NaNoWriMo: Okapinapping

The hot pink convertible soared down the dusty road, a large cloud of smoke billowing out from its exhaust pipe. 

“You should be braking WHY AREN'T YOU BRAKING?” shrieked Mocha the okapi from the passenger seat.

Even in the intense and downright dangerous atmosphere, Savannah the giraffe still managed to give her one of her deadpan glares. “You think I'm not trying that?” she said, but checked herself. “Someone cut the brakes. Fairly sure there's a bomb under the hood too,” she continued.

Mocha's eyes managed to widen even wider. “WHYYYYYYYYYYY?” she howled, as her formerquiet life reading books in the middle of nowhere flashed before her eyes.

“Let's just say I've made a lot of enemies,” Savannah replied. “You can't do the kindof thing I get up to without being noticed. Now GET OUT.”

Savannah swung her head around and grabbed the scruff of Mocha's neck with her teeth. One powerful thrust later and the okapi was skidding to safety on a grassy bankwhile the car continued its downhill descent.

Nursing the bruises on her head, Mocha could only watch as her friend tried to skid the car first towards a nearby forest. She watched as Savannah turned in the direction of one particularly large tree. She watched as the car's engine erupted, and flames engulfed it entirely.

Her heart stopped.

Had Savannah got out in time?

Seconds stretched out into hours as she stared blankly at the fire, unsure of what to do from here without her precious girlfr... without her. Then, a long-necked shadow rose from the wreckage and started limping towards her. Satisfied that Savannah was OK, at least for now, Mocha passed out.

 *

Mocha's eyes slowly opened. Through her blurry vision, she could see her familiar giraffe friend standing over her, her face flickering in the light from the wrecked car. Faraway voices were soft in the air. Mocha felt, for the first time in ages, safe.

But the voices started to fade back in, as her ears started working again: “...some time to track you down.” It was a nasally, refined, masculine voice. Straining her eyes, Mocha could make out now that the face above her was twisted and sinister; it was not the face of her love, but an altogether different giraffe.

“Damn it, Rothschild! Why can't you just let me live in peace?” came Savannah's voice from the direction of the wreckage.

“Because you belong to me,” the male giraffe replied.

“You can't always get what you-” Savannah started, but she was silenced by a sudden thump.

“Don't speak out of turn, girl,” hissed Rothschild. He continued, “Boys, I want this one gift-wrapped.”

Mocha struggled as she was lifted by the scruff of her neck by one of the giraffe henchmen, but there were too many of them and soon she was tied up immovably.

Rothschild ordered his men to get into their waiting military troop transport. “Ciao, Savannah!” he called out to where she was lying down, injured. “I'll see you soon.” He clambered into the back of the vehicle.

Mocha was loaded in too, and she found herself sat opposite this monster. “Who the hell are you?” she spat out at him.

“Oh, has she not mentioned me?” asked Rothschild, his smile contorting into a twisted grin. “I'm your worst nightmare, sweetheart. I'm Savannah's husband.”

*

Beaten and bruised, Savannah limped into the familiar crevice. She gently lifted her leg to the height of the scanner. With a bleep, her hoofprint was accepted and a small window opened in the rock face in front
of her, revealing a retinal scanner. Soon she was in her familiar lair, with its comforts of home and technology far more advanced than anywhere in Equestria.

Savannah flipped a switch and a large screen mounted to the wall flickered into action, revealing a characteristic silhouetted portait of a unicorn pony.

“Have you lost another one?” she said.

Savannah didn't respond.

“Maybe now you'll drop this infantile obsession with companions and come back from your... extended vacation.”

“I've been fixing problems, haven't I?!” the giraffe snapped.

“For whose benefit? Ours, or to enthral impressionable girls?”

Savannah glared at the unicorn, then looked away.

“Your next mission, should you choose to accept it,” continued the unicorn venomously, “Is to locate and infiltrate a group of anti-monarchical-”

“You know what? Screw that!” spat Savannah. “I'm not taking any more orders from you until I go and get my girlfriend back.”

“You realise this is a trap, don't you?” asked the unicorn.

“Of course it's a trap.”

“Then on your head be it. Don't bother signing back in. While we as an agency pride ourselves on unorthodox loose cannons, you've excelled in finding new ways to be a disappointment of an agent.”

“Good riddance,” responded Savannah, and with a powerful kick smashed the monitor. It sparked and went dark, and the unicorn watched her no more.

 *

Deep breaths. Bi-pod. Patience. Crosshairs set in place. Ready for the grand finale. This night would end with a bang.

From her position in the rafters, the teal pegasus had a perfect shot at the stage. Blockbuster's itchy hoof started to squeeze the trigger of her precious modular rifle.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

The sudden voice in her ear made her jump. She dived into a combat position, ready to take on... a giraffe? The creature's appearance struck her as so odd that she stood at ease.

“How did you even GET up here?”

“Same way you did,” the giraffe replied, adding, “Thanks for taking out all the security.” She craned her neck to the eyepiece of Blockbuster's rifle. “Girl, you got this all wrong.”

“You keep away from that!” shouted Blockbuster, “That's sensitive equi-”

“It's a Colson modular sniper rifle with VHRS stake attachment. Someone's shooting vampires,” said the giraffe. “Only your sights are set on my babygirl's favourite starlet, and I bet she won't be the only one whose bubble you'll be bursting. Y'know, with a giant stake through the heart.”

“She's a succubus!” snapped the pegasus. “The Pony of Pop is casting a love spell all over Equestria via hypnotic subliminal messages hidden away in her- Hey! I told you not to touch that!”

The giraffe had turned the rifle around by about 30 degrees. “Now look.”

Blockbuster put her eye to the sight and saw, in the left wing of the stage, a fashionable unicorn with sparks erupting from her horn.

“Ms. Shores' stylist,” the giraffe added. “There's your succubus.”

Blockbuster was aghast.

The giraffe handed her a party invitation and started walking toward the fire escape. “Bring your sister,” she said, and left.

 *

“Now now fellows, I'm sure we can settle this all amiably.”

Gideon the griffon was backed into a corner; driven up a tree; forced against a wall. More literally, he was being pushed slowly towards the edge of a snowy cliff.

“This totem belongs in a museum,” he said, but the jewel thieves continued to glare at him beneath their balaclavas. “Fisticuffs it is, then.”

Just then, he caught a glimpse of a silhouette above him.

“Actually, change of plan. Tally ho, chums!”

With that, he did a back dive from the cliff edge... and rose majestically.

“Did you bally well forget I had wings? Come on now.”

The figure above him took that as a queue to stomp against their own ledge, causing a mighty snowfall to drop on the thieves, enveloping them entirely.

Gideon looked up at the shadow of the giraffe, framed against the sun. He watched as she dropped down his missing pith helmet to him; picking it up, he read the note she'd left inside.

“Well blow me down. Sounds like a laugh riot!” he said.

 *

From the far end of the garden, Fluttershy heard a knock on her door.  She hustled to her front yard, and skidded to a halt as she turned the corner.

“Oh, hello…” she said quietly.

”There you are,” said Savannah. “I need an inside man for a mission.   You've got the skillset.”

“Oh, I think you've mistaken me for someone else...”

Savannah raised an eyebrow. “You're not that good at identification without all the pheromones and stuff, are you?”

“Um, do I know you?”

“I got you this house, remember? You wanted to get away from your home and all that jazz, leave everything behind, and start anew?”

Fluttershy's eyes widened. “Oh, you're that giraffe.”

“Yep,” said Savannah. “Here.”  Savannah handed her an invite.  “Don't chicken out on me now.  One last favour, I swear.”

“I don't know...”

“Don't make me blackmail you.”

There was a glint in Savannah's eyes that made Fluttershy hope she was joking.

“I'll be there,” she said steelily.

 *

“How are you doing up there, sweetheart?”  Rothschild’s nasal voice reverberated through the atrium.

Mocha didn’t look up, preferring to remain in her foetal position on the floor of the large, suspended cage he’d allotted for her.

“I’m taking your lack of response as a ‘fine, thank you’,” he sneered.

An ear twitched; from the side of his throne, one of his bodyguards leaned in to whisper confidentially. 
Rothschild’s smug expression dropped.  “Get it onscreen.”

A hatch on the floor unfolded and a large monitor slid out.  There was a pause while the mechanism heated up, to which Rothschild impatiently hissed, “Come on!  Come on!”

From the tone of his voice, Mocha could tell that something serious was going down.  She lurched onto her haunches so she could keep up with the action.

As the screen lit up, she recognised that familiar face – even though it was red raw with streaming tears, that was unmistakably Savannah.

“Talk.  Now.”  All trace of smarminess had vanished from Rothschild’s voice.

“It’s over.  I can’t do this game any more,” said Savannah from the screen.

“No.  No no no no no.  You can’t – you simply can’t!”

“You can’t have me any more, Rothschild.  Without Mocha, I just can’t go on living… and this is the only way to end this.”  Savannah rotated her camera around, clearly showing her captive audience that she was stood on the precipice of a cliff – one with a long drop to the raging ocean below.

“Savannah, stop!” screamed Mocha, tears of her own forming in her eyes.

“Oh, babygirl, you’re there too?  I’m sorry you have to see this.” Savannah managed a slight smile. “This’ll fix everything.”

“This won’t fix anything!” wailed the okapi.

“Mocha.  Do you trust me?”

Mocha couldn’t reply.

“Do you?”

“Of course!” she burst.  “That’s why you can’t –”

“Good.”

Rothschild took this moment to have his say.  “Savannah.  You’re mine.”

“Not any more,” she said.  “I keep telling you.  You can’t always get what you want.”  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “See you soon,” she added with finality, and stepped forward.

The camera reeled out of control on its descent, catching only brief glimpses of Savannah’s fall as it twisted and turned out of control.  The noise from the screen was deafening – an intense cacophony of rushing wind and crashing of waves getting louder and louder.

The camera hit the waves.

The screen turned blank.

Mocha eyes were wider than ever, and rimmed with tears.  That this beautiful, magnificent person had left her life just as suddenly as she’d entered it didn’t bear thinking about.  She collapsed into a heap on the floor of her dwelling, unable to hold back any longer.

Rothschild was staring intensely into the middle distance, as though willing the screen back on.  With a casual foreleg gesture he ordered Mocha’s cage to be lowered down to the floor level, and two of his guards obliged.  He marched determinedly over to the cage door and slammed it open.

“What are you two planning?!” he yelled at Mocha’s unresponsive form.

“Nothing!”  She sat up to face him.

“Don’t lie to me!” he returned, accenting his sentence with a swift forehoof to Mocha’s cheek.

The okapi was flung to one side.  From her new lying position, she struggled to support herself with one elbow.  Her eyes locked with Rothschild’s.  A humourless smile cracked on her lips, and a drop of blood trickled down her chin.

“I can see why she was so keen to get rid of you.”

Enraged, Rothschild fell back on his haunches and lifted her by her neck.  How simple it would be to crush her now – but that insolent smile just reminded him of her.

He took a deep breath and cooled himself down, before tossing Mocha to one like a ragdoll.

“Lock her back up,” he ordered, as he left the cage.  “They’re up to something.  And even if they’re not… perhaps she has her uses after all.”

 *

Tap tap tap.

Cocoa started.  What was that noise?  She looked all around her room – from her perfectly plain dresser to her busy desk to her glitzy light fitting.  Everything was in its place, even though that place was more of the organised chaos variety than anything else.

Tap tap tap.

That time she’d definitely heard it. She got out from under her study materials and stood up from her bed, carefully and cautiously stepping towards her window.  What was hidden behind those pink curtains, and who – or what – could possibly tapping on this, the second floor window?

Tap tap tap.

She pulled back the curtains like she was ripping off a bandage.

“Oh, hell no.”

There, framed in the window, was that infernal giraffe!  That damned woman who had sauntered into town all that time ago and stolen away her sister to a life of no responsibility.  What could she possibly want at this time of night?

“Hey, could you maybe open this up?” the giraffe asked. “I want a word.”

Cocoa unlocked the window and slid it open.

“What do you want?” the okapi asked.

“To apologise.”

Cocoa was completely taken aback.

“I shouldn’t have taken Mocha away from her studies here.  From her friends and family.  And for that I am truly, deeply sorry.”

“I… oh Celestia.”  Cocoa’s heart sank as she slowly came to a realisation.  “What’s happened to her?”

“My ex-husband.”

“What?!”

There was a knock at Cocoa’s bedroom door, and her zebra housemate’s voice drifted in: “Cocoa, are things OK with you?  I thought I heard a voice… or two.”

“I’m fine, Zebede!  Just… give me five minutes, OK?”  Cocoa took a moment to catch her breath, and to make sure he had wandered off, before continuing in a whisper: “Right.  Uh, giraffe girl, carry on.  Maybe you’d like to explain your penchant for showing up out of nowhere, stealing sisters, lurking in the dark like some kind of…”

“You’re just like her,” said Savannah with a wry smile.

“Present tense,” rejoined Cocoa.  “She’s still alive.  That’s good.”

“In short, I’m planning a prison break.  I’m not asking you to join me, but… the kind of life we lead ain’t the
kind of life that leaves much time to sit down and write a letter home, so I thought you should know what’s what. Again, I can do nothing but apologise for that.”

To Cocoa, she seemed genuinely apologetic.  There was a pause as she looked over to the photograph of herself and Mocha on her dresser.

Savannah continued.  “It’s my fault.  I loved her, but I was vain.  I got her into trouble just to show her
how good I was at getting out of it. But I’m putting together an army. We’re gonna get her out of this mess.  I promise I’ll get her out safe.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Cocoa, determinedly.

Savannah’s eyes widened.

“Believe it or not, I love her almost as much as you do.”  The okapi managed a smile.  “I’m going to fight for her too.”

A single tear trickled down Savannah’s cheek.  “You really are like her,” she said.

 *

The slums.  The furthest part out from the centre of town, encircling it like scum around a drain.  Women and children lived in this area, in ramshackle lodgings with little in the way of food or warmth.  Curious and cautious giraffe eyes stared and watched as the cloaked figures of Savannah and Cocoa.

“All this?  His fault,” said Savannah to her companion.  “He runs the place.  Women are kept out the way while the men get to do the hard work, like gun running, or drug smuggling, or gang banging.”  Savannah scoffed.  “The only reason they keep us around is to propagate his empire.  Makes me sick.”

A young girl tottered over to them and blocked their path.  She stared up at Savannah with wide eyes; eyes that had seen far too many horrors.

“You’re her, aren’t you?”

Savannah looked down at her.  “Yes, child.”

“Are you going to fix everything?”

The question caught Savannah off guard.  Even now, with her assembled allies, she could not even be sure that she could take down Rothschild’s entire organisation and free such maltreated people from his tyranny.  But the child needed hope.

“I will fix everything, child,” she said, mentally adding ‘Or die trying.’

The young giraffe cantered off, back to her mother.  Savannah marched on.  Cocoa watched as the little one whispered into her guardian’s ear.  The mother was astonished.  Soon, murmurs and gossip were spreading
around like wildfire, as more and more impoverished giraffes began to crowd around them.

Savannah kept on walking.

“I guess she’s… kind of a big deal,” said Cocoa to herself, before hurrying to catch up with her.

They continued walking along the main thoroughfare.  Gradually the buildings began to look more urban but no less dilapidated.  Behind them, a throng of giraffe women were following at a safe distance.

“We’re getting closer.”  Savannah nodded at the giraffe soldiers at the side of the street who were eyeing them suspiciously.  “These aren’t his elite.  These guys are just doing what they’re told because they’re too scared to do any different.”  Indeed, the nearest was a boy no older than 15, and he was petrified by the approaching crowd.

“We’re nearing the rendezvous point,” Savannah continued.

On cue, Gideon the griffon landed gracefully with them.  “I’m itching for this fight, old thing.  You have no idea.”

Savannah nodded in acknowledgement, but kept walking.  “Glad you could make it.”

Gideon smiled, but soon his jaw went slack.  Hovering up to her torso height, he poked a tentative talon under her cloak and prodded at the large necklace Savannah was wearing.  “I say, old girl, is that what I think it is?”

“That depends what you think it is.”

“A rare treasure, certainly.”

“Did someone say ‘treasure’?”  A blue pegasus with a brown mane swooped down and joined their group.

“And who might you be, miss…?” asked Gideon with a smirk.

“Name’s Jetsetter,” the pegasus replied. “And watch yourself, old man, ‘cos I’m packin’ heat.”  She flared her wings, revealing two handguns holstered to her torso.

“I like your spunk, Miss Jetsetter.”

“Is Blockbuster here?” Savannah cut across them.

“Best seat in the house.  You know how she loves getting a good view.” Jetsetter mimed holding a sniper rifle, and clicked her tongue as she took a shot.

“Good.  We’re here.”

Before them, at the very end of the long, long road, was the perimeter fence of a huge mansion.  Rothschild’s proper henchmen patrolled the area, with their black uniforms and assault rifles.

Savannah approached the main gate, striding confidently over to the gatehouse where a guard sat on surveillance duty.

“Name’s Savannah.  You should be expecting me.”

 *

“Sir!  She’s back!”

Rothschild jumped from the chaise longue that he had sprawled out on.  He’d spent the past few days lazing
around with lackadaisical ennui, having his men attempt to entertain him, but nothing had been able to raise him out of the soul-crushing emptiness Savannah had left.

Now?  Now he was back on his hooves, ready to face whatever challenge she had laid out for him.  He was the master of this game.

“I hope you’re paying attention, sweetheart!” he called up to the cage.

Mocha roused herself slowly.  She too had been absorbed by heavy-lidded listlessness, though she too had the underlying suspicion that they hadn’t seen the last of her giraffe friend.  She’d kept replaying Savannah’s last words over and over in her head: the “see you soon” she’d picked up on, but the number one thing giving her hope was her Savannah’s resolve to ascertain that she trusted her.

Mocha trusted her unwaveringly.

The familiar monitor slid out of the floor, and again Savannah’s face illuminated it.

“Back again~!” she sang.  “You ready to rock, you son of a –”

“I knew it!” shouted Rothschild, literally jumping in his mad joy.

“Babygirl, you hearing this too?”

“Yes!  Yes, I’m still here,” Mocha yelled at the screen.

“Fantastic.  So, Rothschild, you gonna let me in, or am I going to have to blow your house down?”

“You and what army?” he sneered.

“I am so glad you asked!” said Savannah confidently.  The camera panned around her compatriots: “Gideon, adventure archaeologist extraordinaire.  Jetsetter, kick-ass guntoter of unparalleled enthusiasm.  Blockbuster, best sniper there is… wherever she is.  And…”

“Cocoa!”  Mocha couldn’t stop herself from shouting.

“You got it,” said Savannah.  “Not sure what she does yet, but you can bet it has something to do with pent-up anger and horrible revenge.”

“Oh, you can bet that, mister… mean old giraffe guy!”

“Babygirl, your sister really is like you, isn’t she?”

Despite everything, Mocha caught herself smiling.

“And did I miss someone?” Savannah continued with mock absentmindedness.  “That’s right!  Changeling #43B, in disguise as the lovely Fluttershy!  But where could she be?”

The lights in the atrium flickered and faded slightly, and the screen did what could only be described as a dance.

“Oh, that’s right.  My little suicide act wasn’t only for your mental torment, Rothschild – it was a
distraction.  While every man of yours was watching me say my last, one of mine was sneaking into your base, and it looks like she’s in your tech department!  Wouldn’t it be real inconvenient if the security all went offline?”

With that, the gates in front of Savannah swung open with a clang.

“And one last thing before we get started… you asked me what army I had, honey?  Well guess who swings in to help those who get lost at sea?”  She craned her neck down to her treasured conch shell necklace.  Bringing it to her lips, she blew and a high-pitched shriek reverberated through the entire city.

There was quiet as the noise died down.  Everyone looked frantically around to discern what was happening; all except Savannah, who kept her eyes locked on the camera.  Then, in the distance, the cry returned; more shrill than before, and multiplied a thousandfold.

A technicolour wave appeared on the horizon, and as it got closer it became obvious that these were thousands upon thousands of creatues.  All resembled ponies, though their tails were smooth and coiled; they had gills, they had scales, and they had webbed hooves.  Savannah grinned as her maritime cavalry rushed to her distress beacon.

“Call of the seaponies!" she cried. "Beautiful thing, isn’t it?”  She looked around at her assembled horde, then back to the camera.  “Now, do you have any more bright questions that might tempt fate, Rothschild?”

Her husband was numbed to everything. Within a matter of minutes his hopes for recapturing what was once in his possession had been dashed entirely. She was going to win this day.  He was hopelessly outmatched.  “Why… why are you doing this?” he managed to stammer.

Savannah’s showmanship vanished.  Her grandiose style of speech was gone now. She was dead serious.  “You hurt my girlfriend.  This ends tonight.”

Mocha’s heart pounded in her chest.

“Mocha, babygirl, you still hear me?”

“Loud and clear, my love!”

Savannah produced her widest smile.  “I’m coming to get you.”