Saving the World Through Murder, Violence, and Other Less Than Savory Means
“I don’t have a lot of time,” a clone of Discord, who had just materialized in the middle of a war meeting, began while pulling a map off of the wall. “Dainn’s become too powerful to be fought with normal means. I didn’t want it to come to this, but I have no choice.” He sighs as he begins to turn incorporeal, but he ignores it. “I’ve brought weapons from another world, the type that not even he can stand up to. They’re in the Everfree, here,” he points to a seemingly random place on the map, “Once you get them, and you’ll become unstoppable.” His form wavers, becoming nearly invisible, but finding time for one more sentence. “I’ll see you soon,” he says with a rueful smile.
And then he was gone.
That was a week ago. As much as she’d have liked to rush through the forest to get the weapons, Rainbow knew that her trademarked rainbow trail would only give away their positions. Even she wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to get them before the caribou teleported in and slaughtered them all. All she could do was wait and hope they didn’t get to it before they could.
But they did.
She silently cursed as she ducked into a bush, thorns scratching her face. There had to be at least ten of them, each covered head to hoof in paper armor, the lightweight material giving them near unmatched mobility on the battlefield while the runes engraving them making it nigh invulnerable.
She would have already flown in and taken the weapons had it not been for the pony who had apparently gotten there before the caribou did.
“Open the gate!” a caribou general shouts while banging on the steel door.
“No, fuck off,” a booming voice monotones over the wall.
“Open this gate or we will tear it down!”
“If that gate opens, you’ll all die,” the voice says, more of a statement than a threat.
The general snorts, turning towards a behemoth of a soldier behind him. “Open it,” he barks.
“Yes sir!” he responds, walking up to the door. He lifts a wooden staff over his head, runic symbols lighting up and forming a massive hammer made of light.
Just as he’s about to swing, a metallic squeal, paired with the gate moving to the side, stops him. Slowly, it opens, revealing several hills of scrap metal.
The general smiles, nodding his soldiers ahead. “Secure the place, and bring me the smart ass on the speakers, I want to have a ‘talk’ with him.”
A chorus of “Yes sir!”s from the platoon as they move forwards, their staves glowing into weapons.
“We have to stop them,” Rainbow mutters as this is happening. She tenses, readying herself to attack.
“Dash!” a set of sharp claws land on her shoulder, stopping her blitz. “There's too many of them, we need to fall back,” Gilda says, trying to pull her friend away.
“But those are our only chance! We can’t just leave them!” she responds, struggling.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find something else.”
“But if the-”
BOOM
All things considered, John has had worse Mondays.
Given, he’s probably having a stroke right now, if all of the deer people waving lightsabers around is any indication, but what else is new. Well, them being deer people and having lightsabers is new, but he’s had plenty of normal people waving not-lightsabers around, so it’s kinda the same.
He had just opened the gate, giving him direct line of sight to his uninvited guests. There were about twenty-
BOOM
Nineteen in total. He was in the “Control Room,” an air traffic tower that he had rigged to be able to see and control each part of the compound.
He looks into the scope again, seeing the shocked, blood spattered faces of those who were behind his first target.
BOOM
So far, it had been a pretty normal day, minus the whole “anthropomorphic jedi deer” part. He woke up, tended the farms, checked his water collectors, and shoot the daily would be invader. He’s probably going to recheck his ammo reserves after this.
BOOM
They were running now, screaming as they disappeared back into the forest. He absentmindedly flips a switch, hearing the gate squeal close from his headphones. He feels slight satisfaction as it closes fully without their bodies getting in the way. He doesn’t like having to pull the bodies from the door, finding the walk a tad too tedious for his liking.
He glances over the wall of screens showing the facility. Nothing.
He then pulls out the cartridge of his sniper. He doesn’t know the actual model, so he had just been calling it “Surprise.” He opens a drawer, a handful of loose rounds rolling across the bottom.
Definitely rechecking the ammo reserves, then. And refilling that, too.
He stands, pulling his headphones out of the TV and plugging a reloaded cartridge back into the gun and walking to a network of makeshift catwalks that spread over the base.
The small group of ponies, plus one griffin, pull their collective jaws from the floor.
“The type that not even he can stand up too.” Discord’s voice echoes through Rainbow’s mind. The indestructible armor, along with its wearers, had just been proven to be very destructible, the tattered remains of both the armor and the caribou shaking in the wind.
“We should leave,” Gilda states, the idea of stealth long forgotten.
“What?! Did you see what those things did to them?! We need those!”
“What if he uses them on us?” a mare in their squad wimpers, a horrified expression on her face. Ever since the start of Dainn’s “Freedom Initiative,” where he indoctrinated any male he deemed to be “brainwashed by those Equestrian whores,” mares had been wary of stallions at best, and absolutely terrified at worse.
“Who cares? He couldn’t hit me if he tried,” Rainbow gloats as she rises from her crouching position.
“Did you see any warning before they died?” Gilda hissed, pulling her back down. “We have no idea how many are in there, we need to go before they realize we’re here!”
“But we can’t just leave them here for the caribou to have!”
“Uh, Dash? I don’t think they’ll be getting them any time soon,” Spitfire says as she looks at the eviscerated heads of the caribou.
“But-”
“Dash!” Gilda says, grabbing her arms. “They’re not going anywhere, and we need to get back to camp anyway. This was only supposed to be a scouting mission.”
“But…”
“We’ll come back for them. Besides, they look pretty well protected,” Gilda assures, jerking a thumb to the bodies.
“… Fine,” Rainbow sighs, adding “But I want to be with the team that gets them,” as they leave.
John watches the group leave through a wall of TVs he had set up in one of his ammo rooms. He had a similar wall in almost every important room in the base, but nothing gave him control over the compound. That was exclusive to a select few rooms.
He lifts an ammo can, carrying them back to the Control Room.
Worse Mondays indeed.
Author's Note
So this is a thing. It's probably terrible, but so's the resurgence of smallpox, and its not like adult supervision did anything to stop that, so I won't let it stop me.
I write so slow that there's not a proper analogy that could be used here, but I find getting yelled at to be a pretty good motivator, so you should try that.
Something something comments something something opinions.
Until next time.
