Aces' Diary

Chapter 12B: Infiltration

Tom moved down the dirt road into the heart of the forest, keeping Thor ready in his hand at all times. He was extremely confident about this trip. With his swordsmanship combined with Thor’s supernatural power, he was unstoppable.

His eyes darted around the environment, wondering when the beasts within the wilderness would emerge from the bushels to strike upon him. There were eyes glowering from various directions: within the bushes, up in the trees, and even in plain areas at afar in the darkness. He didn’t care what they were; they were following him since his entrance to the forest.

His sense never failed him, not in casual life nor combat. Well, maybe once or twice, but he never repeated a mistake. Now that he had gotten himself a pair of shades from Vinyl which allowed him to see in pitch-black conditions, failing to see in the Everfree was pretty much impossible.

He bet that every creature in this cursed forest must have had the same ability too, since it was so difficult to see.

The deeper and deeper he marched, the more dense it was. The eyes lurking within the shadow had disappeared pair by pair over time, their whereabouts unknown to Tom. The path he was following ended before him, revealing a hut in middle of a clearing. It explained the absence of the eyes: a resident of mysterious pony in middle of the clearly dangerous forest.

The hut was carved into a fat elm tree. The trunk was awfully wide, but wasn’t as large as the Golden Oak library. Vines draped over the majority of its branches as if they were snakes squeezing the tree; one could easily mistake them at the distance. Two tribal masks decorated the exteriors: one above the door, and another laid against tree’s root beside the entrance. Twin oval windows made holes on both sides of the door, barring by mere crossed twigs.

Most importantly, several bottles of various hues dangled from the branches with only ropes to hold them.

Tom wondered if the owner of this hut was really a pony or some other being. He had been reading some novels about adventure in African savanna. The masks on the door matched the description of African tribal masks perfectly. The tribe in the great plain was known for cannibalism, from the statement in one of many books, but if it wasn’t proved by many sources, he wouldn’t believe in such mad allegation.

Aside from the uncommon appearance, Tom could smell something foul from each bottle. The scent’s role was possibly to keep any harmful creature at bay; smart tactic.

Suddenly, Tom heard some muffled speech from inside of the hut. The owner’s home, he thought, preparing to dive into the nearest bush in case someone would go outside. Then, he stopped dead. The last time he entered a bush, he stumbled upon a nettle bramble. One could say that he had learnt something in a very hard way that night with that big red rash on his bum: from now on, albeit any situation, he shouldn’t jump into any bush without proper examination.

Leaf after leaf he had stared upon, he finally find an applicable one which he search for. So in he went…

Making himself comfortable in squat position, he peered through thick layers of leaflets. Observation gradually became his profession through countless reconnaissance missions behind enemy’s line until the Commonwealth force desperately retreated in humiliation at Dunkirk a few months back.

sssssssssss…

Tom turned to the source of the noise behind him. It was a snake. His choice of hiding place couldn’t be worse

At the speed of lighting, the snake sprung at him and left two tiny holes over the cross mark on his left hand. He grunted in pain with teeth clenching. Screaming would only attract attention. He retaliated right away by slashing Thor blindly. Such action was foolish of him. He could cut his own hand, but a little resistance in his swing made him realize that he had hit the destined target, and most importantly, it wasn’t his hand. He felt the splash of blood contacting his skin, followed by an audible ‘thud’ on the ground.

Panting heavily, Tom opened his eyes. The pain was almost unbearable. Going to library every now and then gave him knowledge of survival in Africa and other parts of the world. Why had he read so much about Africa? Not long ago, he dreamt about flying in a desert as far as eyes could see, and that was when the Italians attacked Egypt, and when Britain deployed its troops to defend Suez canal from any threat looming.

Back to the point: there were two kinds of snake: non-venomous and venomous. The illustrations of both type of snakes were still fresh within the depth of his memory. He recalled that the venomous family, the pit viper, had triangular head, in exception of the coral snake.

Looking at the decapitated snake, it was definitely dead in that state. Serpent problem aside, he inspected his left hand. To Tom’s surprise, there weren’t any holes on his hand, indicating that the snake which attacked him was, in fact, a non-venomous kind of snake.

Tom shared his sympathy. It shouldn’t have died. With a closer look, he noted that the snake had a beautiful pattern on its skin. Most of its body was brown, except for some part which had a white stripe across. There was also a gooey ball beside its corpse. He made out some features from the unrecognisable bunch; it was just a half-digested vermin.

Interrupting Tom’s train of thought, a series of gunshots echoed through the forest, startling the birds nested on the trees. From squatting stance, he dropped down on the ground in prone position instinctively, and stayed like that until the firing had ceased.

The pattern of the firing was long and unbroken. Machine gun was his first assumption, judging from sound and interval of each shot, unless it was a dozen of soldiers commenced focus firing upon specific target, which of course, impossible. He heard an agonizing scream, muffled by the wind. Someone was shot…

What the bloody hell is happening out there?

Oh it’s nothing! The wounded will survive. Carry on with your head hunting, Thor replied.

Tom was unsure whether if Thor was serious or not, but she was a magical talking sword with supernatural abilities, so distrusting her would be downright foolish.

The door to the hut swung open, revealing a pony-sized insectoid creature. Absent of slightest trace of coat or fur, its skin was as dark as the sky of the moonless night. The horn which adorn on its head was much like that on a rhinoceros’ nose, but unlike its pony counterpart, it was much smaller and had darker shade. Pupils which should be in its eyes were also missing, replaced by blue compound eyes; as well as several portions of its limbs. A pair of long fangs hung down from its upper jaw like vampiric bat.

Before any further inspection of the dark creature could be done, it burst into a green flame right before Tom’s eyes!

He was caught by surprise and stumbled backward, being careful not to fall on the ground, as well as avoid creating any noise.

When the fire died down, in the creature’s place, there stood a female zebra with many golden rings over her neck, smaller rings on her leg, and ridiculously large earrings.

Tom was even more surprised than before, rendering him stunned for a few more seconds.

The zebra shook her head a little bit before walking the path he had taken on his way in. She disappeared into the midst of the forest, leaving the disoriented ace behind.

What the hell was that!? he thought with his jaw dropped.

Shut your mouth, please! You wouldn’t want anything flying in your mouth, Thor suggested, so Tom complied without further question. Things are getting fishy here, Tom. Investigation should be carried out. Be swift and silent like a wolf on the hunt.

Acknowledged, Tom drew Thor out of her sheath, creating a small sound of metal grating with the leather. He rolled toward the suspicious hut. Everything was dead quiet: no wildlife, no natural sound whatsoever. He rolled out of hiding, forward to the building before him. Hard ground had rendered his backside aching, but little pain could wait. He moved silently under the shadow of the house and stopped under one of the windows.

Due to the shininess of Thor’s surface, she doubled as a mirror. Tom held the reflective dagger above him to observe the situation inside.

More of those dark hole-y beings were inside along with a gagged zebra tied to a chair, blindfolded. He spotted three of them plundering the whole place in search for something. This was a great chance for surprise attack, Blitzkrieg style.

Great. A hostage situation.

I’m sure you can handle petty thing like this, Tom. Go and whip their arses!

Tom sighed in annoyance. Thor’s attitude had changed lately, but he could worry about that after leaving this forest. First, was the matter at hand. Discussing it could follow.

My dear master, I shall answer your curious meddling thought afterward. Now, charge in there already!

He had completely forgotten about their telepathic connection. Keep on with this, and he would have no privacy.

Tom took a deep breath, preparing himself for lighting assault. He kicked the door from its hinge and charged inside, hands drawn for combat. The door had flown off under shear force and landed on one of the dark creatures, killing it instantly. The other two flinched at the agony scream of their friend; they stood dumbfounded with jaws dropped.

Taking advantage of the element of surprise, he dashed to the closest one and grabbed its horn, struck hard at the shiny neck, and ripped the decapitated head off its body. Instantaneously, it burst into flame and evaporated away in the thin air. Tom eyes widened, surprised, but the combat hadn’t end yet.

One last ebony creature was finally out of shock. Its horn started glowing sick green light, preparing to cast a spell to eliminate the threat in front of him.

Acting quickly, Tom threw Thor in the air, caught her by the blade tip, and threw her at the attacking creature. She cut through the air like an arrow seeking its target, fast and deadly.

She missed the target by an inch… Instead, she stuck herself into the wooden wall behind the creature.

Tom roared ragefully. Failure isn’t an option, he thought. He was left with his trusty Webley, but his ammunitions was almost out at the moment. He turned to the last option: his two god-given fists.

Tom leapt to the dark creature in attempt to tackle it, and he succeed. Both of them were on the ground, vulnerable. He brawled and wrestled the creature to stay put while he jabbed its face, specifically targeting the two white fangs standing out from the hard black skin.

A fang snapped from its place after several punches. The black creature hissed furiously upon seeing his own beloved fang fallen beside his head. In retaliation, it delivered a powerful kick to Tom’s groin: the universal weak spot for male creature. He stumbled back and dropped to the floor, clutching his life-box.

The creature got up to its leg, wiped its goo-filled mouth with its cheese-like hoof and smirked. It was time to return the favour.

It walked over the ace with difficult, and performed the horn-charging ritual again. He was unsure what the creature planned to do with him, but it would end soon. he closed his eyes, waiting for his judgement.

You bloody half-wit! I didn’t give you powers just to die like a dog! Blink! Godspeed!

Tom had completely forgotten about his newly acquired power. Silly Thomas, forgetting such important matter of life and death… He clenched his fist. The mark etched on his hand lit up in soft golden light.

“Fero,” he muttered. He evaporated into the thin air within a blink of an eye and reappeared next to Thor, a little bit disoriented.

The creature seemed puzzled. One second, the ape was lying at his mercy before him, the next, he was gone. It looked around the house in desperate attempt to find the British ace. Leaving an ape which had murdered his friends on the loose wasn’t a good idea.

POOF

Upon hearing the noise, the creature turned around, readying itself to face the ape. What it saw sent a chill down its spine

Tom’s face matched with the creature’s, dagger at its neck, smiling.

In fear, the black creature’s eyes turned from blue to yellow. It backed away instinctively, away from the razor sharp blade of Tom’s dagger. Tom followed suit. If it kept escaping, he would definitely lose the upper hand, so he grabbed its neck, holding it a little above the ground without suffocating it.

“According ta Geneva convention, er Hayneva convention, ye are ta surrender unconditionally. Nay knavish trick, nay nuthin’, an ye will b’ treated well. If ye dunnae cooperate, ye see yer ma early, understood?” Acknowledged, the creature nodded in reply. “Glad we got that straightened oot.” he slowly put the creature back on the floor, and drew his Webley with an empty hand.

“Wid ye kindly untie the poor lass, Swiss yeese?” Tom kept his sidearm fixed at the ebony creature cautiously. It walked to the chair and bit the rope loose in silence.

“Mercy? Are you sure?” Thor asked.

“Aye, Ahm sure. He was scared oot o’ eis bahooky. Let the ned live. Annae beside. Ah huv som’ quistionin’ ta do.”

After being freed from restraint, the zebra on the chair removed the blindfold. “Thank you for your kindness, to relieve me of that cloth of blindness. Changelings have been meddling with this place, and they never let me have my space. They want news and infos, in exchange for these mojos.” She gestured at her enormous earrings. “Your presence is known, but your might hasn’t shown. They wanted to know, but I could not bestow, so they —”

“Changeling?” Tom started.

“Yes—”

“Why d’ ye want the news?” He turned to the changeling. It remained quiet, avoiding eye contact with the British ace. “Ye’ll mak a better moose food than a talker, eh? Answer me er I will cut ye into pieces an feed em ta hungry rat fer supper.”

Suddenly, there was a noise of burning at the front door. “Антон, Александра, Евгений, я вернулся!” The door swung open, revealing yet another changeling. The gooey pool of blue and green blood of its friend’s corpse sent the creature into shock. It froze there right on the doorstep, unmoving.

The last changeling facehoofed and sighed. It was the last one who still stood. Finally, it spoke, “Я Александра Тредьяковский из COфКР. Серийный номер 33510 из OШО.”

“Whit did ye jus’ say?” Tom asked, puzzled by the gibberish which came out of the changeling’s mouth.

In reply, it repeated the same dialogue.

In confusion, Tom turned to Zecora, “Dae ye ken whit it said?”

In confusion, she tilted her head and cocked a brow. “To ask me this is a dead end, for this language I cannot comprehend.”

“One o’ those Saxon’s tongue are we? A’right I will speak in ‘proper English.’” He paused. “Back ta ye qustion, do ye know what it jus’ said a second ago?”

“The one who's fluent in Equish speech may be out of your power to beseech.” She pointed at the decapitated corpse on the floor with a deadpanned expression. “But on the contrary, they are something to be wary. They possess the power to disguise, which will exceed your surmise—”

Ignoring the rhyme montage, Tom once again began the interrogation. “Listen ta me, ye bugger. I ken ye understand the bloody English. Noo, answer me questions. Why d’ ye want ta know about me?” He stared into the changeling’s pupilless eyes, demanding an answer with his intimidating build.

The changeling remained silent, peering back at Tom with a stoic expression.

“Silent treatment, ar’ we? We’ll see… We’ll see…” Tom backed away for a second before drawing Thor from her sheath at lightning speed. He pulled the changeling’s leg and stabed through one of the cheese-like holes with deadly precision. Of course, the changing tried break free from his grasp, but it was all in vain. “Next, it’ll be any non-hole part o’ yer body. Noo, talk!” He pulled the dagger out. The changeling fell to its haunch, sighing in relief.

What about the Geneva Convention? asked Thor.

Whoops…

“Erm... Sorry. Me emotion has overcome the course o’ me action. It won’t happen again, promise.” Tom smiled awkwardly at the changeling for forgiveness. Then a thought hit him: why’d he not doing proper thing and take them to Equestrian authority? He mentally slapped himself in the head, ashamed of his idiocy.

Now, to execute his plan, he needed to tie them up and escort them out of the forest, but sadly, the available rope resources were too short to even make shoelace. Connecting them via knots would take too long to do. The last resort was to knock them out. Unfortunately, Geneva Convention had prohibited any kind of violence toward surrendered hostile personal, so he had to come up with something…

Tom looked around as he crossed out methods from the options. Then he realized: he was standing in a hut with the zebra who had vast amount of botanical expertise at her disposal!

“Zecora, do ye hav’ any sleepin’ brew er somethin?”

“As the matter of fact, I do.” She walked to a cabinet and opened it. Inside, there were various bottles ranging from small to big, colourful to lifeless black and white. Grabbing the midnight blue hoof-sized one, she handed it over to Tom. “And it’s universal too!”

Tom mumbled a word of thank and proceeded to uncork the vial, which was abruptly stopped by Zecora’s hoof. “This here elixir you hold has an instruction to be told. Apply a dose where it hurts the most, and you’ll find your pain has met its bane.”

Tom nodded, “A’root, got it,” and pulled the cork out. He quickly pinched his nose, blocking the entrance of the possibly-harmful stench which typical potions tended to emit. “S’ Ai splush tae thin’ oon te woon?” said Tom, still with the fingers on his nose, rendering his usual thick Scottish accent incomprehensible.

Zecora gave a simple nod as answer, fetching a shovel from her closet to bury the remains of the changelings. “You should leave now with the two of those, for these bodies I will now dispose.…” She left the spade leaning against her door. “Return to Ponyville. Bury these corpse I will.” Pointing outside the door, she waited patiently for Tom to sedate the changeling while she picked up the shovel with her mouth.

“WAHHHH!”

Without hesitation, he splashed the whole bottle onto the changeling’s head. It yelped in surprise, staggering for a moment before dropping on the floor, out cold. Tom smiled smugly and lifted the sleeping changeling up in his arm.

Amidst the disgusting shell of the changeling, he saw glimpse of cuteness. Everything in this particular world seemed to be adorable. Silly him.

He then proceeded to pick up another survivor of the changeling’s squad. It was still unconscious. Now, he had no means of defending himself in the forest, since both of his hands were occupied with two knocked out changelings.

On his way out, the forest was unnaturally quiet, as if there was something which ceased all the activities of the wild. He paid no mind to it, but he kept his guard up, anticipating for the jump-scare surprise. He swore he caught a flash of a tall pony in a black suit and tie, but it might just have been his imagination.

Finally he was out of the creepy forest. He took a deep breath in relief. How could Zecora live in that forest? he pondered.

“That thing you saw. He was just trying to make sure you get out of the forest unharmed. Shall we give him a visit next time?”

“Meh.” Tom then quickly made his way to Golden Oak Library in search for the mare who would know what to do with these two: Twilight Sparkle.