Babysitting
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“So how is our pampered little pony princess?” asks a man with a vaguely Indian accent.
“Still fine, still trying to get me to make me address her as “your ladyship”, sir,” replies a bald black man in a suit, talking quickly into an earpiece.
“And are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Laughter from the other end. “Hehe! I bet that’s got her in a huff.”
“Sure does.”
“How’s your puppy handling things?”
The black man stretches his neck, pausing for just a moment before replying, “Sir, he’s... doing… not too shabby for his first time babysitting. Don’t worry; he’s doing fine. I just wouldn’t envy him.”
A brief pause. “And why’s that?”
A quick chuckle. “I’ll patch him through, sir, though I think you can hear him now.”
A tanned man in a suit stood a few yards surrounded by several ponies. They had him backed up against the wall, giving him demanding looks and assaulting him on all sides with shrill shouts. Suddenly, he brought a hand up to his earpiece. He heard the Indian man’s voice. “Werner, sitrep?”
“I’m surrounded, sir. There are too many of them!”
“How many?”
“I don’t know, sir. Feels like a dozen.”
“And what are they doing?”
“Making demands, sir. Should I try to dissuade them?”
“Mm-hm, I see. Do you need support?”
“No, sir, I got this.”
“Very well.”
A momentary crackle was heard before the words, “No, I’m not buying you all ice creams!” followed quickly by an increase in the furor of the shouting. “Sir, it didn’t work. Please, get Kitwana over here.”
“Acknowledged.” The comms buzzed as the connection was changed. “Kitwana, please go rescue the poor puppy before he gets robbed of all his pocket money.”
“Yes, sir,” Kitwana acknowledged before striding over towards the embattled man. Werner’s expression showed relief, but the black man just asked him, “Werner, how did this happen? Where is their teacher?”
“In the bathroom. It was fine one minute, then the next, Diamond Tiara demanded ice cream, then her friend joined in, and now they’re an insatiable swarm. How do I solve this?”
“Easy, Werner.” Kitwana turned to face the horde. He yelled, “Listen up!” They all fell silent, hushed by the sudden forceful shout. “We are buying nopony ice cream! We were hired by Diamond Tiara’s father to protect her during this trip to Baltimare, so he is responsible for all expenses related to Diamond Tiara and us, so if Diamond Tiara said we’d buy ice cream then as her father’s representative, she is the one who must provide the funds.” For another moment, the crowd was nearly silent. Then murmurs began as ponies began to make noises that sounded like names as they turned on the pink spoiled filly. Diamond Tiara searched for some sort of verbal defense as Kitwana touched his earpiece to report, “Werner rescued. Situation is defusing. Client’s playground rep may take a hit.” Kitwana stopped broadcasting to whisper to Werner, “You still must protect her until she gets home tomorrow morning.”
“Lucky me.”
“You have so much to learn. Still, could be worse; you could be their teacher.” Werner nodded in agreement. At just that very moment, Cheerilee came back, the disapproving frown on her face for the situation they had saved for her to sort out turning into a slightly too wide smile as she took charge of her young students.
“Quiet, please, fillies and colts. We are going now to the Baltimare Maritime museum. Please follow me in an orderly line. No, Diamond Tiara, we are not stopping for ice cream and that is final!”
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Luckily for both bodyguards, no further demands for ice cream were made, meaning that Werner got to spend the rest of the day looming over Diamond Tiara’s back like the ghost of a particularly inquisitive butler. To the little brat’s credit, she took this rather well, perhaps even in stride, being used to having grown up with servants and had long since learned to consider the serving staff as being like mobile pieces of furniture. Even so, the fact that the spoiled filly was very used to getting her way without delay made her one of the less pleasant clients. She continued to periodically glower and glare at Werner and Kitwana throughout the day. Kitwana didn’t care, being used to all kinds of bitchiness from clients. Werner had to admit he didn’t like making people angry, even if they were spoiled little brats. He aired this to Kitwana that night after finally all the foals had been put to bed.
His instructor had some sage advice. “Don’t give a damn about what your client thinks. You’re the professional, they’re the one who asked you to help. You’re here to keep them safe, not make them happy.”
“But what if they complain?”
Kitwana crossed his arms and said, “I have done this seven years, Werner. Don’t get worried about making them happy. Beside, if you cave to their every whim, they won’t respect you when you need to make them listen. I have a story about that.” Werner leaned in to listen, resting his elbows on his thighs. “It was five years ago, I was on detail for some rich Manehattan family on vacation in Zebricy. And anyway, the detail chief just couldn’t say no when pretty girls made whining noises at him. There was this one river we weren’t supposed to let them go near, but the client’s wife and daughter begged him to let them go for a little dip because it was just so hot. He refused but they didn’t listen, so the two mares almost got chomped by a crocodile.”
“That couldn’t’ve been a good thing.”
“Indeed. He got fired almost immediately.”
“I can imagine,” said Werner. The conversation lulled. Werner stood up and walked towards the wet bar as he asked, “So, Kitwana, up for anything from the fridge?”
“Just water if they have it.”
Werner opened the mini fridge and scowled. “I hope you spell water c-o-c-a-c-o-l-a, because that’s all we got.” The black man gestured at him, so Werner lobbed him a can before returning without anything of his own.
“Are you not thirsty?”
“Not thirsty enough for that stuff,” replied Werner. “I was hoping I’d be able to get away from coke here in Equestria. Can’t say that part of the plan succeeded.”
Kitwana laughed, “You came here to get away from coke?”
““Not really. I’d been out of college for a year and my parents weren’t too happy I hadn’t found a job yet.” Werner walked back over and unholstered his Makarov pistol before sitting down. While he checked over his weapon, he said, “One of my friends told me they were looking for unattached guys for manly jobs through the portal, so I went online to check it out.” He proceeded to check the chamber by pulling back on the slide a little bit. He saw the grey steel of a shell casing, so he let the slide go forward. “Needless to say, it catered to my strengths, so I put in an application and here I am less than a year later.” He pushed the safety down to fire and placed his pinky finger in front of the hammer notch as he pushed it back up to decock, letting it fall lightly on his digit. Lastly, Werner took out the magazine and counted rounds -- eight for eight before reloading it and placing the weapon back in its holster.
“You seem very familiar with firearms. Were you a soldier?”
“Nah,” shook Werner, “I just enjoyed shooting and wanted to try something new.”
“Most new guys I see know less than you,” Kitwana observed.
Werner raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’d thought they’d be taking grizzled badasses only. I didn’t think I’d make it.”
“You’re better with a gun than most I see, but you’re no great shooter. We were picky at the start, but couldn’t find enough, so we let lots apply and we just keep the ones who meet standards.”
“How would you say I’m doing right now?”
Kitwana sucked his teeth with a sigh. Werner’s eager grin receded. “Okay but not good enough.”
“How? Why” Werner asked crestfallen.
“You’re not acting like a bodyguard; you’re too focused on who you’re protecting and not enough on the surroundings. Constant vigilance indeed.”
“Got it.”
“And your ice cream fiasco told you’re not strong enough to keep control.”
“Sorry about that,” blushed the white man sheepishly. “I guess I’ve screwed myself, haven’t I?”
“Not yet, if you prove yourself tomorrow.”
“Am I doing anything right, Kitwana?”
Kitwana toyed with his shirt’s cuff buttons as he answered, “You’re a decent shot and resourceful. If this job was just shooting and thinking, you would already be signed on, but you lack the vigilance and authority you need for the big part of this job. If you can show me what you’re made of tomorrow, I may just be able to recommend you to stay on. Do not disappoint me, Werner. You know what will happen if you do.”
“Yeah, I’ll lose my job and have to go home because I won’t be working so my work visa won’t be valid. Bummer...”
Kitwana nodded and softened his voice. “Indeed. You want some advice?”
“Please.”
Kitwana said in the dark room, the whites of his eyes being the most visible part of him, “Head on a swivel. Don’t just look for things that are visibly happening; look at everything. Look for where things must have come from and where they’re going and what they’re doing. Don’t just stare at the client all day waiting to save them, because if you have to rescue them, you have already failed to watch out for them in the first place. You are the protector; you must be proactive.” He finished.
“Thank you, Kitwana.”
“Think nothing of if, Werner. I am just helping you as a friendly colleague with long experience.”
“Not as a friend?” Werner smirked.
“Indeed not. I just want to share what I know.”
Werner had an idea. “Kitwana, where were you before you came to Equestria where you learned this?”
“Kenya,” answered Kitwana.
“Cool. Why did you leave?”
Kitwana’s lax smile suddenly faltered. The friendly ease in the air turned to tension. “It’s not important. Werner, how long has it been since we checked on our client?”
Werner glanced at his phone. His eyes widened. “More than 45 minutes. I think I’ll go pull watch now.”
“Good.” Werner pulled on his suit jacket, buttoned it up, and stepped outside onto the elevated walkway of the hotel the trip was spending the night at. The warm air tempted him to take of the jacket, but it wouldn’t be fitting to project a relaxed image like that. He completed several walks up and down past the six adjacent rooms -- one for him and Kitwana, four for the foals with three for the fillies and one for the colts, and one for Cheerilee.
Nagging anxieties tugged at his heart and so Werner found himself leaning on the cast iron railing, wistfully gazing at the moon. This moon, an alien moon in an unfamiliar sky belonging to another world entirely separate from his own… He would miss them. He had grown fond of them over the past two months in Equestria. He didn’t want to go home, not like this, not as a failure who had left everything behind to try to start again, telling his family and friends that they wouldn’t see each other again for years because he was off to go beyond the portal and seek his fortune. To come back so early, rejected, broke, with nothing to show for it but a miserable failure at a job that any idiot off the street could take, was unacceptable.
He hadn’t lost his job yet, but he knew it was going to happen. Kitwana said there was some hope still, but unless he got to prove himself tomorrow by pulling a perfect shift and stopping a dramatic kidnapping attempt in a running gunbattle, what chance did he have to still prove himself? He gripped the railing harder and ground his teeth. “God damnit…” He kicked the cast iron in anger, “They give me a short crap assignment where there’s nothing I can do to prove myself and then they plan to complain and fire me for failing to prove myself when exactly that happens; of course that’s what’s happening! I don’t want to go, damnit. It’s not fair…” He shivered with a cool breeze. “And I was just beginning to like it here...”
Werner had to be serious. If he failed, where else could he go but back home? What other job opportunities existed for humans like himself in this land of ponies? It seemed like the matriarchal nature of Equestrian society had meant the vast majority of human workers sought for employment through the portal were women. He’d heard of something called Gentlemen for Mares from one of his fellow recruits, but he had no idea who they were or how to contact them; they were the only other primarily male employer for humans here, and that was by choice. For necessity, the bodyguards were mostly men due to the difficulty of finding women willing to take the job. The ponies seemed to be at least slightly afraid of men. Maybe it was cultural? After all, mares seemed to run everything and he had barely seen any stallion during his whole time there.
Speaking of the Gentlemen, all he knew was they were supposed to be like professional daters or something, but they had quite the racy reputation. When he’d first heard of them, the thought of being intimate with the locals really weirded him out, but now he wasn’t quite so convinced it would be terribly wrong. After all, they were just as intelligent as any people he’d known on earth, they didn’t look too bad, and they seemed to be in abundance. Maybe he was just expanding his horizons, or maybe it was because he hadn’t had sex since more than a year ago. On second thought, maybe he wasn’t cut out for such work if he was such a hornball at the moment? Besides, him be a cultured, suave gentleman? HAH! That’d be the day.
The Equestrian night sky was so beautiful it was a shame he hardly knew it. They had barely been able to get time in broader Equestria during training; they had essentially been stuck on corporate campus on earth the whole time up until the final two weeks when they finally got shifted through the portal to get some experience by shadowing more experienced employees. The actual company infrastructure on the Equestrian side was lacking -- essentially it was a handful of trailers parked around a dusty path. All told, Werner had just spent a mere seventeen days in Equestria.
Werner contemplated the concealed pistol tucked into a discrete holster under his suit jacket. What purpose did he really have in bringing it here? Sure, he was meant to be a protector, but did Equestria actually need firearms and trained gunmen? He sighed again. Too many questions, too much running through his head. What he really had to worry about was his immanent and likely return to earth. He wondered if he should take the time to write a letter to his parents to let them know that he’d likely be back living with them before too long, or if he should not write a letter and just hope really really hard that he either managed to somehow come out on top tomorrow, or just hope that his parents didn’t get too mad when he suddenly showed up at home right out of nowhere.
“No, I can’t pussy out now; I must see this through to the end. Kitwana said I had a chance if I do well tomorrow. I just pray to God I don’t blow it.”
Werner woke up Kitwana a few hours before they had to go so he could have his time for rest. He was so tired and worried he hardly noticed that he slept apart from suddenly noticing it was daylight and his alarm was blaring at him. Cursing, Werner got up and stepped outside. He found Kitwana leaning with his back to the wall, eating peanut butter out of a jar. Werner suddenly remembered that he had barely eaten since the day before yesterday. “Good morning, Kitwana,” he greeted.
Kitwana just waved at him, mouth plugged too full of peanut butter to talk. Birds sang in the golden morning light. The fresh air smelled so good and the sky was so perfectly clear with none of the usual reek of fumes he associated with earth cities. On earth, Werner had hated mornings -- mornings meant getting up to cram himself through the same damn routine again in a plastic existence devoid of beauty. Best of all, because the ponies tended to live closer to the natural day-night cycle, he was sleeping more and better than he had in years.
Cheerilee stumbled out of her room and groggily waved hello at the two humans, who waved back at her. “What’s for breakfast?” Werner asked.
“The grass,” Cheerilee answered. Werner almost let out a laugh before he remembered the ponies could actually eat grass. Then he frowned. He took a mental note to always have provisions for himself in the future; he’d assumed that they’d either get chances to grab food or eating at restaurants a lot more than they actually did. It did make a sort of sense about the client’s safety always coming first, but the gnawing hunger of two days with no food and at least a full week without meat made him think of some very choice words he’d say about that at the moment. Even when he had been full, or at least ought to have been, a sort of continued hunger gripped him. It had him a little scared; he had never been a gluttonous person before in his life. He had heard that nobody could stay in Equestria for too long; there just wasn’t the infrastructure for people there. It was a little bit like Antarctica. He wondered if he was feeling the reason now. He wondered, perhaps if he stayed here too long, he would eventually die.
Cheerliee went in to wake the students. Kitwana approached Werner and said, “Last chance, make it count.” Werner nodded, at once both more nervous and assured.
“As the suicide bomb instructor said, “I’m only going to do this once.”
“Indeed. Do you have a plan?”
“Yes, Kitwana. I apply your lessons from last night and follow just within arm’s reach of Diamond Tiara, focusing more on potential threats and evaluating them in advance instead of waiting for danger to suddenly appear out of nowhere. If I see anything suspicious, I notify you on the earpiece. I am escorting Diamond Tiara four blocks to the train station. The walk is expected to take twenty minutes followed by ten minutes of waiting for the train E-99. We will have a train change during a five minute gap in Canterlot and then we proceed directly to Ponyville on S-117, at which point mission accomplished.”
“Indeed. Perfect.”
The students were soon out of bed, some well rested and others looking tired. Three fillies in particular, an orange pegasus, a yellow earth pony, looked like they had hardly slept a wink.
Werner set to work protecting Diamond Tiara, this time making sure to not crowd so close to her but never letting her get out of arm’s reach. He looked and communicated what he say to Kitwana, proving he had paid attention to the previous night’s lesson. He was not going to just let himself fail without putting up a fight. Kitwana watched him more seriously than the previous day. The seemingly eternal smile was more subdued and he was more formal. Diamond Tiara continued to pay him no heed and that suited him just fine. All he had to do was walk a little filly down to the train station, change trains with her, and deliver her to her father who would be waiting eagerly on the platform to greet them. So why was he so tense? Werner forced himself to calm down, lifting his own spirits by pleasantly thinking of all the food he was going to eat once he was done with the spoiled brat and how much he couldn’t wait to not have to worry anymore.
The trek down to the train station in Baltimare was mercifully easy, peaceful even to where Werner wished it went on longer. Unfortunately, as they neared the station, he had to step up his guard with the great crowd of ponies everywhere. For a moment, he thought he caught the eye of a dappled unicorn stallion as he checked behind them, but when he looked back, the stallion had vanished, causing him to attribute it to his mind playing tricks on him.
Inside the station, he made sure to stand up as straight as possible, keep his shoulders back, and hold his head high. To his surprise, there seemed to be less crush around him than he expected and they were soon all aboard the train. For just a second, he thought he saw the dappled stallion again boarding the train on the opposite side of the platform, but he shook it off.
With the precious cargo in place, Werner relaxed some as they began the longest leg of their journey home. The two guards positioned themselves on opposite ends of the pack of students, making sure that they could not be blindsided from behind. Werner conversed on his earpiece with Kitwana, who was seeming less rigid now. It was now that Werner decided to tell him about the mysterious stallion he had seen twice in a short interval. “Kitwana, have you seem a dappled orange and brown stallion?”
“No. Why? Have you.”
“Yes, twice in just a few minutes. I thought he was just a figment of my imagination at first, but then I saw him shove a pony to get on the train opposite ours. Each time I see him, he’s looking right our way.”
“It’s probably nothing, but be better safe than sorry.” Kitwana rocked in his seat and checked his concealed pistol under the guise of pretending to scratch an itch. Werner fought the urge to check, too, but instead remembered he’d done a weapon check when he’d woken up that morning and had not touched his firearm since. Kitwana raised an eyebrow at him and said quickly, “There are magic spells that decock your gun.”
Werner whispered back, “It’s a crunchenticker; doesn’t matter.” Kitwana cocked his head confusedly. “Cooperism for a dual mode pistol.” Kitwana nodded with a slight jerk in his motion. Silence fell on the frequency. Werner struggled to find something to talk about. He had to keep the conversation going; he would never get another chance to have such open access to a proven operator in the field again. So many questions. What to ask? What to say? How to say it? Was Kitwana taking his silence as a sign that he knew enough craft to get by, or was he expecting questions and would penalize him for not taking advantage of this final golden opportunity? Outside, trees, meadows, and hills rolled by so peacefully and silently, like fish glimpsed in an aquarium. The silence grew longer and the pressure grew stronger to not waste his chance, but so did the fear of unwittingly sealing his doom by annoying his mentor or betraying his ignorance so late in the game. What to do? An unexpected stop made it worst.
“Ladies and gentlecolts,” came the voice on the magical intercom system. “Due to unexpectedly high traffic, we are afraid that we will be delayed for thirty minutes to allow priority trains to pass.
“We’re going to miss our second train…” Werner seethed on the radio.
“Don’t worry about that, now; we can buy new tickets if we need.”
“I’m not worried about money; I’m worried about trying to make a fast train switch in a crowded station.”
“That is actually better for us; less time in danger.” Silence again.
Werner looked over at Cheerilee. She had set up an impromptu lesson with a ring of four foals. One of the foals raised his foreleg -- local equivalent to raising a hand back in a classroom on earth. Cheerilee answered and the slight grin on the foal’s face told Werner all he needed to know. In that moment, he knew that he too was every bit a student as they were.
“Kitwana, what’s it like to operate long term in Equestria?”
“It is hard, that is truth. Did they tell you, Werner, about troubles with humans staying long in Equestria?”
“They didn’t. They just said you can’t live on the local food because it’s all grass.”
“That is half of it. The nutrition we need as humans to live healthy is not available here. You have not seen one piece of meat off base. You do not see the same vegetables, fruits, and meats here. That is for a reason. You see, Equestria has very strict customs on what they allow into the country. Princess Celestia does not allow human crops or animals inside; we may only bring canned food and vitamins with us.”
:Why would she do that?”
“Control, Werner. Nobody expected the portal, then nobody thought it would stay, so people just rushed through. When the first ponies came after as, they with spears and breastplates were greeted by Nairaland’s bravest with AK-47’s. We mostly stay on our side and they mostly stay on their side to protect both sides. We do not want Equestria on earth and they do not want earth on Equestria. Tell me, how long have you been through the portal?”
“Nine days.”
“And how is your body?” Kitwana asked.
Werner gritted his teeth through another poignant pang of hunger. “Being a bitch and my brain isn’t cooperating.”
There may have been in faintest hint of amused compassion in Kitwana’s voice. “You’re feeling the effects of malnutrition already. If you carried on too long, you would weaken and die. On earth, there is no such thing as a free lunch, but in Equestria, the only lunch is the one you carry. It is by design, so we do not damage or invade their world.”
“Wish I knew that sooner,” growled Werner.
“Cheer up, boy, just a little more. I’ll get you some of suya when we get back to Ibadan.”
Werner’s scowl abated just a tad. “I’ll cover the beers if you do that; I’m never eating the street food without a means to fight the spice again.”
“Have you a bad experience?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting the local food to be like oral napalm when I showed up for training.”
“Fair enough.”
A gap in the conversation. “Kitwana, how are we getting back to base?”
“Same way we made the trip out, bicycles.”
Werner groaned internally. To hell with Equestria’s crazy rules; was it too much to ask for some meat and a car to drive them the roughly ten miles to the portal from Ponyville? “Of course…” Werner did not have too long to focus on his gripes as soon the train pulled into Canterlot Station, forcing him to shelve his complaints as he prepared for one last risky walk through a crowd. The train came to a full stop and he took one last scan of the crowd before focusing on Diamond Tiara. Was the platform clear? Not at all. Was it secure? Hell if he knew.
Kitwana stood up with Cheerilee and lead them off the train. Werner’s pulse quickened. Diamond Tiara and then himself stepped onto the platform. The man kept his head on a swivel and an arm always ready to grab the pink filly in case anything happened. Werner stood up tall and broad. His physical presence, while not imposing among humans, still made him stand out from the crowd of ponies. Step by step, they approached the train. Just a few yards. Then a few feet before the first of them made it. Kitwana climbed aboard at the front of the car and Cheerilee waved to the line. A few students were on, then half, and then most. A gaggle of mares pressing through cut off the line for a moment, prompting Werner to put his hand on Diamond Tiara’s shoulders as he took a sweep; it would be too easy for him to lose her in a confusing crowd if he just looked away.
A quick glance from the corner of his eye turned up that same mysterious stallion from Baltimare. The first beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. He radioed Kitwana. “That stallion’s here.”
“I still don’t see him.”
“He’s here for sure, and getting closer than ever.” Werner considered discretely thumb cocking his Makarov pistol so if he had to engage their stalker, his first shot could be as deadly accurate as possible without having to deal with that godawful long, heavy double action trigger pull. He was just feet away from the car, so he decided against it. He stepped aboard gratefully and turned around to check his surroundings. There, not even ten feet away, stood the dappled stallion, staring him right in the eyes and holding what looked like a white mini basketball. The man undid his suit jacket’s buttons to give himself greater freedom of motion. He blinked and the stallion was gone. A cold knot formed in his guts. The whistle blew and then he heard the announcer call, “S-117 to Baltimare, final call for immediate departure.”
He was about to turn to find his seat when he heard something like a metallic bouncing noise racketing down the train car. Bwing-bwing-bwing-bwing! He shut his eyes to try clearing them. Before Werner could look, an oddly quiet bang went off and an impossibly bright white flash suffused like burning magnesium.
Everything seemed uncannily slow. Werner turned his head just in time to see in the fading whiteness the same unicorn emerge in a flash of magic right behind a certain pink filly. He was too close -- no time to draw a weapon. At almost normal speed, the unicorn snatched Diamond Tiara and lunged at him, lowering his glowing horn. Werner lunged to tackle him, but in his daze his aim was poor. Instead of seizing him around the neck and withers to yoke him into submission, he instead got bowled over, sending him to the floor with a mighty slam while the unicorn careened out of control into the wall.
Pain. Werner tried standing again. As he rose, he saw Kitwana crouching over in a daze, covering his eyes like all the ponies in the car. “Kitwana, what’s wrong? Let’s get him!” Werner tried to yell, only to get no response from the slow motion man. Swearing, he got to his feet and rushed at his scrambling adversary who had Diamond Tiara immobile and floating in a magical sphere. They bolted from the train and onto the platform. “Don’t you dare,” snarled Werner as the kidnapper powered up his horn, only for it to instead eject sparks.
His quarry froze for a moment, undoubtedly in panic, taking several crucial split seconds to decide to run for his life towards the crowd, where he could lose his pursuer and escape. But alas, the crowd was thick, though he was quicker.
Werner shouted, “Stoi, suka!” He didn’t notice the considerable acceleration of the train he had leapt from. No sound. He couldn’t use language! He couldn’t order the bystanders to get down -- he couldn’t get a clear shot with all the ponies in the way! He had to catch this bastard now!
The crowd was a great obstacle to his enemy, but humans were more nimble and could just slide through. Step by step, he gained. Soon, he was close enough to go for the tackle. Werner put on an extra burst of speed and leapt for the shoulders. He caught the stallion mid back and sent him crashing down in a sprawling pile of limbs. According to his training, Werner grabbed him by the head and slammed his skull into the concrete, causing the magic glow to flicker and fail, causing Diamond Tiara to fall free in slow motion. Just as Werner tried to go for a pin, WHAM, a hoof found him in the shoulder, sending him sprawling to the side as the unicorn rose to flee again. Werner gave chase, ignoring the pain. He saw some shapes converging on them. One winged figure flew past him and dove onto the escaping unicorn, even as he grabbed Diamond Tiara. Looking around, he saw the train leaving. Without hesitation, he grabbed the filly by her legs and hurled her at a bipedal dark figure standing at the rear of the car. A feeling of triumph surged through him for a split second. Then something crashed into him from the side hard enough to knock the wind of out of him.
Next thing Werner knew, he and the unicorn had been dog piled by more than a half dozen security officers. Time was running faster. He could barely make out their words, but he said, “It’s okay; I’m her bodyguard.” He produced his paper license and copy of the contract, and the ponies immediately granted him more room, though he felt two metal things encircle his wrists. Nobody had said anything about being arrested!
One quick call to base later, followed by letting the security team listen in on his call to Kitwana, and Werner was free to go with apologies and thanks from the staff, but no sympathy from the railroad company, who made him purchase another ticket for the next train to Ponyville. Unfortunately, that meant a three hour wait, so Werner killed the time by getting some pastries and a beer. He radioed into Kitwana, “Kitwana, I’m free now and I’m coming to Ponyville on the next train.
“Glad to hear so. How long behind us are you?”
“Three fricken hours.”
“Tell me when you’re getting close, okay.”
“I will. By the way, want to hear something crazy?’
“What?”
Werner said, “The police said they’d never seen a magic stun bomb like that before; normally they’re just like enchanted flashbangs, but this one somehow worked in a crowd and was more magic than bomb.
“That is something new to me. What are you doing now, Werner?”
“Getting something to eat and drink.”
“Bon apetit. See you when you get here.”
“Seeya.”
Werner wanted to celebrate, but he felt on edge. Had he saved the day by stopping the stallion from abducting Diamond Tiara, or had the fact he even had to rescue her and engage their assailant meant he’d made a mess of it? And then he’d been arrested. Not charged with anything, not jailed, but still, the company had needed to save his ass in a major public incident before he was even done with training. These questions gnawed at him as he waited for his train to arrive. When it did, he slumped down wearily into his seat and let his eyelids droop low. Just before Werner nodded off to sleep, however, he heard Kitwana’s voice on the earpiece.
“Call command. They have to tell you something.” Oh crap, here it was, the moment to either find the lady or the tiger. The man’s tone had been unreadable, so it was with trembling fingers and a dry mouth that Werner turned the frequency dial and then began broadcasting to command.
“Sir, this is Werner. I am free and calling in by Kitwana’s orders. I understand you have some important news for me.”
“Indeed…” said the man on the other end. “After tackling a kidnapper, pursuing and fighting him in public, and having delivered your escortee safely home, Kitwana’s recommendations align with my judgement call. You’re hired. Welcome to the crew, Werner.”
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Fwam! Vivid flashes of colors swam across Werner’s vision and his skin felt a sharp tingle like cold fire blaze across it for a few agonizing seconds. Werner knew he was motionless, but he felt flipping vertigo like he was a hurled stick tumbling end over end, contrasting against his body’s feeling of somehow being stationary in something that was immensely cold but did not chill him. However, he was contradicted by his eyes interpreting the shimmering waves and blobs of color to mean he was traveling very fast. The airlessness sucked all the wind from him like ripping paper from a notebook. Nausea. Claustrophobia. Then, a moment’s flash of black before everything resolved into overwhelming bright white light. Before he could see again, Werner felt the full force of gas ram into his lungs to punch him nastily in the gut. The bodily sensation of motion suddenly returned. He fell forwards onto his hands and knees and crawled around a little bit on the familiarly crunchy texture of tarmac. It was hot, burning hot. He blinked thrice to clear his watery eyes, the swirling wind alleviating that maddening tickling. He suddenly noticed the warmth of the sun, and for a moment, he embraced that radiant heat before it became stifling in his suit. At least the nausea was fading fast and the vertigo already gone. Werner stood up and stepped forwards unsteadily as though drunken, glad to see the world resolve into solid ground and familiar shapes again.
A voice greeted him, “Welcome back. You have a nice excursión?” Werner detected some form of Hispanic accent from the portal guard.
Werner shook his head, “About as nice as it could be, considering the circumstances.”
The blue-helmeted guard asked. “How is to go through the portal?” He adjusted the M16 slung over his shoulder for comfort.
“Equestria is nice, I guess. It’s very pretty with lots of green grass, trees, fields, and mountains”
“It sounds like my home, Uruguay. You know where that is?”
“Sorta – South America but not exactly a jungle?”
“Si, north of Argentina and south of Brazil. Where’re you from…?”
“Werner – I’m Werner and from America. You?”
“Adrian Estevez.”
“Nice to meet you, Adrian. To think I’d meet someone else from the new world over here… Anyway,” Werner continued, “I must say getting there and here sucks.” The guard’s raised brow prompted the suited man to elaborate, “Imagine being posted through your own asshole, head first. That is what being put through the portal is like. You go in a clean, well dressed citizen and you come out a stinking, hungry maniac with at least three broken bones.” The peacekeeper looked stunned. “Only it doesn’t harm you, but makes you swear it should’ve,” Werner added.
“Dios mio…”
“What, never been through the portal before?”
“No, Werner, they don’t let us, never.”
“Not even to help or visit?”
“No. We wait here and watch for banditos who no have permission to go on the portal.”
Werner rubbed his chin. He felt the first drops of sweat beginning to form. Just a minute back on earth and he was already remembering why he’d been so eager to go through the portal. Like enemies grumbled in their chatter in a certain video game, it was too damn hot.
A hissing came from the portal. Spinning around with a wobble, Werner saw Kitwana emerge looking a little pale and green, pursing his thick lips together in an attempt to hold down the bile. “Welcome back to earth, Kitwana,” joked Werner.
“Bienvenidas, cabron,” said Adrian.
Kitwana heaved a sigh to gather himself before responding, “Yes, yes. Good day to you all. Werner, let us not delay.” He strode off immediately, almost forcing Werner to jog to keep up with him.
Sweat streamed down Werner’s face in the tropical sun as he roasted. It was brutally hot out on the portal plaza, a solid square one thousand six hundred square meters of nothing but black asphalt with absolutely no cover, two hundred meters long on each side with the portal dead in the center. The air there always moved in a special teasing way of just enough to be notice but too hot and slow to offer any relief. And all the heat radiating off the black surface certainly was not doing them any favors -- it held in the heat to guarantee that no matter the time or weather, it was always scorchingly, uncomfortably hot. Plus, it always reeked unpleasantly of tar and melted rubber. If anyone was ever unsure if they were near the portal, all they had to do was sniff the air. Werner wanted to hurl his hat, rip off his suit jacket, and tear open his stupid undershirt. Too bad it was his uniform and they were on duty. He looked up at Kitwana, wondering how the black man could take it.
After a few minutes, they found themselves in the maze of cheap prefab buildings. All around them there was the mechanical hum of air conditioning units working relentlessly to buy some respite from the oppressive heat. Werner followed his mentor’s lead to a squat building surrounded by a chain link fence with two guards posted by a door. One guard was a UN peacekeeper with an M16. The other was dressed in a suit and tie with a fedora like themselves and was at least not visibly armed. On the fence hung what was presumably a no firearms sign, in this case the crossed-out silhouette of an AK-47. The door was marked by a circle bisected horizontally by a double-ended arrow. Below it was a sign reading, “Securis Bodyguard Service, field associate office, please enter”, The pair walked up the wooden steps and alighted on the shaded porch. Werner felt the heat drop from unbearable to survivable, and then as he stepped into the building, a welcome blast of chill air embraced him. He smiled uncontrollably, wiping his dripping brow onto his sleeves.
Their shoes crunched and creaked on the rough, cheap carpeting that thinly covered what was clearly flimsy wooden flooring. Werner removed his fedora and fanned himself with it. Kitwana just kept on going. They came to a closed door, on which he knocked.
“Come in,” came the indian-accented voice from the other side. The two men filed into an office that had a pervasive smell of cinnamon, saffron, and something else. Sitting behind a cheap, wooden desk with drawers supporting a computer, a small Indian flag nick-nac, a name stand, a coffee cup filled with cheap Bic pens, and several scattered binders, was their boss, Anish Banerjee. The aging man had a slight thin spot on top of his head. He beckoned them to sit down on the plastic chairs situated in front of his desk. Upon seeing Werner’s bare hair, he barked, “Cover!”
Werner put his hat back on, sheepishly smiling, “Sorry.” A few pleasantries were exchanged, followed by Anish turning the focus squarely on Werner. He fixed him with his jet black eyes.
“You are a very lucky man, I am sure of it. What you did in canterlot station was very very lucky, and you know we were having second thoughts about you, but now I can tell you in person that I welcome you into the crew.”
He offered Werner a hand, which the pale man accepted with gusto. “Thank you, sir.”
“And let me tell you that I will be your supervisor as long as you are with us.”
“I look forward to working with you, sir.”
“So, Werner, I welcome you to formally work with us on a permanent basis. What do you say?”
“I’d love to, sir.”
“Splendid!” Anish cheered, rising from his leather-backed swivel chair to duck under his desk. When he resurfaced, he was holding two cold cans of Coca Cola. “Would you care for some drinks, Gentlemen?”
Werner and Kitwana accepted, “Yes, sir.” He didn’t know how Kitwana was feeling, but Werner was so parched he opened the can and was quaffing down soda before he even realized it. Then his tongue reminded him: he hated coke. Slowing down for courtesy, Werner set his can on the desk.
“Please, you may be at ease,” Anish said to them. Kitwana removed his hat for courtesy. Werner took off his hat, removed and hung his jacket on his seat back, loosened his tie, and undid the top buttons on his shirt. “Does the weather not agree with you, Werner?” There was definitely a smile beneath his moustache.
“It’s a little hot compared to where I’m from, sir.”
“You will adjust to it.” He made a motion at Kitwana. “Now, there is something we must talk about.”
Werner’s stomach tensed up into a knot. Wonderful, first minute after landing a permanent slot and he was already in trouble. “Yes, sir, what is it?”
Anish drew himself up before reclining back into his chair. “Werner, because you were involved in a physical altercation, you will need to take a refresher seminar on use of force.”
“What? But I didn’t shoot anyone, pull my gun, or even use any weapons, sir!” Shocked indignation rumbled within him.
Anish waved him down. “Do not worry, Werner. You may calm down. This is just standard practice. Rest assured we will stand behind you no matter what happens.”
“I see, sir…” Werner slumped in relief, blushing ever so slightly beneath his sunburnt cheeks.
“Next, you have to sign the permanent employment contract and wait for it to be filed. This will take not long.”
“Understood, sir.”
“And at last, there is the question of finding work for you.” Werner leaned forwards in anticipation. “I believe I have something for you that is available immediately.”
“Great. When can I start, sir?”
“In just a few days, Werner. Once you are cleared on use of force, you will be clear for briefings and assignments. We can get you through the portal very soon.I shall tell you of your assignment once everything is in order. I must find the correct assignment for you.”
“Great, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Any question?” Anish asked.
“What about work for me, sir?” Kitwana inquired.
“You are already at your limit for days spent through the portal this month, Kitwana. You are on leave for the next week.”
“Yes, sir.” Werner noted a hint of disappointment in the man’s voice.
Anish looked at them inquisitively for a few seconds, then he said, “You may go -- dismissed.”
Kitwana and Werner responded with, “Thank you, sir.” and then left, closing the door behind them.
Once out, Kitwana turned to Werner and asked with a grin, “I am taking you for suya; are you coming quietly, or am I gonna have to drag you?”
“Let’s go,” Werner smiled. “Just let me take off my uniform and my gun. Do you know when the next bus is?”
“Bus? Did I say anything about a bus? No, my friend, when a man wants to go somewhere fast, he gets an okada.”
“I thought they told us in orientation to never take them no matter what…” Kitwana’s grin only widened.
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“Son of a bitch!” Werner shouted over the shrill roar of the two-stroke dirt bike engine as they thundered along the unpaved road, narrowly swerving between cars, potholes, trucks, and other bikes just like theirs. “Yo mat’, not like a marshutka at all!”
“Nini? Sielewi. What ‘chu say?”
“Dake! Ma soro! Oyibo, o ronu wa rorun?” Their driver barked back at them.
“What did he say, Kitwana?”
“He told us to shut up; we distract him.”
Werner said nothing more, holding himself back with great difficulty. Wow, even he noticed that he had a perpetually short fuse. Kitwana had not been kidding when he said that the first thing to go when you didn’t eat right was your brain. Werner forced himself to try to cool off, instead focusing on hanging on for dear life as the crazy motorcycle sped along the congested path which would have barely qualified as a logging trail back where Werner came from, but was apparently considered a local thoroughfare here. Although he was well aware of the grave danger just traveling this way posed, Werner had to admit it was a welcome bit of excitement after nothing but bus rides, train rides, classes, and babysitting fillies. He hung on with nothing but the fear of falling and the desire to finally get a decent meal for the first time in weeks.
The ride was over mercifully quickly. Unfortunately, their driver was arguing in what Werner thought was Yoruba over what he figured was likely the fare. This went on for a few minutes with them yelling what he could only guess were two different numbers before Werner growled, “How many Nairas are you fighting over?”
“I be want wa fousen Naira,” said the driver.
Werner raised and eyebrow and turned to his companion. “Kitwana, did you agree on a price beforehand?”
“Yes, I told him it was eight hundred Nairas and he said get on.” The driver began to protest something in his own language, but Werner talked over him to Kitwana.
“Maybe he didn’t hear you or maybe your Yoruba, Igbo, or whatever language you’re using just sucks.
“Werner, two hundred Nairas is a lot of money.”
Hunger and frustration got the better of Werner. “Fuck it. Where I’m from, it’s not even enough to argue over; I’ll cover this and the ride back and you cover the food, because I’m hungry and in no mood to put up with people taking forever to fight over pennies on the dollar!” Jerkily, Werner reached into his pocket and yanked out a five dollar bill -- American currency/ He turned to the okada driver. “Do you take this?”
The okada looked at him and smiled broadly. “Yes!” Almost gleefully he snatched it away and rode off.
“Thank almighty God. If that hadn’t settled him, I was going to kick his ass.“
“If you do that, people will remember and later kick your ass.”
This got no response from Werner, who instead said, “Let’s go.”
The two men made their way through the busy streets of Ibadan. Werner kept his head on a swivel, taking in the sights. He saw a sprawling metropolis made mostly of buildings only a few stories tall. He saw the occasional skyscraper and highrise in the distance, but the skyline was much lower than he was used to seeing in cities. The streets were abuzz with activity as cars, motorcycles, busses, bikes, and pedestrians swirled all around in a form of perfectly organized utter chaos. There were strange smells and though he did not speak whatever native tongues the locals were using, the background murmur of innumerable conversations sounded totally alien compared to what he was used to. He saw men dressed in thawbs and kufis next to men wearing loud hawaiian shirts and slightly ripped bluejeans right next to men wearing full business casual.
As they walked, the surroundings changed. Official-looking commercial and corporate offices and storefronts gave way to market stalls and baskets filled with every kind of agricultural commodity. Werner had seen open air markets before, but he had never been to one this crowded or vibrant. Kitwana finally came to a stop in front of a couple of teenage boys who had improvised a grille cover over a steel barrel with a fire inside, atop which was a great pile of skewered meat.
“Bawo,” Kitwana said.
“Bawo, ekasan-” Werner couldn’t even catch the flurry of words that came next and a quick glance at Kitwana revealed the Kenyan sucking in his lower lip nervously.
Kitwana replied slowly, “S’ole se edi Gesi?”
“Kini? O ni ajeji ohun?”
“Do you speak English?”
“Yeh. You una wan chop?” Whatever he’d just said, Werner had never heard English like that before, if he could call it English.
“Yes, please. Two suya two beer.”
“I dey no got beer, but got laziza.”
“Okay,” replied Kitwana. “Two laziza and two suya then.”
“Thousand two hundra Nairas.” The boy held out his hand and rubbed his thumb over his fingertips. That got the point across well enough.
“Twelve hundred Naira,” said Werner as he handed them over.
“Tank yua, oyinbo,” said the merchants as the goods and money changed hands. “Say, are ya yankee?”
“American? Yes.”
Dat be nice. Now make you go.” Werner and Kitwana stepped aside with their victuals to find a bit of a line had formed behind them. Werner was thoroughly confused by what had just happened and was about to open his mouth when he saw Kitwana look at his phone.
“The boss called. He wants us back to do paperwork.”
“Lovely,” Werner snarked. “Let’s find an okada.” They set off, and as they went along, both of them wasted no time in tearing into their first meat in weeks.
They walked by a large dusty lot with a great number of people milling about, people hawking various routes to places Werner had never heard of, and great many vehicles pulling in, idling with the door open, and pulling off. Kitwana said, “I have a better idea. Follow me into this motor park.” Werner had to dart after him, because Kitwana took off rapidly. He entered the crowd like a swimmer jumping into a river rapid.
Werner had no idea where he was going, only that he had to follow his friend. He was vaguely reminded of the places in Moscow where taxis, busses, and marshrutki minibuses took over a whole lane of traffic and created seemingly informal depots. At least that element of familiarity helped to ease his thoughts about what he was doing. He saw Kitwana talk briefly with some fat man holding a sign and then stepped behind him to climb aboard a packed minibus. Werner followed him, stepping aboard. He saw to his displeasure that there were no seats available, but there was floor space, which he took without grumbling, yet he couldn’t resist asking Kitwana, “Are you sure this is the right one?”
“Yes, it is.”
“What if you’re wrong?“
Kitwana had to answer loudly over the fracas, “As they say in Kiswahili in my country, hakuna matata.”
Werner fought the impulse to laugh. Instead, he swallowed his smartass impulse and said, “I had no idea what was a real thing in Swahili.”
“It totally is. It makes sense, too, because “The Lion King” happens in a place where they would speak Swahili. It does not explain why the only African language they dubbed the film into, the only Disney film to get a dub in any African language, was dubbed into Zulu.”
“Hah! That’d be like Bollywood making a film set in France, including French phrases, but then only putting it in Latvian.”
A hand tapped Werner on the shoulder and said something that sounded like. “Oyibo, danfo dash money?”
Werner froze for a moment, before looking up and seeing a sign marked “Fare”
“Oh, I get it. Thanks,” he said, reaching into his pockets and handing double the fare. He pointed at Kitwana. “For him, too.”
The man said nothing and turned away to hand off the money. He called out, “Danfo all pack! All Pack!” When after a few seconds passed without whatever he was looking for, he threw the door shut and said, “Dey go, do quick.”
Suddenly, a ferocious roar came from the engine as the minibus lurched forward dangerously. Kitwana smiled at the nervous Werner. Werner asked, “Are these guys even speaking English?”
Kitwana nodded. “It is English they speak, but it is Nigerian pidgin.”
“Oh, that explains it. You could’ve told me it was a completely separate language and I would’ve believed it.”
“You’ll learn; it’s not too bad.”
“Thank God they don’t talk like that in Equestria.”
Kitwana fixed him a look. “It’s not so bad for you. The English they speak is like what you hear every day and it’s your home tongue. When I first went over, I was not used to the accent, so it was hard for me despite learning English in Mombasa as a school child.”
“Sorry.”
“Hakuna matata,” Kitwana replied, shoving a large chunk of suya into his face. The two ate for several minutes on the floor until Werner stood up to get a view of the countryside. Here was a land that was both arid and verdant. While the road was dusty as hell, there were green trees and fields not too far out of sight. They were making good time and would be back on base soon, or so Werner thought for a few minutes until his gazing out the side was interrupted by the driver slamming on the brakes hard enough to make him nearly tumble over into the front. They were going slowly as there was a great line to what looked like a few sandbags with uniformed men milling about.
“Is that a roadblock?”
“Yes.”
“I’m guessing they’re looking for criminals.”
“Or bribes -- whatever they find first. Dey want nothing to do with us; we are just plain tourists...” There was a lilting sort of forced laughter in Kitwana’s voice and the sense he’d deliberately held back from saying something. Werner saw his hands and jaw tightly set, his brow furrowed.
Werner nodded. “I see.” It took fifteen minutes for them to reach the checkpoint. The man who had shut the door in Ibadan opened it and greeted the soldiers, “Good day.”
A soldier with a thick moustache and an AKM stepped forward, sticking his head inside the danfo. Warner immediately noticed this soldier looked taller and better-fed than many of the other men he’d seen around town. The officer spoke tersely. “Hello.” Werner noticed the slightly English twist to his accent and how he did not speak with a pidgin rhythm, as well as the fact that his helmet clearly had the British mk6 mushroom shape instead of the universal PASGT shape shared by all the others. Kitwana was watching him, but purposefully avoiding making eye contact or sudden moves.
One of the other soldiers walked up to them and leaned into the minibus. His eyes met Werner’s just as the officers were, only this slightly paler enlisted man waved as he greeted, “Bawo, Oyibo.”
Werner didn’t know what oyibo or oyinbo meant for sure, but by this point he was beginning to have a very good clue. He waved back. “Hi.”
While he was looking around, the driver handed the officer a rolled up collection of bills and said, “Dash.” The officer wasn’t paying much attention to him, however, as he’d locked eyes on Werner. The driver grew tense and asked, “Wetin wahala?”
“Nothing do you; everything’s fine,” said back the officer.”
The other soldier turned away to wave at some comrades. “John, Kwabena, Mohammed, see na oyinbo.”
Kitwana grew more tense. Werner saw him put on a false smile as three more soldiers crowded around. He heard rapid speech that sometimes sounded like English and sometimes completely alien. He couldn’t tell what was being said, but something told him it wasn’t pretty or harmless. One called out, “Sir, have dey oyibo some particulars?”
The officer shook his head. He turned to Werner, “Could you please show me your passport?”
“Yes, sir,” said Werner, pulling it steadily from his pocket and handing it to the officer.
“Just stay calm,” whispered Kitwana into his ear. “They’re just checking out the novelty.”
“What?”
“Nobody means disrespect, it’s just you are plainly a foreigner in a part not many international travelers go; they are just curious. If they ask for a dash bribe, try to turn it down nicely.” Werner blinked in understanding.”
“You’re from America, are you not?” the captain inquired in his nasal voice.
“Yes, sir, I’m American.”
“And you are here to…?”
“Work,” supplied Werner.
“Oil?”
“Portal.”
“Most impressive. Do you like Nigeria?”
“Absolutely, sir. It’s warm and beautiful.”
“Not too hot for you, Oyibo?”
“Not at all.”
The officer snorted and then laughed, “Hah! You’re taking the piss -- you got sweat streaming down your face. How ‘bout you take a picture with us and we’ll let you all go.”
“Sure, why not?” Werner answered both simultaneously relieved and nervous. Werner gave Kitwana his smartphone and stepped off the bus. He turned around to join them almost in the middle. The soldiers crowded around him smiling and put one of their phones in selfie mode to snap the picture. He put on his best smile for them and for Kitwana, too.
“Thank you,” said the officer as he handed him back his passport.
“Glad I could make this all go so smoothly. Are we free to go?”
“Of course,” grinned the officer. Werner got back on board the minibus and waved back at them as the driver’s assistant shut the door and they sped off.
Kitwana handed him back his phone. “You could be America’s next bottom model if you wanted,” grinning toothily at Werner’s strained-looking attempt at a natural smile. The tension had gone out of him.
“Thank God we’re through that. I’m sorry I didn’t know that’d happen.”
“Don’t worry about it, Werner. It could have been worse; someone here could have been a friend they had not seen in a long time.”
“I’m surprised I’ve only received special attention once. Thank God most people here have just given me a quick glance if anything.”
Kitwana shook his head. “You must work on your situational awareness; everyone is staring at the only white man for miles.”
Something clicked in Werner’s head. “That would explain a lot, especially being called oyinbo or oyibo.”
“Indeed. That is just the local slang for white people. They mean the same thing. No worry, it means nothing bad. Do you not have your own equivalents at home?”
Werner scratched his head. “Not really. I mean, we think it’s impolite to needlessly point out somebody’s race, and addressing them like that would be extremely rude where I’m from, like rude enough to start a fight. I guess we have terms like black and white, plus tons of really terrible ones I won’t say, but nothing like those two. Sorta reminds me of being in Equestria, really, in how much I feel like an alien.”
“I know the feeling, man. That was how I felt when I visited Europe.”
“Why were you in Europe?” Werner inquired.
“Vacation. And pilgrimage to pray Easter Sunday at Saint Peter’s with his holiness. I felt like an alien the whole time, except when we were united in prayer.”
“At least we’re all just human in Equestria.”
“Yes, just there at least we know who the true aliens are...” Silence ensued for a few minutes. Kitwana spoke up again. “So, Werner, what do you think of Africa?”
“Well, I can’t really say too much; I’ve barely seen any of the place, but it’s been pretty good so far; modern cities, interesting people, and a portal to another world. Definitely not what I was expecting.”
“Surprised it isn’t all just mud huts and lions?”
“I knew that coming in; I just didn’t quite expect it to be quite so surprisingly familiar...”
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Taking care of the paperwork was easy enough. Within half an hour of their sundown arrival, Werner had already done the paperwork and had been processed. What he hadn’t expected, however, had been the work assignments. “Werner, next week after your use of force course, you’re going to Ponyville. Someone named Cranky Doodle Donkey wants you to put a stop to the vandalizing of his property by unknown miscreants. This assignment should only take you a few days and put you in no real danger. Remember, ponies are very rarely ever physically violent. If you can catch them and give them a stern talking to, that will probably scare them off for good.” Werner had to resist the impulse to yawn. Watching over some crusty grampa? Really? The ponies themselves couldn’t handle it? Well, it did make some sense; his orientation had told him that crime was such a scarce problem in Equestria that aside from the various divisions of the Royal Guard and the Equestrian Military, the whole country was practically devoid of official security services. The fact that Royal Guard rail tracers had been there to save the day with Diamond Tiara was nothing short of remarkable; normally they just went around checking on lines and equipment instead of apprehending evildoers, and there weren’t too many off them either.
Then Anish turned to Kitwana. “Kitwana, now that I have finally settle the account with Werner, perhaps you would like me to tell you your next assignment.”
“Yes, please.”
“Kitwana, you are to report to Appleloosa The settlers and the natives are arguing again about land rights and have requested our help in finding someone who can keep order and act as an unbiased mediator. You are to go there next Monday, Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, there is one last thing I must discuss with you while you are still here...” Though whatever was coming next was ostensibly for both of them, Anish ominously made eye contact with Werner and lingered on him. Anish breathed deeply. “The Royal Guard wanted us to know that during questioning, they found two anomalous pieces of information. The first is that the suspect identifies himself as something called a Kastillian Knight. They also found a magical brand on his body. It looks like this.” Anish displayed an image on his phone. It looked like the weirdest flower Werner had ever seen -- five U’s facing inward around a central dot.
“What is it, sir?” Kitwana inquired.
“I have absolutely no idea,” Anish replied. “I am telling you this, because Werner’s protectee says he saw the same exactly shape outside his door this morning.”
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Chapter 1 END