//------------------------------// // Making the Impossible Possible // Story: Rainbow Six // by Eagle //------------------------------// “This will be your new, temporary home,” the guard said, leading the Rainbow troops to their part of the town’s barracks. “Everything looks one size too small,” Clark observed. “They used to belong to the Guards you killed,” the pony said, anger in his words. “Be happy you have anything.” The rather hostile guard left the men to their privacy and their new room. It seemed like a normal barracks, albeit everything, as John pointed out, was too small for the men. The beds would be the most immediate problem; he would have to see about getting some custom made for the men. “Well he wasn’t very warming,” Louis observed. “We killed a bunch of his friends; he more-or-less has a right to be,” Clark responded. “Hey, we said sorry, right?” Ding asked. “It’s not that simple, Domingo.” “Then how do we get their trust back?” “We do our job, helping them and rescuing the people,” Clark replied. “But to be honest, I could care less if they’re still mad at us; opinion never matters. It’s all about our job, and our job is to protect civilians. If those guards are still pissed after that, then oh well.” “Here here,” Covington replied whilst testing one of the small beds. “Six, you got any idea about what we’re going to do with these…accommodations?” “I’ll see about that. You guys, in the meantime, need to keep up with training,” he ordered. “We’re going to be getting into the action at some point, and we need to be ready when they call.” “Got it, everyone get your things together; we’re going to practice on the range first today,” Stanley ordered, being met by the standard replies of ‘yes sir’ and the like. Clark let the men exit first, preferring to keep out of the way. It was always an impressive sight to see Rainbow suit up and hustle to carry out the mission, even if this was just training and they were more relaxed in it. He followed them out the building and parted ways, going out to the street. Walking through the streets, he did gain a noticeable amount of attention from the bystanders. Luckily, everyone in town had already been informed of the situation, and not to speak of it outside of the village. That wouldn’t stop the stares and murmurs from each one he passed. Not that Clark cared, though; there were more important things on his mind. The most immediate was where he was going to get properly sized clothes, beds, and other furnishings for the men. Food probably wouldn’t be a problem and ammo was still in the lower-medium percentile; besides, it just had to last until the gateway back home was opened, then they could get everything they needed and then some. With these thoughts dominating his mind, it took some time to realize someone was talking to him. “Sir, hello?” Clark stopped and looked down to find the source of the voice. “Oh, hey; you’re the one we rescued…and the one that stunned me,” Clark observed. “Yea, that was me,” the unicorn blushed. “My name is Twilight Sparkle.” Another funny name to add to memory. “Well, how can I help you Miss Sparkle?” “Yes, I actually came to find you,” she explained. “You see, I’m a rather…eager learner, and I wanted to ask a few questions about you and your world.” “I suppose I can, if you could show me where I can get some beds and sheets and whatnot in a size for my men.” “I don’t know of any stores that sell…well anything in your size. But, my friend Rarity might be able to do it; she’s very good at doing custom work.” “Alright, you lead the way. We can answer a few questions on the way there, but I’m warning you right now that I won’t be able to answer some of them.” “Alright,” she said. “Firstly, I never got your name.” “I can’t tell you that,” he replied. “My real name has to be kept secret.” “What? Why?” “Because of the dangers of my job; if my specifics weren’t classified, then someone could possibly hurt my family, screw with my savings or anything under my name, and general things along the lines of that.” “Oh, ok; but what am I supposed to call you?” “Six,” Clark replied. “Um…ok, if you insist-” “I do insist.” “Ok ok, I won’t ask for it. So, what exactly is your job?” “That’s also secret,” he replied, receiving an aggravated grunt in return. “But I think you can guess it from what you saw.” “You mean rescuing people?” “Basically.” “And do you live in a specific country?” “I’m from the United States of America,” Clark answered. “United States; so these states are come together to make a larger nation basically?” “Basically, yes.” “And which state are you from?” “One near the center called Indiana; specifically it’s capitol, Indianapolis,” Clark answered, remembering his early life there. “Interesting; and are there multiple nations in your world?” “Plenty, each with their own culture, ideals, etcetera.” John was granted a moment of relief as Twilight wrote everything down. “Anything else?” he asked. “Yes Six, I know it’s sensitive, but can you tell me anything about your family?” Twilight asked. “I’m not trying to put you at risk, honest!” Clark was quiet for a moment, but decided this little pony couldn’t really do any harm with basic information; especially since his family was on another world. “I’m married and have two daughters; one of which is expecting a baby, so that would also make me a grandfather.” “I bet you’re anxious to get home in time to see that,” Twilight commented. “Very anxious.” “Well, I’m sure the Princess will have a gateway open soon,” she assured him. “What about your parents?” “My mother died from cancer when I was young,” John sighed. “My dad was a firefighter; he had a heart attack while rescuing some kids.” Twilight went dead silent, sensing that she had accidentally struck a sensitive spot. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-what I meant to do was-” “Its fine, Twilight; not like you could’ve known,” Clark responded. “But if we could go past that now; and how far are we from your friends?” “Rarity’s? It’s right up here, actually,” she told him, pointing a hoof at the building. It took Clark by surprise at first; it looked like a carousel, one that was extremely extravagant. “Rarity, I’ve got a customer!” Twilight called. “I’ll be down in a minute, dear!” a voice responded from upstairs. “So, she can help us?” Clark asked. “Mhm; Rarity usually does clothes, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping find some kind of furniture to fit your size.” “Good evening, Twilight,” Rarity said, coming down the stairs. “And who might the-oh, it’s you!” “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.” “And you to Mr…” “He only goes by ‘Six’,” Twilight said. Rarity gave him a quick, confused look before returning to the happy stance from before. “Oh, well who am I to judge a newcomer’s name? Especially one who saved us; I never got to thank you.” “It’s just a job,” Clark replied. “Oh nonsense, I could never repay you enough,” he said. “And since you’re in here, I can guess that you wanted some help?” “Yes ma’am; you see, we were given some space to stay at the small base nearby, and understandably nothing there really fit us.” “So, you want me to make whatever you need in a size to fit?” Rarity guessed. “That’s about it; clothes, bed sets, a few other things.” “Well, I’ll do what I can; everything else I’ll be happy to help you find.” “Thanks, and how much will this cost?” “Oh, don’t worry about that, darling; consider this little bit free, as part of my ‘thank you’ to you and your troops.” “Thank you, Mrs. R-” “I understand you’re trying to be polite, dear, and I’m grateful to meet someone with such manners, but you can just call me ‘Rarity’ if you wish,” she said. “I consider you one of my closest friends, regardless of what others are saying.” The last part struck Clark hard. “And what are the other’s saying?” “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about that while we’re working,” she said. “If you’ll give me a minute to grab a few things, I can measure you and find a general size range. Are most of your friends about your size?” “In that area, yes.” “Excellent, one moment.” She went back up the stairs, leaving Clark and Twilight alone again. “She seems very-” “Generous?” Twilight finished him. “Yes, you could say she has a reputation for being very giving.” “Well, at least I won’t have to worry about the bill,” Clark said, sitting on a sofa and thinking about all the money did not have and how useless it would probably be here. “So, Twilight; any more questions you want to ask while we wait?” “How do you re-produce, specifically?” “Uhm…that’s classified.” The ‘range’ that had been set up was not exactly up to the modern military standards of an elite black operations unit, but it worked all the same. The same field outside of town provided the best area for it, being clear and open. Most of the targets were just large sheets of paper, cut to partially resemble that of a pony, rather than humans. The guards who had helped them set it up were rather interested in the team’s weapons, their curiosity betraying their then perfect ongoing act of animosity towards the humans. A few more ponies form the town also seemed interested in them; a bit frightened, but not enough to make them leave. Domingo and Covington agreed to let them watch as long as they did not interfere too much. Since a way back home was not open yet, they still had to conserve ammunition for their main weapons; however, pistol rounds were still plentiful, and the team had to practice something. Indeed, despite hardly having used them in a direct combat situation, many in Rainbow were still experts with them. Weber, who was also known for his pistol skills, put all his shots together in one ragged hole. Paddy Connolly painted an even more perfect hole, all between his target’s crudely-drawn eyes, and all without touching the eyes themselves. Domingo took his first aim at his target some five meters away, pulled the trigger on his weapon, and watched a hole appear a bit down and to the right. “Damn, missed,” he said to himself, taking aim again. “Missed? It looks like you hit it,” one of the guards observed. “In our context, a ‘miss’ is defined as not placing the round within an inch of where I aimed,” Ding explained, much to the guard’s surprise. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” “No, not at all; if it can be done, it should be,” Domingo responded. “It’s possible, it helps; so why not do it?” The guard decided not to argue, and just continued to watch with the others in awe of the powerful killing tools. When they looked at it, it was no wonder how the humans had beat them; their technology and training far exceeded anything the average guard had. Whether that made the situation better or worse between the two varied, depending on each individual view. The snipers probably had to be most careful with their training, as their precious rounds and weapons were vital to the team. Homer Johnston only had three shots, and three targets set up separately at 400, 600, and 900 meters. He took his time to get a good aim, all too aware of the eyes watching him. He zeroed in on the closest target and pulled the trigger, the loud sound causing some of the onlookers to jump in surprise. The bullet hit the target with no trouble; the step was repeated at the 600 and was another hit. Hit looked closely at the final shot, waiting for the right moment, and fired; a few tense moments passed before he saw the target 900 shudder, signaling a hit. “Wonderful work, Homer; you seem to have done the best today,” Weber said, walking up next to him as he picked up his gun. “The wind was in your favor, you know.” Homer grinned a bit; that was always Weber’s favorite excuse, though not necessarily untrue all the time. “You sure it wasn’t that semi-auto action?” he asked, chuckling. “I’ve told you time and again that it doesn’t headspace properly.” “But I got my rounds off quicker,” he retorted. The two snipers had debated this plenty of times before, even though both knew the other would never relent. The soldiers were very devout to their weapon choice, and both got the job done with theirs. Nevertheless, they continued the debate, much to the confusion of the onlookers who had no real idea of what they were talking about. All the same it ended with the men being gathered around to begin their physical training. “I can’t believe this!” the stallion raged in the darkness. “All six of the Elements, not just one like we planned, but all six! All of them in one spot, ready to move, and instead we lose the entire team!?” “Y-yes-s…sir,” the lone scout quivered. “How?” he growled. “How did this happen!?” “It was…t-t-the c-creatures…sir.” The room went silent dead silent, which complemented the darkness of it well. Many of the ponies in the room were shocked and scared by this new development. For a few select ones, it was just one more interesting development. “The same creatures that fought with the Royal Guards?” the same stallion, the leader, asked. “Why would they want to help the ponies they just slaughtered?” “I’m not sure, sir; but I did see Princess Celestia leaving with one of them, and then returning after a short time. After that, they seemed to be on good terms.” This was not at all the good phenomenon they had hoped for; indeed, it was quite the opposite. They had hoped these powerful aliens would join them, and now they were, for all intents and purposes, a dangerous new enemy. But why did they change their minds? Why would they go from enemy to friend so suddenly? “Fine then, we’ll just have to take them out, too!” the leader yelled. “Gather all the fighters! We’ll storm that backwards town and put an end to those pests!” “Calm yourself,” another spoke up. He was easily recognizable; his coat was the only one that was of a different color. “Calm? I do not need to be calm! I can-” “You can what? Send your troops there on a suicide mission and throw away everything we’ve worked for?” the other replied, silencing the leader. “Have some patience; if they are new allies with the Princess, then I’ll see what I can find out about them in the capital.” “Airborne! Airborne! Have you heard?” Vega chanted as the team neared the end of their five mile run. “We’re gonna jump from a big ass bird!” It had always surprised Domingo that a giant like Julio Vega never suffered in his runs. Being around thirty pounds heavier than any other team member, he had worried about his ankles when they first started, but everything turned out fine. In fact, if his chest grew any wider, his shirts would have to be custom-made. Ding was not going to start complaining about that, though; Oso had proven to be perfect for his role on in the team. “Quick time, march!” Vega ordered, following with the usual march chant for about a half-minute. “Detail…halt!” The men stood there motionless for another minute or so. “Fall out.” All in all things were shaping up well, considering all the factors affecting the troops at time. Their military supplies were low, but at least all their weapons still worked, which by now could be considered a near miracle. Morale was not as high as usual, which was to be expected, but it was better now that they had somewhere safe to sleep. Training was not going to be as extensive without the same facilities that were available at Hereford, but at least the PT would keep their bodies in perfect shape. “Hey mate, where are the lavatories here?” Covington asked a guard as the men returned to their home. “What?” “Shower,” Ding said simply. “Oh, over through there,” he said, pointing a hoof at a door. “Uh…I’m not blind, but I’m pretty sure that says ‘Cafeteria’; unless that’s what you call the showers around here.” “Just uh…go through and they’re on the other side,” the guard replied. “Thanks,” Vega said, opening the door to the darkened room. “Damn it, this building set up is weird; who the hell puts-” “Surprise!” “Ah Jesus!¿Qué demonios!?” Vega replied to the yelling in surprised Spanish and falling backwards onto the floor. “Hehe, you sound funny,” the pink one said. “Hi, I’m Pinkie!” “What? Oh, the Spanish…wait, who…what?” “Oh, well we never got to meet you after you rescued us, which was awesome by the way! So I really wanted to meet you and say thanks, but I also wanted to throw you a welcoming party, ‘cause it’s my job to throw every new pony in Ponyville a party. So then I thought-” Applejack shoved a hoof over her mouth to stop the onslaught against the confused soldiers. “She’s tryin’ to say it’s a surprise thank you-welcomin’ party.” “Oh, alright,” Doming said, helping Vega up. “You certainly surprised us; I thought I was about to start punching people, or…ponies. You get it.” “Glad you didn’t; I’m Applejack,” she said, extending a hoof. “Nice to meet you,” Doming replied, shaking it firmly. “Aren’t you gonna tell us your name?” Pinkie asked. “I’m not too sure if I’m allowed to do that yet, but you can just call me ‘Ding’ if you’d like.” “That’s a neat name, how’d you get it?” “I’ll save that story for another day; right now I just really want to get a good shower.” “Aw, can’t you stay for the party?” Pinkie asked, zooming to a table and back. “I made a big, sweet cake just for you guys!” “Ah, jeez; I really shouldn’t eat any-” “Come on; there’s lots of sugar!” “That’s the problem, I’ve got to be careful about what I eat so-” “Don’t you like cake?” Pinkie asked with a sad face. “Well yea, of course, I’d just rather not eat any ri-” “But you don’t want any of mine? I made it just for you guys,” she said, tearing up as her puffy hair went flat. “Sorry if I messed up.” “No no no I-ah damn.” She started to cry a bit before he could finish. Not really sure of what to do, Chavez picked her up in a crushing hug, which seemed to solve the problem. Though hugging ponies was not part of the machismo Latino attitude he usually wore, Ding did have a soft side; which especially showed after his wife told him she was pregnant. “Thanks, I feel better now,” she said. “So can you stay, just for a little bit?” “I guess we could for a little-” “Yay! Let’s party!” she yelled, starting the festival. “Sorry if there aren’t a lot of ponies here; some are still kinda scared of you guys.” “That’s alright; they’ll warm up soon enough,” Vega assured her. “Yea, but I’ll keep trying to show them you’re nice; and we can start here!” she proclaimed, running off again and returning with a shaking, light-yellow pegasus. “This is my friend Fluttershy.” The pegasus seemed terrified by the large trooper standing in front of her, trying to get out a few words. “Um…h-hi-ep!” She curled up in ball and hid her face behind her hair; Vega was pretty sure that this was not a good way to start things off. “Fluttershy, this is…” “You can call me ‘Oso’; it’s a nickname, like Ding’s.” “Yea, so you guys can get to know each other! Have fun!” Pinkie ran off in another direction, leaving the two standing there in an awkward silence. There was probably no greater contrast in the town than between the outer appearances of these two. Indeed, from Fluttershy’s point of view, it looked like the hulking beast of a man could swallow her up in one bite; though she was probably getting paranoid more than anything. “You ok?” He just received a small whimper in reply. “I get it, I look like a big monster, right?’ he guessed, sitting down and crossing his legs to shorten the height difference. “Trust me, I won’t hurt you; I save that for the bad guys.” She looked up a bit after this, but quickly ducked back after he reached to try and pet her. “I guess this is going to take a while,” he sighed. “Alright, I’m a patient guy.” Other than that, the meetings seemed to be going rather smoothly. Though many of the ponies were annoyed that the Rainbow operators refused to tell them their real names, specifics jobs, and the like, things began to work their way out by themselves. Even Rainbow Dash, who was rather dis-trustful of the humans after the first encounter, was warming up to them, at the same time betraying her enthusiasm for learning about the team itself. “It was just so cool when you ran in and took down all those bad guys with those weapons!” she exclaimed to Covington, who was leaning against the wall. “And the way you blinded them before you ran in, that was amazing! I mean, it hurt me too, but it was still cool!” The British soldier was surprised by her reaction to the situation; in all his SAS years, he had never met a hostage quite like her. Usually the hostages the team rescued were traumatized by the event, unable to think straight for days, and sometimes never again. This one, on the other hand seemed rather uppity about it. “I’ve had practice,” he replied. “Guess those other guys didn’t, huh?” That was another, more familiar, thing he saw. Killing another living being, particularly an intelligent one, was not supposed to make you giddy or feel unstoppable or make you feel like the cool hero in a Hollywood movie, it was supposed to make you feel bad; yet he and the other team members had felt it many times before, he had even philosophized a bit about it with Chavez. Maybe it was because they were killing terrorists; not honorable foes, but truly evil people. He guessed that they were the exception. “Well, our organization is trained to deal with those kinds of situations.” “Yea, I heard; maybe I could join,” she suggested. “I bet I’d make a great addition to the team!” Covington chuckled at her. “I doubt you would make it in. We do the impossible; even though there’s folks around the world say that ‘you can’t do this’ or ‘that’s too much to ask for’, there are people here and there that can do it. We’re basically a club of those people.” “Hey, I can do impossible stuff! I’m the only one who can do a sonic rainboom!” “I’m…not too sure what that is, but that’s not the point,” Covington said. “Most of us are made up of experienced special forces soldiers, and you haven’t even joined your regular military. I don’t think you’ve even got the right mindset yet.” “Oh yea? I think you’re underestimating me,” she claimed, flying up into the air. “In fact, I bet I could hold my own against you!” Covington was surprised yet again, this time it was more shocking. Was she being serious about this? She looked pretty unhappy, so she clearly was not thinking straight. But, he that only re-enforced his idea; she lost control when she was mad, and her ego seemed to be coming before logic. “I greatly suggest you not try that,” he replied. “I’m trained specifically to kill with my hands; you’ll probably just get hurt. There’s no real point to this violence, anyways.” “Too late,” she said, hovering up to the ceiling. “There’s no way I’m backing out of a challenge like this!” She dived at Covington’s position at an ever-increasing speed. He could see she was using her wings to get an advantage over him, which he admitted would be clever if she knew how to apply that advantage properly; instead, she was just flying at him in a predictable, straight charge. He was surprised by her speed, but not much else. Rather than do anything unnecessarily flashy, he timed everything and took a long, but quick, sidestep to the right. Dash, instead of hitting her intended target, rammed head-first into the wall and fell to the floor, the scene gaining a good amount of attention. “Bloody hell, she’s out cold,” Covington observed. “I didn’t think she’d hit that hard.” “That was quiet the show, major.” Covington looked back at the doorway behind him to see Clark standing there. “What was I supposed to do, Six; catch her and snap her neck?” “It’s fine, Major; no real harm done,” Clark returned. “How are things looking with the men?” “Everyone’s in tip-top shape, though I wish the supply situation could be the same.” “Well, it might be in a short time,” Clark said to the confused Brit. “We finally have our ticket home.” “You mean she got the portal opened? That’s wonderful, Six!” “Yea, for you maybe; I’m going to have to be the first one back to Earth. You know how much of a pain in the ass it’s going to be explaining this to the guys in Washington? They won’t be happy that their best counter-terror unit got home by signing a pact to protect an entirely different world.” “But they’ll at least be happy we’re alive, right?” “Of course they will, but you know how the bureaucracy gets.” “Aye, that’s true,” Covington sighed. “But, good luck to you all the same, Six; we’ll keep things in check here, just hurry back.” “I’ll go as fast as the superiors allow me.” “And, please do let our folks know we’re alright.” “You know I will.”