Chapter 25

Detours. I just fucking love detours... especially ones that take me thousands of miles out of the way, and onto a completely different continent, I grind my teeth. While on our way home, we received a semi-frantic phone call from the farm. The feds hadn't been happy with us taking off unannounced, though that wasn't their real issue. They wanted us in the air, headed for freaking Minsk, STAT. Evidently they have a pony there they want rescued. So, it's with much grumbling on all our parts, that we've diverted to the Cheyenne airport.

We're standing out on the tarmac, listening to the roar of an incoming helicopter. I lean over to whisper-shout in Dust's ear, "I don't like this, Dust! I don't like this 'spy' shit, I don't like going to fucking Eurasia, and I really don't like leaving my damn car here!"

"Relax, they're bringing Mindy's sister with them, to drive it back home. It'll be fine," she smiles at me.

Shaking my head, I growl, "She's what, eighteen? Eighteen year old girls are into cute, little, gutless, rice-grinders. She's not going to have any idea what to do with that much power! I told you that I built that car, right? There aren't a lot of things on this earth that I hold more dear, and all of them are ponies!" I'm starting to rant a little. Dust cuts me off with a small kiss, then licks the end of my muzzle, and grins at the look on my face.

"You might be surprised, babe. Mindy, and her sister, grew up building racecars with their dad. Mindy told me that he made them both learn to drive in an old '66 Corvette. If she can handle that, I'm pretty sure she can handle that monstrosity of yours. Trust me, we all know how important your car is to you. You're almost as good under the hood as you are beneath the sheets!" she's laughing, almost hard enough to fall over, at the glare I'm trying to give her, from behind my fierce blush.

I turn my back on Lightning Dust, choosing to watch the chopper as it lands. Almost before the skids have settled onto the ground, Mindy is bouncing out the door, and over to us. She's expounding excitedly before she even gets over to us, "Dustie, I had the most funnest of times! I got to ride in a helicopter! They said I couldn't fly it, even though I told them I was super sure I could figure it out before we crashed!"

Dust places a hoof on the magenta mare's shoulder, "I'm glad you had so much fun, Mindy, but we're going on a serious mission now, okay?"

Mindy bounces even more excitedly, "I know! I brought our super-secret mission gear!" She reaches behind her and pulls out a big black duffel bag. I hear one of the agents let out a small shout of surprise, my own eyes have to be as big as saucers.

Wh-where did that come from? I can't help but wonder.

Dust opens the bag, revealing night vision goggles, headsets with microphones, and a couple of sets of black clothing, obviously fitted for ponies. Dust smiles at Mindy, "I'm not going to ask where you pulled that out of."

"But..."

"Nope, I'm not going to ask." Dust turns to an agent, "So, secret-agent man, where's our plane?"

While the government stooge is shaking off his surprise at Mindy's bag-o-fun, I turn my attention onto her sister. I eye her up and down for a moment, deciding she looks at least a little more with it than most kids her age. After staring her down for several more moments, I finally speak, "I'm trusting you with my baby. Do. Not. Fuck. This. Up." I hoof over the keys, and turn to follow Dust and Mindy, without waiting for a response.

* * *

I watch Dust pace up and down the aisle of the private jet, shaking my head at her nervousness. Poor thing; she's so claustrophobic, I can feel it over here.

While I'm watching Dust, a young man in an Air Force uniform strolls up to us, asking if we'd like something to eat. I bite my tongue, to keep from laughing at the irony of him playing stewardess, and order the Chicken Kiev for Dust.

"Aren't you guys herbivores? Plant eaters?" he asks, suddenly looking a bit nervous.

I smile reassuringly at him, "She's a pegasus. She likes meat, but it has to be chicken, venison, or pork. Or any other animal that was non-sentient in Equestria. No beef."

He looks confused, but covers well, "Certainly miss, and the same for you?"

Sighing, I shake my head, "No, I'll have a salad. Or maybe a vegetable plate. Fruit if you have it. Unfortunately, my eating habits have been significantly shifted with this change." I look jealously at Dust, the Airman making his way back to prepare our orders.

Dust finally stops her pacing, "I sure hope this pilot knows what he's doing."

"If you remember from when we boarded, our pilot does know what she's doing," I chuckle at her. I lean forward, catching her off-guard, and plant my lips firmly on hers. Her wings extend quickly, then her legs go limp.

"Okay, okay, I'll settle down," she hops up into the seat next to me, and manages to wait patiently for her chicken.

* * *

We landed just before dawn local time, and have spent the day resting in a safe house provided by our ever wonderful government. I turn away from the window, where I've been watching the sun go down. I've spent the last 24 hours on four hooves, not wanting to share with these agents anything more than necessary about myself, yet. I know the time will come, but see no reason to show my hand sooner.

Two new agents arrive; the taller, very white-bread, one introduces himself first, "I'm Chris Malone. I'm one of the operators that've been assigned to help you on this mission." He shakes Dust's hoof, then mine.

"Domingo Chevera," the other one reaches his hand out to shake as well. I make note that, despite his very Hispanic sounding name, he's just as pale as his partner. If he actually has any Spanish blood in him, it's a couple generations back.

Both agents are pretty fit; built like long-distance runners, rather than body builders, though I have doubts that they can keep up with either Dust or I.

Dust and Mindy are putting on the black form-fitting suits that Mindy brought along, when a lower-level agent barges into the room. He rushes to agent Malone, and begins whispering fiercely into his ear. Malone's jaw strains, like he's grinding his teeth. The other agent disappears as quickly as he arrived. Malone faces us, "We just got a decrypted message. Evidently, we aren't the only ones who are after this pony. Mother Russia wants him, too. We have to leave, now."

I hold up a hoof, "Hold on a second, Chris." Dust looks at me sharply, then apparently she remembers my time as a Marine, and she moves a bit closer to me, "Why should we rush this? Is the pony a US citizen?"

Chris shakes his head, "Not according to our information. But the reason we wanted you girls out here so quickly is because this pony supposedly is a unicorn. A very powerful one."

Dust gasps, I think she's thinking what I'm thinking, one of the rare unicorns, a battle mage. Less than a dozen were active in Equestria when we were banished, Chris continues, "The reason we think the Russians are so enthusiastic about getting this pony is they've sent in Spetznaz."

I grimace, the Spetznaz are the Russian special operations troops. They are trained ruthlessly, they are ferocious fighters, and are well known to shoot first, and ask questions later, "So, we are talking a hot insert?"

Chris nods, I sigh, Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

It's time for a mad dash to the black SUV parked out front. Malone and Chevera decide to eschew the usual rigmarole of trying to shake a tail, heading directly to the purported location of the pony. We park about a block away, and make use of the cover of the darkness to get closer.

Dust flies off to recon, returning only a few moments later. She reports having found him, but it appears that we're late to the party. The Russians are already there with him. Malone curses viciously.

Turning to Mindy, Dust asks, "You ready?" Mindy nods.

Hold it! You're under my command. You don't move without my say-so," Malone quickly objects.

Dust scoffs, "I don't think so. The pony has been confirmed, which puts this under my purview. If you want to follow Irony and Trixie in the front, be my guest. Mindy and I are going to drop in on them from above. They're on the top floor, northwest side."

With that, they quickly depart; leaving us ground-pounders to get ready, and make our way inside. I shift, standing on two hooves now, and pull my armor out of the duffel I've brought. I ignore the gasps from the two agents, only needing moments to get it all in place. Trixie casts a spell to make her less noticeable.

Chris holds up a hand as he pads quietly to the corner, he sticks his head around the corner, and pulls back quickly in response to the obvious sound of suppressed gunfire.

"Shit, they are on their toes." Chris mutters, both men grip their guns tighter. I start to move, only to have my hand grabbed in Trixie's magic, and it's placed on her withers.

"Let's get the drop on them." She says as her horn lights brighter. With a pop, we are on the other side of the building, I can see the soldiers moving slowly towards the CIA paramilitary officers. I take off and run at full speed, I catch up to the two Russian guards. One of them shouts, apparently he heard me, thought it's too late for him, I leap into a diving shoulder roll as he starts to turn towards me. Completing the roll, I come directly to my feet, my mace already whistling through the air. The impact of metal on bone jars my arm slightly, though the effect on the other end of the mace is quite devastating. His lower jaw shears completely off, flying off into the night.

His partner's suppressed AK-74 starts spraying ineffectively, as it is torn from his hands by the glow of Trixie's magical aura. He reaches for the pistol attached to his hip. His fingers are just wrapping around the butt when my hoof makes contact with his right knee. His leg buckles, dumping him onto his back. To his credit, he manages to unholster the pistol and point it at me. Unfortunately, for him, my mace is already beginning its descent.

The moment seems to stretch. I am able to see stark fatalism fill his eyes; he already knows it's too late, though that doesn't stop his finger squeezing on the trigger. Flame lips from the end of the barrel, the lead core flies within a hairsbreadth of my ear. I can actually hear the spinning projectile ripping through the air.

Time returns to normal with a thundering crash; my mace finishes its arc, crushing the hapless soldier's hands and pistol into his pelvis. Trixie shudders at the sickening crunch of the bones shattering. His scream pierces the night, louder even than the gunshot.

Surprisingly, it is Trixie who ends the noise; in the most efficient way possible. The aura fades from her horn, as the soldier's head rolls away from his decapitated corpse. Evidently, she is more ruthlessly efficient than I gave her credit for. Note to self: never, EVER, fuck with this mare, I decide.

I sweep past the agents, who have finally managed to arrive on the scene. They stand like statues, gawking at the gore-spattered corpses that Trixie and I have left behind. The front door opens smoothly under my hand, the hinges well oiled. I stroll confidently through the lobby; my boots emitting muffled thuds on the tiles, with the weight of my stride. Trixie's hooves clatter, her stride hurrying to match mine.

A ding, from across the room, alerts us to the arrival of the building's sole elevator. Damn, the door guards must have made a radio call when they spotted the CIA operative. The doors open, revealing four more Russian soldiers. One of them points frantically at us, his compatriots rapidly unslinging their rifles. The entire elevator is suddenly surrounded by a pink aura. The doors slam shut, crushing the soldier's outstretched hand. His cry is lost in the screeching sound of metal warping. The lift rises; slowly at first, then faster. It disappears from sight. Several moments pass. I look at Trixie; her face is twisted up in a look of concentration. Then it relaxes, and she smiles at me. The glow fades from her horn. Screams can be heard from the now open passage, I feel a breeze waft through my mane. The car smashes into the ground, utterly destroying the shaft, pushing a concussive wave over us that forces me down to a knee.

Regaining my hooves, I turn to Trixie, cocking an eyebrow questioningly.

"Trixie doesn't like people who threaten her friends. That seemed the most expedient way to dispatch the threat," she shrugs.

"Not to complain, but you do realize this means we now have to use the stairs, right?"

"Trixie hadn't thought of that..." her face flushes.

"Makes no difference to me," I state, "let's go." I suit actions to words, crashing through the door, into the stairway.

I hear Trixie's hooves behind me as I take the steps, two at a time. Halfway up the second flight, I come muzzle-to-face with another soldier. The look of shock on his face is priceless, but more importantly, it gives me a moment to drop my shoulder and charge. I crash into him at full speed, catching him in the midsection. I throw him into the air, over my back. Looking behind me, I watch Trixie catch him in her aura. She slams him repeatedly into the wall, until all movement ceases. Blood is leaking from his nose and ears, as well as from numerous rents in his flesh.

The level of violence displayed by this little mare brings me up short for a moment. She quickly pushes past me, while I'm still recovering from my surprise, galloping up the stairs toward the next landing.

I chase after, catching sight of her as she veers off, darting through the door at the landing, instead of continuing on.

"Trixie! What are you doing?! We're supposed to go all the way up!" I call, though she's already through, the door crashing closed behind her. "What's got into that mare now?" I ask myself aloud, following at a slightly slower pace.

Before I'm even halfway up the stairs, I hear a shout, followed by gunshots. The shots stop, and the screams begin. I put on a burst of speed, but have only taken three more steps before they stop, mid-shriek. I run full-out up the rest of the stairs, tearing my way through the door, only to stumble to a halt at the vista before me. Trixie is standing calmly in the middle of a veritable bloodbath. Surrounding her are the bodies of six Russian soldiers. At least, I assume they were Russians, it's kind of hard to tell. None of the corpses are in one piece; they've been dismembered, and worse. The walls, and floor, and literally covered in blood. Except for a small circle, surrounding Trixie herself, that is completely free of gore.

"Trixie? What the hell happened here?" I ask, shocked and bewildered.

"Air makes a fine weapon, in the right hooves," she responds, cryptically, as she shakes her mane out of her eyes and steps daintily through the blood toward me. "Are we ready to continue?" she asks, stepping past me, back into the stairwell.

Taking the lead again, I trot onward. I pause at each landing, briefly checking our path forward, as well as our rear, for signs of troops responding to the shots. After the third such stop, I glance back at Trixie, and ask her, "So... care to explain?"

"The Great and Powerful Trixie needs explain nothing to those beneath her!" she states imperiously. I give her a dirty look. She has the grace to blush and look abashed. "I'm only kidding. Honestly, I was scanning ahead with my magic, and sensed them getting prepared for an ambush. I ran ahead to interrupt them, but I wasn't expecting so many. In the end... I just reacted."

"That was some reaction," I smirk. "Remind me never to cross you."

"Well, I'm not as foolish as I was portrayed in the show, I do know a lot of powerful magic. Back then, I just didn't know how to make and keep friends. I've learned a lot since then, both before and after Discord banished us. Don't worry about crossing me. I count you as a friend, and would never harm you."

"You're not just saying that because you're sleeping with my brother, are you?" I tease.

Her muzzle breaks out in a crimson hue. She looks down at the floor, "I can't wait to get back to him."

"I can't wait to get back either. For what it's worth, I'm glad you two are together, and I am honored to call you friend."

"Thank you, Irony. It means a lot to me to hear you say that."

I smile, and turn back to the task at hand. A few more flights, and we're almost to the top floor. I pass the second-to-last door, and hear Trixie call from behind me, "Irony, watch out!"

Spinning, my mace swinging, I smash the rifle out of a soldier's hand, but not before he gets a shot off. I'm lucky, the slug is poorly aimed and only deals a glancing blow to my chestplate.  I follow the mace strike with my shield, crushing his temple with the scalloped edge. He drops, revealing his comrades, one of which is pointing the business end of a RPG in my direction.

"Shiiiit!" I yell, diving back, trying to slam the door. Unfortunately, the fallen man's body is preventing it from closing. I hear the unforgettable whoosh of the weapon firing. It only takes a second for the projectile to close the distance between us, but it feels like I watch it for minutes as it comes inexorably toward me. I get my hands up in front of my face just before it explodes, sending me flying. I feel a heavy thud, and my world goes dark.

* * *

I wake up to one of the humans patting my cheeks, "Hey, wake up! We've still got things to do here!"

I shake my head, and ask, "Not that I'm complaining, but why am I not dead?"

Trixie saunters forward, "I think I can help with that. I was able to throw a shield up between you and the grenade at the last second. Unfortunately, it didn't completely dampen the concussive force of the explosion, so you were thrown a little ways. You hit your head pretty hard; good thing you were wearing this," she levitates my helm over to me, "It's kind of dented, but it saved your life."

I take a look at the battered piece of armor, "Well, it served its purpose well, then. What about the rest of the soldiers?"

The human answers, "We've mopped them up, though one of them had a radio, and may have called for reinforcements. Now all that's left is to retrieve this pony of yours and go."

"Well, what are we waiting for, then? Let's get a move on!" I say as he gives me a hand up.

I take hold of my mace and shield, and pound up the rest of the stairs as fast as my hooves will take me. We reach the top floor, slam through the door... and into an empty hallway.

"Well, that was anticlimactic. Where the fuck is everyone?" I ask no one in particular. I whip my head back front, hearing an electrical discharge from down the hall. That could only be one pony... I make my way over to the entrance, yank the door open, and stroll through. Inside I find: a dead Russian soldier, Mindy, Lightning Dust, and the unicorn we've come to rescue. I turn to Dust, she's staring at the dead soldier. She seems to be in shock.

"We need to go, they may have called in reinforcements," I say. Dust nods, though she is looking a bit green around the gills.

Mindy, who for some reason is dressed like a Russian General, points a hoof at the unknown unicorn, and says, "This is a mage from the battle with Discord. He says he doesn't want to come with us."

The human agent, Chris, walks over to him, "We are from the United States. We need to get you safely home. I need you to come with me."

"I'm not listening to you, human. I am going to go back to my home, where I belong, Russia!" the unicorn growls.

Before any of us know what's going on, Chris lifts his rifle and fires a three-round burst right into the pony's chest. Dust and I both scream. Before either one of us can react, Mindy picks the human up in her magic and flings him up against the wall. She dives at him, beating him with her hooves into unconsciousness.

Dust glares at the other CIA operative, and flashes out of the room on her wings. I point my mace at him, "Bring that piece of shit. We're going back to the safe house and getting to the bottom of this." The agent nods, and wisely follows my directions.

* * *

Malone grunts in response to my fist connecting with his ribcage. Normally, this is where I'd ask questions, but he's already told me what I need to know; namely that they're orders were to extract the pony or kill him. Now I'm just venting my rage. I backhand him, followed by a one-two combo to his chest. He grunts after each hit, but doesn't give much other response. Finally, tired of this scumbag, I spend the rest of my fury in a single punch to the stomach. I don't hold back at all, letting him have the full strength of an earth-pony strike. His body tries to double over from the pain, and sudden lack of oxygen, but he's tied to a chair, so instead, he falls over forward onto his face. He wretches for several seconds, trying desperately to regain his breath, and then vomits all over the floor.

"Get him out of here. Keep him restrained, or next time I won't be gentle," I tell his partner. "If he escapes, I'll shove my mace up your ass," I give him a look that lets him know I'm not being metaphorical.