1516 hours
Nine (9) days after first contact
In the bay of the Equestrian city of Manehatten

The SSBN Alexander Nevsky slowly ascended to ten meters below the surface, the crew inside waiting tensely for the kickoff of the offensive.

The digital clock on the wall changed again, its' surface now reading [3:17:01]. Several of the crewmen made the final adjustments necessary to launch missiles. There were a total of eight targets, spread across a vast area, and each one had to be programmed into the 3M-14 missiles that would be launched within the next few minutes.

The clock continued to advance, oblivious to the tension filling the air around it.

Lieutenant Miller finished his gentle bank, the rest of his flight forming around him. He was the lead element in the assault: Sixteen F/A-18 fighter/bombers, supported by four Russian Su-33s and all eight Swedish JAS 39 Gripen fighters, in close formation at 12,000 feet up. Ten thousand feet below them, a single B-1B Lancer flew alone, on its' own strike mission. And twenty miles to the south flew a single E-2D Hawkeye, providing up-to-date radar information. Together, this strike force would spearhead the attack on the city.

If they could reach the city in the first place.

His flight split up as they flew around a large storm cloud, one of the many they had encountered in the past few minutes. Over the city itself, from the latest reports, they filled up the sky from four thousand to five thousand feet, and had apparently only formed in the last few hours. The first aircraft - a Japanese F-2 fighter, one of two with the Human forces - that had flown through one of them suffered a partial failure of some electrical systems, resulting in said fighter being forced to divert. Were an older fighter without built-in surge protectors - or with sensitive electronic systems on board - to fly through, the result could be a temporary shutdown of most aircraft systems.

"Two o' clock, hole in the storm." The thickly accented voice of one of the Russian pilots said over the radio. "This might be only chance to go down."

"Roger that, Vikhr-3." Lieutenant Miller replied. "All flight elements, we're going to duck through the clouds. Distance to the city is twenty-two kilometers, and the hole in the clouds is three kilometers to the north-east. Follow me in."

"1-2 copies." His wingman replied.

"1-3 copies."

"1-4 copies."

"2-1 copies..."

The entire formation quickly reported in, with all elements reporting they were ready. At that point, Miller had already finished a low bank towards the hole in the clouds, with the rest of the flight following him. Upon reaching it, he lowered power and pitched down.

The wind rushed past his jet as he screamed downward at Mach 0.8, the rest of the formation close behind him. The digital altimeter rapidly counted down, rapidly going from 11,560 feet to 8,670. It continued going down as he swept between storm clouds, the muted rushing of the wind outside being replaced by the soft patter of rain against his canopy.

"Pull up at six hundred meters!" Miller nearly yelled into the radio. "When you're level, arm all weapons! Don't get caught with your pants down!"

Together, the flight started to level off at about two thousand feet, the ocean below them marked with hundreds of white capped waves as the storm built up strength. Rain poured down, streaking the canopies of the strike force momentarily before being blown off by the wind.

They were only mere miles from their targets as the strike force banked towards land, heading for their targets with blinding speed.

The B-1B bomber was the first to reach the target.

Just as the clocks in the strike force reached 3:22, the large, thin bomber streaked in at two hundred feet over the water, engines screaming as it streaked past at slightly above the speed of sound. The ponies inside of the city looked on in shock as the American-designed aircraft ducked under the bridge, afterward rising to six hundred feet in altitude. It angled for the Equestrian Navy Docks and opened its' bomb bay.

Guided by three MQ-4C Tritons orbiting the city at three thousand feet, themselves unnoticed by the ponies, the B-1B aimed itself for one particular area of the docks. As soon as it reached a designated point, the rotary launcher inside of the bay released thirty CBU-87 Cluster Bombs one by one, guided by a 'smart' WCMD system installed on the tail. Each one was guided towards its' target with unerring precision, achieving a large spin and releasing the bomblets contained inside at three hundred feet.

Every CBU-87 contained 202 individual bomblets, each a yellow cylinder twenty inches long and eight inches wide. They were dispersed by the spin effect into an area almost forty meters by forty meters, allowing for a massive area to be covered. This meant that, in the span of twenty seconds, over six thousand individual explosions rocked the docks, blasting apart ships and tearing through docks of vital military supplies, everything from crossbows to armor.

As the B-1B Lancer pulled into a steep dive, it left behind a trail of twenty-four wooden ships that had been reduced to splinters and burning wreckage, dozens of destroyed warehouses, and a death toll of Equestrian Royal Guards that ran into the thousands.

Moments later, the second part of the strike force arrived.

The twenty-eight fighters and fighter/bombers of the second wave streaked in low, launching precision-guided munitions at the twenty-two remaining ships in the harbor, powerful shockwaves echoing across the waters and through the city. One galleon, under way in the center of the harbor, had its' upper half simply disintegrate under the force of 20mm rounds and two Mk.82 bombs.

One minute had passed since the B-1B bomber had first streaked in when the Alexander Nevsky, the top of its' sail ten meters below the surface, initiated launch procedures.

The first 3M-14 missile was ejected from the submarine the moment after the launch bay door opened with a massive push of compressed gas. This stream of gas - along with its' natural buoyancy - carried it rapidly towards the surface, which it breached moments later. As soon as the rear of the missile exited the water, the rocket motor ignited, sending the missile soaring skyward.

Six seconds after the first one was released, a second missile was launched, along with six others in the course of the next one and a half minutes.

The first one streaked to an altitude of three thousand feet, before diving down on its' target. The headquarters for the Royal Guard in Manehatten, identified several days earlier by prisoner reports, took a direct hit in the center of the large compound, flattening most of the buildings inside as the 450kg warhead detonated.

Two missiles aimed for a point just inside city limits: The train depot. Both missiles arrived within twenty seconds of one another, sending a locomotive into the air as four empty trains, as well as dozens of locomotives, went up in a massive series of blasts.

Two more guided themselves to large cloud formations high in the sky. Nearly invisible against the normal backdrop of white clouds, but easily seen against the dark storm clouds, stood two large structures identified by intelligence as basing points for Equestrian Guards who were Pegasi. They stood proudly in the sky, as they had for the past hundred years...

... Until, one after another, the two 3M-14 missiles exploded in the air next to them, blowing the fragile buildings apart, and sending dozens of pegasi hurtling to the ground below in shock. With them went half of the weather control capabilities of the town, and the largest cache of weapons outside of the now-destroyed docks.

A sixth blew apart a railroad bridge ten miles outside of the city, leading across a narrow gorge. Only three and a half minutes had passed since the attack began.

The last two missiles impacted along the destroyed Guard docks, annihilating what few efforts had begun at damage control, and putting an exclamation mark on the damage that had already done.

Lieutenant Vasilyev held onto the bar above his head tightly as the Mi-24 jostled back and forth, the turbulence rising as it - and the rest of the massive formation of helicopters - went through the leading edge of the storm. Out of the window set into the cargo bay door, green farmland passed quickly, with scattered groups of houses spotted around the landscape.

"We're one minute out from the edge of the city!" Sokolov said over the radio, first in Russian and then in English. "We've been assigned to Landing Area Five, along the docks of the city! I'll provide air support once you are out."

"Copy." Vasilyev said in reply, before tuning his radio to broadcast to the entire group inside of the troop bay. "Comrades, we have the assigned objective of securing the city. There are no objectives, no orders of battle. They would have become invalid the moment we entered combat.

"Approximately five minutes from now, the ships of the fleet assigned to here will be in sight. We'll have constant air support from a variety of combat aircraft and helicopters, so don't be afraid to call for it. We'll relay all requests via the 'Net' units, so mark your targets and don't fuck it up.

"One more thing: Minimize civilian casualties. Those of you to whom this is directed know who you are." Kozlov huffed indignantly. "If you intentionally cause harm to the civilians, no matter what species, I will personally shove my boot up your ass until you can taste it.

"Good luck. 5-2 out."

All across the helicopter formation, Vasilyev mused, other Lieutenant and Captains would be giving their own speeches. With the land below their helicopter changing from suburbs to the city itself, he readied himself for combat, flicking the fire selector on his AUG A3 from [SAFE] to [AUTO], and resting his finger above the trigger guard.

The stream of helicopters slowly broke up, as the different teams took on different approaches to their targets. Vasilyev's Mi-24, along with half a dozen other helicopters, went low, flying between ten-story buildings as Sokolov made a beeline for their target. The city suddenly cut out, replaced by blue water, as their helicopter crossed over the large river that led to the bay inside of the city. Clouds of smoke obscured much of the shoreline, as the massive amounts of rain pouring down did nothing to extinguish the fires.

A flight of four American MQ-8 Fire Scouts zipped past the window, the unmanned helicopters armed to the teeth with short-range rockets and machine guns. The aircraft shuddered as the sharp crack of thunder came, drowning out the roar of the helicopter rotors for a mere moment.

"Elements of the Americans on the ground have reached the edge of the city." Sokolov said over the radio. "Twenty seconds to landing. Be prepared to get out as quickly as possible."

Vasilyev felt the helicopter lurch beneath him as it descended, but he banished the brief bout of nausea that threatened to rise to the back of his mind. The sky outside lit up briefly as a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, only to fade once it disappeared.

Seconds later, as the water below seemed to be coming ever closer, the ground came into view in the form of a concrete-covered city street. Two more seconds passed before the helicopter touched down, coming to a halt moments later.

The door slid open, and Vasilyev jumped out, his boots splashing down on the wet street. Several dozen ponies seemed to be staring at his group from a distance, but it seemed as if most had taken shelter inside.

Two MH-60 Blackhawks touched down in front of him, the infantry inside quickly exiting the helicopter as the assault continued. A single Mi-10 came to a hover over the street, a single BMP-3 slung beneath it. The cables unlatched, dropping the armored vehicle gently onto the ground, and a group of infantry quickly stepped up to crew it.

With some shouts from Vasilyev and the other officers and noncoms of the group, the men in the group were quickly rounded up, and in short time Vasilyev found himself cautiously walking down a street two blocks from the landing zone.

"Where are all the guards?" Novikov asked from his position two meters to Vasilyev's right.

"I don't know." Vasilyev said, using his 'Net' unit to patch into the UAV feeds. So far, they were picking up very little movement in his area, other than his men and-

"Find cover!" Vasilyev shouted, moments before sliding behind a stall at the side of the road - just as a bolt of unicorn magic flashed through the space he had vacated. Cursing the poor weather that the massive storm above them was pouring down on them, Vasilyev rose from behind his cover and pulled the trigger slightly, sending out a single round towards where he had seen the head signature on the 'Net' unit.

With a quick series of vocal commands, Vasilyev switched the 'Net' unit to display the MQ-4 Triton feed for his area in thermal. Instantly, dozens of targets appeared, widening to hundreds when it began to detect the ponies hidden inside of buildings, both guards and civilians.

Meanwhile, the rest of his group had taken cover behind what they could find, with two careless Russian Naval Infantry lying down in the street. Vasilyev couldn't tell if they were dead or not, but didn't have time to check as another magical bolt flashed overhead.

"Overwatch, this is 5-2-Actual." Vasilyev yelled into his 'Net' unit's microphone as the roar of a Pecheneg machine gun sounded over the general din of battle just now picking up. "I need a pair of your American UAV helicopters over here, now! We've encountered resistance!"

"Copy, 5-2-Actual." He heard a few second alter. "We're re-routing a pair of Fire Scouts to your position. Inbound in ten seconds."

"Copy, Overwatch." Vasilyev replied.

Moments later, a pair of the American-made MQ-8B Fire Scouts flew out from behind his forces, machine guns firing. A rocket zipped out from one of them, blasting a point on the street, followed shortly by a shrill scream as it hit something. Vasilyev rose from behind his cover, using the suppressive fire provided by the Fire Scouts to fire on the position of an enemy down the street.

Suddenly, a bright yellow bolt slammed into one of the one of the MQ-8s, shredding the engine and most of the onboard equipment. As the fatally wounded helicopter began to tilt sideways, spewing smoke, Vasilyev took cover behind the stall again. With a loud crash, it slammed into the side of the building above Vasilyev at the fourth floor, breaking through the wall and coming to a rest inside of the building.

The other Fire Scout rose upward, unleashing three rockets on the spot where the bolt has come from, before bathing the area in machine gun fire. A single crossbow bolt thudded into the cover that Vasilyev was using, penetrating through the wood four inches from him.

I wonder if it's too late to request a transfer? Vasilyev grimly thought as he rose to fire again. Hell seems to be a preferable alternative right now.

Sergeant Davit looked across the large, grassy valley at his target. The 'City of Canterlot', as he had been told was its' name, was built into, and stuck out of, the side of a steep mountain. It was practically built into a vertical cliff, with several thousand feet to drop if you fell. His team had opted for parachutes, but Davit knew they wouldn't need them anyway.

At least, he didn't intend to use them. You only needed them if you fell: He wouldn't.

His team had traveled via a Humvee over a distance of one hundred kilometers, along half-overgrown back roads, and sometimes mere dirt paths. They had encountered precisely one monster, a strange, winged mishmash of creatures that his team member in the gunner seat had made short work of.

They had left the Humvee five kilometers back, in a secluded location where it was unlikely to be found.

Letting out a short sigh, he stepped away from the treeline and began the twenty-kilometer walk to the base of the mountain, the rest of his team following closely behind him.

Written by Merchent343
Edited by The Rainbow Brony and CommanderWolffe

Author's Note

Well, here it is. After two weeks in development hell, the start of Act VI.