The Lunar Spartans

Chapters

Looking for Players
Slayer
Oddball
Juggernaut
Grifball
Assault
VIP
Capture the Flag
Territories
Infection
Firefight

Looking for Players

Looking for Players...

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

The forest was still and silent, its trees motionless as the wind died down and the leaves settled on the ground, joining countless more in carpeting the mossy floor and hiding dozens of tree branches from sight.

The silence was soon shattered as automatic gunfire ripped through the air.

Dawson, a Spartan-IV, fired his assault rifle from the hip as numerous ponies, all wearing the bright gold armour exclusive to the Solar Empire Army, scattered before him.

‘Yeah, you mother humpers!’ he yelled after them. ‘For the New Lunar Republic!’

His partner and squad leader, Jackson, joined him in gunning down the fleeing soldiers, their combined firepower turning the stallions into bullet ridden corpse that the forest seemed to swallow up the moment they dropped.

Both Spartans emptied their assault rifles then slipped fresh mags in, continuing their barrage of gunfire.

Once the last body had fallen still, they reloaded again and set off in search of more Solar Empire soldiers to kill.

Inside the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

Luna gave a weary sigh as she signed the last parchment and rolled it up, adding it to an already immense pile of them. She had been up all night going over the current Equestrian laws and making her own modifications for when she finally overthrew Celestia and her wretched Solar Empire, allowing the New Lunar Republic to replace it and allow ponies everywhere the freedom to choose their leaders.

She would, of course, oversee the first few years to get everything in place before holding the very first elections but right now, Luna’s thoughts drifted to her bed.

Tiberius, her pet opossum, was curled on the desk next to her, asleep.

‘Oh, Tibble-kins.’ She said to the animal. ‘Who knew it would be so much work planning a revolution? Sending troops out, coming up with new laws, plotting to overthrow that tyrant I once called a sister. When will it end?’

Tiberius cracked open one eye then fully opened both, stretching out with yawn, before climbing atop the Alicorn’s head, pointing at her bed.

‘Oh, that would make me most happy, Tiberius.’ She said, looking longingly at the midnight blue covers and soft but firm mattress. If she hurried and gave the guards outside her room orders to not let anyone past, she might be able to avoid dealing with Those Two.

Luna groaned inwardly, thinking of the two Spartans she had summoned.

Her uprising against Celestia and the Solar Empire had gone well at first with her army winning a number of small but tactically important battles in the opening days of the Equestrian Civil War but as time went on, that number began petering out until the Solar Empire and New Lunar Republic became locked in a stalemate. Neither could dislodge the other long enough from any one location to fortify it ahead of the inevitable counterattack, leading to a war of attrition that, after looking over their supplies and available soldiers, the New Lunar Republic would eventually lose.

So, in an act of desperation, Luna had trawled through her collection of books on arcane magic in search of a spell that would give her more powerful soldiers or some super weapon to unleash on the Solar Empire.

She had gotten Jackson and Dawson instead.

They were a welcome addition to begin with, fending off Solar Empire soldiers with ease, but as time went on their underlying personality disorders began showing through.

Dawson was more vocal than Jackson, often yelling ‘For the New Lunar Republic’ as he gunned down the enemy and calling them mother humpers as well, and had a way of explaining unusual feats or actions with the phrase Shark Week.

Jackson, meanwhile, was much quieter and focused when out in the field and more often than not would sing songs to himself in the midst of battle. When he did speak and it wasn’t an order, it was fifty-fifty on whether it would be making casual conversation with Dawson or spouting some weird fact or disturbing imagery.

Both used a less than refrained style of combat, usually tackling the enemy head with whatever weapon they had and leaving a bloody pile of bullet-ridden corpses behind, but if the situation called for it or they felt like doing it, the two Spartans would use stealth to whittle their opponents down. Or just annoy them.

Their after action reports were as brief as can be, most times only stating total casualties for both sides alongside their personal kill counts. On the rare occasion that either Jackson or Dawson decided to put anything more descriptive than that into their reports, it was kept just as brief.

Luna thought back to one such report.

Skirmish of Downtown Ponyville, After Action Report

Enemy Casualties: 50

Friendly Casualties: 34

Spartan Dawson Kill Count: 12

Spartan Jackson Kill Count: 14

Summary of Battle: Explosions. Explosions everywhere.

The lack of any detail infuriated Luna sometimes. She wanted to know how to make her troops better fighters and three word summaries weren’t going to tell her anything. But no matter how many times she asked them to give more specifics, Jackson and Dawson kept on giving three to four word answers, thus earning the moniker of Those Two from Luna because while she welcomed their presence in her army, their actions drove her crazy.

She glanced at the clock on her desk and saw it was seven o’clock in the morning, prompting Luna to yawn and sluggishly get to her hooves. Tiberius remained perched on her head, jumping down when Luna reached her bed and curled up on one of the pillows, quickly going back to sleep.

Luna moved to join the opossum, drawing back the covers, but a knock from the door made her groan instead and she turned away from the bed towards the door, dragging her hooves.

The door swung open to reveal one of the guards, dressed in full armour.

‘Your Majesty, Spartans Jackson and Dawson have returned from their mission in the Everfree Forest.’ The guard said, coming to attention. ‘Shall I send them in or will you meet with them in the library?’

‘Library.’ Luna said, yawning. ‘And have the kitchen send up some coffee and cakes. If I have to deal with Those Two, I want to have something to keep me awake.’

The guard saluted. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Inside the New Lunar Republic headquarters

Jackson propped his feet up on one of the library’s many desks, his dirt encrusted boots scuffing the wooden surface, writing up the latest after action report.

‘Patrol of the Everfree Forest number fifty-six.’ He said, speaking as he wrote. ‘Total number of enemy casualties: sixty. Total number of friendly casualties: none. Summary of battle: victory.’ He signed and dated it then tossed the parchment onto the desk alongside his helmet.

Opposite him, Dawson was flicking through what passed for erotic fiction in Equestria but judging from the semi-focused look in his eyes, the fact that it was about ponies was merely an inconvenience in an otherwise sexually arousing story.

Jackson glanced at the title. The Princess’s Guard.

‘Good book?’ he asked.

Dawson hummed. ‘It’s about an Alicorn who falls in love with a guard. Starts off with the usual mush of professing their love for one another, working their way up from kissing to heavy fondling to oral to actually fucking.’ He turned the page. ‘Just in the middle of the guard going down on the princess to deliver an earth shattering orgasm or some such. Goes into a lot of detail.’

‘It’s ponies, though.’ Jackson said.

‘When in Rome.’

Jackson shook his head. ‘Surprised you’re reading that stuff. You usually go for the hardcore stuff. You know, tied up and blindfolded while the man eats the chick out.’

‘Read them all.’ Dawson said as he turned the page again. ‘Four rows back from where you’re sitting, third shelf from the bottom, somewhere in the middle. Kind of surprised myself Luna has such books in her collection.’

‘Why am I not surprised you know exactly where they are?’

Dawson shrugged. ‘Shark Week.’

‘Of course.’

Jackson blew out a long breath as he leant back, hands clasped behind his head. It had been a long night, hunting Sunnies and chasing them, but he and Dawson had managed to but a huge dent in the local population of Solar Empire soldiers in a reasonable short time. Most of the night was spent getting to where the Sunnies had set up camp and walking back again.

It had been easy, almost unfair, taking on the Sunnies. Both he and Dawson wore MJOLNIR GEN2 armour, coloured blue with grey highlights and silver visors. Dawson, being a vehicle-orientated Spartan, had opted for the OPERATOR variant of the armour while Jackson, something of a generalist and a believer in the classics, had chosen the Mark VI from the GEN1 line of armours just like the Master Chief had worn, only blue instead of green. The ponies had no such armour.

Their guns were strewn haphazardly over the desk, each of them having a unique decoration given to them by their owners. Dawson had sprayed a shark’s mouth and eyes around the barrel of his rifle and Jackson had stencilled ‘Front Towards Enemy’ on his, complete with arrow. Both Spartans had included the New Lunar Republic’s emblem on the stock. Neither Spartan had taken the time to decorate their pistols.

The library’s double doors opened and Luna walked in, looking bleary eyed with a mug of coffee floating before her and Tiberius hanging from her necklace by his tail. He waved at the Spartans and held up a sign that read ‘Blue Team Rules!’

‘Tiberius, my man.’ Jackson said. ‘How’s it hanging?’

Dawson groaned. ‘That was terrible.’

‘I know.’ Jackson said.

Luna dumped herself at the desk, letting her coffee land with a thump onto the wooden surface. Some of the contents spilled out, joining the dirt from Jackson’s boots in tarnishing the otherwise immaculate surface.

‘Were you successful?’ she asked.

‘Yup.’ Jackson said, pushing the after action report her way.

‘Can I expect to find the usual detailed report chronicling each and every move you made in getting that success?’

‘Yup.’

Luna let out a despondent groan and let her head fall to the desk. ‘I passed up sleep for this?’

‘Yup.’ Jackson said again.

She sighed and brought her head back up, inadvertently catching sight of the book Dawson was reading. ‘Wh-Where did you find that?’

‘Five rows to my left, seven rows back, fourth shelf from the top, way to the left.’ He said, turning the page. ‘Gotta say, I never imagined you’d be the kind of person to have erotic novels. Especially some of them. A Night in Canterlot was racy, even for me.’

‘And that’s saying something.’ Jackson said.

‘If you say anything to anypony about those, I can and will hurt you.’ Luna said. ‘Both of you.’

‘You could but, then you’d lose the war against the Sunnies and Celestia.’ Dawson said, putting the book down and picked up his helmet. ‘We’re your ace in the hole.’

‘Yup.’ Jackson added, picking his helmet up, too. ‘So what’s next for Spartan Fireteam Squealing Wombat?’

Slayer

Inside the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

‘Crazy, but that’s how it goes. Millions of people, living as foes. Maybe, it’s not too late. To learn how to love. And forget how to hate.’ Jackson sang as he field stripped his assault rifle, singing along to a song only he could hear, occasionally moving his head in time with the beat. ‘Mental wounds not healing. Life’s a bitter shame. I’m goin’ off the rails on a crazy train! I’m goin’ off the rails on a crazy train!’

‘You’re already off.’ Dawson said from the other side of the room, his own assault rifle partially dismantled. ‘Hell, I doubt you were ever on the rails in the first place.’

‘Nope.’ Jackson said before resuming his singing. ‘I’ve listened to preachers, I’ve listened to fools. I’ve watched all the dropouts, who make their own rules. One person conditioned to rule and control. The media sells it, and you live the role.’

‘Why do you listen to such old stuff?’ Dawson asked as his squad mate began rocking out with an imaginary guitar.

‘Because you gotta respect the classics, man.’ Jackson said. ‘And, living here in Jersey, fighting villains from afar, you gotta find first gear in your giant robot car.’ He pointed at Dawson. ‘You dig giant robots.’ He pointed at himself. ‘I dig giant robots.’ He indicated them both. ‘We dig giant robots.’ At that moment, Luna entered the Spartan’s quarters and Jackson pointed his finger at her, too. ‘Chicks dig giant robots.’ He performed a quick solo on his ‘guitar’ before standing and kicking his stool over. ‘Nice.’

Luna opened her mouth to say something then closed it, before turning to Dawson. ‘And he’s your superior because?’

‘He has a better grasp on the tactical and strategic needs of battle than me.’ he said as Jackson righted his stool and sat down on it, singing another song to himself. ‘The fact he listens to old songs, randomly sings then, and has a tendency to say weird things doesn’t detract from that. It just serves to make people underestimate him.’ He began putting his assault rifle together. ‘That, and our plans for tackling the enemy are usually similar. They just go better with him at the helm.’

‘Pray tell, what plans do you usually come up with?’ Luna asked.

‘Simple ones.’ Jackson said. ‘The less in them, the better. Mostly they involve one thing or less.’

‘One thing or less?’ Luna said, rounding on Jackson. ‘How does that work?’

‘Brilliantly.’ He said. ‘With no steps to complete or achieve, there’s nothing that can go wrong. Ergo, no matter the outcome of the battle, the plan will always work.’

‘And when you have steps in your plans, what are they?’

‘Simple.’ Jackson said. ‘Kill everything that isn’t friendly.’

Luna grimaced as the Spartan assembled his rifle with unnerving precision.

‘So, you come to check up on Squealing Wombat or are you here with a new mission?’ Dawson asked, his rifle fully assembled.

‘A new mission.’ Luna said, bringing out a scroll which she passed to Jackson. ‘Intelligence suggests that a sizeable number of Solar Empire soldiers are heading to a nearby town that was abandoned some time ago to turn it into a new base. The location of this town means that if Celestia can occupy it, she can send troops to disrupt our supply lines with ease. You, and a team of forty, will stop them from doing that.’

Jackson picked up the scroll then threw it behind him, not even bothering to read the contents. ‘Consider it done.’

‘You’re not even going to look at the specifics?’ Luna said.

‘Nope.’ Jackson said. ‘You’ve given us all we need to know. Sunnies are coming to take over a town. We have to stop them. What more needs to be said?’

‘Usual plan, Commander?’ Dawson said as he stood and began stocking up on magazines and grenades.

‘Yup.’ Jackson said as he did the same. ‘Never let us down yet so why mess with success?’

They finished loading up and departed, leaving Luna alone in their quarters.

She let out a despondent groan and sagged to the floor. ‘I need a vacation.’

In the town of Hoofington

Hoofington was barely a kilometre squared, containing just a few house and some shops, all of them deserted and empty, their owners long since gone following the outbreak of war in Equestria.

Jackson had perched himself on top of the highest structure in town, a place from where he could spot any approaching enemy, while Dawson remained on the ground, directing the New Lunar Republic regulars into fighting positions.

They wore midnight black armour emblazoned with the symbol of the NLR, a stark contrast to the Solar Empire’s golden equipment, and carried with them spears and crossbows.

‘Well I’m a half-ton son of a gun with a suitcase full of pistols and money.’ Jackson sang softly to himself, watching for threats. ‘But come dawn, woman, I’m gone but tonight can be your lifetime, honey.’ He spotted a speck in the far distance, a column of dust that was growing with each passing second. ‘But God damn, girl. I’m your man, girl. I’ll get your engine singing!’

Below him, Dawson craned his neck upwards to shout at Jackson. ‘Hey, Commander! You see anything yet?’

‘This sounds good, let me under your hood and we can find out what I’m bringing!’ Jackson continued to sing, either not hearing Dawson or choosing to ignore him for the moment. ‘I’m one bad man. One bad man!’

He jumped down from the roof and landed next to Dawson. ‘Sunnies inbound. Everyone in place?’

‘Yeah, just waiting for the mother humpers to arrive.’ Dawson said. ‘You ready?’

‘Yup.’ Jackson said. ‘You?’

‘Do wombats squeal?’

‘Only if you zap them with a cattle prod.’ Jackson said as he drew his assault rifle. ‘But I’ll take that as a yes.’

The two Spartans sprinted to their prearranged positions from where they could fire on the approaching enemy force long before they could reach the town.

‘Kind of wish I had a battle rifle now.’ Jackson said as the Sunnies continued to approach. ‘Assault rifles tend to suck at anything beyond short range, even if I pulse the trigger.’

‘Yeah, well, you don’t.’ Dawson said over TEAMCOM. ‘But if Luna’s looking down on us favourably, you might be able to hit something this time.’

‘Hey, I hit things every time I fire.’ Jackson shot back. ‘It’s just not always living or an enemy.’

‘Don’t I know it?’ Dawson muttered. ‘My ass still hurts from the last time you unloaded a round into it.’

‘That was intentional.’

‘How was it?’

‘You wouldn’t stop reminiscing about what you and Lyra got up to the night before.’ Jackson said. ‘I had to find a way of shutting you up.’

‘There were other ways.’ Dawson said. ‘Like smacking me.’

‘You were too far away.’

‘We were right next to each other!’

‘Still too far.’

Dawson groaned over the COM. ‘Well if you start telling me what you and Luna usually get up to, I’m going for your balls.’ There was a brief pause. ‘Wait. That came out wrong.’

‘So it did.’ Jackson murmured. ‘Doubtful you’d be able to make me wince, even if you did shoot them. Last night was... frantic to say the least. Everything is just numb down there. So I think Luna will smile down on at least me favourably.’

‘And I’m sure Lyra will smile down at me favourably after today.’ Dawson said.

‘I’m sure.’ Jackson said.

Each Spartan knew the other was talking bullshit. Neither of them had any kind of relationship, sexual or otherwise, with Luna or Lyra. It was just something they did to pass the time while they waited for the fighting to start and, in Dawson’s case, give him ideas for when he was alone and out of his armour.

If either pony heard what they said, the Spartans would soon come under fire from them both. And when one was a physical goddess that could move an entire moon, it didn’t bode well for their lifespan.

But that was a worry for another day. Right now, in the present, an incoming force of what looked to be fifty plus Sunnies was closing in and posed a more direct threat to Jackson and Dawson’s livelihood.

‘Standby to engage.’ Jackson called out, giving the archers the signal to prepare their crossbows while everyone else just readied their spears.

He held one hand up while the other kept his assault rifle aimed vaguely in the Solar Empire’s direction, then brought it down once the enemy was less than fifty metres from their position.

Instantly, twenty-three bolts sailed from the deserted town and rained down on the front ranks of the Sunnies. Some were hit by several bolts, others by only a few, but all of the soldiers stopped in their tracks, caught off guard by the sudden attack.

Those who survived the initial barrage took a second to react while their less fortunate compatriots writhed in pain or just lay dead, a crossbow bolt sticking out of their head. When they did start to move, the New Lunar Republic soldiers burst from their cover and charged, spears lowered, ready to kill.

‘Let’s do it!’ Dawson yelled, joining the charge. ‘For the New Lunar Republic!’

‘Yup.’ Jackson said as he followed his teammate’s example, assault rifle up and firing in short controlled bursts.

The Sunnies, who had up to this point been meeting their moon themed counterparts with equal ferocity, faltered at the sight of the two Spartans. Nevertheless, they fired crossbows of their own and took down five NLR soldiers, wounded another six, before focusing most of their attention on Jackson and Dawson.

A spear came flying through the air towards Dawson who looked up at it, stopped, and let it bounce off his armour. He then picked it up and used it to run the original owner through, stabbing him in the chest and kept going until only half the handle was sticking out and the pony was very much dead.

He let go and reloaded.

Jackson watched, as did the Sunnie he was stood next to. The pony was simply staring at the skewered pony, mouth agape, as Jackson drew and primed a frag grenade, keeping his finger on the activation button.

‘Here, hold this.’ He said, holding the grenade out to the stallion who was too dumbstruck to notice who was standing next to him or what he was being handed.

The stallion mutely held his hoof out, allowing Jackson to place the now armed explosive onto it before making his escape.

‘No problem.’ The stallion said distantly before looking at what he had been given. His eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘What? Oh, son of a-‘

Jackson was already well away when the grenade exploded, turning the unfortunate pony into little more than a memory and a rather big bloody mess, carving a path through the Sunnies.

‘Swapping clips.’ He radioed.

‘They’re mags!’ Dawson yelled by way of response. ‘Clips get loaded directly into the weapon and don’t have a spring-loaded feeder! Mags have them. Get it right, you mother humper.’

‘I know the difference.’ Jackson said. ‘I just like annoying you.’

Dawson grumbled something over the COM as a massive stallion, easily seven foot tall, moved to block Jackson.

He went to open fire but the stallion reacted with surprising swiftness and span around to deliver a massive kick that sent Jackson flying backwards. As he did, he spied Dawson moving in to kill another stallion with a knife. He drew his pistol and fired once, striking the pony in the head.

‘Yoink.’ Jackson said as he came to an abrupt halt at the hooves of another Sunnie.

‘Oh, you honky mother humper!’ Dawson shouted at him. ‘That was my kill!’

Jackson put a bullet into the head of the Sunnie above him. ‘I didn’t see your name on it.’

He got up as the pony fell to the ground, the hole in their head smoking slightly, then sprayed an entire magazine at three incoming Sunnies, piercing their golden armour with ease, and sent them tumbling to the floor.

He wondered if the armour was designed to offer any meaningful protection against implements of war or if it was just decorative because looking out of the battlefield that was Hoofington, it didn’t seem to be doing them any good as half their number was injured or dead, all after only ten minutes of fighting. That being said, his and Dawson’s weapons did firing an armour piercing round so maybe it was just the primitiveness of the armour compared to the advancement of the bullet.

In the town of Hoofington

The fighting continued for another hour, quickly turning into hide and seek as the outnumbered Sunnies would go from building to building, forcing the New Lunar Republic to fight in close quarters, slowly whittling them down until there was only a dozen or so still combat capable.

The two Spartans stood either side of a door leading into one of the houses being used by the Sunnies, getting ready to breach it.

‘Ready?’ Dawson said to Jackson.

‘Ready.’ Jackson said.

Dawson nodded then shouted to the ponies inside, ‘This is your one and only chance to surrender. Drop your weapons and walk outside in a calm and collected manner, and we won’t have to shoot you.’

‘Not a chance, you Loonies!’ one pony shouted back. ‘We’d happily die for the one true ruler of Equestria than become prisoners of the false one.’

‘Funny.’ Jackson said. ‘Because we’d happily kill every single one you and piss on your ancestor’s graves for Luna, the real true ruler of Equestria. But, she’s not quite as blood thirsty as us and is willing to take prisoners wherever possible. So today can either be your lucky day or your last.’

‘We choose death!’

‘I don’t.’ A timid voice squeaked, followed by a ‘shut up’.

‘Last chance.’ Dawson said. ‘Because dead or alive, you’re coming with us.’

‘Solar Empire, you Loony bastards!’

‘See?’ Dawson said to Jackson. ‘That’s why I don’t like Sunnies.’

‘I thought it was because one of them made a pass at Lyra while you were there.’ Jackson said as the two Spartans assumed their breaching positions.

‘Well, yeah. There’s that, too.’ Dawson said. ‘Why don’t you like Sunnies again, Commander?’

‘One of them once farted in my general direction while another insinuated my mother was a hamster, and that my father smelled of elderberries.’ Jackson said. He shouldered his assault rifle as Dawson got ready to kick the door down.

‘Oh, yeah.’

Dawson kicked the door right above the handle, obliterating it under the impact, and sent it flying open. Jackson followed it in, assault rifle firing at the nearest target. Dawson soon followed and within seconds, all of the Sunnies inside the house were either dead or cowering in fear.

They both reloaded and stood to one side, allowing the regular soldiers of the New Lunar Republic access to take control of the one prisoner.

‘So now what?’ Dawson asked as the only survivor of the initial Sunnie attack was led outside. ‘We going to leave this place and go back?’

‘Yup.’ Jackson said. ‘Luna said nothing about holding and fortifying it against another attack.’

‘Means Celestia might try again to take it over.’ Dawson speculated as the two Spartans headed outside. ‘If there’s no one to defend it, it’ll be ripe for the picking.’

‘You’d think that.’ Jackson said as he watched a team of NLR soldiers gather the Solar Empire dead into one spot, ready for burial.

‘You’re not gonna do what I think you’re gonna do, are you?’

‘Yup.’

Inside the New Lunar Republic headquarters

Jackson and Dawson dumped themselves into two of the library’s chairs, smelling faintly of wood smoke and burnt flesh, as Luna glowered at them.

‘You burned the town down.’ She said.

‘Yup.’ Jackson said.

‘As well as the bodies of the dead Solar Empire soldiers.’ She said.

Yup.’ Jackson said.

‘For a good reason, no doubt?’ she said.

‘Yup.’ Jackson said.’

Luna let out an irritated sigh as Tiberius scampered onto the desk, a bag of marshmallows clutched between his paws.

‘We could have used that town as a staging area of our own!’ she said loudly.

‘You should have said.’ Dawson told her as he took his helmet off and accepted a marshmallow from Tiberius. ‘But this way, Celestia can’t station troops there anymore, either.’

‘Is that your justification?’ Luna said. She saw Jackson go to open his mouth but cut him off with a hoof. ‘Don’t say anything. Let me guess. Yup?’

‘Yup.’ He said.

She sighed. ‘If you two weren’t so effective at stopping Celestia’s soldiers, I would have sent you back to wherever it is I summoned you from a long time ago.’

‘At least the plan worked.’ Jackson said, propping his feet up on the desk. ‘Can’t argue with that.’

‘I can think of several objections to the outcome of your ‘plan’, Spartan.’ Luna said, catching the scent of smoke coming from the two. ‘But until there comes time where I can get by without you, I’m going to withhold them and do the next best thing: keep you two as far away from me as I can and inflict your plans on Celestia as much as possible.’

The two Spartans looked at each other and nodded in agreement, giving their consent.

‘Sure thing.’ Dawson said. ‘So where are we going next?’

Oddball

Somewhere in the Frozen North

‘You think my frames will be okay?’ Dawson asked as he and Jackson trudged north, battling thigh high banks of snow and gale force winds that couldn’t make their minds about whether they were helping the two Spartans along or pushing them back.

‘No idea.’ Jackson said. ‘You told them to be extra careful with them all, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well then.’ Jackson said. ‘Who’s going to run the risk of pissing off a Spartan by smashing his collection of valuable and rare photo frames? I can’t think of that many people.’

‘Luna might.’ Dawson said as a particularly powerful gust buffeted the pair, knocking them back a few paces. ‘After all, she does have the power to move a freaking moon around. I think if we weren’t so useful to her, Luna would have smashed us like flies long ago.’

‘She might break your frames, yes.’ Jackson said when the wind changed direction and began pushing them forwards. ‘But she’s not going run the risk of getting on our bad side. Besides, after the night we had, I think she’s happy with us. Well, me at least.’

‘Do I even want to know what you did?’

‘Meal with a view.’

‘I did not need that mental image.’ Dawson said.

‘Why?’ Jackson said. ‘I’m betting you go down on Lyra all the time. Why is me eating Lu-Lu out worse than that?’

‘I’m with Lyra, not Luna.’ Dawson countered. ‘She’s your fuck buddy, not mine, so I’m not attracted to her like you. It just seems wrong to go down on a pony.’

‘Says the guy that read through all of Luna’s porn collection in three days.’ Jackson said as the wind changed direction yet again, pushing against the two.

‘That’s different.’ Dawson said. ‘I simply replaced every mention of the word pony with an appropriate human term and pictured humans doing the acts rather than a Pegasus and an Alicorn. True, the scenes didn’t quite translate. I’ve no idea how a woman can spread her wings open involuntarily and let loose a burst of magic from her horn while having an eye rolling orgasm but other than that, I wasn’t too bothered.’

Jackson shook his head. ‘You need some friends in life.’

Dawson let out a faked sob. ‘I know.’ He sighed then resumed walking. ‘So why exactly are we out this far?’

‘Because a, Luna wanted to get us as far away from her as possible after we burned Hoofington to the ground.’ Jackson said.

‘Hey, that was all you.’ Dawson said, pointing a finger at his teammate. ‘I did nothing to help set that blaze, nor did I endorse it.’

‘You held the marshmallows while I did all the work.’ Jackson said. ‘And I didn’t hear you complain as we roasted them over that Sunnie’s corpse.’

‘I said the taste was weird.’ Dawson said. ‘Doesn’t that count?’

‘No.’ Jackson said. ‘And b, she wants us to recover this rock or crystal thing so she can raise the sun by herself. The only problem is that said rock is held deep within a massive stone fort way in the north and the last two battalions she sent to recover it were never heard from again.’ The wind began blowing them sideways. ‘Luna is hoping that Squealing Wombat can succeed where they failed.’

‘What happens if we do fail?’ Dawson asked.

Jackson shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. I skipped that part of the mission briefing.’

‘How much of the briefing did you read?’

‘Just the important parts.’ Jackson said. ‘You know, the location.’

They trudged on in silence for a few seconds.

‘Anything else?’ Dawson asked when Jackson didn’t follow up.

‘No.’ Jackson said. ‘I just memorised where we have to go.’ He walked on for a few steps. ‘I hope.’

Dawson stared at him. ‘Were you drunk when you read over it?’

‘No.’ Jackson said. ‘Well. Maybe.’ He let out an exasperated groan at Dawson continued stare. ‘Okay, yes. I found a bottle of Tranquillity Moonshine and one sip led to another until I found myself lying in the living room of a unicorn family and they would not stop screaming.’

‘Isn’t Tranquillity Moonshine only drunk by Princess Luna?’ Dawson said.

‘It is.’ Jackson said.

‘And she keeps it locked away in her liquor cabinet that her, and only her, is allowed to open?’

‘She does.’

‘So how did you happen to find some lying around?’ Dawson asked. ‘Especially when Luna has it escorted to her room by two guards and every other bottle locked away in a vault guarded by not one, but three platoons of highly trained guards?’

‘Maybe found isn’t the right word I should have used.’ Jackson said. ‘Appropriated would be more accurate.’

‘You broke into her vault to get some booze?’

‘Uh.’ Jackson said. ‘Yeah. Vault. Let’s go with that.’

Dawson shook his head.

Somewhere in the Frozen North

The wind died down after a few hours but the snow picked up, reducing visibility to barely twenty metres in any direction as Dawson and Jackson saw their first sign of life in the icy wasteland.

It was the frozen corpse of a New Lunar Republic soldier.

Dawson crouched next to the body and gave it a quick glance over.

‘No obvious wounds or injuries.’ He said. ‘Nothing to suggest he was killed by Sunnies.’ He went to use the pony’s leg to tilt him into his back, only for the appendage to snap off. ‘And judging by the fact his body is frozen solid, he’s been here a while.’

Jackson, who had his back to Dawson, said, ‘How can you tell his body is frozen solid?’

‘Just a hunch.’ Dawson said, lobbing the leg at Jackson. It collided with the back of the Spartan’s head, catching him by surprise. ‘My guess is this guy froze to death and they just left him behind.’

‘That’s kind of cold, isn’t it?’ Jackson said as he absently rubbed the back of his head, looking around in a vain attempt to spot anything that might give them a clue as to how or why the pony was dead and alone.

‘Will you stop?’ Dawson said.

‘Not really.’ Jackson said. ‘If there’s a chance to make a bad pun, I’m going to use it to the best of my abilities.’

‘Goddammit.’ Dawson muttered as he stood and walked away from the body.

Jackson let out a dark chuckle and did the same, headed off on a tangent to Dawson. ‘You think that guy was part of one of the two missing battalions Luna sent to get the rock?’

‘Seeing as how he was wearing standard issue NLR armour? Yes.’ Dawson said. ‘I think he was.’

‘So where are they all?’ Jackson asked.

‘Who knows?’ Dawson said. ‘If someone did know, they wouldn’t be missing now, would they?’

‘I’m betting they ran out of supplies and froze to death.’ Jackson said. ‘Or got set upon by weird root things that have spikes and can breathe some kind of knock out gas, their bodies wrapped up and splayed, leaving them to the mercy of this one slimy vine that slowly creeps towards them, some kind of goo dripping from the tip, that closes within a few metres then darts forwards, aiming for-‘

‘Stop right there.’ Dawson said loudly to Jackson, throwing a clump of snow at him. ‘I have seen more than enough hentai, and know that your mind is fucked up without a shadow of a doubt, to guess where you were going with that.’

‘I wasn’t going anywhere with that.’ Jackson replied. ‘The vine was.’

‘I know.’ Dawson said. ‘It’s the place the vine was going towards that I don’t want to know.’

Jackson shrugged and threw some snow back at Dawson. ‘You’re no fun.’

‘I like to think of it as keeping my sanity rather than being amused.’ Dawson said.

‘You lost that the moment you met me.’ Jackson said.

‘Tell me about it.’ Dawson muttered.

The pair carried on, moving in a roving search pattern, looking out for anything out of place in the wintery land. At first, their search came up empty but as time wore on, they began seeing the remains of an armed force passing through the area.

Crates would appear here and there, little wooden islands in a sea of white, followed by trebuchets and catapults, icicles hanging from the wooden frames. Dawson nudged the firing mechanism of one and it snapped, releasing the firing arm. A large lump of snow sailed high into the air and was lost from sight soon after.

‘Okay.’ Dawson said as they walked away. ‘Now we know it still works.’

From crates and catapults, they began seeing more dead bodies, all of them wearing NLR black to begin with, but as time wore on there was the occasional golden gleam of a Solar Empire soldier.

Jackson paused to examine one. ‘I’m guessing we’re close to the rock thing we’re supposed to be after.’

‘Just because we’ve found a dead Sunnie?’ Dawson said.

‘Yup.’ Jackson said. ‘Looks like he got stabbed by a spear.’ He carefully moved the body to reveal the only visible wound, a single gaping hole in the pony’s flank that, upon prodding with an icicle, went all the way to almost the other side. ‘I think.’

‘You think?’ Dawson said.

‘Yup.’ Jackson said. ‘The wound is a little too narrow for an NLR issue spear. It’s more of a circle than a wide slit. Could be a sword but I don’t think our guys are carrying rapiers.’

‘So what did kill this guy?’

Jackson shrugged. ‘That, my bullet sponge, is the million bit question.’

‘Best guess?’

‘Could be that a soldier’s spear had the tip snapped off but the owner either didn’t know or didn’t care and they decided to run someone through with it.’ Jackson stood and dusted his hands down as he and Dawson carried on. ‘That might be why the wound is a circle. Spears have circular shafts.’

‘Where are the splinters of wood then?’ Dawson asked.

Jackson shrugged again. ‘It was only a guess.’

‘Then what use are you?’

‘Strategic planning, tactical planning, ability to adapt to quickly changing situations, good shot with assault and battle rifles, keep my calm in the heat of battle, and being skilled in most forms of warfare, which is why I can change plans on the fly.’

‘Other than that.’ Dawson said. ‘What use are you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Jackson said.

More minutes passed by as the Spartans kept following the trail of debris and bodies, occasionally examining one of the frozen lumps.

One such body yielded something neither had seen on the previous corpses.

‘Is that a tentacle?’ Dawson asked as Jackson pulled a metre long black icicle thing from a wound on one Sunnie’s chest.

‘Don’t think so.’ Jackson said as he turned the frozen object this way and that. ‘See, tentacles usually react the same was as flesh does when frozen. Snapping under the slightest of pressure due to the brittleness. This feels more like wood.’ He rapped it with his knuckles. ‘Notice how it hasn’t shattered into a thousand pieces?’

Dawson nodded.

‘Means I’ve got wood.’

Dawson smacked Jackson upside the head.

‘More to the point, someone or something was using this as a weapon.’

‘No shit, Sherlock.’ Dawson said. He crouched beside the body and gently rolled it onto its back, revealing more of the frozen wood wrapped around one of the pony’s hooves. ‘What do you make of this?’

‘Dunno.’ Jackson said. ‘Check his other legs.’

A quick inspection showed that of the three remaining hooves, two had the same frozen wood wrapped around them and the third was covered in ligature marks, suggesting that someone or something had used them to incapacitate the soldier.

‘Looks like they were slashed by a sword.’ Dawson said as he examined one of the bindings. ‘Someone tried to free this guy.’

‘Who was the one behind the wooden ropes?’ Jackson asked. ‘That stuff’s nearly two inches thick. Not the easiest stuff to bend, especially under combat conditions and with a struggling captive.’

‘Maybe a unicorn was behind it all.’

‘Who’d use tree branches to tie up and kill a guy?’

Dawson shrugged, scanning the surrounding area. He spotted something and began walking towards a thin black line a dozen metres away.

It was another of the frozen branches, standing proud of the snow with icicles hanging from it.

Jackson joined his partner and gave the branch a quick tug, trying to dislodge it. The branch didn’t budge.

‘Clear away the snow?’ he suggested, prompting him and Dawson to dig down until they reached solid ground, upon which they found the branch was still firmly planted into it. Even with their combined strength, several choice words, and nearly five full minutes of exerting themselves, the branch remained where it was.

‘How the hell did a unicorn manage to pull not one, but five of these things from the ground during combat when we can’t even pull this bastard out between us?’ Dawson asked as they gave up.

‘Maybe they were stronger than us.’ Jackson said. He looked off into the distance, thinking, then snapped his fingers with realisation. ‘Or maybe-‘

‘Don’t you dare say these things are alive.’ Dawson interrupted. ‘Don’t you even think that. Because I will not believe that branches that came from the ground managed to kill a guy. And if they did do it, they will not. I repeat. WILL NOT. Try to impregnate, play with, or otherwise violate our various orifices, with a slimy branch, all in the name of whatever sick plant desire they may or may not have.’

The branch began creaking, its tip inching one way then the next, as steam began rising from its wooden surface. As both Spartans watched, a faint dribble of some unknown white liquid emerged from the very tip of the branch.

‘This proves nothing.’ Dawson said as the branch started to become more animated, moving with greater range towards the Spartans.

‘You’re no fun.’ Jackson said. There was a crack as more of the branches emerged from the ground, sluggish and stiff in the subzero temperatures. ‘But until we find your sense of humour, I suggest we run that way in a swift manner, grab Luna’s grey rock from whatever thing it’s in, run back this way, and deliver the object. All without being deflowered by a flower.’

‘Agreed.’ Dawson said. ‘On three with a girlish scream?’

Jackson nodded. ‘On three with a girlish scream.’

Both Spartans faced the general direction the skull was supposed to be.

‘Three!’ they yelled in unison, unleashing a high pitched scream as they began fighting their way through snow and branches.

Somewhere in the Frozen North

Jackson and Dawson leaped over a gap in the floor, landing in a flurry of snow on the other side as dozens of branches trailed after them, snaking through the air like wooden snake things chasing after two fleeing Spartans.

‘Fuck this shit!’ Dawson yelled after the branches cleared the gap with ease. ‘Any ideas, commander?’

‘Yeah, several.’ Jackson said. ‘They all include not getting caught by those things.’ He pointed to something in front of them. ‘Run that way as fast as you can and don’t stop for anything.’

‘You got it.’

The pair put on an extra burst of speed and began leaving the branches behind as the snow started to thin out, replaced by hard packed ice that Jackson and Dawson gouged chunks out of as they sprinted across its surface.

In the distance they could just about make out a massive stone structure of some description surrounded by several smaller shapes which, as they drew closer, resolved into Solar Empire tents, catapults and trebuchets arranged into defensive positions around the stone structure.

‘Bollocks.’ Dawson swore. ‘Now we’ve got to get past these guys as well?’

‘Yup.’ Jackson said.

‘Alright then.’ Dawson said, unlimbering his assault rifle. ‘Why not?’

Jackson drew his gun as well as they ran ever closer to the Sunnie position, chased by the living branches.

The sentries on the camp’s perimeter quickly spotted the incoming team who weren’t even trying to hide their presence and raised the alarm, giving the signal to launch rocks at the Spartans.

They ducked and weaved, narrowly missing being crushed more often than not, then came within shouting distance of the camp.

‘Spartaaaaan!’ Dawson began yelling as he started firing from the hip at the nearest target. ‘Dawsoooon!’

‘And I’m Spartan Jackson!’Jackson added as his assault rifle began firing too. ‘And like a bat outta hell, we’ll be gone before the branches come!’

‘Its morning, dumbass.’ Dawson shouted at him.

‘Not today, it isn’t.’ Jackson said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the approaching foliage.

‘Fair enough.’

They blasted past the outer defences, dropping Sunnies in ones and twos, until they came upon the entrance to the stone structure, a massive opening in a solid wall of granite that was lit from within by some unearthly source.

Several archers and spearmen stood guard by the opening but ultimately were unsuccessful in stopping, even slowing the Spartans who just ran past, assault rifles up and firing, and entered the stone building/cave proper.

More Sunnies awaited them, shouting warnings to those behind them to either set up defences or to come and try and help stop Squealing Wombat from making any further progress.

Jackson responded by grabbing a nearby flaming torch and began waving it around.

‘Oh, shit.’ Dawson said when he noticed.

‘I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE!’ Jackson bellowed, smacking one Sunnie across the cheek with his newly acquired weapon, sending sparks flying into the air. ‘BOW BEFORE ME, MORTALS. FOR I, SPARTAN ‘HELLFIRE’ JACKSON, AM COMING TO BRING DOWN, UH, HELLFIRE STUFF DOWN ON YOU! YEAH!’

‘Smooth.’ Dawson said as his partner clubbed another pony with an uppercut then ducked as a Sunnie unicorn threw a boulder his way. ‘Hi, Tom.’

‘TOM? MY NAME IS HELLFIRE, TIM-TIM.’ Jackson shouted. ‘YOURS IS TIM-TIM, TIM-TIM. NOW, ONWARDS!’

The torch wielding Spartan unleashed a war cry of some description and charged headfirst into a thronging crowd of ponies, tossing them high into the air as Dawson followed but at a more sedate pace, shooting the survivors of Jackson’s rampage. Though right now, he was in his Hellfire persona, a loud and violent warrior with delusions of godhood brought out when a flaming torch and enemies were present.

It was a mixed blessing. Hellfire could lay waste to any number of enemies when he came out but had an annoying habit of calling Dawson Tim-Tim. Why he did it, Dawson didn’t know. He just knew it was annoying.

Jackson skewered one pony through the eye, lodging his torch there, then grabbed a fresh one as he continued.

‘TIM-TIM, OUR QUEST IS NEARLY AT AN END. FOR I, HELLFIRE, THE GOD OF HELLFIRE, SENSE AN ARTEFACT OF GREAT POWER COMING FROM SOMEWHERE AHEAD OF US.’ Jackson kicked another pony in the crotch and picked up their sword, brandishing it, and carved up the next poor pony. ‘FOR THE REALM OF HELLFIRE AND THE NEW LUNAR REPUBLIC!’ Jackson unleashed another unintelligible scream and got to work on the next batch of victims.

Dawson rolled his eyes. ‘My name is Dawson, you mother humper.’

‘NOT ALL OF THE WOMEN I SHOW THE FURY OF A HELLFIRE GOD ARE MOTHERS.’ Jackson said. ‘BUT BY THE END, THEY ARE MOTHERS TO BE SO, TECHNICALLY, YOU ARE CORRECT TIM-TIM.’

Dawson sighed, knowing that he would only have to endure Hellfire for a few more minutes at most before he could snap Jackson out of his delusion using a key phrase he had discovered almost by accident.

More Solar Empire soldiers came for them but between Dawson’s assault rifle, some grenades, and Hellfire himself, they died as quickly as they came.

Then a new threat appeared.

As he watched, Dawson saw something snake from the cracks in the wall. Something snake like and black.

‘Oh, my God.’ He said. ‘They’re coming out of the walls! They’re coming out of the goddamn walls!’

Jackson/Hellfire turned to look at the walls at Dawson’s cry and saw the branches from earlier forcing their way in through whatever cracks in the walls there were. Already several of them had ensnared some Solar Empire soldiers and stretched their legs out, leaving them vulnerable for a fifth branch to appear, a thick white liquid dribbling from the tip.

If Jackson saw this, I’d never hear the end of it, Dawson thought, thankful that whatever Jackson did as Hellfire, he didn’t remember anything about it.

‘FUEL!’ Jackson shouted with glee, seeing the branches for what they were. Wood. ‘HELLFIRE SHALL BE SPREAD ALL ACROSS THIS VILE TEMPLE AND IT SHALL BE TURNED FROM THE SHRINE OF A CELESTIAL WHORE TO THAT OF A HELLFIRE STUD.’

‘Oh, shit.’ Dawson said again as Jackson darted forward, breaking the branches and throwing them into a pile that was quickly getting bigger with each passing moment as more and more branches met their demise at the delusional god.

Using this new distraction, Dawson slipped between the branches as they tried to stop Jackson and capture all the Solar Empire soldiers, heading deeper into the complex until he entered a large circular room, in the middle of which sat a pedestal illuminated from above by a single shaft of light through which snow would occasionally drift through.

On top of the pedestal was a vaguely cranium shaped off-white object angled in such a way that it seemed to be looking at Dawson as he approached, its empty eyes boring into him.

‘Yoink.’ Dawson said, snatching the rock up and stuffing it into a sack.

He about faced and ran back the way he had come, dodging Sunnies and branches before finding Jackson dancing around a huge flaming pile of branches, chanting something.

‘BURN, BRANCHES, BURN. IT’S A HELLFIRE INFERNO. BURN, BRANCHES, BURN. CLEANSE THIS UNHOLY PLACE SO THAT IT CAN BECOME FIT TO BE A SHRINE TO MY AWESOMENESS!’

‘Hey, Hellfire.’ Dawson said, waving the rock in the air. ‘I have the power. We should get out of here.’

‘AH, TIM-TIM.’ Jackson said as he ran after Dawson. ‘I SEE YOU ACCOMPLISHED THE MISSION BY YOURSELF. WELL DONE. WE SHALL MAKE YOU INTO A DEMIGOD BEFORE LONG.’

‘Great.’ Dawson said. ‘Just, don’t shout into my ear like that. Christ.’

Branches and any remaining Solar Empire soldiers that hadn’t been seeded by the branches gave chase, following the Spartans back outside where a blizzard had started, snow cutting visibility to barely a dozen metres while wind shook everything.

‘AIM FOR THE TREBUCHETS!’ Jackson yelled. ‘FOR I, HELLFIRE, HAVE A PLAN, TIM-TIM!’

‘Whatever you say, boss.’

They ran for one of the already primed wooden artillery pieces, shooting the attendant dead, then clung to the rock.

‘HI-YO HELLFIRE, AWAY!’ Jackson yelled as he cut the restraining rope and released the weapon’s massive counterweight, propelling himself and Dawson high into the air.

Somewhere in the Frozen North

Dawson and Jackson continued to yell as they came in for a hard landing, bouncing off the snow and ice several times before coming to a halt in a thick snow bank.

‘I, HELLFIRE, WISH TO RIDE THAT AGAIN!’ Jackson proclaimed loudly when he popped up out of the snow. ‘IT WAS ONE AMAZING RIDE!’

‘We fell hundreds of feet.’ Dawson muttered, searching through his pack for the rock Luna had ordered them to retrieve. With a sigh of relief, he saw it was still there. ‘Okay, Hellfire. Tim-Tim needs you to listen closely to him.’

‘YES, MY DEMIGOD IN TRAINING?’

‘Thank you for your cooperation.’

Dawson had found, during Jackson’s first transformation in Hellfire, that a specific phrase would snap him out of it. He had stumbled across it by accident but it had stuck in his memory ever since.

As if a switch had been thrown, Jackson’s voice returned to its normal volume.

‘No officer, problem.’ he said, beginning to sway a little. ‘I’m help to happy.’

He fell backwards, unconscious.

A side effect of being Hellfire was that it drained the Spartan and whenever he regained his usually wits, it made him spout nonsense and pass out, no matter how brief his tenure as the pyromaniac god.

Dawson let out another sigh of relief as slumped onto his back, looking up at the clouds overhead as they released tonnes of snow down on him and the sleeping Jackson.

Juggernaut

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

‘If you’re living in a bubble and you haven’t got a care.’ Jackson belted out as he walked down the dirt trail in the forest, Dawson following but at a bit of a distance, trying his best to block out the wailing from his teammate. ‘Well you’re gonna be in trouble cause we’re gonna steal your air. Cause what you’ve got is what we need and all we do is dirty deeds. We’re the Spaceballs! Watch out, cause we’re the Spaceballs!

‘Goin’ cruising in a spaceship, we’re so good at being bad.’ He continued, sliding from one side of the trail to the other. ‘We’ll destroy your little planet if you ever get us mad.’

‘Or blow your eardrums out.’ Dawson muttered under his breath.

‘We’re mothers of the galaxy, you better scatter when you see the Spaceballs! Watch out! We’re the Spaceballs!’

‘I’m happy with Squealing Wombat.’ Dawson said as Jackson changed to humming his song. ‘And what exactly is a Spaceball, anyway? Some giant testicle that orbits a sun?’

‘Nah, that’d be roasted.’ Jackson said. ‘Spaceballs are, well, I’ve actually got no idea. I just heard the song and liked it so my memory being what it is, latched onto the tune and wouldn’t let go.’

‘What did you lose in exchange?’ Dawson asked.

‘Umm.’ Jackson said, thinking hard. ‘Dunno. I can’t remember.’

‘Tell me you remembered where we’re supposed to deliver this thing.’ Dawson said, producing Luna’s grey power skull thing she’d sent them to retrieve. ‘Because we did not go through agricultural hentai and Hellfire for you to wind up forgetting the drop off point.’

‘Hellfire?’ Jackson said, confused. ‘What hellfire? Last thing I remember was going into a stone temple of doom filled with Sunnies. Next thing I know, we’re miles away from anything and you had that in your hand. And I felt really tired for some reason. When did we return to hell?’

Dawson just waved it away. ‘Never mind. Just tell me you remember where the base is.’

‘Sure, I had it written down here somewhere.’ Jackson said as he patted his pockets, searching for a rolled up piece of paper he’d stashed away somewhere. Several seconds of frantic searching later, he produced a crumpled tissue that he opened, revealing two words: Isla Cat.

‘Cat Island.’ Dawson said flatly. ‘Our drop off point is Cat Island?’

‘Huh?’ Jackson said, looking up. He looked at the tissue then threw it away. ‘No, that’s a name I’ve got to add to the barred for life list. Apparently showing up with a laser pointer during Luna’s visit is not acceptable behaviour. They still haven’t gotten all the kitty kibble out of her chariot yet and the reconstruction is still going on.’

‘Is that why I had to drive all the way out to that field in the middle of the night to pick you up?’ Dawson asked.

‘No, that was because of two bottles of Tranquillity Moonshine, a hen party, and a sponge.’

‘That explains why you were covered in feathers.’ Dawson said. They walked on for a short while. ‘Wait, how did a sponge fit into all that?’

Jackson shrugged. ‘No idea. All I can remember about that is how loudly he screamed when I lit him on fire.’ He paused. ‘And that Trottingham now has a five mile restraining order on me.’

‘How can a city have a restraining order against you?’

Jackson shrugged again. ‘Search me. Last thing I remember about that Hens United party was seeing some Sunnies waving a flaming torch around. It gets kind of blank after that.’

Dawson shook his head. ‘Yeah. It’s a mystery. But moving away from your past drunken escapades and into your current soberish ones, where is our rendezvous point?’

‘Oh, right. That drop off point.’ Jackson pointed back the way they’d come. ‘We passed it about fifteen miles ago.’

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

A mildly pissed off Dawson and a mildly concussed Jackson finally wandered into one of the New Lunar Republic’s many operating bases set up along the invisible line that divided Celestia’s land and Luna’s, heading for the command tent.

The pony in charge, a mare with an eye patch and a scarred face, hobbled over to the two.

‘You guys took your damn time.’ She said as Jackson and Dawson dumped themselves at the map table, propping their boots on the surface. ‘What happened?’

‘Well, first we got lost in a blizzard.’ Jackson began. ‘Then we got attacked by some branches that wanted to germinate us. Then we found the rock. Then I blanked out and something involving hellfire happened if Dawson here is to be believed. Then we wandered aimlessly through the Everfree Forest for several hours. Someone took a wrong turn.’

‘And someone got hit upside the head.’ Dawson said. ‘Repeatedly.’

‘But we finally managed to find this place.’ Jackson said. ‘Which is where, exactly?’

‘About twenty miles from a Sunnie outpost.’ The mare, Butter Soft, said. ‘We’ve got Shadowbolts watching them.’

‘Supply situation?’ Jackson asked.

‘Plentiful.’ Butter Soft said. ‘We got enough swords, bows, arrows, crossbows, bolts, food, cannons, cannonballs, water to last us several months of operations. We even have some kind of giant metal machine thingy and a crate addressed to you, Spartan Dawson. Came with the machine.’

‘What machine?’ both Spartans said, craning their necks around to spot the robot.

‘It’s that one.’ Butter Soft said, pointing a hoof over their shoulders. ‘You walked right past it.’

The Spartans turned around and saw a pair of giant mechanical legs standing by the entrance.

Jackson turned to Dawson.

‘How the hell did we miss that thing?’ he asked.

Dawson shrugged. ‘Shark week?’

‘Works for me.’ Jackson said.

They turned back to Butter Soft.

‘Does Luna have anything for us to do or are we staying on station?’ Dawson asked.

‘No.’ She said. ‘Luna simply told me to hold the line as best I can.’

‘Alright.’ Jackson said. ‘What’s in his box?’

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

The lid came off easily enough and landed with a solid whump on the ground next to the crate, revealing rows upon rows of exquisite, ornate, polished and immaculate photo frames. Dawson’s entire collection of valuable frames, shipped all the way from Canterlot.

‘Why did they send this stuff here?’ Dawson asked after checking the crate’s contents for damage. ‘I specifically told Derpy they needed to be deposited in a high security vault that needs to be kept at a specific temperature and humidity.’

‘She probably just mucked it up.’ Jackson said as Butter Soft peered into the box.

‘Why do you collect photo frames?’ she asked.

‘I like them.’ He said. ‘They can make for great wedding gifts if you get the right design.’ He picked one out, gingerly handling it. ‘See the intricate wooden bas relief around the edge of this frame, how the carpenter worked in bouquets of flowers along with mares reaching out for them, symbolising the hopefulness that marriage brings?’

‘All I see is firewood.’ Butter Soft said.

‘I see crap.’ Jackson said.

‘Whatever they are, get them moved from my courtyard.’ Butter Soft said. ‘You two have that tent over there. Try not to make too much of a mess.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Jackson said as Dawson replaced the crate’s lid. ‘I only got reckless if booze is involved.’

‘I see.’ Butter Soft said then, in an aside to a nearby soldier, added, ‘Put a double guard on the supply tent. Princess Luna has told me... stories about those two. Do not let the one called Jackson near anything alcoholic.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ The soldier replied. ‘And what about the other one?’

‘Him? If he starts getting restless, just give him some porn to read. It usually calms him down.’

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

With what little equipment they had stowed away in their tent, Dawson and Jackson went to examine the giant robot Luna had sent to the base.

‘Why do you think she sent it?’ Jackson asked, craning his neck to look at the robot’s head, a small armoured box that contained all the various sensors to allow its pilot to see everything.

‘Dunno.’ Dawson said.

‘Where do you think she got it?’

‘Dunno.’ Dawson said again. ‘Shark week?’

‘Works for me.’

The robot, well over forty feet high, boasted all manner of armaments. On its shoulders were multiple launch rocket systems, each pod containing thirty high explosive missiles that could be guided onto their target, set to heat seeking, or just fired without doing either of those, while twin rotary cannons that fired thirty-millimetre rounds from a mixture of incendiary, sabot and high explosive at a rate of six hundred rounds a minute were affixed to its forearms.

If, or rather when, the main armaments ran out the robot could then rely on two ten-foot long sword that extends from below its wrists, capable of slicing through wood, tender gooey flesh, and metal with ease. And if these broke or were otherwise unavailable, then whoever was piloting the robot could always fall back on its final weapon: its fists.

‘What shall we call?’ Jackson asked.

Dawson thought long and hard. ‘Fluffy.’

‘Fluffy?’ Jackson said.

‘Fluffy.’ Dawson said. ‘That way, the enemy will be caught totally unawares when you say ‘Come on, Fluffy. Kill the nasty soldiers and their might be a treat in it for you’ as they’ll be pissing themselves with laughter.’

‘What makes you think I’ll be the one who says that?’ Jackson asked.

‘Because shotgun.’ Dawson said.

‘Shotgun!’ Jackson said a second later. ‘Fuck!’

From behind his visor, Dawson just smiled.

‘No fair.’ Jackson said, pointing a finger at his teammate. ‘You caught me unawares.’

‘Case in point for why it should be called Fluffy.’ Dawson replied. ‘Fluffy puts people at ease so they won’t be expecting a GIANT ROBOT ATTACK!’

‘Fine.’ Jackson said. ‘It can be called Fluffy. But you can’t call shotgun on a giant robot. That only applies to seating in cars.’

‘Okay.’ Dawson said. ‘Dibs.’

‘What?’

‘Dibs. I just called dibs.’ Dawson said. ‘This is my robot now. Dibs.’

‘No it isn’t, jackass.’ Jackson said. ‘I’m the team leader so it’s mine.’

‘Yeah, but you didn’t call dibs.’ Dawson said. ‘I did.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Dibs. See?’

‘You can’t call dibs on a giant robot.’ Jackson said, pointing at Fluffy. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Yes I can. Dibs. See? I just did it again.’ Dawson said, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Now, get the fuck away from Fluffy, Spaceball.’

‘Don’t call me a Spaceball.’ Jackson said. ‘We don’t even know what it means. As for the robot, just try and take it from me.’

‘Um, okay. Fluffy?’ Dawson said to the inert machine. It did nothing. ‘Fuck, I forgot someone needs to be inside for it to do things.’

Jackson shook his head. ‘Well, while you’re trying to make your robot Fluffy do things, I’m going to take a flamethrower to that collection of arts and craft you love so much.’

‘For the thousandth time, they’re not arts and crafts.’ Dawson said. ‘They’re called photo frames, and they have exquisite detailing.’

‘Call them whatever you want.’ Jackson said. ‘They burn the same.’ He turned around and began slowly walking back to their tent.

‘You’ll be singing a different tune when Fluffy squashes your Spaceball ass!’ Dawson yelled.

‘Try it.’ Jackson yelled back. ‘I’ve faced bigger.’

‘Does this mean I get to keep him?’

‘For now, Dawson. For now.’

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

Dawson managed to save his frames from Jackson, tackling the Spartan to the ground just as he was opening the lid. It almost erupted into a brawl when Butter Soft broke it up, giving Dawson the entire camp’s supply of Playpony and Jackson a karaoke game that could be uploaded onto his armour.

Both Spartans instantly stopped fighting and started using their new items, sitting at opposite ends of their tent while the rest of the camp breathed a collective sigh of relief.

The peace lasted all of three hours when a massive stomp shook the ground, causing some of the lighter objects to jump up in the air.

Dawson, who was three-quarters through the stack of porn, looked up.

Jackson, who was rocking out to a song only he could hear, didn’t, playing an imaginary set of drums.

When no follow up stomp came, Dawson went back to reading.

The moment a second, more volatile stomp happened, he put the magazine down and went and had a look outside.

Several ponies throughout camp had stopped what they were doing, nervously glancing in all directions to try and figure out where the noise had come from.

Once a third ground shaking stomp occurred, Dawson ducked back into the tent and shook Jackson’s shoulder.

‘Yeah?’ Jackson said.

‘Trouble.’ Dawson said. ‘We got something big coming our way.’

‘Cool.’ Jackson said, ejecting the karaoke game. ‘Let’s go find it.’

The Spartans grabbed their assault rifles then ran into the forest.

After several minutes of running, during which the frequency of the shaking stomps became higher, they eventually found a hill from where they could observe the incoming trouble.

‘Dawson?’ Jackson said when they saw what causing the shaking.

‘Yes, Jackson?’ Dawson said.

‘Am I looking at what I think I’m looking at?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know where it could have come from?’

‘No.’

‘Should I be terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought right now?’

‘Maybe.’

Jackson hummed in thought. ‘So what kind of dinosaur is it?’

‘A Juggernautasarus.’ Dawson said.

‘Which means?’ Jackson asked.

‘We’re fucked.’ Dawson said. ‘Especially royally fucked because Celestia has managed to tame one.’

‘I see.’

The Juggernautasarus, easily forty feet tall and sixty long, unleashed a bellowing cry that rattled the teeth in both Spartan’s heads as it stomped closer to the NLR base. Its mouth had hundreds upon hundreds of sharp jagged teeth while several jagged horn things ran along its back. A crest in the vague shape of Celestia’s crown sat atop its head, looking to be made of dense bone, and two spindly arms were perched on the dinosaur’s chest. Covering its hide was the golden armour of the Solar Empire, only adapted for something that weighed well over fifty tons.

‘Back to camp with a girlish scream on three?’ Dawson proposed.

‘Screw three.’ Jackson said. ‘I’m going now.’ He got up from their observation point and sprinted back to base.

Dawson did the same.

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

They managed to get back to base within a minute and Dawson went straight to Fluffy, climbing into the cockpit mounted into the robot’s chest. It closed around him and the machinery came to life.

‘Do you even know how to work that thing?’ Jackson asked on the COM.

‘Uh...’ Dawson said, looking over the controls. There were two pedals by his feet and two joysticks at the end of his chair’s armrests which had several buttons, each unlabeled, and three monitors surrounded him. The two either side showed the basic functions of the robot, including the internal heat levels, power levels, hydraulics, and ammo situation, while the middle screen was a direct feed from the sensors mounted on top of Fluffy.

It tagged all the NLR soldiers as they readied the defences, identifying them as friendlies, while tagging Jackson as he stood before Fluffy as a possible target.

Dawson gently grasped the joysticks and placed his feet on the pedals, moving them gently. Fluffy responded, copying his movements.

‘Maybe?’ he said.

‘Well figure out how and quick.’ Jackson said. ‘That dino dude is gonna be here soon.’

‘You got it, commander.’ Dawson said. He let go of the joysticks and considered some of the buttons below the screens. ‘Okay, let’s see what this one does.’

He pressed an innocuous looking button.

‘Firing all missiles, unguided mode.’ A computerised voice said while the words appeared in front of Dawson on the main screen.

‘What?’ He yelled. ‘No, no, no, no!’ He began frantically pressing the other buttons trying to cancel the fire order. ‘Missiles unfire! Unfire! Please help me, nice Fluffy robot!’

Fluffy didn’t and soon, sixty high explosive missiles zoomed out of their launchers and flew off into the distance. Dawson watched them go on the screen, wincing when they landed harmlessly in the forest and detonated.

He knew without looking that Jackson was glaring up at him.

‘Sorry, boss.’ Dawson said. ‘Accident. It won’t happen again.’

‘It had better not.’ Jackson replied.

Dawson looked around the cockpit again. Nothing had a label. Without an instruction manual, he didn’t know what anything did. He tried another button, tensing in case it activated some kind of self-destruct sequence.

‘Detaching rotary cannons.’ Fluffy announced.

Several sharp bangs sounded and both arm mounted cannons fell off, landing on the floor with a solid thump.

‘Oh, bollocks.’ Dawson muttered.

‘Oh, bollocks indeed, Dawson.’ Jackson said. ‘You just removed your only remaining ranged weapons.’

‘Yeah, but I’ve still got the swords.’ Dawson said. ‘I doubt I can drop them.’

‘Detaching swords.’ Fluffy said as the last weapon on the robot were released.

The contempt coming from Jackson was overwhelming, even inside the armoured shell of Fluffy.

‘I’ve still got Fluffy’s fists.’ Dawson began to say. ‘How can-‘

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Spartan.’ Jackson growled. ‘Because knowing you, they will join the swords, the rotary cannons and the missiles. And when that happens, I will burn your frames.’

‘This isn’t as easy as it looks, okay?’ Dawson shot back. ‘This thing doesn’t even come with an instruction booklet or a tutorial program.’

‘Tutorial program activated.’ Fluffy said. ‘This program is intended to teach non-certified personnel in the use of this Murphy-class urban pacification robot. Let’s start by going over the cockpit controls.’

Silence came from the radio as Fluffy began going through what all the little buttons and switches did, including the ones that launched the missiles and which ones could drop any damaged or spent weapons.

‘There are no words.’ Jackson said. ‘None whatsoever that can describe how much I despise you right now.’

‘Sorry, boss.’

Jackson didn’t follow up, simply shaking his head as he headed to help shore up the base’s defence.

Dawson groaned as Fluffy continued teaching him what everything did, coaching him through how to arm specific missiles, designate their targeting system, and how to launch everything simultaneously. Then it went onto the cannons. Then the swords.

‘If you cannot reach or find the control you need, voice commands can be used in lieu.’ Fluffy said. ‘For example, saying arm all missiles will prime every remaining missile for launch and saying fire will launch them. To set their targeting system, please state before saying fire.’

Dawson sagged down in his seat.

‘Now that we’ve covered what all the controls do, it’s time to learn how to move the Murphy-class robot.’ Fluffy continued. ‘The pedals by your feet control this machine’s legs while the joysticks by your hands contain quick-use controls for the weapons and move the arms. But be careful. The feedback will be, to begin with, slow to respond. You can change this at any time by simply saying ‘change feedback’ and adjusting it to your liking. Until then, we recommend you get at least fifty hours of training before using the Murphy-class robot in actual combat.’

‘Well, I’ve got about fifty seconds before I’m going to be going toe to claw with a Juggernautasarus so could we hurry this along a bit?’ Dawson said as a bellowing roar echoed across the base, followed a scant second later by a massive shake of the earth.

‘I’m sorry.’ Fluffy said. ‘But due to the complex nature of this machine, the training program cannot be sped up or skipped. Now, using the right joystick, please raise the right arm to a horizontal position.’

Dawson swore under his breath but did as asked.

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

Trees began quivering and in some cases, fall over as the Solar Empire dinosaur closed in on the New Lunar Republic base and its robot guardian who had only just learned how to throw a punch.

‘Now that you’ve mastered using the arms, it’s time to move onto walking.’ Fluffy said as the Juggernautasarus emerged at the edge of the clearing surrounding the NLR base, letting loose a foul smelling roar that coated the closest soldiers in spittle. ‘To begin, gently move your feet as though you were walking normally.’

The Juggernautasarus took a ground pounding step closer to the base as Dawson made Fluffy take one closer to the dinosaur but with much less earth shaking.

‘You any closer to mastering Fluffy yet?’ Jackson asked. ‘Because Cuddles over there looks about ready to play.’

‘Cuddles?’ Dawson said.

‘Hey, you named your robot Fluffy.’ Jackson said. ‘Why can’t I name that big mean mother something child like as well?’

‘Fair enough.’

Cuddles took another step, cocking its head one way then the other at the sight of Fluffy.

‘Oh, shit.’ Dawson said when Cuddles roared at him and began charging. ‘End tutorial! End tutorial!’

‘I’m sorry.’ Fluffy said. ‘But due to the complex nature of this machine, the training program cannot be sped up or skipped.’

Dawson, who couldn’t move Fluffy unless it was part of the tutorial currently playing, braced as best he could before Cuddles rammed into him with a powerful head butt that sent the robot flying backwards.

It landed with a bone jarring thud.

Fluffy’s screen flickered briefly then resolved, showing Cuddles coming in for another attack.

‘End tutorial, dammit!’ Dawson shouted as Cuddles began stomping on Fluffy’s chest with one massive foot. ‘I know how to work a Murphy-class robot.’

‘Please provide proof of this training.’ Fluffy said. ‘If you are unable to do so, please have your superior give the order to deactivate this tutorial. Otherwise, it will continue.’

‘Commander, say I know how to pilot Fluffy!’ Dawson yelled as Cuddles stomped on him again. ‘Tell it to stop with the tutorial.’

‘Now hold on, Dawson.’ Jackson said as Cuddles continued to try and crush Fluffy. ‘This could give us a clue about how a Juggernautasarus fights. Now stay there. For science.’

‘I’m being crushed and you want to know how a moronic dinosaur fights?’

‘Yup.’

‘Holy balls, you are the worst commanding officer in history.’

‘Yup.’

Jackson let the beating go on for a few more seconds, each stomp of Cuddles’ foot denting Fluffy’s armour, before giving the override to shut the tutorial down.

‘Tutorial deactivated.’ Fluffy said. ‘Deactivating safeties. Weapons online.’

‘Oh, the tide she is a turning.’ Dawson said as he grabbed Cuddles’ foot then used it push the dinosaur off, sending it flying into some nearby tents. He got Fluffy to its feet, arms in a combat position, and stared the flailing Juggernautasarus down. ‘Okay, you big dumb lizard. Time to turn you into a fossil.’

‘Did you really just say that?’

‘Uh, um.’ Dawson said. ‘Shut up. I’m fighting a dinosaur.’

Jackson said nothing back but began playing some fast paced heavy rock song over the radio as Cuddles got up.

‘Why are you playing that?’

‘It felt appropriate.’

Dawson rolled his eyes, preparing to meet the dinosaur.

It roared at him, pawing at the ground.

‘Hit me.’ Dawson said. ‘I dare you.’

Cuddles complied, charging the robot with another roar. Fluffy met the rampaging dinosaur, both hands either side of its head but the power behind the charge pushed it back several metres, right up to Dawson and Jackson’s tent.

‘Not my frames.’ Dawson said. ‘Not my frames!’

He used one hand to hold Cuddles in place while the other drew pack into a fist, launching forward to deliver an uppercut that snapped Cuddles’ jaw shut and sent a few of his many hundreds of teeth flying in all directions.

If this deterred the massive dino, it didn’t seem to show as Cuddles recovered and tried to head butt Fluffy again.

‘Try shooting it.’ Dawson suggested as the impact sent shudders through his body. ‘Find a weak spot.’

‘That’s what I’ve been trying.’ Jackson said, sounding mildly annoyed. ‘Armour’s too thick. I think I’m just pissing it off.’

‘Keep trying. There has to be somewhere.’

‘No shit.’

Dawson brought Fluffy’s arm back, ready to launch another punch, but Cuddles, seeing what the robot was doing, used its massively long tail to knock Fluffy sideways into a trebuchet.

‘Dawson, I’ve just been told something by Butter Soft.’ Jackson said. ‘You are, and I quote, to keep that damn metal machine from crushing any more artillery pieces. Kill the dinosaur as quickly as you can but don’t destroy my war machines.’

‘Tell if she can pilot this clumsy son of a bitch, she’s welcome to take over.’ Dawson muttered as he used one arm to block a bite from Cuddles, its many teeth scratching and slightly denting Fluffy’s arm armour. ‘Until then, she can keep her damn mouth shut.’

‘Sure.’ Jackson said. ‘General Butter Soft, Spartan Dawson says to shut the fuck up.’

‘What?! No I didn’t.’ Dawson said as he prised Cuddles’ mouth from his arm and delivered a solid punch to the dino’s nose. ‘I said keep her damn mouth shut. I never said fuck. Fuck, I just said it.’

‘He also wants me to tell you that he thinks your plot is saggy.’

‘I’m gonna kill you, commander!’ Dawson shouted as Cuddles slammed its tail into him again. A red warning light popped up on the right hand monitor, saying that the armour had been dented quite badly, and that any further impacts would pose a threat to the hydraulic line located behind it.

‘You can try.’ Jackson replied coolly as the Sunnie dino went flying backwards, launched by Fluffy.

Cuddles landed in the clearing but was up within seconds, looking no worse for wear, whereas Fluffy was covered in dents and scratches. It bellowed at the robot then charged, crested head slamming into Fluffy’s armoured midsection and flinging it backwards.

Fluffy bounced once then skidded, smashing into a tent, before coming to a halt in a cloud of dust. It slowly got to its feet then froze when Dawson saw which tent he’d gone through.

‘No.’ He whispered, hand hovering just above the debris that had been his and Jackson’s tent. ‘My porn.’ He gasped with sudden realisation. ‘MY FRAMES!’

The dinosaur cocked its head in confusion at Dawson’s sudden and anguished scream then its eyes shrank when it become the one to be on the receiving end of a bellowing war cry that preceded a charging attack.

‘YOU SCALY SON OF A BITCH!’ Dawson screamed as he slammed Cuddles onto its back, causing some of the Juggernautasarus’ armour to fly off. ‘THAT WAS MY RETIREMENT FUND!’

Cuddles, somewhat shaken by the loud noises coming from Fluffy and the impact of being slammed into the unforgiving ground, regained what few wits that occupied its simplistic reptilian mind and used its hind legs to throw Fluffy off.

Fluffy landed with a loud bang but was up and charging for the dino within moments, still loudly berating Cuddles as it threw punch after punch, head butt after head butt, until the dinosaur started showing its own signs of battle.

Half its teeth were missing, one eye was swollen shut, it had lost one spindly arm and three of the horn things on its back were missing, each used as an impromptu weapon by Dawson to pummel Cuddles. But still, it squared off to Fluffy.

Around them, the NLR camp had been reduced to tatters. Not a thing was intact.

‘Alright you walking Gucci handbag.’ Dawson started to say. ‘You come here, shaking everyone up and spilling their drinks.’

‘Yeah!’ Jackson added.

‘You break all my precious frames.’

‘Yeah!’

‘And, you interrupted my quality porn time.’

‘Yeah! Wait, what?’

‘You wanna cuddle? I’ll give you a cuddle.’ Dawson snarled, grabbing a nearby arm from a smashed trebuchet, brandishing it like a club. ‘Come on. Show me what you got.’

He ran at Cuddles, weapon held low, and the Juggernautasarus responded in kind, roaring.

They met with a loud crash and began struggling. Dawson would smash the dino with his weapon while Cuddles would whack the robot with its tail, neither side getting any kind of advantage, but when Dawson’s wooden club smashed into thousands of pieces he discarded it and instead prised Cuddles’ mouth open, wrenching the jaw wide open.

When it was big enough, he shoved one arm down and began groping for something.

‘This is one I like to call the Heart Stopper.’

Cuddles began thrashing, choking on Fluffy’s arm, as Dawson kept shoving his arm further and further in until Cuddles’ jaw reached his shoulder and further progress was impossible.

They remained locked in this position for several more seconds then, without warning, Cuddles suddenly went rigid then limp, sliding off Fluffy’s arm to the ground.

When the robot’s hand was free, everyone could see it held the still beating heart of the Juggernautasarus before it too fell still, dripping blood onto the ground.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Dawson said as he held Cuddles’ heart aloft. ‘That’s it, man. Game over, man. Game over! What the fuck are we gonna do now? What are we gonna do? I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna kill us another fucking Juggernautasarus! That’s what.’

‘I would say we repair the damage you caused during your little bout with Cuddles.’ Butter Soft shouted at Dawson. ‘But there’s nothing left to fix. Just kindling and tattered strips of canvas, so maybe we could build a fire, sing a couple of songs, huh? Why don’t we try that?’

‘Uh...’ Dawson said, looking out at the destruction he’d wrought.

‘On second thought, how about we just go back to NLR HQ because our grip on this area has fallen thanks to you!’ Butter Soft yelled. ‘Or don’t you agree with my saggy plot?’

‘I don’t think your plot is saggy, general.’ A pony said.

‘Shut it, Brown Nose.’ She shot back before glaring at Dawson. ‘I’ll be sure to tell the princess exactly what happened.’

‘It won’t come as any surprise.’ Jackson called after Butter Soft as she led the remaining troops away from the desolated base before saying to Dawson, ‘Maybe chicks don’t dig giant robots after all.’

Dawson just groaned as Fluffy’s power plant gave out and the cockpit was plunged into darkness.

There was a slight creaking noise which got progressively louder until Fluffy toppled backwards, landing on the remains of Dawson and Jackson’s tent. Cuddles’ heart rolled from the robot’s hand, leaving a trail of blood behind.

‘Ow.’

Grifball

What happens when you, the viewer, writes in to tell us who they want to see beaten to a bloody and lifeless pulp?

We make it happen, that’s what.

Only on Equestrian Deathmatch.

Fandemonium!

The Equestrian Deathmatch Arena

Up in the commenter’s box, a stallion and a Diamond Dog, both wearing suits with their hair expertly styled, leaned forward and looked into the camera that focused in on them as the opening music faded away.

The stallion spoke first.

‘Good evening, mares and gentlecolts. I’m Johnny Hayseed Gomez.’ he said.

‘And I’m Nick Diamond Dog.’ his counterpart said, looking out of place with his mangy fur sticking out of a well made suit.

‘Tonight is that time honoured tradition here on Equestrian Deathmatch where you, our loyal cider swilling blood hungry fans, choose the fights.’ Johnny said.

‘And boy, have you guys gone all out on this one.’ Nick added. ‘We’ve been swamped by letters in their hundreds asking for one thing and one thing only.

‘Robots fighting ponies!’

Johnny laughed. ‘That’s right, Nick. We received no other suggestions so we’re dedicating this whole night to just that. Right here on Fandemonium!’

All eyes in the arena swivelled to any one of the many screens set up around and above the Deathmatch ring, ready to show tonight’s combatants.

‘For tonight’s fight, we decided to double the action by having a tag team battle.’ Johnny said as the first two fighters were shown. ‘Many of our loyal fighters will remember these two from their last fight in the Deathmatch Arena when they took on Gilda the Griffin in a match to get back at her. Hailing all the way from Ponyville, please welcome back Pinkamena Diane ‘Pinkie’ Pie and her partner, Fluttershy!’

The screen showed the two ponies. Pinkie Pie was bouncing up and down on the spot while Fluttershy hid behind her soft pink mane.

‘Now, since their last appearance on the show Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy joined the Solar Empire Army and boy, have they gotten crazy.’ Nick said.

‘That’s right, Nick.’ Johnny said as lists sprang up next to both ponies. ‘Pinkie Pie put her baking experience to good use cooking up all manner of explosives, and then used her Z&R Mark IV Party Cannon to send them, confetti and the occasional custard pie hurling down range into the New Lunar Republic. Word has it that she uses a special kind of cupcake recipe for really special targets.’

‘I’ll bet, Johnny.’ Nick said. ‘Ponies across Equestria have come to fear Pinkamena and her party cannon. But they’ve also come to fear her partner Fluttershy.

‘While Pinkie Pie was signing up for a demolitions job in the Solar Empire, Fluttershy here signed up to be a sniper with the prestigious Harmony Battalion. She uses a Type-3 Yay Anti-Material Rifle. Ponies call her the Angel of Death, I call her not bad to look at.’ Nick to turned to Johnny. ‘You think it’s true what they say, Johnny?’

‘Is what true, Nick?’ Johnny asked.

‘That once you go Diamond Dog...’ He trailed off, laughing.

‘No, Nick. I don’t.’ Johnny said.

Nick gave him a sheepish smile before looking down, ashamed. ‘Neither do I.’

‘Anyway.’ Johnny said. ‘Now that we’ve gotten our pony fighters, it’s time to meet the robots you, the fans, requested.’

‘We here at Deathmatch pride ourselves on meeting the demands of our fans, no matter what.’ Nick said. ‘And boy, have we gone all out.’

‘It took several weeks of scouring Equestria to find two robots that could fight Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy and just when we had given up all hope, Equestrian Deathmatch received a mysterious tip off about two combat ready killing machines lurking somewhere in the Everfree Forest.’ Johnny said.

‘You know, Johnny, that tip we received was written on the same parchment and had the same writing as all the letters asking for ponies versus robots.’ Nick said, glancing at his co-host. ‘Maybe the pony who tipped us off was the one who wrote them all.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Nick.’ Johnny said. ‘Why would anypony go through all that trouble just to get two robots into the Deathmatch ring?’

‘To make up one hell of a fight.’ Nick said to the camera. ‘I mean, really. Ponies fighting robots? Can it get any better?’

‘I don’t know, Nick.’ Johnny said. ‘But what I do know is that that mysterious tip paid off and we actually managed to find two robots to fight.’

‘Our crack team of Equestrian Deathmatch managed to get a video of their capture.’ Nick said. ‘Unfortunately, the camera was damaged during the capture and only the sound survived.’

‘Let’s listen.’ Johnny said.

‘As I walk through the valley where I harvest my grain, I take a look at my wife and realise she’s very plain. But that’s just perfect for an Amish like. You know I shun fancy things like electricity.’

‘Too bad you shunned singing lessons, commander. I think you’re actually getting worse.’

‘Better, you mean. You need to go see an ear doctor.’

‘An Otolaryngologist?’

‘The fuck is one of them?’

‘An ear doctor.’

‘Well say so.’

‘I did. You need a dictionary.’

‘A what?’

‘A book with many words in it that tell you what the words mean.’

‘Oh, a crossword solver.’

‘Holy balls.’

The sounds of rustling leaves echoed across the arena as the thousands of spectators listened in.

‘Targets in sight. Team Two, move to the left flank, wait for the signal to engage.’

‘At four thirty in the morning I’m milking cows. Jebediah feeds the chickens and Jacob ploughs... fool, and I’ve been milking and ploughing so long that even Ezekiel thinks that my mind is gone.’

‘Everyone knows you’ve lost your mind.’

‘So my plan is working perfectly.’

‘All teams, MOVE!’

Mass movement filtered from the speakers as dozens of ponies erupted from unseen cover and sprang their trap, rushing the two robots as they walked or did whatever it was they were doing.

‘Bravo, flank and suppress! Get those nets over them. Alpha, taser them.’

‘Contact! Contact! Hardest contact!’

‘Shut up and fire. Cut these Sunnies down like the sun loving ponies they are.’

‘Smooth.’

‘Shut up, Dawson.’

‘Sir, tasers ineffective. Plan B?’

‘Plan B.’

‘The fuck is Plan B?’

‘Plan ‘Bash you over the head!’. That Plan B.’

A solid sounding thump came from the speakers, followed by a second.

‘Targets down.’

‘Wow.’ Johnny said as the recording finished. ‘That would have been one hell of a thing to see. Right, Nick?’

‘Right, Johnny.’ Nick said. ‘It took several hours and multiple Plan Bs to get these two robots back to the arena and when we did, our trained professionals set about getting them ready to fight.’

‘Which, as it turned out, wasn’t so difficult after all.’ Johnny said. ‘The moment we told them they’d be fighting Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy, both robots readily agreed.

‘Turns out they’re New Lunar Republic soldiers.’ Nick said. ‘And they vowed to wipe the floor with those Sunnies.’

‘That’s right.’ Johnny said. ‘After the robots calmed down, we managed to get to know them a little better.’

Overhead the screens changed from Pinkie and Fluttershy to show the robots dressed in blue armour of some kind.

‘The robots, who called themselves Dawson and Jackson, are members of a team called Squealing Wombat.’ Johnny said. ‘And that they work directly for Princess Luna herself.’

‘Other than that, we didn’t get much else out of them.’ Nick said. ‘They like using guns, they hardly plan stuff out and, they are one hundred percent crazy.’

‘Well, Jackson is.’ Johnny said. ‘Dawson seems more level headed.’

‘Either way, this is shaping up to be one heck of a fight.’ Nick said as the screens overhead shifted to show the ring. ‘Now, both teams use ranged weapons so for this fight, we’re banning them. Instead, we’ve provided weapons from Equestria’s growing sports craze Grifball.’

‘For those of you who are unaware of what Grifball is, we’ve brought in Equestria’s foremost expert on the sport.’ Johnny said, turning to a massive red stallion that had joined them in the announcer’s booth. ‘Mares and gentlecolts, please give a Deathmatch welcome to Grifball’s founder, Sarge.’

‘Why, hello.’ Sarge said to the audience as they cheered. ‘I’m Sarge from the popular sport known as Grifball.’

‘And we’re honoured to have you here with us.’ Nick said. ‘So, Sarge. Explain Grifball as simply as you can.’

‘By and by, Grifball is as simple a sport as you can get.’ Sarge began. ‘You have a wide open court with teams at opposite ends. In the middle of the court is a bomb. The aim of the game is to get the ball to the enemy’s score point as quickly as you can and to do this, both teams are equipped with two of my favourite weapons after the shotgun. Massive hammers that can warp gravity and glowing swords of doom.’

‘Which is what we’ve given our two teams.’ Johnny said. ‘Hidden around the ring are a number of hammers and swords which can be used at any point.’

‘And if that wasn’t enough, we’ve taken items each fighter is willing to die for and suspended them over vats of highly corrosive acid.’ Nick said. ‘For Squealing Wombat, we have a barrel of the finest Tranquillity Moonshine money can buy for Jackson and a year’s worth of Playpony for Dawson.’

‘In the pony’s corner we have their most beloved pets.’ Johnny said once Nick was finished. ‘Fluttershy’s pet rabbit Angel and Pinkie Pie’s toothless alligator Gummy.’

‘Now why would anypony buy an alligator with no teeth?’ Sarge asked. ‘It makes no sense. You can use the teeth to crush your enemies to death! Toothless alligators. I’m sure it’s the work of those dirty blue devils.’

‘Squealing Wombat?’ Nick asked.

‘Close enough.’ Sarge said.

‘Speaking of Squealing Wombat, here they come now.’ Johnny said as a light came on and shone down on the armoured robots, escorted by four burly looking stallions. ‘Hailing all the way from somewhere in the Everfree Forest, Dawson and Jackson!’

The two Spartans waved up at the crowd as they walked towards the ring, slipping between the ropes as the crowd went wild, screaming and whistling.

‘And their opponents, coming straight from Ponyville, please welcome back Equestrian Deathmatch Tag Team champions Pinkamena Diane ‘Pinkie’ Pie and Fluttershy!’

If the noise from the crowd was deafening as Jackson and Dawson walked in, the sound that came forth from at the sight of the ponies was ear shattering.

Pinkie Pie waved at the crowd as she bounced down the aisle, a beacon of confidence and the exact opposite of her teammate Fluttershy who was cowering behind her mane and being dragged by an irate looking stallion who threw up onto the ring then left.

‘And now, the stallion overseeing this match and the final word in all things Deathmatch, Mills Mane!’

A grumpy looking stallion walked into the middle of the ring wearing a white shirt with bow tie.

‘Alright, you two. Front and centre.’ he said, pointing at both teams. When they came closer, his demeanour became less grumpy as he turned to the ponies. ‘Why, hello again you two. How are you?’

‘Oh. Fine, thank you, Mr Mane.’ Fluttershy said, peeking out from behind her mane. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good, Fluttershy.’ Mills said. ‘And Pinkie?’

‘I’m super-duper happy, Millsy!’ she said, bouncing up and down. ‘Did you like the cupcake I sent you?’

‘Yes, it was very nice.’ Mills said. ‘Wonderful taste.’

‘Thanks.’ Pinkie said. ‘Gilda helped me make it.’

‘She made cupcakes with you before the match?’

Pinkie giggled and shook her head. ‘No, silly. She helped me after the match.’

‘Wasn’t she dead?’ Jackson asked.

‘Yep.’

‘Right.’ the Spartan said.

A mildly disturbed look appeared on Mills’ face but it quickly vanished. ‘Now, I’ve explained the rules to all of you. No biting, no guns, and no breaking the fourth wall.’

‘But the readers might find it funny!’ Pinkie said.

‘Lady, we’re on live television.’ Mills said. ‘There are no readers, just drunks watching TV.’

‘And how are we supposed to bite?’ Dawson asked, indicating his and Jackson’s lack of mouths.

‘I don’t know and I don’t care.’ Mills said. ‘What I do know is that I want a good clean fight. Now let’s get it on!’

A bell rang and Mills retreated to one corner of the ring as Dawson and Pinkie Pie went back to their respective corners, leaving Jackson and Fluttershy to face off.

‘Okay, pony.’ he said. ‘Let’s do this thing.’

Fluttershy, for the most part, simply looked terrified as Jackson towered above her, his fists raised ready to strike.

‘Do we have to fight?’ she whispered, backing away. ‘Couldn’t we just talk?’

‘No chance, Sunnie.’ Jackson said. He ran backwards towards the ropes and jumped onto them, stretching the ropes, then launched himself at the Pegasus, using the ropes to give himself that bit more momentum. ‘HIYAAH!’

The pony ducked, missing Jackson by inches, and the Spartan careered into the turnbuckle opposite and putting a massive head-shaped dent into the metal.

‘Ooh, a masterful use of the Whitetail Wuss by Fluttershy.’ Johnny said as Jackson fell to the mat. ‘That must have rung a few bells in Jackson’s head.’

‘Provided there were any bells to ring, Johnny.’ Nick said. ‘According to teammate Dawson, Jackson has a reputation of being a little crazy.’

‘Odd that they would build a robot with such a defect.’ Johnny said.

Sarge just laughed. ‘Reminds me of Lopez. That rascal was always cracking jokes no matter what.’

Down in the ring, Jackson got himself up off the floor and shook his head clear.

‘And the Wombat is back up.’ Johnny said as the Spartan rounded on Fluttershy. ‘It looks like that self inflicted Plan B did little to stop his desire to turn Fluttershy into paste. He seems to be employing an old favourite. The Manehatten Masher.’

Jackson grabbed Fluttershy by the tail and used it to hurl her over the ropes into the crowd.

‘A beautifully executed Masher.’ Johnny said. ‘But will it be enough to stop the Ponyville Sniper?’

‘I don’t know, Johnny.’ Nick said as Fluttershy disentangled herself from the crowd. ‘But I sure wouldn’t mind eating that Fluttershy paste you mentioned. Boy, I tell ya. I’ve never seen a mare quite as graceful as her.’ Nick’s tail began wagging as his expression became distant, dreamlike. ‘Maybe she has a thing for dogs like me.’

Both Johnny and Sarge stared at him.

‘Nick, this is a family show.’ Johnny said. ‘We can’t have your sick perverted fantasies going out live.’

Nick’s tail stopped wagging and he whined.

‘Yeah.’ Sarge added. ‘Besides, a mare like Fluttershy looks for sophistication and class in a stallion. Like me.’

He and Johnny laughed as Nick let out a disgruntled growl.

Ringside, Jackson climbed on top of the turnbuckle closest to Fluttershy and prepared to jump off it.

‘This is a little something I like to call, Pounding the Mare.’

He jumped off and aimed at Fluttershy, elbow out and ready to drive into her yellow back but she saw him flying towards her, let out a shrill shriek, and jumped away again, leaving Jackson to drive his elbow straight into the concrete floor.

There was a sickening crack and a pained scream from Jackson as he stood, holding his right arm.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Fluttershy said, seeing the Spartan. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

‘Well I do!’ Jackson yelled, running for the Pegasus with a barbaric yawp.

She ducked yet again and Jackson went flying into a wall, bouncing off with some force.

‘And Jackson falls for the Whitetail Wuss a second time!’ Johnny said. ‘This fight might be over before it’s even started.’

Mills walked over to the prone figure.

‘Robot, can you hear me?’ he asked, prodding Jackson with a firm hoof. ‘Can you continue? Do you want to continue?’

‘Petunias with prawn crackers.’ Jackson mumbled, righting himself.

‘He’s okay.’ Mills said as Jackson stood, wobbling slightly. ‘I think.’

‘Commander?’ Dawson called out from his corner. ‘You wanna tap out and let me have a whack at them?’

‘Whack?’ Jackson repeated, looking between Fluttershy and Dawson. He shook his head clear again. ‘Whack!’

He ran for the mat, reaching under the side to produce a gravity hammer.

‘That dirty blue devil.’ Sarge said as Jackson bore down on Fluttershy, hammer waving in the air. ‘What kind of robot uses a hammer on a mare like her?’

‘Evidently one who took two blows to the head and drink moonshine.’ Johnny said.

‘That’s no excuse.’ Sarge said. ‘I would have gone for the sword myself.’

‘True enough, Sarge.’ Nick said. ‘But it means that things are really getting interesting.’

Jackson swung the hammer in a wide arc, just missing Fluttershy’s head, then brought it up over his own head ready to bring it smashing down on the still pony.

‘Hey, meanie pants!’ Pinkie yelled, making Jackson pause mid swing and look up at the pink Earth pony. ‘You leave my mare alone!’ She pulled out a party cannon and aimed it squarely at Jackson. ‘Surprise!’

It fired and all manner of confetti, pies, cakes and ball bearings came flying out that collided with the Spartan and knocked him back.

‘Hey!’ Dawson shouted. ‘She used a ranged weapon! That’s not allowed.’

Pinkie rooted around in her hair and produced a tray of brownies which she tossed at Mills’ hooves. He picked one up and gave it a nibble, nodding in satisfaction.

‘I’ll allow it.’ he said, tucking into more of the baked goods as Pinkie Pie bounced over to Fluttershy, got tagged in, and bounced over to a still recovering Jackson.

‘Amazing.’ Johnny said. ‘Pinkie managed to use the Canterlot Cannon Comeback to crush Jackson and save Fluttershy.’

‘That takes me back.’ Sarge said.

Pinkie stopped next to Jackson and produced her cannon again, pointing the muzzle straight at his face.

‘I’ve seen bigger.’ Jackson said.

‘Really?’ Pinkie said, moving the barrel to look into it. ‘Because the Z&R Mark IV has the biggest muzzle out of all my cannons.’

‘True.’ Jackson said. ‘You can fit an entire pony’s head into it.’ He snapped to his feet and grabbed Pinkie’s head, shoving her into the cannon until she was halfway in, back legs flailing in the air.

‘I don’t believe it.’ Nick said as Jackson grabbed the cannon itself and prepared to throw it. ‘Jackson turned that Canterlot Cannon Comeback into a Cloudsdale Cask, and it looks like he’s trying to pull off another Manehatten Masher.’

The Spartan hauled the cannon and its occupant above his head, let out a scream, then launched them both high into the air.

‘You’re wrong, Nick.’ Johnny said as the cannon flew up high. ‘That’s not a Manehatten Masher. That’s a Hoofington Highballer. A deadly move if done correctly.’

Pinkie and her cannon came plummeting back down, landing on top of an unfortunate popcorn vendor.

‘Ooh, and a lucky escape for Pinkie Pie there.’ Johnny said. ‘Let’s just hope she can continue fighting.’

‘Doubt it.’ Sarge said as Mills worked to prise Pinkie from her cannon. The impact had wedged her firmly inside and the stallion was getting nowhere.

‘She’s stuck.’ Mills said. ‘Only thing that can get her out now is an explosion of some kind.’

‘Coming right up.’ Jackson said, shoving Mills out of the way. He grabbed the firing mechanism and yanked it.

There was a muffled explosion but Pinkie Pie remained trapped, back legs flailing.

‘Okay.’ Jackson said. ‘Let’s try this again.’

He pulled the trigger again but received the same results barring a slight bulging of the cannon’s casing. A third pull achieved the same thing.

‘Folks, I cover your ears if I were you.’ Johnny said as Jackson tried a fourth, fifth and a sixth time, each firing causing the cannon to grow in size.

‘This time, I got it.’ Jackson said, giving the trigger an almighty pull.

There was a massive explosion that sent confetti flying over everything and propelled Pinkie and Jackson flying away from each other with such speed, they were there one second and gone the next.

Pinkie reappeared first, crawling out of a hole shaped like herself, woozy but otherwise unharmed.

Jackson, meanwhile, was pulled from his hole by Dawson.

‘Yo, commander.’ Dawson said. ‘You alright?’

Jackson fell face first onto the arena floor. ‘Give me a minute. The world keeps going cat and the donkey won’t stop playing water on the alcohol.’

‘Yeah, you’re not.’ Dawson said, grabbing Jackson’s hand to tag himself in. ‘You have a rest for a bit and I’ll sort these two out.’

‘Pyjamas.’ Jackson said as Dawson made his way to the ring, slipping between the ropes to confront Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy.

‘Okay, you two.’ Dawson began, pointing a finger at them.

‘Hey, GareBare!’ Pinkie said, waving at the Spartan.

Dawson, confused, turned around to see if anyone was behind him.

‘Garewho?’ he asked when he saw no one was there.

‘GareBare.’ Pinkie said again. ‘I’m saying hi.’

‘Right.’ Dawson said as Mills walked over.

‘Pinkie, I said no breaking the fourth wall.’ He said sternly. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate your party cannons and no amount of brownies will make me say otherwise.’

‘How about some cupcakes and cookies?’

Mills looked at the pony for a second. ‘Make them double chocolate and I’ll allow it.’

‘Okie Doki Loki.’ Pinkie said, searching through her bright pink mane for something. She produced a tray of cookies and a tray of cupcakes, along with some more brownies.

Mills accepted them all. ‘Now let’s get it back on.’

Fluttershy let out a soft yay as Dawson eyed them up.

‘As I was saying.’ he said. ‘Um. Where was I?

‘Okay, you two.’ Sarge said. ‘Bluetard.’

‘Right.’ Dawson said. ‘Okay, you two. You come here, support Celestia, and you manage to make Jackson spout even more crazy stuff than he usually does. I’m gonna-‘

Whatever threat Dawson was going to make was cut off as Pinkie pulled out another Party Cannon and fired, hitting Dawson full in the face with confetti and pies. He staggered back, wiping the gooey mixture from his bug-eyed visor.

‘And Pinkie Pie catches the robot off guard with her patented Pinkie Pie Ponyville Party Punch, powered by pudding.’ Johnny said as Dawson cleared the last bit of pie away. ‘Not the most lethal of her arsenal but knowing Pinkie Pie, she’s working her way up to the MMM, or the Monster Murderification Mixture. A deadly concoction that’s claimed the lives of many a soldier.’

‘Well let’s hope she pulls it out soon, Johnny.’ Nick said as Dawson grabbed Fluttershy’s tail and used it to fling the mare towards the announcer’s booth. She sailed over the heads of Nick and Sarge with a timid scream. ‘Because Dawson doesn’t look like he’s messing around.’

The Spartan reached under the ring and pulled out the hilt of an energy sword, pausing the read the inscription on the handle.

‘Type-1 Key.’ he read. ‘How is a sword a key?’

‘It unlocks peoples death, numb nuts.’ Sarge muttered as Fluttershy appeared next to him.

‘Sorry.’ she said before flying back into the ring where Dawson had activated the sword and was swinging it at Pinkie Pie, missing her by inches, who kept bouncing out of the way.

The Pegasus mare slammed into Dawson with the impact of a butterfly, wrapping her hooves around his face and blinding him.

‘Another genius move from Fluttershy.’ Nick said as Dawson began swinging his sword in wild slashes. ‘A Sal Palomino Sidewinder.’

‘That takes me back.’ Sarge said. ‘General Sal Palomino invented it during the Sidewinder Campaign. Heh. Those blues never saw us coming.’

‘And neither will Dawson.’ Johnny said as Pinkie aimed her cannon at him. ‘It looks like it could be all over for Squealing Wombat now. Pinkie just loaded the MMM into her Mark IV! Only divine intervention could save him now.’

Dawson paused, looking in the general direction of the announcers. He then snapped his fingers and peeled Fluttershy off. ‘One divine intervention coming up.’

He ran for Jackson’s discarded hammer and picked it up, ripping some of the skirting from the ring and wrapping it around the hammer head before dipping it in the butter from the popcorn vendor’s cart, getting a unicorn in the audience to light it on fire.

Pinkie and Fluttershy just looked at the Spartan with bewilderment as he waved the hammer in the air, getting the fire going.

‘Hey, commander!’ Dawson yelled. ‘Look what I got!’

Jackson, still groggy, raised his head from the floor and looked at Dawson.

Within seconds, he jumped up, seemingly revitalised.

‘TIM-TIM!’ Hellfire bellowed, charging forwards. ‘WE MEET AGAIN!’

‘You wanted divine intervention?’ Dawson said to Johnny and Nick as Hellfire grabbed the flaming hammer and launched himself into the ring. ‘I present to you Hellfire.’

‘AH, MORE SUBJECTS OF THE CELESTIAL WHORE.’ Hellfire said upon seeing Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie. ‘WHAT FUN I SHALL HAVE ELIMINATING THE TWO OF YOU.’

‘Do you have to be so loud?’ Pinkie Pie said. ‘We’re right next to you.’

‘LOUD?’ Hellfire shouted. ‘I AM NOT LOUD. I AM SPEAKING QUIETLY. I CAN SPEAK LOUDLY IF YOU WISH BUT IT WOUL RUN THE RISK OF BRINGING THIS ENTIRE STRUCTURE DOWN. NOW,’ He brandished the flaming hammer. ‘PREPARE TO MEET THY DOOM AT THE HANDS OF HELLFIRE, GOD OF HELLFIRE.’

‘Well, folks. I am amazed at what has taken place here today.’ Johnny said as Hellfire edged closer. ‘This is turning out to be a Fandemonium to remember and this is thanks to all of you. From all of us here at Equestrian Deathmatch, thank you for your cooperation.’

Dawson’s head snapped up to the booth in horror, then to the ring where Hellfire fell face first onto the mat, hammer falling from his grip.

‘Oh, bollocks.’ Dawson muttered.

The two ponies shared confused expressions then leapt for Dawson simultaneously, tackling him to the ground, and began pummelling him with their hooves.

Johnny, Nick, and Sarge looked on in bewilderment at Jackson as he remained motionless.

Mills approached him for a second time, roughly kicking the Spartan as he munched on a cookie. ‘Robot number two, can you hear me? Can you continue? Do you want to continue?’

Jackson made no attempt to reply.

‘He’s out.’ Mills said.

Dawson, meanwhile, continued to receive a beating from the ponies and Mills wandered over.

‘Robot number one, do you want to want to continue?’

‘Not really.’ Dawson said.

‘Well tough.’ Mills said. ‘This is a fight to the death.’

‘Right.’ Dawson grabbed Pinkie’s hoof and used it to throw her off him, pushing Fluttershy as well but with greater force. So much so that she collided with a turnbuckle and knocked herself out, leaving a woozy Pinkie Pie and battered Dawson left.

They both staggered up right and squared off, moving to the ropes.

‘Alright, you pink horse.’ Dawson said. ‘Let’s see how bad you are.’

‘Okie Doki Loki.’ Pinkie panted, pushing herself against the ropes as Dawson did the same.

They went back as far as they could then let go, flinging themselves at the other.

They collided with a sickening crunch and fell to the mat, joining Fluttershy and Jackson in unconsciousness.

Mills went from each prone form to the other, checking them for signs of alertness.

After checking them all, he shrugged.

‘They’re all out.’ Mills said. ‘It’s a tie.’

‘Amazing.’ Johnny said. ‘Our first Fandemonium where ponies are pitted against robots and it ends in a tie.’

‘So what does that mean for the items we’ve got suspended over the acid?’ Nick asked, pointing at Angel and Gummy in their cages.

‘Well, it is a tie so I guess both teams won.’ Johnny said after a moment’s consideration. ‘But then, they both lost so-’

‘So quit gabbing and more dropping.’ Sarge said, pressing his hoof down on the release button for all four items.

There was a click and all four cages fell into the vats of acid, dissolving quickly as the acid did its work.

Johnny and Nick watched as the animals, booze and porn were reduced to nothing.

‘That works.’ Nick said slowly.

‘Yeah.’ Johnny said as the ending theme music began sounding. ‘Well, that’s the end of that. From all of us here from Equestrian Deathmatch, good night, good fight.’

Assault

Somewhere outside Appleloosa

The lone figure walked through the desert, a thick brown cloak covering their body from view. The occasional gust of wind tugged at it but failed to reveal anything about the mysterious hooded man as he headed for the distant town of Appleloosa, seemingly oblivious to the sweltering sun overhead that bleached everything in the desert a scolding white and made the temperature soar, even in the shade.

Each footstep threw up a plume of dust, only for it to be washed away by the wind until nothing remained. It was as if the cloaked man was a ghost, a phantom in the world, a non-entity. He left no trace but a shadow that stretched out before him, racing to get to Appleloosa first.

He maintained a steady pace, not too fast or too slow, and was approaching the fringes of the frontier town within an hour, his presence rousing the normally sleepy town into action.

Mares and colts, young and old, rushed to defensive positions, their Solar Empire armour gleaming in the harsh sun.

A few were already sweating under the heavy metal as the lone figure walked into the middle of Appleloosa’s main street and came to a halt, turning one way, then the other, as the ponies assumed positions from where they had good cover and a clean line of sight, crossbows primed and ready.

The town sheriff, wearing an ornate set of armour that distinguished him as an officer in the Solar Empire, stepped closer to the cloaked man but kept a dozen or so metres away, watching him closely.

‘What’s your business here, stranger?’ Silverstar asked.

‘What’s it to you?’ the stranger asked back in a low and gravelly voice, one that sounded like it had been achieved through a lifetime of gulping whiskey, smoking cigars, and eating whisky soaked cigars. It was something out of a death metal bad, full of bass and rumbled, straight from the chest.

‘Seeing as how some cloaked stranger just walked into my town, I reckon I have a right to know what the hay is going on. Now you’re gonna tell me your name, where you came from, and why you decided to visit our little slice of heaven.’ Silverstar gestured at the ponies around him. ‘And if you don’t comply, these ponies, honest folk looking to protect their town, are gonna fill you with arrows and bolts until you fall down, dead. So what’s it gonna be?’

The man looked at the ponies surrounding him, his head barely moving beneath the hood that hid it from view, then gave a low chuckle that was just as gravelly as the road he stood on.

‘What’s so funny?’ Silverstar asked.

‘Nothing.’ the man said. ‘But, seeing as you and your ‘honest’ folk asked so damn nicely, I feel like telling ya what ya wanna know.

‘Most people call me Spartan Jackson.’ he said. ‘You can call me... Spartan Jackson.’

‘Well, ‘Spartan Jackson’,’ Silverstar said. ‘If that is your real name, where did you come from what business do you have in this town?’

‘The where isn’t so much the thing that’s important.’ Jackson began. ‘I’ve walked many roads, done many miles. So many, in fact, I can’t really remember where I’m from. I don’t have a home. I just... drift from place to place.

‘Now the why...’ Jackson chuckled again in that rumbling laugh. ‘Well, now. That’s something altogether more important.’

‘And that is?’ Silverstar asked.

‘See, I’m what you might call a hunter.’ Jackson said. ‘I go all over Equestria hunting some of the most dangerous things it has to offer. The more dangerous the thing, the happier I am.’

Silverstar huffed. ‘Well, you’re out of luck here, Spartan. Ain’t no dangerous beasts for you to hunt. We drove the buffalo out of Appleloosa the moment war broke out. Can’t have squatters on land we need.’

Jackson laughed again, shaking his head in amusement. ‘Who said I hunt creatures? I go after a far more dangerous prey. One that can think their way around corners, blend into anything they set their minds to. No, what I hunt are ponies.’

A gust of wind swept down the street, causing Jackson’s cloak to ripple a little, as the ponies of Appleloosa tensed.

‘So you thought you’d come a hunting here?’ Silverstar said. ‘Try to take down some ponies who haven’t wronged you in any way at all?’

‘No, of course not.’ Jackson said. ‘I only hunt ponies that have a, shall we say, prize on their heads?’

Silverstar spat something foul onto the ground. ‘You’re a bounty hunter?’

‘I prefer the term freelance law man.’ Jackson said. ‘If the price is right, and the pony in question is a bad enough apple, I ain’t got no qualms about hunting them down.

‘Now, fella I’m looking for is an Earth pony known by the name of Braeburn. Done a lot of terrible things, stepped on a lot of important people’s toes, and I’ve been hired to take him out.’

The ponies surrounding Jackson tensed again as Silverstar glared at him.

‘Braeburn ain’t a criminal.’ Silverstar hissed. ‘He’s a soldier, and a true patriot. Loves our beloved Celestia more than anything. Serves as one of them Special Forces guys, going behind enemy lines to kill anything that ain’t Solar Empire.’

‘So I’ve heard.’ Jackson said as crossbows were aimed. ‘My employer called him something else, though, and I’d rather not repeat it in front of ‘honest’ folk. Might make ‘em die of shock, hearing such foul language.’ He scanned the crowds. ‘So where is he?’

‘Not here.’ Silverstar said. ‘Now take your bounty hunting ass out of this here town and never return.’

‘And if I say no?’ Jackson asked as a strong gust of wind went past, moving his cloak just enough so that the ponies of Appleloosa could see an NLR emblem on his upper arm and a pistol on each leg.

The town let out a collective murmur of disapproval.

‘Loony.’ Silverstar growled. ‘We don’t like your kind around here.’

Jackson looked at the pony and even though they couldn’t see his face, everyone could just tell that there was a crooked grin hidden beneath the shadows as he began laughing, quietly at first but over time, it grew louder and the ponies looked at each other, confused.

‘What’s so funny, Loony?’ Silverstar said.

Jackson gradually stopped laughing, fixing Silverstar with another unseen crooked grin.

‘I don’t like your kind anywhere.’

His hands became a blur of motion, drawing both pistols within the blink of an eye and fired them just as quickly, emptying the mags and killing sixteen ponies with unnerving accuracy. He was already reloading before the bodies had hit the floor.

‘ATTACK!’ Silverstar bellowed as Jackson began firing again, barely moving from the centre of the road.

Ponies dropped in ones and twos, a spurt of blood erupting from their heads as they fell victim to the cloaked Spartan. Crossbow bolts were launched his way, some missing by wide margins but a number found their mark, only to bounce off Jackson and fall to the floor uselessly.

He reloaded for the fourth time as several ponies dashed off to somewhere in town, returning with a trebuchet that they loaded, aimed and fired his way.

Jackson saw the boulder flying straight for him but rather that dodge it, or jump to safety, he merely withdrew a pistol shaped weapon, took aim, then fired a small projectile from it at the boulder.

The moment it and the boulder connected, he pulled the trigger again and detonated the explosives.

He ditched the spent sticky detonator and drew a fresh one, using it to destroy the trebuchet before it could fire again. Jackson dumped it as well and went back to his pistols, firing into the mass of ponies coming his way.

‘Let’s go!’ Jackson said, beginning to nod his head as ponies would suddenly keel over, dead. ‘Steve walks warily down the street, with the brim pulled way down low. Ain’t no sound but the sound of his feet, machine guns ready to go. Are you ready, are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat? Out of the door way the bullets rip, to the sound of the beat.’

He holstered his pistols and drew a light machine gun, the words ‘A Spartan Solution to a Sunnie Problem’ stencilled on the barrel and ‘Peace Through Overkill’ on the stock, aiming it squarely at the crowd of ponies bearing down on him.

Then, in his low, bass filled voice, sang the chorus as loudly as he could, depressing the LMG’s trigger.

‘Another one bites the dust! Another one bites the dust!’ The front row of ponies seemed to disappear, torn apart by the massive rate of fire and hollow point rounds. ‘And another one gone, and another one gone. Another one bites the dust!’

A single pony tried to escape, veering hard to the left, but Jackson tracked them, firing as he did.

‘Hey, I’m gonna get you too. Another one bites the dust!’

The pony was torn apart by the fire, splattering a number of nearby barrels with blood and guts, while Jackson reloaded and resumed firing.

Silverstar, who had managed to avoid being shot by some small miracle, crouched down low and began crawling towards Jackson as he continued firing his machine gun, cutting down scores of Sunnies.

He leapt for the Spartan, catching him off guard and sending the gun flying as pony and freelance law man went down.

‘That’s quite enough of you killing these folk.’ Silverstar said as he and Jackson began struggling in the dirt. ‘You dirty blue bastard.’

‘Funny you should mention that, actually.’ Jackson said as Silverstar head butted him. ‘Yo, here’s a story, about little guy that lives in a blue world. And all day and all night and everything he sees is just blue, like him, inside and outside.’ He returned Silverstar’s head butt with one of his own. It knocked the pony off him and Jackson scrabbled for his gun.

‘Blue is his house with a blue little window and a blue Corvette, and everything is blue for him and himself, and everybody around cause he ain’t got nobody to listen to.’ He picked his gun up and began the process of reloading, giving Silverstar another chance to creep up on him. ‘I’m blue, da ba dee dab a di. Da ba dee dab a di!’

‘Terrible song.’ Silverstar said, hauling a massive hammer over his head. ‘I prefer this one.’ He cleared his throat, smashing the hammer down on Jackson. ‘Well I got the blues. In a headlock! Well I got the blues. In my shotgun sights! Well I got the blues. They can’t get away. Gonna make those blues see their last goodnight!’

The blunt implement slammed into Jackson’s head, knocking it into the ground, but it did little to stop him as he drew his pistol and placed a round into Silverstar’s hip, casually tossing the wounded pony off as he focused on the wound.

‘I prefer mine.’ Jackson growled. ‘Dirtbag.’ He tossed a grenade at the nearest fighters then crouched next to Silverstar. ‘Now, there’s such a thing as reciprocity. You asked me a few questions and I dutifully answered them. Well guess what? Now it’s your turn to answer mine.’

‘Go to hell, Loony.’ Silverstar said, grimacing from the pain. ‘I ain’t no snitch. I’ll never tell you where Braeburn is.’

‘Well that’s too bad.’ Jackson said, producing a small bottle. ‘See this? This here is one of the most horrific things known to man or pony, capable of reducing even the strongest of us to gibbering wrecks if you know how to use it. I’ve seen it turn one of Celestia’s most trusted lieutenants into a big crying baby.’ He popped the lid off then used his free hand to prod Silverstar’s injury. ‘I’m guessing you won’t last as long as he did.’

Silverstar grunted in pain but remained quiet, even as Jackson poured a few drips of the unknown liquid into his bullet wound. Even with just a few drops, it was like a searing pain that ripped through his entire body and the sheriff couldn’t help but let out a gasp of pain.

‘That there is just a few little drops of this here monster.’ Jackson said, shaking the bottle. ‘Imagine the pain if I put it all in.’

‘You wouldn’t.’ Silverstar said.

‘I would.’ Jackson replied. ‘Just tell me where Braeburn is and a, you don’t get the rest of the liquid and b, I’ll stop killing people in your town.’ He drew a pistol and shot an errant pony that dared to come closer. ‘I’d say you can’t afford to lose that many more. What if the buffalos come back?’

‘I’d never sell out a patriot and hero like Braeburn, especially if you’d be willing to torture me.’ Silverstar spat at Jackson. ‘Just put it all in.’

Jackson shrugged. ‘Okay.’

He tipped the entire contents of the vial into the wound, causing a scorching hot pain to not just course through Silverstar’s body, but run laps around it then do an around the world trip, each passage intensifying the pain a hundredfold.

‘Amazing what orange juice can do.’ Jackson said as Silverstar writhed in pain.

‘You monster.’ Silverstar gasped.

‘Yup.’ Jackson said. ‘Well, I guess I’ll have to find that Braeburn the old fashioned way.’

‘You don’t have to.’ a voice from above called out.

Jackson looked up to see a pony standing on the roof above him, wearing the formfitting armour of a Solar Empire Special Forces operator. His target, Braeburn.

He jumped down and landed with cat like grace and dexterity, walking into the middle of the street.

Jackson followed, facing off from the pony two dozen metres away.

‘Mighty bold of ya to come out in the open like that.’ Jackson said. ‘Especially after I showed these ‘honest’ folk what a real soldier can do.’

Around them, the dead of Appleloosa littered the streets with the remaining population looking on with interest as Braeburn and Jackson squared off.

‘I ain’t the one who tortured a wounded enemy combatant for info.’ Braeburn retorted. ‘I only go after military targets.’

‘True enough, Sunnie.’ Jackson said. ‘That’s why I’m here. Princess Luna has had enough of your little adventures in her land, and she placed a mighty big bounty on your head. So big in fact, I decided to take her up on it.’

Braeburn scoffed. ‘And what’s the price of a pony’s life nowadays? Ten thousand bits? Twenty?’

‘Two cases of moonshine.’ Jackson said. ‘And a cherry flavoured lollipop.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Yup.’

‘Hard to believe life has become so meaningless now.’ Braeburn muttered.

‘Yup.’ Jackson said. ‘So how we gonna do this? Like men of honour? Or we gonna get down and dirty?’

‘I’d say like men of honour.’ Braeburn began. ‘But I’m not a man, and you’re an amoral bounty hunter, so-‘

‘Like men it is, then.’ Jackson said, catching the pony off guard. ‘Choose your weapon.’

Braeburn faltered for a second but recovered quickly, brandishing a perfectly weighted throwing knife which he held in his mouth, ready to throw.

Jackson just swept his cloak away from his pistol, hand inches from it.

A silence fell over town, broken by the wind as it blew across the battlefield, moaning softly and pushing a tumbleweed along.

Silverstar dragged himself to the side, looking between the combatants as they tensed, waiting.

‘Draw!’ he said after a moment.

Jackson’s hand dipped for his pistol but Braeburn was faster, his knife flying through the air like a missile, and it embedded itself in Jackson’s chest, a stain spreading out from the blade.

He staggered back, looking down at the knife with bewilderment.

‘You bastard.’ Jackson said, reaching into his cloak. He rummaged around for something then pulled out a carton of blackcurrant juice. Braeburn’s knife had punctured it. ‘You spilt my juice.’

‘I was aiming for your heart.’ Braeburn said back.

Jackson dropped the carton then rummaged around inside his cloak again. He found whatever it was he was looking for, used his free hand to yank the knife from his chest, then presented a bloody heart.

‘Turns out, you did.’ Jackson said, holding the organ aloft. ‘Ruined it, actually. This was the heart of a bunny. In mint condition, they can sell for as much as five bits. Now it’s worthless.’ He tossed it over his shoulder, along with Braeburn’s knife. ‘Oh, well.’

‘Uh, okay?’ Braeburn said, mildly disturbed by the fact Jackson carried a heart around. ‘Now what?’

‘What do you mean, now what?’ Jackson asked.

‘Well, neither of us won the duel but neither lost though I did manage to hit you.’ the pony said, indicating the stain on Jackson’s cloak from his spilt juice. ‘Does that mean I won? Am I allowed to live?’

‘What? Fuck no.’ Jackson said, drawing his pistol. ‘Just means the duel was a draw.’ He paused. ‘And you owe me a juice box and bunny heart.’ He shrugged. ‘Eh. They’re not really that important. I’ll let them slide.’ He pulled the trigger and killed Braeburn with a headshot, bringing the pistol up to blow the smoking barrel. ‘How do you like them apples?’

From the side of the road, Silverstar looked at Jackson, incredulous. ‘That was the worst one-liner I’ve ever heard!’

‘Yeah? Well, uh, fuck you!’ Jackson said, unable to come up with anything better.

Silverstar shook his head. ‘If it wasn’t for your growling voice, you’d sound pretty stupid.’

Jackson opened his mouth to retort but couldn’t form a witty reply. He shrugged.

‘Oh, fuck it.’ he said, shooting Silverstar again. ‘I got my man. What more could I want?’

‘Aside from being taught the ways of the comeback?’ Silverstar said, now covering his two wounds. ‘Some target practise wouldn’t be a bad idea.’

For the third time that minute, Jackson was unable to make a decent reply. He shrugged again and emptied an entire mag into Silverstar before tossing a primed frag grenade his way, beating a hasty retreat before the device could explode.

It detonated and threw bloody dirt over everything. Some wet landed on Jackson’s shoulder and he casually brushed it off, walking back out into the desert.

‘And better grenades!’

Jackson sighed. ‘Goddammit.’

Somewhere outside Appleloosa

Dawson glanced down the rock trail, hearing the crunch of dirt under a boot and saw the cloaked figure of Jackson approach. His cloak was in tatters and covered in a number of unidentifiable stains.

‘Did you really have to talk like that for the entire time?’ Dawson asked as Jackson sat down beside him. ‘You sounded like the bastard child of Clint Eastwood, Christian Bale’s Batman, and Karl Urban’s Judge Dredd.’

‘It felt appropriate.’ Jackson rasped, the stress of talking and singing in such a low tone for so long leaving his voice a shadow of what it had been. ‘Pass the water.’

‘You got it.’ Dawson picked up a canteen and held it out as Jackson tore his cloak off, leaving it to blow away in the wind. ‘Now tell me, why didn’t we use ED-209 during that?’ He gestured at a tall, bipedal robot stood behind them, inert beneath the sun.

Jackson took his helmet off and took a long swig of water,

‘Because I’ve always wanted to have a cowboy style duel in a Wild West town.’ he said. ‘It’s kind of been my life’s dream.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since Luna sent us here.’ Jackson said, glancing up at ED. ‘Where does she even get this stuff, anyway? It’s got to be the most advanced thing on the planet.’

Dawson shrugged. ‘Dunno. Assuming Shark Week.’

‘Works for me.’ Jackson said, coughing.

‘Did Luna really place a bounty on Braeburn’s head?’ Dawson asked after a moment. ‘Or did you make it up?’

‘Made it up.’ Jackson said. ‘Made me feel more like some gunslinger who rights wrongs, going where he’s needed.’

‘I thought as much.’ Dawson produced a laser designator, holding it up to examine the device. ‘You get Braeburn?’

‘Yup.’ Jackson said. ‘And that smarmy sheriff Silverstar. Guy would not die. I put the best part of two clips into him, a grenade, and several stabs of my knife before he got the message and flat lined.’

Dawson nodded. ‘You wanna do the honours or shall I?’

‘You do it. I’ve already lived out my fantasies today.’

Jackson took another drink as Dawson held up the designator, taking aim at Appleloosa in the distance.

There was a momentary charge up period after he pulled the designator’s trigger before the screen lit up green, confirming the target was locked. A brief lull followed which was then broken as half a dozen missiles streaked down from the sky and landed on the town, destroying it.

‘Now what I want to know is where Luna got the missile platform from.’ Dawson said as he, Jackson and ED-209 got up and began walking in the direction of home.

‘Same as ED, Fluffy, and most of our equipment.’ Jackson said. ‘Shark Week.’

‘True.’ Dawson said. ‘Hey, you know the next town like Appleloosa we have to destroy, can I be the one who does the whole gunslinger thing? It looked like fun.’

Jackson coughed. ‘Be my guest. My throat couldn’t go through that again anytime soon. Just make sure you have some good one-liners ready. These desert people are pretty picky about them.’

‘Judging one-liners.’ Dawson said. ‘Why do people have to be so weird?’

‘No idea.’

VIP

Outskirts of Ponyville

Squealing Wombat took a moment to regard their handiwork, turning on the brow of the hill to look back at it in the mid-afternoon sun.

‘Not bad,’ Dawson said, nodding in appreciation.

‘Yup,’ Jackson said. ‘Maybe our best work yet.’

Their pony companion huffed in irritation, not sharing their views.

‘You think we can top it?’ Dawson asked.

Jackson shrugged. ‘Maybe. We’d just need to find something of similar or bigger size to do so, though.’

‘You just about destroyed Ponyville,’ Twilight said, glaring at them both.

The Spartans looked down at her, then at the town.

Several buildings had collapsed, sending plumes of dust all over the rest of the town, while a few were on the verge of joining them. Ponies ran to and fro in the streets, screaming in pain or horror, sometimes both, and water from the water tower they’d toppled still sat in the streets. At least it had put out most of the fires.

‘Nope,’ Jackson said. ‘We left most of the structures intact, and we even put the fires out.’

‘That you caused.’

‘Which we then put out,’ Dawson said, reiterating Jackson’s point. ‘We’re not just going to go around causing random acts of petty destruction.’

A cry of ‘Why are my oranges on fire?’ filtered from the town, making Dawson laugh.

‘I see they found that,’ he said.

‘Okay, we may sometimes cause random acts of destruction,’ Jackson said. ‘But we don’t go out of our way to hurt people, especially if they don’t get in our way.’

‘You punted Spike like a rugby ball, Commander,’ Dawson said. ‘And he was asleep in his basket.’

‘That’s different,’ Jackson said.

‘How?’ Twilight asked.

Jackson shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I figure out an excuse.’

‘So maybe we do cause petty destruction, and we may sometimes hurt innocent bystanders, but we’re not downright evil,’ Dawson said.

‘Who took a shit in my dress making supplies?’ Rarity’s voice screamed, cutting across the entire town of Ponyville.

Neither Jackson nor Dawson said a thing, trying their best to not laugh but lost it when Twilight glared up at them.

‘Maybe we should stop saying things that end up causing the exact opposite to happen,’ Dawson said once he’d stopped laughing enough to speak coherently. ‘Though I don’t think Sparkler here can think any less of us.’

Jackson held up a hand, signalling for him to wait. ‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘I just want to try something.’

He sighed and stood, saying, ‘I’ve never had a bag of gold fall at my feet before.’

Dawson picked up on what he was trying and said it as well, then both Spartans looked up expectantly to see if there was a sack of gold suddenly flying their way.

After a solid minute of nothing, they grunted in disappointment.

‘Well, fuck you too!’ Jackson shouted at nothing in particular. ‘I didn’t want a bag of gold anyway.’

‘Yeah,’ Dawson added. ‘Who needs it?’

They looked up again, hoping this ruse had worked but grunted again when it didn’t.

‘Alright, fuck it,’ Jackson said, picking up Twilight’s leash and gave it a tug, making her walk alongside him. ‘Let’s get you back to Lu-Lu so she can use you as leverage against Celly.’

Dawson fell in next to them. ‘I can’t believe we had to destroy an entire town just to get you,’ he said.

‘You didn’t have to,’ Twilight said. ‘You were just evil and petty.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said as they walked down the hill and towards the Everfree Forest.

Above and behind them, a certain wall eyed Pegasus with blonde hair and bubbles for a cutie mark flew overhead, struggling with two bulging sacks of gold. Why she had been asked to fly them to their destination, she didn’t know. She couldn’t remember picking them up or even flying near Ponyville.

So when Rarity’s follow up scream upon discovering a flaming box or oranges smothered with yet more shit was merrily burning away on her backup dress making supplies not only cut through the air but shattered what few windows were left, she dropped the sacks in surprise and watched them fall to the brow of a hill.

She could see three retreating figures but they didn’t respond to the noise of the sacks landing.

She looked down at the sacks, knowing she’d have to go down and pick them up, and how much of an annoyance that would be.

Derpy sighed and said, ‘I hate Discord Deliveries.’

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

Birds scattered in droves, taking the air without much forethought as to where they were going or who they were flying towards, adding to the panic and confusion as they tried to get away from an animalistic screech that could have only come from something caught in a trap, screaming its last.

‘It’s just gone noon, half past monsoon, on the banks of the river Nile!’ Jackson sang, loud and proud, as he, Dawson and Twilight walked through the forest. ‘Here comes the boat, nearly half afloat, oarsman grins a toothless smile!’

‘Is he usually like this?’ Twilight asked Dawson, trying to shout over the other Spartan.

‘Usually,’ Dawson confirmed. ‘It’s been a while since he did any Madness. He’s just finished working his way through the complete collections of Weird Al. The he ate a literal ton of grilled cheese sandwiches.’ Dawson shrugged. ‘Maybe that’s why he took a shit on Rarity’s dress making supplies, that box of oranges I lit on fire, and then in her bed. He got backed up.’

‘You’re disgusting,’ Twilight said.

‘Oh, don’t I know it?’ Jackson said before continuing. ‘Only just one more to this desolate shore, last boat along the river Nile!’

Twilight shuddered in revulsion. ‘What did I do to deserve being tormented by the likes of you two?’

‘Nothing, really,’ Dawson said, taking hold of Twilight’s leash from Jackson who had moved from Madness to Dragonforce, singing his way through Through the Fire and Flames with increased volume and was now rocking out on a guitar. ‘Luna wanted you kidnapped, she gave us the job, that’s all there is to it. The only thing you did wrong was support Celestia.’

‘No, what I did wrong was let you put this on me.’ Twilight tapped the collar around her neck that was cancelling out her magic, rendering it null and void.

Without warning, Jackson stopped singing and held up a hand, saying, ‘I sense a great disturbance in the Force.’

Off in the very far distance, they could just about make out a screamed shout of ‘MY BED!’ coming from somewhere in Ponyville’s direction.

The two Spartans shared a laugh then continued walking.

‘Petty,’ Twilight said. ‘That’s what you are. Petty.’

‘Still doesn’t detract from how badly we whooped your Sunnie ass,’ Jackson said. ‘Us ‘petty’ Loonies sure did a good job of breaking Ponyville’s defences and capturing you.’

Twilight glared back at Jackson. ‘Our defences consisted of a single automated party cannon Pinkie has been meaning to reload for weeks now. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied when you broke into my home, I think the outcome would have been very different.’

‘You’re just pissed because we interrupted Caramel,’ Dawson said. ‘Though I have to say, he seemed mighty pleased to take his head out from between your legs.’

Twilight grumbled under her breath. ‘I’ll have to dock his pay for that.’

‘Provided you can return to him,’ Jackson said. ‘I don’t think Luna will let you out any time soon.’

‘Yeah, you’re a VIP,’ Dawson said.

‘She thinks I’m a very important pony?’ Twilight asked but the Spartans shook their heads.

‘Irritating,’ Dawson said. ‘Very Irritating Pony. Apparently, she found your thesis on the sub-atomic composition of magically infused gemstones used in high density particle collisions to be bland and pretentious rubbish that even a kindergartner at Equestria’s worst school for dunces could have disproved, saying it proved nothing new and was a waste of paper.’

Twilight gasped in shock. ‘She didn’t?’

‘She did,’ Jackson said. ‘Luna then mocked your research methodology by calling it amateur at best, the ramblings of a brain dead simpleton who could barely grasp the concept of their being such a thing as a gem, much less a sparkly one.

‘I, for one, found it an amusing read while I shat out the present I left within Rarity’s bedcovers. What about you, Dawson?’

‘Oh, you could most definitely see where she went wrong, Jackson,’ Dawson said, affecting as posh an accent as he could manage. ‘Using an electron microscope set to magnification times 2350 when she clearly needed it at 2351. Perish the thought. At that level magnification, the bonds between the positively charged electrons and negatively charged positrons would have been no more distinguishable than, say, the differences between the ramblings of a drunk and those of a valedictorian who attended Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.’

‘Terrible, I know,’ Jackson said, copying Dawson. ‘How that wretched school had the audacity to call itself the best around when Luna’s Community College has produced so many exemplary scholars like Fattus Assus and Trixie the Unicorn, while it can barely produce a student that knows how to drool properly. Why, even the stallion who started the school made a comatose zombie look intelligent.'

‘Ah, yes,’ Dawson said, snapping his fingers. ‘Starswirl the Bearded, if memory serves me correctly. Why his theory on the application of high output, low expenditure phasing beams in consolidating free-flow electrons makes your ramblings look half decent by comparison.’

Between the Spartans, Twilight silently fumed as they mocked her school and idol, as well as her research paper. She wanted to hurt them, so badly, but couldn’t with the collar around her neck. With it on, she could barely summon enough power to cause a spark powerful enough to light a fire.

If she ever came across them without her collar on, woe betide those two...

‘And that outfit he wore,’ Jackson said, making a show of shuddering. ‘What kind of barbarian would place bells on it, let alone wear such a garish outfit in the first place?’

‘A better stallion than either of you two,’ Twilight muttered.

They laughed.

‘Oh, Twilight. You crack me up with your jokes,’ Dawson said, patting her on the back. ‘There’s no other stallion better than I, and I am but a humble man.’

Jackson looked at Dawson. ‘No, I’m the better stallion. I was the one who came up with the plan of attack.’

‘You yelled charge and ran at Ponyville,’ Dawson countered. ‘There was no plan.’

‘There was.’ Jackson squared up to Dawson. ‘And I pulled it off well, despite your bumbling attempts at following it.’

‘Bumbling attempts?’ Dawson repeated. ‘And what, pray tell, were they?’

‘Where shall I begin?’ Jackson said. ‘First, you insisted on using an assault rifle in the attack.’

‘You use an assault rifle!’ Dawson yelled, pointing at the very same weapon on Jackson’s back.

‘Correction,’ Jackson said. ‘I use it well.’ He held up two fingers. ‘Bumbling attempt number two: you failed to heed my orders and in doing so, nearly failed to light the distraction fire.’

‘I never heard such an order.’ Dawson yelled. ‘All I heard from you was the word ‘charge’ as we ran into town, ‘this is a big one’ three times during our rampage through Carousel Boutique followed by several screams of pain, and then ‘did we catch you at a bad time’ once we found Twilight underneath Caramel.’

‘Don’t forget ‘Hut-22’ when I kicked Spike out the window.’ Jackson laughed at that memory. ‘Boy, he sure did fly like a bird. Too bad he hit the water tower so it fell over and put out the distraction fires. Do we know if he ever resurfaced or was he carried off with the current?’

‘I don’t know!’ Dawson said. ‘I was too busy trying to follow your plan to notice where a purple stoner midget floated off to. Not to mention trying to get control of a mare who didn’t want her special time interrupted or a magic dampening collar put in place.’

‘Yeah, the choke collar she already had on was more than enough.’

‘What is wrong with you?’ Dawson asked.

‘Me?’ Jackson said, pointing a thumb at himself. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m not the one who’s in to autoerotic asphyxia. She is.’ He pointed at an empty patch of air. ‘So until you find me with a bag over my head and my dick in my hand, you can’t-‘

He stopped, as did Dawson, and both turned their heads to where Twilight had been standing, seeing only an empty spot of dirt and a leash someone had chewed through, severing it.

‘See, Dawson?’ Jackson said. ‘This is what happens when you don’t follow my plans exactly.’

‘What plan?’ Dawson shouted. ‘You said nothing and therefore, I did nothing.’

‘I thought it would have been obvious to keep an eye on the prisoner,’ Jackson said. He huffed in irritation. ‘Great. Now we have to go find her. Again.’

‘I’ll come up with the plan this time.’

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

This time, Squealing Wombat didn’t pause to consider their handiwork as they dragged Twilight Sparkle away from the devastated town a second time, thankful to find her already tied up and gagged when they burst into her room at Golden Oaks Library.

Her companion, a mare this time brandishing a crop, had simply stared slack-jawed as Jackson clamped another magic dampening collar on Twilight and hoisted her onto his shoulder, ignoring her muffled cries of anger.

‘Don’t expect a refund,’ Dawson had said to the mare, slamming the door behind him.

Back in the forest, the air was tense between Dawson and Jackson though it was partly broken when the former looked at the prisoner dangling from the latter’s shoulder.

‘She’d barely been out of captivity for an hour, then goes and lets herself get put into an even more compromising position,’ Dawson said, looking at the ropes keeping Twilight trussed up.

‘I think she gets off on it,’ Jackson said. ‘That angry look she’s been giving us both is probably two-fold. One for kidnapping her again, two for yet again interrupting Twilight Time.’

‘You need better locks on your door,’ was all Dawson had to say to Twilight.

She said something back but it was muffled by the gag in her mouth.

‘Keep using language like that and I might have to spank you or something,’ Jackson said.

Twilight’s eyes lit up with excitement and she managed to say ‘Really?’ clearly enough for Jackson and Dawson to understand.

Jackson shook his head. ‘Nope. I’ll hang you from a tree overnight and not feed you.’

More muffled mumblings came from Twilight, inquiring what they’d do if she stopped using bad language.

‘We’ll still hang you from a tree,’ Jackson said. ‘But we’ll feed you.’

‘No idea what but we’ll find something,’ Dawson said. ‘I hear there are plenty of bugs in the Everfree Forest at this time of year.’

Twilight let out a despondent groan.

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

It took them a while to find a tree branch strong enough to support Twilight’s weight and when they did, they used some rope from one of their rucksacks to make a cradle for the Alicorn so that the rope keeping her legs and wings in place wouldn’t cut in too much overnight.

She just glared at them as they did, unleashing a string of abuse their way once Jackson removed the gag to feed her. He just shrugged and put the food on the floor, mere feet away from Twilight’s salivating mouth.

‘Not so smart a move, was it?’ Dawson said, hearing her stomach growl from the fire he and Jackson had set up, also away from Twilight. She couldn’t feel any of the warmth it threw out and was shivering because of it in the cool forest air.

‘Not the first one she made today,’ Jackson said. ‘Running away from us to begin with, letting herself be tied up despite the fact she knew we’d come after her. All the hallmarks of a student from Celestia’s School, making one bad decision after another.’

‘And now she’s had her food taken away,’ Dawson said, tutting. ‘Definitely the valedictorian.’

Jackson hummed in agreement, then in thought. ‘A thought just occurred to me...’ he said.

‘I very much doubt that,’ Twilight muttered then screeched in alarm as Jackson threw a bucket of ice cold water over her, soaking her thoroughly.

‘I thought you liked being punished?’ Dawson asked as Twilight swore at them again.

‘Maybe it’s only when it’s by a mare, or her gag is in place,’ Jackson theorised.

‘Lacking a mare, I say we try the gag and next time she does something inappropriate, we dangle her in the river up to her neck, leave her there for an hour or two.’ Dawson looked between the dangling Twilight and the flowing river not too far away.

‘Agreed,’ Jackson said. ‘Now about my earlier thought.’

Both Spartans looked at Twilight, as if waiting for her to throw another jibe at Jackson, but she remained quiet, shivering in her ropes.

‘Dammit,’ Dawson muttered. ‘I was hoping she’d do something punishable.’ He shrugged. ‘Oh, well. Your thought?’

‘Uh...’ Jackson began but trailed off, looking into space. ‘I forget.’

Across from them, Twilight laughed before clamping her mouth shut as the Spartans got up and sauntered over.

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

Jackson and Dawson hauled a violently shivering Twilight from the river, dumping her onto the river bank, then dragged her to the fire where they let her stay.

She gave them a look that was equal parts grateful and resentful, somewhat undermined by the hot pink ball gag in her mouth.

‘Scratch that theory,’ Jackson said. ‘I didn’t hear any ecstatic groans from her. Maybe we have to be a mare to get them.’

‘That’s not the half of it,’ Twilight muttered past the gag, only to yelp in surprise as two boots shoved her away from the fire and towards the river again.

Jackson and Dawson watched her fall in and float away.

‘Dawson?’ Jackson said as Twilight floated out of sight.

‘Yes, Jackson?’ Dawson said.

‘Did we just kick the VIP we were supposed to escort back to Luna into a river?’

‘Yes, Jackson.’

‘And said VIP was bound so tightly, she couldn’t even wriggle, let alone swim?’

‘Yes, Jackson.’

‘With a magic dampening collar on that will stop her from undoing said bonds, or teleporting to safety?’

‘Yes, Jackson.’

‘I thought as much.’

There was a moment’s pause as both Spartans remained standing where they were then, as if a switch were thrown, scrambled after her, swearing at the top of their lungs.

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

They found the bank she’d come ashore at, seeing scuff marks and the occasional purple feather leading into the forest, a few miles down from where they’d kicked Twilight in.

How she’d managed to haul herself ashore despite still being bound, they didn’t know.

What they did know was that without the very irritating pony, Luna would be incredible angry with them and liable to send them to do all manner of horrific things as punishment, reading the Twilight series of novels being one of them.

They both shuddered violently at that thought.

‘How exactly did Twilight drag herself from the river?’ Dawson asked.

‘Dunno,’ Jackson said. ‘Assume Shark Week?’

‘Assuming Shark Week,’ Dawson confirmed. ‘Now where could a bound, gagged, and magically suppressed Alicorn with a thing for being whipped have gone?’

Jackson shrugged. ‘Follow the feathers?’ he said, pointing at a faint trail of them.

Dawson looked at them. ‘Works for me.’

They drew their assault rifles and walked along the path that had been formed when Twilight had somehow moved herself from the river, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

They heard the something out of the ordinary first, a steady drumbeat and chanting coming from somewhere up ahead, followed by the flickering light that could only come from flaming torches.

Jackson signalled for Dawson to go right and be quiet, while he would go left.

Dawson nodded at the Spartans split up, each taking a different approach to the drumbeats.

They reached the clearing at roughly the same time, pausing just in the tree line and in the shadows.

‘Jackson?’ Dawson said on the radio

‘Yes, Dawson?’ Jackson said.

‘Am I looking at what I think I’m looking at?’

‘If you think you’re looking at a bunch of buffalo getting ready to spit roast Twilight Sparkle, then yes. You are looking at what you think you’re looking at.’

‘I thought as much.’

In the middle of the clearing sat a camp large enough to contain a few dozen buffalo, its inhabitants preparing a fire, over which dangled Twilight, still tied up though her gag was nowhere to be seen.

She was trying to call out for help but a buffalo struck her with a whip.

‘No talking,’ the buffalo, a female, said sternly as she coiled her whip up, ready to use again.

Twilight yelped in pain and surprise, then craned her neck around to look at the buffalo and said, ‘A little to the left, please? Either my wing or my cutie mark. They’re really sensitive.’

‘Stop talking,’ the buffalo said, striking Twilight again though whether it was by accident or a case of submitting to the Alicorn’s wishes, she hit the centre of her cutie mark and Twilight let out a groan of pleasure.

‘Oh, yeah. That’s the spot.’

This earned her another whipping, on the wing this time, and she went ooh.

‘The fuck is wrong with these ponies?’ Dawson asked.

‘Don’t know. Don’t want to know,’ Jackson said. ‘Let’s just get her and get back to Luna before-‘

A fanfare from the buffalo made him stop and look as they lined up in front of a tent with bizarre decorations and bowed, forming an aisle that led to the fire pit.

From inside the tent, a small purple dragon emerged and began wandering towards the fire.

‘Is that Spike?’ Jackson asked.

‘Small, stoned look in their eyes, a bong in hand. Yep, that’s Spike.’

‘So he did get carried off by the current.’ Jackson hummed in thought. ‘Why is he being treated like royalty?’

‘Oh, great and wondrous Spike!’ the chieftain of the buffalo said, bowing before the dragon. ‘We have brought that which you asked! A pony for you to eat out. Please bless our offering by using your most sacred of powers and bringing forth the flames we so desperately revere to cook her.’

‘I think they misunderstand the phrase ‘eat out’,’ Dawson said.

Jackson said, ‘Yup.’

‘Yeah, like, far out, dude,’ Spike said after taking a hit from his bong, squeaking as he walked to the fire. ‘Always wanted to eat a pony out that wasn’t Rainbow Dash. She’ll, like, do anyone if they give her a bit.’

Twilight looked up in amazement at the sight of Spike, trying to call out to him.

‘Spike!’ she said, earning a lash of the whip. ‘It’s. Me. Twi. Light! Tell. Them. To. Stop!’

Each word she spoke earned her another whipping, spread between her wing and cutie mark, and by the end Twilight’s expression was halfway between extremely satisfied and extremely worried.

Spike, who was either too stoned to notice or simply didn’t care, crouched by the fire pit and, after yet another bong session, began drawing in breath ready to blow out a stream of fire.

‘Charge!’ Jackson said, bursting from cover. He reached Spike in three steps, drawing back a leg to unleash a kick that connected with the dragon and sent him flying over the tree tops and out of sight.

‘Hut-44!’ Jackson yelled as Dawson broke from cover as well, running over to him.

‘Give me some warning next time,’ Dawson muttered, assault rifle aimed at the buffalo as they drew closer, snarls on their faces. Probably because Jackson had just punted their leader far away. ‘So what’s the plan?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Jackson said.

‘No.’

‘Oh.’

With that, Jackson grabbed Twilight from the spit roast she had been on and sprinted back into the trees, leaving Dawson to face the buffalo alone.

‘GrabTwilightthenrunlikethewindbeforetheseuglymotherhumperscantryandstopus!’ Jackson yelled as he ran away.

‘Holy balls, you’re the worst commander ever!’ Dawson yelled after him. ‘Leaving me here to deal with these guys.’ He turned back to the buffalo as they pressed ever closer. ‘Wait, why am I even staying behind the deal with you guys? Tim-Tim, away!’

He unleashed a girlish scream and ran after Jackson, disappearing into the trees before the buffalo could give chase and was lost to sight.

Inside the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

‘This one’s a bit of a weird one,’ Jackson said as he dumped Twilight at the feet of the NLR’s head interrogator. She was still bound, her hot pink gag in place after being located almost by accident.

‘Weird how?’ the interrogator asked.

‘She likes being whipped,’ Dawson said. ‘Especially on the wing and cutie mark.’

That piqued the interrogator’s interest. ‘Really?’ She bent down and whispered something in Twilight’s ear, getting an enthusiastic nod back. ‘Okay. I’ll get to work on her.’

Jackson looked at the interrogator suspiciously as she dumped Twilight onto her back and began heading to the dungeon. ‘What did you say to her?’

‘That I’ll break out the riding crop so long as she tells me everything she knows.’

With that, the two mares were lost to sight and the two Spartans shuddered.

‘We need to get back to killing things,’ Dawson said.

‘Yup,’ Jackson said.

Somewhere in the Everfree Forest

Spike came into land for the second time that day, crashing through the canopy of leaves and branches to bounce off the soft forest floor, stopping at the base of a tree.

He sat up and checked his bong, his most prized possession, and was relieved to see it was undamaged. He pulled some weed out and placed it inside, adding in a bit of LSD to make things interesting, then lit up and took a hit.

The stoner dragon leaned back as the drugs took effect, making the colours way more intense and everything way more blurred. It was, like, totally awesome.

Spike blew out a plume of smoke that seemed to sparkle in the air and he watched it go, giggling to himself for no good reason.

He watched with detached amusement as two sacks filled with gold landed right in front of him, spilling a few errant coins that cast a glowing golden light over everything.

Another bong hit and the glowing intensified.

He reached out for the nearest coin, taking a moment to study the half a dozen eyes that had sprung up on his arm and laugh, but stopped when a drop dead gorgeous blonde mare suddenly floated down from the heavens, accompanied by a celestial choir.

They said something but in Spike’s current state, he couldn’t make anything out. Just the subtext.

‘Can I have a try of that?’ they seemed to say, pointing a wavy hoof at something. Whether it was his bong or not, Spike couldn’t be sure. But, he was a believer of sharing.

‘Sure,’ Spike said, his own voice sounding blurred and altering in pitch, tempo, and length, even though he’d only said one word.

He hit the bong again, drawing in a mouthful, then pulled the mare closer to deliver a kiss, blowing the smoke into their mouth as he tried to find their tongue.

The mare pulled back, either coughing or laughing.

‘Far out, right?’ Spike said. ‘I got this from Princess Cadance herself. She calls it Crystal Weed. It’ll, like, make your mind go whoa.’

Derpy coughed again, trying to get the taste of Spike out of her mouth and hoped she hadn’t inhaled too much of the drug. But, alas, the world began going all bendy and sparkly and she knew it was too late.

Sighing, she resigned herself to experience the trip, thinking two things.

One, it wasn’t as bad as some of the other trips she’d been on.

And two, she really hated Discord Deliveries.

Capture the Flag

Inside the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

‘-and it looked like everyone was having fun,’ Jackson crooned as he poked and prodded at the mess of wires, circuits, and paperclips lying before him on a bench with a soldering iron, helmet and gloves off, ignoring the wisps of smoke that curled past him, making his eyes water a bit. ‘We were dancing all night long.’

Behind him, Dawson was sprawled on a comfy chair, feet propped up on an empty box, reading The Princess’s Guard. He had all his gear on, helmet and gloves too, and was occasionally glancing at his teammate.

‘Don’t stop, come a little closer. As we jam, the rhythm gets stronger. There’s nothing wrong with just a little, little fun. We were dancing all night long.’

The door to Squealing Wombat’s quarters opened and Luna stepped through, Tiberius perched on her head.

She wrinkled her nose at the stench of acrid smoke and looked at Jackson first, shaking her head.

‘Yo, Lu-Lu,’ Dawson said, turning the page. ‘What brings you to our humble abode?’

‘The engineering section was complaining about unexplained power fluctuations,’ Luna said, glaring disapprovingly at Dawson’s book. ‘It was coming from this area so I put two and two together and got-‘

‘Spartan Jackson instead,’ Dawson said. ‘Don’t worry, he’s not going to blow anything up.’ He turned the page. ‘I think.’

‘Comforting,’ Luna said.

‘Oh, I don’t know what to do!’ Jackson sang, coughing a little. ‘About this dream and you. I wish this dream comes true!’

The Alicorn looked at him curiously. ‘Not his usual type of song, is it?’

‘Wait,’ Dawson said.

Jackson continued to prod and poke at his thingy, merrily singing away, when a sudden bang and flickering of the lights made everyone but Dawson flinch. He kept reading.

By the bench, Jackson momentarily fell silent then shook his head clear.

‘If you like to gamble, I tell you I’m your man!’ he sang in a gravelly voice. ‘You win some, you lose some, it’s all the same to me!’

‘That’s more like it,’ Luna said.

‘Yup,’ Dawson said, copying his superior’s accent exactly. ‘Every jolt of electricity he changes song and genre. You missed it earlier. Jackson was singing Push the Button over and over again. I think he was stuck on repeat.’

Another jolt of electricity, another song. This time it was Rocking all over the World.

‘Kind of amusing.’

Luna sat down next to Dawson. ‘Aren’t you worried about him at all?’

‘Nope,’ Dawson said. ‘He doesn’t pay me to worry about his wellbeing, physical or mental.’

A pause.

‘Well, he doesn’t really pay me all that much.’

Another pause.

‘In fact, he doesn’t pay me at all.’

‘So why do you still take orders from him?’ Luna asked.

Dawson shrugged. ‘Shark Week.’

‘Of course,’ Luna muttered before asking in a louder voice, ‘What exactly is Jackson building?’

Dawson shrugged again. ‘Dunno. He called it a Pacification Cannon, or PacCan for short. Says it’ll stop the enemy from shooting us or something.’

Tiberius held up a sign that read ‘Laser Beam Thingy of Doom’.

‘Most likely, knowing him,’ Dawson said with a nod. ‘He says he’s worked out most of the kinks and just needs to test fire it on people looking to kill us.’

‘Well you just might get your chance, Spartan,’ Luna said as she produced a scroll from thin air. ‘Your extended vacation is now over.’

‘About time,’ Dawson said as he opened up the scroll and read it. ‘I’ve been itching to kick some Sunnie ass since we brought in Twilight.’

‘She’s a Loony now,’ Luna said.

Dawson looked at her. ‘Why?’

‘Apparently, we have better doms than the Solar Empire.’

He shuddered at the implications of that.

The lights flickered again, signalling another change in song.

‘Roses are red, and violets are blue. One day we’ll cruise down Blood Gulch Avenue!’

Dawson went back to the scroll.

‘So, we’re being deployed all the way to the Crystal Empire to capture and/or destroy their national flag,’ he read. ‘Any reason why we’re attacking a neutral party in the Equestrian Civil War?’

Luna scoffed. ‘Neutral? Hardly. Cadance and Shining Armour have close ties to the Solar Empire and send it money under the guise of ‘aid’ while giving us none. They even sent a detachment of troops to guard Canterlot, and another to attack our northern bases which they claimed was a mistake. To think, they can only afford to do this by selling that ridiculous Crystal Weed.’

‘The favoured choice of drug for stoner dragons and Pegasi everywhere,’ Dawson said. He read the scroll over again then lobbed it at Jackson, striking him in the back of the head.

Rather than pick up and read the scroll, Jackson kept working on his PacCan though he did change songs.

‘Hey, Commander!’ Dawson yelled. ‘We got-‘

‘New orders,’ Jackson said, stopping singing abruptly. ‘Going to the Crystal Empire and do what we do best. WSF.’

Luna opened her mouth, about to ask what WSF stood for, but Dawson beat her to it.

‘Wombat Style Fighting,’ he said. ‘Basically, do whatever you can to fuck the enemy up.’

‘Ah, so charging blindly into enemy fire is considered a fighting style?’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said. He began putting his PacCan back together. ‘So when are we going up north?’

‘As soon as your new teammate arrives,’ Luna said.

Dawson and Jackson both stopped whatever they were doing and craned their necks around to look at the Alicorn princess.

‘I never agreed to such a thing,’ Jackson said. ‘Unless I was drunk. In which case, it doesn’t count.’

‘And why do you think Fireteam Squealing Wombat needs another member, anyway?’ Dawson asked. ‘We’re a close knit fighting unit with a unique way of fighting. Having some newbie come in could upset our finely tuned set up.’

‘Oh, believe me, this guy is going to upset nothing, Spartan,’ Luna said. ‘His name is Samson, and he’s a Communist mercenary robot.’

Both Jackson and Dawson said, ‘What.’

‘Samson,’ Luna said again. ‘He’s a mercenary robot that firmly believes in Communism. I hired him at a deeply discounted rate because you’re going up against royalty.’

‘But you’re royalty,’ Jackson pointed out. ‘Shouldn’t Samson have an objection to working with you?’

‘I’m working to make a republic where ponies can vote for their rulers,’ Luna countered. ‘Admittedly without the whole everypony being equal mentality but socialism is much better than capitalism in Samson’s eyes. Sensors. Eye sensor things.’ Dawson and Jackson looked at her. ‘You know what I mean.’

Jackson shook his head. ‘So we’re taking some commie robot on a mission to fuck up drug dealing royalty.’

‘Sounds about right for a Squealing Wombat mission,’ Dawson said.

‘Yup,’ Jackson said.

‘Yup,’ read a sign Tiberius was holding up.

‘Oh, no,’ Luna whispered.

Somewhere in the Frozen North

Dawson drove the Warthog with one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear stick, while Jackson was sprawled out beside him in the passenger seat as they sped north, the massive tyres on the Warthog easily dealing with all the snow.

In the rear bay was their latest teammate. Samson.

He was two metres tall, just about, and from a distance you might have mistaken him for either Jackson or Dawson given how similar his armour looked to theirs, being sleek and possessing a reflective visor, though the metal was painted a deep crimson red with a hammer and sickle on his left chest, painted gold.

On his back were two laser rotary cannons that could swing into firing positions within seconds and lay down ungodly amounts of fire.

Impressive amounts of fire, Squealing Wombat mentally corrected. Samson was against all mentions of any kind of deity in reference to him, saying they were the trappings of a weak, capitalist society that looked to blame anyone but themselves. He was a machine of the people, no better than any of them, and would fight for the worker’s paradise to his dying fuel cell.

Along with the non-deity like laser cannons on his back, Samson had two more on his forearms that could add to his un-not-godly like suppressive fire.

Jackson and Dawson had stuck with their assault rifles though Jackson had packed his prototype PacCan as well.

‘It will not work, Comrade,’ Samson said for the umpteenth time. ‘The craftsmanship is appalling and it uses parts from a monarchy that serves a whore. You should have used circuits and casings from the Associated Samson States. Only when you make it with parts the working man himself crafted in a worker’s paradise will you have a worthy weapon.’

‘And for the umpteenth time, I did it on purpose,’ Jackson said. ‘Me and Dawson are gonna be deployed behind Sunnie lines a lot so we need a weapon that we can fix with what’s available to us. As we’ll be in Sunnie lands, it made sense to build the PacCan from Sunnie sourced parts.’

‘Bah,’ Samson said, disapprovingly. ‘A weapon built from ASS parts would never fail. And if you had taken building lessons in the ASS, none of your weapons would fail.’

‘I’m a perfectly good builder, thank you very much,’ Jackson said. ‘I can build good weapons and maintain them as well as other stuff. This Warthog, for instance. I fixed all the armour in place and it hasn’t fallen off.’

He patted the side, only for a section of the composite armour to fall off and vanish from sight.

‘Graham!’ Dawson yelled, hearing the clunk as it fell off. ‘No!’

‘Faulty armour,’ Jackson said, trying to cover the hole up. ‘Got it from a black market dealer or something. Totally not my fault it fell off.’

Dawson glared at him. ‘Stop touching Graham without my say so. You know I’m the only one who knows how to fix him properly.’

‘You call car Graham, Comrade?’ Samson said, looking at the Spartan. ‘So not only is leader bad builder, but you also grow attached to meaningless machine?’ He laughed. ‘No wonder NLR is losing war if it employs such poor quality soldiers. I will have to do some serious work to bring Squealing Wombat up to combat level we have in ASS, starting with name.’

‘Fuck that, you piece of shit machine,’ Jackson said, glowering at the robot. ‘We here in Squealing Wombat have a system. I give Dawson orders, he carries them out, we achieve our objective with varying degrees of success and burning boxes of oranges. You do not, I repeat, do NOT, mess with our system.

‘And you most certainly do not get to fuck with our name. It’s the name we’ve always used and will continue to do so until our dying breath.’

‘Besides, it has sentimental value, too,’ Dawson said.

‘How can he name Squealing Wombat have sentimental value, Comrade?’ Samson asked.

‘When we met, Jackson here was poking a wombat with a cattle prod to make it squeal. I asked to have a go and he said yes,’ Dawson said. ‘We’ve been going by that name ever since.’

Samson shook his head. ‘Socialist idiots,’ he said. ‘Trapped by the past when you should be looking to the future when communism will bring about unity and equality.’

‘And on that day, Hellfire will talk in a normal tone of voice,’ Dawson muttered.

‘Who’s Hellfire, Comrade?’ Samson asked. ‘Some imaginary pagan god you pray to?’

‘No,’ Dawson said. ‘He’s quite real, and he’s quite close, too. And I don’t pray to him. I stand back and watch the show.’

Samson went bah again, adding, ‘My ASS will show you all the true meaning of utopia. My ASS relies on no gods, no princes or princesses, just the working man.’

‘You can keep your ass hidden,’ Jackson said. ‘I’ve got no inkling to see a robot’s ass in my life time. Fluffy’s was bad enough.’

‘You mock what you don’t know,’ Samson said. ‘When the worker’s revolution begins, then you will see how wrong it was to believe in socialism and capitalism.’

‘I’m sure,’ Dawson said.

They emerged from the snow and began driving on a rolling grass plain, and Dawson buried the pedal, quickly accelerating to the Warthog’s top speed.

Outside the Crystal Empire

Dawson, Jackson, and Samson stopped at the brow of a hill, looking down on the Crystal Empire.

‘So how we wanna do this?’ Dawson asked. ‘Usual plan, Commander?’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said, scoping the place out. ‘We go in as usual, grab the flag, and the Crystal Empire loses its fighting spirit and stops supporting the Sunnies.’

‘We’re going after a flag, Comrades?’ Samson said, looking at the Spartans. ‘Why?’

‘Excessive usage of Crystal Weed leaves the user paranoid and highly superstitious,’ Dawson said. ‘Princess Cadance is a heavy smoker and she feels that the only reason things are going so well is because of a flag she had made up a year or so ago. It depicts her and Shining Armour kissing or something, and because everyone else down there is a Crystal Weed smoker as well, they believe her.’

‘We’re going to go in and steal their flag, then get the hell out of there,’ Jackson added.

‘Drugs,’ Samson spat. ‘Means of controlling and suppressing the people. The ASS will not tolerate any kind of narcotic. Working towards utopia shall be the people’s opiate!’

‘You say so,’ Jackson said. ‘Alright, here’s what’s going to happen. I’ll use the PacCan from afar, placate the population and reduce resistance, then all three will storm the castle and take the flag.’

Dawson looked at Jackson, confused. ‘Placate? Since when did you learn a word like that? Hell, do you even know what it means?’

‘Yeah,’ Jackson said, shrugging. ‘Make them feel calm and comfortable to the point that they won’t even care we’re attacking.’

‘So you do,’ Dawson said. He paused. ‘Wait. What do you mean, use the PacCan to placate them all? Isn’t it a laser beam of doom?’

Jackson looked at Dawson as if hurt. ‘I’m not all about laser beams of doom, Dawson. I do have a sensitive side. Somewhere. It just doesn’t come out all that much.’

‘I noticed,’ Dawson said, sighing. ‘Alright, fire it up and mollify that lot.’ He pointed at the distant city.

‘Sure thing,’ Jackson said, picking up and shouldering the PacCan. He adjusted a series of switches and buttons on the side and took aim at the Crystal Empire. ‘And firing PacCan in three, two, one.’

He depressed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again.

Nothing happened again.

‘Bollocks,’ Jackson muttered, pressing it repeatedly.

Samson laughed from behind him. ‘See? I told you it wouldn’t work, Comrade. Poor quality parts, poor quality building.’

With a grunt, Jackson dumped the PacCan and drew his assault rifle.

‘Fuck it,’ he said. ‘Let’s do it the old fashioned way with a full frontal assault.’

‘Now you’re talking, Comrade,’ Samson said as his cannons moved into place, spooling up. ‘I will lead the charge. You two can follow and watch my flanks.’

‘I thought we’d be watching his ass?’ Dawson said as they prepared to charge.

‘Same thing,’ Jackson said. ‘Just stick to the plan and we should be good.’

‘On three, Comrades!’ Samson said. ‘Three!’

He charged forward, yelling a communist battle cry of some kind, and ran straight for the heart of the city, following a stone path.

Dawson and Jackson watched him go.

‘DumbASS,’ Jackson said.

Dawson laughed. ‘I see what you did there.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said as he picked the PacCan up and switched it on, taking aim at the running Samson.

He depressed the trigger and it slowly began charging up, a keen whine emanating from the housing.

‘Do svidaniya, Samson,’ Jackson said as the PacCan reached full charge and fired, sending out an electric blue beam that cut straight through the robot’s chest, destroying the fuel cells stored there that, in turn, exploded spectacularly and removed all trace of the robot from existence.

‘Okay,’ Dawson said, nodding. ‘Now we know your modifications to a Splaser work, shall we get back to it?’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said, retrieving a can of petrol from the Warthog and a blowtorch.

In the Crystal Weed fields

Dawson coughed and sputtered as the smoke from the fire Jackson had started began seeping past his suit’s filters.

‘Fuck, this stuff is potent,’ he said.

Next to him, Jackson shrugged. ‘Pretty mild, actually. Cloudsdale Weed is much stronger and easier to grow.’

Around them, the acres of Crystal Weed began going up, producing a thick smoke that prevailing wind conditions was blowing over the Crystal Empire which, if everything was going according to plan, would cause the population to become stoned and therefore not a threat.

It was a complex and daring plan from Squealing Wombat, perhaps their most complex one yet. It had three steps.

Step one was kill Samson because, well, he was a communist asshole that had tried to alter the dynamic of Squealing Wombat by suggesting they change their name and modify their battle plans.

Step two was light a massive fucking fire in the fields surrounding the Crystal Empire to a, deny the enemy a major source of income and b, reduce overall resistance in the city.

Step three was capture the flag.

So far the plan was going perfectly.

Samson was nothing more than an annoying memory and the fields were fully engulfed now, casting smoke high into the air making the population, well, high. Or stoned. Or baked. Or deep fried. Or insert synonym here relating to smoking weed.

Now all they had to do grab the flag and leave.

‘Onward,’ Jackson said, drawing his assault rifle.

‘Right behind you, boss,’ Dawson said, coughing.

They set off towards the city, passing by a purple dragon and a grey Pegasus that were partially obscured by the smoke, two sacks of gold next to them.

Both had loopy grins on their faces, breathing in the heady aroma of unprocessed Crystal Weed that was slightly stronger than what Cadance and Shining Armour shipped out to the rest of Equestria, waving the Spartans as they passed by.

‘Tourists,’ Jackson muttered. ‘Just because weed is legal here, all the ponies and stoner midgets are flocking to the Crystal Empire.’

‘Just like Amsterdam,’ Dawson said.

‘Yeah. Just without the canals.’

‘So there’s a red light district?’

Jackson paused, thinking.

‘I wouldn’t put it past them,’ he said. ‘Cadance is the princess of love. I’d expect she feeds of any kind, even the paid for and feel dirty afterwards sort of love.’

‘She’s living the dream,’ Dawson said with a sigh. He shook his head. ‘Let’s go fuck it up then.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said.

Inside the Crystal Empire

The smoke was thick inside the city, trapped by the buildings and seeping into everything.

Around them, Jackson and Dawson would see ponies giggling at nothing or watching their hooves with alarmed expressions, no doubt experiencing a bad trip, while in a few places they saw ponies engaged in either heavy petting or casual dry humping.

In one or two instances, the Spartans weren’t sure if an orgy had formed there were so many ponies gathered in one location.

They quickly moved on, Dawson still coughing and Jackson still insisting this was mild compared to some other stuff out there.

‘And you’d know this how?’ Dawson asked between coughs.

Jackson shrugged. ‘I dabble in the art of the weed. Booze ain’t my only vice.’

Dawson just rolled his eyes, trying to determine whether the colour of his surroundings was beginning to intensify and blur. If it was, the smoke was getting to him.

‘Wake up!’ Jackson suddenly yelled, bursting into song. ‘Something, something, makeup! Something, something, shakeup! Why’d you leave your keys upon the table? You wanted to! Something, something, fable!’

Dawson whacked him on the back of the head.

‘We take sour sips,’ Jackson said, changing song. ‘From life’s lush lips. And we shake, shake, shake the hips in rela-‘

Dawson hit his head again.

‘I was driving on the freeway in the fast lane with a rapid wolverine in my underwear when suddenly a guy behind me in the backseat-‘

‘Nope,’ Dawson said, pressing Jackson’s next button a third time. ‘Come on, give me something metal.’

‘Kill you enemies!’ Jackson sang. ‘My brothers dead around me! Wounds are hurting, death is creeping for me!’

‘Closer,’ Dawson said. ‘But a bit too close to home.’

He hit next again.

‘When the blood was red, and the lies were black and white, they put their hands together, they thought they have the right!’

‘Much better,’ Dawson said as the passed yet another possible orgy. He glanced at it then turned to his teammate/iPod. ‘Is it just me or do these ponies get off on the weirdest things?’

Jackson shrugged as he continued to sing then pointed at the castle rising high above the city.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dawson said. ‘Let’s go.’

They double timed it to the castle, running past the abandoned guard post and up the crystal stairs to what they hoped was the throne room. All the signs said it was but upon throwing open the doors, they saw it had been lavishly decorated with pink and white satin and silk drapes on the walls, a thick velvet carpet underfoot, and hundreds upon hundreds of pillows everywhere arranged into piles.

Opposite the doors was a sumptuous bed where the thrones should have been, two motionless figures watching them from it.

Up close, they saw it was Shining Armour and Cadance, vacant expressions on both their faces.

Dawson hit the stop button and Jackson stopped singing.

They approached the couple, spotting the flag they needed hanging from one corner of their bed.

Smoke drifted in from the open windows which was probably why neither of the ponies did anything to stop Jackson from picking the flag up, noting with some mild disgust that it was covered with numerous white stains.

He held it out for Dawson to take.

‘Yuck,’ he said as he took it, holding it with his finger and thumb. ‘I think burning this might be the best bet.’

‘Oh, no,’ Cadance said quietly and distantly, eyes focusing in and out on the flag. ‘Now what will Shining Armour use to clean my pretty pink pearl out with?’

‘Definitely burn,’ Dawson said, holding the ‘flag’ as far from him as possible. ‘Maybe with a nuke.’

‘Yeah,’ Jackson said. ‘Let’s go find one and quick. Shining Armour looks about ready to make a mess in said pink pearl.’

The Spartans shuddered and beat a hasty retreat as the unicorn began running his muzzle up and down the Alicorn’s neck, emerging back into the wider world where things... weren’t much better.

‘Goddammit,’ Dawson said upon seeing a dozen ponies who had moved well past heavy petting and dry humping. ‘Right in the middle of the street as well, too.’

‘Ponies,’ Jackson said. ‘They’re fucking weird. Almost as weird as a human who reads about ponies fucking.’ He stared pointedly at Dawson as they ran for the Warthog.

‘I replace every mention of the word pony with an appropriate human term!’ Dawson yelled, passing another gathering of Crystal Ponies.

‘Still read them,’ Jackson said.

‘There’s no winning with you, is there?’ Dawson said as they passed the dragon and the Pegasus.

‘Nope,’ Jackson said, waving at the duo. ‘But then, it really could be worse.’

‘Oh, do tell.’

‘You could write stories that have ponies fucking. And I don’t mean putting a pony’s persona in a human body, but leaving them as ponies and describing each act in explicit detail.’

Dawson considered that, nodding. ‘You’re right. What kind of weird fuck would do that?’

They jumped into the Warthog, placing the flag in the back, and sped off to the nearest active volcano to get rid of the mission’s objective.

‘One I hope we never have to meet.’

Territories

In the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

Luna glared silently at Jackson and Dawson as they sat before her, feet propped up on her exquisite mahogany desk and covering it with dirt and scratches.

She held up a scroll one of her soldiers had written up following their latest mission to undermine the Solar Empire.

‘You. Did. What,’ she said quietly.

‘WSF,’ Jackson said. ‘We fucked ‘em up good.’

Dawson nodded. ‘No more munitions are going to be built there anymore.’

‘The reason for that, Spartan Dawson, is not because of your Wombat Style Fighting,’ Luna said. ‘But because there wasn’t a munitions plant where you attacked in the first place.’

‘You sure?’ Jackson asked. ‘Because it sure looked like munitions plant.’

‘Did you see any chimneys belching black smoke high into the air?’

‘Nope.’

‘Did you see a loading yard filled with the raw materials needed for the bullets Celestia uses to attack me?’

‘Nope.’

‘Did you see a sign that said Solar Empire Munitions Factory?’

‘Nope.’

Luna glared at him. ‘And do you know why?’

‘Nope.’

‘Because, my dear Wombat, it wasn’t a munitions factory at all. It was an orphanage! By Faustia’s beard, you two are incompetent.’

‘I did wonder why the workers were tiny,’ Dawson said.

‘Guess they weren’t midgets after all,’ Jackson said. He shrugged. ‘Oh, well.’

Luna sighed and banged her head on the desk. ‘While I am quite happy that you destroyed something that belonged to my sister, I am not happy that you traumatised dozens of children and destroyed their home!’

‘And?’ Jackson said. ‘What are they gonna do, tell their parents?’

Dawson looked at his partner briefly then turned back to Luna as she brought her head up, absently rubbing it with a hoof.

‘How do you put up with him?’ she asked, pointing at Jackson.

Dawson shrugged. ‘Dunno. I mean, he does make me madder than an Ethiopian with no legs watching a doughnut roll down a hill but hey, at least I have a laugh and get to blow shit up.’

Luna groaned this time and repeatedly smacked her head on the desk.

She stopped, sighed, then begrudgingly got to her hooves.

‘We will speak about your incident, and the inappropriateness of your responses, at a later date,’ Luna said, looking at the Spartans. ‘But before we do that, there is another facility you need to turn your... attention to. A Solar Empire manufacturing plant that will pose a threat in the future if it isn’t taken out.

‘And before I get rid of- send you to deal with it, we need to speak with the only pony here who has detailed knowledge of Celestia’s plans. Twilight Sparkle.’

All three present groaned, knowing what that would entail.

In the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

Down in the depths of the NLR’s headquarters located deep within the Everfree Forest, two Spartans and one Alicorn traversed the roughly hewn steps down to the dungeons where Twilight Sparkle was interned, passing by flaming torches that threw out a harsh orange glow.

Dawson kept eyeing them up.

‘And you’re absolutely sure Twilight Sparkle is now a member of the New Lunar Republic?’ he asked, casting the occasional glance at Jackson.

Luna nodded. ‘Yes, Twilight converted a few days after you brought her here. Why? Is there a problem?’

‘No problem,’ Dawson said. ‘Just so long as she’s not a Sunnie anymore and there’s hardly any flaming torches in her room, if any.’

The Alicorn looked at Dawson long and hard, a suspicious look on her face, but she dropped it and shrugged. She then barely managed to catch herself from saying Shark Week, shuddering.

She really needed to get rid of Those Two, and quickly, before any more of their mannerisms rubbed off on her.

The trio reached Twilight’s room, hearing the occasional squeal coming from inside, and both Luna and Jackson looked at Dawson.

‘What?’ he said, looking back at them.

‘Open the door,’ Jackson said. ‘Make sure it’s suitable for the more sensitive among us to enter.’

Dawson gave him a flat look. ‘You? Sensitive? Really?’

‘I have a delicate mind,’ Jackson said. ‘It doesn’t do me any good seeing smut or indecent acts being carried out. I’m in a delicate place right now, you know. It wouldn’t take much to tip me over the edge.’

‘You fell off the edge a long time ago,’ Dawson said. ‘And you’re now freefalling to what is known as craziness.’

‘Agreed,’ Luna said. ‘Now that’s out of the way, open the door, Dawson.’

‘Why me?’ he said.

‘We’re your superiors,’ Luna said. ‘And we’re pulling rank.’

‘And you did read through all of her porn collection three times,’ Jackson added, pointing his thumb at Luna.

She nodded in agreement and said, ‘Therefore, you should be well acclimatised to pony on pony action in whatever form it’s in.’

Dawson threw his hands up in exasperation. ‘For the thousandth time, I replaced every pony related term with an appropriate human one. I do not like pony on pony action!’

Jackson shrugged. ‘Whatever.’ He pointed at the door. ‘Now open it. I command you as your commanding officer using all the commanding powers I can command as an officer higher in rank than you.’

Dawson sighed, seeing there was no arguing with that logic, provided there was any, and took a step towards the door, stooping when he heard Twilight’s voice filter through the wood.

‘Please, mistress? We’ve been doing this for an hour now. Can I at least have one? Please? Haven’t I been – ah! – a good little slave?’

The Spartan shuddered, seeing no sign from Jackson or Luna behind him to stand down, so he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and surged forward, kicking the door down with one swift movement.

‘Whateverthefuckyou’redoingstopitnowandcoveryourselfupasbestyoucanbecausePrincessLunaneedstospeakwithPrincessTwilightaboutPrincessCelestia,’ Dawson shouted as he stopped just beyond the frame of the door he’d just kicked open.

He kept his eyes screwed shut, not wanting to open them lest he see something he really didn’t want to.

‘Who is it?’ Twilight asked from somewhere to his right. ‘Is that Dawson?’ She sighed. ‘Why does he have to always ruin Twilight Time just when I’m about to-‘

A sharp crack echoed throughout the room and Twilight yelped in pain and pleasure.

‘Quiet, slave,’ another pony said, the NLR’s chief interrogator judging by the voice. Dawson didn’t know her name.

‘Yes, mistress,’ Twilight said.

‘It’s okay,’ the mistress said. ‘She’s decent.’

‘Why don’t I believe you?’ Dawson said.

‘Because you’re a cynical person?’

‘That he is,’ Jackson called out from outside.

‘Missy, is Twilight in a compromising position and if she is, how hard would it be make her look decent enough for me to enter?’ Luna asked.

‘Well, she’s tied down and spread eagle,’ the pony, Missy presumably because she was the only other person/pony here that didn’t already have a name, said. ‘So everything’s on show but she’s got a chastity belt on. You can’t see her pearl.’

‘Now why can’t you have asked that from beyond the door?’ Dawson asked. ‘Why have me go through the door and risk seeing Twilight in that position?’

‘It wouldn’t have been as funny?’ Jackson said.

‘Worst commander ever!’ Dawson yelled Jackson’s way. ‘You too, Luna.’

They laughed.

‘You can open your eyes, Spartan,’ Missy said from somewhere in front of Dawson. ‘My slave’s decent.’

‘I am,’ Twilight said, only to earn, presumably, another whipping from Missy. ‘Sorry, mistress.’

With a sigh, Dawson cracked open one eye just enough to see vague outlines, slowly opening it wider until he could see in greater detail.

There was a bed to his left, adorned with purple covers that had a starry design and several plump looking pillows, while to his right was a waist high table that a purple form was tied down to. He opened his eyes fully and saw that Twilight was blindfolded as well, sweating too, while Missy was standing to one side with a whip attached to one hoof.

‘It’s okay,’ Dawson said. ‘Barely.’

Jackson and Luna were soon by his side.

‘Have you been able to get anything out of her?’ Luna asked Missy.

‘About twenty-three yesterday,’ she said. ‘Though her current record stands at thirty-two in an hour. She’s only managed to get fifteen from me but her tongue work is getting better. Twilli might soon be getting twenty, possible twenty-five orgasms from me an hour before too long.’

The three newcomers shuddered at that.

‘No, Missy,’ Luna said slowly. ‘I meant, have you learned anything more about Celestia’s plans? I could care less about her orgasm record.’

Missy flashed Luna a sly grin. ‘Oh, don’t worry, ma’am. Your record remains untouched.’

Luna turned crimson red as Dawson and Jackson turned their heads with agonising slowness to look at her, muttering a number of curses at the pony stood before her.

‘Forty-three, I do believe,’ Missy said. ‘One after the other, all without mechanical assistance. You couldn’t walk straight for a week. My finest work.’

Jackson and Dawson shuddered again, violently, and made retching noises.

‘Forty-three?’ Twilight whispered from her bonds. ‘Wow.’

After giving Twilight a whipping that elicited happy noises, Missy said, ‘As for the information, she’s been rather forthcoming. Haven’t you, slave?’

‘Yes, mistress,’ Twilight said.

‘What does she know about a manufacturing plant fifty miles west of Canterlot, located in the middle of a forest?’ Luna asked once her blush had gone from crimson red to deep red.

‘Well, slave?’ Missy asked.

‘It’s there,’ Twilight said.

‘Could you be more specific?’ Luna said.

‘Maybe,’ the bound Alicorn said.

Missy rolled her eyes and used her whip to strike Twilight’s cutie mark. ‘You can speak freely, slave. And if you don’t speak, or act obstructively, just so I’ll whip you, I won’t and I’ll leave the belt on. For a week.’

Twilight gasped in horror. ‘You wouldn’t, mistress?’

‘However,’ Missy continued. ‘If you answer all of Luna’s questions, I’ll take it off and we can try to break her record.’

Twilight’s body quivered in anticipation.

‘Blegh,’ Jackson said.

‘Ditto,’ Dawson muttered.

‘Now, then,’ Luna said. ‘This manufacturing plant. What exactly does it produce?’

‘Specialised computer parts for a new weapon Celestia’s building,’ Twilight said. ‘It’s some kind of high energy laser cannon capable of striking targets from ten miles away. And that’s just the prototype she’s building. The full scale thing is supposed to be launched into outer space and be used as a WMD. Celestia called it the Friendship Cannon.’

‘An orbital friendship cannon,’ Jackson murmured to Dawson. ‘If I didn’t feel slighted that Celly’s trying to take the laser beam of doom monopoly away from me, I’d be impressed.’

‘I think the Friendship Cannon has a better chance of coming to fruition than the Shoop-da-Whoop Kill-o-tron 5000,’ Dawson said. ‘For starters, Celestia has a budding space program. You have an elastic band.’

‘It could work,’ Jackson said. ‘I just need to get a big enough band.’

‘Quiet, you two,’ Luna hissed then to Twilight, said, ‘What kind of defences does it have?’

‘Three companies of Solar Empire regulars plus another two of special forces, ten metre high walls topped with barbed wire, machine gun turrets, archers, trebuchets-‘

‘Sounds easy enough,’ Jackson said. ‘We’ve been though tougher.’

‘-minefields,’ Twilight said, continuing. ‘Lasers, sharks, laser sharks, more mines, another layer of laser sharks, mines again, then a moat made of magma.’ She paused, thinking. ‘Then you get to the secondary defences.’

‘Holy balls, that’s a lot of defences,’ Dawson said. ‘I’m suddenly feeling less optimistic about our chances of succeeding.’

‘I’m not,’ Jackson said.

‘Yeah, but you’re crazy,’ Dawson said. ‘How do you expect us to break through everything Twilight just said before we even reach the secondary line of defences?’

‘WSF,’ Jackson said.

‘There’s also an entire pack of Juggernautasaruses,’ Twilight said. ‘No, wait. They’re on the seventh defensive line. Or is it the eleventh?’

‘There’s eleven lines of defence?’ Jackson said, sounding shocked.

Twilight shrugged as best she could. ‘Something like that. I stopped counting after fifteen when Celestia took me on a tour there.’

‘Yeah, I’m revising our chances as well,’ Jackson said. ‘WSF or not, there’s no way we take on a whole pack of Cuddles’ brethren. If only the PacCan 5.0 as up and running. We could wipe them all out in one fell beam of doomy doom.’

‘If take over the next hill, you might,’ Twilight said. ‘Celestia feared you had a laser cannon so she put a whole company of veterans on the nearest hill with a clean line of sight.’

‘You failed to mention that,’ Missy said, trailing a hoof over Twilight’s side, making the mare shiver with excitement.

‘Sorry, mistress. I should be whipped for withholding information.’

‘And giving orders,’ Missy said.

‘Yes, mistress.’

‘Blegh,’ Jackson said for the second time that day. ‘Come on, Dawson. Let’s go wait outside.’

‘I thought you’d never give the order,’ Dawson said, scurrying after his teammate out of the room where they both tried to get the mental image of Twilight Sparkle spread eagle and being whipped out of their heads but failed miserably.

‘Moonshine?’ Jackson offered, pulling out a bottle from a pouch on his armour. ‘Good stuff. You get your eyesight back after only two days.’

‘That’s good?’ Dawson said, taking the bottle and looking at it. He saw it was Tranquillity Moonshine, Luna’s favourite, but shrugged and popped the lid off, removing his helmet to take a swig of the eighty-proof alcohol.

‘Smooth,’ he rasped, passing the bottle over to Jackson who took a much larger drink. He coughed, feeling the moonshine travel down his throat and come to a rest in his stomach, feeling the fiery warmth it gave off.

‘Yup,’ Jackson said, his voice barely any different.

From inside Twilight’s room, they heard Luna continuing to question Twilight about the manufacturing plant.

‘How long have these troops been stationed on that hill? What kind of defences do they have?’

Jackson drank some more Tranquillity Moonshine then passed the bottle back to Dawson.

‘I see,’ Luna said. Twilight’s responses were too quiet to hear, as were Missy’s, and the alcohol in their systems was starting to take effect, making them feel giddy and light headed. ‘And what about- No, Missy. You can’t whip her while I’m still talking to her. I need her to be focused on me! Because I need to know what I’m sending Those Two up against.’

She sighed in irritation. ‘Missy, stop whipping her nipples. Yes, I can see Twilight likes it but she has to- No, we cannot try to break my record right now.’

Dawson looked back at the door as he and Jackson slumped against the wall, not trusting their legs to keep them upright. He stared at it for a while then turned back to Jackson, offering the bottle.

‘Keep it,’ Jackson said, producing a bottle of his own.

‘Thanks, commander,’ Dawson said, clinking his bottle against Jackson’s.

‘Missy,’ Luna said. ‘I have more pressing matters to attend to. I cannot take time... out... of... Oh, by Faustia’s beard, I forgot you could do that.’ She let loose a whinny of pleasure.

‘How much of this do I have to drink before I forgot what I heard just now?’ Dawson asked, pointing a wavering finger at his bottle.

Jackson looked at the bottle, trying very hard to focus on it while taking several sips from his own, and said, ‘Dunno. I usually black out after a single bottle. You might get to three-quarters gone before things go dark. If you don’t, I got plenty more.’

‘Awesome,’ Dawson said.

‘I... I really should... should be going,’ Luna said, her breathing starting to become irregular. ‘I have- oh, Missy. You have been practising.’ Her breathing turned heavy for the briefest of moments then petered out into a whimper. ‘Don’t stop, mistress. I was so close! Wha... Oh, mistress. Do I have to eat her out? Can’t I just-‘ The sound of a whip being cracked cut through the air. ‘Yes, mistress! Of course, mistress! Just whip me there again while I do.’

Dawson looked at the bottle, looked at the doorway, said, ‘Fuck it,’ and began downing the entire bottle of moonshine, seeing Jackson was already doing the same beside him.

The blackout Jackson had promised soon arrived and just in time, too, as heavy ecstatic groans began filling the air.

In the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

A rude, pounding, skull splitting headache greeted both members of Squealing Wombat as they woke up, the moonshine’s effects wearing off, only for the after effects to kick in with the force of a mule.

Dawson came to first, groaning and shoving a heavy lump off him that was no doubt Jackson.

‘But mommy, I don’t want to wear the gingham dress,’ Jackson mumbled as he kept sliding to the floor. ‘I wanna wear the sunflower one.’

He grunted and groaned when his head came into contact with the hard stone floor.

‘Is it over?’ Jackson asked in a hoarse whisper.

‘Dunno,’ Dawson said, holding a palm to the side of his head. ‘I can’t hear anything.’

‘That’ll be the moonshine talking,’ Jackson said. He forced himself into a sitting position, smacking his lips together. ‘God, I need a drink.’

‘You just had one.’ Dawson held up the two empty bottles of Tranquillity Moonshine.

‘That was eleven hours ago,’ Jackson whispered.

Dawson squinted and looked at his teammate. ‘How do you know how long we’ve been out for? There’s no clock and we don’t have our helmets on.’

‘Experience,’ Jackson said. He groaned in pain. ‘One bottle of Tranquillity Moonshine downed with barely any pause equals a blackout lasting roughly eleven hours, depending on the individual’s BMI and metabolic rate. The more you pace yourself, the shorter the blackout.’

‘Oh,’ Dawson said. ‘So how long until my hearing is back to full capacity?’

‘Half an hour.’

‘Great.’

Dawson made to stand up but Jackson put a hand on his shoulder, bringing the Spartan back down.

‘The last thing you want to be doing after waking up from an eleven hour blackout caused by Tranquillity Moonshine is exert yourself by walking. You wait for the headache to pass then you can think about crawling.’

‘Oh,’ Dawson said again.

‘Is Luna finished?’ Jackson asked.

‘Dunno,’ Dawson said. ‘I can’t hear shit beyond my immediate circle so she’s either finished or is being very quiet while Missy plays with her body.’

‘Thank fuck,’ Jackson said. ‘Because this hangover is only going to get worse. Everything we hear over forty decibels is going to hurt like-‘

At that moment, a huge explosion of light, sound, and magic exploded out of the doorframe leading into Twilight’s room, throwing up massive plumes of dust and shaking lose some overhead stones that bounced of both Jackson and Dawson’s heads.

‘Son of a bitch!’ Jackson yelled.

‘Son of a bitch!’ Dawson yelled.

‘By Faustia’s beard!’ Luna yelled.

‘Cadance!’ Twilight yelled.

‘Son of a bitch!’ Jackson yelled again.

‘What?’ Dawson yelled back.

‘I said, son of a bitch!’ Jackson said, hands clamped over his ears. ‘Fuck, I did not need to hear that at the beginning of a Tranquillity Moonshine induced hangover.’

‘Okay,’ Dawson yelled, giving Jackson a thumbs up. ‘It’s just my hearing that’s hurting me.’

Jackson waved him off as Luna staggered out of Twilight’s room, her face drenched in sweat. She was panting heavily, back legs wobbling, and looked at the Spartans.

‘Not a word to anypony,’ she said, leaning heavily against the wall as Missy walked past, her muzzle and one hoof covered in fluids best not thought about.

She smiled at the princess, saying, ‘Told you dragging it out for eleven hours would be worth it. You were carrying so much tension. We really should do this more often.’

‘Yes, mistress,’ Luna said, finally giving up and sliding to the floor.

Missy smiled and walked off.

Luna looked at the Spartans, saw their hung-over expressions and the bottles of moonshine by their sides, then said, ‘I think we should all take a rest break right here. You know, get our strength back. There’s no rush.’

‘Agreed,’ Jackson and Dawson said as Twilight hobbled out of her room, a dreamlike expression on her face, and collapsed next to Luna, cuddling up to the other Alicorn.

‘You were amazing,’ she crooned. ‘Your tongue, it knew exactly where to go.’

Dawson groaned and picked up his bottle that still had a quarter of the silvery coloured left.

‘To blackouts!’ he proclaimed before downing the remaining moonshine.

‘Memory loss!’ Jackson said, producing a third bottle which he took a generous swig from.

Both Spartans lapsed back into unconsciousness within seconds.

Somewhere near Canterlot

‘I think I’m still hung over,’ Dawson said as he eased Graham to a halt, turning the Warthog’s engine off.

‘Probably,’ Jackson said. ‘Tranquillity Moonshine doesn’t like letting go that easily.’

Dawson groaned as he got out, turning away from the blazing sun, then headed for the back of the Hog where a mortar was nestled along with a load of ammo for the mini artillery piece.

He passed the launcher to Jackson and some ammo, while behind them a similarly armed convoy of New Lunar Republic regulars dismounted and began readying their weapons.

Ahead of them lay the hill that overlooked Celestia’s manufacturing plant where the Friendship Cannon was being built, well protected behind fifteen plus layers of defences.

‘How long do we need to hold the hilltop for?’ Dawson asked.

‘Around fifteen minutes,’ Jackson said. ‘The PacCan 4.9.0.1 needs a while to be properly assembled and to build up a full charge necessary to wipe that place out. It’s a design flaw I’m hoping to improve on with the 5.0 but it’ll take a while to get the settings right before that enters frontline service.’

‘Alright,’ Dawson said. He climbed onto the back of Graham and addressed the NLR soldiers. ‘Listen up. We need to begin shelling the hell out of that place and drive the Sunnies back long enough for Spartan Jackson here to assemble his laser cannon of death and blow up that super fort over yonder. Get to it, people.’

The ponies began setting up their mortars, getting them properly adjusted and the range just right, then began unleashing salvo after salvo of high explosive, incendiary, and liberal amounts of more high explosive on the Solar Empire position.

Dawson and Jackson grimaced at the explosions, their hangover still lingering even three days later.

‘We are never drinking together again,’ Dawson grumbled as a wave of pain washed through his head with each explosion. Given how there were nearly a hundred launchers raining fire and shrapnel down at a rate of one round every four seconds, and were staggered in their launching as well, it was near constant. ‘I don’t think my head could take it.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said.

The bombardment lasted a full ten agonising minutes, leaving the Spartans with splitting headaches and the top of the hill a barren wasteland.

Dawson gave the cease fire order and he and Jackson drew their assault rifles.

‘Charge!’ Jackson yelled, running towards the hill where a few dusty coloured shapes were moving, Sunnies somehow fortunate enough to survive the attack, only to be cut down by Jackson, then Dawson, then the rest of the NLR detachment.

‘We need to hold this territory,’ Dawson said once they reached the top. ‘At least fifteen minutes.’

The pony in charge of the other ponies saluted and nodded, galloping off to give his orders while Jackson set about assembling the PacCan 4.9.0.1, just as the gates leading into Celly’s super fort/research centre opened up and a whole company of Solar Empire regulars began pouring out.

‘Mortars!’ the pony in charge barked. ‘Target those Sunnies, engage when they come within range.’

Jackson paid him no mind, already working on his laser cannon and singing to himself.

‘All my atrocities come by way of reciprocity, I’m chewing the bones of my own reprieve,’ he sang, seemingly oblivious to the explosions going off around him as long range Sunnie artillery started targeting them. ‘Death be my dignity, execute hemlock philosophy. Poison fills the-‘

He shook his head and smacked it, changing songs.

‘Wrong franchise,’ he said to himself though Dawson heard and looked at him, bewildered.

‘No one else will help us to get through,’ Jackson sang loudly. ‘So by ourselves, we’ll know just what to do! We are connected, we’ll never be alone. We walk together, forever down that road!’ He nodded to himself. ‘That’s better.’

Dawson shrugged, shook his head, and said, ‘Shark Week,’ while Jackson kept singing.

The minutes ticked by, each passing one bringing the Sunnies and their explosives closer to the contested hilltop where Loony mortar fire was only just engaging the sun themed soldiers, and Jackson was still fiddling with the PacCan until, at last, he shouldered it.

‘We’re hot,’ he yelled, taking aim at the manufacturing plant. ‘Firing PacCan in-‘

An explosion landed close by, not enough to knock the Spartan off his feet but enough to throw his aim off just as he fired.

The beam went wide, missing the factory by miles.

Somewhere in Equestria

A colt with a bowl of petunias for a cutie mark stepped out from behind a tree he’d been lying against, looking up at the bright blue sky above and wondering what would happen if a whale were to suddenly appear in the middle of it and begin plummeting to its untimely demise at the hands of gravity and the mercilessly hard ground.

Realising he didn’t know, nor did he care, the colt shrugged and began heading towards the only structure around for miles. His home.

Both his parents were out, doing something or another to help Celestia he thought, so he had the house to himself, which was good because there was an issue of Playpony under his bed just calling out for a colt with a bowl of petunias for a cutie mark to ogle the scantily clad mares draping themselves over all manner of things.

While the whole whale things hadn’t bother him, the colt did wonder why seeing mares, who didn’t usually wear clothes in the first place, seemed so much more appealing when they draped themselves over stuff like chests or beds. If he wanted to see that, he could just go to the nearest town and pony watch.

He shrugged again. Who cared? They were naked, he was naked, everypony was naked, even the princesses.

So when a blue beam of utter devastation struck his home and reduced it to rubble in a huge explosion, he didn’t worry about the fact his house had been destroyed, or the fact that all his worldly possessions including the Playpony magazine were gone, or that a beam had come from nowhere and destroyed both.

He instead thought, for reasons known only to him and him alone that no one, not his parents, not the princesses, not you who is reading this right now and trying to understand this reference, and said aloud,

‘Oh, no. Not again.’

Back on the contested hilltop

Jackson swore and began the charging sequence, mildly pissed that the explosion had thrown his aim off and aggravated his hangover.

‘Son of a bitch!’ he said as the PacCan started its slow climb to one hundred percent. He only had two more shots, and any further distractions could see him not destroy the target, and that would make Luna mad at him.

The PacCan reached full charge a second time and Jackson took aim a second time, only for another explosion to knock his aim off right as he fired.

In the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

Luna eased herself down onto her bed, back legs still quivering despite having three days of bed rest to recuperate from Missy’s work, and found herself feeling relaxed for the first time in what felt like months.

Missy had been right, she had been carrying around a lot of tension. Between the Solar Empire attacks, Those Two, and some other third she felt was significantly less bothersome that either of the first two, her stress levels had been unnaturally high for too long.

To unwind after all that, to release her pent up energy, and to do it in the presence of two beautiful mares and cuddle with one afterwards, was divine.

She stretched out, letting her wings unfurl, and sank into the plush covers while Tiberius curled up next to her, purring contently.

That came as a shock to Luna. She didn’t know possums could purr, though her mind was still a little foggy after her session with Missy and Twilight. Maybe it was her imagination.

Using her magic, Luna pulled the summoning rope that alerted the guards outside she wanted something.

A moment later, one of the stoic faced stallions entered, waiting for her command.

‘Bring me a bottle of Tranquillity,’ Luna said, stretching out again. ‘And a bucket of ice.’ She stole a look at the stallion’s hooves. ‘And while I drink it, you can give me a massage.’

‘Ma’am?’ the guard said.

‘A massage,’ Luna said, rolling onto her back. ‘I feel the need to have a stallion’s touch upon my body.’

The stallion baulked, blushed a little, then quickly vanished.

Luna rolled back onto her front, spying the Tranquillity Moonshine distillery building through her room’s window. It only had one customer, her, and was located on top of a natural spring that came out into a pool lined with moon rocks, giving the booze its unique flavour and potency.

It could be produced nowhere else, and the loss of that factory would absolutely crush Luna.

Which is why when the guard returned with a bottle of Tranquillity Moonshine and began massaging her body, sending fresh waves of relaxation through Luna’s body, the princess snapped her head up in alarm as a blue beam impacted the side of the distillery and blew it sky high.

‘No,’ she whispered as debris rained down. ‘No! Not the distillery! Anything but that!’

‘Ma’am?’ the guard said, hooves freezing in place.

‘Damn you, Jackson!’ Luna shouted. ‘You maniac! You blew it up! Ah, damn you! Faustia damn you to hell!’

Yet again back on the contested hilltop

‘Dammit,’ Jackson muttered as the laser began its final charging cycle, readying one last blue beam of death. ‘This time, no more explosions. No more shooting the wrong thing. No more fucking about with stupid references to other franchises.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Dawson asked as Sunnie forces appeared at the base of the hill, slowly moving up it despite heavy NLR bombardment.

‘I have no idea,’ Jackson said as the PacCan finished charging. ‘Oh, great and benevolent Flying Spaghetti Monster, please let my aim be true and not miss again. Ramen.’

‘When did you become a Pastafarian?’ Dawson asked.

‘Ages ago,’ Jackson said. He looked at Dawson. ‘What? You think I’d miss out on a beer volcano and strippers when I die? Not to mention claiming every Friday is a Holy Day? I only have to work four days a week.’

‘True,’ Dawson said. ‘Alright, light that fucker up and let’s go home.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said, pulling the trigger.

This time, his aim was true and no explosions knocked his off, allowing the PacCan’s final charge to be unleashed with the full fury of a thin but devastating blue beam that struck dead centre of the manufacturing plant, penetrating through all the concrete, steel, and whatever else Celestia had used in its construction, hitting something explodey that in turn caused an even bigger explosion, causing a chain reaction that soon wiped out the whole base and left nothing but a massive crater, body parts and the occasional laser shark falling from the sky.

‘And it’s gone,’ Jackson said as he dumped the spent launcher.

Dawson nodded. ‘Yeah, no more Friendship Cannon,’ He clapped Jackson on the back. ‘Looks like you got your monopoly on laser beams of doom back.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said as silence suddenly fell over everything, the artillery on both sides stopping.

The Spartans looked at each other then at the surrounding area as Solar Empire forces surrounded them. Of the New Lunar Republic forces, there was no sign. They were either dead, captured, or retreating.

‘Ah,’ Jackson said.

‘Yup,’ Dawson said.

‘Run to Graham on three with a girlish scream?’ Jackson said.

Silence answered him.

He looked to where Dawson was standing, seeing an empty patch of air, then saw the Spartan running away out of the corner of his eye.

‘Holy balls, you’re the worst subordinate ever!’Jackson yelled after the fleeing Dawson.

‘Worst commander ever!’ Dawson yelled back, reaching Graham and jumping into the driver’s seat. ‘This makes us about even!’

He drove off, the torque of the Warthog throwing up massive plumes of dirt as Dawson sped through the forest.

‘Well, fuck,’ Jackson said as the Sunnies pressed in, bringing out his assault rifle. ‘Alright, let’s get this over with.’

He took aim at the nearest pony then let loose a shrill scream, catching them all off guard, and ran down the hill as nearly a hundred ponies charged after him.

Infection

Somewhere near Canterlot

Jackson kept screaming like a bitch and/or girl as he fled the mass of Solar Empire soldiers bearing down on him, each of them shouting and swearing after the Spartan and wielding mean looking swords.

He ran across fields, across fallen trees, through thick bushes, through some other forest thing. I have no idea. A forest living plant species thing. Oh, use your imagination.

Anyway, the Spartan nutter with the propensity to sing kept running, eventually running out of places to run and places for me to describe when he finally emerged onto a cliff.

There were rocks stained with bird shit, moss, more rocks, and-

You know what? Screw it. He came out onto a cliff and that’s that. There was nothing particularly special about this cliff. There were no unique rocks or things, just a cliff with a long drop to a pool of water some way away. Like, a hundred metres? I don’t know. A long fall, anyway.

Our intrepid sprinter stopped just shy of the cliff edge, the customary loose stones falling from the edge and falling to the pool of water below. Why they do that, I don’t know.

What I do know is that Jackson then saw Dawson sat against Graham way down next to the pool of water, his teammate reading a book. More pony porn, no doubt. It was just about the only thing he read in Equestria.

The ponies running behind Jackson came to a halt a dozen metres from him, swords at the ready, and slowly began pressing in on him, corralling the Spartan like a pig. That wore half a ton of armour. And carried two guns. And could sing.

Badly.

He looked between them, the drop, and Dawson, calculating and devising, and most likely getting entirely wrong, things inside his head.

Then, with a maniacal laugh straight out of a mad scientist’s mouth which, if the PacCan is anything to go by, he sort of was, said, ‘Gentlemen, ponies, readers, you will always remember this as the day that you almost caught Spartan ‘Hellfire’ Jack-‘

At that very specific moment, just as Jackson was about to say the last three letters of his name, the ground began shaking and quivering, like it was about to shake itself apart, and a large crack appeared in the ground that went right around Jackson, like it was specifically isolating him from the others.

Then, with an earth splitting crack, the earth spli-

It split-

The earth-

Goddammit.

Let’s try it without using the same words to describe different things.

The part of the poorly described cliff Jackson was standing on fell down, taking with it the poorly something or another Spartan with it.

Goddammit, not again.

Sigh sound effect.

The cliff broke apart, Jackson went down with it, the universe decided to interrupt his sentence.

Was that really so hard?

No, you’re just an idiot.

Shut up.

No, you.

‘While those two keep arguing, I went like this as I fell,’ Jackson said.

‘-son of a bitch!’ he yelled as he fell, partly finishing his previous sentence and starting a whole new one.

The ponies on top of the cliff watched him go, silently cursing themselves for being so slow and silently praising that the blue buffoon had more than likely fallen to his doom. They were so confident, that they didn’t even wait to watch him land in the pool of water or if he even resurfaced.

And so they went, signing ‘We’re off to see the wizard’ but replacing the word wizard with princess.

It didn’t sound as good.

At the bottom of the cliff

Dawson watched as Jackson kept falling, shutting A Night in Canterlot and throwing it into the back of Graham.

The Warthog’s armour was fully back in place, the result of a competent mechanic fixing the armour and not a blue buffoon doing shoddy spot welds and using cheap as hell glue, and gleamed in the midday sun.

There was an almighty splash as Jackson landed, throwing up a smallish plume of water and several swear words that echoed across the tranquil pond.

A few minutes later, a horrid mass of slimy blue metal hauled itself out of the water.

‘I hate the writer,’ Jackson said, swiping as much of the junk covering him off. ‘Why does he always do shit like this?’

‘You hit your head or something, boss?’ Dawson asked as Jackson shed most of the pond weed. ‘Cause I’ve no idea what you’re on about.’

‘Neither do I,’ Jackson said. ‘But I generally don’t pay it much attention.’

‘Okay then,’ Dawson said as the last of the pond stuff was gone and Jackson shook himself out like a dog, showering Dawson and Graham with water that wasn’t too clean. ‘Thanks.’

‘That’s what you get for abandoning your superior,’ Jackson said as he headed to Graham. ‘I had to fight off a hundred of them, all at once. Ran out of ammo for my assault rifle so I dropped it, same for my pistol. Had to kill the last fifty of them with my bare hands. Saxton Hale would be proud.’

‘Who?’ Dawson asked, jumping into the driver’s seat.

‘I have no idea,’ Jackson said.

‘Uh huh,’ Dawson said, powering the Warthog up. ‘So if you lost your assault rifle and pistol, why do you still have them?’

He pointed to the very weapons clipped to Jackson’s armour, somewhat waterlogged.

Jackson looked at them then threw them away into the pond.

‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘Like I said, I lost them.’

Dawson just rolled his eyes. ‘Get in. Lu-Lu has a mission for us of the utmost importance.’

In the New Lunar Republic headquarters

‘-and do you have any idea what it’ll take to rebuild everything?’ Luna yelled at Jackson who sat behind a desk, feet propped up in their usual place and doing their usual thing of marring the now less than immaculate mahogany surface. ‘Those rocks came directly from the moon itself! How do you expect me to get some more to make more of that delicious, highly inebriating, wonderfully aromatic nectar?’

‘You could throw a magical lasso around it and pull the moon closer,’ Jackson said. ‘You and the Solar Whore did it in comic number six.’

Luna opened her mouth to both question Jackson on his utterance and verbally abuse him for suggesting something so stupid in the first place.

Instead, she face hoofed and sighed, turning to the saner of Squealing Wombat.

‘Did he destroy that distillery on purpose, or was it an accident?’

Dawson shrugged. ‘Dunno. What happens in that guy’s head is a mystery unto itself. He missed the first shot because an explosion knocked him off course. Could have happened again.’

‘Which it did,’ Jackson said. ‘Stupid explosions and references.’

Both Luna and Dawson didn’t ask, having decided long ago that trying to devise the machinations behind Jackson’s words was beyond them both. They’d have better luck figuring out how to breathe in space, or how Discord Deliveries managed to post a huge profit despite hiring only two employees, both of them stoners and currently missing in action, last seen in the Crystal Empire.

They turned instead to the mission of utmost importance.

Tiberius had the sniffles.

Luna was fawning over the opossum, wiping away the smallest of snot that dripped from his cute little nose and instantly rushing to his side at the first hint of a cough, offering hot orange and lozenges to soothe his hardly sore throat.

‘All the stress has gotten to him,’ Luna said in a baby voice, wrapping a hoof around the opossum who chirped happily, cuddling up to his owner and gladly nibbling on a bug flavoured lozenge that she offered him. ‘My wittle Tibble-kins doesn’t like everypony shouting does he? No he doesn’t, do you my wittle baby!’

The opossum smiled and rolled onto his back, prompting the princess to gently rub his stomach.

Tiberius chirped again.

‘We’re not vets,’ Jackson said. ‘I’m pretty sure we’d do more harm than good if we tried to make him healthy again.’

‘Unless you want us to put him out of his misery,’ Dawson offered.

Jackson, Luna, and Tiberius all looked at him horrified.

‘You’d do that... to my little Tibble-kins?’ Luna whispered, her hoof now wrapping around Tiberius protectively.

‘Well, no,’ Dawson said. ‘I like the little guy too much. We think on the same wavelength.’

‘Oh, good,’ Luna said. ‘No, I don’t want you to treat him. I want you to get a special potion from deep in darkest Equestria. You have to go... to White Tail Woods!’

There was a dramatic clap of thunder from outside, despite the fact it was brilliant sunshine with not a cloud in the sky.

‘Really?’ Jackson said to the ceiling. ‘Dramatic thunder?’

When no one answered him, the conversation continued.

‘White Tail Woods?’ Dawson repeated, followed almost instantly by another clap of thunder.

‘Enough!’ Jackson yelled at the ceiling. ‘It’s just the name of a place.’

Again, no one answered him and Dawson and Luna sighed, shaking their heads.

‘Yes, yes, there,’ Luna said. ‘There’s a mysterious cult in the area who have access to powerful healing herbs. However, they are kind of crazy and have zombies patrolling the place, so...’

‘You’re risking Squealing Wombat to get Tiberius some medicine,’ Jackson finished for the Alicorn. ‘Alright, whereabouts in White Tail Woods?’

Once the thunder had passed, Dawson held up a hand and said, ‘Did you just say zombies?’

‘Yes,’ Luna said with a nod. ‘The dead reanimated. A walking corpse. That which moves but does not live.’

‘Yeah, I know what a zombie is,’ Dawson said. ‘What I meant is, did you say zombies? As in, we’re going up against the living dead?’

Luna nodded. ‘I said that, didn’t I?’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said.

Dawson stared at the pony. ‘Are you being totally fucking serious right now?’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said again before Luna could reply.

‘Zombies don’t exist,’ Dawson said. ‘They’re fictional.’

‘No, they’re pretty real alright,’ Luna and Jackson said in sync.

Luna said, ‘The Leader of the White Tail Wood-‘ Thunder clap. ‘-cult has found a way to resurrect the dead and bend them to her will. They patrol her base of operations and keep unwanted visitors out.’

Jackson said, ‘And I’ve faced them before.’

Dawson looked at Jackson flatly. ‘We met up and then enlisted together, then spent pretty much every waking moment fighting alongside each other. I think I’d know if you fought zombies before.’

‘I never said it was during our enlistment,’ Jackson countered. ‘It was when I was growing up on the family farm. A whole bunch of them suddenly appeared and assaulted the place.’

‘You grew up on a farm?’ Luna and Dawson said in sync.

Jackson nodded. ‘Yeah. We grew weed.’

‘That explains so much,’ Dawson said.

Luna nodded in agreement. ‘Well, there’s no farm in White Tail Woods-‘

Thunderbolt of lightning, very, very frightening.

‘-just zombies, a telepathic and clairvoyant leader, and the medicine to make my wittle Tiberius better again!’

She cuddled the ill opossum who chirped again, loving all the attention he was getting and held up a sign that only Jackson and Dawson could see that read ‘I should get ill more often.’

‘Yeah,’ Jackson said. ‘You should.’

Dawson’s hand went up again. ‘Telepathic and clairvoyant leader? Really?’

‘Yes,’ Luna said in her baby voice, still cuddling Tiberius. ‘She can read a pony’s mind and predict the future. Yes she can! Yes she can!’ She placed a small kiss on Tiberius’ head and squeezed him.

‘Maybe not for a while,’ his next sign read but it quickly changed to, ‘Then again...’ when another bug flavoured cough sweet was sent his way.

‘You’re dismissed,’ Luna said as Tiberius munched away on his sweet. ‘Go to your armoury and select whatever weapons you want and/or need.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said, getting up. ‘I’m thinking pistols and swords for this outing. How about you, Dawson?’

‘Assault rifle, mate,’ he said, standing. ‘Zombies aren’t real, just people drugged up and walking around like them. I’ll start believing in zombies when I actually see one.’

‘Bad choice,’ Jackson said, leading Squealing Wombat out the door. ‘Zombies go down only when you chop their head off or put a well placed bullet through it. Assault rifle ain’t gonna do that.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dawson said, reaching for the door handle. ‘We’ll see who’s right or not when we get to White Tail Woods.’

He gripped the handle as the thunder faded away and pulled the door open, revealing Twilight Sparkle carrying a basket full of hot orange, bug flavoured lozenges, and an assortment of sweets and drinks for ponies.

‘Hey, guys,’ she said, trotting past them and joining Luna in fawning over the poorly opossum.

Tiberius leaned back, lapping up the attention, and waved goodbye to Squealing Wombat who closed the door behind them.

‘Maybe we should become opossums,’ Jackson said as they headed for the armoury. ‘They get way more attention than wombats.’

‘Nah,’ Dawson said. ‘He’s only getting that kind of attention because he’s ill. I bet if we came down with something, Luna and Twilight would be by our side doing all they can to make us feel better.’

‘Test that hypothesis when we get back?’ Jackson suggested.

‘Test that hypothesis when we get back,’ Dawson confirmed. ‘But first we need to make a little detour...’

Inside Ponyville

Graham screeched through the town, Dawson power sliding the three ton, four wheel drive, all wheel steering monster past stalls and ponies with scant inches to spare, AC/DC blasting out of the twenty ten inch speakers he’d installed.

‘Shoot to thrill!’ Jackson belted out. ‘Play to kill! Too many women and too many pills! Shoot to thrill! Play to kill! I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will!’

He punctuated this with an extended burst from the Hog’s turret, peppering the facade of many a house with .50 cal rounds and sending a stream of brass arcing out over the panicked crowds.

‘Ready, Jackson?’ Dawson yelled over the music.

‘Ready, Dawson,’ Jackson yelled back, taking aim at one thing in particular.

Inside Ponyville close to but not quite near the Warthog

Pipsqueak the pony trotted out of his house, a spring in his step as he headed to his stall in Ponyville’s market.

He sold odds and ends, anything he could get his hooves on really, saving up his bits to buy a limited edition Squealing Wombat figurine set, the New Lunar Republic’s two best fighters and best hope for ending the tyranny of the other princess.

So far he was around three quarters of the way to his ultimate goal of fifty bits and would probably get the remaining money inside of three weeks.

The only problem was that nopony really wanted to buy his stuff, especially those who supported the Solar Empire, but the little pinto colt persevered and kept selling his crap, ever hopeful to buy that figurine set.

He was halfway to his stall when the unthinkable happened: his heroes appeared.

Their car/jeep/monster came screeching around Sugarcube Corner, blasting out a heavy rock song so loudly, it rattled the teeth in Pipsqueak’s head.

‘-no help, no help from you!’ Pipsqueak heard Jackson singing. ‘Sound of the drums, beating in my heart! The thunder of guns tore me apart!’

Pipsqueak could see the Spartan move the turret mounted to the back of Graham (the model of which was another thirty bits and came with a fully working suspension and turret that actually moved!) and bring it to bear on his stand not twenty metres away.

‘You’ve been-‘ Jackson fired the turret and sent a hail of bullets downrange, shredding the simple wooden construction and the contents it held. ‘-thunderstruck!’

The Warthog did another power slide, coming ever closer to Pipsqueak, and he got an up close glimpse of his personal heroes.

‘Get wrecked, kid!’ Jackson yelled.

‘Yeah!’ Dawson added. ‘Hope Week would pass you over, bitch!’

And with that, they were gone.

Pipsqueak was rooted to the spot, the fact that Jackson and Dawson had destroyed his stand and everything in it overshadowed by the fact Jackson and Dawson had destroyed his stand and everything in it!

His heroes!

‘Best! Birthday! Ever!’ the colt shouted, jumping for joy.

Inside Ponyville, just past the destroyed cart and its ecstatic owner

‘Ready for the next stop?’ Dawson asked, turning the music down a smidgen.

‘Ready for the next stop,’ Jackson confirmed, reaching for what he’d need next.

Yet again, inside Ponyville but more towards the farms

Scootaloo was riding her scooter to the Crusader Clubhouse, a list of things she and the other Cutie Mark Crusaders could try and do to get their cutie marks tucked away in her saddle bags.

Among them was being sappers for the Solar Empire, being recon specialists for the Solar Empire, being soldiers for the Solar Empire, gardeners, and dozens more things they had yet to try.

It was beginning to get irksome that they’d tried so much but hadn’t yet found their innate talents, what made them special.

She casually did a three-sixty flip over a puddle then executed a five second backwards two-wheelie before returning to just riding her scooter normally.

It felt like her real talent was staring her right in the face, something she’d overlooked, something that came to her so naturally it was almost second nature.

Shrugging, the little filly began grinding her scooter along anything suitable including railings and fallen logs, barely looking at what she was doing or giving the actions much thought.

It took the roar of an engine, the ground trembling thump of over-cranked speakers playing guitars, and the warbling, ear splitting cries of something attempting to sing along with the song’s lyrics to snap her out of this haze.

She skidded to a halt, expertly doing a 180 as she did, and turned to watch in growing horror as Squealing Wombat’s Warthog came straight for her.

And like a deer caught in the headlights, she froze and watched as the hulking tusks that so reminded her of a puma came ever closer, flinching when they came to a halt a bare foot from her face.

The two occupants dismounted and stalked over to her, one of them carrying a box in their hands.

Scootaloo craned her neck up to meet their faceless faces and gulped in apprehension, doubly so when the one holding the package leant down towards her and said, ‘Happy birthday, Pipsqueak!’

‘Yeah, dude,’ the other said, Dawson if she remembered correctly. ‘We got the letters you sent in, saying how much you adore us and what we’re doing, so did Princess Luna, and all three of us decided to give you this as a present.’

Jackson held out his package and Scootaloo got a good look at it, seeing it was a figurine set of the two, complete with a model of Graham, and a letter signed by the two Spartans and Princess Luna with a small paw print that could have only come from Tiberius.

The message on the letter wished that NLR supporting weirdo Pipsqueak a happy birthday and extended an invitation to him to have a tour of the NLR’s headquarters, escorted around by Squealing Wombat, Luna, and Tiberius.

Scootaloo just stared at it slack jawed, not really wanting to accept anything from the NLR or from Those Two, but hesitantly accepted it lest the Spartans take offense and hurt her.

‘Keep up the good work, Pipsqueak,’ Dawson said. ‘Any supporter of the New Lunar Republic is a friend of ours. You have any problems, drop us a line and we’ll see about helping you out.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said. ‘Be seeing ya, kid!’

And with that, they were gone, climbing back into Graham and taking off towards White Tail Woods.

Scootaloo jumped when a crack of thunder suddenly echoed across the countryside and looked around to see if Derpy was messing around with clouds again but soon remembered that the Pegasus was missing, last seen heading towards the Crystal Empire with Spike on her back.

She shrugged then dropped the box and letter into the puddle she’d jumped over and resumed heading to the clubhouse, hoping to put this vile incident behind her.

‘Worst birthday ever,’ she muttered under her breath.

Outskirts of Ponyville

Dawson dialled the music down again to a more acceptable level as Jackson dumped himself into the passenger seat.

‘Nice to meet the fans, isn’t it?’ Jackson said.

‘And wipe out the livelihood of someone plotting to hurt us,’ Dawson said. ‘Pipsqueak looked ecstatic to see us and get his present.’

Jackson laughed. ‘Yup, and Scootaloo was mortified to see us destroy her stand. We thoroughly fucked up her birthday.’

Dawson laughed as well. ‘Yeah, that orange filly was waving her hoof at us angri-‘

He stopped midsentence, realising they’d fucked up the wrong pony’s birthday.

‘Son of a bitch,’ he said, as did Jackson upon reaching the same conclusion.

The Warthog executed a handbrake turn and sped back towards Ponyville.

Outskirts of Ponyville. Again.

After much profuse apologising to the real Pipsqueak, paying for a new stand, and giving him the sodden but still pristine limited edition figurine set, as well as getting a photograph with the star struck colt, they hurried after the real Scootaloo and demolished her scooter, as well as burning the Crusader Clubhouse to the ground without bothering to get the three fillies out first.

Now they were really speeding towards White Tail Woods – crack of thunder – ready to complete Luna’s mission and get medicine to cure the New Lunar Republic’s beloved mascot.

Dawson looked at his teammate, and the two swords clamped to his back, and said, ‘You really believe we’ll see zombies, don’t you?’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said, checking one of his two pistols. ‘Fought ‘em before, gonna fight ‘em again. Gonna win again as well.’

The saner member of Squealing Wombat just shook his head, guiding Graham to his next destination.

‘Back in black, I hit the sack,’ Jackson sang, the speakers still playing AC/DC. ‘I been too long, I’m glad to be back. Yes I am. Let loose from the noose, that’s kept me hanging about.’

Ahead of them, dark clouds began forming, right over White Tail Woods.

Crack, went the thunder and Jackson looked up to the sky.

‘Is that going to be a recurring thing?’ he said. ‘Two peals of thunder if it is.’

Two peals of thunder echoed across the land.

‘Dammit,’ Jackson muttered.

Somewhere in White Tail Woods

Thunderbolt!

Jackson sighed as Dawson eased the Hog to a halt just before a sign that read ‘Keep Out’ sitting on a post set into the ground, an assortment of teeth decorating it.

‘Charming,’ Dawson observed, climbing from the driver’s seat and setting boots on ground.

‘Promising,’ Jackson countered. ‘It means we’re on the right path.’

‘Or the wrong one,’ Dawson said as the two of them walked past the danger sign and entered the grounds of the cult.

Jackson didn’t draw any of his four weapons but Dawson drew one of his two guns, the assault rifle, and they pressed on, passing by more danger signs that had ever increasing numbers of teeth on them until they reached one that was just a pile of teeth, the keep out sign sitting on top.

It did little to faze the Spartans and they kept going.

Dawson looked at Jackson and saw he was shaking a little, an unusual thing for him.

‘What’s the matter mate?’ he said.

‘Song system error,’ Jackson replied. ‘Have too many to choose from for this particular scenario.’

He began shaking some more, twitching too.

‘If there’s something strange in your neighbourhood, who ya gonna it’s close to midnight and something evil’s lurking in the tell me who’s watching- who’s watching I ain’t afraid because this is- this is- this- ERROR.’

Dawson sighed and smacked Jackson across the back of the head. Hard.

‘Recalibrating,’ Jackson said. ‘Recalibration complete. Shutting down song selection system.’

‘Better?’ Dawson asked.

‘Much,’ Jackson said. ‘And girlish scream in T-minus six seconds.’

‘Why are you going to scream like a girl?’ Dawson asked.

‘I’m not,’ Jackson said. ‘You are.’

‘I’m not-‘ Dawson began to say when something behind him placed a hoof on his back, bringing forth a girlish scream.

‘Six seconds,’ Jackson said as Dawson wheeled around and aimed his assault rifle at whatever had touched him. ‘Told ya.’

‘Shut up,’ Dawson muttered, levelling his rifle at a pony with a gormless expression on their face, looking somewhat ragged and malnourished, their skin sunken and sallow. ‘Okay, pony. You got five seconds to tell me why you snuck up on me like that or I’m gonna fill you full of holes.’

The pony just looked at Dawson and groaned, hoof reaching out to touch him again.

‘Three seconds,’ Dawson warned. ‘Two seconds. One. Okay, you asked for this.’

He drilled a neat burst through the pony’s chest, right where their heart would be.

Now usually, this would drop the pony or make them look at the new hole on their body before keeling over.

However, because this isn’t a normal situation but a Squealing Wombat mission, the pony did neither of those things and kept reaching out for Dawson. There wasn’t even any blood dripping from the wound.

‘The fuck?’ Dawson said, staring in disbelief at the wound that should have killed the pony. ‘Why isn’t it dying?’

‘Zombie,’ Jackson said. ‘No heartbeat, no pulse, no life to kill. Try again if you don’t believe me.’

Dawson didn’t believe him and shot the pony again, this time on the other side of their chest in case their heart was in the wrong place.

He got the same results.

‘No fucking way,’ Dawson said. ‘Not possible.’

‘Is possible,’ Jackson said, drawing one of his swords. ‘That right there is a genuine, certified, zombiefied zombie pony. And the only way to incapacitate them is like this.’

He brought his sword down in one fell swoop and parted flesh, bone, and head from flesh, bone and body.

The head dropped, as did the body, and rolled towards Dawson’s feet, somehow still moving its jaw and looking up at him with cloudy eyes.

‘See?’ Jackson said, skewering the pony’s head with his sword and bringing it up to eye level. ‘Zombie pony.’

Dawson looked on with shock as the head kept going, well past the point that a normal decapitated head would have stopped thinking and being alive.

‘It’s still going,’ he said. ‘You made it into a headless horse and it still goes.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said, flinging the head off into the distance. ‘Zombies exists and you brought the wrong weapons to deal with them.’

‘So I did,’ Dawson said.

From all around them came a sudden collective groan, cutting through the dense fog that I just suddenly decided to place into the scene, cutting visibility down to a few dozen metres.

The Spartans huddled up, pressing their backs against each other and watching warily as dozens upon dozens of stiffly walking, ragged looking, zombiefied zombies appeared out of the fog, all of them groaning and heading for the Spartans.

‘Oh, this takes me back,’ Jackson said. ‘Long nights on the farm, picking off zombies with a sword and pistol. Good times. Good times. Best birthday ever that was. What more could a ten year old want than to kill zombies alongside his porn star sister on a marijuana farm?’

Dawson blinked.

‘We’ll circle back around to that one at a later date,’ he said. ‘Right now, though, I wanna focus on the zombies surrounding us.’

‘Yes, that would be a good idea,’ a voice boomed across the field. ‘For these zombies will be ya’ll doom.’

A cloaked figure appeared through a gap in the zombies, walking towards Squealing Wombat at a leisurely pace.

They squinted through the haze at them, seeing a cowboy hat perched atop their head and their hair done up in a pony tail.

‘Do these ponies have to always use pony related puns?’ Jackson asked Dawson as both turned their attention to the figure.

‘Apparently,’ Dawson said.

‘So, ya’ll are the latest bunch of folk come to try and take me down?’ the figure said. ‘Ah figured Princess Luna would have sent somepony more competent to do it.’

‘We’re plenty competent, thank you very much,’ Dawson said.

‘Yeah,’ Jackson added. ‘We’ve got a thirty percent success rate. It’s just that this story has only focused on our successes.’

‘What in tarnation are ya’ll talking about?’ the pony said. ‘What story? This here is real life, ya Loony. Ain’t no story being written except ya downfall and death. Ah’ve seen it mahself.’

‘I have no idea,’ Jackson said, readying a sword and pistol after giving Dawson a sword to replace his assault rifle. ‘But if you think we’re gonna lose here, you’ve got another thing coming Applejack.’

The pony froze. ‘How did ya know it was me?’

‘Yeah, how did you?’ Dawson added.

Jackson looked at Dawson. ‘Seriously? How many ponies do you know of that wear a cowboy hat, have their mane tied into a ponytail and speak in that ridiculous accent? Besides, she’d the only one of the Mane Six not mentioned yet. What with being a background pony and all that.’

‘What the...?’ Dawson began saying before deciding against it. ‘You know what? Shark Week. So what if it is Applejack, we’re still gonna get that medicine.’

‘That’s all ya came for?’ Applejack said. ‘Medicine?’

‘Well, yeah,’ Jackson said. ‘Tiberius has a little cold and Luna sent us to get something to help him.’

‘Oh,’ Applejack said. ‘If that’s all ya’ll are coming for- Wait. What do ya’ll mean, background pony?’

Jackson shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’

‘And how did you become a telepath and clairvoyant anyway?’ Dawson asked, confused. ‘You’re an Earth pony, not a unicorn or an Alicorn.’

‘Strange things happen to a mare when she’s sucking off an Alicorn’s horn while a Pegasus eats them out,’ she said. ‘Ask Rainbow Dash if ya don’t believe me.’

‘I’d rather not,’ Dawson said.

‘Why?’ Applejack said. ‘Ya read through all of Luna’s porn in three days and keep rereading it. Ya’ll must be well acclimatised to hearing about pony on pony action by now.’

‘For the love of-‘ Dawson muttered. ‘I replace every-

‘-mention of the word pony with an appropriate human term,’ the farmer turned cult leader said. ‘Ah know. Ah read ya mind.’

She turned to Jackson. ‘Now to read ya’ll mind.’

‘Oh, this should be interesting,’ Dawson said, watching with some amusement as Applejack’s calm and serene expression slowly became more panicked and bewildered, her pupils expanding and contracting with each breath.

‘What in tarnation?’ the mare screamed. ‘How could ya’ll even think of something like that? Why would- How could- Ah did not need to see- By Celestia’s beard, attack mah zombies! Get those two outta here!’

‘Now we’re talking,’ Jackson said, readying his weapons.

‘Yeah, you mother humpers!’ Dawson added. ‘For the New Lunar Republic! Bring it on!’

The zombies began their slow march towards the Spartans, hooves getting caught in the marshy soil of White Tail Woods – boom – and Applejack stood behind them, urging the slow walking corpses on in Spanish for some reason.

‘Soy un pendejo púrpuras que gusta tomar aceite!’ the farmer yelled. ‘Mi cola es muy grande. Y mi gusta frotar mi cola. Y quiero oler mi cola e también besar, a mi cola!’

Dawson and Jackson took a break from waiting for the zombies to come with striking distance of their swords and just looked at Applejack.

‘Is she...?’ Dawson began to say.

‘Insulting herself in Spanish?’ Jackson finished. ‘Yup. Wonder what this is a reference to.’

Dawson began inching his head around to ask Jackson what he meant by that but decided against it.

‘Shark Week is to be assumed,’ he muttered to himself.

Applejack kept insulting herself in Spanish and after several agonisingly slow minutes, her zombie army was now halfway to Squealing Wombat and shuffling ever closer.

Jackson sighed. ‘Fuck it, let’s just get that medicine and go.’

Dawson sighed. ‘Yeah. This is way too boring.

Jackson nodded and aimed his pistol at Applejack, saying, ‘Repent, motherfucker!’ and firing just the once, downing her with a headshot.

The mare dropped like a sack of potatoes and was lost in the mist, her hold over White Tail Woods – and yet another crack of thunder – was finally broken, the zombies following suit and falling to the floor.

Squealing Wombat shrugged and went off in search of the medicine to make Tiberius better.

In the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

Jackson rummaged through the sack he carried, producing bottle after bottle of herbs, powders, liquids and leaves, and passing them over to Twilight Sparkle for her to examine and determine which was a cure all to make Tiberius healthy again.

The opossum himself was curled up next to Luna, asleep atop a cushion with a silk blanket keeping him warm, merrily purring away as the Alicorn stroked his back.

‘No, no, no,’ Twilight said as she went through the vials. ‘Wart remover, hair loss inducer, hair growth inducer, orgasm enhancer-‘

She paused, looked at Luna who nodded, and she tucked it away into the nearby bedside cabinet.

Jackson and Dawson shuddered then sneezed simultaneously, wiping the snot from their noses away with the back of their hands.

‘Anything?’ Jackson asked, sounding bunged up. His eyes were red raw, his noses was red as well, and he was sweating a little too, so was Dawson.

They had intentionally made themselves sick by spending a full night in the nude in one of the freezers located in the kitchens, emerging earlier that morning with a fever and runny noses, to see if either Alicorn would show them any sympathy.

So far, it wasn’t working.

‘No,’ Twilight said, going through the vials quickly, taking out ones that had bedroom applications and discarding the ones that didn’t. ‘Over a hundred vials filed with herbal remedies and not one of them helps Tiberius! I’m starting to think Applejack didn’t have anything to do with animals in the first place. Most of this stuff looks like it belongs in a brothel.’

‘How can you –cough, cough- tell?’ Dawson asked.

‘A lot of these things cure STIs,’ Twilight said. ‘Others, well, they make the experience more pleasurable for the client.’

‘Which we will have to test,’ Luna purred, wrapping her wing around the younger Alicorn and pulling her close. ‘Maybe they can help you break my record.’

Twilight blushed a little and the Spartans made gagging noises which quickly turned to coughs and sneezes.

Soon after, Twilight went through the entire sack Jackson had produced but found nothing that could help Tiberius, who had woken up and perched himself on Twilight’s head, holding up a sign that read, ‘Too bad you guys are ill.’

Jackson and Dawson mouthed thanks at the opossum, who looked healthy, then shivered, sneezing again.

Luna glanced at them and said, ‘You’re dismissed. If you didn’t find any medicine to help him, I think it might be best to let Tibble-kins get better all on his own. Besides, he seems to be feeling much better now.’

The opossum in question used his tail to hang from Twilight’s horn, swinging lazily from side to side as the purple mare giggled, moving her head to make Tiberius swing further.

He chirped and held up a sign that said, ‘Whee!’

‘If you’re... If you’re...’ Dawson tried to say but an urgent need to sneeze appeared, releasing itself in a massive expulsion of snot that collided with the magic health bubble surrounding Luna and Twilight, going no further.

‘Good thing you cast that, Twilight,’ Luna said. ‘I wouldn’t want to catch whatever it is they’ve got.’

‘Bloody bubbles,’ Jackson muttered under his breath.

‘If you’re sure,’ Dawson said, completing his sentence without sneezing.

‘I’m sure, Spartan,’ Luna said. ‘Now please. Go put some clothes on. Both of you. I do not wish to stare at your naked forms a second longer than I have to.’

Jackson objected, pointing at Luna and Twilight, and said, ‘But you’re both naked! You hardly ever wear clothes.’

‘Ah, but I like seeing my little Twilli like this,’ Luna said. ‘You? Not so much.’

‘Bollocks,’ Jackson muttered, sneezing afterwards. ‘Well, come on Dawson. Let’s go sleep in an oven for the night, see if that’ll counteract a night in a freezer.’

‘Doubt it,’ Dawson said as he and Jackson turned to leave, padding barefoot out of the princess’s room and giving them a clear look at their flabby arses.

Back in White Tai- THUNDER!

The area was still, silent, the fog I’d added into the zombie scene still lingering, when something began moving in the mood setting fog.

Applejack clumsily rose from the floor, hoof going to head where Jackson’s bullet had entered.

There was a small hole there, quickly healing thanks to her regenerative abilities, yet another side effect of sucking Twilight Sparkle’s horn off while Rainbow Dash ate the Alicorn princess out, resulting in a massive blast of magic that imbued the orange background pony with some mystical abilities and ideas of leaving the farm behind to start a brothel in the woods surrounding Ponyville.

But despite being in business for well over six months, she still only had the two workers, Caramel and Rainbow Dash, and seeing as how they’d both been the town’s bicycle for the best part of a year before being hired by Applejack and everypony was looking for something new to ride, business was slow.

Still, that hadn’t stopped Twilight Sparkle from renting one or the other for a day or two at a time three of four times a month. Though she was a Loony now, and not around to pay anything.

Applejack had seen her leaving thanks to her clairvoyant powers but the loss had still stung, and she was still thinking of a way to make her business boom again. Well, actually make enough money to support her and her alone since Big Macintosh had run off to the NLR as well once war broke out and Apple Bloom had gone to live with Rarity, and Granny Smith had died from smoking too much Cloudsdale Weed.

The farmer/cult leader sat down and called upon her clairvoyant powers to see what her future might hold though was confused to see a whale falling through the sky.

‘What in tarnation?’ she said, looking up only to freeze upon seeing the exact same whale from her vision come plummeting down towards her at an incredibly high speed.

‘Oh, son of a-‘

The whale touched down with a ground shattering impact, blubber and blood flying in every direction under the sun and giving the area a grisly decor, while a computer of some kind came flying down as well, repeating the phrase ‘The end is near. The Great Destroyer has arrived,’ until it landed on the ground in a puddle of blubber and blood, falling silent.

It was soon followed and hit by a bowl of petunias.

‘Ow,’ the computer said in a flat and monotone voice. ‘This is the worst birthday ever. Of all time.’

Firefight

Inside the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters

Luna was dreaming, and she was dreaming a nice dream. That’s why it was her favourite dream to dream, and not a nightmare.

That’s a very bad dream to those of you who didn’t already know.

I’m looking at you Padawan and GareBare. Yeah, you know you didn’t know what a nightmare was before reading this.

So, anyway, Luna was dreaming a nice dream, a good dream, a dream in which she had finally achieved her ultimate dream and crushed her sister’s dream, itself a nice dream but we’re not going into that dream because it means going to the Solar Empire and I don’t want to do that. Blegh.

Right, where was I? Ah, yes. Luna’s dream that she liked to dream because it was a nice dream.

Now, rather than tell you what makes this a nice dream I’ve decided to show you why her dream is nice.

Through the power of WORDS!

(Swirly sound effect, wavy transition scene change thing)

Oh, and did I say dream enough? I don’t think I said dream enough.

Dream.

There, that should just about do it.

Inside Luna’s dream where everything is awesome!

(Swirly sound effect, wavy transition scene change thing)

The regal throne room of the New Lunar Republic surrounded Luna, banners bearing its logo spaced at regular intervals between the windows, and a fountain containing Tranquillity Moonshine was to her left.

To her right was her new found lover, Twilight Sparkle, and her beloved Tiberius, both of them congratulating her on succeeding against Celestia who, because this was Luna’s favourite dream, was sprawled before her, defeated and wearing a dunce hat that looked absolutely ridiculous on her but fabulous on Luna.

Why, you may be asking?

Well, it is a dream. Seriously, GareBare. It’s got to be the most obvious thing in the world.

And in Luna’s dream, she looks absolutely fabulous in anything anypony anywhere could design and create.

But right now, the only thing Luna wore was a smile that was equal parts smug and equal parts benign ruler (though mostly smug).

She smiled at her sister with that smug smile and said, ‘At last, sister, we have finally put an end to our squabble in the way it could have only happened!’

‘You’re right, as always,’ Celestia said in a thick as pig shit voice, drooling. And because this was Luna’s dream, and all her dreams came true in this dream, this Celestia was so stupid she managed to mess up drooling. Somehow. ‘I was wrong, as always, and now you’ve finally defeated me like the beautiful, smart, and inexplicably sexy ruler that you are. Everything I’m not.’

Luna giggled and made a show of waving the compliments away even though she wanted Celestia to keep going.

‘Oh, I know,’ Luna said once she’d stopped waving. ‘I even managed to turn you most trusted and beloved student and aide to my side, and now we are in love!’

Twilight blew a kiss Luna’s way, fluttering her eyes at the princess as well, while Tiberius held up a sign that read, ‘I’m so happy for you!’.

Luna blew a kiss back at both of them then turned back to her defeated sister.

‘How could you not be?’ Celestia said. ‘You are powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond description. Nopony could resist that. Even I, your defeated and incompetent sister who hates you with a passion yet still respects you as a better leader, find myself attracted to you despite the fact such thoughts are incestuous and have no place in Equestria, or anywhere else. Except maybe Norfolk, and possibly Arizona.’

Luna laughed. ‘You are correct in this one instance, my sister. I am beautiful and wise, and that is what swayed Twilight Sparkle to my side and bed. But you were wrong about everything else, were you not?’

‘I was,’ Celestia said. ‘I was wrong about so many things and my inability to admit my wrongs and concede to your superior and infallible mind led to a pointless war which, from the start, I was destined to lose because I was wrong and an incompetent leader.

‘Cupcakes are better than muffins.’

Even though this was a dream, and everything said by anypony or opossum was always going to make Luna feel good (which she was fully aware of), it was still nice to hear Celestia admit to her faults.

Luna’s smile increased its smugness level by a factor of 3.8, only to falter when a faint thump echoed across the entire room, followed by faint gunfire.

Then, as if to signal the beginnings of a nightmare (a bad dream to you, GareBare and Padawan), Those Two suddenly popped into existence in front of the Moonshine fountain, their Warthog appearing above it and smashing the exquisitely crafted marble depicting White Tail Woods-

Thunderbolt.

Bet you thought I’d leave that recurring gag in the last chapter, eh? Well guess again!

...

Okay, I’ll leave it alone. Jeez, some readers.

-before Applejack had turned it into a poorly run brothel.

‘Yeah, you mother humpers!’ Dawson bawled, firing his assault rifle into thin air. ‘For the New Lunar Republic!’

‘Yup,’ Jackson added in his accent that so annoyed Luna to hear. ‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of grenades, there they are standing in a row. Pull out the pin, toss at the enemy, that’s what the black market arms dealer said!’

He tossed a number of the devices at some far off and suddenly materialising box of Tranquillity Moonshine that bore a label declaring it the very last batch to be made.

Luna reached her hoof out in slow motion (so she still looked awesome) in a vain attempt to reach the booze before it was gone forever but alas, like the bad dream this had become, she failed to reach it and the frags went up in an explosion of confetti, rainbows, and children going yay, taking out the booze.

‘Skulls on,’ a voice from nowhere said as the swirly noises and wavy scene transition stuff started happening again, signifying this was the end of Luna’s dream and that we were heading back to the land of...

Well, not quite reality because this is fan fiction and technically doesn’t quantify as real because, as the name suggests, this is fiction created by a fan. There is no reality to be had within this story, just a poor attempt at humour from me, and ergo, we cannot go back to reality and-

KA-THUNK!

(Falling body noises)

Sorry about that. He tends to get a little but metaphysical after eating a baby. Now, on with the crack!

Back in reality, which sucks.

Luna cracked her eyes open, the last few images of her dream turned not-good dream lingering, to see the sleeping face of Twilight Sparkle before her, and behind the younger princess was the sleeping face of a nearby guard who was up for a threesome.

She groaned inwardly and let her eye rove around the room, trying to figure out why Those Two had shown up in her dream and ruined it, but only saw Tiberius hanging from the frame of her bed by his tail, asleep, a sign dangling next to him with the following on it.

Luna: 48

Twilight Sparkle: 39

Big Macintosh: 0.5

So, the little opossum had been keeping score all throughout the night. Luna would have to get him something nice after hearing three ponies have eighty-eight orgasms between them in the space of four hours.

They would have been done an hour sooner but Big Macintosh had an ungodly amount of endurance to say both Luna and Twilight had done their best to make him cum, even breaking out some of his sister’s special lotions to make his two foot meat feast more sensitive.

But, that was all in the past and right now, Luna was caught between letting her body recuperate from the night’s activities and finding out what had caused her dream to become a nightmare.

She looked around her room as best she could without moving any part of her body, especially her hind quarters, but saw nothing out of the ordinary so turned to her sense of hearing instead.

Creaking pipes, the gentle snores of Twilight Sparkle and the more rumbling ones of Big Macintosh as he spooned Twilight Sparkle, hoof draped over her shoulder.

The younger Alicorn began mumbling in her sleep.

‘Yes, Cadance,’ Twilight mumbled. ‘Wave your... wave your rump in my face like that again. I can see your pink pearl.’

Luna frowned at her lover.

‘Too bad you’re a Sunny,’ Twilight said, snuggling closer to Luna. ‘And Luna can make me cum way more than you could.’

Luna smiled at her lover.

‘And stop poking my back,’ Twilight continued. ‘Poke me... poke me in my purple pearl.’

Behind her, Big Macintosh went, ‘Eeyup,’ and began wriggling.

Luna guessed he had grown that fifth leg again and that both he and Twilight were having vivid dreams.

Twilight began groaning softly, contently at first but they turned unhappy when Luna nudged Big Mac awake, making him stop dry humping the mare before he could progress any further.

‘Eeyup?’ the stallion half whispered, half groaned as Twilight herself started to wriggle, likely trying to finish what Mac had inadvertently started.

‘See if something’s happening outside,’ Luna said in a whisper. ‘I have a feeling there is.’

The stallion groaned but complied, rolling away from Twilight and making her moan in frustration though she was soon soothed once Luna’s hoof filled in Mac’s place, and Big Macintosh got out of the bed and walked stiffly to the nearby window.

He pulled the curtain back a smidgen to look outside.

‘Well?’ Luna asked as Twilight began chewing on her mane, a strange habit that meant she was close to getting off.

‘Looks like an attack’s about to happen,’ Big Mac said. ‘Must be the entire Solar Empire out there.’

‘Are we getting ready to meet it?’

‘Eeyup,’ Mac said.

‘Is Squealing Wombat at the forefront?’

‘Eeyup.’

‘Do you think they’ll repulse it long enough for us to see to your, ah, affliction?’

‘Eeyup,’ Mac said as Twilight’s whole frame arched, Luna’s work taking its toll on her body, and she came for the fortieth time that night. Or morning. Luna was quite sure what it was.

‘Then come back here,’ Luna ordered in a sultry voice as Twilight woke up, blinking heavily as her wakeup call faded into the haze of all the others. ‘And Twilli and me can see about easing your burden.’

‘Eeyup,’ Mac said yet again as Twilight and Luna, begrudgingly and a little sorely, made space for him between them and let the massive stallion lie on his back and expose his massive erection to them both.

‘Let’s see if we can bring him to one an hour,’ Twilight said, her hooves running up and down Mac’s cock.

‘Yes, let’s,’ Luna said in agreement.

Mac just let out a content sigh and said, ‘Eeyup.’

On the Solar Empire’s side of things. Blegh.

Celestia narrowed her eyes as she looked out at the New Lunar Republic’s headquarters, focusing on the mass of black clad troops pouring out and rushing to defensive positions, ready to repel her golden army.

A soldier trotted over, a touch screen tablet tucked under his wing, and came to a halt beside the princess, saluting.

‘Ma’am, all our forces are in place and awaiting the order to attack,’ he said.

‘Good,’ Celestia said. ‘And what of my sister? What is she doing to forestall her doom and downfall?’

‘Twilight Sparkle and Big Macintosh, your highness,’ the stallion said, holding the tablet out. ‘The three are currently engaged in a threesome, completely neglecting the fighting.’

Celestia snatched the tablet from the soldier and just stared at the screen which showed a feed from a hidden camera a Solar Empire spy had installed months ago to, well, spy on Luna and figure out what she was up to.

‘She’d rather 69 my former pupil as the two of them use their magic to jack off a farmer turned solider?’ she shrieked upon seeing the live feed.

‘Apparently,’ her companion said. ‘We’re calling it Princess Barnyard Adventures Part 2 and it should be up for sale around an hour after they finish. Part 1 is selling quite well, actually. Nearly fifty thousand copies sold since last night.’

Now Celestia turned to the Pegasus, not quite understanding what she was hearing.

‘You what?’ she said.

‘Well, the figure is probably close to sixty,’ the pony beside her said. ‘The counter of how many have been sold only updates every six hours. The next update should be due in-‘ He checked his watch. ‘-five hours.’

‘You’re selling this?’ Celestia yelled, pointing at the tablet as it showed Luna and Twilight eating each other out, Twilight on top, while next to them two different shades of magic were working on Mac’s dick as he lay next to them. ‘Wha- Why?’

‘Because Celestia’s Courtships weren’t selling so well anymore. Turns out, ponies are more attracted to your sister than they are to you. Something about a firmer plot and her being more open to bondage and the like, unlike you who just fucks them and does nothing special. Not even a blow job.’

For the first time that day, Celestia was quiet.

‘My what?’ she finally said.

‘Celestia’s Courtships,’ the stallion said. ‘It’s a weekly instalment where we sell off your nightly meetings with whichever stallion says yes. Maybe if you were bi and started sleeping with other mares, like Luna, your sales might go up again. Or got adventurous in the bedroom.’

For the second time that day, Celestia was quiet.

‘You’ve. Been. Recording. Me?’ she said.

‘Well, yeah,’ the soldier said, seemingly oblivious to the peril he was in. ‘We used your room as a dry run for Luna’s and we never got round to taking the cameras out, or telling you, and me and a few of the guys figured it’d be a good way to make money.’

Celestia narrowed her eyes at the pony.

‘Do you like bananas?’

And now for something completely different

King Leonidas of Sparta, Ron Burgundy of San Diego, and Andrew Ryan of Rapture came to a halt behind some bushes and peered past them to where a pack of rabid Scouts were stood, clumped together and repeating ‘Need a dispenser here’ over and over again.

‘Oh, man,’ King Leonidas of Sparta said, looking with disdain at the Scouts. ‘I hate Scouts.’ He leaned closer to Andrew Ryan. ‘So what’s the plan for getting past those guys?’

The founder of Rapture, wearing a tailored suit and wielding a golf club, leaned closer to the Spartan king destined to spawn numerous memes following his death and subsequent film deal, and said, ‘Live bait.’

‘Good idea,’ Leonidas said before registering what Ryan had said. ‘Hey!’

‘Come on, Leonidas,’ Ryan said. ‘You guys have to create a diversion. Otherwise we’ll never get to the launch of the Lunar Spartans, Chapter Eleven.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ Leonidas hissed. ‘Dress in drag and do the hula?’

One moment later...

‘Luau!’ Leonidas said loudly, wearing a grass skirt that showed off his muscular physique while next to him, the legendary Ron Burgundy was trussed up like a pig, his expertly done up hair and moustache shining in the darkness. ‘If you’re hungry for a hunk of fat and juicy meat, eat my buddy Ronny here. ‘Cause he is a treat. Come on down and dine on this tasty swine.

‘All you have to do is get in liiiine!’

Leonidas held that last note as the Scouts took notice of the singing and dancing, and the ruggedly handsome anchorman that smelled vaguely of Sex Panther, an alluring aroma to the Scouts as they ceased their incessant cries of ‘Need a dispenser here’.

‘Arrrre ya aching,’ Leonidas continued.

‘Yup, yup, yup,’ Ron added.

‘Forrr some bacon?’

‘Yup, yup, yup.’

‘He’s a big pig.’

‘Yup, yup!’

‘You can be a big pig too!’ Leonidas finished off his dance while behind the Scouts, Andrew Ryan snuck past and headed ever onward into the darkness, searching for that elusive WiFi signal so he could be ready for the release of the next chapter. ‘Oy!’

The Scouts chose that moment to run for Leonidas and Ron, causing the two to flee back the way they’d come and in the shadows, watching with some amusement, was none other than Deadpool.

‘I love references!’ the merc with a mouth said, a chimichanga to hand.

They certainly class up the joint, the, uh, bold text box said from somewhere inside Deadpool’s head.

Yeah. They really add to the violence and borderline smut, the, uh, not-bold text box said from somewhere inside Deadpool’s head.

‘And now we’re here as well!’ Deadpool said, taking a bite of his chimichanga and enjoying its cheesy taste. ‘This is officially the best crossover in the Halo/My Little Pony section ever!’

Wait, My Little Pony? Bold said. As in, that show for girls?

‘Yeah,’ Deadpool said, nodding. ‘It’s got like a massive following on the internet.’ He squealed. ‘So much porn!’

You mean grown men actually watch the show, write stories about it, and draw porn of it?

‘Pretty much,’ Deadpool said, finishing off his chimichanga. ‘I mean, the guy writing this right now is, like, twenty years old and he’s gone onto Google and looked up R34 images of the Mane Six.’

The who? Not-Bold asked.

‘You know, Twilight Sparkle and the others,’ Deadpool said. ‘The main characters of the show but because everything in My Little Pony is pony related, they say Mane instead of Main and everypony instead of everyone or body.’

Oh, Not-Bold said, giggling. I get it!

‘Now you sound a little bit like GareBare,’ Deadpool said, pointing off in one direction as though addressing the voice inside his head like it was physically there. ‘Which is good because if you sounded like Padawan, he’d cut off our heads and stick them in front of his base. Not that I am a mutant. I’m a mutate!’

Australians are weird, Bold said. Or New Zealanders. I can’t remember which he is.

‘You mean the writer can’t,’ Deadpool said. ‘He’s trying to reference two of the guys who follow his stories in this story but can’t remember where Padawan lives.’

What about ShiningShadow? Not-Bold asked. He hasn’t been mentioned.

He has now, Bold said. Expect a review gushing about it as soon as he finishes reading this chapter.

‘It’s nice when writers interact with their readers, isn’t it?’ Deadpool said, producing another chimichanga from nowhere. ‘Well, folks, that’s enough from me. In this story at least. You can expect to see more of my awesomeness in either a later story of the Lunar Spartans, or in a crossover of my very own with Pinkie Pie!’

Depending on which the audience wants more, Bold said. The writer doesn’t think he could deal with us and Jackson breaking the fourth wall in the same story.

So he’s putting us with Pinkie Pie? Not-Bold asked. Wouldn’t that be just as bad?

‘Only if Marvel doesn’t sue his ass for using my likeness without permission!’ Deadpool said cheerfully. ‘Same for Hasbro and the Mane Six, and also violently causing them misery in Operation: DRAGOON which, by the way, you should go and read after finishing this chapter. It’s awesome.’

Shameless self promotion using a comic character known for doing the exact same thing, Bold said a little proudly. This guy is destined for greatness.

‘And all it took was buying my game, which you should also buy by the way, and downloading my comics!’ Deadpool said, pointing at you, the reader. ‘But make sure you pay for them. I need the money.’

Maybe we should get back to the story, Not-Bold said. We’re three-thousand words in and haven’t even gotten to Jackson and Dawson yet.

Deadpool cupped his chin deep in thought, saying, ‘Yeah, I guess the readers can be left hanging in suspense until my next awesome cameo, or full blown story with Pinkie Pie-‘

Or something else entirely.

‘-that too,’ Deadpool said. ‘And now, without further ado, back to the Lunar Spartans!’

And now for something slightly more bizarre

Jackson paused momentarily, shaking his head clear as fleeting images of a man in a suit and flippers walked up to a desk in the middle of a river, sat down behind it, and said, ‘And now for something slightly more bizarre,’ in bold letters.

He shrugged and carried on helping Dawson assemble the defences around the NLR’s headquarters.

‘Some things in life are bad,’ he sang. ‘They can really make you mad. Other things just make you swear and curse. When you’re chewing on life’s gristle, don’t grumble. Give a whistle. And this’ll help things turn out for the best. And...

‘Always look on the bright side of life!’

Dawson sighed and put the sandbags he was carrying down, involuntarily glancing at the approaching Solar Empire army.

‘You think we’ll win this thing?’ he asked.

‘Yup,’ Jackson said. ‘It’s in the story so, obviously, it’s going to be a success.’

Dawson opened his mouth to reply but decided against it.

‘Shark Week shall be assumed.’

From somewhere behind them, a shout of alarm and then surprise went up and the Spartans turned their attention in the general direction of the noise, seeing a familiar and impossible imposing figure, clad in red and wielding four powerful Gatling lasers.

‘Hey, fuck faces!’ Samson said. ‘I’m back, Comrades!’

‘The fuck?’ Jackson said. ‘I blew you up.’ He turned to Dawson. ‘I blew him up.’ He turned back to Samson. ‘I blew you up.’

‘Da, and niet,’ Samson said as he stood near the dumbstruck members of Squealing Wombat. ‘You blew up a Samson. I’m another robot called Samson but there’s not so much emphasis on the s.’

Dawson and Jackson looked at each other, confused, then turned back to the robot.

‘Which s?’ Dawson asked.

‘What do you mean, which s?’ Samson said. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

The Spartans couldn’t hear any difference between the two ways of saying Samson, so they both shrugged and said, ‘Shark Week.’

‘You ain’t mad I blew you- I mean, him, um...’ Jackson trailed off, thinking. ‘Not you but you, but not you, the other you who went with us to the Crystal Empire that I obliterated.’

Samson laughed. ‘Niet, Comrade. That Samson was an asshole. Always clamouring about the superiority of our way of thinking. I do think that way, da, but do not go around saying so. I am much better to be around!’

‘Alrighty, then,’ Dawson said. ‘So, are you here to help?’

‘Da, Comrade,’ Samson said. ‘That Solar Whore shall not succeed and crush the beginnings of a socialist utopia that will one day lead to a communist utopia! Glory to the ASS! Glory to Communism!’

‘Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever,’ Jackson said. ‘So long as you ain’t here to try and kill me.’

Samson laughed again and said, ‘Niet, Comrade. All is forgiven!’

‘Oh, good,’ Jackson said.

‘How can I help?’ the commie robot asked, looking around as the preparations were ongoing.

‘You...’ Jackson said, pointing at Samson. ‘...can help... establish a perimeter while I get the PacCan 5.0 ready for battle. And a few other things.’ He began walking back inside. ‘Need to be able to call this Chekhov: the Chapter.’

He vanished from sight and Samson, confused, turned to Dawson but the Spartan held up a hand in anticipation.

‘There are some things in this universe we cannot explain even with science and magic. Jackson is one such thing,’ Dawson said. ‘Whenever he says something like that, just roll with it and don’t think too hard about it. I don’t.’

‘Ah,’ Samson said. ‘I will try, Comrade.’

Both turned, as did everyone else who was close by, when the ground began shaking, exclaiming similar outbursts of shock upon seeing what was coming for them.

‘Son of a bitch,’ Samson said.

‘Holy shit,’ Dawson said. ‘You weren’t kidding when you said you had to get a few other things.’

Jackson popped the hatch on Fluffy’s chest and poked his head out, saying, ‘Yeah, and I’m driving the robot this time. You can command the ED-209s and our ground forces. Time to see just how much damage these weapons do against a Juggernaut.’

‘You mean a Juggernautasarus,’ Dawson said.

‘That too,’ Jackson said. ‘Now let’s get to it people. Victory isn’t too far off!’

On the Solar Empire’s side of things with its unwitting porn star leader

Celestia continued to stare at the NLR’s position, taking note of the dozen robots that had shown up and wondered how badly they would interfere with her plans.

Beside her was her new second in command, the first one now finding out if he liked bananas or not on the moon, though the pony that now stood next to Celestia was unaware of what had caused his predecessor to be fired, quite literally from a cannon.

He simply stood next to her, waiting to give tactical and strategic advice or just suck up to the princess.

On the other side of Celestia was her equivalent of Luna’s Fireteam Squealing Wombat: two human soldiers called Billy-Bob and Bobby-Bill who wore ridiculous armour, that did nothing, and carried guns that looked ridiculous, coloured a garish gold that made her eyes hurt when looked at.

To say they considered themselves ‘tactical’ and everyone else ‘noobs’, they didn’t seem to have much luck facing off against the NLR.

‘Imma so gonna three-sixty no-scope that bitch,’ Billy-Bob said in his incredible high pitched voice that made him sound like a ten year old who hadn’t reached puberty yet. ‘And Imma gonna add it to my montage of no-scopes.’

‘Bitch, please,’ Bobby-Bill said in an equally high pitched voice. ‘Imma no-scope Luna way before you. I’m tactical.’

‘Nuh-uh,’ Billy-Bob said. ‘I’m tactical. I got a Honey Badger and Off the Grid. They ain’t gonna see me coming.’

Bobby-Bill giggled. ‘Ha, you said coming.’

Billy-Bob giggled too when he realised it as well. ‘Yeah, so did yo momma when I fucked her last-‘

A shot from the NLR’s side rang out and a round slammed into Billy-Bob’s head, quite literally vaporising it.

‘Billy!’ Bobby-Bill screamed, rushing to his teammate’s side and cradling his now headless body. ‘No!’

On the New Lunar Republic’s side of things with its unwitting porn star leader (who has more sales and a firmer plot)

Jackson shifted his sniper rifle and fired again, taking down the other human stood next to Celestia with another headshot.

‘Huh,’ Dawson said. ‘Wonder why we never saw those guys before.’

Jackson shrugged, lowering his rifle. ‘Probably because we’d have taken them the fuck down due to our superior technology and weapons. I mean, seriously? What kind of damage is a 5.56mm round from the 21st Century going to do against 26th Century power armour, with shields, that’s been designed to shrug off 7.62mm rounds with ease? Not a whole lot, I can tell you.’

He turned to look at something that wasn’t Dawson or Samson as they stood below him. ‘And that’s one of the reasons why the UNSC lost so few in Wastelands.’

‘Who are you talking to?’ Dawson asked.

‘I have no idea,’ Jackson said, jumping down from the top of an ED-209 he’d been using as a sniper platform. ‘So, we all set to repel Celly while Lu-Lu eats Twilli out as the two of them try to fire the Mac Cannon?’

‘Uh, what?’ Samson said. ‘You mean, Princess Luna is having sex while we are out here, read to lay down lives, Comrades?’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said. ‘She trusts us that much.’

‘I’m pretty sure she doesn’t,’ Dawson said. ‘And, in reality, is still under the influence of those potions she consumed last night. You know, the ones we stole from Applejack. She and Twilight looked pretty ravenous after taking them, if you know what I mean. They practically dragged Mac in from outside the door as he spied on them through the keyhole.’

Jackson just shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Why he doesn’t just pirate the live feed from the cameras installed in Luna’s room, I’ll never know. All the other guards do when they wanna watch some mare on mare action.’

Dawson and Samson looked at Jackson, confused.

‘What cameras?’ Dawson asked.

‘And what feed?’ Samson added.

Jackson looked at Samson and Dawson, confused.

‘You know, the feed from that camera that Sunny spy asked me to plant in Luna’s room,’ he said. ‘They use it to spy on her, ergo why a spy asked me to install a camera in the room.’

The Spartan and the Commie gave the mad scientist flat looks.

‘You put a spy camera in Luna’s room?’ Dawson said. ‘Why?’

‘Because she never discusses anything of strategic or tactical importance in there,’ Jackson replied. ‘She just takes Twilight, Missy, both, or a nearby guard in for fun and games. No chance for the Solar Empire to learn anything of any value.

‘That, and the guy said I’d get a ten percent share of all sales.’

‘What sales?’ Dawson and Samson said.

Again, Jackson looked at Dawson and Samson, confused.

‘You mean you don’t know about the DVDs that get sold on the black market?’

They shook their heads.

‘Right,’ Jackson said, calling a nearby NLR soldier over. ‘You know about the ‘special’ videos you can get of Luna, right?’

‘Right,’ the pony said, nodding his head. ‘I’ve only got three so far, the Princess’ Guard trilogy. Pretty hot stuff if you ask me.’

Jackson sent him on his way, turning back to Dawson and Samson.

‘See?’ he said. ‘I’m making a killing off this set up. How else do you think I’ve been able to build the PacCan and all my other side projects?’

‘I assumed Luna gave you a budget,’ Dawson said. ‘Though that would explain the bewildered look on her face upon seeing the PacCan 1.0 being built.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Hey, wait. If you’ve got all this cash, why don’t I get paid?’

‘You never asked,’ Jackson said. ‘To get paid, you need to ask. Right, Samson?’

‘Da,’ Samson said in agreement. ‘I would have thought you’d know, Comrade Dawson. Unless you ask, you never get.’

Dawson sighed. ‘Alright, fuck it. When this is all over, I want my back pay paid up front. Got it?’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said before pointing his finger to the Solar Empire’s side. ‘But before then, we need to focus on that impending threat from Equestria’s other porn star princess.’

Before Dawson or Samson could even react, the battle began.

On Celly’s side of things. You know, the side that’s going to lose because, well, it has to.

Celestia’s forces began their march towards Luna’s forces.

The loss of Billy-Bob and Bobby-Bill hadn’t stung because they were useless and had done little more than bicker over who was more tactical or which cod was better, which had baffled Celestia because to her, all fish was equally repugnant.

But then, as if to baffle her further, Those Idiots had mentioned ghosts, black ops, modern warfare, and other equally idiotic titles to the point that she has to assume they were either euphemisms or code for some larger something or another.

She had tuned it out to the point it was just a background hum, lost and no longer annoying her.

Her second in command stood next to her, ready to receive instructions or offer recommendations, and Celestia’s eye wandered over his body.

Chiselled, toned, muscular, the peak of physical fitness, and her eye drifted to his hind quarters, seeing a fifth appendage, and wondered what it would be like to have such a well built and well hung pony pounding her royal pearl later that night once victory was hers.

It made her insides go gooey and Celestia swore she felt something trickle down her back leg.

Ignoring it, she turned her head to the pony and said, ‘Soldier, when we achieve victory tonight, how would like to celebrate it and your part in defeating the New Lunar Republic in a more... private capacity?’

The soldier glanced, briefly, at the princess and said, ‘No thanks, ma’am. While I am a fan of your series, I don’t particularly want to be a star in it. Besides, I think your sister is way hotter and if she was offering, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.’

Celestia narrowed her eyes at the stallion.

‘Do you like bananas?’

Back on the winning side

The NLR army tensed, waiting for the first wave of the Solar Empire army, then jumped when the public announcement system came on in a flurry of static and squealing, only to replaced by erratic breathing and moaning.

‘Soldiers of...’ Luna’s voice said between breaths and moans. ‘Soldiers of my wondrous army. Today you will... you will- Ah! Twilight! Again! By Faustia’s beard, again!’

The soldiers shifted uneasily as they stood, some trying to hide erections that had grown while others were looking for isolated spots away from everypony else, hoping to relieve a suddenly appearing tension.

‘You will be fighting one last battle against our enemy!’ Luna said, sounding a little strained. ‘Oh, Twilight. Not as hard while I’m-‘ A long whinny of pleasure echoed across the assembled forces. ‘Please, Twilight, I’m in the middle of-

‘Yes! Oh, Faustia. Yes!’

More moans of pleasure came from the speakers.

‘Fight, my brave soldiers!’ Luna shouted. ‘Fight and end the tyranny of my sister once and for all! I will be with you soon but something arose that needed my- By Faustia’s beard, Big Macintosh, you are big! Yes, put it all in! All of it! Make me scream!’

Dawson ducked away from the front lines as heavy screams filtered over the airwaves, finding the master control box for the announcement system and disabling the link from Luna’s room, splicing in his own feed.

‘We interrupt your daily dose of princess porn to bring you this motivational message to ensure you fight for the glory of the New Lunar Republic,’ he said. ‘Anyone who survives and proves their valour by repulsing the Solar Empire, and showing that they value and cherish teamwork by working as one cohesive unit, will receive a free copy of what I can only imagine is the steamiest, hottest, sexiest bout of mare on mare on stallion action to date.

‘Anyone who lives through the day and proves themselves a member of the New Lunar Republic, please see Spartan Jackson for your free copy. That is all.’

A cheer went up across the NLR’s forces, followed by a dismayed groan from Jackson upon realising how much money he’d miss out on giving the video to go along with the audio they’d just heard out for free, smacking Dawson across the back of the head when he returned.

On the not so nymphomaniac side of battle

Celestia stood next to her third second in command, a mare this time who had not only excelled in combat, but was just as disapproving of the Celestia’s Courtship’s series as Celestia herself, didn’t find Luna attractive in any way, shape or form, and firmly believed in the Solar Empire.

This battle would be won before too long, Celestia was sure of this.

‘Soon, my sister, you will finally know how wrong you are,’ she said to herself. ‘Muffins are, by far, better than cupcakes. You were wrong to face me down because of it.’

The mare stood next to Celestia glanced at her, confused.

‘What about cupcakes and muffins, ma’am?’ she said.

‘Hmm?’ Celestia said, looking at her second in command. ‘Uh... oh, nothing. Just deciding what to have as a victory snack. I’m thinking a muffin. It’s my favourite treat.’

The mare nodded then shrugged. ‘I’m partial to cupcakes myself. I have a bit of a sweet tooth.’

Celestia narrowed her eyes at the-

Oh, sod it. You know the rest.

Back on the nympho side of things

A still air hung over everything on the New Lunar Republic’s side, its soldiers eagerly awaiting first contact with the enemy.

After all, if and when they succeeded, each and every one of them still alive would receive a free copy of Princess Barnyard Adventure Part 2, complete with special commemorative case to celebrate the NLR’s victory over the Solar Empire who, as they watched, began their march towards the headquarters of the New Lunar Republic.

Round One

Iron, Tough Luck, and Catch on

Jackson, Dawson, and Samson, along with everyone else on the battlefield all looked around in confusion and bewilderment, trying to spot where the voice had come from but to no avail, so they all collective shrugged and said Shark Week.

‘What are we looking at, Dawson?’ Jackson asked as Samson swung his cannons into place, spooling them up.

‘Grunts mainly,’ Dawson said, scanning the incoming threat with high powered binoculars. ‘Rank and file, no major threats. I think we can leave Fluffy and the ED-209s out of this one, save them for a more worthwhile threat.’

‘Agreed,’ Jackson said. ‘Assault rifles it is.’ He looked to their robotic companion. ‘Alrighty, Samson. You’re up. Do your ASS proud.’

‘I always do, Comrade,’ Samson said, heading out with the first wave of NLR regulars. ‘For the glory of the Associated Samson States, and for the glory of its ally, the New Lunar Republic!’

The robot led the charge, his cannons blazing into action with unrivalled ferocity and cutting down the Sunny front lines with ease though many of them kept dodging to the side when the lasers came their way, as well as tossing multiple grenades at the commie mercenary robot, but because lasers travel at or very near light speed, the time it took them to reach their target from being fired was damn near instantaneous so not many Sunnies managed to avoid the deadly barrage of laser fire.

Samson seemed to be enjoying himself really well, laughing crazily with a distinct Russian accent as the Solar Empire began firing up the major threat in the area.

‘You are no match for me!’ he shouted at the approaching cannon fodder. ‘I am bulletproof!’

And he was.

The Solar Empire was now concentrating all their forces on Samson, freeing up everyone else to counterattack as bullets pinged off the shiny metal armour that encased a hard, cold, Communist robot armed to the proverbial teeth with Gatling laser beams of doom.

‘It is good day to be robot Communist!’

Jackson and Dawson watched him with amusement, seeing the Solar Empire crumble before his onslaught and the first round of fighters get slowly whittled down, occasionally taking aim at officers they saw tucked away inside the masses of golden armour.

‘I think he’d be a welcome addition to Squealing Wombat,’ Dawson said. ‘You know, so long as he doesn’t try to fuck with our system like the last Samson did.’

‘I just can’t figure out which s he means,’ Jackson said. ‘Is it the first one or the last one?’

Dawson shrugged. ‘Who cares? He’s on our side and you don’t have to blow him up with a laser beam of doom.’

‘Aye, that be true,’ Jackson said. ‘Though I still need to test fire the PacCan 5.0. Hope if I do have to blow him up and he has to go the same way as Old Samson, it don’t misfire on me when I pull the trigger.’

A Sunny soldier was blasted by an explosion and went flying past Dawson and Jackson, landing with a squelch somewhere behind them.

‘You haven’t tested it yet?’ Dawson said as two more flew overhead, followed by a third.

‘Nope,’ Jackson said, the remains of a hoof landing on his shoulder. He casually brushed it off. ‘Got issues with the power pack not holding enough charge to generate a full power beam. It’ll get to around fifty percent then kaput. No more power in the thing.’

More body parts started landing around them, prompting the Spartans to look up.

‘It’s raining ponies,’ Jackson said. ‘Well, parts of them at least.’

‘And the cause is?’ Dawson said, looking to the battlefield.

Samson, it turned out.

He was still in the thick of the fighting, a captured grenade launcher in one hand that he was using to turn what had once been whole and complete ponies into gooey, smelly, gooey parts that were gooey.

‘I am Samson!’ he yelled amid the screams, explosions and more screams. ‘And this is my new weapon!’

‘Oh, dear,’ was all Jackson said.

‘Good thing he’s with us,’ Dawson said. He paused. ‘For now.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said.

‘All of you are babies!’ Samson yelled.

Body parts continued to rain down on everything.

On the Solar Empire’s side where Celestia had given up looking for a new second in command

Celestia had given up looking for a new second in command.

No matter who she chose, they always had some small flaw with them that made them entirely wrong for the job.

More than half were aware of her secret other life as a porn star and either enjoyed watching them or said they preferred Luna’s videos to hers, or favoured cupcakes over muffins.

The Alicorn shuddered at the thought of eating a cupcake, its frosted surface caking her royal mouth and making her look undignified. After all, she was a princess and princesses were meant to set the example. They were the ones ponies looked to as a role model.

‘You gonna buy Celestia’s Courtships number 3572?’ a stallion behind Celestia asked his teammate as they milled around.

‘Nah, dude,’ his teammate said. ‘I started going off them after 1298. She doesn’t change her routine. She just brings the guard in, they do a little bit of fondling and kissing, then it’s straight to the mount for the next twenty minutes. There’s no variance!’

‘Weren’t you in 1298?’

‘Yeah. That’s why I know her routine doesn’t change. Now Luna, on the other hand, I’ll keep buying. She varies her routine, get’s adventurous. The fact she’s way hotter than Celly doesn’t hurt much.’

Celestia sighed in frustration, doubly so when her first wave of fighters was repulsed and routed, and she gave the order for the next wave to go in.

Maybe a dozen or so Juggernautasaruses would turn the tides.

‘You gonna get Princess Barnyard Adventures Part 2?’ the stallion behind Celestia asked.

‘Yeah, dude,’ his teammate said. ‘It’s got Luna and Twilight, and I hear they eat each other out again and get banged by Mac until they cum. Twice over.’

‘Yeah? Well I heard from a buddy of mine that the NLR soldiers are getting a free copy if they successfully repulse us.’

‘No shit?’ A pause. ‘Wanna defect?’

‘Hell yeah.’

Celestia narrowed-

Yup, yet again. Guess this is going to be this chapter’s recurring gag. At least it’s not the White Tail Woods-

THUNDER-

THUNDER CATS, HO!!!!

By Thundera, we’re back on the NLR side

Round Two

Black Eye, Fog, and Famine on

‘There’s that voice again,’ Jackson said as the defeated first wave of enemies began retreating, leaving behind their dead and a blood soaked Samson, still clutching the grenade launcher even though it was empty.

‘Yes,’ he said, walking towards Dawson and Jackson. ‘I like this new weapon.’

‘Yup,’ Jackson said. ‘Looks plenty powerful.’ He wiped a smear of blood off his arm. ‘Turned the enemy into paste pretty easily, too. Though next time, try to send the blood flying away from us, okay? The red seriously clashes with the blue.’

‘Da, Comrade,’ Samson said, dumping the spent launcher. ‘I will try.’

Once the spent grenade launcher fell to the ground, it bounced up again by about a foot, accompanied by several far off roars.

Jackson and Dawson looked at each other then groaned.

‘Not more Cuddles,’ Jackson moaned, getting to his feet and moving to Fluffy Junior.

‘Yup,’ Dawson said, copying Jackson’s accent perfectly as he scanned the Solar Empire’s side of things. ‘Looks like there’s around twelve of them.’

Jackson hauled himself up into Fluffy Junior’s cockpit, sealing it behind him, and began the start up procedure.

‘Hello, and thank you for activating the Murphy Class Urban Pacification Robot,’ the computer said. ‘You may call me Foamy, the Lord and Master.’

‘Yea- no,’ Jackson said. ‘I’m the Lord and Master and your name is Fluffy Junior.’

‘Name overridden,’ Fluffy said. ‘You may now call me Fluffy Junior.’

Jackson pumped his fist, Fluffy copying the move almost perfectly. ‘Success!’

The ground shook again as the Juggernautasaruses came closer and Jackson pointed a finger at them.

‘Okay, Dawson,’ he said. ‘Use the ED-209s’ missiles to engage them things from afar then follow up with the machine guns, tear ‘em up.’ Jackson primed all the missiles on Fluffy, setting them hone in on the hulking forms of Celestia’s combat dinosaurs but the targeting system threw up an error warning, as did the ammo management system.

‘Radar jammed, ammo reserves down to fifty percent,’ Fluffy announced.

‘Son of a bitch,’ Jackson said, as did Dawson.

‘Uh, boss?’ Dawson said over the radio. ‘The ED-209s are being jammed by something and they’ve only got fifty percent ammo for everything.’

‘Same here,’ Jackson said. ‘Switching to LOS infrared. Samson? Do you think you could tag the dinos so me and Dawson can unleash a missile salvo unlike anything faced by giant reptiles before?’

‘I’M BLIND!’ Samson yelled by way of a response.

‘Ah, yes,’ Jackson said. ‘Robot. Sees by way of radar. Of course he’d be blinded by whatever’s jamming us.’

Dawson looked up at Jackson and Fluffy. ‘So what’s the plan?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Jackson said.

‘No?’ Dawson said with a hint of dread in his voice. Whenever Jackson said that, he was on the verge of doing something incredibly stupid.

As it turned out, he was.

Both swords sprang from their sheaths, two ten-metre blades of titanium-steel ceramic composite etched with flowing Japanese symbols that translated to ‘Shark Week’ and ‘I have no idea’, and Jackson took off for the Juggernautasaruses, yelling.

‘For my loss of profits!’ he yelled. ‘And to reference Pacific Rim!’

‘What-‘ Samson began to say but Dawson cut him off.

‘What did I tell you to do when Jackson does something like this?’ he said.

‘Roll with it,’ Samson said. ‘Da, Comrade. I remember.’ A pause. ‘What’s happening? I can’t see.’

‘Well,’ Dawson started to say. ‘Jackson just waded into the middle of a pack of Juggernautasaruses wielding only two massive swords, bellowing at the top of his lungs, and managed to catch two by surprise and cut their heads off with a single swipe each.’

‘Ow, Comrade,’ Samson said. ‘That sounds painful.’

‘It is,’ Dawson said. ‘Now the remaining ten dinosaurs are converging on him, striking whichever way Jackson isn’t facing with their tails, jumping back when he goes to swipe at them. Ah, now he’s using the cannons to shoot the fuckers up as well. Guess he doesn’t need radar for that.’

‘Speaking of, Comrade Dawson,’ Samson said. ‘Do you know where the source of the jamming is coming from? I would very much like to see again but so long as the jammer is up, I’m blind.’

Dawson shrugged. ‘I can’t see that much difference on the Solar Empire’s side. Celly’s stood by herself now, her army is preparing a third and final wave, and Jackson is being obliterated by those dinosaurs.’

‘There must be something we can do to help,’ Samson said. ‘At the very least, remove the radar jammer so the ED-209s can be used, and I can see again and serve the ASS to the best of my ability.’

Dawson hummed in thought. ‘Perhaps.’

He hummed in thought again. ‘Maybe we should try the PacCan 5.0, use that on Cuddles and Co, but Jackson said the power pack can’t hold a charge big enough to fire.’

‘Not good,’ Samson said, turning slightly as Fluffy exploded, the Juggernautasaruses finally succeeding in destroying the metal machine but not the operator, who came flying through the air with the greatest of ease, landing with all the grace of a rock that was drunk.

Undeterred by his flight, Jackson jumped to his feet and dusted himself down.

‘Well, Plan Gypsy Danger failed so I say we go to Plan C,’ he said.

‘What about Plan B?’ Dawson asked.

‘You mean, Plan ‘Bash you over the head’?’ Jackson said. ‘That Plan B? Because after all the money you just cost me, I will happily go with that plan.’

Dawson held his hands up in protest. ‘I had to motivate the troops somehow. You can still charge the Solar Empire to buy it, ya know?’

Jackson paused, thinking, then said, ‘True’ before smacking Dawson over the head.

‘I’d still have liked to sell it to both sides,’ he said. ‘Make even more money.’

‘Ow,’ Dawson said, rubbing the spot where Jackson had hit him.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, signalling the still incoming threat of the Juggernautasarus pack, and Dawson, Jackson and Samson redirected their attention to them.

‘We would, however, still need to be alive to sell said video,’ Jackson said. ‘Dawson, bring me the PacCan 5.0 and the box labelled GS. I have a cunning plan.’

‘Oh, no,’ Dawson muttered. ‘I hate your plans.’

He ducked as Jackson took another swipe at his head, making him miss, but departed then returned with the requested items, placing them at Jackson’s feet.

‘Okay, now what?’Dawson asked.

‘First, I try this baby out,’ Jackson said, scooping up and shouldering the PacCan 5.0, ready to fire. ‘If it fails, open up the box labelled GS and do exactly as I say.’

Jackson depressed the trigger and started the PacCan on a charging cycle but it only got to twenty-five percent capacity before conking out.

‘Goddamit,’ Jackson said. ‘Alright, open up the box labelled GS and bring out the item it contains.’

‘Why do you keep saying ‘the box labelled GS’, Comrade?’ Samson asked. ‘You could always just say open the box.’

‘I have no idea,’ Jackson said as Dawson leaned down and opened the box, groping inside its darkened interior until his hands brushed against something hard and cold.

‘The fuck?’ he said, producing the rock he and Jackson had retrieved from the Frozen North, its grey surface and vaguely skull like look freaking him out a little.

‘Like I said,’ Jackson said. ‘This has to be able to be called Chekhov: the Chapter for a reason. We’ve already got a Chekhov’s Gunman-‘ He pointed to Samson. ‘-a Chekhov’s Gun-‘ He pointed to the PacCan in his hands. ‘-and now a Chekhov’s MacGuffin.’ He pointed to the rock in Dawson’s hands.

‘Now open up the power compartment, rip out the power source, and just shove that thing in there.’

Dawson paused, shrugged, then yanked off the plate covering the delicate and poorly constructed components powering the PacCan 5.0.

He quickly scanned it then pulled out a lump of metal that was probably the part Jackson wanted him to get rid of.

He then hefted the skull, looking at it dubiously. Luna had sent them to fetch it but never used it since, leaving it to gather dust until Jackson had appropriated it for use in some kind of experiment or another.

To say he now wanted Dawson to shove it into a hurriedly built and untested weapon was more than enough to cast doubts in the Spartan’s mind.

‘Jackson?’ Dawson said. ‘Are you sure this will work?’

He just laughed manically. ‘I have no idea!’

With that, Dawson shrugged and shoved the grey skull rock thing into the space, tackling the still blind Samson to the ground as energy began crackling up and down the PacCan 5.0’s surface.

Somewhere in orbit

A satellite belonging to Pop TV was merrily orbiting away, travelling at little under 100,000 kilometres an hour and broadcasting 24/7 shows of celebrities remodelling homes, when a sudden bright pinprick of light appeared on the planet below it, tinged blue and rapidly growing brighter and brighter.

It carried on like this for a second until the light suddenly shot up, no longer a light but a bright blue beam of, er, destruction that obliterated the orbiting satellite and depriving the many dozens of people of their low quality shows, while many billions more let out a collective yay as the station went off the air.

Back on the ground

Dawson and Jackson coughed as the dust slowly settled, a massive crater all that remained of the Juggernautasarus pack that had been menacing them after the PacCan 5.0 had been fired, the beam then somehow angling upwards at a near perfect ninety degree angle where it was lost from sight as it climbed higher and higher.

‘Another successful procedure!’ Jackson proclaimed, dumping the now partially melted laser onto the ground, the grey skull burning a hole through the side and rolling onto the floor.

Dawson coughed some more, helping Samson to his feet, and looked at the destroyed PacCan 5.0,saying, ‘That was a successful procedure? Your gun is melted.’

‘Do you see anymore Juggernautasaruses?’ Jackson said back.

Dawson shook his head.

‘Then the procedure was a success!’

‘He had a point, Comrade,’ Samson said. ‘And you will be pleased to know that there are no more jammers in the area. My sight, and the targeting systems of the ED-209s, is back to normal.’

‘Hoo-bloody-rah,’ Dawson muttered. ‘We could have done with that a few minutes ago. Now we’re down to a bunch of mindless drones armed to the teeth with Hellfire missiles and .50 cal cannons.’

‘Your pagan god has a missile named after him?’ Samson asked, glancing back at Dawson.

‘What? No,’ the Spartan said. ‘It’s just their name. And Hellfire isn’t some pagan god, he’s real and close by, too.’

‘Ah,’ Samson said. He paused and looked over at the battlefield. He turned back to Squealing Wombat. ‘Well, you may wish to call on him because what looks like a massive wave of enemies is coming our way.’

Jackson and Dawson looked at each other, then at Samson, then past him to the battlefield where a huge mass of flesh was approaching though, confusingly, they wore no armour and were waving a white flag.

‘What the fuck?’ all three of them said together.

On Celestia’s side

‘What the fuck?’ Celestia said upon seeing a mass of her armed forces discard their golden armour and begin marching towards the New Lunar Republic’s side under a white banner. ‘What are you all doing?’

‘We’re defecting,’ one pony close to her said, a burly Earth stallion with a face full of scars and a cutie mark of a kitten playing with a ball of string. ‘You’re an okay leader and all but you’re not really giving us much incentive to stay.’

‘But Luna!’ Celestia shouted, pointing her hoof in her sister’s very vague direction. ‘She must be stopped! She’s evil.’

‘You keep saying that,’ the pony said. ‘But we’ve not really seen much evidence to back that up. Besides, her army is getting a free copy of Princess Barnyard Adventures Part 2 if they fight us off successfully. And I mean really, how can you compete with that? Your sister is way hotter, your former student is way hotter, the stuff they do in the bedroom is way hotter, and the NLR likes cupcakes!

‘Defecting to them is a win-win situation for everypony.’

‘Bu- But- Luna- and evil- muffins!’

Celestia was so flabbergasted by the fact nearly eighty percent of her remaining forces was defecting to her sister’s side, she could barely speak, resigning herself to mutely watching as her army was whittled down to the diehards and asexual, while on the NLR side, she could hear the distraught sobbing from Jackson as he realised his profit margins were going to be cut down severely.

A small victory.

On the side with the better (and oblivious) porn stars and their distraught (and insane) porn distributor

Dawson made sure to keep Samson and at least twenty metres between him and Jackson as he lay on the floor, sobbing, while scores of Solar Empire soldiers walked past, proclaiming their allegiance to Luna’s plot and driving Squealing Wombat’s leader into further dismay.

‘What an unexpected turn of events,’ Dawson said. ‘You usually see people defecting from decadence, not flocking towards it. Celestia must have done something downright horrid to make these guys come fight for us.’

‘Not really,’ one pony said. ‘We just want a free copy of Equestria’s hottest porn.’

‘Oh.’

In Luna’s room

It was Twilight’s turn to be screwed by Big Mac, her whole body writhing in ecstasy as she find out exactly why they called him Big Macintosh, while Luna recuperated from her three consecutive orgasms, endured while Mac had only the one.

She was lying in a daze, happening to glance out the window, and caught sight of the defecting Solar Empire soldiers.

‘Huzzah!’ Luna said weakly and breathlessly, the sight of such a victory over her sister giving the Alicorn a second wind and resurrecting her not-flagging libido to never before seen levels. ‘Our army grows stronger while Celestia’s grows weaker!’

Twilight, who was too busy to intelligently respond, merely came for the fourth time while Mac went eeyup, prompting Luna to kiss them both and drive up the demand for Princess Barnyard Adventures Part 2 by a huge margin, completely oblivious to the fact or why the defectors had defected in the first place.

Back outside

Jackson continued to sob and cry, occasionally making wild lunges at Dawson, as the true scope of his losses came in.

‘Even if I’d only charged ten bits a copy, I could have made millions!’ he bawled at Dawson as he hid behind Samson. ‘Millions, I tell you! Millions!’

Dawson peered from behind Samson’s shoulder and said, ‘I had to motivate them somehow. I never expected it might just win us the war with so few casualties.’

‘Casualties?’ Jackson said loudly. ‘Casualties? What about my profit margins? It costs me to print each DVD that gets bought, to host the videos on our website! The revenue I could have gotten would have set us up for life! Life, Dawson. Life! Not to mention that here, the money is literally solid gold, free of impurities. Even if we had only taken a small fraction of the money back home, we would have been rich!’

Samson chuckled. ‘Idiots.’

‘Shut up,’ Jackson said before pointing at the army stood before the NLR headquarters, now twice its original size and growing as stragglers from the Solar Empire kept trickling in. ‘I am going to lose so much money because of you Dawson. And guess what? That money is coming out of your pay check!’

The sudden realisation of the true scope of how much money Jackson had lost suddenly registered in Dawson’s mind, and he suddenly understood why Jackson was in such a state.

‘My god, I’ll be flat broke!’ he yelled. ‘In debt to you. Forever!’

Somewhere in Ponyville

A heavily bandaged Pinkie Pie was fine tuning her Z&R Mark IV party cannon when she suddenly sat bolt upright, quivering.

‘Forever!’ the pink pony proclaimed, hooves in the air to further punctuate her sudden outburst.

Beside her, also fine tuning a weapon, was Fluttershy and a Type-3 Yay Anti-Material rifle.

The Pegasus sighed and said, ‘Why do you always do that when somepony says forever?

‘I have no idea,’ Pinkie Pie said with a loopy grin on her face.

Fluttershy sighed again.

‘And when are you going to take those bandages off? Your wounds from our fight against Squealing Wombat healed months ago. Now you look silly.’

‘Of course I do,’ Pinkie said. ‘But they’re so fluffy, if I take them off, I’m gonna die!’

‘No you won’t,’ Fluttershy said, finally having enough.

She stood and trotted over to her pink friend and before she could even object, ripped the plethora of mouldy and rotten bandages from the Earth pony.

Pinkie Pie gasped in shock and surprise as her matted fur was exposed for the first time in months, then keeled over dead.

‘Oh, my,’ was all Fluttershy had to say.

In the spirit world

Pinkie Pie felt her physical body fade away, becoming a mass of incorporeal energy that existed in the never-never realm between life and death.

She looked at her now see-through hooves and said, ‘Ooh, see-throughy. Neat!’

She then turned her attention to Fluttershy as she stood over Pinkie Pie’s now dead body and a decidedly nasty thought took place in Pinkie’s ghostly head.

Floating over to Fluttershy from behind, Pinkie Pie waited until she got to within an inch of Fluttershy’s ear then yelled boo as loud as she could.

Expecting the poor Pegasus to die of fright, Pinkie was unexpectedly surprised to see Fluttershy remain unfazed at the ghostly boo that should have come from nowhere.

‘Yeah, she can’t see or hear you,’ a voice behind Pinkie said.

She turned around to see a ghostly Spartan, a ghostly bunny, and a ghostly toothless alligator.

‘Am I dead?’ Pinkie Pie whispered to the ghostly apparition.

‘Pretty much,’ Church said. ‘I got blown up by a tank and wound up here. You, I’m not so sure about. But yeah, you’re dead.’

Now normally, people and ponies alike would then sag to the ground in despair due to the fact that they’re dead, or caught between worlds, or whatever you wanna call Pinkie’s situation.

However, because Pinkie Pie is not normal and, well let’s face it, this story is pretty much running on pure crack with a side order of LSD to boot, she instead leapt/floated into the air and yelled for joy.

‘Now I can spy on ponies without being caught!’ Pinkie Pie shouted before zooming off. ‘To Princess Luna’s room!’

Church watched her go then turned to look at Gummy and Angel.

‘How did you guys put up with these ponies?’ he asked. ‘They’re fucking idiots.’

Gummy said and did nothing, merely blinking slowly and wagging his tail slightly.

‘Okay, I can see how you put up with them,’ Church said to the toothless alligator. He started to turn to Angel. ‘But how-‘

The bunny produced a bag full of Cloudsdale Weed.

‘Ah,’ Church said. ‘That explains a lot.’

A pause.

‘You wanna light up?’

Back to the main story that has a very, very, very offbeat plot and only a smidgen of continuity

Dawson waded through the mass of ponies that now surrounded the NLR’s headquarters, heading for the main intercom system.

He had to get his message out, had to keep himself from being in debt to Jackson for what could, most likely, be the rest of his life.

‘Must. Reach. Intercom,’ he repeated like a mantra, barging ponies out of the way. ‘Must. Not. Become. Jackson’s. Slave.’

The Spartan reached the little junction box, shoving aside half a dozen ponies that had sat down to smoke weed, and spliced in his feed.

‘Attention,’ Dawson said. ‘Attention. All Solar Empire defectors, attention. Due to your previous allegiance to Celestia, you will have to pay for your copy of Princess Barnyard Adventures Part 2, the cost of which is fifteen bits. Anyone who disagrees with this may kindly fuck off back to Celestia. Thank you.’

Across the camp, a sudden silence fell across everyone, followed by loud jeers and shouts of objections from the Solar Empire veterans and equally loud laughs from the NLR’s veterans.

Jackson waded through the mass of ponies, saying, ‘You might have just started a reverse defection.’

‘I did?’ Dawson said, looking around.

Sure enough, the Solar Empire soldiers were heading back to their side, using this opportunity to smash the NLR’s defences and cripple the soldiers fighting alongside Luna who were getting a free copy for defeating them, severely reducing Luna’s fighting force until it was pretty much just Squealing Wombat, Samson, and a few unscathed ponies.

‘You did,’ Jackson said. ‘Now we’re outnumbered, like, a billion to one, Celly’s forces are going to force their way in here and take the video for free, we’re gonna die and worst of all, my profit margins are going to be lower than Celestia’s approval rating on XClop.equ.’

‘What?’ Dawson said. ‘You know what? Fuck it. We need to focus on the impending doom that can only be stopped by some form of divine... all powerful... intervention.’

He trailed off and looked squarely at Jackson, the other Spartan looking back bewildered.

‘What?’ he said.

Round Three

Tilt, Thunderstorm, and Mythic on

Jackson was very confused as to why he was standing out in the middle of the battlefield, facing down the whole Solar Army by himself with Dawson and Samson somewhere behind him.

The ponies of the New Lunar Republic’s army were being evacuated and treated by medics, meaning the tide of battle had soured very quickly against the previously winning NLR.

‘Why am I here again?’ Jackson radioed from his lonely position. ‘And why can’t I have a few of the ED-209s backing me up?’

‘Because this is gonna be way more fun,’ Dawson radioed back.

He turned to the pony next to him.

‘Prepare for Scenario...’

Pause for dramatic effect.

‘...’

Keep pausing.

‘...’

And again.

‘...’

Yet again.

‘...’

Is anyone still there? (taps on the screen of whatever it is the few people who follow this are using to read this chapter)

(silence)

Guess not. Okay, Dawson. Stop pausing!

‘...’

Goddammit.

‘...H!’

The pony recoiled in horror.

‘Sir, you can’t be serious,’ he said. ‘Is the situation really that extreme it calls for... him?’

‘I believe so,’ Dawson said. ‘We’re badly outnumbered with very little firepower on our side.’

Samson glanced up at the ED-209s, their armour glinting in the midday sun.

‘We could use these!’ he said, pointing at the much larger robots.

‘Quiet, you,’ Dawson said. ‘This will be very much more entertaining.’ A pause. ‘And louder.’

‘These things have missiles and .50 cal machine guns,’ Samson pointed out. ‘What is louder than that, Comrade?’

‘Scenario H,’ was all he said.

The pony stood next to Dawson whimpered but saluted, running off to begin the preparations for Scenario H.

‘The fuck is Scenario H?’ Samson asked, walking over.

‘Worst case scenario,’ Dawson said. ‘And it involves pagan gods.’

There was a tranquil moment of silence that covered everything, only for it to be broken when a specially designed artillery shell was fired from somewhere inside the NLR, sending a round the size of a human barrelling towards Jackson.

He saw it, dove for cover when it came in to land, then cautiously peered at the object as it began hissing, unfolding, until it broke apart to reveal a lit flaming torch and two swords.

‘And three, two, one...’ Dawson said, bracing.

‘THE ARMY OF THE CELESTIAL WHORE APPROACHES!’ Hellfire bellowed, grabbing the two swords and turning to face the army of golden armoured ponies. ‘AND I, HELLFIRE, GOD OF HELLFIRE, SHALL PUT AND END TO IT AND THE CELESTIA WHORE!’

Samson unclasped his hands from whereabouts his sound receptors were, staring in disbelief at Jackson/Hellfire.

‘That is Hellfire?’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ Dawson said. ‘Basically a one man army with delusions of godhood. A little on the loud side but a good guy to have on your side.’

‘TIM-TIM!’ Hellfire said as he launched himself into the fray, slicing and dicing up the Sunnies with his swords. ‘JOIN ME AND WE SHALL CONTINUE YOUR DEVELOPMENT INTO A DEMIGOD. YOU DID WELL IN THE STONE TEMPLE IN THE FAR NORTH BUT YOU MUSN’T STOP THERE. JOIN ME! THERE IS PLENTY OF THINGS TO KILL.’

Dawson just sat down on a chair and propped his feet up, waving Hellfire off.

‘Nah, I’m good right here,’ he said. ‘You have fun, Hellfire.’

The delusion god persona let out a ground shaking bellow of a laugh, carving a bloody and blood soaked path through the Solar Empire forces, sending body parts flying up into the air to form intricate and decidedly morbid patterns, and slowly but surely made his way to Celestia.

‘How can he do all that?’ Samson asked as Hellfire really went to town on the Sunnies. ‘I thought Jackson was just like you in terms of physical fitness, if not worse due to his poorer diet. There is no way he could do something like that.’

Dawson shrugged. ‘Like I said earlier, don’t question these things. Jackson grew up on a marijuana farm with a sister who was a porn star, his fondest memory of spending time with her involved killing zombies with a sword and pistol on his tenth birthday, and was poking a wombat with a cattle prod to see if it would squeal when I met him. I don’t think there is enough time in the universe for us to even delve deep enough into his mind to find out where Hellfire came from, let alone figure out how he does, well, that.’

He pointed at the Sole Empire’s side which had been reduced to around half its original number, the ground beneath them overflowing with blood and body parts, and Hellfire was still going strong, armour covered completely in blood and the occasional piece of golden armour that had somehow gotten stuck to him.

‘I think we should just be glad neither of us are Sunnies, and to keep Jackson away from them and flaming torches during peace talks.’

‘Provided there are any soldiers left to have peace talks with,’ Samson observed as Hellfire kept up his work, each passing second adding to his immense kill count and pushing him further and further away from Dawson and Samson. ‘When do you think Hellfire will stop?’

Dawson shrugged again. ‘Whenever there are no more Sunnies around for him to kill. I’ve never actually let Hellfire keep control for more than an hour. I like having my eardrums intact. When they start to ring, that’s when I send Hellfire back to the depths of Hell.’

‘And you do this how, Comrade?’ Samson asked.

‘I found a phrase that turns Hellfire back into Jackson,’ the Spartan said. ‘If Hellfire hears it, he snaps back to Jackson, says a random piece of gibberish, then falls unconscious for a long while.’

A keen screech erupted from the Solar Empire side, Hellfire facing down a Juggernautasarus that towered over him.

‘Should we help him, Comrade?’ Samson said, knowing full well this was an uneven fight but getting the balance the wrong way around.

‘Nah,’ Dawson said, waving the robot off. ‘There’s no way we could alter the outcome of that fight even if we did use those things.’ He pointed at the ED-209s. ‘Hellfire would rip us all to little pieces.’

Samson stared at Dawson. ‘No, I meant destroy the dinosaur.’

‘Like that?’

Dawson redirected Samson’s attention back to the battlefield where Hellfire was stood atop a slain Juggernautasarus, holding aloft it’s still beating heart.

‘What the fuck,’ Samson said in a monotone voice. ‘I looked away for like a second.’

The Spartan nodded. ‘A little slow compared to what I’ve seen him do before but, he did just slice his way through, like, twelve thousand soldiers. He’s probably a little tired.’

‘I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY!’ Hellfire said in a rather quiet tone of voice, merely shattering the eardrums of everyone within a mile’s radius. ‘BRING ME ANOTHER DINOSAUR TO SLAY! I FEEL HUNGRY.’

‘Would he really eat one of those?’ Samson asked as Hellfire dived for the next batch of victims, this bunch a woefully outmatched but optimistic lot of fellows merely armed with swords and claymores. Hardly god felling tools.

‘Probably,’ Dawson said as they were reduced to paste. ‘I’ve never seem Hellfire eat anything, though, so it’s really anyone’s guess.’

Hellfire continued his murderous rampage, making Celestia incredibly nervous.

On the losing side where Celestia was incredibly nervous

Celestia was incredibly nervous.

Mere moments after getting her army back, it had been turned to nothing more than memories and bloody body parts, all at the hands of that blue devil Jackson.

‘How is he doing that?’ Celestia whispered to herself as Jackson came closer. ‘How can such an unhealthy drunk be doing all this to my wondrous army?’

‘I AM HELLFIRE, GOD OF HELLFIRE!’ she heard the Spartan shout, hurting her ears. ‘AND I SHALL PURGE THE LAND OF THE SOLAR WHORE’S ARMY!’

Celestia narrowed her eyes in Jackson’s general direction, not entirely sure how he had heard of her series of videos that would have to be erased from history after her shaky looking victory today, though given how much her force had been depleted in such a short frame of time at the hands of this... this demon called Hellfire, the princess doubted she’d taste so sweet a thing as victory.

Then, as if to further cast her thoughts of victory into doubt, Jackson himself came within sight of her.

‘AH, THE CELESTIA WHORE HERSELF!’ Jackson shouted. ‘WE MEET AT LAST FOR I, HELLFIRE, THE GOD OF HELLFIRE, SHALL END YOUR LIFE TODAY AND FREE THIS LAND OF YOUR WRETCHED TYRANNY!’

He raised both swords into the air, both of them dripping with blood and somehow still razor sharp and intact despite cutting through twelve thousand soldiers, all wearing heavy armour, and ran for her.

Not wanting to find out if she could defeat this madman of a Spartan, Celestia did the only thing she could think of.

‘Run away!’ she yelled, casting a powerful teleportation spell that not only took her away from this place, but out of this dimension as well.

Her last sight of Equestria was of Jackson bringing his swords down to slice through her body, faltering slightly as they passed though thin air, and his faceless face that conveyed no emotion whatsoever.

On the winning side

Dawson and Samson stared in disbelief as Hellfire stood alone atop the Solar Empire’s command position, Celestia having just vanished into thin air as he was about to land a killing blow, knowing that it probably meant the end of the war.

‘WE WINNERS NOW!’ Hellfire proclaimed, rushing towards the NLR’s side as the wounded and near dead emerged from their hiding spots in celebration.

They all let out a near identical victory screech, just like the one in that episode of SpongeBob where Plankton swaps places with Mister Krabs. You know the one. Go onto YouTube and type in victory screech. It should be like the first link that pops up.

Anyway, the New Lunar Republic celebrated their victory and Dawson transmitted the code phrase to turn Hellfire back to Jackson, the Squealing Wombat commander saying, ‘I really liked the Twilight movies. The lead actress displayed so much emotion’ before passing out, and somewhere inside Luna’s room she, Twilight, and Big Macintosh, finally collapsed onto the bed in a tangled heap of sweaty bodies, matted fur, and mild friction burns, finally spent and able to do no more.

Several hours later

Luna hobbled out of the NLR’s headquarters, taking great measures to avoid exacerbating her badly aching rear end and moving or ruffling her wings.

They had inadvertently spread themselves so often during her frantic session with Twilight and Mac with every orgasm, of which there had been many hundreds, that she was sure they had pulled a muscle or several.

Twilight was in a spare bedroom, asleep, while Luna’s was thoroughly cleaned by the staff, and the older Alicorn so desperately wanted to join her young lover in the sweet embrace that was rest but couldn’t, not until she had visited Those Two and congratulated them on exceeding her wildest expectations of not only not screwing up a mission, but not screwing what was most likely the most important battle of the NLR’s history.

It had suffered heavy losses, there was no denying that, but everypony Luna saw as she slowly and painfully made her way to Squealing Wombat’s quarters seemed overjoyed, and giving her sly smiles that made Luna frown, especially when she saw ponies with ornate silver cases quickly tucking the items out of sight as she approached.

The wolf whistles that followed when Luna walked by just confused her more.

Still, she put it down to them having succeeded against Celestia and proven cupcakes were better than muffins and left it at that, coming to a halt outside the door of Jackson and Dawson’s room.

It was open slightly, letting faint noises slip past, and Luna listened in as she leant against the wall to get a moment’s respite.

‘-tell me what happened, Dawson?’ she heard Jackson whine. ‘Come on, man. I blacked out for the whole last bit of the battle. How the hell did you two manage to kill pretty much everything, make Celestia vanish into thin air, all without expending a single bit of ammo or firing a single laser.’

‘A secret we shall take to our graves,’ Dawson said. ‘Well, I’ll take it to the grave. Samson here will take it to the scrap heap.’

‘Da,’ the robot mercenary said. ‘But we will say this: our victory today was down to divine intervention of the pagan variety.’

‘And what the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Jackson said a little loudly but Dawson and Samson remained quietly, no doubt silently laughing. Jackson sighed. ‘At least one of us got a victory today.’

‘Oh, come on, man,’ Dawson said. ‘Don’t be like that. You can still make a bit of money.’

‘How?’ Jackson said. ‘You cut my profits by at least half with your little ‘incentive’ to get the troops fighting, then you somehow kill twelve thousand potential customers without telling me your method! I’m going to lose so much money thanks to you. Both armies were my biggest sources of income.’

Luna decided to listen in for a bit longer, the fact that it was letting her body recuperate a little bit more than an unintended benefit as she tried to figure out what the hell Jackson was on about.

‘I’m sure you can still make money off the other videos you’ve got,’ Dawson said. ‘There’s a lot of them, right?’

‘About six months worth of footage, at least,’ Samson said. ‘Judging by what you told us.’

‘Yeah, but the video you gave out for free, Dawson, would have been the biggest draw of any of them!’ Jackson said. ‘I mean, really? Two of Equestria’s hottest princesses going at it for thirteen hours straight in some intense mare on mare action including, but not limited to, light bondage, dragging an orgasm out for at least two hours, an hour of Lu-Lu and Twilli 69ing each other, both of them being mounted by Mac and having no less than four orgasms each, a double blow job, and why are you guys looking at me like that?’

Luna stood behind Jackson, narrowing her eyes at the Spartan as he froze upon realising what had happened.

‘Do you like apples?’ she asked.

A few more hours later...

Dawson and Samson sat on top of the NLR HQ, a drink in hand.

Dawson took a sip of his heavily watered down Tranquillity Moonshine, coughing despite this, and looked up at the stars as Samson sipped his WD40 flavoured vodka, the commie robot cleaned of all the blood that had been covering him.

Or had he?

The blood red hue of his metal armour made it difficult to tell whether it was all gone or not.

Whether it was or wasn’t didn’t matter right now, and Dawson shrugged, taking another sip of his drink.

‘What do you think will happen now?’ he asked Samson.

‘Unknown, Comrade,’ Samson said, staring up at the night sky as well. ‘There shall be no more monarchy in Equestria, not now that Celestia has vanished, so I think we will soon see the beginnings of a communist party lobbying for power in the New Lunar Republic, which will lead to a glorious worker’s paradise arising in this land!’

He toasted himself and drank deeply from his oil can.

‘Yeah, sure, whatever,’ Dawson muttered, taking a similar swig of his moonshine, immediately regretting it as a fiery sensation went down his throat. ‘You think he’ll be okay?’

‘What, Jackson?’ Samson said to Dawson, looking at the Spartan. ‘Of course. It is only the moon, and only a temporary punishment.’

‘Yeah, but still, it’s the moon,’ Dawson said, pointing at the very celestial object that was orbiting overhead right now, a joyous expressing just visible in the craters if you squinted and turned your head. ‘Not exactly a good place to be for any length of time. It’s hardly the most forgiving of places to be.’

Samson somehow shrugged. ‘He is Spartan Jackson. I am sure he will be fine, Comrade. After all, he has his patron god of Hellfire to look after him if things god bad.’

On the moon where people find out if they like fruit or not

Several ponies, a lone bear, and Jackson, clustered together around a pitiful fire, trying to stay warm as the last rays of the sun were hidden by the moon itself, spinning lazily on its axis.

‘So what did you do to wind up here?’ one pony asked Jackson as he stared into the flames.

‘I made and distributed porn of Princess Luna without permission to use her likeness,’ he said. ‘When she found out, she sent me here. Says it’ll only be for a few weeks, then I can go home.’

‘What about you?’ the same pony asked the bear whose name was Desmond. ‘How’d you wind up on the moon?’

‘I have no idea,’ Desmond said. ‘That was literally the first question I asked myself. How did I get here?’

Jackson poked the fire, making the flames rise a little higher, then held one aloft to examine it.

‘Looks kind of like a flaming torch, eh?’ he said, waving it around a little. ‘So what did you guys do to get sent to this barren rock?’

They shrugged collectively. ‘We don’t know. We were carrying out our jobs as normal but must have done something to piss her off because Celestia asked if we like bananas and sent us here.’

Jackson froze, as did the stick/torch.

‘You guys are Solar Empire?’ he asked. ‘Sunnies?’

‘Yeah?’

A beat.

‘I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE!’