The Godkiller, Part One
How the fuck did I get this old?
Frank Justus looked at himself in the mirror as he shaved and got ready for another day in the office. He remembered back when he was just a 24-year-old rookie with a full mop of black hair and bright green eyes, ready to prove himself in the United States Secret Service. Back then he had an ego to match his muscles, and he was sure that he was going to end up on the Presidential Protective Detail, be the biggest badass that ever stopped a bullet for the President of the United States.
At least, that had been his plan; the Director of the Secret Service had other plans. And so Frank had spent a decade in the Financial Crimes Division, running all around the country, busting up counterfeit rings; and in one high-profile case that had made the news, busted an international crime syndicate that was responsible for everything from fake $100s to underage slave girls. In fact, it had been one of the guys he arrested who had offered to give him “the sweetest little fruit of an Algerian girl, ripe for the plucking” at age three, only if he would let him go.
So Frank shot the bastard instead, cataloging the fucker as someone who had tried to draw a gun on him (fortunately, the man had actually tried to do so earlier, but the gun had jammed with a squib round). And as for the “luscious” little three-year-old? Frank had taken care of that – oh had he ever.
As he wiped off his face and walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom, he paused to look at the picture of his daughter, Bethany, having followed in his footsteps and was now a special agent with the Secret Service – and she’d been the one to actually make the PPD! If he recalled right, she was part of the protective detail for the current Democratic presidential candidate, Bob Davies.
Frank grunted; Davies was a fucking idiot, but at least he was a meatsack that Beth could protect and do her job with dignity. He only hoped that when McAllister stomped Davies in the final election, that she’d be moved to his detail. A good man needed a good bodyguard, after all.
But as for Frank, no, he never did anything close to PPD. Instead, he earned the reputation as the hardass who could break fucking any case, even if it meant he had to bend a rule now and then. He wasn’t proud of it now, but he’d put some serious bastards behind bars thanks to those “creative interpretations” of the law. That, in turn, had earned him the attention of the International Criminal Police Commission, better known by its nickname of INTERPOL.
He then spent a few years as the senior INTERPOL liaison to the United States, when the world changed – and one world became two. Two years after, the ICPC divided itself into three different divisions, so that it would be better able to handle international – and now interplanetary – crimes: INTERPOL would remain (Human) Earth’s premier crime-fighting organization. Alter-Earth (why couldn’t they call their planet something original, like Gaia?) would get an equivalent organization, the ISPO – the Interspecies Police Organization. And straddling between them was the agency that helped coordinate the mess, the Bureau of Extradimensional Investigations – the BEI.
Frank had spent two more decades in the BEI, practically engraving his name on the agency. It had been his involvement that had put away monsters like the Delford brothers; or the Yasai Sisters organization; or even the Italian mob. But it had been one particular case that had earned him renown in the BEI: The Menagerie.
Even now, he still shuddered at that. Coming on the heels of the Bucker murders (and to this day ponies were shocked to believe that a Canterlot noblepony was murdering humans due to hate), the Menagerie had been so much worse. It involved several species from Alter-Earth, coming over to Human-Earth intending to do to the Delfords what they did to those ponies; when they realized the Delfords were dead, they started hunting humans in earnest. In all, forty-seven humans around the world had been killed as a result. Sure, a speck in the wind compared to humanity’s sizeable numbers, but tell that to the people whose loved ones had been lost.
But it turned out okay for me, Frank thought as he tied his tie. He’d come into contact again with the stallion back from the Delford case – Shining Badge. And this time the two forged a friendship that had lasted a lifetime. After the case, hanging out, fishing, all that guy stuff. Frank and Badge had become the best of friends, so much so that when he and his wife had a son unexpectedly…well, Badge Francis Justus just had to deal with his first name.
As for Frank himself, he’d been disconsolate when his best buddy passed away last year of that damnable thing called old age. He still checked in on Chalk to see how she was doing from time to time, but it just wasn’t the same.
Fully dressed, he stepped out into the hallway and looked at a picture of him and Badge fishing on the Florida keys. One old balding bastard and one stallion whose mane was practically as white as they came, holding up a huge bass and looking like they didn’t give a damn about the world.
Miss ya, old buddy, he thought to himself, softly placing his hand on the frame and remembering the good times.
He came downstairs just in time to see his gorgeous wife, Marie. She always complained about getting older, but damn if he still didn’t think she was beautiful. “Morning, Frank,” she said, kissing him. “Breakfast is on the table.”
“More of that French shit?” he said, an old joke between them. Marie was originally French, but her family had moved to Baltimore when she was eight, so she grew up American, even if she didn’t get her citizenship until five years ago. They’d met when they were both in college at California University of Pennsylvania and hadn’t looked back. Thankfully, Marie’s career as a graphic designer let her work from anywhere in the world.
“The French shit is keeping you alive, dear,” she laughed. “Not like that American crap.”
“Hey, who doesn’t like good old steak, eggs and potatoes?” he asked as he sat down at the table to look at his plate, consisting of two breakfast burritos. Another thing he loved about her: she was a hell of a cook – and had an impish sense of humor to boot.
“Better eat fast, lawman,” she told him.
“Why’s that?”
“I just have a feeling it’s going to be a hell of a day for you,” she told him, and that worried him. His wife always seemed to have an uncanny sense of when things were going to go right or wrong, so much so that she very much heeded her warnings.
He then picked up the newspaper to read: the Times, one of the very few news organizations left still printing a paper edition – and the only one in Europe still printing a paper edition in English. He hadn’t even started scanning the front when the headline jumped out at him:
ONE OF US?
THE NEWEST PRINCESS OF PONIES FOUND!
The picture – seeming as though it was taken discreetly, showed a young girl, clearly unaware that a picture was being taken of her, leaning against a woman who was clearly important to her. The caption read: LUNA KIRKLAND (L) AND UNIDENTIFIED WOMAN BELIEVED TO BE PRINCESS LUNA OF EQUESTRIA. The article then went on to discuss the very public scene caused by Princesses Luna and Celestia of Equestria at some Hindu temple in Malaysia and present with them was Samuel Martinez, the Director of the Royal Equestriani Agency for Law, and a girl later identified a Luna Kirkland.
Frank thought it odd that the princesses would take a single guard – and that single guard would be the head of their national police force, but in hindsight that made sense: only one person wouldn’t make a scene, and why not take the top cop in their country? Martinez, a human, had been hired above any qualified person in-country, which meant he had to be one hell of a cop, even if he looked a bit young for the job – had to be in his late twenties or early thirties, if Frank guessed by the picture. But the girl…she stood out like a sore thumb. And given the news Princess Luna had announced last week, every paparazzi on both worlds was searching high and low for confirmation of who Princess Luna’s lovechild (and how the hell did that happen? Frank still didn’t get it) was.
And now, thanks to what looked like an ill-timed argument between the two royals, they had just handed Princess Luna II’s public identity to them on a golden plate lined with platinum.
And sure enough, as if the hamster in charge of reality decided to wait until Frank had read the headlines, his phone went off. With a resigned sigh and an apologetic look to Marie, he answered the phone. “Yeah, it’s Justus. What’s up?”
“Frank, it’s Mei Lin,” his secretary said. “We need you in the office soonest. The Secretary-General is on her way.”
Frank’s eyes lit up. “Okay, on the way in.” He hung up and pocketed his phone, then looked at his wife. “Hon, I gotta go. Panic situation.”
She smiled, wiped her mouth with a napkin and smiled. “You go catch that bad guy, Frank.”
He groaned. “If only it were that easy.”
Frank drove through the gates with a cursory nod to the uniformed guard and passed the giant letters that said what the place was: BXI. He groaned as he saw that; his predecessor changed the initials from the BEI to the BXI after the Hollywood hit series: BXI: Agents of Two Worlds. Nevermind the fact that the writers used BXI instead of BEI because they didn’t know better; Monroe changed it because he thought it put a “friendlier face” on the agency.
And now the fucker was in retirement hanging out on Bondi Beach in Sydney. Frank wanted to use a teleporter just to go to his house and slap the man silly, but he had better things to do. He parked his car, took one last look at the garish stainless-steel letters, then walked into the building.
He walked through the halls, giving cursory waves to both the uniformed officers and the agents who walked past. It took him several months to get used to “Good morning, Director Justus,” but he finally did. He never wanted or expected to be at the top, but as Marie had once old him, it wasn’t about what you needed, it was what others did – and they clearly needed Frank Justus to be Director of the BXI.
In fact, here they were in Lyon, France, the old headquarters of INTERPOL before it had been moved to Beijing and the ICPC to Geneva. And naturally, the complex was being retooled because the BXI needed a whole bunch of different things than INTERPOL or ISPO. So as he got into an elevator, said hi to a junior BXI agent from Uganda and a uniformed sergeant from the Bahamas, he finally made it to his desk.
Sitting there was his secretary, Mei Lin, an Indonesian Chinese, who held out a coffee for him. “You’ve got the ADs waiting in your office, boss.”
“What about Mondo?”
“He’s on the way. Apparently he was out of town and is hoofing it here as fast as he can.”
“Okay. Get Conference Room B ready and have the IT guys on standby. When’s the Secretary-General expected?”
“In about twenty minutes. It’s probably going to be ugly, sir.”
“It always is around here, Mei, you know that,” he said with a grin. He then opened the doors and looked at two men. One of them was wearing a suit, while the other one was wearing the tactical uniform of the BXI. “Okay, talk to me, folks.”
Ben Hallenbeck was the Assistant Director in charge of the Investigative Branch. Built like a linebacker, the man actually played football at Notre Dame before he did a stint as an Air Force officer, in their Office of Special Investigations. From there, he got out and joined the US Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives as an agent before the ATF put him on permanent loan to INTERPOL, who then transferred him to the BXI. Holding up a tablet, he said, “You seen this shit, boss?”
From his spot, Sam Rowan, the Assistant Director of the Uniformed Branch, laughed. Where Hallenbeck had been built like a linebacker, Rowan was thin and wiry, the result of a few years in the Royal Canadian Army before he got out and joined the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. The RCMP heeded the call for a polymath, which Rowan was, and fired him out the door, straight to the BXI. “Ben, that shit’s been all over the Goddamn news. Only way the boss didn’t see it is if he was fucking dead, and, looking at him, I kinda doubt he is.”
“Wow, you two got your panties in a bunch.” That was said by the third member of their contingent, the only female in the room. Gardena Glasslens was the Assistant Director of the Forensics Branch. A gryphoness, she was one of the first from Alter-Earth to join the BXI and had worked her way up the chain. She stood out from the rest of them due to her species and gender and tried to act like one of the boys more than she needed to, which was probably why she had the best marksmanship scores out of the three of them.
“Okay, before the SG gets here and bites my head off, what the fuck’s going on?” Frank asked calmly as he took a seat behind his large desk.
“Double-fronted dildos,” Hallenbeck told him, switching his tablet’s screen and handing it to his boss. “About an hour ago, we got a tip from the Argentine National Police. Apparently some HDA Internet Tough Guys announced their intent to catch and rape Princess Luna the Younger, just so ‘ponies get the lesson about fucking with humankind.’”
“Wow, only an hour, huh?” Gardena said, polishing her claws on her blazer. “The assholes on this world are starting to get lazy. I remember when the HDA would’ve made that announcement ten minutes after.”
Rowan looked at her. “Not helping, Gard.”
“Yeah, well maybe this will.” She brought up her own tablet, then beamed the screen over to the large TV against the wall. “Based on the info the PFA gave us, we did some Internet Tough Guy shit of our own. We did the trace, and what we found, you guys are not going to like.” She pressed a button and a screen came up, with a bunch of men standing behind one very terrified – and bound – girl. The girl was still dressed in her school uniform, and had long blonde hair and bespectacled blue eyes.
“We at the HDA have had enough of the lies of the other world.” The men all wore military-style fatigues from various countries, the only thing common to them was the Four Fists emblem of the HDA. “And now we have a hybrid bitch that claims to be a Princess of the Horses. How long until she claims to be Ruler of Humanity? We in the Human Defense Alliance will never allow that.”
One of the men pulled the screaming teenager back to her feet, while the leader pulled a pistol and spoke. “This is a message to Princess Luna II…or should I say Luna Kirkland. We at the HDA are watching – and we will not be silent.” The man then took his pistol and shoved it in the girl’s mouth.
“Someone stop that asshole!” Rowan shouted.
“TRACE THE GODDAMN THING AND GET WITH THE LOCAL AUTHORITIES!” Justus roared.
“Guys,” Gardena said sadly, “this is a recording.”
They watched as the man pulled the trigger. There was a sickening crack and a spatter of red, and a teenage corpse fell to the ground, dead. The man got close up to the camera. “Luna Kirkland…you are next.” The video then broke to static as it ended.
Still looking at the video, Gardena said, “New Zealand Police found the body this morning. Her name….” Gardena sighed. “Her name was Sterling Kirkland. Age sixteen, from Waihi Beach on the North Island.”
“That’s horrific.”
“It’s worse: we confirmed with the REG five minutes ago that ‘Sterling’ is Princess Luna II’s middle name and the one she uses in everyday life.” Gardena looked at the rest of them. “They know who she is, and they have no compunctions about killing little girls.”
“No, they don’t.” The room fell silent and sprays of leaves swirled around the room, coalescing into a column before turning into a figure. “I am not happy,” a voice said as the leaves split away, revealing a seven-tailed golden kitsune in a business suit.
The others looked in awe, while Frank just bowed. “Madame Secretary. Good day to you, your highness.”
Princess Misato of Inari, the Secretary-General of the International Criminal Police Commission, laughed. “Spare me the shit, Frank,” she said in flawless English. “I served in my nation’s army, and I’m low on the totem pole of the Imperial Family, so I work for a living.”
“Hey, I have to be polite, Misa, you know that,” he said.
Misato looked at the rest of them. “I don’t need to tell you that a princess’ life is in danger. Worse, she’s a little girl and her mother has the biggest chip on her withers in history – believe me, you do not want to get on Princess Luna’s bad side.” She sat down in the chair next to Frank, pausing only to sweep away her tails. “Now, while I know the charter of the BXI only allows you to make arrests within two miles of a gate and a quarter-mile of a portal, you’ll be working in tandem with INTERPOL for this one. Sam, do you have your people ready to roll at a moment’s notice?”
“We can put bullets wherever the bullets need to be put, ma’am,” he told her. “Hopefully this time they won’t be carrying AP rounds – almost didn’t make it the last time.”
“And we’re grateful you did,” she told him. “Ben, I want your people on the ground in New Zealand and Seattle. INTERPOL and local authorities are already on station and waiting for your folks.”
“I’ll head to New Zealand myself,” Hallenbeck told her. “Gard, I’m going to need some of your folks with this.”
“Nothing doing – I’m going there personally. I want to see the body myself, because there’s something about that shot that bugs me,” the gryphoness said.
The door opened and a blue earth stallion with a shock of green hair came in. “Sorry I’m late; just got back from weekend in Milan with the wife. Got briefed on the way and…oh, hello, Misa. Still being a bitch?”
Misato laughed. “Mondo, someday that mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”
“Maybe.” Tierra Llana was odd for an earth pony. For starters, he grew up in Jaquarpultapec, raised by jaguars and was not an Equestriani citizen despite being a pony. Despite his “disability” as far as jaguar culture went, he worked his way up to the top of the Furezas Preventiva Nacional, that country’s national police force. He was then assigned to ISPO and was recently selected as the Deputy Director of the BXI. Somewhere along the line he’d picked up the nickname “Mondo” because he was “so fucking mondo” and when he found out what it meant, he reveled in it.
“Mondo, I want you to liaise with our counterparts at INTERPOL. Get whatever you can and give them whatever they need. You’ll be handling it all from the office.”
Misato looked at Frank. “And what are you going to do?”
“Well, Madame Secretary, you and I are going to Seattle in order to talk to Robin Kirkland, of course. And you’ll probably drink more than a few shots with him, because you flirt with human guys shamelessly despite the wedding brocade on your ear.”
“You know how to ruin my fun, Frank. C’mon, let’s go,” she said. “If we hurry, we can stop the REG before they cause an international incident bigger than the one in Singapore.”
“Again?”
“The REG director is a hothead and worse, a close friend of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, so she’s going to take this personally. And worse? Quick Draw already has a head start.”
By the time Frank and Misato arrived in the city of Mercer Island, the whole place had become a fortress. Mercer Island Police and King County Sherriff’s Department officers were everywhere, and as they got closer to their destination, the Washington State Patrol was added. As they entered the neighborhood, it was then bolstered by FBI, DSS and Secret Service personnel, and finally on the (barricaded) block, dozens of heavily-armed ponies in black suits – the telltale sign of the Royal Equestriani Guard – were everywhere, including the sky.
As Frank and Misato showed their badges and got ushered through to park in front of the Kirkland house, Misato groaned. “They’re sandbagging the place. Sandbagging it! Overreaction much?”
“Misa, you don’t have kids, do you?”
“My husband and I have talked about it, but not yet, why?”
Frank looked at her as he got out of the driver’s seat. “Misa, when you watch a poor girl die, one that is supposed to be the representation of your child…well, I’m surprised Princess Luna isn’t out here, trying to stockpile every nuclear weapon from the Naval Base down the road.”
They managed to make it across the street when they felt the tingle of magic and passed through a razor-thin electric blue field. “Detection field,” Misato replied. “State of the art.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell my folks you said that.” A newcomer came walking up to them. Like the others, she wore a dark suit, but she wasn’t armed – and given that, it meant she was likely the most lethal pony present. She was a sky blue pegasus, with a white-and-gray bobbed mane and red eyes. It was the scowl on her face, however, that made it clear who she was: Quick Draw, the head of the REG and Princess Cadance’s fillyhood friend.
“Director Draw,” Misato said.
“I would say you’re not wanted here and that we have everything under control – the US and Washington State governments have given us authority on this block and we’re going to use it. But,” she sighed, “we’re talking about Princess Luna the Younger’s life here, and we take it seriously. And, off the record, when Cadance spoke to me this morning? I’m going to take it as Celestiadamned seriously as possible.”
“Oh, Frank, this is Quick Draw, Director of the REG. Quick, this is Frank Justus, Director of the BXI. We’re here to help, obviously,” Misato told her.
“Yeah. We’re here to provide backup and firepower,” he told her.
Quick rolled her eyes. “I don’t need firepower,” she said lightly. “I am firepower.”
Now it was Frank’s turn to roll his eyes; not only was this mare taking things a little too personally, she also struck him as the kind of bodyguard that thought they were invincible and that was a dangerous thing to do in their line of work. Truth be told, Frank couldn’t help but be reminded of himself early in his career.
Quick smiled. “I can see you doubt me, Director Justus. I don’t blame you; I know the type of person you’re thinking of all too much. Just let me back my words up a bit.” There was a flicker of blue at her side, and she pointed at a tree in the yard. “right there, you’ll see a feather I just put through the center of a bole.
Frank walked over and took a look, and sure enough, a feather was sticking out of it. Attempting to pull it out got him a finger cut. “Ow!” he snarled, shaking his finger and the blood dripping from it.
“You see, that’s my special talent, Director. I don’t need to carry a gun, because I can throw my feathers at bullet speeds and give them the ability to be as sharp as knives – and I grow the feather back within minutes.” She laughed. “If I were human, I’d probably qualify for that X-Men comic I see kids read now and then.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a stone, waving it over his hand, healing it. “You’re not the only one who gets cut by my feathers,” she said with an embarrassed smile. “My hoofspace’s cut all to Tartarus.”
“Yeah, thanks. Anyway, is Mr. Kirkland here?”
“Lord Robin is in, and he’s not happy,” she replied. “Apparently her highness Princess Luna has her daughter hidden in a secret location and won’t tell anyone, him included. Needless to say, as a father, he’s a bit distraught.”
“Well, let’s go in and talk to him.”
The inside of the house was pandemonium. Sitting on a couch and looking as unhappy as possible, was Robin Kirkland. Seated next to him was a woman that looked very much like an older version of Luna Kirkland.
“Lord Robin? Lady Zoe?” Quick announced.
“Quick, you don’t have to do that,” Robin told her.
“But my lord—”
“Do you do it with Cadance?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve known Cady for ages,” Quick admitted.
“Then please, don’t.” Robin then looked at the newcomers with a kind of weary resignation. “And which agencies are you from?”
Frank understood the pain of a man worried about his child; he’d worried about Bethany himself when she grew up and even now. “Mr. Kirkland, I’m Frank Justus, Director of the Bureau of Extradimensional Investigations. This is my boss, Princess Misato of Inari, the Secretary-General of the International Criminal Police Commission.”
She looked at him. “Like you, I don’t care for the royal crap, so Misato’s fine.”
He offered her his hand first. “I’m going to like you,” he said. He then turned to Frank, offering his hand. “The BXI? I’ve heard of you guys. Hopefully it’s not like the TV show makes it out to be.”
Frank shook. “Sir, I can assure you we did not stop The Everlasting Silence with a sonic transducer rifle, whatever that is. Hell, we use just regular old guns and I don’t even know if there’s anything called ‘The Everlasting Silence.’”
“Anyway, I’m Robin Kirkland, and this is my kid sister, Zoe. She’s going to be taking over Kirkland Industries when Luna and I get married, because otherwise it’s going to be a hell of a conflict of interest.”
Zoe waved. “Heya. Anything you can do for my niece?”
“Yes, we’re actually here to brief you and ask a few questions.”
Robin led them to the table. “You guys want anything to drink?”
Quick interceded. “Lord R…Robin, let me take care of that.” She signaled for one of her ponies. “You have more important things to do right now.”
“Sure. First, is there any way to get a hold of the family of the other Sterling Kirkland? I want to offer them any help I can, both on my family’s behalf and on that of the Equestriani Crown.”
“Not even married yet and you have that authority?” Misato asked.
“Tia – Celestia, I mean – was here twenty minutes ago. She said to just do whatever and let her know later so she can work on the details. And before you ask, she doesn’t know where Luna or Sterling are, either. Luna’s keeping tight-lipped about this.”
“We’ll see if we can get you that information,” Frank told him. “Now, we know how the information got out, but we have to ask: do you know anyone who could have given them the information regarding your daughter’s public identity? They know what she looked like, but no one knew she went by her middle name until we knew the identity of the other girl.”
“Yes, actually. There was a girl who used to work for me: Jade MacArthur. I say used to because she suddenly quit two weeks ago, just after Luna’s announcement of our engagement.”
Zoe continued. “I asked around the office and we thought it was at first because she felt jilted; because Jade worked often with my brother, she thought she could…well, let’s just say my brother has somewhat of a reputation as a playboy despite being a family man.”
Robin side. “Zoe….”
“Robin, it’s the word around the office. I know that’s not you, but you were married twice and both fell apart. You can’t blame people for coming up with rumors.” She then continued. “Then after Luna’s announcement and Jade’s subsequent departure, we went through her desk and found this.” She handed Frank a pamphlet.
Frank looked at the words on the cover: HUMANITY NEEDS YOU – JOIN OUR CAUSE. The image on the cover was that of a massive pony hoof coming down to crush a defenseless woman, stopped only by four people of different races, all holding up fists to stop the titanic appendage.
“For the record, we asked the Seattle Police Department to investigate and their investigation indicated it was just coincidental,” Quick commented. “Of course, that was last week and this is now.”
Robin looked at them. “I don’t think it was coincidental. I don’t know how, but I don’t think it was coincidental.” He looked at them. “My fiancée is an immortal lunar goddess and princess. I’ve had to adjust to the fact that I’m going to be a prince, and my daughter a princess. That’s insane enough, and all Luna and I want for Sterling is to just have a normal life – she’s going to have it hard enough as is because of who she is.” The look in his eyes was bleak. “Find these assholes. Because if you don’t….”
Frank looked at him. “We’ve got this, don’t worry.”
Misato, however, knew that tone. “Because what?”
“You know what Luna did a millennium ago – and that was when she wasn’t in control of her faculties. Do you want to imagine what she will do when our child is in danger?”
The thunderous silence was broken by a call on Frank’s phone. “This is Justus.”
“Boss, this is Ben. I’m at our offices in Wellington and I think there’s something you need to know.”
Frank looked at Quick. “How fast can you set up a volumetric?”
“I’ll get my guys right on it.”
“Don’t bother.” Misato snapped her digits and a small device was on the floor. “Seven-tailed kitsune for the win,” she said with a smile.
Frank got back on the phone. “Is the volumetric set up over at the New Zealand Office, Ben?”
“Yeah. Actually, good idea. I’ll be in that room in a sec.”
“Okay, that will give us time to clear out unsanctioned personnel.” He looked at Robin. “Normally you would be bounced out, but I’m a father too, and I know how this goes. So I’m not going to boot you. But my question to you is this: do you want to know?”
“They’re threatening to kill my daughter, Mr. Justus,” Robin seethed and Frank could see an anger in the man’s face, a fury Frank was sure he had on his face a quarter century ago when a slimeball of a hoodlum offered to give him a three-year-old sex slave.
“Please, just call me Frank.”
“Then Robin will do for me,” the younger man replied.
A second later, a blue light flickered, and a hologram appeared in the room. Volumetric displays were something that humanity, despite wanting to create, always had some issues with. Ponies, however, seemed to excel at it, and Derptech was the number one company on both worlds for this kind of technology. Holographic images of Hallenbeck and Glasslens appeared before them, indistinguishable from the real people save for the transparency and a thin blue beam emanating from the display.
“Okay, what’ve you got?” Frank asked the two ghostly images.
“We pulled the bullet out of the wall and did our analysis,” Hallenbeck told him. “The bullet they used is meant to also send a message. On first look, it’s just a normal hollow-point 9mm round. It killed Ms. Kirkland instantly and did the job on a normal human like any bullet would.”
Quick caught the word “normal” and that set off alarms. “And what does it do to magical beings?” she asked.
Grasslens spoke up. “Caught that, didn’t you? Yeah, well, what it does isn’t pretty. We tried to use a magical analysis on it, but it gave the unicorn doing it feedback. Actually ended up having to look at it through a spectrometer and electron microscope to find out what it is.” The look on the gryphoness’ eyes grew stern. “The bullet…is made with Preacher’s Iron.”
The magical beings in the room gasped, while Misato muttered, “Kaminokaze, watashitachi o sukui nasai.”
“What’s Preacher’s Iron?” Zoe asked, getting a bad feeling about the name.
“It’s an isotope of iron only found on Human-Earth that is banned by nearly all nations and is thus considered contraband by the ICPC and its agencies,” Frank explained. “Fe-60 repels and nullifies magic practically instantly. And no matter how magically strong a being is, if one is fired at it, it will do the same damage to it as a regular bullet of the same type will do to a non-magical being.” Frank leaned against a chair and looked at Robin. “And that bullet will not only be able to kill your daughter…it’ll be able to kill your fiancée, Robin.”
Robin slumped back in his chair, unsure of what to say.
Frank turned back to Hallenbeck. “Get a hold of Mondo and tell him to get the word to Sam: I want the gloves off now.” He then turned to Misato. “We need to get to the UN and talk to the Security Council about activating the Emergency Protocols.”
Misato looked at him. “The Global Emergency Protocols, all for a child.”
“No. The Global Emergency Protocols, because we now have godkillers on our hands.”
“I PROTEST!” The non-permanent representative of Cuba argued before the nine permanent members of the United Nations Security Council: The US, the UK, France, China, Russia, India, Equestria, Inari, and Donkonia, as well as the twenty-two other non-permanent members of the council. “I understand the threat we are discussing,” the representative replied. “But must we shift from panic to panic every time something new happens?”
“WE WILL NOT PROTECT PONIES!” the representative from Iran, also a non-permanent member, shouted.
“ORDER!” Spike growled, hammering the gavel down. As the Equestriani ambassador to the UN, he was now the Council president, as Equestria had it this year. “I ask that the Ambassador from Cuba not be interrupted,” he told all in the room.
“My thanks,” he told Spike. “Did the nations of Alter-Earth panic when the US announced the development of the quantum bomb? Did the nations of Human-Earth panic when the news about Princess Luna having once been under the control of Nightmare Moon came out? No! We are stronger together and we do not need to fear every crisis that washes up on our metaphorical beaches!”
“Thank you, Ambassador Muñoz,” Spike said before turning to Misato. “Madame Secretary, do you have anything to add?”
“This bullet will kill you,” she said to him. “And you,” she added to her fellow kitsune. “And you, and you and you.” She pointed at all the magical creatures in the room. “And it will do a number on humans and donkeys as well. We’re not talking about regular weapons of war, honored councilors, we’re talking weapons that can kill gods. Imagine the alicorns dead! Or the Ō-kyubi himself! Now imagine those weapons in the hands of the Changeling Empire, because if the HDA can get them, you can be sure that technology isn’t far from mass-production!” She looked at them all. “We know the HDA won’t bother with the portals, and they will never cross them. That means they are on Earth, and there is a shrinking amount of time before a changeling sneaks in and steals one of those! We need the Protocols activated so we can save us all!”
“I would ask the Council take the time to vote,” Spike said. “Madame Secretary, if you would be so kind as to wait outside?”
Misato sat outside in the garden, looking at the bees flitting around, pollinating the various plants in the garden, she felt at peace for just a few moments. It was the only way she could: after all, being a minor princess of the royal family, she would be forever only at seven tails, unless something happened to her uncle and his immediate family, though she wished it would never happen. She partially envied the ponies’ royalty for not having to deal with tails or anything of the sort; they were just ruling royalty and minor royalty and even the minor royalty was given roles. Not so for kitsune: even though she carried the title of Princess, she had no say in government – she couldn’t even enter the Imperial Palace except for official functions or if she was invited.
She thought sometimes about just giving up her life as it was and just settling here permanently on Human-Earth. There were so many legends regarding kitsune in Japan, she had to wonder if kitsune had found their way to Earth. After all, there were tales of the kitsune Kuzunoha and Tamamo-no-Mae here, and those correlated to the names of ancient bandit queens prior to the founding of the Inari Empire. Maybe….
“Misa?” She turned to see Spike show up.
“Hello, Spike.” She patted the seat next to her and the large drake did so.
“How’s Robin?”
“Worried. Luna is in deep hiding and not a soul will tell him where, not even her. He understands, but…well, I’m not a mother. I can understand, but not empathize.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah, same,” he said scratching the back of his neck. “The Council said no. Even acknowledging my niece is in trouble, they still said no.”
“I was expecting that,” Misato told him. “We’ll just have to leave it in Frank’s hands.” She chuckled. “He’s very creative, for a human.”
“I’m told when humans like him get creative, people tend to get hurt and things end up broken.”
“Better that than a grieving mother with the power to destroy both worlds,” she reminded him.
“Luna would never do that. You know that.”
“I do. But the world – both worlds, now – would never admit that they fear her power. Celestia, they trust. Cadance, too. But Luna? Only so far as the other alicorns can control her. It’s a cruel thing to say…but it doesn’t make it any less true.”
“Yeah. Misa?”
“Yes?”
“Find them. Break them. I’ve lost too much. I won’t let Luna lose what she loves, too.”
Misato got on her tippaws and kissed her old friend on the cheek, feeling its warmth. “Don’t worry. That’s why I’m letting Frank handle this.”
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Wait, I thought alicorns were vulnerable to regular bullets. That's why Tia panicked and fainted when a human assassin nearly blowed her head (she was saved by the tiara).
8366317
Some research has been done since then. But this definitely does the trick.
And in any case, would you prefer a regular round that wounds an alicorn or one that kills outright?
One of the things you excel at is introducing new characters in a natural way; a huge part of that is the lengthy chapters, since the narrative doesn't get interrupted very much. Keep it up!
Also, as a fellow Notre Dame grad, I'm already a fan of Hallenbeck. :)
8366396
Hah, you'd better like that guy ;)
Don't trust that Rowan guy, though - he likes to take baths in pancakes and use syrup and raw eggs as soap.
And get shot by breaking rules he never should have thought of breaking.
For those wondering just where Frank Justus and BXI came from...
Well, I would rather like to see Luna Jr. get the chance to be her own badass. It's the family business, after all.
8367227
So she can be thrown like her cousin?
8367384
Best thing ever
Shin, just a note on Nahuatl translation : you clearly plucked that name from Chapultepec, which disintegrates to Chapul (cricket) and Tepec (hill): Hill of crickets. If Jaguars actually wanted to refer to their capital close to that, they would call themselves Jaguartepetl, Mountain of Jaguars, or Jaguartitlán, Place/City of Jaguars. Just like Tenochtitlan, the founding name of Mexico City.
8371329
I recall that from my Spanish but I was kinda going for wordplay. Looks like I blew that.
Ok, funny enough, I wasn't notified when this chapter came out. Only finding out by pure casual peep, and I see this. OK I say, time to read
Lol W00T? Am I reading this well? Isn't that the name of my main OC? ..... nah, maybe he belongs to someone else and happens to have the same name
WAIT, ARE THOSE THE COLORS OF MY OC? IT IS TRUE, MY OC IN THE WORLD OF ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVORITE FIC SERIES
?