|
Post by Red Charge on Jan 22, 2015 18:09:19 GMT -5
Lucky's face fell almost comically, "Are you kidding me?" He asked dramatically, "You're here in the middle of Canterlot, a well groomed soldier hunk and with the perfect wing-pony and you say no? What for? You've got no special somepony do you? What's the deal?" The alchemist shoved a hoof in Fantasy's chest accusingly, "Here I go through all this trouble for you and that's it? Fine. Have it your way, what can I tell you?" He rolled his eyes and began to head back, "But you better believe that if we're getting back I'm dragging you out here even if I have to poison you first."
Lucky Drops was not very responsive on the way back, obviously not too happy with Script's not so tactful refusal to partake in his planned activity. But he obviously was not in the mood to argue with Fantasy Script either, he simply let the enchanter follow him quietly as he went. About three quarters of the way back, a military recruit caught them, presenting himself as being sent by the recruitment officer. He claimed their presence was required in his tent. Were they going to get some action finally? It was barely mid-day too, if something was going to happen it wasn't going to be tomorrow, but today. Lucky grinned at Fantasy Script excitedly.
"Finally, some action!" He exclaimed, nearly skipping on the way back to the recruitment officer's tent, attracting non sympathetic looks from the ponies and griffons working on the buildings around him. "Gonna open up a vial of whoopflank on some Diamond Dogs something fierce!" He said, shadow boxing with his hooves. "Ain't nothing going to stand up to the Dream Team!" He seemed to regret that name pretty fast, "Uh, Star Squad... no that's not it... Delta Destroyers? No, but that's going in the name folder. Oh Demolition Duo! Oh but wait, there's Max Force too isn't there? Hmm... I got it! The Truculent Trio!" Lucky exclaimed, seeming quite happy with himself, as he disappeared into the recruitment officer's tent.
As the two entered, Max Force was already inside, the intimidating unicorn was looking at them with the same piercing glare and did not speak as they came in. The recruitment officer waited until Lucky Drops calmed down before speaking.
"Gentlecolts, as you have undoubtedly heard by now," The Recruitment officer began, looking directly at Lucky when he said that, obviously having an inkling to the well connected pony's habits, "You have been selected to partake in a special experiment. As you've no doubt heard, with the success of the Slayer Project, the brass has been much more open to more... experimental training and formations to be deployed in the field. Of course, I don't expect any of you to know what the Slayer Project is, I'll merely say that it deals in the specific training of a heavy support trooper specializing in ... intense combat, shall we put it. As such we have determined our next venture a team of three ponies, two support troopers and one heavy support trooper. This is Max Force, she will be the slayer assigned to you and..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Lucky said before he could stop himself, "she?!"
The recruitment officer's eyes narrowed somewhat, but at that point Max Force began to talk "Corporal Maxime Interforce, Heavy Support Trooper, in service to the Princess and the Kingdom. Is that a problem?" And yet, the voice coming from this intimidating super-trooper was unmistakably feminine, not leaving any room for doubt regarding her gender.
Lucky's jaw dropped with such force that it hung slack beneath his snout, he was beyond words.
"I do not go out of my way to wear make up or mascara, I am a soldier not some Canterlot stroller." Maxime raised her snout high in derision towards Lucky's reaction, "That does not take away from my femininity." She said, glaring down at the two male unicorns quite standoffishly.
"As I said, she will be your heavy support trooper." The recruitment officer cleared his throat loudly, "You are to pack your equipment and leave to Fillydelphia today no later than high noon. The way there is swarmed by Core Hounds, so you will be taking a griffon airship to the city. Upon arrival you will report to your direct superior, Colonel Bitter, who is overseeing this experimental formation. You will receive further orders on location. I'll let you introduce yourselves, your airship leaves at high noon exactly, you will NOT be late to board."
At that the recruitment officer ordered the three out of his tent, leaving the two stunned unicorns with the rather unwelcoming mare, who remained with her silent glare.
|
|
|
Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 23, 2015 8:53:28 GMT -5
Lucky’s outburst managed to make Script feel at least somewhat bad, but he stood by his decision, now was not the time for romance. He understood why Lucky was doing it, at least he thought he did, but Script wasn’t too keen on attachment right now, while his parents’ teachings had instilled a rather odd, and quite archaic, set of morals in him. He just wasn’t the kind of guy to look for a body to warm his bedding for a night. He was an odd duck, really, and he knew that very well. But ridicule bounced off and anger would dissipate over time. Even if Lucky seemed to be rather annoyed by him, he’d come around. Script was sure of that.
While the silent walk back was probably supposed to be some sort of punishment for his uncooperative behaviour, the enchanter rather enjoyed just strolling through Canterlot, watching people work and the city slowly rebuild itself. Script let his thoughts wander, thinking about this or that, reminiscing and wondering what it was about Max Force that was bugging him so much. Thinking about it, he certainly seemed to have been a rather chilly individual, but then, all he had been doing was eat his food in peace… still there was something about the slayer that just struck him as odd, something that didn’t feel quite right. The chilly eyed stallion just struck him as off.
The appearance of the recruit jarred him from his introspection. They were called in, hopefully for their assignment. As a nice bonus, Lucky seemed to be forgetting that he was supposed to give Script the cold shoulder. The grin on the enchanter’s face was as much amusement about Lucky’s high spirits as about the sudden turnabout of emotion.
“Yeah, yeah, lots of whoopflank from you, just make sure you don’t accidentally style their manes while you’re at it.”
Script snorted at the different names, though they became more and more cringe worthy as Lucky went on. The Truculent Trio seemed to be Lucky’s final pick, and Script supposed it could have been worse, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what truculent even meant. Shaking his head and schooling his features into a somewhat neutral expression, which was basically just a not as noticeable frown, he followed the overexcited pony inside.
Max Force was already waiting, citrine eyes still set in a glare. The stallion didn’t speak, just looked at them and glared. Script felt vaguely uneasy under that gaze and there was still something that just bugged him. He took his place besides Lucky and gave his attention to the recruitment officer, though his eyes did cut to Max Force every now and again… he would find out what it was that felt so off about that slayer and if it was the last thing he did.
Script bumped into Lucky roughly and tried to get the other pony to calm down finally that they may get their briefing and finally do something more productive than sitting around indulging in their hobbies.
While the explanation given sounded interesting, the amber pony wasn’t entirely sure what they planned to accomplish by sticking two new recruits together with one heavily trained slayer. It seemed like a waste of resources… his thoughts crashed and burned at that moment.
Max Force was a mare?! Like… what?!
His gaze shot over to her, really looking at her again before the undoubtedly feminine voice cut through his tumbling incredulousness like a hot knife through half melted butter. Max Force, or rather, Maxime Interforce was a mare.
With a rather nice voice, a part of his brain commented.
Buff, tall and wrapped in more metal than Script had ever owned in his life stood a mare with probably more skill in a single tail hair than he possessed in his entire body… a mare. It wasn’t that he had a problem with her being a mare, just the pure absurdity of such a chunk of horseflesh being… well… yeah. He was absolutely flabbergasted and if Lucky’s sudden dumbstruck silence was anything to go by his partner wasn’t fairing much better.
Maxime’s comment about femininity seemed kind of bizarre to him, mostly because, if you didn’t know, she looked like a colt, a bit of makeup would certainly help make the distinction easier… but Script would rather eat a glowing coal than say that out loud. He made doubly sure his lips didn’t move, no sound escaped him and his body gave nothing away as that thought ran through his head. He would not risk early death because he offended that mare.
Femme Fatale indeed… yet not at all, irony, he thought.
It took all his effort not to continue staring at her – it’s a mare Script, remember that, a mare – and to listen to the officer again. Leaving at high noon meant they would probably have to leave now if they didn’t want to rush themselves too much. Lucky had judged it to be almost mid day and Script would have to concur; high noon wasn’t too far away. He was already geared up and just needed to grab his pack, thankfully, as he had almost expected to leave on short notice.
Suddenly though, he found himself alone with Interforce – or just Force? – and Lucky in front of the recruitment tent.
Max Force was still glaring at them with those gem coloured eyes of hers, looking entirely displeased by their presence. Script cleared his throat nervously. The commander wanted them to introduce themselves, so he would; although he was expecting some sort of comment that she did not care about their names and that they would be worm one and two for all she cared, or that she had already read their files and knew more about them than they did or some such.
Still, he would at least try. This struck him as a lose-lose situation anyways.
“Well, I suppose introductions are in order…” He trailed off, somewhat intimidated by the mare, though he had to admit, that woman certainly had a lot of fight in her. If she would just stop trying to drill holes into him with her gaze alone…
“Private Fantasy Script, journeyman enchanter, at your service ma’am. I suppose we will be leaving at once?”
He tried not to shuffle too much, smothering his nervousness under a pile of grump stoicism. Nudging Lucky slightly he hoped the other pony would snap out of his trance and shut his mouth, he was starting to attract flies.
|
|
|
Post by Red Charge on Jan 29, 2015 14:01:53 GMT -5
As Fantasy Script introduced himself the mare sized him up much like she did in the mess hall. It was as though her eyes were scanning him with some form of X-ray, assessing his usefulness, breaking him down to the smallest atoms and trying to figure out how to make something useful of them. Her citrine eyes were as though lit by magic, seeming cold and unwelcome, as though saying 'You cannot see here. But I can see all.' Lucky was still having a hard time accepting the fact she was a mare, he looked her up and down several times and after a long moment finally talked as well.
"Private Lucky Drops, Field Alchemist." He gave her a small nod of the head, he decided to go a bit further than Fantasy did, "Came to enlist from Neighrobi." It was funny to see how his happy-go-lucky attitude and charisma vanished as soon as he was caught off guard. Then again, Max Force didn't seem like the kind of mare who would appreciate that sort of behavior if he had tried it.
"Pleased to meet you both." She said with a huff, obviously having been offended by their misreading of her gender. Then again, something about her demeanor and her reply earlier hinted that it was most definitely not the first time something like this had happened to her. But she insisted on not grooming herself, how could she blame anyone for mistaking her as a stallion? Even Lucky would not dare ask that however, was it the make up and grooming that made a mare into a lady? A dangerous subject to tread in, best avoided.
"Well we're off on our left hooves aren't we?" Lucky said awkwardly, "Sorry for my ... uh... acute, reaction?" He apologized, causing the armored mare to roll her eyes.
"My equipment is already on the air ship. I'll meet you there." She said briefly before leaving. Lucky took the opportunity to stare at her rear.
"No, would never guess it, even from this angle." He finally said, leading Fantasy back to their tents.
"Can you believe that? By the Sea Dragons I can hardly believe it!" He said to Fantasy Script, "She must be a bronco in a sleeping sack!"
|
|
|
Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 29, 2015 14:19:11 GMT -5
Again, the eyes, those cold, frosty eyes staring at him with clarity that was simply not equine. There was something… something other in there that unsettled Script something fierce. That woman was dangerous, he could guess at a glance, but he really would belief if someone told him she could see more than what the naked eye could perceive.
Strangely, her huff and her obvious annoyance seemed to utterly break character with her tough no nonsense appearance which was almost more confusing for him then the surprising reveal of her gender. It was oddly feminine in its own way, or maybe it just appeared that way… he was confused. Greatly so.
Ah well. Lucky apologized; Script just looked on, wondering idly how they were to proceed from here. Max Force was certainly not overly fond of them, but they would have to work together and be able to depend on each other in the field, he hoped this… incident wouldn’t come back to bite them in the back. Speaking off, he watched Maxime leave, noting with some interest her posterior and, judging from the experience he had from the northern mares, which sometimes tended to be on the bulkier side, she must have started out as a rather pretty one, still was, in his opinion. Though Luna forbid Lucky ever learn of that little fact.
“It’s not the strangest thing I’ve seen.” Script admitted and while it was true he had never seen a woman this… well defined? Trained to perfection? Gifted with strength? He had seen mares of shapes and sizes that would have the Canterlot bachelors take immediate leave of their hors d'oeuvre. “And by the Princesses, don’t let her hear you say that…”
Although, he mused, Lucky was probably right.
“Let’s just grab our stuff and be off. Don’t want to give her any more reason to be mad at us.” He shuddered a little.
“I really don’t wanna find out how she is when she’s mad.”
She would probably stare them to death or something. Cover them in thick sheets of frost until they were more icicle than pony. At the tent Script put the last bits into his pack before shouldering it, checking one last time to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything important and to check that all straps held, were tight enough and orderly. He really, really didn’t want to give her another reason to be annoyed… that mare… she was something else, alright.
“You ready Lucky?” He asked, ready to leave for the port.
|
|
|
Post by Red Charge on Jan 29, 2015 14:42:02 GMT -5
Lucky was just finishing up getting into his armor. With both their armors on, they looked almost like brothers with their similar colors, albeit that Lucky's mane was more violet and his coat a shade or two brighter than his. Now that Fantasy too, was well groomed he could certainly see someone mistaking them for family, even though as far as their faces or builts went they were hardly similar. Lucky had the look of someone who has obviously been wearing a smile most of his life, whether real or fake, irrelevant. His expression was naturally warmer than Fantasy's scowl and it showed. Lucky hadn't stated an age, but his careful grooming and usage of grooming products made him look somewhat younger than he should be. Though with him it was impossible to really place any age. He was obviously very athletic but he didn't appear too physically strong. Though he would have no need to be really, what with being able to whip up a strength potion when he needed it. He might be carrying one on his person right now in his hidden pack strapped to the inside of his rear leg.
"Ready for what, that crazy mare to throw us to the dogs as distrations? Sure." He said, grinning in his armor. For the first time Fantasy noticed Lucky possessed a crossbow and a dagger rather than any large weapon. It made sense, he could poison the bolts in a pinch, maybe coat them in armor dissolving acid... suited his style. Besides precision telekinesis was probably a mandatory thing with him being a field alchemist, so it made sense.
"So are we going to make a pact that neither of us can hit on her, or are is this going to be a competition?" Lucky asked, throwing his bags over himself and stepping outside, beginning their walk towards the air-ships. They had more than enough time since Lucky was already packed, so they could walk rather leisurely. Lucky knew the way anyhow so it's not like they had to look for it.
|
|
|
Post by Fantasy Script on Jan 29, 2015 14:58:32 GMT -5
Script watched his partner get into gear and was surprised to see the surprising resemblance, had he had a twin, Lucky would have fit perfectly. Although Script appeared a bit older, his constant scowling having already edged some lines into his face that shouldn’t be there yet and a case of mild depression having aged him a bit prematurely. Of course he was a bit more bulky than the alchemist as well, being well used to great bodily exertion and not having the option of buffing himself with a fun little brew. Especially apparent was their different build in his neck, being trained and bulky from swinging and lugging around that hunk of metal that he lovingly called a sword, still resting in the depot.
“Eh, at least she’ll throw you first. I think, gives me time to laugh before she does something to me.”
Idly he noted the weapons Lucky equipped, agreeing with the choice and reasoning he presumed went into their selection. For an alchemist, precision trumped brute force, Script thought.
“You know, just because I wanna see what she does to you when you try to hit on here I’ll say let’s make it competition.”
It was going to be amusing to see what would happen when Lucky tried his charm on the chilly Lady Interforce. Script was sure, whatever it was, would be hilarious in the end. Even if she actually agreed to date the alchemist, something he kind of doubted, but wouldn’t discount entirely, would probably be a picture he could treasure for a long time. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to try to one up Lucky in such a competition, still rather intimidated by the mare, but who knew what would happen. And Lucky wanted him to get some, might as well go for one that at least had some of the appeal he looked for, even if her personality was, so far, rather chilly.
Discreetly looking about as they strolled towards the airship and making sure the Slayer wasn’t around he spoke up again.
“Wonder if we get to dig trenches and stuff after all. Milady surely doesn’t want to dirty her dainty feet.”
A distant part of him was surprised how easily he managed to joke and just relax nowadays; maybe Lucky’s presence was doing him some good after all. He was certainly livelier company then the wastes of the frozen north or the dark corner of his little workshop, even if Albion did manage to brighten up his day, usually.
|
|