Chapters View Online
Lions and Tigers and Zebras with Knives (Edited)
Daring Do flew from branch to branch, all in an attempt to remain hidden from her quarry below. The pair of zebras were conversing over a campfire, the flames providing a feeling of solace to any around them, even her. The smokiness towered over all stopped only by the thick jungle canopy above. It tickled at her nose, the scent powerful and unpleasant. It smelled of familiarity. She had done this many times before.
“You think it's safe down there?” The question spoken in deep zebrican twang remained unanswered for several seconds.
“I don’t think we’re paid to know.” Silence.
Daring crossed several more branches during their short dialogue, coming closer to the parting in the canopy. She was taking a gambit by moving when they were talking. Should they stop conversation or should she make a noise, her cover would be lost; they would know she was here. But she had been making calculations like this for years. The majority of her success in the treasure hunting/exploration industry was based on the fruition of these calculations and her intuition had never failed her before.
“You have any family?”
“No.”
She took another leap, landing on the branch right next to the parting. The view was breathtaking. She had already seen much of what nature had to offer, but she always appreciated a new view to remember. A composite view: fresh, sparkling water cascading off the opposing cliff into the crevice below, the pit itself ringed with trees. A bridge led from the cliff close to her into the mouth of the waterfall and into the annals of obscurity. This place was marked on only one map and had no official designation beyond a small footnote on the bottom of the map—home of our ancestors.
She spread her wings and silently took off from her wooden perch, careful to remain close to the ground. The Zebras were already ‘behind’ her, therefore out of mind—at least for now. She marked the spot in her mind. Just in case, she thought. They wouldn’t come back to bite her in the flank for she would be ready if they tried.
The bridge came up quickly and soon she was padding across the wet planks, each step making the ancient structure sway and groan. She trotted silently through the waterfall, giving herself a quick shake to remove the water that still clung to her soaked form. Her clothes would dry eventually.
Ancient stone brick walls enclosed around her, sucking all the light from the air. It smelled of the dust and a faint whiff of sulfur. She spread her wings and hovered through the air, passed tangled vines and cobwebs. Her eyes scanned her surroundings with meticulous scrutiny, as was necessary for dangerous ruins. Who knew what traps and other such things were hidden in these walls. The hallways turned into rooms and the rooms led to one large atrium. The room was lit up by the small sun that was in the middle of the room. The torch was held by a tall, scarred zebra garbed by only a small cowl. At his hooves laid a crumpled, bloody being, unmoving and dead to the world around it. Its back was pressed against the base of an adobe pedestal. Atop the plinth lay her prize: The Golden Hoof.
Her mind was already plotting the best course of action. Her environment did not allow for perfection. It never did. So she improvised like she always did. With the intellectual acuity of a professor and the visual sharpness of a gryphon, she picked apart the room, looking for any advantages. The structural integrity of the ruin left much to be desired, though that was in her favor as any loose piece of stone could be used as an impromptu weapon or shield. Every stone table was cover and every pile of rubble was ammunition.
There was no time like the present to act. Her wing wrapped itself around a blunt rock on the ground. She silently crept forward, careful as ever to not make a sound but as always Lady Luck had it out for her. Her hoof was snagged on a small creeper coming out of a crack in the floor. She barely tripped and recovered almost immediately but it was enough to alert the zebra who whipped around towards the sound.
With her cover blown, Daring made a dash for the zebra with the intent to tackle him. The zebra sidestepped and slashed at her with a knife held in his mouth. She quickly parried and smashed the rock into his throat, sending him to the ground with a silent scream of pain etched on his face. She stepped past him and the being on the floor to regard her prize. With the care that such situations demanded, she quickly grabbed the golden idol and shoved it in her satchel and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long as the floor groaned and the room shook. Typical ruins, she thought. They couldn’t have come up with something more original than having the place collapse after taking the —.
Her heart skipped a beat when she felt the touch of cold steel on her throat. She thought the zebra would have been incapacitated for longer.
“Give me the hoof or you di—” The sentence was never finished as a shlinct was heard. Daring flipped around to find the being holding a thick knife in the neck of her attacker. The zebra collapsed to the ground, blood spurting in thick geysers from his neck. She craned her neck to look at her savior. The being promptly collapsed alongside the zebra.
She took only a moment to examine it. Its face was flat and its nose was small. Tiny, beady eyes stared back at her, glazed over but still aware. Its ape-like body was covered in strange looking weathered armor. It had seen its fair share of combat. The chest piece had a large hole in it, the plating melted to slag, gruesomely glued to the wearer’s skin. She looked into its eyes once more and saw a brief flash of life. They spoke a message to her in the most instinctual of languages before glazing over once more. You owe me.
In a split-second, she made her decision.She wrapped her hooves around the beings armor covered torso, careful to not upset its wounds. With several flaps of her wings, she propelled her and the heavy being towards the customary hole in the ceiling. Even while the ruin was collapsing around her she had only one thought.
Now we’re even.
Jostle me around some more, would you?
Avery didn’t voice his opinion. He wasn’t in the right position to do so and that meant something. Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson was one tough son of a bitch and he was always in the right position. His luck was without competition excluding one olive green supersoldier.
Lightbulb had put him through the wringer. His chest consisted of a burnt hole, curtesy of one hot as fuck laser beam and the rest of his body wasn’t faring any better. The ache from many consecutive days of fighting was setting in. The only reason he wasn’t in a coffin was because the heat from that beam had cauterized the flesh around his chest, delaying his inevitable bleed out. Brownie’s flying wasn't doing him any favors and his throat wasn’t cooperating so he couldn’t tell her that.
And he knew it was a she—the voice was raspy yet distinctly feminine. While he wasn’t caught up on his marshmallow horse anatomy, what he saw between the swishes of her tail seemed to back up his assumptions.
If the flight wasn’t causing him immense amounts of pain, he would’ve enjoyed it. The view was exquisite. Tall trees were visible in all directions, their branches reaching out to touch the sky and shield the ground below. Everything was brighter, more alive and animated. Forests like this were in increasing demand in UNSC controlled space. But they would rebuild because they had won.
That mere thought was intoxicating, yet its aftertaste was unpleasant. He would have liked to see himself through, to see the aftermath and help wherever he could—end of the war or not, there were always asses to be kicked. But that was neither here or now—his here and now was Brownie’s flying and the pain that accompanied it. He was well-accustomed to pain. Yet the sound of her wing beats held a therapeutic quality to them. He saw that he had no pressing concerns beyond his impending death, so when he felt sleep’s familiar embrace, he welcomed it with open arms.
Sweet Celestia, is this thing made of bricks!?
Daring prided herself on her quick wit and her ability to be at the right place at the right time, all the time, yet she knew that she owed a large part of her success to strength. She was stronger than most pegasi and she reckoned she could overtake some earth ponies. She was no pushover in the strength department yet she found herself struggling to keep up her attitude. The heavyweight in her forelegs straining at her wing muscles. She was going to have to stop soon and the Zebrican capital was still a ways off.
Determining that it was time to land, Daring began her descent, passing the low-hanging clouds and lowering into the dense forest canopy, careful not to damage her injured, living cargo any more than it already was. She landed in a semi-open glade, covered in all directions by green tendrils of local flora. She inspected the ground and picked the flattest portion she could find. With gentleness unbefitting of the adventurous mare, she lowered it to the ground and looked up into its closed eyes. A hasty ear pressed to its chest confirmed its status as alive.
She did a quick once-over to determine its condition, and the result was not good. The biggest concern was the deep burn in its chest. She wasn’t sure what did the deed—the only thing she could think of was a charged assault spell but that required a unicorn to cast it. From the relative newness of the wound, it was not within reason that her assumption was correct.
She shook her head. Regardless of the cause, it needed treatment soon or else the monkey would die—and she was certain it was some form of hairless monkey. She didn’t need a degree in zoology to come to that conclusion; anypony with a working pair of eyes would come about with a similar deduction.
There were a few other notable wounds on its lanky appendages and its torso but the chest wound was the main concern.
She was paying her dues to it for saving her. Daring Do didn’t owe anyone any debts, and this monkey was no exception. She would take care of her own needs later. Her mind had already created a list, and she would follow it to the tee.
Let’s begin, she thought, her mind forming a sort of checklist.
...Create salve… ... Bandages… ...Staunch any bleeding… ...Find food…
Her list continued to spiral downward but the first few were the most pressing, so without a moment of complaint, she set about doing her tasks, all the while keeping her impromptu patient within view.
She found the correct leaves within minutes, and her internal filly scout awoke. She crushed the leaves into a rich pulp, spreading it around on her hoof. Walking over to the monkey, she lathered it in thick dollops along its chest and torso. Absent-mindedly, her eyes wandered over its dark, scarred skin, taking in its many interesting features. Thick veins ran up its beefy forelimbs, some of its skin hosting inked art—tattoos, they were called. She had seen some minotaurs with tattoos. She didn’t understand the practice, but it was not her business nor care to understand.
She traced her hoof along its arm, toward its rounded, monkey face and met its eyes. Its open eyes. She nearly yelped, her body stiffening as its gaze met hers. Her internal voice which had been quiet thus far exploded in her head once more. Predator! Predator! again and again with tedious litany. Why was it doing that? She had been around gryphons before and it had never been this vocal in those situations. She shook her head, those were questions for later.
Daring met its eyes again and saw a thin veil of malice. Its mouth curled up into a terrifying snarl, its chest letting out a low growl.
She jumped back and spread her wings out protectively. Her practiced instincts had already arranged her hooves in a prime fighting position. Damn monkey, should —wait…
Its eyes held hidden mirth and its mouth turned to a smile. Its chest rumbled again. It was laughing at her!
The smile turned to a grimace. It coughed and its body convulsed with what could only be pain.
Horseapples!
She rushed to its side and pushed a hoof into her now-dry satchel, pulling out a roll of gauze and a half-full vial of dust.
I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use this. She popped off the cork with a twist of her mouth and hoofed some onto the chest wound. The results were immediate as the slow bleeding halted and the wound started stitching itself together.
She glanced at the nearly empty vial of healing dust. I’ll have to ask Rye for more.
Its visage morphed into a pained smile, its head falling back to the ground. It laughed again and wrapped its digits around her hoof, shaking it up and down. It mumbled sounds—words in its guttural, harsh language.
It pointed at itself and spoke before pointing at her. Names.
Mirroring its actions, she pointed a hoof at herself. “My names Daring Do, archeologist and explorer extraordinaire! But you can’t understand me, can you… can you?
Its eyes held no comprehension but it nodded its head anyways and it sat up looking at its partially healed chest with confusion.
“You’re welcome. We’re even now, and if you want food, I’d appreciate it if you let go of my hoof.” She nudged its hand with her free hoof and it let go with another laugh.
Within a minute, she had cleansed its wounds and bandaged them. She trotted over to the closest foliage, checklist back in motion.
What have I gotten myself into? I don’t need the extra baggage.
She shook her head again, something she seemed to have to do a lot of today. She sighed and continued her with her tasks.
Let’s begin...
The sum total of Avery’s understanding of his situation remained as thus: 0. At the rate things were progressing, it would remain there indefinitely—granted, he could put more effort into the process. But he was tired. Oh, so very tired. The past few months had finally caught up to him. The very second he had been laid on the ground, his body had relaxed and the cogs in his brain had started turning.
Questions like Where am I? turned to Why am I here? So many questions with so few answers. All of the answers locked up behind the truth—he was a dead man, not because he was going to be dead—only thanks to Brownie’s intervention was that true—but because he should have been dead. It was something that had proved troublesome time and time again, for he had been in many such situations, but this one was different. He didn’t have anything for it, no solution—no way to find the answer, because wherever it was that he had ended up, he was a long way from home. So no, he didn’t have much to go on. The only things he had were a working body and the brain in his head. Both of which were damaged and in need of some good ol’ R&R. He wasn’t sure which of the two needed it more.
But he was more than the sum of his parts. He would find a way, just as he always had. If it took a goddamn galaxy ending hoolahoop to stop him, he would be damned if a little bit of mental blockage did the same.
He was a lot of things but the one thing he wasn't was a philosopher. He didn’t have the processing power to sit and think like this for long and he didn’t like to much anyways. Nothing was accomplished by means of rumination. Only by action did the world spin.
So he would act. He stood up and stretched, casting a glance over theirlittle campsite.
He was surprised by how healed he felt. Ever since Brownie had sprinkled her pixie dust on him, he had gone through a progressive, expedited healing process. It didn’t stop the mental fatigue one bit, but his body felt better than it had previously.
He wasn’t sure how long ago that interaction was, but the sun had been up and now it wasn’t. The ground under his boots was littered with withered foliage and frail twigs. A burning campfire sat in the middle of the small clearing, the smoke billowing into a strung up patch-work of tree leaves and thatch. Brownie worked fast.
Speaking of Brownie, the short little pegasus was curled up in a little ball several feet away from the fire. Her head was tucked into her barrel like a cat, her pith helmet resting on a log several feet away. Her eyes were closed tight and she mumbled subconsciously. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Probably whatever it was that little brown pegasi dreamt about.
He made his way over to the fire. Sitting next to it on a large, oblong leaf lay a collection of different unappetizing-looking pieces of grilled plants. Most likely Brownie’s dinner—at least he figured it was her dinner. Horses ate plants back home so it was likely that tiny mythical ones did as well.
His stomach growled at him for any form of sustenance and he was quick to oblige to its demands. It couldn’t be any worse than that frozen muck they feed us on the ships. Taking a moment to savor the surprisingly sweet flavor that invaded his mouth, he turned to inspect the rest of the camp.
Lying in a pile at the base of a nearby stump were Brownie’s meager belongings, which consisted of one satchel and its contents. There was something sticking out. Something familiar andwelcome. Glancing back at the sleeping pegasus, he went and picked up his prize. He chuckled at what he saw.
Sweet Celestia Cigars: Raisin’ the Sun Since 1295.
Now, Avery wasn’t one to take what wasn’t his—unless it previously belonged to alien bastards that is—but this was the one exception to that rule. Brownie would have to share. He checked the bag again and found no lighter. He would have to improvise.
He popped the covering and grabbed a single cigar out. Walking over to the fire, he grabbed a twig suitable for his purposes and lit the tip of it aflame. All it would take was a little finagling and it would work. Once the little flame stabilized on the stick, he brought it up a few inches away from the cigar and began the lighting process.
After several minutes, it was ready and he took a deep drag. A familiar warm blanket encased his lungs and the light haze born of non-consensual abstinence from his daily smoke schedule brought him a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt in a long while. He hadn’t had a smoke since his pack of Sweet William Cigars was incinerated at some point during the battle on the Ark.
He sat down, back against the tree trunk and waited—not for anything in particular, but he waited nonetheless. He didn’t like his circumstances one bit but he would roll with the punches. It wasn’t hell and it certainly wasn’t heaven but it was a break and that would do. It would have to.
So with a blank mind, and a smile on his face, Avery waited. He wasn’t sure for how long but after a while, he heard a pointed cough behind him. His companion was awake and she looked none too pleased. She pointed at her bag than to him. But now was not the time to play angry charades. Now was the time to take a break and smile, while he still had something to smile about. If a smoke break wasn’t something to rejoice over, he didn’t know what was.
He motioned her over. “Care for a smoke? I only charge a dollar per drag.”
The little pegasus ambled on over to him, all the while jabbering in that strange language of hers. “Your accent is charming, Brownie, but I'm afraid I can’t understand a word you're saying—but I can guess.” He patted the ground next to him in a welcoming manner. “Come, let the sexy alien entertain you for a bit.”
Brownie mumbled angrily, but she still sat down next to him. He offered the cigar to her and she looked at him with a hesitantly raised eyebrow. “C’mon now.” She grabbed it with a shaking hoof and brought it to her lips. Mirroring what Avery had done, she inhaled. Her body shuddered.
Then she made a mistake—she exhaled into the cigar. She turned into a spluttering mess, coughing violently. The sight made him laugh. He gently took the cigar from her grasp. “Sorry, didn’t know I was dealing with a rookie.” He briefly wondered why she even had the cigars in the first place if she didn’t smoke, but brushed the thought off. Wasn’t any of his business why.
“I remember my first time. Thought my chest was on fire. You get used to it.” Brownie looked at him in incomprehension. The sight caused him to sigh. Just another reminder of how far away he was from home. But enough of that, now was a time to smile. He was on a smoke break.
With an outstretched arm, he pulled a protesting pegasus closer to him and with the other, pointed at the small spattering of stars visible in the canopy parting above. “Let me tell you a story—you see those stars up there? A long time ago on a ring world far far away, a kickass sergeant, an aussie, and a quiet spartan walked into a bar…”
Author's Note
Sorry the chapters are so short, the next one will be longer. Hope you like it! Also, I don't smoke so I may have been wrong on the smoking scene, just comment if I fucked up and what I can do to fix it.
Twilight trotted to and fro in front of a mystery. It was her duty as a Princess of Equestria to solve it.
She had received a letter from her first subj—pony earlier that morning and it had nearly made her squeal. Her first letter as a princess! How exciting was that! As it turned out, it was a blend of excitement, strangeness, and suspiciousness, all wrapped up in a chaotic letter signed by the Delivery Mare of all ponies. She had originally thought it was from Derpy but that soon made itself apparently untrue. Derpy would never have sent her on this Bunny Day hunt. But it was the first letter she had gotten asking for her assistance and she well suspected some form of foul play. She recalled the first paragraph of the letter quite well:
Dear Princess Twilight Sparkle,
I hope this finds you in good health. I would like to congratulate you on your crowning as the Princess of Friendship as well as commend your heroics. But that is not the true purpose of the letter. I am in need of your assistance. I need you to go retrieve something for me. Below are a set of instructions that will help you get where you need to go. Please read them only when you need their advice to continue.
She was certain in her ability to handle whatever this Delivery Mare was trying to do. She was an alicorn after all.
“What do you think it is Twilight?
From the look of it, the stubby-winged metal contraption had been in this cave for quite some time. “I’m not sure Spike—I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“What does the letter say?”
Twilight levitated said letter out of her saddlebags. When you reach the door, knock three times and say Carol three times with a somber inflection to it. If you don't inflect correctly, it won’t work, trust me.
“It says I have to say the word Carol three times while knocking on this ‘door’—it says I have to be somber.”
Spike shrugged his shoulders. “What are you waiting for then.”
Bringing her hoof up, she knocked on the cold metal thrice. “Carol, Carol, Carol.” Nothing happened.
With a frustrated grunt, she raised her hoof and tried again. “Carol, Carol, Carol.” Nothing happened.
“You’re not being somber enough. Watch and learn.” She winced as Spike jumped atop her head. He rapped his small knuckles against the metal. “Carol, Carol, Carol...” Nothing happened.
Twilight scoffed. “You couldn’t do it either!”
“I can too!” Spike went to knock again but stopped. The entire door had lit up, faint blue tendrils of magic moving from the edges of the ancient bulkhead towards the center, coalescing into a blue lock that unlocked itself midair.
“An advanced lock spell! Whoever sent this letter has been here before which means…”
“Twilight…”
“If I tracked her down, maybe I could—”
“Twilight we should move.”
“Spike, I’m thinking right now, I need silence.”
“I’m trying to save us! Can’t you think somewhere other than under the falling door?”
Twilight glanced up and confirmed that she was indeed standing under a falling door. With a startled yelp and a quick flash of magic, she teleported Spike and herself back several meters, saving them from impending doom.
“Why didn’t you warn me sooner!” Twilight glared icicles at the baby dragon atop her back. Her look was returned two-fold by the dragon, his stubby arms crossing angrily over his chest. “I tried to tell you but you weren’t listening to me!”
Twilight kept her gaze on Spike for a moment before turning her gaze back to the main attraction. The hard metal facade had fallen, revealing a dark, robust interior. Not unlike the outside of this strange apparatus , she supposed.
Her horn lit up with a standard light spell, casting white rays into every nook and cranny of the vessel. Visible inside were many interlaced clumps of foliage, their fronds reaching outwards to catch sunlight that wasn’t there. The moment her light spell hit them, they lit up in a strong blue luminescence.
Her eyes lit up with wonder, a scroll instantly flying out of her saddlebags with a quill and ink to accompany it. The sound of fast-paced scribbles filled the air as she slowly proceeded down the compartmentalized ‘hallway’.
“Spike, I’ve never seen plants like these before! The biochemical processes required to filter magic like this and use it as a food source… It’s incredible! We need to take samples and—” Her rant was halted by little claws shaking her gently.
“Twilight… Calm down. We have to focus on what the letter says.” He paused. “Besides, why are you so excited about the plants! We’re in an alien spaceship!
She took a breath and paused, repeating Spike’s words in her head. What? “Spike, we are not in a spaceship—and aliens aren’t real. You’ve been reading too many comic books lately.”
Spike waved his arms around at the vessel around them. “Who built this thing then Twilight.”
“Well Spike, archeological evidence seems to suggest that there were more technologically advanced races that came before us. In fact—”
“Ok ok, I get it Twi. We’re getting off track again.”
Twilight scowled, glancing back at the plants. “I’m still grabbing some samples though.”
After carefully extricating a number of the specialized ferns and fungi, she slowly made her way farther into the dark and damp interior, taking notes on everything she saw. She grabbed several strange metal sticks for further study later, sticking them in her saddlebags.
At the end of the compartment was a single, handleless door. She brought the letter up once more and read off the next set of instructions aloud.
“Once you reach the cabin door, place your hoof on the small green square to the right of the door to open it.” Following the directions, she pressed her hoof to the aforementioned square, opening the cabin. Two chairs sat side by side, facing a panoramic windshield of reinforced plexiglass.
“Look for the small container next to the closest chair. Inside should be a small bit sized metal chip. That is the item I require.” She did as the letter directed and grabbed a slim metal chip out from the box—it was the only thing inside.
“I guess this is the item she was talking about.”
Spike only shrugged.
She read the last paragraph of the letter.
Please package it and have it mailed to the address at the bottom. Also, if you’d be so kind as to not tell the authorities or the other princesses about this exchange. Thank you Princess.
Twilight narrowed her eyes. Who did this mare think she was? “Spike, when we get back to the castle, send a letter to Princess Celestia regarding this vessel and the strange letter. I’ll gather the girls and meet up with you. Then.” She paused, pointing at the address at the bottom of the scroll. “We’ll go to this address.”
419 Echo Hoof Lane, Canterlot.
Daring listened quietly as the monkey went on fantastically about something stupid no doubt. She had spent the later hours of the afternoon setting up camp. She had only just gotten to sleep when the creature had awoken her. She was a light sleeper, it came with the profession.
So when she had awoken to the sight of the monkey smoking a cigar—one that came from her satchel—she was understandably displeased.
When she had gone to confront it, it had offered her a smoke. Looking back, she wasn’t sure why she had even accepted it. Perhaps it was because of that warm flicker in its eyes. She didn’t know. It was a terrible experience nonetheless. She had almost choked to death on noxious fumes. Then the monkey pulled her close to it and started talking. And it was still talking.
She was tired. Her eyes were drooping. Her dignity as an independent mare and an archeologist demanded she move and fall asleep elsewhere. But the monkey was big and surprisingly warm.
Rye’s gonna be so mad when he finds out the monkey smoked his cigars. Those things were so hard to find.
Its voice continued to lull her to sleep. She couldn’t find it in herself to move.
Damn this monkey… Then she was asleep.
The familiar chime of an incoming scroll reached Celestia’s ears. The moment she heard it, her entire being had brightened up significantly. She had not received a letter from Twilight in a long time.
The scroll poofed into existence in front of her. She grabbed it in her magic and unfurled it, beginning to read.
As her eyes traced the scroll, her smile turning to a frown. The letter was not what she was expecting. This delivery mare was an unknown but she was certain Twilight could handle her. She went over one part of the letter over and over again to make sure it was true. Her smile re-emerged and she felt the prick of tears in her eyes.
The shape of the vessel was familiar to her. Could it really be? After so long…
She shook her head. She would investigate this herself.
Author's Note
This chapter fried my brain. Also it was the first Twilight chapter. I hope you like it. Good day.
Avery woke up sweating that morning. It was a common occurrence, expected for its familiarity and detested for its annoying nature. He felt the pleasant caress of the early morning breeze. But he knew tropical weather. Pleasantness begat sweltering misery within the span of a few hours; especially when one was clothed in the notoriously unforgiving marine corps BDU.
It had been several days since his apparent rescue by Brownie and they had since left the confines of the forest, bestriding the hardened dirt paths that lead to sweet, sweet civilization. Or at least, that was his best guess. The paths could have been leading anywhere, so barren were they in essence.
In this short time, Avery had been contemplating his shaky relationship with normality. He hadn’t joined the corps expecting a shred of it but this was not written in the fine print. The good lord worked in mysterious ways and Avery wasn’t expecting to go to heaven when he died but really?
The cracked road under his boots was unyielding, following in the faint footsteps of his furry companion. His face was the picturesque visage of stolidity; this was child’s play compared to the things he had to do during his service in the corps. Brownie did not feel the same, if he was reading her—surprisingly human—facial expressions correctly. Her hooves were dragging underneath her and eyes drooped down. She was tired and he had a feeling that they were still a long way from wherever it was they were going.
It felt a bit strange, following her around like a lost puppy. But he was at a loss for what to do. As a marine still in service, his duty was solely to find a way back to the UNSC, but he wasn’t sure where to start. Right now, he was following a brown, mythical horse, who didn’t speak english, down a dirt path in the middle nowhere. He supposed this was the best place to start. He didn’t see any better alternatives. If he couldn’t find out how to get home, he would figure out why he was here.
But for now, it was one step after the other and Brownie made for a strange, yet amusing bedfellow.
Spike walked down the shining halls of the castle, grumbling to himself internally. He had been left behind to hold down the fort again. How typical.
Let’s just leave Spike behind, he thought. He’s only good at cooking anyways!
If there was something to kick next to him that wouldn’t have broken his foot, he would have kicked it but he had learned his lesson before. The castle walls were tough.
So enthralled was he in his own annoyance that he didn’t notice the pony slipping through the door that had yet to close from the girls’ departure.
Half way through the train ride, Twilight discovered something terrible while scrolling through a log book she had brought with her. The address given on the letter didn’t exist. It never had.
“You didn’t think to check if the address was on file? I mean you're like, a princess now, so can’t you do things like that?” Rainbow groaned in annoyance, crossing her forelegs over her chest.
Twilight only bowed her head in shame. Rainbow was right, if she had been more responsible, this wouldn’t have happened. She felt a gentle hoof land on her shoulder.
“It's alright darling, we all make mistakes,” Rarity said, fixing Rainbow with a cold glance with which Rainbow was courteous enough to respond with a sheepish grin. “I’m only confused as to why we were going there in the first place. Surely you don’t think they actually expect you to come with their… thing, would you?”
“I didn’t bring their ‘thing’ Rarity. I left it with Spike…” Twilight sat still for a moment, frozen in her seat. Her eyes widened astronomically and a loud gasp tore from her throat. “Girls, we have to go back! We need to—”
“Settle down Twi, what’s got you all riled up?” Applejack looked into her eyes with concern.
Twilight took a moment to compose herself before replying. “They sent us to this address to lure us away from Ponyville! They never expected us to bring their package—Rainbow, I need you to get to the castle as fast as you can, Spike could be in danger!”
Rainbow snapped her a quick salute, spreading her wings and rocketing out the nearest window. Twilight blinked out of existence and Pinkie woke up with a gasp, shooting out the nearest window in a pink blur.
Applejack blinked. “Well… that just happened.” She swept her gaze towards Rarity and Fluttershy, the only remaining mares of the original six that were still on the train headed to Canterlot. “You gals reckon everythin’ll be taken care of by the time we get back to Ponyville?”
“Well, I think that it’s out of our hooves right now and I’m sure Rainbow and Twilight will make sure Spikey Wikey is okay. Do you want to stop at that donut shop before we head back?”
“Since when did you eat donuts?”
“A bit of fluff in the right places never hurt a mare.” Rarity stiffled a giggle and went back to reading her magazine. Applejack shrugged, slumping against the window with her stetson placed over her head.
“Girls… girls?” Flutttershy stopped whispering and looked out the window at the vast natural beauty of Equestria’s undulating topography. She sighed and rested her head on her hooves.
I hope Spike is okay.
“Carol, Carol, Carol.” The door unlocked itself, letting her into the crashed ship.
A Pelican, I believe it's called.
She walked down its shadowed length slowly, the hallway only illuminated by the lunar plants scattered within. It had been quite some time since she had seen something from the stars. She looked at the side of the ship. Hidden under a shining bramble laid an old message in an even older language:
Jenkins was here.
Maybe Luna was right, she thought. Maybe they’re still here.
Author's Note
I know its a super short chapter but school just started up again and I'm working on some other writing projects at the same time. Hope you liked it, have a good day!
Q/A Time! Favorite Chill Halo Soundtrack
Mine are: A Walk in the woods (Basically any of the soundtracks that have to do with woods or walking)
Green. Lots of green.
Frye’s eyes stung painfully when he opened them. His face was slick with sweat, the flames from outside slowly crawling their way towards him. He couldn’t feel his legs. Why couldn’t he feel his legs? Where was he?
The shattered windshield ahead of him held nothing within its grasp. Nothing that mattered, anyways. Only green and trees: A forest. Halo. Was that where he was?
A man stood in the doorway, a rifle held in his hands. With little thought, Frye reached for his own handgun, pointing it at the man.
“Hey! Calm down, it’s just me - “ The man paused, lowering his rifle “ - Bisenti.” He leaned his rifle up against the cabin wall, holding his hands up passively. “We’re friends, right? You know me, I know you. Just… lower the gun, alright?”
Frye sat frozen for a moment, the magnum quivering in his grasp. Bisenti? Who the fuck is Bisenti? But he complied, lowering the pistol slowly. His mind was a mess. Bisenti was the enemy. Bisenti was not the enemy. The enemy… he didn’t even know who that was supposed to be anymore. Innies, Covies, Flood. They were all the enemy.
Where is Carol?
His gaze raked over the area beside him. His breath stopped. Fuck. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, FUCK. He tried to move but nothing happened. There was nothing stopping him from getting up, so why couldn’t he move? He looked down. All he saw was blood. Blood everywhere.
“Help her,” he croaked out, his throat painfully dry.
The man in the doorway moved. “Hey man, we have to leave, th—”
“Help her!” The pistol in his grasp was back up in an instant. Bisenti shuffled forward nervously, his hands still up.
“Alright man, I heard you. You want me to help her? I’ll help her. Just put the gun down, for Christ’s sake.” The man reached the cockpit seats. He reached over the top and wrapped his arms around Carol, hoisting her up carefully. “You’d think I’m a goddamn hingehead, the way you’re pointing that thing at me.”
Bisenti maneuvered the unconscious pilot in his arm, positioning her in a bridal carry. “She’s still alive, you can calm down. I’ll be back in a minute, just… stay there.” Then he was gone, out the way he had come.
The magnum dropped from his hand, his arm resting against his blood stained seat. He was going to die, of that he was certain. But at least Carol was safe, right?
Right, he thought.
His throat hurt, so he knew he had been screaming. Again, his face was slick with sweat. But there was no blood this time, not that he could see.
“Sir, are you okay!?” The mare who was sitting next to him shook him frantically. He was quick to rectify that.
His hooves pushed hers off of him. “I’m fine! Get of—” He paused, looking at all the eyes that were fixed on him. Mares, Stallions, Foals. They were all looking. He sighed. “—I’m sorry… I’m fine. I am fine. ”
The mare looked at him skeptically. “If you say so…” Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, do I know you? I feel like I’ve seen you before…”
“Nope. You don’t know me and I sure as hell don’t know you.” He turned his head, resting it on the quaking window beside him.
“Well, excuuuse me! You don’t have to be an asshole about it.” She turned away and muttered to herself quietly. “What is hell?”
The announcement speakers crackled on. “We’ll be arriving at Appleloosa in about an hour. Just sit tight, and please keep your hooves to yourselves. Fighting on the train is against company policy. Thank you.”
Author's Note
enjoy, school works has lightened up a bit so the next chapter will be out soon!
“My brother?”
“Dead. They needed two zebras to pull that knife out of him.”
Tavo nodded non-committedly, his eyes flitting over the ancient room laid out before him. Several zebras were swabbing away at the blood-stained floor with small pieces of cloth, working with more vigor than anybody had any right to, when it came to such tedious tasks.
He looked back at the pale unstriped zebra beside him. Kilind, the zebra’s name was, if he remembered correctly. “And the hoof?”
“Gone.” Kilind treaded carefully around the busy janitors, appraising the empty plinth before him. “Daring took it with her when she made her little raid.”
A shame, he thought. I would've liked that particular piece for my collection.
“And the knife? They said it was… special.”
Kilind nodded affirmingly before replying, “It’s made of a material I’ve never seen before.”
He snorted. “There’s a lot of things you haven’t seen.” You’ve no idea, fool. He paused. “I want to see it.”
“Tavo, I-”
“Spare me the precautionary tales; I know how to wield a knife.” He looked down at the zebras in front of him, still cleaning as diligently as before. “And get these zebras out of my sight; it’s making me sick just watching them.”
Kilind nodded ashamedly, running off to do his assigned tasks with the former floor scrubbers in tow, but not before leaving a quick, “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” Flank Kisser, that one is. Tavo wasn’t a fan. Kilind wouldn’t be making it out of the ruin alive.
He stepped through the half-cleaned splotch of blood, eyeing the plinth in front of him. It appeared to be untouched by the zebras since the scene of his brother’s death. Those tribals and their ‘sanctity’. Always the messanic shit with them. They acted as if touching one of these old stones was going to unleash the wrath of Celestia upon them. To him, it was foolish. He’d barely been able to convince the tribals to allow him in the place, not that he needed their approval. It was simply nice to not have to go through the effort of killing all of them to get in.
He eyed the blood now adorning his hoof. His brother had it coming, thinking he could just go wherever he pleased. His brother was not him; he did what he wanted, when he wanted to do it.
“Here, the knife you wanted.”
Tavo turned around, taking the knife from Kilind’s grasp. His eyes widened imperceptibly. Laser-cut carbon steel. He checked the handle and sure enough, stenciled into the paracord wrap was exactly what he suspected: Misriah Armories.
He reached a hoof into his own cloak, procuring a similar blade. The only difference between the two was the slightly faded M.M on his own blade. He twirled it around in his grasp. This was good. This was very good.
A grumble. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, but the knife isn’t the only thing I brought.” Tavo watched as Kilind motioned with a hoof, guiding a short, stout zebra out from behind him. “This boy was with your brother’s crew and he says he knows who the knife belongs to.”
The zebra sat there for a moment, a lost look on his face, before he recovered, looking Tavo right in the eyes. “It was a tall, minotaur thing.” Then his face drained and he added a quick, “Sir.”
Tavo chuckled. Cute. “No need for the pleasantries. Tell me, what’s your name, boy?”
“Farhja.” No sir. He learns quickly.
“Well, Farhja…” Tavo rolled the name around his tongue as he eyed the zebra in front of him. “I have a proposition for you. I want you take this knife - “ He extended a hoof out, the knife with it “ - and return it to its owner. Tell them that they have... friends that are willing to lend them hoof. Can you do that for me?”
“I don’t even know where they-” Farhja paused. “I can do that.”
Tavo smiled. “I knew you could - you better get started, make what progress you can before sundown.”
Farhja’s eyes widened, before he took off hurriedly down the collapsed hallway that headed the atrium.
Today was business as usual for Avery J. Johnson.
His legs pumped powerfully, the foliage violently yielding to him and disappearing underfoot. How fast the tables had turned. A quick glance downwards confirmed that his half-conscious travel buddy was still in his grasp. Ironic, considering that had been him not but two days earlier.
He heard the approaching galloping of many sets of hooves behind him. It was hard to tell the exact amount when there were four legs to take account of instead of two. All he knew was that there were a fuckton of them, and they were hot on his ass. He wasn’t slow by any means - he was almost as fast as they were, but the striped mini-horses had enough on him that only his significantly better stamina and agility had pulled him through. So far .
And it's all your damn fault, Brownie, he thought.
And it was true. Earlier, that morning, they had arrived at some kind of village, filled to the brim with mini-zebras. She had gone to talk with their chieftain or whatever, leaving him several dozen paces back. After a while of heated discussion, they had bum-rushed her for whatever reason, forcing him to save the day once again - Sergeant Johnson didn't leave ladies in distress, regardless of species. He would have happily taken them all on but he only had so many boots to shove up equine asses, with his hands being tied up and all.
I better get some Brownie points for this one… Nah, that shit was terrible. Looks like Private Jackass rubbed off on me.
He looked behind him and sighed. It was going to be a long ass day. Next opportunity he had to send a postcard back home, he was gonna tell them to trade's theirs for a ticket to hell, because heaven was a damn joke.
Author's Note
jesus I'm so tired. This chapter prob has ton of mistakes sorry, just comment and I'll fix them.
also, if someone guesses what M.M stands for I give them free access to docs when I'm working on story.
GOODNIGHT
Edit: I'll be revising this chapter, this is what you get when I decide it's good to write a chapter at one in the morning.
