Asphodel

by kalash93

1: Prologue -- A Flash in the Night

Prologue: A Flash in the Night

“Derzhites’,” my sergeant says to me. Hang on. I take a bit of pressure off my AKM’s trigger. The disgraced Griffiyan noble growls as he surveys the moonlit meadow through his binoculars. I see them through the sights on my weapon. Just one word and I can blow those wolves away. “Asphodel, of what size is the middle wolf?” I lift my head just for a second and squint.

“I think he’s larger than the other two, and they runts, either, Gustav.” Runts? Wolves didn’t have runts; they killed their weaklings.

Gustav said, “You are clear to drop the officer, Pfeffer. Asphodel will take care of the lackeys.” I adjust my rifle to the left, ready to put a 123 grain round through the unknowing wolf’s face. “Vsyo v poryadke?”

“Ja,” answered Pfeffer, the grizzled Zebra barely huffing out the word from the cheekrest of his PSL rife.

“Yes,” I answer, feeling the warmth in my fingers as I prepare to make my Kalashnikov once again roar to life.

He orders, “Engage.”

Bang!

A single gunshot rips the night. It is loud and bright for just an instant. Then it passes, leaving my eyes hazy and my ears in pain.

The big dog is down. The whelps are looking around for cover. Not my fault they decided to park themselves at the shut gateway of an old manor. I squeeze the trigger. Four bangs. Two more bodies.

“Molodtsy,” Gustav congratulates us. “Now move up before reinforcements come. Asphodel, you first.”

“Roger,” I say, rising from our hiding place on a big rock hidden in the tall grass of the summer plains. Keeping low, I put my AKM on fully automatic and then crouch walk through the shadows towards the closed gate of the manor house. I scan around constantly for hostiles. You never know when you’re dealing with wolves when anything valuable is involved. And I’m supposed to be on vacation. So here’s the story: My name is Asphodel. I’m an earth pony from Equestria. I was drifting around Griffiya when I heard that some Equestrian VIP’s had been kidnapped by renegades from the Wolf Kingdoms. Being the helpful sort, I decided to try my hand at hostage rescue, being an enterprising occasional trigger puller. I talked a couple of guys into helping me. The first is Gustav the Griffon. He’s a disgraced noble. Won’t talk about it. The other guy is Pfeffer, some real old grizzled Zebra operator. He scares me. Says he used to work The Zone in Chechneya. I don’t doubt it. Right now, we think we’ve tracked the bandits down to where they’re keeping the VIP. I don’t know how Pfeffer got the intel, and I’m probably glad for it.

I try the door lock at the gatehouse. Locked. I get a better idea. The gate is only locked by a chain held on by a padlock. I press the muzzle of my assault rifle to a link of the chain and pull the trigger. A burst of gunshots lights up the night as the chain falls loose and I pull open the gate. I motion for my partners to move up.

I see a light go on in the house. I point and say, “Guys, activity.” A light goes on inside. We quickly move inside the gate and shut it. Sure enough, 200 meters away, the front door opens and I see a huge wolf, an alpha male, silhouetted in the doorway. I sink low and follow Gustav’s lead as we go around the house. The tension builds with every step. This is already absurdly risky, and the lack of woods at our backs means we’re exposed from behind, too. I think of the hostages. I hope they aren’t dead. Even though both of my guys have reassured me many times that wolves would never give up a bargaining chip by killing their hostages, or at least not leaving at least one hostage alive. I hear a single gunshot come from inside the manor. Damn… At least they confirmed the presence of hostages.

The manor house is a huge, stately structure on a hill, very airy and elegant, a relic of an age when aristocracy was more than a financial description. Gustav whispered, “Pfeffer, kill the alpha.”

A single shot rang out, followed by a curt, “Done.” More lights come on. I see armed figures in the windows.

“Gustav,” I ask. “May I give ‘em a grenade?”

“Absolutely.” I take a 40mm grenade from my belt and load it into the muzzle of my GP-27 grenade launcher. We get on the ground to avoid be hit by the tempest of shrapnel I’m about to unleash. I aim down the sights and squeeze the trigger. The grenade launcher goes off with an almost pathetic thump. Then, a massive roar rips through the night as the grenade hits home through the window, shredding everyone before they have a chance to even cry out.

We approach the rear entrance. Even the smaller entrance is still pretty big and has a suitably outsized porch. Pfeffer slings back his PSL in favor of a UMP45. Gustav readies his AK-74 and smashes the big French window, tossing in a flashbang. A cacophony like a thousand thunderstorms rips to life as Pfeffer kicks the door with one powerful buck. There is only one figure in the foyer. It’s a single stunned wolf. Gustav executes him before he even knows what’s happening. We sweep upstairs and find it empty, apart from sleeping bags, rucks, and other gear. I take a moment to scavenge cash and ammo. We check the ground floor. It’s clear. No hostages. No enemies. Certainly no ponies.

There is one last place to check: the basement. We gather round the door with baited breath. Here was the moment of truth. Gustav cracks open the door just enough to fit through a flashbang. The moment it goes off, Pfeffer yanks open the door and the rest of us surge into the breach. I land at the bottom.

I see the hostage, a stunningly beautiful white unicorn mare with a purple mane. She is bound but screaming. I can read the mortal terror in her eyes. ‘Don’t shoot!’ I see a helmetless royal guard soldier lying on the ground with a bloody hole in the side of his head. He is next to a pallorous one coated in congealed black blood and at least twenty of what I hope are just knife wounds, chunks of his flesh missing. Then, a split second later, my blood freezes. An second alpha is there, right behind her, and holding a gun! I lift my Kalashnikov and point it at him. I don’t care who this hostage is, but if she weren’t so valuable alive, I would’ve shot right through her. Instead, I lock eyes with the wolf, his big, yellow eyes snarling into mine. Our gazes meet. I squeeze the trigger.

Pa-ra-ra-ra-pa!

He falls with a hole where his eye used to be. The hostage throws herself on the ground. I surge forward to cover her with my body and let my teammates secure the rest.

“I’m Asphodel,” I tell her. “What’s your name?”

“Rarity,” she manages, barely refraining from hysterics. “Thank you so very much for saving me.”

Rarity, huh? Where have I heard that name before? She has an almost perfect Canterlot accent. What does it matter? It’s not like this is going to do anything more than get me a little cash for taking care of some wanted criminals and rescuing some innocent damsel from Equestria.

Author's Note:

Finally back to writing after a two month hiatus! How ya'll been? Thanks for being so patient with me and taking forever to get something up. I hope that you enjoyed what's here, because I got more coming up soon.

Seen you again soon, Support me on Patreon.

-- Kalash

Comments

[totallynotabrony]

Chechneya
Chechneighya?

[Psycho]

shredding everyone before they have a change to even cry out.

Did you mean "chance", Kalash?

~trying to be helpful, Psycho