> Wargames
>  by Speven Dillberg
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: Arrival
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The RED Engineer pulled off his hard-hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. He had spent the last few hours maintaining the sentry gun that was defending their base in Teufort. “I really need to start bringin’ along a chair,” he muttered. Down in the courtyard was a large pile of body parts, the walls coated in blood and bits of BLU uniforms.
RED’s Soldier happened to walk past at that moment. “Quit your lolly-gagging, son! We have a war to fight!” he shouted, slamming a rocket into his launcher.
“In case you’ve forgotten, Soldier, mah job is to help defend.” 
“Well maybe you should hiding behind your toys and FIGHT LIKE A MAN!” Soldier bellowed into Engineer’s face, spraying him with spit. Before he could give any more abuse there was a sound akin to the end of the world and the ground shook as though the earth would open up and swallow up both bases. “What is going on!?” 
Engineer clung to his sentry gun to try and stabilize himself. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Engineer and Soldier looked each other in the eyes for a moment before shrugging. 
“Did you guys feel that!?” RED’s Scout, his hat and headset askew, ran from the respawn room and skidded to a stop next to the pair, holding his scattergun close to his body. 
“Stop being so scared, son! You’re acting like a disgrace!”
“Go easy, Soldier. I’ll admit, that was pretty terrifying.” There was a flash of green light that seemed to come from everywhere at once. All three looked around before Scout pointed a shaky finger up at the sky and began to stammer. “Well I’ll be,” Engie muttered, taking off his hard-hat and putting over his heart.
In the middle of the sky was a great green vortex. It looked like a cloud but seemed as solid as rock. It swirled slowly and lightning could be seen arcing within. All three could feel their hearts race as they gazed upon its unnaturalness. A feeling of deep unease fell upon them.
“That’s it, I’m outta here!” Scout ran full speed back to the respawn room, leaving Soldier shaking his head in shame.
“Damn it boy, you’re a disgrace to the uniform!” he yelled harshly at the retreating figure.
“You didn’t go angerin’ Merasmus again, didja Soldier?” Engineer asked, eyebrow raised. “Didja forget the whole Monoculus thing already?”
“I haven’t seen that bearded hippie in weeks. But when I do I will push my boot so far up his ass he’ll be coughing up boot polish!” 
Engineer rolled his eyes and put his hard-hat back on. “Come on, Soldier. It’s about time for combat to end anyways.”
“Who’s making dinner tonight?” Soldier asked as he followed.
“I think it’s Pyro’s turn.”
“Ah hell.”





In the tallest tower of a great castle on a different world, there was a being. Four hooves, a long spiralled horn, great wings, a coat of midnight and a mane and tail of stars.This creature was focused on a spell unlike anything ever seen anywhere by anything, mortal or otherwise.
As the moon shone down on the tower, adding to this being’s considerable power, far off in the distance something began to appear. A building, unlike anything ever constructed on this world, seemingly made from nothing but wood and corrugated iron but sturdier than a mountain. It was marred by the scars of a near-constant conflict: bullet holes, small craters, even scorch marks.
It took close to an hour for the building to fully materialise. When it did, the creature who had called it into the world smiled strangely before collapsing from exhaustion.





Soldier was the first to wake, as he did every morning. He quickly and quietly dressed before making his way to the battlements of the Teufort base. When he did, he looked into the distance, expecting to see BLU’s base and their Soldier. Occasionally they shared a friendly salute. More often than not they ended up yelling insults at each other. Today was different. There was no BLU Soldier. There was no BLU base. Instead there was nothing but lush green fields as far as he could see. Soldier’s jaw dropped. “Boys!” he yelled out when he found his voice. “Boys!”
“What is it, Soldier?” came the reply, its owner coming into view wearing a vest, a slouch hat and holding a coffee mug that had the words “#1 Sniper” written on the side. “Bloody hell,” he said when he saw what Soldier had. “What did you do now?”
“What do you mean, what did I do?” 
“Last time something like this happened you tried to give that damn magician a haircut.” Sniper raised an eyebrow and looked over the brim of his sunglasses. “You didn’t try that again, did you?”
“No I did not!” Soldier responded angrily. “And I swear that when I find whoever is responsible I will put my foot so far up their ass it will go back in time!”
“Vat’s vith all the yelling so early?” a heavily-accented voice asked. An austere man wearing glasses and a great white coat stepped out into the sunshine. It took him a moment to realise what was wrong with what he was seeing. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Sniper replied before taking another sip from his cup. “Someone wake up Engineer. He’ll know what to do.”





Author's notes:
I have already decided who will be what class. There will be two OCs, both Royal Guards, taking over positions not filled in by the Mane Six and Big Macintosh.
> Contact
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“So I’ve got good news and bad news,” Engineer said as he entered the main dining area. The entire team, with the exception of Sniper, had assembled there after they had seen for themselves what was wrong. “We’ve still got power, which means we have the respawn and the resupply. The bad news,” he continued as he wiped his hands on his overalls, “is that I can’t get anyone. The phones are down, the radios are down, hell, even the emergency contact system is down. We’re stranded.”
Spy, in his red suit and ever-present balaclava, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Great,” he muttered from his corner.
Heavy, his bulk forcing him to take two chairs, looked at the Texan in shock. “Is not possible!”
Pyro let out a muffled yell and groaned before crossing his/her/its arms. 
Soldier turned to Engineer. “So what now?”
“Well, I would try rebuildin’ the time machine we used to get back after the whole DeGroot Keep incident,” everyone present glared at Soldier, “but from what I can tell, we may be in a completely different dimension. No point in buildin’ a time machine if that ain’t what we need.”
“So we got pulled out of our reality?” Scout asked, his mind moving a million miles an hour thanks to the can of Bonk! Atomic Punch (Cherry Fission) he had just downed. “How is that even possible!?”
“If I may,” Spy said, stepping out of the shadows. “I do not zink we were pulled from our world. Razzer, I zink we may have been pushed.”
Soldier had seen this coming, and began yelling at Spy. “Listen here, Frenchie! I had nothing to do with it this time! I haven’t seen that good-for-nothing hippie in weeks, let alone done anything to him. But when I do...” He trailed off and began to crack his knuckles, making his intentions clear to all.
“Calm down, Soldier,” Engineer said. “I’ll try and figure out what’s going on, and then we can -”
“Mates.” Sniper, his head poking around the doorframe, had chosen that moment to interrupt their conversation. “You might want to see this.”





The Team had gathered in one of the underground rooms and were watching one of the grainy security camera feeds. The Sniper had seen their two guests through the scope of his rifle, and he hadn’t believed what he had seen. Neither did the others when he explained it to them on the way to the surveillance room. Now that they did see it, they still couldn’t believe it. After all, what they were watching on the cameras were...
“Horses. Armoured horses,” Engineer commented.
“They ain’t just any horses. They got wings!” Scout said loudly. 
“Their heads are much too big to be horses from our vorld. A larger cranial cavity means a larger brain. They are intelligent,” Medic concluded, a worrying gleam in his eyes.
“Intelligent winged horses? Bah! Next you’ll tell me that they can talk!” Soldier hit a button on the control panel and was just as surprised as the others when the clear sounds of speech came through the speakers.
“ - we got sent out, I have no idea.”
“Quit your complaining, Private, and follow your orders.”
“How are we meant to make contact with whoever’s in here if they don’t show themselves?”
“Sacre bleu,” Spy muttered. 
“No freaking way,” Scout exclaimed.
“Wunderbar!” Medic said, rubbing his hands together in glee. Everyone else responded by going slack-jawed. Engineer was the first to recover.
“O-okay then. We have a bunch of talking horses in our courtyard, and they want to see us. What should we do, guys?”
Scout was the first to speak up. “Hey, they wanna see us, let’s go!” He ran full speed out of the room only for Heavy to grab his collar. “Urk! Hey, lard-fat, mind letting me go?”
“I say we wait.” They all turned to Soldier, shocked that he had made one of his rare tactically sensible decisions. “We don’t know what they can do, and we don’t know who they work for. They could be working for BLU!” They all rolled their eyes.
“Soldier, do you really think there’s any way talkin’ winged horses are workin’ for BLU? Really?” Engineer asked. 
“Their legs are unarmoured,” Sniper commented, tapping the screen. “If we have any trouble we could just -”
“They have wings, dummy. They can just use those,” Scout said, still in Heavy’s grip. “Can you let me go now?”
‘No!”
“Arguing will get us nowhere,” Spy said, lighting a cigarette. “I, for one, agree with Scout. Zey were sent to meet us. Zat means zat zey mean us no harm, at least not yet. I will go and greet zem.” He finished his cigarette and threw the butt onto the ground before going invisible. 
“Get back here Frenchie!” Soldier bellowed.
“He gets to go and I don’t!?” Scout asked angrily. “This sucks.”
“Dagnabit,” Engineer muttered. “We’ll never find him now.”
“Look, there’s nothing here. Let’s just go back and tell the Princess.” The horses had begun speaking again, their voices coming through the speakers.
“Private, you know our orders. ‘Establish contact, then return to the Princess so that she may greet them properly.’ I swear, Private, I am so close to bucking some sense into you right now.”
“A princess, huh? Well ain’t that somethin’,” Engineer commented.
“Sir, there is nobody here.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of zat,” Spy said as he dropped his cloak, standing behind the horses.





Spy wore an amused smile as he watched the pair of stallions (they were definitely male) spin and flair their wings in an attempt to make themselves seem bigger. A pathetic display, seeing he stood an easy two feet higher than them. “How did you get there?” the one to his left asked. Their golden armour bore little in the way of adornment, but he guessed by the blue star on the front that this was the one in charge.
“All I will say is zat I have my ways,” Spy replied as he lit up another cigarette. “Now, I have questions of my own. May I?”
“On behalf of Princess Celestia, I welcome you to the land of Equestria. As members of Her Majesty’s Royal Guard, we are only authorised to answer your questions be they on a few topics.”
“You just answered two of my questions, so zank you.” Spy blew out a plume of smoke. “Equestria? How quaint. So,” he continued, “I take it you wish to take us to meet Her Royal Highness straight away, zen?” 
“That is correct. Our orders are to return once we establish how many guests we need to escort to the Royal Court.”
“Very well. Zere is myself and eight ozzers. It might be best if you got to meet zem as well.” Spy looked up at the camera on the wall and spoke at it. “Come on, zen.”
The two ponies looked at each other, unsure what to make of his behavior. They were also worried that he kept his entire face hidden. Why, they wondered. What reason could he have for wanting to do that?
It didn’t take long for the other eight to emerge from the stairs that led underground. They were all different, but they all had one thing in common: their clothing incorporated, in some way, the colour red. 
“Goddamnit, crouton, what is your major malfunction!? What compelled you to give information so freely to them!?” Soldier had approached Spy and began yelling in his face. 
“All he did was give them numbers, Soldier,” Engineer said, intervening. “Not that that means much, what with the respawn still workin’.” Soldier, seeing that the Texan had a point, grumbled and crossed his arms. Engineer, confident that the situation had been resolved for now, turned to the two guardsponies. “Sorry about that. My compatriot here isn’t the smartest fella around. Th’name’s Engineer, or Engie for short. The one wearing the suit is Spy,” Spy nodded in response, “the angry one is Soldier, or Solly, the one in the white coat is Medic, the small fast one is Scout, the big guy is Heavy Weapons Guy, the one with the sunglasses and hat is Sniper, Pyro’s the one in the mask and eyepatch is Demoman.” Each member of the team acknowledged their introduction in some way, whether it be with a nod, a wave, or even a few words.
“Eeeyy,” Demoman responded drunkenly, taking a swig from his ever-present bottle of scumpy.





“So, there are nine of them, and they say they are ‘humans’?”
“That is correct, your highness,” Storm Surge replied formally. “They say that they were pulled into our world during their night. They believe a magician or wizard on their side is responsible in some way.”
“I see,” Princess Celestia said, for once not sure what else to say. “You are dismissed. Send three sky chariots to bring them here so that I may meet them.”
“Princess, it may be best to send a fourth. The one they call ‘Heavy’ is about the size of a Diamond Dog Alpha, and looks twice as heavy.”
“Do whatever is necessary, Captain, just make sure that they arrive safely.” When the guard disappeared, she let out a sigh. She gazed about the throne room blankly, her mind racing. There was too much happening for the arrival of these ‘humans’ to be mere coincidence. The wargames with the griffons were due to start in a matter of weeks. The Royal Guard had little in the way of actual battle experience, and even with the Elements assisting they stood little chance of victory.
The Regent of the Sun let out a resigned sigh, one that spoke of over a millennium of exhaustion. It wasn’t helping her disposition that Luna had seemed to take an almost unhealthy interest in her studies after learning about the upcoming wargames. If she recalled correctly, her little sister had not been researching tactics and strategies, but teleportation magic. 
Celestia looked up suddenly, things clicking into place. She rose from her throne and left the room, determined to have a chat with her little sister. “What have you done this time?” she muttered to herself.
> Royal Meeting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Soldier stood on the battlements of the dimensionally-displaced base, staring into the distance. He was waiting for their transport to go see this ‘princess’ and perhaps get back to Teufort. Though RED Team had only been in ‘Equestria’ for a matter of hours, he found himself missing the dirt and bloodshed.
He had used the resupply to change, as best as he could, into something more appropriate for a meeting with what could only be described, in his mind, as a superior officer. He now wore his Armored Authority helmet and his Fancy Dress Uniform. On his side was his Disciplinary Action riding crop, and on his feet were the Mantreads.
“You’re goin’ in the General’s Formals set?” Soldier turned to see Engineer standing behind him, wearing his Texas Ten Gallon. “Nice choice.”
“All your wearing is that hat?” Soldier asked.
“Nothin’ wrong with this hat. B’sides, much better suited for meetin’ royalty than a hard-hat is.” Engineer sighed. “Better than what the rest of the Team is wearin’. too.”
“Oh no,” Soldier muttered as he put his face into his palm. 
“Hey, you guys!” Scout had poked his head around to the battlements and was motioning frantically at them. “C’mon, our ride’s here!” 
It did not escape either’s attention that the Scout was wearing a hat that, while indeed an improvement over his cap and headset, would not do for a meeting of this kind. “Why is that filthy maggot wearing the Bombing Run?” Soldier fumed. “How is that even appropriate for where we are going!?”
“Just ignore it, Soldier. B’sides, that ain’t the worst of it.” Engineer and Soldier made their way to the courtyard where the rest of the team and the four sky-chariots were waiting. Much to the military man’s dismay, the Texan had not been wrong in the slightest. 
Heavy was wearing his Coupe D’isaster. Pyro stood next to a chariot wearing his Vintage Merryweather. Demoman was taking a swig from his Scottish Handshake, the Hustler’s Hallmark close to falling off his head. The Grimm Hatte-wearing Medic was idly cleaning his bonesaw, whistling a disturbingly merry tune in the process. Spy was smoking a cigarette, surveying the others through the sunglasses that were a part of the Familiar Fez. As Soldier looked at his allies in shock and disgust, Sniper appeared wearing the Larrikin Robin. This was the last straw. “YOU FILTHY MAGGOT SCUM!” he bellowed at the top of his voice. Everyone, Royal Guards included, turned and stared at the now-beet-red Soldier. “Each and every one of you is trying for a Section 8! You will go back to the resupply, choose hats that are better suited for where we are going and then return ON THE DOUBLE! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?” he roared, spit flying from his mouth. There was a general muttering of agreement that Soldier did not approve of. “If you are not gone in the next ten seconds I will personally shove my boot up each and every one of your asses!” Soldier yelled loudly, a blood vessel in his forehead threatening to rupture.
As the other seven members returned to the respawn room, Engineer went up to Soldier, who was breathing heavily in an attempt to calm himself. “You okay there?” he asked cautiously. 
“I’ll... I’ll be fine,” Soldier replied through gritted teeth. “It’s like they’re trying to kill me.”
Of the eight pegasi present, seven shared a worried glance. Everything about this group seemed to scream dysfunction. They each had their suspicions as to what they were doing in Equestria, and every reason necessitated that these ‘humans’ be efficient, well-trained and disciplined. What they had seen so far was as removed as possible from that.
The eighth guard, Captain Storm Surge, was of a different mind. He felt his heart going out to Soldier. He knew all too well the stress and frustration that came with unruly recruits. He understood the pressure of getting a bunch of misfits to act as a coherent unit. In Soldier he felt that he had found a kindred spirit.





Princess Celestia waited calmly on her throne, her sister Luna sitting beside her on her throne. It was a rare occasion that both princesses held a joint court, usually reserved for war councils (something that hadn’t occurred for over 1200 years) and meeting with delegates from before-undiscovered countries (something that hadn’t occurred in 1600 years). Princess Luna was nodding off, still exhausted from her extensive over-use of magic and three hours of (rather calm) questioning concerning what she had done. Even her mane, an ever-flowing void of night and starlight, seemed weary and sluggish. “Forgive me, sister,” she said as she stifled a yawn. “I am unsure as to whether I can remain awake for this.”
Celestia wore a mischevious smile as she stared calmly at the doors to the throne room. “I should hope you can, Luna. After all, they are your responsibility.”
Luna narrowed her eyes and glared at her sister. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asked, an annoyed tone in her voice.
Before the elder alicorn could respond the doors were pushed open. Into the throne room marched, sauntered, swaggered, stumbled and otherwise entered nine of the oddest figures they had ever seen.
Each stood on two legs, had two arms on either side of a torso and a head with two eyes, a nose, a mouth and, though they couldn’t be sure with all of them, two ears. They were also wearing a hat of some sort. There the similarities ended. Some were tall, some were short, some were wide, some were thin and their clothing was vastly diverse. One thing was certain: they were very strange.
“Hoo-wee! Now ain’t this the grandest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You got that right, hard-hat.” One of them, a small thin individual wearing a trilby, let out a low whistle as he looked around. 
“Please, forgive my comrades,” a suited, masked individual with a fedora said apologetically. “Zey are clearly unfamiliar wiz how to act around royalty.”
“How are their manes doing that?” the princesses heard one of them, this one wearing a lab coat and flat cap, mutter.
It wasn’t long before they all devolved into a small rabble as they talked amongst themselves about what they were seeing. After sharing a bemused smile with her sister, Princess Celestia cleared her throat to get their attention. They quickly fell silent. “Greetings to you all. My sister and I welcome you to Equestria, unplanned as your arrival happened to be. I am Princess Celestia.”
“And I am Princess Luna,” Luna continued, a fraction of the Royal Canterlot Voice in her voice. “We understand that you wish to return to your world as soon as possible.”
“That’s correct, yer majesty.” One of them, wearing an apron of sorts and metal goggles, stepped forwards and took his ten gallon hat off. “We’d appreciate it greatly if you could point us in the direction of somebody who could send us and our base back.”
“I’m afraid that will be a problem,” Celestia said calmly.
“The amount of power required to send the building you arrived in is immense, and the spell required to do so is far from easy,” Luna elaborated.
“So we’re stuck here?” a helmeted, trench-coated individual asked, sounding frustrated and upset.
“The situation is not permanent,” the alabaster alicorn reassured the gathered party, who all sighed with relief. “Unfortunately, my sister and I estimate that it will take over a month and a half for us to properly ascertain your home and properly prepare the spell.”
“Removing something is much easier than replacing it,” Luna explained. 
“Wait,” the masked one said, stepping forwards. “Am I to understand zat you are responsible for out current situation?”
“Well, yes,” the midnight-coloured alicorn answered. 
“Damn it,” the helmeted one muttered. “And I wanted to give Merasmus a good beating. Good-for-nothing hippie...”
“Mmherr, mmherr,” the strange masked one said reassuringly as it placed a gloved hand onto the other’s shoulder. The figure seemed incredibly intimidating, but that was offset by the rather cheery tea hat perched atop their head.What was said next was completely unintelligible to the princesses but not to their guests. 
“I guess you’re right, Pyro.”
“I know we’re... digressing, but could I ask that your companion remove the mask?” Princess Celestia asked. “I’m not particularly comfortable talking to somebody without being able to see their face.”
The goggled one chuckled. “Sorry, yer highness, but Pyro there don’t take that mask off for nothin’. We’ve known each other for a little over four years now, and we still ain’t seen what’s under that thing. Honestly, I’m not sure we wanna.”
“As I was saying before,” Luna interrupted, sounding slightly disturbed by the notion, “I did not remove you from your world for my own personal amusement. There is a very important reason for my bringing you here.”
One lengthy explanation later, filled with much arguing, cajoling and, in Luna’s case, yawning, the nine humans had been filled in on the situation.
“Now, ya’ll have to forgive me, but I’m still havin’ a hard time believing all this. I mean, we end up in a world populated by what are, for us, a buncha mythological creatures. And you want us to train your representatives for some wargames?”
“That is correct,” Celestia replied, not too sure how to feel about the ‘mythological creatures’ remark. “If you do not wish to assist us, then we shall leave you alone until we are able to return you to your world.”
“Sister,” Luna hissed as she leaned over. “What are you doing?”
“Always give them a choice, sister. Never force their hoof - or hand, in this case, it’s not polite,” she replied.
“I say we help them,” the helmeted one said loudly. 
“Why not?” the small thin one, Scout, said. “After all, we’re gonna be stuck here anyway. I don’t wanna be cooped up in the base the whole time.”
They rest of them murmured in agreement, much to the alicorns’ relief. “Very well then,” Luna said. “We shall be sending our representatives to your base tomorrow. I take it that that is acceptable?”
“That’ll be just fine, princess.”
“Very well. We shall also be sending a number of guards to act as couriers and security.”
“We’re perfectly capable of defending our base on our own,” the one who was called Soldier growled. “Your highnesses,” he added as an afterthought.
“I’m sure you are, but the physical presence will act as a deterrent. I am sure you can appreciate the need to appear well-defended?” Celestia asked, a sly smile across her features.
Soldier mumbled in agreement as the masked man, Spy, stepped forwards. “So, tomorrow morning, zen? We look forward to it.”
“Your carriages are waiting for you outside. Goodbye,” Luna said. The humans bowed and departed. When the door swung close, Luna turned to her sister. “Why did you not say anything about - ”
“The girls not having any kind of experience?” Celestia said, finishing her sister’s question. “The Elements are capable of adapting to any situation, much better than any other pony. They are perfect candidates. As for the others...” She trailed off into thought. “Perhaps a representative from each of our guards would be appropriate?”
“Yes, that would be best.” Luna looked up, a puzzled expression on her face. “But that only makes eight. What shall we do about the ninth?”
Celestia was about to answer when the sound of the doors creaking open caught her attention. “Your highness?” They both looked up when one of Celestia’s guards, who had been standing guard outside for the duration of the meeting, entered and approached them. 
“Yes, Captain Storm Surge?” Celestia asked calmly, intrigued as to why this guard felt the need to approach her. 
“I would like to volunteer myself to represent Equestria in the upcoming wargames against Aquileon.”
“Oh?” Celestia was puzzled. She had expected to have to order somepony to undertake this task. For a volunteer to step forward... “Why, Captain?”
“I know how tenuous the political situation is, Princess. Losing means we could very well become the laughing stock of the world, regardless of our advances in magic and technology. Also...” The pegasus ruffled his feathers briefly. “Also, I feel the need to prove myself in front of them. I saw the way their Soldier looked at our guards. It was with derision and scorn. He sees us as useless, maybe worse than that.” A grim, determined look crossed the captain’s face. “I plan on proving him wrong.”
The princesses looked at each other before they both smiled. “I think we have the right pony for the job, sister,” Luna proclaimed wryly. 
“I think so too, sister. Feel free to cancel court for the night, Luna.”
“I think I shall.”





Author's Notes:
I hope you appreciate the effort I went to with linking to the pages. That took a while.
Also, damn Fimfiction for not allowing me to resize text. I need Soldier's rant in BIG LETTERS!
> Meeting the Teams
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The large chariot, pulled by four guardsponies, sailed through the air from Ponyville. The occupants, six mares and a stallion, were all talking about just what was happening. 
“So why are we doing this?” a loud, brash rainbow-maned pegasus asked.
“I have no idea, Rainbow.” The purple unicorn replied, a worried expression creasing her features. “We’re not warriors. The closest we’ve been to fighting is against Nightmare Moon and Discord, and that was completely different.”
“That’s probably somethin’ ta do with it,” an orange pony wearing a stetson said. “Think about it, Twi. We use tha Elements of Harmony. Din’t the letter say somethin’ about these fellas being a team? Ain’t that what we were when we fought Nightmare Moon and Discord?”
“Yeah, the best team in all Eqeustria!” Rainbow Dash proclaimed loudly.
“Please, Rainbow, calm down,” a white unicorn said as she brushed her violet mane out of her eyes. “You’re rocking the chariot.”
“Oh, quit your whining, Rarity!” Rainbow replied with an eyeroll. 
“Yeah! This is gonna be fun!” Pinkie Pie, her cotton-candy mane bouncing as she sat still which, for her, was an astounding feat.
“But... but we’re going to be fighting,” a small voice said. This sixth voice belonged to Fluttershy, a pegasus with a butter-yellow coat and pink mane. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“The letter said that one of the instructors specialises in healing the rest of his team,” Twilight said in an attempt to reassure her timid friend. “Maybe you should pair with him?”
“What I don’t get is how I got dragged into all this,” a deep voice said. The six mares turned to the lone stallion, Applejack’s brother Big Macintosh. “I know just as little as you do! And I’m not even that special.”
“Maybe they need somepony really strong?” Rainbow suggested.
“Hey! What about me?” Applejack asked, the farmer unhappy with what her friend had said.
“Oh come on, AJ, you gotta admit that your big brother is stronger than you are!” Big Macintosh smiled at Rainbow’s defense of him and turned to his sister who groaned, knowing that she had lost this.
“Dangit Rainbow, didja have ta go and do that?”
Before the speedster pegasus could answer, one of the stallions pulling the chariot turned around. “We’ve almost arrived, fillies and gentlecolt.”
All seven occupants leaned over the sides to get a quick look at the building before they touched down. “That’s... strange.”
“That... looks a lot like the barn back home.”
“Not much room to fly, is there?”
“It doesn’t look like much, does it?”
“They must really like the colour red!”





There was a small number of guards inside the main courtyard of the RED base. Each of them were of Luna’s Night Guard, their curved purple armour intentionally designed to instill a small degree of fear into those who saw them. It didn’t have this affect on the Team, but it was clear that a few members found it much more appropriate than the bright shiny armour worn by Celestia’s Day Guard.
Each of them were unicorns and three had long since given up on the idea of trying to maintain the facade of apathy that the Guard was famed for. Instead, they had begun to socialize with a number of members of the Team after both sides got over the initial weirdness of their conversation partners.
All except one. This particular stallion may as well have been a statue for the complete lack of movement he showed. Most of the Team had long since given up on trying to get him to talk. Demoman had yet to try, and was kneeling in front of the unicorn, staring intently into his face.
After close to five minutes of complete silence, the one-eyed Scotsman belched loudly. There was a pause before the unicorn recoiled and gagged. “What have you been drinking?” he asked in a very deep voice. “Paint thinner?”
Demoman let out a hearty laugh. “Ah knew Ah could get ya ta talk!”
“Yes, congratulation,” the unicorn replied sarcasticaly. “Now leave me alone.”
“Did ya really think I was just gonna walk away?” Demoman took a quick swig from his bottle. He laughed again before letting out another small burp. “Anyway, I’ve been wantin’ ta know. Do ya all look like that?”
“If you mean my coat, then no, our armour is enchanted.”
“Well if yer armour makes ya look like that, what do ya look like without it?”
The guard let out a snort. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Are ya pink?”
“No,” the unicorn replied. “Be easier if I was...” he muttered to himself.
“Oh would it now?” Demoman asked, standing up. “So what, that mean yer covered in spots?”
“No.”
“Stripes, then?”
The guard paused for a fraction of a second too long. “No.”
“So ya do have stripes, then?”
“No!” the guard insisted.
“Nyota,” one of the others said from across the courtyard, “for the last time, it doesn’t matter that your mother was a zebra.”
“It does to me!”
“A zebra?” Demoman asked, a little confused. “You got them here too?”
Before he or Nyota could get any further in their conversation they were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Captain Storm Surge. “Quiet, Corporal. The Elements are meant to be arriving soon.”
Nyota the Night Guard blinked. “Sorry, Captain, do you mean the Elements of Harmony themselves are coming?”
“That’s right, Corporal, so I suggest that you get that dirt off your armour.”
“‘Scuse me fer askin’, but what are these ‘Elements’ yer talkin’ about?” Demoman asked, suddenly having gotten lost in the guards’ talk.
Captain Storm Surge turned to the human. “It’s a little hard to explain, but simply put the six mares in the chariot are capable of utilizing the six most powerful magical artifacts in existence. Together they’ve saved Equestria from eternal night and never-ending chaos,” the pegasus explained. 
“Really?” All three looked up to see Scout sitting on the small windowsill of the courtyard. “Eternal night and never-ending chaos?” He let out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right.”
“That’s no way to talk about national heroes,” Nyota replied.
“National heroes my ass,” Scout replied. He pushed himself off the ledge and, before he could land hard enough to break a few bones, performed a double jump and landed deftly next to Demoman. Ironically, it was the ponies that stared at his defiance of physics. “I mean, it’s just a bunch of girls. And they’re ponies! What are they gonna do?” he asked loudly, wearing a cocky smile.
“How ‘bout I show ya?” a new voice asked. Scout turned around just in time for his face to meet a cyan hoof travelling at near-fatal speeds. Scout sailed through the air and landed heavily on his face. As he rolled onto his back and groaned, he was dimly aware of a rainbow-coloured blob floating above him. “What’s the matter?” it taunted. “You gonna cry?”
Scout wiped the tears from his eyes and stood up. “I swear, I will beat the crap outta you if its the last thing I do,” he answered as he spat out a mouthful of blood. Then he realised just what he yelling at.
It was certainly female, that much was obvious. And she was hovering. Her mane was every colour of the rainbow. In every way, that should have been the defining picture of ‘ridiculously cute and girly’. The expression it was wearing, on the other hand, was a match for Soldier’s war-face. Whoever this was, she did not like being insulted.
“Oh yeah?” the rainbow-maned pony asked, jabbing him with a hoof. “Let’s see you try.”
“Rainbow!” Scout looked around the pony and saw another one, this one orange and wearing what looked like one of Engineer’s hats.
“Scout!” Demoman yelled. “Bloody hell, lad, are ya tryin’ ta get yerself killed?”
“Pfft, like it really matters. We got the respawn.”
“Rainbow, what in tarnation is wrong with ya?” Both humans turned to look at the orange pony. Her accent was incredibly familiar to Engineer’s, which they both found a little odd.
“Did you hear what he was saying?” Rainbow asked back, pointing a hoof at Scout.
“Please, if everyone could calm down.” Captain Storm Surge chose that moment to intervene. “Scout, Demoman, please inform the rest of the Team that they are wanted here as soon as possible. Ladies, sir,” he said as the rest of the ponies that had just disembarked from the chariot appeared, “if you would kindly wait here, we should be able to get introductions over with shortly.” Scout made an obscene gesture at Rainbow as he was dragged away by Demoman. Inwardly, Storm Surge performed a facehoof that could shatter diamond. Things were destined to only get worse, it seemed.





So far, the captain’s prediction of impending disaster had proven wrong. The rest of the team, with the exception of Soldier, didn’t seem to mind the fact that two thirds of their roles would be performed by females. Heavy’s reaction had been incredibly loud and blunt (“They are so tiny!”), Medic’s had been worrying (“Three sub-species?”) and Soldier had been rather vocal in his protestations, even if they were surprisingly logical for the seemingly stupid man. (“The battlefield is no place for a woman! The dangers are incredible and would scar them for life! They would end up like us!”). When he was told that they were in fact national heroes that had faced both an insane goddess and a deranged reality warping tyrant his tone had changed. While it was still clear that that he didn’t particularly approve of the girls’ presence, he knew that they at least had the mental fortitude to cope with what they would be doing.
Scout refused to believe any of this and stayed as sullen as when Demoman had dragged him away. The rest of the Team was far from happy with his attitude and they made it abundantly clear. The ponies were sure they heard Soldier mutter several violent threats.
Engineer made a valiant attempt at pushing through the general awkwardness that had arisen, introducing the whole Team to the ponies. There was general snickering amongst the humans when they heard the ponies’ names, which was quickly silenced when Twilight pointed out that the names they had been given were nothing more than job titles. It was around then that both groups realised that they were one representative short. They were all a little surprised when Corporal Nyota of the Night Guard stepped forward and volunteered himself. 
It wasn’t long after that they all paired off with their ‘instructors’ and were led to different parts of the base to start their training. There was only three weeks before the wargames started. They would need all the training they could get.





Author's Note:
I'm sorry, did you think I'd tell you who's doing what?
And yes, Nyota is a unicorn zony. His name means "Star" in Swahili, which is kinda fitting for a member of the Night Guard.
> Let's Go Practice Medicine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Medic sat in a chair in his small ‘doctor’s office’, staring carefully over the rim of his cup at the little pegasus mare that had followed him. Many thoughts raced through his mind as he sipped his tea. He wondered how any creature that was most likely a prey species could have such vibrant colours. He wondered how those wings managed to provide enough lift to achieve flight. He wondered how she was able to hold a mug in her hooves. His deep thought processes were stopped when she spoke up.
“Um... If you don’t mind me asking, when will we be starting?” Fluttershy asked. The strange... being in front of her seemed friendly enough, but there was something about him (and she had been assured that Medic was male) that unsettled her. After a few seconds it clicked; something in his eyes, a gleam maybe, reminded her of a predator, waiting for her to show weakness and strike.
Medic wore a warm smile that Fluttershy couldn’t help but interpret as ‘predatory’. “Do not worry, Fraulein Fluttershy, ve vill get to zat shortly.” He stood up and put his cup on the small table. “I vill lead you to my surgery. Ve can talk more zere.”
Fluttershy followed him, unable to remove the mental image of rusty surgical equipment, a floor slick with blood and a table that she would be tied down to as she was sliced open for his amusement. She could almost feel the tip of a scalpel slice into the muscles of her wings and - the room was quite clean. In fact, every surface was nearly spotless with the exception of the occasional speck of blood that had been missed during what was clearly a vigorous scrub-down. The centre of the room was dominated by a large metal bed, bolted to the ground. Above that was a harness, but what it was meant to support was unknown to her. Pushed against the walls were numerous machines that, again, she didn’t know the function of. 
She looked up when she heard a gentle cooing from somewhere above. What she saw made her heart soar as she took wing.
“Oh, hello there!” she said to the trio of white doves nesting on a rafter. They didn’t seemed shocked by the sudden appearance of a pegasus; living in Medic’s operating theatre had that effect on them. “Oh, aren’t you just precious?” she asked them, her voice full of sugary sweetness. “What are your names?”
“Zey are Archimedes, Newton and Curie,” Medic answered. “I named zem after famous scientists from my vorld.” He watched as the pegasus’ wings barely flapped and still kept her airborne. Zis shouldn’t be possible, he thought. Then he remembered that he had been told that the rulers of this country controlled the sun and moon and that the pegasi could walk on clouds. Magic, he thought angrily. Ever since the first incident with Merasmus large parts of what he had known to be fact had been trodden on. And now he was stuck in a universe where everything seemed to run on it! The only mercy was that it was a temporary situation.
“Fraulein,” he called out, worried that the pink-maned pegasus would break into song, “I zought zat ve vere going to commence your teaching of vat I do on ze battlefield.”
“Oh.” The mare’s happiness seemed to disappear when he reminded her of their real reason for being here. “Um... I’m not sure I can do that. Fight, I mean.”
“Vell, you are lucky, because my job on ze battlefield is to keep mein kameraden alive. I rarely get involved in any of ze actual battle.” Medic sighed. “A shame too. Ze healing is not as satisfying as ze hurting.”
Fluttershy was mortified, but did her best to keep it hidden. “How... how do you keep your friends alive? I don’t see many bandages or plaster for casts.”
Medic let out a hearty laugh that was, somewhat ironically, contagious. “Ah, Fraulein, zat is amateur stuff.” He wiped away a tear; he hadn’t laughed so hard since he had seen RED Pyro remove BLU’s Soldier’s arm and then watch as the stupid American ran around screaming in panic. “No, I use somezing I invented many years ago.” He stood up and went over to a cabinet. He opened it and pulled out a strange backpack with a red cross emblazoned on it and a small red canister attached to one side. He then pulled out a strange, sleek black two-handed tube with a part that could be pushed down. “Zis is ze Medigun.”
Fluttershy couldn’t help but be a little frightened by it. It looked so... strange. “What... what does it do?”
“Vell it - ” Medic was interrupted when Demoman came in, followed by Nyota. At least, Fluttershy assumed it Nyota. There was only one unicorn stallion among them, and he fit that part of the description. The thing was, she had only seen him in his night guard armour. Without it, he had... stripes. They were a deep red that bordered on brown, with the rest of his body a soft grey. His mane and tail were the same colours.
“Hey, Doc, couldya gimme a hand?”
“Vat is it, Demoman?” Medic turned and saw what the problem was.
“I tried showin’ the lad here how ta sticky-jump and flew into a wall.” The black Scotsman was cradling his left arm with his right. It was immediately obvious to both Fluttershy and Medic that his arm was broken in multiple places. In Fluttershy’s experience, animals that suffered an injury that bad almost always lost the injured limb.
Medic sighed as he flicked a switch on the Medigun. “I zought I told you not to drink while playing vith your fireworks, Demoman.”
“I said the same thing,” Nyota replied, looking a little frustrated that his teacher had injured himself so easily.
“Shut yer mouth, lad,” Demo said.
“Hold still,” Medic said, pointing the Medigun at the Scotsman. A red beam filled the space between them as a strange humming filled the room. Demo was soon enveloped in the glow.
He laughed as he let go of his arm. Fluttershy gasped in shock. “Thanks, Doc.” The mare’s jaw hit the ground when she saw that the arm was as good as new. Demo left the room, swinging his newly-healed arm around. Nyota stared for a second before following.
Medic turned to a still-stunned Fluttershy. “Zat is vat ze Medigun does, Fraulein. It can also heal burns, cuts, blunt force trauma and reattach removed limbs.”
“That’s...” Fluttershy was at a loss for words. “That’s amazing.”
“Vould you like to...” Medic stopped himself when he realised something crucial. “Ah. Zere is a problem.”
“There is?”
“It vould appear that you can’t operate it.” Fluttershy was confused. “Your hooves,” Medic clarified.
“Oh.” There was a short silence. “Maybe... Maybe your Engineer friend could help? I mean, if you don’t mind me saying...”
“Zat is a brilliant idea!” Medic left the room at a brisk pace, leaving Fluttershy behind. “Come along, Fraulein!”





One hour later, Fluttershy had a Medigun and backpack for it of her own. It would have taken Engineer five minutes, but they had to wait for the rest of the Team to get their weapons modified as well. Apparently, modifying one of Heavy’s miniguns (whatever they were) for Big Macintosh had taken the longest, necessitating a complete redesign.
Where the original had a small part sticking out that Medic gripped, Fluttershy’s had a small loop for her hoof to go through. The handle had also been slightly modified, to better accomadate her other hoof. The whole thing was completed by a small cord that looped around her neck so she didn’t have to fly everywhere while she had it out. She had also received a bonesaw and something called a syringe gun. She hadn’t tested it, but could tell that it was meant as a weapon.
“Now, Fraulein, zere is one ozzer zing...”
Fluttershy turned to Medic, who seemed nervous. “There is?” she asked timidly.
“To fully unleash the power of ze Medigun, it requires... vell, an implant.”
“A what? A plant? Like a tree?” Fluttershy was confused. Why would a piece of incredible technology like this require a plant?
“No, an implant. Somezing that is put inside your body,” Medic explained. “Ze entire Team has one.”
“Oh.” The mare suddenly realised what the German was proposing. “You want to cut me open?” she asked, horrified by the idea.
“Vell, it is ze only way so... yes,” Medic replied matter-of-factly. “I am a skilled professional, Fraulein Fluttershy. I haff performed zis procedure on ze Team and myself.” He was quite proud of that fact. After all, it took a particular kind of individual to cut oneself open and play around with their own internal organs.
“R-really?” Fluttershy asked with wide-eyed fear.
Medic considered his situation for a moment. “If it makes you feel better I will haff medical professionals sent to assist me. I admit I do not know much about your anatomy.” He hoped that it would sway her decision.
After a tense silence, her answer came. “W-well... I suppose. But only if you can get some unicorn surgeons. I’d feel much safer.”
“Very vell, zen. I will send a request tonight.”





Princess Luna read through the list of requests sent from what was referred to as ‘RED Base’. Most of them were simple and mundane: food, bedding, books. One of the odder requests had been for reams of red, white, grey and black cloth of several different varieties. Another had been for balloons. The oddest, though, was for the best team of unicorn cardiac surgeons in all Equestria. She couldn’t fathom why they needed such a thing, but couldn’t help but feel that she didn’t want to know. She let out a sigh as she wrote a request in triplicate, detailing a large sum of bits and other benefits that they would receive should they take the job. She was sure that she was offering too much, but decided that it was safer to guarantee their cooperation than not.




The three unicorns, all wearing scrubs and surgical masks that hid everything except their eyes, stood around the operating table where the pegasus mare lay unconscious. The Triage Trio, as they were known, were the best at what they did anywhere in Equestria. Heartbeat, Lifeline and the oddly-named Broken Heart looked at each other. “What do you think we’ll be doing?” Heartbeat asked.
“No idea,” Lifeline answered before looking around the room. “What do you think some of these machines do?”
“Who cares?” Broken Heart asked, her voice full of excitement. “I can’t wait to get started!”
All three unicorns looked around when they heard a laugh. “Now zat is somezing I can agree to!” Medic had entered the room. He was without his long lab coat and had the Physician’s Procedure Mask on. “Let’s get started!”
Fluttershy was cut open in matter of minutes, the Triage Trio making short work of the task. Soon, they had clear access to her heart. “What now?” Broken Heart asked.
“Now...” Medic brought the Medigun, which was sitting in the harness above the operating table, lower to keep Fluttershy stable for what he was about to do. He carefully cut the arteries and veins connecting the heart to the rest of the body before removing it. “We remove ze heart!” he exclaimed, holding the pegasus’ still-beating heart in his hand. The Triage Trio stared in shock before Broken Heart broke the silence. “Wooooooow...”
“But-but-but...” Lifeline stuttered.
“Why would you remove her heart!?” Heartbeat yelled, now convinced that the thing in front of her was completely insane.
“It makes ze next part so much easier,” Medic explained calmly. From a small metal tray he took a small pressure valve with three small metal spikes coming out of the bottom. The pressure valve itself had a number of strange attachments; three small cylinders and a number of bright yellow wires. Before they could ask, he stuck it into the heart in his hands. “Come on...” he muttered as he put it under the healing rays of the Medigun. “Come on, come on...” 
Heartbeat and Lifeline turned away when they saw it glowing an ominous red. Broken Heart, on the other hoof, was enthralled and leaned in for a better look. 
“Yes... Yes!” Medic exclaimed before letting out a manic laugh. The glowing intensified for a brief moment as the heart began to beat so fast it threatened to burst. Without warning the glowing died down and the beating became much more regular. The heart was still the same intense red. “Wunderbar,” Medic said before carefully putting the heart back where it belonged in Fluttershy’s open chest. 
“How... how do you plan on reattaching it to the nerves?” Heartbeat asked, scared at what the answer would be.
In place of an answer, Medic reached up and pulled the Medigun harness close to Fluttershy’s chest. As they watched, flesh formed and skin grew over the gaping hole. In less than three seconds her stomach was covered in a smooth butter-yellow coat, making it seem as though she had never been cut open. “Now zen,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “let us wash up and wait for her to wake up.”





When Fluttershy woke up several hours later in what seemed to be a hospital ward, she saw that she wasn’t alone. The other ponies who were receiving instruction were there as well, each one of them unconscious in their own beds. “What... what happened?”
“Zey all received an Uberheart of zeir own,” Medic said, standing up from the chair at the end of the ward. “I zought it best to let zem wake up on zeir own.”
“Oh.” Fluttershy let out a sigh of relief, just happy that her friends were okay. “I’m sorry but... what’s an ‘Uberheart’?” she asked timidly, feeling that she should know the answer.
Medic blinked before realising why she had asked. “I never did tell you what ze implant did. Ze Uberheart allows you to take advantage of somezing I call ze Ubercharge.” Medic pulled out his Medigun and pointed it at Fluttershy. She was shocked to see that the barrel appeared to be sparking. “Do not worry, Fraulein. It is simply its way of letting you know zat it is charged.”
“Um...” She was trying, but the red sparks were more than a little worrying. “What, exactly, is the ‘Ubercharge’?”
Medic trained the Medigun on her and activated the healing beam. “Zis is ze Ubercharge,” he said as he flicked a small switch next to the grip. Fluttershy gasped at the surge of energy that rushed through her. She could feel her heart beat as though it would burst through her chest. She could hear her blood pound in her head. She felt... good. She felt powerful. She felt alive.
She looked at her hooves and saw how they were glowing red, as was the rest of her body. She turned to the Medic and noticed that the same thing had happened to him as well. She began to laugh. At first it was a quiet and calm chuckle. It wasn’t long before it went out of control, though, and she was giving a laugh that would put Medic to shame.




Name: Fluttershy

Class: Medic
Weapon loadout
Primary: Syringe Gun
Secondary: Medigun
Melee: Bonesaw
Job: Doctor Assisted Grifficide





And the ending flourish, because it seems necessary.





Author's Notes:
Oh god this was fun to write.
A mild spoiler to Nyota's appearance, maybe? I dunno, I needed to demonstrate the Medigun to Fluttershy somehow.
The next eight chapters will follow a similar format: The Team member and the pony. What will happen will differ in each chapter, though they will reference each other occasionally. Like in this one.
> I Solve Practical Problems
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Applejack followed Engineer down to a room in the underground labyrinth of RED Base. “So what exactly is it that ya do here, anyways?” she asked, looking around as she tried to memorise the path they were taking. Her first impression, that the Base was rather small, had turned out to be completely false.
“Well, mah job is to make sure all the machinery around here doesn’t break down. Whenever we’re not fightin’, I usually got mah head inside somethin’ makin’ sure that nothin’ came loose during the day.” Engineer found it relaxing to talk about what he did. The rest of the Team took everything he did for granted. 
“That sounds mighty tirin’, if ya don’t mind me sayin’,” Applejack replied, the orange mare awed.
Engineer allowed himself a smile; the mare’s accent reminded him of a girl he had met many years ago. “That it is, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothin’ like a hard day’s work, I say.”
Applejack chuckled. “I gotta agree with ya there.”
“So what is it you do fer a livin’, Miss Applejack?” Engineer asked as they walked.
“Now don’t you go callin’ me ‘Miss’,” the farmer said, raising an eyebrow at the biped walking alongside her. “Ah ain’t no fancy mare like Rarity. Just ‘Applejack’ is fine.”
“You’ll hafta forgive me if I let it slip every now and then,” Engineer said apologetically. “I was raised to always be polite to the fairer sex.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Anyways, Ah’m a farmer,” Applejack said happily. “Mah family has been farmin’ apples for generations.”
Engineer chuckled. “I think I can rightly say that that’s hard work.”
Applejack laughed as well. “That it is, mister. But Ah wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothin’ like a hard day’s work,” she said with a smile, repeating the Texan.
“You got that right,” Engineer said as they reached a large metal door. “Well, here we are. Mah workshop.” He pushed a button and it slowly opened, splitting into two and disappearing into the walls. 
Within were a number of counters and tables, each one covered in an obscene number of parts and materials. One table was dedicated to the actual construction, as was evidenced by the arc welders, grinders, hammers and various wrenches strewn across it. 
“Forgive the mess,” Engineer said as he led Applejack to one of the few empty areas. 
“If’n ya don’t mind me askin’, what exactly is it that ya do around here anyways?” the farmer asked, looking around at the incredible mess. She was sure that Rarity would have a fit if she saw this. 
“Well, on the battlefield I take a few... specialised contraptions of mine out there.” Engineer picked up a toolbox and set it on the floor. In a matter of seconds Applejack was staring down the fearsome metal monstrosity that was the Level 3 Sentry Gun. It seemed to look at her for a moment before it made a beeping noise and began scanning the room for any BLU Team members. 
Applejack took a few worried steps back from it. “Wha-what is that thing?” she stammered.
“This here is a Sentry Gun. Mah grandfather Radigan Conagher designed it, I perfected it and I use it. This thing is capable of dealin’ out enough hurt to take out a small army,” Engineer said proudly, patting the rocket bay fondly. “It’s mainly used for defence.”
“A-Ah can see why.”
The mare’s nervousness was obvious to the Texan, who leaned into the workings of the Sentry and flicked a switch, deactivating it. “It won’t hurt ya, Applejack. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Applejack chuckled nervously. “Sorry about that. Ah din’t mean ta seem so scared.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s pretty scary, I know.”
Applejack looked around and saw another device, something spinning on the floor so fast it as creating a glowing red circle. “What is that?” she asked, pointing at it with a hoof.
“That there is one of mah Teleporters. Not sure what happened to the other one,” Engie replied, rubbing his chin. “It’s around here somewhere, I know that.”
“A teleporter?” Applejack asked.
Engineer mistook her questioning for genuine confusion. “It lets ya get to somewhere else in tha blink of an eye,” he explained.
“Ah know that. Ah’ve seen Twilight do that usin’ her fancy unicorn magic,” Applejack said with a wave of her hoof. “Ah’m just surprised that ya need some contraption ta let ya do that.”
“That might be because we can’t use magic,” the Texan explained. “Humans that can use magic are nowhere near as common as unicorns here.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a series of loud stomps and a rumbling noise. “Engineer.” They turned and saw Heavy, his immense frame blocking the door. He made a few steps in and deposited a very large... Applejack didn’t know what it was, but it was on the floor now. Apart from the fact it looked like an upsized version of one of the tube-things on the Sentry Gun, she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “We have problem.”
“Do we now?”
“Red pony cannot carry Sasha,” he said, pointing at the thing he had put down. “We need help.”
Big Macintosh stepped from behind Heavy and made himself seen. “I don’t know how I’m meant to carry it,” he drawled. “It’s almost bigger’n me!”
“What’d you expect, you big dummy?” Engineer asked Heavy as he picked up a pencil and blue grid paper. 
“I have PhD in Russian Literature. I am not a ‘dummy’,” Heavy said, is mood unreadable. 
“Well I have 11 hard science PhDs,” Engineer responded. Both he and the Russian chuckled, happy that they were both in the presence of those that were considered geniuses in their respective fields. The Texan made a number of small sketches on the paper before he looked up and grabbed a measuring tape. “I got an idea for how this’ll work.”





Applejack watched the short Texan go about his work in awe. In truth, she had doubted what he had said about working hard. Seeing him in action simply proved her wronger than half a worm in an apple. In the span of half an hour he had finalized the blueprints, machined the parts and constructed a weapon for Big Macintosh. 
It fit over his back much like one of those fancy dress saddles Rarity made, but the whole thing was actually a light metal frame. On it sat two white drums, each one connected to a series of long metal tubes that sat within a larger metal tube. The two larger tubes were set on the sides of the metal frame, travelling along the stallion’s side all the way to his neck. A pair of thin metal ‘reins’ ran from between the metal drums and ended a few inches below Big Macintosh’s mouth, designed as a means to activate the weaponry attached to his back.
“That should just about do it,” Engineer said as he stood back to admire his handiwork. 
Heavy walked around Big Macintosh, eyeing Engineer’s latest invention with a critical eye. “I like this gun,” he said after a few moments.
“Whaddya call it?” Applejack asked, eyeing the contraption curiously.
Engineer scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Haven’t thought of a name yet.”
“Feels lighter’n the plow back home,” Big Macintosh said, taking a few steps around, marvelling at how light it was.
“Maybe...” Engineer chuckled. “Nah, that’s just silly.”
“What is?” Applejack asked, turning to the Texan.
“Well,” he said as he removed his hard hat, revealing a shaved head, “I thought that, seein’ its all set on a saddle, and it’s made for fightin’, I could call it a ‘Battle Saddle’.” From his tone it was clear that he thought the notion was completely ridiculous.
Applejack, on the other hand (or hoof, as it were), thought otherwise. “That ain’t silly. Rarity makes them fancy-shmancy dress saddles. Nothin’ wrong with callin’ it a ‘Battle Saddle’.”
“Well, if that’s what ya think. So, Mr. Macintosh,” the Texan said as he turned to the heavily-armed stallion. “Whaddya think of yer ‘Battle Saddle’ then?”
“I think it’s a mighty fine piece of craftsmanship,” Big Macintosh said with a smile. 
“Come now, Big Red,” Heavy said as he picked his weapon. Applejack had since learnt that it was called, quite counter-intuitively, a ‘minigun’. As the door opened, Heavy chuckled. “Engineer is in for busy time,” he said as he and Big Macintosh disappeared into the maze-like passages of RED Base.
“What did he mean by that?” Applejack asked.
“No idea.” Engineer went to close the door but stopped when he saw what was outside. “Aw hell.”
Applejack poked her head out and saw the entirety of RED Team and the ponies they were instructing standing there, looked inside expectantly. “Horseapples,” she exclaimed. She could tell that they were in for a very busy time.





Engineer collapsed onto the fold-up chair in the corner. “Whoo-ee,” he said as he wiped his brow. “I am exhausted.” He had every right to be, as well. He had been working non-stop for close to two hours. He had been modifying triggers, altering grips, refashioning stocks, tweaking sights and in general customizing weapons so that they were easier for the ponies to use. 
He looked around his workshop and sat up straighter when he realised that the pony he was meant to be instructing, Applejack, was nowhere to be seen. “Applejack?” he called out. “Miss Applejack?” he called out again, this time sounding really worried. If truth be told, he honestly didn’t know what was hiding in some of the deeper corners of the workshop. His first thought was that she had gotten trapped under something that had fallen. The ponies had yet to be configured into the respawn system, and the idea of the mare death’s was almost too much for him. “Applejack!” Engineer yelled, forgetting his exhaustion and taking a few steps forward. “Where are ya!?”
“Right here,” a voice said behind him. He turned to see that Applejack was still in one piece and was wearing a pair of goggles he had made for her. “Whatcha yellin’ for?” she asked.
“Oh thank goodness,” Engineer said, his shoulders slumping. “Fer a moment there I thought that you got yerself trapped under somethin’.” It was then that he noticed something odd about the mare. She seemed... calmer. The Sentry Gun had been reactivated, which should have scared her. It had taken the rest of the Team days to warm up to the idea of fighting alongside a cold, heartless machine. Then he remembered something perhaps even more significant: He hadn’t reactivated the Sentry Gun. “Uh, Applejack?” he asked warily. “Did you, uh, turn mah Sentry Gun back on?”
“That I did,” the mare responded, smiling widely. “Why?” she asked, her smile vanishing. “Was Ah not meant to?”
“No, no.” Engineer was quick to reassure the mare, if only to give himself time to try and figure out why she was so calm. “Where’d ya disappear to, anyway?”
“Ah was here the whole time. You were too busy workin’ to see me.” 
“Ah.” Engineer relaxed a little.
“Why do ya have a crate fulla gold, anyway?” Applejack asked. The Texan froze.
“Applejack,” he said slowly, not turning around, “did you, or did you not, touch any of it?”
“Ah wouldn’t have known if it was gold or not if Ah didn’t!” the orange mare replied, a hint of anger in her tone. That was all Engineer needed to know.
“Applejack, I need you to promise me that you will never, and I mean never, go anywhere near that stuff ever again.” His tone made it clear that it didn’t matter to him just how important she was, she would suffer the full wrath of the Texan’s fury should she disobey.
“O-okay,” she said, taking a few steps back. “Ah won’t go near yer gold no more. Ah’m sorry.”
“Firstly, it ain’t yer fault,” Engineer said with an apologetic smile. “And secondly, that ain’t gold. It looks like it, but it’s actually somethin’ called Australium.”
“Australium?” Applejack repeated.
“I don’t know much about it, but what I do know ain’t exactly pretty.” Engineer let out a sigh. “It’ll enhance yer intelligence, but it’ll make ya real violent too. It just wouldn’t be right, seein’ a gal like you change like that.”
Applejack was touched. “Well, shucks, Engie, Ah didn’t know you cared so much.”
“Of course I do,” he replied with a chuckle. “So ya really turned the Sentry back on?”
“Yep. Must be somethin’ ta do with that ‘enhanced in-tell-i-gence’ ya mentioned before,” she replied, making a point of deliberately mispronouncing ‘intelligence’.
Engineer laughed at that. “Come on. I still need to teach you to shoot straight.”
As they left the workshop, Applejack cast a furtive glance at the corner that held the crate of Australium. While becoming violent was not something she wanted, the idea of being smarter was one that appealed to her, if only because she wanted to better understand what Engineer did. Surely if she only exposed herself to it in small doses it wouldn’t affect her too badly. Right?





The door to the workshop hissed open. A pony stuck their head inside, making sure that they were alone and undetected. After feeling confident that that was the case, the figure entered and made their way in. In the dark it took them quite a while to find what they were looking for, especially as they didn’t want to knock something over and alert anyone to their presence.
After close to half an hour, they found what they were looking for. A seemingly simple wooden crate, tucked away into a corner so as not to get in the way. Its lid was pushed open, revealing bar upon bar of golden metal, a picture of a muscular man boxing with a kangaroo printed on each. 
Applejack grinned in the darkness. She looked at the Australium greedily as she basked in its glow. She took a deep breath as she inhaled the air that had been released when she opened the crate. She laughed as she exhaled, a low laugh that echoed eerily through the still workshop.





Name: Applejack

Class: Engineer
Weapon loadout
Primary: Shotgun
Secondary: Pistol
Melee: Wrench
Equipment: Sentry Gun, Dispenser, Teleporter
Job: Area Denial





And the ending flourish, because it seems necessary.





Author's Notes:
Yes I gave Big Macintosh a Battle Saddle. Full credit for that goes to Kkat and the brilliant Fallout Equestria. If you’ve yet to read it, I suggest you do.
Australium. This won’t end well.
The art you see above is a piece I commissioned, along with nine others. The artist doesn’t feel that they’re good enough to be the ‘official’ art for my story. I beg to differ. You can hit him up on his DA here.
And why was Applejack’s first impression wronger than half a worm in an apple? Where’d the other half go, hmm?
> Sun Tzu Said That!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Soldier and Storm Surge made their way to the battlements of the dimensionally-displaced Teufort Base. Soldier wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up in this situation, but he was taking solace in the fact that he was at least instructing someone (or somepony, as the natives tended to say) with some military experience. Under the mask of general stupidity he wore to lull his enemies into a false sense of security, his mind raced as he went over the details he had seen in the castle in Canterlot.
To him, the guard there seemed very ceremonial. He felt that armour that shone as bright as theirs did was a sign of inexperience or lack of training. After all, a veteran would have armour that was scuffed, dented and maybe even missing pieces. To him, they were nothing more than glorified crowd control or police officers in fancy uniforms.
Storm Surge wasn’t sure what to make of Soldier. One moment, he seemed dumber than a Diamond Dog that had fallen down a mine shaft and landed on their head. The next, he was showing insight borne of what could only be years of experience in matters he probably had no right experiencing. The man was an interesting, confusing paradox.
“Now listen,” Soldier said as he looked out from the battlements. “I’m not one for teaching. My way of soldiering was something I taught myself over a period of eight years fighting one of the most well-trained armies in the history of my kind. It is not clean, it is not polite, and it is definitely not merciful.” He turned to Storm Surge, the armoured pegasus’ expression blank. “I expect the same from you. Do you understand?” he asked, his tone at something that could be called a slightly raised voice.
Storm Surge didn’t immediately respond. “I know what you think about me and my comrades,” he said. “You see us as weak, as showy, as useless.” The pegasus snorted. “You obviously aren’t aware of what we’re capable of,” he said, letting a small smirk.
“I know that I don’t know,” Soldier replied as he pulled a rocket from his small hip-pack and the grenades off his bandoleer and began to juggle them absentmindedly. “Doesn’t give you an excuse to -”
“Is that safe?” Storm asked, eyeing the grenades warily.
“No.” The finality of the word was shocking. Before the Royal Guard could respond, he caught the grenades in one hand and the rocket in the other, quickly replacing them. “Now come on. We have training to do!” Soldier marched off back to the resupply, the pegasus not far behind.





“This,” Soldier said loudly, “is a rocket launcher!” He held up a large metal tube with a wooden stock, grip, trigger and what seemed to be half a trumpet. “If you feel the need to ask what it does, I will send you back to your princess and request a new pony!”
“I know what a rocket launcher is,” Storm Surge said, mildly annoyed at the man’s attitude. Truthfully, five minutes ago he had never heard of such a thing, but the name was pretty self-explanatory.
“Catch,” Soldier said, throwing the rocket launcher at the pegasus. Unfortunately, he wasn’t ready for it and instead caught it with his face. As he growled in pain and rubbed the forming bruise with his hoof, Soldier rolled his eyes. “Come on, son! You can do better than that!”
“It would help if you gave me some kind of warning,” Storm Surge replied angrily as he picked up the launcher. He hovered a foot above the ground, bringing the plume of his helmet a good two feet above Soldier. He fumbled with the rocket launcher as he tried to hold it the way it seemed like it should be. “I don’t think I can -” 
There was a sudden rush of air and the rocket came shooting out of the launcher... in the wrong direction. Somehow the captain had managed to fire the weapon while holding it backwards. Soldier threw himself to the ground and put his hands over his head as it sailed past him before colliding with the wall of the resupply with a boom.
Soldier simply glared at the pegasus from the ground. “And you call yourself a soldier?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “I know for a fact that SCOUT could do better than that!” he bellowed as he pushed himself back onto his feet. “And he’s nothing more than a stupid thug with a mouth!”
“I fail to see how you expect me to use your weapons when I can barely hold the damn things!” Storm Surge retaliated angrily, the composure he kept while on duty vanishing like morning fog.
Soldier smirked. “I would expect a member of the military to await instruction before attempting to utilise equipment they are unfamiliar with,” he said, his tone one full of scorn and contempt.
That was enough to quell the pegasus’ anger. Soldier was right. He should have waited. All he had done now was proven himself an overly-eager fool. He landed and hung his head. Not only had he ashamed himself, he had ashamed the Equestrian Guard as a whole.
Soldier caught this and chastised himself for being so harsh. “Quit your moping, son. You did a damn sight better than I did, I’ll give you that,” he said as he put a hand on Storm’s shoulder.
The pegasus let out a snort. “Can’t see how that’s possible,” he said dejectedly.
“You didn’t launch the damn rocket at your feet, did you?” Soldier asked with a rough chuckle. “I did that. Nearly lost one of my legs.”
“Wow.” Storm Surge didn’t know what to say to that. What he did have was some new-found respect for the man. “Um, so...” He cleared his throat. “I still don’t see how you expect me to use it. Hooves aren’t the best for using weapons.”
Soldier raised an eyebrow, though it wasn’t visible under the helmet. “Then how do you fight?”
“The unicorns use their magic, mainly fire and ice. A few illusions too. The earth ponies are all brute strength, probably stronger than your Heavy Weapons Guy,” Storm said with a smirk. “I’ve seen a few kick boulders the size of chariots at targets three hundred yards away. And hit.”
“Remind me not to antagonise them,” Soldier muttered, not wanting to admit that he was impressed.
“Then there’s us pegasi. You don’t want to cross us.”
“So you can fly,” Soldier said dismissively. “Big deal.”
“That’s not all we can do,” Storm Surge said, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “It’s not fun getting hit by a dozen lightning bolts.”
It took a moment for what the pegasus meant to click. When it did, Soldier’s jaw dropped. “Your telling me you lot control the weather?” he asked, disbelieving.
“Storms, hurricanes, blizzards, all of it.”
“You better watch it, son, or I might just start respecting you.” Soldier chuckled. “Maybe we can figure out a way to combine that with my way of fighting.”
The good mood the captain was in vanished at that point. “If I can even get the hang of your way of fighting,” he muttered.
“Like you said before, the problem is your hooves,” Soldier said. “Maybe Engie has an idea.”





As it turned out, Engineer did have an idea. The rest of the Team had decided to see if he had an idea as well. That meant that they were stuck waiting for their turn.
Eventually, Soldier and Storm Surge emerged from the left door underneath the base’s battlements. The pegasus was hovering to compensate for not being able to use his forehooves. The reason for that was the rocket launcher he was now holding (the right way, I might add). 
“How exactly does this thing hold four rockets, anyway?”
“Don’t question it, son. Things are easier that way,” Soldier replied. “And take off that armour.”
Storm gave Soldier an evil glare that was vastly more ineffective than he had hoped. “Why?” he asked, trying to keep his voice level.
“Because you’re in my army now, private, and when I tell you to take off your armour you YOU TAKE OFF YOUR DAMN ARMOUR!” Soldier screamed loudly, easily dropping back into Drill Sergeant Nasty. “AM I MAKING MYSELF CLEAR!?”
Storm Surge was taken aback by the sudden yelling, as were the three pegasi on patrol, one of them almost falling out of the air. The captain was quick to fall back into the strict routine that had been drilled into him as a recruit. “Yes sir,” he said without emotion, landing and putting the rocket launcher down. He pulled off his helmet and unstrapped his plating with well-practiced ease, setting them in a neat pile to his left. Ten seconds later he stood at attention. “Your orders, sir?” he asked, running solely on autopilot at that moment.
Soldier couldn’t help but smile. “Some military efficiency! That’s what I like to see!” Then he noticed something was off about the pegasus. “Did you change colour?”
“Our armour is enchanted to alter our appearance based on what we do. Unicorns become grey with a white mane and tail, and earth ponies are a dark grey with a reddish-brown mane and tail,” he explained.  
Storm Surge now had an off-white coat and an electric-blue mane and tail with yellow streaks. Overall the general effect was that of a drawing of a bolt of lightning. As if to complete the general ‘lightning’ motif, his cutie mark was a pair of lightning bolts shaped like an X.
“I’m not sure I approve, but oh well! Onwards!” Soldier shouted. “Pick up your rocket launcher! I’m going to show you something.”
Storm Surge picked up his launcher and hovered, making sure his hind hooves touched the ground. “What is it?” he asked.
“I wasn’t being entirely truthful before when I told you that I launched my first rocket at my feet. I did that, but I actually had a reason.” Soldier took a deep breath. “In my world, there was once a man called Shakespearicles, the strongest writer who ever lived. He was capable of incredible feats of strength, and is known as the man who invented first rocket launcher!” Soldier let out a slight sigh. “Unfortunately, one invention eluded the playwright’s iron grip: stairs.”
“Stairs,” Storm Surge repeated, disbelieving. “Stairs.”
“That’s right. Before they were invented by President Abraham Lincoln in 1857, and perfected by Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1921, the only way to get to the second floor of a building was through rocket jumping!”
“Rocket jumping?” Storm Surge asked, the implications of those two words combined worrying him.
“Allow me to demonstrate.” With that Soldier ran a short distance from the Base before turning around. He hefted his rocket launcher onto his shoulder and, after taking a quick breath, ran full speed towards one of the outer walls.
Storm Surge watched, as did the three pegasus guards on patrol. They had heard what he had said, and were very intrigued by what the man would do.
About two meters from the building Soldier jumped. As he jumped he pointed the barrel of his rocket launcher at the ground and pulled the trigger. A rocket came out and hit the ground, exploding almost instantly. The four pegasi turned away, shielding their eyes from the glare and debris that the explosion kicked up. Though he couldn’t be sure, Storm Surge was sure that he heard Soldier yell “Screamin’ Eagles!” as he was engulfed in the explosion.
When he pulled his hoof away, the captain couldn’t see where Solder was. The only thing that seemed to indicate that he had even been there was the singed crater that had resulted from the impact of the rocket. “Soldier?” he asked, refusing to believe that the man had actually gone and killed himself.
“Up here,” came a voice. Storm and the other pegasi turned to see Soldier leaning against the small hut in the middle of the battlements, his rocket launcher lying on the ground next to him. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but his boots and the bottom of his pants were slightly singed.
“How did you...” one of the guards asked, slack-jawed.
“That is a rocket jump!” Soldier proclaimed loudly. “And now I expect to see you do it!”
Storm blinked. “I have wings,” he said after a slight pause. “I won’t need to rocket jump.”
“That may be, but it pays to be prepared! What if your wings get damaged beyond the point of use?” Soldier answered, determined to get the pegasus to obey.
Storm Surge bit back the witty retort he had planned. After all, he had a point. He had seen what griffon weaponry could do to a pony, and it had not been pleasant. It made some of the stuff the more skilled unicorns do seem weak in comparison. There was also a good chance that they had since improved their design. “All right then,” Storm muttered. He flew a short distance from the building and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and flew as fast as he could at the Base while still carrying the launcher, which wasn’t that fast at all. While carrying the rocket launcher wasn’t a problem of any kind, the added weight and complete lack of aerodynamics it offered simply made it a burden. He estimated that he was only going at around 50% of what he knew he was capable of.
When he got to the point he had seen Soldier launch from, he rose a few inches into the air with an almighty flap of his wings and pointed the rocket launcher at the ground. He fired, and quit literally rocketed into the air, his hind hooves on fire as he shot past Soldier. 
The sound that came from the stallion’s mouth was a mix of bladder-voiding terror and mind-blowing exhilaration. The fact that he had propelled himself using high explosives was enough for him to question his sanity, but the thrill that came from such a dangerous act left his system brimming with an unhealthy amount of adrenaline.
As he alighted unsteadily on the roof of the small hut, he looked around. The pegasi on patrol thought they saw a mad gleam in his eyes, but that was pushed to the side when Storm Surge turned to them. “What do you three think you’re doing!?” he yelled at them. “I may be out of uniform, but I am still your superior officer! Get back to your patrol, NOW!”
“A man after my own heart,” Soldier muttered as he shook his head.





Name: Storm Surge
[insert picture here]
Class: Soldier
Weapon loadout
Primary: Rocket Launcher
Secondary: Shotgun
Melee: Shovel
Job: Shock & Awe





And the ending flourish, because it seems necessary.





Author's Notes:
So, first of the OC chapters. Your thoughts?
Have we even seen Earth Pony Guards? If not, hopefully my idea becomes fanon.
His name is STORM Surge. Of course his talent is messing with electricity.
And yes, everything Soldier says about rocket jumping is in fact taken from official Team Fortress 2 material. Don’t believe me? Well now you have no choice. Of course, that doesn’t mean it’s actually true even in the TF2 universe. After all, Soldier probably isn’t the sanest of the lot.
>  Ma Petite Chou-Fleur
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“I must say, I find your suit quite exquisite.”
“Zank you, madam. You would not believe how hard it is to find culture in a place like zis.”
Spy was leading Rarity down to the Intelligence Room. As they made their way, the fashionista looked around. “I suppose it would be. Though I cannot for the life of me understand the obsession with the colour red.”
Spy couldn’t help but catch the note of mild disgust in her voice. He let out a laugh. “Company policy, ” he said as he opened a door. “Ze same reason why we all wear red.”
“Thank you,” Rarity said as she entered the room. She was taken aback at how much of a gentlecolt (or ‘gentleman’, the correct term for his kind) Spy was. The others had acted so... brutish that she had been worried that they were all like that. Yet here was proof that she had been completely wrong. There was also something about his accent that she found incredibly alluring.
Spy couldn’t help but feel sorry for the mare under his instruction. She seemed... well, not innocent, not by a long shot, but certainly unsuited to the lifestyle he had been living for the past four years. Yet, he was also intrigued. For a woman (or rather, mare) who seemed to focus so heavily on appearance, there was an incredible depth to her.
Spy eased himself onto the desk and pulled his butterfly knife from the folds of his suit. He absently played with it, opening and closing it so fast that it seemed he would lose a finger.
Rarity eyed the carefree way he played with his knife uneasily before clearing her throat. “Well, I am - ”
“Rarity ze unicorn, fashion designer and owner of Carousel Boutique in ze town of Ponyville,” Spy interrupted. “You have a little sister by ze name of Sweetie Belle. Your favourite colour is purple and you are a perfectionist.”
Rarity gaped. “H-How did you know all that?” she asked, feeling very insecure about how much he knew.
“I am ze Spy. It is my job to know zings, regardless of how important zey are. Tell me, what else do you zink I do for ze Team?”
“Well,” Rarity said hesitantly, “I suppose keeping track of what your opposition are doing is important. Right?” she asked.
Spy nodded as he folded his knife. “Zat is quite accurate. For me to perform my duty, I must be, how you say, ‘in ze know’.” Rarity seemed pleased with herself. “But zere is more to what I do zan simply gazzering information. Ze role of saboteur and assassin are both mine as well.”
Rarity was disgusted. “You... murder for a living?” she asked, taking a step back.
“Zat is one way to look at it, yes.” Spy pulled his cigarette case from his suit and opened it. “Ze ozzer part of my job is infiltration.”
Rarity looked the man up and down. “I can’t see how you do that. After all, you do look quite... unique, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Spy let out a small chuckle. “It all depends on ze tools, Miss Rarity. After all...” Without warning he was engulfed in a cloud of white smoke. When it cleared, he was gone. In his place sat a certain purple unicorn, sitting on her haunches. Rarity gaped. “Nothing is better than a good disguise,” said Twilight Sparkle, smiling smugly.
“Twilight? But... how? I didn’t sense any magic!” Rarity looked around frantically. “Where did Spy go?”
“Right here,” Twilight said as she jumped down from the desk. Instead of four hooves hitting the ground, only two noises could be heard. “You shouldn’t always believe your eyes, Rarity. After all...” She walked around Rarity, disappearing in a cloud of smoke. When it dispersed, Spy was there, brushing at his suit to get rid of any dust and smoking a cigarette. “It is ze easiest sense to fool.”
“How did you do that?” Rarity asked, her horn glowing. “There was absolutely no magic whatsoever!”
“Who needs magic when you have ze skill? I consider it my special talent,” Spy said, unaware of just how significant that statement was in pony society. He took a drag and let out a plume of white smoke. He walked behind Rarity. “Of course, looking ze part is never enough. You must not only appear to be zem, you must actually be zem in every way as well.”
“Well I can see how that - ” Rarity cut herself off as she looked behind her. Where she had expected to see Spy, there was naught but thin air. “Spy?” she asked, looking around. “Spy?” This time, her voice was timid as she looked at every corner, trying to find him. “Where are you?”
“Right behind you,” Spy whispered in Rarity’s ear as he reappeared. The unicorn let out an ear-splitting shriek and galloped to the other side of the room in an instant.
“What was that for!?” she yelled at Spy, who was doubled over and snorting in laughter. At that moment she felt like hitting him.
“Pl-please forgive me, mademoiselle, ze temptation was too much.” He took a deep breath and recomposed himself. “It is my job to fill ze enemy with fear, paranoia and distrust. After all, if he is too distracted by what might be lurking in ze shadows, how is he to focus on ze battle? If I have zem checking every shadow, wasting zeir ammunition on every sudden noise, how can zey fight when ze time comes? If my enemy cannot trust his own senses, how can he expect to trust his own comrades in battle?” He pulled out another cigarette. “A battle is not won zrough overwhelming firepower or brute force like Heavy or Soldier would have you zink. No, it takes but a single knife, placed with ze skill and love of an artist.”
Rarity was not sure how to feel. After all, he was comparing the act of murdering to something as peaceful as painting. Yet, she could see that he had a point. Being an artist herself, she could understand the importance of one seemingly insignificant detail changing everything, bringing it all together as a glamorous finishing touch...  or making the whole thing an abomination to all the senses.
“Now zen...” Spy took out his butterfly knife and held it out, still close for Rarity. “Shall we?”





“Are you sure about zis?”
“Well, you did say the only way to get a feel for what I’ll be doing is by practising. And Rainbow does deserve it...”
Spy and Rarity walked out the base, not that anyone actually noticed. They were both using Spy’s Cloaking Watches, Rarity using the Enthusiast’s Timepiece. She didn’t exactly like it, and had resolved to alter the aesthetics of all the watches before the beginning of the war games. So, like a pair of spectres they passed unnoticed by the guards on patrol. Their targets, Rainbow Dash and Scout.
They didn’t even have to try to locate them. Their shouting could be heard clearly from the battlements, quite the achievement as it was a good two minute walk to get to them. There was no way that the Cloaks would last that long, so they had opted for a different strategy.
“You two still fightin’?” Rarity asked, perfectly mimicking Applejack’s drawl. The look of surprise would have given her away had the others not been arguing.
“Why can’t you two just get along?” Spy asked, copying Engineer.
“You expect me to get along with this self-centered jerk!?” Rainbow asked.
“Like you’re any better!” Scout shot back, hefting his baseball bat and pointing it at the technicolour mare. “Fastest mare in Equestria my ass!”
“You gonna try and hit me, are ya!?” Rainbow taunted, flying out of reach.
“Oh that’s it.” Scout reached into his small backpack and pulled out a baseball.
“I shoulda seen this happenin’,” Spy/Engineer said, face-palming.
“Ah know what ya mean,” Rarity/Applejack replied.
There was a brief pause between the pair of saboteurs as they watched Scout hit several baseballs at Rainbow Dash, who deftly dodged each one.
“That the best ya got?”
“I swear, I am gonna make you pay!”
“I can’t say I’ll miss all this hollerin’ after I string you up in mah workshop,” Spy said, sneering at the loud pair of speedsters.
“And Ah reckon them wings’ll look real nice in mah room. Can’t say Ah’ll miss the rest of ya, though,” Rarity said, letting a rather dark and twisted smile cross Applejack’s features.
“W-WHAT!?” Rainbow almost exploded right there from the sheer shock of what she had heard the pony she thought was her best friend say.
Scout, on the other hand, knew immediately what was going on. He swung his bat and slammed the ball hard, sending it right at Engineer’s head. Engineer fell hard and hit the ground before he was engulfed in a white cloud of smoke. When it cleared, Spy had taken the Texan’s place and was rubbing his head. “Nice try, Frenchie, but you need to do better’n that to get me.”
“I guess we did lay it on a little thick,” Rarity said as she removed the paper mask with Applejack’s face on it.
“Surely ze ball was a little much?” Spy asked as he picked himself up off the ground, passing the baseball back to Scout.
“Rarity?” Rainbow asked, not knowing what to think. “Ah - buh - whuh - ” Eventually she found her tongue. “How can you even think that was funny?” she asked, unable to raise her voice, the mental shock still overwhelming her.
“Consider it payback for that time you switched out that ensemble I made for Applejack with a bondage outfit,” Rarity replied as she looked absently at her hoof, as though inspecting it for any dirt.
“I thought you were over that!” Rainbow responded, her voice picking up some volume.
“Bondage...?” Scout asked quietly, blinking.
“Oh please,” Rarity said, ignoring the two humans. “Do you have any idea how long it took to convince Applejack that I did not plan on doing anything like that with her?”
“It was Twilight’s idea!”
“Do you really expect me to believe that?”
“Never would have zought zat zey would have such zings here,” Spy muttered, Scout nodding in agreement before stepping forward.
“Hey, uh, Rarity was it?” The unicorn looked around, surprised by the Bostonian's intrusion.
“Yes?” she answered carefully.
“I’m real happy that you figured out how to go around scaring the crap outta people like Spy there,” he punctuated his point with a thumb over his shoulder, “but you’re distracting Rainbow. Do ya mind?”
“Well, I have done all I wished to do here so...” Rarity walked off, Spy following behind.
“You let your surprise show,” Spy said as they walked away.
“You didn’t tell me how effective the disguise would be,” Rarity said. “It was as though she was standing right there!”
The Frenchman chuckled. “Well, zat is ze whole point of ze disguise. If it can fool your friends, it can certainly fool your enemies.” 
Rarity nodded. “I’m not usually one for pranks, but I can see that what you do is far beyond such childish activities.”
“Indeed,” Spy agreed. He turned to speak to Rarity, but she wasn’t there. He looked around. “Miss Rarity?”
He narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the immediate area. He knew she was nearby, she had to be. Without warning something shoved him in the back, sending him face-first into the ground. “Right behind you, darling,” she heard a female voice say. He turned to see Rarity, looking very impressed with herself.





Name: Rarity

Class: Spy
Weapon loadout
Primary: Revolver
Secondary: Sapper
Melee: Butterfly Knife
Equipment: Disguise Kit, Invisibility Watch
Job: Uncloak and Dagger





And the ending flourish, because it seems necessary.





Author’s Notes:
It took so much willpower to NOT call this chapter Ma Petite Guimauve (My Little Marshmallow)
Can anyone guess what Rarity is referring to, about the switched-out ensemble?
Oh, and ‘Bostonian’ is the correct word to use when describing someone from Boston. Thank you Wikipedia.
And I would like to apologise for the INCREDIBLE delay. I just kind of... got really fucking stuck. Also why this is shorter than all the others.
> Who Touched My Gun!?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	“So, what is big red pony’s name?”
“Big Macintosh.”
The Russian and the farmer had retreated to the confines of the resupply. There, Heavy was attempting to engage the farmer in conversation. Progress had not been great.
He was not usually one to initiate conversation himself. But, in his new role as instructor he had no choice. It helped that the pony, Big Macintosh, was red. Heavy felt more comfortable around the colour red. 
Big Macintosh was nervous, but he didn’t show it. He was used to being the biggest pony around. Technically, that hadn’t actually changed. But the fact that he was absolutely dwarfed by this human... it scared him a little. True, he seemed gentle enough, but there was a vibe, a feeling that this was far from the truth. Feeling a need to fill the void, he said the first thing that came to his mind. “You sound like one of them folks from up near Stalliongrad.”
Heavy blinked. “Stalliongrad?” he asked, sound dumbfounded by this.
“Yeah,” the farmer replied slowly, not knowing what to make of his reaction. “It’s a city up north, lots of industry.”
There was a brief silence before Heavy practically erupted into laughter. “OH HOHOHOHO OH HO!” He doubled over, startling Big Macintosh. “Oh, that slaps me on the knee! There is really place called Stalliongrad?” he asked, still smiling wildly.
“Uh, yeah?” Big Macintosh replied carefully, wondering what had caused him to burst into laughter. “Why is that so funny?”
“Is not important,” the Russian replied, still laughing. He took a breath to calm himself. “So, Big Red,” Heavy said, his voice rumbling like a rockslide, “do you know what I do?”
“Well,” the farmpony said carefully, not exactly fond of his new nickname, “I guess that you kill people for a living.”
“That is pretty much all there is, true,” Heavy Weapons Guy said with a nod. “After all, I do have my gun, Sasha.”
“Sasha?” Big Macintosh asked, worried that the gun had a name.
“Da,” the mountain of a man said as he turned to the resupply closet. “This is Sasha,” he said as he faced the pony, now cradling the incredibly large weapon in his arms like a baby. “She weighs one hundred fifty kilograms and fires two hundred dollar, custom-tooled cartridges at ten thousand rounds per minute.”
Big Macintosh took a few steps back, mainly out of shock at seeing him carry a weapon almost as big as him, and the fact that said weapon seemed to materialize from nowhere.
Heavy carefully put Sasha onto the ground and leaned closer. “It costs four hundred thousand dollars to fire this weapon... for twelve seconds,” he finished dramatically.
Big Macintosh raised an eyebrow. “That ain’t right.”
“Oh?” Heavy asked, leaning back, eyebrows raised.
“If what you said about how much each bullet costs is right, and the rate of fire is accurate, then it’d only cost $24,000. However much that is,” the stallion added with a shrug, unknowledgeable of the economics of Reliable Excavation & Demolition.
“Very good,” Heavy said, nodding his head slowly. “You are smart pony. Only other to see that was wrong is Engineer.”
“I take care of the finances back home all the time. My sister ain’t got the patience, and it don’t feel right getting Granny Smith doing it,” he replied with a shrug. “I like crunching numbers almost as much as I do farming. Can’t see how I got dragged into this,” he finished glumly.
“I was same way,” Heavy said gently. “In motherland, we all had to join military. I did not want that. I wanted to study literature.” He let out a weary sigh. “It was many years until I got my wish. You are lucky, Big Red.”
There was a rather awkward silence. 
“I know you do not wish to be here. But you are, and I cannot see way for you to leave. All that can be done is to do as told. Was same for me in motherland,” Heavy said solemnly. 
Big Macintosh looked at Heavy and saw, in the mountain of muscle and violence, a kind gentle figure who was simply doing this because he had little choice. A lot like him. He turned to the gigantic weapon. “Now how the hay am I meant to use that?” he asked.
Heavy brought a hand to his chin. “Engineer will have idea.”





And so, it was little over half an hour later that Big Macintosh emerged into the courtyard of RED Base, Heavy not far behind. The pegasus guards on patrol glanced at each other, not sure what to make of the strange contraption strapped to the big red stallion. 
“So, how do I use this thing?” the farmpony asked.
“Engineer made is so it will shoot direction you are facing, so...” Heavy pointed at one of the walls. “Face wall and pull on trigger,” he instructed.
Big Macintosh did as he was told, taking the ‘reins’ in his mouth and biting down. He had expected a degree of kickback from the weapon. He had not expected it to be so much that it threatened to push him onto his rump. Nor had he expected the absolutely deafening roar that came from both sides of his head.
The twin miniguns of the Battle Saddle were only alive for a second, but that was more than enough to leave his ears ringing. To either side of the pony were a small pile of empty bullet casings, and the wall in front of him was peppered with holes. 
One of the guards on duty nudged his buddy and they shared a whisper, their expressions somewhere between shock and awe. If that was the kind of weaponry they were planning to use on the griffons, they couldn’t help but feel sorry for the feathery preadators.
“Why did Big Red stop?” Heavy asked. Big Macintosh didn’t answer, instead just staring blankly at the wall, his legs shaking from the strain of making sure he didn’t fall over. “Big Red?” he asked worriedly, approaching the pony.
The reason Big Macintosh hadn’t answered was the ringing in his ears. If he knew more about basic anatomy, he would have guessed that the eardrums had nearly ruptured, and that his hearing was now permanently damaged. Being a farmer with an uncanny knack for mathematics, he was blissfully unaware of just what damage his body had suffered.
A poke to the side of his flank shook him out of his daze. He turned to see Heavy talking to him, but he couldn’t hear a single word. The mouth was moving, but all that could be heard was that infernal ringing. He gestured to his ears and tried to say what was wrong with him. He could feel his mouth form the words, he could feel the pressure in his throat as he made the sounds, but he couldn’t hear any of them.
Heavy disappeared up the stairs to the resupply room, returning with what seemed to be a bottle of pills. He gave them to the pony, where they vanished in an instant, restoring his hearing. “Is that better?” the Russian asked.
“Yeah, thanks,” Big Macintosh replied, shaking his head to clear his head. “I didn’t think it’d be so loud.”
“Was my fault. I normally carry Sasha much closer to ground. Your weapon, it fires right next to your head. Should have remembered that.” He smiled apologetically. “After while, you get used to how loud weapon is, and you forget that others are not used to it.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this if it leaves me unable to hear every time I use it,” the farmpony muttered. 
“Maybe Medic can help later,” Heavy suggested with a shrug.
“Well I can see how effective this thing is,” Big Macintosh said, gesturing to his battle saddle. “If it can do that to a wall - ”
“If you talk about gun, be respectful,” Heavy said moodily. “On battlefield, weapon will keep you alive, let you do job. In battle, you are weapon. To disrespect weapon is to disrespect self.”
“I thought you said that you didn’t want to fight,” Big Macintosh said with a frown.
“No, I said I wanted to study Russian Literature. After I got PhD, I was unable to make enough money for family. RED needed mercenaries, I needed the money...” Heavy shrugged. “After while, I began to enjoy fighting. Besides, Team needs me.”
“They do?” the farmer asked. “They seem plenty dangerous on their own.”
“They are,” Heavy said, nodding. “But I have biggest gun, and sometimes rocket and knife is not enough. They need boolits. Many boolits.” He sighed. “Also, I am giant man. That makes me easier target.”
There was a brief silence. “Isn’t that a bad thing?” the red stallion asked, worried about what that statement implied about his future.
“If taking boolit that would have killed Medic is bad, then yes. If providing heavy fire so that teammates can push and capture point is bad, then yes. If doing everything in your power to help team is bad, then yes.” Heavy glared at the pony. “What I do is painful, true. But I would rather take a thousand boolits for those who cannot. That way, they can fight, even when you can’t.” Heavy smiled, seeming to calm down. “Besides, Medic is able to heal me, even make me boolitproof. Then I have nothing to fear.”
Big Macintosh gaped at him. “How... how can you take so much?” he asked quietly.
“Someone has to, may as well be me,” Heavy shrugged. “Team is like family to me. I do not want to see them hurt.” Heavy eyed the pony carefully. “You have family?”
“Eeyup. Two sisters and my granny.”
“What happened to mother and father?” Heavy asked, noting that he hadn’t mentioned either.
“Just after Applebloom was born, one of the barns collapsed on Pa,” the farmer said sadly. “Ma would have been fine, but the doctors said that Applebloom’s birth left her weak. We had to bury Redstreak and Ambrosia Apple in the same month.” Throughout the whole explanation, his voice had remained steady, though it was clear that the subject was not one he enjoyed talking about.
“I am sorry,” Heavy said quietly. “I should have known better than to ask.”
“No, no, you... you didn’t know,” Big Macintosh said calmly. “I’m gonna be here for a while, you’d have probably found out anyway.”
“It takes brave man to live with such pain,” Heavy mused. “You are credit to your family.”
“Thanks,” the pony said with a small smile.
“Anyway, there was reason I asked about family. You care for them?”
“Of course I do!” the farmer replied, a little loudly, as though thinking that Heavy was implying that he didn’t.
“You would do anything for them?” the Russian asked.
“Well... nearly anything,” Big Macintosh said, the volume of his voice decreasing to something approaching normal.
“On battlefield, Team is family. On battlefield, one must be prepared to fight, to kill, to die for them.”
“Die?” the farmpony asked, gulping audibly.
“Engineer has machine that lets us return if we die,” Heavy said with a shrug. “What matters is that you are able to do what you must.” He gazed into the stallion’s eyes. “Can I trust that you will do that?”
Big Macintosh was silent for a moment. Eventually, he nodded. “Eeyup,” he said firmly.





Name: Big Macintosh

Class: Heavy
Weapon loadout
Primary: Minigun
Secondary: Shotgun
Melee: Hooves
Job: Mow Down





And the ending flourish, because it seems necessary.




Author’s Notes:
Oh wow I am so sorry! I just got very stuck with characterisation. 
Redstreak apples are commonly used in making cider, while the Ambrosia is a sweet, eating apple. Yes, I am implying that Big Mac’s, AJ’s and AB’s father had a cutie mark for making booze. That must have been one heck of a story.
And yes, I will be using the dropped weapons. Or ponified equivalents, where necessary. The Fists of Steel will become 20-pound pig-iron horseshoes, for example. Imagine THOSE flying at your face with enough force to knock down a tree!
I am well aware that the maths is off in many ways. Ignore it. It was a joke that didn't go as planned. Too many damn mathematicians...