//------------------------------// // The Lost // Story: Trials of the Republic // by TheDarkNight775 //------------------------------// Chapter 8 The Lost “So, y’all fall from the sky, or what?” The blonde girl crossed her arms under her breasts. Gizmo chuckled. “Nah. We’re ex-mil.” He lied easily, not wavering for an instant. “Me and Sol here, we’re just comin’ home from the Army.” He didn’t specify WHICH army, of course. He didn’t know what sympathies this particular tiny town had. So it was best to let them assume whichever they wanted. “Which branch? Come on, now, shugah, we wanna hear a story. Ah’m sure ya got plenty.” Shit. Gizmo’s mind raced. He flicked his eyes about the room, searching for any kind of clue… The corner of that poster. It was mostly covered by the various flyers, posters, and various other things- But there was the New Lunar Republic crest. “The Panthers.” He said, grinning confidently. “I was the demolitions expert for the squad, and Sol was the Close-combat specialist.” The blonde girl seemed to buy it. “We don’t see too much action out here… Ah didn’t catch your name?” “I never said. Lance. Lance Scale.” “Seems more like a Dragon’s name than a Magii’s.” “Dumbass parents. What can I say?” “Ah’m Applejack. Most folks call me AJ. This here’s mah big brother Big Macintosh, but we just call him Big Mac.” “You seem like a big, strong guy. Why didn’t you sign up for the Republic?” Gizmo asked. AJ answered for him. “There’s always work to be done up at Sweet Apple Acres. Big Mac an’ I do all the work. It’s not like we could expect ol’ Granny or little Applebloom ‘ta buck apples an’ haul fertilizer.” Gizmo’s brow furrowed. “Hold on a second. Applejack?” “That’s mah name.” “Weren’t you one of the Elements?” Applejack froze. A strange expression flashed across her face. “What’s it to ya?” “I- I just wondered.” “Yes. Yes Ah was. So?” Gizmo was baffled. “There’s no need to get all defensive about it- You’re a hero! You-“ Oops. AJ and Big Mac stared at him like he’d just grown a pair of moose antlers. And had painted the Solar Republic’s Sun across his chest. And started dancing like a rabid squirrel. “Ah, shit.” He muttered. “Serves me right for opening my big mouth.” Pinkemenia jerked her head up. “Gizmo and Saran. They’re in trouble.” Airis glanced at her and nodded. Grabbing the bucket, she doused the fire. Both women threw the remains of the fish they’d worked so hard to catch into the ashes. Airis took to the skies with a few beats of her powerful wings. Pinkemenia leaped upwards, wrapping both hands around a sturdy branch, and pulled herself up. Airis glanced at her commander. “You sure you can keep up with me?” Pinkemenia smirked, crouching on the branch like a panther preparing to pounce. “The question, Airis, is if YOU can keep up with ME.” She was off like a shot, leaping from branch to branch, swinging, leaping, and pinballing between tree trunks with speed that bordered on supernatural. Airis followed, ducking, diving, and spinning midair. True to Pinkemenia’s word, she did find herself having trouble. “How the hell are you doing that!?” she shouted. Pinkemenia turned back and grinned at her without even breaking stride, flashing razor-sharp teeth. “Magic.” Gizmo backed up to the wall. “He-he- Sweet girl like you, doesn’t want to fight two big strong guys like us, right?” She cracked her knuckles. “The buck I don’t. Solar Empire scum.” “I thought- The Mane Six were on our side!” “The hell I am.” “You’re the ones that expelled Luna!” “And I regret it every day of my life, Solar Bastard.” “Why?” “Because we unleashed hell, that’s why.” “But…” “Enough talk. Time ta die.” Gizmo ducked the expected punch only to get a boot to the genitals. His eyes bugged and he doubled over. Applejack kicked him in the side of the head, and he tumbled to the side. Salran growled, cracking his knuckles. “Salran kill puny girl.” “Have your shot.” She hissed, wrapping her right hand around the golden-chained necklace she wore. Salran threw back his hood, grinning widely, eyes sparkling. At least, until a strange orange light shot out from between Applejack’s fingers. She leapt into the air, directing a spin kick at Salran. Salran ducked and rolled, popping up and punching her in the back of the head with enough force to stop a raging bull dead in its tracks. Her long ponytail swung as she jerked forward, stumbling and starting to fall. Salran’s smirk morphed into an expression of confusion as she caught her balance again and whirled. She was the one smirking now. “Problem, partner?” Salran hissed. Bounding back, he drew three black Kunai from inside his cloak and sent them arcing at Applejack. She put up a forearm, and all three of the knives bounced off her seemingly smooth and vulnerable skin. Growling, he drew his pistol. A Wharther P-34, the pistol had a twelve-shot magazine, and could change from semi-auto to three-round bursts or fully automatic with the flip of a switch. Leveling the gun at the woman in front of him, he pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot was followed by a loud Ping, as if the bullet had hit a sheet of steel. Applejack stumbled back a few steps, but regained her balance easily. “Done yet?” Hissing, he flipped a neat little switch next to the trigger. The little gun blared, firing off all of the remaining 11 rounds in its magazine in less than a second. The recoil jerked the barrel up, and the bullet’s impact was visible as they pierced Applejack’s shirt in a line leading from her abdomen up to her neck. The only thing it seemed to accomplish, however, was to ruin her button-up shirt. The tanned skin underneath was seemingly untouched. Salran holstered the gun. This might hurt a little bit.