++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
NOTE: I recommend reading my first completed story, A Glimmer of Hope (https://pastebin.com/TnWCRgzK) before this one. They share the same universe and some key background information, but this story is chronologically later than those events. Famous in Infamous Lands also takes place before this, but that story is on indefinite hiatus until I figure out what the hell to do with it. This is not a sequel, but there may be spoilers for that story in this one.

For those put off by “action” fics, this is not one (primarily). Characters and overarching concepts will come before any fight scenes, and I even hold reservation on including the latter at all. In short, this will feature action scenes, not be an action story.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
>For three years, they tested me. Three years was I put through all manner of searches, experiments, and treatments to study every bit of my unique physiology. Three years did I spend, in various stages of discomfort, as I watched television screens that, on occasion, would show how much worse everyone else had it than me.
>It seemed reasonable, at first. Put the responsibility of employing, housing, feeding, and caring for this new population in the hands of a legal caretaker. In the first months, not a soul used the word “owner”. Better a temporary if unfair system be put into place than risk collapse into anarchy.
>Yet the more corporate-minded individuals and organizations soon came to realize the massive advantage they had over foreign competitors with a completely unpaid labor source. It didn’t take long for their lobbyists to fill political chambers and ideology with thoughts of a more permanent system, and one that would grant even fewer rights to those supposedly being “protected”.
>Perhaps their hearts would not have turned if anyone understood the sheer scale of the situation. It wasn’t the five, ten, or even twenty million that most government statistics estimated. The true proportion of seventy million ponies was kept secret. I choose to believe this obfuscation a good thing; even still, many cling to hopes that their loved ones might have escaped the cataclysm that brought them to this world. In reality, few outside of Equestria’s core cities were untouched.
>For a time, I thought it was my fault. After all, it had been I and Starlight Glimmer who had pushed for more and more research into this dimension, close enough to see and feel with the correct devices. It was like looking through a stained glass window: there was a whole new world outside, but we couldn’t really get a glimpse until we found a way around. Unfortunately, we never saw the cracks in that window for what they were.
>We punched a hole in the thin wall between dimensions, a hole that soon blossomed into a great rift that pulled our kind into lands unknown. I walked with guilt for a long time, thinking it was my curiosity that killed the cat. But I know now that such a disaster would have been inevitable, and we may even have helped to contain it by being there to reseal the gap.
>There’s no going back, at least not in our lifetimes. The vulnerability that brought us here no longer exists, and the dimensions now once again drift apart. It will be millennia before they once again draw close. When we learned that, I gave up. I settled down and prepared to be tested, examined, and studied for the rest of my life. At least the food was good.
>Then one day, it stopped. They claimed to have completed their testing cycle, to know all they wished to know about me. I’m not sure how they could have learned so much of alicorn physiology in such a short timespan, but they claimed their data to be solid and were satisfied with their conclusions.
>So, what then? Three years into this wretched world, I suddenly had no place in it. What was the government to do with Twilight Sparkle? They had to keep me in their hands, as I was deemed too volatile and too valuable to be sold to a private interest. And they couldn’t make my existence public, for as far as any of the ponies knew, all of their monarchs were still safely in Equestria.
>Several ideas were proposed. The board of directors at my research facility argued I should be placed in a research position. After all, I have more than enough intellect and education for it. But for reasons unknown, that plan was struck down by the military officers overseeing our operations. They, in turn, wanted to start a new bout of research focused on the possible weaponization of my abilities. But to do that would be to risk my ire, and by then, they knew to stay cautious of my power. Ultimately, I simply ended up floating around in their system, consigned to idle in my underground facility until needed.
>I still remember the day they finally did need me. I was sprawled across a couch, empty energy drinks and snack bags surrounding myself and three companions as we wasted time through video games, as was their habit every Friday afternoon and mine every afternoon. A very irritated-looking officer approached us with a clipboard, impatiently standing by until I finally turned to him.
“Yes?” I asked, as politely as my generally-despondent self could manage at the time.
>”Look, Sparkle, you’re always complaining about how useless you are sitting around here, yeah? Well guess what, the General finally found a way to get rid of your lazy ass. Come take a look.”
>Suddenly alert, I dropped my controller to the complaints of my work-wearied acquaintances. But they surely understood my desperation for a way out of that depressing underground facility, for no other challenges followed me as I followed the officer out of the room and through the winding, sparsely-decorated hallways to the commander’s office.
>As we walked, he opted to remain silent, perhaps still harboring disdain for a pony he knew to be far more important, intelligent, and valuable than he. I chose to flip through the papers he’d handed me, but most of it was purely documentation related to my departure. Very little hinted at my actual destination or purpose, aside from a general reference to the American Southwest.
>As soon as we arrived at the office, my guide stole away as quickly as his feet could take him. Perhaps it was simply out of a desire to leave my side, or perhaps from some trepidation of his superior officer. Perhaps both. Regardless, I’d had my fair share of talks with important individuals, so it was with little nervousness that I pushed my way into his office and took a seat.
>”Miss Sparkle,” he began, opting to forgo the usual title of ‘pony’ assigned to me by most around the base. “I assume Captain Matthews already briefed you on what’s happening today?”
“I wasn’t aware the man could speak, sir.”
>”Ah, then don’t mind him. I assure you he’s equally bitter to everyone, his own mother included. Should I give you the rundown, then?” he asked, his eyes unreadable. That was always the trouble with humans: their eyes were tiny in proportion to their heads, and betrayed far less emotion than any sapient Equestrian creature. But at least he wasn’t hostile or annoyed, as so many seemed to be in this facility entirely focused around me.
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
>”Now, I’m sure you’re saddened to leave this wonderful facility,” he said with a chuckle, “but it seems we’ve finally been able to find a place for you elsewhere, and it’s a role I imagine you’d be more than happy filling.
>”I’m not sure if you even know exactly where this facility is, but if you’ll look at this map here,” he mused, gesturing to the country-wide map situated before him, “we’re right about here in New Mexico,” he finished, pointing to a spot well south of Albuquerque. 
“And where will I be going, then?” I asked, careful not to let too much excitement seep into my voice.
>”Not far,” he replied, shifting his finger left. “Just on the edges of Phoenix, Arizona. And don’t worry, you’ll actually be aboveground this time.”
>Even as far away as we were from civilization, they rarely permitted me to the surface. Intervals of months at a time often interrupted my breaths of fresh air. It came as no small relief that I’d once again be afforded the luxury of clean air and natural winds.
>”And,” he continued, a smile forming on his lips, “you won’t even have to hide. Whether it’s your wings or your horn, we’ve got a way to properly hide your unique appearance.”
“Then what am I doing,” I asked, cautious as the student of a monarch ought to be, “to earn such accommodations?”
>”You’ll be fighting.”
“Absolutely not.”
>”Ah ah ah, hear me out. Not fighting crime, or fighting for some cause. You’ll be fighting for your own people.”
>After a few moments of blank stares, he continued, “There is a… task force, of sorts, being created. Seems some folks have taken the concept of indentured servitude too far, and while what they’re doing may not even be illegal, someone’s got to stop them.”
“I either fail to understand or fail to believe you.”
>”It’s simple. There’s bad people out there, doing bad things, but the government can’t do anything about it. But you, you don’t even exist in this world as far as the public is concerned. You and a few other high-value assets across the country are being set up as a team, to fill in the gaps that no legal entity can.”
“So, like, spy stuff?”
>”More like SWAT, or Special Forces, or something. From the looks of the other profiles in your little team, your commander isn’t looking to arrest anyone. He’s looking for more timely solutions.”
>They would fly us around the country, he said, taking down the worst abusers known to intelligence agencies. And over the years, more than a few of them had cropped up. Thousands of ponies were enslaved under their iron fists, and perhaps hundreds more killed through cruelty and negligence. There would be six of us: three ponies, and three humans, all equipped and trained save for myself. But then they assumed, correctly, that an alicorn’s capabilities would more than make up for any training deficiency.
>At first, I wondered why they would put me in such a seemingly risky position, especially one where I could plausibly enter the public eye. And yet the more I thought on it, the more it made sense. In such a role, I would still be protected by military forces, and kept reasonably covert. If they needed me for another reason, perhaps for more testing or for a more important mission, I would be at hand to snatch back up and carry off to another facility. And, finally, it would keep me satisfied, and eliminate any risk of my power being unleashed on military property. It wouldn’t be until later that I discovered the other reasons for my transfer, but this logic alone was enough to satisfy my skepticism at the time.
>Within hours, my few belongings were neatly packed away, and I was boarding a small plane bound for a tiny airstrip near my destination. I said my goodbyes to the few friends I’d made, took my seat, and flew into the unknown.
>I did well to sleep on the plane; the next few hours were significantly more chaotic.

+++1+++

>The propeller sputtered to a stop, the door popped open, a stairwell extended, and I was soon back on the ground. It occurred to me that air travel in this way was somewhat wasteful, given my capacity for flight, but the desire for secrecy was understood. 
>The landscape here was entirely unknown to me: whereas other parts of this country exhibited similar flora and appearance to various parts of Equestria, this desert was unique. Covered in cacti tall and small, filled with plant life alien in appearance and inconsistent with the dry air and sweltering heat, and quite obviously inhabited from the expanse of city visible from the airplane window, it was a desert unlike any I’d ever known.
>The airstrip fit into the landscape well. With only a tiny control tower, two rusted hangars, and dirt roads to complement the dirt landing and takeoff strip, it certainly failed to betray any impression of a private-use facility. Through the gate and down a dirt road, another set of buildings was visible, much newer in appearance but still surrounded by the same shining, painful-looking barbed wire.
>More attention-drawing, however, were the individuals gathered in anticipation of our arrival. Clustered around an unassuming black pickup truck were three humans and two unicorns, all dressed in camouflage and engaged in what could be described as neither lively debate nor scathing argumentation.
>”You cannot treat the Princess as some regular old pony!” one of the unicorns barks, grinding his teeth. “She is royalty, not to mention the fabled alicorn magic she possesses!”
>”I know good and well what she’s capable of,” one of the men responds. “You got the dossier too, pal. Doesn’t mean I’m going to let some damn ponies boss me around.”
>”Princess!” the other unicorn suddenly shouts, silencing the others around her. “It is an honor to meet you. You can’t imagine our relief upon hearing of your survival and safety.”
“Please, no formalities,” I sighed, waving her off. I was not eager to return to the same artificial reverence ponies held for me as a Royal. “There are no crowns here, and no princesses either. Please, just call me Twilight.”
>”Well, Twilight,” the same man interrupted, angrily stressing my name. “Your plane is already an hour and a half late, so can we just hop in the truck and get going?”
“I suppose so, but perhaps we should get introductions in, first?”
>”No.”
>”I’m Glittering Jewel,” the unicorn mare interjects, bowing slightly before catching herself. “But my folks always called me Jewel.” Her coat was a bright turquoise, accented by a cream-colored mane that delicately curled upward at the ends. Her cutie mark, like that of her companion, was obscured by her uniform.
>”Friends call me Chuck,” the stallion added in with disinterest before turning to the truck. A quick glance at his name tape revealed his birth name, Rockheart. He was small for a stallion, smaller than myself and almost as short in stature as Jewel. Yet small was not to say weak: under his maroon coat and light-brown mane were muscles, taught yet not obtrusive. He may well have been an athlete in Equestria.
>”Sergeant Brian Lopez,” the smallest of the three men remarked with a nod. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He was perhaps a few inches shorter than most human men, but, like the stallion, visibly in near-perfect shape. He, too, quickly stole off to the waiting vehicle, but not without casting a final, welcoming glance back to me.
>”Major Ryan Johnson,” the next man said with a heavy Boston accent. The largest of the three men, he was the only one I’d seen to betray any sign of aging. His face was a bit more tired, his skin a bit more coarse, and his brown hair laced with barely-noticeable lines of gray. “I’ll be your team leader, Miss Sparkle. You’ve been in our possession for some time now, so I imagine you understand the responsibilities that role comes with.”
“I do, sir.”
>The final man, the one who had been so heated only moments ago, now stood silent as the three of us still present looked to him expectantly. His seemingly permanent scowl was well accented by the dark, thick eyebrows that dominated his large, square face. Beneath them, a set of green eyes blazed out at us. At last, he exploded, “What the fuck do you want? Staff Sergeant Wilcox, you fucking happy?”
>”Alright, Wilcox, what’s your problem today, huh?” the Major bit back at him.
>”Not sure what you mean, sir,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “Been exactly this pissy since I got handed this assignment. Still not sure what I did to deserve it.”
>”Let’s just get in the damn truck already,” the officer relented, throwing his arms up in the air. “At least we’ll have something else to talk about there.”
>The vehicle had only five seats for six individuals, but any conflict was easily resolved by Chuck’s decision to load up into the truck bed. My small suitcase joined the rest of the luggage in making a rather comfortable-looking bed for the stallion, as I squeezed into the back of the truck’s cabin. Lopez had long seated himself in the shotgun seat, and the Major took his place at the wheel, leaving Wilcox and I on either side of Jewel.
>”So, Miss Sparkle,” the Major began as the engine roared to life. “Welcome to the Valley of the Sun. It’s an apt name. It’s mid-May now, we’ll be lucky to get any rain before August.”
“I’ve barely seen the sun for over four years, Major. That doesn’t bother me much.”
>”Oh, sure, sure. Ahh, enough talking about the weather, eh? Let’s get down to business. You know what we’re here for, right?”
“Bringing the hammer down on abusers?”
>”Somewhat. Supposedly, we’re supposed to be arresting these folks. But if that was what they expected to happen, they’d be sending a SWAT team. I’ll give it to ya straight: we’re going after the biggest, baddest, toughest slavers our intelligence agencies know of, and if we get found out, the Fed’s gonna disown us like we’re a gay Mormon kid.
>”But on the other hand, it’s a chance for you ponies to do something to really help out your kind. Miss Sparkle, I think you know why you’re here?”
“Mostly because I’m up to the task, and they couldn’t find any other use for me.”
>”That’s about what they told me, yeah. Chuck and Jewel have been in government service from the beginning, some of the only ponies to ever receive any form of military training. There aren’t many out there who wear those uniforms, you two should be proud,” he said, addressing Jewel.
>”Us humans, though,” he continued, “are all here for our experience. Sergeant Wilcox and I are Special Forces, but Sergeant Lopez is the real badass. Isn’t that right, Lopez?”
>”Delta Force,” he said with a smile and a nod. “But that’s classified.”
>Around that time, we rounded a bend and passed by the gates of the other facility. It consisted of three nondescript buildings arranged in a rectangle, with a guard post at the front gate and a gravel parking area filling in the space in-between. Limited cacti and desert vegetation adorned the sides of walkways and buildings, but aside from that, it appeared as an overall dismal place.
>”To our left,” the Major pointed out, “is home sweet home for the foreseeable future. I know it looks like a dump, especially to you ponies, but the furnishings are nice.”
>”Much better than most other ponies get,” Jewel mused, her voice barely audible.
>A quick wave to the gate guard later, and the truck slowly rolled into the compound. Before it came to a stop, the truck rocked slightly, and a quick look back revealed Chuck had already jumped out and begun unloading the luggage. This prompted a sudden and surprising reaction from the truck’s most irritated occupant, who barged out of the vehicle and began shouting at the unfazed unicorn not to touch his belongings. For his part, Chuck simply shrugged his shoulders and released the magic grip around his current load of bags, which clattered unceremoniously to the ground.
>”Miss Sparkle,” the Major prompted, waving to me as I stepped out of the vehicle.
“Yes?”
>”While the others get settled in, we have some business to attend to in the equipment building. Sergeant Lopez, bring our bags in for us.”
>The equipment building was unremarkable, identical in appearance to the building opposite it and only slightly thinner than the two-story living quarters the others headed into. But for all its plainness on the exterior, the facility was truly remarkable inside. It was an instant shift in mood: from an unassuming and unappealing attitude to the outside world, the interior featured all manner of high-tech gear, gadgets, and devices of unknown function. Through open doorways I could see walls lined with weapons, armor, uniforms, and spare parts. But in this central, first room, all that could attract attention was the device positioned before us.
>A true mess of pipes, lights, displays, and interfaces, the digital monstrosity seemed as something from a science fiction novel. Placed in front of a convoluted mess of inputs and outputs was a sizable pad, large enough to accommodate a pony of any size or stature. The Major swept his hand across the device, as if to beckon me forward to it.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice carrying equal parts hesitation and fascination.
>”One of the many fruits of the research conducted on you,” he said, something akin to pride seeping into his voice. “It is a self-enchanting device, allowing the user to tap into a unicorn’s magic and apply an enchantment directly to the body. For our purposes, we’ll be doing a simple concealment spell to hide your wings and replace your cutie mark.”
>I was incredulous. Thousands of years of Equestrian research had failed to find any way to enchant a living being, much less on the enchantment’s caster. And these humans, alien to magic before our arrival, had created such technology in just a few years? It was no wonder how far their technology outgrew ours in a much shorter history.
“So, this device will allow me to cast an enchantment… on myself?”
>”Even better. The machine does the enchantment, you just supply the magic. Want to give it a whirl?”
“I suppose…”
>”Think of it this way,” he remarked cheerily as he moved to one of the machine’s control panels. “Soon as we’re done with this, you don’t have to hide any more. We can give you a proper look at the world you haven’t yet seen.”
>Another moment of hesitation was all I needed before I hesitantly closed the gap between myself and the pad. Sure, Equestrian science had produced its fair share of absurd magic machinery, but our engineers could never hope to manufacture something with the complexity and precision required for such a device as this. It was imposing. But, swallowing my fear, I stepped onto the platform.
>A mechanical whirl and a bright flash later, and my wings were gone.
>Visibly gone, at least. I could still feel the brush of feathers against my coat and a quick flex of my muscles revealed the appendages to be entirely functional, merely invisible to onlookers. It was strange, at first, losing sight of what had become a core part of my body and my being. But I soon became accustomed to the circumstances, and gladly welcomed them.
>My cutie mark, of course, also had to be replaced. Long discussions with Starlight Glimmer had given me a deep understanding of the magic behind their form and function, and I could easily tell that what now adorned my flank was no more than a mask. The arrangement of stars I’d seen for so long was suddenly gone, replaced by an unremarkable depiction of a slice of cake.
>”Feeling alright?” Johnson asked, genuine if temporary concern apparent on his visage. “It looks like everything went fine, but you never know with untested magic.”
“My wings and cutie mark are still there, if that’s what you’re asking. But, did you say untested?”
>”I may have. But hey, everything worked out fine, didn’t it?” he answered, a nervous grin on his face. I simply sighed and shook my head in response. “Right-o, then,” he continued, shifting his attention to another part of the room. “Over there is the uniform issue room. Since nobody at the poor excuse for a research facility you were at bothered to fit you for one, I’ll leave it to you to find something that fits.”
>He opted to wait outside the door, giving me suitable privacy to change. Inside were rows of multicam uniforms, both in the typical human fashions and specially-tailored variants for ponies of all shapes and sizes. Included, thankfully, was an arrangement of pegasus-oriented uniforms with buckled covers for wings. These proved remarkably easy to snap off when extending wings, and equally easy to buckle with a quick application of magic. It was with some difficulty that I found a set with a good fit, as by then my body had settled into its more lithe, long alicorn form.
>Upon emerging from the room, my view was immediately darkened as Johnson slapped a cap over my eyes. A quick adjustment later, I found it able to comfortably rest atop my cranium, my horn well-slotted through a stitched opening in its top. “Ironically,” the officer commented, “you won’t really be wearing these too much. Just around here, or when we’re going to another base. Still, gotta have ‘em, and now we have your sizes.”
“I suppose. Anything else to issue, while we’re here?”
>”Nothing I can’t grab myself with your size info. Head over to quarters, you might as well make yourself at home.”
>I left the man to his devices and returned to the compound’s central structure. Just inside the door were two suitcases gently placed beside each other, alone in the empty foyer. I picked mine up and moved for the sole hallway with any activity in it. Each of us had an assigned room, mine situated at the end of the hallway along with those earmarked for the other ponies in our team. Directly above each doorway was a simple yet functional nameplate made of brushed steel, or at least a facsimile of it.
>Several of the rooms were open as I passed by. At the mouth of the hallway was Wilcox’s room; the man had set up a speaker system and was blasting some very fast, very loud EDM into the hallway. Sprawled across his bed enjoying his tunes, he only gave me a disinterested glance as I passed by. Jewel, with her room situated directly next to mine, had also opted to leave her door open. A quick glance in revealed her to be busily decorating all available surfaces with inexpensive decorations and knick-knacks from her two massive suitcases. The pervasive music seemed not to bother her, as her head bobbed lightly and quickly to its beat. I chose not to bother her, instead opting to see my own quarters.
>To say my room was either spacious or uncomfortable would be a lie. It was just large enough for a sole occupant, with a simple bunk, foot locker, desk space, and wall cabinet. The furnishings appeared new, or at least new enough. I stepped in and quickly shut the door, thankfully muffling the beats roaring down the hallway. It was both peculiar and pleasantly surprising that a wood door should block off so much sound at once.
>My belongings didn’t take long to arrange and store away. Truthfully, I had little reason to collect personal items during my tenure as a research subject. Most of my days and nights were spent in some test chamber, machines carefully monitoring every heartbeat, every fluctuation in my magical aura. There just wasn’t enough time since those days to collect more than a sparse set of belongings to call my own.
>An inexpensive and inoffensive scarf for colder days or when the heating went out, a few framed pictures of places in this world I’d have liked to visit but never had the chance to, a rather heavy set of spellbooks magically condensed into a folded pocketbook, and of course, my crown. I hadn’t seen the thing in years when they finally gave it back to me, and I’d nearly forgotten its presence in this world. Of course, I never wore the thing, but I couldn’t have left it behind.
>And, ah, of course. A box set of Blu-Ray discs, of a curious television show called Friendship is Magic. While their world manifested broadly in ours, the glance into ours appeared only in this limited form. And yet, like in Equestria, millions flocked to the media, seemingly bewitched by an addictive factor they couldn’t quite place. And of course, it starred my friends and I. The contents of the show were inaccurate at best, and far less colorful than the true tales, but I could never blame the show’s creators. Children would have found real problems, like what to do with Tirek’s massive, rotting corpse, difficult to watch.
>Without a supply of researchers too much money to spend on video games and too little time to play them, I’d have to find entertainment of my own accord. But of course, that would probably imply driving into town and buying something.
>It was a fascinating prospect. I’d not been allowed any contact with the outside world at the research facility, and to finally have the opportunity once more was almost overwhelming. But even more, this world would be entirely different from any I’d known before. Their customs, culture, and cities were very different from those of Equestria. That much I could gather from my limited access to the Internet. But just how different would it be?
>And what of the ponies? Hell, Chuck and Jewel were the first ponies I’d seen in over four years! But they held the same attitudes, the same dispositions as the other military figures around us – what would a normal pony be like, suffering under the weight of slavery? What looks would be cast my way by the uneducated, undisciplined, unpredictable masses of humans? What would humans in general be like outside of a military context?
>I quickly shook those thoughts away. I’d just arrived here, why would they take me outside so soon? No, they’d probably be watching me, making sure I’d behave myself here, before they ever trusted me enough to-
>”Wilcox you son of a bitch, turn that fucking music off! Thank you. Everyone, listen up! Change into civilian clothes, or nothing for you ponies, I guess. We’re going out to buy supplies in ten minutes.”
>A few muffled calls of “Yes, sir!” made their way through the door. But I paid that little heed; in just ten minutes, I would once again get a look at the outside world, and how it had changed without me.

+++2+++

>Ten minutes later, I’d removed my newly-acquired uniform and stood in the foyer, waiting patiently with the other ponies and a hastily-composed list each of wants and needs. Jewel possessed a similar shopping list, as did Lopez when he emerged from his room. Last to join us were Wilcox and the Major, the latter also finishing up a short list of his own.
>”Everyone ready?” the officer inquired, locking eyes with each member of his team in succession. “Alright, then. Back into the truck with you all.”
>We all resumed the same seats as before, although the back seat was significantly less cramped as Wilcox and I each made a bit of room for the unfortunate pony between us. A few minutes later, the dirt road opened up onto a paved one, which soon connected with successively larger and busier streets.
>I could only restrain myself for a few minutes before unceremoniously pressing my face to the glass window, my eyes glued to each new passing example of human civilization. The homes were enormous, the roads absurdly wide, and everything meticulously planned with future growth in mind. Automobiles, feats of precision engineering unlike anything ponykind had ever achieved, roved the streets far more commonly than any form of carriage or chariot in Equestria. The humans seemed to have a remarkable grasp on transportation infrastructure, especially for a race never gifted flight or magic.
>But what surprised me the most was the sheer size of their settlements. Our trip to the store was not a particularly long one, but we easily traversed a distance exceeding the entire diameter of Canterlot or the Crystal Empire. Perhaps this was why the humans spent so much time and engineering prowess on engineering, the incredible scale of their cities without wings or horns to shorten the gaps between. And while even that distance seemed far to me, to look out was even more awe-inspiring. A quick drive over a hill revealed a city that stretched farther than the horizon and a skyline barely within the bounds of vision. And the place likely carried on even farther than that!
>But awe turned to fear the moment I saw the first of my kind. Not dressed in military uniform, not facing down a human as an equal, but held on a leash by a mere child. I’ve no idea if the mare was unhappy or not, but I didn’t imagine she could enjoy being reduced to the status of a pet.
>These roads, homes, this city, how much of it was built on the backs of my kind? Could I have prevented this, guided them in another direction, instead of… no. The past happened, and I couldn’t have done anything about it. Simply an unfortunate set of events.
>And yet it frustrated me. At the very least, I should be somewhere out there with them. My mane slick with sweat, my eyes weighed down by bags, my magic sputtering out from sheer exhaustion. A leader should not sit idly by as her subject suffer.  But that option was already proposed by those who hold my contract of indenture, and they received a firm rejection of that suggestion.
>My thoughts were quieted as we pulled off the road into a large, paved parking lot. “Hey sir,” Wilcox commented, “there’s an In-n-Out across the street. Think we should eat first?”
>”No, because I know you’ll all get this shit done faster if you know we’re eating after. So go in, get what you need, and get out. Then, we can go eat. Jewel, you go with Wilcox. Rockheart, you’re with Lopez. Sparkle, you’re going to be with me. Any questions?”
>”I’ve got one, sir,” Wilcox said, raising his hand.
>”Yes?”
>”Can I trade the pony in for a Playstation, or something?”
>”You know, we have plenty of MRE’s back home, if you want.”
>”Alright, point taken. No further questions.”
>The truck pulled into a parking spot, and each pairing got out, quickly going separate ways. Upon entering the store, I was at first overwhelmed. After so long without even the slightest hint of contact with the outside world, it was startling to enter a store larger than any I’d seen before. But I was once again grounded by the plight of my former subjects: ponies could be seen around the store, mostly in cleaning and restocking capacities. Interestingly, none of the cash registers or bagging stations were manned by ponies. Perhaps customers preferred to avoid any ponies touching their purchases.
>The Major opted to go through my list first, since it was a bit longer than his. First up would be toiletries. Curiously, there were pony-specific products laid out below those targeted to humans, but any differences between them seemed superficial beyond price.
“Sir, what does this do differently from the others?” I asked, holding up a tube of ‘Pony-Wow! Toothpaste’ for him to see.
>”Nothing. Welcome to the capitalist heart of the world, Sparkle,” he remarked, throwing a tube of regular toothpaste into the shopping cart. We continued on, gathering hygiene products, critical personal belongings, and a few food items to be kept in my room.
>”Huh,” he remarked as he crossed off the last item on the list. “Not a very big list, eh?”
“Just the necessities.”
>”No kidding. Most ponies go crazy when you let ‘em buy stuff. Sure you don’t need anything else?”
“I’m fine, thank you. Even back home I never had too many things. My castle was enormous, but always empty save for the library and laboratories.”
>”Alright, then. You think of anything else, just let me know. Remember, you’re part of a team, not just some government asset. It’s my job to look out for ya.”
>The Major’s list proved equally short. But then again, he’d brought a suitable number of belongings with him. Once each of us had what we needed, there was still yet one more set of items to checkout. Our little facility had been freshly refitted for our purposes, and was utterly lacking in common items beyond the bare essentials. Everything from air fresheners to a flatscreen television and Playstation was loaded into the now-packed shopping cart, until Johnson finally had me carry some of the less breakable items with my magic. Briefly, I thought of using a spell to temporarily shrink them, but decided that might not be proper for unpurchased merchandise.
>When we at last made our way past checkout, we found the rest of our team impatiently waiting by the truck. “Hey, sir,” Lopez called out with a grin, “You’re late!”
>”Hey, you think you can buy all the toilet paper and Kleenex quicker, be my guest.” Eager to get moving toward a food source, they all helped to load our goods into the truck bed, where Chuck resumed his usual place, carefully watching over the items to ensure their safety as we drove off. Ultimately, we simply pulled out of the parking lot and went directly across the street, where a standalone building proudly displayed the name In-n-Out on a colossal signpost.
>”Oh for fuck’s sake,” the officer bemoaned as we drove by the restaurant. “Drive-thru’s packed. Fuck that, you all just wait here, I’ll go inside.”
“I see tables, can’t we just go in?”
>”We can,” Lopez answered, “but you can’t. In-n-Out likes to cater to a bit snobbier, bit more sensitive pack of burger-munchers. That means no ponies tainting their eating experience.” The officer took orders from each of us, before hopping out and heading into the eatery.
“So, is this common practice, then?” I asked, suddenly curious at just how much this world. “Are most businesses closed to us?”
>”It honestly depends,” Lopez answered, his face pensive. “Most businesses just care about what’s going to be best for their customers. Sometimes they like to keep ponies out to bring in more humans, sometimes they embrace ponies. There are plenty out there treated as pets or even just roommates, and it can be good business to cater to them and their owners. I think most places just allow their presence, as long as a human’s with them.”
>”Lots of ponies have good owners,” Chuck added from the truck bed through an open rear window. “But good owners usually don’t have a lot of ponies. Aside from big companies, it’s the tough ones that take whole groups or lots at a time. I’m betting that’s where our jobs are mostly going to be, factories and farms where the owner’s mindset has gone back to the 19th century.”
“You know I’ve been kept away from the public for a long time now,” I said, questions now running in and about my head at a breakneck pace. “And even after they were… done with me, the media and information I could receive was all heavily censored.”
>”Whatcha want to know?”
“How are ponies treated, on the whole? Is abuse common, encouraged? Or are most people more levelheaded?”
>”It happens, and everyone knows it happens,” Lopez answered, his face neutral. “And in a lot of cases, it needs to happen. I guess you could say that owners need to discipline their ponies, given the situations many are in.”
>”Need to discipline them?” Jewel interrupted, her brow furrowing.
>”Well, yeah. I mean, you can’t just fire a pony, you hold their contract. You own them. Work needs to be done in a factory, sometimes they need firm encouragement. You remember why this whole system exists, right? The pony population would be unsustainable if they didn’t work. So, yeah, within reason people expect physical punishment to happen.
>”But,” he continued with a raise of his finger as I opened my mouth to speak, “that doesn’t mean people support abuse. There’s a difference between keeping ponies in line and using them as a punching bag. Most states have laws against it, and they can be pretty strict. But more often than it should, people slip through the cracks, since ponies either can’t report their troubles or the government can’t prove anything. Sometimes they might not even technically be doing anything illegal, just morally wrong. That’s where our team is going to come in.”
>”Much as I hate you sissy-horses’ guts,” Wilcox chimed in, “I can’t deny that some real fucked-up shit goes on. You see it on the news sometimes, some guy gets busted and they interview the ponies who lived through the fiasco. Kinda hard to tell if most of you work in stores, factories, or people’s homes, since they can never seem to figure out exactly how many of you there are.”
“Seventy-two million, six hundred five thousand, one hundred forty-five, at last year’s count. Plus an estimated fifty thousand escapees and three hundred thousand out-of-country.” The truck’s passengers all looked at me in surprise. “I asked the General one day, and he told me. Never forgot that number.”
>”That’s a lot more than any estimate I’ve seen,” Wilcox grumbled.
>”There’s gotta be a ton working in labor, then. No way more than a third are in people’s homes, and even less work retail,” the other human commented, his expression pensive.
>A quick glance up found the Major walking back to our vehicle, paper bags hanging from his left hand. With a set of initials scrawled on each bag, he quickly tossed each person and pony their meal. It occurred to me that, having skipped breakfast and been on a flight during lunch, this would likely be my first meal in a full 24 hours.
>I still don’t know why we used hay for so much of our food in Equestria. Potatoes and vegetable patties were far superior in flavor and texture for fast food, and more complex dishes never failed to profit from humanity’s substitutes. I could only imagine culinary masters brought to this world, suddenly unable to use their main ingredient but finding even greater success in raw materials that had lain at hoof’s reach all their lives.
>But in all the DFAC meals I’d had in that depressing underground laboratory, nothing could compare with that first real taste of human food I had that day, crammed in the back seat of a truck with two tired, starving individuals even more desperately in need of a shower than I. Suddenly, diabetes and obesity rates were entirely understandable. In short, it was a good veggie burger with fries.
>By this time, the sun had begun to set. It was always interesting to me that Equestria’s celestial bodies operated on entirely different principles than those of Earth. Many now think Celestia’s movement of the sun a farce, and reject her as a fraud, since it now moves overhead of its own accord. But, having once done it myself, I can testify that not only must the Equestrian sun be moved manually, but it very much likes to remain in place. Even after millennia of rising on a tight schedule each day, the thing was almost impossible to move. I never envied Celestia’s job after that day.
>It wasn’t until much later that I learned Arizona was famed for its extraordinary sunrises and sunsets, thanks to dry and clear air coupled with complementary landscapes. I still remember that view, through a thin window still slightly smudged from my earlier pressing against it. I’d never seen a sunset so gorgeous, or with such a range of colors.
>This world was beautiful, I thought. But of course, I would soon realize how rotten it could be beneath the skin.
>By the time we arrived back at our abode, the sun had set below the horizon, with only a faint blur of gray remaining as any indication of its former presence. For the first time in years, I could peer up to the heavens and watch the stars. Yet these stars were different from those I had long been accustomed to: they were cold, lifeless, merely spots of light on a black canvas. Stars in Equestria had meaning and purpose behind them, these were merely celestial bodies. I did not dwell on this fact; merely watching them was an experienced I’d long missed.
>”Hey Sparkle,” Wilcox called from the barracks doorway, “we sleep indoors on earth. Just so you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be in in a minute,” I called back, keeping my head firmly craned upwards.
>After a few more moments, I readied myself to head inside, but stopped myself halfway there. It occurred to me that I’d not done anything with my magic that day beyond basic levitation and the spell cast through the curious enchanting device. Out of curiosity, I decided to do a quick magical spell, and perhaps see if any other curios lurked in this compound.
>Immediately I was taken aback. As the spell illuminated sources of magic and existing spells, I was met with the blinding light of a vast and complex array of magical devices. Many different spells were present, from mundane cyclic functions to an impossibly strong and invisible shield surrounding the entire facility. Magical wires of some sort danced between buildings and devices, always following direct and logical paths. Many things I couldn’t describe to you even today, as their specific functionality and purpose remains too complex to understand by sight alone. Perhaps most startling was the as-of-yet unexplored building, which shined brightly with magical devices of all shapes and sizes arranged both above and below ground.
>And always, magic followed the uniformity and rigidity so common in human engineering. No signs of style or augmented functionality marred any of the spells or contraptions I witnessed: they were all machine-pressed, interwoven with nigh-impossible complexity but without any of the artisanship typically required for such daunting tasks. Generators, always crafted in a painstakingly individual manner in Equestria, were identical and separated for each building. Such an intricate system, reduced to a common blueprint and replicated at will! It was as much a violation of magical artisanry as it was a paean to insightful research.
>”Sparkle, the Major wants you in here. Are you hurt? Do I need to come over there and drag you the hell in?” Wilcox’s voice, rough as sandpaper, instantly severed the concentration needed to keep up the magic visualization spell.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”
>Despite having eaten their fill not an hour prior, Lopez and Jewel were seated in the kitchen/dining area with fresh plates of pasta between them. And to think the researchers said I was a chow hound. I had nothing on these guys.
>A room over, Wilcox joined the Major and Chuck on a wide couch to watch the nightly news. Curious, I worked my way over to them and took a seat in one of the room’s plush armchairs. I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t the unabated stream of negativity I soon bore witness to. Perhaps it was simply due to the sheer size of the city, but humanity seemed to have a far darker news cycle than any I’d seen in Equestria.
>Murders, arson, terror attacks, wanton Equestrian abuse; there was plenty of misery to go around. At least most of those featured on the program were already caught and soon to face justice.
>Aside from horrific crimes, humanity’s happenings tended to be of a similar breed to those in Equestria. Artistic endeavors, sporting events, celebrity drama, none of it was new to my ears. Of course, none of those featured in such segments were ponies. That would most likely incense the viewer base.
>Soon overtaken by disinterest, I left the common areas for my room. The purchases I’d made, noticeably sparing when laying in bags on my bed, were quickly organized and tucked away. For a bit, I regretted my hesitation to ask for more, as the complete lack of entertainment sources had by then become unusual to me in the humans’ world. A bit later, though, I recalled the set of half-read spellbooks shrunk down and hidden away in my locker, and these sufficed to capture my interest for the rest of the night.
>It still surprises me how much knowledge was gained in those days about pony magic. Even with the vast majority of unicorns heavily restricted or entirely cut off from their magic, spells and magical techniques were being developed at a pace unimaginable in Equestria. Here was a full set of five volumes of advanced spells, with three volumes composed of entirely new magic. Some had been developed by government sources, no doubt using data gathered from the vast array of tests done on me. Others, typically the most creative and most useful, were attributed to a multitude of private firms. It astounded me that such discoveries could be made so quickly, and by a magicless species to boot.
>It was late into the night, long after light had ceased slipping under the door and voices had quieted in the hallway outside, that I finally laid my head down and drifted off to sleep.

+++3+++

>Dreams came quickly, and when they arrived, they were not welcome. Dreaming always had a different feel here, a different experience compared to the art of Luna. Perhaps they were not always unpleasant, but typically lacking the splendor of Equestrian counterparts. But that night, they were neither pleasant nor dulled, and to this day I can recall the specifics of what transpired in my subconscious.
>I’ve yet to determine if dreams have meaning here, but what I saw that night was apt regardless. I was taken back to those first few days, when the divide between our realities closed and a great rift tore through the fabric of our universe. And, like a hole in any airtight seal, it quickly sought to grow, expanding across Equestria. Only Canterlot, Manehattan, the few thousand residents of the Crystal Empire, and parts of Trottingham escaped unscathed. Other cities – and the far more populous rural regions surrounding them – were consumed entirely, their inhabitants unceremoniously dumped into this world.
>And it unfolded once more before my eyes during my slumber that night.
>”Princess! Princess!” someone called out to me. The voice was indistinct, the pony featureless. “The rift! Wake up! You must stop it!”
>Just as I had years before, I groggily turned my head back, instantly perking up at the sight of the vortex. And yet it was not vertical, as it had been in our experiments. It was now parallel to the ground, stretching to the horizon and beyond, like a thick and horrific cloud cover.
>I exhausted myself fighting the rift for hours. Ultimately, the time taken ensured most of Equestria’s population would be relocated, scattered across a geographic area even larger than that they’d come from. Yet my actions likely prevented the whole of the nation from being absorbed, and possibly even a collapse of that world entirely. Either way, when the rift finally closed, I immediately crashed to the ground. Having spent all my energy in one go, I could do nothing but sleep.
>Here, the dream simply skipped forward. At some point, I’d been picked up and dragged to a clearing by my compatriots, a group of my best scientists and the ever-loyal Starlight Glimmer. Two were immediately missing upon my reawakening: it was only later that I would discover their suicides. 
“Starlight,” I said, my body still yearning for rest. “Where are we, exactly?”
>One of the researchers answered in her place, “The pines at such low elevation would indicate a latitudal extreme, but the species is unknown to Equestrian science.”
>”What he said,” Starlight followed up, her face buried in her hooves.
“You think… the portal worked as intended?”
>”I wouldn’t say that.”
“I mean, you think we’re connected? That Equestria-“
>”Just vanished along with the portal you sealed up? Yes, I do think so, Twilight.”
>Soon after, Starlight and I parted with the four remaining researchers, as they could not bear to face the public and always be reminded of what their work had done. Sometimes I wonder what became of them.
>We’d been deposited near the coastline, along a pine-encrusted mountain range. It didn’t take long to find roads and railroad tracks. For a few days, the two of us hiked down these trails, avoiding noise and attention. At first, we were hesitant to approach more well-developed roads, fearful of rumbling automobiles carrying alien passengers. But as our foraging began to falter in efficacy, we were soon left with no choice but to approach civilization.
>Even then, I’d had some idea of my fate. It was entirely reasonable to assume any governing body would want to study the one alicorn among millions of other ponies. I simply didn’t want to put my cards down on whether or not they’d dissect me. When Starlight, finally forced out of the woods by hunger and thirst, decided to approach their civilization, I quietly gave her my thanks and flew off into the night. It would be many years before I would see her again.
>I sought to escape, to go into hiding, but how could I? If two ponies could not fill their bellies in these alien woods, how could one with an appetite twice that of the average earth pony? I resorted to theft, dropping from the sky and snatching groceries before any victims could get a good look at me. To them, I was a nuisance. To me, they were unwitting providers.
>Starvation, in those days, was an enormous problem. I still remember looking on from afar at towns large and small struggling to bear the weight of millions of new souls dumped upon them. Grocery stores, at great risk of being ransacked and robbed, commonly hired armed security to keep back the teeming crowds of ponies looking to feed their children. Some ponies had already subjected themselves to a form of slavery, working hard jobs just for a tent to keep out the rain and food to keep away hunger pains. Others simply sat in the streets and stewed in their misery. Their collection cups were always empty – not due to any prejudice from the humans, but simply due to competition. One street might have had a dozen beggars on it. All these images, they came back in my dreams, but were thankfully only a passing window to glimpse into.
>Eventually, the law caught up with me. When residents of one town got a good look at me one day, hungrily devouring a pilfered ice cream cone atop a bell tower, those reports must have worked their way high up into the government. What soon arrived to bring me down were not police, not security guards, but soldiers. I imagine they probably brought some very big guns, but all it took was a single tranquilizer from a clever angle to bring me down.
>I remember waking up in a test chamber, guards posted all along the walls, ready for even the slightest movement from me. I scrambled to my hooves, only to find them locked and chained to the ground. My wings were similarly strapped to my body, and even my horn had a primitive leather restriction device put on it. While the item may not have actually stopped any of my magic, it sent the message clear enough that I was to stay put.
>”You’re awake now?” a woman’s nasal voice asked through a noticeably cheap intercom. “Good. Before we begin, please take note of your restraints. Personally, if the stories we’ve heard are true, I doubt these will suffice to contain you. Even if that’s the case, please stay put. We would not like to turn this into an autopsy.”
>The men around me wore sunglasses, but those could not easily hide their emotions. They were scared of me. Terrified, even. But while I’d never seen a firearm used in my life before then, it wasn’t difficult to gather the general application of the steel contraptions each man kept a tight grip on.
>”To start, what is your full name and title?” I decided against lying: more likely than not, they’d heard enough of me already to have a full dossier prepared. These agents were probably just looking for confirmation.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship and Royal of the Central Hills.” It always was a title too long for my tastes, but far shorter than most of my caliber.
>”Do excuse us for any violations of your nobility’s customs, then. I assure you, respect for your person and your feelings are of utmost importance to us.”
“I don’t care,” I barked, long out of patience. “What in the world is going on here? Why have I been chained up like an animal?”
>”Well ma’am,” the voice answered, before pausing briefly, as if to consider its words. “We just need to run some preliminary tests to see if our data is correct.”
>That first study session, while far from the most difficult or intrusive I’d see in my time, still stands out to me in vivid detail.
>First came vital scans, to ensure I was in good health and lacking any virulent diseases. While most of those checks were performed with fairly standard medical equipment, plenty of new experiences were also encountered that night. After passing me with a clean bill of health, they opted to allow me some rest. Of course, rest was a relative term: any proper sleep would have been impossible under floodlights and the careful watch of armed guards.
>Once they decided I’d had enough rest, a set of decidedly more invasive tests soon followed. The researchers seemed intent on finding out every last secret hidden in every last corner of my body. I’d expected it, of course, but that didn’t make the tests any easier to live through. Thankfully, anesthetic was administered at some point, and the remainder of those biological searches passed by in a blur.
>When those drugs finally wore off, they were already preparing for the next round of testing on what they were really looking to study: my magical capabilities. I briefly considered an escape attempt, but saw no reason for it so long as experimentation remained relatively benign. If I presented myself as a threat, perhaps they might have seen me as too threatening for anything but dissection. 
>When they told me to channel magic into a receptacle, I did as they asked. When they told me to fire a magic bolt full-force at an impact door, I obliged. When they asked me to attempt ever-more complex tasks, I obeyed, hopeful to accelerate their testing and be released quickly.
>It was at least a month before I realized the longevity of their endeavors. I believe it finally hit home when they learned how to properly contain me, how to create a genuine anti-magic field. All the research and work they’d done to that point was simply to keep me restrained, to have shackles replace my goodwill as the primary force keeping me there. From that point forward, I was not a free mare. That first time they tested the generator on me, when I could feel my magic bottled up and locked away inside me as such devices tend to do, the feeling stuck. This wasn’t the first night I’d relived that experience in nightmare.
>Soon after, I was the world’s first recipient of a horn augment. It was an equally unpleasant feeling, having magic not only bottled up but wilted and dead inside of me. Thankfully, they soon removed the device, but unbeknownst to me that technology would within weeks hit consumer markets. Perhaps that wasn’t all bad, though: before then, unicorns who abused their magic could face outright removal of their horns, a far worse fate than any implant or attachment.
>While I rued my confinement, I soon grew even more anxious for my own kind. From the beginning, individual researchers would tell me snippets of the outside world’s goings-on, describing events of little and major importance alike. And what I heard disturbed me: at first, the labor contract system seemed to be an excellent solution. Suddenly, no ponies went hungry, and the economy immediately picked up from the depression it had fallen into. The races were finally working together, and beggars disappeared overnight. But as the law continued to be amended and strengthened, even as its initial motivations waned in importance, salvation soon turned to slavery for the ponies.
>And then there was I, stuck in a research facility conducting menial but ultimately benign tests while my former subjects were toiling fields, their rights stripped and their freedom abolished. If I’d ever hoped to escape, those thoughts vaporized when they moved me to a brand-new facility across the country, every square inch of the place dedicated to testing and analyzing me. Tests grew increasingly contrived, convoluted, and complicated, and I faltered in understanding their purpose. It was after perhaps eighteen months that I’d been reduced to little more than a machine, employing my magic in whatever manner the intercom directed me. They’d even stopped guarding me, and eventually, even allowed me to move about the facility somewhat without an escort. I never thought to escape. What would be the point?
>At some point, during the glimpses of experiments past, I’d woken up. Yet little changed in my line of thought, and dreams turned to conscious reflection of my past. Apparently, those magical challenges did indeed provide them with solid data, as the sophistication of their facility constantly increased. But even once the research had abruptly stopped and I’d become little more than a nuisance around the facility, they still kept from me the true impact of their research.
>But now, with a renewed connection to the outside world, it had become very apparent how much things had changed thanks to their work. The devices situated all around this tiny facility would have been impossible with either human or Equestrian technology before the rift. Now, with unabated investigation into one of Equestria’s greatest sources of magic and the touch-ups of obviously skilled engineers, magic had become refined. These humans, inexplicably gifted in understanding magic despite being new to its very concept, had used my biology and capabilities to create systems unlike any I’d ever seen.
>And yet, despite all these new technologies were doing for their society, they still kept us locked in slavery’s iron manacles, often literally. We were naught but animals to be used: intelligent, powerful animals that could replace humans in many of their least-desirable jobs and tasks. The mere thought of it enraged me.
>The humiliation of it all! I thought back on the events of the prior day. Every pony I’d seen, unicorn, pegasus, or earth pony, had been stuck in some menial or simplistic position. Ponies with a great variety of cutie marks indicating incredible talent in a broad array of disciplines were relegated the tasks of simple janitors and shelf-stockers. Ponies who had once held their heads high and made their way in a world they called their own were now restrained by collars and leashes, walked about as pets but uncaring and unapologetic owners.
>Perhaps even more reviling was one mare I’d seen on the drive home. An earth pony mare, unremarkable aside from a lime-green coat, was in a situation I’d seen at least a half-dozen times by then. A collar wrapped around her neck, pressing her coat down ever-so-slightly, and a bright red leash trailed up from her to the hand of an aging human woman. And yet her face betrayed not the indifference, fatigue, or sadness I’d seen from the rest. She was happy. Excited, even, to go on a walk with her owner. Whatever persona, whatever life this mare had, it had been replaced wholly with the mindset of a pet.
>But such a mare would have it good, compared to many others. On the sole Wednesday-night newscast I’d seen, there were two local arrests for “excessive abuse of an Equestrian.” How many others would remain undiscovered, not only in this one city but around the nation?
>But hope did not yet elude me. Finally, not only did I have a chance to better my own situation, but also that of the ponies most hurt by this situation. Not only would they find salvation, but I would be its deliveryman.
>It was on these pleasant thoughts that I slipped back out of the waking world. But my rest would not be long-lived: I’d soon find out that here, days started early. Very early.

+++4+++

>At precisely 6:01 in the morning, I was awoken by no natural means. I was not awoken by an alarm, nor by someone’s call, and of course not by my own restlessness. I, and the rest of my team, were woken by our commanding officer, who had taken it upon himself to orchestrate a percussion performance in the hallway with various pots and pans from the kitchen.
>”What in the actual FUCK is going on?” Wilcox roared, bursting from his door roughly at the same time as Jewel and me.
>”It’s time to wake up,” the officer said cheerfully, setting down his makeshift instruments. “Waffles and pancakes are already cooking, so I’d get ready fast if I were you. OCP’s please, everyone.”
>All at once, our doors quickly shut, and we rushed to don our camouflage uniforms. Despite my unfamiliarity with the sort of full-body coverings the humans seemed so fond of incorporating into their uniforms, I was nevertheless out and ready to eat before anyone else. And I did well in hurrying, too, as I got the first stack of pancakes. The Major was a good cook, and they were deliciously seasoned and sweetened.
>Once we’d all eaten our fill, the officer asked us to remain at our seats. Evidently, our round kitchen table was to serve as a meeting table for the morning. A quick dose of magic made short work of the dishes, and by no later than 6:45, we were getting down to business.
>”Alright, then,” Major Johnson began, addressing us all at once. “I know it’s a bit late for welcome speeches, but good to have you all here. It’s our first official day, and don’t worry, things are going to pick up fast. Uniform issue for Twilight is already done, so we have some spare time to work with today, or maybe just turn into leisure.
>”My name is Major Timothy Johnson, and I’ll serve as both your squad leader and commissioned officer. No need for NCO chain of command, since three of you don’t even hold rank.” He shuffled a few papers around before continuing, “Our mission is to hunt down bad guys, yadda yadda, everything here is top secret and will be denied by official sources, yadda yadda, and the ponies are legally my charge. Don’t worry about that bit, you belong to me as much as this lot does,” he jested, pointing a thumb to the humans sitting to his left.
>”Look,” he continued, “you’ve all been briefed by someone, and we’ve talked enough already, so I don’t think I need to read off this seven-page script to you. We’ve got two weeks until our first assignment reaches us, and from what I understand, our days are going to be full until the higher-ups run out of targets to hit. And trust me, they must have a very long list with how many fucked-up people there are out there.
>”First order of business is going to be training Sparkle. Oh,” he said, snapping his fingers, “almost forgot. Do you prefer going by Twilight or Sparkle? Because I’m not going to say the whole thing at once.”
“Twilight please, sir.”
>”Twilight it is. That goes for the rest of you, too. Anyway, yeah, getting you ready and capable is going to be a job for myself and Rockheart.”
>”Sir,” the pony interjected, an earnest look on his face. “If it’s no trouble, I’d also like you to just call me ‘Chuck’. It’s a name I’ve grown accustomed to.”
>”Alright, I suppose. Why not your given name?”
>”Personal reasons, sir. I’ll tell you in private, if you wish.”
>”No, no, that’s fine. Anyway, you will be assisting me in training Twilight. That task is probably going to take up the majority of our time. Lopez, you’re on supply duty full-time for now. Make sure we’ve got everything we need, military or civilian. We’ve got a pretty big budget here, so don’t be sparing. Wilcox and Jewel, you’re probably going to be handling paperwork, cleaning, and pulling guard. The nice man over at the gatehouse has better things to be doing over at the airstrip. Tell me if you need help. Alright, that’s all I’ve got. Any questions?”
>With no questions, we quickly parted ways. In eight hours, at three in the afternoon, we would meet back up to finish with equipment fitting and issue. Until then, I would start my crash-course of military training, custom-tailored to our scope of operations. While Chuck and the Major both seemed loathe to start off in a classroom setting, I was excited. It had been years since I’d been in a classroom, years! I’d never realized it, but numbering and pre-organizing a notebook was one of many luxuries I’d lost since arriving on Earth.
>The officer ended up delivering the whole of my classroom experience. Whatever Chuck was to do, it wouldn’t come until later. The man went fast, very fast, but with my note-taking and information-absorbing capabilities the lesson proved insightful. Everything from squad movements to positioning to room-clearing was covered in one fell swoop. And, when quizzed on the day’s lessons, I was proud to score perfect marks. It was an exhilarating day, bringing back memories of good times past in Equestrian classrooms and lecture halls.
>At 2:30, Chuck was sent off on some errand pertaining to a busted sink. With little else to do for the next half-our, the officer and I opted to sit and talk.
“Sir,” I prompted, shifting the conversation from inanity, “if I might ask, how exactly do ponies work here? In the military?”
>”What?” he asked, confusion striking his features.
“Well, you and the other humans always have a rank, and a specialty, and other things. But we don’t have any of that. So what’s the deal?”
>”What, did they not explain this to you at your old base?”
“I guess they didn’t.”
>”Wow,” he remarked, arching his eyebrows. “That’s a big oversight by someone. Well, it’s honestly not really an easy thing to describe. Your contracts are held by the military, so you’re our property, but you also count as enlisted personnel at the same time. But you don’t get paid, and you don’t have any formal combat duties, so you don’t get rank either.
>”Really there aren’t a whole lot of you, either. Enlisting more people ends up costing about the same after all the paperwork, and those guys are fully trained, too. I guess you’re somewhere between a piece of equipment and a contractor. The military has you do work without considering you a member, but you’re still owned by us and mandated to do your duties.”
“Well then what about Chuck and Jewel? They’re trained, aren’t they.”
>”They’re special cases, trust me. I wouldn’t bet on there being many more like them. They got trained for a very specific purpose, and now that that purpose is complete, they’re here. That simple.”
“And I suppose I’m not allowed to know that purpose?”
>”Right-o.” He momentarily glanced at his watch, a slight cringe marring his visage. “Ah, shit, let’s get over to the equipment building. Shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.”
>His concerns for lateness, however, proved to be unnecessary. When we arrived, only Jewel and Wilcox were present, despite our being several minutes past the agreed meeting time. Ten minutes later, the final straggler arrived, and the noticeably irritated Major led us into one of the equipment rooms I’d not ventured into before.
>The lights flicked on to reveal rows of body armor, helmets, and other miscellaneous equipment. One wall was laid out for the ponies’ gear, and the other for our human counterparts, with a center island and the far wall holding equipment suitable for use by any race. I’d seen my fair share of human technology by then, but this was the first real view I’d had of its expert application in a military context. Everything here was infinitely more complex than Equestrian technology was capable of, from the very materials of the products to their unfathomably complicated assemblies. I couldn’t begin to imagine the costs associated with their design and production.
>My companions were decidedly less impressed, obviously having borne witness to similar arrays of gear in their lifetimes. Military technology was no new concept to them, most of the tools before them likely familiar or at least known in function. Those who knew their sizes and fittings immediately reached for items that would fit them, but stopped as the commander offered a firm rebuke.
>”Hey! Equipment stays on the wall until I say otherwise, numb-nuts!” With a quick shake of his head, he moved on, “Look. We’re just here to get things fit and find out if we need to order anything. This is new tech, too, so don’t think it’s going to have the same adjustments as whatever the fuck you’ve been wearing. But first, let me show you what makes all this stuff special.”
>He moved to the humans’ side of the room and pulled a body armor set off the rack. Curiously, the bulky garment didn’t weigh his arms down, and he could pick it up and show it off as if it was nothing but silk and foam. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is the future of the United States military, courtesy of one Ms. Twilight Sparkle. Everyone give her a round of applause.” When no applause commenced, he continued with a shrug, “Basically, some scientists somewhere figured out how to make rechargeable, artificial enchantments. Which means this shit works on battery and is more laced with magic than the average unicorn. With the right spells, we can make even the biggest, toughest, heaviest armor feel like nothing on our backs.”
>As if to prove his point, he chucked the body armor at Wilcox. It merely bounced off the man’s outstretched arms and gently fell to the floor. “That there’s about a hundred pounds,” the Major remarked, flipping it over with a light tap of his toe. “But so long as that magic battery’s got a charge, and it should for a couple more weeks, you aren’t going to be feeling a hundred pounds. It’s also magically reinforced, and woven with enchanted cloth. Basically, you’re wearing the most stupidly strong piece of armor I’ve ever seen.
>”Same goes for helmets and pants, too. Once you have all this shit on, you’re gonna be tougher than, well, anything. Over here,” he said, pointing to the far wall, “we’ve got some fancy-pants stuff dreamed up at another lab. Lopez, I know you play a lot of video games, so you’re probably familiar with what a heads-up display is. And now they’re a thing, thanks to the seemingly endless utility of magic. Basically, you put these glasses on, push the button, and it’ll tell you all sorts of shit about your surroundings and even yourself. We’d been working on these for a while, so when you unicorns showed up, it gave our engineers a pretty big boost in their work.
>”In the center we have all kinds of shit that we might or might not use, depending on the mission. We got area scanners, comm units, night vision, all sorts of shit. And, like the rest of our stuff, it’s all run by magic too. We’re a bunch of fucking fairy godparents with how much magic we’re using.
>”All of this stuff is powered by a battery of some sort, so every few days we’re going to need Twilight to recharge them. Might be a bit of a chore, but it’s better than running out of charge and suddenly having three hundred pounds of gear come crashing down on you. But that’s about it. If there are no questions, let’s get this stuff fitted.”
>The gear almost tickled to put on. It was absurdly, unnaturally light, and to as well-trained a mage as I, its magical properties were impressive. By then, though, I’d grown jaded to the humans’ seemingly endless ability to bend magic to their will even better than my kind, and opted to get the fitting done without gawking at the technology involved.
>Once again, fitting proved difficult for me thanks to my somewhat unique skeletal structure, but with enough struggling, squeezing, and manhandling, we managed to make something work. The “heads-up display” they’d concocted was particularly nifty, and mine was specially-fitted to tie in with certain spells I could cast. Taxpayer dollars were surely hard at work in the United States; most of Canterlot’s wealthy tax base went directly to the Princesses’ luxuries.
>With nothing else to do for the day and Wilcox still angrily struggling to fasten his armor, the commander released Chuck, Jewel and I to our quarters. But if we’d been bored watching Wilcox fail at dressing himself before, the barracks proved equally disappointing in entertainment. Daytime television scarcely held our interest, much less provided anything of value in its short little episodes.
>”So, Twilight,” Chuck said after some time, not removing his stare from the television screen. “How’s your stay in this hellhole of a planet been so far?”
“Well, you first. How was yours?”
>”It’s been fucking shit the whole way through. But that’s not what I wanna talk about right now,” he quipped, finally turning to face me. “What’s the Princess been doing while everyone – sorry, everypony – else has been wasting away under this system?”
“How about you, Jewel? What-“
>”I’d like to know, too, Twilight,” the mare huffed, cutting me off. “And I saw you, back in Canterlot. I was a senior in Celestia’s School of Magic when it all went to hell. You were practically the school mascot by then. Always happy, always excited to come in and teach a class, always happy to bring a bit of friendship magic to boring lessons. So what gives?”
“What do you mean what gives?”
>”Why are you such a dick?” Chuck answered for her. The mare shot him a quick glare, but also gave a quick nod of agreement.
“Oh, you’re one to talk,” I responded, rolling my eyes.
>”Oh, sure, I’m a dick. Won’t deny that,” the stallion yawned. “But you’re supposed to be the Princess of Friendship, if I remember correctly. And you’re not really living up to expectations. Hell, honestly I kind of hoped you’d maybe make me, I dunno, NOT a dick. But if things keep up like this, I don’t really see that happening.”
“Don’t be absurd. I’m still perfectly friendly, I just haven’t had too many chances to make friends in the past couple years.”
>”Like who?”
“I, well…”
>”Come on, how many friends have you made since you got here? It’s none, isn’t it?”
>That gave me pause. He was right, and oh, he was incredibly right. The two allowed me to sit and think on it for a moment, and by God, he was right. Perhaps I still possessed the intellect, the organization, the curiosity that made me unique. But where was the excitable, bubbly, friendly young mare always looking to make new friends? She was still there in me, certainly. It’s not as though such a large piece of me could erode so quickly without the smashing hammer of pain. But had she been painted over? Had she been hidden from the rest of the world by an aspiring and over-zealous research team?
“I suppose it is,” I finally got out, my voice low.
>”Well, then, what’s the deal?” Chuck implored. “No humans around, if you’re worried about that. Trust me, we won’t tell.”
“I, well, I don’t know.”
>Perhaps sensing my sudden distress, Jewel opted to set the conversation on a new course, “Alright then, don’t tell us. We get it. It’s cool. You wanted to know about us, though?”
“Sure, would you like to share something?”
>”Certainly. Like I said, I was about to graduate the School of Magic when the portals opened.”
“What did you study?”
>”I studied advanced kinesis, an art you’re no doubt well-versed in. But I made the mistake of telling that to people in the early days to catch a few quick jobs. When everyone else got rounded up and slapped with indenture, I got taken down to an armory instead. They told me they needed a pony with good magic, that I’d just be working machinery and the like,” she said with a scowl.
“I’m guessing that didn’t happen?”
>”Hell no that didn’t happen,” she snapped, now somewhat irritated by her own memories. “Maybe it was supposed to, I don’t know. Either way, they shipped me over to Iraq to test out all kinds of new tech in the field. I was there both to test it, and make sure nobody but me got hurt if things went awry.”
>”Tell her about the accident,” Chuck interjected.
“Accident?”
>”Yeah, the whole time I was out there, only one thing they sent us blew up. It was just a little scanning tool, but must’ve been wired wrong or something. Anyway, it wasn’t too bad. Blind for two weeks, now I can see an extra color, life goes on,” she said with a wave of her hoof.
“Wait, really? An extra color? What does that even look like?”
>”Hard to describe. It’s somewhere in between red and green, shows up in a lot of humans’ eyes. Feeling any better now?”
“A little,” I admitted. “How about you, Chuck? Anything to share?”
>”I’m good, thanks.”
“Oh come on, just a bit won’t-“
>”I said I’m good,” he stated, more firmly this time. Jewel shook her head briefly, as if to warn against further attempts.
>A few minutes past in relative silence, aside from sporadic laughter inspired by the abhorrent sitcom playing on the television. I’d been well-acquainted with boredom in my past role, and subpar entertainment was no stranger to my senses.
>Eventually, my mind began to wander. How much had I changed? It had to have been a lot, if they’d noticed my demeanor so quickly. Some of my qualities had undoubtedly remained, mostly my habits and preferences. Even the homemade spicy quesadillas that some elderly Hispanic woman brought in every Friday night failed to shake my disdain for them. Lists, schedules, and brutally effective organization still dominated my life, and even after being kept from books entirely for the first year, I still went to them like moths to a lamp any time I could get my hooves on them.
>But, friendship. Had that been where I’d sacrificed some of myself? Had apathy replaced sociability in the face of cold science? I grew dejected the more I thought of it. I’d not made a single friend at the research center, even after gaining my limited degree of freedom. Even those who were kind to me, spent time with me, hell, even those who did favors for me often received little more than noncommittal responses from my lips and actions. And what of my past friends? When was the last time I even thought of them? It must have been months prior, at the very least.
“They… they did a lot of research on me,” I said, out of the blue. My two companions looked at me curiously, but I continued, “It was well over three years. Everything from magic limit tests to spell flexibility exams. Even, well, even physiological studies. To determine if any part of me was in some way abnormal.”
>”You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Jewel said, softly.
“No, that’s quite alright. Perhaps I need this. But they did a lot of testing. It was at least twelve hours per day, sometimes as much as twenty, every day. And it was tiring. By the time they were done with whatever they were doing, I usually just went to bed, only to wake up whenever they needed me next. Days, nights, it was all the same to me. I just asked for the date every once in a while so I could keep track.”
>”That fucking sucks.”
“It did, yeah. And, I don’t know. I guess I just kind of adapted to that. The place was cold and lifeless, and now that I think about it, my personality might’ve just become something similar. I can’t remember the last time I was happy, or sad, or scared,” I choked, tears now beginning to streak down my cheeks. “You see these?” I sobbed, pointing to my face. “These tears? They’re the first in years. They squeezed all the goddamned life out of me!”
>”Hey, hey,” Jewel said softly, gently placing a hoof on my back. “Calm down, things will be better now. This is a pretty sweet gig. We get to help ponies! Doesn’t that sound great?”
“I don’t even know how it sounds. I should feel great about that. But that’s the thing – I don’t feel anything!”
>”Twilight,” Chuck interjected, his tone easier than before. “I know what you’re feeling right now. I’ve been there, trust me. The damn humans change you, whether you like it or not. But the whole apathy thing? I can help you get over that. You just have to start feeling again. Anger, sorrow, happiness, anything. With one comes the rest.
>”You’re an emotional wreck,” he continued, taking up a more analytical tone of voice. “But that’s because you’ve had barely any emotions for years, if what you’re telling us is true. So once you’re past this, and you’re back to responding to everything with just a nod of your head or a quick word as you look at the ground, just remember how it felt. Gotta chip away at that hard exterior, it isn’t going to break in a day.”
“I… alright. I’ll try.”
>”You could start by not sobbing all over my fucking spot on the couch,” he huffed, getting up and moving to another chair. “I mean, come on, have some decency.”
“What?”
>”Yeah, yeah, you’re crying or whatever. But I took a shower last night, and if this keeps up, you’re going to force me into another one. Honestly, are you dumb or something?”
“What?” I asked again, standing up this time.
>”You’re sad, not stupid. Probably. Then again, no smart pony would do her mane like that. What’s with the purple streaks? Do you dye it? Looks like shit.”
“The fuck is your problem?” I exploded.
>”Nothing,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a slight grin. He hopped down from his chair and started for his room. “Just giving you another taste of emotion. Anger really can be a good replacement for sadness, can’t it?”
>He shut the door, and Jewel and I shared a look of disbelief. But if he’d been hoping to replace my sorrow with fury, he’d succeeded. Perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing, I conceded after some time. At the very least, it made renewed conversation easier.
>”Chuck can be a real dick sometimes,” she sighed. “But he’s a good guy, when everything’s said and done.”
“He’d better be, or else… or else something,” I fumed, unable to determine a proper punishment for the stallion.
>”So, what do you think of this place?” she queried, overtly attempting to shift the topic of discussion.
“Here? Like, this local area?”
>”Yeah.”
“It’s hot, full of humans, and unlike any desert I’ve ever seen.”
>”Astute observations,” she laughed.
“But, really, it’s been pretty good so far,” I mused. “Wilcox is a dick, Chuck I just don’t know, but the rest of you seem nice. Like I said, I’ve basically been alone for years. This is a nice change of pace.”
>”How much freedom did they give you back there? Like, were you basically a prisoner, or what?”
“At first, yeah,” I said with a sigh. “Nothing but my cell, the testing center, and the hallways in between. Then they started letting me out a bit, but still watched me around the clock. By the end, I could go almost anywhere in the facility I wanted, but they never let me leave.”
>”So they didn’t even let you outside?” the mare asked, somewhat shocked.
“Well, they did, but only for a few minutes every once in a while. I couldn’t do anything out there, or they’d have taken me down with tranquilizers. But I suppose a few minutes of fresh air were better than none.”
>”That’s pretty awful.”
“Others have it worse.”
>”Not most, I don’t think,” she said, closing her eyes to concentrate. “I mean, yeah, you hear about these really bad cases in the news, but that’s only isolated incidents. Like you said, there are millions of us in the United States. Most of them have to be in good places, I’d think.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough. It’s kind of our job to try and change things.”
>”Yeah, true. They wouldn’t have us here if there wasn’t a big problem.” Her brow furrowed, and she pensively asked, “Have you gotten any word on what our first job is? The commander said something about it yesterday before you got here, so he must know already.”
“Hasn’t told me,” I responded. “What do you think it’ll be? Some big farm, or a factory, or something?”
>”Probably not the worst place on the list. They’d want to warm us up with some easier jobs first, I bet.”
“I just hope we’re ready,” I sighed. “It doesn’t sound too hard, just go and nab the bad guys and save the ponies they have. Nothing I didn’t do in Equestria. But they’re putting some serious resources into this if it’s an easy job.”
>”I’m confident. The gear we saw today… that’s some serious stuff. I bet it’ll make this a walk in the park compared to what we had to do in Afghanistan.”
“And I’ve got a few tricks of my own, too. That was one nice thing – they let me practice my magic on my own time, especially after testing was done. It worked out real good for them, too, since they took any new spells I created and studied those, too.”
>”Ha, humans can’t get enough of it. Magic, I mean. I guess we take it for granted, having grown up with it all around us, but it’d only been the stuff of legends before we got here. The humans I was with overseas, they’d always have me do tricks and stunts. We’d spend hours passing time like that.”
“What do you think of them, the humans?” I asked.
>”Me?” Jewel asked, somewhat surprised by my question. “Well, truth be told, I can’t say I don’t like them. They laugh, they cry, they mourn the same as ponies. Aside from their bodies, I’d say the only real difference is that they’re never content with what they have.”
“You think so?”
>”I know so. Ponies know their purpose, know what they like. And when they’re able to do that comfortably, they’re happy. Humans don’t have that set purpose, though. They’re always looking to do more and have more. I don’t think I’ve ever met a human truly and perfectly happy with what they have.”
“I suppose that would explain their obsession with ownership.”
>”And perhaps the willingness of some ponies to accept that obsession, too.”
“But aren’t you happy with your place here, too?”
>“I liked my unit because they mostly treated me the same as them, not because of any sick desire for the life of a slave. Out there, with Hajji looking to shoot anyone with the stars and stripes on their shoulder, almost none of them cared if I was a pony. When I had that accident, and when I got shot, they cared for me like their own,” she finished softly. “And that really means a lot to me.”
“Was Chuck with you, then?”
>”No, I only met him a few months ago. Before that, I really don’t know. He’s never talked much about himself or why he’s in this military, but I do know he went overseas like me. Strange, though, he doesn’t seem like the war-scarred veteran type.”
>We talked a bit more of Jewel’s past. She’d been bought up for her magical talents, and sent overseas to learn just how effective those talents would be in a theater of war. Evidently, her mission was highly successful: magic could be used in a broad array of uses, from minesweeping to reconnaissance to simple combat functions.
>Before long, though, we’d begun to grow suspicious of the humans’ whereabouts. They’d only told us to expect a slight delay, yet had been absent from our company for hours. A quick magical check revealed them to still be in the equipment building, seated at a table.
>”So, what are they doing?” asked Jewel.
“Looks like they’re just sitting there, talking about something… I’m not quite sure. The scan only lets me see their aura, not anything around them. Think we should go see what’s up?”
>”No, no. If they’re talking, we probably shouldn’t interrupt them.”
“So, Jewel, you got me thinking. You said you were in the School of Magic, right?”
>”I was indeed.”
“How did you end up here, then? Canterlot was spared.”
>”I wasn’t in Canterlot when the rift opened. I was on a train, heading back home to Vanhoover. Graduation was literally the next week, so the plan was to meet up with my family and travel back with them,” she said, suddenly lost in her memories. “I never got to see them.”
“I know what you’re feeling. I haven’t seen any of my family – or my friends – since then. The only one I’d seen for months before the disaster was Starlight Glimmer. I have no idea where any of them are now, or if they’re even here.”
>”Not even Applejack?”
“No, none of them.”
>”So they didn’t let you see the news?”
“Typically not, no. Why? Did something happen to Applejack?” I asked, suddenly alert.
>”Well, she’s alive, at least. Got on national news a few months ago. She lives on some farm up north, and the rest of the ponies tried to lead some kind of rebellion. Eight or nine died, so it ended up being a pretty big deal.”
“Did she get hurt? Sold off?”
>”If I remember correctly, the rebellion was against her, and that Starlight Glimmer, too. So, maybe hurt, but probably not sold.”
“Oh, gosh, I have to find a way to contact her!” I nearly shouted, roused by both fear and anticipation. “I hope she’s alright, but she’s got to be. And Starlight too? Oh, my goodness, they-“
>”Twilight,” Jewel said, clapping her hooves together. It gave me enough pause for her to get in, “You can’t contact her. Not any more. We don’t exist, Twilight. Our very lives are a government secret.”
“They can’t stop me from contacting her.”
>”Sure they can. Didn’t they spend all that time figuring out how to contain you?” She sighed and hopped down from the couch, evidently unwilling to argue the point further. “Get it out of your mind. They own you, and when they say you can’t tell anyone who you are, they mean it. That’s just how this world works, Twilight.”
“It, it’s not fair!”
>”Who the fuck told you it would be fair?” she asked rhetorically, ignoring the rest of my cries as she retired to her quarters.
>Any emotional stability I’d regained quickly made itself scarce, and would not recover until well after the humans had found their way back, carefully skirting around my sobbing form.

+++5+++

>”Well, I’ll be damned. You sure are a hell of a fast learner.” The Major scratched his head in confusion, dropping his clipboard on the table in front of him. “We’ve still got three days set aside for lessons, and you’ve already completed everything on the list, even the stretch goals.”
“It’s what I do best,” I replied, giving him and Chuck a playful grin.
>”Guess we gotta do more field exercises then, sir?” the stallion asked, hopeful to get out of the stuffy little office where classes had been held.
>”I suppose it’s our only option. There’s some decent training sites around here. I’m sure we can make something happen.”
>It had been a busy ten days. They’d crammed a truly enormous amount of information, from basic military tactics to first aid, weapons functions, and even some fresh pony-specific strategies Chuck had helped to develop in the field. But my infallible ability to absorb information won out again, and by the close of that tenth day I’d already finished every test and objective they’d been given.
>During that time, my initial impressions of the crew cemented. Wilcox, if anything, grew even more bitter with his situation as he fostered an acceptance for it. Jewel was chatty and kind, but quick to offend. Chuck was withdrawn, brash, yet still willing to partake in conversation and take part in our joint activities. Lopez continued to be quiet and kind, generally only speaking if something positive could come of his words. And Major Johnson was almost like a movie actor trying to play the role of a leader. But I’ll be damned if he wasn’t good at it.
>After re-reading my spellbook volumes twice over, I finally relented and asked Lopez if anything in our budget could be spared for entertainment. To my surprise, not only was there a specific budget for entertainment, but I’d been the only one thus far not to tap into it. And so, I rediscovered the internet, albeit in a much broader, far less censored form than I’d been prior accustomed to. Of course, it enraptured me in my spare time. Such quantities of information could not be matched even by the Royal Archives in Equestria.
>Briefly, I was amazed that so little restriction had been placed on us ponies. We were free to move about the facility, do as we pleased in our quarters, have contact with the outside world (under pseudonyms and anonymity, of course), and even take sick days. But those thoughts were quickly rationalized by the barriers, physical or otherwise, that prevented our leaving the compound. We may have been free to roam about our cell block, but we were prisoners nonetheless.
>But now, though, an opportunity had arisen where we might finally go somewhere and do something. Field exercise or not, I was eager for any opportunity to vacate the compound. Apparently, the change of scenery had allowed me to go restless and inquisitive of the world once more. I considered it a sign of my old self returning.
>”If we did that, though,” the commander mulled, “we’d have to bring everyone with us. Think we can afford to leave the place empty for a few days?”
“I think the others are pretty much done with their tasks,” I said, likely echoing the others’ thoughts.
>”Maybe see how the team does in the field, eh?” he asked rhetorically, clapping his hands together. “If I can’t get something in at Camp Navajo or something, I’ve got about a hundred acres of desert an hour southeast. We can go out there and tool around a bit.”
>”Anything to get out of here,” Chuck mumbled.
>”I agree. Twilight, Chuck, tell the others we’re heading out tomorrow morning. Not too early, maybe eleven hundred hours, but they’ll want to pack some overnight gear.”
>He soon dismissed us, leaving us free to mull over and distribute the news. It was more of a time-kill than anything else, but perhaps some valuable insights could be had from the experience. Regardless, it would doubtless be exciting to once again truly be out in the open, away from the restricting confines of walls and fences. A bit of relatively unrestricted flight would also probably do the old bones some good.
>Any pegasus would struggle to maintain physique in my confines. In the research facility, I was, until the end of my tenure, denied regular exercise opportunities. But I am no ordinary pegasus. Alicorn magic is not bestowed lightly – those touched by it remain eternally youthful and healthy, in addition to great power politically and magically. My muscles remained firm, my flanks maintained thinness, and my body kept free of disease. It would take serious effort to kill me, and no wound short of that would hold forever. Alicorns had died in times past, sure. It simply did not happen often. 
>But evidently, I’d not been entirely spared from injury at the hands of humanity, if my mental state was any proper indicator. Those ten days had been difficult at times, as the colors of the world returned to my eyes and I could once again feel the broad range of emotions so generously bestowed upon ponies of all sorts. Perhaps it was the stress of self-consciousness of this fact, or perhaps simply stress from the emotions themselves, but nevertheless my sudden breakdown repeated itself twice over in that ten-day period. Thankfully, I was alone during both occurrences, and I doubt my companions thought me any worse because of them.
>Reactions to our trip varied per person and pony. Wilcox, as usual, responded cynically: “Old bastard probably just wants an excuse to go out on his land and shoot government ammo.” Jewel and Lopez were pleased, and seemed to want a chance to stretch their legs just as much as I did.
>Wilcox’s judgement of the commander’s motivations may, in reality, have been somewhere close to the truth of the matter. It wasn’t long before the commander reappeared to us to inform us of our destination: his private tract of land, roughly an hour south of the city and another half-hour along rural roads. There would be neither shelter nor shade, the undeveloped desert being as it is, and thus we would each have to bring our own shelter. Ultimately, all but Jewel and I opted to forgo a tent in favor of a simple one-man sunshade. But neither of us intended to sleep in those confining, heat-trapping houses of plastic. They would merely function for a bit of privacy and storage in the company of a majority-male delegation.
>Dinner that night was had together, and it was decidedly livelier than I’d grown accustomed to. We’d only been here for a week and a half, yet only Lopez had spent more than a few hours beyond the outer fence. The Major vowed to schedule more time for off-site pursuits, recreational or otherwise.
>Sleep came equally easily for me. No screens or spellbooks would wrap themselves around my mind that night: instead, I headed straight for my sheets, eager to enjoy them for the last time in several days. Even the typical troubles in my dreams were replaced by decidedly happier, more hopeful predictions of my prospects on this little excursion.
>The morning carried with it ample time for hygiene, packing, and preparation. With little else to do, I simply killed time until our late-morning set-out time. I briefly considered requesting to fly alongside the vehicle once we left the city, but reasoned it was probably best not to push my boundaries. I’d likely have ample opportunity to stretch my wings once we arrived at our destination.
>Even at our vehicle’s relatively fast pace, the city’s size proved as unnavigable as it was intimidating. It took over an hour to reach the end of the city, the highway finally opening up onto flat, wide desert interrupted at various points by ancient, long-dead volcanoes. The plant life was ample, yet provided no measurable shade from the sun. Cacti and brush did a poor job at providing respite from that soulless, magicless source of heat.
>Roughly three hours after we set out, our heavily-laden truck finally arrived at the end of the road. There was nothing to set the property apart from the surrounding landscape but a slight widening of the dirt path, forming a makeshift parking space. The land was almost entirely flat, save for a small mountain to the west of our entry point. That would be our campsite, the major announced, and we each prepared our packs for the hike over.
>What would otherwise have been a rather difficult journey in the midday heat was considerably bettered by my spellwork. Quick weight-reduction spells eliminated any strain from our packs, a simple magic cloud overhead provided comfortable shade, and a heat absorption sphere above each of us helped keep us cool. Harsh desert climes had turned to arid but temperate steppe around us by my horn.
>We arrived at our campsite as the sun was starting to set. It wasn’t a difficult site to spot: it had serviced one group or another quite a few times, as evidenced by its large, charcoal-black bonfire pit and smattering of broken glass bottles. We quickly set up our tents and tarps to face perpendicular to its still-bright rays, and set to reigniting the firepit, albeit in a smaller form.
>It had been a long time since I’d had proper campfire food, and I was excited for the chance at such a meal. The humans opted to cook tubes of heavily-processed meat affectionately dubbed “hot dogs” over the open flame, while the rest of us subsisted that night almost entirely on marshmallows and chocolate. While it may not have been the healthiest meal, I was a happy mare for its gooey deliciousness.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had a proper camping expedition,” I commented contentedly, not bothering to wipe the chocolate smudges from my face. “Even in Equestria, I didn’t get the chance too often. I’m glad we did this.”
>”S’mores are better than MRE’s,” Chuck muttered in agreement.
>”Don’t get too attached to them,” Lopez chuckled. “You three have already worn through pretty much all we have. We’re probably looking at MRE’s for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
>”Aren’t you the supply guy?” Wilcox asked, jesting. “The hell, man? We’re out of dogs, too.”
>”I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to stuff your face with weiners,” Lopez responded, prompting the man to roll his eyes in exasperation. “But hey, it’s my job to make sure we’re not shitting bricks tomorrow, too. MRE’s at least have some balance in ‘em.”
>”Bullshit, you always trade for desserts.”
>”Hey, it’s still better than hot dogs!”
“You know,” I said, slyly, “I could always just transmutate us up some meals. I mean, it’s a bit hard to turn rocks into a well-balanced breakfast, but not too much trouble for the world’s greatest spellcaster.”
>”You can do that?” the Major asked, eagerness building in his eyes as it does for a child entering a candy store.
“Just tell me what you want, I’ll make it happen,” I challenged, encouraged both by the will to please and the desire to show off.
>”Here,” Wilcox said, tossing a rock in front of him. “Make me a banana split, chocolate fudge if you can manage.”
>A tough request, to be sure, and virtually impossible for any unicorn of average magical ability. Yet I just grinned, charged my horn, and took aim at the rock. In a bright purple flash, it changed, shifting into a delicious dairy dessert. In addition, not only did it have his fudge, but also a dusting of rainbow sprinkles.
>”I…” the man said, taken aback. “I didn’t think it’d be that easy. Thanks, I guess,” he said, sheepishly taking a bite. Of course, once this little display finished, everyone else tossed a rock and a request of their own in, and soon I’d prepared a custom line of desserts to finish off our already-unhealth main courses. I could’ve run the Cakes out of business if I’d tried.
>Thankfully, the exertion from our hike counteracted the extraordinary quantities of sugar we’d consumed, and sleep came relatively easily. It did not come for long, however, as the Major woke us well before dawn to get a head start on the day’s activities. We had a quick, small breakfast mainly consisting of nutrition bars, did some light stretching, and promptly headed off to a relatively cactus-free stretch of desert to conduct exercises. The pre-dawn air was cool, soothingly so, and the scrub took on an entirely new appearance with the faint purple and blue glows of unicorn magic illuminating our immediate surroundings. Aside from our footsteps, some cricket chirps, and a few hoots from an owl, scarcely a word broke the fine silence that had settled in that morning.
>With only an hour of darkness left, we didn’t have much time to practice night exercises. Nevertheless, valuable insights were gained from our strategizing. Here, magic proved especially essential, as it provided sight into dark spaces that our eyes failed to discern. Further, the need for electric lighting was almost wholly avoided thanks to diverse and powerful illumination spells. Though of course, the signature glow of magical auras would surely alert any mindful guards, so contingencies for such situations were discussed in equal measure. When the dawn finally broke, we decided to continue our exercises that evening, after sunset.
>With the sunlight finally came my first true chance to stretch my wings. Although I’d not voiced any complaint at being unable to fly, I suspect my companions had all suspected my discomfort at remaining close to the ground for such an extended period. While my urge to fly was never nearly on the level of one such as Rainbow Dash, it had certainly become a near-overriding instinct after such a long period of denial. So, with the commander’s blessing, I took flight.
>It was no small relief to not stop at ten, twenty, thirty feet, and instead reach up for the clouds. To my significant disappointment, the clouds in this world were of a significantly different build than those in Equestria, lacking any solidity at all. They were merely wisps of fog collected high in the air. So, lacking a comfortable cloud perch, I instead elected to gaze upon my surroundings from a hover.
>The desert stretched for as far as the eye could see, which was no small distance thanks to the dry, lifeless air. Far off, the jarring gray lines of the interstate were visible, small dots of color breaking its monochrome appearance as travelers slowly crossed the distance from Phoenix to Tucson. I was careful not to stray too far from the group, and certainly not outside the boundaries of the Major’s land. For all I knew, there could have been some very punitive laws governing pegasus flights over private property.
>Reluctantly, I descended once more before I could be missed. While I’d been allowed free reign in the skies above, the others had taken a break, sitting and laughing at inconsequential small-talk. With me present once more, they began the next round of training exercises. 
>Our line of missions was highly liable to include some number of civilians, Equestrian or otherwise. Thus, the Major was anxious to ensure we’d be prepared to deal with a variety of situations. Using himself and one of the well-trained human soldiers as civilians, he set up a variety of hostage and casualty scenarios. For the most part, it was mere review and application of concepts I’d been taught days prior, but being able to enact such strategies and correct imperfections was invaluable.
>This variety of exercises persisted for hours, until the sun was past its meridian and our bellies rumbled for sustenance. The Major insisted on unaltered MRE’s, claiming their nutritional value to be more important than any taste modifications I could provide. Reluctantly, we dug into meals decidedly less enjoyable than those from the night prior.
>After lunch, a new round of activities was laid out. These were aimed at identifying where magic and flight could most effectively enhance teamwork and potential. The ability to climb skyward of course proved indispensable for reconnaissance and target identification purposes, but also became apparent as an easy and effective casualty and hostage movement technique when coupled with my magic. Jewel was also somewhat skilled in magical application, although far less studied and powerful than I. The humans seemed content to relegate her to a support role, working with simple spells in stressful or urgent situations. The final unicorn in our lineup, Chuck, was unfortunately less well-endowed in magical ability, and could provide little more than simple levitation as assistance. Still, this assisted him greatly in no small number of tasks, even sometimes giving him an edge over his fingered counterparts.
>Not eager to tire us too much before resuming low-light training after dusk, the Major instead gave us a few hours to rest and relax before our meal. While the others napped and chatted, I took the time to continue studying my spellbooks and look for further real-world applications of their contents. So many new spells had been created in these tomes alone that I could find ample combinations, enchantments, and casting methods entirely unknown to even Equestria’s greatest scholars thanks to an impossibly-expanded base of magical knowledge. The relentless machine of capitalistic profit-seeking seemed inexhaustible in its ability to make the most of Earth’s newest source of labor, and I was at least thankful for its ability to succeed where traditional scholasticism and spell-creation research had failed.
>Of particular use was a trap of sorts I created. Combining two spells into one broadly-applying enchantment, virtually any object could be imbued with spells in mere seconds. Traps that would normally require lengthy periods of rune-etching and enchanting were reduced to mere trivialities. More, the applicable spells were of a wide variety, and everything from simple confusion and binding hexes to decidedly more lethal incantations were at my disposal.
>These traps were demonstrated at dinnertime, solidly impressing even the ever-cynical Wilcox. While complex, the spells required little inherent magical strength, and so it was decided that time would be taken to teach the technique to both Chuck and Jewel. But that would have to wait for tomorrow, as dinner was rapidly approaching and we had other plans for the night.
>This time, the Major allowed me a bit more freedom to modify our meals. Instead of the trading and discarding that typically occurred with MRE’s, undesirable items were simply transmutated into something more palatable. It did please me so to hear their praise and thanks as putrid packages of preserved potatoes promptly became properly prepared puddings and desserts. Horrific alliterations aside, dinner satisfied, but was soon but a distant memory as our attention shifted to resumed nighttime training.
>Although our magic could do a great deal in total darkness, only enchantments failed to produce the glowing, highly visible auras inherent in our abilities. Thus, we focused on using gear and enchantments alone, for times when the glow of magic could wholly compromise our mission. Here we found an excellent confluence of cutting-edge technology and far older magical skills. Inexplicably expensive night-vision goggles allowed us to see distinct heat outlines of virtually everything in the desert, living or not. Sound amplifiers, imbued with the latest advances in humanity’s pre-packaged magic technology, allowed us to detect every minute whisper around us and pinpoint the location of each. And, finally, the remarkable heads-up displays conveyed an extraordinary breadth of information at all times, each individual’s device custom-tailored to specific roles, abilities, and responsibilities. Mine, predictably, focused around enchantments and passive spells.
>After a long day, we were thankfully allowed a generous period of respite. Wake-up and breakfast the next morning was late, and spirits were high after days of successful activities and entertainment. Even Wilcox seemed ready to break from his brittle shell, laughing and conversing even with the ponies.
>All that remained on our itinerary were several team-building exercises, which proved decidedly less effective than the prior bouts of training. Whether it was Wilcox’s abrasiveness, Chuck’s unusual discomfort, or my own struggles with consensus, clear issues seemed to develop between individuals or the entire team. Only Lopez escaped those exercises with a seal of approval from the Major, quiet but capable as always.
>Without stopping for lunch, we broke camp and hiked back to the waiting vehicle. Soon enough, we were back on the highway, travelling back to our little facility outside the city. We passed once more through its urban areas, and these once again seemed imposing compared to the unremarkable desert I’d been inundated in for the past several days. I wanted nothing more than to stretch my wings again and soar above the cityscape, reduce its influence on my psyche. But that would have to wait for another time.
>Once we’d safely arrived back home, we quickly stowed our gear and went to bathe. Magic could clean a unicorn’s coat to some degree, but there were some functions of running water that simply could not be emulated. Luckily, the female latrine had two showers, so Jewel and I each got to wash immediately. Our male counterparts, cursed by a the same number of stalls for twice the people, could be heard arguing loudly from across the hall. I don’t imagine one even got the chance to start bathing by the time Jewel and I had finished.
>Regardless, all of us save for the commander were soon present and ready for duty. That is to say, we were lazily gathered around the television, watching mundane cartoons and sitcoms. But the missing officer soon made his presence known, a stack of papers in hand. “Men, ponies, whatever else we got,” he called out from the edge of the room. “Turn that off. We got business to attend to.”
>”Oh boy, more paperwork?” Wilcox asked wearily, producing a pen from his sleeve.
>”No, numbskull,” the officer replied, batting him lightly on the head with the stack of papers. “We just got our first mission.”

+++6+++

>”So,” Major Johnson opened as we took our seats at the circular kitchen table. “Training’s done, we’ve had our fun, and tomorrow’s going to be our first day of real work. I’m sure you’re all eager to go. I’d like to remind you of our objectives. We’re here to solve problems that can’t be solved under any written law, but are against basic morality. That means no heroes, no backup, and no ceremony if you kick it.
>”This ain’t going to be some little raid where we go in and arrest whoever’s in charge while we rob him blind. Our job is to put a stop to sick bastards doing sick shit. And if they’re sending us, that means they’ve already tried talking to these people. So instead, 9mm has to do the talking. You get me?”
>”You sure they’ll be able to handle that?” Wilcox asked, pointing a thumb to the ponies sitting across from him.
>”Chuck will, trust me. You other two, well, we’ll see. Everyone is different when worst comes to worst. But I know how to deal with any… issues that may arise, so don’t worry.”
>He opened the manila folder in front of him, revealing a set of maps, documents, photographs, and other intelligence items that wouldn’t be out of place in a James Bond movie. He pulled a satellite photograph from the pile and placed it in the center of the table.
>”That’s where we’re headed. From the outside, looks like a few warehouses in the middle of nowhere, somewhere out in eastern Colorado. ‘Course, we ain’t raiding no warehouses. This is Lehman Pony Company – a breeding firm.”
>I felt my heart drop into my stomach. Sure, I’d expected our potential targets to be bad. But hearing them spoken aloud was… difficult. I clenched my teeth as he continued speaking.
>”I’m sure most of you know that institutionalized breeding was put in place about two years ago, with some moral reservations. This place is one of the ones that threw those reservations out the window to make a quick buck. Now, we don’t really know what things are like inside. We do know that these guys have never sold one foal on the record, but it’s no front business. Intel’s seen ‘em shipping ponies out. Warrant’s in the works, but we got a tip they’re about ready to abandon ship. Our job is to get there and put an end to whatever they’re doing before they can get out.”
“Wait, so we don’t actually know what they’re doing?”
>”No. But we know enough about ‘em to figure out they aren’t the most honest bunch. Plus, if we can figure out who they’re selling to, I’ll let you guess the potentials of that intel.”
>”This doesn’t seem like the best option,” Lopez commented, scratching his chin. “Can’t a SWAT team take care of this, or something? Or even just regular police?”
>”Look, whoever the hell writes our orders wants these guys dead. It’s about sending a message, too. It ain’t our job to question the mission, it’s our job to carry it out. Ask yourselves: would some breeding shithead be better off above or below six inches of dirt? I think I’d rather see him buried.
>”Just listen to me, alright?” he huffed, stopping an attempt from Lopez to speak. “Our mission is to sneak in, find and kill whoever’s in charge, figure out where the hell they’ve been sending their foals, and get the ponies to a pick-up point in a field nearby. Then in the morning, local news will report that someone snuck in, robbed the place, killed the owners, and set all their ponies loose. We’re using unmarked ammunition and our DNA profiles have been erased, so any investigation will turn cold real fast.”
“And why do we have to kill them, exactly?” I asked, not eager to start off with a morally questionable assignment.
>”First, can’t leave witnesses. The idea is we’re a bunch of psycho hippies here to free the ponies, and that’s what we’re probably selling the media. If a guard survives to talk about guys in night vision and body armor, we’ll be the center of more than a few conspiracy theories. Second, if we let these people go, they’re going to just keep doing whatever they were doing. Hell, even with a warrant we probably can’t do anything to this company legally. They’d probably just chalk it up as a ledger oversight or something and pay a fine.”
>”And third,” Chuck interjected, earning him a sharp look from the Major, “it sends a message. We start hitting these places hard and others will shut down on their own to avoid being targeted.”
>”He’s right,” the officer ceded. “Look, we’re not here to punish. We’re here to stamp out the problem permanently. People will go to prison for a few years if they get good money out of it. But not too many will bet their lives on a fortune.”
>”So we’re busting down doors and shooting folks we think are bad,” Wilcox complained, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose that’s the American way. I can’t believe I signed another six-year contract.”
>”Look, regardless of why we’re going, we’re going,” the commander growled, quickly growing impatient with the team’s reluctance. “So that means we’ve got to prepare. Jewel and Lopez, you two are on weapons, ammo, and armor. Make sure everything’s charged and loaded. Chuck, Wilcox, you’re going to deal with the other equipment. If you need any spells cast, come find Twilight. And as for you,” he said, motioning to me, “you’re with me. We’re going to be planning things out and making sure everything goes smoothly.”
“Me? Planning? Why, I don’t know if I can handle it,” I remarked, my sarcasm playing out in a small smile across my face.
>”Yes, yes, I’ve seen your dossier. Which is why you’re helping me figure this out. Alright, everyone, we’ve got twenty-six hours until we’re plane-bound for Colorado. It’s, uhh, 9:30 now, lights out is midnight. Get some work done and make sure you bathe, because we’ll be too busy tomorrow for that. Any questions? No? Then let’s get it done.”
>The others went off to begin their work, leaving the Major and I alone with an excitingly thick manila folder of documents. “Hey, Twilight,” he asked, removing papers from the folder, “do you have any kind of security clearance?”
“I don’t think so.”
>”Excellent, then just don’t tell anyone you saw these files. I know I’m supposed to be more careful with anything with a big, red ‘TOP SECRET’ stamp across the top, but it’s a bit late for that now.”
>The compound was actually rather large, with a multitude of buildings clumped in close proximity. An outer fence ringed the area, leaving noteworthy space only in a front parking pad and several alleyways snaking between buildings. There were three large, warehouse-shaped structures, presumably where ponies were kept, fed, and bred. Augmenting them were a front office, several supply sheds, and two other small structures of unknown function. Someone had been keeping tabs on the place for weeks, but failed to deduce exactly what went on in any of the buildings.
>The property’s surroundings were relatively unremarkable save for a small bluff on its western edge. A lone, poorly-paved road snaked up to it from the east, with all other sides being encompassed by undeveloped plains and flatland. The site itself was not on arable land, but farming and ranching operations began at a few miles in most directions. The general impression was of a flat, unremarkable, and isolated facility perfectly suited for sinister purposes.
>Our team would be jumping in several miles from the facility under the cover of night. As the only one with any adequate control over her descent, I would use time otherwise spent parachuting and hiking to scout out any abnormalities, guards, or complications. The fence wasn’t particularly sturdy, so any entry point would likely be feasible.
>The first order of business would be to slash tires on any vehicles and otherwise deny escape routes. I could fly faster than anyone fleeing on foot, but motor vehicles were a different story. From this point, we would identify where the ponies were kept, and get them on board with the plan. Three of us would be sent to coordinate their movements, while the rest would take care of any security and try to collect information.
>With the compound cleared, the ponies would be brought to a nearby pickup site and loaded into waiting semi-trucks. From there, they would be brought to a government collection point, and we would go home. All easier said than done, of course, but there would be plenty of time to work out details the next morning.
>Sleep did not come easily, a fact I rued the next morning as I struggled to combat tiredness with caffeine. I’d been kept up by wincing premonitions of the mission ahead. When the assignment had been proposed, the opportunity to help my kind outweighed any qualms with killing morally disgusting slavers and abusers. And yet now, with an actual plan laid out before me, I understood the real and gruesome nature of my assignment. Had I killed before? Yes, of course. The human shows seemed to skip over the not-so-uncommon times when an evil was eliminated in favor of reformation.
>But this was different. It’s one thing to slay a usurper, or cut down changeling hordes with a mindless drive to destroy. Slaying men after sneaking up on them and not even allowing a fight to occur is another matter entirely. But then, by following through, anywhere from dozens to hundreds of ponies would be saved from deplorable conditions. Perhaps I’d simply read too much Kant since arriving on Earth.
>Early in the afternoon, our work was stopped to go and investigate our equipment. Each of us would be armed with common calibers and “stolen” munitions to maintain the façade of our activities being the work of local radicals. 9mm submachine guns and handguns were our mainstay, equipped with subsonic munitions and silencers. The humans each also carried a .12-gauge shotgun, for both breaching purposes and higher stopping power.
>The armor we’d been fitted for would be out in full force. Although security was likely to be lax, the commander saw no reason to risk our lives with weaker armor, especially with weight-reduction enchantments. My personal set of equipment and HUD programs were focused on reconnaissance, information, and awareness, in line with my role as an ahead-scout.
>Their tasks completed, the others joined us in the planning room to review our strategy and decide on teams. Jewel, Wilcox and I would be in charge of coordinating and evacuating the ponies, while Lopez, Chuck, and the Major would see to security mop-up and intelligence gathering. It was no small relief to be spared that more macabre role, an opinion Jewel and Wilcox seemed to share.
>”Tell you what, this is some bullshit,” Wilcox grumbled to us when we took a break from our deliberations.
>”Is it really that bad to be stuck with ponies for one night?” Jewel asked, her tone somewhat disinterested.
>”I don’t even give a shit about that any more. But what the fuck is this? This is a job for a SWAT team, not special ops. Hell, even SWAT might be overkill. Just send in Joe Policeman to shut it down.”
“I’m sure they have their reasons,” I commented, not entirely sure of my own words.
>”Yeah, I’ll bet. But for as much of an asshole as I am, I don’t like shooting people without even knowing why I’m shooting them. In Afghanistan, it’s pretty obvious why Hajji wants to kill you. Who knows, they might be drug kingpins or something and higher up just ain’t telling us. Still don’t like it.
>”Oh, and just so you know,” he said, snapping his fingers. “’No witnesses’ means the ponies too. So if, for some reason, one can’t make it out with us… well. You know,” he said, shaping his fingers into a pistol and pointing them at his temple.
“Fuck off.”
>”Ain’t kidding, Princess. You starting to see why I hate this pants-on-head retarded assignment? This bullshit is what drug lords and CIA spooks do, not oath-bound soldiers.”
“I’m sure we can get everyone out. Hell, I could just carry them the whole way, if need be. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
>”Let’s hope so. Either way, I’m in charge of you two, and you’d better fucking listen if I give you a hard order. I get that you’re used to taking point on this sort of thing, Twilight, but there really is no room for error here. Just be a robot, follow orders, and everything will work out alright.”
>Both teams would infiltrate the perimeter from the same point, a dark and hidden stretch of fence behind a back shed. From there, we would split up, my extraction team heading straight for the warehouses while the others raided offices and auxiliary buildings. Magic would be kept to a minimum until we took contact, at which point the chaos of battle would negate any impact on our concealment. Only once the facility was more or less secure would we begin to evacuate the ponies. If everything went over smoothly, we’d be on the highway with hours to spare before sunrise.
>An hour before midnight, all our gear was loaded onto a little biplane and our crew was making final preparations and checks. Thanks in no small part to my marvelous and meticulous organizational skills, our inventory was complete on our first check. And so, at 2310, we set off for our destination twenty minutes early.
>The flight there was cold and somber. The pilot briefly attempted to strike conversation with us, but stopped his efforts when he found them inconsequential. This would be the first real danger I’d encountered in years, yet anxiety held little sway in my psyche. Instead, I continued to switch between subdued anticipation and disgruntled curiosity at the true consequences of our expedition.
>A few minutes past midnight, the door opened for me to drop out. Jumping from the vehicle was a new experience, and intense wind resistance momentarily startled me. But I recovered quickly, and began flying in a wide circle around the target area. As expected, the compound was the only light source for miles, standing out as a shining beacon in the nighttime plain of flat, gray wilderness. 
>Halfway through my arc, the airplane door opened once more, and five figures began to fall to the earth, the only indicator of their presence being a faint signature in my heat-based night vision scope. They landed without incident, and I quickly glided down to meet up with them.
>”What’s the situation?” Major Johnson asked before I’d even set down.
“It seems active. I saw figures moving around inside, and they’ve got all the lights on. More cars than usual parked out front. They’re probably trying to move out tonight.”
>”Well, it’s a bit too late for that, faggots,” the officer replied, a small smile appearing on his face. “That’s going to make our job harder, though. Any idea how many were armed?”
“No idea, sir.”
>”Gotta assume all of them, then,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s get moving. Bravo team, you take the far side of the parking lot. Slash all four tires, and try not to get caught. Alpha, we’re taking the near side.”
>No further instructions graced his lips for the next half-hour. We approached the compound on foot, unobscured by the landscape but well shrouded by almost moonless darkness. The parking lot, we found, was completely unguarded and unmanned. Every vehicle was incapacitated easily enough, and now our real work could begin.
>We grouped up on the predetermined stretch of fence as planned. I cast a dome over the compound, albeit aiming the shield inwards. Now, nothing could escape, not even signals. Alpha team entered first, quickly establishing security on both sides of our tiny alleyway entry point. Then we breached the compound and set off for our destination.
>Although the facility was neither large nor empty, this particular corner seemed devoid of any and all life. But mere moments after we set foot past that dark little spot, a commotion erupted across from us, as a group of humans sped around a corner towards us. Perhaps a security camera had alerted them to our intentions, or we may have missed a guard. Regardless, concerns for stealth flew out the window. Bravo team ducked behind the nearest warehouse as Alpha prepared for a gunfight. Only a single gunshot could be heard as the guards fell victim to suppressed weapons fire.
>Evidently, our position was unknown to them, as another guard raced past our alleyway in a bid to flank Alpha team. A brief radio call alerted them to the man, and we kept moving. We reached a side door, which was promptly blown inwards from a burst of my kinetic magic. Wilcox went in first, then Jewel, then I.
>By the time I’d entered, the room’s only inhabitant had already fallen to the floor, two bullet wounds leaking blood below his collar, and one above his left eye. A fallen handgun laid at his side, but that did little to assuage my initial shock. He’d been downed and finished in an instant, and the only acknowledgement my teammates gave was to kick the gun away from his corpse. I shook my head and followed suit, setting up to breach the next door. With another magical push, it opened into a much wider area.
>And here, finally, was the object of our search. This was the main space of the warehouse, lined with rows upon rows of tiny pens. No more than four feet high and five deep, the pens scarcely gave a single adult pony room to live. But, much as it pained me, we had to ignore their cheers and cries at first, as the room contained many corners and hiding-places to clear. Only once it had been cleared entirely did we shift our focus to its inhabitants.
>Our entry had caused an uproar, with dozens of voices crying out to us. Some were asking questions, others cheering us on, and still more simply crying from confusion and terror. A few helpful individuals managed to point our attention to a set of controls near the main doors, revealing a simple set of switches to open the pens row-by-row.
>”Twilight, talk to them,” Wilcox ordered. “Make sure they don’t just stampede out of here as soon as we throw the switch. Get everyone on the same page.” I gave him a nod and set up a quick voice amplification spell.
“Everypony, quiet down!” I shouted, my voice barely audible over the din. I repeated the sentence a few more times until the rows started to fall silent. “Thank you. I know you’re excited, and you’ve probably been waiting for this, but you can’t just run out there. There are still armed guards around, and they probably won’t appreciate a stampede.” As if to prove my point, a succession of gunshots erupted from outside.
>”You aren’t just going to leave us here!” a mare shouted from somewhere in the room.
“No, we aren’t, but we need just a little patience and cooperation. Trust us, we’ve got a plan. First thing’s first, there are three warehouses here. Does anypony know what’s in the other two?”
>”They keep the foals in one,” a large and disgruntled stallion answered, his voice overpowering the others. “The farther one. The other, well. I know there’s no ponies in there. It’s where they have the breeding equipment.” I shuddered slightly at the drop in his tone.
“Then we’ve got to go for the foals, too. But not you all. The best thing you can do is just wait here while we take care of things. Have the strong guard the entrances and the weak stay hidden. We’ll come to get you when the time is right. We have a way out of here, but you all need to stay together to make it happen.”
>At once the room erupted into chaos, some cheering their thanks, others demanding to help rescue their children, and an unlucky few trying to keep the others calm. One by one, the rows of cell-like pens were opened, their inhabitants quickly taking up positions around entrances and weaker individuals. They’d not be able to do much individually, but there were at least a hundred healthy individuals here, more than enough to overwhelm any intruder. The loud, commanding stallion was left in charge, and we snuck out of the building.
>Alpha team had taken longer than expected to reach the office center thanks to an overwhelming security response. They’d only taken one shot, a trivial challenge for Lopez’s armor plating. Inside the offices, they’d encountered further resistance, and intermittent shotgun and handgun blasts could be heard from across the compound. Around us, though, the area was clear, except for the occasional corpse in our path.
>Those bodies would haunt me. They still do. I’ve seen many more since, but those first few human corpses struck me much in the same way the first pony corpses did, many years before. I can still remember distinctly one man whose jaw had been taken off by a shotgun blast from the side. Perhaps it wasn’t enough to kill him, because another crater had been left in his back, sanguine fluid flowing into a nearby drain. Yellow industrial lighting gave the scene a sickly appearance, and flies buzzed about his remains. But all of this could only be taken in in a passing glance. We still had a mission to complete.
>”Twilight, you fucking daft?” Wilcox hissed, shaking me out of my momentary freeze. “Let’s go. We’re not exactly on a loose schedule here.”
>We stacked up on the closest warehouse first. The others told us there would be no ponies here, so we’d likely only give the place a passing check. I busted down the door, and we stormed in to find the structure devoid of any life. It was, however, filled with a sickening array of restraints, pens, and what I could only fathom as torture devices. This building was much smaller than the other two, so we were heading back out within a minute or two.
>As we approached the final warehouse, a shot resounded, and a bullet sailed over our heads. We hit the deck, unsure of where the shot came from, but our questions were answered when his muzzle flashed a second time from atop a small concrete wall to our right. “Hostile, two o’ clock, thirty meters!” Jewel shouted, echoing my silent observations. She and I each responded with shots of our own, while Wilcox positioned himself better. The man looked over his cover once more, and his face was briefly dotted by a red laser pointer. The near-silent click of Wilcox’s submachine gun sounded twice, and the target dropped, blood spilling over his cover.
>”C’mon, Twilight!” he shouted, physically pushing me to the warehouse door. “Let’s pop this can before they get too prepared!”
>A few moments later, the door blasted inward, and we took the room by storm. No resistance greeted us, but neither did any welcoming party. Instead, the space was entirely abandoned. The pens were left open in disarray, food and waste bowls still half-filled inside them. The attached office was left in a scarcely better state, with papers upturned and computers gutted around the room.
>”Ripped out the hard drives,” Wilcox seethed, kicking a PC carelessly dumped on the floor. “The fucks were already halfway done with their bug-out.” He pulled out his radio: “Sir, how are things holding up?”
>”I think the compound is clear,” the Major’s voice responded through the radio. “There ain’t nobody on the security cameras, aside from us.”
>”Well, sir, we got a problem. Looks like we came a day too late. The fucks already took all the foals and info from this building. Whole place is a wreck.”
>”Just the foals?”
>”Adults are fine, and there’s probably still good intel in that office. But this one’s dry.”
>”Alright, shit. Command isn’t gonna like that. Just focus on getting the adults organized and ready to move.”
>”Yes, sir,” he said, replacing the radio in its pouch. He sighed, and said to us, “Alright, look, we’ve still got a mile-long hike ahead of us, through the dark, with a hundred or so jumpy ponies who just lost their kids. You got any ideas?”
“It doesn’t sound very easy to simplify when you put it like that,” I mused.
>”I think we just have to tell them up front,” Jewel said with a sigh. “They won’t like it, but I’d rather have them mad now instead of halfway through the hike when they realize we don’t have the foals.”
>”I suppose there’s no other way,” Wilcox grumbled, not eager to cause a spell of hysteria. “Some might get hysterical, though. I’ve seen it before, when women can’t find their children in a warzone. Twilight, can you keep any outburst in check?”
“I think so,” I answered, confident but not necessarily willing to use my abilities to placate the ponies.
>”Alright, the Major won’t take too long to finish up his search. We want to be ready to go by the time he’s done.” With that, he headed for the door, and we quickly made our way back to the warehouse that still housed dozens of nervous, frightened ponies. “Hey, boss pony!” he shouted as we entered, motioning to the same large stallion we’d dealt with before. “We need you over here for a second.”
>”Did you find the foals? Are they alright?” he asked once we were away from the others.
“We… did not. They-“
>”You checked the far warehouse, right?” he demanded, his eyes widening somewhat. “My boy is in there, are you sure-“
“They took them before we got here,” I answered, bowing my head. “We’re trying to find out where they went, but they took records with them, too.”
>”I… I understand,” he said, his voice lowering to a near-inaudible volume. “But the rest of them won’t. Trust me. They’ve waited too long to see their children. If you tell them that, they’ll lose the only thing they have left.”
>”We need to evacuate,” Wilcox stated bluntly. “We’ve got transport waiting, and we need to get everyone on it as soon as possible.”
>”We’ll have to lie to them,” the stallion replied. “I know at least a dozen who won’t leave without their foals. Perhaps they’re being led somewhere else, by someone else?”
“Would they believe it?”
>”Well, ma’am,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “If you’re who I think you are, and you are, they’ll listen to you.”
>I looked up to Wilcox. The man seemed to be thinking. Of course not, no, knowledge of my return couldn’t be released. But these ponies had seen our actions regardless. They already knew the details of the mission, they knew we weren’t a ragtag band of hippies, and most probably already had suspicions of my identity. Rumors of that sort would be powerful regardless of the presence or absence of evidence in their midst. I like to think we reached the same conclusion, at the same time. We shared a nod, and I flew up above the crowd.
>”HEY!” the stallion roared, quieting the room, instantly. “That’s Princess Twilight. Listen up.” The room immediately shifted its attention to me, awestruck and disbelieving in my presence. A quick counter to my enchantments uncloaked my wings, billowing in the dim light for all to see.
“I’ve been… gone, for a long time. But I’ve come back to help you. I’m sure you’ve heard the shots and the chaos from outside. Well, here’s what’s happening. We’re breaking you all out of here, and taking you somewhere safe. The foals, too. They’ve already left the facility with a team of six, and should be boarding their transport as we speak. Some of the little ones are in fragile conditions, which is why we’ve given them separate, special transport. For this room, we have another way out. About a mile away from here are three trucks, on which we will board you all and drive you to meet up with the foals.
>”As the last known Alicorn Princess, I plead with you to please, please come with us. If everyone works together, we can put this place behind us within the hour. If there is disunity, everything may fall apart. We, and the three others who will be joining us, are here to guide you through the dark, both figuratively and literally. Will you come with us?”
>Perhaps I’d been a bit long-winded in my impromptu speech. The ponies simply sat and blinked for a moment, absorbing what I’d told them. Then a young mare spoke up, “I trust the Princess. We should go.” Immediately, cheers and confirmations poured forth, and I saw that the group would come with us without issue.
>It took us a good twenty minutes to organize the party for our march. Weaker individuals had to be surrounded by stronger ones, to ensure that nobody got trampled. I would lead from the front, flying above and casting an illumination spell to ensure no one could get lost. The others, including Cricket Chirps, the stallion who had done so much to help maintain order, would flank a long column of four as we marched down the road.
>About ten minutes later, the Major and his group came back to us, the area cleared and relevant intelligence gathered. I let down the magic barrier that had kept us isolated throughout the ordeal, and we marched out along the road.
>Aside from a few stubbed hooves and a rolled ankle, nothing of note happened on the march. I was somewhat surprised, even, that the ponies were able to take a mile hike so well. I’d expected at least a few elders or sick ponies to struggle, but they made it without any assistance.
>Three eighteen-wheelers had been arranged for our transport, with invalid license plates and unmarked containers to avoid any suspicion. We’d expected perhaps triple the number of ponies we had with us, so spacing and comfort was little issue. Each container was assigned a captain to keep order, given a crate of food and water, and granted a light source. With everyone accounted for, we sealed them up, and hopped in the cabins.
>I ended up with Wilcox, much to our mutual disappointment. He removed a can of overbearing chemical flower scent from the glovebox and doused me with a generous spray of it, muttering something about pony sweat. The other two vehicles sputtered to life first, and we brought up the rear of the convoy as we started southward down the highway.
>Our drop-off point would be somewhere in rural New Mexico, near the Arizona border. From there, different agents from a different agency would take over, and bring the ponies to wherever the government had set aside a holding area. The drive to get there, however, would take several hours, leaving Wilcox and I alone to talk. Or, more likely, argue.
>”So, you were a fucking princess, huh?” he muttered after half an hour.
“I was, yes. And it looks like the ponies haven’t forgotten that, either.”
>”We can use this. Hell, it might turn out to be an ace up our sleeve. But don’t think it means anything to us.”
“I know, I don’t.”
>”You’re fucking pack animals, not soldiers,” he hissed. “Princess of the mules is still a mule. This whole idea is fucking stupid. Lopez and Major Johnson may treat you nice, but deep down, I know they think the same thing. At least I have the decency to speak my mind.”
“How can you say that?”
>”That’s what you get mad about? Not all the racism or whatever?” he said with a laugh. “They’re playing you like a fiddle. Maybe they did do something to you in that lab, if you can’t see the hate in their eyes.”
“Fuck off.”
>”You fuck off,” he retorted, careful to keep his eyes on the road. “Look, I may be a douche who hates your guts, but I’ll never tell you one thing when I know something else is the truth. Earth don’t work like horse-land. You can’t always assume the best in someone.”
“Can we talk about something else, please?” I asked, disgusted at the ease with which he talked of the others behind their backs.
>”Sure. How’d you like your first firefight?”
I took a moment before responding, “It was… chaotic. And frightening.”
>”I guess that’s a normal reaction. Honestly, a compliment’s due. You didn’t freak out or anything. I thought you would when we saw that one casualty, but you did good. Keeping your cool in combat is important, remember that.”
“I’ve fought before. Frankly, dragons are more intimidating than security guards.”
>”Just be ready. It might be security guards today but a private army tomorrow. I had to learn that the hard way. Be prepared so you don’t.”
“Where have you even been in combat?” I asked, curiosity briefly overtaking my reservations.
>”Don’t go around asking people that,” he scolded. “I don’t mind telling, but someone like Chuck will. He’s been through Hell and back. Me? I’ve been to Afghanistan twice, Somalia once, Nigeria once, and now Colorado, I guess. And I haven’t even been in for six years. How about you? Fought any wars back home?”
“Oh, suddenly interested in the pony?”
>”Listen, I hate Muslims too, but I know what a soldier goes through. Even your worst enemy deserves respect for his service. So, did you have wars in pony-land?”
“No wars, no. But my home town, Ponyville, it was located right at the edge of the Everfree forest, a den of monsters, thieves, and all kinds of deadly bullshit. My friends and I had to risk our lives more than a few times to keep the others safe.”
>”I guess that makes sense. They wouldn’t put you with us with zero experience whatsoever. But I’m guessing getting shot at was a first?”
“Tonight? Yes. I don’t think those calibers could get through this armor, though. It seems much too impervious.”
>”Holy shit, Purple, I forgot I was wearing the stuff. Shit’s light.”
“Did you just call me ‘Purple’?”
>”Maybe I did, what are you gonna do about it?”
>I considered for a moment. What were my options? I could play fun on his name, but I doubted that just calling him ‘cocks’ would elicit a reaction. Perhaps name-calling wasn’t the best solution. Or…
>”What are you doing?” he asked, noticing my horn starting to glow.
“Just turning on the radio.”
>”Set it to classic rock or something. No hip-hop bullshit.”
“Actually, I was going to set it to one of my favorite genres. I think you’ll like it.”
>”What’s that?”
>Rock, no… jazz, no… talk show, no… ah ha! 97.4 – Pony Tunes FM! I turned up the volume.
>”The hell is… agh! Turn that shit off!”
>”WINTER WRAP UP, WINTER WRAP UP!”

+++7+++

>There were no good-byes, no explanations, and no interactions at all with the ponies we’d rescued. We pulled up to a small lumber yard, exited our vehicles, and drove off in a van with the keys left in it. Someone else would be by to take the trucks to their real destination.
>It left me feeling somewhat sick. We’d rescued them, no doubt freeing them from an existence of absolute and unending horror. But we’d failed to return their children, and lied to them about their whereabouts. And we couldn’t even apologize for it. They sat there in locked, windowless shipping containers, clueless why the sound of engines and bumpy roads had come to a stop, while we sped off toward the state line.
>Most of the others slept, save for myself and Lopez, who volunteered to drive us home. The man had a curious resistance to the effects of sleep deprivation, while I was kept awake by an incessant barrage of thoughts and emotions.
>In the moment, it all seemed easy. Just as we’d trained, we busted down doors and took care of whatever was behind them. Just as I’d done many years before, we moved quickly and took care to avoid enemy fire. It was all reflex, or at least inexperienced and rusty reflex. Certainly, the others possessed a greater fluidity in their motions than I. Some of the sights we’d seen had been jarringly morbid and grotesque, yet the crunch of time and pressure of combat pushed us through.
>But now, with the silence unbroken but for the van’s quiet engine sounds, I was left alone to truly realize and react to the sights we’d seen. I suppose the overriding emotion I experienced during that trip was fear. I feared what we’d done, I feared for the ponies, and I just feared, without any particular motive or reason. Certain details worked their way to the forefront of my mind. I said before that the bodies I saw made a lasting imprint on me; the height of that imprint formed throughout the car ride. Recalling the blood that poured from their wounds, the flies that had descended upon their remains, the lifelessness in faces that not an hour prior had shown the signs of life, happiness, and decades of fostered memories, it was all a bit much.
>I recall also being bothered a great deal by the two empty warehouses. The building for the adults was cramped, foul, and cruel, for sure. But the other two were… wrong. The foals were kept in tiny kennels, spaces too small even for a house cat. The area betrayed signs of total neglect and deprivation of anything remotely suited to proper care for fillies and colts. And the other room was perhaps worse. Harnesses, stimulants, surgery tables and more provided gruesome and absurd reminders of the breeding program that was ongoing at the facility. But what troubled me more were those machines and tables that seemed impossible to designate as breeding tools. Complex contraptions of vague mechanical, electrical, magical, and medical nature were scattered amongst other edifices with fathomable purpose. Perhaps they were present only for the sick enjoyment of the owners. I shuddered to think of the reasons for their design.
>And lastly, I was troubled by my decision to lie to the ponies. It had been a heat-of-the moment choice, one made with all other options seemingly exhausted and a slowly-diminishing time window to organize an unruly and potentially hysterical set of ponies. But that didn’t make it right. I told them their foals – the only thing that gave their misery even the scarcest hope – would await them at our destination. An abject lie, and one that would, by the time of my musings, have been revealed to great outcry among the helpless parents. A utilitarian mindset would laud my efforts; after all, the story had allowed us to safely evacuate as many ponies as possible. They would go on to live lives with some semblance of normalcy. Except, it would be without their children.
>A knocking from the front cabin startled me from my thoughts, and seemed to be enough to somewhat wake the rest of the van’s occupants. “We just passed Payson,” Lopez said, feebly attempting to mask the tiredness in his voice. “We’ll be home shortly.”
>”And you could’ve woken us up when we got there, fucknut,” Wilcox groaned, making a rather rude hand gesture in no particular direction before allowing his head to dip down once more.
>”Just letting you know. You might sleep better in bed without cramps from the seat, you know.”
>”I think I’ll take the risk, thanks. And now I gotta piss, too.”
>Half an hour and zero rest stops later, the van pulled into our compound. We were roused once more from our weak slumber to shuffle inside to the restrooms and beds that awaited us. Even Lopez betrayed his tiredness by now, opting to fumble into his room and crash down onto his bunk without bothering to remove his dirty, blood-stained combat uniform, or even remove his boots.
>I managed to get the attire off before retiring, thankfully finding it completely free of sanguine fluids. Later, it would be put through a thorough wash and hung back up to be worn again. For now, though, I tossed everything but myself into a corner and practically dove under the bedsheets. Down the hall, someone was electing to shower before getting his rest, the absolute madman.
>It felt like but a moment I’d laid my head down to rest when I heard a rap at the door to wake me, but the shift of the sunlight proved otherwise. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was nearly noon, only a few hours after we’d pulled into the compound. “I know it sucks, Twilight,” Major Johnson’s muffled voice called through the wooden door, “but we’ve got to keep our sleep schedule in check. Come on out, take a shower, and enjoy an easy day. Awake.”
>I’d have much rather ignored his calls and continued to slumber, but the officer had a point. An early wake up the next morning would have hurt even more, and my coat was still matted, dusty, and stained from the mission. I slid out of bed, made my way to the door and, finding the hallway empty, took a long and well-earned shower in silence.
>As I left the latrine, Jewel slipped past me into it, still bleary-eyed and obviously exhausted. Across the way, showers could be heard running in the men’s latrine as well. Expecting to find the common area empty, I went to search for something to eat, only to find Wilcox already occupying the fridge.
“Oh, hey,” I said, putting on a small smile. He turned to look at me, annoyed at the interruption. “I was just coming to grab something. Could you toss me an apple, please?”
>He looked at me for a moment more, blinked once, and simply responded, “Fucking get it yourself,” before grabbing a tinfoil-wrapped slice of pizza and slamming the door shut. Evidently, any rapport we’d come close to the night before would be discarded quickly. I reopened the fridge, procured two apples for myself, and took them over to the seating area and television.
>Unfortunately, the tired human had already claimed the remote for himself, and was sifting through news outlets. What he hoped to find in CNN that couldn’t be found in NBC I couldn’t imagine, but with sleep denied to me and little else to do for the afternoon, I sighed and took a place on one of the adjacent couches.
>Finally, he stopped on one of the channels, and I immediately realized the object of his search. The Fox News desk was beginning or returning to coverage of a certain incident in rural Colorado over the night. Displayed behind the photogenic newscasters was a live aerial feed of the same compound I’d circled above the night before. With eleven deaths, the entire staff present for the raid, the news desk painted a grim tale of radical emancipationists sneaking in under the cover of night to conduct a raid and slaughter anyone involved.
>Within a few minutes, the newscasters began discussing motives with a counterterrorism expert. I glanced over to Wilcox to find him at the edge of his seat, a small smile forming on his visage. They’d bought our cover hook, line, and sinker. The incident was blamed on a large, loosely organized fictional group known as the People’s Equestrian Liberation Front that claimed responsibility through cryptic, chilling documents left at the scene alleging future attacks. “And don’t worry, Twilight,” he said, relaxing back into the couch. “We’ve got friends where we need friends. The official investigation and write-up will reach the same conclusion. We just pulled off the biggest ruse since Sandy Hook.”
“What?”
>”Kidding.”
>One by one, the others began to trickle into the room, most of them clutching reading material, electronics, and food. Eventually, only Lopez remained absent, the Major having allowed him an extra hour of sleep for his extra driving.
>”So, sir,” Wilcox groaned, wiping a hand across his face. “We just have to stay awake today? For how long?”
>The officer looked down to his watch before responding, “Well, it’s 12:30 now, and I’d say we should probably be awake at least ‘til seven. So, six and a half hours.” Wilcox cursed, and the other two ponies squirmed in their seats. “Hey, Twilight, got any spells to keep someone awake?” the man asked.
“If I did, you can bet I’d have used them sooner,” sorry.
>”Fuckin’ good-for-nothing horse…” he grumbled, once more falling back into his seat.
>With a sigh, I went to my room and fished out a spellbook. Human volumes were curious: they were always machine-made and precise, with perfect pages and clean, neat type faces. Equestrian books, by contrast, were a mess, mostly owing to the rather difficult runes that made up the base of our writing system. In retrospect, I’m amazed that nobody ever thought of a faster, easier character system than the pictorial horror we had to deal with.
>And so passed the hours, each of us keeping the rest awake and alternating attention between personal objects and the television screen. A few times, discussion turned back to the night before, but we were generally too tired to keep conversation serious or long-lasting. Finally, as evening set in and the light streaming in through the windows began to turn orange, the Major released us to our rooms. 
>We rose at once, save for Jewel, who sat beside me. As I began to pace back to my quarters, a hoof touched my back, urging me to stop. “Twilight?” she appealed, yawning and shaking her head slightly, “Could you stay just a moment?”
I sighed and turned to her, “Now? You couldn’t have done this ten minutes ago?”
>”I just wanted to say you did good last night,” she said, putting on an honest grin. “I know Sergeant Wilcox won’t tell you that, but I bet he feels the same. Just don’t let it get to you, alright.”
“I… thanks,” I said with a sigh. “The ponies are going to a better place now, and that’s something to be proud of, even if we couldn’t save all of them.”
>”It’s been hard for you, hasn’t it. In this world,” she remarked, shifting her eyes downward.
“I’ve dealt with adversity before,” I said with a smile and wave of a hoof. “Nothing I can’t and haven’t overcome. I’ll take some intrusive research and light combat over another run-in with Tirek any day of the week.”
>”Hey,” she said, lifting her face back up, “don’t downplay it if you do find yourself struggling. I used to do that until… well, until I couldn’t any more,” she stated firmly, her face taught and serious. “Getting shot at for the first time is a big deal. Just… just tell me if anything’s bugging you, okay?”
“Alright, I suppose I will, thanks,” I said, somewhat indignant at her implications of my inability to handle my experiences. I know what I can handle, I thought to myself.
>”Thank you. It means a lot to me, too, you know.”
“The mission?”
>”No. Well, yes. But I meant your well-being. We’re a team, Twilight. You look out for your team. You have to.”
>Seemingly done with her piece, she rose from her seat, stretched, and hopped down, walking back to her room. I watched until the door shut, then finally retired for the night. I drifted into a calm, dreamless sleep.
>Eleven hours later, at 5:30 in the morning, the Major roused us by clanging two pans together. “Breakfast is done in two minutes!” he called from the kitchen. “First one out in his civvies gets first pickings!”
>Well-rested and alert, the promise of a hot breakfast sent me flying out of my bed. With no clothes to put on, I merely gave my mane a quick combing and look-over before racing out the door. First to arrive, I gazed with wonder upon the perfectly-made stack of golden pancakes made by our commander. “That was, what, forty or fifty seconds from my wake-up call?” he asked with a laugh. “Were you waiting, or something?”
“I’m always ready for pancakes, sir,” I replied, beaming.
>”Here, you get the top ones then, for doing so well on your first mission then. Fresh off the pan.” He gently laid three big pancakes on the plate, which I picked up with my magic and headed to the dining table with them and some assorted condiments. As I left the kitchen area, I passed by the next man to arrive, Wilcox, struggling to pull on a t-shirt over his chiseled abs.
“I already got the freshest ones,” I teased, earning a sharp look from the soldier. “But hey, I’m sure the rest are fine, too.” As I took my place at the table I could hear him mumbling something disrespectful about the various equine races.
>He and the major soon joined me with hot plates of pancakes of their own, each of us lathering our meal in butter and theirs in syrup. I’d always preferred whipped cream and fruit with mine, anyway. Soon enough, the other three joined us, chipper and rested from a long night’s sleep.
>”Today’s a rest day,” the Major said once the last of us sat down. “Two rest days in a row, and it’s not even a weekend. It’s almost like you earned them. Jokes aside, take the day off. Head into town, go shopping, see a movie, I don’t care, just be back here by eighteen hundred. Hooah?”
“Hooah!” we responded, our mouths full.
>”Hell yeah, been a while since I’ve got a proper ‘hooah’ going. Oh, ponies need someone with them. Wilcox, you take Chuck, Lopez gets Twilight, and I’ll take charge of Jewel. That sound agreeable?” We all looked at each other, content with the assignments. “Good, I’ll leave it to all of you to decide what comes next. As of now, you’re all dismissed. Stay out of trouble.”
>After breakfast, I headed to the latrine to shower and tidy up before heading out. When I emerged, I found the building empty save for Lopez, who was waiting on his bed in jeans and a t-shirt. “Ha, about time! Women and their showers.”
“Hey, a clean pony is a happy pony. But sorry for keeping you waiting. What’s the plan?”
>”There is no plan. I thought I’d let you think of something.”
“Oh,” I said, somewhat surprised. “Well, I uhh, I don’t really know what there is to do in this town. A lot, I bet.”
>”Haha, well, I’ve never been one to get out too much anyway. I’m new to the city, too. Never been here in my life before a few weeks ago.”
“Then perhaps we should look something up?” I offered, motioning to the smartphone beside him.
>”Alright, let’s take a look,” he agreed, opening up a local events catalog. “Might as well check the Events tab first. There’s a big art show at the convention center. You an art fan?”
“I guess you could say I’ve always chosen a thousand words over the picture, heh,” I answered, giving a weak smile.
>”Haha, no problem, me neither. There’s some big country concert tonight. Do you like country music?”
“Not particularly.”
>”Alright, then… oh! Shit, is that this week?” he said, his face brightening up.
“What? What’s this week?”
>”Arizona state fair, it’s just a bit away. They opened up a few days ago. Oh, man, if it’s anything like the fairs back home, you’d love it.”
“A fair?” I asked, a smile growing. “The kind with games, and rides, and vendors that sell things that would better belong in a toxic waste facility than a restaurant? That kind of fair?”
>”Yeah, and with a ton of animals on show, I bet. Honestly, that was always my favorite part, seeing all the prize-winning ducks and pigeons and goats and all that. Yo, we can totally go.”
“Let’s do it!”

+++8+++
>”You know, Twilight, some parts of this place are a lot like I remember them,” Lopez remarked, looking around. “The run-down location, rusting rides, hideous fair-goers, and expansive livestock sections are all there. But it’s a lot different, too.”
“How so?”
>”They used to pay people to work here.”
>We’d just arrived at the state fair, supposedly a fun and exciting way to spend our day off in the wake of a tough mission. It was loud, it was noisy, it was unkempt, it was smelly, and the people were no different. But past all that, the place was still lively and enticing: children and adults alike competed for enormous plush prizes, screams and stomach contents flew from rides, and neon signs advertised all manner of junk food unobtainable anywhere else in the world. It would have been nice, save for the uncanny lack of any and all human employees in the place.
“They’re everywhere, huh? The whole place is run by ponies.”
>”Whatever,” Lopez huffed. He reached into his pocket, fishing around for something unknown. “Ah shit, sorry, almost forgot you have to wear this.” He produced a black collar and leash. “I know you don’t like it, and I don’t either, but with how many ‘employed’ ponies they have around here, I don’t want you mistaken for one. It’s not tight, I pro-“
“Fine, whatever,” I sighed, just wishing to get on with the day. “It’s not electric, is it?”
>”No, it’s just a normal collar.”
“Then whatever. Just hurry up and don’t dwell on it.”
>I was no stranger to collars. When the scientists first started allowing me out of the testing chamber, I had a shock collar on at all times. I don’t recall ever testing the thing, but they kept it on for months anyway. Thankfully, the one Lopez quickly and unceremoniously fitted around my neck was loose, as though I could slip it off with so much as a tiny shake.
>”There we go. I’ll keep hold of it, but just go ahead and tell me if you want me to let go. There aren’t any rules on it. You might want to stick close to me so we can avoid any trouble, though.”
“Right, sergeant, thanks.”
>”Hell, don’t bother with ranks, especially on a day off. Just call me Aaron. Or just Lopez, if you prefer.”
“Aaron,” I mused with a smile. “That’s a nice name. You hungry?”
>”Haven’t eaten all day.”
“Well, there must be a thousand food stands in this little area alone. Can we get something?”
>”Of course we can. What do you want?”
>Ten minutes later and we were seated at the bench, a funnel cake for each and a large bag of cotton candy to split. Neither was quite as good as what one could get in Equestria, but perhaps I was just a tad spoiled having a baker as a close friend. Still, the treats brought some light to our eyes, and set the stage for a good day.
>At first, I was a bit concerned that I’d see those food items come right back up from the rides, but Lopez was careful to steer us toward gentler activities until we’d had a chance to digest. Of course, the prospect of bumper cars, ball-toss games, and public performers was not unwelcome. I started to feel something I’d not felt in a long time: warm, genuine happiness and excitement.
>I still remember the disapproving looks of others, human and pony alike, as I quite literally bounced in excitement in line for our first “real” ride. The gift of flight may have long since settled my fear of heights, but the exhilaration of speed and centrifugal force on the sky swing still reached that little filly within that I’d so carefully hidden away since even before the disaster. That the chairs were designed for a human frame and woefully unsafe for a pony only added to my enjoyment.
>Lopez soon found he’d opened a can of worms, and I was practically dragging him by the leash through the park to rides of ever-increasing intensity and severity. Having already emptied his innards once or twice mid-ride, he eventually opted to let me ride the most wild and extraordinary ones alone. I was euphoric, letting my shells and appearances fly away with the wind. I didn’t care that it couldn’t last – I wasn’t an alicorn, or a princess, or a commando, or a test subject. I was some normal pony, for once, running amok in a theme park.
>Perhaps I’d even started to go overboard at some points, but he continued to indulge. Other humans would shoot him glares or mutter comments about his seeming inability to control his pony, but he paid them no mind. He told me to ignore them and enjoy the fair, and I did just that.
>It wasn’t until night had begun to fall on the fair that he managed to pull me away from the excitement for another meal and some slower activities. At first I protested, but by that point, I was much too tired to go back to the rides, especially after downing an entire slice of deep fried cheesecake. 
>”How about we check out the exhibit halls?” Lopez prompted, picking up on my exhaustion. “Not exactly a blood-pumping activity, but people come from all over to show their stuff here. I remember going through each of these halls as a kid, making my siblings wait on me to get back to the fair. Let’s check out the arts and crafts halls first, then go see the animals before we go home.”
“What quality of art usually turns up at these sorts of events?” I asked, suddenly curious. “I haven’t been in a gallery since… well, since a long time ago.”
>”Heh, not a lot of museum-quality stuff, but some really good talent nonetheless. Enough to impress me, at least. Let’s check it out, c’mon.”
“Well, I doubt it’ll live up to Equestrian standards,” I teased, “but sure, lead the way.”
>I was nothing short of awestruck upon entering the main gallery. At first I thought it was simply a result of not having seen a proper painting in years, but the cold, difficult truth was and is that human art is far more advanced than anything Equestrian artists could produce. Portraits, landscapes, and artwork of all varieties hung in the halls with third-place ribbons while being of a caliber worthy of the finest Equestrian art museums. 
>”Twilight?” Lopez queried, waving a hand in front of my face. “You okay there? You haven’t blinked since you started staring at that painting.” I blinked once, suddenly aware of the dryness and light pain in my eyes.
“It’s… wow. How do they paint with such detail and realism?”
>”Hell if I know. I never went to art school. Look, I’m glad you like human art, but it’s starting to get late. Let’s keep moving so we can see everything.”
>The gallery halls were far less densely packed than the outside areas, with only a few isolated viewers scattered about the rooms. I made a silent resolution to pay patronage to artists like these and procure some of their work for myself at a later date. A portrait commissioned for thousands of bits in Equestria wouldn’t even approach the quality of most ribbon-winning works I saw that night.
>Eventually, we made our way to the other crafts halls. Here, all manner of projects were showcased, from elaborate LEGO constructs to intricately crafted examples of leatherwork. I blushed a bit when Lopez caught me eyeing a particularly beautiful handcrafted saddle – perfectly sized for an Equestrian mare.
“I-it’s just so pretty, don’t judge,” I squeaked when he arched an eyebrow.
>”Is this some sort of fetish shit for you ponies?” he asked, chuckling and turning away before I could give him an answer.
>The final stop of the evening, and the last set of buildings between us and the exit, was the animal exhibition. First on our sightseeing list were the poultry – hundreds of caged birds of all sorts were lined up, displayed, and carefully analyzed according to a detailed list of attributes and breed-specific qualities. Shortly after the fowl came rodents, then pigs, sheep, goats, and cattle. But, before Lopez could usher me out the gates, I got a peek at the largest, newest structure in the fair.
>Through its open doors I could see rows upon rows of pens, each filled with between one and three of my kinsfolk. It caused me to stop in my tracks. “Twilight,” Lopez urged, “we don’t have to see that one.”
“I want to see,” I said, starting toward the building.
>Upon closer inspection, the scene became even more curious. Here were ponies, penned up and displayed in the same manner as other animals we’d seen, but the scene was too jubilant for those connotations. The air was filled with chatter between pens, laughter, and general reverie. Within and between pens, ponies played cards, exchanged words, and tended to their young. Each individual was groomed, bathed, and stylized to perfection: even a perfectionist like Rarity would be aghast at such style.
>Stepping through the door, I looked down the row of pens. They were much newer and nicer than any other enclosures in the facility – in fact, many seemed to be outright comfortable, stocked with amenities and decorations. In the corner of the room, hidden from sight from outside the building, playgrounds, gyms, and other recreational areas occupied the attentions of ponies and their presumable owners/handlers alike. I was startled somewhat as a mare next to me shouted an ‘Aha!’ and slammed her cards onto the floor, sweeping a pile of coins into her corner of the pen. Another mare grumbled, and the rest of the group simply chuckled before heading into another hand.
“They seem… happy,” I commented to Lopez, who was standing motionless beside me.
>”Happy animals look better,” he replied, before quickly realizing the connotation of his words. “Err, not that you’re animals. I just mean that if they looked sad, they wouldn’t win anything.”
“So that’s what it is? All about the prizes?”
>”Yeah,” he nodded, “for the owners and ponies both. I’ve seen a fair bit of this scene. They’re not mistreated or anything, and each of these ponies tries his or her best to be the best here. It’s just… not exactly right, I don’t think. Having your whole life revolve around being the prettiest pony for a panel of judges.”
I thought on it for a moment. “Eh,” I finally said, “plenty of ponies did it in Equestria, too. Let’s go home.”
>”Really?”
“You don’t need to be a slave to sell yourself.”
>We observed for a moment more, and then headed straight for our parked car. Lopez removed the collar and stowed it back into his pocket; I’d mostly forgotten about it over the course of the day. Most of the other ponies I’d seen throughout the day were similarly leashed or outfitted with the park’s not-so-subtle tracking bracelets.
>”So,” Lopez said, starting the car, “I take it you had fun today?”
“It was great,” I answered with a tired smile. “Being able to let loose and have fun was nice, and you made it so much better, too.”
>”Thanks, that means a lot. I’m just hoping we could, like, be friends, yeah?”
“Well of course,” I laughed, “I’m always open to friendship, be it pony, human, or anything else.”
>”That’s good. Too many people and ponies, I think, won’t have anything to do with the other side. Wilcox is like that, and I just can’t get behind it. People get told to love each other and stop racism for generations, and all of a sudden it’s okay to be shitty to a new species that’s just as smart as us? That’s just wrong.”
“I’m glad we have someone like you with us. The Major is nice but… a bit too focused on the job, maybe.”
>”He does what he has to.”
“Maybe he does, but so do you. And you’ve got time for friendship in between.”
>”Glad I could make such a good impression. Now let’s get home before we earn ourselves extra PT tomorrow.”
>We returned late into the night, the last of our team to get back home. The others were already bathing and readying themselves for sleep when we walked through the door.
>”Oh, hey!” Jewel called out, halfway between the latrine and her room. “Did you guys have a good time?”
“It was great!” I said, smiling. “I haven’t been able to let loose in years. I just feel happier, I guess.”
>”Nice!” she beamed back to me. “Commander says tomorrow’s another easy day. Late wake-up, light duty. Get some showers and sleep, you two,” she suggested before closing her bedroom door.
>”Light duty, that’s always a good sign,” Lopez mused, making a beeline for the male latrine. I briefly considered going straight to bed, but thought better of it and even took an especially long, relaxing shower. Lopez’s idea to attend the fair had been a spectacular success, and I felt a deep gratitude for his patience with my antics throughout the day. In fact, come to think of it, I’d been so much of a handful that it must have taken an enormous amount of self-restraint for him to both indulge my wants and keep up a smile through it all.
Luckily, I was able to catch him in the hallway once I finished washing up. “Hey,” I whispered in the dark.
>”Twilight?” he whispered back.
“I just wanted to thank you for taking me out. And for putting up with me all day. I hope I wasn’t too much trouble.”
>He sighed and chuckled lightly, “I could tell you needed a chance to be yourself, Twilight. Look, you can always open up around me, alright? I’m here for you.”
“Thanks. Really, thanks.”
>”No problem. Now get to bed, you have to be exhausted after today.”
“Hehe, maybe a bit,” I giggled. “Good night!”
>”Good night, Twilight,” he responded, closing the door. 

+++9+++
>”I don’t get it. How do we have zero information whatsoever on where the rest of the ponies went? There were dozens, if not hundreds of foals in that place.”
>”Do I look like an intel guy to you, Wilcox?” Major Johnson snapped, frustration showing on his features. “All I know is that command followed it up, didn’t find shit, and are telling us to keep an eye out for them going forward.”
>”So they do have something,” Chuck offered, “if they think we’ll run into them again. Why not tell us, though?”
>”Probably don’t want us taking any action,” Wilcox offered. “Other black ops units have been known to do that.”
>”Fucking gay. We’ll find them, or so help me, God.”
>Life had quickly settled back into normal routine after the first operation. Exercise in the mornings, chores and training exercises throughout the afternoons, and situational updates in the evenings. The latter part of the day had quickly grown to be a thorn in our sides, as we grew increasingly frustrated with our knowledge and situation.
>”Right,” Johnson stated, shifting attention back to him and his thick Boston accent. “Regardless, we’re moving on. Command says they have something new in the works, and we should expect to head out sometime this week. Could be tomorrow, could be Saturday, but no matter what, we need to be ready. We’ve been training hard and well, but be ready for anything.”
>”Sir,” Jewel interjected, “any personal hunches on what they might have in store?”
>”No clue. I know as little as all of you. I guess now we know that it’s not gonna follow up the last operation, though.”
“So, what’s the plan, sir?” I asked, ready to move on from speculation to action.
>”Right now, we’re gonna keep on doing what we’re doing. Soon as command drops us a line, though, we’ll start preparing for whatever we got coming. Things should go a bit smoother since I think we all learned a thing or two from last time,” he said, pulling up a sleeve to check his watch. “I think that’s all I got for tonight. Keep your heads on straight, stay focused, and be ready. Dismissed.”
>Evenings were ours to spend as we pleased, but most nights, we stayed home, only sending someone out for food or supplies. As far as entertainment went, each of us had something to bring to the table. The Major was a longtime player of tabletop RPGs, and introduced Lopez, Jewel, and myself to the hobby. Poker, while far from an unfamiliar game to all of us, was given a bit of vigor as Chuck, Wilcox, and I each showed our prowess. The pots were small, but that didn’t stop us from fighting hard for them. Lopez would play along with whatever the rest of us chose to do for the evening, but his prowess with a variety of musical instruments was quickly discovered and appreciated. He’d often lose early and pick up a string instrument to pass the time. Spending our downtime in this way was enjoyable, and even tensions and rivalries between individuals seemed to lessen during them. It was only rarely that we felt the want or need to head out for entertainment.
>”Anyone feel like getting the cards out?” Wilcox asked, moving to the round dinner table we usually used for such games. “Let’s do a ten dollar buy-in, Texas Hold ‘Em. C’mon.”
>”Here,” the Major said, tossing him a well-thumbed deck of cards. “Get it set up, I’ll be over in five. Gotta type up a report real quick.”
>Ten dollars wasn’t much for the humans, but for us ponies, it constituted a significant portion of our allowance. As we were unpaid “indentured service members” in the eyes of the military, what little we got was by the Major’s good will and was taken directly from our discretionary budget. Chuck and I managed to win the majority of games between us, so poker nights had become a decent way to pad our pocketbooks. Jewel, unfortunately, lost most of her allotment here and would even sometimes be forced to sit out for a night unless one of the humans bought her in. The money wasn’t terribly important, as essentials and high-dollar items were either guaranteed to us or often available on request, but discretionary spending in smaller amounts was a luxury I’d long forgotten by then. The humans knew that, and it was probably why Lopez and the Major rarely tried for a win.
>Wilcox, however, craved the competition. “Jewel,” he prompted, shuffling the deck, “you able to buy in this round?”
>”I think I can, yeah.”
>”Well, grab the cash. I want to see it before doling out any chips.”
>”That ten bucks is going to be life or death for you, huh?” Lopez chided, taking a seat.
>”Everyone else I can trust to have the cash when it comes time to collect. It’s not poker if you’re playing someone who has no stake,” he retorted. “Go ahead and peek at your cards, but we aren’t starting until the Major gets here. Twilight, you’ll be the small blind, and we go clockwise.” I tilted mine up to take a look. A three and a ten. Not the best way to start the night.
>Jewel soon returned with a ten-dollar bill, which she exchanged for a stack of chips, and the Major took his place at the table a minute after. The first few hands took unexpected turns, with the usual winners losing out on several medium-sized pots, but within half an hour things started to settle back into their usual pace. Lopez bet high on a straight, lost it to Wilcox, and forfeited the rest of his pot to grab a guitar.
>”So,” he prompted upon returning, tuning his instrument. “Do they have card games in Equestria? You guys seem pretty damn good at it.”
“Depends on where you’re from,” I mused, mulling what to do with my pocket tens. “They’ve got everything the humans have and more in Las Pegasus. Lots of gambling in Manehattan, too. If you’re from the northern countryside or the western settlements, you’ll probably know how to play poker, too.”
>”That’s where I’m from,” Chuck supplemented. “Check.”
“Right. But in some places, ponies might have never seen a deck of cards in their life. Jewel, where are you from?”
>”Trottingham.”
“Yeah, there you go,” I laughed. “Check.”
>”Is every single place name a pun?” Wilcox asked, an eyebrow arched.
“Towns in Equestria are usually named after their founders, or some nearby landmark. It’s one of those strange cross-dimensional coincidences that most have counterparts here.”
>”Like the language?”
“Yes. Most languages here have no counterpart, though. You humans are much more differentiated than us.”
>”Whatever the hell that means,” he muttered. “I raise a dollar.”
>”So you guys had, like, fully functional societies and all that, right?” Lopez asked, beginning to strum idly at the guitar.
“Well yeah, of course. You know I was part of the monarchy in Equestria, but there were other nations too. None quite so powerful and influential as us, but still separate cultures and governments.”
>”Dunno if I’d call ‘em ‘fully functional,’ though,” Chuck commented. “I’ll call.”
“Perhaps they weren’t as large or prosperous as us, but they each had their merits. I don’t think we were further ahead of, say, the Griffons than the United States is ahead of any other nation.”
>”Ehh, maybe wait until you’ve been over to one of those countries before you say that,” Chuck laughed. “Humans in Afghanistan are about as dumb as wild animals in Equestria.”
>”That seems a tad overblown,” Jewel commented, concern evident on her face.
>”Ah, come on, I know you’ve been over there. You know what I mean. Makes you wonder how we’re stuck as slaves while those gas-huffers run about freely, tripping over their nuts.”
>”Alright, that’s enough,” the Major interjected. “Keep it civil, Chuck.”
>”Yes, sir.”
“I suppose my actual interaction with humans has been somewhat limited,” I conceded, “but I don’t know if I buy that. I’ve heard unicorns in Canterlot say the same things about earth ponies, and that’s just not true.”
>”Never seen an earth pony chop a man to bits because he fed his family food aid,” Chuck growled, narrowing his eyes.
>”Drop it,” the commander said, his voice firmer.
“Alright, alright. I’ll call.”
>The night went on for longer than usual, and we cut things off when I had most of the chips but my two prime competitors were still in. Really, though, the money was only a secondary benefit of regular poker nights. Much more valuable was the competition and bonding we could foster here more than anywhere else. Except for Wilcox’s persistent and unyielding irritation and hatred of my race, these nights felt much like how I would spend an evening with my friends in Equestria, and I savored each and every moment of those feelings that I’d forgotten for so long.
>Of course, the situation that had brought us together inevitably worked its way into our topics of conversation. Several of us had taken to tracking news sources across the nation to try and figure out where and when our next assignment might be. If anything happened, it would be the first thing on our minds that night. There was the constant shadow of danger and dismal situations over our minds, and while it made us yearn for action and acutely aware of our work, it also served as a stark reminder that the rest of this world was far less accommodating than this immediate group. It often seemed as though even Wilcox was one of the better men out there.
>We continued on in this way for two more days until finally, after much anticipation, word came through to prepare for another mission late into the evening. As promised, the target was entirely separate from our last – and it may well have been significantly more disturbing.
>The western United States had long been a destination for fringe religious groups of all sorts. With cheap land, minimal government oversight, and neighbors few and far between, groups ranging in size from miniscule cults to the entire Mormon church had fled persecution and oversight in the vast, untamed wildernesses of the West that still stand today. Most of the time, these groups could simply be ignored or quietly sabotaged from within. The cult that had been relegated to our group, however, was another matter entirely.
>Rumors of a bloody cult had circulated around the remote Montana compound for years, but the group was so closed off that little reliable word got out. An audit of their finances, however, revealed an unusually large number of ponies purchased by the organization with seemingly no output. The FBI soon worked a man in, planning to do a standard intelligence gathering operation to be followed up with a police raid, if necessary.
>What they found was a group that was not only murderous in nature, but also armed to the teeth. Sacrifices were made weekly, although the reasoning and motivations for these actions were initially hidden from the group’s new inductee. However, their man inside quickly grew erratic and inconsistent with his reports, until all contact ceased. That unusual turn of events was what convinced them to seek out a more specialized way of disposing of this cult.
>”So,” Major Johnson concluded, “that’s what we’re dealing with. They think there’s some weird magic fuckery going on here and want us to take care of it. Twilight, what do you make of it?”
“It’s… strange. It seems unlikely, but yes, they could have somehow refined necrotic magic into a form they can control and contain. It would explain both the sacrifices and the agent’s madness, which sounds consistent with the sort of influence a necromancer might have. It sounds macabre, but I’d like to see what it is they’re doing, because I don’t believe Equestrian necromancy is possible for anyone but a unicorn. Still, though, you humans have made enough progress on magical techniques that I’d believe it.”
>”How dangerous is this necrotic magic?”
“Highly, and it was banned with few exceptions ages ago. Only the top scholars have access to involved texts on the practice. I think I’m well-studied enough to keep us safe, though.”
>”Fuck,” Wilcox groaned, “I’ve seen some shit, but crazy death cults with real magic are a whole new ball game.”
>”Can’t they just level the place?” Chuck asked. “A few bricks of C4 in the right spots would take care of this shit no problem.”
“Well, no,” I said, cutting off the commander before he could speak. When he motioned, I continued, “It’s necrotic magic. That’s a type of latent magic that doesn’t just go away when its creator dies. It stays, and festers. Most types of latent magic are benign, but not this one.”
>”Well, there’s that,” the commander acknowledged, giving me a nod. “And we also want to figure out what exactly it is that they’re doing out there. These fucks have a lot of money to be carrying on like they are. We aren’t just a bad guy busting team, command uses us when they want something more. Plus, we have no idea if there’s an underground structure of any kind.”
>”So, how the fuck are we doing this?” Wilcox asked, rubbing his temple. “Between bullshit magic shit, armed defenders, and the fortified location, I don’t really see a way in beyond just blasting the fucks.”
>”Well, this is part of why we have Twilight,” the Major said, turning to me. “Nobody knows magic like you do, or so they tell me. Any idea of what to do?”
>I took another look at the maps and documents laid out before me. The compound wasn’t terribly large, only a few hundred feet on each side, but was surrounded by both concrete walls and constantly-manned towers. The compound was situated on a hilltop beside a lake in the center of over 100 acres of private property. Tree cover was present only around three sides of the lake and inside the compound itself, and everything within roughly 100 feet of the walls was intentionally cleared away. Clearly, the occupants were expecting resistance to come at some point.
“It’s certainly an impressive array of defenses,” I mused, trying and failing to find a weak point. “From a physical standpoint, I don’t really see any weak points. Plus, if they’ve managed to weaponize magic, any number of complications could arise. It’s impossible to predict something like that. I think the best strategy might be to just blast a hole in the walls and figure out the best way to go from there.”
>”Really? No idea at all what we could do?”
“Attacking any magical fortification is a gamble. You just have to have strong, adaptable defenses for whatever they throw your way. There isn’t any sneaking around that sort of countermeasure, either, so our best bet might be to worry about the physical walls, towers, and bullets first and the magic later.”
>”Man, I’ve been on some sketchy ops before,” Lopez laughed, “but this takes the cake. You’re sure we can’t just blow it to bits?”
“I don’t think that’s safe, no.”
>”Well, I guess no mission is ever easy. I bet between your magic and the crazy gadgets we’ve got, we’ll make it through alright.”
>”Command’s giving us two days to make a plan, and a week after that to prepare. Frankly, I don’t know if we’ll need all of that time if we go with Twilight’s plan to blast our way in and deal with the consequences. Still, though, I want Twilight and Lopez with me to help plan this assault. The rest of you, practice marksmanship tomorrow until we give you further directions. Understood?”
>”Yes, sir,” the group replied in unison.
>”Alright. Get some shut-eye, we’ll have plenty of time to deal with this tomorrow. No morning PT.”