Vasilyev looked out of the window of the train at the sky. The ride seemed to have taken forever, although it could be that they had been on the train for around two hours now as it sped towards ‘Canterlot’. From the conversations he had caught, it was their capital. Good. It was time to make a statement.

“Ok, everyone.” He said over the radio. “Wake up, load your weapons, and prepare. I have a plan. In ten minutes, we shall begin to climb the hill near the city of ‘Canterlot’. As you know, it is their capital. I propose that, under cover of darkness, we personally confront the rulers and then get away from the city. It should be simple, but remember: You all have several clips of stun rounds originally intended for protesters or those who resist. Load them, not the real thing, and double check. Kozlov, I swear if I hear you threating to kill one of them one more time, I will cut off your dick and find out if you really do have brass balls.

“Are we clear?” He asked. All five men sent individual confirmations; Kozlov’s coming a bit slower than the rest of them.

With that settled, Vasilyev walked over to the group of four ponies. Two of them cowered slightly, one of them stood its ground, while the last one was ready to rush him.

“We shall let you go once we reach the city. Wait ten minutes after we are gone until you leave, or the entire train will blow to pieces.” Actually, that was a lie. They may have had motion sensors and plenty of explosives, but even Kozlov didn’t want to do anything that stupid or rash; they wanted to be feared and left alone, not hated and hunted down.

“Five minutes!” Petrov said over the radio.

Sokolov took the current magazine out of his MTAR-21, replacing it with one of the stun round ‘special ammo’ magazines. They were clearly marked with a yellow stripe on the magazine, but he double-checked to make sure. Even though pilots were not expected to go into combat, they were still required to carry the standard amount of ammunition, either in the cockpit or stowed in the cargo section, where Vasilyev had retrieved his.

He double-checked to make sure it was the right kind of bullet, and nodded. A twenty-round STANAG magazine filled with NATO 5.56x45mm cartridges, fitted with blunt-tipped plastic bullets. Although they could be lethal if shot to the face at close range, they were very effective. Sokolov grabbed for the items that Vasilyev had given him, and pulled out a SVT-2.

The SVT-2, yet another recent creation by the Sozvezdie Electronics Company, was first planned out in late 2013 as a weapon-mounted sonic incapacitation weapon. Unlike the very bulky sets often mounted on Humvees and designed for riot control, the SVT-2 was designed to be attached to almost any weapons rail in the world via an adjustable attacher. The device itself used a powerful series of speakers and a very good battery to direct an extremely focused beam of sound, at the infrasonic level of 7 Hz, into any target within twenty meters. Past that, it easily dissipated. The sound wave, because of its frequency, would pass through almost any solid object (such as walls, floor, ect), so it had to be used carefully in an urban environment. It could cause extreme vertigo and imbalance in any human it hit, and Vasilyev had told them it would probably work on the ponies as well.

The unit itself was fairly normal, and looked like a small grenade launcher with a barrel four centimeters wide, filled with a variety of electronics that he did not know about, nor cared. It was activated via a trigger, much like a normal grenade launcher, that sat behind the main portion. It had to be powered on before use, but that was almost the only drawback. Almost. It was hideously expensive, and the only reason it had been issued in this situation was because of the nature of their original mission. Vasilyev had been provided with twelve of them, since he originally had to carry for the entire squad.

Sokolov moved the slider that turned it on and off forward, a *click* announcing that it was ready. It hummed slightly before silencing, finishing its startup.

“Sir, permission to test the sonic weapon on the ponies?” Kozlov asked, fortunately in Russian.

“Permission denied.” Vasilyev replied. “You can’t test it on them, and it’s not a weapon. It’s a stun device, and if I catch you using it on anything you can find, I’ll tear you a new asshole and dock your pay when we get back.”

Kozlov pouted for a moment before accepting it, out of slight fear if nothing else.

“One minute until we climb! Get in gear; we pass by the outer gate in six minutes!” Petrov said over the radio. All the men in the compartment were either at the windows or, in Sokolov’s case, watching over the ponies.

The train began to tilt a bit. Sokolov looked out the window and noticed a massive cliff wall to their right, moving by at a fast pace.

Petrov spoke up again. “We are now climbing. City in four minutes.”

The train roared into a small tunnel, taking a large curve before emerging into the moonlight again. Judging by their clocks, it was around four o’ clock. Nobody would be out on the streets, so they could move virtually unseen.

Vasilyev pulled back to bolt of his Steyr AUG A3, loading one of the plastic rounds into it. The rest of the men did so as well, preparing themselves for the city. Most of the four ponies watched in fear as they did so, unsure of what they were doing.

“One minute!”

Sokolov looked out the window, and noticed Novikov standing beside him.

“Are you nervous?” He asked the private.

“Of course I am. I’m not Kozlov, to go around threatening them, and I am certainly not eager to purposely enter the lion’s den.” Novikov replied.

Sokolov nodded in understanding. “It will be fine. Don’t worry.”

“The last time someone told me to not worry, we were blown out of the sky, into wherever the hell we are.”

Having no reply for that, the pilot simply shut up and looked out the window. The city was easily in view.

Moments later, they passed underneath a large gate. Several guards were on the walls, obviously not paying much attention to the train. As they passed into the city, they noticed the streets were deserted.

The train slowed to a stop at an empty station. Not a soul stood on the platform, or anywhere near it. Sokolov and the others disembarked, shooting a last look towards the four ponies inside of the car. They quickly met up with Petrov and, after looking in all directions for the castle, found the looming shape and started moving towards it.

Vasilyev aimed his rifle down an alleyway, finding it empty. He started walking down it, followed by the other five men. They broke into a jog as they headed down alley after alley, not spotting anything on the streets when they had to cross them. Apparently, the cities, during the night, were not at all busy.

Within eight minutes, they had reached the wall of the castle. It rose up, an open window twelve feet above them. Apparently, a second-story room. Thankfully, the stones of the castle wall, although smooth, had small outcroppings in places, and the team was able to quickly ascend to the window.

They emerged into a dark room. Quickly scanning it, they found the room completely empty, for which Vasilyev thanked god. They moved to the door, listening for any sounds outside of it. Finding none, they opened it.

The Spetsnaz soldiers fanned out in all directs, looking around. Not a guard was in sight, so they could proceed. They headed towards what they assumed was the center of the castle on the off chance that the throne room would be there. A side passage, marked ‘Guard Balcony’ in English, was on the side of a hallway. Being able to read it, Vasilyev motioned for them to go there. It led to a long, winding staircase, which, after around forty vertical feet, opened up onto a tiny hallway.

The soldiers had to duck to get through it, so the going was slow. Finally, a sharp 90 degree turn and light emitting from around it marked that there was something there. Vasilyev slowed to a halt by it, holding up his hand as a signal to stop. Slowly, he poked his head around the corner.

A guard pony, a pegasus, stood there, at attention and facing away from them. He was on a balcony, obviously, that overlooked some sort of room, what kind he could not tell. Vasilyev slowly walked towards the pony, making sure his SVT-2 was online, before raising his rifle.

He pulled the trigger of the acoustic weapon while aiming it directly at the guard’s head. The guard looked around for a moment before raising a hoof to its head, swaying slightly. Vasilyev rushed forward and caught it as the guard collapsed, lowering it gently to the ground. The faint sound of talking could be heard from beyond the balcony, so, after he finally knocked out the guard in its vertigo-induced state, he motioned Petrov to move forward and record the audio, transmitting it to the others at the same time. As one, they peeked over the edge.

At the end of a large room, twenty feet down and ten feet away, stood a blue pony that had both wings and a horn. It was obviously talking to the pony in front of it, so Vasilyev boosted the audio in his ear piece.

“-And I think that thou knows full well what will happen if thou shall come to me again with such a ridiculous request.” The blue one was saying in English.

“But Princess Luna!” The pony pleaded. “The Commoners have to know their place! Why shouldn’t we relocate several of them to make way for a monument to you?”

“Out!” The blue one yelled in a voice that caused even Petrov to wince in pain. The pony ran out without a second glance, leaving the large blue one smirking.

“Are there any more out there, Guard?” It asked.

The guard it was referring to shook its head, indicating a no. Vasilyev quickly looked around the room for guards, noticing that the only ones in the area were the two in front of the throne. He activated the backpack radar for half a second, scanning in a 200-meter radius of them. No more guards, except in scattered locations.

“Alright, men.” He said. “On the count of five, Petrov and I will open fire on the guards. We drop down to the floor, but remember your training! You could sprain something if you don’t take the fall right. We give our message, and we leave, quickly. Remember, speed is of the essence.”

“Five.” Petrov spoke as he raised his SVU-A, fitted with low-speed stun rounds. They wouldn’t be the normal supersonic bullets that he fired, but rather ones that left the barrel at anywhere around 200-220 kilometers per hour, with enough force to drop a normal human.

“Four.” Vasilyev said. “Three.”

“Two.” Sokolov interrupted over the radio, causing a small laugh.

“One.” Petrov said as he put his hand to the trigger, a round firing out of his rifle with a muted *bang*, hitting the guard to the right. At the same time, Vasilyev pulled the trigger for a second on his rifle, sending three plastic bullets into the gut of the guard to the left. Both of the surprised guards dropped to the ground, groaning, as Petrov and Vasilyev vaulted over the balcony rail, taking the fall with a small roll at the end.

“Don’t move!” Vasilyev said in English to the startled ‘Princess Luna’ as the other four men jumped off the balcony and did their own rolls, fanning out to cover the corners of the room.

“What are thee!” The large horned pegasus said to them, staring right at Vasilyev.

“We have come to deliver a message.” He replied. “Do not bother us, and we shall not bother you. Your hunt for us has been going on for far too long, and we disapprove of it. Remember that we could be anywhere, at any time.”

With that, the men started to run out of the ‘throne room’, ignoring the blue pony that was staring, wide-eyed, at them the entire time. They ran for the door, opening it and rushing for the outside. After two minutes and avoid several guards (and using the SVT-2s on several more), they finally reached what looked like an open garden. It was then that Vasilyev’s HUD flashed a blue light. The lieutenant stared at it with surprise for a moment, before turning to the other men and saying four words.

“We are not alone.”

Author's Note

And there we are! The cliffhanger start to Act II!