• Published 2nd Apr 2016
  • 3,675 Views, 60 Comments

My Little Dashie 2: Dash Harder - ROBCakeran53

When John McClane finds a filly Rainbow Dash in a box, can he protect her while fighting off terrorists and saving Christmas?

  • ...

Christmas, 1992

Author's Note:

I'd like to thank all of my friends on Fimfic for being there when I least needed it, and for supporting my alcoholic tendencies. To my followers and readers, thank you for putting up with my God awful writing schedules and chapter gaps. And to all of those I helped inspire, and wrote sequels, threequels, fourthquels, etc etc, well, it isn't something I can say with words, so I'll let Simon Pegg express it for me.

APRIL FOOLS, HOLY SHIT! Where's the Tylenol?

Expect extreme out of characterness and shady grammar. KINDA LIKE THE ORIGINAL, AMIRITE?


I live my life, one day at a time.


Attention passengers, we apologize for the inconvenience, but we will be soon landing at [INSERT CITY HERE] Airport. The freak blizzard has clogged up the entire West coast, so we will need to ground before the storm reaches us.”

And today has just been getting longer and longer.

I looked out the window to my right, the small spots of light making up a town can be seen on this clear night. Which, if the pilot and weather band were correct, won't last for long. I sighed, followed with a moan, and leaned back into my chair. Why was shit always out to get me? Especially on Christmas? What did I do to deserve this?

It seemed like one Christmas after another I'm stuck doing the same damn routine. I wake up, go to work, chase a few store thief’s, maybe bash in a couple skulls of some wanna be punks, then get on the next flight out to L.A. to see my two kids, and try to make amends with my wife. Or, as the last two holidays have played out, fight terrorists, but I digress.

Being a New York City cop is a tough job, but being a father and husband is even tougher. I guess that's why I haven't been able to fulfill my end of the bargain with her.

The plane shook with turbulence, and looking out my window I could see we were making our descent. The “Buckle Your Seatbelts, Please” light came on. So, I buckled and grabbed the pack of Marlboro's in my chest pocket, pulling out a smoke with my teeth.

“Excuse me, Sir. There is no smoking on this flight.”

I looked up to her, barely paying any attention. “I'm not lighting it, it just helps calm my nerves.” I hated flying.

She looked at me, studying how best to approach this dilemma. I knew damn well I wasn't allowed to smoke, thank you very much. She nodded and continued checking the other passengers for their seat belts.

“At least she had a nice ass.” I whispered through my cigarette.

I shouldn't be saying things like that, but fuck it, a little eye candy never hurt no one.

After a little more turbulence and another “heartfelt apology” from the pilot, we landed. Looking out my window, the airport was smaller than I had thought. I hadn't been paying attention to where we were landing for the night, so as the same flight attendant stepped by I whistled to catch her attention.

“Yes, sir?”

“Hey, where are we again? I was out of it and didn't catch our location.”

“We are in Kansas, sir. Hopefully for only a night.”

“Kansas?” Shit, only halfway there.

We, and I mean myself and the other hundred or so passengers all filed out of the airplane and into the airport terminal. If it could even be called that. It wasn't any bigger than the public restrooms in the New York Subway.

“How the hell were they able to land a big plane like ours at this dinky airport?” I asked no one in particular.

“We have an emergency runway for jetliners going coast to coast, in case of fuel leaks or like your predicament, weather delays.”

I turned around, a man behind a small podium was standing there, holding a small notepad. Only a small, skinny microphone sat on the surface.

“Oh, sure.” Made sense. Better in the middle of bumfuck Kansas than crashing into the mountains.

The man tapped onto the microphone, speaking shortly after. His voice was barely audible, having only the one speaker above his head projecting his voice. This airport was clearly not made for so many people. The only reason I heard him was because I was standing right there.

“Good evening passengers of flight three-one-four.” He looked at the notepad, reading from it. “As a correspondent of insert airline here, we apologize for your inconvenience today. You will not have any access to your luggage, only what you carried off the plane since you will be taking off again in the morning. You are welcome to stay here in the terminal if you would like-” he stopped, looking at the crowd of people half listening, the other half fighting over the one pay phone. “But I suggest you take our commuter bus into town and stay at one of our many motels. We have the Dust Bowl Inn and a Motel six.”

He put his hand over the microphone, looking at me.

“I'd recommend the Motel six. They have a larger antenna and can pick up three tv stations instead of just two.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“We have one bus per motel available, so if you'd like to go please form an orderly line at each bus. If you do not make it onto the bus, no frets. We have plenty of surplus army quilts and Mars bars.”

At that last statement the crowd of people began to barge at the single wood door, pushing and shoving their way trying to get outside. What they failed to notice however was the door opened from the outside-in. Clearly a fire hazard, but seeing as this place was probably older than God I don't think anyone took the time to care.

“Sir? There's an emergency door just behind me if you'd like. It'll take you right outside.”

I looked, nodding a thanks.

“The name's Hubert, by the way. In case anyone asks you how my service was today.”


“Oh, just Hubert. I'm the only Hubert within' forty miles. They'll know who you're talking about.”

I nodded again, picking up my duffel bag and heading for the door.

Once outside, I took immediate notice to the increasing wind and temperature drop. The storm was about to hit, so I needed to get into town as soon as possible. I rounded the corner of the terminal, only to find that someone finally figured out how to open the door, and people were now piling into the buses.



I looked over, and sitting on the left side of the buses was a small taxi cab. It couldn't be seen from the loading side of the buses, so no one had grabbed him up. I whistled, waving an acknowledgment to his horn.

There was a loud bang as the dilapidated taxi cab backfired, screeching as he turned the wheel and pulled up next to me.

“Aye me matie, ye lookin' fer a lift?”

I should have said no. Then again, being a New York City cop, I had seen worse cabby drivers before.


“Hop in then, and we'll be shovin' off!”

I opened the back door, threw my bag onto the opposite side of the seat, and sat down. I slammed the door closed, and the window fell down, the crank handle bashing my knee several times.

“Aye, she do that sometimes. Just crank 'er back up and use that there rope to tie 'er down.”

I did so, meanwhile he talked some more.

“The name's Capt'n Morgan, at ye service. Now, what's yer name laddie?”

“McClane. John McClane. Captain Morgan, as in the rum?”

“Nay, those thieves stole the name from me!”

“Ahuh. Right.”

“So, Mister McClane, where are ye headin' this night? A storm's a brewin', so I hope yer headin' for shelter.”

“Yeah, the Motel Six. I'm gonna stay there tonight until this storm blows over.”

“Smart lad. I'll take ya there right quick. Hang on, Daisy may be battered and bruised, but she's a hard lass to stop!”

He stepped on the accelerator, emitting another backfire out the tailpipe. The car screeched as he went, but once he got some speed everything quieted down.

Before I knew it, he pulled the cab up to the door of the Motel Six. Daisy backfired again waking me up.

“Aaand we're here, laddie.”

I couldn’t tell if he was trying to be Scottish or a pirate. I rubbed the sand out of my eyes. Jet lag was already hitting me pretty hard.

“What do I owe you?”

“Aw, for how well ye listened to me stories of my youth, free of charge.”

Listened... right...

“Thanks, Morgan.”

“Just call me Capt'n.”

“Okay, thanks Captain. And is there possibly any way you can stop here in the morning and pick me up? I'd like to get back to the airport early.”

“Sure, sure lad. Once this storm blows outta here I'll be droppin’ anchor here again waitin’ for ye..”

I stood up, stretching my legs. He had parked next to a small tree, itself looking dead while only a few leaves still hung on.

“At the dead tree. Got it.”

“And don’t ferget yer cargo there, lad. Ye may want yer spare pair of skibbies in case them blasted bugs have attacked the motel again.”


I slammed the door shut, the window again falling down.

“Don’t worry about it, lad. I’ll manage. See ya in the mornin’!”

And with that, and another backfire from Daisy, the captain was off, disappearing around a building.

If the first two people of this town are anything to go by, I can’t wait to meet the motel staff.

Luckily, everything went smoothly. Captain had managed to get me here before any of the other passengers, so I got a good room at a good rate. Unpacking my bag, I threw my clothes for the morning on top of the dresser. A wind up alarm clock, which I wound and set, onto the bed stand. And finally my trusty M9 Beretta pistol. That went under my pillow, which my head soon laid on top of.

Even with this delay, considering my last several Christmas’s, things have been good. I can’t complain, though no one would listen anyway. So I closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.


I woke up to my alarm. Well, not my alarm clock, actually. My internal alarm clock telling me I had to piss really bad. I turned on one of the bed side lamps and made my way over to the bathroom. For a brief moment I saw some headlights through the closed window. I simply ignored it, more worried about relieving myself.

Once done with that, I stumbled towards my bed, ready to go back to sleep. I then heard the sound of multiple vehicle doors closing. I knew I should have went to bed. I damn well knew it.

Ignore it McClane... just ignore it...

I was just about to sit onto the bed when I heard a voice shout out.

“Careful you moron! You could have dropped it!”

It wasn't so much as what he said, but his accent. It was Russian, or possibly Turkish. Somewhere in that general area, shit, languages aren't my specialty. But it was odd, especially for out in the middle of nowhere.

It's probably nothing McClane, just one of the passengers from the plane who's not from around here.

And yet I crept over to the window, moving the blind slightly to peer out. There were two Land Rovers now in the parking lot, as well as a massive flat bed truck. The snow had finally come and there was a good two inches already on the ground.

The small group of men were carrying large boxes into one of the first story rooms. Very familiar looking boxes.

“Gun smugglers? Really?” I sighed. I was getting sick of this shit.

I waited for them to finish unloading their vehicles. Once they were inside their room, I slipped on my shoes and overshirt and went outside. Damn was it already cold as fuck out, and I hadn’t brought a coat.

California never gets cold enough for one. Stupid me, figures I’d get stuck somewhere where I need one.

I stepped through the snow, careful as I went down the already slick steps, and crept up to the parked vehicles. The two smaller vehicles had been completely emptied, I figured. The massive crate on the flat bed, however, was sealed up tight. No markings, other than a stamp saying “Fragile: Perishable Goods”.

Yeah right, I wasn’t buying it.

I snuck along the vehicle's back towards the room they were staying in. They had closed the blinds of the front window, so there was no way to look through there. I hugged the wall, moving along to the back of the room. Luckily they were on the far East end, and sure enough there was a small window for the bathroom. Set up high so you couldn’t just easily peek through, so I grabbed a trash can, flipped it, and stood up on it to look inside.

I couldn’t see much, other than several of the green boxes already open and displaying a variety of rifles.

“Why can’t it ever be normal smuggling, like smokes or beer?” I whispered.

Gingerly, I opened the window just a crack so that I could hear the conversation going on. I only now realized I’d left my pistol back in my room.

“This storm completely ruins everything! We needed to be on the West Coast by morning. The boss will not like this one bit.”

The West Coast? Shit, they’re stuck by the storm too? Just my fuckin’ luck.

“If we don’t have the package delivered by noon tomorrow, the entire operation will be for naught!”

“Gentlemen, relax. We will think of something. We haven’t worked on this plan for two years just to be defeated by a little snow.”

One of the men walked into the bathroom, looking towards me. I quickly ducked down, trying not to fall off the teetering can as I heard the toilet seat drop.

“So what are we to do then, Dimetre?”

I chanced a look, the occupant on the toilet directly under the window, facing away thankfully. Another individual walked into view, walking away from the bathroom and towards the front window. He opened the blinds a bit, looking out.

There then came a sudden knock at the door. I heard guns cocking. The man at the window stepped over and knocked twice on the door. Three knocks came back, and he unlocked the door, opening it for another individual. He whispered into the window man’s ear.

“You don’t say, Vlad? Excellent news my friend. Get the package ready for transport again.”

The knocker nodded, then walked back out into the cold.

Speaking of which... Fuck I can’t feel my toes right now.

“Gentlemen, it seems destiny is in our favor tonight. Vlad has just informed me that a large passenger jet had landed tonight, grounded by the storm.”

“How is that good news, Demitre?”

“Easy, my friend. Now we have a much faster way to move the package, and its destination is Los Angeles, which makes a perfect target for this plan. Lots of people, condensed into one area. Movie and television empire of this horrible country! All becoming nothing, and with a blow like that, victory will be within our grasp and this Cold War will no longer be cold, but hotter than the sun!”

“This guy’s nuttier than candy bar shit…” I whispered.

“Who was that?”

Shit, I forgot about the toilet guy!

“Oleg, what’s the matter in there? Get stuck again?” A voice called out, followed by laughter.

“I thought I heard someone.”

The nutty guy, Dimetre, turned around and faced the bathroom. I darted down again, but this time lost my footing and fell.

“Someone was outside listening in! Quick, find whoever that is!”

“Fuck!” I shouted, getting my footing in the snow and taking off.

Vlad, the guy from earlier, rounded the corner behind me almost immediately. In his hands some sort of smaller machine pistol. I ducked behind a large dumpster for cover.

“Hello? I know you’re back here. Come on out peacefully, and I promise I won’t shoot you.”

I wasn’t buying it. Fucking fuck, every God damned time! Why didn’t I just go back to bed? I banged my head against the dumpster.

The sound of crunching of boots in snow were getting closer. I had to act fast; my weapon back in my room was doing me no damn good now, so I needed to improvise. I looked beside me, and I had to blink a few times. Laying in a open box was a small blue… pony thing? With rainbow hair. I’d seen stranger stuffed animals, but this was still weird and out of place.

“No matter, you’ll do.”

I pick up the toy, and threw it at Vlad’s face as he came around the dumpster.

Had I payed actual attention to the fact the thing was heavy and warm, I’d realized that it wasn’t, in fact, a toy, but an actual living and breathing thing. Instead, I found this out when it screamed as it made contact with Vlad’s face. He went flying back, spraying the wall behind me with several rounds before falling on his back. Small blue hooves smacked his face several times, and he laid still.

“What the actual fuck…” I said.

The little blue pony thing sat on the now-knocked-out Vlad’s chest, looking at me with a scowl on her face. How did I know it was a she? Also, those eyes are so huge and creepy. Just… damn. And the rainbow themed hair?

“What the fuck are you?” I said.

She turns away from me, and two small appendages wiggle at me.

Wings. Those were fucking wings.

“Holy shit, you’re a blue winged pony.” I said.

She rolled her eyes at me. A sudden gust of wind blew, and she shivered from the cold.

“Yeah, join the club.” I said, bending down to pick up the smg. I checked the magazine, placed it back in, and picked up the little blue pony.

“Well, until I figure out what the fuck’s going on, you’re coming with me.”

She gladly snuggled into my arm, much like a cat, and let out a held breath.

“Well, at least now one of us is warm.”

“Vlad! Vlad? Where are you? Did you get them?” Dimetre shouted.

“Shit, time to go!” I said, running in the opposite direction.

I round the final corner, the stairs going up to my room in sight… as well as a dozen armed men. Their leader, Dimetre, is shouting orders to them in whatever the fuck language they speak naturally. I notice a light on in another motel room, and sure as shit someone came barging out onto the balcony.

“What in the sam hell is all the shouting about? Can’t you see people are trying to sleep?”

The dozen armed men look up to the individual, small red dots spread all around his shape.

“Uh… nevermind.” He turned around in a hurry, not before one of the men could catch the door and enter behind him.

I needed to get back into my room, make up a plan and- Wait, this is stupid. I’m in Kansas. I should just call the local cops and let them take care of it. This isn’t on my shoulders.

As if reading my mind, the little blue horse-thing bopped my chin. I looked down, and using her hoof it pointed to my right. There, I watched as two armed men bashed down one of the motel room doors. I heard brief shouts before a series of small arms fire.

“Alright, fine, I get it. I can’t just let these people die. So what do I do, huh?” I asked the blue blob, then a realization struck me. Great, now I’m talking to little blue horses. Am I going crazy?

All of a sudden the rainbow haired pony squirmed out from my arms and took off running towards one of the armed men seemingly by his lonesome.

“Shit!” I took off after her, but quickly dove behind a crate once I realized it was futile.

The gunman spun around from the movement, seeing only small little tracks marching towards him. Following them with his sights, he found himself looking at his feet. Or more accurately, what was sitting at his feet.

“Oh mein gott! It’s so beautiful!”

This was my window, and I took it. While distracted with the blue blob I snuck around another set of crates. As he swung his rifle behind his back to free his hands for the impending snuggling, I lunged at him from behind, putting him into a choke hold.

He struggled, as most do, and once he stopped moving I laid him down, then glared at the little pony.

“That was risky and stupid.”

She rolled her eyes. Oh, great, this thing has a personality. Just my luck.

I dumped the body into one of the empty crates, now with two weapons strapped onto my shoulders I picked up the pony and made a mad dash for my room.

Once inside, I set the pony onto my bed. I went for the phone, placing the receiver to my ear as I withdrew my pistol from under my pillow. Only quiet answered me. Great, they’d cut the phone lines…

I looked around the room, and back down to the blue pony, who was staring at me intensely.

“Now, what do I do with you?”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hallo? Thas is da, um, policica! We woulds like to speaks wish you sir or madam.”

“Aw fuck…” I whispered.

I grabbed the blue pony- aw hell, I need to call her something. Rainbow, fine, that’ll work. With that crazy hair, it fits, probably. Anyway, I grabbed her up, looking for a hiding spot. The doorknob began to jiggle around.

“I hear yous in thar. I promise I vill not hurt yous.” The entire door started to rattle. “I ams looking for a man, if yous seen him or know wheres he ams, we woulds give you rewards.”

I moved into the closet, closing the bifold door and leaving just a crack for me to look through. As I imagined, within seconds the door was kicked in and a single individual came barging in with a long gun.

In my arms, Rainbow began to flap her wings faster and faster, until they were… were they buzzing? Like, okay, that would have been a might cute if it hadn’t also attracted the gunman’s attention.

“Shh! Stop it!” I whispered, trying to stop the little appendages.

Now she was squirming in my grasp. If she kept this up-

The closet door swung open, and I was greeted by a muzzle only a couple inches from my face.

“Found yous.”

Like lightning, Rainbow launched from my grasp and at the man’s face. Instantly he lost grip of the gun, falling to his side as the sling held it on his right shoulder. Quickly I lunged out at his midsection, tackling him to the floor.

I barely caught a glimpse of Rainbow being thrown away towards the bed. I kneeled and went for his throat, but he had other ideas as one of his legs kicked up, catching me off balance and I went to the side. He was quick to trade positions, now both of his hands on my throat.

I heard what I thought was a feminine scream as Rainbow again tackled the man’s face, sending him off of me and to the floor. He tried to punch the blue blob off of his face, eliciting painful squeaks and groans from Rainbow. He sat up, finally pulling her away and got an actual look at what she was.

“Da fuq?”


He turned to his left, where I was standing, then proceeded to kick upwards at him, catching his chin and sending him reeling. He landed on his back, jaw bleeding, and knocked out cold. I quickly grabbed Rainbow and set her onto the bed, looking her over.

“Look, I’m suppose to be the stupid one risking his life, not you!” I said.

She was visibly shaking. Like, borderline vibrating. It was kinda creepy. Then her cheeks puffed out. Having two children in elementary school, I have very distinct memories of what that face meant. I quickly dodged out of her aim as she let out a… uh…

She proceeded to throw up… rainbows. Like, liquid rainbow just… on the bed. A puddle… of rainbow puke...

“What the actual fuck?”

There was also a quick flash of light. Once I had blinked the stars out, I noticed she looked… different… bigger even. Not really in general size, but as if she had a sudden growth spurt and was older.

“Yuck, that was a lot worse coming back up,” came a very young, if not adorably squeaky voice.

Once composed, she looked up to me with a bored expression.


“I… don’t even know how I should react.”

“You could say thanks.”

I rose a brow. “Thanks? For what?”

“Saving your sorry flank.”

Oh how I wish I could take her seriously, but the cracks in her voice and how high pitched it was…

“What’s so funny?” She pouted.

“You. You sound like a five year old.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because technically I am. Stupid side effect of the spell.”


“Never mind, too long to explain, and we don’t have that kind of time.”

“Time? Time for what?”

“We need to stop these guys before it’s too late! And until I’m back to normal, I need your help.”

“What, do you honestly believe-”

We were interrupted by the sounds of multiple vehicles starting. I rushed to the window, careful to only peer through a single blind. Already the semi and one of the Land Rovers were leaving the parking lot. The second Rover was sitting alone with the engine running.

“Okay, why should we even be doing this again?”

Rainbow groaned. “Ug, because, a lot of people are gonna be killed okay? Not to mention-”

I turned around to face her. “Not to mention, what?”

She was staring at the ground. “N-never mind. Just look, I need your help. These people need your help. You gonna or ain’tcha?”

So no shit, there I was, talking with a blue winged pony about stopping terrorists from taking out L.A. Not that I would have cared much about the place in general, I did have three other reasons to want to help.

“Okay, deal. Just not sure what you’re gonna do to help, though.”

“I can fight!” She squeaked.

“Yeah, you said so yourself you’re a five year old. Ain’t happenin’.”


“No butts, now come here and look.”

She joined me at the window. I had to pick her up so she could see, the bottom sil just out of her reach.

“Okay, look, they’re already taken off. My guess? To the airport since they talked about taking the plane I came in on for themselves.”

“That’s bad.”

“Yeah, really bad.”

“So what do we do?”

“Well, it appears they’ve left one vehicle behind.”

“That’s kinda dumb.”

“Actually, they’re probably waiting for sleeping beauty over there.”

The pony turned around, the attacker still out cold.

“So what’s the plan?” She asked.

“Well, they’re waiting for this guy,” I pointed towards the body. “I hope you’re as small as you look.”


“Ug, it’s so stuffy in here!” The pony protested.

“Just keep it quiet, alright?” I whispered into the thick winter coat.

It was odd, these terrorists had been caught off by this pending storm. And yet they’d brought along winter coats. Did they know something before hand, or are they just this prepared? Reguardless, the guy’s clothes fit well enough for me to hide the pony and the machine pistol. My pistol sat comfortably in it’s holster, and I carried the long rifle.

I had to procure a pair of shades and hat from my carry on. With any luck, I’ll fool them just long enough to get close to the vehicle and make a break for it.

As I approached, the headlights clicked on and two men stepped out. One from the drivers door, the other the front passenger door.

“What took you so long, Hanz?”

Hanz? So what, I’m suppose to be German?

I remained silent, giving a shrug. Hopefully they bought it.

“Why so quiet? Score some puss or something?”

I nodded my head. This guy sounded naturally American. So this is quite a diverse group of terrorists.

The second man said something in Russian. The first, the American, shifted his left hand so it was on a pistol on his hip.

“Hey Hanz, what’s in your coat?”

This was about to go fubar any second.

Well, here goes nothing.

I reached into my coat. Both men watched me intently, and I pulled out a bottle. In the best fake accent I could muster, I spoke one word.


Both men stared at me for several seconds, before cracking up laughing. It was by pure luck the guy was already carrying several bottles of it. I swear, his coat had custom pockets for smuggling booze!

“We can celebrate later, Hanz. Right now we must hurry back to the rest of the group. They’ve already headed for the airport.”

The two men turned around to re-enter the vehicle. I shifted to swing the rifle around. If I did it right, I could take out the passenger first, leaving the driver as a hostage. Before I could even properly draw the weapon, a gunshot went off. Both men spun around, looking directly at me, already rifle raised and pointing at them. I barely had enough time to knock off a couple shots at the American.

The second guy drew his own weapon out and began firing at me. I dove for cover, unsure where he was. I then heard him shouting in his native tongue, followed by-

“Oh fuck,” I cursed.

“What’s happening?” I heard the pony in my coat. She was now squirming around, trying to stick her head through the partly downed zipper.

“There was a fucking gunshot before I had the chance to move!”

“Who would have shot at us?”

I looked around. Already the snow was starting to pick up again, and I could only see as far as the motel lobby. I heard more shouting from behind me, and the Rover suddenly took off past me. I raised the rifle, taking a few pot shots at it as it sped away.

“FUCK!” I shouted.

The pony jumped out of the coat, landing with a crunch of snow under hooves. "Great, now what?”

I looked around. There were literally no cars in the parking lot, being all of the motel's guests had come from the plane I’m sure. I happened a glance at the tree line, and the one dead tree with a mass under it.

Wait a tic… that wasn’t no gunshot!

“Come on! Hurry!” I took off running, the midget horse doing her best to keep up with me.

Sure enough, the battered, rusted, yellow curves of Daisy were a God send. I opened the back door, ready to throw the pony inside when I saw Captain Morgan, himself, sleeping soundly in the back seat. A near empty pint of, shocker, rum in his right hand. One of the motel blankets was being used as a makeshift blanket. I could tell because it actually had the Motel 6 logo embroidered on the corner.

“Morgan!” I shouted.

He snored.

“Morgan!” I shook his shoulders.

He mumbled something before haphazardly tossing the bottle onto the floor of the cab.

“Captain! Pirates!”

That got him up. He sat upright, looking around and drawing out a pistol from his jacket. It was… I’ll be fucked, a God damned flint lock.

“Where be they, laddie?” He looked around, then pointed the gun at me.

“Woah, woah, Captain, it’s me! John McClane! You were waiting here to give me a ride back to the airport.”

“Whazat? Oh, right, right. Sorry lad, I musta slept in.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Sure, it’s fine. Look, I’m going to be late for my flight. I need you to get me there as humanly possible it is for Daisy.”

“Aye lad, we can shove off at a whims notice.” He crawled out of the back seat, Daisy’s suspension creaking in protest. “Where’s yer luggage?”

“I, uh, didn’t have any. Look, we need to go.”

“Alright lad, hop in then and we be-”

“Shoving off, yeah, I know. Less talking, more breaking the speed limits.”

Morgan walked around and entered the front. Myself and Rainbow hopped into the back. I pushed the pony onto the floor. He started the vehicle, which of whom was repugnant to do so. After a few gentle coos and coddling from Morgan, Daisy fired up and we were off.

“It’s really important we get there ASAP, Captain. Run any and all red lights, stop signs, or police cruisers.”

“Aye aye, laddie.” He gave the dilapidated taxi more accelerator.

“How far is the airport?” The pony asked.

“About a fifteen minute or so drive. Would be quicker if it weren’t blasted snowing out here.” There was a pause, then Morgan did a double take, glaring in his mirror. “What in the seven seas?”

“Oh, right, I forgot. Captain Morgan, this is… uh…” It just dawned on me I’d forgotten to ask her what her name was this entire time. I’d just gone with Rainbow because of her hair, but it couldn’t be that obvious. I mean, that would just be-

“It’s Rainbow Dash, and yeah, I’m a talking blue pony.”

I snorted a laugh.


“You’re name’s actually Rainbow?”

“Rainbow Dash, and yes. It isn’t any better than John McClane.

“Or Captain Morgan!” Morgan called from the front. “At least it isn’ the booze foolin’ me again.”

“You’re not… at all freaked out about it?” I asked.

“Are you?”

Hesitantly, I shook my head.

“Then it’s settled. Welcome aboard, Miss Rainbow Dash.”

“Ug, don’t call me that Morgan. Just call me Dash.”

“Only if ye call me Capt’n.”

Rainbow Dash put her hoof over the seat. Mor-Er, Captain grabbed it and shook.

Well I’ll be damned. That went… strangely well.

“So, Laddie, what be the hurry? Storm’s still ragin’, so no flyin’.”

“Actually, the plane’s going to try and take off. I need to stop it.”

“Is that so? Come to enjoy our little town of-”

The captain was interrupted by a gunshot going through the back and front windshield, just to my right.

“Fuck!” I shouted, ducking into the seat.

“We’re under attack! Arm the cannons!” Morgan shouted.

“We don’t have any cannons!” I shouted back, another gunshot ringing through the cab.

“Then evasive maneuvers!” The captain began swerving the cab on the road, which was a bad idea considering the slick road conditions.

Amazingly, he seemed to handle the slick pavement quite well. I chanced a peek over the back seat, and there following us were a pair of headlights. I could only assume it was the terrorist I couldn’t shoot.

Well, it was time to rectify that.

With an apology to Daisy, I busted out the remaining bits of the back window and began firing the long rifle at the Rover. It began copying our swerving, having much more control being an all wheel drive, off road vehicle. Then again, Daisy looked to have been built forty years ago and was designed to handle the madness of New York traffic.

It was probably an even match.

Before long, the rifle was empty. The gunman I’d procured it from hadn’t had any more magazines on him, so I tossed the rifle aside. More rounds plinked off of the taxi as Morgan did his best to throw off our pursuer.

I was down to the two weapons not suited for ranged firing. Without any warning, Morgan slammed on the brakes, sending Rainbow and myself into the back of the front bench seat. I watched as the Land Rover had no time to react, and quickly swerved to avoid hitting us, instead careening into a bank of snow.

“Well, that was good thinking Captain,” I said, rubbing the back of my head.

I noticed Rainbow Dash staring ahead in awe, both herself and Morgan silent. I looked ahead, and realized just why the Captain had stopped. I recognized it, one of the two busses at the airport, was turned over and in flames, blocking the road. I could only guess it was, because all around the overturned vehicle were suitcases scattered about, some on fire, others covered in snow.

“No…” I heard Rainbow beside me whisper.

“Lad, I think it’s time ye do some explaining.”


Once I made sure our attacker was bound and unable to pursue us further, I had the Captain continue on our route, the whole while explaining what I knew. Since we’d left, the pony beside me remained quiet, still staring out the shattered rear window.

Once I was done explaining to the Captain, it went quiet for several seconds.

“You know, Lass, no one might have been on-” Morgan started.

“I’m looking for a couple.”

I looked at her, brow raised.

“That’s… why I came here. I’m trying to stop something from happening to them. This is it, this is the event. If I can’t stop this, or at least make sure they’re safe…” she continued to stare out the window, “all this effort would be for nothing.”

It went silent again, except for the gusting breeze through the holes in the windshield, and gaping hole in the back.

I was brought out of my stuper when Morgan pulled Daisy over, putting her in park.

“The airport’s just dead ahead, another fifty or so paces,” he said, looking intensely at the thick snow.

I looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror. I could tell he was averting his gaze from me.

“What, can’t you take us closer?” Rainbow asked.

“No, this is close enough,” I said, opening the back door.


“It’s fine, Dash.”

She looked intently at Morgan, before sighing and hopping out of the back seat. I closed the door gingerly. The back window still fell down.

“Don’t worry none about that, I’ll take care of it.”

I reached in through the open driver's door window, offering my hand. Morgan gladly took it in a firm grasp with a shake, then withdrew in surprise.

“That’s for picking me up at the airport, and bringing me back,” I said.

Morgan looked at the hundred dollar bill in his hand. “Any time, Laddie. You watch over yourself,” the Captain said, then looked down to Rainbow Dash. “And her too. No tellin’ what could happen to a young lass like that.”

“I’m not really this young!” She squeaked.

“You’re only as old, or in this case young, as you believe yourself to be,” Morgan said. Then, with a backfire from Daisy, he did a U turn and was off.

“Why didn’t he take us closer?”

I looked down to the pony. “Because, he was scared. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was.”

“And you’re not?” She asked.

I shook my head. “I’m scared shitless. That’s just how it goes. You get over it, or ignore it, and keep going. Sometimes, we have to do what’s not required of us. Ignore orders, ignore the warning signs, and just charge into it anyway.” I then began walking down the road, the pony quick to run up beside me.

“Yeah, I’ve been there myself with my friends,” Dash said, looking up to me.

“Well, I never had friends when fighting for my life against terrorists.”

Rainbow smiled. “Well, you do now.”

I drew out the small machine pistol, double checking the round to make sure it was charged. The blizzard let up some, and we could see the small airport terminal just ahead. There sat the other Land Rover. The semi was probably already on the airfield. It was now or never. Time to nut up or shut up. Put the steel to the grindstone. The petal to the metal.

I let out a breath, before taking my next step.

“Yippie Ki Yay.”