The dusty, two-lane dirt road shone dully in the afternoon sun as prairie dogs peeked out from their little holes to observe the spectacle of the oncoming vehicles: several Equestrian Military Chariots- identified by their enclosed, armored design -barreled down the road, with one similar in design to a silver chrome beetle heading up second to the front. Behind each chariot was a trailer designed specifically for troop transport: each holding twelve armed ponies. They were grim-faced, with guns at the ready. Whatever they were waiting for was definitely dangerous.
A small, covered wagon pulled up alongside them from off-road. Bearing several rowdy teenagers that consisted of five young mares, and two very pleased colts. The mares were cheering and swooning as the colts pulled the wagon at ridiculous speeds. The mares waved excitedly at the soldiers as they passed, probably hoping to score a date with a few of the buff stallions.
For the most part, they were ignored, until they reached the chariot in front, whose driver seemed to appreciate the sight of them. He looked over to the other, whose face remained in the shadows, and slowly shrank as the officer shook his head.
“Come on, big boys! What you got pulling that thing?” One of the mares called, noticing the lack of a pony in front of the bizarre chariot, and scooching her way closer towards the vehicle. “Let’s race!”
As a roar of approval arose from the other teenagers, the driver looked back to his nearside: still receiving nothing but a cold look from shaded, crimson eyes. The teens laughed merrily as they pulled out of the way of an oncoming farmer’s wagon: narrowly dodging it in time to pull back beside the truck. Only this time, they pulled a little closer. They started banging on the vehicle’s door and roaring for a race, as the demand slowly turned into a playful chant.
Finally, the officer gave in, and offered a small nod to the driver: who smirked at the foals, and gunned his motor. He pulled ahead of them like a shot, prompting a fit of dusty coughs and exited whoops of laughter as the teenagers fought to gain ground. After quite a struggle, the colts finally pulled up beside the vehicle, and hooted in appreciation of their newfound speed: sweating bullets.
“Hey, you got some speed there, Joe!” The colt on their left called, obviously enjoying the wind in his mane as much as his tagalongs.
The officer, still remaining in the shadows, leaned over to whisper something in the driver’s ears with a small smile. The driver smiled, and leaned out the window: cussing out the convertible’s inferior speed as he pulled ahead once more, and flew dust in their faces.
After a few more minutes of the exciting diversion, they turned off onto another dirt road. The teenagers still whooping and cheering as they sped past the road: waving their goodbyes and rejoicing how hard they’d just been schooled. The other vehicles pulled in after the first as the dust from their tires blew up to a large sign: Megaspell Café.
The officer smirked as the driver pulled up to a military gate after a few tiresome hours of driving, and a young guard walked up to their vehicle as the door opened.
The officer stepped out: revealing himself as a jet-black Pegasus with a combed, purple mane. His deep, crimson eyes shot daggers at the guardhouse, and his chin was rounded, and quite easily mistakable for a mare’s. His cutie mark was hidden by his military suit, and his tail flicked irritably behind him as the guard approached. He quickly glanced behind him to see his approaching escort- eighteen ponies armed with automatic weapons –and looked back up at the soldier that now stood in front of him.
“I’m sorry for questioning you, sir, but I thought the Princesses don't want these experimental vehicles of yours interacting with civilians this early." The young stallion grunted curiously, eyeing the chariots with mistrust. When he received nothing but a blank stare, he snorted indignantly, and continued. "Well, regardless, I'm sorry to turn you back: but only authorized personnel are allowed on bas--”
The kid didn’t get to finish as the officer took of his cap and fell on his knees: signaling the troops behind him to aim their weapons, and remove the base’s guard before they knew what hit them.
The young stallion’s form collapsed before the officer as he stood up. The others loaded back into their transports, and his driver rushed into the guardhouse to open the gate. He reached a hoof forward, and softly patted the guard’s neck as blood covered the sand beneath him.
“Rest well,” he whispered, his thick Loshad accent oozing out of his throat.
He turned back and boarded the construct again. He sat in the driver’s seat this time, his chauffeur scrambling to get in before he took off. The troops continued on until they approached what seemed to be a large gathering of warehouses and bunkers, at which point they sped up: pulling to a stop in a circle, just in front of the largest building.
The officer stepped out of his jeep, strapped on his cutlass, and walked back to the trunk. He opened it up, and threw out a tan pith helmet with three green straps. Once the soldiers saw the helmet, they all flocked to it: weapons readied for immediate use.
The officer roughly pulled out a bruised, dark cream Pegasus mare wearing safari gear, and dumped her on the dirt. Her three-toned grey mane was dirtied and rough, and her cutie mark of a green compass with golden pointers was dusty, and bruised. Her wings were tied to her sides with a length of rope, and her clothing was dirty, and dusty. She scrambled to her hooves as the officer calmly watched, and impatiently grabbed her hat with a hoof: placing it back upon her lowered head with a dull thwock. She looked up to the warehouse, revealing two magenta eyes, which observed her location with bitter integrity.
Another mare was being shoved in her direction by the few guards that stayed by the silver beetle: this one was an obvious white cream, with a pink-and-purple mane dressed up so that her curled bangs bobbed whenever she walked. She was being roughly escorted by a light brown stallion with a wild black mane, with grey streaks down the middle. He scratched his patchy beard as he threw the second mare next to the first, and waited patiently for the witty comeback.
“Bonbon,” the first mare nodded, helping the other one up. “I had no idea this was another team-up.”
The second mare smiled, and took her hoof. “Neither did I, Dare. They snatched me out of the shop before I knew up from down.”
The first mare nodded, and turned to the approaching figure.
“Have any explanation for kidnapping us this time, Dr. Caballeron?” She chided, standing defensively in front of the other. “I’ve given up adventuring, I thought you of all ponies would know that.”
The Doctor chuckled, and signaled for the charcoal Pegasus: who quickly brought him a small clipboard.
“Ah, the great Daring Do has finally thrown in the towel, eh?” He laughed, flipping through the papers. “If only we had known this beforehand!”
He faked a hurt look before flopping the papers back into place, and giving Daring an unamused look. “Unfortunately for your ego, Miss Do, you’re not here to evade traps, and dodge arrows.” Caballeron stated dryly, walking up to her, and tapping her forehead sharply with the tip of his hoof. “You’re here… for what’s in there.”
Daring smirked, and batted his hoof away. “Very well, you need basic brainpower. You could’ve just gone to an elementary school, you know.”
His frown deepened, and he gave her a hard look. “No, you foolish mare: we need your memory to help us find something your government tried to hide, even from itself.”
Daring looked back to the warehouse, and scoffed. “Look, Doc: I’ve never set hoof in this facility before now, let alone that warehouse. You’re wasting your time with me.”
“I think not,” Caballeron sneered, holding up the clipboard, “ten years ago, you were part of an investigation team at a crash site here in the deserts of Neighvada. They brought something into this base from the wreckage, and you know where it is.”
Daring couldn’t help but scoff. “You really expect me to precisely locate large crate- in the middle of a warehouse filled with large crates- after ten years? Even if I’d stored it here myself, that’s a stretch of memory that’s beyond inconceivable. As I’ve said before, you’re wasting your breath, Caballeron.”
“Then let’s get straight to the point, eh?” He scoffed. With a flick of his wrist, the Doctor had drawn a large knife: and set it directly under Daring’s chin, pressing dangerously into her neck. Daring widened her eyes at the display, before calmly looking at him with a smug smirk.
“Come on,” she chuckled dryly, “you need information, right? How would you get that from me if I’m dead?”
Caballeron offered a calculating smile, while still remaining locked onto her eyes: that was never a good sign.
“Simple,” he purred, “the blade isn’t for you.”
He remained locked in her gaze as the arm holding the dagger swerved, and he swiftly handed it over to the officer. The black stallion took it indifferently, and carefully aimed the weapon in Bonbon’s face, dead between her eyes.
“You’re very chivalrous in risking your life for others, Miss Do,” the Doctor chuckled, “but you’re very weak whenever somepony else’s life rests in your hooves.
“You will give me the information I need, or I order Colonel Dawn to take out your friend.” He said, pulling out a pocket watch, and clicking it. “You have thirty seconds to make your decision.”
Daring looked nervously over at Bonbon, who looked back at her, and shook her head. “Don’t do it, Dare, we’ve been through worse.”
“Twenty seconds, Miss Do.”
“Yes, but we were younger back then.” Daring retorted, worriedly looking between Bonbon and Col. Dawn, who was waiting patiently for his orders. “Besides, you were always more handy than me.”
“With gadgets, maybe, but you outmatched me every time in brute strength.” Bonbon replied calmly. “You’ll be able to get us out of this, you’ve done it before.”
Daring looked hard at the Colonel. Caballeron was never one to bluff, but murdering a pony like this seemed far beyond his comfort zone. She looked for a sign of weakness from him, and to her dismay: his gaze remained stiff upon the stopwatch, not a single bead of sweat apparent on his brow.
“Fifteen seconds,”
She looked back to Bonbon. “Like when?”
“The Swahayli incident in Zebrica: there were twice as many.”
“Ten seconds,”
Daring clenched her jaw, and screwed her eyes shut. “Look, I couldn’t help you, even if I wanted to! I didn’t even remember that stupid crash until you brought it up!”
“But you know what was in that box, don’t you?”
“Do I?” Daring snapped, getting directly in Cabelleron’s face. “Ten years ago, a bunch of ponies in suits came to my shack, saying they’re from the Equestrian Bureau of Investigation, and declaring that I was to follow them. Before I could get a word in edgewise, I was thrown into a train, and dragged into the middle of the desert for an investigation. What waited for me there? A bunch of scrap metal, and a troop of guards carrying a highly magnetized metal box, and loading into a van bound for Faust-knows-where!
“My team judged it an accident, showing how their stupid experimental equipment blew like a over-inflated balloon and caused their poor pilot to plummet to the earth. A supposed crash site of an extraterrestrial craft, but all I ever saw was a pilot’s coffin, and an experimental vehicle gone wrong!” She finished her rant with a stamp of her hoof, silencing everything. Caballeron, after a brief pause, smiled widely as she panted for breath:
“Three… two…”
“I’ll do it, alright?” Daring groaned, slapping her hoof over her face. “I’ll help you find your stupid crate. I doubt you’ll find anything more than a dead pilot, and the experimental generator, but if it’s worth a pony’s life to you: I’ll get you to the stupid junk.”
Caballeron’s smile stuck to his face as he closed the watch. “That’s all we’re hoping to find, Miss Do.” He purred. “You think it to be junk, where our government thinks it is valuable as the next step in psychic warfare.”
“Whatever floats your boat, Caballeron. Losha is as crazy as you are if they were willing to fund this endeavor.” Daring said, rolling her eyes. “You don’t really believe in all that malarkey, do you?”
“I believe in what the facts show, Madame,” the Doctor chuckled, “and you can never deny their conclusions.”
He turned, and walked up to the warehouse door. The Colonel signaled the soldiers, and five of them raced forward to open the giant doors.
Daring and Bonbon were pushed forward by the guards, and into the large facility. Daring eyed the interior: it was filled with wooden crates, barrels, and she could even see piles of containers covered by nets every once in a while. It was easily somewhere near a mile in length, and around half that in width. Finding one crate in here should be A piece. Of. Cake.
'Unless…'
“Well, Miss Do, when are you going to start looking?” Caballeron inquired, his patience obviously wearing thin by this point.
Daring turned to the nearest soldier, and held out her hoof. “I need your watch,”
Her simple statement, and her deadpan tone, brought a smile to the soldier’s lips. He steadily chuckled, until he was laughing loudly at her request: drawing the attention of the others. When her face remained steady, though, after his fit of laughter, he grew concerned, and looked to Caballeron. He spoke in Loshad to the Doctor, who in turn looked inquisitively at Daring, and approached her.
“What kind of fools do you take us for?” He asked, attempting to glare her down.
She matched his glare, and stepped forward defiantly. “The contents of that crate are highly magnetized: the gears in a watch are metallic, and relatively fragile- that means they're easy to break into smaller pieces, Doc. You want me to help you? Give me his watch, and I’ll have the means to do so.”
Caballeron raised his brow at her irritably, but quickly stomped once on the ground. The soldier ran up to him hurriedly, and gave him his watch. The Doctor cracked the device open, and poured the gears out onto Daring’s awaiting hoof: prompting a small sparkle of thanks in her eyes.
She turned, crushed the fragile metalwork in her hoof like ice, and tooking a giant step forward: tossing the residue into the air. The soldiers watched in awe as the powder hung in the air for a few seconds, before barreling off to the south. Daring walked over to Colonel Dawn, and plucked the officer’s hat from his head. Dawn was about to make a move to retrieve it, but Caballeron held him back with a shake of his head.
Dawn, understanding, signaled for any soldiers nearby to empty their own watches out into the cap. An order to which they quickly responded, soon nearly filling it to the brim with thin metal.
She climbed to the top of the nearest stack of crates, before sticking her hoof in the hat: and flinging more powder into the air. She followed the small wisp with her eyes as it glided across the warehouse, slowly descending until it licked and caressed the crates that it passed. Soon, it disappeared in a large pile of boxes. She lifted her eyes up: focusing on the light fixtures immediately above, and saw that a few were leaning towards the same pile.
“I think I see it,” she shouted down to them, “but I’ll need to make sure.”
“Lead us to it, then!” Caballeron replied.
She climbed down, and started to hike through the labyrinthine storage: occasionally casting a hoofful of the dust into the air to verify her direction, until they starts disappearing so fast that she figured they’d need bigger beads.
“Now, I’ll need the shells you emptied.” She barked. With the clap of a hoof, the emptied watch casings were placed in the hat. She then slowly dumped them on the ground from where she stood. The shells, and whatever remained of the metallic dust, rolled and jumped towards the pile of crates just before them.
Caballeron gestured towards the pile, and barked for his goons to take it down. Several soldiers went to work instantly: hauling boxes to and fro off the top, until the only thing between them and the package they were after was nothing more than a single, small barrel. Colonel Dawn personally saw to its movement, and many looked on in awe as they saw everything daring had thrown gathering on the box like ants.
They reached in, and carefully pulled the crate out just enough for others to sink their crowbars under the lid. They pried it open with ease, and flung the padded lid aside without care, letting it splinter on the ground.
Daring and Bonbon watched from below as several lamps hanging from the ceiling slowly adjusted to face the metal box that had just been uncovered, and the metallic powder swarmed onto the box like a tidal wave. Several of the crowbars stuck to the lid as well, and the holders had to tug quite a while before they came loose. Caballeron slowly undid the latches on the container, and opened it as mild wisps of steam hissed out.
Inside was the form of something similar in shape to a Minotaur, wrapped in a leathery metallic substance, but far thinner around the chest. It looked more like an imp in shape, but was only such a beast if its wings were folded behind it. Daring climbed up to the top of the pile of crates to get a better look at the covered being, but she was still obscured by Caballeron’s ugly mop.
“Knife!” The Doctor called, holding out his hoof. A soldier planted the blade into the awaiting hoof, and Caballeron quickly turned it to cut open the wraps. That was the sharpest blade they had, but it cut through the foil around the being like a stick through caramel.
Once he had established a sizeable gash, he threw the knife back carelessly, and grabbed both sides of the cut to open it up. Once he did: steam poured out from within like a torrent of souls released from a thousand-year prison. Daring’s view of the creature itself was still obstructed, but she saw Caballeron’s cheeks morph as he grinned widely.
“Now, the odds are even.” He muttered, closing the lid. He turned to the Colonel. “Load this thing onto the trucks! It’s a long way to Losha, and we don’t want to disappoint Salon by being late!”
Daring looked down to the canister as several soldiers picked it up, and started heaving it out. She noticed her shadow growing longer, and turned back to see that several more lights were now following the crate: pulled by its unleashed magnetism.
As Colonel Dawn pushed the container into the back of his vehicle, his cutlass stuck to it like glue. He groaned in irritation, and pried it off: signaling for some guards to finish the job for him. Daring climbed down from her vantage point, and gave a sidelong nod to Bonbon as she suddenly whipped her escort into a pile of crates: shattering them on contact and swiping his weapon. She used the butt end of the strange device to knock out Bonbon’s guard, giving her ample opportunity to snatch his rifle before any of the others could react.
Together, they each pointed a gun towards Caballeron.
“Let us free,” Daring barked, “or Cabo goes bye-bye!”
Seeing their predicament, one by one, the Loshads lowered their weapons. Even Col. Dawn let his fall. At least, until they looked to Daring’s right. Smiling, they aimed them at her once more.
Daring looked to her right curiously, and wished she hadn't. What greeted her was the unforeseen sight of Bonbon pointing her rifle directly into her cheek. She laughed to herself, and threw her own gun to the ground.
“I didn’t know you were a Loshad, Bonnie.” She chuckled.
“I’m not,” Bonbon smirked, “if you would’ve thought back to when the Agency closed, you’d remember that I complained about my retirement on a… less than profitable sum. I needed to get work somehow, and the Loshads offer good money for experienced agents. I’m not one to be picky about who fills my pocket, Dare, you know that.”
Daring rolled her eyes. “I knew you weren’t picky." She scoffed.
"I just didn’t know you were a mercenary without loyalties.”