Manehattan General Hospital - Research Laboratories

*Pop-pop!*

The limping, fleeing Royal Guardstallion dropped to the floor, two fresh holes opened up in the backplate of his armor. The griffon responsible didn’t even bat an eye as his prey fell. He simply lowered his submachine gun and began walking forward, accompanied by a female griffon from his squad. The two had been tasked with clearing that second-floor hallway, and so far, they had been making great progress. Not that there was much work to do in the first place; the main force had nearly wiped out the ponies on their run, leaving the clean-up crews with only a handful of things to shoot at.

As the griffons continued on, the female turned to her comrade and asked, “So, you think Steelclaw was serious?”

“About what?” the male replied.

“About the human, dumbass,” she said, her voice containing a heavy North accent*, “You really think one of them sided with the horses?”

“Who knows?” he shrugged, “There’s no figuring these hairless apes.”

Just then, a pony-shaped figure stumbled out from behind an overturned gurney ahead of them. He either didn’t notice the two griffons behind him, or he was attempting to sneak away. Either way, he put himself in the line of fire, and the griffons had their orders.

“I got this one,” the female griffon said. She raised her magnum revolver and, barely taking the time to aim, fired one shot. With a deafening BOOM, the gun discharged. The pony fell to the ground, a large hole having opened up on his back. With their newest quarry down, the griffon continued the conversation as if nothing had occurred. “If it is true, he must be important. Steelclaw doesn’t promise bonuses for just anyone.”

“You thinking of collecting?” the male asked her.

“Of course,” she nodded, “I’ve got three fledglings to feed back home, and the father got himself literally axed three missions back. I need all the bits I can get.”

“Fledglings?” her comrade questioned, raising an eyebrow, “Better not let the colonel find out. You know the rules about procreating.”

“He’s not going to find out,” she replied, before decking him in the shoulder, “So long as you keep your beak shut. Apart from me and my mother, you’re now the only one that knows, so if he does find out, I already know whose knot to sever.”

The male just laughed at this, “Don’t worry, Karla. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Just as the two came up on an intersection, they saw movement from the right. They couldn’t see much in the dark, but they could make out a figure crossing the adjacent hall -- a human figure. They couldn’t make out any details, but it was definitely human.

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” Karla whispered to her partner. She raised her revolver, carefully lining up the shot as the human stopped in the middle of the intersection and turned to look behind him.

“Karla, wait!” the male exclaimed a bit too late.

*BOOM!*

The human flew back from the force of the bullet’s impact. He skidded to a halt a good two feet from where he had been standing prior, dead before he hit the ground.

“Ha ha! Right through him!” Karla exclaimed with a smile. She held up her magnum triumphantly, “Gods, I love these things!”

“Damn it, Karla, I told you to wait!” her comrade yelled.

“Why?” she asked, giving him a confused look.

Before he could answer, several more figures appeared in the intersection -- all humans as well. They ducked behind the nearby walls, and a couple filed into the hallway and shouldered up to the nearest closed doorways. They all raised their bullpup assault rifles and aimed at the pair of griffons. The two just managed to jump behind two opposite doorways before the bullets started flying. As the rounds tore away at the drywall, they sunk deeper into their cover.

“I don’t think that was the right human!” the male commented, having to shout over the rapid gunfire.

“No shit, Lukas!” Karla replied, “You’re gonna have to call this one in. They won’t stop otherwise.”

“Alright,” he nodded, digging out his radio, “Cover me!”

As Karla began returning fire, having to blindly fire around the corner with her magnum, Lukas held the radio up to his beak and called up his commanders, “Team Six-Three to Nest, we’ve run into some complications.”

“What kind of complications?” came the gruff reply of the Nest’s radio operator, "What the hell’s going on back there?”

“It’s kinda hard to explain, but…” Lukas paused, searching for the best way to convey his message, “We have accidentally engaged with French military forces on the second-floor research wing; Sector Four.”

“You did what?!” the operator bellowed, “Gods dammi- wait one!”

*BOOM! … BOOM! … click!*

“Shit… reloading!” Karla exclaimed. Lukas heard empty casings fall to the ground.

“Just fucking great…” Lukas mumbled to himself as he swapped out the radio for his weapon. He checked the magazine, and leaned out from behind cover. He began firing wildly, trying to keep the aggravated Frenchmen suppressed until his comrade could reload.

<<<<<>>>>>

Manehattan - North Warehouse District, overlooking MGH

Atop a warehouse roof overlooking the hospital, Colonel Steelclaw continued to stare out at the sight before him. The night was still; the rain had stopped completely for the moment, and the distant gunfire was slowly dying down. The operation was almost over, with victory all but guaranteed. The only loose end left was the human, the apparent turncoat that Steelclaw had been ordered to eliminate. Soon, though, his griffons would deal with the human and his pony allies. Once they did, the job would be done. They would get paid, and could move on to the next phase of General Morrison’s “master plan”.

“Steelclaw!” an aged male voice called out from behind him.

The colonel turned to see an older griffon walking up to him, a flat expression on his face. Unlike the common Royal Griffon, who had white and golden-brown feathers, this one was colored with a midnight blue body and a jet black head, making his yellow beak and talons stand out much more. An Ebon Griffon. Also unlike the mercenaries around him, he was outfitted with medieval-style steel plate armor -- not a full suit; just the chest-and-backplates, paulders, and upper-leg pieces. Sheathed on his leather belt was a very ornate, falcon-themed scimitar with a thin, long, slightly curved blade and a curved hilt.

The colonel recognized the dark griffon immediately. Steelclaw smiled warmly and greeted him at his approach, “Elias, old friend! Good to see you. Come, join me in marveling at our assured victory!”

Elias’s expression didn’t change as he walked up to the beaming Royal Griffon, and he was quick to voice his concerns, “I still think this operation was a mistake, Steelclaw. I just got the latest report; we’ve lost thirty-two soldiers so far that we know of, probably even more. I don’t see how you expect us to re-strengthen ourselves after such losses… and for simple documents, at that?”

“Oh, Elias, I thought you knew better,” the old colonel sighed before diving into a small speech, “This is about far more than just those ‘simple’ documents. This is about completely reshaping the world! Shifting the balance of power across Equus in our client’s -- and, by extension, our -- favor.”

“You’ve never been interested in world politics before, Steel. In fact, you normally hate the mere mention of it. Why the change of mind now?”

“Because we’ve never had a chance like this before,” Steelclaw gestured with a talon to the scene behind him, “Tonight is just the beginning. Soon, we will have all of Equestria trembling at our paws! Celestia will be either imprisoned -- or dead -- our clients will be in power, and they will present us with the greatest payment we’ve ever earned!”

He waved his pointed hand to encompass the entirety of Manehattan, tracing the shoreline on the other side of the city. As his hand went, he continued, saying, “The entire eastern coast of Equestria, all under the control of the Griffon Empire! From here in Manehattan, all the way to Horseshoe Bay in Baltimare. We will return home not as mercenaries, not as the outcasts the king has labeled us as -- but as heros of the Empire! They will immortalize our names in song and stone, just as they did our ancestors!”

“You’re beginning to sound like my father, Steel,” Elias commented.

Steelclaw smiled and lowered his arm, saying, “Well, he did tutor me, as he did you.” He paused for a moment, as if in thought. He turned to look back at the hospital once more. “Speaking of your bloodline, Elias, has your fledgling reported in yet?”

The Ebon griffon’s expression darkened, “No, I haven’t. That’s the other reason I came up here, actually. He hasn’t checked in since he found those documents the clients wished to be secured.”

The colonel clicked his beak a couple of times before calling for one of his radio operators. Upon the operator’s arrival, Steelclaw asked, “How many teams do we have operating in Sector Four?”

“Teams Four and Six, sir,” the operator replied.

“Good. Contact them at once,” the colonel ordered, “Have one of them send a detachment further into the research wing and locate Lieutenant Gerulf. Once they do, I want him escorted here at once.”

“Understood, sir.”

Before the operator could turn away, the radio on his vest cracked to life, and the beginning of a message from Team Six came through. Steelclaw and Elias couldn’t make out the message, it being distorted by the distance and the nylon pouch shielding it, but the operator heard it clearly with his earpiece.

After listening to the message, the operator pressed a button on the earpiece and replied, “What kind of complications?” After a second of pause, he added, “What the hell’s going on back there?”

Elias and Steelclaw shot each other worried looks, with the former mumbling, “This can’t be good.”

“You did what?!” the operator shouted into the radio, “Gods dammi- wait one!” he released the button, and his gaze shifted to the colonel, “Sir, we have a problem. A few members of Team Six got themselves into a skirmish with our client’s forces. Shall I contact Fortress, let them know to back off?”

Colonel Steelclaw opened his beak to reply, but stopped. He brought a claw up to his beak, stroking it idly while he processed this turn of events. After a moment, a wicked smirk crossed his face and he replied, “No.”

“No?” Elias echoed with a look of shock.

“No,” the colonel repeated, “I believe, my friends, it is time to cover our tracks a bit,” he looked at the radio operator, “Tune your radio to the open channel, I want everygriffon to hear this. Tell them to initiate Protocol Seven.”

A chill ran down the operator’s back, but he knew better than to question orders, “It will be done, sir.”

As the griffon walked off, Elias turned to his white-headed friend. Unlike the rest of the griffons around them, he had no qualms voicing his concerns with the aging colonel, “Protocol Seven?! Have you gone mad, Steelclaw?”

“Quite the opposite, my old friend,” Steelclaw said, as he turned on his paws and began walking back up to the ledge of the roof. He once again gazed out on the battle before him, this time with renewed interest. He watched the occasional flashes from gunfire behind the windows grow in frequency as his griffons carried out their new orders.

Elias continued to gawk at his commander, confusion adorning his face. “How, exactly, does Protocol Seven help us in this situation? And what happens when the client finds ou-”

He was silenced by a single talon being held up by Steelclaw, and the colonel continuing to speak, “Do not worry about the client. I am sure General Morrison will understand my reasoning. After all, he approved the protocol in the first place -- and as for how it assists us, my friend, it keeps our involvement of this operation a secret from the Equestrian crown.”

“And the necessity of that is…?”

The colonel folded his arms behind his back. Still looking at the hospital, he replied, “If the princesses found out we were involved in their little war -- and working for their enemies, no less -- they would surely persecute all griffons in Equestria so as to prevent further incidents by stopping us in our tracks. You know as well as I do that part of our success in this endeavor will rely on our ability to blend into pony society. If every griffon from here to Las Pegasus is constantly under a magnifying glass, it will significantly hinder our tactical abilities.”

Elias let out a low hum of understanding, “I suppose there is wisdom in that. Though, I still am uneasy about getting involved at all…”

“Do not worry about that, my friend. In time, everything will fall into place.”

<<<<<>>>>>

Manehattan General Hospital - Research Laboratories

Inside the hospital, the griffons received their new orders. Apart from a group of six griffons that made haste to the research wing to locate their missing comrade, all teams followed the same order. Protocol Seven.

All throughout the halls and rooms of the building, the griffon mercenaries began turning their weapons on the one set of beings that did not expect it in the slightest. The French soldiers began falling as rapidly as the ponies had before them. Some ran into the griffons, and were forced to engage in short firefights that always led to a griffon victory. Others weren’t so lucky. The soldiers that had been willingly fighting beside the griffons didn’t receive any warning whatsoever. They were merely gunned down as they were walking, many shot in the back.

Private Crimson Flare witnessed one such skirmish firsthand. On Lieutenant Ivory Shadow’s orders, they were laying low in one of the many dark halls. A particularly large group of both griffons and human soldiers stood in their way. The group had halted their sweep of the building to contemplate one of Blackburn’s “X” marks on a wall. Two of the humans were debating on the legitimacy of the marking -- they hadn’t put it there, and no other squads they had come across had reported clearing the research wing. The bird-headed mercenaries among them simply waited, seeming bored at the lack of combat.

Crimson Flare was itching to give the griffons what they wanted, but he had his orders. He held back the urge to unload his entire magazine into the group. Instead, they waited. Watched.

Suddenly, one of the griffons nearest the two bickering humans received a radio transmission. He was wearing an earpiece, so it wasn’t audible to anyone but the griffons. Still, he listened intently. Once it seemed to be over, he responded with, “It will be done, commander.” He turned to a couple of his feathered comrades, all three exchanging curt nods. Then, with a steady claw, the lead griffon drew a semi-automatic pistol from his belt. He walked up to the human captain, one of the two debating the markings. The griffon didn’t even flinch as he placed the barrel of his pistol directly on the human’s head and pulled the trigger two times.

Before the blood from the captain’s skull could even finish coating the red “X” on the wall, the other griffons leveled their weapons at the remaining humans. Instantly, the hallway erupted in a barrage of automatic gunfire. The Frenchmen didn’t even have time to reach for their own weapons before the bullets began tearing them apart. They flopped and flailed as the rounds ripped chunks out of their torsos and their blood began painting the sterile white hallway a fresh shade of crimson.

As quickly as it had happened, it was over, with six new bodies joining the hundreds that already littered the hospital’s interior. The traitorous griffons barely took a moment to look over their handiwork before reloading their weapons and walking away. The only problem with that was that they were walking further into the research wing, in the same direction that the hiding ponies needed to go.

Crimson Flare sighed and turned to his lieutenant. He spoke in a hushed tone, “Well, that’s just great. What now?”

“We have to keep moving,” the orange-coated guardstallion offered, “If they reach Blackburn before we do…”

“It’ll be a fight, that’s for… ugh… sure,” Greyhound finished. Despite the bandages, he was still bleeding profusely from the bullet hole in his leg, and the painkillers only helped so much.

“You are in no condition to fight, corporal,” the doctor said condescendingly. He then turned to the lieutenant as well, “He’s barely been hanging on at the pace we’ve been going. He already might lose his leg at this point; we can’t just charge head-first into a combat situation.”

“But Sergeant Blackburn needs us, doctor,” Flare said.

“I don’t like this situation any more than you do, Private Flare,” the doctor replied, “But we need to be smart about this. We won’t do James any good if we just rush these griffons and get ourselves killed.”

Ivory listened to everypony in silence, weighing their options. They all had valid points, which made the decision that much harder to make. She wasn't about to send what little remained of her troops to simply be shot down, especially if it put the civilians in danger; but Blackburn didn't know how close the enemy was. If they caught up with him, and he wasn't expecting it…

After a moment of internal debate, Ivory looked around at the survivors she had been leading up to that point. She specifically eyed the only two able-bodied stallions she had left.

“You two, go,” she said evenly, “Stay low, follow them. Only engage if they attack you or Sergeant Blackburn first. We will stay back a moment, and follow you at a distance.”

Both stallions nodded curtly in reply. Without a word, the two got up from their previous crouching positions and started moving, following the path that the griffons had taken. They stayed low, being careful not to give away their positions. They kept the griffon mercenaries in sight, but were far enough back to not be seen.

Eventually, the griffons came to a stop outside a glass-walled room lined with floor cabinets, with a large island in the center. The griffons did a tactical sweep of the area, prompting the two stallions following them to hide inside doorways. They kept their rifles up, waiting to see the griffons’ next move.

Once the griffons believed their surroundings were clear, they seemed to grow confused. The leader of the group holstered his pistol and reached a talon up to his ear, pressing down on his earpiece’s “call” button. He was close enough to Crimson Flare for him to hear the griffon’s side of the conversation.

“We’ve reached the location. He’s not here… Yes, commander, I’m sure… Alright, understood.” The griffon ended the call and turned to his underlings. “Steelclaw wants this entire area searched. Check all of the rooms.”

The mercenaries began spreading out, following orders without question. Crimson saw a team of four heading towards a closed door on the other side of the glass-walled room. A pair of Ebon Griffons chose to go the opposite direction, getting very close to the hidden ponies’ hiding place.

Shit, Crimson thought as he flicked his rifle’s safety off, This is going to get messy.

Author's Note

*North accent = Irish-sounding

BACK FROM THE DEAD!

But seriously, this took much, much longer than it should have. Four months without an update is just ridiculous, and I sincerely apologize.

This chapter was actually going to be longer, but I ran into a few... complications with what was originally the last part, so I decided to cut it out and use it as an opening for Chapter 15. Probably for the best, as it was going on 7,000 words with that part in, and let's face it, that is ludicrously long compared to most of the other chapters.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, even if our dynamic duo didn't even appear in it. But hey, they got a chapter to themselves last time, so it's fair, right?

Not even going to attempt to set a date for the next chapter. The complications I ran into are still very much present, and as it stands it will take some reworking and replotting to fix. Not sure how long that will take. But I will try my level best not to let it take four months like this one did. Again, sorry about that.

As always, constructive criticism is encouraged and very much appreciated.