A.M.I.C.A. Task Force F-2

It was a bright spring day in Ponyville. Winter Wrap-Up had only happened last week, so the air was still fresh, and only just chilly enough to warrant a jacket. Everyone was going about their business as usual, and nothing of import or note had happened for the last few days. At least, that was what Bullseye had been told. In reality, he was so far underground that it wouldn't matter if a class five shitstorm was raging in Ponyville. Bullseye would have been none the wiser, at least until the brass ordered him to go out and stop it with nothing but a rock and a toy train. Bullseye sighed and rolled his eyes before going back to cleaning and polishing his markspony rifle, his pride and joy, and one of the few things that brought him happiness in the endless psychological fuck up that was Task Force F-2.

Bullseye set the barrel of his rifle down gently on the desk, and began sensually massaging it with its favourite oils. He had gotten into the habit of speaking with his rifle and treating it like a mare after his first few missions. At first the others had called him crazy for talking to a gun, but he had lived up to his name, and saved quite a few lives by making difficult shots, so now they afforded him a touch of respect, and mostly ignored his unorthodox behavior. Bullseye finished his cleaning, and began reassembling his little beauty, only to be interrupted as a giant blue earth pony came waltzing into his little private time, his steps vibrating the ground like the giant he was.

"A bit busy right now Bear. What do you want?" Bullseye asked, annoyed that the giant mass of pony had picked now to start bugging him. Bullseye knew him, he was probably the closest thing he had to a friend in Task Force F-2. His name was Crushing Blow, but since Crushing made him sound like an asshole, and Agent Blow made him sound... you know, people had started calling him Bear. The name was certainly appropriate in this case.

"Did you here the news?" Bear said in his usual oafish and stupid sounding tone.

"What news?" Bullseye asked quizzically. Being almost interested in the fact that there was news besides someone else dying. Which pretty much everyone new about all the time.

"The new recruits are coming in today." He said and grinned stupidly. Seeming a little too excited for what the actual situation warranted.

"What? That's what you interrupted me for? To tell me we were getting a new shipment of eulogy worthy meat? Look, I know things are slow lately with us not being sent to our horrible demises at the hands of things from our nightmares, but why the hell is this now news?" Bullseye leaned his head forward and spoke directly into Bear's face. "They're FNG's Bear. That's fuckin' new guys if you don't remember. They come here every month. We always have fuckin' new guys, because this task force always needs fuckin' new guys, because the old fuckin' new guys get turned into unrecognizable chunks of stuff. Hell, I've heard casket-carriers say you can hear 'em sloshing around sometimes. I know there are going to be fuckin' new guys. It's almost like menstruation for this task force, every 28 to 31 days, Fuckin' new guys."

"Alright alright, calm down, you're liable to give yourself a heart attack if you keep ranting."

"Right. Sorry. I just, I don't like having to deal with new people. Every time I speak to one of the newbies, I get a pang of conscience. Then they die, someway or another. I'm always surprised too. Like I thought this brace of boots was gonna do better than the last one. Then, by the end of the month, three fourths of them are dead. I wish there was a way to teach them what it was like here, and how to survive, but you just can't teach luck."

"That's really deep man. I told Shadow, and he just sighed and said "Well, better iron my dress clothes. Again." He didn't seem to care much for their actual lives." Said Bear meaningfully.

"That's because he's Shadow. We're talking about the guy who killed a filly because it had anomalous properties." Deadpanned Bullseye.

"Be fair now. It did use its telepathy to explode the brains of one of the guys in our squad." Said Bear.

"He cut her throat with a butter knife while the family watched." Bullseye again said in a flat tone.

"Yeah. That was pretty fucked up." Sighed Bear.

"At least we were able to make them forget afterwards." Bullseye said unhelpfully.

"Do you know what amnesiacs do?" Asked Bear in a 'you dumbass' tone.

"Yeah. They make you forget about what happened." Bullseye replied as if the answer was  obvious.

"No, they push the memories into unused parts of your brain. Haven't you ever wondered why you have nightmares about being raped by a mass of tentacles?"

"Who told you about that? Wait, you're not saying..." Bullseye's eyes shrank to dots and he began shaking uncontrollably at the implications of the statement Bear had just made.

"I should probably go." With that, Bear quickly excused himself and trotted quickly away. Leaving a wide eyed and shaking Bullseye to contemplate what he had just heard.

On his way to collect the money Shadow owed him, Bear happened to look over, and saw that the fresh copy paper soldiers had, in fact, arrived. Bear briefly thought about saying hello, but then shook his head. It wasn't worth it to say hi to something that would probably be dead in the next thirty days, so Bear continued onward to Shadow's quarters.

Bear finally reached Shadow's quarters, pressed the call button. He knew better than to barge in uninvited. Especially after what had happened to the last pony that tried. It had taken hours to clean up the mess. A green light lit up on the pad, signalling for his entry.

The door opened, the lights in the room were off, the only light was from the hallway. Combined with the constant shiik shiik of a whetstone being dragged across the blade of a knife, it was easily the fifth eeriest thing that Bear had born witness to in his two years in Dirty Deeds.

"Please. Come in. I don't bite." A dark and gravelly voice said quietly from within the room.

"Hello Shadow. Getting in touch with your namesake I see." Bear may have looked stupid, but he knew how to play it cool.

"Did you do what I asked yet?" Shadow asked blankly.

"Yep. Gave him drugs, induced nightmares, inferred that he was raped by a giant tentacle monster." Bear replied simply.

Shadow stepped into the light coming from the doorway, inching ever closer to Bear.

"You did what?" Shadow asked almost angrily. In a tone that could be considered a feral growl.

"I did some stuff to him to..."

"You took me literally when I said mindfuck him didn't you?" Shadow said simply, his tone of voice changing almost instantly.

"I guess so." Bear said nervously.

Shadow looked at him seriously for a few more seconds before the facade broke and Shadow burst into laughing. "You made him think he got tentacle fucked by a monster! Bwahahahahah" Shadow actually rolled on the floor laughing for a few seconds before suddenly jumping back up. "That reminds me! Here, fifty bits like I promised." Shadow said as he threw a bag of money to Bear.

"Thanks." Bear said before he picked up the bag and placed it in the small saddle bag pockets he carried with him.

Sure, now get out. I have a lot of blades to go through." Shadow said as he turned and walked back into the... well... shadows. The resuming of the sound of somepony sharpening a blade signaled to Bear that it was time to leave. So he nodded, and let himself out.

Bear just had one last thing on his list now.He had to go get his winnings from the pool. Lucky Shot had lived up to his name, and actually survived the month. Now it was time to get his money from Westbound. Dumb fuck had bet that Singing Lark would make it. Big mistake. The poor bastard had been caught in an acid spray from a giant mutated beetle. His remains had to be buried in a magically enhanced jar. At least they only needed one pony to carry the coffin. Some would consider it immoral, but they weren't here to try it, so they could put it in their tailholes for all Bear cared.

Bear found West sitting in the mess hall chatting it up with one of last month's newbies. What was her name again? Sakura? Yeah, that sounded right. Almost everyone had bet she would be dead in the first week. Bear had stayed away from that one, but he heard that Diablo was due to make a killing (so to speak) when he came to collect. Looking back, perhaps it was because she was a smaller target that she had survived? Then again, Bear was half again as tall as most of the ponies in F-2, and he had been around for 2 years. Longer than almost 80% of the task force.

Bear walked up to the bench the two were sitting at, and went straight for the throat of the subject.

"I'm here for my money West." Bear said threateningly. It was always good to seem imposing for the new bloods, they tended to get uppity after their first month. Then they got overconfident, and overconfident meant a very short and horrible lifespan.

"What money?" West feigned ignorance. It was his way.

"You owe me 50 bits for the bet." Bear said simply. He would get rough if he had to, but West usually broke when faced with 300 pounds of muscled pony. At least in Bear's experience.

"Oh right. That money. I just happen to have it for you right here." West said as he took out a coincidentally exact number of bits he had in a small sack.

"Very good West. It's good to see you're a man of your word." Bear said smugly as he cantered slowly back to his quarters. Leaving West still sitting with Sakura.

"What did he mean by bets?" Sakura asked with a puzzled look on her face.

"Oh! I forgot! The new guys arrived today, so that means you survived your first menstruation period in Dirty Deeds!"

"I am quite offended by your references to natural female functions."

"Get used to it lady, it only gets worse from here. Anyway, it's time to introduce you to the pool. You see, here at Dirty Deeds, we go through new bloods like the apple family goes through apples. So somebody a while back who is now dead said 'why not make a bit of profit off the newbs?' So ever since before any of the Agents who are here were here, ponies have been placing bets on who would make it through the first month and who would end up getting splattered like jelly on bread."

"That sounds horrible! Did you bet on me?"

"No. I left you alone."

"Why? Was I not good enough for you?"

"No, I didn't have the bits to wager on all the rooks."

"You sick son of a bitch."

"Hey! My mom was whore! Not a bitch! Anyway, I made a killing when that guy Flutterguy died. I was actually with him on that mission, the dumbass stopped to look at this bunny thing, and it bit his trachea clean out of his neck. Fucking crazy."

"You are the sickest thing I have ever spoken to in my entire life. How do I get in on this?"

"What?"

"How do I get in the bets? If there's money, I want it."

"Well, now that you've been around for a month, you can bet along with the rest of us. Just meet in the mess hall at nine PM.

"Nice. I should probably go though." Sakura got up and took her leave. Westbound hung around for a few more minutes before going off to collect his own debts. On his way however, he ran into one of the new bloods for this month. An orange earth pony with a cropped blonde mane. Westbound was feeling particularly friendly at that moment, and decided to try to carry on a short conversation with one of the future meat puppets.

"Hello." West said cordially.

"Hey." The earth pony said as he continued walking past Westbound to continue down the hallway. And just like that, West was shot down by the new guy. West shrugged and figured it was just as well. He'd be betting against that one for sure.

Down the hall, June Lynch continued trotting towards commander Summer's office. He had been personally requested for this task force, and it seemed he would finally have his answers now. Lynch finally reached the door a few minutes of walking later. He pressed the call button and waited. After about a minute, he was finally admitted in.

The interior of the office was rather straightforward, filing cabinets, a desk, chairs; the difference was the pony sitting behind the desk. Commander Summers was quite possibly the greatest bear of a pegasus that June had ever seen. He was even larger than Granite, and Granite was no slouch of a pony. Lynch stood at attention and saluted his commander, as was his right. Summers looked Lynch over up and down for a second before gesturing for him to sit down. Lynch took his seat nervously, feeling a sweat coming on.

Summers ran a hoof through his fiery orange hair, and Lynch could see the muscle working under the facade of his ocean colored coat. When Summers finally spoke, it was with an almost paternal tone. It was almost like Lynch was speaking to his father again, only his father was dead, which lessened the impact just a bit.

"How are the scars?" Lynch had survived the Thunderhead crash yes, but he had been impaled by a shard of metal, cut by shrapnel, and gotten second degree burns from sliding across the ground when he was thrown clear on impact. Also broken bones, lots and lots of broken bones. The doctors had still said he was lucky. Crazy bastards. Winning the lottery is lucky, not being turned into almost unrecognizable meat instead of being touched by the sweet merciful embrace of death.

"Better. They don't open when my pulse goes up anymore, and I'll have full motor control in the next two weeks."

"That's good. Of course, you're not here to discuss medical information. I would wager you'd like to know why I wished to speak with you. Would you not?"

"Actually, I'd like to know why I was transferred here in the first place." Lynch said matter-of-factly.

"Ah. Well, you see,I've commanded this task force for 10 years, and I've seen my men die like cattle. I have learned over the years that it's not as much about skill or finesse in this task force, as it is about luck. Chance, that most important of variables. I've seen skilled agents with years of experience go out with foal faced recruits, and you know who came back?"

"The recruit, sir?" Lynch responded hesitantly.

"That's right. The rookie came back. Luck favored that boy that day. He's still here as I recall. He's managed to survive everything that's been thrown at him."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"I need lucky recruits. You, the pilot, and the others, survived a Thunderhead crash after being attacked by a dragon. It sounds to me like you've got angels watching out for you."

"Thank you sir." Lynch smiled at the praise.

"Now, on to the reason I called you here in the first place." Lynch sat up even straighter than before, ready to hear the reason he had been summoned to the commander himself.

"Your one of the most skilled operators I have ever laid eyes on, your record speaks for itself, but I would like to remind you that you are not in magical pony land anymore. You are in Task Force Dirty Deeds now, you're going to see things that would make normal ponies shit themselves a hundred times over. Your teammates are going to die before your eyes, but you have to carry on. Don't hesitate, don't seize up, and try not to die. That's an order. Dismissed."

"Yes sir!" Lynch stood up and saluted before walking out the door. As soon as he got out, he sighed heavily. He had been expecting something important, like a special mission or some such shit. Instead he got a fucked up pep talk. He just hoped that there was a bar in this shit of a base.