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Operation S.T.A.R.T.I.N.G. (Part 1)3,045 words
Operation S.T.A.R.T.I.N.G (Part 2)2,762 words
Operation W.R.O.N.G.3,073 words
Operation I.C.E. C.R.E.A.M.4,318 words
Cutie Mark Crusaders! Battlestations?2,867 words
Operation S.M.A.C.K.4,357 words

Operation I.C.E. C.R.E.A.M.

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cutie mark crusader mission

operation:

i.c.e. c.r.e.a.m.

irresistable
confectionary
enjoyment

causes
remarkably
enormous
aching
misery

Apple Bloom took a deep breath as her eyes drifted from her teammates, to their crashed carriage, to the large smashed window, to the flaming piles of increasingly runny ice cream, and finally to the legion of wafer-armored ice cream ponies that surrounded them.

“CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS!” She reared up on her hind legs. “BATTLEPLACES!”

“Stations,” Numbuh 4 said through his teeth, just loud enough for her to hear.

“Whatever!” She jumper over her teammates and pulled out the reticule for the SADDLESOUR.

She took a good hard bite on the trigger and a sludgy stream of curdled milk arced through the air above them. She waved her body back and forth, biting as she turned, and covered the advancing legion in a layer of warm and smelly proto-cheese.

One of the wafer soldiers burst from the pile and made a drunken beeline for the exit, all the while yelling, “Ahhh! My nose!” Another pony tried to repeat the process but got mixed results as he slammed directly onto a metal support. On the plus side, he could no longer consciously smell it, though he did spend the next few nights dreaming of cheese and milk gone wrong.

Behind her, her three companions had secured tiny, filly-sized gas masks over their muzzles as they approached three large tanks nearby. One was capped off with a rich, dark brown, the other with a vibrant pink, and the last was white with a distinct shade of cream mixed in.

Varieties in flavors had always been wonderful. After all, vanilla oat swirl and pistachio had been gems in and of themselves, but sometimes you just wanted purity. And how much purer could you get than the three core flavors of ice cream gathered from the Piquant Pleateaus, a delicious place that magically attracted and somehow generated nothing but the smoothest and creamiest of frozen treats. On occasion, it was said to even rain chocolate syrup in the summers.

Getting this much down was no small task, as was evident by the number of ice cream ponies on duty. CMC intelligence had picked up on several badly encrypted messages that simply said that this was only meant for marked ponies. Of course, considering the arrogance and pettiness of some of the marked leadership, this was probably easily decryptable on purpose.

The Crusaders—obliged by their oath—sent in some of their best to take it back for the glory of blank flanks everywhere.

At least, that’s how Scootaloo understood the situation. “The cargo’s stable and ready for transport.”

A spot of extreme heat made itself visible on the ceiling as a dot of luminescent orange. It began to trace its way in a rough circle centered around the three tanks. She looked back and saw Apple Bloom still covering the bulk of their opponents in the long gone lactose. She had already shed one of her barrels.

Over to the side, Rumble was taking on stragglers who went around the deluge of dairy with good ol’ hoofticuffs. The ice cream ponies’ large tummies lent them quite the disadvantage, though.

“Scootaloo!” cried Sweetie Belle as her hoof secured one last bolt of the chain link apparatus she had attached to the white capped tank. “Hurry up and do yours so we can get out of here.” She pulled another apparatus out of her saddle bags and went towards the pink capped one.

“Oh,” said Scootaloo as she dragged herself back in the moment. “Right.” She wrapped the thick chain around the tank and attached four ring-like objects that laid perfectly upright against the tank’s walls. She secured each with the given bolts and looked back up. The orange circle was complete and the cut section of ceiling was neatly pulle out and tossed aside.

From her position, she could see that high in the air was a larger, and more armored, version of the spherical helicopters she had seen above Ponyville—from her world—on occasion. This one was shaped more like a particularly long pinecone and armored as such. It had a nice lush green color to it and had several hook descending towards them. When they were close enough, she grabbed a set and hooked them all to their respective rings.

Sweetie was squinting at her hooks, which were enveloped in a soft lime glow, as a bead of sweat rolled down her snout. She tilted her head as she guided the second hook to its place.
She took a deep breath and braced herself as she repeated the arduous process. Her muscles strained—which was weird since this was mostly a mental exercise—and her knees nearly buckled but eventually the third found its mark. She stared at the last hook for a moment, snorted, jumped up and grabbed the thing and manually attached it.

“I’m out!” shouted Apple Bloom as she threw her empty weapon towards the unsuspecting snout of a hapless ice cream pony. He fell to the ground with a loud thud.

“We’re good! All aboard, everypony!” Scootaloo jumped and attached herself to one of the chains. The other Numbuhs followed suit as the three tanks began to rise, leaving the stunned, surprised, and stymied ice cream ponies.

“That was awesome!” yelled Numbuh 2 as she bounced into the tree house’s living room and plopped herself firmly on the big green couch in the center.

“I gotta agree with her on that,” said Numbuh 4 as his he took off and did several aerial laps of celebration in the room’s high ceilings. “Especially you, Numbuh 1. You didn’t even give them the chance.”

“You were pretty cool out there today, Apple Bloom,” said Scootaloo as she settled into one of the nearby beanbag chairs. It was the same color as her which made it look like she was some big orange blob with a spot of purple hair.

“It also went a lot smoother than I ever expected it would be,” said Sweetie as she settled into a spot on the couch, legs neatly tucked underneath her. She looked away from the others for a moment as a crease appeared on her forehead. “Almost too smoothly, actually,” she muttered under her breath.

The cheeks of the center of attention were currently as red as her hair. “Schucks, ya’ll. There’s no need for that. I just what I figured we were s’pposed to do, that’s all.” She looked at their approving smiles then to Numbuh 4. “Besides, the way you took out those ponies with just your hooves. I don’t think even I coulda done that.”

Numbuh 4 returned to the ground and puffed his chest up. “Well, when you put like that, I guess I was pretty awesome.”

“Hey, what are we supposed to do with that stuff anyway?” asked Numbuh 2.

“Accordin’ to the orders, HQ’ll be sendin’ someone over to pick it up so it can go to all the good little,” Apple Bloom’s brain suddenly realized what she was about to say and, despite everything, the last part of her sentence still felt so alien, “blank flanks of the world.”

Numbuhs 2 and 4 put on a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

“Ice cream party!” they said in unison.

Apple Bloom looked at them, eyes completely open and mouth slightly agape. “No! That stuff is to be sent to Central Command. We are not supposed to touch it.”

The two dropped from their brief midair euphoria.

“Oh come on, Numbuh 1!” pleaded Dinky. “You can’t possibly expect to just sit here with those three huge tanks of pure, soft, creamy, delicious, sweet ice cream in the same treehouse can you? Where’s your equinity?”

“Yeah, Numbuh 1, don’t you have any sequins?” said Rumble. He didn’t have the best vocabulary.

The other two fillies directed their gaze towards them, eager to see Apple Bloom’s decision.

“Ah already said N O, NO!” said Apple Bloom as she stomped a hoof.

“Please?” Numbuh 2 asked.

“Please?” Numbuh 4 asked.

“NO.”

“Please?”

Apple Bloom felt a strange rush of pressure near her hair line.

“Please?”

“FINE!” The gale of Apple Bloom’s voice caused the two persistent ponies to temporarily try on the new craze of wind-swept manes. They didn’t enjoy it and promptly shook their heads to return to normal.

The intensity of her glare was ignored as the two sped off to the kitchen to grab some bowls and spoons. As she mentally strained to melt the doorway where they left, her two friends approached her.

“You okay, Apple Bloom?” asked Sweetie.

Instead it was Apple Bloom that melted as her rump made slow contact with the floor. “This world is weird.”

Scootaloo went to her other side and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “I know what you mean. Besides the whole ‘Cutie Marks are evil’ thing, everypony is just so different here.”

A certain orange filly crossed Apple Blooms mind. “No kidding.”

Sweetie Belle sighed. “Besides, she already said she’d help us.”

“Never expected her, though,” said Scootaloo.

Sweetie nodded and looked to Apple Bloom. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get home soon enough. You saw what those CMC scientists can do. I’m sure they’ll figure something out.” She turned and glanced at the various weapons they had piled up in a corner. “Besides, this world’s pretty fun, too.”

“And what exactly is so fun about going on all these missions?” Apple Bloom asked as an eyebrow made a daring climb upward.

“It’s kinda like when we were younger and we just played with our imaginations.” Sweetie looked straight at Apple Blooms deadpan—though more, slightly-alivepan—expression. “In the couple of missions we’ve gone on, have you ever felt like you were in any actual danger?

Apple Bloom opened her mouth, paused, closed it, opened it, paused, and closed it again. “Not really, actually.”

“Exactly. The worst any of us have gotten from those really dangerous stunts were bruises and a few cuts. It’s like this world is adjusted for all the extra silliness.”

“She’s right Apple Bloom,” said Scootaloo. “Don’t get me wrong, I really miss everyone back home. My parents, Rainbow, Miss Cheerilee, our Dinky and Rumble…” She paused for a moment as she looked bitterly at a particular floorboard. “But there wouldn’t be any point in just sulking over it. We already have ponies who know what they’re doing helping us so we might as well make the best of it.” She gave Apple Bloom a weak, but sincere, smile.

Sweetie Belle took Apple Bloom’s hooves and helped her up. “Come on, I bet some ice cream would really hit the spot right now.”

Apple Bloom looked at her in horror, “But that’s for-”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a few scoops missing. Now come on,” said Sweetie as she began pulling Apple Bloom forward.

“Woah.” Scootaloo’s eyes had lost their focus as they stared at a point that did not exist on this plane of reality. Her tongue moved back and forth, savoring every moment of contact with the silky smooth texture of the treat. Her cheeks perked up into the smile to end all smiles as the explosion of simple, yet decadent, flavor filled her mouth.

Sweetie Belle’s eyes had shot completely open. Her knees buckled under the sudden flow of stimuli. Her horn glowed and surged with power being sent to some unknown dimension. Her lip quivered, causing the spoon still in her mouth to bob rapidly up and down. She had reached her own personal state of nirvana in that one moment.

Apple Bloom stood there with her back still slightly hunched and stared at the three perfect balls of chocolatey brown perfection. They stared back at her. She really wasn’t in the mood for ice cream, but at least her friends looked like they were enjoying themselves… if a little too much, perhaps. She sighed, got up and went down the stairs. A walk around the orchard might help.

A little further away, Numbuh 2 and Numbuh 4 looked at each other with smug satisfaction. They knew giving them some of the good stuff would bring ‘em back, if just a little bit more. Whatever Princess had done, it could be undone with the stuff that made being blank flanked feel so good.

A few hours later the four of them sat around the couch, lazily surfing the channels for something to watch.

“Nope,” Numbuh 4 said nonchalantly, his eyes only halfway open as he tapped the remote with his wing.

Sweetie Belle looked to her orange pegasus friend, leaned in a bit close, and whispered in a conspiratorial tone of voice, “Even in another dimension there’s nothing to watch.”

Scootaloo gave her a satisfying smirk. “I know right.”

“Do guys hear that?” asked Numbuh 2 as she began to look all around the room. Nothing had changed and the noise didn’t seem to be coming from the outside.

“What are you talking- Uggghhh.” Numbuh 4 grabbed his head. “What is that?”

“Owowowowowowowow!!!” Sweetie Belle was trying to drive her head into the cushions of the couch.

“Arrgh!” Scootaloo was desperately trying to shake off whatever it was that had gotten over her now throbbing head.

Numbuh 2 remained silent, but her eyes were practically bursting out of her skull as she gritted her teeth with such force that bits of them began to grind off.

The agony lasted an eternity.

The tree house began to tremble. Most of the tree house is, as can be imagined, made of wood. Only certain parts were made of other things such as ship hulls, various parts of construction equipment, and a cargo box here and there. These, however, usually served as special rooms such as personal quarters or the place where the latrine and various other plumbing needs were installed.

The northern wall of the living room was one of the wooden walls. It exploded and skipped the splinter stage and went straight on to become saw dust. The burst of outdoor light was blinding to the already impaired fillies. Silhouettes of large ponies with trapezoidal heads started to form in the haze, each slowly getting bigger.

As they stepped into more manageable light, the fillies could see that they were ice cream soldiers, the usual grunts of the marked.

Numbuh 4, ever the fighter, stood to his fully unimpressive height not planning on giving up in any way. “CUTIE-arrgh MARK CRUSADERS! BATTLE-owww STATIONS!”

He leapt towards the nearest marked and gave him a straight left, squinting in agony the whole way. Another grunt tried to get the drop on him by dropping on him. This only served to Numbuh 4’s advantage as he brought up his hind legs and channeled the pain of his throbbing head through them and straight onto the ice cream pony.

Dinky slammed a floorboard which flipped over and tossed a bottle rifle right into her hoof. She squinted and pointed it vaguely in the direction of an attacker. The shot missed him by a mile but managed to hit another that had just emerged from the light right on the chest.

Scootaloo, still struggling to get up, found herself be picked up by the tail. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the bigger pony’s leg and sunk her teeth into it. The yelp of the pony could shatter glass as he desperately ran around the room in circles and violently shook his leg.

Sweetie decided to use something less barbaric and started ramming her opponents with her horn. Well slightly less barbaric, anyway. Though this didn't actually deter them, it did keep them all at a distance that was good enough to satisfy her until she could nurse this agonizing headache.

Though they were managing to hold their own, there was just one problem: too many.

Eventually the four found themselves curled up and at the feet of several of the ice cream ponies. They weren’t really curled up due to the fight, but more because of their utterly unbearable headaches.

One more figure made its way through the light. He didn’t wear a helmet but instead displayed his slick and styled corporate mane. He wore a red tie, one of the ultimate symbols of his professionalism and his rank amongst the marked. He was the majority stakeholder. The chief executive officer. The boss.

He was Mr. Rich.

“Look at you Cutie Mark Crusaders.” His voice was not brutish, nor crude, nor simplistic. It had the quality and tact of a true gentleman. The sound and politeness of an age gone by. His smile alone could be considered a magical artifact due to its sheer charm.

“Time and time again I have tried to tell you that ice cream simply isn’t healthy for you young ones.” He let out a breath and shook his head at the prone fillies clutching their heads. “Now look at the mess you’ve gotten yourselves into.”

Upon hearing those words, Scootaloo spoke with a voice that sounded like hers. “Are you telling me you did something to the ice cream? How could you?! How dare you mess up the sanctity of the Piquant Plateau! How could you possibly bring yourself to ruin the purity of those mighty flavors just to get to us?!” She was fuming as steam practically exited her nostrils.

Mr Rich raised an eyebrow, and nothing more, at her defiance. “Simple. There’s plenty more where that came from. I don’t see what’s to fuss about when I still have a whole plateau I can harvest.”

Scootaloo, still on the ground, placed one hoof in front of her and began to crawl her way towards the businesspony. Her purple eyes were tinted blood red as she delivered a glare of daggers towards him. But her anger was not on her side as with each step the pain increased ten-fold. Even her rage couldn’t keep her on for long.

Mr. Rich shook his head. Though he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at her tenacity. She would have quite the future once she gets her Cutie Mark. For the moment, though, she was nothing more than a pebble in the way of his conquest of ice cream kiosks selling the greatest variety known to pony kind. Reserved only for the marked, of course.

He took a step forward and gave one last smug look at the five supposedly greatest-

His smile faded. There were four fillies. There were supposed to be five.

“Lookin’ fer me?” came a voice from above.

Apple Bloom stood defiantly at a balcony on the other side of the room.

Mr Rich looked expectantly at his forces who understood and made their way towards the door below the balcony.

The walls on either side of Apple Bloom’s position opened up and revealed two turret-mounted SADDLESOURs ready for action. A firing platform emerged in front of her which she eagerly picked up.

The screams of disgust, the terror of the smell, and the grossness of the texture of the next few minutes would long be remembered. And probably fairly reimbursed by Barnyard Bargains thanks to the Grunt Unions.

As Apple Bloom pounded across the boards of the labyrinthine treehouse, the echoes of heavy hooves bounced along the corridors making it difficult to tell where exactly they would come up next. A left turn revealed several shadows with trapezoidal shapes. A right turn revealed more.

She was approaching a three way intersection. When she got there, she noticed one way had several of the big ponies barreling straight towards her while the other remained empty. She picked the obvious choice.

She passed another hall and another and another, barely avoiding being caught with almost every turn. Sweat began to ball up in various places around her body. She glanced at her fetlock and noted the time. It all depended on punctuality now.

The doors to the hangar burst open as Apple Bloom barreled through the cleared center straight towards the large bay doors. A small army of ice cream ponies followed her and, like a stampede, sent shock waves through the floor as they pursued her.

The chase ended with Apple Bloom, her back to the massive flight doors of the hanger bay, surrounded by a several-layered semicircle of big, burly, mean looking ice cream ponies. Calm hoofsteps resounded across the large empty space. The grunts cleared a path for their boss.

“Quite the chase, little Apple. Sadly, you seem to have run out leg room,” said Mr. Rich as he looked at the feisty filly.

Apple Bloom looked up and around, taking in the wholeness of the situation. “Maybe.” She looked Mr. Rich right in the eyes. It felt like she was trying to stare down an entire company’s worth of lawyers, marketers, and various other executives. “Before ya’ll take me, though, could ya just oblige one question?”

Mr. Rich tilted his head exactly fifteen degrees. “And that would be?”

“How do ya’ll feel about punctuality?”

“Essential, of course. If my employees never got things done on time, that would cause us to fall behind and be prey to the vultures of my world.”

Apple Bloom nodded in approval of his answer. “Well, you’re gonna find that we at the CMC feel mighty similar ‘bout all that in 3… 2… 1…”

The bay doors opened letting in the familiar light of the day. Just outside was an armada of flying carriages and cabooses, all with the letters CMC painted in bright red.

Mr Rich looked at this new development, then towards his ponies, to Apple Bloom, and the occasional glance towards the floor.

The numbers in his head clicked into place. No matter what, he didn’t have enough to win this. He was a proud pony, but had already learned of the appropriate times to fold. This was one of them.

Really, he knew he didn't have anyone else to blame but himself. He had already learned first hand that you should never underestimate an Apple. No matter if they’re marked, he glanced one more time at the yellow filly, or not.

“Take ‘em away, boys!” said Numbuh 4 as he watched Numbuhs 64 and 65 escort Mr. Rich into a CMC transport carriage.

Numbuh 73.4 was currently debriefing Apple Bloom as Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle stood by her.

“So what exactly happened?” asked Sweetie Belle, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Numbuh 73.4 had a very nasal voice with a slight lisp that accompanied his vowels. “Basically, they rigged the storage tanks so that they stored the ice cream at negative mega zero temperatures, permanently altering the structure of the ice cream making sure that they would actually regenerate their cold. So, even though it felt alright when you were eating it, the moment it got inside of you it would start to freeze up again. It usually starts with headaches since that’s the part of the body that’s most susceptible to colder temperatures. Over time though, it would have gotten pretty unpleasant.”

“So that means that the ice cream we recovered is pretty much useless?” ventured Scootaloo.

He started to scratch the back of his head. “Well, for pony consumption pretty much. But we at the lab could always use it to help further our research into ice cream headaches. We’re not exactly that advanced yet but luckily for you, we did know enough to get all of you fixed up nice and easy. Who knows, we might learn enough to finally develop a vaccine that makes all us blank flanks immune to ice cream headaches.”

She shrugged. “For science, I guess.”

The three of them nodded and left Numbuh 73.4 to his devices. They entered one particulat caboose that looked to be built for royalty. In a way, it was. This was the personal transport of Numbuh 362, supreme commander of the CMC.

“Hey there,” said Apple Bloom as they entered the ship. “Thanks again for the assist.”

“It’s not a problem. We are all CMC after all,” said Numbuh 362 as she adjusted her blue framed glasses. Her braided, platinum blonde hair shimmered slightly as she entered the light. “Please, sit down.”

Once Scootaloo settled herself into another beanbag, she looked at their unlikely ally. “Were you able to get anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, nothing yet. But a few leads have popped up. Each one is already being investigated by several of our crack teams.”

“I thought we were supposed to be your crack team?” asked Sweetie with a smile of someone who is in on a joke.

Numbuh 362 gave a small laugh. “For field work maybe, but not so much in the fields of research.”

Apple Bloom laughed along with the light jests. “Hey, I just wanted to say thank ya’ll again. For everything. Heck, even for just believin’ us.”

“Like I keep telling you guys, it’s no problem. We’re CMC. We stick together.”

Apple Bloom couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in her voice. A far cry from what she usually felt in their home dimension. “It really means a lot to us, Silver Spoon.”

Numbuh 362 gave her a tender smile. Her face contorted into thought for a moment. “That does still beg the question, though. If you three are here and have completely taken over those bodies,” she looked each of them in the eye, “where did our Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle go, exactly?

Author's Note:

Feedback time, guys. What do you think of how I'm presenting the schematics? Should I change the font? The color? The background? Or is good the way it is? Seriously, that would really help.

Thanks in advance!

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