. Not even all the OC's are mine. once again, I credit the brave souls who have lent me their chars for this story. Thank you again, GreenRing, Wiggedy, and Omega 445, for your continued support and not-bashing-me-over-the-head-for-my-stupididty-ness.
ImnotcrazyImnotcrazyImnotcrazyImnotcrazy BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!! (Slaps self)
Anyhooo-


The famer shivered as he walked down the road. It was a cold, moonless night, and his cloak was not nearly enough.
He was trying to hurry home. he'd been gone, fighting in the Solar Empire's army for nearly a year. All he wanted was to get home to see his wife and children.
Sadly, he never would. Three Kunai whistled from the darkness at the side of the road. The farmer, reflexes still at their peak fron years of fighting, heard them coming and hit the dirt, rolling out of the way.
He leapt to his feet, hand on his saber's hilt.
A figure leapt out of the dark with a roar, falling on him with bestial ferocity. The saber never made it out of the sheath as blood, sparkling red in the starlight, sprayed from the vidtim's torn throat.
Salran Bloodcolt stepped back and screamed a victory cry to the heavens, blood dripping from his mouth and down his face. He was truly a terrifying sight to behold, almost gresomely impressive in his gory magesty, like Discord himself straight out of his eternal hellish prison.
Unfortnately, the only other person in the vicinity was duly unimpressed.
"What exactly was the point of that?" asked Gizmo, sounding slightly exasperated.
Salran was slightly unhappy that his "friend" had interrupted what wold be "me time" if he was not a phycopathic killer. As he WAS a phycopath, his name for it was "slaughter time".
"Saran wanted to kill something. So Saran killed something." he said in a slightly exasperated tone, as if he was talking to someone that was a little dense.
"Oh, of course. Why sould there be a legitimate reason for ripping someone's throat out with your teeth!?" Gizmo said exasperatedly, throwing his arms up into the air. "No chance we might need FOOD, or MEDICINE, or WATER!"
Salran gestered at the corpse. "Food right here."
Gizmo gave him a laser eyed look. "Food for us NON-phycopaths, please. Did you take your meds?"
"Commander told Saran not to."
"Of course she did." he groaned. "Now I'm stuck trudging though the forest with a cannabal."
Salran's eyes sparkled mischeviously at the pilot Magii's frustration. He whippped the farmer's cloak out from under him like a magician whipping a tablecloth from under a vase, and slung it over his own sholders. Miraculsly, there was not a single drop of blood on it.
Gizmo's eyes narrowed. "Have you been taking lessons from Fearless Leader?"
Salran merely chuckled, and flipped up the hood, covering his broken horn and hiding his red eyes.
"Salran knows what's he's doing." he growled.
Gizmo glanced him up and down.
"Passable. Just don't kill anyone, and no one should be any the wiser."
Salran kicked the corpse into the brush at the side of the road, and they began walking.
"Where you think Commander is?" Saran asked.
Gizmo stared at the man for a moment. Was Salran trying to stary a conversation?
Finally he answered. "How the hell am I supposed to know? what do you think I am, a phychic?"
"Salran think you irritating man with big mouth."
Gizmo took that as a cue to shut up.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pinkemenia slowly blinked her eyes, her surroundings coming into focus.
They were still right where they landed, covered by a mass of scraggly shrubs. Airis was still unconcious, her head right on Pinkie's chest. She appeared unhurt.
But Pinkemenia had a big problem.
There was a good-sized blood pool beneath her right leg, where her thigh had been torn by a jagged rock during their landing. I was rather disturbingly big. she shuddered at the thought that she might have bled out and never woken up.
But even without that, she had major issues. There was sand and dirt and mud and grass and Celestia-knew what else in her gash. That could be bad. Very bad. She had no intentions of having to saw her own leg off to keep from dying of infection.
Airis began to move, distracting her momentarally from her own difficulties.
The pegasi opened her eyes to blackness. Confused, she blinked, and reached up to feel her eyes. Her hands came into contact with two pomegranate-sized squishy objects, one on either side of her head. Frowning, she squeezed them gently.
"Having fun there, kid?" came a familiar wry voice.
"Ooooooooooooh!" she yelped as she realized what she was grasping. She jerked her face out of her commander's cleavage.
"Nice to see you back among the living." the pink-haired woman said snarkily.
"Shouldn't we have had a date or two-"
Airis's had fell on something wet and sticky.
"first....."
It was then she realized how badly that her commander was injured.
"Commander, you're bleeding!"
Pinkemenia's laugh was short and painful.
"No kidding. I thought I might be the first one to know, but apparently not."
Airis was speechless.
"Airis- If you really wanna help out, go find where the parachute landed and bring it here."
Airis nodded, saluting. She turned and was about to start sprinting, but Pinkemenia grabbed her pants.
"Hey, kid- take this."
Airis accepted the katana and sheath, staring at her commander.
"But you said you have to pass these on-"
"When I die. I know what I said. And I gave you one, not both, didn't I? Get going before I stick my good foot up your ass."
Airis nodded, backing away slowly. A tear dripped from one eye.
"Commander..."
"MOVE YOUR ASS, BITCH!"
She complied, sprinting away, katana grasped tightly in hand.
Pinkemenia watched her go. She sighed as she heard a growl.
Timber wolves. They always took the sick, the weak, and the crippled. Smiling to herself, she drew the Party Cannon.
She'd teach them a new meaning of the word "Crippled." And it would not involve Pinkemenia Diane Pie as lunch.
Life was a party, after all.
"And what's a party without some guests?" she asked the Timber Wolves as they stalked in, her grin streching impossibly wide.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A cloaked man and a pilot entered a tavern in the middle of a godforsaken town caught between two opposing armies.
"Why does this seem like the beginning of a really stupid joke?" the pilot asked the cloaked man. the cloaked man grunted.
The tavern was sparsly populated. There were several farmers, a pilot or two, a machinist, and a figure in a cloak that sat alone in the corner, seemingly observing the other patrons.
Gizmo processed all this as he made his way to the nearest empty table, Salran trailing him, quiet as a ghost.
Their progress was halted as a barrel-chested man with black hair got to his feet, standing in their path.
"You're new." he grunted.
"Why yes, yes we are." Gizmo said, smiling at him pleasantly. "I hope you didn't expend a huge amount of brainpower coming to that conclusion. It seems as if you need every drop merely to continue breathing."
The man looked puzzed at the comment, as if unsure what Gizmo meant.
The other man at the table, nearly as large as the other man and sporting a messy head of carrot-orange hair, spoke. his voice was deep, but surprisingly soft and gentle.
"Be careful what you say, stranger. someone might take offense."
Saran met his gaze. The man's green eyes seemed to look right into him, searching his very soul with a pervading calm.
Grimancing, he looked away.
"Big Macintosh, you and your friend stop causin' these here nice folks trouble, you hear me?" a woman's voice made them all jump.
A tall woman was walking towards the table, wiping her hands on her jeans. Her long blonde pony tail swung behind her, coming out from under a brown Stetson cowboy hat. Gizmo gave Seran a glare, and he slid his knife back under his cloak.
The woman had a warm cheerful voice, which was rather contrasted by the stormy look on her tanned, freckled face. "Ah, swear, ah take one trip to the gal's room..." she muttered, pulling out a chair and directing her glare at the carrot topped man.
He glanced down at the table.
"Sorry, sis."
The woman's face became less stormy as she turned to Saran and Gizmo.
"Now, why don't you two sit down and tell us ahbout yahselves?"
It was just then the black-haired man finally figured out Gizmo's insult.
"Hey! You called me stupid!"
With that, he picked up a chair and swung it overhand at Gizmo.
Gizmo's combat reflexes saved him. he blocked the chair's decent, and smashed it back into the man's face, breaking his nose.
There was silence for a moment.
Then the tavern erupted.
Every man in the room jumped to his feet and atacked the nearest person. for quite a few of them, that was Saran or Gizmo.
Salran blocked several clumsy punches, and spun, throwing his cloak into the faces of his assultants. He jumped up onto a table and then leapt onto one unfortunate man, taking him down with a very brutal and efficient body slam. flipping to his feet, he kneed one man in the crotch, then decked him in the face as he doubled over.
Taking up a chair in both hands, he shattered it over the head of the next unfortunate man in line. He took one of the broken-off legs, and, spinning, smashed it over another man's forehead. Dropping the stub, he followed up with a right hook, then an uppercut.
The man's feet actually left the floor before he crumpled to the floor.
Gizmo fared nearly as well. He met a charging man with a spin-kick to the gut, causing the unfortunate man to double over, the air rushing out of him. Lacing his fingers together, Gizmo brought his double fist down on the back of the man's neck, causing him to fall to the floor with a thud.
In a matter of minutes, Salran and Gizmo had cleared the tavern without even breaking a sweat. The only ones still concious besides themselves were "Big Macintosh" and his sister, who were still sitting at their table, and the cloaked figure in the corner, who hadn't moved an inch.
"Well." The blonde woman stated. "You're obvously not from around these here parts."



For those of you slavering for more P.A.R.T.Y., I hate to tell you that this is the last you'll see of them for two chapters. Luna shall be back, as shall Twilight and the Land Ironclad. But no worries! P.A.R.T.Y. will be back, and soon the two storylines will merge. Explosively and with all the epic I can muster.
If you know me, you know by now that will be quite a lot.