0820 hours
Ten (10) days after first contact
In the (formerly) Equestrian city of Manehatten

The city of Manehatten had certainly seen better days. At least, that was what Lieutenant Vasilyev gathered, upon exiting the hotel that he and his squad had slept in that night. Chunks of stone lay in the street, and quite a few buildings featured damage of some sort, ranging from bullet holes to entire sections of walls blown out.

And thus, seeing that his squad had not yet been assigned to do anything by their superiors, Vasilyev felt it was time for a walk. And possibly a visit to a tavern, if the city held any. After all, the orders that had come down banning them from entering them only applied to the other city they had captured...

Vasilyev slowly walked down the streets, taking in the sight of the massive buildings around him. While there were a few dozen soldiers in sight, the streets had even larger numbers of ponies in them, all of whom were glancing quite often at the patrolling Americans and Russians.

Vasilyev noted that he drew quite a few stares as well, along with a few glares. As he walked further and further from the hotel, and towards the dockyards, he noticed that there were more and more patrols of the Americans.

Upon nearing the docks, Vasilyev found out why.

A large ship, with the American flag flying on top, was docked at one of the piers. Several hundred men, including a few vehicles, swarmed around it. For what reason, Vasilyev could not tell, but it certainly seemed to be attracting plenty of attention.

The Russian sighed, and went to look for someone who might know what he was looking for.

0842 hours

"Attention!"

All of the senior officers in the room stood up as Captain Volkov and Captain Henderson entered the room. Both of the commanding officers took their place at the front of the room, near a projector with a map of the entire continent of Equestria displayed.

"At ease." Henderson said, with Volkov repeating it a moment later in Russian. "As you all know, we have been continuing our offensive operations, and now have full control over the cities of Manehatten and Trottingham." Henderson paused while Volkov repeated his words in Russian, before continuing. "Our next step will be to secure the city to the south on the coastline: Baltimare. We plan to send a small force, around five hundred men, to the city and demand their surrender. A naval group will be waiting offshore to provide support, if necessary. We expect them to give in, especially after the news of our capture of this city.

"The next city that we might have taken, Cloudsdale, is quite impossible to get: It is located three-point-five kilometers above the ground, and is build upon a massive formation of clouds. Thus, the next step of our plan is simple: To invade their capital city of Canterlot.

"Here is the current plan..."

0851 hours

First Lieutenant Robert Johnson was having a bad day. It started off with having been awoken at 0600 hours for a patrol. And not just any patrol, but one that would venture deep into the semi-jungle that the locals called 'The Everfree Forest'. The entire place had proven to be bad territory, as every patrol that had gone in had been attacked by either the ponies, the wildlife, or some other obstacle. As such, he did not have high expectations for this patrol.

In addition to that, it had taken over twenty minutes to recall all of the men in his Platoon, much less everybody in his entire company. Quite a few were spread out over the city, and even with the 'Net' systems to help organize them, it was a challenge just to notify everyone.

And now, ten kilometers into the forest, with the entire company loaded up into their APCs, on a poorly-maintained dirt road, he was facing yet another problem: Brass.

"Yes sir, I understand what you are saying." Johnson said as calmly as he could into his radio. "However, in order to divert our patrol to the area you have stated, I need accurate maps of the roadways leading to the objective."

"Your 'Net' Interface will be updated momentarily with accurate maps." The Major at the other end of the line said. "A Triton has been diverted to provide accurate and up-to-date intelligence, and you will be part of a group of over four hundred soldiers capturing this location. Now, complete your damned objective."

With that, the connection ended. Johnson sighed, before establishing a connection to his CO.

0905 hours

Vasilyev took another sip of his drink, the alcoholic liquid sweet on his tongue. He had finally found a tavern - of sorts - after nearly an hour of searching, filled with both humans and ponies, with the latter often giving odd looks towards the former. Even if the damned stuff they had on tap was too sweet for his tastes, it was far better than the distilled piss that they called water around here. And, with his 'Net' headset able to be set on the counter beside him, he could finally get the damned thing off of his head.

So far, the place had been mostly peaceful, even if the atmosphere was a bit tense. Having rolled through the city shooting last night, Vasilyev did not expect accepted: He was simply happy to find a decent place to drink.

Now, if only the American next to him would shut up...

"I tell ya, we're gonna be rollin' 'round here in victory any day now!" The clearly inebriated man nearly shouted in English, much to Vasilyev's annoyance.

"Shut the fuck up!" Another man said. "Some of us are trying to enjoy ourselves here!"

"Yeah, well... Fuck you!" The drunken soldier said, as if his proclamation would matter to everybody.

"Why do I never find any peace?" Vasilyev muttered in Estonian, before turning to the man and switching to English. "You should leave. You are quite clearly incapable of handling alcohol."

"Screw you..." The man muttered, before standing up and stumbling outside.

"Thank God." The man next to Vasilyev said. "That asshole was annoying as fuck."

"I happen to agree." Vasilyev said, before looking at the man next to him, who was clad in what looked like a flight uniform. "I do not believe I know your name... Or why you are so far from your carrier."

"First Lieutenant Miller, US Navy." The man said, holding out his right hand, which Vasilyev shook. "Your uniform don't look like the normal Russian infantry, if my memory serves me right, Mr...?"

"Lieutenant Mihkel Vasilyev, Ministerstvo Vnutrennikh Del Spetsnaz." Vasilyev replied. "You did not answer my question, First Lieutenant. I would think that you would be on your carrier."

The man frowned. "I'm on 'leave', so to speak. My damned plane was damaged in the battle, and it's going to be a day or two until they've gotten it ready again. Same thing happened over the last city we got."

Vasilyev took another sip of his drink before replying. "I believe I understand your frustration. I was in command of the first group to contact the ponies; I had already lost four-fifths of my team in the explosion in Moscow, and I was stranded in a strange place with a broken helicopter and a slightly functioning team. First contact went... Badly."

"I'll bet." Miller said, chuckling, before resuming in a near-whisper. "You've been in actual combat against the ponies. How are they to fight on the ground?"

"They are a strange case, I can tell you that." Vasilyev said, not noticing that quite a few in the crowd, both the ponies and humans, had quieted down and looking at them. "They are using quite outdated weapons, and their battle strategy is equally terrible. However... They are dedicated, and they have that 'magic' that they have... I have seen them stop tank shells with a shield, and turn themselves invisible. Some of them have enough strength to kill anything in their path.

"We are winning only because we have all of the advantages. When they learn how to neutralize them, or if we fail to find a counter against their 'magic', we will be on an even footing. And that worries me. Nichevo, I suppose."

The pilot nodded. "I agree. I had to practically fly in circles to get through the storm clouds yesterday."

"The point is," Vasilyev said, taking a large gulp of his drink. "Kurat, ma ei tea... Ah, sorry. The point is, we've got fucking everything going for us. Everybody is cooperating. It is almost too perfect. The Novyy Russkiy Federatsii bastards haven't raised much of a fuss, and I've heard through the 'Net' that Degtyarev, the damned värdjas, is arrest."

"Arrested?" Miller asked, to which Vasilyev nodded. "Can't say I feel sorry for the bastard. There's a reason why he was stripped of almost all power from the moment our Capts took control: Henderson and Volkov both realize that he's a damned snake, and a dangerous one. I can see why they sacked him. What did he do?"

"Oh, simply stole a few nuclear weapons, with the intent to use them on every city not currently under our control." Vasilyev stated, and quite a few of the humans in the barroom grew strangely silent.

"Hot damn." One of them muttered, before turning back to their drink.

"How'd you find out?" Miller asked.

"Oh, I have a few friends, here and there." Vasilyev proudly stated. "Antoniuk is Volkov's First Officer, and the Ukrainian bastard owes me a few favors. I haven't been shy in using them."

"Oh, can ya'll tell me about how that happened?" Miller asked.

"Yes, I can." Vasilyev replied. "It was about twelve years ago..."

0913 hours

Sixty kilometers to the south, in the center of the Firebase, a group of eight MH-60 Blackhawk helicopter lifted off, banking to the east once airborne...

Author's Note

As some of you seem to want these things, keep in mind that all of the above is not going to happen: Nuclear explosions, genocide, xenocide, massacres, or knocking Canterlot off of its' mountain. Keep in mind that, in the last chapter, the only human with the desire and authority to do the above was knocked to the ground and arrested for stealing nuclear weapons, and those in charge (Captain Volkov and Captain Henderson) are not going to do it. The next person to suggest full-scale warfare involving Thermonuclear weapons will be executed by a firing squad armed with NERF guns, encased in bubble wrap, and ~~fired~~ banished to the moon.