My second trimester has been going quite well, despite some annoyances. My baby is growing and as a result, I’ve had to start wearing slightly bigger and bigger coats just so my belly doesn’t hang out. At four months in, it was a subtle bump… but Mamma had warned me enough times that I know a growth spurt will happen sooner or later.

Of course- I have the cramps to deal with and general joint pain, on top of phantom pain I have to deal with in my leg! It sucks- one minute I’ll be sitting around, the next it’ll feel like someone chopped my leg off again. Either that, or it’ll randomly feel like I’ve been resting my severed foot in an ice bath out of nowhere.

Speaking of my foot, we found the Flim Flam brothers, finally. You may be wondering what we did to ‘em? Well…

---

SPLAT!

A bat came down upon Flim’s head, cracking it like a coconut. His brother, Flam, cried pathetically, bloody-muzzled from where we hit him to get him to shut the fuck up. We just spent the last 45 minutes beating his brother to near-death with baseball bats.

“He’sh shtill… shtill breathin’, leave ‘im alone!” His brother begged through tears and bloody snot running down his face, but we were having none of it. Adrian was here, as was Roscoe and a couple lower level enforcers. We chucked the one body into a shallow, dusty grave, and I held the fucker’s chin up, looking him in the eyes.

“Listen, Flam. One last chance. Tell us who sold ya the dynamite and we might let you live.” He glared at me, eyes full of defiance and hate.

“F-fuck you!” He gritted his teeth at me, so I made sure to bash his in with a baseball bat. Adrian and I had a particular beef with this prick… so we made sure to take extra time on him. I mean, this bastard is the reason my best friend may never fly again… at least, non mechanically-aided.

They were both still breathing when we chucked ‘em in a shallow grave and started throwing dirt on ‘em. We never got the answer out of them, and I refused to use my tongue, lest I suffer a brain hemorrhage… but fuck ‘em. They took my leg, and it felt cathartic to give ‘em what they deserved.

Besides- it was Equestria, and we all knew it. We just couldn’t prove it… Once again, intentionally or not, Equestria has me beat at my own game. Well played, well fuckin’ played. I mean- it’s not like I can just have foreign government entities whacked, now can I? If I’m going to Twilight about an issue, it’s something that I have 100% proof of, or it’s an offer she can’t refuse.

---

Fuck ‘em.

On a more positive note- Phil just had the grand opening of his first retail chain in Griffonia- Birdnest Bargains. It was opening in the heart of the city, as well as several other locations across Fertilia- and I made sure the people knew that this place had my full endorsement.

The reason it took so long to open these stores is because Rich wanted to do a bunch of market research first, just to see what would work, as well as to study some of the more fineries of Griffonian Culture to determine what would really drive the crowds.

The result? The place became an overnight success, helped by the fact that Phil had a bunch of coupons and catalogs mailed out beforehand, with help from the National Postal Service and courtesy of me. The place had everything- each store had a deli counter, a pharmacy, a small sandwich shop, and everything and the kitchen sink!

They’ve got allen wrenches, gerbil feeders, toilet seats, electric heaters.
Trash compactor, juice extractor, shower rods and water meters…

Wait. What?

But that wasn’t the best part. For the first time in the history of… anywhere on this planet, you could buy guns! Not only that, but each store came equipped with an indoor firing range. It had a thick, angled concrete backdrop to prevent ricochets, and each lane had a changeable paper target, where you can set the distance using a wooden crank device.

To buy a gun, you had to take a one on one course on firearms there. The instructor will take you in and make sure you’re not a complete dent head- you know, basic firearms safety stuff. Treat each gun as if it were loaded, only point at something you want dead, don’t fill the barrel with powder to the top, keep your booger hook off the bang switch- basically, a competency test to make sure you’re not gonna shoot yourself in the foot. Of course, if you were in the military, you’re exempt. The best part? To reserve a spot to take a course… cost only a nickel.

As a result, the range in Featherworth is already booked for a literal month! So that’s why I was having a meeting with Phil today, to discuss plans for expansion. It was this wonderful little brewery situated at the edge of what was apparently the oldest vineyard in Fertilia. Of course, I wouldn’t be partaking in the wine… but they had this delicious grape juice they also made locally.

I had my guards wait outside- and I could see that Phil had already arrived, his fancy carriage and body guards waiting at the door. The brewery building was at the top of a hill, overlooking the orchard, and had a large balcony with tables for tasting. It was still early spring, and a light breeze could be felt, giving me a tingling sensation in my feathers.

I greeted my father in law with a quick hug, taking a seat across from him at one of the small tables. Our hostess came out and poured his wine and my grape juice, and I dismissed her- not before tipping her well, of course.

“Business been boomin’ lately, huh?” I asked him with a chuckle, noting the bags under his eyes. But then again- because of all the hard work he does, he’s able to manage two of the most successful retail chains on the planet, all the way from across an ocean. Even when travel was forbidden, he was able to use telegraphs to send messages down the chain of command. As a result- he was a very rich man.

But anyways, he rolled his eyes at me with a grin. “Somethin’ of an understatement.”

We spent the next while discussing all sorts of business shit- including taxes, new range locations, factories, what have you. Needless to say, Phil got a very good deal- mainly because I can see he’s actually been putting forth effort to spend more time with his daughter. So not only is my wife happier than ever, Rich is bringing in more business, driving more jobs…

I may be losing money directly… but it’s being made back in dividends.

Anyways- our waitress brought out a piece of bread, shaped like a gigantic muffin. I nodded at her and smiled, silently thanking her. Phil seemed confused, as she didn’t bring out plates or anything with it.

“Panettone.” I explained, and he nodded. “It’s a Fertilian dessert bread. You just pick it apart with your hands.” As was tradition, I tore a piece off and let it soak in the grape juice a little before taking a bite. Of course, since my father in law had hooves, he pulled a folding knife out of his suit pocket, cutting off small chunks for himself. It was quite good!

We continued to talk as we picked away at the bread. “So… those new guns. How’re they selling?” I asked with a grin, and he rubbed his chin.

See, we made several improvements to the consumer designs of our guns. Namely, rather than using the stick stock we used for volley firing, carbines and rifles have a stock reminiscent of a middle-eastern Jezail rifle. The stock, rather than being straight, curved heavily downward so you held it almost like a pistol grip. The stock then curved back upwards, and ended in a rounded bit which nestled under the crook of your arm. They were fantastic for hunting and all sorts of stuff!

But from what Phil told me, the most popular guns are the little “Saturday Night Specials.” That is, really small, cheap, and compact pistols. Er, as compact as you can make a flintlock. I can imagine a lot of them wind up in the bottom of the river.

“So, about that other thing.” I said to him, and he cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “You know, the union thing.”

He sighed in annoyance, rubbing his temple. “Look, they’re just janitors, why do they need so much money?” As I took a sip of juice, he continued- “I mean, half those knuckleheads, I wouldn’t even pay to clean my bathrooms!” I swallowed my juice and chuckled.

“Yeah, some of those guys really are scraping the barrel.” That was our main solution to repeated unemployment- if you don’t, or can’t, find a job yourself, or aren’t actively pursuing education, there’s plenty of union work to be found. “Look, I get it. The jobs available via the laborers union are a joke. Anyone can do ‘em, I know what ya mean.”

He gave me a grin. “I knew you could see reason-” But it fell as I set my glass down and glared at him.

“Tell me. If you don’t have the laborers to do that so-called ‘basic labor,’ who will do the work?” I asked him sternly, keeping eye contact. He nervously glanced off to the side,

“W-well, just have the cashiers do it, like how it’s done in Equestria, you know?” He gave a nervous chuckle and took a sip of wine. “Tha-that’s all, is that so unreasonable?” I kept my glare up for a few more seconds, before I forced myself to calm down by taking a sip of juice. Phil looked visibly relieved- but I wasn’t done yet.

“Need I remind you that cross-operational duties like that are strictly forbidden in pretty much all union contracts?” There are some exceptions, of course. Phil sighed, glancing off to the side. “Phil, look at me.” I commanded, and he obeyed.

“You know full well how the unions operate around here.” His pupils shrank, and he swallowed nervously. “You remember what happened to the CEO of that taxiwagon startup that tried operating outside of union rules.” He chuckled nervously, because I know damn well he remembered what happened to that poor bastard.

My look finally softened, and his shoulders sagged again. “Look. You’re my father-in-law. You’re a part of the family, and I love you. I understand- you’re a capitalist, and you have an obligation to protect your profit margins. Number goes up and all that.” I said with a chuckle, before pointing a finger at him. “But I have an obligation to protect the people. My people. Don’t make a fuck out of me, Phil.” I held a hand out, which he took, us sharing a quick shake.

“Alright, fine. I’ll give them their raises.” He conceded, slumping back in his chair and taking a sip of wine. I tore off another piece of that bread, also relaxing in my chair.

After a few moments of silence, I spoke up again. “So… we’re gonna be having a family cookout towards the end of next month. You gonna be there?”

---

Of course, it wouldn’t just be for direct family. Family ain’t just blood, you know. I invited Roscoe and his family along with Adrian… but we’d also be having the twins and Sinan come over- they were on leave, and I needed to offer ‘em a job anyway.

In fact, as soon as my guards told me they arrived, I had them sent upstairs to my office. I opened the door to greet them, and we all shared hugs and whatnot.

“So, how’re ya’s?” I asked enthusiastically. We all sat around in my office, and they filled me in on what they’ve been up to. Long story short- they’re very high ranking military officers. The reason they’re finally on vacation?

Almost all the dens gave in, finally. All with minimal bloodshed- which is exactly what I wanted. Er, long term bloodshed.

“So, that begs the question. What now?” I asked them, and they just sorta looked at each other.

“What, you mean… Now that the dog campaign is over?” Jos asked, cocking an eyebrow. I nodded with a grin, and Sinan snorted.

“You’re offering us a job, right?” He guessed correctly, a faint grin on his face. Fin hummed in realization, and Jos was rubbing her chin. I looked at them and asked,

“Wanna be part of a state-sponsored assassination guild?” I asked them, and they looked at each other and nodded with wide grins. I smiled back and pulled the two in for a hug.

“Alright, both of ya’s join the party.” I turned over to Sinan, putting an arm around his back. “We’ll meet ya’s downstairs in a minute. Talk to Ross- he’ll fill you in.” They nodded, high-fiving each other on the way out the door.

Sinan looked at me curiously, and I shut the door. “I wanna ask your advice on something.” He seemed surprised- and took a seat across from me at my desk.

“Spill it. What do you want to know?” He asked, politely as ever. It was a bit of an awkward question, so I nervously fiddled with a pencil.

“Look, I…” I sighed and looked him in the eyes. “I don’t know a lot about Zebra culture or their states or anything like that… as embarrassing as it is to admit.” I looked at my friend with a sheepish grin, and he chuckled.

“Come on- surely, you could at least point it out on a map?” I nodded, because I’m not that fucking stupid. It lied directly south of Equestria, in a region near the equator- kind of like Minos. There were dry deserts across the southeastern border and jungles along the northwestern border… but that’s all I knew.

Doesn’t help that the Zebras generally keep to themselves.

“Yeah, but I meant like… Okay, so basically, I’m thinking about opening trade between our nations.” I explained, and Sinan rubbed his beak.

After a few moments, he said- “The zebras are a very private, very divided population. Some regional tribes don’t even like trading with Equestria, let alone griffons.” But before my hopes were completely dashed, he added- “But still, you may be able to trade with some of the larger, more progressive city states. And at the very least, establishing diplomatic amicability would be useful, as you’d have an in with them if you ever needed something.”

I rubbed my beak in thought, smiling at the prospects. It’s a shame they’re so divided, too. If it was an option, I’d love to stage a land invasion where we lord over the Zebras and force them to cooperate… But I just don’t think that’d be very practical right now, what with Equestria breathing down my back. They’d surely jump in for the defense of the Zebras, then we’d really be screwed.

“Tell you what, if you want, I can give you a crash course on Zebra history and culture one of these days?” He offered a hand, and we shook. “I’d need to get things ready first, of course.”

“Hell yeah.” We shared a friendly hug, and I slapped him on the back. “Now come on, there’s a party down there!”

We made our way down, and passed Mamma who was in the kitchen, stirring away at the tomato sauce. Phil was also there- slicing various vegetables and stuff to make a large salad bowl, as well as preparing a vinaigrette based dressing. “MA! ETA on the sauce?” I asked her as we passed, and she gave it a quick taste.

“I’m gonna say another ten minutes.” She said, and I fully trusted her expertise. When Mamma’s in the kitchen, you don’t fuck around.

“That’s fine- we’re still waitin’ on one more!” Mamma nodded and smiled, and we made our way onto the back porch.

“One more? Who are we waiting on?” Sinan asked, grabbing himself a beer out of the cooler.

“A friend of mine, from Equestria. You all’re gonna like him.” I answered with a smile, pulling a lawn chair over to where Fin and Jos were talking to Adrian and Roscoe. My backyard was massive- and I already installed a big playset with a sandbox for when my baby gets older.

Anyways, we all sat there, chatting idly about this and that- just like when we all were camped together. God, that feels like so long ago now. And while we were doing that, Dee was chatting with Roscoe’s wife, Sophia, and fawning over their newborn daughter. Her name’s Daisy, and she was so adorable! Only about half a year old at this point. Meanwhile his boy, Clyde, was just running around, evidently having the time of his life.

The Twins were distracted talking to Sinan about something, and Adrian had gotten up to get another drink… so I turned to Ross and whispered- “So… how much do you tell him?” His back seemed to go stiff, and I added- “You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want.”

He nervously tapped his finger against his chair, then sighed. “Not much. He still thinks I’m a sheriff.” He had a faint smile, and glanced off to the side. “He thinks the world of me, and I just… I dunno.” He took a swig of his beer, staring at the grass below.

“What’s there to be ashamed of?” I asked him, and he snorted.

“Nothing, it’s just… you know, his whole life I taught him to respect the law, always. And… I guess I just feel like a hypocrite, I suppose.” I could tell this was a touchy thing- he spent his whole life believing that the institution he worked for was the best way of doing things, until I convinced him to see reason.

“I understand.” I said, taking a swig of grape juice. “I can’t force you to do anything, but I do recommend you tell him some day. Explain to him what you do.” He glanced up at me, and I continued- “Because if he finds out from someone else, he will not be happy.” I wrapped an arm around his back and smirked. “But, hey! It’s a party! We ain’t gotta think about that, now.” I said, and he finally smiled.

“Suppose you’re right.”

We continued our idle chit-chat- until finally, the guest showed up.

“EMMIE!” I yelled as I ran over to greet him, pulling him in for a hug. My wife did much the same thing- and we wasted no time introducing him. Even better- we heard Mamma yell from the house.

“Dinner’s ready!” She was carrying out a massive pot of tomato sauce, which was full of sausages and meatballs. We had pasta, salads and good bread for the Equestrians, but we also had a bunch of sausages and stuff cooked on a massive fuckin’ grill! Sophia brought in her homemade potato salad, and we had plenty of booze and other things to drink! It was all laid out on folding tables, resting in metal trays covered in aluminum foil and heated with a portable burner.

We all took our seats in various lawn chairs in a circle, and I loaded my plate with pasta and sausages, with plenty of Mamma’s homemade sauce. Don’t judge me- I had a baby inside me! We both gotta eat!

Dee saw my plate, and chuckled. “At this rate, you're gonna blow up like a balloon, and your belly’s gonna be dragging across the ground!” And of course, these traitors laughed at her joke! I gave her the finger and rolled my eyes with a smile.

“Hey, girl’s gotta eat.” I defended myself, wasting no time in shoving a bunch of sausage into my beak. Hot sausage- so it was nice and spicy, too.

“You sure do love sausage for someone who married a woman.” Emmie piped up, once again drawing a round of laughter. I couldn’t help but laugh at that one.

“I missed you, Emmie.” I said, bringing a forkful of pasta to my mouth. “Don’t make me regret that sentiment… you mothafuckin’ fruity cocksucker!” I looked at him with a wide grin and we shared a laugh, and my focus turned fully to the meal in front of me.

I briefly thought to myself- If my kid says they don't like this kind of food, I’m disowning them. Well, then I felt bad immediately afterwards because like… shit, that’s horrible. I idly rubbed the bump on my belly, once again just… thinking. I can’t help but wonder what they’ll be like? What if they don’t like what I do? What if they-

I felt my wifes hoof grab my arm. “You’re asking yourself what if again. Stop it.” She had a reassuring look in her eyes, and I smiled before she returned to her seat, next to her father.

“You’re lucky to have her.” Emmie said, and I couldn’t agree more. We finished our dinner, and were just left idly chit-chatting.

Finally, I turned to Emmie and asked- “So, what’ve you been up to?”

And he explained- he’s basically just been going on whatever expeditions get funded, far to the south of the equator. He hasn’t learned a whole lot, unfortunately. Thankfully… he’s friends with me. But eventually, it was his turn to ask a question.

“So… the yellow sign.” He had a smug grin, and continued- “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize it?” He asked rhetorically, and I shrugged.

“Never said you wouldn’t recognize it. Is that a problem?” I asked, as there was no doubt talk amongst the occult research community about me using the symbol of an ancient cult.

“No, not a problem, just… thought I’d ask why, is all.” A reasonable question… one which made me far more upset than it should’ve, for some reason.

“Fuckin’, I dunno… just liked it, I guess.” I answered a bit more crossly than I anticipated- and I think he noticed, as he just shrugged it off.

Weird. Must’ve been a mood swing, something to do with hormones.

But anyways- the evening pressed on… and somehow, the topic turned to changelings.

“They like to disguise themselves as flies, as they’re mobile and hard to spot.” Roscoe was explaining how we’ve found they worked. “Using magic, they’re essentially able to create pictures using a spell.”

That’s how they were able to get those… photos. That’s also how Equestria is stealing Griffonian inventions- as we figured out, they had a whole dedicated network of spies, thanks to their alliance with the Changeling Hive.

You may be wondering how we found that out? Well, simply put… imagine my surprise when I managed to catch a fly off guard with a swatter, and the fucker switched back into his default form from the shock! So naturally, I pinned him down and started wailing on his horn with the butt of my pistol, breaking it off and severing its magic.

We got a few things out of it- for example, they can’t change into anything smaller than a fly. Or rather- it apparently takes too much concentration to do anything smaller. It’s magic, I don’t fucking know the rules, and if anyone does find out, please fucking tell me.

But anyways- this is why my wife turned towards the food table and joked, “Fuckin’ changelings are stealing our food, too!” Gesturing to the couple flies that were idly flying around the covered trays.

“Well, go swat ‘em!” Mamma said. Before anyone got up I said-

“Wait, no.” Mamma looked at me weirdly and I explained- “I don’t want no fly guts near my food. The food’s covered, don’t worry ‘bout it.” Ma shrugged and turned back… then Sinan spoke up.

“Actually, I know how to fix this.” He had an odd grin, “I need a small tube and some cotton balls.” He said, and I blinked in confusion. “Just trust me- I wanna try something I saw a while ago.” I looked over to Dee and shrugged.

“You wanna go in and get some cotton balls?” I asked her as I got up, making my way over to my workshop- which was basically a massive, separate garage-like building. I grabbed a small piece of copper tubing- half an inch wide and only a foot long.

“Perfect!” Sinan said as my wife came back outside, bag of cotton balls in hand. He then stuffed a cotton ball into one end of the tube… then poured a decent bit of salt, capping it off with another piece of cotton, rammed down with a dowel rod.

There were a couple small flies just idly being menaces, encircling the tray of sausages. Sinan lifted his makeshift blowgun up.

THUNK! The salt shot out the end, and the flies were knocked out of the air. They were dead, and there was only a little bit of salt on the tray.

“Cool!” Clyde summed it up quite well.

“That’s one way to kill a fly.” Roscoe mused, and I don’t think he was seeing what I was seeing.

“Sinan.” I said to my friend, putting an arm around his back. “You’re a fucking genius.”

---

Of course, we were up all night, just chatting and having a good time… but I was up early the next day, drawing up designs for a salt gun.

The final design was simple- a tubular air reservoir, with a simple quick-release lever valve attached to a 6 inch barrel. The brass tank was another 6 inches, and 2 inches in diameter. It’s filled up with a simple bike pump kinda thing, which only fires once per filling. For ammunition, it used common table salt, held in place with a cotton wad.

It launched a spread of salt, and to use it, simply point it at whatever and pull the trigger. The reason I went for this simplistic design is so that potential spies don’t immediately recognize the danger they were in.

Hopefully, we’ll have the changeling issue solved by the time my third trimester rolls around. If I’m right- Equestria’ll be a bit more cautious about sending over spies once they realized what we planned to do with the ones we caught.

ANOTHA ONE!

I have a discord server for this fic out now!! It'd be real cool if u joined :333

As always, thanks so much for reading! Likes and comments are always greatly appreciated :3