All's fair in war and friendship

by Psycho Brovian

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 5224

The mane six find themselves in the middle of a war they are neither equipped nor willing to fight.

An unnamed soldier in an unidentified country beleaguered by an unspecified conflict armed with only the bare necessities of war fights to protect the six things worth fighting for.

Author's note:

I don't even like fanfiction was hesitant to post this. It's a short read. More of a writing exercise than anything. It was difficult to write at first due to the sheer absurdity of the project, but in the end it was quite enjoyable.

Published 2013-05-04 19:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-04 19:20:02 UTC

Chapter I: The House

Dawn. The sun bleached the landscape through cloudless skies. The clouds, I assume, had retreated just like the rest of the folks in this forsaken town. Disused equipment lay scattered in the streets. The rare bicycle lay in a tangled heap, another casualty of this war, and in the middle of the road sat a teddy bear. Its tiny button eyes were fixated on me. It blinked. I blinked.

We had holed up in a small, dust-ridden house in a state of severe disarray. In one corner of one room, we huddled, the seven of us – six noncombatants and myself, an unwilling fighter in a war that was not mine to fight – and waited for the dark. We would move under cover of night. God willing, we would reach a friendly outpost on the edge of this enemy territory, fraught with merciless dogs of men. Only I didn't believe in God, so the sentiment was for naught. No, and even if I did believe in a God, this war would leach the last vestiges of piety from my pathetic mortal form. I was a servant of none. I was no soldier, and this wasn't even my war.

Not my war. No soldier. No God. My mind ran in circles. To quiet it, I briefly took inventory of what little supplies I had remaining:

A half-empty semiautomatic pistol and one additional magazine.

A fully-loaded bolt action rifle, and a pocket full of extra rounds.

A slightly crumpled cigarette pack with two remaining – a small victory in and of itself.

An empty flask. The watered-down whiskey barely burned as I poured the last drop on my tongue.

I was a reveler in an exotic city when this war broke out. I ended up unwillingly taking orders from a man twenty years my senior. He ordered me to kill my fellow man, which I did, gladly even. We took on these civilians, the twenty of us, days ago. They were in a truck bound for who knows where. Figured twenty fighting men could protect six civilians, right? Wrong.

We happened upon an ambush not a day into our impromptu mission. I watched as one by one our men were gunned down like animals. The sergeant ordered me to carry on the mission alone as he dove on a grenade that would have spelled my doom. In a stroke of luck I hadn't seen since I totaled that roadster back stateside, I escaped with no more than a bullet graze to the shoulder. When I think of it, it burns as though the wound itself possesses a malevolent sentience.

The mission. Escort the six of them to safety. These civilians would become my sole purpose for existence in these long days. The rest of the men are gone – not in heaven. Just gone. I didn't so much as stop to collect their dog tags. I just ran. Like a coward? No. I was just following orders like the obedient soldier boy I wasn't for a war I wanted nothing to do with. This mission, though, was special. It drove me. I'm not even good with people, but I'm nothing if not adaptable. Just then, I notice one of them start to cry.

“Hey now, what are you doing?” I manage in my most soothing tone, “If you cry, you're going to make me cry. You don't want me to cry, do you?” She managed a meek 'no' as she tried to stifle her tears. “Come on then, let's dry those eyes.”

I am a rusty goliath. My motions were mechanical, not natural, as I maneuvered a hand past the shroud of pink that was her mane and wiped away a tear. It fell, heavy as though it carried the weight of the world, off of my fingertip and splashed to the wooden floor where it pooled with the rest.

Fluttershy, they called her. A diminutive pegasus with a yellow coat, a mane of pink, and a heart of gold. Her wings quivered as they clung to her side. One of her friends, the orange one with the southern drawl that reminded me of home, rested a hoof on her shoulder. “There there, sugarcube” she said reassuringly, “we'll get out of here, right?” she asked as she turned to me. “We will.” I pronounced a promise to them then and there, and I don't know who I was trying to convince but Fluttershy stopped shaking. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless, and victoriously I lit a cigarette.

“Ugh!” she cried, shaking her styled violet mane as she melodramatically protested my habit, “the smell will cling to me forever and a day! Must you? Must you really?” I had opened my mouth to speak to the irritated white unicorn, but was beat to the punch by Twilight, the one they seemed to defer to. “Rarity's right,” she started, “what you're doing isn't helping us at all – and it's likely hurting you!” She was right. They both were. I hung my head and pinched the cherry out. “Sorry, Twi” I said with a sigh. “Just needed something to clear my mind is all.” I stuffed the cigarette back with the others in its crumpled little prison, and stowed the pack back in my jacket. “What we need is rest” she said imploringly. I protested. “Ain't tired, Twi” I said. She put a purple hoof on my knee and looked up to me, begging me to get some rest. I would be wrong not to cave in, but this mission has been nothing but wrong turns.

“Alright, Twilight. If it's so important to you, I'll get some shut-eye. Let's do this in shifts – I'll take first watch, then I'll wake you.” She thanked me before returning to the others. Nearby, a light blue pegasus with a wild, multicolored mane lay sleeping on a pile of clothes while the energetic, and aptly-named Pinkie Pie, watched a spinning top, clearly hypnotized. I waited for an hour or so for the last one of them to drift off to sleep before I made my move. Slowly and stealthily, I snuck out the door and into the rest of the house.

It was dark, dusty. The sun etched horrible shapes in shadow on the walls. Whoever had lived here was gone now, and they had left in a hurry. They didn't make it out with more than a suitcase between them, I'd imagine. I examined the family room. I found old books in languages I couldn't understand, but I paged through them anyway. Nearby were stashed albums of what was most likely horrible music. I'd never know. The phonograph didn't survive the evacuation. It, along with just about everything else, lay on the floor and underfoot.

I observed the horrible paintings, contemplating their meaning. One of them told me that the previous owners were religious, bunch of fools. One of them appeared to be that of a happy family. A man, his wife, and their three daughters. I grimly wondered which of them were dead. Suddenly I spied a decanter which I eyed hungrily from across the room. I licked my lips in anticipation of what might be inside. Slowly, I made my way to it, as though it may be a trap. The bottle clattered and rang as I picked it up, and I did everything in my power to silence it before it woke the girls. I'd never hear the end of it. Not from them. Not from myself.

Whatever it is, it smells horrible. And whatever it is, it's definitely alcoholic. I made my way to the home's tiny kitchen to finally enjoy that victory smoke, and sip on whatever I'd just found. I did my best to silence my every move, but it was for naught. Every step shook the house. Every breath rattled the windows. The chair scraped the uneven kitchen floor for a second too long before I saw fit to stop dragging it and lifted it instead. Its legs stamped down on the wood floor with the kind of crack that could have only been thunder. I slumped my heavy, unwieldy form onto it and lay my pistol on the table before me, setting the stopper next to it and my still-lit cigarette in on a tea saucer. Bravely, I took a pull from the bottle. I consider myself a strong man. Strong enough to see this through, and certainly strong enough to put away the stiffest of drinks, but I winced. With teeth grit, I saw through slit eyes a flash of light cut across the stove. Movement. Danger.

Action. I threw my body at the floor, raking my fingertips at the pistol as I did. I brought the gun under control, and felt the texture of the grip etch its pattern into my palm. I crawled to the window and held my breath listening for footsteps. When I heard none, mercifully, I slithered up the wall and scanned the bleak streets. Nothing. Only a bird preening its feathers in the way of a side view mirror belonging to a truck parked in a garage across the street. My eyes widened. My mouth watered. If I believed in a God, I'd thank him. Dumb luck and frayed nerves saved the day. I pulled my cigarette from the dirty saucer that I'd stashed it on, and took a triumphant drag. Another swig of nasty, and I was ready to break the good news to the girls. I padded with stealthy purpose to the room where they were sleeping, and found the sight too peaceful to ever interrupt. I wouldn't admit it, but I smiled. I imagined their eyes lighting up as I told them the good news, as I told them I could deliver them safely tonight. I contemplated waiting, but there was something else burning me aside from that bullet wound, something in my brain. A warning. We weren't safe. We had to move now. I tapped on Twilight's horn. She woke as peacefully as she had slept.

“I... wh- what?” she stammered, “What'd I miss? Is it time for me to take watch?” I shushed her instinctively, then shook my head. I wanted them all to wake up. I wanted them all to hear this. “Dashie, Applejack – everyone.” Rainbow Dash awoke with flared temper “Don't call me Dashie” she commanded. Rarity giggled. “ladies,” I started, “I've got great news. We won't have to hoof it to safety. I can drive us. Across the way there's a truck, and if it starts we're home free. I'll go check it out, but I need everyone to stay here, and stay calm until I get back.” Twilight objected. “Friend, you haven't slept in days. You need your rest. We can do this at night when it's safe.” I knelt down before her and looked into her eyes pleadingly. “We aren't safe here, Twi. We need to move. I got a bad feeling about this town. They'll be here soon enough, and their guard dogs can sniff us out.”

“Fluttershy can handle that, remember?” Twilight bargained. “They'll be packing guns!” was my rebuttal. “What are we going to do about that?” Rainbow Dash interrupted. “Psh! I can take 'em! I ain't afraid of whatever the hay they're packing!” “It's too dangerous” Applejack replied. Rarity cleared her throat. “Girls, please. This man has been true to us thus far, and I, for one, have absolute faith in his judgment. Thus far, he has been as stalwart and true to his cause – to us – as anyone we could have hoped for. He has been both our guiding light, and our rock to lean on.” Such a silver tongue. I wouldn't admit it, but that was the kindest thing anyone's ever said about me. I didn't deserve it, not one word, but I would earn it before this day was up.

The girls exchanged nods and knowing looks. One by one, they turned to face me. Twilight spoke. “Alright. We trust you.” “But if anything happens,” Rainbow Dash followed, “I'm right behind you.”
We moved to the door, and I looked them over. Even Fluttershy seemed calm, a display I found as eerie as it was reassuring. Suddenly, I noticed a pale blue glow around my collar as it straightened itself, and I felt the sensation of a breeze running through my hair. I saw the glow fading around Rarity's horn. I shot her a confused glance. “We can't have you performing dashing deeds without looking the part, darling” she said with a hopeful smile. I hope I smiled back.

Author's Note

In the dream I had that inspired this, I was reading a comic book. I got to the first Fluttershy scene, where the protagonist tries to console the petrified pegasus, and promptly woke up, both wondering what the hell I drank to produce such dreams, and where I may procure a copy of this comic so that I may finish reading it. I guess I did that myself.

Chapter II: The Streets

Voices. Not theirs. Not mine. We had precious little time left. We had been found. Five men with rifles raised patrolled the streets. I knelt by the door, and whispered to run if anything bad happened. I told Dashie to fly ahead of the rest to summon help, knowing that she was the fastest among them. Once again, she sternly told me to not to call her that as I cycled the bolt and shouldered the weapon. As the sights of the Springfield fell upon my target, my finger too fell upon its trigger. A shot rang out and a man fell dead. I cycled the bolt again, and prepared to loose another shot on the squad, hoping to either wipe them all out or convince them to retreat, but my shot missed the evasive target. I foolishly ran into the streets howling like a wild man. Was I trying to intimidate them? I don't know.

I was wrong. These men were fearless mechanical dogs. It would take more than one man and his wild determination to deter them, but I wasn't done yet. As they popped up to return fire, one by one, they found their target, much like themselves, had taken cover. I cycled the bolt. Three. I had Three shots left. I rolled to a prone position beside the overturned cart, and found peace. I no longer heard the gunshots and foreign shouts. What I heard was the gravel crunching under my body, and what I saw was a slow-motion carnival game unfolding before me. The barrel of my rifle lazily fell into place, and as the sights straightened out the action was automatic. My finger twitched, and the stock kicked hard into my shoulder. As his body fell backwards, time rushed to catch up with me. The thunderous gunfire shook the ground beneath me, and suddenly I heard a rush of wind. I panicked. My frail plan of glass held by gossamer strands had just unravelled and was tumbling toward an unforgiving floor fast.

She moved so fast I swore she left rainbow trails behind her. It was hypnotic watching her fly rings around them. My heart flattened. I called out to Rainbow. Rising to my knees, I desperately tried to line up a shot that didn't have a trace of vibrant color in it. I didn't get a chance until the net scooped her out of the air. I shouted as I shot one of the remaining men as though my anger would speed the bullet on its way and strike its target like a mortar shell. He folded like a bad hand to the ground as the others began to club the entangled pegasus. I fired a wild shot from the hip as I ran towards them. I let the rifle fall away from me, still screaming an incoherent stream of sheer anger, and pulled the sidearm from its holster. I didn't bother aiming as I squeezed the trigger as fast as I could. Three shots was all I could muster.

I didn't feel the first blow, my fist in his jaw. The other tried to bring his rifle to bear against me, but I wouldn't have it. I boldly grasped for the weapon. It was with macabre recognition and sullen delight that I observed Rainbow's blood had made the stock slick. I easily pulled it from his hands and swung a home run into the face of the first enemy combatant, still reeling from my haymaker. I did feel it when the disarmed soldier fired his sidearm, but not from the nine millimeter slug. I only felt my knees hit the dirt. He held the pistol to my head as I observed shapes presenting themselves though the haze before me. Reinforcements, and one of them was decorated. “You” I snarled.

“Yes, me” was his delighted response in that horrible, twisted accent. “I was beginning to wonder if you had died out there, hm? Taken your own life?” I laughed, the hot barrel of the pistol searing into my temple was the only thing keeping me conscious. “Not on your life, pal” I said, spitting blood. “You wanna send these men home, maybe we could deal with this like civilized men.” I like to imagine that I smiled saying that, but the truth was I couldn't even see him anymore. Everything swirled together like paint on a palette. I saw the red and silver on his uniform, and a swatch of light blue below. Rainbow Dash. My eyes lowered, morbidly curious as to whether she was still alive. Her chest beat out a heavy breath. I could breathe again, but briefly.

“Are you worried about your friend?” he taunted. “You have no idea what I have in store for her and hers – masterful plans, I assure you. I've spent many a night--” “Just shut up and shoot me, savage” I mumbled. “Oh? But I have so much planned! You see, first--” “Do it!” I cut him off. “Shoot!” I banged my head against the barrel of the gun. “Come on, are you afraid?” He started to go into detail about his 'plans,' and I couldn't bear to hear it. I shouted, and howled – not once begging to be killed, but commanding it. I was in control. Rainbow looked up to me and our gazes met for an instant before the shot rang out and my vision clouded. All I could see was her muzzle painted in my blood. He wanted her to see. I had words for that enemy commander that aren't fit to repeat.

It was what I saw next that I almost didn't believe. As they began dragging the battered pegasus away from me, her eyes went from vacant shock to pure grit. She pulled herself off the ground, and furiously floundered for one of the soldiers. She pulled a pin on his grenade and clung to him. I didn't see the blast, but I felt it. My mind's eye could see the sky blue plumes descending from an ash grey sky.

I didn't believe in a God, as such there was no heaven for her to go to, and certainly not for me. No, no heaven would accept me. She was, however, safe from him, and he'd never lift a finger to harm anyone again. Even without a heaven to go to she was in a better place, and because of that, in a funny sort of way I was too.

Author's Note

Imagine the grenade blast at the end was rainbow-colored.

Chapter II (alternate): The Highway

Voices. Not theirs. Not mine. We had precious little time left. We had been found. Five men with rifles raised patrolled the streets. I knelt by the door, and whispered to run if anything bad happened. I told Dashie to fly ahead of the rest to summon help, knowing that she was the fastest among them. Once again, she sternly told me to not to call her that as I hastily swapped the fresh magazine into my sidearm. I hoisted the rifle, cycled the bolt and shouldered it. As the sights of the Springfield fell upon my target, my finger too fell upon its trigger. A shot rang out and a man fell dead. I must have caught them by surprise. They froze, and in that fleeting moment I had killed another. I foolishly ran into the streets howling like a wild man. Was I trying to intimidate them? I don't know.

I was right. These men were frightened animals. It would only take one man and his wild determination to deter them, but I wasn't done yet. As they popped up to return fire, one by one, they found their target, much like themselves, had taken cover. I cycled the bolt. Three. I had Three shots left. I rolled to a prone position beside the overturned cart, and found peace. I no longer heard the gunshots and foreign shouts. What I heard was the gravel crunching under my body, and what I saw was a slow-motion carnival game unfolding before me. The barrel of my rifle lazily fell into place, and as the sights straightened out the action was automatic. My finger twitched, and the stock kicked hard into my shoulder. As his body fell backwards, time rushed to catch up with me. The thunderous gunfire shook the ground beneath me, and suddenly I heard a rush of wind. I panicked. My frail plan of glass held by gossamer strands had just unravelled and was tumbling toward an unforgiving floor fast.

She moved so fast I swore she left rainbow trails behind her. It was hypnotic watching her fly rings around them. My heart flattened. I called out to Dashie. Rising to my knees, I desperately tried to line up a shot that didn't have a trace of vibrant color in it. I didn't get a chance until the net scooped her out of the air. I shouted as I shot one of the remaining men as though my anger would speed the bullet on its way and strike its target like a mortar shell. He folded like a bad hand to the ground as the others began to swing at the entangled pegasus, but she was far from out of fight. She kicked, bit, and snorted, thoroughly enraged. I fired a wild shot from the hip as I ran towards them. The rifle was empty, but far from useless. Still screaming an incoherent stream of sheer anger, I gripped that weapon like a Louisville. Distracted by the netted ball of rage and fury, I took little more than a second to line up my swing. Home run. To my surprise, Rainbow had knocked the other man out.

She untangled herself, and flew right up to my face. “Listen, mister, I – hey! Watch it!” she protested as I wrapped an arm around her. I pinned her to my chest as I ran for the truck, still an unknown quantity. In stark contrast to the care I had shown her in the streets, I dumped Dash unceremoniously into the bed of the truck, and climbed into the driver's seat. I began to bargain, with what I do not know, and miraculously found the key in the ignition. I pleaded with the truck as the engine turned over and roared to life with the fury of a thousand thunderstorms. I threw it into reverse, not caring what was behind me, and stamped the pedal to the floor.

To my surprise, before my eyes as they flashed back to see the rest of the ladies hiding in the doorway, the door itself took on a purple glow. So enveloped, it tore itself from the hinges, and hovered alongside Twilight and the rest as mobile cover as they ran to meet me halfway. Fluttershy, predictably, was being towed by the tail by Applejack. I shouted for them to hurry, to run faster. Twi shouted back to quit yelling at them, that they were going as fast as they could. Pinkie bounded into the bed of the truck, knocking over Rainbow Dash who had just righted herself. Twilight teleported into the seat beside me as Applejack and Rarity heaved a mortified Fluttershy into the bed, climbing in shortly afterward. I worked the gears of the old truck, cranked the wheel, and floored it out of town. The lumbering old thing groaned as it battered through debris. This is it. We were home free.

No. Far from it. Two motorcycles laden with sidecars weren't far behind. I asked Twilight to take the wheel. She whined, frightened not of the machine but of failure, and I demanded it in a tone that I had never taken with any of them. A tear welled up in her eye, but as her horn and the steering wheel began to glow with a violet light, I knew my vulgar display had paid off. I felt horrible about it, but those feelings could wait for now. I assured her that I believed in her in a somewhat ashamed tone. I could make amends later, if it wasn't too late. I fished the rifle rounds out of my pocket and began to reload the rifle, all the while trying to shift the monstrosity through its gears. Success, and not a moment too soon. They were upon us.

I shouted for them to get down, noticing that we were quickly being overtaken on the left as the second bike tailed us. It was curious at first, but suddenly struck me that they weren't out to kill. They were out to capture. I fired a wild shot at the driver as the passenger pointed his rifle directly at me. We dueled, battering the weapons against one another, and when I had an opening, I took advantage of it. I thrusted the rifle into the spokes of the sidecar's wheel, throwing the entire machine into a jarring halt, and launching rider and passenger. The rider fell into the woods. He was out of the fight. The passenger, on the other hand, landed on the hood of the truck. He clung for dear life, cautiously reaching for his nine millimeter parabellum pistol.

I pleaded, with what I do not know. Please don't make me do this in front of them. No one answered. I shouted for them to shut their eyes, and in one fluid motion, drew and fired my Colt. He fell dead. I wrested control of the battered truck from Twilight's magic, and swerved abruptly. The body skidded off the hood and under the truck. There was a solid thud as we ran him over. Suddenly, we began to take fire.

“Alright, I've had enough!” Rainbow snarled. “Don't do it, Dashie!” I commanded. “Stop calling me that!” she snapped. I reached back, boldly taking my eyes off the road to make sure I ended up with a fistful of her tail. She flapped her wings and struggled to take off, stretching my body up as my other hand clenched into a death grip on the steering wheel. “You're going to get yourself hurt!” I exclaimed, straining to maintain control of both the truck and the headstrong pegasus. “Let go!” she groaned as she struggled to get free, “You need my help!” “I've got things under control! I've got--”

Pain. The overwhelming sting of rifle bullet roared through my side, and reverberated through my body. My vision flickered. My grip loosened. Dashie would get free, and she would get hurt. There wasn't a single thing I could do about it. I sunk back into the driver's seat and watched, my heart sinking as she took off – only to be roped in by Applejack. “No you don't, R.D.!” she called out. I lay on the driver's seat at an awkward angle, helpless as I observed several items spring out of the bed of the truck, wrapped in a light blue aura. Rarity, of all people, had joined the fight. Tools, bits of wood and metal scraps, and even a blacksmith's anvil flew out of the bed with precision and purpose. The motorcycle soon crashed under the hail of debris.

“Pinkie! Do something!” Twilight shouted. “Okie dokie lokie!” was the cheerful response as the pink pony bounded into my lap and took control of the vehicle, sort of. Turn signals blinked, the headlights flashed on and off, and the windshield wipers skittered across the windshield. Everything began to grow dark. The forward base was within range, this I knew. They would be safe soon. I could finally rest. My mission was complete.

I didn't believe in a God, as such there was no heaven to go to. Certainly, no heaven would even accept a man like myself. But with them safe, in a funny sort of way, I did go to a better place.

There was no pain. I floated on a cloud in an enchanted castle. I heard Twilight's voice echoing through the halls, muffled through layers of thick cloud and stone. “I hope he's alright” she said.

There was no pain. I lay on a cot in a medical tent. I heard Twilight's voice echoing through my mind, muddled through a heavy dose of painkillers. “Shh! Girls!” she said, “he's waking up!” I observed the six of them with hazy eyes. I tried to sit up, but that only wracked my body with terrible pains and made colors messily bleed into one another. Rarity spoke up. “Don't strain yourself, dear. I overheard the medics talking. You will make a full recovery as long as you just relax. Until then, however, if you need anything--” “Anything at all” Fluttershy interrupted. Twilight finished. “We're here for you.” I like to think I smiled. “Twilight...” I managed weakly. She stepped closer. “I'm sorry... Sorry I yelled at you in the truck.” She smiled and forgave me, tearing up a bit. I reached out and wiped the tear away. The weight of my arm was almost too much to bear. I hope I smiled instead of winced.

Twilight turned to address her friends. “We should get going” she said, “he needs his rest.” “Um, y-you guys go on ahead, I'll be right behind” Rainbow Dash's statement was puzzling, her tone even more so. It spoke of penitence. She watched her friends leave, and then turned to me, but was seemingly unable to look me in the eye. “It's because of me that you're hurt and... and I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't know – I didn't want anything to happen to you.” I shook my head and lazily slurred out “It's okay, Rainbow. You and your friends made it here safely. That's all that really matters.” She looked at the ground, her ears she held low. “And... and you can call me Dashie...” she said, “If you really want.” I hope I smiled. I know I held out my hand. She put her hoof in it, and smiled weakly. I gave her hoof a gentle squeeze, and promptly drifted off to sleep.

Author's Note

A sappy ending. I mean - a happy ending.