Pony Tales from the 41st Millennium

by ProfCharles


Pinkamena

Merchants wing, Ilenuona Space Station

Pinkamena Diane Pie crawled through the ridiculously spacious ventilation shaft in search for her targets. It's almost as if the pony who built this place wanted to be assassinated.

She paused at an intersection, brushing a lock of her long, straight mane out of her face, before checking her map. Okay, the meeting room where the targets are located is 100 meters to the... Left.

Pinkamena put the map away and turned down the appropriate shaft. A frown grew on her face as she mentally reviewed her targets again. A group of merchants trying to secure their dominance over the black market by directly trading xenos tech with Craftworld Gryphons. Bah, I shouldn't have to deal with something minor like this. I'm a bucking temple trained Eversor assassin! I should be taking out cults of daemon summoning heretics! Not a bunch of dodgy traders and their xenos mistresses.

The pink Earth Pony suppressed another sigh. She had been the nearest assassin, and this mission was time critical. Who knew when both groups would be together in an easily accessible location next? At least she could take compensation in the fact that she had free reign to plan this how she wanted.

Pinkamena grinned at the thought of the coming carnage.

She heard voices ahead, and slowed her crawl, making as little noise as possible. There was a grate in front of her, and looking out of it she saw her targets sat around a table.

There were ten ponies lined up on one side, only half of which appeared to be combat capable, whilst on the other side was an equal number of Gryphons, all of them wearing brightly coloured wraithbone armour and weapons. One of them was stood farther apart from the others, wearing a red and black checkered suit with a grimacing mask upon its face.

A harlequin! Pinkamena thought. I haven't fought one of those in ages! Maybe this will be fun after all.

She quickly checked her weapons—an Executor Pistol in one armoured hoof and a Neuro solleret on the other, along with a power sword hidden in her tail and a belt of melta bombs around her waist—standard equipment for an assassin such as her.

She kicked out the grating and leapt into the room, landing perfectly balanced on her hind legs, sending its inhabitants scrambling for their weapons.

Leveling her Executor pistol at the assembled ponies, she fired its destructive explosive bolts into them, shredding most of them, leaving little more than mangled corpses on the floor.

Her tail twitched, followed by an achy shoulder, and she dived forwards, one of the Gryphon's wraithbone swords narrowly missing her. Rolling, she leapt up into a graceful arc, coming down in front of the last of the ponies, jabbing at them with her Neuro solleret. The hypodermic needles quickly pumped its deadly toxin into them, killing the ponies before they hit the floor.

With her primary targets down, she turned to face the advancing Gryphons. The element of surprise now gone, Pinkamena was forced to rely on her weapons and her training.

Just the way I like it.

Fast as lightning, she snapped her pistol forwards, this time unleashing a hail of razor sharp needles. Most of the Gryphons jumped out of the way, but the small confines of the room limited their movement, and three of them slumped to the ground, covered in the poisoned needles.

Pinkamena grinned. She had chosen the poison to specifically target Gryphons.

She leapt forwards again, rolling into the group before they could bring their own ranged weapons to bear. She jabbed again, and her solleret connected with another Gryphon, the long needles on it easily passing through its armour.

She whirled, aiming her pistol again, but she only fired a single killing needle before the harlequin leapt forwards and kicked it out of her hoof; the Gryphon she had struck slumping to the floor unnoticed.

Pinkamena glared at the deadly clown. It moved gracefully, seemingly in three places as once, it's mask screaming of unfathomable horrors.

Pinkamena ate unfathomable horrors for breakfast.

She rolled away from the group, using the motion to move her power sword from her tail to her now empty hoof, the armoured solleret upon it easily gripping the blade.

Now armed with a melee weapon in each hoof, she charged forwards, a whirlwind of steel, poison and death.

By the time she had reached the harlequin again, three more Gryphons had fallen, and Pinkamena still didn't have a scratch on her.

The last two Gryphons warily circled the pink Pony, until there was one on either side of her. Pinkamena didn't bother to divide her attention between the two, instead allowing her instincts—and her pinkie sense—to dictate the battle. The two Gryphons charged forwards instantly, seeking to trap Pinkamena between them.

Instead, she rolled to the side, coming up underneath the normal Gryphon, before bucking it into the harlequin and its outstretched Harlequin's Kiss. There was a cry of surprise and pain as the monofilament wires in the Kiss were injected into the airborne Gryphon, instantly liquefying its insides.

Pinkamena could feel the harlequin's glare through its death mask. It leapt forwards without warning, spinning elegantly through the air thanks to its flip belt.

Pinkamena wasn't nearly as acrobatic as the winged performer, but in the tight confines of the room, that was to her advantaged. She leapt up onto the table, off a wall and met the Gryphon in mid air, her power sword swinging.

The harlequin tried to spin in mid air in order to block it with its own power sword, but that left it open to a quick jab from Pinkamena's solleret, the needles easily sliding between the joints of the armour.

In seconds, the battle was over. Pinkamena landed on the floor, panting heavily. She looked around the room and the twenty mangled corpses littered across it and grinned to herself. She collected her pistol and considered using one of her melta bombs to destroy the room, but reconsidered. This was a message to the enemies of Ponykind.

To further drive the message home, she used one of the ponies communication devices to summon a squad of arbiters, before leaping back into the vents to make her escape.

As she crawled through the air ducts, she couldn't help but hum a merry tune.

After all, Pinkie had a party to plan.