A Different Kind of Op

by TheCrimsonFlash

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Human, Main 6, Princess Luna, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Spike, Comedy, Romance, Princess Celestia
Length: 24965

When a 25 year old Spec Ops lieutenant is transported from the line of duty to the magical land of Equestria, how will he cope? Can he learn to forge a new life with his new friends? Or will his own past come back to haunt him?

Ty Greaves is a 25 year old Spec Ops soldier from the United States. And he is a man with a past. But while on a routine mission to eliminate a target in Yemen, things take a turn not even he could have imagined in his wildest dreams. Now, on his own, separated from those he knew, with only the clothes on his back, and the gear in his bag, can he forge a new life here with the help of some new friends? Or were some things in a man's past never meant to stay buried?

Published 2014-01-25 21:10:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-12 20:45:22 UTC

Chapter 0 - Briefing

THE CONTENTS OF THIS FILE HAS BEEN AUTHORISED FOR VIEWING ONLY BY OPERATIVES WITH CLEARANCE LEVEL: OMEGA BLACK 1

ANY ATTEMPT TO READ THE CONTENTS OF THIS FILE WITHOUT THE PROPER AUTHORISATION IS AND WILL BE CONSIDERED BOTH AN ACT OF TREASON AND CONSPIRACY TO LEAK CLASSIFIED INFORMATION BY THE U.S GOVERNMENT, AND APPROPRIATE ACTION WILL BE TAKEN

AFTER ACTION REPORT, OPERATION DESCENDING MOON, 15/01/14

NAME OF CONCERNED PARTIES: POTUS, VPOTUS, SECDEF

CONTENTS: CLASSIFIED REPORT INTO BOTH THE ACTIONS AND SHORTCOMINGS OF BOTH OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS CONCERNING THE ACTIVITY DESCRIBED IN OPERATION DESCENDING MOON

NOTE: To those concerned, I have attached a personnel file below this note, so you will know the history of parties involved

NAME: Ty Greaves

AGE: 25

APPEARANCE: 6 foot 1 inch in height, dark black hair (Reasonably long, “shaggy”), often facial stubble, scars across chest, fairly well built, large muscle mass

WEIGHT: 168lbs

RANK: First Lieutenant

CURRENT MILITARY POSITION: Operative 3, Callsign “SHADOWSTRIKE”, in United States SPECTRE programme (Special Protection, Extraction, Counter Terrorism and Recon Ensemble)

NOTE: As you know, SPECTRE was a black budget U.S Spec Ops team set up in late 2011, to counter terror threats both on home soil, and overseas. SPECTRE team, consisting of 5 handpicked members, has seen successful operation and action in countries.

HISTORY: Ty Greaves was born in British capital of London on November 7th 1989 into a poor income family living in one of it's poorer areas. He attended public school, and from records (See attached), he was an intellectually able student, if emotionally troubled. Due to his background, he was subsequent to frequent bullying, which often manifested itself physically. We have reports (See attached) from many local hospitals detailing frequent youth visits by Ty, all of which show physical bruising and evidence of assault. The school’s response to this is unknown, but judging by the number of these reports, it is safe to assume that the action was practically non-existent or at the very least, not enough. However, some reports suggest physical injuries beyond the capability of a youth student. Possibility of family violence was explored but no conclusive leads were found.

Despite facing this adversity, Ty made his way through public school, achieving well, and allowing him access to higher education. However, at age 18, Ty applied for an American Green Card, and once it had been approved, he moved to Washington DC stateside, where he signed up to join the U.S Military. He was assigned a position at the United States Army Basic Training Camp, completing his Basic Combat Training at Fort Jackson in Columbia, as well as completing his Advance Individual Training at Infantry School at Fort Benning, also in Columbia.

He completed all aspects of his training with determination and tenacity his superiors report was very rare to see in any recruit. Greaves’ drill sergeant during his time in BCT stated that, while he rode Greaves hard, he displayed a profound sense of emotional maturity and grit that was extremely out of character for a recruit of his age. He was reported to be level-headed, as well as an intelligent and “switched-on” character, who was a “first one in, last one out” kind of guy. He was always there to both talk to other recruits and keep fights apart that may not have always been spotted by drill instructors. He was said to be popular among many recruits, as well as quite quick and witty. The drill sergeant also mentioned that, despite his exposure to much American dialect and culture, Ty maintained an air of "britishness" about him that distinguished him from others on the course.

During his AIT, he picked up what can only be described as a natural ability in Close Quarters Combat, often performing better than instructors. While CQB was not specifically covered on the course, he honed his skills outside, becoming extremely proficient with SMG’s, and hand-to-hand combat. This naturally evolved into other military avenues of interest, such as Sniping, and, although sources are unclear on whether this was a more laterally developed skill, Archery.

After passing all aspects of Basic Training, he went on to join 32nd Infantry Division of the United States Army, after passing a mandatory psych evaluation. This was expected to cause a problem by his superiors. Greaves had developed a reputation throughout basic training, but most, if not all, were aware of his upbringing, and feared this may cause problems. However, he passed the evaluation with flying colours (See report attached for details), and was admitted into the division at the rank of Private in 2008. During his year with the division before their 14-month deployment to Iraq, Greaves quickly worked his way up the ranks to become a Sergeant Major, again surprising his superior officers. He continued to expand his skill set, and began to study both martial arts, and continued to train his proficiency in sniping.

In the February of 2009, Greaves was deployed along with the rest of his platoon, to serve a 14-month deployment overseas in Iraq. In a combat environment, and according to numerous superior’s reports, the normally quiet and reserved Greaves thrived in his own way, moving up the ranks again to Chief Warrant Officer 2, based on many events, one of note in which he saved a large proportion of his squad that was with him on foot patrol from going into a house that was rigged by insurgents to explode upon entry. When questioned, Greaves simply stated it was a “gut feeling”. He was proven correct. When checked, the house did contain a large amount of explosive material, as well as shrapnel designed for soft targets, wired up to a crude trip wire system in the doorway. Greaves had saved his squad from an event that would’ve lead to numerous injuries, or even fatalities, and for that, he was recognised in rank.

However, this was not the most notable of Greaves’ achievements. This came in his act in November 2010, which caught the attention of higher-ups in the SPECTRE programme. He and his squad were doing a routine check of a village, when it was beset upon by insurgent forces, which had obviously been waiting to ambush any visitors to the town that looked to be wearing US combat fatigues. While exact details of Greaves’ heroics are sketchy and unsubstantiated, it is maintained by those who served with him that he single-handedly saved the squad, AGAIN, by engaging multiple hostiles in hand-to-hand combat. As mentioned, the exact details are sketchy at best, and Greaves’ himself refused to comment about it when he returned to base camp. This is backed up by reports from fellow soldiers that suggested, after the event, Greaves didn’t seem himself, becoming more quiet and withdrawn. While not suggested in his psychological profile, some of the camp medics believed him to be suffering a mild form of depression, and in one medic’s case, almost a certainty of feeling “survivor’s guilt”, as his “battle buddy”, who had been with him since his BCT, was KIA during the attack. Again, Greaves’ refused to elaborate, instead opting to remain quiet, but was often seen by other military personnel sat alone gazing into the distance.

He was subsequently rewarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions during the combat, earning himself another promotion to the rank of First Lieutenant, where he is today. A short time after this event, he was handpicked to become a member of SPECTRE squad.

The SPECTRE squad was developed as a direct branch of the US Military to combat foreign and domestic terror threats. It was a black book, off the record branch, specifically designed and organised to be used where no other asset could, and consisted of soldiers of all specialities. From soldiers like Greaves, who were CQB AND Long Range specialists, to specialists in Demolition, Hostage Rescue, Heavy Weapons and Stealth. As previously mentioned, the group has had many successes in its past, dealing with threats both on home and foreign soil such as in Russia, Iran, Iraq, and others. Greaves has served with distinction since his inclusion to the group, under the command of Colonel Matt McGregor, despite suggestions that, in months leading up to the publication of this report, he has become ever more quiet, withdrawn and reserved, seemingly expressing a desire to leave the group. This was not a lead that was chased up.

THE FOLLOWING IS A BRIEF SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS OF OPERATION DESCENDING MOON

Operative SHADOWSTRIKE was inserted behind the Yemeni border to a small town called Al Hudaydah, with the express goal of eliminating a foreign threat that had been exposed to the US Government by intercepted calls the NSA has picked up between a sleeper cell in the country. The cell has been dealt with since the publishing of this document. SHADOWSTRIKE was inserted as planned, equipped with his selected kit (NOTE: While highly irregular, the operatives in SPECTRE unit are given the ability to take in to any job the tools THEY believe they will need to accomplish the objective. While highly irregular, the results speak volumes, and so has been left untouched) and was given a rendezvous point with a vessel the US Navy had commandeered for extraction of the operative, made easier by the fact that the town was situated only a very small distance from the coast. The boat also contained 2 more SPECTRE operatives, armed and ready to engage should the plan fail to go accordingly. SHADOWSTRIKE was given a fairly rigid timescale to stick to, and was given an encrypted comms device to keep command up to date with his progression. Things proceeded as planned, until for some as of yet unknown reason, SHADOWSTRIKE’s comm line went dead. Thinking nothing of it, as it was not uncommon for an operative to cut their own comm line in danger, the extraction team did not pursue. However, after another hour without comm connection, the team reported seeing a “large flash of white light” in the sky above town, followed by a “deafening boom”. Fearing the use of heavy ordinance, and that their comrade had been discovered, they moved in on foot to the location. Upon arrival, they breached the “compound”, but found 2 dead Yemeni militia, which had seemingly been dispatched in a way that suggested the work of SHADOWSTRIKE (Certain signatures such as a stab wound matching SHADOWSTRIKE’s blades, and shell casings from a SPECTRE issue USP pistol) Moving through the compound, they located the “command centre”. Their report showed the presence of a chair however, on the roof, with handcuffs connected to it, and car batteries and jump leads surrounding it. There was a large amount of blood surrounding the chair too. Operatives also collected a sample of hair from the floor, bagging it to check later, as well as taking a blood swab. Many of the men in the compound were unconscious, including the militia leader, who was found dead on the roof, however, one was removed from the roof and taken back to the extraction vehicle for debriefing. When he came to, command fetched a Yemeni interpreter to speak on behalf of the radical. The transcript of the debrief is, to be frank, nonsensical. The militia member spoke of bright lights,and the operative apparently glowing? He also stressed that, shortly before the event occurred, the man they had captured (Operative SHADOWSTRIKE presumably) was seemingly talking to himself. Command dismissed this as nonsensical rambling, and believe nothing said by the operative would compromise the security of the op, mainly due to the amount of subjective pain the militia member reported him to be in. Medics within the team believe, despite the lack of evidence, that what SHADOWSTRIKE was saying was merely the result of pain induced hallucinations. Command are still holding onto the militia member. Our presence has seemingly gone unnoticed, despite the strange happening in the town. Local media are reporting it as a freak weather storm, which we are happy to run with, as we can maintain deniability of any wrongdoing.

However, one thing cannot be overlooked. The seemingly unusual shortcomings, and subsequent disappearance of operative SHADOWSTRIKE, who was not retrieved at the scene, nor has any trace been seen of him in the days following this. As a direct result, we are having to declare Operative Ty Greaves MIA. As is standard policy for a black book op, we must maintain deniability, and, if questioned, will refuse to acknowledge his presence or involvement with any kind of US Military programme. Since Ty was single, with no living parents or next of kin, his records are to be removed from all government databases. For all intents and purposes, Ty Greaves doesn’t, and never did exist. Command is requesting a new operative for the SPECTRE programme, and will be passed a list of suggestions shortly, at your discretion of course. We will ensure that the NSA also, discretely, ensures satellite watch over the Al Hudaydah region of Yemen with their MONOCLE satellites to ensure that if Greaves is discovered alive, he is picked up by the proper authorities, however unlikely such an event is.

END OF REPORT

ADDENDUM – Lab technicians have apparently analysed the hair and evidence collected by the other operatives at the scene of SHADOWSTRIKE’s seeming disappearance. The results they have returned are somewhat........... Irregular. DNA samples collected from the blood do indeed appear to belong to Operative Greaves, however, the hair sample collected appeared to be from...... A creature of equine origin. Apparently the lab team can’t be more specific right now, as it contains a DNA structure unlike our own. These findings will be in a separate report filed shortly.

Chapter 1 - The Best Laid Plans...

Smoke...... Billowing smoke, hanging in the air.......Fire..........Encompassing the entire village......The shrill screaming of mothers, crying for their dead.......

I can still taste the blood and malice in the air. I’m rooted to the spot, in a low crouch position. My grip on my weapon is a solid as steel, but my grip on my own mental resolve is weakening by the second.

I realise I’m still staring down the sight of my gun. It’s been........... I can’t even remember how long ago since I killed him. His body is still lying crumpled in front of me, his final words lost forever at the back of a throat that will never be used again.

I can’t bear to tear myself away from the scene confronting me. All around, I can hear chaos erupting, even if I can’t see it. My combat gear is covered from explosions that showered dirt and dust all over me. But that isn’t important .Not right now. What I notice..... What I FEEL.... Even if I can’t see it.... Is the blood spatter across my face.

His blood.

What once gave life to the man before me, now leaking into the charred and scorched soil he lay crumpled in. His clothes carried the evidence of my crime. Torn fabric across his chest in 3 separate places. And in those 3 separate places, 3 separate bullet holes. And from those 3 separate bullet holes, there did leak his life essence, draining away from the shell of someone who once was. They were “through and through” wounds. The bullets penetrated the skin, carving a bloody way through whatever stood before them, before emerging on the other side again. He never stood a chance.

In spite of everything occurring around me, I feel a hand come down on my shoulder. I can’t move. I daren’t. I know exactly who it is. I simply can’t bring myself to look at him.

“Back again are we?”

I remain silent. It isn’t a conscious choice. I can do nothing. I only feel those words tunnel into me as if they were the bullets I had fired.

“You know why you’re here, don’t you Ty?”

Again, nothing. I try. I really do. I move my mouth, but no words come.

“Until you can learn to let go, this is going to keep happening Ty” The voice states. I can almost hear the pity in his voice. “You can play this moment over and over again in your subconscious, but no matter how much you may want to, you can’t change what happened here. It is done. Let go.”

Finally, my voice creeps into action. But the words I speak fall like lead bars from my mouth.

“You KNOW I can’t do that......”

“Hey, fine by me man” the voice speaks, *“I guess we’re just gonna keep repeating this little song and dance. But for now, it’s time for you to go”*. I feel the hand lift off my shoulder.

From somewhere in the distance, I hear a voice scream.

“GREAVES! GET INTO FUCKING COVER!”

Before I can move an inch, I hear the distinct *CRACK CRACK CRACK* of gunfire erupt from somewhere behind me. I feel 3 dull

*THUD*s impact in various places along my back. But I feel no pain.

Instead, I can only feel the world falling away from me. Like I’ve dropped off a cliff......

“Until next time Ty......”

................................

................................

................................

“GREAVES!...... DAMN IT GREAVES, SNAP OUT OF IT! 5 MINUTES TO DROP POINT”

I came to with a start, realising I was still sat, strapped into my seat on the C-160. I knew what had happened. I’d had another “episode”. I would try to keep them in check as much as I could. After all, “a true soldier shows no weakness”. Even my shrinks don’t know I have them, despite the fact I’m convinced they have their suspicions. My comrades and commanding officer on the other hand? Well, let’s leave it at that I think they know more than they let on....

As my senses began the slow start-up process on the way to full functionality, I looked over my shoulder, trying to spot the owner of the voice who had pulled me from my..... Nightmare.

The pilot of the C-160 transport aircraft looked over his own shoulder at me from his seat at the helm of the beast, and despite the relatively dark surroundings I was in, I’m almost certain I could make out a small spark of worry in his eyes.

“Heh, I suppose he should be” I thought to myself, “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want his ass in the fire if this thing goes south ‘cause I’m not awake when they throw me out of this tin can!”. I allowed myself a small, personal chuckle.

It DOES, after all, make for quite humorous imagery to imagine some pilot trying to explain to the captain of a US Spec Ops team he shouldn’t even KNOW about, much less be flying around, why one of their team members ended up a red smear in the sand because he was so away with the fairies that he couldn’t even deploy his own chute!

I decided I had better alleviate him of his fears. Preferably before he shat himself.

“Don’t worry man!” I shouted, using the headset built into my flight helmet to allow for pilot-passenger communication. “I’m ready and raring to go!”

“Thank Christ man! You had me worried for a second! Are you ok? You look like you worked up a real sweat in that gear!” He replied

I took a second to look down at myself, past the straps holding me in my seat, to my flight gear. Obviously, this wasn’t what I would be wearing when boots hit the ground, but it was necessary to keep me from freezing my ass off on the decent. “Great” I thought to myself. “Not only have you managed to have an “episode” right before a crucial op, but you now look like that one kid at school who never got the whole “clean clothes” thing down too.....”

I realised he was still staring at me.

“Yeah, I suppose I did! Anyway, how long is it to the drop point now? And can you run me through the target one more time?”

I know that the question I posed to him is one he shouldn’t have been able to answer, but, as I said, he WAS the one flying me here, since all other SPECTRE assets were unavailable at this time. So, reluctantly, we had to pull in a pilot from outside the squad, threaten to pretty much take his world apart piece by piece if he let slip any op details, then brief him on what I, and I alone, was about to do.

His voice came back to life over the headset again.

“About 3 mins to the drop zone now Greaves. Better check your gear in a second. As for the target? Well, as you were briefed, you know that the NSA back home have intercepted some suspect calls coming into and going out of the US, which they managed to track down to a sleeper cell with Yemeni origin. They managed to back-trace the calls to find out where the cell are receiving their orders from, which is small camp on the  outskirts of a town on the Yemeni coastline known as Al Hudaydah, which is where I’ll be dropping you about 1 click north of. Once boots are on the ground, your orders are ditch your flight gear, head to the camp, breach the command centre, and eliminate the lead militia member. All enemy  personnel are considered  expendable”

My memory, seemingly back from its vacation, processed this information, committing it to storage in my head.

“Thanks man. I’m gonna go ahead and check my kit. Gimme a yell when I have the green light ok?”

“Will do Lieutenant!”

There it was again. I hate being referred to by rank. It just bugged me. It’s bad enough I had to use my SPECTRE assigned callsign when on the comms on ops. I mean, come on? Shadowstrike? Who calls themselves that? Hey, US government? My kids called. They said they want their action figure’s names back.

Anyway, I put the event to the back of my mind and opened up my kit bag in front of me, being very careful not to disturb the main chute, or it’s reserve, which would be needed should the main fail. Opening the bag up, I was relieved to see all my kit present, just as I requested, including one very new, very black, and very sinister half-face mask.

It was cooked up by the boys over in R&D a few months back. Made from a new kind of plastic they had engineered which they refer to as Trifold, it is a sleek black half-mask, which allows us perfect visibility from the inside, while being lightweight, easy to carry, and, to my upmost surprise, actually BULLETPROOF. This would definitely come in handy. But, for me, the crowning jewel is what was on the front.

Since I was forced to use this SPECTRE codename I had been assigned, I felt like my mask may as well be the outside image of that. Something to strike fear into the heart of anyone who sees me. Ya’know, before I make sure I’m the LAST thing they see. So I asked for a little paintjob to be done. And it looks fuckin-a. A sleek black glossy finish all over, but with an eye, squinted in fury, painted on the right-hand side. It looks so real. From a distance, you wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference. While there are no eye holes in the masks, as it would leave us exposed, I thought it’d be cool to at least put SOMETHING on there. And right down the side of the mask, and through the centre of the eye? A livid red scar, bloody and dripping. Of course, it was all for effect. Psychological warfare and all that. But to me it felt just great.

Putting the mask aside, I checked my other gear. One MP5-PDW? Check. Equipped with Suppressor, Extra 30-round mags, XPS3 Holo Sight, Folding stock, Side-Mounted Flashlight and Incendiary Ammo? Check. Of course, I had to have my SMG. It had become a firm favourite of mine during my BCT, as had the next thing to come out of the bag.

One folding compact bow? Check!

Surprised huh? Yeah, you and everyone else! I picked up a knack for Archery during my BCT, and it just carried on as a hobby, but then I started applying it practically. Not to mention, because of the extremely versatile material it’s made from, I can also use it like..... Well like a bow staff I guess? I would’ve never gotten away with this shit in the army, but here at SPECTRE? Well, let’s just say we kinda wipe our collective ass with the rule book. So the bow comes with me. Of course, it’s “ammo” is limited. 10 arrows.

Limited yes, but enough to do some serious damage if need be.

Then of course, there were my babies. Two of them to be exact, and they can do some real damage up close and personal. Two sheathed blades, about 17-inches each in length that and with a wicked design that, when worn, sat in an X-shape across my back, ready for quick removal and use. I had picked up a love of close, hand-to-hand combat again during my BCT. Something about knowing your enemy is inches or one wrong move away from killing you just sends my heart into overdrive. But with these beauties at my side? I’d like to see’em try it. I took a quick look at my rugged features before replacing the swords in my bag.

“I really need a bloody shave” I thought

Finally, I checked over the other bits and pieces. A fully equipped medical kit, a silenced USP.45 pistol with a single mag, in case I need a side arm, concussion grenades, some of the military’s new “9-banger” flashbangs, and............. My Ipod. Standard? No. But remember. The rulebook. My ass. My call. It all came with.

Satisfied everything was where it should be, I replaced it all carefully and re-did the bag. At that moment, the light opposite my sear illuminated the interior of the vessel with a luminescent green glow. That was my cue. I got out of my seat, and hooked my stuff securely onto my back.

“1 MINUTE TO DROP”

I turned around to see something that always leaves me in awe. The huge back door of the C-160 opening, letting the black tendrils of night penetrate it, like the jaws of some hungry beast. Even so, I was illuminated by what I can only describe as a particularly bright moon tonight. Not great for ops, but I always feel a little calmer with the moon at my back. The night was where creatures like me stalked our prey.

“30 SECONDS TO DROP”

I stepped out onto the lip of the cargo door, the freezing wind battering me about like a ragdoll, even though at ground level, it’s still about 17C. However,I remained steadfast and still, knowing a single fuck-up could send this thing to hell in a hand basket much quicker than I would like.

“10 SECONDS TO DROP”

This was it. Now or never. Here I come you Yemeni bastard. You’ll never see me coming...........

“Just like he didn’t”

No. No fuck that. I was not thinking about that now. Too much at stake.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1...... JUMP JUMP JUMP!”

I took a small step back before taking a running leap out the back of the C-160, which I saw rumble off into the distance as I fell, very quickly speeding up to my terminal velocity. I will never get used  to the whole weightless feeling. It just feels unnatural to me, but then again, maybe it was just nerves. A HALO jump is a dangerous thing to attempt, but as I said, our other assets are tied up elsewhere, so it was this way or no way.

A High Altitude Low Opening jump isn’t easy. Nor is it without risk. But it’s the best way of getting into somewhere while minimising how much of you is seen. The jumper normally free-falls for a while, before opening the parachute at low altitude, lowering the amount of time the parachute can be seen for.

When my altimeter indicated I had fallen enough, I pulled the cord on my rigging, remembering to keep breathing through the oxygen mask I was wearing. I jolted upwards with almost bone-breaking force as my velocity dropped like a stone, slowing down to a steady rate of descent. I’m pretty sure I would’ve lost my lunch, had I of eaten anything before the flight.

“Now that that’s over, I just need to focus on where I am landing” I thought to myself. Even though I had pulled my chute fairly close to the ground, as planned, I still had a ways to drop, so I thought some personal thinking time was in order. Ya’know, because Yemeni scenery ain’t exactly Paris.

My thoughts drifted  to my friends..... Very short list. Like, non-existant. Because of my job, I can’t really have “conventional” friends. Too much potential for collateral damage. The only real guys I can talk to are the others in my unit. They have saved my skin more times than I care to admit, but, to put it frankly, they aren’t what you would call “scintillating conversation”, that’s for damn sure.

Family? Same boat. Both dead. Don’t care. I practically raised myself. The scars across my chest tell me that much. No child should have to suffer what I did. I almost think it’s the reason I joined the military. To help make sure no child would ever go through that. I had a gruelling childhood. Kids beat me. Parents beat me. It was unreal. But I made it through, and I was a damn site stronger for it.

But, my thoughts at last settled on my future. I was all too sure I didn’t want to this for the rest of my life. I loved SPECTRE. I loved what I stood for. I jumped at the opportunity to sign up, but over the last few years, I have felt that excitement wane somewhat. More and more I find myself craving a normal life. A wife. Maybe some kids? After all, I am still only 25. Very young. Still lots of time to make something happen.

“Unless you get your bollocks shot off on this one you daft sod” I muttered to myself. I don’t know whether it was the jump I had just conducted, the nerves or the adrenalin, but something felt off about this mission. I just felt uneasy. Flying solo was never a fun experience, not matter how experienced you were. Knowing if you made one slip up, you were fucked, did add a sort of zest to the order of things, but also left a niggling feeling at the back of my skull I just didn’t like. Like an itch you couldn’t scratch. “That does it” I said quietly. “This is my last mission. I need to get out of this while I still can”

Finally, I touched back down on Terra Firma, quickly bundling in my chute which came down with me, blowing around in the gentle breeze that permeated the air. Once I had gathered the chute in, I stripped out of my flight gear, and adjusted my combat gear to make sure I was ready for whatever may be about to come my way. As mentioned, I was still about 1 click outside of the actual base camp, but I’d rather sort any of these problems now, rather than get shot in the face because silly old Ty had tied his bloody

shoe laces together.

Once the chute was finally buried in sand, along with my flight suit, I made about adjusting my own gear. It was quite mild that night, and the air, while humid, was not unpleasant. However, even if it had been absolutely freezing and blowing a gale, it wouldn’t have affected my choice of combat gear. Being black ops, I don’t wear an insignia or a uniform. I wear what I think I will need to get the job done. And this kit had proved itself more useful in saving my sorry ass more times than my rather pre-battered pride would care to admit. I was clad in a Crye Combat Shirt and loose-fit combat trousers, with a sandy coloured pattern all over to help me blend. The shirt provided moisture and temperature control , and the trousers had 10 pockets along with knee padding. Always useful for storing magazines and the like in, as well as protecting my kneecaps. Over the top of combat shirt, I wore a TYR Tactical PICO Assaulters Plate Carrier, which I had stripped down to just provide protection for my chest.’ Cause while a combat shirt is great to move about in, if Terrorist Timmy puts a bullet through it, you’re boned. The carrier provides solid enough protection for me to work with. Also, I had donned some impact fingerless gloves. Light, didn’t interfere with movement or trigger motion, but protected my hands in the rough environment. Loved’em. Not to mention my mountain boots. Not the best for stealth, but if you break an ankle in poor footwear, you may as well shout out your presence anyway, ‘cause you’ll be useless.

And finally, of course, my mask. As I slipped it back on over my head, I felt a sense of calm wash over me, calming any worries I had in an instant, like a vacuum sucking the oxygen from a flame. I was now essentially a ghost. If I had it my way, no one would even know I’d been there. In and out. Quick and clean. That was how this was gonna go down.

On a thought, I put my hand down my shirt, feeling around my upper chest. My fingers touched something metal.

“Good. Still there. As always”

Now that I was on ground level, I thought it best to establish contact with command. I double tapped the comm device lodged in my ear, listening to the persistent beeping while the little device searched for a satellite signal. A second later, I heard.

“Shadowstrike, this is Angel Actual, confirm location”

“Angel Actual, Shadowstrike. Moving on foot now to enemy encampment. Will re-establish contact when it’s done”

“Roger that Shadowstrike. Extraction is half a click south east of the encampment at the harbour. SPECTRE’s 1 and 4 have commandeered a boat for extraction purposes”

“Shadowstrike copies all Angel Actual. Tell’em to keep a beer on ice for me. I’ll be with them before you know it”

I double tapped the comm again, shutting down the satellite signal. I removed by MP5 from the bag, along with my twin blades, which I placed on my back, and my USP.45, which I placed in my left leg holster. I placed a few additional mags and grenades in various pockets on my gear. Placing the rest on my back, I set out from the drop zone, heading toward the encampment located in the distance........

An hour and a half later

Quick, clean and quiet. It was almost a mantra. We had it beaten into us day in and day out. And I had managed to screw it up.

Once I had gotten close to the “camp”, I saw that the whole thing was essentially set up in the ruins of an old fortress-style castle . There were very few remnants of the thing left standing, only a sole building that looked like it was what would’ve been the main chamber of the thing when it was still standing. There were a few tents with stealth netting hastily thrown over them, but none of them looked like a command building. Also, the only thing I would put in the same zip code as “perimeter fencing”  were odd bits of brick wall strewn all over the place. And that played right into my hands. With no direct infill-exfill point, I had my pick of points to enter the camp.

I took a closer look at the building I had seen previously. A few sentries, 2 to be exact, obviously doing foot patrols. They could have become problematic if they weren’t “removed”. Of course, the better alternative would be to simply sneak past them. That then would give me the job of picking off targets inside the building silently, so as to ensure none of them could call for help. The sentries would be the only two people near enough to hear it.

“Let’s see how easy they find it to scream when they’ve got a blade buried in their neck” I quietly muttered to myself. It was a gruesome way to do it, and I honestly hated it, but to ensure silence during the kill, it was extremely effective.

Having decided on my infill point, I made my way out of my hiding place, not even 100 meters from the first piece of “fencing”.

Quietly, I removed the MP5 from my side, flicking the weapon from safety to 3-shot burst. 3 would be all I needed. My accuracy with SMG’s was unparalleled from range, but with the kind of closeness I would be working with? I have to be blindfolded and pissed out of my mind to come within 20 miles of missing my target.

I crouched down in the sand, slowly making my way along the wall. After listening closely to see if I could hear anything on the other side, I decided to lean round the side of the wall to assess my new location. Most of the tents were set up scattered, but in front of the “main compound”.

Great for me. For them? Nightmare. Having walls to move about and around would make me faster and deadlier, and would reduce their line of sight on me.

From what I could see, there was a tent with its entrance facing diagonally away from me, and in front of that entrance, I saw new pieces in play. Two guys. Looked about 30ish? They were dressed in loose fitting shirts and shorts, cigarette passing between them with the stereotypical AK-47s slung about their side. You might think its cliché, but I couldn’t blame them. The gun was practically accessible globally, and was the most versatile and adaptable gun ever produced. It was designed to still work in dreadful conditions, and in the right hands, was extremely dangerous. But I liked to think in my line of work, we made dangerous look like a schoolgirl. A nerdy schoolgirl. I wasn’t even sure these guys knew which end of the thing the bullets came out of.

I double-checked my position one more time before, while crouching low, moved out to “hug” the wall of the tent. I edged along it slowly, before leaning around the side. I could only see the back of one of the guys, but I could certainly SMELL the two of them. I guess Yemen isn’t exactly known for its hygiene..... However, I had taken into account one very important detail. If I moved out of cover to stand behind the guy, we would essentially be co-linear. Stood in one line, and that meant shots fired through one could take out the other.

I very quickly formulated a plan in my head, and unsheathed a blade from my back, and my USP from my leg holster. As I had mentioned, I personally felt it was too much, but I couldn’t argue with its effectiveness. I wrapped my left hand around the handle of the pistol, flicking off the safety, and held my blade in a reverse style in my right. I knew it was time. I felt the moon at my back, almost like someone was watching over me. And that comforted me. The cool air rolled over me once more, as I stepped out into the open.

The guy I stood behind had no clue what was happening. As I arced my right hand around from my left side, I positioned it so that it would be at exactly his neck height. The blade found its mark with grim accuracy, impacting the exposed skin of the man’s neck, and while meeting some resistance from muscles and tendons, carved it’s gory path all the way through..... and right out the other side. While I was arcing my arm however, I brought my pistol round and pointed it directly into his back, right behind where I knew his heart would be. I fired 3 times, as I had been taught. To anyone even 10 metres away, it would only sound like a polite cough, but with the blood rushing through my ears, each shot felt to me like a canon had gone off next to me.

He no doubt died very quickly and in a great deal of pain. There was no way he could’ve screamed. Blood was undoubtedly gushing down his throat, muffling any cry that may have come. But I hadn’t been able to see his friend go down, my view obscured by my position behind my victim. I removed the blade from the man’s neck, feeling the now useless flesh hold on slightly before release and lashed out with my right leg, contacting him just behind his left knee. His practically lifeless body crumpled under the weight, dropping away in front of me as he went face first into the sand.

And that’s when I saw it.

His friend was indeed there. And he was still very much alive. What I had not realised from my position behind my first target was that the power of USP, toned down ever so slightly by the suppressor, had not been enough to fully penetrate my first target. The area I had fired into had too many obstacles to the bullet’s path.

The face of that man..... It is something that will haunt me to my dying day. As I mentioned, my method of....  removal, was not exactly clean. I could see the glistening blood spatter all over his clothes and face, only made more vivid by the soft glow of the moon. My blade had obviously nicked a vain on the way in. Or just demolished a metric shit ton of them.

I imagine my appearance also didn’t help matters too much either. Imagine yourself conversing with your friend, only to then see him stabbed through the neck and shot dead by a mask-wearing psychopath in desert camo. His face...... If horror and remorse had a picture, that would be it.

And in that instant, I felt like a heartless, soulless bastard. I had no idea who these men were. I would never see them again after tonight. But that was no consolation. I thought about his family, who were probably waiting for him at home. And I felt even worse. I realised that, in all the time I had been working under SPECTRE, and with all my experience with CQB, I had been so efficient that I never even had a situation occur where I would see the horror on the face of a viewer of my heinous act.

But that “instant”? That was all his friend needed. He was already firing the gun as he raised it.

*CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK*

Time seemed to slow for a second, as I saw the sand in front of me explode into small clouds as the bullets impacted closer and closer to me.

And I realised I was going to catch some of this. Whether I liked it or not.

When the first bullet impacted just off centre of my left thigh, I could barely feel it. I probably had adrenaline to thank for that. But the pain wasn’t the problem. It was the impact. I don’t know how many of you have been shot, but an AK bullet? It packs one hell of a punch. It was enough to throw me off balance as my leg jerked out from under me, causing me to drop my blade in order to use my hands to keep me from hitting the deck

He decided to use that moment to his advantage. He dropped his AK to the sand, advancing on me while screaming and swinging his arms wildly. Normally, in this situation, it would have been oh so simple to dispatch him, but I was now carrying an injury and that changed the game entirely. With my leg literally shot, I had not movement capability. I had only one option: To go on the defense.

I regained my balance just in time to block a well aimed right hook from him with my left arm, but instead of blocking it with force, I deflected it off almost, allowing his momentum to keep him going in an attempt to throw him of balance. And it worked. He lurched forward uncontrollably, his fist guiding him across my body.

He was met by my right fist, clenched, and aimed right at his gut. I barely had to move it at all. I was using his own momentum to power my punch; a trick I had picked up a few years back during training. It contacted his soft flesh hard, an indicator that I had hit home.......

Only I failed to notice that he clearly had some experience too, because the moment he felt his momentum carry him, he took his left leg off the floor, swinging it round as he fell, and allowing it to impact me in the side of the head, similar to the style of a roundhouse kick.

I fell, firing my USP in his general direction as I did, trying to at least ensure the crafty fucker wouldn’t have a chance to finish me off once Terra Firma had warmly greeted my face in the universal language that is pain.

I hit the ground pretty hard. Not too much, but enough to wind me. I could only lay there for a few seconds, contemplating just how much I had ballsed this up. And it was a pretty spectacular contemplation. However, one thing I did notice, was a distinct lack of feeling dead, which I had expected to come from being shot as the man I had so wonderfully failed to kill earlier got his aim back.

But nothing came. I must have got him......

Oh. Did I say nothing? I meant nothing before the butt of a rifle appeared in my vision, barrelling toward my face at an alarmingly high rate of speed.

And in that moment, I had only one thought.

“Oh shite”

Undisclosed amount of time later

You know I mentioned not being able to feel the pain of getting shot earlier? Well, a little bit of time in dream land had certainly fixed that. As I came to, I could feel an extremely sharp pain n my left thigh, where I assume the bullet had penetrated. But aside from that pain, I could feel something else as well. The cold bite of metal around both of my wrists, in an almost clinching motion, and for me, it could only mean one thing. Handcuffs. My wrists were lower than my thighs, and with the rigidity of the posture in my back, I would’ve guessed that the other end of those handcuffs was looped over the leg of the chair I was sat in.

As my sense slowly began to return to me, not really accustomed to being so violently “switched off”, I noticed a few other things too. Or maybe felt was a better word. Rope. It had to be. I could feel it through the fabric over my legs. And boy, did it have a death grip on them. They were going nowhere.

I could also feel the humid night air on my skin..... Over my chest? It felt like someone had torn gashes through my combat top, as I could also feel the stinging of freshly exposed skin, roughly where the tears in the fabric were. I could also still feel my mask present as well, which surprised me somewhat, as I thought that would be the first thing to go. To expose the murderer of their friend. Strange.

It also reminded me, if I should be so lucky to get out of this frankly lost situation, to bollock the boys over in R&D when I got back.

“What good is a bulletproof fucking facemask if I can be knocked out by being hit in the face through it!?” I imagined myself yelling. At least my imagination could still provide me with some amusement.

My eyesight was the last thing to really kick back in. When it finally came back to life, I could see that I was clearly on the roof, or whatever you call it I guess, of the main castle building I had spotted during my recon. I could see the tents looking miniscule down below my apparently elevated position, and as I looked up, I could see the moon directly above me. Except this time, it made me feel no calmer. It simply made my fears all the more real. Either way, I looked down to confirm everything I had previously felt.

Handcuffs? Yep.

Torn shirt? Yep.

Roped up legs? Yep.

Car battery ? ........ Well shit.

It was sat in front of me, and, rather aptly I thought, looked beaten to shit, just like everything else in place. But as I looked in closer, I could see something that derailed my train of thought almost immediately. Those couldn’t be...............

Jump leads. And they flowed all over the floor, before seemingly snaking behind me........

Just then, I heard a voice speak into my ear. Even shielded by the mask, I could hear him clear as day.

“Well well well. Don’t you just look a little lost. I’m sure me and my men would be happy to help you. At least, we would’ve been” the voice spoke “Until you stabbed one of them to death, before shooting his friend”

The voice had many distinguishing features to it. Icy. Well duh, he probably is quite pissed. British accent? Not uncommon. It isn’t unheard of for British mercs to come out here to train for terror attacks. It isn’t reported around nearly as much as you’d expect. Easier to say it was someone foreign at the helm of any terror attack then one of you countrymen. I tried picking out anything else recognisable in the voice, before it spoke again;

“Now, just what are we going to do with you? You young man, have cause me quite a bit of trouble. Not in terms of your actions. Those were most irrelevant. Only two men. Plenty more where they came from. No no no, you my dear boy, are an indicator that someone much higher up knows where I am, and possibly what I am up to” His voice simply exuded arrogance. Asshole.

“So, NSA? CIA? Homeland Security? Who’s got my number?” he posed

“Well” I countered, “Why don’t you fuck off, come back later, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll feel like telling you, you arrogant bastard”

That was an impossibly poor choice of words on my part, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was angry, and my leg was killing me. It felt like school all over again.

“Oh, I was so hoping you might say that......” he practically drawled in my ear, “Because you see, that why I had my friends bring a car battery up here. It’s for bad boys who don’t feel like cooperating.....”

I felt my blood run cold. Ice cold. I didn’t know much about car batteries at all, but the one thing I did know, was that it would only take a single amp of current from that thing, straight into me, to fry my organs and kill me stone cold dead. I felt my breath hitch in the back of my throat, as sweat literally poured out of every pore in my skin. It felt a lot more like 170 than 17C.

“Ah” he said, “I see I have your undivided attention. Now then...” he almost distractedly mentioned.

I heard a short, sharp bark in a language I could only assume was native to Yemen. I heard footsteps approach from behind, before my head was roughly forced downward, lowering my gaze to my own chest.

I suddenly saw a glint of silver approach out of the corner of my eye, but I was powerless to stop it as it plunged into the flesh around my nipple, before I felt what seemed like razor sharp teeth sink into the delicate flesh. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it. I screamed.

“Oooh! This one is quite sensitive. Only a crocodile clip my friend, and I assure you, other than that pain, it is quite harmless.....”

I could both feel and see a dark claret spilling from the skin on my chest, feeling unbelievably hot as it carved it’s way down my chest.

“However, if ANOTHER clip is connected? Well then, that is a whole different story. Only 75milliamps. Not enough to kill in short bursts, but enough to cause you a large amount of pain. Let me know if you change your mind about chatting with me....”

The sick fucker laughed hysterically before again barking something to his helper in their native tongue, and went strolling off.

I knew what came next. I didn’t want it to. But it would. It was inevitable. I could only hope my resolve held out. I was determined not tell these bastards anything. Not only that, but I could see my gear sat a short distance from me. I could only fantasise about what I would do to this clown, if only I could reach it....

A sharp crackling. A glint of metal.

A single tear rolled down my face, hidden from view by my mask.

“Good” I thought, “No one will ever see me cry. Ever. But it doesn’t mean I won’t do it.....”

I felt it connect.

The pain......... was beyond excruciating. I can’t even describe it. It was like being jabbed in every inch of my skin by millions of white hot needles. I could feel my synapses burn. My breathing quickly became shallow and rapid. I went rigid as steel in the chair, and let out, what I still remember to this day, as the most blood-curdling scream I have ever heard, even if it did come from me. Every single muscle in my body contracted, almost as if they were trying to tear me apart.

The only thing I could do to flee from the pain was to drift into unconsciousness.....

............................................................................................................................ ............................................................................................................................

............................................................................................................................

............................................................................................................................

............................................................................................................................

............................................................................................................................

“...una! How can you say that? If we don’t intervene, they are going to kill him!”

I don’t know what I was hearing. It made no sense to me. As far as I was aware, there we no women within a good couple of clicks

of the camp. Yet, that voice had a surprisingly feminine side to it. Almost motherly.......

“Celestia, how dare you! We cannot! I refuse to even consider it! You saw the atrocities he commited under the veil of my beautiful night!”

Another voice. Different this time. Almost regal..... No, definitely regal.  It almost sounded like she would be more suited to using old English..........

“Have you learned nothing since your return from the moon!? Two wrongs do not make a right Luna. You should know this better than anyone. How would you have felt if, even after Nightmare Moon was banished from you, the ponies simply ignored you to spite you because of what you HAD done!? They gave you another chance .....”

Luna? .......Nightmare Moon?...... Ponies!? I knew I was unconscious, that much was clear. The only conclusion I could come to, was that these were simply pain addled delusions. Nothing more. Almost like they were the two sides of me. One, the compassionate side of me that understood the hardships I had endured. And the other? The side of me that loathed me. Everything I did in the name of SPECTRE. The lives I had taken. The families I had destroyed..... The men I had killed.

“......No..... I just.... I simply.... Can’t”

Luna’s voice sounded almost teary now. Whoever Celestia is, she must have hit a nerve there.

“The spell needs two of us Luna! I cannot do this alone! Please help me sister!”

Sister? Well, that’s a new one. My brain is a sick bastard.

I waited a few seconds more, but I heard nothing more. I felt myself slowly drifting back into consciousness, both hating and loving my torturer for not killing me.

Not yet at least...........

............................................................................................................................ ............................................................................................................................

............................................................................................................................

............................................................................................................................

............................................................................................................................

............................................................................................................................

5 hours later

And so it continued this way. On and off “electrotherapy”, my only reprieve being the occasional bit of medical attention to my chest area to ensure I didn’t expire before they gave the say so, and the times where I would flee into my own subconscious to listen to “Celestia” and “Luna” argue the toss over whether they would save my worthless life. At this point, even if they were real, I was beyond caring. I was broken. Heart and soul. I simply wished for death, and yet I still told him nothing, probably to the detriment of my own health. My “sessions” were becoming longer and longer the more frustrated my captor got, but I would give that bastard no satisfaction. I would sooner die. Again, cliché, but true.

Finally, on the eve of the 6th hour in the hands of my torturer, I heard him stroll up behind me.

“Well my friend, it appears that you have simply outworn your usefulness to us if you shall not talk, and so, it is with much pleasure that I will grant you a painful exit from this plane of existence....”

The words fell on hollow ears. I had stopped caring long ago. Fresh tears rolled down my face. I knew what was coming, and I

welcomed it, if it would free my tortured soul. I could hear him sparking the two ends of the crocodile clips together behind me......

“Say goodnight!”

I waited for the inevitable.........

“Enough”

I was beyond confused. That sounded like Luna’s voice, exactly as I had heard it when I was unconscious. But that was where my problem lay. I wasn’t unconscious. This was real. Which could only mean................

“He-help......me.......” The words fell from my mouth. I was still convinced she couldn’t exist, but in that state, she was my only hope.

It wasn’t her words that greeted me.

“Oh that won’t work on me my friend. I gave you plenty of chances to give me what I wanted. But what happened? You were stubborn. You refused. And now, you......shall.....”

He paused.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD IS THAT!?!”

That was certainly unexpected. I felt a small sparkle of hope rekindle itself inside a heart I had thought long since extinguished. I looked up to see his face, and it was a picture of complete and utter disbelief, along with that of the man who I could only assume was the one that had been shocking me.

And then I looked down.

And I was glowing. So was all of my gear too. Brilliantly, and more brightly by the second, accompanied by a humming noise that also seemed to be growing.

“What.....the.....fuck?” I managed to stammer out.

And then the world exploded in a sea of white light and........A rainbow?

Somewhere over Everfree Forest

All I could feel was falling.... That weightless feeling again..... Like I was falling from the sky......

...................

...................

...................

...................

...................

...................

...................

...................

...................

...................

“Shit”

Chapter 2 - A Life under the Lens

Somewhere over Everfree Forest

All I could feel was falling.... That weightless feeling again..... Like I was falling from the sky......

...................

...................

...................

“Shit”

The freezing cold air that accompanied only the clearest of night skies brought my senses back from a very well earned leave.

Ya’know, because all leave ends with you being dropped out of the sky. Loving the sense here.

As my eyes flickered back in to life, I could see the world blurring and spinning around me, my arms flailing about, pathetically attempting to find a purchase to grip on to that simply wasn’t there. Quite humorous to think about really when you consider that not 12 hours ago, I quite literally threw myself out of a transport plane with the gusto of a nympho being released into a brothel. Of course, I was actually prepared for that jump. This one was more...

Well, it was more surprising. Yeah. Let’s go with surprising.

I attempted to try and define, in my completely addled state, which way was up. Not the easiest task to do when you don’t even know WHERE you are. Just from the aforementioned chill, which was billowing through the tears in my combat top, I could tell this wasn’t Yemen. Not anymore.

“If I was a little more with it, I’d make a Wizard of Oz joke......” I ruminated within the confines of my own head

However, I had to quickly focus on the task at hand, and remembering what experience I had had with skydiving before, I quickly attempted to re-shape my body into the widest possible star-esque shape that I could. By giving myself a larger surface area, I’d give myself more air resistance, slowing down my speed and hopefully, giving myself a little more time to avoid what I could only assume was going to be a rather painful reunion with Mother Nature. And she was pissed.

Once that was done, I rolled myself over, letting the world seemingly spin around me, until below my eye level, I could glimpse the darker, more leafy earth coloured tones of what I could assume was a forest, allowing the glittering sky to occupy it’s previous position in the upper levels of my viewing perspective.

And that’s when I saw it.

Falling at roughly my speed, and just below me, was my battle pack.

And in it, my reserve chute.

In that instant, I felt an ember of hope rekindle itself into a mighty fire, setting my heart ablaze, and sending my synapses into overdrive as adrenaline coursed into my system. I wasn’t going to end up as pavement pizza! I just had to reach it in time....

I allowed my arms to retract slightly back towards my sides, trying to manoeuvre my body into a position where my weight would tilt me forward enough to move me within range of the tumbling sack of military-grade goodies. I felt it taking effect, as the distance between myself and my pack began to close, but another thought began squirming it’s my way into my head, commandeering my attention temporarily. I dared to look down, and instantly regretted it.

The realisation that very quickly came crashing down on me was that I couldn’t have been more than about 30 seconds from hitting the ground at this speed. It was going to take at least another 10 to let alone reach my pack, and factoring in the difficulty of trying to open it while falling at a speed I can only describe as “Code Brown”, by the time I had got my chute, pulling it might have very little effect on exactly how much of a splatter mark I would be when I hit the ground.

Nevertheless, I glided onward towards my gear. About 5 seconds later, my hands touched down it’s rugged surface, latching on with a vice-like grip to its straps, and swinging it downwards to clamp it down between my thighs, nestling it’s lower half securely between my thighs. Using that as a reference point almost, I took my hands off the straps, trying to fix my numb fingers around the zip. Fingerless gloves were looking a lot less appealing now. It was proving to be an extremely difficult task. My hands were practically dead from the cold, and at this point, a blind narcoleptic would’ve been more useful. However, I managed to open the zip just enough to force my right hand into the bag, temporarily shielding it from the frosty bite of the night air as it rummaged around, desperately searching for the one thing that would make or break me, quite literally, within the next 15 seconds.....

I couldn’t feel anything that resembled the silken parachute I so desperately needed. And time, as they say, was waiting for no man. 6 seconds passed

9 seconds to impact.....

“Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon......”

8 seconds.....

“Where are you for fuck sake!?”

7 seconds.....

“I can’t believe this is even happe...Wait a minute....”

6 seconds.....

I felt a metal clip brush against my fingertips. “YES!”

5 seconds......

I wrenched it out of the bag with my right hand, using the momentum afforded from the chute’s natural arc of motion to swing the satiny godsend onto my back, the straps sliding over my arms......

4 seconds......

“Right. I do believe that’s my cue” I growled under my breath, even as the words were ripped from my mouth and lost in a blizzard of noise afforded by the wind. I yanked the securely fastened cords attached to each of the straps on my shoulders, sliding my legs over the bag to kick away at it as I did. The last thing I wanted was for it to snag on my legs, and cause some kind of problem.

For a split second, I could’ve sworn nothing happened. What I simply didn’t hear was the parachute unfurling wildly into the night sky. That being said, AFTER that split second, I certainly bloody felt it. Even after experiencing parachute drops multiple times, it was just another thing I never really got used to, and I was normally wearing a little more padding than a simply combat top. Not that it could really be called that anymore. The straps of the chute cut into my arms, pain lancing through my upper body as my speed slowed down massively.

Once my breathing slowed down, and I pushed my bollocks back out, my thoughts again turned to what lay below me. And it was not exactly what I wanted to see.

Forest. A huge expanse of it. Rolling over hills and into the distance. I could barely see it’s edge, but I knew that I was way too far off course to even think about making it out simply from my drift alone. Instead, my eyes began to scan the leafy green environment in search of somewhere to touch down safely.

I looked about for a few more seconds, before my eyes finally settles on a small, circular clearing that was just visible beneath its light tree cover. That wouldn’t be a problem, as I would probably punch through it as I came down; I just didn’t want to tear the chute at all. Now with no gear and only the clothes on my back, it was going to be all I had to keep warm tonight, unless I could scrape a fire together. Also, that covering would hopefully be enough to provide cover from any rain..... If that was even a thing wherever I was.

I straightened my left leg out below me, my boot making a solid *SNAP* as it ploughed its way through a few branches during its job of punching a hole in the tree canopy. I allowed myself a small chuckle and a hearty exhale as I finally touched back down on the ground, my para coming down a few seconds after me, and luckily, it looked to me mostly unscathed. I took a few seconds to get my thoughts back together, and when I did..... I just stopped. And burst out laughing.

I’m serious here. I was literally dying on the ground. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. In retrospective, it wasn’t that spectacular, but I think the whole magnitude of the situation had finally hit me. Yeah, like a truck. I just couldn’t comprehend at that moment, the ludicrousness of it all. I think I was slightly hysterical. Just a bit. But, once my giggle fit abandoned me, I realised that, as absurd as this all seemed, unless I was DEAD (Not a nice thought. Like. At all), this WAS indeed, all real.

I swiftly reacquainted my behind with the earth beneath me, and began to compose a small list of things I now needed to do.

It looked a little like this:

Ty’s Anti-Fuck-Up-Oh-Dear-God-I-Hate-These-Things-List

Step 1: Set up bedding, start fire

Step 2: Attempt to find gear (HIGHLY UNLIKELY)

Step 3: Find a way out of this hellhole

Step 4: Find someone..... Anyone......

I probably could’ve made a step 5. But that would’ve been effort. And after being electrocuted, dropped out of the sky TWICE, being shot, and wanting to die, effort was something that was in desperately short supply.

It was, of course, extremely dark, and that mean that my visibility wasn’t at its peak. I’d barely been able to find this small clearing, let alone be able to pick out any specific details about it. I could see trees. Obviously. And they seemed to essentially encompass my location. From what I could work out, I was in a small circular clearing, surrounded on all sides by odd trees and greenery. Nice, well covered. Not too bad a find for someone who had just fallen out of the sky!

I had no idea what the time was. I WAS wearing a watch when I had my little incident, but looking down at my wrist, it was quite obvious it was not with me anymore. Either way though, I had to get moving. I needed to establish some kind of camp, and there was no time like the present. I removed myself from the spongy, moss laden ground, and made for the nearest trees. Luckily, they seemed to have a few low hanging branches, which were quite easily snapped off and gathered up. I took a brief moment to stroke over the wood, looking for any moisture. There was none.

This was a good thing. Firelighting without a match or flint was not a fun experience normally, but with wet wood, it was damn near impossible. The wood would need to be dried, and that may have taken time I didn’t possess. Once I had bundled enough twigs together, I grabbed my chute, bundling it into my arms, and I set about finding two trees that were a reasonable distance apart from each other. It took a few seconds for my eyes to pierce the murkiness enveloping the clearing, but I finally perceived a pair of brilliant looking specimens, and quickly hurried over.

Unbundling my chute again, I reached into the bag it had come from, trying to locate some kind of quick-release for the cords. It took a little rummaging, and I may have coloured the air somewhat with a few choice expletives, but I finally found what I looking for, feeling the cords come away in my hand. Taking one lot of cords, I carefully wrapped them round and round the trunk of one of my chosen trees, finally securing them in place with a knot. I then proceeded to do exactly the same with the other bunch, and when I was done, I couldn’t help but be a little pleased with myself.

I had made a, albeit slightly shoddy looking, hammock, which would serve quite adequately as bedding for my little overnight camp out. I was a little worried that the material of the chute would hold my weight, but right now, it wasn’t exactly like I could just pop down to my neighbourhood Novotel and check in, so this was just gonna have to cut it. I mentally reminded myself to apologise to it later.....

After allowing myself to enjoy that little moment of triumph, I turned my attention back to the small mountain of sticks, twigs and foliage I had gathered and began to bundle some of the drier leaves up in an attempt to make a kindling nest for my fire. I found a relatively flat piece of wood to do it all on too, into which I had made a small V-shaped notch using one the metal lace-cappers on my boots, also making a small indent next to it. I placed a piece of bark underneath my notch. I then grabbed what I was using as a spindle, placed it into the depression I had made, and got spinning.

This method of friction-based fire making was not exactly preferable, but as I had mentioned, I had very little else to use, and I NEEDED that fire. I had no clue what was lurking in this forest, and I hoped the fire would serve as a warning to whatever WAS in there to stay away. After about an hour and a bit, a small ember appeared, which I transferred to my bark, and then into my kindling nest, which promptly and to no shortage of my relief, began to catch, wisps of smoke rising steadily off into the night. I piled up a few more sticks in the kindling nest, making something of a little fire tepee.

It was going to need some attention over the next few hours to allow it to build up into anything sizeable, and so, knowing sleep would simply not be an option for at least a little while, I meandered the few feet from my fire to my hammock, and gently slid myself into it.

No rip.

Fuck yes.

I settled in a little, and, surprisingly, though not being the warmest of sleeping materials, it possessed a level of comfort I had certainly not been familiar with in at least a few days, and so, being the dashing opportunity-grabber that I was, I decided it was time to have a little catch-up.

And yet, even as I did so, I couldn’t help but turn my head a little, angling my eyes into the delicate embers of the new heat source I had created. I felt my mind yearning, wanting to be allowed to wander and wallow in my own thoughts, and so I indulged it.

As I looked into that glowing pile of sticks and twig, I let out a steady sigh. I couldn’t help it. I had no clue where I was. Was I even on Earth anymore? Because, unless SPECTRE had been hiding some super-secret new glowing teleportation device from the rest of us, it certainly wasn’t them who had liberated me.

I took another moment to ponder what had just crossed my mind. The word, to be more precise. Liberated. And the more I began to ponder on that, and the events of that last day or so, the more I was sure that was indeed the word I was looking for. Not just from my Yemeni captor, but in a sense, from my American one as well.

SPECTRE had been almost like a surrogate family to me to be honest. After everything I had dealt with in my relatively few adult years, when I joined their ranks, I remember the elation I had felt. Someone had finally wanted me. Someone thought I was somebody worth having around. It was a feeling I hadn’t had much experience with before, and as such, for the first few months, I threw myself into my job with previously unseen vigour. Looking back on it, I think it had blinded me somewhat to the truth of the matter.

SPECTRE was off the books. As were all of it’s personnel. In all the feeling I had been swept up in about someone finally wanting me for who I was, I feel like I forgot something that should’ve raised red fucking flags the moment the opportunity even came up. SPECTRE was never just something you could walk away from. There was no retirement. No way out, unless it was in a body bag. This was not a job for life, it was a life for a job.

But I couldn’t see that at the time. I let myself get swept up in the grandeur of it all. The friends I had made. The commanding officer whose attention I practically mainlined, like a terrible addiction. The kit, all fancy and new, and, in some respect, the missions as well.

Even with all of that though, over the last few months I felt myself becoming more and more unhappy in my post. It felt to me like, for that first time, I was seeing the ugly side of SPECTRE. The side that they don’t want you to see until it’s too late for you to do anything about it. And that fucked  me right off. I felt wounded, I felt betrayed, but most importantly, I felt alone. Again.

“Just like I bet you made him feel when you pulled that trigger”.

I could feel my heart palpitate slightly in my chest. That could just piss right off. That was the last thing I needed right now.

I felt like I had let them get their teeth into me, and there was going to be no way of getting them back out again. Even if I did, there was no telling what kind of lasting harm there would be.

I rolled over gently in my hammock; uncomfortable at having all this brought back up to the surface, but the floodgates were well and truly open now. And there was just no stopping my emotional flow.

I cast my thoughts back a little less far afield that time, to the more recent events I had been through. And the turmoil and irritancy came back twofold. Thinking back on it, it was a FUCKING RIDICULOUS idea! I mean, yeah, we’re spec ops. We were trained for this, but still. Sending one guy, alone, into a militant camp, with gear that he himself had been allowed to pick? I was 25 for fuck sake. My combat experience was vastly outweighed by some of the more veteran members of the team, and yet that very same kit-picking privilege had been extended to me as well.  At the time, I had been honoured, but in looking back on it, I could see the whole thing was an accident waiting to happen, and this time, it just so happened that it had.

“I could’ve gotten myself KILLED for Christ sake! I pretty much did! I was completely, and royally, FUCKED!” I bellowed at no one in particular, slinging another stick onto the now steadily building orange glow before me as a single, solitary tear forced its way out of my eye and down my cheek. It wasn’t important to me that someone listen. It was more about getting this of my chest and into the open.

The more and more I thought about it, the more I just thought the whole thing reeked of pomp and arrogance. I think I had seen it referred to before as a “Gary Stu”. An op where one guy went in alone and practically deflected bullets with the size of his raging, testosterone-filled sack and his “manliness”. It made me a little sick to be honest. I had let myself get pulled into it, pulled into ALL of it, because I was just desperate for attention; desperate to be wanted again.

And in that instance, I made a choice. One that would define my future. I decided that, even if this was just another location on Earth, this was the last straw for me. The one that broke the camel’s back. I was done. I wanted nothing more to do with this madness. In the heat of combat, I had failed to realise that what had happened to me was almost inevitable. I would’ve been dead. I SHOULD’VE been dead......

..............

..............

..............

..............

Then, in a single instant, I was hit by a moment of clarity. Something I could only describe as an epiphany.

“Whoever, or WHATEVER, brought me here” I stammered, “I owe them my life. Not just physically, but mentally”

Thanks to my coming here, I had managed to come to a realisation. I realised I was seduced by SPECTRE’s toxic influence. I realised I had practically sold myself out for a false feeling of brotherhood. I realised that I was just living my life one job after another. And now I was here, I realised that that life was now finally back where it belonged; in my own hands. Even then, I’d almost managed to drop the fucking thing.

I owed them everything.

My emotions began to settle slightly, being brought down to more of a simmer than the roaring blaze they had been mere minutes ago. I realised that, during my personal ranting, I had neglected my fire somewhat, and so I hastily hopped out of my makeshift bedding and  moved to rectify that situation, adding a little more fuel to increase the warmth generated from basking in that gentle orange glow.

For the first time, I had a real chance to get a look at my surroundings in at least some semblance of light.  I couldn’t particularly say that what I saw comforted me. Everything just looked so.... Dead. Lifeless. It was a little scary to be frank. The whole place just seemed to positively ooze fear and sadness.

“I don’t remember seeing, hearing or reading anything about any environment like this on Earth. Maybe I really AM on another planet?”

Either way, at that point, I was beginning to have trouble functioning. My eyes were beginning to droop as I let out a large yawn. Clearly, my activities had been a little too much for my body, which was now demanding recompense. I thrust a few more sticks into my fire, which was now going nicely, before slowly wandering back to my makeshift bedding, sliding into its smooth embrace, and letting sleep wrap it’s murky tendrils around my mind, pulling me off into a land of slumber.

It’s funny really; the things that wake you up.

Today, much to my immediate displeasure, was no different, and it was rather strangely, an event I have come to blame on my foot. I didn’t even really think about it until it happened, but that little hole I broke through the previous day during my decent? Well, the laws of physics decided to provide me with the rudest “fuck you” awakening possible. Light streamed through the patchy canopy, including its new addition...... Only to fall right on my sleeping, twitching face.

I felt that all encompassing glow penetrate my eyelids, banishing the sleep from my eyes, and into the recesses of my mind. My body, startled by the change in conditions, decided it was going to leap into action. So eagerly in fact, that it may have forgotten in its haste, to let my brain in on it’s wonderful idea.

My arms flew outward in a vain attempt to block out that piercing light, flailing as they did. And somewhere during that flailing, the managed to roll me right over. Out of the hammock. Onto the floor. And my ass.

The pain shot through my body like a bullet train, quickly dashing anymore thoughts of “Aww, come on mum!” or “Just five more minutes?”. That made me chuckle somewhat, as when you worked for a government agency, you very quickly realised they owned you. And that included your sleep schedule. Then I realised what I was thinking about.

“SPECTRE...” I couldn’t help but let out a small huff of displeasure. “You know what? Up’em” I sullenly thought. I couldn’t help but feel they were the ones responsible for my predicament, but to discount my own faults would only thrust my now-apparent folly even further into the limelight. I was equally as guilty, but the difference now was that I was gonna put my foot down. No more. I wanted out.

That is, if SPECTRE even existed here.

Now that I was up, albeit a little more violently then I would’ve preferred, I chanced a look over at the fire I had constructed for myself last night , and found naught but a loosely standing pile of burnt ash, hiding within it the smouldering embers of what had been the vigil of my night. There was no chance of rekindling it without completely starting afresh, and that didn’t bother me. The sun was hanging fairly high in the sky, and that meant it was time to move out. I wasn’t intending to LEAVE my little slice of paradise, but I needed a few supplies, and wanted to venture out to get a better feel for where I was, and what may have been the quickest way outta there.

I stood up slowly from my seated position on the floor, dusting myself off as I went, before setting off at a light jog down the nearest thing resembling a path that I could find. Luckily for me, a couple of things were in my favour. I liked to think that my memory was fairly up to scratch, and that I would allow me to internally store a map of where I was going, instead of having to attempt things “Hansel and Gretel”-style. This allowed me a certain freedom to explore various areas I may have avoided without that skill, for fear of becoming lost, and was in itself magnificently useful.

I had been walking for maybe 20 or so minutes when I chanced upon my first lucky find of the day. I was stomping on a particularly thorny bush in front of me that looked for all the world like it would’ve tried to have my leg off if I had absent-mindedly wandered through, when I heard a quiet but noticeable sound.....

I stopped my shrubbery manslaughter for a second, my ears perking up not unlike a dog, and my head on the swivel.

“That sound..... It sounds like a....No, it can’t be....?”

I took a moment to wonder what in this godforsaken expanse of greenery would be making a ......trickling...... sound?

Then it hit me.

“Water” And it was close.

My ears homed in on that sweet, sweet sound of flowing liquid, and my legs very quickly gained a life of their own. I broke into a quick sprint, tearing through whatever foliage lay before me. I only then realised exactly how thirsty I was. I hadn’t drunk anything for hours. I was given a little water when I was strapped to that fucking chair, but exactly how much good it did me was anyone’s guess. All I knew was that at that very point in time, I was parched. I needed water badly, and that only fuelled the fire that nipped at my feet as I rocketed through the greenery.

I was sprinting for about ten seconds, that beautiful sound filling my ears louder and louder as I approached, before I found it. A spring of water was flowing down from in between some collapsed rocks, collecting in a rather large bowl-type hole at it’s base. The light reflected of it’s translucent surface as it cascaded gently down the improvised waterfall. As I mentioned, it was a very small flow, but then and there? It was more valuable to me than all gold in the world. I lurched the final few metres toward it, falling to my battered kneecaps as I simply knelt for a seconds, basking in it’s life-giving essence. I could feel the spray gently settling on my face, wetting it slightly.

I tilted forward on my knees, allowing my fingertips to break it’s glistening surface. To me, it was only confirmation of what I already believed.

“Water. It really is WATER!” I could barely contain my excitement. I fashioned my hands into something resembling a cup, and pushed it under the flow, before withdrawing it again, and bringing it to my own parched lips. As I tilted my hands back, I could feel the soothing liquid relief rush down my barren throat, removing any and all feelings of discomfort I had developed previously. Food was not such a precious commodity, as most humans could go days without it, but water? Water was a necessity for everyone and anyone, and I was simply glad I had happened upon this source.

That pattern repeated itself for a few minutes more, allowing me to both vitally rehydrate, and to cool off any of the sweat that I had built up. Now that the sun was captaining the sky, I really was beginning to feel the heat beat down on me, and so the spring provided me with welcome relief from that as well.

I brought myself steadily back into a standing position, taking a step backward as I did so, and causing my perspective to shift upward only by the slightest of margins. Cue lucky find number two. As my gaze was somewhat forced upward, my eyes came to settle on something that looked extremely out of place, nestled in between the trunks of two trees, not a stone’s throw away from the life-giving vessel I had stumbled upon not moments ago. It had the strangest shape I could possibly conceive out for something one might find out in the wilderness. It didn’t look at all natural. Some kind of crumpled up cylinder shape, with black tendrils hanging over the sides?

There was certainly nothing natural I knew of that would take on such a shape!

Wait.

What had I just said?

“There was certainly nothing natural I knew of that would take on such a shape!..... Natural.....Natural.....Natur....”

Oh sweet Mary mother of Christ.

IT WAS MY BAG!

Somehow, of all the places I could’ve possibly wandered out into, I had not only come across a source of water, but my bag of gear as well? Unbelievable! Lady Luck was out in full force today! And she was lookin mighty fine from where I was stood!

For the second time that day, I dashed off in the direction of my new find, filled with a sudden hope. I was no longer without kit! I would have things I could use in there, things that would make tracking down civilisation so much easier! It seemed impossible after I fell that I would ever find this thing again, and yet here it was! So many questions buzzed around in my mind as I powered my way toward my goal......

......And the first one to pop up when I got there was why, in the name of God the thing looked so FUCKING EMPTY! It was as though everything I packed in it had grown legs and just wandered off! I allowed myself a second to catch my breath, before using both my hands to lift the lid, at least trying to put my fears to rest.

Instead, it decided to pump the fuckers so full of Red Bull and Pro-Plus I had a heart time keeping my disappointment for bursting out of my chest. The bag was indeed, as per my wish, not empty. However, it was certainly a far cry from full either. As the lid was lifted, I couldn’t help but feel my heart sink into my chest. My gun was missing, along with all of it’s ammo, and half my tactical gear too. There was very little left in there that I could salvage at all. I sat back on my haunches for a second, another frustrated tear creeping down my face. Mere moments ago, I had been filled with such hope. I thought that I would be able to simply swan out of the forest, and back into civilisation, and now, that had all come crashing down. I stopped to wonder for a second, just WHERE all of my kit had gone.

“Did drop anything? I don’t think so. It was all there when I got caught. Not to mention the bag LOOKED pretty full when I saw it from the torture chair. The only other time it was even OPEN at all was when I got my.....”

The truth hit me like a truck. It was MY fault. When I tore my reserve out of my bag during my freefall, I had forgotten to do the zip back up

I forced back anymore tears I may have had, and proceeded to empty the contents of the duffel onto the dirt. There were a few bits left that would be of use. My compact bow was still in there, a little bent, but still useable. The arrows that went with it were there too, and that filled me with a little hope. A single one of my swords sat in it’s sheath, but the sheath itself was really battered. It would almost certainly no longer sit on my back, and I would be lucky to get it to hang at my side. At least now I had something.

Anything. I still wasn’t sure what was out there, be it friendly or hostile, but it was always a little calming to at least have an extra card in my deck if I needed it. The rest of the contents were, at the very least, usable. A single 9-banger. A single concussion too. It would be useful in case I came across something beyond my own ability to handle.

Finally, something else dropped into the dirt. It’s glossy black polish thrust a lance made of pure fear into my heart.

“So that’s what it feels like to be on the other end of that thing”

I was looking right into the faux facial presence of my own operational mask. It’s finish, still shiny as the last time I slid it over my own face. And now, it only filled me with hatred. As far as I was concerned, it was a relic. A part of my life that I wanted nothing to do with anymore. I reached down to pick it up, hauling it over my shoulder so I could sling it into the distance without a second thought.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that made me still my hand, and gently bring it back down so I could look back into the face of the angel of death, as so many others had done in the past.

There was a crack. Almost unnoticeable, but there. Right at the top . It hadn’t affected the structural integrity of the mask itself at all, but it spoke to me. It spoke to something deep within my heart, probably to ears that, until last night, would’ve been all but deaf to it’s message.

“This is who you were. This is the mask you wore. Every time you put it on, you became someone else. Someone created to bring fear and terror to any who stood in your way. But that crack. That crack says something. It shows that you have realised what you have done. What repercussions your actions have had. In doing this, you have broken away part of that mask, that faux image you clung to for a feeling of safety, and maybe, when all is said and done, you will have torn away every strip of who you were, and will be able to expose who you REALLY are on the inside. And that will be your true mask. And those who stand against you will fear you more than they ever did before.”

It took a while for this all to settle in. When I came back to my senses, I realised that at least ten minutes had passed, while I stared on in quiet contemplation. The silence comforted me. Not in a combat sense, as it had previously, but it did so in the knowledge that I was, at least I hoped, on the way to becoming something different. Something new.

All of a sudden, that peace was torn asunder by a bloodcurdling scream of fear, which made me jump out of my skin. I had no idea what, or who had made such a sound of unbridled horror, but I did know one thing.

It sure as fuck was not me. I was not alone out here.

Again, another scream rang forth, showering what looked like birds from the trees, as they spread their wings and took flight into the clear skies.

I decided I had to act quickly. I had spent the better part of a day thinking I was alone out here, and it was about time I found some company. I donned my sword, hanging it from my left side, as well as draping my arrows over my back. I slid the two tactical grenades into the pockets in my combat trousers, and, grabbing my bow in my left hand, I realised I had only one more thing I needed to do.

I slid the mask back on. But this was not the mask of a killer. No. No longer. As I was hopefully about to prove, this would be the mask of a saviour......

Chapter 3 - Damsel in Distress

All of a sudden, that peace was torn asunder by a bloodcurdling scream of fear, which made me jump out of my skin. I had no idea what, or who had made such a sound of unbridled horror, but I did know one thing.

It sure as fuck was not me. Which could only mean that......

I was not alone out here.

Again, another scream rang forth, showering what looked like birds from the trees, as they spread their wings and took flight into the clear sky.

I decided I had to act quickly. I had spent the better part of a day thinking I was alone out here, and it was about time I found some company. I donned my sword, hanging it from my left side, as well as draping my arrows over my back. I slid the two tactical grenades into the pockets in my combat trousers, and, grabbing my bow in my left hand, I realised I had only one more thing I needed to do.

I slid the mask back on. But this was not the mask of a killer. No. No longer. As I was hopefully about to prove, this would be the mask of a saviour......

5 Minutes Later

I was sprinting through the tangled undergrowth as fast as my own legs would carry me. I was steely. Determined. Nothing was going to stop me getting to the source of that scream. She, for it was obviously so with such a feminine lilt to the voice, sounded like she desperately needed help, and I was certain I would be the one to provide her with just such a commodity.

Even as I hurdled another fallen tree, not breaking my stride for a moment, I could hear my own heart “bu-bumping” in my chest, it’s sound reverberating round inside my own head as it pumped oxygen around my body, replenishing my tiring muscles. I urged myself closer and closer to my goal, trying to round-up my thoughts as I did so.

“God, I’m so happy I’ve found someone else out here! I can ask for help! I can get out of here!.... But wait. What if she’s a hostile?

What then? Do I try and take her hostage?.... Nah, wouldn’t accomplish anything.... On the other hand, if she ISN’T a hostile, and I DID succeed in saving her, she might act favourably toward me. God only fucking knows I could do with a little bit of that sometime soon.....”

I quickly reined my thoughts in as I could feel myself approaching the object of my desires. The amplitude of her sound was getting bigger and bigger by the minute, and I knew I was closing in. I could only hope I had gotten there soon enough. I came to a steady halt, slowing from sprint to jog, and then to a standstill, as I crouched low and began to move forward, eventually coming to a halt behind a tree, which I leaned up against.

“Now, if my ears did not deceive me, she should be just in front of me. Come on boys, don’t fail me now.....”

Staying low, I went to slowly lean my head around the tree I was situated behind, trying to get a glimpse of my damsel in distress. However, I suddenly stopped myself short as an idea birthed it’s way into existence in my head.

“The ground is good I suppose. But higher ground is going to provide me more benefits”

I ducked my head back behind my tree, and instead, looked straight up, trying to find some low-hanging branches. My plan in essence was simple. I would scale the tree, move out onto one of the thicker branches, assess the danger and location of my target. Swoop in like an angel en high. Save the day. Smiles all round. Lots of hugs, and then an “Excuse me miss, but where in the name of Christ am I”. Fool proof.

I began to heave my own weight up the scaly wooden bark of the tree, hoping to whatever deity may have been listening that the thing would hold my weight, or that I wouldn’t lose my grip. While I was doing so, the thought occurred to me that I had been having a very neglectful relationship with the ground as of the last 48-hours, and made a silent promise to myself that this would be the last time I would willingly leave it’s solid embrace. And if I did?.....

Shit, I dunno. I’ll give it an apology card or something? Seriously, what do you want from me here!

Finally, after about fuck-knows how long climbing, I was satisfied that this high up, my vantage point would be perfect for a little bit of recon. Locating a very thick, extruding branch, I began to edge slowly along it staying hunched in my crouched position.

That’s when I heard it again. That scream, so full of mourning and hopelessness now came ringing in my ears laced with something else. Something I was all too familiar with. Pain.

I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I reached out in front of me with one hand to brush away the leaves obscuring my view, using the other to grab the branch below me to steady myself.

What I saw in actual fact, confirmed for absolute, 100-per-fucking-cent, that I was no longer on Earth.  As I looked down, I saw something which caused my own breath to hitch in my throat.

“What.... The fuck..... Are THEY!?”

My eyes, bless the poor things, had come to lie on a sight I can only describe as being able to terrify the staunchest of warriors, let alone little old me! In the middle of the clearing that I was looking down on, I saw what I can only describe as entities of natural terror. They looked like wolves. Exactly like wolves. Except for that one thing....

THEY WERE MADE ENTIRELY OF WOOD!

They looked absolutely vicious. 5 of them were there in that clearing, and while they all shared unique features, their general anatomy seemed very similar. Their bodies seemed to be loosely compiled of thick twigs and branches, all which looked very similar to such wood lying around the forest that I had seen. Those branches spanned outwards at the limbs into more thick logs, which seemed to become very “muscled” fore and hind legs.

On the end of each one of those burly legs, there nestled three curved, almost fang-like claws, which looked like they were for the exact purpose of shredding anything that got in their path, and my brain, delightfully sharp fellow that it was, was very quick to point out that that “anything” I referred to, could very easily be me if I got a little too close.

Their heads were like something out of a nightmare at a logging site. Imagine, if you will for a second, that you take a circular log, and then swing an axe right down the centre, splitting it about half way through. Then, pull the log apart slightly so that there is a gap in between the split surfaces. Not very threatening right? True. Ok then wise guy, why don’t we, just for shits and giggles, then fill that fracture surface with the most sharp, evil-looking fangs imaginable. Then why don’t we give that log some wacked-out sinister glowing green eyes too. Oh, and some leaves for eyebrows. Because you know, eyebrows are some serious shit. Not funny anymore? Good. I thought so. Now get off my back and clean up that mess you made between your legs. That stuff leaves stains dude.

Anyway, I could see that this was not exactly looking on the upside for me. I would have to go up against 5 of those.... things.... with almost no useful kit in this circumstance, very little tactical advantage and only a small possibility that whoever I was trying to save would actually be of any help.

What I saw next, on the other hand, all but put pay to that last shred of promise.

One of the wolves had blood dripping off of it’s claws.

That’s when I began to feel my blood boil somewhat. My eyes darted around quickly, trying to locate the blood’s source. I could see them swarming, in what was very indicative of a pack mentality, around some kind of yellow horse-like creature. Definitely looked like a mammal from what I saw, maybe 4 foot and change, and seemed to have some kind of feathery saddle on it’s back, with a length of bright pink across it’s mane and down it’s tail, however, that colour was marred by a tri-lined claret gash down it’s flank. It was doubled-over and led on the ground, with one of it’s fore hooves bent at a strange angle. It looked to be sprained at best, broken at worst.

“Ouch” I stated, before slapping myself over the head “No kidding ouch, you moron!”

“That’s gotta hurt, but I’m sorry hun. You’re not who I’m looking for right now. Where is your owner? She must have been the one

that screamed.....”

After everything I had been through in the past few days, what happened next really shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did.

Although, I think it certainly would’ve got you too if you had been there, because next thing my ears heard were:

“P-p-please Mr Timberwolf. P-please l-leave me alone! I-I don’t want to d-die out here!” a voice sobbed.

I almost fell out of my tree. Fuckin’ literally. There was nowhere else that voice could’ve come from. No ONE else to boot. Which could only mean.....

It had been the horse. That’s where the noise had come from. I was stuck in a world of talking fucking horses.

God, your sense of humour is f’ed up my man.

As my mind tried to bend it’s way around my somewhat xenophobic attitude to dealing with the surprise of a talking horse apparently being a thing now, I leant forward to get a better look at her. And things started to click. Like the mane.

I mean, who dyes a horse’s mane pink where I come from? No one. I don’t even think horses have yellow coats too. I mean Dun horses kinda? But this was a nice creamy yellow, nothing that I expected to naturally occur in an Earth-born horse.

Then I saw her eyes. Oh Jesus H man. I think that broke me then and there. They were the most stunningly clear shade of teal I think I had ever seen in my life, made more eerily dazzling by the fact that they were laced with moisture from where she had been sobbing into the dirt. I couldn’t say that I blamed her. Being trapped by those things.... It must’ve been terrifying. I should know. It wasn’t all that long ago I thought I was going to die too.

Not nice. At all.

My decision came quickly, and it seemed my mind needed very little convincing. Talking pony.... horse.... thing or not, she was not going to die. Not here. Not today. And most importantly, not on my watch.

As the wolf pack closed in, I could see her visibly give up. Her head hung, dejected and without life. She had accepted that this was her fate; to perish at the hands of these (Timberwolves? Heh, nice pun) Little did she know that, perched high up on my branch, I was fishing around in my pocket at that very moment for the one thing I could think of that might give me a chance at saving her.

My concussion grenade.

Now, normally, in the situation I was in, it would’ve been very little use. Your standard MK3A2 concussion grenade is in fact normally lethal at 2 metres, which would be great. However, it also has the ability to project bits of shrapnel over two hundred metres as well. I don’t know what stories you read when you were a child, but I’m pretty sure Prince Charming didn’t end up marrying a beautiful princess that had more holes in her than a fuckin’ pepper pot.......

......................Would’ve spiced the story up a little though.

Anyway, at SPECTRE, we had been working on a variant to the MK3A2. Very similar in ability, but without the shrapnel projection. Death by concussive wave was very difficult to pin on any one particular person or country, and removing the chance of shrapnel giving us away gave SPECTRE the perfect range-based assassination tool. I had used them many times...... To my new found disgust.

This on the other hand was different. I was gonna save her; give her back her life instead of taking it. Of that I was damn sure. However, it quickly came to the forefront of my mind that I was running out of time. The group was closing in for the kill, with the tension hanging in the air reaching fever pitch. It was palpable. Unbearable.

The supposed leader of the pack raised his gnarled wooden claws to the sky, about to bring down the curtain on the life of the distraught and devastated creature that lay before me. It was at that point that I finally snapped, as my own emotion pushed me into action, and my anger began to overflow. Throwing “operational procedure” AND my element of stealth to the wind, I stood up on my branch, pulled the pin from the grenade, and shouted that only thing that came to my mind at the time

(Be forewarned, it was not witty OR clever)

“HEY. DOWN THERE. I’M TALKING TO YOU, ASSHAT. WHY DON’T YOU PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE, HUH?”

(You can’t say I didn’t try to warn you)

At that point, all eyes in the clearing fell on me, both teal and green. Her features lit up somewhat as she saw me, her eyes glistening now with hope, where once there had been naught but cold acceptance. I saw the smallest ray of sunshine penetrate her sullen emotional depths, but at that same time I also saw the face of fear. She was looking right at me.

At my mask.

I could understand why she’d be scared. Many others in her place before her had been to, except this time, I was here to save her, and I wasn’t taking no for an answer.

In THEIR eyes though, I saw confusion, followed by anger. How dare this thing come and take away their hard-earned meal from them! Even if he WAS really very handso.....

What? Oops, my bad. Adrenaline and all that jazz.

Anyway, their leafy green eyebrows arched downwards as they began to snarl, rounding away from the injured pony for a second to glare at me, whilst they formed a protective wall around what they thought would be their next meal.

This was in fact, even better than I had hoped for. That wall of walking twig was going to come in very handy in a few seconds.

I had been cooking the grenade for a second or to now, and that was with good reason too. As I said, they had effectively formed a wall around their prey, in an attempt to prevent me from getting to her if I tried to mount a physical assault. It was a cleaver strategy, but there was no way I was gonna take five of those things on. That wall they had formed was gonna protect the pony from the concussive wave, or at least as much of it as I could hope for.

I swung my arm forward, releasing my grip on the grenade’s shell as I did so, allowing it to roll out of my hand in an underarm throw motion, where gravity preceded to take over and do the rest of my work for me, dropping the grenade about a foot from the middle of the wooden wall.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a quick blur of movement.

I quickly raised my voice again: “COVER YOUR EARS! THIS IS GONNA GET LOUD!”

I could have sworn all I heard in response was a small “eep!”

What followed in that next few seconds really was quite spectacular. The grenade went off with exactly the result I was hoping for,

dispersing a concussive wave that tore it’s way through the wall of animated timber with reckless abandon.

The results, even I must admit, were devastating.

The three wolves in the middle of the pack were now nowhere to be seen, and all that was resting in their place were the occasional twig or bit of leaf. The rest of hem I can only assume were scattered a fair distance apart. The wolf on the far left of the wall to me appeared to have at least caught a bit of the brunt, if not the full thing. He was missing his left leg and was at present on his side, unmoving. Whether he was dead or not was unknown to me at that point, but the important thing was that he was immobile, and as far as I knew, not a threat.

However, in all plans, there are unknown variables. In my beautifully laid one, it turned out to be the wolf on the far right who, it would appear, did actually have two brain cells to rub together. When my little gift had made itself visible, he quickly hid himself behind his friends, using their mass to save himself from the majority of the attack. He stood before me now, wearing what I can only describe as the most smug, shit-eating grin I had ever seen in my life. And this was coming from something made out of wood. There was though, something that made that little prick shrivel into insignificance.

Behind it, the pony lay there. She had clearly tried to curl into the foetal position to save herself from the shock-wave, but was currently just laying there.

No movement. At all.

I realised that, unless she was just unconscious, her life may have just become something that would be determined by how quickly I could get to her, even if it meant ploughing through the bastard in front of me first.

So, taking that sliver of thought and running with it, I rapidly made to assess my next move.

Luckily, I was holding all the cards, so to speak. I was in an elevated position, with a ranged weapon, against an enemy who

couldn't reach me and only had access to a physical, if devastating attack. Unsurprisingly, I decided against going down to his level. Something told me I’d get something a little more painful than a hug if I did......

Instead, I opted to press my bow into use, for the first time in I can’t remember how long. I just hoped I could still remember which end I was supposed to fire the pointy bit out of. I withdrew and arrow from the streamlined quiver on my back and notched it onto the bow string, feeling the satisfying  “click” as it locked itself into place.

Taking a deep breath, I raised the bow, bringing my right arm back at the same time to draw the string tightly. I trained my sights on my target below me, who was pacing about the forest floor trying to find a way to get to me while I was alighted on my wooden perch. It had seemingly forgotten about it’s “meal”, and I was certainly in no hurry to remind it either.

7 seconds, in case you were wondering.

That was the time between drawing my bow, sighting my target, steadying my shot, and then releasing it. It’s always important with a bow to simply release your draw fingers. You should never snatch or grab at the shot, or it could easily go awry. It should all be natural. Fluidic motion.

And it was too. Anger, precision, and intent were my three allies when I released that shaft, and all three of them helped to guide it onto it’s target. The point whistled through the air, before impaling itself right in the forehead of the Timberwolf, slicing it’s way through the wood at an angle before emerging out of it’s lower jaw, before finally coming to rest stuck in the dirt. I watched only for a moment more as I saw a whimper leave the stiff lips of the creature, the ghostly green hue in it’s eyes slowly fading away until only a swirling void of blackness remained.

Certain I was no longer in any immediate danger I hastily, but safely made my way down the tree, and over toward the pony lying in front of me.  In the back of my mind was the constant reminder that these probably weren’t the only scary motherfuckers lurking about in this hellhole, and that I should really hurry up and exfil. Unless myself and my acquaintance would like to stay for dinner?

“Thanks brain. Real fucking helpful.......”

Opting to approach quietly, I slowed down a bit as I approached. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten her. The poor thing looked like she had had enough of that for a bloody lifetime. I silently knelt on the floor beside her head, and brought my two fingers up to her neck, looking for a pulse.

..........

..........

“Come on..... Come on.......”

...........

...........

BU-BUMP.........

...........

BU-BUMP..........

It was there! It was faint, but it was there!

I could barely contain my excitement as I tried to keep quiet to avoid attracting any other inhabitants of the forest. Said excitement was based, fundamentally, on two levels.

One. I had succeeded in saving this...... Pony? I’m just gonna say pony from now on. Much easier.

Anyway, I had actually saved her! She would know where I could go to get help, and hopefully get home. At that moment, I was willing to let the fact she could FUCKING TALK slide, considering I had NO IDEA how I had even got here. As far as I was concerned, and even if my sane and analytical side didn't want to admit it, right now every possibility was fair game.

The second one though, was arguably more important to me on a personal level.

I had just taken the skills I had gained from a job that had trained me to be a cold, calculating killer, and used them to save a life. Sure, there had been hostage rescues before, but never something like this. This was spontaneous, out-of-the-blue, and not actually necessary, but I had done it. I had saved a life. Not a target. Not a name. Not a number in a file in a government database. A life. Alive.

I fully intended to make sure she stayed that way as well, but quickly came to the realisation that there was no way I could carry her over my shoulders. I just wasn't strong enough. Even so, I couldn't just leave her here. This clearing was a nightmare from a defensive standpoint. Sure, I might be able to hold a few more invaders off, but I’d lost my high-ground, and once I started getting tired, I’d get sloppy......

That wouldn't end well for either of us.

I finally came to the conclusion that I would have to rouse her. I was going to need her strength to help me carry her, and she would have to support her own weight. It also occurred to me I was going to have to calm her down too. Seeing some walking talking bi-ped in combat gear with a mask that looked like death was not going to do anything for her already shot nerves.

I exhaled slowly, before gently shaking her shoulders....

“Hey...... Hey! Come on girl, don’t leave me hanging here......”

I was jostling her for about ten seconds before I finally got a response. She stirred, her head shaking to and fro as her eyes were squeezed shut and she babbled incessantly, if quietly:

“N-n-no more p-please..... I don’t want to die...... I don’t want to die..... No no no no....”

She just kept repeating herself, like her mind was a record with a skipping needle. I felt my heartstrings twang just a little, as she had clearly never been in this situation before. I wanted to help, but we needed to leave, and soon.

“Hey hey hey, stop, just.... no stop..... Just look at me, look at me. That’s it. You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you ok? I’m here to help you” I tried using my gentlest voice possible, in the hope it would subdue some of her fears.

She finally stopped shaking her head and opened her eyes, quivering like the last leaf in an empty autumn tree the whole time, and “eeped” slightly in shock before responding ,

“W-w-who a-are you? You d-don’t look like a-any pony I know. Or one of m-my animal f-friends!”

“Good. Responses still there. Higher brain functions still present. Memory intact. Most likely shock” I analysed in my own head. It was good to know she was ok, but this was not the time for a Q&A sesh.

“Look” I started, “I know this isn’t making all that much sense to you right now, but I promise I am only here to help you. I’m willing

to answer any questions you have, but firstly, we need to get back to my camp”

It seemed that during my introduction, she had calmed a little. I was trying to look as least threatening as possible, which is kinda hard to do I might add when your face looks like the Reaper incarnate........

Oi! Excuse-fucking-me! How was I supposed to know this thing wasn’t gonna get hostile? Or that if I was still on Earth, that I made end up compromised by this little stunt? That mask was being worn for my own protection..... Yeah, exactly. Now take you comments of “Well just take the mask off dipshit” and go take a long walk off a short cliff!..... Now, where was I?

Oh yeah.

“If I support you, can you walk on your.....back..... hind legs? We’ll get out of this much quicker if I don’t have to carry you the whole way” I could only hope at that point that weight wasn’t as much of a sensitive issue wherever I was as it was on Earth....

“A-actually.....” She began, “I-I’m a p-pegasus. I barely w-weigh anything a-at all......”

Funnily enough, I distinctly remember the next thought that crossed my head.

“Wait.... Pega.... Oh you have GOT to be FUCKING KIDDING ME”

Something clicked together inside my head.... Leather saddle? No. No those were wings. They had been right in front of me the whole time and I had somehow missed it.......

“Uh.....right....ok then. Can I try and pick you up? I’m gonna have to slide my hands under you. I promise I’ll try not to aggravate your bleeding, and I’ll be sure to patch it up as soon as we get back”

She paused for a second and, unless my eyes deceived me, which I am almost sure they did, it looked like she was blushing!

“Ummmm..... Ok, i-if you can, I’d r-really appreciate it.... But please be careful of my w-wings.....They’re awfully sensitive.......” she whispered.

Her response was so shy-sounding and quiet, I could barely hear it above the background noise of the forest. I gently leaned down, and brought my arms underneath her still body to heave her up and into my arms. True to her word, she felt like she barely weighed anything at all, which was pretty impressive for 4 foot of pon.... Pegasus. Damn. I’m still getting use to calling her that.

Once she was in my arms, I turned lightly on my feet, and began the long trek back into the forest, and toward my camp. It would soon be dark out, and I wanted to get her some medical help as soon as possible.

5 hours later....

I thrust another stick into the glowing pyramid of flame that I had built in the pit before me, sighing deeply as I watched a few more loosed embers dance their way into the night sky. It had been a busy, and quite eventful day.

We had made it back to my camp as the sun began to hang low in the sky, casting a bathing glow over the treetops of the forest. She had begun to drift in and out of consciousness curled up in my arms as I broke through the bushes and into the clearing that I had begun to familiarise myself with, and so I moved over to where my makeshift hammock was set up, and gently set her on the ground beside it. I grabbed my medic kit that I had packed in my duffel bag and proceeded to empty it onto the ground, searching for what I needed.

It took me a few seconds, but I found what I required and, with a triumphant smile, I snatched up my bandages and tore open the bag they were kept in. The thin cream strips tumbled into my hands like party streamers, and I stretched them out before beginning to gently, and with great care, wrap them around the pegasus’ cream coloured flank. While I was doing so however, I couldn’t help but notice that just to the side of where the 3 gashes were, there seemed to be a mark of some kind. It looked a lot like three butterflies, which reassured me a little that maybe the wildlife here was at least a LITTLE similar to what I knew existed on Earth.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder at the mark’s origins.

“A tattoo maybe? Is that even a thing here.....?” I couldn’t help but brush my fingers across it, feeling her silken fur give way to my questing touch.

This movement, gentle though it may have been, seemed to rouse her out of her unconscious state.

“Um.... Excuse me mister.....? What are you doing....... If you don’t mind me asking that is? And where are we exactly?”

Wow. Well that was interesting. This po.... Pegasus god fucking damn it. This PEGASUS had been slashed up by a wolf made of a hylophobiac’s worst nightmare , she was a hair’s breadth away from death, she had been rescued by some bi-pedal alien, and she was intermittently phasing in and out of consciousness.

That was a shitty day by anyone’s standards. And I’ve had some REAL shitty days.

But for some reason, instead of getting angry when she saw what I was doing, or coming out with some snide remark as I perhaps would’ve, she simply inquired as to what was going on, and in the most cutely inquisitive manner I had ever seen! She even asked me if I was ok to tell her!

Sufficed to say, I was a little taken aback.

“Uh... Well, uh....” I could only stammer, “I’ve taken you back to the camp I set up when I arrived here. I heard your screams out when I was exploring the forest, and so I came to find you. When I did, I found you hurt and bleeding on the ground”

I finished bandaging up her flank and went over to a nearby tree to find two thick and sturdy sticks to make a splint for her injured leg, all the while still talking to her. I wanted to keep her as distracted  as possible from her injuries;

“I climbed up into a tree to get a better look at your position, when I saw those....things.... lurking over you. I used a kind of...........” I paused for a second, wondering how I was gonna explain what a grenade was to her. I decided to play it down a bit. “.......explosive to get rid of them, and then came over to find you”

I returned to where she lay, perked up a little now, and laying in the style of a sphinx, injured leg out in front of her. I began to attach the sticks to her leg, and then bandage them up. The splint may not have been necessary, but until I knew how bad the wound was, I wasn’t going to do anything that may aggravate it. I decided to continue my story;

“When I found you, I wasn’t sure of your condition, so I checked for a pulse, and luckily, I found one!  Then I tried to rouse you and..... Well, the rest, as they say, is history” I finished, tying the final knot in the last bandage on the splint.

Finally, after everything I had been through, she was no longer in any immediate danger, which meant I could relax a little. I put down my bow and quiver in a pile, removing my sheathed sword as well and laying it down next to the kit mountain I was making. As I did, I could feel a little exhaustion wash over me in wave, and so I sat back in the dirt, knees up with my hands resting on them. I could feel the adrenaline slowing beginning to trickle out of my system. “So, how do you feel?”

“Um... Well, a little better I guess? I mean, not that you did a bad job or anything.....”

Even in my emotionally run-down state, I couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Here I was, on a seemingly alien world, and the first sentient being I run into is the embodiment of shyness itself! I tried to put pay to her fears a little, hoping I could at the very least, get her to open up to me.

“Hey, I know exactly what you mean. Don’t worry about it! You’ve obviously been through quite the ordeal today! Now, if you’ll just come with me....” I trailed off, moving over to where she was and scooping her up into my arms.

“Eeep! W-what are you doing!?”

I moved her slowly over to my hammock, into which I gently deposited her.

“Hey, you need to rest that leg, and you’ve had a rough day. And anyway, that’s better than the ground right?”

She couldn’t exactly argue with my logic. “Well....Um, yes..... But......”

I swiftly cut her off before she could finish; “Well then, let’s just leave it at that you need it more than I do right now, so you’re quite welcome to it”

I think she was murmuring something to herself after I finished, but I couldn’t hear what it was about, and so decided not to press the issue any further. I watched from my dirt laden seat as she shuffled about a little in the silk, trying to get herself and her leg into a position that was mutually comfortable for both parties. After about 30 seconds, judging from the tired-sounding sigh she gave out, I guessed her leg was proving to be a bit of a tricky customer, and so I decided to engage her in some conversation. It was about stretching my own knowledge, as well as distracting her from her pain.

Mutual gain for the win bro.

“Um, hey......” I tried to begin but I faltered a little, not knowing where to start. I mean, alien Pegasus thing on an alien planet is quite a broad bloody spectrum to begin with. How was I gonna narrow it down?

“Great start jackass. SHE’S supposed to be the shy one here. Sack up and use me for once! Try starting with the basics?” My brain could be powerfully eloquent sometimes.....

I tried again, a little more composed and sure this time; “Uh, hey..... I just realised I never got your name. I suppose I have to have something to call you right?” It was a clumsy, poorly attempted conversation starter by anyone’s standards, but it was all I had. Conversation, friends and socialite shit had never been a strong suit growing up as it was, let alone with a talking 4 foot cream coloured Pegasus!

Luckily though, I seemed to have hit the jackpot. She leaned her head over the side of the hammock, a single pink strand of her mane falling over and framing her face as she replied, “Um...... Well, if I answer your question, could you answer one of mine? I mean, if you want to that is.......”

I smiled under my mask. “Well, I certainly think that’s a fair deal Miss.....?”

“Oh..... The Miss isn’t necessary, honestly.......... and it’s Fluttershy”

...................

...................

...................

Right.

Ok.

Someone call for a curve ball to deep left field? Because that’s certainly what it felt like.

I mean, I was expecting SOMETHING a little abnormal...... Actually, truth be told I don’t know what I was expecting. It just seemed rather strange. There was no surname. Nothing like that. It seemed more like a nickname than anything, as “Shadowstrike” was mine.

Seeing that I was struggling with things, my cranium leapt in to save the day again; “Hey, idiot. Remember, you’re in a world that contains talking ponies, pegasi, wolves made of wood, and what I can only logically process as magic. So how about you treat everything as normal unless you’re told otherwise ok?

Annoyingly it was a good idea. Unfortunately for my new acquaintance, my response seemingly didn’t come quick enough;

“Oh....Oh you don’t like it do you......” The sadness in her voice was only made worse by the moisture beading up in her eyes again.

“Nice. Smooth moves. You're a Grade A idiot, you know that right?”

I realised I had to rectify this one and fast. Getting up quickly, I moved a nearby loose tree stump over to where the hammock was and sat down on it, my height allowing me to look down into the hammock......

......And into the face of a Pegasus who was seemingly on the edge of sobbing her heart out. She had been through a lot today, and the last thing she probably needed was some overly insensitive guy seemingly (and UNINTENTIONALLY!) shunning her. The incident itself was relatively minor; a small misunderstanding, but we had both had LONG days, and were emotionally on a knife-edge. I set about trying to avoid what I knew could be a very tear-filled ending to the day.

“Hey, no no no look, Miss Fluttershy, it’s not that at all, I promise. It’s just......I just.......I thought that.......”

I tried to continue, but my higher brain functions came to a sputtering halt. There was nothing left in the neurological tank. I realised I just had no idea what to say to fix this. It wasn’t even that big of a problem; a simple verbal delay, but sadly for me, that was all it took.

“Bollocks”

Letting out a long, defeated sigh, I let my head hang, as if all the life had been sucked from me. The toll of the past few days events had finally come crashing down on me and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Slowly, but surely, I reached around the back of my head, and fumbled with the clip on the back of my mask. It took awhile, but I finally let it fall to the ground in front of me with a dull *THUD*. I made no attempt to catch it. I didn’t even want to try.

From the hammock, I heard a *gasp* as my shaggy black hair was freed from it’s constraining prison, but I decided to leave it. I just hung there, looking down into the dirt at my face covering.

It must have been about 2 or 3 minutes before a voice snapped me out of my depressed stupor;

“Umm....Excuse me for asking but...... Why are you crying?” The worry and sadness seemed to have left her voice. I looked up to find that she was staring up at me from her nestled spot in the hammock, her teal eyes stretched wide in wonder, with a tinge of confusion.

I brought my gloved hand up to my own face, and was shocked to find tracks of moisture making tracks down my face. She was right. I HAD been crying. I had been so wrapped up in my own emotions, I hadn’t even noticed.

I knew I had to explain myself. To at least try and right my wrongs.

“Look, I’m so sorry Miss Flutt-“

In a brief flash of assertiveness, she jumped in; “Please..... JUST Fluttershy”

I couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “Look, Fluttershy, can I level with you here?” A nod. “I AM sorry, believe me I really am. It’s just I’m not from around here in case you haven’t noticed”

I looked right into her eyes “I don’t know if you know what I am, but I am human Fluttershy. By my judging as well, the only one in these parts. I don’t know where I am right now, or how I came to be here. I was basically on death’s doorstep when I arrived here...... Hell, I literally fell out of the sky! I’ve almost died twice in the last 48 hours!”

I could feel the anger welling up again inside me, bubbling just beneath my surface and threatening to erupt.....

“I’ve been to the edge and back. In the past day or two, I’ve gone from believing I had at least something, to realising I had nothing.

From having few friends, to no friends. From knowing where and who I was...... To I don’t even know what anymore........”

The tears continued to fall, rolling down my face and dropping onto the dry forest floor beneath me, wetting it with my sorrow and pain.

“And now, I come across not only a pony that can TALK, but a PEGASUS as well!? I have no idea what’s going on anymore! I don’t know what to believe! I feel like I’m losing control!” I was practically whispering at this point. I had no idea why I was telling her all this. She was no counsellor. I barely knew her for Christ sake! And yet I felt like if I didn’t get this off my chest right then and there, it would consume me in it’s entirety.

I suppose, if that was the case, then it would be fair to say that what happened next both surprised and warmed my heart in equal measure.

I heard a shifting around in the soft cocoon in front of me, before something soft and cream materialised on my shoulder.

It was a hoof. I visibly flinched, and yet she would not be deterred.

“I....I don’t know what a human is...... Or where you might have come from......I don’t even know your name.......” I could hear a comforting tone in her voice.

“Ty”

“Um.. Sorry?”

Even when you were at your lowest, she still found a way to make you smile a little, even if it was unintentional.

“It’s my name Fluttershy. My name is Ty”

“Oh!” she stated, as a comprehensive light washed over her. Still, she carried on.

“Even so.... I know you saved me when n-nopony else could.  You d-didn’t know who I was, and you didn’t have to do anything...... You could’ve let me die.”

I felt another hoof tap me under the chin, causing me to look up into those large, round eyes, and a face that was most certainly blushing a little, adorned with just a slight smile.

“So I guess that makes you a hero.......? If you don’t mind me saying that is......” She quickly shied away again from me, that brief motherly spark enveloped by her own self-awareness as she sank back into the makeshift bed.

It took me a while. More time than I care to admit passed between us without a single word to colour the air, and yet, the gears in my brain were cranking double-time as I finally stopped my crying.

“Maybe..... Just maybe she’s right.... I mean, for now at least, maybe you just gotta go with the flow Ty. Roll with the punches. Remember what you were taught after all. A soldier who can’t adapt is a dead soldier.....”

Half a hour later, I got up from my tree stump, and slowly wandered over to where the hammock was, taking a peek inside. The little yellow bundle didn’t seem to be moving at all, and the clearing was so quiet at that time of night that I could even hear her breathing be carried on the cool night air.

Nevertheless, I sat down in front of the hammock, my back coming to rest against it as I simply stared into the roaring fire keeping us both warm. The material was thin, and I could feel her body heat on the other side, as well as a little “eep!” Evidently, she was still awake.

This was good. I was going to need to her if I wanted to keep myself together right now.

“Fluttershy?”

A response was not long coming...... “Yes....Ty?”

There were a million questions at the forefront of my mind at that point, but I finally managed to settle on a pretty basic one; “Where am I right now?”

And that was how the rest of the evening went. I spent it conversing with this intriguing yellow Pegasus, and boy did we talk the night away. By the time I finally drifted off into the land of dreams, I had at least a little more insight into where I was.....

And yet, as I curled up in front of the hammock, allowing it’s warm glow to lull me to sleep, I was still having a hard time processing it all. A land of talking ponies? And it wasn’t just ponies in..... Equestria? I think that’s right. Anyway, it wasn’t just ponies. There were apparently pegasi, just like Fluttershy, and unicorns and earth ponies, each of whom had a special talent, as was shown by their...... Ugh.... Their “cutie mark”, the weird tattoo like thing on their flanks......

I can’t believe I just said “cutie mark”....... Like seriously man......

She pumped me with some other details too, like the fact that her special talent was communicating with animals, which she used to provide them with food and care and generally look after all of them, which I had to admit, was pretty nifty.

Oh, and you know the Sun and Moon? Big things in the sky? Trust me, look up and you can’t miss’em. Anyway, apparently their movements in Equestria are controlled by two deity-like princesses who rule over the land......

Bat..... Shit..... Insane.

I was still reeling from all this, and was eager to know more, but she, very politely I might add, suggested that we should both get some sleep if we were going to move out the next day, and so I let some things I had wanted to know go for the time being.

The plan for the next day was to get up and out of this “Everfree Forest”, and head back to her cottage which was just outside it’s entrance. From there, we’d get sorted out, and then head into town proper to talk to one of her friends called Twilight Sparkle?

(Seriously, I should’ve just called myself Shadowstrike. This shit would’ve been so much easier) Anyway, we’d go see her and try to find out a little more about how I got here.

A fine plan for sure in theory, theory being the operative word in that sentence. I just wasn’t sure how a town full of predominantly pony people was gonna take to a strange looking thing as myself. Even if I was pretty good-look.........

.....I REALLY need to stop doing that.

Still, I thought it was a valid concern. I was pretty sure I was the first one of my kind to ever end up here, and believe me when I tell you that I didn't get to where I was today being some kind of ambassador for the whole of my race! I could see this going to hell in a hand-basket very, very quickly, despite how much I kept telling myself to just roll with it.

After all, what’s the worst that could happen, right?

I let a few more loose thoughts drift through my head like smoke, before I finally let my tiredness claim me.

At the time of Ty’s saving Fluttershy, Golden Oak Library

“Twi!..... Hey, Twi!” A little lavender and green dragon came trotting down the stairs of the Golden Oak Library in the centre of Ponyville, looking for a certain pony in particular.....

“Twilight?” he asked inquisitively, “ Have you seen those gems that Rarity gave me a few days ago? I hid them somewhere and I can’t remember where....” He sounded a little dejected, not only at the thought of losing a good snack, but more over at losing something given to him by Rarity.

It took a few moments but a voice seemed to echo into the room, and it sounded like it was coming from the cupboard under the stairs he had just come down; “Um.... I’m not sure Spike.... Maybe try looking on top of the bookshelves? That’s where I normally find half of your things. Maybe you should try making a checklist of hiding places to check?..... Now where did I put that blasted book.....?”

The little dragon’s eyes seemed to light up at the suggestion.

“Ah!” he shouted, suddenly having a few memories flash back to him; “Of course that’s where I would’ve put......”

He would’ve carried on, but he felt something catch in his throat, even though he could feel nothing there. Internally, he couldn’t help but sigh. This ability was really cool, and quite useful, but at times it was a pain in the behind.....

He gagged slightly as a rush of green flame erupted from his mouth, and a scroll appeared before him, coming to gently rest on the ground after bouncing a little.

Picking it up, a golden hoofprint seal was clearly visible attached to the red ribbon holding the scroll together, and that could only mean one thing.......

“Twilight! Celestia sent you another scroll! I swear that’s like the sixth one this week...... Someone needs to go get a hobby.......”

*CRACK*

“Ah ponyfeathers!”

The sound emanated again from under the stairs, and it sounded exactly like a unicorn hitting their head on the underside of the stairs. Probably had something to do with the fact that Twilight had just hit her head on the underside of the stairs...... Nevertheless, and looking pretty unperturbed by the whole thing, her head shot out from the doorway, seemingly wearing a book as a rather fetching hat.

“WELL? WHAT DOES IT SAY!?” she almost shouted excitedly.

Spike could only sigh again. He wondered why this kind of thing was just so interesting to her. I mean, he loved being her number 1 assistant, he really did, but he’d take a bag of gems and a long nap over communicating with the princess back and forth all day, every day.... Well, any day!

But before he could even grab the rolled parchment of the ground, Twilight was already levitating it over to herself, her horn awash with a glowing purple aura as it unfurled itself before her eyes.

He could see her eyes quickly scanning over the contents of the letter at a blinding pace. Honestly, sometime soon he really needed to try getting her to just chill. He’d probably get a death stare for his trouble, but it’d be worth trying....

“Spike.....”

He wondered what that would be like..... A Twilight that was just a little less tightly wound.....

“Spike.....?”

He would have so much more time! No more stacking books, re-shelving them day in and day out, not to mention all that time he could spend with Rarity.....

“SPIKE!”

Twilight’s raised voice shook him from his daydream, the slightly worried look on her face troubling him a little.

“Twi? What’s up? Is something wrong? He ventured.

“Do me a favour Spike? Go round up the girls for me......" He didn't like this. Her voice sounded worried.

"......It would seem we've got a problem in the Everfree.”