Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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As with so many things involving the Bureau, the beginning of the end of Mejiro McQueen’s life starts with paperwork. 

It’s not even paperwork she’s paying attention to. After all, there’s a lot going on right now, she’s on the cusp of finally stepping into the role she’s been training all her life for, and with it is coming countless documents to sign, correspondence to keep, and pages upon pages of reports to read. One measly little folder isn’t exactly at the top of her priority list.

Hindsight being twenty-twenty, it should’ve been.

It’s her cousin, actually, who brings it up.

“So,” Ryan begins, in a show of extraordinary subtlety for someone like her. “Grandmother is sending you out of town this weekend.”

Looking up from her desk, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, McQueen gives a short nod of acquiescence. “Yes. She is.”

Whistling through her front teeth, Mejiro Ryan flops down into one of McQueen’s spacious armchairs and throws her legs up over the arm. “I’m surprised she’s doing it so soon.”

McQueen isn’t. In fact, she’s surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. But she doesn’t say that. Instead, her lips lift into a demure smile and she hums, “You act like she had a choice.”

Loudly, Ryan scoffs. “Of course she had a choice. She could always go out and do it herself.”

Aghast, McQueen gives a little toss of her head. “Do you really expect her to run herself ragged for the rest of her life?”

“Well no,” Ryan instantly says, thick brows furrowing. “I don’t want Grandma to kill herself trying to do everything all of the time. Obviously I don’t. But you know, she kind of acts like she’s going to anyway.”

Expression gentling, McQueen gives a rueful dip of her head. “I know. But I talked her out of it this time.”

“And nobody’s been able to shut up about it,” Ryan agrees, cracking a grin. “Congratulations by the way.”

If McQueen is being honest, this event probably doesn’t call for congratulations. After all, the only reason she’s about to leave their secluded, heavily guarded villa, is because of the recent tragedy that occurred on the other side of the sea, deep in the American Midwest. A unicorn reservation was attacked. Several people are injured, and at least two are dead. It’s been all over the news, not just over there, but over here as well. Even if- as a unicorn herself- McQueen wasn’t dialed into the situation, the story would’ve reached her ears.

For some, a body count like that might not sound like much of a travesty. Only two dead? And no unicorns among that number. But the fact that it happened at all is an incredibly serious matter. Anything to do with unicorns these days is. So naturally the Bureau got involved, and the moment they get involved with anything unicorn related, the Mejiro family gets a call. 

McQueen’s family has been handling unicorn-non-unicorn relations for the past fifteen generations at least, if not longer. Obviously, they aren’t the only politically active unicorns out there, but they are one of the more notable names. McQueen’s grandmother heads the URA within the Bureau, and various other members of the family are similarly involved. Anytime something occurs that relates to unicorn politics rights or regulations, you can almost guarantee a Mejiro will be there.

For the past eleven decades, the person who would’ve shown up was none other than McQueen’s grandmother. A calling she takes incredibly seriously. But this time, after much convincing, the torch of power is finally being passed.

When the call from a member of the board itself, the highest chair of power within the bureau, had come in, it had been McQueen to answer it. Instead of her grandmother, who even for a unicorn is getting along in years, she will be going to America. She will be sitting in on the conferences. She’ll be lending her opinion to the lawmakers. She will perhaps even be asked to appear in court, though she’s secretly hoping she gets to skip that one. To make a long list of responsibilities short, McQueen will be the face of unicorn interests, in a situation where those interests and Bureau protected rights have been greatly infringed upon. Just as she’s been preparing herself for since she was a filly.

It’s a big deal. And yes, despite the circumstances, Ryan’s congratulations do feel good.

Modesty reigns supreme though, and instead of allowing all of those emotions to show on her face, she simply dips her head and firmly says, “I swear I’ll make our family proud.”

Shifting her position until she’s sitting in her chair a little more normally, Ryan waves off McQueen’s words. “You’re excited. I can tell.”

Brows pinching, a tiny frown appearing on her face, McQueen mumbles, “Well, I wouldn’t want to be uncouth. After all, the circumstances of my assignment are-”

“Come on, you get to see the world,” Ryan interrupts,  stretching her arms wide. “You get to get out of here. You get to do things. You should be…” She searches for a suitable word for a moment. “Ecstatic.”

McQueen tugs on a strand of her hair. “This is serious, you know that right?” she presses, giving Ryan what she hopes is a gently admonishing expression. “People’s lives are on the line. Other unicorns' lives are on the line.”

“And you’ll deal with that,” Ryan dismisses, like the continued survival of their species is a secondary concern to her. “But you’re going to get to go to America. Think of all the food you’ll get to try. Think of all the sweets you’ll get to try.” Her eyes glimmer knowingly.

Immediately, McQueen claps a hand to her stomach. “You know I’m watching my waistline.”

“Oh come on, this form isn’t even real,” Ryan tells her, gesturing up and down at McQueen’s humanoid appearance. “Nobody’s going to be able to tell one way or another when you’re actually you.”

McQueen just sniffs. “Says the person who’s always in the gym.”

Grin instantly morphing into a wounded look, Ryan subconsciously flexes her broad shoulders, making the musculature there pop more than it already does. “Oh c’mon, don’t knock my hobbies. I don’t throw stones at yours. I personally think you should try every single cake and pastry and candy they put in front of you while you’re away.” Eyes gleaming, Ryan adds, “And you should see if you can watch a baseball game while you’re there.”

At the reminder, McQueen slumps a bit in her office chair. “It’s not the correct season for it. Not for the major leagues at least.”

“Boooo,” Ryan calls empathetically, before her expression slips back into a smile. “Still, you should try to have some fun.”

Shaking her head, holding a delicate hand to her forehead, McQueen sighs, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I’m there for business. This is serious.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” Ryan gently rebuffs. “You can’t be serious all the time.”

Part of McQueen wants to say watch me. The rest of her knows that her cousin is correct. Even she has to take a break sometimes. But not right now. Not when something so big is going on. 

“If I promise I’ll relax a little bit, will you leave me alone about it?” McQueen asks, with a plaintive look at Ryan. 

Chewing it over for a moment, Ryan’s whole face contorts in a look of comically exaggerated thought before she finally allows, “Alright, fine. But you have to pinky promise.”

“I’m not doing that,” McQueen says at once.

“Yes you will,” Ryan says, holding out her pinky with a truly horrifying amount of confidence.

Horrible… but earned, because after a moment’s futile resistance, McQueen sighs, and holds out her pinky as well. At once, her cousin’s face splits into one of her signature grins. 

“Now you’ll have to go out and have fun,” Ryan says firmly, clearly pleased with herself. “Besides, what’s the point of having your very own personal bodyguard if you’re not going to make use of it.”

That had been something McQueen had honestly forgotten about. “Oh, right. I suppose I will have someone there.”

“Speaking of- What are they like? Who are they?” Ryan asks, sitting forward in her chair. “Dad mentioned you were getting one, but he didn’t say anything more.”

“It’s standard practice,” McQueen dismisses, waving her hand and looking back down the mountain of paperwork that still sits in front of her. “If you were going somewhere, you’d be assigned one too. It’s not that interesting.”

“Bullshit is it not interesting,” Ryan immediately fires back, the crass language making the skin around McQueen’s horn itch. “When I go out, I get assigned one of the family bodyguards. The bodyguards we already have. I don’t get my very own super duper special just-for-me bodyguard.”

“I am going overseas,” McQueen reminds Ryan, tapping the desk with an absent finger. “I’m sure this is just what made more sense.”

As with a lot of things in McQueen’s life, she hasn’t necessarily been involved with the decision to assign her a brand new bodyguard. She’d obviously known she was going to have at least one, maybe multiple depending on how protective the Bureau and her grandmother decided to be, but it hadn’t really been something she’d thought about. Not in any true capacity.

But then a couple weeks ago, her grandmother had summoned her to the office and with one weathered hand had passed her a manila folder. A personal bodyguard. Picked out specifically for McQueen’s trip to America. And, if whoever it was passed muster, they would likely be kept on in a more permanent capacity. After all, if she was to start taking over her grandmother’s responsibilities, she would need protection to match it. McQueen was to consider this a test run. To see how well her and this new person meshed.

Naturally, her response had been to take the folder, thank her grandmother profusely, then never think about the matter again. After all, it was decided. She had enough on her plate without adding things to it that weren’t really her business.

Now that Ryan is bringing it up, however, she’s reminded of that manila folder, as well as how little attention she paid it.

“Do you even know their name?” Ryan asks bluntly, getting up from her chair so she can wander closer to McQueen’s desk.

“They’re retired NHII personnel,” McQueen ventures, not quite able to meet Ryan’s eyes.

This, as she probably should’ve expected, is not nearly enough. “No, what’s their name.” Attempting to find somewhere on McQueen’s desk that isn’t covered in papers and failing, Ryan eventually settles for leaning a hip against the old oak paneling. “Be serious, McQueen, you can’t honestly be planning to go to a whole different country with this person and not even know who they are. That’s crazy.”

“I’m sure I’ll be introduced,” McQueen mumbles, firmly staring down at the document she’d been halfway through reading. This one is about a particular clause within American unicorn territory laws. It’s long, and boring, and dreadfully legal. Right now, she couldn’t even begin to focus on it if she wanted to.

“I know they gave you paperwork for it,” Ryan says, reaching out so she can flick McQueen’s forehead. “Pull it out. Even if you’re not curious, I am.”

Glaring at her cousin, McQueen briefly entertains the idea of telling the unicorn no. But then she considers how well that usually goes and decides against it. Ryan will keep bugging her until she gives in. Better she caves now with her dignity still intact than later after hours of nagging.

“It’s not that interesting,“ McQueen says, as she sorts through the stacks of binders and envelopes and looseleaf for the correct folder. “You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill.”

“And you are ignoring something important,” Ryan retorts, shadow falling over McQueen’s paperwork. “This is for your job.”

Flicking her hair irritably out of her face, McQueen finally produces the offending manila folder and sets it down in the center of her desk. “There,” she says, making a show of going back to what she’d been trying to do before. “Have at it. Hopefully it satisfies your curiosity.”

“No, hold on.” Pushing McQueen’s head back up with two fingers against her forehead, Ryan gives her a big, slightly mischievous smile. “You need to read it.”

“I thought you wanted to read it,” McQueen argues, leaning away from Ryan’s hand.

“They’re not my bodyguard,“ Ryan points out, with a sweeping gesture. “They’re your bodyguard. You are the one who needs to know them. So open up the folder. And then tell me what’s inside.”

Distantly, McQueen wishes she indulged Ryan a little less when they were kids. Maybe if she’d been more strict, her cousin would be a little less demanding now. But… Alright, she’s gone to all this trouble already. Maybe Ryan has a point about knowing the name of the person who’s about to follow her around literally everywhere for the next several months of her life.

Delicately, giving Ryan an unimpressed look the entire time, McQueen takes two fingers and pointedly flips the folder open. 

Inside, she’s met with a fairly standard profile page. It’s got a name, birthday, physical details, professional details, and a few additional comments on the person that’s about to be her bodyguard. The first thing she notices when she looks at it is that they’re human. The second thing she notices is that they’re female.

Clearly reading along upside down, Ryan gives another one of those whistles. “A female hunter? You don’t see too many of them becoming bodyguards.”

“Grandmother wouldn’t have assigned her to me unless she was competent,” McQueen reasons, as she scans the document more fully.

“No no, you’re right,“ Ryan agrees, holding up her hands. “It’s just– wow.” She pauses. “I wish I could be a hunter.”

Ignoring her cousin, McQueen reads on. The name at the top of the document is Gold Ship. Just Gold Ship. There’s no sign if that’s a surname, the first name, a nickname, or a title. That’s just it. Looking down further, McQueen notes a few details. The woman is older than her, by nearly a decade. She’s retired from the NHII, otherwise known as the non-human instant investigators, a division of the Bureau that serves simultaneously as police and special forces. And she is accredited too, something McQueen’s eyes do admittedly linger on.

“A specialist?” Ryan asks, with undeniable delight in her voice. “An eliminations specialist.”

“If they’re only going to assign me one bodyguard, I would assume Grandmother would’ve gone with the best,” McQueen reasons, glancing up at Ryan.

“I wonder how many people she’s killed?” Ryan hums, without a hint of tact. “You should ask her.”

“I’m not going to ask how many people she’s killed,” McQueen says at once, frowning at her cousin.

“Fine, I’ll ask her,” Ryan decides, with a cheeky grin. “Once you bring her home.”

Clicking her tongue, McQueen looks back down at the document. “They haven’t decided whether she’s going to stay on past this one assignment.”

Making a comically disappointed sound, Ryan pouts. “Grandma never lets us keep any of the fun ones.”

Deciding not to comment on whether or not their trained bodyguards are fun in the first place, McQueen keeps reading. Apparently, Gold Ship had quite the illustrious career within the Bureau, before retiring. There’s a neat collection of various medals of recognition attached, as well as what appears to be a list of case numbers where she performed especially well. Doubtless, there are more in depth details within the folder. This is just summarizing them.

But what draws McQueen’s attention is the fact that Gold Ship retired at all. Not that hunters– as they’re colloquially known– don’t retire, it’s just that most of them don’t retire this young. Gold Ship isn’t even in her forties. Despite her glowing record, she’s only served the Bureau for a total of eleven years. Which, considering most of the retired hunters they currently have on their staff were with the Bureau for twenty years or more, is an anomaly.

“She’s rather young,” McQueen comments, absently thumbing the page.

Dialing back into the subject at hand, Ryan squints at Gold Ship’s birthday. “Oh shit, she is.”

“I didn’t know hunters could retire that young,” McQueen admits, setting aside the cover page of Gold Ship’s file so she can start reading through the more nitty-gritty details.

“Maybe hunting wasn’t for her,“ Ryan suggests, before grabbing for the page McQueen discarded. “Though… it doesn’t seem like it. It seems like she was doing pretty well.

“I suppose it’s her business,” McQueen decides, as she produces the summaries of various important jobs Gold Ship has taken on and completed. “Everyone has a different path in life.”

“Yeah, but imagine being a hunter, and then just deciding not to be anymore,” Ryan says, setting the page down so she can fold her hands behind her head wistfully. “You wouldn’t catch me passing up a life like that.”

“You’re not going to be a hunter,” McQueen tells her cousin, for what feels like the millionth time.

“Just you wait,” Ryan says, the undying hope in her tone almost inspirational. “One of these days I’m going to convince Grandma. Or my dad. Or someone.”

“You would’ve had to start younger,” McQueen points out, flipping to another page.

“Nu uhh,” Ryan argues eloquently. “I’m still plenty young for a unicorn. That’s all that matters, right? Dragons get to join the NHII when they’re like sixty.”

“You know it’s too dangerous,” McQueen sniffs, unimpressed by Ryan’s argumentation.

Just as stubbornly, Ryan crosses her arms. “Of course I know it’s dangerous. That’s why it’s fun.”

Personally, McQueen doesn’t think a life like that sounds at all enjoyable. And as she flips through this Gold Ship’s file, she’s reminded of that fact. Apparently, just as Ryan assumed, Gold Ship’s history is a bloody one. The language within the file has cleaned it up somewhat, has attempted to mop the stains out of the words, but McQueen can read between the lines.

Every one of these job summaries is someone that Gold Ship has killed. Apparently, with extreme prejudice. Though there are several mentions of the ex-hunter’s methods being unconventional, it’s clear she’s never executed her missions with anything less than extreme prejudice. Never in her career has a target escaped her. Never in her career has a single one of them survived.

It’s exactly the sort of person that a unicorn needs for a bodyguard. Someone who is going to strike first and ask questions never. Someone who will put McQueen’s safety before anything else, no matter what. No matter the personal risk. No matter how unlikely it is for them both of them to walk out alive.

At least they’re sending her to America with someone she can trust. Past that though–

Losing interest, McQueen rearranges the papers within the folder and closes it once more. “Well, all of that aside, at least you know who my bodyguard is going to be now.”

Deflating, clearly dismayed by the change of subject, Ryan stares at the folder before admitting, “Yeah, I guess I do. I guess you do.”

“She seems capable,” McQueen reasons, carefully shuffling the folder back into its spot within her mountains of paperwork. “I’m sure she’ll serve me well.”

“Yeah,” Ryan decides, pushing away from the desk. “I bet she will.”

It’s like this that the conversation moves on, and McQueen stops thinking about this Gold Ship individual who is about to enter her life. Instead she talks about politics, and about committees, and about signing things. She talks about the parts of her life that she deems important.

If she had known what was to come, perhaps McQueen would’ve paid attention to that folder just a little more.

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Chapter Text

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It’s always an event when a Mejiro travels somewhere.

If we’re being honest, it’s typically an event when a unicorn travels somewhere. While not all of them are rich enough to afford private planes, there’s still a lot of hoopla involved. The additional bag checks. The guards. The careful screening of every other passenger traveling on the plane with them. The moment a unicorn gets involved, it immediately becomes a whole to-do.

After all, even your average unicorn is too important to just risk like that. You’ve got to make sure that they’re safe, no matter where they’re going or how routine the travel might be. You got to make sure that everyone who’s going to come in contact with them is a law abiding, upstanding citizen. You’ve got to make sure that no international laws are about to be infringed, just because someone didn’t file enough paperwork.

In general, McQueen understands the circus that is unicorn travel. Personally, she likes being safe. She likes the knowledge that she’s going to get from point A to point B without anything happening to her. And more generally, she likes the idea that all other unicorns are afforded the same level of protection, whether it’s personally paid for, or Bureau provided. Considering their status within the world politically and personally, it’s only right. 

All of that being said, McQueen doesn’t particularly like travel.

It’s not because of any particularly bad experiences, no, she just associates travel with everything surrounding it. The signing of paperwork and waiting around, and the getting worked up over literally anything going slightly off plan. She associates it with long hours, and being hungry, and her legs cramping, and above all, she associates it with tightly confined spaces, something she isn’t fond of. 

Planes are not exactly unicorn friendly in their construction. 

Normally, when she travels, she does it by bullet train. They rent out an entire first class carriage. She has room to move. She has room to breathe. Sometimes, they’ll even make stops along the way to wherever they’re going, and she’ll get to stretch her legs. It’s always more comfortable.

Planes however, even the private jet that the Bureau is graciously providing for her travel, are just uncomfortable. She’ll be up in the air, she’ll be largely confined to her seat, and she’s never liked airplane food, even the good stuff. Something about the altitude makes her stomach go all funny. 

In general, McQueen tries to avoid the need for airplane travel. Most of the time when there’s a place to be, they’re close enough for a train ride to be fine. Her grandmother and other older family members do most of the abroad traveling. McQueen’s education was done close to home. They don’t have family spread out across the world. All of the usual reasons for travel simply aren’t there. And naturally, McQueen doesn’t seek out extracurricular plane rides.

But as she’s gotten older, and she’s gotten closer and closer to the day where she would join the politically active side of the Mejiro family, she’s been having to travel more and more. It’s always unpleasant, but she does her best to handle it with grace. After all, they wouldn’t put her on a plane unless it was important.

Today is no different. Currently, she’s waiting in a private side room while the last of the paperwork and plane checks are being completed. In less than an hour, she’ll be on her way to America. Which is why she’s doing her best to put any and all traveling anxieties aside.

Unlike the times previous where she’s had to go on a notable trip, her grandmother isn’t there. According to McQueen’s mother, the older unicorn had been too tired to take part in ‘all of that nonsense’. Instead, she’d sent a contingent of capable family guards in her place, and personally told McQueen that she trusted her to manage this just fine on her own.

For the most part, McQueen is following those instructions easily. But at least a little part of her is still nervous about the flying part.

Mentally, she runs over her itinerary for the next twenty-four hours. In less than fifteen minutes, she’ll be escorted onto the tarmac, where she’ll meet the pilot, the approved flight attendants, and any other personnel that she’ll be traveling with. It’s there that she’ll also finally meet her bodyguard, the retired hunter named Gold Ship. After that, it’ll be onto the plane and a straight shot to Boston, where they’ll refuel. 

She won’t be getting out of the plane when they land, it’d be too much trouble. Instead, she’ll wait patiently until they take off again, where it’ll be another straight shot out to Nebraska. There, she’ll be greeted at the airport by a couple of colleagues. She’s not precisely sure who, but she assumes at least one of them will be Maruzensky. The lung is technically her superior, handling the entire lobbying division for the Bureau. But… chances are, she’ll only be there as a face. McQueen will be handling all of the actual politicking involved.

After that– Well, it’ll all depend on schedules that McQueen doesn’t yet have to have access to. Presumably though, she’ll be following all of the other Bureau affiliated officials around for her time in the states. Most of them are more familiar with her grandmother than they are with her, but she’s been getting to know them over the past couple years. This will be a good opportunity for her to prove herself to them. To show she’s every bit as capable as the senior Mejiros she descends from.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, McQueen isn’t particularly anxious. After all, she’s been preparing for this. She knows what she’s doing. This might be her first big problem she’s handling on her own, but it’s far from the first she’s been involved in.

Nothing is going to go wrong. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Because the Mejiro family is too good for that sort of thing. And McQueen has been crossing her T’s and dotting her I’s religiously since the moment she was able to hold a pen.

Drawing in a deep breath, McQueen straightens in her chair and looks towards the door. One of her family’s guards stands beside it, posture alert, eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Soon, she’ll be transferred into the capable hands of her own personal guard. Which, she will admit, is something she isn’t used to, but isn’t something she’s necessarily against.

Though Ryan made her look over the details of Gold Ship’s folder, and in the moment she hadn’t cared, McQueen’s been thinking more and more about the idea of having a personal guard in the days since. Up until now, she’s been used to bouncing between the trusted hands of her family’s extensive security detail. She knows every one of them by name, knows their families if they have one, and knows practically every personal detail about their lives outside of their jobs. While she’s been perfectly happy with this arrangement, she will admit, there’s a certain status that comes with having a personal security detail.

Though all members of her family are carefully guarded, it’s only those that have actual positions of power that get to have their own specific guards. People like her grandmother, who in her prime was practically always away from the villa. People like her father, who has served as a world class healer for the Bureau since the tender age of seventeen. People like her aunt, who’s multiple successful runs for governor have required at least a couple personal bodyguards at all times.

Now, McQueen gets to enter that special class of Mejiro. She too will have someone personally attached to her at all times. Someone who is hers to command, and hers to trust above all other security she might be given. Most importantly, it’ll mark her as someone important. Someone worth protecting. Though she’s aware it’s only a trial run, McQueen can’t help but be a little excited. 

Finally, her family is taking her seriously. Her grandmother is taking her seriously. Perhaps just as important, the Bureau is taking her seriously. No more will she be a sheltered young child, constantly being held back with the promise of ‘just one more year, just be patient’. No, she’s actually going to be able to make a name for herself.

And it all starts here, she thinks, as she absently adjusts the skirts of her dress. In a private room, waiting on a private jet, that will fly her off to the rest of her life.

McQueen would say she doesn’t know exactly when the guard in her private room touches his earpiece before beckoning for her to get up, but that would be a lie. It’s precisely two minutes off schedule, nearly on the dot. Getting to her feet, McQueen smooths out the dress she’s wearing before delicately stepping over to where she’s been summoned. A second later, the door opens from the outside, revealing two more of her family’s guards standing there waiting.

“Are you ready?” asks one of the two guards, a slightly younger, red headed woman by the name of Beauty, who usually stays exclusively with McQueen’s grandmother.

As ready as I’ll ever be. But naturally, that’s not what McQueen says. Instead, she gives a firm nod and tells the woman, “Of course. I’ve been ready for years.”

While the guard that had been waiting with her in the side room fetches her carry-on, McQueen is escorted out onto the tarmac. This early in the morning, it’s still a bit chilly out. The air bites at McQueen’s bare legs, and picks at the flyaway strands of her hair. It’s a good morning for flying, at least, she thinks it is. The sky is clear, the weather is good. If all goes to plan, the flight will be as uneventful as possible.

As she walks, McQueen feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. Checking the screen, just in case it’s important, she instead finds Ryan’s name waiting for her. Probably, the woman had meant to call her earlier, before she was actively heading towards her flight. Typical. She never does watch the time.

Oh well, no harm in answering. Especially since she won’t have cell service for the next dozen or so hours.

“Bored yet?” Ryan asks, practically the moment McQueen puts the phone to her ear.

“I haven’t had the time to be bored yet,” McQueen says, with a small chuckle. “I’m in the process of boarding now.” 

“Sheesh, they’ve really got you moving. I thought you’d be waiting for another hour at least.” Ryan’s voice sounds distant, as though she’s holding the phone at arm’s length. “Last time I had to travel, I thought I was going to die in that airport.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic,” McQueen chides, a warm smile lifting her lips. “You know they’re going as fast as they’re able to.”

“And we’d rather be safe than sorry, yeah, I’ve heard it before.”

Even through the phone, McQueen can hear Ryan’s eye roll. It’s all in good fun of course, neither of them would ever argue with the process. Not sincerely. Not when they know just how much is potentially at stake if something happens to one of them.

“Do you know if you’re going to see Air Groove while you’re away?”

That familiar, prim voice belongs to another one of McQueen’s cousins, Mejiro Dober. She hadn’t realized the unicorn was due back at home yet, but then, she hasn’t been paying attention to much outside of her own schedule.

“It depends on how much Bureau involvement this ends up requiring,” McQueen responds automatically.

“Yes, but Grandmother said–”

“She’ll probably be there since I believe Rudolf is going to be there.” Mentally picturing the various emails she’s been exchanging, McQueen adds, “Unless she has business to attend to elsewhere.”

“They’d never send Symboli Rudolf and not Air Groove,” Ryan dismisses. “Grandma says Rudolf’s head would fall off without Air Groove there to keep it on.” 

“You’re making it sound like she’s some kind of baby-sitter,” Dober grumbles. “This is why McQueen gets to leave the house and you don’t.”

“Hey?”

“Don’t worry, if Air Groove’s there, I’ll say hello.” Sparing an indulgent smile for Dober and Ryan’s antics, McQueen picks her head up and notes the small gaggle of people gathered around the private jet that’s no doubt waiting for her arrival. “If you want, I can call while I’m there and you can say hi to her yourself.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. I’m sure she’s got more important things to be doing,” Dober swiftly says, her words immediately followed by one of Ryan’s loud laughs. “What, she’s practically a council woman. They have so much to do all of the time.”

“And I’m sure she’d still be glad you’re thinking of her,” McQueen soothes, with a little giggle of her own. “By the way, I can’t talk for much longer. I’m about to have to do my job.”

Ryan snorts. “You won’t have to do your job until you land.”

“I’ll have you know all of this is part of my job,” McQueen sniffs, as she starts to lower the phone from her face. “Which is why I’m going to do it, and do it well.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get sick on the plane,” Ryan yawns, like she isn’t the one calling to check up on McQueen in the first place. 

“Have a safe flight,” Dober insists, more seriously. “Grandmother will want to know when you land.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her.”

Exchanging one last set of goodbyes with her family, McQueen clicks her phone off and slips it back into her pocket. At this point, her and her guards are close enough that they’re able to see the faces of the rest of the crew. Standing in the front, there’s the person McQueen can only assume is the pilot, and there are a couple of canids dressed in uniforms she takes to be flight attendants. Surrounding them, a bit like a guard of their own, there’s a handful of other suited personnel she can’t identify who are standing at attention. Probably Bureau people, no doubt here to perform all of the various required pre-flight checks necessary to put a unicorn on a plane.

But as McQueen draws level with the crew, her eyes gravitate to one person in particular. And though she doesn’t know who it is, instincts inform her that actually, she probably does.

Somehow, Gold Ship both looks exactly like a hunter, and at the same time like nothing McQueen would’ve expected. The woman is tall, easily towering over her by a hand and a half at least. She’s also broad, musculature visible in her arms and legs, and in the wide set of her shoulders. Most notably, she appears to be strapped down with at least three types of visible weaponry. There’s a gun holster at her belt. What looks to be some kind of bladed weapon is strapped to her thigh. And as if those two things weren’t enough, there’s what can only be described as a spear attached to her back.

Typical hunter things.

From there, however, all of McQueen’s expectations for what the retired hunter would look like are thrown out the window.

For one, Gold Ship isn’t wearing any kind of hunter uniform, modified or otherwise. Typically, even ex-hunters wear all black, with visible body armor and every available inch of skin covered. Gold Ship, conversely, is wearing a bright red, skin tight dress, which leaves her arms bare and cuts off with a subtle flare somewhere well above mid-thigh. The tights she’s wearing technically preserve her modesty, but only just. And then there’s her hair. Long, silvery white, kept straight down her back. No braids, no bun, not even a ponytail. Nothing to keep it out of her way, except some copper colored hair ornament that McQueen can’t decipher. Oh, and then there are the sunglasses, big aviators that are absolutely unnecessary at this time of day, but Gold Ship is wearing regardless.

It’s quite the picture. For a moment, McQueen is entirely unsure what to think. She’d expected a bodyguard to be someone unassuming, perhaps physically intimidating, but not so attention grabbing in every other way. And yet, when Gold Ship turns her head in McQueen’s direction, there’s something undeniably intimidating and powerful about the stare she gives that roots her to the spot.

Temporarily speechless, McQueen finds herself unable to do anything but gaze back up at Gold Ship. They haven’t been properly introduced, and she doesn’t know a thing about this woman beyond what was on her paperwork, but in that moment, none of that matters. Somehow, McQueen knows she’s going to be safe. Though there will doubtless be plenty of other security swarming around her once she touches down in America, this one bodyguard is going to be all she needs.

It hardly feels like a question. No, instead, it’s just a fact.

As the pilot converses softly with Beauty, and two of the unknown Bureau officials go to do their last preflight checklist, the guard who picked up McQueen’s carry-on sets it down on the ground. Without a word, without even breaking eye contact, Gold Ship steps forward and easily swings the bag up and onto her shoulder. Then she does the same with the much heavier looking duffel bag that’s been sitting beside her, like it weighs practically nothing.

Despite herself, McQueen finds it necessary to clear her throat and adjust her clothing. She’s doing her best not to form any hard and fast opinions about the new security detail just yet, but she won’t pretend she’s not a little… Well. Can you blame her? All hunters typically carry themselves in a very particular way. Gold Ship is most certainly not the exception.

“Miss Mejiro?”

Startling somewhat, McQueen spins on her heels to face the pilot, who is approaching her alongside Beauty. “Yes?”

“We’re delighted to have you with us today. This flight will take approximately sixteen hours,” the man explains, offering her a polite half bow as he does. “In the event of any complications or delays, you’ll be informed immediately, as will your family.”

“Of course,” McQueen intones, as she mentally regains her composure. Though Gold Ship is certainly a new addition to her immediate life, there’s no need for her to get distracted by the woman. That’s about to be her bodyguard, someone who she’s supposed to be comfortable around. She should probably start treating her like that now. 

“If you’re ready,” the pilot continues, extending a hand out to one of the flight attendants, who is waiting primly nearby. “You can follow Miss Lacie right here and she’ll help you get settled on the plane. You and your security detail.”

Eyes flicking to the canid in question, McQueen gives another nod. “I would love to.”

Offering a smile first the flight attendant, McQueen turns to Beauty. “Let Grandmother know I’ll call her as soon as I’m settled in at wherever they have me staying.”

“If she’s awake,” Beauty says, with a wry look. “I’ll let her know.”

“I’m sure she will be,” McQueen says firmly. “I know she’s worried about this going well.”

“You’re the one taking care of it,” Beauty points out, with a knowing tip of her head. “I’m sure your grandmother knows the situation’s in good hands.”

As a particular thrill of confidence rushes through her, McQueen bids farewell to the rest of the family guards before walking to where she’s been directed. Without needing further instruction, Gold Ship falls into place behind her, still entirely silent. Though it’s definitely just McQueen’s imagination, she feels like the woman casts a shadow over her, just from the sheer height difference alone.

“I hope you’ll find your flight to be suitable, Miss Mejiro,” Lacie titters, as she leads them up the ramp into the interior of the plane. “If there’s absolutely anything I can do to accommodate you further, you just have to let me know.”

“Oh, I’m easy,” McQueen assures the woman, with a reassuring wave of her hand. “I’m sure everything is going to be just fine.”

The inside of the private jet is as spacious as they typically are. Settling down in the seat she’s been directed to, McQueen watches as Gold Ship easily stores her own duffel bag, before setting McQueen’s carry-on down beside her chair. Then, though she’s doubtless already done similar before McQueen ever showed up, the ex hunter takes a moment to do a walk-through of the rest of the plane, no doubt to make sure everything is in order.

Undeniably settled by the show of professionalism, McQueen relaxes back in her chair and closes her eyes. She may not like flying, but this is shaping up to be a rather painless experience. Soon, they’ll be in the air, and before she knows it, she’ll be landing in America. At once, it feels too soon, and yet at the same time, it can’t come quickly enough. Even if she won’t be doing any actual work for a day or so, she’s ready to get into that mindset. 

She’s ready to begin.

Unexpectedly, something or someone flicks the tip of her horn. 

Lurching upright, McQueen immediately cups a hand over her forehead. Unicorn horns aren’t exactly delicate, but touching them, especially without permission, is considered a major taboo. And even if it wasn't, it's just plain rude. Like yanking on a felid's tail, or plucking an avia's feathers. Why on earth would anyone normal do such a thing?

Eyes flying open, a scathing remark already on her tongue, McQueen looks up at her assailant. And then she keeps looking up until she finds the face of none other than Gold Ship looming over her. All big aviators and blunt bangs, with a hand still extended, like she’s thinking of flicking McQueen’s horn again.

In a second, anything McQueen might have tried to say dies in her throat.

Seemingly satisfied that she’s gotten McQueen’s attention, a smile spreads over Gold Ship’s face. “So, is it real?”

Stunned, all McQueen can do is blink. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me, is it real?” Plopping down into the seat opposite McQueen, Gold Ship leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees, clearly expecting an answer.

“I–” Still covering her horn protectively, McQueen struggles to process the sheer ridiculousness of the question she’s being asked. “Of course it’s real?”

“Don’t sound too sure of that, do you?” Gold Ship hums, wagging a knowing finger. She’s got a higher voice than McQueen expected. Shockingly mellow, for someone who used to kill people for a living. But McQueen isn’t focused on that right now. Instead, she’s frantically trying to keep up with the conversation she’s suddenly become embroiled in.

Letting her hand fall away from her face, McQueen straightens her shoulders indignantly. “Of course I’m sure of it. I was born with it.”

“Really?” Gold Ship’s eyebrows pop up and disappear under her hair. “Like really really? You swear?”

Doing her best not to stammer, McQueen demands, “Where else would I have gotten it?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gold Ship insists, her loose body language not at all matching the defensiveness of her words. “For all I know, you all buy them at costume shops and just wear them for the look.”

McQueen wilts in her chair. “Why on earth would an entire species go around pretending to have a horn. That- that’s so much work and for what?”

“You’re a unicorn,” Gold Ship reasons. “You need a uni-horn. Imagine only being horned as a horse. Talk about embarrassing.”

It’s all McQueen can do not to choke. “That is absolutely ridiculous.”

Undeterred, all Gold Ship does is pull off her aviators and lean forward so she can look McQueen directly in the eyes. The woman’s irises are a startling violet, so light as to almost be pink. “Listen kid, I’ve seen God, and she’s got purple hair. If it turned out every unicorn had a fake horn, well, I’d say it was just another Tuesday.”

For a second, McQueen waits to see if she’s about to wake up. Because surely, this is all just a dream. A bizarre nightmare that she’s having the night before her trip that’s born from all her various anxieties and uncertainties, but isn’t real. Unfortunately, as the seconds pass, it becomes apparent that no, this is all happening. And more importantly, this is her bodyguard. The person who is going to be attached to her at the hip for the next few months at least, if not longer.

Immediately, any positive impressions McQueen had previously formed about Gold Ship shatter into a million pieces.

“Look,” McQueen says at length, trying her best to remain dignified in the face of insurmountable odds. “I don’t know anything about ‘God’ having purple hair, but my horn is real, and I would rather you not touch it again. Especially not without asking.”

“Alright, alright.” Leaning back in her chair, Gold Ship folds her arms behind her head and lets her eyes drift from McQueen’s face. “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

Thoroughly shaken, McQueen turns towards the window that’s directly by her elbow. Everyone but the family guards have boarded. The ramp they used to get up here is in the process of being wheeled away. She’s about to be stuck on a plane with this Gold Ship for the next sixteen hours. Which will be fine, McQueen tells herself desperately, as long as the woman doesn’t-

“I’ve gotta ask though, do you have hooves in your shoes, or do you have human feet? Or do you secretly have something in between.”

–speak.

Without being told, McQueen knows this is about to be the longest plane flight of her life.

✯✯✯

Chapter Text

✯✯✯

By the time McQueen gets off the plane, she thinks she’s losing her mind.

The flight itself had been fine. No turbulence, no delays, no secret, inexplicable issues they had to deal with. No, in terms of the actual plane ride itself, everything had gone fine.

McQueen isn’t exhausted because she just spent sixteen hours in the air. She’s exhausted because of who she spent those sixteen hours with.

To say Gold Ship is a unique individual would at once be far too kind, and also horrifically underselling it. Sure, it’s true, but it fails to capture the sheer depth and breadth of the insanity at hand. You could say the ex hunter is unlike anyone that McQueen has ever met before, and despite how many people she’s come across in her years, it would be true. Which is good, because more than one Gold Ship would be a nightmare, and also bodes horribly for her immediate future.

Somehow, Gold Ship had single-handedly managed to turn what was already going to be quite a long flight into something that felt like it lasted at least three times longer. Every time McQueen had thought that she was safe, that Gold Ship had finally worn herself out, the woman would start talking again. She's loud, lacking in tact, and just strange. In ways McQueen can hardly fathom, and in fact, does not want to fathom.

Thankfully, the mildly invasive questions about unicorn biology and authenticity didn’t last particularly long. Apparently, Gold Ship just had a few things she wanted to clear up, and then she’d been more than happy to drop the subject. Unfortunately, that had left room for her to talk about all manner of other things, and boy, had she.

First, it had been a stunning monologue about her favorite type of ramen. Then, she’d expected McQueen to give an equally detailed accounting of her own favorite foods, to a level of minutia that McQueen can’t imagine is ever going to be useful for literally anyone, including herself. After that, Gold Ship had happily started talking about the ins and outs of running a food stall, which was at least passably interesting, and practically insightful, right up until she’d admitted that she’d never run a food stall in her life. At which point McQueen had felt far more qualified to argue the semantics of the subject matter.

There had been a few blessed hours after that where Gold Ship had taken a break from chattering. Regrettably, she’d filled the time with insisting she be the one to prepare McQueen’s in-flight food. And while she hadn’t blown anything up- thank the void- she had managed to prepare something for McQueen that definitely hadn’t been on the menu. Or requested. Or even vaguely resembling anything McQueen would normally get on a plane.

After that, McQueen had escaped her bodyguard for a while by feigning the need to take a nap. She hadn’t actually slept a wink, but at least while her eyes had been closed, Gold Ship left her alone. But, as one might imagine, that reprieve only lasted as long as she pretended to sleep. The moment she ‘woke up’, Gold Ship had started talking again.

It had been at this point that McQueen had found herself subject to a several hour long interrogation, on… Well, just about everything actually. At a certain level, she’d expected to be asked about her politics. Considering her family name and her position in said family, McQueen is used to people asking about her stance on various important issues. And Gold Ship had asked a few of those questions for sure, but only a very small handful.

The rest of the questions she’d asked had been about subjects and preferences that McQueen rarely gave thought to, much less had answers for off the top of her head. Did McQueen prefer sand or dirt. What was her favorite insect. Did she put her socks and shoes on like ‘sock sock, shoe shoe’, or ‘sock shoe, sock shoe’? What was her middle name? Why was that her middle name.

The conversation had quickly become ridiculous, but somehow, McQueen couldn’t figure out how to disentangle herself from it. Every time she tried, Gold Ship would simply loop her back in, like it was second nature. She’d ask a question that simply demanded a response, or she’d make an assumption about McQueen that was so horribly off base that it desperately needed correcting. It was infuriating, and considering they were both stuck in a pressurized metal cylinder however many thousands of meters off the ground, there was nothing McQueen could do to escape it.

At the point where Gold Ship was asking McQueen what her opinion on using code names was, McQueen had finally decided that enough was enough. She’d entertained Gold Ship’s antics for far too long already. This was supposed to be her bodyguard. Not some insane, never ending interview. If she didn’t want to engage with this tomfoolery, she didn’t have to.

Shockingly, when she directly told Gold Ship that she had paperwork to look over and needed some peace and quiet, the woman had finally shut her mouth. She hadn’t even asked what McQueen was doing, she just settled back in her chair and stared off into space. Which, logically, meant she could’ve shut up at any point previous, she’d just deliberately chosen not to.

It was enough to make McQueen scream.

For the sake of her dignity if nothing else, McQueen hadn't screamed. She had, however, been deeply thankful to see the ground, when they’d finally arrived in Nebraska.

Much like boarding, getting off a plane for a unicorn requires quite a few extra steps. Though McQueen isn’t typically one for impatience, she finds herself feverishly tapping her finger against the arm of her chair as she waits for the okay to leave. It’s been sixteen hours. She’s tired, she’s hungry, and she desperately needs to stretch her legs. But most importantly, she needs to find someone other than Gold Ship to talk to. Before the woman starts running her mouth again, and McQueen ends up trapped in another conversation which has no end or, frankly, any logic.

“Settle down,” Gold Ship tells McQueen, as she stands loosely beside her chair with their bags in hand. “Time is a flat circle. You’re not gonna make it go any faster.”

Fighting her immediate urge to frown, McQueen deliberately does not make eye contact with Gold Ship. “I have absolutely no problem with waiting, for your information. I’m aware this process can’t go any faster.”

“Oh, it could go faster,” Gold Ship corrects, one side of her mouth lifting into a toothy grin. “I could go out there.”

“And do what?” McQueen asks, entirely unsure if Gold Ship intends those words as a threat or something else entirely.

Naturally, instead of directly answering the question, Gold Ship just taps the side of her head with a finger. “You think old Golshi doesn’t have some tricks up her sleeves? I’m practically made of tricks.” 

Briefly trying to picture what kind of tricks the ex hunter could be talking about, McQueen firmly shakes her head. “No, there’s no need for all of that. I’m sure they’ll get everything sorted just fine on their own.”

Unbothered, Gold Ship lifts her hands in a lazy shrug. “Whatever you say, you’re the boss. Besides, staying with you is way more important than loopholing international law.”

For obvious reasons, McQueen doesn’t like the sound of that, so she decidedly doesn’t engage with it. Hopefully, if she doesn’t ask Gold Ship too many questions, she won’t be forced to suffer the answers.

Except… Maybe McQueen is a little off base there. Because as much as Gold Ship has spent this entire flight talking to her, she doesn’t feel like she knows a single thing about the woman that she didn’t read off of her paperwork. Oh sure, Gold Ship spent plenty of time getting to know McQueen, but she hasn’t spent a lot of time talking about herself.

Probably, McQueen could ask as many follow up questions as she wants. There’s no guarantee that she’ll get any useful answers for any of them.

“Just… don’t do anything without me,” McQueen decides at last, her forehead wrinkling. “Please.”

Gold Ship’s eyes sparkle. “Aye aye, captain.”

Despite her uncharacteristic impatience, McQueen doesn’t end up having to wait forever to disembark. About thirty-five minutes after they touch the ground, several bureau personnel enter the plane and inform her that she’s all set to leave. Gratefully, McQueen gets to her feet and follows them, Gold Ship inevitably falling into step at her heels.

Though she doesn’t intend to, McQueen catches the look the two bureau officers shoot her bodyguard as they approach. It’s both a look of scrutiny, and a look of wariness. Half turning so she can take a peak at Gold Ship’s reaction, all McQueen finds is the woman shooting the two bureau personnel finger guns, aviators firmly back in place on her face.

Oh void. Facing forward once more, McQueen does her best not to wince. She’s used to a security detail who always takes what they’re doing seriously. If this is how Gold Ship is going to act for the rest of their time together, she thinks she’s going to lose her mind. After all, this is important business. It’s not something to be treating so… flippantly.

On the flip side, she’s not sure Gold Ship takes anything seriously, and she has yet to see any evidence to the contrary.

For better or worse though, McQueen doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Instead, she’s swiftly shepherded out into the airport terminal, where a cloud of other bureau affiliated people are waiting for her. There are any number of attendants, several more official people that offer her neat bows of greeting, as well as what looks like at least twelve additional guards that she can count. Thankfully, through the throng, she finds a couple familiar faces waiting for her.

“McQueen,” Maruzensky sing-songs delightedly, lifting her hands above her head and waving for McQueen’s attention. “Yoohoo, over here.”

Like an ocean, the swarming bureau personnel part. As always, Maruzensky is quite the presence. She’s a full blooded dragon, a lung to be specific, standing at at least two hands taller than McQueen. Though if you count her horns, which twist proudly up out of her thick brown hair, it’s probably three hands. Despite the seriousness of this event, she’s dressed how she normally would be. In a tight red and brown blouse, with a mini skirt that gives her long red-scaled tail room to breathe. In short, she’s an impressive individual to behold.

To McQueen though, she’s become quite a close friend. Which means the sight of her after such a long flight is like shade on a hot day.

Gratefully, McQueen hurries over to the older lung. “Maruzen. It’s so good to see you."

“Aren’t you looking spiffy today,” Maruzensky chirps, as she straightens McQueen’s coat collar and brushes her fingers through her hair. “After a flight, I always look like a disaster.”

“That’s because you do the flying yourself.” That voice belongs to Air Groove, someone McQueen hadn’t expected to be relegated to something like airport duty. “Mejiro McQueen. It’s good to see you in one piece.” 

“Oh, yes.” Quickly straightening her shoulders, McQueen offers Air Groove a prim bow. “It’s good to see you too, vice council woman.”

“You only need to call me vice council woman in front of an audience,” Air Groove reminds her, as her severe expression melts into a shockingly soft smile. “Otherwise, my name is just fine.”

Like Maruzensky– though somehow in a completely different way– Air Groove is quite the presence. though she’s a human, she conducts herself with an almost regal, unearthly air. Her short, brown hair is kept neat and smooth, the little gold hair ornament she wears is the only bit of personalization to an otherwise stiff suit jacket and knee length pencil skirt. Her piercing, blue eyes are the type to see right through you. Her smiles are rare, and all the more genuine for it. She looks every bit the advisor of one of the most powerful people in the world. And yet at the same time, McQueen’s chest warms at the familiar face, as some of the tension in her shoulders releases.

“If you call her vice council woman too often, Rudolf will simply die laughing,” Maruzensky chuckles, draping herself over McQueen’s shoulders. “So maybe you should do it. It would be good for our darling counselor to let loose a bit.”

“That will not be necessary,” Air Groove states shortly. “She’s been doing quite enough cutting loose lately.”

“Don’t be a square, we’re in Nebraska!” Maruzensky announces, with genuine excitement. “A little birdie told me this is the perfect place to relax.”

“I don’t know what birds you’ve been talking to,” Air Groove mutters. “But they’re clearly not the birds I keep in contact with.”

“Your birds are no fun.”

“We have a job to do here.”

Oh right, work. Clearing her throat, doing her best to project the level of professionalism she wants these people to believe she has, McQueen delicately ask, “What’s the schedule for the rest of today? Do we have anywhere important we need to get to?”

“Oh darling, you tickle me,” Maruzensky says, giving one of McQueen’s shoulders a reassuring pat. “The only place we need to be is dinner. And then we’ll get you settled in at the hotel.”

“We’ll all be staying in the same place,” Air Groove explains, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper from an inside pocket of her coat and holding it out in front of her. “The Bureau has of course provided the accommodations within their nearby regional facilities. I arranged them myself the moment I knew we’d be coming.”

“Rudolf wanted to stay at a local place,” Maruzensky reveals, as she plays with a strand of McQueen’s hair. “She thought enjoying the local culture would be a blast.”

“I vetoed the suggestion,” Air Groove informs McQueen, without hesitation. “I’m sure we’ll get plenty of culture while we’re here without looking for anything extra.”

McQueen can’t help but giggle. “You know how councilwoman Rudolf is.”

Predictably, Air Groove groans. “Don’t remind me. She’s already threatening to drag me to play mini golf. Where on earth does she think we’re going to have the time to be doing something like that.”

“I don’t know about time, but I’ve got a mean lay-up.”

Startling slightly, McQueen turns to find Gold Ship striding over to their group. In the time since McQueen saw her last, the woman has managed to acquire the rest of their luggage. Somehow, she makes carrying the various bags, suitcases and other assorted valise look effortless. And of course, she’s making a beeline right for McQueen, a wide grin on her face.

Under her breath, Maruzensky makes a curious sound. “Oh? And who might you be.”

“That’s-” McQueen begins, already holding back a grimace.

“McQueen’s best and only bodyguard, at your service.” Somehow, even with all the luggage, Gold Ship still manages a dramatic bow. “Can’t say I’ve ever golfed in Nebraska, but I’ve done other things here!”

Delightedly, Maruzensky lets out a loud laugh. “A bodyguard who golfs too, aren’t you multi-talented.”

Even through the aviators, Gold Ship’s eyes gleam. “Well you know what they say.”

Nervously, McQueen waits for the end of Gold Ship’s sentence. For better or worse, she does not elaborate further.

Ignoring the conversation entirely, Air Groove gives Gold Ship a shrewd once over. “I see the Mejiros decided a minimal security detail was enough?” 

Turning her head slightly, Gold Ship makes a show of waving Air Groove’s words away with a hand. “You’re making me blush! I know I’m good, but you don’t need to make a big deal about it.”

Fighting not to openly gape at how casually Gold Ship speaks to Air Groove, McQueen hurriedly jumps in. “My family weighed the pros and cons quite thoroughly before assigning a security detail. This was what my grandmother decided upon. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Brows twitching down ever so slightly, Air Groove purses her lips. “There will be additional security at the events we attend, as well as within the regional facility. Though-” she allows. “Not any that I’ve personally assigned to you.”

“Oh darling, you worry too much,” Maruzensky insists, releasing McQueen so she can go and poke Air Groove with a claw. “There doesn’t seem to be a single dangerous thing about this place. I’m sure we’re all going to be perfectly fine.”

“We’re here because some people are very much not fine,” Air Groove points out, giving Maruzensky a sober look. One that McQueen mirrors.

Leaning down slightly, until she’s at the same level as everyone else, Maruzensky hums, in a cool voice, “We’re simply swarmed by security right now. Knowing you, we’ll be surrounded until the end of time.” Straightening, the dragon flashes her teeth. “So chillax, ‘kay? Don’t we have dinner reservations to get to?”

“Will we be dropping my stuff off first before we go?” McQueen asks, more than happy to move on from the question of security.

Still looking mildly perturbed, Air Groove tucks her paperwork back into her suit coat before giving a curt shake of her head. “There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“So am I,” Maruzensky pouts, with a languid stretch that goes all the way through her curled tail. “So let’s get on that. Rudolf will be so bummed if we don’t show up.”

“Where are our reservations for, if you don’t mind me asking,” McQueen cuts in, with a look between the other two women.

“Rudolf picked the place,” Maruzensky chirps, with a blinding smile. “You’ll see when we get there.”

Naturally, all Air Groove does is sigh.

Without any further information forthcoming, McQueen’s welcoming party begins to migrate out of the airport and into the veritable fleet of bureau vehicles waiting for them. McQueen is unsurprised when she ends up in the same spacious vehicle as Maruzensky and Air Groove, though she is a little offput by the way Gold Ship instinctively slides into the driver seat. Like that’s where she belongs, instead of in the passenger seat, as seems right. 

“Don’t we have a designated driver?” McQueen asks, looking between Air Groove, who is consulting her phone, and Maruzensky, who’s picking at her manicured talons.

“Aww, do you think I can’t drive?” Gold Ship asks delightedly, tilting her mirror down so she can make eye contact with McQueen.

Feeling more alarmed by the second, McQueen hurries to say, “It’s not that, I just– usually there’s someone assigned to jobs like this.”

“Actually, I drove on the way over here,” Air Groove reveals, looking up at McQueen briefly before glancing back down her screen. “I’m sure…” She fishes for Gold Ship’s name before seeming to realize that she doesn’t have it. “I’m sure your bodyguard will be plenty capable.”

“What about protocol?” McQueen whispers, at a volume she hopes Gold Ship won’t pick up on.

“Don’t you normally have your family’s guards driving you places?” Maruzensky asks, unsurreptitiously leaning in on their conversation. “It’s exactly like that.”

“You said it yourself, your family wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t competent,” Air Groove agrees.

Glancing up at the mirror once more, McQueen finds Gold Ship wiggling her eyebrows in her direction. “Buckle up. It’s the rules of the road you know.”

Hastily, McQueen does as she’s been bid, and prays they make it where they’re going in one piece.

Surprisingly, Gold Ship is a remarkably competent driver. She follows the directions, she uses her turn signal, she doesn’t even speed. Or at least, not so much that McQueen notices it. She does spend a good bit of the drive mumbling under her breath about the other people on the road, but none of the commentary is loud enough to be distinguishable. A small blessing McQueen is thankful for.

“She could go faster,” Maruzensky comments offhandedly, as she gazes out the window behind her.

“No, I think this is fine,” McQueen says swiftly, with a nervous laugh.

Maruzensky’s brows pinch disappointedly. “Just a little bit?”

Glancing up at the rear view mirror, McQueen is somehow unsurprised when she finds Gold Ship already looking at her. “I’d rather make it there in one piece.”

Ultimately, when they make it to their destination without incident, McQueen ends up feeling a little silly. Maybe she has ample reason to be doubtful of Gold Ship’s… Personality, but she has yet to be given a reason to doubt the woman’s skills. In that respect, she seems to be perfectly capable.

I’m jumping to conclusions, McQueen thinks. Usually I’m better than that.

Blessedly, she doesn’t have long to consider it. Because in the next few minutes, she’s being shooed out of the car, and dragged by Maruzensky over to the restaurant that apparently, they’re going to meet Symboli Rudolf at.

Now, McQueen would never consider herself a snob. She knows her family has money, and she knows that it’s affected her taste in just about everything, but she’s not completely up her own ass about it. She’s able to appreciate the less fine things in life, when they’re presented to her. Hell, sometimes she goes out of her way to indulge in such things, just as a change of pace.

That being said, she’s a little skeptical of the hole in the wall restaurant that she’s being pulled into, despite her best attempts otherwise. To call it a restaurant feels almost like an exaggeration. It’s a diner at best, really, it’s entire seating area consisting of two conjoined rooms and a tiny bar. The lights are dim, the tablecloths are plastic. Based on the other clientèle that are milling around, this place doesn’t usually see people like their group.

On the other hand, judging by the blinding smile on Symboli Rudolf’s face as she beckons them over to the collection of tables that’ve been set aside for their party, that isn’t about to stop them from eating here.

“It’s simply fantastic, isn’t it,” Rudolf chatters excitedly, as McQueen delicately takes a seat across from her. “I’ve been astounded by the local cuisine. I swear, you can get anything around here. And it’s all fried. How delightful!”

Watching out of the corner of her eye as the other nearby tables are filled with the various bureau officials who are accompanying them, McQueen manages a smile of her own. “It’s certainly different.”

“It’s marvelous,” Rudolf agrees, as if that’s what McQueen was trying to imply. “The food back home– it can’t compare.”

“You’re right,” Air Groove agrees dryly, sitting down beside Rudolf. “And thank goodness for that.”

Though it’s been a while since McQueen has had the opportunity to see Symboli Rudolf, the unicorn seems to be just the same as ever. Her wild hair has been at least been passively pushed back from her face. Her horn gleams silver in the overhead lights. In contrast to Air Groove’s neutral choice of clothing, Rudolf is wearing her usual forest green suit, making her immediately stand out in the crowd. And though she’s behaving about as excitedly as expected, her purple eyes bely a level of cool collectedness that McQueen can’t help but envy.

While it may be hard to believe that this woman is one of the seven most powerful people in the world, McQueen knows the truth all too well. Symboli Rudolf is part of the bureau’s board of directors. The high council, as many call it, is the single most important ruling body of the entire organization. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the members of the board have more power than most country leaders do. Considering how vast and important their responsibilities are, it’s easy to understand why.

When she’d been younger, McQueen had been starstruck by the various council members she came into contact with. Even at such a tender age, she’d been able to appreciate just how important they were. How influential. Though a seat at the council’s table had never been in her future, she’d still wished for that sort of authority. For that respect.

As she’s gotten older however, and grown more familiar with Rudolf specifically, that celebrity-like shine has faded. At the end of the day, this is just another person working tirelessly to make sure that the interest of unicorns across the world are protected and spoken for. Though Rudolf has countless other responsibilities, at least in this respect, McQueen and her are sisters in arms.

They’ll never truly be equals, but in time, McQueen hopes Rudolf might treat her as such.

“I’ll tell you what,” Maruzensky cuts in, taking one of the chairs beside McQueen and wagging her finger in Rudolf’s direction. “I’ve had more hamburgers in the past three days then I think I’ve had in my entire life before. It’s been totally rad.”

“And you can have another hamburger here,” Rudolf says excitedly, flipping through her menu. “It’s amazing McQueen, you’re going to love the food.”

“It’s better than MREs,” Gold Ship comments, settling herself on McQueen‘s other side.

Immediately, Rudolf’s eyes flick over to the new arrival. There follows a shockingly subtle once over, before a glimmer of understanding flits through the unicorn’s gaze. “Ah, I see they’ve given McQueen her own bodyguard at last. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m–”

“Oh no, I already know who you are,” Gold Ship interrupts, with her usual lack of anything approaching respect. “They’ve got your name on the official website and everything. And I know how to use the internet.”

Rather than being even mildly offput by Gold Ship’s attitude, Rudolf simply chuckles and dips her head. “Yes, I suppose my face is plastered all over the bureau’s official websites.”

Cracking a grin, Gold Ship waves a hand. “It comes with the territory. Being important always has pros and cons.”

“It does,” Rudolf agrees, absently resting a hand under her chin. “You’re familiar with such trials and tribulations as well?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t say that,” Gold Ship dismisses, with a lazy twiddle of her fingers. “I’m not a council woman. I am but a humble bodyguard.”

“You never gave us your name.”

Starting slightly at the sound of that familiar voice, McQueen whips her head around and finds none other than Narita Brian sitting at a table nearby. Close enough that she can hear their conversation, but far enough that McQueen hadn’t noticed her until exactly that moment. No doubt, that was exactly her intention.

McQueen has always found herself a little intimidated by Rudolf’s personal bodyguard. The woman is a rather intense presence, even if she does often choose to fade into the background. Her long, dark hair is kept in a tight ponytail. Her face is almost permanently set into a scowl. There are rumors the woman is a frost dragon, but McQueen has never dared to confirm or deny the information. Brian looks human, but as a shifter herself, McQueen knows all too well that looks can be deceiving.

Sliding her eyes over to Brian, like she knew the woman was there the entire time, Gold Ship’s bared tooth grin only gets wider. “It’s Gold Ship, your honor. I’m happy to be aboard.”

“Ex hunter?” Brian guesses, with a cool lift of her eyebrows.

“Game knows game,” Gold Ship replies, without a moment’s hesitation.

Acknowledging the accusation with a small bob of her head, Brian looks back down at her menu. “Try to keep your voice down.”

Faintly, Rudolf’s eyebrows crease. “Apologies, she’s a little prickly.”

“She’s your bodyguard, isn’t she?” Gold Ship guesses, turning her attention back to Rudolf. “I’d hope she’s prickly.” 

You’re one to talk, McQueen thinks, picking up her own menu. I’d tell you to shut up and stop being so friendly, but I think you’d ignore me. 

Thankfully, after that, the conversation moves on. Before long, they’re all ordering food, and then Rudolf is talking about her trip here, which leads to Maruzensky happily recounting her own mix up with air traffic control, when her own personal flying had resulted in a near collision with a passenger aircraft.

“I don’t know why everyone was worried,“ Maruzensky dismisses, clearly not in the slightest bit concerned with the matter. “I knew where I was going. I can see. I can hear. But no, it had everyone in a tizzy.”

“Perhaps you should follow flight regulations more often,” Air Groove suggests, her lips twitching with a concealed smile.

“Oh, but what’s the point in being able to fly if I have to follow rules.”

After that, Air Groove and Rudolf both inquire after McQueen’s grandmother. It’s clear that they’re worried about her, and McQueen understands the concern. Still, she tries to be as positive as possible, insisting that the elder Mejiro just needed a little bit of downtime, and then she’ll be back to normal.

“Not that we’re doubting your abilities,” Air Groove thinks to say gently, extending a hand in McQueen’s direction. “I’m aware you know what you’re doing.”

“Naturally,” Rudolf agrees, wiggling a french fry around as she does. “You’re the right unicorn for the job. Everyone knows it. We simply-”

“Have worked with Grandmother for years, yes, I know,” McQueen says, in a reassuring tone. “I’m aware I’ll have to earn the same respect she has. But make no mistake, I intend to.”

“And you’ll do splendidly,” Rudolf announces, without pause.

“You don’t have anything to prove to us dear,” Maruzensky insists, giving one of McQueen’s shoulders a little pat. “We know what you’re capable of.”

“Speaking of, I hope you’re ready for an adventure,” Rudolf comments, in between bites of her food. “I just found out who the other interested party in this case is going to be.”

As the business side of her brain switches back on, McQueen leans forward over the table. “Who?”

“Riko Kashimoto,” Air Groove reveals, with clear distaste in her tone. 

“She’s decided to throw her hat into the ring again,” Maruzensky says, with a little pout. “You’d think she’d get tired of it, but apparently not.”

“I admire her tenacity,” Rudolf says, with a little shrug. “She has something she believes in, that’s honorable.”

“But this has nothing to do with her,” Air Groove argues, scowl deepening. “You can respect her all you like. She needs to mind her own business.”

“Technically, she’s made this her business,” Rudolf points out, with a wry look at McQueen. “Her advocacy group has been picking up steam lately. Apparently, it’s doing quite well among the unicorns over in the west, and gaining traction in Europe as well.”

Internally, McQueen groans. Though her family exists as the head of the bureau sanctioned unicorn advocacy division, that doesn’t mean there aren’t other people doing the exact same thing. Riko is one such person. McQueen has never much liked the human. From what her grandmother has told her, the woman’s methods of unicorn protection are heavy-handed and extreme. Perhaps one-thousand years ago, they might’ve been necessary, but the unicorns of today don’t need that kind of handling. They’re no longer on the brink of extinction. Managing their every move, their every aspect of life, is simply not needed.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop some people from believing otherwise. It doesn’t stop some unicorns, who think the bureau’s protection measures aren’t quite comprehensive enough. It means that every now and then, someone like Riko pops up, and inevitably they gain support from the more paranoid members of the population. 

“I swear, some unicorns can’t do anything for themselves,” McQueen mutters, rubbing at the skin around her horn. “If we could all just show a little personal responsibility and initiative, people like her wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.”

“Alas, such is the nature of the beast,” Rudolf says, apparently entirely unbothered by the matter. “And presently, she’s got quite a bit of a leg to stand on, considering what just happened.”

“No she doesn’t,” McQueen immediately argues. “Unicorns are people too. We have agency! We deserve to be able to live our own lives, not be micromanaged by the state. Not like that.”

“But if the current measures are not enough, something has to be done,” Rudolf reasons, eyes gleaming. “Otherwise, we stand to have more incidents like this one occur.”

“Jumping to the most extreme measures is never the answer,” McQueen says hotly. “There are far more moderate solutions that can be implemented instead. You know there are.”

“But not everyone agrees,” Rudolf hums, picking up another fry. “It’ll be up to you and Maruzen to make sure a more reasonable solution is found.”

“What about you?” McQueen can’t help but ask, sticking her bottom lip out a little. “People are far more likely to listen to you than they are to me.”

“I suppose that’s something you’ll have to fix,” is all Rudolf says. “Besides, I’m going to have my hands full with the press.”

“That’s why we decided to come in the first place,” Air Groove admits, with a sympathetic look at McQueen. “This is becoming such an international issue, people need a reassuring face to look to.”

“And my face is very reassuring,” Rudolf agrees, glancing sideways at Air Groove with a mildly teasing smile.

“Please take this seriously,” Air Groove requests, in a thin voice.

“Oh absolutely,” Rudolf insists, her eyes widening. “I’d never horse around.” 

Expectantly, she pauses.

Though she’s been quiet up until now, Gold Ship is the first- and only one- to let out a full body laugh at the bad joke.

“Thank you,” Rudolf says, with a satisfied smile. “I was worried no one would get it.”

“Oh, because you’re a unicorn,” Air Groove mutters under her breath. “Right.”

“You know,” Gold Ship says, waggling a fork in Rudolf’s direction. “Today, I learned that you guys don’t even have hooves. You have feet! Imagine that.”

Oh for the love of- “Please- Rudolf, I’m sorry,” McQueen starts, as she seriously considers kicking Gold Ship under the table. “She-”

“And that’s not the only interesting feet-ture about us,” Rudolf happily replies, ignoring McQueen’s apology. “Though if you’re working for a unicorn, it would behoove you to learn more about us.”

As Maruzensky joins in on Gold Ship’s laughter, Air Groove covers her own grudging smile with a disapproving hand. And McQueen, she just tries to focus on her food, as she internally wonders how she’s going to handle the next few months.

Because between Gold Ship and now Riko, she knows she’s in for a time.

✯✯✯