//------------------------------//
// Rescue (APRIL FEWLZ!)  
// Story: Last 
// by Alan Smithee 
//------------------------------//

An explosion jolted Simon awake. He sat bolt upright in his bed. The sun was up, the basement was brightly lit, and there was a woman in his room standing before him. She spoke into a walkie-talkie, 

“Hostage located. He’s okay”
“Roger” came the crackled reply.


She was nearly six feet tall, and shapely. She was fair-skinned, with long dirty blond hair. She wore a black beret. Her olive-green shirt was far too small, displaying both her navel and a generous amount of cleavage. She wore black tights, and black thigh-high spike-heel boots. She held a long, menacing-looking firearm.

Simon rose from his bed, reached out, and touched her arm. She was real. She was soft.

“Come on” she said with a faint British accent, “We have to go before the big one sees us”

Simon turned around, reached under his bed, and retrieved his hidden gun and holster. Then he obediently followed the woman upstairs.

In the main room of the library, Simon stopped and looked at the stairs to Twilight’s room. 

“Don’t worry, I took care of her. And her little dragon, too” said the woman, reading his thoughts. Simon thought he smelled a whiff of gunpowder.

Outside awaited a small black helicopter, rotors still turning. 

“Get in!” the woman ordered, and hoisted herself in through the open side. Simon looked around. Ponyville looked deserted.

“Get in!”  she repeated, and grabbed Simon’s arm. Simon complied, and pulled himself up into the body of the helicopter.

Ponyville descended away beneath and behind them, as the helicopter raced away, heading South.

“We’ve never pulled an operation so close to their capitol” said the woman, as the city of Canterlot passed out of sight.

Her hand was still holding his. She squeezed it.

“My name’s Ellen” she said, “What’s yours?”

With his free hand, he pointed to the name on his breast.

“Simon” Ellen read aloud, “I like it”