She had to be careful not to let the blood rush to her head.

Bon Bon was upside-down.

Suspended from a belaying cable that hooked onto a quick-release harness. The other end of the sturdy nylon climbing rope had been tied off to a support column in the mining warehouse above. Usually, she preferred for somepony else to be ‘on-belay’ when doing any sort of clandestine wire-work like this, especially if that other pony was another agent with plenty of experience in the kind of things that could go wrong on an op when suspended in mid-air without the aid of pegasus wings.

But Bon-Bon had sternly resisted any attempt by Luna and Twilight to send any ponies to reinforce her on this little rescue-raid attempt of hers — the risk of being detected before freeing the hostages too great to chance it. Even as she’d methodically searched the warehouse, lurking from shadow to shadow before quickly discovering the hidden elevator, she’d known in her gut that this thing had a high probability of failure.

But she had to do this.

For Lyra.

She’d made it clear with both the princesses as well as the captain in charge of the SWAT team that she was to be the top of the spear. Once inside, she’d do a thorough reconnaissance before signaling the follow-up attack to clear the base. To that end, she would observe but not intervene, until the attack could begin so stealth was everything.

Still, part of her couldn’t deny the increased danger she was putting herself under: it would be better to simply have the risk Lyra falling victim to a spell magic crossfire casualty during the eventual assault than Lyra and herself.

Cheery thinking there, Bon Bon.

She grimaced to herself as her blue eyes diligently inspected the dimly-lit mining cavern. She was careful not to let any more of her head appear above the rim of the open elevator door than necessary. Never a good sign of an operation when you’re already thinking about reducing the fallout from your inevitable failure.

She shook her head slightly, trying to regain her focus. She knew the odds weren’t great — but she had to try, for Lyra. She’d been in worse scrapes before!

In any case, the first hurdle seemed to have been cleared: there wasn’t anypony watching the single point of entry to this hidden enemy base. That certainly made things easier.

But two ponies had been watching, and recently: just a few short strides from the elevator door, a large smooth slate table of the variety that Bon Bon had seen in countless villain lairs stood empty… but two revolving chairs near one end were still in the slightest of motions — their occupants had only recently vacated them.

Lucky.

If they’d been present at their posts, she’d have been spotted the instant her mane peeped over the edge of the elevator door.

With a quick whir of the climbing mechanism, Bon Bon zipped herself down to the bottom of the elevator cab, then pressed the lever that undid the harness entirely and withdrew it, lightning-fast, back up the shaft and to its attachment-point, to hide any evidence of her incursion.

With a quick hop and the softest of tumbles, she silently rolled out of the open entrance into a dark corner, behind one of the ancient wooden door-frames that propped open a side-tunnel. Her ears pricked upward, almost straining beyond their most-open state, and she held her breath, listening intently for any indication that she’d set off a magical ward, or that she’d been spotted in some way.

There were so many ways a hasty intrusion like this could go wrong, in a world filled with the strangest of spells, creatures, and technology. If it had been anypony other than Lyra, she’d have laughed off this attempt as a suicide mission.

But there was nothing. Only the tomb-like silence of the abandoned mine, and the faintest buzz of the incandescent lighting over the conference table.

But she knew better than to move yet. Slow and steady when it came to stealth. All creatures were sensitive to movement rather than stillness, ponies even more so. The still knife in the dark is invisible compared to the flashing sword in the moonlight.

Still nothing. She felt her vision begin to tunnel and her breathing become ragged and uneven — the beginnings of hyperventilation. But she’d not trained for all these years to panic in the moment of danger, when lives were on the line. So she scanned left/right left/right for threats while breathing slowly, her vision and heart rate correcting themselves..

That’s when she heard it.

The telltale buzz of a thaumic circuit closing, and the slight change of air pressure as a surge of magical energy pulsed into the very air. Bon Bon’s eyes caught the flash of light appearing beneath her hooves, as the glyphs silver-painted lines began to glow with intensity.

Shit!

Bon Bon’s left hoof flashed down to her utility belt, grabbing hold of the tactical spray can of silver-infused paint, depressing the applicator nozzle even at the same time that she withdrew it, in a well-practiced blur of muscular coordination that happened under the blink of an eye.

She painted a wide swath of silver across the glyph, immediately short-circuiting whatever intricate spell-work had been laid there as a trap. A dull whoosh of air followed, as the crackling remains of the spell dissipated in hazy waves through the atmosphere.

Crap.

Bon Bon knew she was far from out of danger: she had no idea just what the glyph had done. Stepping aside into a dark corner, she glanced out at the burnished spot on the ground, trying to decipher what she could of the trip-wire spell she’d accidentally triggered.

The streak of interrupting silver-paint certainly didn’t help, but from her best estimation… the top of the glyph was a fairly expert magical-weapon disarming spell. Further down, the glyph worked its way into a stun-spell, and finally a sonic alarm spell.

She was lucky that whoever had crafted the thing had put them in that order — she’d managed to cut off the flow of energy just as it had touched the stun-spell scripts.

Still… I’m bucked.

Bon Bon grimaced, reaching back into her tactical saddlebag and grabbing the rapid-fire stun-spell pistol she’d brought with her. A quick inspection showed that, indeed, the glyph had completely fried all of the intricate, military-grade spellwork that made the compact weapon a formidable tool in any close-quarters encounter.

Bon Bon mentally ran through the list of tools that she’d brought with her — and stifled cursing out loud. After that glyph had triggered, she was basically left with a hoofful of zip ties, some climbing rope and the can of silver-spray paint. Her flash-gems, her stun-pistol, her holo-mimic scrolls, her dull-edged shock-knife… even her damn radio used an encryption rune!

She was basically down to using her hooves.

Buck buck BUCK!

Bon Bon clenched her teeth, glancing down at the glyph. It was right in front of the elevator. Nopony would miss the big silver streak across the front of it, clearly showing that someone had tampered with the thing. She knew that this should be a no-brains, 100% mission scrub… that she should high-tail it back up the elevator shaft, quickly escape, and tell the assault force to charge in ASAP before her failed incursion might be noticed.

She glanced at the elevator shaft, biting her lip. Hesitating.

If it were any other mission. Any other pony.

She heard it then: a faint moan, almost a whine. An echo that bounced off one of the tunnel walls.

Lyra!

But the moan wasn’t alone.

Faint conversations coming from down one of the many tunnels connecting to this central room were now reaching her ears: a chuckle that had been just a bit too loud, bouncing down the corridor.

She began to move toward it, slinking quietly around the outside of the entrance hall, against the darkest parts of the wall with the swiftest speed that she could manage without making any hooffall noise.

She wanted to see with her own eyes the source of the sound, to start to get a running tally of how many ponies were in here with her. Once she had enough sense of their layout and patterns, she could perhaps go on the offensive — she could handle two or three ponies on her own, and if the timing was right… she might just get a chance to knock-out the whole gang without any of them even realizing they’d been compromised.

Just because she’d lost all of her equipment didn’t mean that Bon Bon was totally out of the fight.

A few further steps down the corridor and the flash of a small hoof-held mirror let her see the scene unfolding.

LYRA!

She was face down in the middle of a cell, the strange human creature just to one side, holding her. Bon Bon’s heart thumped faster for the first time on the raid as the nervous thoughts began to race through her mind — ‘Was she hurt?’ ‘Had the human injured her?’ ‘Why weren’t those guards protecting her?’

The two guards were towering over her, chuckling and looking down at the mint-green unicorn. Bon Bon could tell that they would both be very difficult opponents. Each of them towered even taller than a guards-pony! The pegasus looked like he had earth-pony genes in spades: if it weren’t for his impressively large wings, she would have wondered if he could even beat his wings fast enough to achieve lift. And the other… he looked like he could win in a tug of war contest against two Big Macs.

Bruisers.

She’d dealt with her fair share of course — the trick was to get them quickly when they weren’t looking. Trying hoof-to-hoof combat with goons was always a rookie agent mistake: thinking that your fancy martial-arts and superior agility could defeat what so many assumed were brain-dead henchmen. This wasn’t like the movies though: bruisers usually had surprising agility and years of dastardly, unfair street-fighting experience that would quickly result in an overconfident agent collecting their teeth in a plastic bag… if they were lucky to survive.

She might be able to get one of them with a quick neck-kick buck… but not both. She would have to just wait, as hard as that might be.

“...“Damn… if I’d known you were so backed-up miss spy-pony extraordinaire… Clover Crunch and I would have made sure to interrogate you sooner!”

Bon Bon’s nose flared. The air was rank with the smell of sex. And not just anypony’s arousal… that was Lyra’s musk! She knew it from the clandestine, guilty sniffs she’d steal from her roommate’s sheets during the springtime heat weeks.

Lyra! Has she been… poisoned!?

Bon Bon felt her muscles tensing, as she pressed her back against the mine wall and held herself rigid as a board, still with the anxiety that her best friend and secret crush might have already been irrevocably lost to the horror that she’d seen in the Canterlot dungeon.

“Shit, Trunch, we probably don’t even need Blackie’s addict-juice.” The pegasus chortled, “Just look at the way she’s eyeing up your shaft — she’s stunned.”

“Eh — the girls tend to get that way when they see ‘little Truncheon’, regardless of whether they want it or not.” The earth pony shrugged, then reached toward his saddlebags, rooting around in there for a moment, “I ain’t into that shit anymore, ‘sides… I’ve been hankering to try out this stuff ever since I saw how goo-goo the Captain went with Dusky.”

The pegasus sighed, then slipped in and helped his bruiser friend, lifting a bottle of clear liquid, in a container similar to what looked like a fairly standard, commercially-packaged bottle of water… except for the large skull and crossbones label adorning the side.

“Here, I snagged one for you. You do know that Blackie said she’s toned the formula though, right?” He tossed the bottle from his hoof to an outstretched, powerful wing, “Hell, the way she said she made it just a pure addiction spell, none of that soul-corruptin’ crap… makes me wonder if she bucked the whole thing up so it don’t even work no more.”

Trunch quickly snatched the bottle out of the pegasus’s wing-grip, growling back at his friend, “Well, if you’re so sure it ain’t nothing now, why don’t you take a swig and put ‘yer bits where your muzzle is?”

The pegasus shot him an eyebrow, and shook his head. “Hey bud, didn’t realize you swung that way — listen, I’m flattered but I don’t want to get addicted to y-”

“Shut the fuck up, you know what I mean.” Trunch squared up to the pegasus, cocking back an arm. Bon Bon wasn’t surprised, most bruisers wouldn’t like any questioning of their sexuality. If this did turn into a little squabble between the two, maybe even a hoof-fight… it would be just the opportunity she needed to jump in and maybe put these two out of commission!

“Alright, alright. Just joking Trunch.” The pegasus held up a dismissive hoof: there would be no such chance for Bon Bon to take advantage of some friendly-fire. “So how did Blackie say her new brew is supposed to work then?”

“Eh, says here on the label that you just pour the shit on, or into, whatever it is you want to make especially addictive. You can also shove it down somepony’s throat raw… in which case they just go nuts for the first thing they lay eyes on.”

The pegasus whistled softly. “That’s crazy. And the boss is planning to sell ‘em in bottles like that? Dude, can you imagine how bucked the Manehattan club scene is gonna be?”

“Naw, I think he wants to give it to the big bosses of the Family.” Trunch explained, turning the bottle carefully in his hoof. “We mix it in with our street shit, you see? Put all them Zeebs and Saddle Arabians out of the hard-salt business overnight. Them junkies will only want our product.”

Crunch nodded, then tilted his head a bit. “Honestly, I don’t know why we shouldn’t license this stuff to a big corporation. Let ‘em mix it into their latest formula for cigarettes, or pre-packaged foods… hell, even into the plastic for foals’ action figures!”

“That’s crazy, the crown would stop ‘em overnight.”

“Eh, they got pretty good lawyers. We should go legit with this stuff.”

“Stop thinkin’ so much: you aren’t good at it.”

“Fuck you.” The pegasus flipped a middle primary up. “So, you gonna do it?”

“Yeah.” Truncheon unscrewed the bottle cap, carefully holding the bottle away from him, as if holding an unpinned grenade. For a moment he just held it there, not doing anything but eyeing it warily.

His friend was growing impatient, “Well? What the buck are you waiting for? Use it!”

“How!?” Trunch snarled back.

“Just… pour it over your cock and let the crazy mare take a lick! The label says that’ll get her poppin’ winkies for dick non-stop, right?”

“Oh sure,” Truncheon grunted, “Pour the crazy, super-dangerous black-magic potion all over my buckin’ stallionhood and hope it all works out… great plan! Why don’t you do that, hotshot?” Trunch offered the open bottle over to his partner.

Bon Bon eased forward, darting up by one column as both looked away, but she knew it was futile — there was no way she could cross so much open terrain between the tunnel exit and the cell: she was stuck watching and waiting!

“Fuck that! What if it melts all my shit off! Or shrinks it or some weird shit.” Crunch shook his head and crossed his forehooves.

“Heh, yeah you couldn’t afford to lose anything down there, eh?”

“That’s fuckin’ horseapples, my shit’s longer than yours, bitch.” The pegasus gestured toward his underbelly with a wingtip.

“Eh, length don’t mean shit, needledick. Maybe you gots a half-inch on me. But that last mare we shared was still so tight after you’d had her, it felt like I was going in after a bare-balled colt.”

Crunch rolled his eyes. “That’s just ‘cause you got a freak, mutant buckin’ log. There’s a reason you have to pay mares to lift their tails for you, and it’s because your freak-dick ain’t fun for ‘em.”

“Last I heard, you haven’t kept any marefriend past a first date neither — fillies probably don’t like having their guts speared.”

Bon Bon clenched her muzzle in frustration. These two idiots were having a literal dick measuring contest in front of her — and yet there wasn’t any way for her to take advantage of their distraction! She’d seen it happen before: the scent of a ripe, horny mare setting nearby stallions, particularly macho bruiser-types, into a kind of pseudo-rut. Usually, it could provide an agent the perfect opportunity to slip by, unnoticed. She’d even packed some specially loaded ‘eau de mare’ scent-bombs on previous missions for just that purpose.

But the same traits that would make a male easily distractible also made them hyper-aggressive and ferocious in battle. She might be able to get a bit closer to them in this state, but she doubted she’d be able to handle one of them, let alone both.

Bon Bon couldn’t help but stick her tongue out in disgust as she saw just how turned on they were. From this closer vantage point, she could see their… undercarriages… more clearly.

Both had dropped fully, two huge and disgusting sheath-snakes that arched toward the floor. Their equipment certainly matched the size of their overgrown bodies, perhaps the result of hormone potions that she knew some of these villain henchmen types liked to abuse.

If Bon Bon was in any other situational she would have made an audible gagging sound.

The pegasus’s semi-flaccid shaft actually drooped down far enough to drag against the mine-shaft floor. A long, slender (relative to his partner) pink shaft, already starting to bulge and throb with veins and bumps as he became more aroused — already his… thing… was grotesquely long enough that it was as long as Lyra’s whole torso.

Her eyes flicked to the other stallion’s bits — not quite as long… but more matching the stocky bulk of his huge earth-pony body. The whole black and mottled pink… monstrosity...eclipsed the girth of your average fire-place log, and it was already starting to inflate — slowly pulsing its way up the underside of the stallion’s muscular body.

Gross.

And both were packing a set of big, dangling sacks. Bon Bon hated the look of those almost as much as she did stallionhoods. She could maybe tolerate accidentally seeing a colt’s dangly-bits, or a stallion that was packing some smaller orbs… if her eyes chanced to glance over them in public. But a big, sweaty set of stallion-balls? She always had to turn her head away and resist the urge to stick out her tongue in disgust when she’d see those.

And these? These were huge. Yuck.

At least they’d make a nice, large target for a well-aimed kick if she’d ever get the chance to do so.

Bon Bon grimaced to herself, wishing she’d packed a mini-crossbow, or even a simple steel combat knife. She regretted relying so much on the modern, fancy thaumic equipment… one way or the other, it wasn’t a mistake she’d make again. For now all she could do was sit, and hope for the perfect moment to occur.

“Well, I ain’t fuckin’ gonna just melt my stuff off.”

“What we need is a test,” Crunch huffed, turning.

“What — the mare? I don’t wanna melt her either, moron. Then we’ll just be back at square one: holding our aching dicks in our hooves.”

“No! The monster-thing. Make him try it.” Crunch turned and faced the human, who had been carefully silent to this point, just stroking the softly mewling Lyra.

With the attention on him, he quickly pushed away, backing up to one of the cell’s corners. “Hey, hey, hey now. I can tell you that my kind are also very much against being melted. One of our core beliefs, actually.”

“Hear that, Crunch? We got a funny guy.” Truncheon grunted, striding forward. “Always liked funny guys… they make for great cannon fodder.” The bruiser began to reach out with the bottle.

“Guys, c’mon now… don’t you think your boss will be pissed if you turn me into a puddle of goo?” Bon Bon was surprised: the human seemed incredibly intelligent. Not a monster, but a creature. He was clever enough to come up with some good arguments to maybe save his skin.

“Eh, but imagine if it doesn’t melt you. We’ll have proved this new brew actually works as intended. It’s like we’re doin’ Blackie’s animal testing trials for her.” Crunch grinned, sliding in to block any further attempt of the human to escape.

“Yeah but… I’m sure you guys don’t want me sharing in your fun-times with Lyra, right? Even if it does work, I’m just gonna get in the way of your fun,” The human nervously added.

“How noble — take the girl and leave me out of it, huh?” Crunch chided, “Well what if we just make you drink it then.”

“I’m a guy, you know. So you guys are into that sorta thing th- OOF!”The human’s snide comeback was cut-off with a quick kick to his midsection, driving the air out of his lungs.

“Shut the fuck up. I know exactly what we’re gonna do,” Trunch growled, reaching back into his saddlebags once again and pulling out a magazine.

“Hey, I bought that, you’re giving it to him?” Crunch complained, tilting his head.

“You shut it too. This shitty thing is the reason we’re both aching like a couple of teen-colts in Spring. How the fuck were we ever supposed to get off to a fuckin’ MILF magazine?” Trunch growled, waving the magazine menacingly in front of his partner’s face. Bon Bon could see the bold lettering on the adult-magazine: JUICY MILFS! HOT MOMS: DESPERATE MARES.

“It was all they had!” Crunch retorted. “Besides, MILFS ain’t that bad!”

“Luna’s puckered asshole — why couldn’t you just get ‘Butts Monthly’, or ‘Teat Fancy’.” Trunch cursed, “If it weren’t for this fetish-y crap I’d have cranked one out and all this mare-musk wouldn’t be driving me nuts.”

“For the record — I don’t like MILFS either, guys. Not really my thing.” The human offered, having finally regained his breath. “Nor am I really a fan of alien-women in general so how about we j- GAH!”

With his mouth part way open, in the process of making yet another witty retort, Trunch shoved the bottle into the human’s mouth… and squeezed.

A blast of the clear liquid shot down the human’s throat, part of the dose splashing about as he coughed and sputtered. Bon Bon almost moved from her hidden vantage point. Here was an innocent creature about to be experimented on… possibly corrupted, maybe even killed!

But it would have done no good: it was twenty yards to the cage, and then somehow she’d have to make her way through the closed door, all without the guards spotting her.

“Now look you little pink freak!” Trunch shoved the human’s face into the magazine which he’d thrown onto the cage floor. “I don’t want you falling in love with me or my partner.”

“Dude, could you have been a little more careful with shit? You sprayed it everywhere! What if I’d gotten some on me?” Crunch complained, carefully checking himself.

“Quiet! Look… at least he’s not melting yet.”

Both of them turned to watch the human, who was now panting in a heap, his face buried in the magazine. Bon Bon couldn’t help but watch too, holding her breath to see just what the potion would do.

“Is… is it working?”

“Ho… lee… shit!” The human’s low grumble built up into a shouting exclamation as he sprung to his feet, clutching the magazine. “Have you guys seen this?”

The bruisers took a step back, unsure.

The human seemed undismayed, almost dancing as he began to flick through the pages, pausing only briefly when something caught his fancy. “Guys! What the shit! I thought you horse-people were ugly as all hell… I mean, we literally have a saying in my world that someone with an ugly mug is called a ‘horse-face’... but these fuckin’ hotties!” He opened the magazine, turning it to flash the centerfold that he’d landed on to the two bruisers so that they could also see.

Bon Bon caught the sight of a rather fetching mare with a dark, reddish-brown mane, a light-brown coat, and striking white socks, all accented perfectly by her blue scarf and pearl necklace… as she looked over her shoulder, tail flagged high, presenting everything to the reader.

This Sire’s Hollow momma would like a sire to fill her hollow! The bold text along the underside of the picture proclaimed.

“Fellas, how can you even stand not going out there and bagging some of these delicious ladies!?” Anon asked, flipping again rapidly. “Like, at first I thought these pony-pussies were kind of weird looking… and their donut-lookin’ assholes too... But damn, I can’t even imagine how it would feel to bury myself in some nice, experienced horse-ass. Am I right?”

“Uh…” Crunch murmured, starting to find his words, clearly still stunned by the human’s sudden shift. “I guess… I mean, MILFs are OK, but finding a nice young filly to-”

“Nah nah nah, fuck that noise, dude.” Anon cut him off waving his hand, “Moms. Moms are where it’s at. You know they will be horny as all hell — a total freak in the sheets, right? Plus they got those massive teats you just want to suck on all goddamn day… like this one, see?”

He flipped open to another picture, a grey-coated mare with a purple and white mane on her back, her hips splayed open. Her two, sizable belly-breasts resting comfortably atop a rather hardcore shot of her marehood, all underlined by yet another obnoxious tagline — This mother’s oven has popped out royalty, and now she wants to cook dessert!

“I mean, I used to think that it was pretty fuckin’ gross that your pony-tits were on your stomach. Boobs belong up here-” The human lifted both his hands to his upper chest, “But hell if I wouldn’t mind sucking on those beautiful motherudders.”

“Ok, Ok. That’s enough now, shut it.” Crunch groaned, reaching forward to try to confiscate the magazine.

The human jerked it away, twisting and dodging the goon. “Hey, what the hell man!? Don’t take this from me. It’s my lifeline! This is like, the first non-crappy thing I’ve seen since I’ve come to your dumb horse-planet! I feel like I actually, finally have a purpose! To fuck MILFs!”

Crunch looked over at his partner, eyebrow raised.

Trunch grinned back at him. “I guess the stuff works.”

“Yeah, but what do we do about him now?”

Trunch shrugged, “Eh, let him go crazy with the oh, what the buck!” Trunch suddenly began to swear, flinching and turning his head away.

Bon Bon saw that the human had dropped his pants, and had pulled out his… stallionhood.

“What? I can’t just put up with this smorgasbord without some relief!” The human laughed, taking his phallus into his hands and looking at his magazine… as he began to… pleasure himself.

Bon Bon’s eyes briefly flashed over the strange human penis. A rosy pink. Smaller than the average stallion, by far. Less thick too. Honestly? Kind of cute, in a pathetic, naked mole-rat kind of way.

And still a gross display of masculinity… it didn’t matter what species it was attached to — a dick was ick.

But Bon Bon wasn’t tunnel-visioned, she had no problem keeping the whole scene in her vision at once, not flinching nor focusing… unlike the two bruisers.

“What the BUCK.”

“PUT THAT SHIT AWAY YOU LITTLE FREAK!”

Both Crunch and Trunch were shielding their eyes, looking away from the self-pleasuring human toward the ground, their hooves blocking out any chance for them to see the pink-sausage… and any part of the room to boot.

This was it! Her chance!

Bon Bon found that her hooves were moving under her before the thought had even finished forming. Like a Saddle Arabian zephyr, she glided from her dark hiding spot, picking up speed as she crossed the room in two simple trots.

The two bruisers were still stuck in their paroxysm of machismo, both still turned away from her as they attempted to avoid catching an eyeful of the human’s debauched acts.

Her rubber-soled horseshoes barely made any noise on the ground as she reached forward, skillfully pushing the unlocked cell door open just in time to let her slip through at speed. All of her movements were pure instinct now — her hoof fell just inches from the prostrate Lyra’s head, as she reached her top speed, a sprinting gallop.

The door creaked behind her, a rusty squeak of the hinges as it continued swinging open from her passage. She could see the two goons’ heads beginning to slowly turn toward the sound, their hooves starting to drop as they did, uncovering their eyes.

It would be too late, too slow. Their reactions would not come in time.

Bon Bon could already feel everything around her moving in slow motion, the highly trained aspects of her mind clicking into place without her conscious overlordship — micro-decisions about where to place a hoof, or how hard to spring all happening instantly, instinctively.

She launched from her full sprint, pushing off hard with her hind legs in one final spring, twisting in the air as she did to bring those devastatingly hard hind-hoofs forward in a flashing scissor-kick.

One hoof for the pegasus, one for the earth-pony.

Both aimed at the base of their skulls, a soft area that would result in either a full knockout, or a stunning explosion of pain that would give her more than enough time to follow-up with a second strike or submission hold.

She was flying through the air now, fully four-feet off the ground, her instincts subtly guiding each hind-hoof toward their targets as her double kick came closer to her opponents’ heads. Both were only just seeing her for the first time out of the corners of their eyes — a perfect surprise assault.

Time slowed, even further, as her hooves came closer and closer to them.

It was exhilarating, like moving through temporal-quicksand. Agonizingly approaching. Each instant slowing even further. Until.

It stopped entirely.

SOMETHING IS WRONG!

Bon Bon felt the flood of adrenaline crash away, suddenly replaced by a gut-churning sense of dread. She was frozen in time! But her mind was still functioning! Still forming conscious thoughts!

This wasn’t some next-level mastery of the martial arts — this was magic!

“Wooooooooo….” A voice from behind her whistled, followed by a slow clap of two hooves. “That was impressive. Did you see that Dusk Wing? She was about to knock our boys out entirely!”

Bon Bon wanted to gasp, to whirl on the new sound, to do… anything! But she was trapped in mid-air, her hooves agonizingly close to landing on the frozen bruisers.

“Yeah yeah, I sees it boss,” A nasally voice grunted. “Ain’t really fair-play sneakin’ like that. Oughta leave the sneaky stuff to us bats; she could put us outta our jobs.”

“No, if anypony is going to lose their jobs it would be these two.” The voice was getting closer, hoofsteps approaching from behind, “If I hadn’t shown up just when I did they’d be out cold. Arguing over smut with the cell-door unlocked like a couple of rookies right off the street.”

“Eh, you stallions all end up thinkin’ with your other heads. No offense, boss.”

“Well, let’s just see what we have here.” The pony talking casually walked into her field of view, a white-coated unicorn with a dark black mane grinned at her. Whoever he was, his horn was crackling with intense red energy, thrumming with the sheer power of the thaumic field he was currently accessing. “Well well well, looks like some kind of black-op from the Royals themselves.”

“Black-op?” Another head peered into Bon Bon’s frozen field of vision, this time a diminutive purple-maned, dark-furred thestral teenager. “Just looks like a dumb mare to me.”

The unicorn’s piercing blue eyes flashed viciously at Bon Bon. “No no, see the sneaking suit? The combat-webbing? The tactical saddlebags? I’ve got a gut feeling that this might be an actual secret-agent of some type, unlike the fake one we nabbed over there.” The unicorn nodded off toward the direction of Lyra, as he trotted around Bon Bon. “I wonder, is she military? Intelligence agency? Maybe one of that weird monster squad? I can’t imagine why the cops would send in a lone agent instead of a whole assault force.”

Because I’m a bucking idiot, that’s why! Bon Bon’s thoughts screamed behind her head.

“No matter, start taking her things off, Dusk. I can keep this time field up all day. Make sure you get everything. These secret-squirrely types can be tricky.”

Bon Bon felt the bat-mare starting to unhook the various buckles and straps that adorned her, pulling off her various tactical implements one by one.

“I’m sure she’s very confused right about now.” The unicorn grinned, stepping back in front of her. He bobbed his head with a little bow. “My name’s Quantum Freeze, and I have the very unique special ability to be able to cast and control time-stasis magic. The first unicorn since Starswirl himself, they say!”

Bon Bon’s eyes couldn’t follow him exactly, frozen as they were in place. The unicorn moved slightly forward and back, trying to get right into her focal plane.

“There, I think that’s about right. Done this a few times now. Whole area within about 30-yards is in complete stasis, except for whomever I choose to be free from my enchantment. Quite a useful spell for a Canterlot Academy reject don’t you think?” He chuckled to himself, pleased. “I may not have had the bits to attend that snooty college, but after a few months using this spell for unsolvable break and enter robberies in Manehattan… why the hay would I go to such a stodgy place of higher education?”

Bon Bon couldn’t do anything more than quiver in place, completely neutralized.

“Well, now I’ve finally got my chance. My real chance. With the haul from this job, I can go legit — taking a bit of the funding from the bosses in Manehattan to start my own business… in anything I want!” The unicorn reached into the still frozen Trunch’s saddlebag and lovingly looked at one of the bottles of the potent addiction-juice. “Foods, consumer goods, technology, hell… even media! I can put every one of my competitors down in the dust with just a bit of clever infusion of this stuff.”

“All clear boss… I checked her mane and tail too… no super-spy gadgets.”

The unicorn looked away from Bon Bon, toward the nasally bat voice speaking behind her, “Did you check inside her, like I asked?”

“Seriously? I thought you were joking.”

“No. I wasn’t. For some of the things I have planned for this one, we need to make sure she’s clean.”

“I love it when you talk dirty, boss.” The thestral chittered with glee.

Turning back to look at Bon Bon, he went on, “That bright future… all those dreams and potential and money… it all depends on me getting out of this little trap I’ve found myself in.” He reached forward patting Bon Bon on the head derisively. “I’m under no illusions that you’ve probably got this whole place surrounded — to be honest, after seeing the quality of whoever the hay this pony is over here,” he gestured to Lyra, “I thought I had much more time to make my next move and get out of this provincial town… good little trap you laid, there.”

“Boss, uh, she’s kind of in a weird ‘flying-kick’ sort of pose… it ain’t exactly easy to-”

“So now, Miss Secret Agent, I think the only way out is if I can somehow convince you to tell your authorities that I’ve turned… and that I’m one of your moles now.” The unicorn went on, ignoring his thestral henchmare, “But I’m no fool, I know just how impossible getting an elite agent to turn will be, especially with such a short amount of time. I’m going to have to make a call to my informants in Canterlot to find out everything I can about you. Even then, I don’t think it’s gonna be possible to break you...”

He held up the liquid bottle in his hooves, and his smile grew viciously cruel.

“...without assistance.”

And then his horn crackled again, and Bon Bon’s vision flashed to a white nothingness.

Author's Note

Author’s Note: Ahh the dynamic entry scene! Me and Cloppy went back and forth on this one. I do like how it all turned out after the revision. Basically, I just wanted Bon Bon to have something happen to justify everything going to hell for her. Mistakes happen, that’s why pencils have erasers. It’s also why stallions have cocks — to correct those mistakes.

What happened to Lyra and Bon Bon? Tune in next time for the final installment of Mission Failed which I suspect will literally be called “Mission Failed Successfully” And if it isn’t, I’ll be mighty disappointed!

Thanks to Cloppy for inviting me to share my thoughts on his work and pitch in where I can. Even if we aren’t much alike in terms of what we find sexy, I still find your work valuable and worthy of the time put in to create it.

As for what comes next… Well, it’s going to take a bit of time for me to write but I have plans for two of the characters in this story going forward that will see them fall in love. Aww…

Dictated not read,

AJ Aficionado, Editor