Chapter 2

"You're such a wuss! I don't know what my big sister saw in you ... experienced troubleshooter indeed!"

My diminutive little Fairy was miffed with me, and no longer quite so little. She had now grown to the normal size of a healthy young woman ... with all the accompanying attributes. She might be Linda Lovegood's little sister, but if my intelligence report from last night was even half accurate, her big sister still had the better tits, but I decided not to hold that fact against her. Never complain about the view of a bare set of breasts, especially if the gal also has a magic wand and knows how to use it.

The desert was now gone and we were now parked in the middle of a beautiful meadow near a stream that flowed down a gentle hill towards a lush forest. The air was so fresh and clean that my lungs nearly shut down in protest. The spires of a great castle upon a hill in the distance could be seen not too terribly far in the distance. The spires of the Fairy's nipples, however, were now vaguely being hidden from direct view as she sighed and pulled up her diaphanous top back up, her tanning now over. The thin gauzy fabric didn't conceal much at all ... even all the way down to what appeared to be a very furry pubic region. Apparently the Fairy liked to sport it all natural and overgrown.

"Eyes up here, away from my tits and ass for right now. We've got some important things to discuss and damned little time to do it. In two hours the bell in that castle tower over there is going to peal, and your ass, if you have any sense, should be long inside that castle. Linda says you're a top troubleshooter, so start acting like one! I've got trouble ... and you're going to go shoot it!"

"M'kay." I vaguely replied, getting out of Red and taking a good look around. No tire tracks in the grass, not a leaf out of place anywhere around the truck. It went without saying that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Hell, I'd never been to Kansas ... but this sure didn't look like the road to Vegas. Now I really needed a cigarette, a few beers, and something to shoot. Maybe a lot of things to shoot...

I pulled out my old .45 from underneath the driver's seat and tucked it into my pants behind my back. The world felt safer and happier already. Like the know-nothings at the Army, the Marines had switched along with nearly everyone else to the 9mm Baretta 92. Meh. Even the freaking Air Force had the sense to ignore this turkey and stick with their old .38 revolvers. Anyone on the sharp end of things in the Afghanistan or the Big Sandbox down in Iraq had the sense to grab an old trusty M1911.45 ACP whenever they turned up and ditch their 9mm toys.

If you're going to go through all of the trouble of shooting someone, you want them to stay shot ... none of this 'wounding' political correctness nonsense. The M1911 was nearly a century old ... but it was time tested and combat proven true. One of a jarhead's best friends in a bad spot ... along with his K-Bar combat knife. I kept one of those under my car seat too, and attached it to my belt.

"Mission Briefing time and bubba my eyes are up here, not down there ... I won't remind you again. Listen to what I have to say, don't fuck up, and you might get a better look at my nipples and other interesting parts later. No promises ... are we clear?"

"Hoo-raah!" I grunted with only minor enthusiasm, but I managed with effort to get my eyes lifted up to meet hers.

"Feeble, but it will do for now. Listen up! I am a Fairy Godmother. Been to the school, took the tests, got the certifications and everything. This is my Magic Kingdom and no one farts or takes a piss anywhere in it without my say-so in the matter, and Goddess take them if they so much as take a shit in it. There is only room for one Fairy Godmother — and I'm it!"

This apparently was the crux of the problem. Linda's little sister Lydia was the 'official Fairy' for this kingdom and they were having serious trouble with their other half-sister, Livona, who was currently meddling in the Kingdoms affairs.

Since there could only be one Fairy serving the Kingdom, the eldest sister Linda had decided that she didn't want the job and had chosen exile to the mortal realm. Lydia and Livona then contested for the right to be Fairy for the Magic Kingdom, and after an unpleasant struggle Livona lost. Rather than the usual punishment of banishment to the Mortal Lands, she exiled herself to one of the darker corners of the Magic Kingdom to heal her wounds, plot further treason and bide her time.

Working from the shadows, Livona had gathered a remarkable amount of support from the lower elements of the Kingdom, including the more unsavory tribes of magical beasts and the worst sort of humans, including rogues, bandits and various petty warlords, each lusting for pieces of the wealth and power of the Kingdom.

The proverbial last straw was when Fairy Lydia discovered a secret plot hatched by her rogue half-sister and a faction of these malcontents she had enticed to secretly and swiftly marry the young Princess Grace off to a most unsuitable match, the wastrel and wicked son of the equally black hearted Baron Blackthorn. Lydia was furious and demanded under fate of Doom that the Princess renounce her ill-suited choice for a husband. Feeling secure under the now open protection of the rogue Fairy Livona, Princess Grace adamantly refused.

Angered and caught somewhat by surprise, Lydia pronounced her Doom upon the miscreant royal daughter that she would never in fact ever marry at all! This was a severe magical judgment that could not be withdrawn, but the Princess was still adamant ... married or not, she would take the wicked young Baron's son openly to her bedchamber and become his doxy, with the full support of the new court. He would be appointed her Prime Minster and could rule in her name.

The old King and Queen were a bit past their prime and now realized they had been usurped of much of their power, but finding themselves bewitched or poisoned by the evil Fairy and their daughter they were unable to utter a word of protest as the wicked Princess usurped their throne. Livona's spies and hidden agents had done much to weaken the Kingdom for many years and their seizure of power was swift and near complete. Many of the old nobility of the court and those firmly loyal to Lydia had either been recently and suddenly exiled or imprisoned. The dark conspirators had seemingly won, and now controlled the fate of the entire Kingdom.

Infuriated but nearly now powerless to directly intervene, Lydia consulted with her wise older sister and together they concocted a plan for a Hero to come from the mortal world to save the Kingdom. This was within the Rules ... but barely. It could be done, assuming they found the right man for the job.

"So," I asked her, "my job is to go into a hostile land where every hand will be raised against me and boldly enter their stronghold, exacting swift, merciless and brutal justice as I best see fit or until the blood flows higher than ankle deep in the halls?"

"Got it in one!" She affirmed. "You're silly and ignorant but you've got guts and a bad attitude, and sometimes that's enough. You will be my Prime Minister of Death. You're going to be my jolly green giant, walking this Magic Kingdom with guns kicking every ass that needs it and screw taking down the names ... I've already got them all written down in my little book. These people you're going to waste here today are the most worthless human and non-human beings you will ever know. After you rotate back to the real world, you're gonna piss and moan about not having shot anyone around here that was worth shooting. Screw that ankle deep blood bullshit, keep whacking ... if it gets knee deep then let me know and we'll discuss a reprieve, or I'll find you a few buckets and mop and tell you to keep the bloodletting going."

"Hoo-raah!" I shouted with considerably more enthusiasm.

"That's the spirit! Ok, we're running short of time. Technically, you've got three Wishes, but I assume you'd like to save that very last Wish for a return ride home. Traditionally that Wish is saved for the fondest wish of your heart. It would be a waste of a good Marine to leave you here forever in the Magic Kingdom with nothing worth shooting at. Besides, I think my big sister has some other plans for you back home." She said with a bit of a hip wiggle and a leer and a wink, and in case I didn't get the hint the first time around she gave my crotch a bit of a gentle squeeze.

"A quick question then. Assuming this is indeed a Fairy run real honest to goodness Magic Kingdom sort of place, I can assume there will be all sorts of really weird shit like talking monsters and other nasty pieces of work with magical defenses that might laugh off lead bullets under normal circumstances?"

She nodded with a sort of a half-smile, and I continued.

"Could such a magical resistance or protection be overcome by the judicious application of either silver or cold-forged iron?" I had a favorite Fairy story book as a boy where such devices were commonly used by clever young lads to trick, capture or punish creatures from Fairyland ... or in my world the more exotic parts of Finland. The fouler creatures from places like France could usually be fended off by spraying deodorant.

"Indeed and exactly so." Fairy Lydia replied, albeit with some hint of unhappiness. I took that as gospel that these were just the sort of items that could cause her great physical distress, perhaps even capable of banishing or physically harming her ... or her rogue sister. Excellent.

"I could also assume that I should, if at all possible, firmly discourage the interfering faux-Fairy Livonia from ever setting a toe in your Kingdom again?"

"Screw that ... waste the stupid cunt. Terminate her with extreme prejudice, unless you can think of something even nastier to do to her. Her fate is in your hands, be creative." I just smiled.

"About the wishes..." I began, "can I solicit your advice for what sort of things I ought to be thinking about, in a vague sort of way?"

"Certainly. Your wishes will be addressed to me as I will be the one granting them with my power. I can't just offer you a M777 howitzer or a 120mm mortar with nuke rounds to slag the place with everyone in it, but I can be extremely flexible concerning the power of a wish and how much it grants. I'd say you should probably split your wishes and go defensive with one and offensive with the other. As a very vague and nonspecific hint, I could suggest that it is easier to work with materials that you already have on hand. Modifying or adapting something is magically so much easier than creating or summoning something all new from out of nothing."

"So for example, it would be much easier to adapt my K-Bar into a sword, if needed and/or my .45 Colt into a long rifle, with certain useful attachments, upon command?"

"Much!" She replied "Makes it a piece of cake, magically speaking. For starters, let's get you changed into much more suitable attire. Those old jeans and a shirt you haven't washed in over a month don't quite make a suitable impression. These clothes are non-magical and I already had then lying around ... no charge." With that she waved her wand and presto my outfit changed. It was dark and leather and I loved it.

Technically the coatee wasn't quite black in color, but the dark green was so dark that it might as well have been. The gold buttons that ran down both sides of the front really made a sharp contrast and gave it a semi-formal look. The pants were similar except with a dark red stripe down the legs, much like the formal Marine uniform. Together the new ensemble looked very Napoleonic, as if I were now an officer of riflemen. For some reason this thought cheered me up. My K-Bar was in its sheath on my left side, my .45 in a new black leather holster on my right.

She allowed me to keep my black leather boots. They were steel toed and fit like a dream, the most comfortable shoes or boots I've ever owned. They fit the outfit just fine. I looked like a very dangerous character straight out of Hollywood central casting. Who says clothes don't make the man? Now it was time to settle on my wishes.

"Ok, defense first. IF I were to ask you to make my skin and body adaptable but extremely resistant, being nearly impermeable to damage, from sharp objects like arrows, spears, swords, pointed sticks, unicorn horns or blunt force trauma like big rocks, someone's mace, or falling from a very high tower, while giving me exceptional body strength, endurance and flexibility control over my body, as needed, with a bit of psychic early warning sense that tingled if I was in imminent danger ... would this be in your opinion adequate or slightly overdoing it?"

"Sounds very do-able to me ... except for the unicorn horns bit. They're very magical and protecting against those alone would use up an entire wish by itself. That would be a waste ... just don't let one run you through. You should give your outfit limited invulnerability too; it would be a shame to get holes from some crossbow bolts in them, it looks good on you, especially the codpiece. I like that Spiderman 'spider-sense' bit, there's always some prick hiding in the corners with a sharp knife that doesn't have the balls for a straight up fight."

"Alright. Make it so. That's my first wish." She tapped me with her magic wand and muttered some mumbo-jumbo and then tapped me once again. I felt tingly all over but not too different. I tried poking myself with the tip of my K-Bar, lightly at first but then with all my strength, but it would not break skin. Outstanding!

The next wish was a little harder and trickier and I needed a couple of minutes to think it through. "How about this tentative idea, I would like either of my two weapons, my knife and my handgun to always be at my side ready for use at my will. Upon being grasped, the knife could adjust itself upon my command to become instead either a Marine NCO's sword, composed of multiple layers of cold wrought iron and pure silver strips, folded thousands of times together under ungodly pressure into a coldly wrought watered steel as if created by the best Samurai master sword smith, or a heavy crowbar that could open any door. Upon being grasped and similarly commanded, my gun would alter itself to become a fully accessorized M16A4 lower register with a Grendel 6.5 upper having a twenty inch 1x8 twist barrel capable of adjusting to firing .50 caliber Beowulf type rounds upon command, with a M203 grenade Launcher undermount; Remington 870 shotgun with SpecOps stock; or a M14 Marine Sniper Rifle. All with red dot and night scopes, except for the M-14 which will have a 10-50x sniper day/nightscope. Naturally, all of these weapons being perfectly sighted in and with a variance of less than three inches at 800 yards. Of course none of these guns would ever jam, nor would they need ammunition reloading of the special jacketed hollow point cold iron core with silver half-jacketed bullets each weapon would fire." Phew!

Fairy Lydia blinked her eyes a few times but smiled. "Nasty ... I like it. That will just work with nothing spare or wasted of the Wish!" In a minute my other wish had been granted and I did a quick range check on each weapon in turn.

In the interest of keeping things simple for this mission I stuck with what I was already familiar with. The AR-15/M-16 platform was originally a decent one but the idiosyncrasies of it will drive any soldier insane. It was a good idea once upon a time but the platform got stretched trying to do too many different things and the then Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara crammed it down all four of the services branches throats, whether they wanted it or not. Fuck you very much!

The older nice and heavy 7.62 ammo, then the NATO standard, put nice big holes in bad guys and dropped them (usually) dead. The trouble was the guns were heavy (especially the M1 Garand and M14 series) and the ammo too bulky to carry in great quantity by a soldier. The brilliant idea was to create a new sort of smaller magic bullet that spun about and tumbled creating a bigger wound after it hit its target. It worked great in theory when first tested, but its hard weather and cold weather performances were drastically different. What might work for the jungles of Vietnam was a poor choice for the freezing winter in the Fulda Gap of Germany. The politicians wanted a one-fits-all solution.

They tinkered with the ammo, they tinkered with the barrel twists and length of the barrel itself until soon they had about ten different tactical variants of the weapon, none of which would put an enemy's ass dead on the ground, first time and every time. The M4 short barrel assault rifle flavors were the worst ... you'd shoot a raghead three or four times and the rounds would just barrel straight through. No tumbling, just tiny holes in and out at high speed. The same sort of useless crap that killed off the old M1 Carbine after Korea.