Mean and green we were. Fleet vs Bird, who will win? Sounds like a cheesy Hollywood title from the 24th Century when the entire film industry stagnated. Pizza got the 90 mike-mike. Fencing could swap waist guns mid-flight, so naturally he got those. And I'm the only one with a pilot's license (does a pegasus even need one?), so guess what I got! Shotgun? Nope... Pilot.

Pizza and I loaded light survival kits into our seats in case of ejection. We both packed M7 SMGs and the Mighty Magnum! No frags, but we had Thruster Packs. I remember reading in the Spartan Field Manual that the Thruster Pack can be used for extreme reentries and fire starting in addition to its intended purpose.

We tuned both of our armors for vehicles. I ran Gunner and Wheelman. Pizza went with Sensor and Wheelman. What? There aren't any other vehicle-related Tactical Packages! The Wheelman has been doubled!

Let's light this candle.

And light it we did. It was the middle of the night. Luna, by my request, actually gave a rather bright night. (The better to shoot you with!) We were flying too high to be easily seen, plus I doubt the zebras would be looking for a big green bird in the sky.

I held up three fingers to Pizza, “Entering combat zone in three mikes. Last minute radio check. Crimson One, okay.”

Pizza was next, “Crimson Two, okay.”

“Crimson Actual, okay,” came Spectacles.

I looked out the window to our mute waist gunner. I waved my arms to catch his attention, then tapped my earpiece, giving a thumbs up. He smiled back. Crimson Three, okay. All okay, time to get to killing.

My God, it must be the whole damn Zebra fleet! Many of the LCTs and the like had already landed at this uninhabited arctic coast. They were like a swarm of ants, turning this white canvas black with their barding and numbers. Aside from the ships, I didn't see any AA, nor armor. The LCTs were brimming with stripes.

“Hang on!” I radioed. I sent the Pelican into a steep dive, maybe seventy degrees. Absolutely terrible for ground attack, but workable regardless. Also, Pizza. KraBOOM The 90 mike-mike barked out. I saw the heavy vapor trail mark a line straight into one of the LCTs. Shots fired.

BLAM I let loose with the Splazer. Another Landing Craft Tank destroyed.

Pow Pow Pow Pow Pow Fencing let loose with his 40 mike-mike. My turn.

BaWAAAA! My 70mm rotary spun to life with a roar like Godzilla. The Zebra LZ was looking like it was on fire. Good. Altitude warning just popped, time to pull up, “Brace.”

My accelerometer registered 6 Gs. Poor Fencing, good thing he was harnessed up. My radio crackled, “Crimson One, this is Crimson Actual. Hostile ships are vulnerable via a top-down attack through their amidships deck. Additionally, you need to eliminate all hostile ground forces. The ships are secondary.”

“Solid copy, Crimson Actual. Advancing to infantry.”

Apparently Fencing didn't pass out. Probably because he was a pegasus. I flew the Pelican in a strafe across the landed Zebra infantry. Massive streaks of black and red marked the swathes we cut. I pulled up slightly after the strafe.

I rolled the Pelican around into a loose, steep orbit. Fencing was still on the right, so he flew around for the other gun. KraBOOM Pizza started targeting the rest of the infantry.

Static, “Crimson One, that dreadnought is taking aim!”

“Brace!”

I slammed the the nose forward, pulling -4 Gs. Fencing stayed with us again, damn he has a high G tolerance! A massive naval shell streaked overhead. It was maybe the size of a cryopod. That would have hurt a fair bit.

“Crimson, target the ships,” I broadcasted.

Pow Pow Pow Pow Pow
BLAM
KraBOOM
BaWAAAA!

We all opened up. Pizza's shells tore straight into the deck of a battleship. I saw a massive explosion, more than what the shell should've done. He hit the magazine, splitting the ship in two. They must've been packing! My laser gutted the dreadnought that shot at us from stem to stern, blowing the magazines and the power plant in a single red glare.

Fencing was on the mark too, striking out at the escort craft, but only doing negligible damage to their hull plating and missing quite a lot. My 70 mike-mike rotary made short work of the craft Fencing failed to kill.

Their fleet was smashed, and in full retreat. “Well, that was quick!” Pizza radioed.

“Maybe we scared them off with our hail of death?” I suggested.

Static, “Crimson One, this is Crimson Actual. I think you left them starstruck. I have some intel here suggesting that in Zebra culture, the stars are viewed as an absolute evil. You struck from above at night, possibly looking like an attack from the stars. I think that's what scared them initially.”

“Initially?”

“The Zebra's homeland is overrun with the kind of monsters that are in fillies' nightmares. I don't think much can scare them for long, not even the fear of the stars. I think their retreat was a matter of avoiding a failure due to hubris. It may not be so easy in the future, plus they know your bird now.”

“So we got lucky and staved off a Normandy-scale invasion, on our own mind you, just because they don't like to stargaze?”

“Bingo! Now mop up their infantry they left behind and RTB, the princesses want to see you.”

“Roger that.” I punched it. 5 Gs.

Back at base, dawn was a few minutes off, and both Celestia and Luna were waiting. “Miladies,” all of the team greeted them in sync. Creep factor: 4.1.

I took off my helmet, to see them eye to eye, and held it off to my right side in one arm.

“Joe, we need to discuss some additional points of your plan to industrialize,” Celestia spoke.

“What might that be, ma'am?”

“I'm concerned that industrializing to quickly may put several folk in a state of financial distress. With this war, I know that we just can't slow down and give ponies time to adapt. I was thinking establishing some groups to help control industrial growth may be a good idea. I wanted to know your thoughts on the matter.”

“Hmm... What will these 'groups' do, specifically?”

“We were thinking they could focus on technology, medicine, science and the sort. It might boost morale, too!” Celestia said.

“That sounds like only half the solution, but it's not really my place to say. I'm just an SF grunt.”

“Hmm... I'll see if I can find somepony else to consult about it then, but Luna was wondering if you could handle a special warfare group?”

“No, ma'am. NavSpecWar Group IV is a group I am part of, not one I lead. I'm only a Lieutenant. Plus, that would draw me away from the war effort and the front lines. Just a few minutes ago my team staved off an entire Zebra invasion in the Frozen North. Having someone lead a group dedicated to special warfare requires one with the right mindset. I tend to be better with small teams, no more than a dozen in total.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You need someone who, try as they might, function best in the macro than the micro. Someone who can figure out how to outmaneuver an army, or cripple it with little projection of force. That person would be ideal for leading a special warfare group. Also, we'd need a name better than 'group' for these groups... how's about 'Ministry'?”

“Sounds excellent. I'll keep it in mind,” Celestia turned to leave.

“One last thing, ma'am. Your Royal Investigative Service seems to do a fine job, but what you really need is centralized intelligence for both domestic and foreign threats. In Earth history, Julius Caesar was stabbed in the back by his best friend, mind you. Additionally, the RIS needs to start trying for interdiction rather than report and walk away. Something to dissuade an invasion, not inform on it. That's twice now when I had to go out and risk my ass to stop a threat after it became one. First the Caesar, and now the Frozen North. Use espionage, minimize battles.”

“I'll... be sure to keep it in mind,” Celestia seemed rather shaken and eager to leave. Maybe because she just learned I helped kill thousands? Yeah, that's probably it.

I sighed, turning to Luna, “So what brings you here, then? You didn't say anything when we were discussing the groups or the espionage.”

“My sister is far too concerned about domestic policy to handle foreign affairs. I am not so concerned about home. I'm here to see if there is anything that your team can do to aid the war effort, also I've gotten the list you requested.”

“You do? Great! And mind you, Spectacles is probably the one to talk to about technology, I plan a lot of thingies,” I grabbed the list from Luna's magical grasp.

COL Lockheart
CPL Starfire
MCPO Daze
MAJ Pane
RDML Solace
MSgt Liberator
PVT Footfall
T/5 Keen Eye
2LT Cupcake
SR Heartstrings

“Cupcake got busted down to O-1 after that first contact incident?”

“Indeed he did. It was what the tribunal deemed as fitting. Mind you, at the time, you hadn't done anything to prove your friendliness towards us yet. Otherwise, he probably would've been dishonorably discharged via the court martial.”

“Ah, and I notice Keen Eye is also on this list. I think any position he could've filled, has been by Spectacles. I would suggest he gets transferred to the Nerve Center. Also, seeing this Master Sergeant makes me suspect he may be in Cloudsdale?”

“That is correct, how did you know?.”

“The B-24 Liberator was a bomber back at Earth. I'm not too sure how I'd be able to visit him myself. I would like to gauge every member in person before I even tell them about the group, but I can't exactly walk on clouds, you know.”

“Well, actually...” A smile spread across her face.

“You're kidding? That is awesome. How long does the spell last?”

“It lasts three days.”

“Are there any side-effects of it, or should I just set my clock?”

“Do you want to do this, or not?”

“Clock set! Hit me, milady!” Never thought I'd say that in my life. A bright blue flash enveloped my vision before everything returned to normal. I still had to blink out the last few spots.

“Whoops, guess I forgot about the flash, huh?” It almost seemed like she was playing with me.

“Happens to me all the time with my camera.”

“Very well, then. I have a small airship waiting for you in the shipyard. You can fly it yourself to Cloudsdale whenever you want.”

“Why, thank you, ma'am, but it won't be necessary. We have our own aircraft, though I would appreciate it if you also gave Pizza the cloud-walking spell..”

“Fair enough. I'd best be off to bed afterwards, I'll see you around.”

“That you will, milady.”

I put my helmet on and walked up to Spectacles. I had a few things to talk to him about first, like “Where the hell is Cloudsdale?” and the such.

“Alright, Spectacles. I need a map, and the addresses of the colts on this list. Can you do that for me?”

“Right away, sir!” He grabbed the list and eagerly galloped off.

I probably shouldn't be out and about with the sun out. I had to keep my presence minimal. Guess I should preform equipment maintenance, check the scanners, and check up on my team. I had no plan to do them in that order.

I went over to the long range scanner, but when I tried to access it, I noticed something curious. It was open to a diagram of Mjolnir and a list of its capabilities and features. Apparently Spectacles has been studying it, but last I checked this armor system was classified. I would have to talk to him about it when he got back.

The scanners showed nothing, just the usual near-planet contacts. Nothing to worry about, I guess. Time to check up the equipment!

My sniper rifle was in several pieces on the floor of the Pelican. It wasn't destroyed, much to my relief, but it was disassembled. “Pizza, do you know who did this?” I held up my barrel.

“Oh, that was Spectacles. He told me how fascinated he was by our firearms, and we thus far hadn't used our SRS99-S5 AM, so I pointed him towards it. Did he break it?”

“No, he just field stripped it. Impressive if I do say so myself, the files on this haven't been accessed since our deployment. He figured it out on his own.”

“Wow, keep him away from the Warthog... and the Pelican for that matter. We need those things!”

“Noted,” I ducked back into the bird and started reassembling the rifle. This is not a toy, a single round from this travels at over 5000 feet per second, or about four and a half times the speed of sound. It can punch through 13 feet of flesh and bone from 600 yards. The flip side though, it is anti-matériel, so it isn't too effective against infantry, but man does it fly!

Well, that's that. I put the reassembled rifle back in a weapons locker. The last time I had handled one of those was on Requiem. Apex site. The Infinity had just repelled boarders thanks to me and the other Spartans. It was where we lost Mormon, shutting down the Covenant portals. How were we supposed to know there was that cloaked elite right there, in the caves? He didn't join the fray when we shut down the portal he was supposed to defend! All Mormon managed to say was “Sniper!” before he got cut in half. I scoped in and dropped the sniper, Pizza shanked the camo bastard. Richard tried to save Mormon, but failed. Kinda hard to live without organs, huh? Drinks were on me that night.

I marched out of the Pelican, memories in tow.

“Here you go, Joe! Dossiers on everypony on that list, and their last known addresses!”

Spectacles, good. Something to distract me from the past. Good thing this visor blocked out my face, I didn't want them to see any tears.

“Good. I'll have to wait until a bit after nightfall to head out, I don't want to be known very well just yet. Kinda defeats the purpose of being covert.”

“Alright. If you need me, I'll be checking out some more of the files on the Pelican. I'm so close to figuring out a new armor system for the Royal Guard! And new weapon designs aren't too far off!”

“About that, Spectacles. Mjolnir is still a highly classified armor system, I'm surprised you even managed to crack the encryption on that terminal. And my weapons aren't much different. Tread carefully, and if you need to ask if you can read it, the answer is probably 'no'.”

“Aww... I was so close to figuring out how the computer tech works on it! Also, I probably should tell you I've been sharing my discoveries with some of the boys in the Nerve Center. They've already improved the formula for the gunpowder you sent them, and are almost done with improved prototype rifles.”

“I'll just assume you didn't tell them anything classified and that any like discoveries are just pure coincidence.”

“Thank you, and sorry.”

“Don't be, we're at war.”

I looked over the dossiers as I sat down with Pizza. He was playing solitaire. “Lonely man's game...” I muttered.

“A puzzle in an enigma, if you ask me.”

“Lone wolf, regardless. Just don't get bit.”

“What's the page-turner?”

“Dossiers on potential crew. Lockheart, Starfire, and Liberator are all in Cloudsdale, apparently home of the Equestrian Air Force or EAF. One on 142 Featherhead Lane, another on 82 Ace Way, and the last on 542 Flock Drive.”

“Isn't Cloudsdale in the sky?”

“Intel suggests that.”

“I know you've got this 'cloud walking' spell on you, but how do you plan on getting up there covertly?”

“I'll just... drop in.”

“Jet Pack or parachute?”

“You know which one.”

“Sounds like fun, but who'll fly the Pelican?”

I just stared at him.

“Great. Time of departure?”

“1800. No delays.”

“Alright, I'll get ready.” He reshuffled and walked into the Pelican.

I just sat there, looking over the dossiers some more. All these troops were in active service. I could just pull rank to get them to follow me back, but COL Lockheart matches my acting rank the princesses gave me. Plus pulling rank would just lead to hostilities down the road for my men. Best to play nice.

“Fencing! I'm going on a trip to Cloudsdale, do you know the place?”

“Yes, sir. I've spent some time there while in service. What for, may I ask?”

“First: you can stop calling me 'sir'. Second: some troops' names popped up and I want to check them out myself. I want you with me if you know the area.”

“I do, sir... And I believe that you're the kind of figure that I want to call 'sir', so get used to it.”

“Hmm... touché. We'll be leaving at 1800, so we've got some time to kill. You up for a game of blackjack?”

“Sir?”

“A card game. Come on, I'll teach you how to play. We'll use ammo for currency.”

I swear it was beginners' luck, but I managed to pull a narrow profit.

“Time's up, looks like I wasn't quite as close to the brink as you thought. You're a natural at this, I'll tell you that, but it's almost time to head out. I hope you haven't forgotten how to fly.”

“I haven't, and I almost had you there! I swear you cheated!”

“What, by cutting the cards? We've only packed the one deck, and cheating like that would mean every game would be the same. That's not fun, that's insane, literally.”

“Yeah, and what is the symbol on the back of the cards, anyway? I've seen it on a fair amount of your equipment as well, and I'm curious.”

“It's the UNSC eagle, the emblem of the United Nations Space Command.”

“I take it you gamble a lot?”

“Nope, I don't like to run the high risk for meager potential profit. Besides, the casinos always have the games in their favor by the very nature of the games themselves. And I take it you don't gamble?”

“Nope, but it is fun.”

“At least until you lose everything. Playing with faux money allows one to push their luck with less consequences for overestimation.”

We boarded the Pelican. “Pizza, drop us at 20000 feet. We'll HALO this jump.”

“Solid copy, taking off.”

“You might want to grab on to something,” I told Fencing. The back hatch closed and he grabbed onto one of the jumpseats. I grabbed one of the overhead rails. We rocketed skywards and out of the cave.

“Sir, what's a HALO jump?”

“High Altitude, Low Opening. Bail from on high, open you 'chute down low. You have your wings instead of a parachute, and I have my Jet Pack. We'll be landing in the Cloudsdale streets, and you'll be navigating.” I handed him the map. I had placed red dots where our objectives were. I had done my best to memorize it, just like it was a sand table.

The sun had set a few hours ago, and most folk would be locked up inside, by my estimate. Perfect for covert ops. A red light came on inside. “Get ready!” I called to Fencing as the back hatch opened wide. I waited for the tone.

Boop Three...

Boop Two...

Boop One...

BOOP Go!

The green light lit up behind me, and I motioned for Fencing to bail out. I followed him closely, until gravity decided otherwise. The Cloudsdale streets were directly below, and closing fast. I waited until it looked like 300 yards away and then I activated my Jet Pack. The Jet Pack has less umpf than the reentry thrusters, but the reentry thrusters don't exactly have any room for error. Also, they were a plan B in case the cloud walking spell failed.

100 yards and closing. 50. 25. Fuel out, I fell the last 25 yards. Luckily the spell worked! Good thing, too. I can take 25 yards in stride, but 2500? No way, man. Game over! I waited a bit for Fencing to arrive alongside me. “Who's closest?”

“CPL Starfire, 82 Ace Way. This way, sir.”

He marched down the road we landed on, then turned left. He stopped at a house halfway down the road, on the right side. I walked up the steps. I must admit, it's odd walking on clouds, but they did have a fair bit of give. Must be comfy.

At the door, I knocked thrice. No answer. I hammered thrice. No answer. I counted thrice, then kicked the door in. An answer.

“What in Tartarus?” A woman called from upstairs.

“Lunar Guard,” I called out, “Are you CPL Starfire?”

“What's it too ya?” she still hadn't shown herself, possibly to through off positive identification. She must have a bad rap with authority.

“I've received a recommendation for her, and I have a promotion waiting for her, but only she can receive it.”

She poked her head out, but not enough to see me. She must have seen Fencing. She walked down the stairs.

“Alright! What's my new rank?”

I came out of the cover I unintentionally obtained, “Nothing, yet. I want to see why you've been recommended to me.”

“Ah! What the hell are you?!”

Fencing stepped in, “He's my CO, and we're working with the princesses. Now are you going to answer the question?”

“The princesses?”

“Yes,” I responded, “and we're on a tight schedule.”

“Oh, I specialize in making things break.” She emphasized her flank when she said this, it depicted a broken plank of wood.

“Alright, tag along. We'll assess you later with the others.”

“Others?”

“A team is of many, but acts as one.”

“Sounds like something COL Lockheart would say...”

“Glad to see you know him. I think I'll like him. Who's next, Fencing?”

“The Colonel, at 142 Featherhead Lane. Just one street over.”

“We'll go over the houses.”

He lead the way outside, then took flight over Starfire's abode. I lit up my Jet Pack. We landed on the next parallel street.

“Down here.”

We walked South a couple houses and then Fencing stopped us. I walked up the steps to the house on our left.

I knocked once, an immediate response came, “Just a moment...” a gruff voice spoke. I heard clicking and rattling coming from behind the door. I drew my BR.

The door burst open, and a well-weathered old stallion was pointing a crossbow at me. I matched him with my BR. “Lunar Guard, put down your weapon, Colonel.”

“My wife, maybe. My dog, no. My weapon, never.”

“Colonel Lockheart, we're here on royal business. Luna has recommended you to me and I want to see what you can do. Now if you don't lower your weapon, I will be forced to fire on you.”

“What color is the night sky, then?”

“The darkest of blues, but why does that matter?”

He set down his crossbow, “Anyone who wasn't with Luna would've said 'black'. I can see that you are indeed with her. Now, what do you want me to do? And what is you rank?”

“Right now, I'll need you to follow me. Once we get back to Canterlot,then you'll have to show me what you can do and why you were recommended to me. Presently I am an Acting Captain, by the Navy scale.”

“Fair enough terms, I'd say.” He walked outside with us.

Fencing spoke to him, “Sir, what about your wife?”

“I said maybe... and she was a terrible cook.”

I'm starting to like this guy, “Fencing, his wife died some years ago, of food poisoning.”

“Oh... next up is Master Sergeant Liberator, at 542 Flock Drive.”

“Alright, lead the way.”

We wandered around Cloudsdale for some time, but made it to 542 Flock Drive. From the looks of things, this was the shady part of town. Litter was abundant, housing was poor, and I kept hearing the occasional scream that didn't seem to raise any of the locals' alarms.

Guess this is the Wild West, best to stay frosty. I walked up to the front door of Liberator's house. I knocked once, “Lunar Guard.”

I heard something behind the door, “Oh, shit, man! They're here!” It was faint, but there nonetheless.

I knocked again, “Master Sergeant Liberator, this is the Lunar Guard. We have some things to discuss with you.”

Those two voices again, faint as ever, “Draw them away, man, I'll hide the body.” Body?!

I kicked the door open, BR level. Inside... inside was pool of blood at the base of a chair. Under the chair and behind it was a white tarp, apparently making cleanup an easier. I saw the pony in front of me: a dapper looking fellow in a pinstriped suit, complete with fedora. “What's going on here?” I asked.

“Oh nothin' much, just some stuff,” he spoke with what sounded like a shoddy Boston accent.

“Nothin' much that involves lots of blood and a clean, disposable canvas?”

“Oh, that? That's just a... um... an... art project! Yeah.”

“You do realize this is the residence of Master Sergeant Liberator, right?”

“No, I'm pretty sure he lives further down the street...heh...”

I memorized that map, he was lying. Or stalling.

“Well, then you wouldn't mind if we used your bathroom-” Thump

A dull thump interrupted me. Not much, mostly negligible. But I wasn't going to leave it to chance. I chased the noise towards the back of the house, through the kitchen window and into the alley.

Sure enough, there was a pony in a pinstriped suit and fedora. Only he was trying to heft a brand new rug into a dumpster. A rug that had a tail sticking out of it. “Halt!” I yelled at him, leveling my rifle

His friend jumped from the side, trying to disarm me. He was no Zebra, I'll tell you that. I brought my elbow down atop his head, knocking him out. His friend made a run for it.

I would say he was at roughly 20 mph, to bad for him my BR has a muzzle velocity of over 1500 mph. *BAM BAM BAM*

He dropped just like the rug. I walked over and unrolled the rug, revealing a soldier. I checked his uniform, and it was Master Sergeant Liberator. I noticed he also had something tucked under his fatigues. I pulled it out.

Another dossier, this one stamped with 'CPD' across the front, right above 'classified'. It was still sealed. Looks like he died protecting it, and the cleanup crew was amateurs. I turned back to the crew I had assembled, “Anyone know anything about this?” I held up the manila folder.

“Cloudsdale Police Department...” Starfire muttered. Apparently that's what CPD meant.

No answer. Maybe Mr. Snooze knows. I walked over to the unconscious buck in the suit. “Pizza, requesting evac, my coordinates. Meet you on the roof.”

“Roger.”

I dragged the suited buck up the stairs of Liberator's home, my crew followed, carrying Liberator's body. I left the other buck to rot in the streets. Someone who gave a damn would find him. Eventually.

Pizza brought the Pelican low over the roof. We carefully loaded Liberator's body aboard. I saw the Colonel head back down. I just tossed the unnamed buck into the back. Starfire carefully boarded and sat opposite of Liberator's body.

The Colonel returned with a flag of what I'd have to assume is of the EAF. He spread it over the Master Sergeant. “Knew him?” I asked somberly.

“No, but he's a soldier. He lived and loved and laughed, but he will no longer. I saw the flag downstairs. He must have loved his job.”

“E-7s rarely don't. I was a Marine before I was a Spartan. I got cross-trained to be a pilot eventually. Had to fly too many evac birds home myself, I figured I could at least learn how to do it proper.” The back hatch sealed tight. Speaking of seals... “Alright, team. Time to take a vote. We either open this dossier and violate a dozen laws, or we keep it sealed and hand it off to the princesses. Handing it off may give whoever's behind this a chance to get away, but the other option could be considered treason.”

Starfire spoke, “I think we should finish what he started.”

“Agreed,” said Lockheart, without hesitation.

“If we don't find anything, we could just say this scum-bucket here opened it,” Fencing said.

“Pizza, you in on this?”

“Officially, my intercom is givin' static and I can't hear a thing your saying. Unofficially, hell yeah.”

I cracked the seal. The first document revealed a system of brackets, all leading to “Al Capony”. You've got to be kidding me... Are we after the Mafia, now?

The next was a map like Fencing's but with hot zones marked out. It was labeled “Areas of Operation”.

The last document was a sticky note that read, “leak?”.

Apparently Liberator's house was actually a listening post, in the middle of a hot zone. I suspected the buck we captured is part of the gang Liberator was investigating.

“Looks like Liberator found someone in the CPD who was leaking intel to Al Capony and his gang.”

“Al Capony?!” the crew said in tandem. Pizza chuckled.

“I take it he's infamous, huh?” I asked.

“El es muy mal!,” Starfire said.

“He strikes terror from above, and exerts his control in most of Equestria. The Mafia is his, but none of their crimes can be linked back to him. He rarely is seen, but when he is, it's always way far off from where any intel suggests he would ever be,” the Colonel explained.

“I take it he owns Cloudsdale, and that Liberator was sent over in an attempt to circumvent the leak in the CPD. Poorly, might I add, seeing how little intel he got on the group.”

“Apparently,” Fencing said.

“Pizza, I'm coming up. I think we could use some more martial leverage to finish this mission.”

I went up to the cockpit, and sat in the copilot seat this time. I flew the Pelican around to an EAF base that was on my map. I set her down.

When the hatch opened, a bunch of Royal Guard greeted use at sword point. “Friendlies,” I called out, “One of your comrades has fallen in the line of duty, a Master Sergeant Liberator.”

“Lib's on furlough!” one of the guards shouted out.

I held up the dossier, “This says otherwise. We... were working with him on a case, and need a new base to operate from.” Dodged a treason bullet there, Joe. “Who's in charge here?”

“That would be Lt Col Damage.”

I turned back to my crew, “Bring the prisoner. Soldier, take me to Damage.”

“Yessir.”

Things just took an odd turn...

Wars and the Mafia. Why can't we just get along? That question I've been trying to answer since Harvest. Right now, Lt Col Damage was making it resurface.

“I'm saying, you have no authority here! I don't even know how you got here!”

“Damage, I do have authority over you. Princess Luna appointed me Acting Captain of-”

“And I outrank captain!”

“No, you do not. I am a Navy Captain, making me equal to an Air Force Colonel, one rank above you.”

“Bullshit! You ain't Navy!”

“Lieutenant Colonel Damage, do you want me to get Princess Luna here to confirm my story? The last time an officer gave me troubles like this he was busted down to O-1. Do you want that? Plus, Colonel Lockheart here does outrank you, and he is ordering you to follow my commands.”

“Oh, you better call the princess, because you do not belong here!”

“Fair enough, don't say I didn't warn you... Pizza, head back to Canterlot, get Luna here.”

“Right away, sir,” He turned and left.

“See! No salute! You aren't even an officer!”

“Damage, Spartans do not salute in potentially hostile environments. It identifies officers, marking them for hostiles... snipers in particular.”

“Who said this base is potentially hostile!”

“Your actions haven't been the most welcoming, and we still have a dead Master Sergeant on our hands.”

“What are hands! See, you're just making things up, now!”

I raised my right hand, “This is a hand, Damage,” I waved my fingers back and forth a little.

“Doesn't change the fact that you opened a classified document! I can hold you on treason charges alone!”

“We've adopted the mission due to Liberator being a potential member of my team, plus there were no other known operatives working with him. All the writing was from the same pony.”

“Well, we'll just wait for the princess to get here and then we'll see what happens!”

The roar of a Pelican's engines went off overhead. Pizza was back. That was quick. A flash went off next to me, I looked and Luna was in the room. Teleportation, neat trick. I liked teleporting back on Requiem. Though she probably used magic, not slipspace.

“Lieutenant Colonel Damage, how dare you impede the progress of Joe's team! Their advancements and formation are paramount to Equestria's survival in this war. And you are refusing to recognize those of higher command! You are to come with me back to Canterlot so we decide what fate befits one of yourself. And, Joe?”

“Yes, milady?”

“Spectacles has recently given me a radio kit reinvented from his own you gave him prior. If you need to contact me, a call is all that it takes.”

“Understood, ma'am.”

“And Pizza mentioned a dossier of sorts?”

Best to be truthful here, this is Luna after all, “We recovered a dossier pertaining Al Capony's Mafia on the body of Master Sergeant Liberator, it was sealed then, but we have since taken it upon ourselves to finish his mission, to make his death for something. I hope that this isn't a problem?”

“It isn't. The warfront has since cooled to just a handful of skirmishes, Celestia is leading troops adequately against hostiles. But the Mafia seems to have taken the side of the Zebras, straining our resources and stressing our troops. If you have taken on Liberator's mission, then I'll be sure to have the CPD work closely with you on this.”

I stepped closer to Luna, and whispered into her ear, “That's just it: Liberator suspected a leak in the CPD, or maybe even in the EAF, then he got killed. I have one of the hitmen detained and I plan on questioning him. Do NOT have the CPD even be aware we're in Cloudsdale. We'll announce our presence when we're ready.”

Luna should have been some sort of James Bond level spy with what she did next. She feigned blushing, then giggled a little bit. “We'll just have to see about that now won't we?”

I played along, “Oh, I plan on it,” I said in my best bedroom voice. I swear I heard Pizza go
“Woot!”

Luna walked out of the room. Damn, she was good. She should lead the war effort, not Celestia. She is a master of façades. Lt Col Damage followed closely behind, somewhat shocked at my exchange with Luna. I was shocked, too. I turned to one of the MPs.

“Where's the prisoner being held?”

“In Baker wing, sir.”

“Show me.”

I found the pinstriped bastard sitting pretty in a marble room a fair bit like the room I woke up in a few days prior, only this one didn't have a window. I had one of the MPs open the door to the cell and lock it behind me. My team was waiting just outside. Apparently the one-way mirror wasn't invented yet.

Too bad for him.

I opened up interrogation with a solid left hook across his face. He tumbled to the ground.

“What in Tartarus, man! I'm a prisoner! You can't treat me like that!”

“I am not quite in the Equestrian armed forces, so I think you're piss out of luck. The only thing you have that I want would be information, but I do oh so love killing,” I depolarized my visor and gave him my most sadistic expression I could muster, “Can't always get what you want, I guess.” I drew my knife and planted it firmly in the table between us.

“Guards! Help! He's gonna kill me!”

“I don't think they particularly care,” I pulled the blade out and ran my fingers across the edge. “What they do care about is what you know about Al Capony. You see, Liberator was getting close to something. Then you killed him. Why should I treat you any different than him?” I ran the blade against his throat and across his cheek. I shaved quite a few hairs off, too. I dug a bit deeper and drew a little bit of blood, just enough to moisten the blade.

“I'm... I'm... not gonna tell you anything!”

“Too bad... for you, I mean,” I grabbed his left hoof and placed it in the middle of the table. I plunged my knife straight through it. He screamed like a little piggy. “I've always been fascinated by the anatomy of wings, care to donate yours to my study?” I walked around behind him, after withdrawing my blade.

He panicked like crazy. “STOP! I'll tell you everything! I swear!”

I wasn't quite done playing with him, I plucked a few of his feathers. “Well that's not what you said a few moments ago. How can I trust someone who goes back on their word so quickly?”

“Please! Please, don't,” he started weeping. Time for phase two. I activated my green ready-light, signaling Pizza to send in Colonel Lockheart.

“Oh, I'm not done having fun just yet-” The door clicked open and in walked the Colonel.

“Time's up Joe, leave this poor bastard alone.”

“But I'm so close!” I insisted, the whole world is a stage, after all.

“From what I can see, so is he. Now get outta here and let me talk to him, not torture him.”

The prisoner looked hopefully at the Colonel, then he looked at me. And I looked at him with a sense of longing for what I could do to him, striking fear in his heart. Then I looked at the Colonel, “Fine...”

When I left, the guard locked the door behind me and a medic trotted into the interrogation room. By the Colonel's request, I'd assume.

Pizza spoke, “Remind me not to piss you off.”

“Ain't exactly something I'm proud of doing, but it'll get us closer to finding out whatever it was that got Liberator killed.”

“Well, it sure looked like you enjoyed it.”

“Gotta tell ya I've haven't taken any acting classes.”

“Doubt it.”

I headed for the mess, it's been longer than I'd like since my last meal. It would take a fair bit of time for the Colonel to get the intel that we needed, but he would get it thanks to my efforts. I figured that I should pass the time with some chow.

The menu was less than desirable: hay, various types of flowers, grass, and some fruits and veggies. I opted for a pair apples. I tossed one to Pizza. Fencing and Starfire were already sitting down and enjoying their meals. We joined them, placing our helmets on the table.

“Any scuttlebutt about what's going on in the rest of Equestria?” I asked the two.

Starfire spoke up, “Well, I've heard that various new industries are popping up, particularly in the Manehatten and Hoofington areas. Something about 'firearms' whatever those are...”

Apparently Spectacles and the Nerve Center were earning their pay, but that they weren't relaying their knowings about their tech. “Starfire, a firearm is something like my Magnum or Battle Rifle. Picture a naval gun downsized for personal use. From there, it can be optimized for various roles and operations, but it is no replacement for a blade. Bullets run out, edges don't.”

Pizza spoke, “And what about you, Fencing?”

“Well, from what I heard, it sounds like the war is either about to escalate or end. Basic firearms have already been distributed to lots of infantry units all across Equestria, but the Mafia has been intercepting a lot of those shipments. The Zebras seem to be amassing their forces for something. I heard that Celestia is going to try again at the peace talks. With hope, we can stop the fighting by Hearth's Warming.”

“Amen to that,” Pizza said.

“I don't think so, Pizza. Sounds like maybe it's a trap, I would send a full battalion to escort Celestia to the negotiation tables. Other than that, we've still got to stop Al Capony. Those warring bastards on the front need their guns.”

We munched down for a bit longer until Lockheart rejoined us.

He had something to say, “He was more than eager to tell me what he knows, or else I'd have to send Joe back in. He told me that he was working for a stallion named Baby Face, operating on the East coast, a place called Well-met. Know of it?”

“Negative,” we all responded.

“Aside from Marecago, Detrot, and Cloudsdale, it is the most crime-ridden town in Equestria. At least here the crime is localized to the slums and red light district. There, even the gated communities are a minefield. So what's the plan?”

Time for me to strategize, “Let's get back in the Pelican, first.” The leak may be among us.

We finished our meals and boarded the Pelican. “First things first, I think we should crackdown on the local law-breakers here before we move out. Get a nasty rep amongst the Mafia. Then, we'll inform the local guard and cops that we'll be following a lead to Well-met. The leak will catch wind and inform Baby Face about what's going on. He may then be panicked by our rep and plan an ambush in Well-met. We'll attack them there.”

“Wait,” Starfire spoke, “Your plan is to have us walk into an ambush?”

“Yes. They're expecting regulars, we'll be armored more than some destroyers. The ambush will bring them out into potential lanes of fire, from there, we'll take them down. We'll also detour via Canterlot and leave the Pelican there. Then, we'll head to Well-met via train and carriage. We'll tip off the leak about this, but leave out all mention of the trip to Canterlot.”

Pizza wanted to clarify, “We'll be using their intelligence asset against them. They'll expect it to be a normal operation, but we'll be packing the game-changer. After the action, I take it that we'll gather up any survivors and interrogate them?”

“Exactly, Pizza. We already have areas of operation for the crime syndicate here in Cloudsdale, we'll start with them.”

Fencing spoke up, “What kind of armor will we have for the final assault?”

“I'll radio ahead to Spectacles about that. I want it to be heavy armor that not even a .50 BMG can punch through, but I also want it to endure explosions rather well.”

Pizza took over, “Picture it a bit like the Royal Guard's armor, then multiply that by five.”

“That would weigh a ton!” Starfire pointed out.

“Which is why it'll have powered joints, sorta like Mjolnir. It will weigh a ton, but to you it'll be light as a feather.”

Time to get to action. “Is everything understood? Yes? Ok, then we've got to plan our attacks. We have two days to rend Cloudsdale of its organized crime. I think we'll start with the Mafia's supply lines. This AO looks promising here. Near the shipyards, with warehouses aplenty. That'll be our first target. To add dramatic effect and instill fear, I think we should use a unique name. Pizza, I think 'Crimson Guard' actually sounds pretty good, do you all agree?”

Fencing, Starfire and Lockheart all nodded. Game. Set. Match.

I radioed the info and team name to Spectacles, he said that he was already studying Mjolnir extensively and that he should have our armor ready in a few days. Just in time, too.

The warehouses looked like Costco buildings from the 21st century, just minus the red and blue façade. I saw more pinstriped suits out front, these boys toting what looked like Thompson SMGs, converted for pony use. Because mobsters need Thompsons! Hopefully, I won't get around to hating the development of firearms in Equestria. I'll have to assume these guns were meant for the local guard or the CPD. At least they cleared them as hostile.

I scoped out of the SRS99-S5 AM and placed it back into one of the Pelican's weapon lockers, “Pizza, take us right through the side of the warehouse. There are hostiles aplenty down there, and I'd like to have CAS indoors.”

“Always the impossible with you, isn't it?”

“There is no such thing as impossible, just impossibly difficult. Crimson Actual, you reading me?”

“Loud and clear, Crimson One.”

“Tap into the sensory systems on our bird and armor systems. That should give a good picture of what's going down. Direct us to high threat targets and objectives. Send us images of any criminals that may be operating in the area, too. Might as well classify this as a raid.”

“Solid copy, forwarding information now.”

A list of wanted criminals popped up on my HUD, I moved the pictures to the lower right of my display, the one corner not already in use. Pizza's ready-light flashed green, indicating he also received the images.

“Traffic received. Much appreciated, Crimson Actual.”

“Don't mention it. I've got live feeds running, I'll tell you what you need to do.”

I closed up the back ramp and Pizza spun the Pelican around, charging forward. “ETA in five mikes!” he radioed.

I turned to the other three in the troop bay with me, “Alright team, today we are about to embark upon the great crusade to eliminate the threat of Al Capony from Equestria's worries, planting him firmly in the history books. Many folk will be able to sleep calmly at night for what we are about to do. Remember: this is a daylight raid, so stealth is most likely not going to work. Our biggest advantage is surprise, but we will be outnumbered, by my estimate, twenty-to-one. Sounds like a fair fight if you ask me, but be careful regardless. I'll deploy a Bubble Shield as soon as we're in, do not leave it until I clear out a safe zone. Is that clear?”

“Yessir!” three voices rang out in chorus. I chamber my BR, checked my Mighty Magnum, my frags and Thruster Pack. It's gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight! Pizza's ready-light flashed yellow. Three...

It flashed again. Two...

It flashed once more. One...

Green! Go! CRASH

The back hatch opened up on the Pelican, I tossed the Bubble Shield. “Lunar Guard!” I yelled. Sure enough, bullets started peppering the shield uselessly. I sprinted out, BR raised.

The dust was still settling, but the Tommy Guns' muzzle flashes were more than visible through it. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* Double Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Triple Kill!
Apparently my muzzle flashes were also visible. Shields: ¾ and draining. I thrusted behind a wooden crate. The torrential gunfire didn't let up. Were they shooting blind? That's worse than stormtroopers!

Then I noticed something: an amber fluid seeping out of the crate I was using for cover. Oh, yeah, alcohol and what not is what the Mafia is kinda known for. KaBOOM!

A Hollywood-style fireball erupted and engulfed me. Shields: gone. Red warning lights were flashing inside my helmet, but luckily the fire didn't take on my armor. Alcohol does have a very low flash point, unlike my armor.

The hostile suppressing fire wasn't letting up, so I primed a grenade. One... Two... Three... “Frag out!” KaBOOM!

Another fireball erupted, this time engulfing the baddies. Their fur and hair went alight rather quickly. Those few that caught fire panicked and ran in any available direction. To conserve ammo, I let them burn.

“Close Air Support online,” Pizza radioed.

I spotted a group of mobsters that were peppering my armor with .45 ACP. It wasn't much, but it still hurt like hell, “Shoot where I'm pointing!” With my left hand, I pointed two fingers towards the hostiles and a waypoint popped up at their location. Pizza let loose a hail of rockets from the Pelican's wing-mounted arsenal.

“Crimson One, this is Crimson Actual. Hostile HVI is leaving the building, take him alive.”

I looked around the warehouse and spotted a suit making a break for a loading bay door. I drew the Mighty Magnum. x2 zoom came in handy here. I aimed at one of his forelegs. *BAM* the leg came off due to the Semi-Armor-Piercing High-Explosive 12.7x40 mm round. He stumbled slightly, then extended his wings. I aimed at the Margin joint on his right wing. *BAM* He hit the ground, his wing fluttering to the ground separately.

His screams were drowned out by additional rocket fire from Pizza, “Commencing full rocket volley.” Additional fireballs erupted all throughout this warehouse from hell. I ran up to the HVI Spectacles pointed out. He looked panicked and was trying to crawl away from me.

“You wanna live? Then stay still!” I opened a nearby crate and found some high-proof alcohol. It said it was 190 proof, the kind that'd knock you flat on your ass in fewer shots than it'd take a Magnum. I forced some down his throat to dull the pain, the I poured the rest on his wounds. I placed my hands on both stubs, and when my shield regenerated it ignited the alcohol, cauterizing the wounds. It also took my shields off for another six seconds, but what the hell.

I would estimate he lost somewhere close to a liter of blood, quite a lot for a pony, I'd take it. The cauterized wounds didn't look like they were letting anything through, but the stallion passed out from the pain, even after the 190 proof alcohol.

I noticed the gunshots quiet down. Looks like the Mafia here were eliminated. “Crimson Actual, I need a SitRep.”

“All hostiles neutralized. There are still some survivors, I would advise you detain them. Marking them for you now. No friendly casualties to report.” A set of delta waypoints popped up across the warehouse. Pizza set the Pelican down. I found the recruited trio still in the Bubble Shield when it popped. I dragged the HVI to the troop bay. “HVI captured, we'll interrogate him when he comes to while we're en route to objective Bravo. For now, Alpha is secured.”

The three nodded. Lockheart had something to add, though, “Joe, I think you're speaking wrong. Equestria's military operates using Able, Baker, Charlie, Dog, and so on and so forth.”

“The UNSC uses the NATO phonetic alphabet, which goes Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta and so forth. What you're talking about is more consistent with Allied forces during the Second World War. Just think of it as another wrench in the leak's operations. The police should be here soon, so pack up. I'll be the last to leave.”

“Understood, sir.”

Fencing had something to say now, too, “Sir, I think we should find a codename for this leak.”

“Agreed. Let's try something like... 'Chuck Finley', how does that sound?”

“Sound good to me.”

“Then it's settled then. I'll get things here in order. See you aboard.”

I tossed the unconscious HVI into the troop bay and started going from waypoint to waypoint. I got the survivors from our raid detained and against the wall just outside the warehouse.

Time for some field interrogations. Most of them seemed out of it, “Tell me who you boys work for and I'll put in a request for a reduced sentence.”

No answer.

I pulled up the wanted list and went to the first one in line, “Con Ivory, wanted for cons, murder, bootlegging, and attempted murder of military personnel. Two known children. Estimated sentence: 45 years in prison. Estimated time until natural death: 19 years. If you help me I can have you re-designated as a police asset versus a criminal. That way, you'll be able to enjoy those last 19 years in peace, giving your kids a daddy, rather than spending it dropping the soap and getting a new daddy. Same applies to everyone here. Any takers? No? This is a limited time offer... Going once... Going twice... And-”

“Wait!” Con Ivory spoke, “we work for Al Capony! We are... were in charge of distribution for his bootlegging operations.”

“Sold to the highest bidder! Now, Con Ivory, I need to know where you got your weapons and who gave them to you,” I held out Fencing's map of Cloudsdale.

He pointed at the CPD HQ with his nose and said, “There! They came from there. Junky and Illicit's crew got them for us,” He pointed somewhere else, “They're based out of there. A fortress if I've ever seen one. Be careful, and please, don't tell them I told you this, they know where my family lives.”

I untied him, “Then run, and thank you.” I gave him an adrenaline shot before I left the others behind. He galloped off down an alley.

Static, “You're not actually going to re-designate him, are you?”

“I don't think I can, plus he has successfully evaded capture until now, so I think he'll be fine.”

“Falling a little short on you word, huh?”

“I'll see what I can do when I can do it. Until then, he did point at AO Echo as Junky and Illicit's base of operations. Can you get me intel on them?”

“Right away, Crimson One.”

The police had finally arrived, many looking worried and others looking somewhat pleased. The Chief of Police, Aero Bourne his uniform said, walked up to me. “Freeze!” he yelled pointing another Thompson at me.

“Stand down, Captain. I'm with the Royal Guard.”

“Then what in Tartarus are you doing here?”

“We did a raid on this warehouse. Inside was substantial amounts of contraband, and many mobsters carrying advanced weaponry. No friendlies got hurt, these boys out here are all that survived the raid.”

“What's your outfit, soldier?” Time to tip my hand.

“The Crimson Guard, under command of Princess Luna. We'll be raiding other areas of interest in Cloudsdale all day, so expect to earn your pay. Afterwards, we'll be following a lead about Baby Face to Well-met via train and carriage. Other than that, have a nice day.” Our hand has been tipped, let's just hope Chuck Finley falls for it. I turned and jogged out of the area, leaving the police chief dumbstruck. I saw a few officers giving each other fist-bumps (hoof-bumps?).

We were flying over to AO Bravo, so I grabbed the Sniper Rifle again for long-range recon. The HVI still hadn't woken up yet. I tied him to a jumpseat.

Preliminary reconnaissance showed that the area up ahead had heavier firepower than the warehouse. HMGs lined the perimeter. I assumed the guns were meant for the EAF. It didn't seem to have that many ponies around the structure. Inside was anyone's guess, but they were all in pinstriped suits, matching previous hostiles.

“Looks like the odds are a bit more in our favor for this one, guys. Given their firepower, I doubt the same plan will work here. I'll eliminate targets strategically from a distance, see if I can eliminate their watchmen before we advance inside. Pizza, bring the Pelican to one mile from the target area, at 2000 ft above them.”

“Copy that.”

I deployed the bipod on the Sniper Rifle and went prone, aiming out the back of the Pelican. The SRS99-S5 AM isn't meant for soft targets, so I'll have to be extra precise; critical vitals only. The rifle however, is meant for long range engagements. This range was well within the range of it. I scoped in. “Plug your ears,” I told the rest of the Crimson Guard.

Pizza got the Pelican stabilized, so I started finding targets. The HMGs were my priority. I saw one guard walking a patrol route bringing him past the HMGs. He rounded a corner and started walking away from me, between a cinder block perimeter wall and the masonry of the building. BOOM

He went down, and no one was aware of it. The round went up his ass and through his heart. A “Texas Heart-Shot” is how my uncle would have described it. I waited to see if any other patrols would come across his body. “Crimson Three, you're good with blades, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take a machete from the weapons locker to your right, third one back from the front. Hop down there, and infiltrate that compound. I'll keep you covered.”

“Alright, boss.”

I pointed to Starfire, “Crimson Four, grab a pack of explosives from the weapons locker behind that. You'll remain on standby in case if Crimson Three needs evac.”

“Wilco, sir,” Starfire said. She grabbed the mixed bag of explosives that I had packed back on the Infinity.

I didn't see any patrols stumbling across my first kill, so I moved on to the nearest HMG in the right corner. It had a crew of two, so this was going to be tricky. It didn't look like they were gonna give me a shot for the collateral kill. Time to get unconventional.

I aimed off to the side of the stallion on the right. I aimed at an armor plate behind him. BOOM The round went through the plate producing what I'd have to assume is enough noise to draw attention. The two crew got up and walked over to investigate it. They lined themselves up. BOOM Double Kill! Spot on.

I aimed at the crew to the HMG behind the previous one. There was only one there, so I checked the other guns. All crewed by two. The other crewman was probably taking a piss, or AWOL. I spotted Fencing approaching the East side of the structure, the side nearest us. The left-side HMG crew spotted him.

I took aim. They were getting a round chambered. BOOM Double Kill! Be the Bullet! Neat! Fifteen sniper kills!

All clear for Fencing. He walked up to the security gate. The guard in the booth was asleep, and he had the keys. Good thing I have a masterkey. BOOM

The lock on the gate fell off. I reloaded. The guard seemed to be stirring, but Fencing was already inside the booth. The machete went halfway through the guard's throat.

I packed the Sniper Rifle back into its overhead locker and grabbed a Rocket Launcher. This was taking too long, anyways. “Crimson Two, when you hear two thumps, spin this bird around and charge into the compound.”

“Roger.”

I aimed at the two crewed HMG nests. *Thump* *Thump* Rockets away. The Pelican spun around quite quickly and boosted the whole way towards the enemy base. *KaBOOM* *KaBOOM* The rockets impacted a few seconds before we arrived at the far side of the compound. I put the Rocket Launcher back and grabbed my BR. I pointed to Lockheart, “Crimson Five, get in the 90 mm cannon atop the bird.”

Lockheart nodded and began climbing up to the cannon control seat.

“Crimson Four, on me!”

Me and Starfire jumped out of the Pelican's back hatch as Pizza laid down suppressing fire with the Pelican's 70 mm rotary.

“Crimson Three, we're providing diversion. Find and detain the boss of this base.”

“Yessir,” Fencing radioed back.

The building was a lot larger than I had originally anticipated. I would estimate it at five stories tall, and maybe a hundred yards by sixty. This may take a while.

“Sir, I can't find a way in.”

“Crimson Two, give him a door and some CAS while you're at it.”

I watched the Pelican fly around to the East side, its M8C Grindell/Galilean Nonlinear Rifle charged up and blew apart a ten-foot-wide section of a wall. Its rotary spun up and reduced more mobsters to chum and paint.

I looked around for hostiles. Nothing. “Crimson Four, breach the wall.”

She walked up and piled a variety of explosives against the wall. I should teach her about explosives once we RTB. She is supposed to be our sapper, after all. *KaBOOM!*
She didn't even give me a warning that she was about to detonate it, and my shields beeped angrily at her with a ¼ full bar. I thrusted into the building; I have shields (though little), and she doesn't.

Fifty. Fifty pinstriped suits were inside the building, but not one looking my way, though many were turning. I take it they were anticipating Fencing's assault more than my own. Who expects hostiles to literally come out of the woodwork (or in this case, masonry)?

Starfire seemed to freeze up at the number of hostiles. I didn't. I raised my BR. *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* Double Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Triple Kill! *BAM BAM BAM* Overkill! *BAM BAM BAM* Killtacular! *BAM BAM BAM* Killtrocity! *BAM BAM BAM* Killimanjaro! *BAM BAM BAM* Killtastrophe! *BAM BAM BAM* Killpocalypse! *BAM BAM BAM* Killionaire! *BAM BAM BAM* *BAM BAM BAM* click
I switched to my Magnum *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* *BAM* click Twenty down, thirty to go. Starfire still wasn't doing anything. I tossed a frag and a smoke grenade. I probably shouldn't use white phosphorous indoors, but I needed to keep my team alive, dammit! I grabbed Starfire and pulled her back outside, behind the masonry.

“So... so... many... es muy mal...” she was out of it, similar to Captain Cazador. I wasn't, which was just as good as bad. I grabbed her pack of explosives.

Let's see: Anfo, Comp-B, C-12, Torpex, Bangalore Blades and Plasma explosives. And a FURY nuke (oh, it's so cute!). Apparently I did pack one of those. I attached the nuke to my armor, just below the Thruster Pack. Good thing Starfire didn't put this in the pile. Don't want to use that in a little scuffle like this!

I grabbed Plasma charges. Not quite a Plasma Grenade, but Sangheili engineers use them for sapper work and anti-personnel roles. I rotated the arming knob atop the purple disc and tossed it like a Frisbee into the smoke-filled room. “Clear!” I yelled.

Plasma charges like the one I just threw only explode outward in a ring-like pattern. Engineers use this to knock out support struts and, when it's airborne, it can bifurcate infantry clusters. These charges were developed after the Covie War, as the Arbiter's take on our Bangalore Blade, but as a demolition charge. *CZSHH*

Back to the fighting, I rounded the corner, fresh mags loaded, BR up. No contacts on my motion sensor. “Crimson, be cautious on the first floor: smoke has been deployed.”

I activated my thermal vision. I really should update my VISR for the locals, huh? Thermals showed several forms all around me. I was about to duck into cover, but I noticed something odd. They weren't moving.

All the forms were prone and thirty of them were in two halves. Looks like its clear. “Crimson Two, cover Crimson Four.” I heard the Pelican fly around the compound again. “Crimson Three, what's your status?”

“Just detained the HVI, and prepping for exfil.”

“Are you sure it's the HVI?”

“He was the only one pointing and nopony questioned his orders.”

“Roger that. Stay put, I'll escort you out.” I walked outside and over to one of the HMG nests. It definitely looked like a Browning M2. I grabbed the top handle of the gun, then one of the grips near the back of it. I planted my left foot on the tripod mount, and pulled for all I was worth. Snap The gun came right off.

I headed back inside with my 'field upgrade'. I could easily run as fast as normal with this because my armor still had the Gunner specialization for load carrying.

I found the stairs and marched up the steps. Left... Left... Left, right, left.

As I turned at one of the landings to head up another flight, a pegasus dropped down from above. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* I blew off three of his legs, a wing, and bifurcated him all in one short burst. That's what I call more bang for your buck! Or this buck, I guess.

I went through the door he jumped out of. Inside was lots of cover, but no hostiles. I glanced at my motion sensor. Roughly fifteen contacts on this floor and the next. I aimed at the first one on the left.

*BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* The HMG tore through the stallion's cover and right through him too. It even took chunks out of the wall behind that, too. Suddenly, they sprung the ambush. Ambushes are supposed to exploit an element of surprise, which they didn't have. But what they did have was guns. Lots of guns.

But I had shields. Lots of shields. And a bigger gun. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Double kill! *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Triple kill! *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Overkill! I was tearing them apart, literally! Viscera was decorating the halls like some cheesy creepypasta fanfic. Brain matter splattered all over my armor, and even a hunk of one pegasus's skull landed atop my head like a yamaka.

CQC plus .50 BMG equals confetti. Better write that down. After the hail of lead, only one pegasus mobster was left crawling on the floor, having taken a round to the gut after it went through two of his friends. I estimated he'd have fifteen seconds left of life.

It looked like he wanted to say something. I walked up to him, “You're... a dead colt! You have no... idea who you're messing with... We work for Al Capony!”

He didn't have much time left. “Oh, I know exactly who I'm messing with. That's why I'm here. Goodnight, motherbucker!” I stomped down on his head. It crumbled like a watermelon beneath my boot.

Looking up at the other radar contacts, an idea came to mind. I aimed the Mah Deuce upwards and fired. *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Double kill! *BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM* Triple kill! The last of the targets fell down, aside from the one next to the friendly contact. I assumed that was Fencing and the HVI.

I jogged up to Fencing, “I'm impressed, you managed to bypass all those goons?”

“Yup, and got straight over to Fat Pony over here, too. He's the boss of this AO. And I like the new look, very in-season.”

“Oh, this? I just threw it together... Now then, I'll lead the way.”

I escorted Fencing and Fat Pony out of the compound and onto the Pelican. I strapped Fat Pony down next to the other, now-conscious, HVI.

“Fat Pony, this is River Bank. River Bank, this is Fat Pony. Play nice and I'll let you live.”

They just rumbled and kept quiet. Smart.

“Crimson One, we're approaching AO Charlie. What's the plan?”

“Open 'er up and let's take a look.” The back hatch opened as Pizza spun the bird around and I took a peek. AO Charlie was directly ahead. It didn't look like much, just a collection of office buildings. Not fortified. Is our intel off? Maybe. It looks civilian. These were suspected AOs, not guaranteed AOs. “Just swing her down low and I'll step off. I doesn't quite look like the kind of structures we've seen thus far. Also, I'm not seeing any pinstriped suits. Crimson Two, stay in position for CAS. All other Crimson callsigns, keep an eye on the HVIs. I'm going in.”

The Pelican went low and slow, and I jumped out the back, or rather walked. My boots hit the ground gently as I kept my BR at the ready. I calmly walked up to the front door of the building. Three stories tall, woodwork. Roughly 25 yards by just as many. If it is Mafia, it will be much more covert than their standard facilities.

“Crimson Actual, what can you tell me about this building here?”

“Oh, not much. It used to be used for newspaper printing before it was bought up by a... hold on, that's Sunny Capony's property! He's Al Capony's son. If you can capture him, Capony should come to us.”

“Are you sure?”

“The Mafia is focused on respect and family. Capturing Al Capony's son will damage both of those core tenets. They will hunt you down after that, from here to Zebrica if needed.”

“How do you know this?”

“It's all over the news. And it is public knowledge that Al Capony has a son.”

“Alright, thanks for the heads-up. Crimson One out.”

I looked at the front door. Oak, an inch and a half thick. Probably hollow, possibly not. Better test acoustics. *knock* *knock* Solid. I heard shuffling inside and some hoofsteps. Was that the secret knock? This building looked abandoned and I suspected as much. Apparently not.

I put on the worst Sicilian accent ever (which was the best I could manage) and said, “Hey, Sunny, it's-a me. Open up, why don't ya?”

I heard some locks start to slide out of place. How that worked, it beats me. Maybe Sunny was an amateur mobster still learning the ropes from papa?

The door swung open and I had a large-caliber pistol pointed at my face. He had his tongue on the trigger. Static, “That's him, Crimson One.”

I held up my hands and slowly putting down my BR, feigning submission. “Easy there,” I dropped the accent, “I don't want any trouble.”

“Well, clearly you've found it. Come on in, I don't want this done in the street.”

I kept my hands raised as I walked into the building. “All I wanted to do was meet the legend, Sunny Capony. Although Al may be the bigger name in the streets, I can see potential in you, potential that far surpasses Al's. I know you can do so much more than your father and grow your family into the kind of juggernaut that it deserves to be.”

“Is that so?” he seemed to relax his grip slightly. Apparently I was flattering.

“Ever since I heard of you, I've been yearning to be even a fraction as awesome as you. I just never thought I'd ever get the chance to actually meet you, I feel like I've won the lottery!”

“Glad to meet a fan of my work, but what exactly are you, though?”

“Me? I'm just a empathetic human who knows who the real legends are. My name is Mormon, by the way, but you probably knew that, am I right?”

“Yeah, you could say that-” he set down his gun and I took my chance.

I lunged at him, then thrusted around behind him at the last moment, grabbing his .45 as I went behind him. Using my free, right arm, I place him in a sleeper hold. He struggled and started trying to run around. I planted my feet and suplexed him to the ground, rolling right. He was on his side and tried to buck me with his hind legs like Keen Eye did some time ago. I just wrapped my own legs around his torso. He slowed and eventually stopped kicking.

I released the hold, and tied him up with some paracord. Before leaving, I looked around at the offices here. Yes, there was still a printing press, but thermals confirmed it wasn't in operation any time soon. I walked around to what would have been the boss's office. Inside was something interesting.

On the desk, files. But not just any files, files without dust. Everything else had a quarter inch of dust lining it, but this stuff was mint. Same thing with a large, black book adjacent to the manila folders.

I looked at the files, one said 'Marecago Outfit', another labeled 'The Mustang Gang', and one more marked 'Ascension'. I looked through the black book. Dates, names, locations, and prices. Must be the ledger. I grabbed all of them, it would make for an interesting read in Canterlot.

I grabbed Sunny Capony and my BR while I was walking back to the Pelican. Pizza swung it low, and I boarded. The other HVIs had their eyes go wide at my prize. I propped the unconscious colt up in a jumpseat and tied him down like the others.

“He got Sunny...” I heard Fat Pony remark to River Bank.

“Damn straight,” I said to him.

Pizza got on the mic, “Next stop: AO Delta. Can you give us any intel, Crimson Actual?”

“Umm... You might want to call off any explosive attacks, AO Delta is very close to the Rainbow Factory and Weather Generators. Apparently the boys there have been pressuring the CWC workers for 'protection money', only they don't actually do anything. All of Cloudsdale will owe you one if you can clear them out there. But the whole city could be destroyed if you hit too many generators; they're what keep the city airborne.”

“Copy that: no boom-boom. Crimson Two, drop me and Three off just outside the weather facility, we'll hoof this.”

“Roger, sir.”

I needed to change my loadout for this. I traded my BR for an Energy Sword. Fencing still had the machete. I also grabbed the spare Hardlight Shield and tuned my armor with Recharge instead of Gunner. I also equipped a Trauma Kit instead of restocking on frags. I set up the Mobility tuning on my armor and checked my Magnum. Fencing was set to go from the start.

We stepped off. Pizza took the Pelican away from the area and left us to our business. The sun was near its Western end. Twilight was minutes away.

I activated the sword, “Let's sprint this.”

I ran off to the waypoint Spectacles had kindly left me. Bad move. Four .50Cal HMGs had established a kill box right where I was standing. Fencing was gone, probably flanking. My Shields were halved almost instantly, so I brought up the Hardlight Shield. It held tough, deflecting the .50 BMG rounds with ease. Hmm... deflecting? Idea!

I rotated the shield, using their tracers to figure out where the ricochets were going. I maneuvered them right into one crewman on the gun furthest to the right. His head exploded into paint, stunning the gunner for the briefest of moments. Just what was need.

Fencing pounced the gunner. Note: machete beats M1911 knock-off, with surprise, in CQC. Fencing's machete went down into the shoulder of the rearing gunner, embedding itself halfway through his torso. The gunner's .45 dropped to the cloudy floor.

The other three HMG crews clued in on this and turned their guns on Fencing. He ducked into the HMG nest, using its sandbags for cover. I drew my Magnum with the window the gunners gave me. *BAM* *BAM* Double Kill! *BAM* Triple Kill! I took down the right gun's crew and the gunner on the mid-left gun before the far left gun forced me to get my Hardlight Shield back up. My Armor Ability gauge said it was almost out of juice, and the shield turned red to confirm this.

The other crewman on the mid-left gun manned the gun and started firing on Fencing, keeping us both pinned. My shield was about to give. “Fencing, on three! One... Two... Three!”

I dropped my shield and raised my Magnum. *BAM* Middle-left gunner down. My armor's shields were gone lightning-quick, and the .50 BMG rounds started tearing into my armor. A few rounds penetrated, when they hit the gel layer. The plates were holding, though. Medical alarms sounded and I felt the cool rush of biofoam enter my body.

When it looked like I was about to fall in battle, Fencing opened up with the far-right gun.

I saw the machine gun crew that almost dropped me get torn asunder due to Fencing's new toy. I dropped to my knees. “Joe!” I heard the radio call out.

“Don't worry, the gel layer slowed 'em down to roughly the force of a 9 mm. Regardless.... ow,” I responded. I laid down on my back, getting ready for some field surgery as I opened the trauma kit.

Shit... I didn't restock this from the Caesar. I grabbed the last morphine syrette and pumped into an injection port on my armor. Much better. Man this stuff is good! The auto-doc never seemed to be stocked with any morphine.

I got to my feet, feeling a few ounces heavier than I should. My shields recharged. Close Call! Gotta go into surgery after this op, maybe Luna could lend my the royal physician, if there is such a thing.

I walked up to Fencing's HMG nest, “All better, but let's make this quick. I'm not sure how long that shot's gonna last.”

“Yes, sir.” I guess it's not every day you get to see your CO get mowed down by HMGs and keep walking like nothing happened. Can't say it was my first time, though (in real life, not the War Game sims).

We sprinted past the perimeter wall the HMGs were defending. Beyond was two parallel rows of bedding, and about a dozen pegasi in pinstriped suits who had just awoken. We didn't stop.

Fencing went right, I went left.

Poor Bastard No. 1 was fumbling with his sidearm: he didn't have it unclasped but was still trying to draw, regardless. *CZSHH* He had not cleared leather 'fore my sword had fairly ripped. He got to feel what hot plasma's like.

The next one down the line didn't even have a gun, but it looked like he was ready to fight hoof-to-blade. I ran straight at him, he lunged. I side-stepped right and swung. *CZSHH* Double Kill! He was cut clean in half, or as clean as a plasma sword can be.

*Bap* *Bap* *Bap* Bastard No. 3 had drawn and shot. He matched the HVI. I pirouetted and sprinted right at him. He dropped the gun, “Please, don't kill me!” Might as well do as he says...

I jumped up and launched myself off of his head, sending him into the cloud floors and launching me skyward. Gravity pulled me down straight on top of Bastard No. 4.

I landed, slashing horizontally, decapitating him. *CZSHH* I rolled straight under the headless horse, springing up to face off against No. 5. He had a shotgun. *BOOM* A single-shot 12 gauge shotgun. Shields: gone... again. *CZSHH* Double Kill! Another downward slash made short work of him.

No. 6 was running away. *BAM* Triple Kill! ...was running away. Area clear, I walked up to the HVI. Close Call! My shields were back up to full. “Now, you're gonna come with us nice and quiet like, else we go slice n' dice on your ass.”

“Ok, just don't hurt me!”

I tied him up with paracord. “Crimson Two, this is Crimson One. Ready for evac.”

“Headed your way now.”

This new HVI goes by the alias Cloud Mad-dock, and was greatly hindering weather distribution across Equestria, focusing it on fields used to produce the corn used in alcohol production for the illicit distilleries in Marecago and Cloudsdale. With him out of the picture, weather services will be cheap, more profitable, and less biased.

Sunny was going to be our bait for the Capony trap, and overall he hadn't done much. Just a little bit of counterfeit checks and documents here and there, roughly twice a month. He was also managing the finances of the Cloudsdale Mafia, which apparently is part of the Marecago Outfit.

Fat Pony was in charge of illegal arms trade in Cloudsdale and had is hoof in every arms trading business in Equestria, both illicit and legal. With him gone, Capony's boys aren't gonna be getting any better firepower and Equestria's military will be able to fight the Zebra Menace more effectively.

River Bank was in charge of the distribution of contraband throughout Equestria, using local delivery services and even the weather (in collaboration with Mad-dock) to smuggle his supplies anywhere they were wanted, so long as they were payed for in advance.

The ledger revealed that a substantial amount of firepower had been sold to Junky and Illicit, the two brothers that were in charge of higher-profile activities of the Mafia in Cloudsdale. Often getting directly involved, these boys are murderers and everyone knows it. The only reason why the CPD hasn't cracked down on them, aside from Chuck Finley and their firepower, is their reputation: they are the most feared of all gangsters, aside from Al Capony, who is in charge of them.

Junky and Illicit have a well-known degree of reverence for Al Capony and his Mafia, and they actually merged their gang with his Marecago Outfit by their own request. Junky is known to be unreasonable and psychotic almost always. His brony (bro and pony, apparently), Illicit, is the cold, calculating mind that focused the fury of Junky into the infamous gang they were known for. Illicit is just as dangerous in a fight, though. Maybe psychopathy runs in the family?

Their island fortress in Cloudsdale was attacked on multiple occasions: thrice by the CPD (all with heavy losses), twice by the EAF (lighter casualties), and even the Wonderbolts (they broke the attack when they lost their previous Captain, and Spitfire took charge afterwards). Even a dragon, contracted by Celestia, attacked their fortress and was killed. They call the place: All-Can-Tries. An open challenge to Equestria, and grammar Nazis alike.

Since then, they've upgraded the firepower of the base. And we're gonna take it. Straight into the maw of the Beast. I'm glad Spectacles sent us some files on Illicit and Junky, otherwise we'd be flying directly into the dragon's teeth. The two run the place, and I'd like to know what Capony's been having them do. The ledger only lists “Hit”, but not on whom.

“Crimson Two, I'll fly for this one. It'll be an air-op.”

“Good copy, getting in the 90 mike-mike.”

“Crimson Three and Four, fly out onto the waist guns. We'll need the extra firepower. And don't forget to strap in, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!”

“Yes, sir!” Starfire and Fencing headed out, taking the left and right guns, respectively.

“Crimson Actual, mark all hostile guns in excess of 10 mike-mike rifle calibers.”

“On it,” and about seventy “Eliminate” tags popped up on my HUD. This will be wild.

Lockheart spoke up, “Sir, what do you want me to do?”

I pulled up an HMG and mounted it to the back of the Pelican, then I handed him a medkit, “You'll be covering our ass and patching up our wounds. Chances are Illicit will send airborne infantry after us once we start to thin out their guns.”

“Yes, sir!” he slung the medkit and grabbed the gun.

Shit was going down tonight. Twilight had passed and the black of night engulfed the sky. I got to the cockpit and turned off all of the Pelican's lights. “Luna, you reading me?”

Nothing. “Luna, how copy?”

Still nothing. “Luna, if you are receiving, acknowledge immediately.”

“I'm here... I'm just not familiar with this radio terminology.”

“I'll get you up to speed with that if I survive this. Right now, we'll need the darkest night you can bring. We're about to assail a flying fortress, and could use all the help we can get.”

“Of course, but what do you mean 'if' you survive'?”

“I don't make promises I know I can't keep.”

“Oh... the best of luck to you, then.”

“We make our own luck. Crimson out,” I cut the transmission.

“Crimson, sound off! One ready!” I broadcast.

“Two ready!”

“Three ready!”

“Four good to go!”

“Five ready.”

“Actual reading you five-by-five. The op is live.”

Lo and behold, Luna delivered; the night is black. No stars. No moon. Just an infinite, black nothing. If it wasn't for the waypoints, there would be no way to tell where All-Can-Tries is.

“Crimson Three, Crimson Four, those waist guns have thermal optics on them. Use them and aim for any hot spots once I commence fire. Same for you, Crimson Two. Crimson Five, you'll need to rely on your eyes.”

I accelerated the Pelican towards All-Can-Tries. I charged the M8C and took aim at the 36 inch mortar that was mounted in center of the fortress. That would probably be the highest-caliber weapon in Equestria, by my estimates. *BLAM* The 36 incher now had a very large hole in it. My thermals showed the other artillery guns slowly start to swivel around to face us. “Open fire!” I yelled across the mic.

I switched to the 70 mm rotary. *BAWAAA!* Fencing and Starfire opened up with their dual 40s as soon as they could. *Pow Pow Pow Pow* *Pow Pow Pow Pow*

Fires erupted down below, engulfing entire artillery segments. Several Eliminate tags were going dark. Some of the lighter, more dexterous guns down below started chucking up flak. I could only see the orange fireballs from their detonations. They were getting them closer and closer. Could they see us? Was it their tracers? But even then this was surprisingly accurate for this light level.

Crap, they're probably following the glow from the engines. Time to do something daring.

I spun the Pelican around on a dime, pulling 6 Gs force. Facing All-Can-Tries, our engines' glow should be concealed, but they would be shooting at a stationary target. An invisible, stationary target, given the black of night. 'Eliminate' tags were still going dark, and Pizza had a shot with the 90mm. *KraBOOM* I watched the shell streak towards a tag, then it went dark.

We kept up the fire for some time, shifting positions every time their shells got too close. *BLAM* And dark went the last tag. “All heavy guns disabled. Crimson Two, prepare to disembark. I want your boots on the ground.”

“Yes, sir.”

I brought the Pelican in, fast and low. This was the last day Luna's cloud-walking spell would work, and we were gonna put it to use. Pizza bailed out. The fires of All-Can-Tries made anything close to the ground easy to spot. I stayed about 100 feet above Pizza, gunning down anything that tries to stop him. “Crimson Actual, pump Crimson Two's sensory data to my HUD.”

“On it.”

I saw a small video display of Pizza sprinting into the main building on the island. He kicked the door open, bringing his DMR to bear. He switched to thermals, spotting targets moving around down the hall to his left. Just as he turned and started shooting, an HMG behind him opened up. He brought up his Hardlight Shield.

It looked like it was twenty yards to the right of the door Pizza stepped through. I took my best guess and ran wild with it. I aimed. *BLAM* I watched the Spartan Laser tear through the wall on Pizza's video feed. The HMG was destroyed. He turned around and eliminated the other contacts.

As he rounded the next corner, a figure jumped him, knocking his DMR away. This figure had a knife and tried plunging it into Pizza's gut. He grabbed the Tango's neck, arresting the blade. He then grabbed the Tango's hoof, and spun him around into the wall behind Pizza. The Tango bucked Pizza away, knocking his shields down by half.

The Tango yelled, “Play!” as he charged Pizza. Clearly, this was Junky. Pizza sidestepped him like a matador, then he drew his Boltshot. *Pew* *Pew* *Pew* Pizza pegged Junky in three of his legs, but Junky launched off his good hind leg. Pizza grabbed the psychopath in the air, spun 180 and slammed himself down atop Junky on the ground. I heard a few ribs break, but saw no medical warning from Pizza's side.

Junky bucked Pizza over him and onto the floor. Pizza landed flat on his back, and Junky tried to land on top of Pizza. It looked like he was trying to take a bit out of Pizza's throat. Pizza brought up his Hardlight Shield at the last second, halting Junky's attack. Junky wouldn't relent, and Pizza wasn't dropping his shield.

I took aim at Pizza's IFF tag. Charging... *BLAM* The Splazer tore through the wall and vaporized Junky. Pizza's Hardlight Shield just took it like a champ and he slowly got back up, retrieving his DMR. There was only one contact left in this building. I wonder who that could be?

Pizza kicked the door to the main office. It didn't budge. I saw him draw his Boltshot again. He charged it. *KaPLOW* The doorknob and lock were blasted out of the door. He switched back to his DMR, and charged in.

Inside was Illicit, sitting calmly at his desk. He had something in his hoof. “Hold you fire, Crimson Two. He's got something.”

Sure enough, like all Hollywood villains, he decided to monologue, “Glad to see you face to face, whoever you are... whatever you are. I take it you got past my brony?”

Pizza just nodded in the affirmative.

“Damn shame, too. I was thinking about letting you walk out of here with your pathetic life in tow. But, alas, it seems we're both going to die here, together.” He held up a device of some sort. It looked like a detonator. “Dead-pony's switch. You kill me, this little ditty blows up the entire fortress. I hope you're not that eager to kill a professional in the same field of work as you...”

“Crimson Two, I may have a solution, just keep him talking.”

Pizza shook his head “no”.

“Not one for many words, are you? Anyways, I was hoping...” I zoned out from what he had to say. I pulled up the Pelican's console and started hammering code out. I was using my patch to Pizza's sensors to tap into his armor. I'll try to rig his shields to distribute a localized EMP. That should disable the detonator. Several safety warnings were popping up and I was dismissing them just as quickly. And... bingo!

“Crimson Two, your shields will distribute an EMP on my command, you just need to grab the detonator. Do NOT let him release that switch.”

“... so if you help me with the guard, I'll help you with the whole 'not dying' thing. Capisce?”

“Нет” Pizza responded in Russian.

“What?”

“Нет” Pizza slowly walked up to Illicit.

“Is that a yes or a no? Or are you trying to say 'not yet', it kinda sounds like that...”

Pizza moved like lightning and grabbed the detonator. I activated the EMP, which disabled the detonator at the temporary loss of Pizza's shields. We staved off the thunder. He probably had remote charges placed in the magazines to the artillery guns, especially the 36 inch mortar.

“Hey! I'll blow it! I will! I am... not? But it's supposed to work!” He clearly wasn't happy. Pizza let go of the detonator as he repeatedly pressed and released the button. It wasn't gonna be working any time soon. I saw Pizza's shield recharge as he grabbed Illicit by the mane.

I maneuvered the Pelican out front and tied up Illicit, securing him to another jumpseat. “We're five for five here. Good work team!” I called out to the rest of the Crimson Guard.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“Sir, I would like to know what all this is about.”

“You will know when you need to know, Lieutenant.”

“Admiral, I think it may be best to let the Lieutenant know why he is here and what questions we need him to answer.”

“I’m in command here, doctor, and I’ll say what needs to be said, nothing more.”

“I take it you want to know everything, Admiral? Because I have a lot to say, and it should be best told it in its entirety.”

“Then stop wasting my time, Lieutenant. We are on the clock.”