The Covert Mare Corps

by totallynotabrony

Chapter 3

Author note: It's kind of like getting four chapters in one!

Canterlot, 2012

Setting up for a new operation usually involved a stop by the headquarters in the basement of the HSE building. The three mares entered their abode and began packing gear.

The room was decorated—in a way—with clothing, accessories, weapons, and communication equipment. A few personal items had been placed here and there. A photograph of the Eiffel Tower. A piece of black fabric. A bullet on a necklace chain.

“How should we pack?” asked Scootaloo.

“It’ll probably be warm,” answered Sweetie Belle.

“Colombia ain’t the warmest place we could be goin’,” observed Apple Bloom.

The unicorn shrugged. “Well, based on intel, we’ll probably be doing this at night. It’ll be a little cooler then.”

The three ponies gathered the gear they thought would be needed. It wasn’t their first operation and they had some experience with what to take.

• • •

Canterlot, 2009

The bare walls echoed with the voices of the three mares.

“What in the world are we going to put here?” asked Scootaloo. The subterranean room was empty, save for the computer terminal.

“We can do whatever we want,” Sweetie Belle told her. “Princess Celestia gave it to us to use how we see fit.”

“Ah don’t know where to start.” Apple Bloom looked around. “We don’t know what we might need.”

“Could the Princess get us some kind of spy training?” asked Scootaloo. “She told us to ask if we needed anything.”

“Apple Bloom, you know something about fighting, right?” said Sweetie Belle.

The earth pony shrugged. “Just ‘cause I was in the army doesn’t mean I know everything about combat. Maybe we could get some of that training, too.”

“And languages!” added Scootaloo.

The three of them began to quickly talk and make plans. The black-colored Centurion cards they had been given were about to get a workout.

---

---

Somewhere in Colombia, 2012

Sweetie Belle stretched low, a few pieces of underbrush piled on top of her. There were no proper hills in this part of the world, only a small rise among the trees.

The laser rangefinder she had gave the distance to target at a little more than seven hundred yards. The unicorn regretted not getting one that gave multiple options for unit output, but fortunately her rifle was also set to function on a yards-based system.

The weapon was quite large and was not silenced. At the distance the mare was posted, she shouldn’t have a problem with exfiltration once the mission was over. Also, she would need a little more force than if her target was a soft one.

The XM500 bullpup sniper rifle had been hand-assembled by the Barrett Firearms Company in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. It was considered by many to be too large and unwieldy for regular use, and the powerful .50 BMG ammunition certainly didn’t help. However, if you wanted to make a difficult shot from almost half a mile away, there was no better weapon.

Sweetie picked up a small mirror with her magic and used it to check her camouflage. She had been careful in constructing her cover because certain plants, like grass, could wilt within hours and render her disguise ineffective. She would probably be in position for longer than a few hours.

The mare stared at a cluster of buildings through the optics on her rifle. Some men stood around, most of them armed. It seemed pretty obvious that they were doing something illegal—and probably drug related. Still, Sweetie’s job was to stand by and observe. She carefully memorized as many details as possible while the sun began to go down. Her friends were counting on her to be aware of the area.

Later, as the glow faded from the horizon, the earpiece Sweetie wore came to life. “Melody, this is Wheels. Stand by, they’re getting ready to move.”

The unicorn confirmed that she had received the message and tightened her grip on the rifle. A concealment spell she’d cast earlier covered the glow of her magic.

“This is Flower, they’re on the move.” Sweetie trained the scope on the truck. A night vision scope would have only helped so much, and barely at all at such a long distance. She had to guess where her target was based on the headlights.

The truck rounded a bend in the road. “Now!”

The rifle thundered. An ounce and a half of lead zipped toward the target, covering the distance at several times the speed of sound. It was a perfect shot, like always.

“Melody, Flower here. Clean kill! We’re approaching now.”

Sweetie nodded to herself. The truck sat dead in the road, its engine block shattered by her bullet.

• • •

Camp Pendleton, 2010

The grass under her face was not great. Sweetie Belle chewed some while she plotted her next move.

The stalking range at the Marine Corps base was used for the final phase of sniper training. It was not unheard of for the Marines to host foreign military members at their school, but a pony raised more than a few eyebrows.

At least the mare had proven herself. Over the last several weeks, she’d been doing better than average, especially at concealment. While Sweetie’s magical talent was not related to disguises, she could add enough extra to her hoof-made ghillie suit to become virtually invisible.

While the mare’s body—and horn—could not physically get as flat to the ground as a human, she had still crawled up to the firing line without being detected. With a radio, she reported ready.

A neutral instructor came by, stopping within ten yards of the prone pony. At the observation post Sweetie was sneaking towards, a small sign was posted.

“It says ‘USCM’,” reported the pony, showing that she was close enough to see it. Sweetie wondered why it wasn’t “USMC.” Probably trying to trip her up.

“Correct,” the instructor told her. He checked his radio. Now that he was within ten yards, it was the observation post’s job to talk him closer. If they steered him to within a foot of the shooter, she failed.

Apparently, Sweetie could not been seen from the post. The instructor never came closer than three yards. He ordered, “Take your first shot.”

Sweetie pulled the trigger, hitting a human-shaped metal target. Once again the post tried to talk the instructor onto her position. When she couldn’t be located, he told her to fire a second shot.

Seconds passed. The instructor’s radio chirped. He looked around, still not seeing the concealed pony. “All right, come out. You passed.”

The closing ceremony of the training program was attended by far fewer than had entered the course It had a 60% dropout rate, after all. Each of the graduates was presented with a bullet on a necklace chain. It was a powerful symbol of Marine Sniper School, and a keepsake that all of them would treasure.

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A road in Colombia, 2012

Scootaloo squinted from the bushes. It was dark, but the camouflage netting concealed her orange coat. Her purple mane was pulled back, both to keep it out of the way and to deviate from her usual appearance. The mare wore a black combat jacket that was long enough to cover her cutie mark.

In the distance, she saw headlights cut through the night. That would be the transport truck moving. The pegasus called it out on the radio and got a confirmation from Sweetie Belle. Now they had to wait for the right moment.

As the truck’s engine grew closer, Scootaloo heard her companion, who was hidden across the road from her, call out another warning on the radio. As the truck drew near, the orange mare keyed her radio and called, “Now!”

There was a loud thunk and the truck stopped dead. Scootaloo was out of her hiding place in a flash, rushing forwards. Two men jumped out of the back of the vehicle with assault rifles. The pegasus leapt into the air and kicked the first one in the chest, using her wings to create extra force. Shoving him into the other man, the pony twisted and disarmed both before tossing the pair into the road.

Before they could recover, Scootaloo was already at the driver’s door. She slammed it closed as he started to get out, reaching through the open window and hauling his head out. It was easy to keep the man pinned with his neck on the sill.

The pegasus looked across the cab of the truck where a second man was being hauled out by another mare. She received a quick nod from the other pony, who dragged her prisoner into the trees. Scootaloo shoved the man back into the truck and zipped away. The whole attack had taken just seconds.

• • •

Tel Aviv, 2010

“Why are you learning human martial arts?” asked the Israeli solider.

The orange pony shrugged. Truthfully, it just made sense. She might have to fight humans.

“Do you realize that this will not be quick, easy, or painless?” The man smiled.

“I’m in good shape, I’m quick, and I’ve been studying Karate, Tae Kwon Do, and a little Kung Fu,” answered Scootaloo.

“Well, Krav Maga is a little different.” The soldier shrugged. “It’s not defensive, it’s meant to end fights as quickly as possible.”

The pegasus nodded. She felt ready.

Weeks later, Scootaloo didn’t feel ready. She expected to be attacked by an instructor at any moment. She had learned to be always alert and ready to fight. Her movements had gotten sharper and more reflexive, but there was still a lot to learn.

Despite that, it was useful in more areas than just fighting skill. Scootaloo’s exercise routine hadn’t fallen off since leaving the X Games, but she had known there was room for improvement. She was still no Rainbow Dash, but her fitness had gotten better since beginning.

The mare had her eyes on a black belt. If it took a little pain and suffering, that was fine. As the instructors liked to say, think how much of that you’ll be able to cause.

---

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The Colombian jungle, 2012

Apple Bloom had transported the man for quite a distance. She wanted to have a private conversation with him, after all. The mare had quickly bound and gagged him at the truck and carried him away from the road.

If intel was correct—and it should be—this man was Francois Theriault. While a native of France, the man had connections all over the world. How he had come to be in Colombia was not Apple Bloom’s concern. She had more important questions to ask.

He didn’t want to cooperate. The mare silently cursed the pony reputation about being nicer than people. It took quite a lot of convincing to get Francois to see her side of things.

Scootaloo showed up shortly and stood watch. She didn’t speak French, and therefore could not participate in the interrogation.

Apple Bloom finally managed to get what she wanted and stuffed the gag back in the man’s mouth. He stared at the two ponies. They gave them a look and turned away. If he wanted to get back to civilization, he would have to walk.

The two mares met up with the third a few hours later and several miles away. Sweetie Belle asked, “What did we learn?”

“Well, Ah threatened to extradite him to England, and after that he seemed to want to talk,” said Apple Bloom. “He told me what’s goin’ on.”

The earth pony’s friends leaned closer as she told the story. “Food Aid Universal was being used by the cartels to smuggle drugs hidden inside their shipments. Thomas Lakes was trying to stop it, and they killed him. Meanwhile, our friend Francois was handling things on this side of the ocean.”

“This side of the ocean?” asked Scootaloo. “I take it the real management is somewhere else.”

“So where are we going next?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Apple Bloom sighed. “South Africa.”

• • •

Paris, 2010

The pony fluffed her scarf against the cold. The woman across the table from her smoked a cigarette and stared unpleasantly at her coffee.

Apple Bloom asked in stuttering French how much longer they were going to sit there. Checking her watch, the woman said that it wouldn’t be too much longer.

The human was an agent for DCRI, a French nationwide law enforcement agency. Apple Bloom was in training with them to gain experience and learn to speak the language. She’d interned with several agencies in Europe already.

The agent extinguished her cigarette as a blonde woman walked by. This was the criminal they were after.

The pony and the woman got up, heading for the target. A black van sat idling at the curb. As the blonde drew even with it, the door snapped open and two men grabbed her. Apple Bloom and her companion pushed from behind. All of them piled into the van and it pulled away.

“Julie Kenrick, visitor from across the channel,” explained one of the men in heavily accented English.

Apple Bloom knew that the snatch-and-grab relied on speed. Ms. Kenrick wasn’t missed yet, and they had to act fast. Suddenly, a cell phone rang. One of the agents grabbed it out of their detainee’s pocket.

“She needs to answer it, or they might figure out we grabbed her!” said the pony, not bothering to speak French.

“Can’t trust her.”

“Let me.” The pony held out her hooves. Reluctantly, the man handed over the phone. Punching the answer button, the mare put it to her ear. “Hello?”

The French seemed surprised. The pony’s usual ridiculous accent seemed to have morphed into a perfect mimic of someone from the British Isles.

Apple Bloom listened. “I’m on my way. Tell me the address where I’m going again, just to make sure I have it.”

After a few more minutes, the mare ended the call and smiled. “Ah know where the rest of ‘em are. Let’s get goin’.”

Comments

[NaughtSought]

hmmmm Okay then... Good.... Very good...
4th of vampire Cheerilee

[APS]

1371158

4th of vampire Cheerilee

posting comment in the wrong story ?