Western Equestria – Outskirts of the native settlement ‘Appleoosa’

Corporal Stevens had learned a valuable life lesson that day. The lesson being that if your superior officer makes a joke, no matter how terrible you just shut up and play along. As a result of his earlier mistake regarding this lesson, he found himself prone in the dirt outside a primitive native village, observing the brightly coloured inhabitants through the scope of his EQ1898 rifle, having activated the long-range optics and in-built suppressor.

The sun was starting to descend in the sky, and judging from the activity in the town the natives were preparing to turn in for the night, making their way from the various shops and stalls to primitive wooden buildings. The Corporal found himself imagining just what effect his Infernus gun would have on the towns wellbeing, the town he observed possessed no water source aside from two large wooden water tanks on the outskirts of the eastern side of the settlement. His goal, the large orchard of apples located to the south of town was a large source of activity with multiple natives moving carts full of apples into a large barn with haste. Corporal Stevens moved his scope, scanning the barn for any alternate access points before his vision landed on an open window located on the upper floor of the barn.

‘Bingo’ he thought, marking the location of the point in his helmets Heads-Up-Display. He shifted his view downwards, his crosshairs resting on the head of a yellow-orange haired horse wearing what appeared to be a cowboy hat.

‘This entire planet is insane; I can’t see why Commander Clusterfuck is so enthusiastic about being here’

The nickname ‘Commander Clusterfuck’ was common amongst ISA forces, birthed from the fact that Commander Nigel had a habit of finding himself in awkward situations, only to make the problem worse, usually resulting in explosions, intergalactic war and most recently the untimely demise of a foreign diplomat after he inadvertently insulted the Commanders dress uniform. Apparently it took the cleaners three hours to scrape all of the remains off the floor. Of course the Commander himself was unaware of the unofficial codename, a fact that Stevens was incredibly thankful for.

Watching the yellow horse, Stevens mused on just how easy it would be to end its pathetic existence. His finger stroked the trigger like an owner petting their dog, hoping to all the gods that the equine would suddenly pull out a weapon and start firing at him, giving him an excuse to send a high-velocity anti-matter infused slug into its head. Of course, the equine did not give him the chance, instead of pulling out a plasma cannon and firing indiscriminately into the surrounding terrain it instead shut the barn doors after the other equines had finished their labours. Grumbling to himself, Stevens lowered his rifle and settled in, waiting for night to fall before the commencement of the heist.

Darkness had descended over the quite settlement of Appleoosa, the pioneer ponies snuggled in their beds, completely unaware of the stealthy black figure stalking his way towards their precious apple horde. Upon reaching the side of the barn, this ninja of the night extended his right arm, pointing it towards the Barns unprotected second story window, its depths vulnerable and unprotected.

With a barely audible ‘Psssst’ the grapple shot from Steven’s right gauntlet, shooting through the open window and securing itself on the other side. Stevens tested the weight, and, finding the line secure activated the motorised climbing device and entered the dark interior of the barn, his rifle slung over his back and his helmets optics compensating for the gloom. Slowly he crept down towards the main storage area, his descent panned out to the last detail, every potential move placed under extreme scrutiny and analysed down to the optimum resul-

“Goddamn it! How the hell am I going to carry all of these apples back to the hive?”

‘…’

As a wise man once said, ‘no plan is perfect’ so Stevens looked around the barn, trying to find something, anything to store the apples in for transport. Doctor Thrax, possibly one of the creepiest humans he had ever met, had specifically said that he needed at least thirty apples in order to manufacture enough of the emotion that their new ‘allies’ needed to survive. Stevens himself did not care much for the Changelings, how could they let themselves be beaten by those prancing prissy pony pussies? Obviously the Changelings would be of no use to the UIP in a militaristic fashion, maybe the Commander was planning on keeping them as pets or something as the Commander was known for his love of exotic animals, rumours existed that he had even once possessed a Hydraxian Morphsquid, an invertebrate that could transform its body mass into any liquid it came into contact with.

With a mental shout of success, Stevens laid his eyes on the most magnificent prize, sitting nestled in a pile in one of the dark corners. Striking a triumphant pose, Stevens raised the object above his head, its presence the answer to his prays. He began to fill the object with apples and at number sixty-six he could cram no more in, his objective completed. Abandoning all pretence of stealth, Stevens let out a bellowing cry of joy “YES, YEEEEEESSSSSS! SUCK ON IT COMMANDER CLUSTERFUCK!”

“Hey, is there somepony in there?”

Stevens froze as a voice, male with a country twinge to it filtered through the barns front door, and his helmets in-build sensor picked up a life form approaching the barn.

‘…Fuck’

Thought Stevens as he retreated to the second floor, secreting himself between two hay bales, hoping that the Equine’s enlarged eyes did not grant it excellent nightvison. The barn door swung open, and the orange-maned equine from before entered the barn, its head swivelling from side-to-side, searching for the source of the noise. Its gaze passed over Steven’s position, his dark armour blending into the blackness. Giving a loud snort, the equine turned and left, evidently thinking that it had been hearing things. Stevens sighed in relief as the barn doors shut, his mind locked on one thought.

‘Should have shot that Bastard when I had the chance.’

Corporal Stevens, highly trained black-ops commando, a killer belonging to one of the most feared Intelligence agencies in existence found himself running fell pelt back towards a hive full of love-sucking, insectoid equines who looked like they were the result of a Horse fly screwing a piece a of finely-aged Swiss cheese, with a sack of sixty-six pilfered apples slung over his shoulder. Needless to say it wasn’t the highest point of his illustrious career. After avoiding detection by the yellow farmer, whom he had affectionately dubbed as ‘That Inbred Tosspot’ –‘TIT’ for short- he had exited the barn via the same window and stealthily made his way out of the town.

He was ecstatic, he had made it halfway back already, traveling along a crude dirt road, Stevens reasoning that no-one else would be using it at night. Stevens smiled, he was making excellent time and he figured that with no interruptions he would be back at the hive in less than our hour.

“Hey you! Stop!” Stevens whirled around; dropping the sack of apples of the grounds he faced the voice. What he saw didn’t leave him frightened, rather it left him in a state of jovial confusion. Standing behind him, located right next to a bush he had passed stood four figures. Two he identified as ponies, stallions judging from the obnoxious facial hair each were sporting. The third figure looked like an over-sized canine, standing on two legs with its arms trailing on the ground, its brown fur blending in cleanly with the dirt on the road. The most threatening figure of all however was the massive bipedal bull, its dark red fur complementing the oversized yellow sombrero perched on its head. Maybe it thought that the hat looked intimidating, Stevens thought that all it did was make the bull look like a Mexican bandito from an old terran taco commercial, all it needed was a poncho and the look would be complete.

“Well, well, well, look at what we got ‘ear boys, a lost little minotaur runt al by his lonesome.” This brought snickers from the rest of the group “Tell you what, runt, howsabouts you give us all the money your carrying and we leave you with all your limbs unbroken” The large bipedal bull proposed as he glanced back at his lackeys, and evil glint in its eyes. The bull turned back to Stevens, flexing its biceps “So Runt, what’s it gonna’ be, you gonna’ give us the cash as well as that purty sack o’ apples there or are we going to have to break you?”

“Here’s how it’s going to work, you overgrown barn animal” Steven’s eyes were fixed on the four bandits with his hands on his rifle, having unslung it during the bull’s threats “You and your buddies are going to walk back into that bush and resume your little country butt-fucking session, I’m going to pick up this sack and walk away, and you’re going to forget that you’ve even seen me.”

“Why you little…” began the bull as he slowly began to advance on the corporal “I’m going to tear out that tongue of yours and use it to clean up my sh-“

‘BANG!’

the bull was cut off as the report of Stevens rifle echoed around the country side as an antimatter projectile exited the pitch black barrel and entered the bull’s stomach, where it detonated, blowing a hole in it which was as large as a soccer ball, showering the other bandits with a mix of blood, bone and entrails. The bull collapsed to the ground as his fellows stared In shock, until they too received bullets of their own to their craniums.

Stevens walked over towards the dying bull and removed his helmet, revealing short-cut brown hair and cold blue eyes. He looked down as he stared at the bull, its face contorted in an expression of pain and fear. Stevens lowered his rifle, placing the muzzle against the bull’s forehead, and grinned.

“How da like these apples?”

BLAM!

Stevens wiped his face with his armoured hand, clearing the bull’s blood and brain matter off his face, its skull having exploded like a rotten watermelon. He replaced his helmet, walked back over to the dropped sack of apples and slung it over his shoulder. As he began to walk away from the corpses, he suddenly stopped and turned back, walking over to retrieve an item that had fallen to the ground during the skirmish.

Nigel was discussing with the Changeling Queen the layout of the Humans’ base camp, the Queen having gifted them an old, spacious storage area at the back of the throne room. The wraiths were currently pitching the team’s tents while the scientists were busying themselves with the setup of a temporary laboratory; Dr Thrax in particular was working on connecting a menacing gothic-looking machine to a portable fusion generator.

‘Great’ he thought as he stood up, the generator humming away merrily ‘now i only need those apples and the process can begin.’

SLAM!

The Throne room doors were thrown open violently, interrupting Nigel’s conversation and causing the wraiths to drop the tents and draw their rifles, pointing them towards the open doors. Out of the entrance way emerged a wraith, Corporal Stevens, with a sack flung over his shoulder, his armour covered in streaks of blood and a large, yellow Sombrero balanced precariously on his helmet. The Corporal swaggered over to Thrax, and dropped the sack at his feet, the sack spilling open to reveal a multitude of shiny red apples. The corporal leaned forward until his blood-stained helmet was almost touching Thrax’s face.

“Enjoy your fucking apples” he growled as he started to walk away to re-join his fellow wraiths.

‘I have just got to obtain that helmet’s video recording’ thought Commander Chalmers as he turned back around to continue his conversation with the awe-struck Queen.