“So what's your name?” Twilight asks the Khan as they draw onwards through the desert, the engine of the skiff sputtering from time to time. After their surprise encounter with the raiders no one further troubles them, although with the sun rising steadily higher in the azure sky the raiders would be less likely to make a repeat appearance as the temperatures start to soar.

“Faisal, Faisal Ad-Sarif” The Legionnaire, Faisal, replies as he gazes out across the desert. “I've only been in the Legion for about a year or two now, it's... not like I imagined” A chuckle drifts out from behind his face-wrap. Faisal flicks his goggles up, to reveal two bright greenish-golden eyes with thin black slits for pupils.
“Much better” he sighs contentedly, and Twilight notes the other two Legionnaires throwing glances at each other and muttering softly.
“So Princess, as I was saying-”

“Can it Squirt! We're nearly there.” The Caporal-Chef barks, glaring out into the desert morning. As they crest a series of dunes Twilight notices a set of buildings built upon a rocky outcrop in the sand barely visible in the wavering heat haze, the buildings grow steadily larger until a walled compound becomes visible, thrusting itself up out of the desert to gaze defiantly at its surroundings.

The compound is fairly large, consisting of several three storey brick buildings arranged into four blocks, encircled by a thick adobe wall topped by a crenellated walkway. Twilight cannot see any anti aircraft guns although she can see quite a few tents and a quick inquisitive prod with her magic reveals five combat walkers and several field guns along with a couple of self propelled cannon. As the skiff draws closer she can see soldiers patrolling and more running this way and that. Even from here, she can hear the dulcet tones of drill sergeants bellowing orders or cadences as they thrash their troops into something resembling order, along with the thunder of hundreds of pairs of steel shod boots.
“Welcome to The Pit, Princess, this is the home of the Second Regiment of the Legion d'etrangers.”

As they draw closer to the base Twilight notices three blocks of soldiers forming up upon the parade square, along with several banner carriers clustered off to the right and a pair of musicians gathered over to the left playing the Equestrian Imperial Anthem on the fife and drums. The skiff slowly comes in for landing in the middle of the parade square and Twilight rises to her feet biting her lip nervously. She's never been much good at ceremony or pomp and circumstance, and even though this is just a Legion fort in the middle of nowhere she can still feel eyes upon her as she shields her eyes with one hand to survey the scene.

Before her are three platoons... wait, is it a hundred men to a platoon or a company? Twilight asks herself, Luna's long forgotten lectures on military history itching at the back of her mind. There are well over a hundred soldiers in the square however, all stood perfectly still in their khaki battle dress uniforms and pith helmets or peaked caps, their rifles gripped tight in front of them. Each one has their face covered by a tan scarf and goggles of one kind or another. The only identifying marks upon each man or woman are the black slashes of rank upon their arms and the regimental insignia.

At the head of the group stands the tallest person Twilight has ever seen. He is dressed in tan battledress like the rest of them with a peaked cap perched upon his head, however unlike the other Legionnaires his face is uncovered to reveal four icy blue eyes that regard Twilight the same way one might regard a particularly bothersome insect. His thin lipped mouth is curled upwards in a smile that looks almost like a grimace and his nostrils flare slightly.
“Princess Sparkle, I was told to expect you.” He says, striding towards Twilight and bowing his head.

Twilight politely nods in reply, her guts churning as the huge soldier straightens up. Up close, he is even more intimidating. Twilight has met tall Equestrians before, her friend Applejack's brother, “Big MacIntosh” is a towering giant of a man. He is built like a brick outhouse with powerful hands and a mop of rusty hair and the ruddy complexion of a man who has worked outdoors his whole life. With his deep rolling accent and his gentle ways, he is considered a highly eligible bachelor by most of the female population of Ponyville. Yet even Big-Mac would probably be cowed by this man.

He is tall, at least seven foot, with a barrel like chest, flat belly and massive, shovel-like hands. His skin is unnaturally white, certainly Twilight would have expected a being that has spent all his time out in the sun to be somewhat tanned, however the man before her is still as white as a piece of sun-bleached bone.
“Colonel Vasiliy Alexyvich Zaranov at your service.”
That explains that then.
Zaranov is a Val'.

Twilight has never met a Valorossiyan before, though she has read plenty about them in books. Their reputation for extreme violence is well documented, as is their strange tribal culture. For all that, Twilight has never even seen a picture of one, and now one stands before her in his officer's working uniform smiling down at her.

Zaranov salutes her, and Twilight nervously lifts her hand to return the salute, nervously copying the way she saw her brother salute as an officer Cadet, and later as captain of the guard. The Val's smirk grows wider and he shakes his head slightly and she drops her hand.
“Good effort though ma'am,” he mutters, sounding good humoured. “Sometime I shall have to teach you to salute properly, but there are more serious matters to take care of today.”

He then gestures, turning to the arrayed soldiers before him.
“Soldiers of the Second Regiment, Legion D'Etrangers, I bring before you her Royal Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

The crash of steel shod boots against the parade square sounds like the short, sharp report of a firing squad as in perfectly synchronised movements, the soldiers bring their rifles back to sloped arms, their weapons resting upon their shoulders. Hundreds of masked faces and goggled eyes stare back at her. Each is one expressionless, unreadable. All these soldiers stand before her, ready to die in her defence. Twilight has never felt quite so small in all her life, quite so overburdened by the weight of her power. At her command, these soldiers could march upon Tarhen and lay siege to it.

“Princess Sparkle, I present to you the Third, Second, and Fifth Compagnie of the Second Regiment , some of the finest soldiers in the Empire.” Twilight follows him towards the soldiers arrayed before her and begins her inspection. Twilight's not exactly sure what she's looking for, yet she's impressed in spite of herself. Even she has to admit that these soldiers are well disciplined. The sun has risen fully and the heat is quickly becoming oppressive even in her lightweight robes. How these soldiers must feel, wrapped up tight in their masks and uniforms, with rifles and equipment hanging off them... yet none of them move a muscle, each one stands perfectly straight. Twilight even wonders for a second if Zaranov has brought a few hundred statues of Legionnaires in to fill the gaps.

After half an hour, Zaranov gestures her over to the corner of the parade square, whilst the NCOs start their own inspections and briefings.

“Princess, might I ask a small boon of you?” Zaranov asks softly, his Equestrian flawless.

“Of course” Twilight replies, trying to keep herself from wiping the sweat from her cheek. Zaranov looks perfectly comfortable in his uniform and even Diplomatic Incident doesn't look like he's suffering in his golden waistcoat and dicky bow, but then that bastard is sitting in the shade. Twilight will be damned if she doesn't grin and bear it. She is supposed to set a good example to the men under her command after all.

“I have soldiers in the base infirmary from the Ninth Compagnie, from the Embassy Incident.” He says, and Twilight's mouth drops open in shock. She had assumed the Ninth had been wiped out, save the lucky few that Princess Luna pulled away in the Zam Tarkaz. Certainly the Princesses had done nothing to contradict that notion.

“Several of them are due for honors and it would mean a great deal to me if you were the one to-”

“Of course I will Mon Colonel,” Twilight cuts him off “Field Marshal Luna has spoken highly of the combat performance of the Ninth and I would be honored to meet them.”

“Oh she has?” Zaranov asks, his tone darkening “I would not go mentioning that too loudly, Field Marshal Luna is not held in the highest regard here.” His tone takes on a faintly acidic note. “I will tell you all about it in the Officer's Mess, let me just dismiss the men.”

With that, he turns on his heel and marches out to the front of the ranks and starts to bellow at his soldiers, who wheel as one and fall out, turning on their heels and stepping out of formation, before dispersing to their duties. Twilight watches them go for a moment, before turning back to Zaranov. The parade square has emptied very quickly indeed, with soldiers anxious to be getting on with their jobs or just anxious to be out of the brutal crushing weight of the sun.
“So what's the issue with the Field Marshal?”

“When we were at the Embassy... the Field Marshal got quite a lot of my men killed because she put too much faith in her own diplomatic skill.” Zaranov says bitterly.

“You mean when she refused to let your soldiers shoot the crowd down” Twilight says flatly and Zaranov nods shortly. “Mon Colonel, that would have been provocation for outright war with the Khanate.” Twilight replies, aghast.

“Yet here we stand, upon the brink of outright war with the Khanate anyway,” He responds “You need to take a firm hand with these people, to show them that you're not playing games. Ultimately, her order to hold fire lead to a lot of my men getting wounded or killed needlessly.”

Twilight glances nervously up, wondering what an Equestrian commander would say in a similar situation. She knows she should really stick up for her co-ruler at this point, that if Luna was confronted by someone with an issue about school mismanagement then Luna would give that person short shrift in a rather brutal fashion. The difference being that nobody died as a result of school mismanagement, poisonings from school-dinners notwithstanding.

“I shall take your concerns to the Princess, and she will address them in due course.” Twilight says after a moment “I can't really comment because-”

“-The Princess has been very busy since taking up her robes” Diplomatic Incident interjects “She has been taking on work with the ministry of education, I hardly think you can expect her knowledge of military affairs to be complete.”

Zaranov turns to look at Diplomatic Incident.
“So, you're the pencil neck I was told to expect,” He says softly “I can't say I was expecting much but this is pushing it.”

Diplomatic Incident shrugs, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.
“Diplomatic Incident at your service.”

“I should hope not, otherwise I would be waiting half the night to get served.” Diplomatic Incident doesn't say anything to this, instead preferring to make a show of adjusting his pocket watch, the sun flashing off the golden lid, something he normally does whenever someone makes a disparaging remark. Zaranov however is unmoved by whatever he sees.
“So they've given me a fat ghost as well. This is brilliant, just brilliant.”

He then turns and starts walking towards one of the low buildings built into the fortress wall. Twilight follows after him, intending to get some answers. She needs to know where she's billeted for one thing, and she needs to know when he wants her to present the medals. Twilight has always hated medal ceremonies. She's sat in on them many times with Princess Celestia, and she's always hated seeing the smugness of some of the petty lordlings involved, some of whom looked too corpulent for the bravery under fire awards they were being handed. However as they approach the low building Twilight realizes that these people have actually earned their awards.

Twelve hours later, after a day spent touring most of the fort, Twilight finds herself back where they began as the sun starts to go down. Twilight is exhausted, however there’s no stopping quite yet.
“Right Princess, before we turn in I need to issue you a weapon and make sure you know how to use one.” Twilight's mouth drops open and her hand goes down to the Luger stuffed into her belt. She pulls it out, feeling the weight of the weapon in her hands.

“I’ve got one already, I was given this pistol by Field Marshal Luna” She says quietly. Zaranov holds his hand out and Twilight hands him the pistol without question. Zaranov looks down at the pistol and then shakes his head and stuffs it into his own belt to Twilight's horror.

“You'll thank me later Princess” he replies as they reach the building, and Twilight notices the heavy steel door and the thick grating upon the windows, along with the fact that this is one of the few buildings made of cement. All the rest are made of brick and mortar, or else adobe in the case of some of the older buildings.

Zaranov hammers upon the door, which opens to reveal an elderly woman with wrinkled, leathery skin and a faded pink floral dress that is spattered with grease and carbon and her hands are likewise coated in weapon lubricant. Her skin has the faint yellowish tinge of someone who has worked with cordite for a very long time, and its bitter odour hangs upon the woman. Her iron grey hair is tied back into a severe looking bun and it is likewise liberally streaked with lubricant and carbon. She looks almost as ancient as Granny Smith back in Ponyville, though her eyes are bloodshot and slitted from a life spent in the sun. Her mouth quirks up into a warm motherly smile as she notices Twilight.

“Your Highness, meet Madam Locke, our chief gunsmith.” Zaranov says and the old woman steps forward and curtsies delicately, before reaching forward and grabbing Twilight's hand in a surprisingly powerful shake.

“Your majesty, welcome to the fortress, can I get you anything? Tea or perhaps a biscuit. We’re all out of the weevil-less ones though.”

Twilight raises an eyebrow, unable to keep a smile from forming upon her face.
“Madam Locke is also our requisitions officer and quartermaster, she's in charge of issuing equipment and getting hold of various supplies for us.” Zaranov explains, before turning to Madam Locke. “Her highness will be requiring armament, see that she gets a good rifle, a shotgun and a decent pistol.”

Madam Locke sucks her teeth for a second and looks Twilight up and down appraisingly and Twilight is reminded for a few seconds of the royal dress-maker, before her smile widens.

“Of course, do come in dearie” she beckons and Twilight follows Madam Locke through the enterance and into the armoury. Twilight's not really sure what she's expecting, perhaps a dimly lit cavern filled with weapons and uniforms all piled haphazardly on top of each other in a corner, and a collection of rusty helmets piled up in another.

Instead, she crosses the threshold and finds a doormat laid out on the doorstep, and a little knitted cross-stitch circle advising anyone entering the armoury to wipe their boots before they come in. Twilight wipes her boots, before stepping through the second armoured doorway into a well lit room stacked high with weapons.

Racks stretch from floor to ceiling, loaded with weapons of all shapes sizes and descriptions. Bolt action rifles, pistols and even precision rifles are all sitting neatly upon their shelves, organized by type and serial number. A desk sits in one corner with a bright copper boiler gently bubbling away, along with several floral patterned china mugs hanging upon the wall. Twilight gingerly steps across the threshold into the room staring in wonder as she follows Locke over to the desk. She can hear someone else working in the armoury, the gentle click click of a torsion wrench drifts through the air along with the soft sound of a woman humming to herself. The armoury is surprisingly large, Twilight can see several racks of weapons arranged like bookshelves in neat serried ranks along with passageways that lead to who knows where. Twilight is reminded more of a library than an arsenal and she bites her lip as memories of Ponyville and the good times she had there dance tantalizingly at the edge of her memory.

She watches Locke bustling around the library, muttering to herself “So do you have any particular preference your highness? I have, for your perusal, Legion standard issue, Khanate standard issue along with cavalry carbines and airborne variants, you name it.”

Twilight blinks, unsure “Umm... I have no idea really, I don't know the first thing about guns.”

“These are not guns,” Locke replies snippily “A gun is something you fire from a ship or from a carriage, you call these firearms, or else weapons.”

Twilight nods nervously as Locke smiles sweetly, then pulls something off of a rack. The weapon in question is a long rifle, similar to one that Twilight saw her brother using in the Guard, although this one is noticeably shorter.

“This is a En-Kar 72 .303 rifle, standard issue for soldiers who're working in tight quarters like off the deck of an airship or from a Walker.” Locke explains, pointing out features on the rifle “As you can see here, we have a ten round magazine and an enclosed blade foresight to protect the blade from being snapped off in combat, you then adjust the sight by sliding this back and forth” She explains, clicking the rear sight through the various settings.

“You're able to shoot out to six to eight hundred metres on a good day with this rifle but you won't hit anything at that range, you certainly won't put them down, so ideal engagement range is inside of three to four hundred metres, if they’re any closer then one shot will put them down easily enough.”

Locke offers Twilight the rifle, and she silently takes it, feeling the weight of the weapon. It feels surprisingly weighty and heavy. Twilight had watched Locke move the weapon around like it weighed next to nothing yet in her hands, the weapon feels bulky. Twilight can feel the weight of the weapon pressing down upon her shoulders, the weight of the responsibility in her hands and she suddenly understands why Locke insists these weapons are referred to as weapons.

They are for killing and maiming people rather than bombing structures or ripping holes in ships. When she takes aim down the sight of this weapon she will hold the life of another in her hands, with half a pound of pressure separating life from death. Twilight shivers slightly, even though it is blisteringly hot inside the armoury.

The shotgun and the pistol are next, the shotgun being a more ornate weapon that had apparently been confiscated from a Khanate arms dealer. A double barrelled twin trigger breech loading shotgun that breaks open before the stock to slide two shells into the chambers. The weapon is engraved with elaborate hunting scenes of various wildfowl and deer, and as Twilight runs her fingers over the elaborate tracery and engravings, Locke continues explaining the provenance of the weapon.

'Since you may need to go hunting I thought I'd give you this rather than one of our ugly pump-actions your highness, it's a custom piece, far too good for the idiot who our boys stole it from," Lock sniffs as she turns the weapon over in her hands so Twilight can see the maker's markings. Twilight winces, she knows nothing about weapons and even she knows that Belle and Smythe are a big deal. Premier gunsmiths to the Canterlot Elite with a price tag to match.

"It's enchanted," Locke says quietly, an almost reverent tone entering her voice "The weapon's breech and barrel are made of a magical alloy that allows it to expand or contract to fit whatever round you may like to put through it. It's smoothbore obviously so don't go shoving rifle rounds down the spout or you'll break it." Locke turns the weapon over once more, looking it up and down, before she turns and hands the weapon to Twilight

Twilight whistles softly as she hefts the shotgun. It feels lighter than the rifle but she can still feel a bit of weight to it. However with its elaborate engraving and golden tracery, this weapon looks more like a work of art than a killing tool and Twilight says as much.

“Precisely why I thought you should take it,” Locke replies “None of the idiots here have need of a hunting gun like this one, it only takes up space in my armoury and it's not a combat weapon, less effective than a pump action. Truth be told I was going to get rid of it next year so I'll be glad to see it gone.” Twilight nods quickly as she places the weapon down on the bench next to the rifle.

“This-” Locke picks up the pistol “Is a Webley Mk.IV revolver.”

“I've already got a pistol” Twilight says quickly and Locke stiffens.

“You have?” she asks, and Zaranov steps forward.

“Yes, this piece of work, apparently presented to her by the princess”

“Oh my.” Locke says, taking the pistol from Zaranov and snorting “I always thought the Princess had an odd sense of humour and this evidently confirms it”

Twilight tilts her head
“Yes?” She asks, and Locke nods.

“The Luger is one of the better examples of Schmidt-Mauser weapon making, like all Schmidt weapons it is accurate and effective with a decent range, however it is also over engineered... there are over fifty five separate working parts within this one pistol, each of which can go wrong in two shakes of a lamb's tail. It's also a semi automatic so it can jam in hot and sandy conditions, unlike the Webley, though the Luger has a larger magazine, a larger magazine matters not a jot if you cannot fire the weapon because it has been fouled by dust and so on.” Locke says grimly “Trust me your highness, you will get far better mileage out of a Webley.”

Twilight nods, the gunsmith's logic making sense to her. “Okay, I'll take the Webley and you can have the Luger in exchange.”

Locke smirks “Thank you highness, I know someone on base who is going to be very happy about that.” A broad smile spreads across her face and Zaranov tilts his head.

“Bolt?” He asks softly and Locke nods in reply.

“She just got out of the infirmary today and you know, the first thing she did was come here and get right back to messing around with that collection of hers and making a mess back there.” Twilight's heart nearly stops.

“Bolt, Arc Bolt?” she asks, her heart pounding in her chest and Locke nods

“Yes, that's her, Caporal Arc Bolt from Ninth Company... from that dreadful business in the Embassy.”

Twilight's heart is pounding a mile a minute, her breath is catching in her chest.

“Where is she?” Twilight asks quickly “I... I would like to see her.”

Locke glances at Zaranov, who nods quickly

“If she's been released from the infirmary then I'm sure there's no problem, I'm sure she'd like to see royalty, a princess no less.” Zaranov says, though Locke looks doubtful.

“I'll take you round to see her” Locke says at last, after a moment's thought. Twilight's heart is racing, her palms are sweating and a flush is spreading across her face quite different from the flush created by the heat.

Rainbow Dash is alive!

Twilight follows Locke through, past the racks of guns and ammunition, past the machine guns and the infantry mortars, past the storage cupboards filled with uniforms and god knows what else, until they reach another thick metal doorway with the word WORKSHOP printed on it. From inside Twilight can hear crashing and banging and hack-sawing and occasionally the whirring of a lathe. Locke calmly yanks the door open and Twilight gasps.

She'd recognize those bright blue wings anywhere. The figure has her back to Twilight, hunched over an armory bench with a rifle spread out in front of her, broken down into its component parts. Twilight can remember that rich coffee colored skin almost as if it was yesterday, can remember those arms holding her close. Moments so glorious she never wanted them to end. That bright multi-colored hair glitters in the light, stirring memories of running her hands through those soft locks a lifetime ago.
“Hey, Caporal!”

“Just a moment Locke, I'll be right with ya." Even that voice, so brash and abrasive the first time Twilight had heard it sounds like molten honey trickling into her ears. Twilight tries to straighten her back, tries to work out what she's going to say.

“Don't you 'just a moment' me Caporal! You have a visitor.”

“Yeah, who'd come out to this dump to see me?”

“Why don't you ask her Highness that question yourself?”

With that the figure suddenly stops dead and goes stiff, before rising to her feet and whirling around. Twilight's eyes widen in horror.

There, before her, stands Rainbow Dash, dressed in a sweat stained red and white striped singlet, khaki battledress trousers and sandals. Her hands are caked in oil and carbon and her face is shiny with sweat. Dog tags glitter around her neck and right ankle. That is not the part that Twilight is concerned about.

Poking out from under the rainbow coloured fringe that flops down over her right eye is an eye-patch. Twilight's hands go to her mouth in horror.
“Rainbow Dash” She gasps “Ohmygod... what have they done to you?”

Locke glances between the two women “I'll give you two ladies a moment” she says softly, before turning and walking out the door, closing it behind her with a snap.

Twilight however cannot take her eyes off of Rainbow Dash's face, off of that eyepatch. She can feel her hands trembling as she stares at the woman that she called her girlfriend once upon a time. She closes her eyes for a second, trying to imagine what Princess Celestia would do in this situation, but then she realizes that's no help at all since Princess Celestia's friends died thousands of years ago. She is about to open her mouth to say something when Rainbow Dash clears her throat.

“How... What are you... why didn't you... fucksake!” Rainbow Dash snaps “What are you doing here Twilight?”

Flustered, Twilight could only stutter “I just... the princesses... I'm going to Tarhen to talk about what happened.”

“A massacre, that's what happened Twilight, the fucking cats stormed the walls and we could have blown them all away but fucking Princess Luna... rrrgh!” Rainbow Dash growls in frustration before she turns back to Twilight. “But damn Twilight, it's... it's good to see you” Rainbow Dash finishes lamely and Twilight nods.

“It's good to see you too.” Twilight whispers nervously, all kinds of questions spiralling around in her head but only one word punches through the confused, swirling haze that fills her head. It punches through with such strength that it drops from her toungue before her internal censor has a chance to reword it.

“Why?” She whispers softly. From the look on Rainbow Dash's face, this was not a good question.

“Why huh?” Rainbow Dash asks, her face setting as she turns her back on Twilight again “After all this time... and that's all you can ask?! Don't you fucking know the answer? We were going to get crucified in the press, we'd never have a moment's peace. I'd never be able to be a Wonderbolt, and you'd never be able to do all that princess bullshit... and there was Princess Celestia”

“What about her?” Twilight asks, feeling her hackles rising. This is not the same Rainbow Dash that she last saw two years ago.

“Only that her royal snootiness paid me a visit when I was hiding from the Paparazzi, she gave me a one way ticket to Castelnaudry and told me if I started running right now, she'd forget about me.”

Twilight gasps “Princess Celestia would never...” She hesitates. In all the time Twilight has known Princess Celestia, she's never known her to be cruel like that. At times cheeky, at others headstrong, but never cruel. However, though it feels like a betrayal of her mentor to think it, a speedling of doubt sprouts in her mind. Dash would never lie to her.

“Shows how much you know!” Rainbow Dash barks in reply, advancing upon Twilight “Why the fuck are you even here Princess? They just kicked Moony out, why are they going to give a shit about you huh?”

Rainbow Dash is right in Twilight's face now, almost nose to nose. Twilight stares into that bright gleaming eye that glares accusingly back at her and takes a deep breath, trying to force her mind to think clearly and rationally, however the long and painful day is taking its toll and her mind, fuelled by rage, provides her with words that snap from her toungue like the thongs of a whip.

“Because I'm not going around lining up firing squads!” She snaps back in reply. The moment the words tumble out of her mouth, she wishes she could snatch them back. Rainbow Dash's hand curls into a fist and her eyes narrow.

“Don't you dare talk to me about shit you couldn't EVER understand!” She snaps and Twilight's cool shatters across the armoury floor, and she's yelling before she can stop herself.

“Well why don't you make me understand!” She bellows in reply. “Just like you made me understand how much it hurts when you ran away, when you didn't even have the strength to look me in the face and tell me we were through!?” All she can see is red through the haze of tears that threatens to burst at any moment.

“I would have if I could have!” Rainbow Dash yells in reply “I had Celestia on my fucking tail, you think that's just something I could ignore!”

“Bullshit” Twilight snapped “Princess Celestia wouldn't do that, you couldn't face me and tell me we were through so you left!”

“Well I'm fucking glad I did, I'll tell you that much!” Rainbow Dash snaps, her remaining eye wide, wild and angry as she grabs Twilight's shoulder and pins her against a workbench, grabbing Twilight's wing with the other hand and pulling. At that moment a loud double click fills the room, the click of a hammer being drawn back. The shrill click rings loud as thunder in the room and Twilight turns her head to see a gun trained on Rainbow Dash.

“Unhand the princess right now, or so help me I will blow your fucking brains out.” Diplomatic Incident growls, his finger on the trigger of his monster pistol.