For Saxton Hale, Austrailian CEO of Mann Co., the early morning breakfast steak was the most important steak of the day. Plummeting downward toward the earth at speeds close to terminal velocity, the Australian super man could already taste it waiting for him. There was nothing quite like a meal consumed after a death-defying fall through the air, broken only through smashing right through the skylights of your own office, and landing right into your own executive office chair.

In other words, a normal Monday morning for Saxton Hale.

SMASH!

Before the shards of glass from his broken skylight could even bounce off of the floor, Hale had the phone on his desk in his hand with his breakfast steak in the other. He then pressed the intercom button dramatically, taking a bite out of his breakfast as well.

"Reddy! Bidwell! Meet me outside of my office! We have a business proposition to discuss!"

Hale pressed the intercom button again, shutting it off. He then slammed his hand down on his desk with a mighty thump, propelling himself over and toward the double doors that lead out of his office. Walking out of his office with brave steps, both his butlers who doubled Mann Co's sales managers were at his sides.

"You called for us, sir?" Bidwell asked, keeping a brisk pace with the Mann who waited for no one.

"Yes!" Hale shouted, reaching into his pants pockets with his free hand. He whipped out a pristine white letter with a red lace trim, now soaked in sweat from being so close to Hale during his morning exercises. "Do you see what this is!"

"A letter, sir?" Reddy questioned, keeping pace with Bidwell on Hale's other side.

"Not just any letter, boys." Hale flashed a mighty smile. "A letter from a beautiful goddess in another dimension!"

Across from each other, Bidwell and Reddy exchanged glances. Having worked for Saxton Hale for several years, they both knew that their boss was anything but a liar. Hale himself was the closest living thing to a super-human; a man with such power, charisma, and fortitude that he could make the most masculine legends pale in comparison. Between their boss, two companies owning everything in the world, a great global conspiracy to hoard a radical transformative element called australium, dangerous weapons sales to all manners of questionable individuals, and illegals activities between action-packed adventures beyond the wildest of novel tales, there was nothing in the universe they could imagine that Saxton Hale didn't, or could not, have a hand in.

But to think that their boss had relations with gods in other worlds?

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't think I heard that right." Reddy said, puzzled. "A what?"

"You heard me right, boys." Both Bidwell and Reddy noticed that their employer was smiling from ear to ear. Something only seen after a new weapon had been developed and passed the "Mann Grade" inspection for being to both incredibly dangerous to the user and foe alike. Or after a successful week long fight against waves of angry hippies. Or after defeating a wave of rogue mercenary robots attacking a Mann Co. facility with his bare hands.

Even more so if it involved all three.

"This is a letter from a goddess in another dimension who rules over a nation of intelligent pastel colored ponies. It was magically delivered to my pants right before I hit terminal velocity this morning."

Bidwell and Reddy exchanged glances again.

"Why, I haven't heard from Celestia in over a thousand years!" Hale let out a jovial chuckle. "Their time I mean, not ours. Time flows differently, you understand. It's complicated stuff, even for me! But I wonder what she's writing to me about..."

Making a courageous entry into his second office (not riddled with broken glass), Hale vaulted over his own desk again and took the last bite out of his breakfast steak. Chewing it down gruffly, he reached out and grabbed the handkerchief Reddy held out to him to wipe his hands and face with. After that was done, he opened the top drawer to his desk and gingerly slid the pristine white envelope into it.

"So boys," Hale leaned back in his massive chair, stretching his arms behind his head. "Before I look into this adorable pony business, remind me what was on the schedule for today?"

"Just a couple of things, sir." Bidwell pulled out a small datebook from his pocket, and began to thumb through it. "You have an appointment to wrestle that great white shark on his own home turf. We've had to reschedule him twice now, so I don't think you want put him off again."

"No, of course not." Hale agreed as he stroked his mustache. "I refuse to be seen as a coward against someone who can't survive without water suspending his own weight. That just won't do. What else?"

"There's the matter of cleaning up the last few strongholds of Gray Mann, sir. The BLU team has been working on them for the last year, but there are a few factories that are being persistent."

"Of course, of course," Hale grumbled. "Those damned heaps of scrap just won't die, will they? It must be a lot easier just to build another mercenary than bring one back to life. I don't suppose if Gray goes bankrupt, that he'll run out of money to fuel those robots with?"

"We're not sure, sir." Reddy stepped forward, holding his own book with a pen ready. "Actually, we think that Gray Mann might be getting funding from companies and governments that want to become independent after Redmond and Blutarch died."

"Well that won't do either." Hale turned around in his office seat, and looked toward a large globe on his desk. The land, ocean, and everything in between on the sphere was colored in a distinct red or blue with nothing left unclaimed. "But that's a job for Helen. It's not our concern to look into who is doing what behind closed doors, got it? Mann Co. will keep supplying Team Fortress Industries with what we make best; dangerous tools with sharp edges that can also burst into flames."

"Yes sir." Both Bidwell and Reddy nodded, writing it down in their books. "Sharp edges and flammability. Right sir."

"Alright... Anything else I should know of?"

Both Bidwell and Reddy shook their heads.

"No? Alright then. I'll call you both back in here later. For now, I'd like to be alone to think."

For the third time in the same morning, Bidwell and Reddy exchanged glances. Alone to think? If the words hadn't come from Hale's own mouth, they would have never believed it. It wasn't that Saxton Hale was too much of a muscular meat-head to think, but taking the time to reflect as if he were about to ponder philosophical concepts was not something Hale ever did after morning exercises. In fact, if confronted by too much information early in the day, their boss was more likely to jump out of the window of his office to escape being weighed down by the responsibilities of his own business.

Still, they respectfully bowed to their employer before leaving his office and closing the door behind them.

Hearing and seeing them leave, all restraints Hale had put on in front of his subordinates was thrown to the wind. Like a man possessed, he tore open the drawer containing the letter, pulling it right out of its sockets and tearing the handle clear off. Not caring in the slightest and with his hands trembling, he daintily picked it up and brought it under his nose to smell.

Vanilla.

The same smell of vanilla from when he had proven his manhood to the only creature in the universe that mattered.

And Mann sweat. The envelope smelt of that too.

With a finesses gentle enough to tickle an infant, Hale peeled off the wax seal and untied the trim around the latter with one hand. Being sure not to damage anything, with the same gentle caution he unfolded the letter and began to read with baited anticipation.

"To my Beloved... Hmmm, I see," his eyes went from one side of the letter to the other, scanning the parchment in depth. His expression changed back and forth from different extremes as he continued to read. "Yes, yes... YES! Ah, hah! What!? NO! Oh? Yes. Mmm, hmm."

Hale calmly placed the letter down on his desk to be framed later.

"Bidwell! Reddy! Get in here!"

No less than a second later, the double doors to his office burst open and his two butlers walked back in. "What is it, sir? Is everything alright? What does she want?" Reddy dared to ask first, their curiosity was written all over their faces.

"Bidwell! I want you to get in contact with Helen right away!" Hale commanded, boldly standing up and vaulting back over his desk. He then began to pace back and forth in his office, with one muscular arm balled into a fist behind his back and the other with his pointer finger stabbing into the air in declaration. "I don't know what she's doing and I don't care! She needs to know about this!"

He then turned to his other assistant, with a grim determination on his face.

"Reddy, I want you to go down and get the video recorder. I'm not going to put off wrestling that great white shark on his own terms, but I want to send a video to our best RED mercenaries at the same time. I have a job for them, that only they can do!"

"The mercenaries?" Reddy shook his head. "But sir, the RED team disbanded after the defeat of Gray Mann. We don't know where any of them are."

"What?" Hale stopped, and then went back to pacing. "No, that's nonsense. Of course we know that they're doing, or at least Helen probably does. You don't train nine men to be perfect killers with different talents and then lose track of them!"

"Now get on it, and quickly! I mean it!" he snapped, watching his assistants run off with a spring in their step. "I've got to think of a way to reschedule the official company rocket jumper competition. Normally I'd never think of putting off an event everyone loves, but this is more important than that!"

♪~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~♪

The sun burned brightly down on the royal Canterlot gardens; another perfect afternoon over the capital of the largest and wealthiest nation in the world. It was no coincidence of course, since the weather had been planned out ahead of time as a special request by the royal sisters, and mixed perfectly by Canterlot's elite Pegasus weather team. In the morning the streets and homes of Canterlot had been cleaned and polished by an army of civil servants, with no explanation given to any of the residents. Before noon, every part of the royal gardens had been maintained to perfection, with the only explanation given was that Princess Celestia would be entertaining a very important guest in the afternoon.

Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing...

On the table between them, an ivory white telephone connected to a magic line continued to ring gently. Princess Celestia's guest placed her cup of tea down on its saucer gently with a light clink. She eyed the phone with an amused look, and looked back at her secretary who was dressed in a similar fashion to herself. Behind the Administrator, Ms. Pauling unpacked a large tape recorder in suitcase, with a line running directly to the same cord as the phone on the table.

"...How punctual. That should be from Hale now. Are you ready Miss Pauling?"

"Yes ma'am. The line is connected, and it will record everything in your conversation."

Across from her, Princess Celestia dropped a light spoonful of sugar into her own tea, before stirring it with her magic.

"Just as you predicted. You're still on top of everything after all these years, Helen."

Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing...

"Don't patronize me, Celestia." Her tone was cold, but not bitter. "We still haven't talked about my payment in return for my mercenaries."

"Yes, we should get to that." Celestia agreed. "But first..." She motioned to the phone that continued to ring between them.

The Administrator furrowed her brows, before letting out a sigh of admittance. She promptly snuffed her cigarette out into the ashtray between them, with a bitter and unfeminine grunt.

"I suppose you're right. It's rude to keep a barking dog waiting. Shall we begin, Miss Pauling?"

"Yes ma'am. Whenever you're ready."

As the Administrator began to talk, Celestia tuned her out and began to focus on some of the files that lay between them. As she had expected, Helen had come with everything organized perfectly in response to her offer. In the time that had passed, Saxton Hale had inherited the family fortune from his father Bilious Hale, which included an organization called Mann Co. Through previous connections to Zepheniah Mann, Mann Co. had become the primary sponsor of an inheritance war through their subsidiary of Team Fortress Industries. Both descendants of Zepheniah, Redmond Mann and Blutarch Mann, had amassed fortunes and power before deciding to fight each other for the opposing siblings inheritance of Zepheniah Mann's original fortune. As strange as it was to imagine, peace and stability in most of the world had been achieved by using both brother's violent quarrel as a front to channel the rest of the world's disputes.

Through the careful manipulation of business decisions by Team Fortress Industries, Redmond and Blutarch had spend their entire lives focusing on nothing but reclaiming a dream about the past that no longer existed. Celestia had read the transcripts of routine meetings with the Mann brothers, and for some reason both Redmond and Blutarch had an obsession with gravel. But that had ended with an unexpected return of Gray Mann, the long lost brother to both Redmond and Blutarch who had been kidnapped at birth. Gray Mann had also come with an army of robots (which ran on money), with the goal of stealing Mann Co's property which held a very dangerous secret from the rest of the world.

According to Helen's paperwork, if it were to be trusted, both the mercenary teams under Redmond and Blutarch had been reorganized by Mann Co. to attack Gray Mann's facilities while defending Mann Co. ones. For the last year a war had been waged over two hundred different Mann Co. facility sites. Only recently Gray Mann had begun to run out of money in his fortune to fuel his robots with, and had actually resorted to trying to sell hats similar to the very ones Mann Co. had made their fortune on. Fortunately or unfortunately, the RED team in particular had been very good at their job, and Mann Co. was seeking new fields of employment for them now that Gray Mann had run out of robots to attack Mann Co. with.

The timing of Princess Celestia's request couldn't have been better.

So much so, that Celestia found herself wondering if there were spies in her own country.

"Are you sure these men are...fit to protect my little ponies?"

Still on the phone, Helen motioned for her assistant behind her to step forward. Noting the expression on her boss's face, Miss Pauling adjusted her glasses and pulled up a seat next to the Administrator at their table.

"If by 'protect' you mean utterly destroy anything and everything that looks at them funny," Miss Pauling smiled, "Then yes, your majesty. Absolutely. Without a doubt."

"Miss Pauling, is it?" Celestia questioned. "Your trust in them is assuring, but you should know that I won't accept unrestrained violence in my kingdom."

"Oh, of course your majesty," Miss Pauling began to sort through the files between them. Picking up one file from the rest, she produced three pictures with people Celestia recognized as the BLU team's Scout, Soldier, and Spy. "None of our mercenaries are immune from the law of the lands they operate in. Although we sometimes need to pull some strings, part of our contract states that our mercenaries under your employment can still be punished for breaking local laws."

"I see. But you understand how ambiguous 'pulling strings' sounds. As the buyer, I can't help but worry a little when you freely admit that you will consider...ways...around the laws of my nation."

"I apologize for my poor word choice, your majesty. What I meant to say, is that sometimes things happen by accident and people tend to think that they're solving a problem rather than creating more." Miss Pauling reached out and took a spare tea cup from the porcelain china on the table, and went to pour herself her own cup.

"I doubt that the issue will ever come up while our mercenaries are here. Honestly, your majesty."

"I would certainly hope so. Do you have a physical copy of the contract for me to go over?"

"Yes, right here, somewhere. Let me just..." Miss Pauling pulled out another folder, and thumbed through its contents. "I have it all right here. A copy for both you and your sister, if she chooses to join us later tonight."

Celestia accepted the single slip of paper, noting the plain machine typed print and stamped logos on both the bottom and top of the paper. It was so very different from the lace trimmed and embroidered artisan crafted contracts that were passed between courts in different kingdoms in her world. The paper Miss Pauling was handing her was so plain that it betrayed the importance of what was imprinted onto it, and she couldn't help but muse how many life or death situations were printed in such a cold and impersonal fashion daily.

Miss Pauling adjusted her glasses, and began to read aloud for Celestia to follow.

"Mann Co and Team Fortress Industries will lend you nine of our strongest warriors for a duration of one year, divided in any way you request. While in Equestria, the members of Reliable Excavation and Demolition will ensure the safety and well-being of the six users of the Elements of Harmony. The Element holders will be free to specify more individuals they want protected, so long as they fall underneath the categories of friends and family. The Diarchy of Equestria will provide our mercenaries with basic services, employment, and residence of satisfactory quality close to their targets. The Diarchy of Equestria will also allow Team Fortress Industries to send supplies across dimensions when requested by our mercenaries."

Miss Pauling flipped the first page of the contract around to its back, as did Celestia with her own copy.

"While in Equestria, all mercenaries hired out will be required to stay within the legal boundaries of laws set and enforced by the Diarchy of Equestria. Once the contracted period of one year (Equestrian time) has passed, all mercenaries working for Reliable Excavation and Demolition will be returned to their home dimension, sent to the past to compensate for the time differential between our two worlds. If the Diarchy of Equestria is interested in continued use of their services after this contract expires, said contract will be open for renewal and renegotiation under possible new terms. Mann Co. and Team Fortress Industries reserves the right to refuse renewal of this contract for any circumstance we deem fit."

"And last but not least..." Miss Pauling continued reading through a few lines and reached the bottom of the page. Celestia noticed a small bit of puzzlement in her face, and then noticed what the last clause of the contract read.

"After the contracted period of one year has passed, if all nine mercenaries have performed work satisfactory to the conditions listed above, payment will be made to Team Fortress Industries in the form of the recipe Star Swirl the Bearded followed to create synthetic australium."