AiE: Assassin In Equestria Chapter 2 Part 1

>Discord, with a snap of his bony fingers, commanded reality to resurface from its hole and into the reanimated assassin's vision.

>Stood rooted by bewilderment, you watched the pure-white coat of the environment shredded within seconds, fading slowly to an oblivion of darkness. Silence crept up the room and plugged in the ringing noise in your ears.

>But after an eerie amount of time, a creak of bolts came to hearing. Flicking your head to your back, there stood a wooden, ordinary door with nothing special to point. Just a normal door anyone would use, to be honest.

>Your feet, step by step, became heavy with unease. Is this really a deliberate trap for you to fall? Are they actually needing an experience hitman to take on Celestia again?

>Answers came to be when the door opened. A breathe in and your foot dragged your fear-frozen body into the unknown...

>…

>Sweet silence... Maybe peaceful but.. It's what you needed awhile...

>Drifting off to wonderland is nice. Maybe get some rest...

Chrysalis: “Now now hotshot. The assignment just begun. Get on your feet.” With a growl at the end, you pried your eyes open by the sudden icy winds.

>Gasping by the beautiful sight, there stood the hired assassin gazing from the snow-blanket mountain with chilled breezes passing through now and then as its companion. The lush trees from Everfree Forest crowded the old rundown Canterlot with its envy-green peace.

>From a distance, built from humble scrap, cement and unrestful slaves is the Canterlot Castle shone with the betraying Sunshine, with the proud yet tragic ruler controlling the city. Breathing in the cold air and with a click around your ears, you checked your functioning blue-lenses HUD for any incoming objectives. There's stated:

<> Grab yourself a gun.

>That couldn't be more obvious than it could, can it? Looking around the balcony, you found yourself a classic Desert Eagle with a suppressor attachment along with only a single stack pistol magazine perching on the ledge, devastating close from the drop. With a quick hand, the gun is now in your possession.

>Ain't this gonna be fun? Well with only 6 shots in the clip, doubtful.

>You slowly creaked open the door with caution, in case of any guards on duty. Checking the room thoroughly, the settings sure were amazing to your standards. The red, floppy carpet had been cut to reach the balcony with the complimenting wooden-polished floor, built like a cabin.

>The desk on your right side had some stacked papers, ordinary stationery and this admirable head of a statue. Suspiciously, the face rang a bell but you had no chance of catching more than a glimpse as mumbling came to your attention.

 >Speak of the devil, there is one facing away from you. A griffon with no body armor vests or any explosives tools. Just a classic AssasultMan. With the golden-yellow army rank symbol on his arm, it's a private ranked. Can't put much of a fight.

>You kept away your D.E to your pocket and charged towards him with haste and a heavy arm to knock him down. Caught off-guard, his body slammed onto the polished wall of the room and vandalized the portraits hung with his thick blood. With no time to waste, your knuckles jabbed him in the central bone of his neck, detaching his head from the spine with just a pop from your rock.

>With a gleam on your face, you proceeded on taking the corpse's privacy to your hands. Looting from his body can only gave you a slick MP5, two single stack Pistol Magazine and a cigarette pack. Lovely.

>With a puff of smoke to make you feel at ease, you grabbed the woolen-sticthed chair and took a break.

Anon: “HUD, objective status.”

</>Grab yourself a gun.

<>Information might be helpful. Interrogate.

>How? Who to interrogate? The only time you used your head was only for sniping, ambushes and silent assassination contracts and sarcastically head smashes. Besides that, a rowdy run-and-gun was the meaning of infiltration.

>Whispers passed through the thin walls. You had considered a showdown was in order. A certain suppressed Desert Eagle killed the lights with a flash from the chamber

>The door creaked open and there stood two guards.

Griffon Lieutenant #1: “Why is it dark around here?” The other shrugged his shoulders with claws at shoulder level.

Griffon Sergeant #2: “Who killed the -”

>He stared down with fear as a Desert Eagle filled his mouth with a bullet, splattering the Lieutenant with the warm spill of blood. Accuracy-boosted and gag-reflexes that is sharp like a blade, you shot the other in the leg and dragged her into the room with no hesitation. Doors locked and a rope to fill up the perky beak and restricting her movements, you started digging for answers.

>From the chilly darkness was a table lamp working as a source of light and a boost of intimidation. With strength that could challenge Iron Will, you plotted the body down on the table and offered a bud to her. Sadly, she turned down.

>You observed the special features of this griffon close. A purple colored flame-shaped fur inserted between her angry eyes with rage making her white-feathered head about to burst. Her outfit was a smooth streamlined-customize suit, with pockets emptied out for your inspection.

>Flashing the lamp on her eyes, almost searing it, a stern breath laid on her chest before you began questioning.

Anon: “Before I ask you any questions, I'd like to point out shouting for help will result in death. As a matter of fact, any form of retaliation or rebellion will kinda make you end up like your buddy over there. Would you comply to my terms?”

>Nudging your head to the corpse, you stressed out the consequences. Expected, the young feisty griffon nodded hers with eyes glaring at you. You pulled down the saliva-drenched rope before she had a chance to chomp your hand.

???: “Fine, dweeb. Whatcha want?”

Anon: “First your name.”

???: “Gilda”

Anon: “Well that rang the bell. Anyway, tell me more about this little hideout in the mountains.”

Gilda: “Damnit, if only I could call out my boys.”

Anon: “Well too bad. I'm the one calling the shots.”

>Within seconds of contemplating and analyzing her memory, she spoke out every nook and crook, every corner and hallways and even codes and names was noted in your HUD. Field day for the Assassin. Lovely. There's still a piece of information left out.

>The stern look that furrowed your eyebrows returned as you cut the distance between each other. The griffon leaned back, taking back some private space.

Anon: “What about your armory?”

>She looked away, shame would be brought upon her existence if she were to release it to an intruder. She shook her head with demise.

Gilda: “Like I would give it out, you fucking dweeb.”

>By Celestia with her razor-sharp claws, she broke free from entanglement and clawed your face, the cut mildly burning under your left eye and almost damaging your HUD. Taking advantage of the situation, she spread her wings and flung herself towards you.

>Simple logic came to counter the sudden outburst, you stepped to the left and leading Gilda to a harsh headbutt on the wall. Ending the combat was a simple merciful chop to her neck, losing her consciousness slowly like leaves spinning down from the autumn branches.

Anon: “I'll let you live. Meanwhile, I'll see you later, dweeb.” A smooch on the cheek and stripping off her trenchcoat for your liking before you took off.

>Re-running through the information she gave, floor number eleven was what she missed out. With certainty, you approached the hidden lair of weaponry.

Discord: “See that, Chrysalis? His heart beats for another!” A laugh transmitted in your HUD.

NMM & Chrysalis: “Shut up, Draco.”

…

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Time: 14:35

Location: Eleventh Floor of Griffon Towers, unknown territory.

Mission: Gear up.

…

>The vents never got so cramped in your life and it's no use blaming the trenchcoat you just acquired. Ironically, you never had been in a vent for any missions but instead acted like the famous video game character, Shake from Metal Shear Solid. Great time you had in your childhood, wishing for a flashback...

>Had to laugh in a closed space that could echo through the whole hideout was the apparent downfall of this mission, you kept it at rest as you kneed your way through. Arms were not apparently as strong as your legs and can't hook your way through with those meaty tiles, legs were the better option.

>Within minutes of crawling through tough spaces, a grail had shown hope through and shown you a surprise. A wide variety of weaponry came to spotlight. This sector had the heavy artillery such as the terrorist-striking RPG-7, skin-shredding MiniGun, bunker-busting Grenade Launchers and so forth.

>A tear came to your eye. Such love for destruction, a compliment for the Griffons.

>Lifting the metallic-silver grail and sliding it away, you hanged your head from the ceiling and spectated the environment. The light-peach colored room was design as an even layout of a box, so personnel could identify spies or infiltrators through the bulletproof glass panel from outside.

>Dropping down could just cause an alarm and bye-bye goes life as you knew it. With caution and sharp sight, a silver-texture camera did not detect your presence with its blood-red lenses.

>Nothing like a surprise for the surveillance camera like the blinding bullet shattering the lenses. It would take the CCTV personnel to detect a problem about fifteen minutes, so you could go shopping with the various state of the art guns. Gilda did boast about that.

>You dropped down, on a kneeling position and a hand out to support and cushion your fall, not to give out a crashing sound for the guards outside to pick up the pieces. With a breath of anxiousness, you placed your hands on the carelessly-slotted weapons and grabbed yourself a RPG-7.

>You knocked on the glass panel and waved merry at the dumbfounded guards. Surprised and stupid, they busted through the roughed-up metal operating doors, only to find themselves slammed down onto the floor by a RPG-7 whacking their pityful broken faces. No mercy was shown to them... If they had a pair of eyes to see that or even a face to keep as a souvenir.

>A soft bling sound popped up in your objective checklist.

<> Gear Up.

NEW <> Get insane in the brain. Get me some of those sassy beaks and I'll pay up some extra. ~Sombra

>For the money or for remorse? You thought for a minute but to hell with it. You're an assassin, the executioner working for the judge in Court. Bump after bump on the gorish corpse, brains slid along the floor like ice and eyes squashed to a delicious treat, you were left with the beaks of the saddened guards.

>With some of those ropes you entangled Gilda in, you form a necklace-like structure around the RPG-7. Looks good to be honest, with the color of the beaks complicating the burst of rocket projectiles.

>Hooked at the back of your trenchcoat covering your suit, you started scavenging for weaponry at the other sectors of the floor.

>Grabbing an ammunition vest and a pouch, you filled up the sacks with necessities as if Halloween came in early. Stressing out the usefulness of the random attachments slanged on your weapons, you walked towards the locked barricade of doors.

>With a surprise in the door, you knocked a happy beat on the doors to give a mention to the guards outside. Just as planned, the guards took a step in and BOOM goes the C4 planted. Your laughter competed with the whirling triggered alarms above your head, making the hallway leading to the door look bloody red.

“INTRUDER ON FLOOR 11. INFILTRATION BREACH, HEAVY WEAPONRY IS NOTED. WARNING WARNING...”

>That took a good few minutes to rev up your inner-chi. Your mind locked into position as perks came flashing in front of your face initialized from HUD. Choose what you pick, pick what you like, every perk is deadly by the slightest touch.

Anon: “HUD, pick me Gag-Reflex, Kill-With-Skill and Rock-Hard-Body.”

>With a whirl of electronized flowers covering your body, the trustworthy HUD had done its work and what's left in your checklist was the missing point of “Kill everyone in sight”. Ain't that lovely?

</> Gear Up

</> Make a sick necklace from those beaks. $200+ and thank you, Assassin. ~Sombra

NEW <> Kill. ~ NightMare Moon.

>Ain't that more lovely? As the sound of screeching came about from the ceiling, you raised your MiniGun for devastating results. Not to be sad, it did. As swarm of Griffons brushed you the painful claws, your perks kept you in place. Scratch after scratch, bullets shredding through the tissues and muscles and evil laughter after laughter, you feared that your enemies were too easy for you.

>But hell, you're experienced by Celestia knows how many folds.

>Nothing could stand after the Minigun's blazing bullets shredding the physical bodies of the Griffons.

 >With a dying life, a griffon emerged from the pile of dead chunks and wanted to say a few words to you. Merciful but ironic, kneeling down to pray unto his last words, you gave an ear...

“Tell my... husband...” Coughing out some blood drops, she continued...

“Tell him... To fuck off...”

>Head hanged and tears streaming down the griffon's furr, you smoked another bud with a gift from you to her. A molotov cocktail to commemorate the dead by joining the silent air through every cell in their body disappearing

>With nothing left to do, you headed off to your required destination...

------------

Time: 14:50

Location: Ground Floor, Barracks

Mission: Burn the Barracks and make it a sanctuary for rebels.

…

>A love for death can really fill up a mercenary to his or her's heart delight. A little reason goes a long way towards a tragic death but hey, it's fun while it lasted. Building up a body to go through extreme conditioning is a bargain for an assassin. More fit means more memorable deaths. Hue.

>You thought, wait a second. Why am I thinking about this? Aren't I supposed to step out of the elevator and kill the griffons? True to that.

>As the final wave approached the hour, you breathed in and focused hardly on the army. Name what you like to see, CloseQuaterCombatants, HeavyArtillery and even MarksMan took place along the long stretch of stones piled up as a barricade.

>As you smiled with glee, you were about to unleash a barrage of...

Gilda: “Damnit you faggot, get yourself back together!”

>Slapped you back to reality, you snapped back to the interrogation.

Gilda: “You really thought you could take on one hundred and fifty Griffons, did ya? Cocky, I'll give you that.”

>With your head hung low, it's the end for you...

Gilda: “Not only shall I give you a firing squad, I'll give you our consideration of joining us rebels.”

PART 1 END