The Conversion Bureau: The Other Side of the Spectrum (The Original)

by Sledge115

The Board Is Set

The Board is Set

“Oh, I don’t like it, Fluttershy, darling. I don’t like it at all.”

Rarity kept mumbling the same words over and over, pacing back and forth across Carousel Boutique’s living room while Fluttershy watched her in silence, covering her own face with her willowy mane. The meek animal caretaker was well aware of that, amongst their little circle of friends, she and Rarity were the two mares most inclined to bouts of extreme anxiety.

But a key difference between her and the workaholic dressmaker was that Rarity would release her fears by pouring ever more effort into what great enterprise had taken her fancy. As coping mechanisms went, it appeared strangely effective – despite her drama queen ways, Rarity was the only one Fluttershy’s five best friends who’d never undergone an ‘episode’.

In these troubled new times, chances were that would soon change. After hearing directly from Trixie and Major Bauer some of which scars their experiences had left them with, Fluttershy found herself fearing the idea of battle less than what it would mean to live with the aftermath. Only the thought of the alternative kept her going, the image of Equestria’s fate if they lost, the fate of everyone she knew and loved. Rarity, Dash, Pinkie, Twilight, Applejack, the Cutie Mark Crusaders – still fast asleep, now lying on plush pillows Scootaloo had asked for right before passing back out – her family, her pet bunny Angel. All of them.

“We never should have let Trixie go off on her own,” Rarity continued, panting and pacing. “Super sneaky spy specialist, my hat, she’s got no idea what she’s headed into. Oh, why didn’t we call somepony? She can’t do this on her own! Fuse is a big brute, he managed to kidnap poor Major Bauer, for goodness’ sake! This is hopeless!”

Exhausted, she fell back on her fainting couch. “Darling, what are we going to do?”

“I’m w-worried about Angel,” Fluttershy managed to stutter out.

Rarity stared at her in disbelief. “Angel? We’ve got a major crisis on our calloused hooves, and the first thing you think about is your pet rabbit?”

“We l-left all our pets at the F-forest Rangers’, remember? With Minus. And wh-what if Fuse was mean to Angel?”

“Angel?” Rarity spluttered. “Who cares about that devilbunny?” she demanded ungenerously. “He can take care of himself just fine! Why, if Fuse has laid a single hoof on one of my dear Opal’s hairs, I’ll… I’ll…”

“Uh, he wouldn’t. I mean, even if he would, Minus would never let him do something like that,” interrupted Fluttershy, her voice a bit firmer. “She’s very assertive.”

“Yes, b-but Fluttershy, what was I thinking, placing our pets in Minus’ care without any plan,” Rarity said breathlessly, bounding up from her couch. “Her, her I’ve got nothing against, you understand, it’s that loutish husband of hers!” She clawed at her mane. “I’ve got to get Opalescence out of there. She’s too delicate a creature for such a household!”

“Rarity, what are you talking about?” Fluttershy reminded her gently. “We didn’t leave Opalescence and our other pets at their house. They’re all being kept at the Rangers’ office.” She dipped her head, letting her mane fall across her eyes. “I hope they’re not too lonely. It’s not as nice as my cottage, but it’s the best we’ve got…”

“Wait.”

Fluttershy looked up, and saw Rarity, standing in the middle of the living room, staring right at her in a manner she found very uncomfortable. “Wait,” her friend repeated. “Did you just say ‘the Rangers’ office’?”

“Y-yeah?”

“And Minus?” continued Rarity. “She’s a Forest Ranger.”

“Uh-huh, that’s right.”

“Flutters, you’re a genius!” exclaimed Rarity, rushing over to hug her tight, much to Fluttershy’s utter shock and surprise. “That’s it!”

“It is?” wondered Fluttershy, before the truth dawned on her. “Oh… oh! The Rangers. Yes.”

And when Rarity pulled away from the hug, Fluttershy noted a crafty look had appeared on her best friend’s face. “Boy, this just might be worth it,” the dressmaker said, rubbing her forehooves with unladylike glee, “I can’t wait to see Short Fuse busted by his own wife…” She began trotting to the Boutique’s front door. “Come along, darling. You don’t want to miss this.”

“Uh, Rarity? Wh-what do we do with the girls?” asked Fluttershy, indicating the unconscious Crusaders.

Rarity stopped at the door, hoof reaching for the knob. “Ah. Good point. Heavens, I can’t believe I almost forgot Sweetie Belle and her friends! How could I be so thoughtless?”

“Well, um…” Fluttershy said tentatively, “Berry did say she'd get Applejack and Wildfire. Goodness knows what's taking her so long, but she should be around soon.”

“Brilliant,” said Rarity. “Listen, Fluttershy, we haven’t got much time. So, so here’s what to do. I’ll wait here for Applejack and the others to arrive, you go meet Minus. She’ll listen to you.”

Fluttershy could tell Rarity was holding a slight disappointment at bay that she wouldn’t personally get to break the news to Minus of her husband’s wrongdoings. But it was just like her friend to respect a plan for its efficiency, even at her own personal discomfort. This was a trait which Bauer had singled out for a rare moment of praise on the training grounds.

Seeing Rarity back in the saddle and determined raised her own spirits, too.

“Okay,” said Fluttershy, heading for the door with a steadfast spring to her step. “I hope the girls won’t mind being carted around from house to house…”

Their planned brunch lay in a sad, abandoned little basket on the table.

It was High Noon in New New York.

The city slowly reached the height of its daily routines, with thousands upon thousands of soldiers training under the blazing sun. Every minute counted, after all, even if it meant ending the day sweating and heaving, through trials such as Discord’s trickery and the toll of the Equestrian sun. And yet, as soldiers of all shapes and sized marched, ran, and flew, there were still some form whom today had only begun.

Sometimes, Ana cursed herself for not being a morning person.

Gazing down blearily into her fourth cup of coffee for the day, the young woman forced herself to remember that, whatever the perks of being one in a few lucky humans given food and shelter in this Equestria, she had a job to do.

“Good afternoon to you, Trainer Bjorgman,” said a kind voice. “How are you keeping today?”

Ana looked up from her cup, swiping away a strand of strawberry-blonde hair from her face with some irritation, and pointedly straightened her khaki vest. Much as she enjoyed the company of others, she’d hoped for some alone time in the mess hall just before lunch. Sergeant Jaka did appear to have his charges well in hand, after all. He most likely didn’t need further assistance from her for now.

It was to her pleasant surprise, though, when Moondancer sat down across from her. Judging from the messy, slightly singed nature of her mane – red-and-purple wisps tied up in a bun – and safety goggles, it was clear to Ana that the mare had already been busy, when it was barely two o’clock in the afternoon.

“G’morning, Dancer. My morning, not yours, eh? I mean, just woke up and... ‘course, you get what I'm saying,” Ana replied, attempting to smile in return. “Well, considering Wolff’s not around to chow down on everyone’s breakfast, mine especially, it’s not too bad from a certain point of view.”

Moondancer chuckled, wiping a stain off her goggles. “Believe me, I’m glad to hear you can keep up that positive attitude of yours, Trainer Bjorgman,” she said. “Though, I do believe Mr. Harwood is pleased by your absence?”

Ana grunted in a rather unladylike fashion. “If by ‘pleased’ you mean ‘I’ll-rub-it-in-your-face’ pleased, then yes, Dancer, I’m willing to bet that he’s very pleased.”

“Now, don’t you worry about him. I’ll be certain to give him the last bowl of carrot stew.” Moondancer assured her gently.

“What, you’re making carrot stew for lunch?”

“But of course. As a person who values eyesight in long-range combat, Ana, I’m sure you understand the value of carrots,” the mare replied with a wink.

“Where I’m from, we feed the things to the reindeer and make noses out of ‘em for snowmen, but yeah, I see your point. Now with that over with... may I have the first bowl?” Ana asked, shaking her now-empty coffee cup as if to emphasize her need. Just to lay on the thickness, the young woman widened her eyes pleadingly.

“You’re in luck. I’ve just about finished preparing it,” said Moondancer with a smirk, standing back up. “But first of all, here’s something for the wait,” she added, levitating another cup and placing it gently down on the table. To Ana’s delight, it was filled with hot chocolate.

“Mmm, chocolate…” sighed the woman, gazing at it longingly. “Thanks, Dancer. I’m sure glad Wolff’s not here to steal a sip.”

“No trouble, Ana,” Moondancer said, a twinkle in her eyes. “Ah, quand on parle du loup...” she continued, spotting something over Ana’s shoulder. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

“Ana! You’re awake!”

The booming, shrill cry of Wolfsschanze behind her caught Ana off-guard. Before she knew it, the stout griffon had swept her up from her seat in a bear hug.

“Oompf! Yeah, it’s– nice to– see you too– Wolff,” Ana struggled to reply, barely able to wheeze out her sentence, trapped as she was in his arms, with her back pressed to the embracing fold of his large stomach.

“Aw, Corporal, you know how much we miss you when you’re not around!” Wolfsschanze told her genially. “You really oughta see about taking up morning duty more often. It would do everyone a world ‘a good, I can tell ya.”

“Well, about that,” said Moondancer, who’d been staring amusedly at the display before her, obviously pretending not to notice the desperate looks the increasingly red-faced, puffy-cheeked woman was throwing her way. “Ana, remember we were discussing your circadian rhythm–”

“Wolff, would you kindly not suffocate poor Bjorgman to death?” interjected the gruff voice of Lieutenant Gilford, rebuking the younger griffon. In spite of this, through her haze, Ana could have sworn she heard a hint of levity in his tone, too.

“The Lieutenant is right, Corporal Wolfsschanze,” Moondancer said sweetly. “Wouldn’t want to get that last bowl of carrot stew, now, would we? I hear that, although it’s woven from the same cloth as the rest, so to speak, it just isn’t the same.”

“Oh nonono!” Wolfsschanze hastily said, dropping Ana ungracefully back at her seat. “I’ll be good, no more bone-crushing hugs from this griffon, no ma’am!” he boomed, scruffing a panting Ana’s hair playfully. “Sorry ‘bout that, lil’ miss,” he added, even as he fleetingly dipped his into her cup.

Ana gasped. “My chocolate! This isn’t over, ya hear me?” She was trying to growl, but her voice belied her words. Not a soul she knew could hold a grudge when it came to the big softie that was Corporal Wolfsschanze.

“Well, I wouldn’t say so, my dear.”

At the sound of that particular smug, accented voice, Ana couldn’t help but openly groan, inwardly cursing her sleep patterns once more. It was all the worse that, with Moondancer having just left the table, she no longer had feminine company for support against this creep.

“Whaddaya want?” she deadpanned, as the offending Englishman sat down opposite her, a wide smile set upon his well-defined, angled face. His deep green eyes were lit by mischievous intent, which only annoyed her further, as people would frequently mention the contrast with her the light turquoise of her own eyes.

“Oh, nothing less than to congratulate you on your sleep, Ana,” he stated politely. “You must’ve set some sort of new record now, haven’t you?”

“Har-dee-har-har, Harwood. And wipe that stupid smile off your face.”

“You’ve missed quite a lot,” said Harwood. “Major Sky Watch’s been doing overtime on the course. Sergeant Dewdrop tripped trying to keep pace on the ground with the pegasi and griffons in her squad, Corporal Hagelsturm bumped his head flying into one of the sky rings, and all swear up and down that Private Glory plain snuck away again.”

“Aw, you know Morning as much as I do,” chuckled Ana. “Always looking for an out, that sneaky little mare.”

Her companion simply shrugged, and sipped from his coffee. “I swear, one of these days, Coxa’s got to talk to her. As goody-two-shoes I may seem,” he said unironically, taking no regard of Ana as she rolled her eyes, “I’m not keen on seeing her in ‘detention’.”

Harwood let out a sigh, rubbing the palm of his gloved hands. Ana flinched despite herself. Was that mud all over it?

“Of course, that’s not counting the ones I had to patch up a little. This little bugger over here–” he gestured towards Wolfsschanze, who was busy opening his rucksack for some snacks, “–injured his thigh. Sure, he’s more athletic than you might think, but we had to roll him around before I injected the morphine. Isn’t that right?”

“Guilty as charged, Har!” Wolfsschanze cheerfully replied, patting his belly.

“Still not the worst, though! You should’ve seen what happened when Glacier accidentally cut his cheek in the mud. It was a long, dear struggle, Ana…” Harwood intoned dramatically. “I had to resort to drastic measures…”

“So, busy day, then?” Ana asked, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow.

In response, Harwood simply raised his dirty, mud-covered hand, to her horror.

“These hands have killed today, Ana. Glacier will never see the light of the morrow,” he ominously stated. But his instinctive grin ruined the image somewhat. “Ha! Just joshing. Didn’t really think I had to do some field surgeon work now, did you? Still, you should see what I can do with these when given the, ah, proper tools. They can work some extraordinary magic, know what I mean?”

Ana Bjorgman stifled a groan. “You’re bad with jokes, Thomas. Please, could you like, stick to the teasing and stay with the teasing? And could you please clean your hands first? I thought you were supposed to be the doctor around here–”

“Chief medical officer.”

“Whatever!” Ana replied with a pout. For all his self-proclaimed medical expertise, Harwood had never been the best at keeping all his stuff clean.

“Well excuse me, princess,” Harwood replied tartly, taking off his gloves and wiping them clean with a handkerchief. “Though I think you had a stroke of luck today. Sarge’s increasing the workload, and considering somepony had the bright idea of making it rain this morning…”

“Yeah, yeah, I just saw the results” Ana said quickly, grimacing at the sight of his dirty gloves and stained handkerchief. “Brrh… But you’re, uh, okay right? Need any help?” she added, eyes scanning around for any sign of injury on her partner.

“You, my friend, haven’t seen half of it. The whole bloody warzone’s filled with mud, had to lug some heavier equipment around. It’s times like these that almost make me jealous for your atrocious sleeping schedule. Almost.”

“Oh, Thomas, you flatter me so, as usual, you sniveling snake.”

Harwood simply shook his head. “No, really... sometimes I can’t stand the Sarge’s fixation on making us train the exact way he did back home. I mean, you and I both did it as well, but… it gets old, you know?” he sighed, opening his canteen for a drink.

“Hey, pal,” said Ana, “At least a muddy warzone’s still better than a rusty old ship, right?”

Silence passed, interrupted only by the sound of Wolfsschanze munching down on a bag of cookies he’d snuck in – against Company regulations, of course, but no one ever had the heart to make him stop. Much to Ana’s worry, Harwood looked noticeably withdrawn over her last remark, stopping short of finishing his drink.

‘Crap, probably shouldn’t have said that. Stupid, stupid, stupid.’

“Harwood? Are you alright?” Ana slowly asked, nervously twiddling her fingers. The sound of her voice snapped Harwood out of his reverie.

“Hm, ye– right, I’m quite alright,” he replied. But his empty look said otherwise, his eyes darting away from Ana.

“Are you still having the dreams?” Ana asked, in a somewhat gentler tone than she usually felt the cocky Englishman merited.

‘Way to go, Ana, way to make this so much more awkward.’

Harwood had never fully recovered from their harrowing experience aboard the Mamayev Kurgan, all those years ago, Ana remembered. He still had that empty gaze when looking down long, narrow hallways, freezing up at the sound of water crashing onto ships in the Port of Jakarta, flinching at the sound of clashing metal.

‘Great, now you broke him, darn it,’ she chided herself, glancing over her shoulder. However, the view this gave her of Moondancer busily preparing lunch lit a bulb in her mind.

“Maybe Dancer can help out a little?”

Harwood glanced at Ana, then to Moondancer, then back at her.

“I appreciate the suggestion, but I don’t suppose Dancer’s that sort of pony.” It was true. Moondancer didn’t exactly look the part of a therapist, with her singed mane and goggles.

“Well, you know how she is! Pretty sure she’s read up all the books, and I’m sure she knows a thing or two about your problems, Thomas. Whaddaya say?” Ana asked encouragingly, resting her chin upon her hand and smiling softly at her companion.

Whatever Harwood was going to say next, however, was interrupted by the mess hall doors slamming open. A collective silence descended upon the hall’s occupants as their unexpected visitor trotted in. He was a gray unicorn, wearing a gray suit and homburg to match. Not a trace of mane was seen, save for those presumably covered by his hat. It had actually become a minor game in the company to guess Resolute’s mane color beneath the ever-present hat.

The unicorn cast his steely-blue gaze over the hall. To her surprise, Ana realized just how much more crowded the place had grown in the space of five minutes. Aside from the little gathering at her table, consisting mainly of Harwood and an eagerly-waiting Wolfsschanze, now that Moondancer and Gilford had gone their separate ways, numerous other griffons and ponies – and one Changeling – were to be seen, including her friend Snow Mist.

“Everypony and everyone, listen up,” Vanhoover Company’s logistics officer announced loudly.

That, in itself, was cause enough for every ear present to perk up. Being a discreet, soft-spoken sort, hearing Resolute speak up like this was nothing short of startling. And it could not possibly herald anything good.

“My little pony, you are not the one who’ll kill him. This isn’t how this works. And that’s just as it should be.”

The burly stallion’s eyes shot open, wide and dazed, as he seemed to awake from one nightmare to another. He tried breathing in, but something was stuck between his jaws. Worse, with a surge of panic, he realized he was lying on his side. Gasping, Short Fuse rolled himself over and spat out the froth-covered stick, desperate to get up and face whoever thought they’d get the drop on him.

It took several heaving, rasping coughs, with him clutching at his spasm-ridden belly, before instincts from the bad old days took over. He wasn’t in any immediate danger. Anyone bearing him ill will would’ve tied him down and stuffed a gag down his throat. No, whatever discomfort he’d been in, it looked more like a recovery position for an epileptic seizure, or the wrong booze getting in his glass.

‘Funny…’, thought Fuse, rubbing his head. ‘I don’t feel drunk…’

Besides, judging from rows upon rows of drying bricks around him, wasn’t this his brickyard? Whatever his faults, he’d always maintained that drinking on the job wasn’t one of them… well, except for that very hot day when, working the clay pit, he’d actually been glad the stuff stuck to his coat as it helped keep him cool, and Minus had appeared atop the slope, both she and the bottle of rum tucked under one wing a gift from Faust, as was the absence of any brickmaking apprentices at that time to distract them when she joined him down there...

Fuse’s momentary fuzzy feeling over the stray memory turned to ice as it dawned on him; he had no idea how he ended up here, knocked out cold in his own workplace. Then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted movement. His jaw dropped as, turning, his gaze fell upon two widely mismatched figures. One was human, beaten and tied to a pole, glaring silently at him. The other was… the Lord of Chaos?

“Fuse! Fuse! We need to talk!” a voice called out, coupled with insistent knocks to the door. “Something’s up with yer ponies. They’re acting all weirded out, like some sorta spell’s been lifted offa them. Locksmith is demanding an answer.”

The stallion made no answer. Despite his considerable bulk, Fuse suddenly felt faint again, wishing the ground would just swallow him up, like in the Gildedale earth pony tales of yore.

‘Locksmith...’ he realized, freezing up. This he did remember.

Mental images from the past few months were patchy, in some cases clear in picture yet muted in sound, while others seemed to end in a door and open again somewhere else. Sadly, the memory of Locksmith, however much older than any of these, felt all too stark.

For the second time that day, doors burst open in the brickyard.

A shifty-looking stallion wearing sunglasses barged in, with another, dark-coated stallion in a tweed jacket trailing behind him, sputtering at the destruction of the door. The latter’s eyes widened at the sight of Fuse and rushed over to him, speaking a mile a minute, but the brickmaker was more focused on the first stallion.

‘That’s Shades? Just a runt last time I saw him. Bucker grew alright...’ Fuse scowled at the remains of his door. ‘Into a real pain in my flank. Wait… second time today? How do I...’

“Hey, uh, boss! Found something here!” yelled Shades.

And sure enough, Fuse’s heart sank as Locksmith himself trotted into the drying shed. Only the slightest flicker of surprise crossed his old companion’s face at what was inside.

“Discord…” whistled Locksmith. “Wow... a pretty catch. So that’s what the venom was for. Shorty, you surprise me still.”

Fuse’s mind worked quickly, gauging how to play this off. Somehow, a human and Discord had landed as captives in his drying shed, and Doctor Caballeron’s right-hoof stallion hadn’t known about this, though he’d obviously been invited here. Perhaps these missing memories were a last-ditch defense on the Chaos Lord’s behalf.

“Well,” he replied, putting on an air of confidence, “Ya were promised something big, Locksmith, weren’t ya? Wouldn’t ask for something big like venom otherwise.”

To his discomfort, he wasn’t sure this non-answer had been right, for a spark of suspicion glinted in the other stallion’s eye, darting between him, the two strangers, and back.

“Huh, looky here,” said Shades, “Who’d a thunk it? Seems like old Discord’s own creations can work against him after all.”

“The tatzelwurm wasn’t created by the Lord of Chaos,” Locksmith reminded him. “Merely a far-flung offspring of his chaotic residue, kinda like the Everfree Forest. Doubt he so much as knew the thing existed. Wouldn’t be chaos otherwise, would it?”

“Up is down and down is up’s as simple as it ever gets with that bloke,” agreed Shades. “Everfree, eh? Seeing as everyone else who’s got poisoned with the stuff had all sorts’a crazy things happen to ‘em before they died, yet all he gets is a bad cold, wonder what’d be if we rubbed him down with poison joke?”

“Probably just a rash,” Locksmith replied carelessly. “But it’s a most stimulating prospect, aye. Now then, I’d say we can fetch quite a fair price for this ’ere feller,” he mused, nudging the unconscious Discord with a hoof. “Powder of draconequus horn, oh yes, that'd make a right killing on the black market…”

The dark-coated stallion, who’d been standing hangdog at Fuse’s side, sprung back to life. “Powdered–” he began, choking on his own words. “Wh-what? Sir, one time, my roommate, he got his hooves on a snuffbox full of whitish dusty stuff that wasn’t snuff. Celestia, lucky I’d been studying for my medical finals, or who knows how differently that could’ve turned out!”

“A buncha comical misadventures, most likely,” stated Locksmith, who was still considering Discord. “Rounded up with everypony laughing it off in the end. You Equestrians got no idea how often you land on yer hooves… Heck, that’s what led my old pal Shorty here to fancy a lifestyle change. Outside world ain’t all so shiny, Mister Blackberry, no matter how much yappin’ you may do ‘bout adventure… twas’ a relief, really, when that flash what took your memories made you quit fawning over me.”

‘That kid’s lost his memory too?’

Yet Fuse had no time to ponder this when the young stallion, Blackberry, started quivering. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know that somehow, you guys have captured two mythical beasts, which I think’s great, something straight out of the books! But now, what you wanna do with one of them is… make more of the stuff that nearly did Max in?”

Locksmith glanced at him with disdain. “Where do you think that stuff comes from?”

The poor stallion – no, the poor colt, you couldn’t say a stallion was somepony who reacted this poorly to a situation – had his eyes bugged out, his body shaking all over. Fuse found himself feeling almost sorry for Blackberry. Clearly, he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

And, to his surprise, Fuse sensed his own insides twist at Locksmith’s words. By the sound of things, Caballeron’s ventures had branched out in the days since he’d quit. In hindsight, maybe Miss Do should have seen it coming, after she’d cut off the boss’s other sources of revenue.

“Pal, lay off the kid. He’s a doctor, medical, not Caballeron’s type,” he said, silently congratulating himself on his rapid deduction. “Doesn’t know the way of the world.” A low-lying snarl from behind reminded him of the human’s presence. “What I’d like to know is what ya intend to do ‘bout this ape-thing.”

This time, he was dismayed to see the suspicion had spread all across Locksmith’s face. “Him? Nothing. That was always the plan, wasn’t it?”

“What!” exclaimed Fuse. “Why, you… whose plan?!”

Locksmith’s answer was as a slap to his face. “Yours,” he replied, voice lowering dangerously. “Which is why you asked me and my boys over, cos’ a few measly Equestrians ain’t gonna cut it alone with the apes. Play the waiting game, you said. And I see now that was your only plan. No offense, pal, but you ain’t smart enough to catch Discord. You gave yerself away by saying you’s the one who asked for venom, which you weren’t. You’ve forgotten too, haven’t you?”

“Discord?” Even through the rush of forgotten scenes and everything falling apart around him, something vital clicked inside Fuse’s mind. “Discord’s payment, no more! The real job’s dealing with the apes! ”

“Listen ‘ere, Fuse, I like my payment upfront. You’re just a go-between for whoever’s really masterminded all this, and you’re no good to me with holes in yer memory. Seems we’ve found ourselves a better deal, so you play along, else things might get ugly.”

However, Fuse wasn’t having it. This was his turf, dammit, which meant playing by his rules, especially with other ponies suffering from the sam amnesia as he, like young Blackberry, and whatever they were here for, it certainly wasn’t to help turn the Lord of Chaos into a stash.

“Locksmith, ya mud-raking mule! Get out of my brickyard before I toss y–” Fuse growled, storming up to the stallion, only to have his path blocked by Shades and another of Locksmith’s thugs, who pushed him back roughly.

“Take him away,” smirked Locksmith. “You know where...” On cue, both of Short Fuse’s former gangmates were hauling him out the door, followed by the bewildered Blackberry. “Shorty, pal, it’s just business. Just. Business. The apes, this other Celestia, they can do as they please, so long’s I get the cash and end up on top.”

Before Fuse, struggling fruitlessly against the thugs, could finish taking in the day’s last few twists and turns, they’d crossed the warehouse, and he found himself shoved onto his back once more, onto the stony floor of a dark, enclosed space. Glancing up at a curved ceiling, and going by the scent of wood and charcoal, he realized he was looking inside his own kiln.

From the other side of the archway, one of the thugs, a unicorn, gave him a farewell grin before slamming the heavy iron heat-lock shut, leaving him in darkness. Just a second too late, Fuse leapt up and began pounding furiously on the metal surface, which refused to budge. It shouldn’t have resisted him so, not within this factory built by his hooves. But soon enough, Fuse slumped against the door in defeat, realizing.

No unicorn involved in back alley dealings would leave home without a bit of cement on hoof. That would explain the wet, muffled ‘splat’ he’d heard when the heat-lock closed. Plus, with a clay pit nearby, they had the means to make more. And though earthen materials were his domain by birth, quick-drying cement was ‘dead’ to his magic. He was well and truly trapped.

‘My missus is gonna kill me.’

Indifferent to his former comrade’s plight, Locksmith turned to the human and draconequus, the former glaring daggers at him while the other remained unresponsive. The stallion only smiled as he walked up to the man, none too gently kicking one of his legs.

“So, you are the mighty human knight we heard so much about. Ha! What a joke. Captured by these morons. Now, you’re gonna tell me everything I want to hear about goods in that city.”

“There’ll be death before I tell you that. Specifically, yours,” the human growled, tugging at his restraints, causing the wooden beam to groan in protest. Frowning at this, Locksmith pulled back and buried his hoof into the human’s gut. The guy choked back a groan of pain.

“I don’t have time to deal with you anyways, freak,” sneered Locksmith, diverting his attention to the sleeping Discord. “I got a bigger prize in mind. All the time in the world once I’m done with the Chaos Lord.” He’d left his saddlebags at the doors. While keeping yourself facing a potential threat was the most advisable course of action, Locksmith decided he wouldn’t give the human that satisfaction as he went back to rummage their contents. “Few things can hurt pure magical creatures like alicorns, phoenixes, you name ‘em. I don’t have fancy gem magic like you lot. However, I got this…”

Hoof wrapped in a protective chain-mail gauntlet, he held up a dull copper-brown shard. “Orichalcum. Best thing to have. Not just against living creatures, either, golems fall the same. Salvaging it from that ancient temple was a nightmare, but you never know what you’ll need.”

He took a quick swipe at Discord’s prone body, and the shard cut into the sickly draconequus’s body with horrid ease. Discord, roused from his slumber by the exploding pain in his hip, bit back a hiss and rolled groggily to the side.

“Discord!” gasped the human.

“Now then, guv,” tutted Locksmith. “Stay still. Don’t want this to become messy now. Or do. Don’t matter. With your healing powers, we can this up for a long time. I’m counting on it. The cash will be rolling in, yes it will.”

“Du mieses Schwein!” the human roared, pulling harder at the wooden beam. “These idiots don’t know better, so I went easy on them! But you… I thought I’d seen everything...”

The groaning of the wood irritated Locksmith more than the words. He’d heard it all before.
Sighing, he marched up to the human and backhoofed him across the face. “Shut it!” he said, punching him once more in the stomach for good measure. “Stupid language of yours really grinds my gears. Speak Equish, freak.”

He turned back around, only to be caught off guard by something that wasn’t there before.

A small human, likely a filly, her fine black mane so long and thick, you could just barely see one eye poking out from under that mop of hair, was sitting on one an empty shelf nearby.

“What the–” Locksmith stared at the girl, who got off the shelf to stand in his way. “Aw, whatever. Move aside, little freak, I’ve got a Chaos Lord to harvest.”

But the girl shook her head, spreading her arms out wide in a pitiful attempt to stop him. Locksmith, however, was getting tired of everyone not listening to his orders. He was no Caballeron, but everyone feared the doctor’s second-in-command for a reason. Daring Do had lied in one of her books about her wing being injured due to strain. He snarled and batted the girl aside, her small form bouncing across the wooden floor and hitting the wall with a thud.

“You…” Discord groaned. “You imbecile!” he yelled, lunging at Locksmith. Had Discord not been suffering from the venom and a steadily bleeding wound, something bizarre and ironic likely would have befallen the stallion. In the event, Locksmith managed to dodge his foe’s eagle claw and stomp on his lion paw. There was a crack. “Huh,” wheezed Discord. “That…. that hurt. It’s… it’s been awhile.” He sounded almost delirious. “Pain hurts, Stephan! Why didn’t you tell me pain hurts?!”

“I’m sick of these delays,” sneered Locksmith. “Be a good ingredient piece and stay still.”

That was when he noticed something amiss. A sound of croaking, coming from up above. He raised his head, ears flicking, and froze. On the ceiling, scurrying upside-down from raft to raft like a demented Everfree star-spider, was the little human girl.

“What… the…”

Her head snapped around, sharp. More than snapped, swiveled all the way around, like it wasn’t even attached to her body. And her mouth, set below her dark unblinking eyes, opened, jaws stretched taut, wider than should be possible, a dark cavernous pit ready to swallow him up. The croaking sound burst across the shed in hellish cacophony.

He jumped back in terror, nearly dropping the blade.

Slowly, her body rotated on the spot, all except her head, which remained in place, until, having done a full 180, she began to melt into the ceiling. The last he saw of her was a smile.

Locksmith wiped the sweat off his brow, trying to calm his racing heart. He’d faced the worst criminals and monsters Equus had to offer. Yet now, here was this thing, making them look like foal’s play. What was she?

“Come out…” he seethed, forcing his voice into an almost crooning register, rotating the knife to reverse the blade. “Come on kid, I just want to... PLAY!”

His ears picked up a scuttling and he spun, putting all his strength into a spinning blow that would have sent the knife straight through the skull of any nearby unfortunates. As it were, all he hit was a pipe connected along the face of the wall to a fire-hose, shearing it completely at a rusted seam. Water began to gush out under pressure, covering the floor in a slick mirror-surface of fluid. Locksmith saw his own face stare up at him…

His howling, agonized face, frozen in a rictus of horror, decayed eyeballs retreating back into sockets, jaw hanging so far open in terror that it had dislocated itself. Its coat was grey as marble, the fur falling out in clumps, revealed water-rotten flesh veined with black blood vessels, mouth full of worms.

Something was screaming. Locksmith felt his vocal cords burn and realized it was himself. The kilns were screaming too, shrieking jets of steam from where water came into contact with superheated bricks, or pouring through the grates into the furnace ashpans, and the worst part was he wasn’t even the kiln-house. Tearing himself away from the nightmare vision, Locksmith spotted the girl-creature, the unholy thing standing across from him, half-shrouded in the illusionary steam filling the drying shed, and in a panicked yell hurled the knife at her, blade rotating over the grip in a perfect spin he’d once bribed a carnival pony to teach him.

It passed through her head as if she was smoke, glanced off the edge of a shelf, and clattered to the ground. Or at least it should have. Instead, by some act of improbability, it landed into the bound hands of Stephan Bauer.

Suddenly sensing the human for a genuine threat, Locksmith charged across the floor, cursing that they hadn’t thought to bind the creature’s ankles as well as its wrists, now that it brought its legs together and hefted itself upright in fluid movement

“Would have bought more time! Shades! In here!” he bellowed.

Then he made another mistake. Rushing to close the gap and disarm Bauer, he jumped straight over the one obstacle in his path: Discord. As he did, the wounded draconequus suddenly rotated on the floor in a single pained spasm, grabbing Locksmith’s hoof with a claw, bringing him hurtling to the ground.

But, unused to actual physical combat, when the weakened, gasping eldritch being attempted to pin the stallion with his superior mass, he found himself bucked in the face for his trouble. Discord’s already-weak grip failed, and Locksmith pulled himself free with a cry of triumph.

The whistle of something very sharp sailed over his head, scribing a blazing line of pain across the tip of one ear. Hitting the ground again and rolling, he came up to see Bauer, hands freed, advancing on him, passing the knife from hand-to-hand, preventing Locksmith from knowing whether or not to feint left or right in pressing an attack.

Thinking quickly, he chose a third option.

‘Oh, this is going to hurt.’

It did. Fuse had obviously built his brickyard well above-code, and even after having rudely crashed upon earlier, the double doors to the shed were still two inches thick and solid oak. But, by hurling himself at them in a perfect hoofball shoulder-tackle, there was enough force behind Locksmith to take it straight off the hinges, carrying both him and the doors through into the next room, landing in a heap beside an astonished Shades.

“Take him down!” Locksmith tried to yell, but all he could get out was a pained gasp. Shades, however, with the presence of mind to react accordingly, began seizing bricks off a nearby pallet and pelted them through the open doorway with piledriver force. Several unicorns joined in, blindly directing spells into the steam-filled room.

“You idiots!” he managed to wheeze. “He’s wielding orichalcum, it–”

One of the spells rebounded out of the room, the bolt of magic striking its caster in the face, pitching him back through a window.

“–reflects magic,” Locksmith finished wearily. “Block the door! Seal them in!”

The gaggle of idiots responded quickly enough, to their credit, and between earthpony muscle and some applied magic, soon arranged several of the pallets against the vacant doorframe, blocking it up completely and overlapping the walls by several feet. For good measure, their whole stock of cement went into the operation, too, even though the two emptied crates made for a pitiful sight once the excitement was over.

Recovering his strength, Locksmith leaned against the obstacle, mane and tail bristling.

“You stupid grass-munchers! Why didn’t you support me the second I started screaming?”

“Screaming?” asked an evidently confused Shades, not that his brain had any gears rated higher than ‘dumb cunning’ in Locksmith’s estimation. “We didn’t hear nothing from that room, till you brought the door down.”

Locksmith considered this for a moment, and made a connection with the pale-skinned creature disguised as a human – a demon clothed in the garb of a monster, how poetic.

“That little witch,” he chuckled darkly. “She sound-shielded the room.”

And now she, Discord, and the beast called Bauer were holed up within. And everypony knew animals like that were at their most dangerous when cornered, their backs to the walls.

‘Well, we’ll just have to even those odds, won’t we?’

“Shades?” he said, steadying his breathing and pointing imperiously. “Remember whatcha said ‘bout Discord and the poison joke?”

His associate nodded.

“Well, on reflection,” continued Locksmith, “I like your train of thought... even in his green state, I somehow doubt ropes will hold him down. We’re gonna need some other way, and maybe that’ll just cut it. Send someone out to scour the Forest for the nastiest plants they can find.”

Shades gave him a quick ‘aye aye, sir’, and departed out into the wild.

“You!” Locksmith heard him call out to that quivering little college foal… what was his name? Blueberry? “You’re a doctor, right?”

‘Now where are those pieces of meat off to?’

For Pina, all in all, the whole day had just kept getting better. Sure, perhaps hers wasn’t the most comfortable spot, hiding in the foliage overhill from the brickyard. But after suffering through a long, sleepless night standing guard outside the lovebirds’ hotel following what felt like an equally long and uneventful train ride – just because she rarely blinked, everyone seemed to think she never rested – she’d began to regret taking on this assignment.

Contrary to what many believed, Pineapple Cutter was a people person. She liked to find out what made them tick on the inside. Alas, spend three years working alongside the PHL, and you began to suspect there were only two kinds of folks in the world. On the one hand, a cabal of jingoistic, brain-dead loons who got a kick out of their destructive trail even as they loudly proclaimed righteousness. On the opposite side, of course, were the zombies.

Pretty boring company, really. And yet, they were under the impression that, due to her wisecracks at how silly it was, all their high-minded talk and actions which belied their words, their quest for peace at the mouth of a gun, she was enjoying herself somehow. Yes, it was a terrible, terrible thing, being one of the few sane people in the world. No wonder she’d used to lash out more, before Salonen laid down her Rules.

‘Eh, who cares? I did come here hoping to meet some interesting people.’

Well, meet them she hadn’t, per se, but since this afternoon, she’d compiled a list of the ones Bauer and Lulamoon had met for her. Too bad that at first, none had got dangerously close, an action which would authorize Pina to step forward and liven up the encounter, which she had considered doing when the three fillies sidled up to them. Children lack a conscience...

Not that the Cutie Mark Crusaders would be a hassle any longer, thank goodness. Though it took a little while to happen, they were now safely out, thanks to a group of local folk thoughtful enough to make kids leave while the grown-ups did the talking, presumably about serious issues over the future of Bauer and his friends’ time spent crashing this joint.

‘Friendly people? No. But interesting, yes.’

In the last half hour, a group of special interest had entered the brickworks, after which there’d been some commotion and a flash of light in the drying shed, and now, a wiry, nervous-looking earth pony wearing a tweed jacket was leaving, flanked by several heavyset stallions. All these events were likely related.

The mare tapped her chin, once, before a dull echoing from her polymer forehoof reminded her she needed to keep quiet, however unlikely detection may seem. She recognized the curly-haired, bespectacled colt as the same who’d dragged the big guy out the river. So, clearly braver than he looked, yet not so brave as to show no awe of the Everfree.

Her mind quickly made itself up. Renee and Scratch had been told about the recent arrivals. As soon as they got here, they’d insist she’d played her part, thank you, goodbye. And that wasn’t fair. Tracing the dear Major and Spy’s steps had reawoken some old hunger in her.

No, she would observe these brave fellows, and follow, in the hopes of finding out more. Perhaps the colt’s bravery would even impress her. After all, at day’s end, the nice thing about being Pineapple Cutter was getting to know people better than they knew themselves. As for Renee and Scratch, what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

‘Rules are made to be broken once in a while. That is the spice of life.’

Standing in the lobby to the Ponyville Forest Rangers’ Office, Fluttershy realized why it was best she’d come here instead of Rarity. If her best friend had seen the place’s uninspired furnishing, with the same plain wood paneling one found everywhere, she would have sobbed. For her part, Fluttershy felt that after what she’d learnt these past two months, she’d never look at the place’s wall-decorating paraphernalia – a little flaregun, a rake with four teeth the size of her hoof – quite the same way again.

“May I help you?” asked the brown-coated, blond-maned stallion behind the desk.

Fluttershy coughed. “E-excuse me? Is Minus here?”

“Let me check.” The stallion peered over his shoulder. “Hey! Minus! Fluttershy’s back!”

“Oh, hello, Miss Fluttershy,” smiled Minus, giving her a friendly flit of her wing as she trotted out from the office proper. “Didn’t know you were back in town. How was Canterlot?”

“It wasn’t really a vacation,” Fluttershy said hesitantly. “Major Bauer had us running laps, doing push-ups, almost all day.” Her mane drooped. “Technically, this is our vacation.”

Minus nodded sympathetically. “Sounds a bit like our summer in Manehattan,” she said. “Save up for it all year, just for the novelty thrill, feel oddly stifled by urban jungle, get back home to work two weeks early. Nothing so satisfying as the hearthfire after an honest day’s labor, says I.” She reached for a flask of coffee and cup on the desk. “You could’ve sent word you were back, you know! So, you here to see about any forest creatures in need? Well, aren’t you in luck, I’ve got this ailing manticore right here, a little coyote puppy…”

“Actually, Minus,” Fluttershy said, “It’s about your… your husband.”

The ranger stopped pouring her cup of coffee.“Shorty?” She sighed, and Fluttershy could tell that this wasn’t all that abnormal. “Sweet Celestia, what’s he gotten into now?”

“Colonel Renee has just sent word to Sergeant Jaka that he’s to assemble a taskforce, specifically composed of Equusites native to this world, to be deployed within the hour. This taskforce will rendezvous with Colonel Renee and Lieutenant Scratch at the grand helicopter landing pad in Central Park. There, they shall receive a debriefing as to the purpose of this mission and its objectives.”

Resolute paused meaningfully. “Sergeant Jaka has charged me with observing the mission’s proceedings, and to relay the details when the mission is ongoing. Now, any questions?”

No answer, save for some puzzled glances here and there.

“Good, you have fifteen minutes to prepare,” finished the gray unicorn. He moved towards Gilford as the whole mess hall became all a-bustle with discussions. To Ana’s delight, Snow Mist had noticed her presence, waving in her direction.

‘Ah, finally, someone who’s not up to stealing my drinks or tease my sleep!’

“There you are, sleepyhead!” Snow Mist greeted her, trotting over to their table. The frost-colored pegasus mare shared a hoof-fist bump with Harwood, while giving Wolfsschanze – busy stuffing his snacks back in now that Resolute was around – an indulgent glance.

‘Darn it. I’m never going to live that down, am I? And my hair always in such a mess, too...’

Nevertheless, Ana gave Mist a friendly wave, while hurriedly finishing her still-warm chocolate.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to steal a sip, Ana,” Mist reassured her, winking at Harwood in the meantime. “Just here to, y’know, talk stuff over.”

“What, about greyscale over there?” Ana asked, pointing a thumb at the busy Resolute.

“Who else?” Harwood said drily, only to be met with a stomp and a ‘not-now’ look from Ana.

“Yup,” said Mist. “See, he’s got Coxa to talk, just watch.”

Sure enough, Resolute had striden up to the aforementioned Changeling. “Second Lieutenant Coxa, where is First Lieutenant Winter Truce?”

“In the Major’s office,” Coxa replied curtly. “Sky Watch specifically asked for him. I believe they’re planning a few tactical manoeuvres.”

“Never mind. As the second-most senior officer of First Platoon and the sole Changeling lieutenant in this Company, you are commissioned to assemble a squad of three Changelings from your platoon for the purposes of this mission.”

“Ah, unfortunately, Mr. Resolute, they are not currently available.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

“They’re training on the field,” explained Coxa. “You don’t expect me to come over there and, well, drag them off now, do you?”

Resolute sighed. “Fine. I would have preferred more of a stealth element on hoof, but we’ll work with what we’ve got. In the absence of First Lieutenant Winter Truce, the pegasi in this taskforce will be represented by First Lieutenant Snow Mist, Fourth Platoon.”

The look he shot Mist left no doubt he wanted her ready right at that moment, no later. With a heavy sigh, Snow Mist stood up.

“Ah, here we go,” she said. “Guess that’s Resolute for ‘get your things’. I’ll see you guys later, ‘specially you Ana. Clear the skies?”

“Clear the skies indeed,” the sniper replied, her hand reached out in a fist bump.

“Gotcha!” said Mist, hoof-bumping Ana in return, with a nod towards the still-pained Harwood, before giving Wolff a mischievous look. “Oh and Wolff, you’re aware that Resolute knows about your snacks right?”

“Whuh-what?” the griffon in question stammered. “No he doesn’t!”

“Corporal Wolfsschanze, you shall accompany Lieutenant Gilford during the mission as firing support. Please keep in mind that snacks are not allowed in the field,” Resolute called out.

“Darn it!” the griffon muttered, while both Ana and Harwood hid a chuckle under their breaths. “Ah, don’t worry, big guy, I got ya covered. C’mon, let’s pack up.”

With that final exchange of words, Snow Mist and Wolfsschanze left, leaving Ana and Harwood in the mess hall.

“Right… did you really have to step on it that hard?” Harwood said, rubbing his sore toe. Ana merely gave him a sheepish look.

“Sorry, force of habit, heh heh...” she said nervously. His sole response was an unamused stare and him straightening his vest.

“Charmed. On another note, you think Jaka knows?”

“Of course he knows... Oh, right, Resolute, got it,” Ana said. Indeed, the gray unicorn had a very withdrawn persona. She wasn’t even sure where he came from. “Well, considering the Sarge’s an ex-policeman and the kind of guy to get into street fights…”

“Think it’ll be right up his alley?” Harwood finished with a knowing look and a smirk in return. The two trainers laughed heartily, sharing a high five.

“And what, exactly, is right up my alley?”

Both of them ceased their laughter and whipped their heads around, meeting the stern gaze of Sergeant Jaka. The tall, well-built man stood there with his arms folded, looking at them inquisitively. From the dirty stains on his armor, he had just returned from the training session.

“Oh hello, Sarge!” Ana quickly said, waving awkwardly at him. “Done with the training?”

“The others have it covered. What seems to be the matter?” said Jaka, one eyebrow raised, waiting for either of them to respond. Coupled with the Sergeant’s imposing height and his pencil moustache, the thick quality of his brow made this an unnerving sight. “Well?”

“Er, we’ve got a bit of a crisis on our hands, Sergeant,” Harwood stammered out. “Situation is, well, a bit delicate, but fear not–”

“What my dear friend here is trying to say, Sarge,” Ana interrupted, “Is that we’ve got a mission on our hands, Sarge.” Her tone hammered it straight to the point, or so she hoped.

“I was just about to say that Ana,” Harwood grumbled. “Rude.”

“But you didn’t, hm?”

An interrupting cough from Jaka reminded the two bickering friends who were talking to.

“If you two lovebirds are done,” he said coolly, at which Ana felt her cheeks burn, while Harwood whistled bashfully, “I must speak to Resolute regarding the matter.”

Then, as if to prove his point, the aforementioned unicorn spotted them from across the hall.

“There you are, Sergeant Jaka!” Resolute called out, trotting over to the three of them, a notebook attached to one of his forehooves and a pencil to the other. A long time ago, Ana would have thought it a silly sight, but times had changed.

Jaka nodded curtly. “Can I assume you have the team assembled, Mr. Resolute?”

“Er, yes, Sergeant,” Resolute nervously replied. “Colonel Renee requested us to be ready within the hour, and owing to the nature of the mission, he specifically asked for a group composed primarily of local recruits, which is why I made sure to run this through Lieutenant Coxa first, in the absence of Lieutenant Truce. But we currently only have one qualified medic, Corporal Harwood here, and as Chief Trainer, I expect the Colonel will wish to see you on hoof for a surmise of the recruits’ qualities and performance. Plus...” he added, after looking furtively around, “Your policeman’s expertise may prove very useful for this hostage situation.”

Jaka thought about this for a moment. “Very well, then, make do with what we have.”

“Are you sure, Sergeant?” Resolute inquired, scribbling down a few notes.

“Mr. Resolute, in hostage situations such as these, less is more. Get the helicopter ready, I’ll meet you there.”

“A hostage situation?” Ana queried, folding her arms apprehensively. But neither Resolute nor Jaka seemed to have heard her, with only Harwood noticing.

“Right along, Sergeant Jaka,” Resolute replied. The gray unicorn whipped his right hoof out in a salute, then moved to exit the mess hall. But Ana wanted her answers.

“Now wait just a second,” she called out.

Resolute stopped in his tracks, looking at her with befuddlement. “Yes, Corporal Bjorgman?”

“Okay.” Ana took a deep breath. “What exactly do you mean, hostage situation? Yeah I know, I know, you’re this, cold, mysterious guy, all-about-classified info, but can’t you at least tell us who we’re trying to rescue here?”

“Uh, well,” Resolute began, fumbling over his words as he looked at Jaka for advice. Much to Ana’s surprise, the Sergeant nodded.

“It’s alright, Mr. Resolute. You can tell Harwood and Bjorgman.”

“Right, of course,” he replied, looking at both Ana and Harwood. Even then, to her, it seemed he was still pondering whether or not to spill the beans. At last, he relented. “We’ve got a VIP. Major Bauer has been captured. At this point, we do not know who’s to blame for the incident,” Resolute explained, ignoring Ana’s small gasp.

‘Major Bauer? Of all people, they got Stephan Bauer for a hostage?’

Admittedly, she did not know Major Bauer all too well, but from what she could tell, capturing the Knight of Germania would be no easy feat.

Even Jaka seemed taken aback. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Sergeant. Unfortunately, that is all the information I’ve been given too. Hopefully, Colonel Renee will fill in the details afterward. Now, if you would excuse me, I will be awaiting you in the helicopter.”

With those parting words, the officer left, leaving the three of them in the mess hall. At this point, every other officer summoned had already retreated to their bunks, presumably to pick up their equipments.

Harwood was the first to break the silence. “Well… that was… quite unexpected.”

“No shit,” Ana replied, massaging her temples.

‘And there goes my restful day.’

Applejack pawed at the boutique’s floor.

“Fuse,” she growled. “Ah’d love to give that no-good varmint a piece of mah mind...”

“Bad idea, darling,” said Rarity. “Though believe me, I know exactly what you mean,” she hastened to add, placatingly laying a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “I’ve got a little sister too. Yet if we want any chance at resolving this without further hassle, it’s best you stay here and take care of the girls. Your presence could be misinterpreted as provocation.”

“Say what now? Provocation?” repeated Applejack, wide-eyed. “In case ya hadn’t noticed, there’s already been some darn mighty provocation around here, and the offendin’ party sure as heck ain’t me.” Tensed, she took off her hat and began beating the dust out of it. “Ah'm the strongest pony ya got, me and Big Mac both. No offense, sugarcube, but you and Fluttershy, a little practice don’t change that ya ain’t spent yer days bucking apple trees fer a livin’.”

“Yes, but you see,” Rarity explained patiently, “the difference is there's no bad blood at all between Fluttershy and our dear brickmaker.”

“Ya mean his wife gets along with her. Ain’t quite the same.”

“And who does he try hardest to keep happy? His wife,” finished Rarity. “Plus, let's just say that if Pinkie were here, I'd want her at my side on this, too. Everypony in town does love her.”

“Indeed, at least that girl's got the sense to always keep a cannon on hoof.”

Rarity stared at her in shock. “Applejack! What are you saying! We can’t all go around carrying weapons in the street!”

“Why not?” the farmpony asked her, elbows sagging wearily. “Time was, Ah might’ve agreed. But lately, with all of them monster attacks, Ah've been wonderin’ if it mightn’t be better for ponies to protect themselves on their lonesome...”

“On their lonesome? Whatever happened to trust? To friendship? Those are the things that keep civilized society together! Otherwise, how are we any different from beasts squabbling over a patch of land?”

Applejack looked at her with a kind of warm sadness. “Oh, Rarity,” she said softly. “Ah know we’ve had our differences... and yet... please don't stop bein’ the mare you are, makin’ the world into a more beautiful place than it really is...”

“I’m sorry, darling, but I don't want to live in a world ruled by fear and hatred of other people.”

“What one wants ain't necessarily the same as what is,” Applejack said quietly. “Ask any human. Thing is, I was talkin’ to this one fella-”

“Ahem,” someone coughed politely. “Pardon me, ladies, I didn’t want to interrupt your chat, but then I felt now was the time to step in before things got too politically charged.”

Both mares turned.

“Now, you two,” Jaka ordered, glancing at the clock. “Pack up everything you need. I will be meeting you both at the Central Park helipad.”

“Right on, Sergeant,” Harwood replied, nodding respectfully.

The other man returned the nod, then strode off quickly, no doubt to check and prepare his equipment.

“Well, uh, I suppose I best be going as well? Time is money after all,” Harwood said, rapidly draining the last of his coffee.

Ana patted him on the back, smirking.

“Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go, Harwood! Just keep your spirits up, and we’ll be all fine, you can count on that!” she said reassuringly. “Besides, I’ll be keeping an eye on you boys, don’t you forget that, eh?”

“I won’t. Catch you in the park then, Ana, cheers!”

With a final nod, the medic scrambled out of the hall.

“Good luck!” Ana shouted, waving at him. In the distance, Harwood giddily skipped, looking back at her with that wide, mischievous grin of his. Somehow, Ana felt comforted by that.

‘Aw, cute. Now where did I put that rifle?’

But before Ana could leave the mess hall in turn, another, softer voice interrupted.

“Ana, it’s ready... Oh, you’re leaving?”

‘Crap, forgot the stew. Darn it.’

Reluctantly, Ana turned to face Moondancer. The mare was a bit messier than their last chat – she had been busy preparing lunch, and judging by her look of confusion behind the goggles, Dancer hadn’t heard a word of Resolute and Jaka’s conversation.

“Um, yeah, Dancer. Guess Resolute left a memo without bothering to actually see you. Look,” Ana gently knelt down, mind working fast to avoid hurting the mare’s feelings, “We’re going on a hostage-rescue mission, I think. Big enough for the Sarge to get personally involved. The target’s, uh, kinda classified for some reason, but could you please make sure the others don’t notice us gone? Kind of a big deal too, a-and you know how Morning or Frieda react to stuff...”

To Ana’s relief, Moondancer nodded, ears perking up curiously.

“Oh? Why didn’t you just say so!” she beamed. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later, Ana’s pale-coated friend came back, levitating a warm thermos, and handed the precious thing over to her.

“Can’t leave without this, can you? I do owe you the first bowl, after all,” she said kindly. Sure enough, the soup inside was warm and fresh, enticing Ana to drink it immediately. But before Ana could so much as mutter a thanks, the mare pushed another object into her grasp – a small, copper ring wide enough to fit a unicorn’s horn.

“Now, I believe the good Sergeant would find this rather useful in the task at hand, in case he runs into a hostile unicorn or two,” explained Moondancer. “Orichalcum. Curious properties, especially regarding magical objects. Use it carefully.”

“Oh, thanks! For the soup, and the ring, Dancer,” Ana replied brightly.

“It’s no trouble.”

Moondancer looked very serious now.

“Ana,” said the young mare, holding her hand tightly, “Whatever the this crisis turns out to be, I can guess it’ll involve ponies, and, much as I wish they won't, matters are liable to grow a little rough out there. You may feel you’ve got no choice except extreme measures. But please keep one thing in mind. Though it may be all too easy to forget sometimes, the ponies of this land aren’t those who’ve wronged you. Many of them are afraid, because they aren’t used to harshness the way you are. We’re peace-seeking creatures at heart, you can't change that overnight, and sadly, some of us believe you’re the ones bringing death and destruction.”

She paused solemnly. “Please don't prove them right, Ana. Perhaps sometimes, fire must be fought with fire… such as the PER and the HLF… yes, I heard what happened to the city of Defiance. Yet the saying isn’t ‘better ruling through fear than love’, it’s ‘whether via fear or love, you must earn respect’. Equestria knows a lot about love, but if you treat ponies too roughly, they might fear you; they certainly won't respect you.”

“Don’t worry, Dancer,” Ana said, tidying her shoulder-length hair and adorning her PHL cap. “We’ll make this right, count on us!”

“I’ll be sure to keep the Company safe here,” Moondancer reached out to pat Ana’s back as high as she could reach. “In turn, be safe out there, will you?”

With a final, respectful nod and a salute, the young woman exited the mess hall, heavy boots echoing loudly in the hallway as she rushed down to her room.

‘I hope so…’

An indistinct dot of green light alit on the tip of Pina’s prosthetic left forehoof.

‘What? Company? Some nearby PHL groupie left their radio transmitter on and is heading this way? Nooo! No! That isn’t fair!’

Trying hard not to groan, lest she be noticed by the group, the operative resignedly dained to check the number of the frequency she’d just intercepted, though she already suspected who it would be. Not Renee and Scratch, they were still too far away. Which only left the Blue Spy.

Well, if that’s how it was, she might as well derive a little entertainment from returning to work. Trixie Lulamoon may have been expertly trained in the ways of stealth and subterfuge, but she, Pineapple Cutter, had made such things her hobby long before the jumped-up stage magician went down a less public career path.

Time to play a game of ‘chicken’, only the loser was the mare who got seen first.

The Central Park of New New York was, for all intents and purposes, a warm sight to behold. Indeed, in spite of the numerous personnel – Equusite or PHL alike – using the park for various training sessions, the greener areas of the park were still a thing of beauty.

Ana would have appreciated it, were it not for the fact her mind was zipping from place to place as she made her way to the helipad by herself. She’d missed the truck carrying the rest of the team there, forcing her to take the city’s subway to the nearest station. It would have been nice given the high efficiency of the Diamond Dog managed trains, but the fact she was in full gear somewhat lessened the smoothness of the trip.

And so, Ana strode out onto the street, wearing a green ghillie suit that fully covered her body, save for an opening for her eyes. The short time set aside for preparations had forced her to put it on immediately – time was running short, after all.

‘Well, all things considered, at least I still got my suppressor.’

The sniper rifle – an Arctic Warfare Super Magnum, or an “AWSM rifle” as Harwood called it – was a relic from before the war. Indeed, come the day Ana’s old smuggling group had taken a hold of it, the contraband rifle had clearly served its time in the military. Still, this here was a trusty weapon, one which had served Ana well since the Tyrant’s opening shot, whether over her stay aboard the Mamayev Kurgan or while providing support during the numerous counter-insurgency operations in war-torn Indonesia.

In spite of numerous offers of replacement, Ana couldn't bear to replace her beloved rifle. Even in the face of superior cartridges and rifles provided by the PHL armory, Ana stuck with the old girl. The powerful .338 Lapua Magnum cartridge was more than enough to deal with PER and anti-government insurgents, and more than overkill when mounted in PHL F3-Thunderlord and MG2023 machineguns. And if conditions permitted, it worked well as a club too.

‘Heh, like the time I knocked out that silly PER preacher. Wonder if I’ll get to do something like that again-’

“Thinking out loud again now, Miss Bjorgman?”

“YAAARG- oh, oh! Hey there, Sarge! Oh my... real sorry there, yeah.”

Sergeant Jaka had interrupted Ana’s little train of thoughts rather abruptly with that snarky comment. Indeed, the sniper found herself wielding her rifle like a club, stopping short of clubbing her fellow trainer and comrade in the face. Thankfully, he seemed completely unaffected.

“Careful there, Miss Bjorgman. The rest of the team is waiting, come along,” Jaka said, motioning for Ana to follow him. Without further words, Ana hurriedly followed, walking up next to him.

As the pair strode through the gravel path leading to the helipad, Ana took a few glances to inspect Jaka’s weaponry and equipment. Standard issue, from the looks of it; a suppressed MP5 submachine gun, his old Glock 17 handgun, and a few hand grenades for good measure. In contrast to Ana’s heavily camouflaged look, the Sergeant wore the black armor of a police officer.

“Got everything ya need, Sarge?” Ana asked, breaking the silence.

“In spite of the brief time provided, yes, I have everything I needed,” Jaka replied nonchalantly. The officer glanced over at Ana’s backpack.

“Oh, uh, I brought the rifle, twenty-five rounds, a thermos, bipods, and a suppressor, Sarge. Got everything covered, heh,” Ana replied, counting off each item with her fingers.

“I do hope you’ve brought everything needed for the task, Miss Bjorgman,” he added, giving Ana a nod of approval. “Harwood and the others have brought their equipment as well.”

“Right, right…” Ana replied, her eyes drifting off into the trees around.

‘Really is pleasant ‘round these parts. Yeah, we should definitely train here more often.’

“Have you ever been to Liquicà, Miss Bjorgman?” asked Jaka suddenly, with his gaze scrutinizing Ana.

Ana glanced at him uncertainly and in surprise.“Oh! Um, I’m sorry, Sarge, but I’ve never really had the pleasure of visiting your country, war and all.”

The Sergeant gave her a small, rare smile. The man’s gaze drifted to the trees surrounding the pair. “Don’t you worry about that, Miss. Liquicà is no more in Indonesia than Singapore is.”

“Oh?” said Ana, feeling a bit less out of her depth. “Well, I did know that about Singapore, um…”

“Well, you’d be surprised at how many people don’t. Me, personally, I’m just glad to have nothing to do with that place. Policing the backstreets and red flag districts of Jakarta, you get to see some bad shit at times, flagrant disregard for the law. But in my experience, it is better to let some lowlifes roam free, rather than trade freedom for security.” He paused, a black cloud crossing his brow. “I once heard someone called Singapore ‘Disneyland with the Death Penalty’.

“Uh, when you said ‘Disneyland’…” Ana began, only to be cut off.

“Look, Miss,” pursued the Sergeant, a blondey unaware of the funny look the strawberry blonde woman had just given him. “I am not against capital punishment on principle. Yet there is just something wrong about a place where you can be locked away for chewing gum. It’s like trying to make tempeh out of sawdust. Perhaps it’ll look fine on the outside, yet it’ll leave a rotten taste in your mouth.”

“Like the Solar Empire?“

“Sort of, though I am quite sure bubblegum is not illegal yet in that Equestria, even nowadays" Jaka corrected her.

"But, er, you were saying about Liquida?”

“Liquicà. See, we did something there I’m sure our pony friends would be very proud of…” Jaka gestured at the trees surrounding the path.

“Anyone who looked deeply enough into our history will know we’ve had a presence in Timor Leste a while back. It’s still a touchy topic, I admit,” he said quickly, to an eyeroll from Ana. “But one of the better accomplishments we did were after the whole mess."

“And, it has something to do with, eh, trees?” Ana asked.

Jaka nodded, before continuing. “Well, yes. As an act of kindness and generosity, our government reseeded, sending them shipments of trees imported from Indonesia.”

Ana said nothing, merely nodding along.

“It's a small gesture, I know, and it may not seem like much,” Jaka said sagely. “Certainly not what'll ever be considered headline news. Search for it on an English-speaking web browser, you'll be lucky to find so much as three matches. I only read the story while skimming through a magazine off-duty years ago, then promptly forgot about it.”

He looked around him, taking in the sights and sounds of this, a perfect replica for a natural preserve situated at the heart of a vast urban sprawl back on Earth. “But it really happened. And, well, maybe it comes from being a born city boy, yet when Ambassador Heartstrings first showed a picture of how beautiful her homeland was, I remember thinking, 'maybe they can help us reseed the world'."

The Sergeant paused somberly. "That was before Celestia revealed she was a Tyrant... But look where we are now. Perhaps it wasn't all a lie."

And Ana could do no more than reflect in wonder at how this was more than ten consecutive phrases she'd heard the habitually taciturn Sarge string together in one day.

“I don’t understand, Minus,” grumbled Rarity, ducking to avoid a low-hanging branch. “I’m sorry to say it, but I never saw what it is some stallions have going for them, other than maybe the bad boy appeal. And what’s up with that, anyway?”

Minus stopped in her tracks, readjusting her campaign hat so it shaded her eyes as she looked back at them. “The ‘bad boy appeal’?” she echoed. “Heck does that even mean, Miss Rarity?”

“Um, well...” began Rarity, who, realizing she may be on the verge of a major faux-pas, swiftly figured out how she could phrase this next question tactfully. “It’s a thing I’d meant to ask you when I got the chance, only, we don't cross paths so often... has your husband changed much ever since you got married?”

“You’re asking me if he’s changed for the better,” Minus said drily, and Rarity had to cringe a little inside, for the ranger had seen through her ploy. “No, I can tell you, in confidence, that wedded life ain’t done improving Short Fuse’s character.”

Rarity blinked all of three times at that. “But then, why...”

“Why marry him?” Minus finished for her. Then, to Rarity's surprise, she gave both her and Fluttershy a patient smile. “Miss Rarity, what self-respecting gal chooses to stick with a fella for life because they hope to ‘change’ him? How long d’you think I knew Short afore tying the knot?” When neither said anything, she helpfully supplied the answer. “Six years tops, ladies. Very long story, not worth going into now, but you can see it weren’t a snap decision.”

Now it was Rarity's turn to repeat phrases she’d just heard. “Six whole years? Courting a ruffian who’s got ‘bad news’ written all over them?”

“And how’d you know someone’s good or bad news just by the looks of ‘em?” retorted Minus. “Cos’ they’re big, bulky and cut their hair short? Maybe that look does work for some, ever thought of that? Not every mare’s fancies latch onto lean, golden-maned gentlefolk, y’know...”

There was only one proper reply Rarity could give to that. “This is still physical stuff, Minus. And I’ve had to bail out my sister more than once due to your other half living up to his name.”

“I know,” sighed the ranger. “And I realize, I really do, that no pony of refined taste would wish for my home life.” She traced her forehoof in a low arc to indicate the surrounding wilderness. “But see what I do for a living. It’s what I love.”

Both mares shared a meaningful glance. “You look at loose threads and stitch together pretty clothes out of ‘em, Rarity,” Minus concluded ponderously. “I could never do that. Ain’t got the right eye for it... or the liking for delicate things. Still, what I do know is you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Wouldn’t be worth even trying to... And trust me, though you may think otherwise, my husband isn’t a complete pig.”

“We’ll find out about that soon enough.”

“Sergeant Jaka," Ana said at last, “I... thank you for that, I don't know why, but, I feel like it sort of helped me somehow. Thanks, again.”

“It should have, Corporal,” Jaka replied, snapping firmly back to his no-nonsense self.

“Oh! That reminds me, hold on," she continued, reaching into her pocket. "Before I left, Dancer basically told me it was dangerous to go alone, and I should take this for good measure. Maybe it can help you.”

The sniper held out her hand, dropping the orichalcum ring Dancer had given her into Jaka’s open palm. Once again, the Sergeant raised an eyebrow.

“And, this is?” he queried, examining the ring.

“Well, it’s a ring, duh,” Ana explained. “Dancer said it might be useful against unicorns. Can’t argue with that, seeing as she is a unicorn. I guess you put it on their horns and, it blocks their magic or something?”

“I see,” Jaka said, pocketing the ring. “Miss Bjorgman.”

Ana beamed.

“Hey, I do what I do, Sarge,” she said cheerfully. Soon after, the pair reached a clearing in the middle of the park, where a familiar figure stood and waved after them.

“There they are! Hey Ana, Sarge! We’re here!” Harwood called out. The two of them had finally reached the helipad. The medic stepped aside to make room for Ana and Jaka, lining up along with the rest of the taskforce.

“Took you long enough, eh?” Snow Mist chipped in, followed by a nod from Harwood.

“I was worried you might’ve gotten yourself lost in Grand Central again, Ana,” Harwood said coolly, smirking at Ana’s predictable groan. “Don’t look at me like that, you know that’s true.”

‘Touché, Har, touché,’ Ana thought, trying her best not to acknowledge the chuckling man beside her. It was quite difficult to ignore, considering the man was very much distracting her.

“Thomas, can you please stop giggling so much?” Ana said exasperatedly, but not without letting a small smirk escape her lips.

“Well, princess, sorry, but you gotta admit getting lost in train stations is kind of your thing, Really, you should’ve never had told me about the one time you ended up in Blackbu-”

“Ahem.”

A loud cough startled the team present, sending them up to attention. Resolute had arrived, along with Jaka and a confused-looking Marcus. Harwood bashfully readied himself, to Ana’s inward amusement.

“Now, if Mr. Harwood would be very kind not to endlessly tease his partner, shall we now begin?” Resolute said matter-of-factly.

“Yes sir!” they chorused. Resolute nodded, before stepping aside to make way for the PHL’s military leader.

Colonel Renee was, by Ana’s observation, one hell of an imposing man. Tall, solidly built, with piercing blue eyes and square jaws, it left little to the imagination why this was man chosen to lead the PHL in Lyra Heartstrings’ stead.

And Ana struggled not to panic.

‘Okay, get a grip on yourself, Ana, what’s the matter with you? It’s only a mission, like back in Java, or Borneo! Except, there’s mostly ponies, and, Colonel Renee watching us, and, we’re rescuing…. Major… Bauer… hoo boy,’ she thought, huffing in an effort to stay calm.

A nudge from Harwood brought her back to reality. Ana glanced at him, who simply shook his head, rolled his eyes, before turning back to Colonel Renee.

The Colonel scanned them briefly, scrutinizing the hastily assembled team. Jaka stood by him, eyes following the Colonel as he walked by Ana and the others. Beside him was a white unicorn Ana vaguely remembered as one of the original fifteen trainers Renee brought with him. Behind them, standing by was another trainer – some guy from Germany, or somewhere else in Europe, Ana couldn’t really tell. He gave them a cold glare, in contrast with Renee.

Finally, Renee paused in his steps, and turned to address them all.

“I presume you’ve all been briefed on why you’ve been brought here?” he asked swiftly.

“No sir!” came the reply, though Ana knew who they were rescuing.

“Right, I owe you all an apology. We don’t have much time, I’m afraid,” Renee shook his head. “But from what I’ve been informed as well, Major Stephan Bauer has been captured by an unknown opposition in the town of Ponyville,” he finished.

True to Ana’s guess, the four other members of the task force, save for her, Jaka and Harwood, were briefly stunned, even if they didn’t look around in confusion. Still, she glanced at Harwood, who gave her a stare that meant ‘yes, he really is serious.’

Renee paused briefly, before continuing.

“Lieutenant Scratch here,” began Renee, gesturing towards the white unicorn besides him, “will be accompanying your taskforce as part of it.”

‘Wait, Vinyl Scratch’s coming with us? Ooooh man, this really is some, some serious–’

An elbow from Harwood, coupled with a disapproving look from him was more than enough to tell Ana that this was really not the time to either squee nor freak out.

“Right on!” Lieutenant Scratch cheered, offering a hoof bump as she passed by the team. Coxa and Gilford kept their calm, but the Lieutenant was answered by an enthusiastic Wolfsschanze and Snow Mist. Shortly after, the unicorn joined their lineup, giving Mist a final nod before standing ready.

“Now, I do apologize for my inability to be present, but rest assured, I will be providing you with comms support, alongside Operator Resolute here,” Renee said, nodding towards Resolute.

“That is correct,” Resolute said quickly. “We will be standing by in a secure location, with intel provided where needed. Your target will be four miles northwest of Ponyville, with Trainer Bjorgman here,” he gestured towards Ana and her rifle, “providing sniper support from a safe distance. Your LZ will be notified by radio, and Lieutenant Scratch will mask your approach using a sound muffling spell. Colonel?”

“And if possible, I too will provide direct support, but I trust you all not to come to that point.” Renee finished, closing his eyes for a long moment. “Trust me, if I have to get involved, then we are dealing with things beyond norm. If that is the case, all of you need to leave the area immediately, because you do not want to be around me when I unload on whatever is causing the problem. Any questions?”

“No, sir!”

“Glad to hear that. But remember,” he emphasized, looking at each and every one of them. Ana sweated nervously. “This will be your first, real combat scenario here on Equus, not ideal, but it’s out of our hands now. Trainers, Trainees! This is real, your weapons are primed and ready for combat. You go out there, you show this worlds’ leaders that they haven’t been wasting their time. You go in there and complete the objectives given to you. Do not try to be a hero, you do what you need to do so you can go home at the end of the day. We have to show them that we know exactly what we are doing. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir!” the four native Equusite members of the team chorused in reply. Renee nodded in approval, before turning to Harwood and Ana, as Jaka stood by him.

“I’ve heard of what went down in Indonesia, while the rest of us held off the Barrier on our doorsteps. If any, it was one hell of an achievement to keep the PER’s grip off the Pacific, and I trust you two to keep your team safe. Show what the war taught you,”

Ana and Harwood nodded.

“Yes, sir!” the two said, earning an approving nod in return from Renee.

“Sir, if I may…” the other trainer finally spoke. He had been silently watching Jaka for almost the duration of the briefing, and hearing him finally speak startled Ana. His rather unpleasant, weathered look didn’t help.

“Yes?” Renee answered, turning to face the other man.

“Sergeant Jaka is trained as a police officer, not a soldier, sir. You sure he’s up for the task?”

Ana opened her mouth to reply indignantly, but Harwood shushed her.

“Yes, Trainer Sokolov, I trust him, what is your point?”

“Sir, I am certain there are Spetsnaz or Bundeswehr personnel, such as Major Bauer’s own regiment, who are better suited for the task,” he smugly answered. “Colonel Renee, are you fully certain we can trust him with thi-”

“Let a law enforcer do his job, sir,” Jaka interjected, his gaze unwavering. “Hostage situations are an ugly business when the military men get involved.”

Ana raised her eyebrow at the remark, and from the corner of her eyes Ana could see Lieutenant Scratch’s magenta eyes showing a bit of surprise, before she hurriedly pushing her shades up.

‘Whoa, that was kinda, eh, blunt I guess?’ Ana thought puzzlingly. Harwood tensed up a bit besides her as Marcus gave Jaka a look. Indeed, the other trainer gave Jaka a nasty glare.

To Ana’s relief, however, Colonel Renee simply smiled.

“Sergeant Jaka is correct. I’m a Marine, not a cop. I don’t save people, I kill the bad guys. It’s not in my training, that’s the Army’s, and even that is a little iffy. If I happen to kill the bad guys that were trying to kill innocent people, brownie points for me then." Colonel Renee replied with a shrug, looking to Jaka with a smirk. “It’s one of the reasons why I had Cheerilee bring a small police force along with the other trainers. This war isn’t going to end just because we kill the Tyrant.”

In a sad way, this was true, one that no one really wanted to think about. And Jaka knew that better than anyone. He had been fighting PER insurgents long enough to know there would still be one heck of a mess to clean up. Colonel Renee shook his head before turning back to Jaka. “I presume I can trust you to keep the casualties low, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir,” Jaka answered sternly, straightening himself.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Lieutenant Scratch shouted, catching the attention of Ana and the others. “Everyone, let’s go!”

Rarity and Fluttershy had planned simply on intercepting Short Fuse at the brickyard, and with his wife Minus in tow as a mediator, had set off along the path through the fringes of the Everfree at a brisk trot.

When they’d reflect on this later, they’d tell themselves they should have remembered the statistical likelihood of things going to plan around Ponyville.

“What we need to do is be firm.”

“Right.”

“Be sure of ourselves, darling.”

“Yes.”

“Show that stallion that we are not afraid of him.”

"N-not even a little bit.”

“Oh, Flutters, you gave yourself away."

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

Minus couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as the pegasus apologized to the fawning unicorn. She felt worried about what was going to happen, though. The fact remained that the CMC had heard Fuse, and they’d heard him plenty of times before. To indicate that he was involved did not ease her nerves.

“I will make it all better. You’ll see, Minus. I won't let my past drag me down.”

“Fuse…” she muttered to herself. “What did you get yourself into now?”

“You say something, darling?”

“Not far now.” Minus gave them a brave look as she continued down the path. Rarity and Fluttershy smiled in return, before their eyes drifted ahead of them.

Rarity immediately grimaced at the sight of four stallions standing before them. Most of them rough-looking, so rough that they made Fuse far more presentable in comparison.

She scrunched her snout a little. They were definitely guarding something. Rarity knew that stance from one too many times where Sweetie Belle had been hiding something. Like that one time her little sister had hidden a sword and used it as a coat rack.

Fluttershy positioned herself behind Rarity and Minus, the leering looks they gave the trio made the shy pegasus want to hide in the nearest bush.

“Ladies,” the lead stallion greeted, looking to the side of the path and gave a snort. “Alright boys, this way. Shouldn’t be too far.”

Minus blinked, watching as all the ponies marched off the path. "W-wait! What are you doing?"

“None of your concern, missy,” one said.

“Excuse me?” Minus asked. “I’m a forest ranger, written in capitals. Of course it’s my concern! Do you know how dangerous the Everfree is?!”

The lead stallion stopped, lowered his head and gave a loud sigh. “Listen, little lady. I’ll have you know that the Everfree isn't... that... Minus?”

Minus blinked as the strange stallion stared at her, his cheeks puffing up, before he burst out into a guffaw of laughter.

“I say, what’s so funny?” Rarity demanded, scowling at the group before her.

“So, ole Shorty did it after all. I thought Locksmith was pulling my tail!” The stallion laughed loudly while the others continued to stare.

Minus frowned. “How do you know Short Fuse?” Her entire being felt on edge, like she was staring down a wild animal about to pounce. Locksmith… That name sounded familiar...

The stallion took a deep, simpering breath. “Let’s just say me and Fuse go a looong way back. The old gang, Shorty being the top pony of the time. Facing against Daring and the Royal Guards. Great times, great... memories. Then again, you’d know about that, huh, Minus?” Seeing her flinch, he mockingly held up a hoof to his mouth. “Oops, forgot about that little ‘condition’ of yours. Silly me.”

Rarity scowled as she placed her foreleg around Minus’ shoulders. The poor mare’s sandy brown face had turned almost white. “You uncouth brute. Who are you? How do you know Minus, and what right do you have to say such things?”

“Me? Well, the name’s Shades, part of something called the Caballeron gang up in Manehattan. We deal in providing certain... areas of work not common in most settings.” Shades grinned at seeing Minus tense, eyes wide as she stared at him. “Little Minus here was a thorn in our sides, given that was the very first sidekick of Miss Do. Minus Tome, expert field ranger and blackbelt fighter. Gave Shorty a good run, she did.”

“Fight me, Fuse!”

“I ain't going to. You ain't worth it now.”

“I will make it worth!”

“No, come back when yer ready to take it, not when yer half dead. It ain’t right...”

“Minus?” whispered Fluttershy. “What’s wrong?”

“Oho? Flashbacking are we?” Shades chuckled a bit. “Bet you sometimes really hate your husband for no reason, huh?"

“Minus, get out of here.”

“I can… ugh.”

“You won, Do. Take the little missy before she hurts herself further. Unless you want to be dragging both of yourselves on jelly limbs.”

“Shut up!” Minus glared at Shades, Rarity and Fluttershy backing up as the thugs closed in around them.

“Glimpses, but that’s it. Oh, how you wonder, Fuse musta kept you in the dark for so long. Memories are fickle things.” Shades smirked as he leaned in close. "How does it feel to be married to the stallion that scrambled your brain? Took away who you were, and turned you into a lovely housewife.”

Rarity and Fluttershy gave a soft gasp at this, turning to Minus with shock looks on their faces.

”I promise I will make this up to you... some way.”

“I don’t know you.”

“But I do. I will make this right, you can count on that, Minus.”

“... who is Minus?”

“Take the mares back to the yard!” Shades ordered, his stallions grinning as they drew close. “What say you we let ole Minus join her lout of a husband in the kiln? One last marital night together in confinement, like all those entombed royals from legend, how romantic is that...”

“Ahem.”

He looked down as Minus gripped his shoulder with one hoof, staring down at the ground, her eyes covered by a shock of flame-colored mane. “You put my husband where?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Ah, don’t act up so, sweetheart, what better place to light a fu-URK!” Abruptly, he felt himself lifted up by his chin, a rough hoof impacted on his stomach, and he doubled up in shock and pain, gagging at the pure force of the blow.

“No-one... stuffs… my husband into a kiln.” Minus glared at him, eyes filled with burning fury. She leant in close, whispering in his ear. “And for your information, I know about our past, Fuse’s and mine. I just don't like some stuck-up colt airing out things meant to be private!”

She shoved him back, forcing him to rear up on his hindlegs, and then, with a single flap of her wings to gain height, she lashed out with a devastating kick to the jaw. The large stallion was sent flying into a tree, crumbling into blissful unconsciousness.

“S-shades!”

“Get ‘em!”

Fluttershy ducked down, her wings flapping to speed through the attempted capture of her person. She circled a stallion, gripping his hindleg before twisting it, with a loud pop echoing out from it. The pony to cried out and clutched the dislocated leg in agony.

“Quite brutal, dear,” Rarity commented as she weaved between blows. Compared to the training with Trixie, these stallions moved about as gracefully as fridges on hooves. She threw a backhoof, catching the stallion in the jaw, ducked down to avoid a blow to the back of her head, and kicked out with her hindleg to trip another. “Really, dears, you need more practice.”

“I am going to–” Whatever he was going to say next was lost as Fluttershy, yelling what could have been a war yell, had her voice not been so high-pitched, slammed her hooves on his upper shoulder, a loud crack echoing out from the blow, but the stallion himself collapsed like a bag of bricks without a sound.

Everyone stared at Fluttershy for a second.

“What? Rarity, you said my bear-wrestling skills would come in handy,” Fluttershy mumbled, looking a little abashed. She then neatly moved her head aside, the hoof just missing her face by mere inches.

Her opponent could only swallow nervously as she grabbed the offending appendage, twisted her body around and, with a fluidity that would be the envy of the finest Cloudsdale ballerinas, tossed him onto the forest floor with a perfect O-goshi throw. He barely had time to get his belly off the ground when she jumped atop of him, promptly grabbed the same leg and pulled it behind his back.

“That wasn’t nice,” Fluttershy stated softly.

“I’ve just about had enough of this,” snarled the remaining stallion, his horn shining brightly. A machete, larger than could possibly be stored, slid out of his saddlebag “So what, the ranger lady here thinks she’s hot stuff, and you two girls got your fancy karate gimmicks? Try this one out for size, little mares, and-ARGH!”

The thug didn't have time to finish his sentence as Rarity spun on one hindleg on the spot, delivering a swift kick of her lower hoof to his horn. The machete dropped, aura gone.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rarity said. “Did I break your concentration?”

Before he even had time to clutch at his injured face, she'd wheeled behind him, caught his raised foreleg and rugby tackled him.

“My father was a star athlete, you brute, a hoofball champion!” she snarled. “He still coaches foal teams, and you can be assured that I was raised in an environment that cultivated physical health through contact sports! Now, I might have traded in gym class for ballet as soon as I had the chance, but that only improved my grace and flexibility; while I hardly do pull-ups on my four-poster bed every morning, I know how to keep myself in trim condition!”

She telekinetically snatched up a razor-tipped spruce needle and levitated it up to the thug’s eyeball. “And need I remind you that my job, my craft, my calling requires an eye for just where to pierce, stitch and stab for maximum effect, and a precision with sharp implements that could rival the most depraved of torturers!”

She guided the tip of the spruce needle down and let it rest against the cornea of his eye, allowing the irritant oils to seep into the sensitive tissues. Not enough to blind, but certainly enough to burn and draw a pained hiss from his throat.

“So, we’ve established that I can kick like a mule and make you scream and beg for your life,” she sniffed. “I’ve been fortunate to refine those skills under instructors that would make you seem like a mewling kitten on your best day!”

She twisted his foreleg behind him and tensed, feeling the pop of something dislocating. “In conclusion, I am nopony’s ‘little mare’.”

“GAAAH!” the thug screamed, and she lowered her mouth to his ear.

“Now, you’re going to tell me everything I want to know, or this ‘little mare’ will begin inserting these sharp little pine-needles into the tip of the limb you prize more than any other. And I assure you, by the time you’ve removed them, there’ll not be much left of your ‘little stallion’.”

He whimpered, and then nodded.

Fluttershy gave the stallion under her own hoof a small smile. “Sorry, Rarity is really a nice mare when you get to know her but... you kind of forced our hooves, um.”

The thug could only groaned as the buttery pegasus placed more pressure on his leg, twisted behind his back in the most uncomfortable position possible. Her other forehoof was poised above a nerve cluster in the small of his back, just in case.

“And I really hate bullies,” she added, with a chuckle that contained no small amount of satisfaction at a miserable childhood finally revenged. “Now. You’re going to tell us all you know, and where our friends are.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked.

“I’m going to do something quite unladylike to you,” Rarity said, her voice steely.

Pina spotted the blue mare. Saw the way she walked. And knew what was about to happen.

‘Finally! Fun! Hopefully more than that time with Mara Salvatrucha. Or at the Great Wall.’

But then, a small spark glinted in her eye as another, quiescent area of her mind sprang to life. A part of her which had been carefully honed under the patient tutelage of Dr. Salonen. The one without which The Rules were worthless.

‘Analysis of the consequences.’

She saw a playing field. On one side, a blue mare, ground and beaten by years of gruelling physical and psychological taxation, remolded into something different, stronger, and most importantly, hard to chew down upon. Like a streak of meat that was stripped and hammered into tough leathery strips.

On the other side, walking, fragile sacks of blood.

They did not know what was headed their way. Yet they were restless. Their heartbeats just a little faster, the sinew in their muscles just a little more tense, than they were two months ago. Deep down, ponies were a skittish, gentle lot, after all. Truly, it spoke volumes of the Tyrant’s ridiculous power, for her to repurpose their species into rushing up the food chain like that.

Not so these tender lovelies. The mere vibration of an approaching stampede would provoke enough sensory overload within their brains for a body to shut down in distress. She knew this, because that was how it used to be where she came from, too. Such weakness had always struck her as positively repellent.

Thanks to Salonen, she had learned to know better.

‘Without the weak there are no strong. But all are weak in some way. For strength and weakness are not a ramp. They are a wheel. As a tree grows it is tender and pliant. Then it grows dry and hard and dies. A newborn is soft and supple. A corpse is cold and insensitive. Hardness and strength are the tools of death, yes. Weakness and softness express the freshness of life.’

As she finished reciting the mantra, her breathing, which had grown shallow and heavy, began to steady itself. Realizing she’d been clutching her barrel with one forehoof while leaning against a tree with the other, Pina carefully let go and lowered herself back to the ground on four hooves, licking her lips nervously. Slowly, the pleasurable weight on her chest dissipated.

It had been a long time since the hunger had overcome her like that.

She would be able to keep it under control, for a while. But now it had resurfaced, it was just a matter of time before it came back. The problem wasn't how long she could ignore it for, but for how long she’d want to ignore it for. Unless it were satiated.

Colonel Renee’s orders were to ensure that neither Major Bauer or the Blue Spy came to harm. Well, Pina knew that, technically speaking, whatever the dreamweaver had done to her, Trixie wasn’t the one about to get hurt. At least, not in the immediate future.

Again, the vision of the playing field appeared before her eyes, and now, its lurid aftermath. Sacks of blood, burst and split across the village cobblestones, taken apart under the sharp, precise force driven by an intelligence whose sole intent was to disassemble anything in its way for the sake of the Mission.

Pina thought ahead. Inevitably, even toughened meat grew ragged. Whether by chance or by calculated design, the intelligence behind the disassembling would be compelled to halt. And that would make no difference in the long run. By then, the remaining sacks of blood would have seen their likenesses strewn in a messy, colorful heap. Such an image could not appeal to their senses at all. Distress would settle in. More and more sacks of blood, not only the ones currently skulking at the brickyard, unwilling to commune with the toughened meat. First here, then the next field, and more. Perhaps beasts of other flesh than ponies would turn, too. The strong held back by the weak, the weak loving life too much to trust the strong.

Until finally, the Tyrant arrived and devoured them all.

‘That is not an option.’

The mare straightened her back, as the clarity of what must be done took over. Allowing this vile enemy of life to remold everyone into rotting stillborn corpses didn’t figure on her agenda. Whatever the cost. She was agile. She was quick. And willing to go where most wouldn’t dare. None of what she had in mind went against orders. Her superiors may not like this, but as ever, they had to accept the strength of her reasoning.

With a lazy flick, she let the ceramic blade slide out from the upper joint of her left forehoof. However this match turned out, it was certain to prove a challenge. Not to mention that herein lay a welcome, golden opportunity to satisfy the hunger.

Pina would have her fun.

Observing from afar, behind a great oak, a pale mare digested this new development.

With little time to improvise, attempting to take out Major Bauer’s bodyguard was a step she’d opted against. Showing herself to the Major had been enough of a risk, whereas safeguards planted within Lulamoon’s psyche prevented all except a powerful mind mage from drenching up memories of a “commanding officer”. Everything from hereon rested on the Blue Spy’s shoulders alone. Doubtless the PHL would suspect foul play nonetheless, but it would be long before they could prove anything.

Pineapple Cutter, on the other hoof, was just about the best person Colonel Renee could have chosen for the job if he wanted someone on whom mind games had little effect. This was not a mare whose thoughts she’d taken much pleasure in sampling. Truth be told, if Renee ever got the faintest idea of precisely what Cutter and her partner were planning for after the war in case humanity was victorious, he may very well strangle her with his bare hands.

And she would die relishing the sensation.

Wordlessly, Weaver retreated, the last in a chain of several people, and the only link to go unnoticed by any of the others. Deep inside, though, she hoped fate would see fit to deal the young doctor a favorable, well, hand. On a scale of sin, he was by far one of the most innocent who’d stood by this forest clearing.

She’d have liked to help him, yet such wasn’t her task.

“We’re passing over the Everfree, weapons check!”

The pilot’s sound blared through the helicopter, snapping Ana away from her thoughts. The young woman had spent the better part of the trip thinking over the various trivialities of the mission at hand, only occasionally breaking away to retort to Harwood or a nod here and there to the others.

Now, as the muffled chopper flew over the Everfree, Ana turned her attention to her own equipment, while the rest of the team began fussing over their own.

‘Okay, first things first. Rifle? Check. Ammo? Check. Thermos? Check…’

Taking a deep breath, the sniper sat back down, wiping a sweat on her brow as she looked out the window, currently showing the vast expanses of woodland known as the Everfree Forest. The unwelcoming vibe the forest was exuding certainly made it a widely known and feared location among even the hardened ponies of the PHL.

And they were headed straight into it.

“Got any second thoughts?”

Ana turned to meet the speaker. To her surprise, Vinyl Scratch was sitting right by her, gazing at her behind those signature purple shades.

“Oh-er, no, not, not really, um, Lieutenant,” Ana stammered out. “But… yeah I guess, I guess I do have some second thoughts now that I’ve seen the actual forest. I mean, I know I’m not going in it but, kinda worried about the others now...”

Lieutenant Scratch simply chuckled in a friendly manner. “Nah, it’s cool, everybody always gets that when they get their first good look at the Forest. Oh and, just call me Vinyl, 'kay?”

“Oh, um, alright… Vinyl,” Ana replied unsurely, twiddling her fingers. Vinyl, meanwhile, gave Ana’s rifle a look, and a few nods.

“So, you’re gonna be out there, popping some heads eh?” she asked, patting the rifle. “Well, glad to know we’ll be safe down there.”

Ana rose her head at the remark. She’d rarely heard flattery from the straight-laced Indonesian officers she used to serve with, and to hear praise from a mare like Vinyl wasn’t something you geo everyday.

She cleared her throat.

“Well, uh, not sure if I’ll be… popping some heads, per se,” she began, rubbing her rifle affectionately. “But you’ll be pretty safe with me on the watch, Lieu– Vinyl, ma’a– just Vinyl, sorry, darn it.”

Vinyl laughed heartily, patting Ana in a friendly way.

“Heh, that’s the spirit! Oh and, don’t get too worried ‘bout your buddies, I get your feeling. I’ll be keeping an eye on ‘em as well.” Vinyl said reassuringly. “Why else did ya think Marcus sent me here? Though, pretty sure they can handle themselves just fine.”

“Mhm, ‘specially the Sarge, eh?” Ana said, gesturing towards Jaka. Vinyl nodded in agreement, pushing her shades up.

Outside, the weather cleared out, signifying their exit out of the Everfree airspace. The chopper flew softly, courtesy of the spell Vinyl had placed on it. It was quite a nifty one, really.

“We’ve got a bit of distance adjustment,” said the pilot. “Target’s estimated distance is one mile north-west of Ponyville, be advised,”

“Wait, I thought it was four miles?” Ana said in confusion. Vinyl merely shrugged in response.

“Told you, it’s the Everfree. Everything gets all fuzzy in there. ‘Course, Pina's not a pegasus or some shit,” Vinyl said, frowning a bit at the mention of Pineapple Cutter. Ana couldn’t blame her, considering what she'd seen of the mare back in Jakarta still sent chills down her spine.

The chopper began its silent descent, slowly reaching down onto the rolling hills just outside of Ponyville. On cue, Snow Mist stood up, striding over to the ramp.

“C’mon, Ana, let’s go!” Snow Mist said, motioning for Ana to join her side.

“Well, guess this is where I drop off, Vinyl,” Ana said, adorning her balaclava and setting her rifle on her back. “Good luck in there!”

“Yeah, you too!” Vinyl replied, waving off along with Wolfsschanze. Said griffon, meanwhile, was sitting right by Gilford, which meant the older griffon had to endure the stout griffon completely blocking his view, to Ana’s amusement.

Ana strode off towards the opening ramp, with Jaka and Harwood waiting by. The medic’s expression was unusually solemn and calm as he gave Ana a lookover.

“Everything all set then, Ana?” he asked.

“Yep - all good!” Ana said brightly. “Now you be safe in there, ya hear me? I gotcha covered, but hey, you could trip or something in there, heh,” she urged, elbowing the man and smirking.

“Of course, Ana, I would, given that you’re keeping an eye on us. Thank you for reminding me for the twenty-seventh time,” Harwood deadpanned - but his gentle smile comforted Ana a bit. The man gave Ana a pat, before nodding off to Jaka. The Sergeant, meanwhile, kept a calm expression as the helicopter touched down, before finally turning to Ana.

“Miss Bjorgman, Lieutenant Snow Mist, good luck,” he stated shortly, nodding to both Snow Mist and Ana.

The pair saluted the Sergeant, before stepping out onto the green grass of the rolling hills. No sooner than they stepped off that Ana felt the wind rushing, signifying the heli’s departure. With a final look exchanged between her and Harwood, the woman gave a thumbs up to the increasingly distant heli.

“So,” Snow Mist started, huffing and stretching.”Clear the skies?”

Ana nodded, setting down her rifle, facing the Everfree and the presumed location of the Brickyard. “Yep, Mist, good luck up there!”

“Will do, and right back at ya, Ana!” the pegasus replied, As the mare prepared for flight, Ana’s radio crackled to life.

“Nordfjell-Alpha Nordfjell-Alpha this is Overwatch, over,” Colonel Renee’s voice spoke out to both of them.

“This is Nordfjell-Alpha, over,” Ana said, while Snow Mist donned her flight goggles and flapped her wings in preparation. The mare waved to Ana, who replied with a thumbs up, before she took flight.

“Roger, Nordfjell-Alpha, confirm position, over.”

“Setting up at estimated one-point-seven clicks out, Overwatch, over,” she continued, lying down on the ground with her rifle set up. From the hill, Ana could see almost the entire northern side of the Everfree - and the far-off brickyard.

“Understood, Overwatch out,” Renee finished, and the radio shut off.

All the sound that remained were the soft breeze slowly dying down. Above her, she could hear Snow Mist clearing the skies of nearby clouds and redirecting wind patterns. It was at times like these that Ana was most grateful for the presence of friendly ponies; the controllable weather patterns meant less obstacles to factor in her shots.

The breeze died down, resulting in quite the uncomfortable silence. Snow Mist gave her the ‘all-clear’ sign, before flying off to rejoin Jaka’s team in the distance, somewhere in an Everfree Forest clearing.

‘Hoo boy, here we go, Ana, focus, focus…’ Ana thought to herself, taking some calming breaths as her scope zoomed in on the brickyard. And for the first time since her last mission in Indonesia, Ana felt oddly tense and calm at the same time.

Minutes passed. Ana was glued to her suit, upon the ground as Celestia’s sun shone down.. And then, after what felt like the better part of an hour, the radio crackled back to life.

“Nordfjell, this is Overwatch” spoke a new voice. This time, it was Resolute on board. “Target report? Over.”

“Noted, Overwatch,” Ana replied, her eyes scrutinizing the distant brickyard. While she had been accustomed to urban targets, she’s rarely had the chance to do sniping at distances in excess of five hundred meters.

Nevertheless, she found her marks.

“Overwatch, I’ve got visual on, uh, five hostiles. Makeshift guard post, can’t get a visual on any sentries nor patrols on the ground, over.”

“Duly noted, Nordfjell. Vanhoover-Actual will be moving in on your marks, Overwatch out.”

And then it began – the feeling of dread, of holding everyone’s life within her hands, blaring at full force inside her mind.

‘Okay, okay, Ana, deep breaths, deep breaths, conceal it…’

The sniper adjusted her rifle, preparing to take the opening shots. Despite Vinyl’s remark of ‘popping some heads’, Ana promised herself not to come to that, if she could. It was simply overkill, given the cartridge.

“Don’t feel it, put on a show, don’t make one wrong move or everyone will go,” she recited, every little piece of Sergeant Harold Wilson’s old mantra soothing her nerves a little more. May he rest in peace wherever he was now.

“Make one wrong move and everyone will.... fall…”

At last, Ana Bjorgman released her breath. The young woman had never wanted to be a killer, least of all an unseen, emotionless bringer of death.

But damned if she wasn’t able to protect.