Saints and Soldiers: Operation Horseback

Chapters

1: Nathan "Deacon" Greer, KIA
2: First Encounters
3: There is No Home.
4: An Ungilded Cage
5: A Hellacious Death
6: Steven Gould, KIA
7: Martyrdom of the Sane
8: Red Over Blue
9: Allies and the EQM
10: Die wahre Schlacht
11: Operation Horseback Phase One (Part 1)
12: Operation Horseback Phase One (Part 2)
13: Discorded
14: More Thorns Than Petals
15: Noir et Vert (Part 1)
16: Noir et Vert (Part 2)
17: Gould Hunter
18: Screams of the Brave
19: Well-Earned Happiness
20: Svek
21: Mourn for Heroes, Rejoice for Gods

1: Nathan "Deacon" Greer, KIA

1: Sacrifice

The black and white environment stretched as far as Cpl. Deacon could see. The dark, lifeless trees littering the German forest gave the vast battlefield a winter feel to it, while the sky was white as the snow underneath the jeep's tires. The birds in front of the approaching load flew this way and that, clearly disturbed by the noisy entree the German automobile was giving.

It wouldn't be exaggerating if Deacon said the past week had been the worst of his life. After getting captured by Nazi's and escaping with a ragtag group of fellow American soldiers, including his best friend Gunderson, him and his team had undergone many hardships from the unforgiving winter forest. Frostbite and starvation were some of their least concerning problems, all attention going to the fact they were being shot at almost all the time. They had lost many friends, including Gunderson, but still remained determined to return home.

Cpl. Deacon Greer is a religious man; even though he had been captured and thrown into this mess, he remained faithful in his Mormon religion. The bible he had always kept in his left shirt pocket was still there, along with a picture of his wife he so desperately missed. Both of those things granted him comfort, and a temporary relief from all the trauma the recent days had inflicted upon him.

Now, after some research and a short interrogation, they knew their allies were just through this Nazi camp and on the other side of the battlefield; they were headed there now. With a hijacked German jeep and Nazi uniforms, the plan was to go unnoticed.

"It really is a beautiful country," Deacon said, trying in vain to lighten the mood. He had been here on his Mission, and had grown attatched to its beauty. With a flick to his oversized helmet, he shifted his view from the road ahead to his comrade sitting beside him.

Pvt. Gould didn't say anything, keeping his unmoving, bruised and beaten face focused on the road ahead. Deacon didn't blame him; they were going into the heart of the enemy's camp, after all. The chances of survival were slim. Steven Gould was a Field Medic, evident by the red cross on the helmet that obscured most of his face. He was an Aetheist, so the Private and Corporal haven't been the best of friends throughout their hardships, but they were gradually warming up to eachother.

One of the jeep's many jostles from the rough terrain caused a groan from the back.

Deacon looked back to see a wounded Winley, the Brit still holding on to his bandaged and bloody leg. He was grimacing, the white teeth shining distinctly through his gentlemanly mustache.

"You okay back there?" Deacon asked.

With a grunt of pain, the British pilot replied, "Let's get to that bloody American camp and find out; I'm no medic so I wouldn't know." Deacon nodded and looked back at the snowy, white road. "I've had enough of this Hellhole." Winley spat over the rustling jeep.

Winley was a British pilot who had crashed deep in the German winterland. Luckily, the unlikely band of American soldiers had found him before the Germans. They discovered he carried vital intel about the Nazi's next move, and now, after a couple firefights and a bullet to the knee, they were almost home, and in safety.

That was when their destination came into view. The gray camp was filled with tents, soldiers, and other trucks driving to their own destination. A German flag was waving over the busy camp, and there were many voices at once, talking and shouting in the foreign language Deacon knew. A group of German guards halted the jeep's progress, weapons in hand. There was a cross section, with a sign pointing out that the right led to the battlefield, and the left led to the hospital tents.

"Remember," Deacon almost whispered. "Let me do the talking." With their German disguises concealing their true identities, getting in would be easy.

Gould nodded, his dark brown eyes plastered ahead. They both knew getting out was going to be hard.

One of the German guards approached Deacon with a gloved hand upraised.

"Halt, Soldaten! Wo wollen Sie hin?"

Knowing what he was asking, the American soldier responded. "Wir haben einen verwundeten Soldaten." The guard looked over the Corporal's soldier and, sure enough, discovered a wounded soldier clutching his bloodied leg in pain. "Wo ist das nächste Krankenhaus Zelt?"

The German nodded and pointed the way to the hospital tents to aid their seemingly-Nazi woundee. With horror, Deacon realized they were in the exact opposite direction of where they were supposed to go; the battlefield, where they would rendezvous with the American forces.

Keeping his cool, Deacon responded. "Danke. Wir werden uns auf den Weg machen."

The guard nodded, and waved his hand in the air, signaling the other guards to disperse. "Dispersions! Sie sind einer von uns!" He shouted. The Germans left the truck, clearly relieved they could leave. However, the main guard remained, and went over to Gould.

"Sind Sie nicht ein Arzt?" he asked casually with a smile as he leaned on the jeep's side.

Deacon's blood ran cold as Gould sat, dumbfounded. The Private couldn't speak German at all. Gould blinked up at the German, quietly stammering. "..ja" he finally squeaked.

If the guard noticed the Private's stammering, he didn't show it as he nodded his head. "Ah. Mein Vater war auch ein Feld Sanitäter! Haben Sie eine lange Linie von Soldaten auf Ihrer Familie?"

Gould was stumped as he stared up at the officer, unsure what to say. He certainly wasn't going to get out of this one by sheer luck.

The guard started to get a little suspicious, backing off of the truck. Thinking quickly, Deacon slammed on the driving wheel in fake anger.

"Verdammt!" He cursed. The German guard instantly walked away from Gould, who breathed a sigh of relief.

"Was?" He asked as he neared Deacon.

"Dieser verdammte Auto im Schlamm stecken!" Deacon spat, trying his best to act angry. He put his feet on the brake and gas to emphasize his false point while mud and snow flew up from the jeep's back tires, feigning stuck.

"Warten." The guard waved his arms in the air, shouting for some helpers. Five or so Germans walked over to help push the automobile out of the nonexistant trap.

Deacon waited a couple seconds for all of them to be pushing hard enough to move the car, then slammed his foot on the gas. Mud and dirt flew into the faces of the German guards as they lurched forward, and landed face-down in the mud. By the time they lifted their muddy and wet faces off the cold ground, the truck, and its three occupants, were all speeding down the path towards American battle lines; the opposite way from where they said they would be going.

"Aufstehen! Aufstehen!" The German guards were instantly up and drawing their weapons. "Jeder!" The main guard shouted over the commotion of the camp. "Das Auto! ZERSTÖRE ES!"

Deacon could hear the order of attack in the distance, which was answered with gun shots being fired at the jeep. Most missed, although some where getting very close to them. One whipped into the right-side mirror, sparks flying off from where it hit as it took the mirror with it. Another was so close to Deacon's head he heard the high-pitched shriek of the bullet whizzing by.

The rough terrain under the truck jostled it side to side, making the wounded pilot in the back cry out and grip the side of the truck for dear life. His leg was bleeding profusely now, the bandages staining dark red with fresh blood. Deacon's right foot was pushing all the way down on the gas pedal as more gun shots and bullets flying past them made their presence known. Gould hooked his leg into the seat hole to keep from falling and cocked his M1 Garand. He knelt up from his seat and started firing back, the sound deafening to Deacon's ears.

The wave of bullets didn't cease, though, as an explosion of dirt and snow a couple yards away showered the German truck's occupants.

"They have mortars!'" Gould yelled over the chaos around them.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Deacon yelped as another GrW 34 shot hit home, a lot closer this time. The entire car shuttered as more dirt showered on the occupants of the truck, courtesy of the wicked 81.4 cal. explosive smacking into the ground.

With a couple more shots from his Garand, Gould sat back down and fastened his seatbelt as the jeep sped down the dirt path towards the battlefield. After a couple more seconds of bullets flying around them, mortars firing, and Winley groaning, the white plain of the battlefield finally reached their eyes.

Deacon hurridly whipped out a white flag as they sped onto the flat of the battleground and waved it above his head, hoping the Americans would get the signal. A couple more mortar shots and they were in the middle of the white flat. Deacon kept waving the fabric above his head when a mortar strike hit a couple feet away.

The truck jerked to the left, and Deacon lost control. It spun on its wheels for a couple fateful seconds, and Deacon prayed they wouldn't be upturned. It was for naught, though, and the truck flipped over on its side, spilling the three soldiers out onto the snow.

Pain exploded in the Corporal's head as it slammed into the ice. He heard a crack as his vision blurred, and his thoughts became foggy. More gun shots were erupting from the German side, and Deacon flinched as one hit a couple inches from his face. He clumsily stumbled back to the cover of the turned car and discovered his comrades waiting for him. Now, the Americans were fighting back, shooting RPG-7's and an assortment of different rifles at the offenders.

"We're pinned," Gould panted, a bloody gash in his forehead. "We can't go anywhere. Although our boys are holding them off as much as they can, they got snipers.." A couple tears came to the Private's eyes as he sniffed. He looked up at the white sky overhead, and closed his eyes. "We're gonna die here, aren't we?"

Deacon could feel a lump in his throat as he realized the situation they were in. Suddenly, he wasn't the battle-hardened, trained Corporal on duty anymore. He was just a young man, shivering in the snow, terrified. All forms of training, drilling, and experience left his being as he sniffed back some tears.

Deacon briefly thought of how much they'd gone through. Getting captured, escaping, Gunderson's death, their friendship.. All to end here. In the very place he had went to for his Mission; something so sacred to him, with such good intentions. The very place he had grown so attached to, including the language he was so enthusiastic about. The place he had promised his wife he'd take to..

His wife..

As realization came to light, Deacon's eyes widened as he figured out what was supposed to be done. All his training, all his praying, all his hardships had led up to this very moment. And he knew exactly what had to be done.

"No," Deacon said. "No, we're not."

"Open your eyes," Gould said, leaning in towards Deacon's face. Tear stained and bruised cheeks shaking, he said simply, "it's over."

Deacon looked up at his friend with pure determination in his chocolate-brown eyes. "Not for you." He said.

"What do you mean?"

"Take Winley and get to American lines. They can help you guys; get you a ride home."

Gould had some determination of his own as he said, "But you--"

"I'll be right behind you," Deacon lied as he cocked his M1 Garand. "Go."

Gould started to object, but not before Deacon yelled, "I said go!"

Gould picked up Winley's arm, wrapped it around his shoulders, and ran as fast as he could toward American lines. Deacon was instantly up, too, but he wasn't running with them. He was directing fire back at the Nazis, every other bullet hitting home. In the distance, he saw a sniper getting ready to shoot his two friends. He was instantly aiming at the German sniper, and with a pull of his finger, the Nazi was dead, evident by the spray of dark red blood from his cranium.

Gould noticed Deacon wasn't following, and stopped. "Deacon!" He yelled as he hustled back. A couple shots to his feet sent him scurrying back to the opposite direction, Winley groaning as he limped with him. Deacon quickly picked off the shooter, when an excruciating pain exploded in his left shoulder. He yelped and was on his back, his hand instantly holding the bleeding bullet hole. A couple more gunshots to the snow beside him sent him crawling back to the cover of the overturned jeep.

When he was in safety, his breathing slowed as he examined the wound. Even though it felt like someone was sticking a white hot rod through his shoulder, it wouldn't be fatal. Acting on instinct, Deacon whipped out his army knife from his back pocket. Before he knew what he was doing himself, the knife was plunged into the wound. He gasped at the sharp pain that followed, but kept digging in his muscle to find the bullet. After a few seconds of agonizing pain, he found the bullet and flicked it out. He then put his bloody knife back in its holster, and sat, panting hard. After a couple seconds of pure exhaustion and pain, he weakly reached inside his left shirt pocket. When his bloody and frostbitten fingers closed around the familiar frame, he pulled it out. It was the black and white picture of his wife, her beautiful face smiling at the camera. So many memories flashed in his head as his left hand carrassed the bloodied shoulder. He smiled as he recalled how surprised she was when she discovered she was his first kiss; one of his most well-kept secrets was the fact he never kissed his wife until the wedding.

She would be proud if she were here.

Deacon closed his eyes and kissed the wrinkled picture, a couple tears of joy flowing down his cheeks. "She would be proud," he said out loud. He then tucked the worn picture in his shirt pocket again.

With that, he jumped up from his spot and spotted two snipers. He quickly dispatched them as another one fired at his friends. The German bullet missed, but the American one hit home. Deacon readied himself for another shot as a bullet whizzed into view.

It seemed to go in slow motion as it embedded itself into Deacon's chest. He gave a brief gasp, and his entire world went silent. For a couple seconds, all he could feel was the burning pain in his chest and shoulder. He tried to ready his M1 Garand again, but was stopped with another bullet to his lung. His entire chest instantly felt like it had a cold void in the middle as his vision blurred. His legs buckled underneath him, leaving him gasping on his knees. Another bullet struck home in his stomach.

As Deacon collapsed, he looked over his shoulder to see Gould and Winley, safely over American lines. The soldiers were aiding their wounded comrades, helping them up as the other troops fired back at the Germans. Through a bruised mouth, he smiled weakly. A small, thick, red stream started to flow from his smiling and bloody mouth.

She would be proud..

Then blackness filled his vision, and all went numb. The last thing he heard was more gunshots, signaling another battle of World War 2.

Or, in the mind of Deacon, the Never-Ending War.

- - -

"Applejack! They're coming in!"

Applejack shifted her eyes from her handy work to her younger sister, Applebloom. She was currently putting all her weight into blocking the doorway, her muscular legs straining with the effort as the door bucked in, threatening to topple over.

The mare looked back at her big brother, hooves on his bleeding stomach. "Hang in there," she pleaded. Big Macintosh gave a nod, teeth still ground together as he winced.

Applejack gave her big brother a tight hug before she dashed over to aid her sister. She leaned into the door, her powerful shoulders digging into the wooden door. Another buck from the other side of the door sent her younger sister back, although she was almost instantly in her spot again. Applejack could hear the loud voices outside, speaking in a foreign language. They sounded angry, which perfectly fit the language's nature.

Applejack peered over her shoulder to look back at her wounded big brother, and was relieved to see his status. He had somehow gotten some bandages to cover the ugly wound, and thin, clear alcohol dripped from underneath the red-stained fabric. The bloody, large bullet layed to his side, clearly having been gouged out by the gory knife a couple inches away. Good; that at least meant the wound wasn't going to get infected.

"Big Mac," she called over the chaos outside. "You alright?" Her red-coated companion nodded, his golden mane dirty and torn, his green eyes unfocused.

She heard more yelling from outside when the door started to give way. With horror, she watched as the splintered wood snapped.

"Oh, Faust!" Applebloom swore as she put more effort in her defense.

That's when they heard a crash outside, followed by grunting. The bucking of the door ceased, and the yelling outside was replaced by screaming. The Apple family listened in surprise and fear as they heard punches, bucks, and kicks all connecting with the foes. Occasionally, a bone would crack. As the unseen onslaught continued, the sharp screams and yelps died down, replaced by the sounds of the dying; groaning, spitting, and whimpering.

Applejack looked at both her sister and brother, a hoof raised up to her lips. Once they got the notion, the farm pony waited a couple more seconds before a feminine voice broke the silence.

"Are ya gonna let me in?"

Applejack sighed with relief as she recognized the voice as Rainbow Dash, her best friend. She opened the door just enough to let Rainbow in, but not enough to let Applebloom get a good look at the gory scene a couple feet away. The blood on her pegasus friend's hooves said it all: it was a slaughter.

Applejack smiled at her friend, who grinned back. "Glad t' see ya, Rainbow. Have any news?"

Dash's mood changed from happiness to anger. "The rations are almost out, and there isn't a lot to hunt for. The Bloficans have already taken most of the berries, nuts, and eggs. They're also eating meat. What kind of a pony does that?" She shuddered as she continued. "They raided one of our camps last night, too." She frowned at the last part. "The only food left is the apples, but.." she gave a quick gesture to the window. "You may wanna check your Garden again."

"It's a farm," Applejack grunted as she made her way to the window, across the room. When she peered out, she was mortified.

Rows and rows of hundreds of apple trees lined the large farmland, but none of them had the familiar, green, alive feel to them they did so long ago. Most were in horrible condition, branches, rotten apples and stumped limbs littering the patchy, uneven field. She gasped as she discovered only a couple trees in sight had apples flourishing on the branches, although slightly brown. It brought a lump to her throat to see her beloved farm like this.

Without turning, her voice broke as she asked, "How could this happen?"

"Bloficans," replied her cyan friend. "I saw it, too. Gassed down the entire place, then tried to get into your house to finish the job. They opened fire from outside, aiming at the weak spots of the exterior. Seems to have been effective, too." She gestured to Big Macintosh, who grunted in response.

"Why didn't you come in earlier if you saw this happening?" Gasped Applebloom from behind.

"They sent one of their pegasi to try and take me down when they saw me." Rainbow Dash grinned, showing a cracked tooth along with blood on her tongue. "Didn't work out so well for her, but she did slow me down."

Applejack's eyes were rimmed with tears as she listened to the grim tale. This was her home; the very farm she had lived in and taken care of for decades. How could those Bloficans be so... heartless?

She turned back to her friend, and nostalgia took her over. Both mares looked unrecognizable from eariler, happier times. Rainbow Dash's mane and tail were both pale and disheveled, the former having a head band holding it in place from avoiding the rainbow hairs to obscure her vision. She had dirt, bruises and cuts all over her cyan body, and her ribs were showing because of starvation. Her face was hollowed, her cheekbones growing more defined by the day.

Applebloom, on the other hand, was even more different from her formal self. Years of aging and experience in the farm had transformed her from a giddy filly to a well-toned, battle hardened mare, with a heart as big as her muscles. Applejack felt it was only yesterday she was a filly, with those wide, enthusiastic orange eyes, desperately searching for Cutie Mark ideas. Those eyes could were now red-rimmed, and the enthusiasm was gone. Instead of a blank flank, Applebloom had the image of a golden apple on her rump. They were yet to figure out what it meant.

Applejack sighed. So much had changed in the past decade. Just ten years ago, Equestria was the familiar, peaceful place she now missed so much. Back then, Ponyville was filled with good oppritunities, a great life, and perfect friends. The Cutie Mark Crusaders out causing mischief, her group of friends always getting in astonishingly consequental situations, and the sky being light blue in color all making up the Elysium-like town. What Applejack wouldn't give to see that color again..

The thought of friends made her briefly think of Twilight Sparkle, and her eyes filled with tears. No, she thought. I shouldn't think about that. She still couldn't even bare to think about the events which took her friend away from her.

Rainbow Dash's voice brought AJ out of her mini trance. "Stop thinking it's your fault," she said simply.

Applejack blushed, knowing some of her sad thoughts had made their way to her facial features. "Sorry."

Rainbow Dash looked down. "Listen, AJ, we all care for ya, and we know what happened to Twilight had nothing to do with you. Nobody could have stopped it." She looked up at her orange, earth pony friend. "But she did what she did for the greater good; sacrifices always have to be made now." She walked over to her friend and gave her a hug, which was graciously recieved. Rainbow Dash then whispered in her friend's ear.

"This is war, after all."

2: First Encounters

Deacon could feel the warm grass under his frostbitten hands, the feeling soothing to his battered body. He enjoyed the way the warm forest wind glided over him, ruffling his short hair like a proud, nonexistent father. His eyes remained closed, not wanting to see whatever was beyond. He knew he was dead, but he wanted to smell and hear the sounds Heaven gave off.

It felt good to finally be in Summer weather; he missed the warmth his little town in Arizona, back home, brought him. Maybe God figured he'd like it more here if it smelt like something familiar.

Deacon sniffed, the sweet smell of Nature filling his nostrils. Although, something else was laced with it; something that didn't belong. It was sweet, although not the good kind. The scent tickled his nose, his thoughts changing from the forest smell to the odor of something much more sinister. Something much more.. familiar.

Decay.

He slowly opened his eyes, expecting to see the majestic white clouds above, which the Celestial Kindom gave off. Instead, he was greeted by dark green overgrowth. The leaves on the trees overhead rustled, the wind growing in intensity. For a moment, Deacon laid there, stunned by the turn of events. If he wasn't in Paradise, where was he?

Deacon started to get up when a blistering pain shot from his shoulder. He gasped for breath as the fire-like feeling traveled around in his body, leading from his shoulder, to his chest, then his lung, and finally, the lower left-hand side of his torso. When he found the strength to lift his head up and inspect the pain, his breathed hitched. The bullets wounds were back. He certainly wasn't dead.

The blood that stained his Nazi uniform was an ugly, dark brown color. He weakly reached his hand over to stroke his wounded spots, and felt that the blood had crusted over, and was dry. He had been out for a long time.

"The bullets are still in," Deacon thought miserably. "...Well, first thing's first."

Deacon shakily drew his hand to his back left pocket and wrapped his crusty-blooded fingers around the familiar handle of his hunting knife. With some effort, he slowly pulled it out and set it on the floor beside him. He then unbuttoned his uniform and lifted his undershirt, his bruised and muscled chest bare. The wounds on his body were ugly and scarred over unevenly, folds of new skin slowly and desperately trying to repare the hole. His entire chest was caked with the filthy residue, the source of the scent of decay. When he picked up the hunting knife from the grassy ground and hoisted it up to the wound, it quivered in his hand. All of a sudden, he had different thoughts about the inevitable. The gory blade hovering over the ugly patch of a scar suddenly looked very sinister. It kept shaking and swaying in his grasp, and not just from the winds, which were now gusty.

He cleared his mind, knowing the wound would get worse with the bullet still lodged in his chest. It needed immediate attention or the weak skin would grow stronger, permanently lodging the bullet in. Besides, he had two more to go after this one. If he chickened out now, there was no chance of survival.

He took a couple deep breaths, and slowly leveled the sharp knife to the wounded flesh. He let the tip of the blade rest on the top of the painful patch of flesh, feeling the stinging pin-like sensation ruefully. There was a wet "sshlicke" as the blade sank into the weak skin, carefully and wearily. The blade sliced through his wounded flesh like a hot knife through butter, and the pain was instant was excruciating. Blood gurgled from the knife's entree point, the thick residue bubbling and painting the once-silver blade dark red. He bit his uniform collar to stifle a whimper as he dug inside his inards, trying to find the hard bullet. After a few seconds of no such luck, Deacon intensified his efforts. He could feel the sharp blade shifting around muscle, grinding bone, and slicing skin.

He felt his knife strike something hard. The metallic "clank" which sounded above the Corporal's pained groans told him all he needed to know. Deacon quickly shifted his knife to wedge the bullet out, then started pulling. After what seemed like an eternity of pain, the bloody bullet popped out of his wound, followed by a thin string of blood. The bullet landed on the grassy ground beside him quietly as Deacon breathed a sigh of relief.

"One down," he sighed. "...Two to go."

As his chest burned with an unquenchable fire of pain, Deacon positioned the knife over the next wound: his lung. Prepared for the inevitable pain, he sank it in with another grotesque wet sound. He groaned as he steadily searched his innards, the pain bearable, but still excruciating.

The wind around him gusted through the trees, tearing off leaves and bark pieces. In a spam of seconds, the gentle breeze turned into a increasingly intense wave of air. It whistled as it raced between the tree trunks around him, streaming through his short hair like sand in the wind. The dark, night sky was now filling with storm clouds, thunder occasionally booming in the sky.

Not paying the bad weather any heed, Deacon winced as the blade scraped against more muscle, the blood painting his hand and blade a dark red. His panting soon subsided, replaced by a relieved sigh. There was a metallical "click!" as another gore-coated bullet joined its companion on the forest ground beside him.

"Last one," he said in his mind.

The knife was slowly shifting locations to his lower torso when there was a loud, splintering sound. Deacon looked over just in time to see a tree branch, half-rolling, half-flying towards his head. He ducked at the last second, the branch narrowly missing his nose. As it thundered past him, Deacon was instantly up.

Even though the pain in his wounds intensified and started bleeding anew, that wasn't enough to cloud his thinking. The wind was now unbearably intense, forcing the soldier to squint just to see correctly. Leaves and bark pieces flew at him, bouncing harmlessly off his Nazi uniform and battered face. Then a wicked, booming sound came overhead.

Deacon looked up to see the storm clouds above twirling in formation, both thunder and lightning doing their work alongside. The black gases overhead slowly formed a shape which made the wounded American blanche. A cinder cone.

It's a tornado.

His hunting knife was now in its sheath as he ran, or more-so shambled, away. He stumbled across the grassy floor, the pain in his chest irritated from the sudden movements he was making. More thunder sounded overhead as he quickened his pace, desperately trying to escape the area of the forming tornado's destruction.

He prayed as he went, in his mind. His hands were clasp together in a ball and his head was bowed as he spoke to his Heavenly Father. As he ran, he asked him for luck and guidance, and to somehow escape the horribly lethal weather.

His lack of attention to the forest ahead proved to be fateful. A log caught his foot, taking away all balance and control. He fell, very briefly yelping as he went. The landing was soft, although his wounds begged to differ. His undershirt was stained red as blood dripped through the thick uniform. He gasped for breath as it suddenly became very hard to breath. The wound located on his lung was the cause of the turn of events. It felt like a freezing sphere was in the center of his chest as he wheezed, desperately searching for fresh oxygen.

The tornado was now halfway to the ground, and Deacon saw it was at least half a mile from his current location. Even though it wasn't coming down on his head, it was still very bad, and was going to make the rest of his pained trip difficult.

He switched to quick and rapid breathes, which proved to help a lot. The cold ball in his chest slowly dissipated, and his breath returned. Deacon scrambled up and continued on his painful way, leaves and twigs flying past him; captives of the savage winds.

He didn't know how to treat a bullet to the lung; all he knew was that the quick thinking of dislodging the bullet may have just saved his life. A bullet to the pulmonary area usually meant death, and there were never exceptions to that. However, here he was, alive, with a wound to his key of breath.

"Am I gonna keep having these pulmonary attacks?" Deacon asked to himself as he kept trudging through the windy forest. "If so, that'll prove to be very annoying in the future."

He momentarily paused to lean on a tree, the pain in his chest sending shock waves of the firey feeling throughout his body. He panted hard as he stood there, then doubled-over as he vomited. He crouched there, shocked to see yesterday lunch's second appearance. He quickly convulsed again, hacking out a couple more small puddles of the horrible residue. The numb feeling in his gums and throat were gone as quickly as they appeared, having done their job. His mind clouded as he inhaled, breathing in the once-peaceful forest air.

After a couple seconds of rest, he was off again, deliriously walking as fast as he could through the forest of spiraling, hectic leaves and twigs.

- - -

Applebloom watched the storm outside, entranced by its smooth, hectic movements through the window. She was always entranced by how quickly weather changed, and how violent the consequences could be. A minute ago, it had been a normal night around the sleepy farm, the Everfree Forest being as calm as ever. Now, that was not the case.

She sighed, the true nature of things coming back to mind. Pegasi controlled the weather and clouds, so there was bound to be some on the top of the swirling mass of dark clouds. Most likely Pegasi Bloficans snuffing out an Equestrian camp. If that was true, then the enemy had broken one of the most important rules of war.

Equestrian War Rules was a list of customs and rules which all soldiers, both enemy and ally, had to follow. The first rule: never get fillies or colts involved. Even the enemy respected that rule, having never held a filly hostage or forced a colt under 18 to join army ranks.

The second: always be aware your enemy is the bad guy, but still respect them. That rule, the Bloficans mutilate every other day. From burning homelands down, gassing farms and gardens (although burning is quicker, gassing is more disrespectful on multiple levels), and spitting at them while they fought. The Bloficans were honorless, cruel ponies, who never thought twice before spitting on their victims' bodies.

The third was that no side could use their Pegasi population's ability to control weather to their advantage. They can make it rain on battlefields or make their homeland sunnier, but nothing extreme. That was the second rule the Bloficans followed, although now their obedience may have ended.

It was then when something caught her eye. A flash of dark gray and peach appeared at the edge of the hectic Everfree Forest. She squinted her eyes and leaned forward, her snout almost touching the cold glass of the window. Yes, there it was.

She recognized the dark gray as a coat, evident by its clinging onto its host while the rest whipped at the direction of the tornado. Further inspection proved that the figure was wearing a helmet, boots and pants of the same color. It was freakishly tall, and seemed like it stood on two legs.

"Applejack," she called. Even though it was night, and most of the house was quiet and asleep, she knew her big sister could hear her. After a couple seconds of nothing, she called louder. "Applejack!"

There was the sound of hooves clopping towards her room slowly. Applebloom turned as the door opened, revealing Applejack standing in the doorway. Her mane was a mess, and bags were under her eyes as she yawned. "What is it, Sis?" She asked, her voiced tired.

"There's somepony out there," Applebloom said, her attention returning to the window. She could hear her sister trotting over to her as she also looked out the window, green eyes squinting. Those squinting eyes widened as she realized her sister was right.

"...the Faust.." she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and blinking hard, as if the tall figure in the distance was some type of mirage.

Applebloom gasped quietly as she saw the figure stumble. It then crawled for a little while, finally emerging from the thick forest into open ground. It then wavered for a moment, then collapsed.

After a few seconds of silence between the two sisters, Applebloom spoke up.

"I'll go pick 'im up."

Applejack shook her head. "No. He may be a Blofican."

"Well, then, we'll interrogate him. C'mon, Applejack, he'll die out there!"

"He'll kill you the moment he sees you."

"No, he won't." The words came from Applebloom's mouth before she knew what she was saying.

"How do you know?"

Applebloom blinked at the collapsed figure in the distance, tilting her head. Something about it just made him seem harmless. Somehow, she had no doubt of what she was saying was true as she retorted, "I just.. know."

Applejack sighed, and turned to her sister. "Applebloom, sometimes hard decisions have to be made--"

"What if that was you?"

For once, Applejack was silent as she steadily looked outside.

"...What if it was me?"

Applejack looked down, feeling the familiar sting of guilt in her heart. "...Okay. Ah'll go an' get 'im."

"Sorry, already beat ya to it!"

Applejack barely had time to gasp as her younger sister dashed out of the room. "Applebloom!" she called, but to no avail. Unfortunately, her sister shared the older mare's speed and stubbornness, so both catching and talking it out were out of the question. Applejack sighed, then rubbed her temples with her hooves, aggravated. She could now only hope the figure in the distance was an ally.

- - -

Applebloom had to put a hoof over her face to shield herself from the oncoming wind. The instant she opened the front door, leading outside, air rushed at her face. The whistling and the thunder overhead made her start to rethink her decision, but those thoughts were instantly shoved to the back of her mind. She knew what had to be done.

Her gamboge eyes were watering as she felt the brutal winds collide with her sensitive irises, but not enough to obscure her vision through squinted eyes. The collapsed figure was now a couple scores of yards away, and was closing in fast with her powerful legs thundering from underneath her.

The coat the bipedal wore was dark gray in color, and was tight at the torso. Two flaps at the lower back were whipping side to side at the wind's mercy. It also wore some type of baggy pants, which were colored the same as the jacket above. Thin, black boots covered its lower hooves, or what looked like feet.

Applebloom observed all those details by yards away. Her expert eyesight was something she took pride in, and it had helped her greatly in the present.

As she neared the fallen figure, the wind increasingly strong, she discovered he wore a helmet. It was round and tiny, different from the helmets her allies and enemies wore.

She finally stopped running, slowing to a jog as the creature in front of her was within jumping distance. When she reached the mysterious bipedal, she could hear it mumbling something in a young, male voice. He sounded around twenty.

As she inspected him further through squinted, watery eyes, she discovered he had hands, along with five fingers on each one. That was weird; the only person she knew who had hands was Spike, and he only had four. The fingers were blackened and bloodied, which caught her off guard. Sympathy poured in her heart as she inspected more wounds across his body and back. His peculiar uniform was torn and ragged, and his helmet was dented. That was the first thing she needed to take care of; a dented helmet could cut off the blood flow to the brain, or even fracture the skull.

A sudden, gusty wind brought her back to the situation at hoof. She bent down, wrapping her arms around the strange newcomer's neck. Applebloom then hoisted him onto her back, surprised to find how heavy he was as she started to gallop back to her farmhouse. The gusting winds around them didn't conceal the fact her companion was still mumbling. His helmet fell off as he jumbled around on her back, although she didn't notice.

After about half a minute of galloping through windy and hectic weather, she reached her house. The yellow earth pony recognized her older sister holding the door open for them, urging them in as the wind whipped her mane from side to side. The moment Applebloom entered the warm house, the wind ceased.

The mare heard her sister close the door behind her as she set the bipedal creature on the kitchen table, and flicked on the light. The wind, although she couldn't feel it, was whistling outside, high pitched in its natural song. Applebloom turned the biped on his back, and instantly recoiled at the sight.

Four bloody wounds adorned the creature's front. They were bullet holes, the wounds' stench instantly filling her nostrils, also attracting a couple flies in the room.

She swatted them away as she peeled his uniform back, to reveal a white undershirt, bloodier than the thick uniform. She lifted that up, too, and discovered a hairy, muscled torso, home to the four, ugly wounds.

"Applejack!" she cried as she turned towards her orange sister. "He's wounded!"

It was then Applebloom noticed the creature's face. It was peach in color, and was filled with bruises and cuts. It had blonde stubble on its cheeks, chin, and above its small, upper lip. The half beard was the same color as its hair, which was only a couple centimeters longer. Its jaw was rounded, and it had defined cheek bones.

The small eyes were a chocolate brown. She knew this because the biped's two irises were wide open, staring right at her.

For a moment, the two just stared at each other. No words were exchanged between the pair, as the ability to talk was suddenly impossible. The bipedal blinked, then slowly lifted its hand towards her. The fingers were cracked and frostbitten, but none were shaky. The hand's movement was smooth and gentle, like someone tentatively reachoing towards a wild animal. The five-digeted hand stopped a couple inches from the equine's face.

Applebloom stared down at the human, curiosity and wonder in her large eyes. Never had she seen any creature like this before. The extended hand looked peaceful and delicate, the peach color calming Applebloom. Her heart warmed as she slowly reached her head forward, sniffing the tattered limb. Her nostrils instantly filled with bizzare scents and messages, and she almost flinched at the many visions which came to mind.

She looked from the open hand back to the owner's face, and was surprised to see the weird creature crying. Tears slowly trailed down its peculiar face as its eyes were stained red. Its mouth opened, revealing white, smooth teeth, with sharp canines. An omnivore?

For a couple seconds, the creature just layed there, with its hand outstretched and its mouth open. She was expecting for it to whine or growl, or emmit an animal noise of some sort. Applebloom was caught completely offguard as the brown-eyed human said:

"...What are you?"

Applejack held onto the cloth to stifle the human's pained screams, the muffled voice sounding pitiful and pathetic. He squirmed, wailed, and kicked his long legs, but none were powerful enough to knock the strong earth pony away. She grunted as the bipedal continued to struggle, desperately trying to avoid the sharp knife her little sister was trying to work through his muscles with.

The human obviously wasn't trying to fight; even though Applejack was unfamiliar with this species' body parts, she knew muscle when she saw it. This creature had them; a lot of them, but none were working hard. It was obviously a vain struggle, as if he already knew he didn't have a chance of escaping; like an animal dying.

"Keep him still!" Applebloom said, a little too loud. The mare pulled the gory kitchen knife out of the bullet hole, which was bleeding anew.

They were interrupted by Rainbow Dash grunting from upstairs. After a couple painful seconds, the said pegasus was down the stairs, her mane disheveled from sleep. A little drool was dribbling down her chin as she grunted, "I can't sleep with you guys making that ruckus. How--"

The blue mare's sentence was cut short as she spotted the struggling human, bleeding and grunting. She gasped as she saw how amateurly Applebloom was trying to dig out a bullet.

"Applebloom, why are you using a kitchen knife for that?!"

The mentioned mare glanced behind her at Dash, and said, "I'm doing the best I can! He'll die if I don't get it out."

"He?" Rainbow asked, peering down at the peculiar looking creature. His face was scrunched up in pain while Applebloom worked on his wound, doing a bloody and messy job. His limbs were held down by Applejack, who was also holding a cloth to his mouth. That was good; it blocked his teeth's passage to eachother so they wouldn't grind and damage themselves, while keeping his cries of pain muffled.

"Applebloom," the cyan pegasus said as she flew over to the struggling trio. "That's not how you do it."

"And you would know?" Applebloom retorted, her full attention on her nasty work.

"For you information, I actually do!" She swatted the blunt knife from the yellow mare's hoof, who responded with a irritated 'Hey!' Rainbow Dash started searching the human's uniform, trying to find a sharper knife, more fit for the job.

"What are you doing?" the anxious young mare behind her yelped.

"Searching for a hunting knife. Any soldier worth his rank would have one." Rainbow Dash was answered with a bruised, shivering outstretched hand which held a knife. Her breath hitched as she looked from the weirdly shaped hand to the owner: the human underneath her. The room went silent as Rainbow Dash leaned in towards the creature.

"...Can you understand me?" she couldn't help but whisper.

The bipedal smiled through the cloth, which caught Dash completely offguard. "It surprises me just as much."

Her attention snapped back to the bullet in what seemed like his gut. Applebloom's crude attempt had certainly not done any good; the wound was even more grotesque, muscles and gore stripped to pieces. The bloody mess would have brought any lesser ponies' breakfast up their throat, but Rainbow Dash had experience. She expertly stitched the knife through his bloodied skin, wedging it between the hard muscles. The human's yelps and screams died down to grunts and wheezes, most likely because of Dash's more useful work.

After a couple seconds, the bullet was bouncing off the table, with metallic clinks accompaning it. The human breathed a sigh of relief as Applejack removed the cloth from his mouth.

"Thank you--"" His gratitude was prematurely cut off as his hunting knife was up to his throat.

Applebloom gasped. Rainbow Dash shifted the knife, pressing it against his large Adam's Apple.

"Are you a Blofican?" she said accusingly.

The human grunted, the bloody, sharp knife digging uncomfortablely in his neck. "What?"

"Are you a Blofican?" Rainbow Dash struck his forehead with the corner of her hoof, drawing blood.

The victim yelped at the sudden attack, squinting as the blood leaked into his eye. "No! Whatever that is, no!" He roughly pushed her away, holding his bleeding eye.

Rainbow Dash was shoved back by a yellow hoof, as Applebloom frowned at her.

"Just what in the Faust do you think you're doing?" the Southern mare growled.

"I'm trying to protect us," the cyan pegasus retorted. Applejack was apologizing to the human as she already started to tend to his wounds.

"He's not the enemy; stop trying to make everypony hostile!" Applebloom narrowed her eyes, face inches to Dash's, who kept an equally angry face. "You're not the leader, so stop acting like it."

The cyan pegasus growled, but didn't say anything. It was true; ever since the fateful start of the War, she grew a tendency to act like the boss. Then again, they all changed in some way, including Applebloom. What right did the farm pony have to criticize her for it?

"I swear," she continued, her voice a hostile whisper. "You were a better mare before this war started."

Rainbow Dash's eyes narrowed as she retorted, "So were you."

Applebloom firmly shoved Rainbow Dash away, as if a final show of frustration. The mares both stared at eachother coldly for a while, then Applebloom turned around. The cyan pegasus' eye twitched as the yellow mare trotted back to the creature.

"Don't mind her," Applebloom said gently as she neared Deacon. "She's a little hostile towards newcomers."

Surprisingly, the bipedal didn't seem irritated or angry. Instead, he was smiling sheepishly. "Don't worry about it. I know someone like that."

Applebloom nodded and smiled, already growing fascinated with the newcomer. "Well, thanks for not letting her get to ya. I'm Applebloom." She extended her hoof for a hoof bump.

"Cpl. Greer, 101st airborne." He shook her hoof, causing one of her eyebrows to raise.

"Corperal Greer One Hundred First Airborne? That's a mouthful."

'Greer' chuckled. "That's not my name. I'm Nathan. But you can call me 'Deacon.'"

Applebloom inspected Deacon, fascinated. He has two names? That's weird.. Almost as weird as his hoof bumping. Applebloom looked down at her hoof, Nathan's hand still holding it. The sensation of his fingers wrapped around her single hoof felt.. unique. The way his indexes coursed around her hoof sent shivering, unfamiliar feelings traveling up her arm, throughout her body. Curious, she leaned down and sniffed the unfamiliar limb. Deacon chuckled nervously as Applebloom squinted as she smelt the indexes.

Smells like gun powder and smoke.. They're dirty and bruised, so he's certainly experienced in some way of battle. I don't see any of the knuckles bleeding, so he's not a close range guy. Maybe a Sniper. They're frostbitten, too.. That's weird; Winter won't be here for a couple more weeks.

"Are you a Sniper?" Applebloom asked. The question came out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Nathan seemed impressed as he said, "I don't really like the name 'Sniper'; I prefer 'Marksman.' You got that by smelling my hand?"

She smiled proudly. "I can get a lot of things by scent; it's my special talent. Well, behind building things."

"So, your name's Nathan?" Rainbow Dash spoke up from behind them. The latter nodded with a smile, but was interrupted by the cyan pegasus cutting him off. "What kind of a name is that? I like Deacon better."

Both Applebloom and Applejack gasped at the pegasus' harsh words, but Deacon just sighed.

"Most people say that," he said with a shrug. "I kinda like Deacon myself. It's a cool nickname my friends gave me."

"Well, I think 'Nathan' is unique," Applebloom retorted, frowning at the cyan mare. She lifted up her chin as she said, "there's nothing wrong with somepony having a different name."

The young mare then noticed the entire room was looking at her, making the color in her cheeks darken. "Anyways," she turned back to Deacon, who was a little dumbfounded at how easily the cyan and yellow mares could irritate each other. "That is Rainbow Dash, and the other is Applejack, my big sister."

The latter smiled, extending her hoof toward the human. Deacon did his bizzare hoof bump, and smiled also. Rainbow Dash stood stoic at the entrance of the room.

"What division and rank are you?" Nathan asked, provoking the three ponies all to look at each other, confused. Deacon sighed, knowing the translation. "Civilians?"

"Yeah, but we can defend ourselves as much as any soldier," Rainbow Dash grunted.

Applejack rolled her eyes at her friend's hostility. "She ain't the respectable type. Might as well get used to it.."

The said pegasus yawned suddenly, ignoring the orange pony's comment. "Whelp, I'm beat. I'll see all of you tomorrow." She then walked up the stairs, her hooves clopping loudly as she made her way up to the higher level.

"Ah' suppose we all best get some shut-eye," Applejack said. "It was nice to meet ya, Deke."

Nathan instantly felt a sharp pang of sadness. "Deke" was what his best friend, Gunderson, used to call him. Memories of their brother-like friendship flashed in his head as his eyes began to water.

Both Applejack and Applebloon noticed it, and the former felt guilt creep into her heart. "I.. don't think you should call him that," Applebloom whispered.

"Ah'm sorry, Deacon," Applejack said as she put a hoof on his shoulder. "Even though Ah' don't know what memories that name brings back, Ah'll try not to call you that anymore."

Deacon nodded his thanks with a sad smile. "It's okay." The way his voice cracked told them it was not okay at all.

"Hey," the orange mare smiled. "How 'bout we get ya somewhere to sleep here tonight?"

He looked like he was going to refuse before Applebloom chuckled. "She wasn't asking," the yellow mare said with a smile. "As laid back as she normally is, she is stubborn."

"Not as stubborn as you were that one Hearth's Warming--"

"Shhh! Don't tell him that!" They both giggled sisterly, but Deacon did not share their joy. All he wanted to do was sleep..

In fact, this table didn't seem half bad. Even though it was hard and bloody, it was comfortable. He felt his eyes slowly close, before surrending to the sleep that he so desperately needed.

3: There is No Home.

3: All That We Are

A rough hoof to the shoulder brought Pvt. Rudolph out of his slumber. He started at first, instinctively reaching for his rifle, a Gewehr 41, when realization settled in. The familiar face of Cpt. Blauesherz was inches away from his, having a look of annoyance plastered on his hard features.

"Jetzt ist keine Zeit für Schlaf, Soldat," [Now is no time for sleep, Sergeant!] he jeered in the brown stallion's face.

Rudolph straightened himself in his seat of the cargo truck, the other ponies around him snickering at his error. "Entschuldigung. Es wird nicht wieder passieren," [Sorry. It won't happen again.] he stuttered.

Blauesherz wasn't done embarrassing the recruit, however, and leaned in towards his face. "Die Farbe der Haut ist genauso wertlos wie Sie sind," [The color of your coat is the equivalent of your usefullness.] he accused with a poke aimed at his brown-colored chest.

The other soldiers around him laughed out loud, not even trying to hide their amusement. Rudolph shrank in his seat, self consciousness exploding from inside. After a quick "Halt!" from the superior pegasus, they were all silenced.

The blue Captain shook his head as he turned, walking towards the edge of the open truck haul. A couple ponies whispered to eachother uneasily as he neared the edge, dangerously close to the rushing grass and rocks below. However, before he could fall off the two-foot drop, he turned around, facing the confused soldiers. "Heute sind wir zu einem Reitrebellen Haus geleitet. Jederëselsbrücke muss sterben." [Tonight, we are to infiltrate an Equestrian Civilian outpost, eliminating its inhabitants. Nopony can survive.]

The soldiers all cheered at this, with the exception of the horrified, brown earth pony. "Was?!" he almost screached, drawing the attention of all the other passengers.

Blauesherz shot an irritated glare at the stallion, his eye twitching. "Gibt es ein Aufgabe?" [Is there a problem?] All of a sudden, Rudolph realized who he was challenging. The Captain facing him was not only a lot higher in stature and power, but also higher in both strength and agility. Muscles rippled underneath his torn, callused body, which was guarded by thick navy blue fur. His wings were powerful enough to keep him in the air for days without rest, and it was evident by the muscles which coursed throughout his pegasus limbs. With handsome features and the ability to speak French, Equestrian, and Italian, it was no wonder he was considered not only a War Hero, but a Mare Killer as well in their homeland.

With all that in mind, the smaller pony's cheeks burnt red with shame. His voice faltering, Rudolph stammered, "E.. Es ist gegen den Reiterkrieg Gesetze." [It's against the Equestrian War Laws.]

Blauesherz smiled devilishly, then started to walk towards the Private. The other soldiers gave Rudolph uneasy looks, laced with sympathetic eyes. The brown stallion tensed up for a moment, expecting to be stricken by the blue pegasus. Instead of a violent approach, however, Blauesherz surprised Rudolph.

"Woher kommen Sie?" [Where are you from?]

The Captain never asked anything like that; it was almost friendly! Rudolph looked around him for any support from the neighboring ponies, but none returned his view. They were all trying their best to ignore him, in fact.

"...Sägebocklin," [Horselin{See what I did there?}] he replied quietly, unsure of what to make of Blauesherz's new demeanor.

"In der tat," [Indeed.] The pegasus said calmly. Rudolph didn't like this. "Sag mir, ist, dass ziel bei Equestria?" [So, tell me, is that in Equestria?]

Rudolph, confused, replied with, "Nein." [No.]

"Dann haben wir nicht, um die Regeln in diesem Ort folgen! Wir sind nicht von hier, also warum seine Regeln?" [Well, we don't have to obey this land's rules if we're not from it! Don't you get it? We make our own.]

Rudolph shrank in his seat at his Captain's harsh words. Blaues nodded, as if happy with the brown earth pony's response.

"Kapitän, sehen wir den Ort!" [Captain, we see the destination.]

The pegasus smiled at the words from the driver's seat of the cargo truck. "Bringen Sie uns in," [Bring us in.] he replied. He then trotted to his seat, and picked up his Panzerfaust, the huge bazooka on his shoulders further pronouncing his bulging muscles.

"Wir sind hier, um eine Nachricht zu senden," [We are here to send a message.] Herz yelled over the commotion of everypony picking up their weapons. "...die Blofigans nicht auf Regeln Unsere Feinde hören! Töte alles, was einen Impuls hat." [Blofigans do not listen to our enemys' rules! Kill everything that has a pulse, and burn it afterwards!]

While everypony was cheering and drawing their weapons, Rudolph, in the meanwhile, was putting his hooves up to his chin. He closed his eyes, and muttered a prayer: "Gott verzeih mir"

[God forgive me.]

- - -

"Fascinating."

That was the only word that described Deacon for Applebloom. Pure fascination, which caught her attention more than anything else. Where he came from was the biggest mystery. Another continent is unlikely, but possible. Maybe another world? That made sense; nothing about this... person matched any of the Equestrian standards.

The yellow mare tilted her head on the table, further inspecting the snoring Greer's features. His fuzzy, chestnut hair was not like any style she had ever seen before on even the most bizarre mane styles in Equestria. He had a peach-like colored skin, a small rounded nose, and some sort of thin eyebrows. His circle jaw was accompanied with the same gruffy hair on his head, only smaller and shorter. This was especially unique; only the most masculine ponies bore beards, and they were all full and thick. Either they were there, or not. Deacon was just in between.

"Imagine if he woke up right now," Applejack grunted as she dozed lazily on the couch, her voice muffled by her hat laying on her face.

"He seemed pretty tired to me," Applebloom replied, her auburn eyes gliding over the human's face, centimeters away.

Applejack sighed, removing the admired hat from her face. A lot of things have changed over time, but her sister's curiosity was one of the few artifacts which remained functioning. The orange mare glanced over at her sister, and the tall body of a lying down Deacon.

AJ wasn't sure about how she felt about the human. Her special talent was the ability to tell the truth from lie all the time. Her skills seemed to diminish when it came to this particular individual. He was a mystery, shrouded in guilt. His back story was the main key of unlocking his chest of secrets, but she doubted she would get it out of him any time soon. Maybe later, but definitely not now.

Her mind lifted to happier thoughts as her sister lifted a hoof to stroke Deacon's hair. She mentally chuckled as Applebloom worked her hoof in and around Greer's short, chestnut locks. If she didn't know better, Applejack would have thought her sister had developed a crush for the soldier. She hasn't been this interested in a male ever since Pipsqueak grew up.

Three loud knocks on the door interrupted the peaceful silence.

"Help!" came a feminine voice from the other side of the door. Applejack stood up immediately. "Please; the Blofigans.. they're trying to kill me."

Applebloom gave her sister a weary look, mentally asking the obvious question. The latter showed no emotion as she steadily looked back, followed by her walking to the door.

"Who are you?" Applejack asked, trying her best to make her voice sound threatening.

There was a whimper from the other side. "My name is Sun Drop.. please let me in. I've been shot."

The voice sounded young, insomuch Applejack's heart wrenched. She was supposed to ask a security question; something only Equestrians were bound to know, but the filly's pained voice tore a hole in her heart.

"Please.. they killed my family."

Both Applejack and Applebloom gasped, shocked at the traumatic news. The older pony's hoof immediately shifted towards the door knob, turned it, then swung the door open.

What was waiting on the other side of the door was not a filly, however. It was a much taller, broader, and evil looking mare. She had on a black and grey outfit, with a white swastika imprinted on.

A Blofigan.

Before anyone could move, a deafening "Bang!" cracked through the air, echoing off the small house's walls. All the occupants' ears rang.

Applejack's vision blurred as she fell on her side, blood gushing from a new wound on her shoulder. The dark red substance littered the Blofigan mare's face, who was gazing down at her with a stoic expression.

"APPLEJACK!"

Applebloom was at her sister's side in an instant. Applejack's eyes were wild, her breath coming out in short shouts and gasps of realization. The younger mare's eyes were wet with tears as she tried her best to put pressure on the bullet hole, maroon colored blood bubbling between her hooves.

As the sister tried her best to keep Applejack from drifting off, ten or so Blofigans flooded into the house.

All the soldiers formed a circle around the living room. Then, what looked like the Captain of the group entered the room, heaving a huge bazooka with him. His dark blue, handsome features were partly covered by the hat he wore, decorated with various medals and badges. Muscles bulged from underneath his uniform, placing pink blushes on the female soldiers' cheeks. His mane and tale were adventurous and wild, cyan and black making up their colors.

He looked around the room, as if inspecting it with his stunning cyan eyes. After a brief snort, he said in his native tongue, "Suchen sie."

The two Apples in the room watched in horror as they fanned out, lifting couches, breaking valuables, and turning the place upside down.

The dark blue Captain, instead of joining his comrades, trotted over to the two cowering mares. They both stared up at him, mustering their best gaze of hate.

He didn't seem wavered by this at the least, and sat down by them, his light blue eyes narrowed, but not hateful. He sighed, taking off his hat and stroking his thick mane.

"Sorry about that," he said. Both the sisters were surprised he didn't own the Blofigan accent the race was infamous for, but instead had more of a Manehatten voice. "We had to take precautions. Nothing personal." He extended a hoof. "I'm Blauesherz. Or, Blueheart."

When none of the mares gave him a formal shake, he shrugged, withdrawing the limb.

Applebloom's gaze drifted from the charming, but evil, stallion in front of her to the table which Deacon was resting on. Or, used to be. The human was nowhere to be seen.

Blauesherz followed her gaze to the empty table. "Anything I should know about?"

A short screech came from upstairs, followed by rustling. The sound of furniture and chairs breaking reached their ears, then grunting. Blaues smiled, his gaze not leaving the troubled mares.

Rainbow Dash was roughly handled down the stairs by two other mares, one bruised on her head. Dash wrestled and tried her best to squeeze her way out, but to no avail.

"Is there anyone else here?" the Blofigan captain asked.

None of the mares answered, resorting to giving Blueheart a death stare.

The latter sighed. "If you won't cooperate, I think I'll have to get a little more personal."

Without warning, Applebloom was struck by a wicked fast hoof from the stallion. She was catapulted from her position into the arms of a brown stallion, who looked just as shocked as she was. Before she could use his stunning as an advantage, however, he quickly regained his senses and tightened her grip around her.

Blauesherz was leveling his hoof on her sister's bleeding shoulder when Applebloom looked back. Applejack whimpered and panted hard, trying her best to not show any sign of pain.

"I said, is there anything I should know?!" he shouted, his demeanor quickly changing from charming to threatening.

"No!" Applebloom shrieked, her sister's condition catching her offguard.

"You're lying!" he yelled, stomping down with his hoof on the helpless mare's wound. She cried out in pain as his hoof withdrew, sticky with gore.

The stallion holding onto her looked physically shaken by the turn of events. His chocolate eyes were wide with fear and sympathy, which gave Applebloom an idea.

"You.." she said quietly to the stallion holding her. "..can you understand me?"

After a hesitant nod, Applebloom saw her chance. "Is this what you want? Innocent ponies being tortured and killed?"

He breathed out slowly, closing his eyes. They were brimmed with tears. "...no."

"RUDOLPH!" Herz shouted, and the said pony flinched. "SHUT UP! Don't talk to the prisoners, Schwachkopf!"

Rudolph looked down.

"You're not a bad pony," Applebloom whispered. "You're a victim of the system which this war has created, just like me."

"Answer me!" the enraged Captain screeched to the yellow mare. After no response, he stomped down on Applejack's shoulder again. This time, she screamed. Even some of the other Blofigans in the room winced at the ferocity of the attack.

Rainbow Dash, Applebloom, and Rudolph all choked back a sob for the mare.

Rudolph sniffed, releasing his grip on the mare. "Release all of us," he whispered. Then, he let her go.

Applebloom charged forward, barreling into Blueheart. The living room instantly went into chaos, Rainbow Dash and Rudolph turning on the Blofigans around them. The soldiers tried their best to defend themselves, drawing their weapons and punching, but the confusion was great. They fired upon themselves.

At first, it seemed like a hopeless, final show of rebellion before the inevitable. Until the window shattered, and a nearby Blofigan fell to the floor, lifeless.

Blaues roughly shoved Applebloom off him. "Sniper! Heckenschütze!" he yelled to his troops, and panic spread throughout the group.

A hundred meters away, on a secluded hill, Deacon readied himself for another shot. Once the moment presented himself, he fired again, catching another Blofigan in the head. Blood squirted in all directions as the lifeless corpse dropped to the floor, a fraction of its head gone from view. Deacon always hated that part.

Through his scope, he had a perfect view of the scene. All chaos was loose, Rainbow Dash and the new companion proving to be excellent fighters. His gaze drifted to the window of the kitchen, when he saw Applebloom battling with a dark blue stallion, the black uniform marking him as a target.

He waited for his moment, for an opening, but the two ponies were a blur. They kept punching, scratching, and biting eachother as they rolled around in the kitchen, plates and utensils of all sorts falling on them. He watched in horror as Applebloom's head was thrown on the corner of a desk, blood covering the sharp marble. When she tried to get up, she was roughly shoved back down.

Bloodied and bruised, the mare looked every bit of one that's been through Hell. The stallion grabbed a frying pan from the table. Deacon growled as he took his shot. The kick of the weapon in hand made it impossible to see if he hit home or not, and he took a moment to find the window with the narrow scope again.

Both were on the floor, Applebloom elbowing the other's neck brutally. A couple feet away layed the frying pan, horribly dented.

Back in the cottage, Applebloom screamed as she threw all of her anger and strength into the blows, trying her best to damage his wind pipe. Blaues roured as he caught her hoof. He then punched it with all his might, almost breaking it in two. Fortunately, all the years of farming and bucking had provided her arms with strong bones.

Blaues Herz' elbow to her face caught her offguard, and she screamed as she felt her nose break.

A blow to the head kicked it back to the floor, her ears ringing from the cranial damage. She tried to shield her face, only to be showered by more blows from his powerful hooves. Blood splattered both his hooves and her face.

His blows stopped as he crawled on top of her. She struggled, but to no avail. He pressed his powerful body against hers, hooves laying her suspended.

"It could have been over so much quicker," he said as she lay defeated and broken. She could feel his body ground against hers, and instantly knew his motives. Shocked a horrified, she screamed, but it was soon muffled by a rough kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, but was soon bleeding by a bite after a few seconds. Instead of yelping or recoiling, however, the pervert smiled.

"I'll enjoy using your dead body to my... advantage."

She sobbed. "You're insane."

"I've been called that. Along with 'Rapist,' 'Murderer,' and many other things. But, I'm considered a hero in my homeland. Do you know why?" He licked his lips. "Because either nobody knows of my... escapades, or I kill the witnesses." He got up, smiling devilishly down at her. "Don't worry. Your body won't go to waste, Hure" He lifted his hoof for the killing blow.

All of a sudden, the glass behind him shattered inwards. Blood spurted from Blaues' head as he was instantly propelled forward, dead.

Applebloom continued to stare wide eyed up at the ceiling, eyes brimmed with tears. She could hear Rudolph coming in, then rushing to her aid. His uniform and hat were both gone, revealing a brown, bloodied coat.

"We must leave," he whispered in his fractured Equestrian as he hoisted her up.

Applebloom nodded numbly, not focusing on anything as she weakly followed her brown friend. She never even wanted to look at Blueheart's fresh corpse.

Rudolph pushed the kitchen door open, revealing a gruesome scene. Corpses of fallen Blofigans, both female and male, littered the floor, gore covering the wooden interior and carpet. Rainbow Dash sat on the stairs, Applejack leaning on her shoulder. Both mares were equally bloody, although Applebloom was certain the blood on Dash wasn't her own.

When Applejack saw her sister, she gasped and limped towards her, throwing her a big hug.

"...what the Faust happened in there, Applebloom?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

The yellow mare didn't say anything, she just hugged back and sobbed in her sister's shoulder.

Rudolph, knowing his job was finished, sighed heavily and collapsed on the stairs by Rainbow Dash, who snorted.

"Hey, Rudolph," she started with a nudge to his side. When he lifted his head, she continued while flicking the blood off her hooves. "What you did back there.. that was really cool. Sorry your Captain was such a jerk."

Rudolph smiled a little. "Thank you," he replied in his best Equestrian. "And it is okay. We are raised and bred Takt."

Rainbow tilted her head. "What?"

"My apologies," he blushed at his false translation. "We are... bet."

"Uh.. I don't know what you're saying...?"

"He's trying to say they are beaten while young."

Dash turned her head to look at Deacon, standing at the doorway with an M1 Garande. "He's implying their race is beaten while young to be taught discipline; he's used to it."

Rudolph turned toward the human, eyes widening at the tall form of the sniper. "Sie sprechen Deutsch?" he asked, astonished.

"Ja," Deacon replied. "Mein Name ist Deacon, oder Nathan. Ich bin ein Freund."

"Wait," Rainbow Dash interrupted. "You speak Blofigan?" But the two were already in deep discussion about something in German.

"Deacon!" Applebloom limped towards him, looking up at the American.

The former stopped his conversation with the ex-Blofigan and knelt down to the earth pony. "Are you alri--"

His sentence was cut off when Applebloom wrapped her arms around him, giving him a huge hug. Deacon faltered, not used to being hugged at such velocity, or hugged at all for that matter. Hands shaky and unsure, he reached up and gave her a gentle squeeze around the back.

"You saved my life," Applebloom said, smiling brightly. All the ponies in the room's ears pricked.

"How so?" Applejack asked, sitting on the stairs holding her bleeding shoulder.

"That sniper," Applebloom started. "The one that was providing support? It was him."

"Ah," her sister said, smiling through clenched teeth. "Well, that explains that.. but where'd he get the gun?"

There was the distant sound of a Panzerfaust firing. At first, all the occupants froze, dreadfully hoping they imagined the fateful sound. It was for naught, however, as the whistling sound of a missile sped into hearing length.

"TAKE COVER!" Deacon yelled, tackling Applebloom away as the rest of the ponies dived for safety.

In a spam of moments, the house was a mess of bright colors, fire, and shrapnel. An ear-deafening boom sounded. Deacon and Applebloom were ripped away in mid-air, propelling them into the wall. Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Rudolph were more fortunate, although a few pieces of shrapnel hit home, drawing blood.

After the initial explosion, broken furniture and wood planks were everywhere. The smoke devoured any hope of sight, and the scent was rancid with ash and smoke.

The three ponies coughed themselves out of their ear-ringing stupor, Applejack gasping at the situation.

"Deacon!" Rudolph yelled, used to smoke and shrapnel clouding his breathing. "Antwort! Beantwortung!"

The shifting of rubble a couple yards away was his answer. He rushed over to it while the ponies behind him adjusted to the smoky environment. He pulled, pried, and pushed all the debris off the spot which the rustling was being homed. After a couple seconds of digging, he found a bruised and bloodied yellow coat. He bent down and dragged it out with all his might, the rocks giving way to the shifting position. Within a matter of moments, Applebloom was lying beside him, dusty and broken.

"Bitte... bitte nicht tot sein," he muttered as he lowered his ear to her chest. There was a beat. He sighed out of relief, and continued digging, coming up with Deacon's shirt collar in his teeth the second time.

The weight of the human made his muscles strain, biting harder and harder as he dragged the bipedal from the debris. His condition was horrible; he was dusty, bloodied, and (worst of all) was unconscious.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash came in from behind. The first thing the former did was kneel down and give her sister a huge hug, instantly snapping her out of unconsciousness. She jolted awake, alert, but mellowed when she saw her sister.

Applejack cried lightly in her sister's shoulder. "Ah'.. thought I lost you, Sis.."

Applebloom closed her eyes and leaned her head on her sister's shoulder aswell. "I'm here..."

Meanwhile, Rudolph turned to Rainbow Dash. "You, Rainbow Mane. Come."

As she trotted over, she mumbled, "You know, I get that you're foreign and can't speak Equestrian very well and all, but it doesn't make that statement sound any better."

He shrugged off her comment, and leaned close to her. "I am a Field Medic; I can help your wounded friends, but I need their cooperation, along with yours."

She shuffled awkwardly. "Oh... kay..."

"Excellent," he said. He moved over to the head of the human lying down. "He is not breathing. I did not want to spread panic throughout the group, so I told you since you look most fit for this job."

Rainbow Dash deflated instantly, not paying heed to the compliment about her fitness. "He's... dead? ...Oh man, he looked like a cool guy.."

"No, he is not dead. Only half. I need you to put your hooves on his torso, right below the chest. Yes, that's it. Now press down firmly thirty times."

After Rainbow Dash followed the task, Rudolph put his mouth on Deacon's cracked and bloodied lips, breathing out warm air.

"Ew!" Rainbow Dash said, grimacing.

"It is to immitate breathing, bringing the body back to work. Repeat."

As they were conversing, Applebloom and Applejack were also mid-conversation.

"AJ..." the littler one started. "...what happened..?"

"There was an explosion," Applejacked replied, still hugging her sibling tightly. "Deacon saved you, though. But you took a lot of damage... I should have been there for you."

The smoke around them died down from light black gas to a thin layer of gray mist. The entire room (excluding Deacon) gasped.

The farm was demolished, beyond all hopes of repair. A huge hole was blown in the side of the house, with wood planks, family portraits, furniture, and an assortment of other things littering the floor. Small patches of fires and ashes covered the interior. The cold night air whipped in the blown hole, nothing blocking its freezing fingers.

Applejack shivered when realization hit. "...We need to leave," she said quietly, her voice on the verge of cracking.

"Where are we going..?" Her yellow sister asked sadly, oblivious to Applejack's true meaning. After no answer, Applebloom gaped at her sister, as if first realizing the implement. "But.. all that we've gone through in this house, all the time we spent in here.." She sniffled a sob. "We just.. can't leave! It's all that we are!" She looked around frantically from her sister to her companions, searching for an agreement. None was found.

"We have no choice," Applejack said angrily. Her voice cracked as she held back tears, despite her best efforts of holding it back. "That explosion could be heard miles away. Blofigans will be here any second, and I will not risk losing you again. Not like Twilight."

A jeep pulled up on the horizon, the swastika on its hood shining bright.

Applebloom stared up at the jeep, shocked at its bad timing. "I.. We..." she sniffled, Applejack walking over to give her a sympathetic hug. The former pushed away. "We could come back when they're done investigating..! I can fix this; I'm good at workmanship!"

"Stop it!" Applejack yelled, tears brimming her eyes. She hated when she had to show such strong emotion; it made her feel weak and vulnerable. But, if what she was about to go through was inevitable, she couldn't help it. "I'm sorry.. but it's live or die," she said sadly.

"Okay, well, we have a plan," Rainbow Dash said mockingly. "We abandon all we know: food, water, shelter, and memories included, to go wander around in the Everfree Forest until we rot! Great!" She turned around, facing the massive hole in the wall with hatred. "I guess I can forget all that 'Elements of Harmony' stuff and our good times."

"That's not what I said," Applejack growled at the cyan pony, aware of her sister's tearful state. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be." She looked uneasily at the car parked on the horizon, the occupants fanning out to scout the area. "Please."

Dash grunted, a hint of sadness in her maroon eyes. "Fine." She said simply. "But there is one more problem... who's carrying Deacon?"

4: An Ungilded Cage

4: Captured

Sgt. Greer hurriedly clambered through the thick snow behind a stone wall, narrowly escaping the bullets' paths. He briefly sat there, breathing hard. After collecting himself, he shakily reached into his pocket, retrieving a new magazine. He then detached the empty mag from his M1 Garande, the fresh one taking its place.

Blood. Death. Gore.

After taking a deep breath, the American soldier bolted from cover, sliding to another safe spot, just beside the sniper tower. The occupant wasn't focused on him, instead firing on Nathan's companions. Good. He scooted from his position, heading towards the entrance to the tower.

Guilt. Regret. Anger.

He was just yards from the doorway of the sniper tower, the entrance dark and gloomy. Deacon prepared himself for heavy resistance when an idea came to mind. He reached down to his waist, pulling an Mk 2 grenade from the utility belt. After pulling the pin, he launched it into the dark doorway.

Shooting. Crying. Screaming.

Five seconds later, a deafening boom sounded, the doorway erupting with dust, smoke, and sparks. Nathan charged in, firing his Garande at every shadow of a human. The deafening cracks of his gunshots bouncing off the walls of the small room couldn't mask the horrific wail of a woman screaming. Deacon's heart skipped a beat and he froze.

Dust. Dolls. Ashes.

As the smoke around him grew less dense, his eyes grew wide with horror. In front of him lay four dead children and two women, their faces frozen in a death mask as their deceased bodies twitched. Blood pooled around their bodies, forming a red river between the gaps in the stone floor. Deacon's gun instantly dropped to the ground as his knees bucked from underneath him.

For a moment, he just knelt there, unwilling to accept what just happened. A glass doll was laying on the floor just inches from an unanimated girl. Its head was cracked, the eyes being black and lifeless. Its face was demented, the steriotypical smile on its face replaced by a confused and dreadful emotion. As if it was wondering what happened to its owner.

Deacon screamed.

Deacon's sudden wail made the entire group jump. Rudolph, who was previously hoisting him on his sturdy back, stumbled and dropped the human on the ground. Nathan's startled yelp only increased in volume, resulting in a cyan hoof covering his mouth.

Rainbow Dash angrily frowned down at him, his screams now muffled by her limb. "Be quiet!" she chided at him harshly. The human's covered outburst transformed into a sob. His eyes shifted from wide open to closed, a tear sliding down his cheek. The pegasus couldn't help but feel bad for him, besides his outbreak. "Maybe I hit him a little too hard," she thought.

"Deacon," Applebloom said, nearing him. "Deacon, hey, shh." She whispered comfortingly to him as he cried. "It's alright. It was just a nightmare. It's all right.." His cries subsided slowly. Nathan looked up at her helplessly, almost fearfully. "It's all right.."

The restrained bipedal sniffed. Rainbow Dash, resorting to a new approach, bent down to him. "I'm going to let go now," she warned. "Do not yell. Do you hear me?" He nodded. "Do not. Yell."

She removed her hoof. Deacon's mouth remained closed, to everypony's relief.

"I'm sorry.." he said quietly. "I'm sorry..."

"Hey," Applebloom said reassuringly. "Don't worry. As long as it doesn't happen again."

He smiled sadly, looking down. Deacon was surprised to find grass underneath him instead of the wood floor of the house. Looking forward, he discovered they were at least a mile from the home. A forest line was a couple blocks away. "What happened?" he asked.

"I dunno," Applebloom said. "We were just carrying you when--"

"No, not that. Why are we outside?"

Applebloom mouthed an "oh," looking sad now. "The barn was destroyed. We had to leave."

Deacon looked down sadly. "I'm sorry."

Applejack and Big Macintosh (who's wound was healed now) approached them. "What was that all about?" the orange mare said sternly. "Deacon, you need to be straight with me. No lies."

"Applejack!" Applebloom said harshly. "It was an accident; he said he was sorry!"

"How can you trust him so easily?" Applejack chided. Deacon shrunk at this. "We don't know his story, his motives, what he's done, where he's from, why he's here, NOTHING! We have to know who he is."

"I'll tell you what he's done: never betrayed us once, always is incredibly patient with yours and Rainbow Dash's bullshit, and saved my life! Twice!"

Applejack looked offended beyond belief. Before she could respond, however, a gunshot rippled through the air. Immediately after, dark red blood spurted from Rudolph's leg. He yelped, lurching forward with pain. Rainbow Dash rushed over to his side.

Deacon was instantly up, drawing his M1 Garande when he spotted a truck parked on the horizon, too far to shoot from his position. "Sniper!" he yelled, firing a few vain warning shots in the truck's direction.

Rainbow Dash hitched Rudolph's arm over her shoulder, then started to run. The rest of the group bolted, but with over half the group wounded, however, it proved to be a chore. Applejack had to angle herself on Big Macintosh, who was limping his fastest. Applebloom was panting hard as she ran weakly. The cyan pegasus had to resort to carrying Rudolph while flying her fastest. After a few more shots, Deacon followed. The brown earth pony groaned out of pain as blood poured from his open wound onto the speeding ground below.

Not after a few seconds they started to run, another bullet whipped into the group, hitting Rainbow Dash in the wing. Her limb exploded with feathers and blood. Dash shrieked as she collapsed, tumbling with Rudolph to a stop. Deacon saw this, and turned back to aid his fallen companion. Applebloom, Applejack, and Big Macintosh kept slowly running to the cover of the forest line, unaware of the turn of events.

Rainbow Dash groaned, her wing bleeding profusely and bent at an impossible angle. She looked back at Rudolph, who wasn't in any better shape.

"My leg.." he grunted. "I think it is broken."

Footsteps running towards her caught her attention. She glanced up to see Deacon making his way towards them. She sighed out of relief...

...then gasped out of horror. Another distant crack of a gunshot was heard, and blood blew out of Deacon like a gas. Deacon's upper body was catapulted back, his lower body's momentum making him land on his back.

"DEACON!" she yelled. This caught the attention of the rest of the group, on the edge of the Everfree Forest.

Applebloom stopped where she was, gaping out of surprise. She was on the verge of turning tail when Applejack grabbed her from behind, pulling her into the dark forest.

"Wait..!" she said, a bit too late. "Deacon!!"

Applejack stole a glance at the events in the distance, too. "They'll be alive," she said hurriedly, trying to stay out of sight from the unseen shooter. "It's considered dishonorable if you kill a wounded pony in Blofigan society; they'll be captured, but alive."

Applebloom stared at her sister. "You... You don't even care?!"

"We will get them back, I promise! But we need to leave!" Applejack pulled her defiant sister into the forest, out of the view of the sniper.

Deacon took short gasps of air where he laid. The bullet's destination was unknown to him; all he knew was that his entire torso burnt with white hot pain, and he was losing blood fast. Massive Deja Vu was pulsing through his head.

Rainbow Dash's yells to him were drowned out by the sound of hoofsteps and a jeep's tires crushing the grass underneath, getting closer to the helpless trio. He slowly reached for his army knife, his shredded fingers trembling as they went. The fingers closed around the handle, but as he was bringing it forward, sharp pain exploded in his limb as a navy blue hoof kicked the weapon from it.

Deacon yelped at the damaged fingers state when another hoof caught him in the ribs. Then the cheek. Before he knew it, Nathan was being showered by sharp jabs and kicks, beating the life from him. Rainbow Dash screamed as she received the same treatment from the unseen enemies.

"Menschlich-Schleim!" came a rough voice above him, the assault finally dying down to a solitude kick to the crotch. Deacon doubled-over, gasping as the air rushed out of him. He shakily spat out blood as he tried to turn his head up, looking at the offenders. Through blurry vision and a black eye, Deacon's eyes widened at the pony which stood over him.

...Blauesherz.

The latter bent down to the wide-eyed human. "Was?" he asked casually with a devilish, bleeding smile. "Did you really think a bullet grazing my ear could kill me? Weibsstück scheißdreck."

Deacon fumbled with his words weakly. "...I... shot you.. in the head.. I saw the blood--" he coughed. "..the body.. You flew across the room..?"

"Well, then, I have one thing to say," Blueheart whispered menacingly in Deacon's ear. "For a Sniper, you really do have poor eyesight." He laughed, his usually gleaming white teeth dotted with blood and cracks, most likely from the fight with Applebloom. Then, he turned his cyan gaze to one of his soldiers. "Nehmen Sie sie als Gefangene." They started to close in on the wounded trio.

Deacon knew he had shot the pony in the head; he never missed. Plus, he saw the blood, he saw his body.. or did he? He saw his lower body through the window, his leg twitching.

But his head was out of view he realized with horror. He could have easily faked the body flying across the room with a jump across it, snuck out, then..

"You blew up the house," Deacon said with realization, staring at the blue stallion.

Blaues only smiled as one of the soldiers hoisted the human up. Deacon's legs dragged behind him uselessly as he was pulled to the back of the truck which delivered the Blofigans to their destination. Rainbow Dash and Rudolph both were given the same treatment.

The three were thrown into the back of the dark gray automibile mercilessly, yelping as broken bones were jostled. With a noisy command from Blauesherz, the back door slammed shut. The truck roared to life again, then started its bumpy road to an unknown destination.

Meanwhile, in the passenger seat, Herz was looking out the window, investigating the spot where the Apple family had vanished in the woods. He licked his lips, smiling as he thought of Applebloom.

"I know you're out there," he said under his breath. "I know you are."

- - -

Applebloom kept her face pointed at the ground, unwilling to make any form of eye contact with her sister, who trudged along quietly by her side. None of them spoke ever since they witnessed the capture of their friends, except for Applejack's occasional grunting as she put pressure on her shredded leg.

Big Macintosh walked quietly behind them. Even though he didn't know the Deacon or Rudolph fellas, they sure looked like good guys. Rainbow Dash was a completely different story; he knew her all too well. He remembered how, back in the happier times, she would sometimes show up at the Apple farm and even perform a trick or two. On special occasions, she would even go as far as try to start a conversation with him as he bucked. He soon found himself intrigued by her spunky and playful nature. If it was an innocent crush by the mare or not, it didn't matter now. For a decade she never showed any signs of interest toward the red stallion, and he was okay with that; he didn't really like the whole "romance" thing either.

It hurt him to lose a friend like that. Just to have them ripped away at such a sudden moment was devastating to him, but he didn't show it-- he didn't show a lot of things. It hurt him even more to see his sisters so down. However, if it wasn't for his attention, and his attention only, towards the path ahead, they would have never spotted a smoke pillar up in the sky.

He grunted to get their attention. "Look," he said, gesturing to it. "Must be a camp."

Applejack looked up slowly while Applebloom didn't look up at all. After spotting the dark column, her ears perked up.

"Never seen that before," she said. "I thought we were the only ones in a square mile. Is it a Blofigan Camp?"

"Doesn't look like it; those tend to have more than one large fire; at least five or so. We should still be cautious."

Applejack nodded as they continued on their way. A few quiet minutes later, they came to an opening of the Everfree. Of course, Big Macintosh was right; there were no Blofigan uniforms or jeeps nearby. The camp was made up of dozens of lit-up tents, some dark for the night. Technicolor ponies walked this way and that, minding their own business. It was then Applebloom lifted her head up for the first time since Deacon's capture.

A gun barrel was pointed at the back of her head. When AJ turned her head to discover this, another barrel jabbed her in the back of the head.

"State your name," came a feminine.. familiar voice from behind.

The Apple family gulped, unsure of what to do. If they were on their side, wouldn't they recognize it right away?

"...Sun Drop," the older sister finally said. The other two seemed confused at first, but quickly caught on the fake name after the next statement. "This here is my sister Golden Apple," she gestured to Applebloom. "...and my brother, Marlyn. We're one of you."

There was silence behind them. Then, a quiet chuckle. "You know, if that wasn't you Applejack, I would've shot you on the spot. 'Sun Drop' is a common name for Blofigan Impostures."

The gun barrel lowered, followed by the one behind Applebloom. AJ took this as a gesture to turn around..

Her eyes widened, and she stopped breathing. "...Rarity?"

The white unicorn smiled from under her army hat, which was ofcourse custom made to keep her mane stylish. Her body was covered by a white uniform, assorted with pockets and clips; it was an attire she would have never seen Rarity in before. "I can see you still have no sense of tidiness."

"Rarity!" Applejack embraced her friend wholeheartedly. The white unicorn smiled and hugged her long lost friend back. "How long has it been?" she asked, her shaking frame overwhelmed by emotion.

"Almost a decade, I believe," Rarity responded, smiling brightly. "Oh, so much has changed.."

"Tell me about it," Applejack said, tears of joy rolling down her cheeks. "I see your sense of style has definitely not changed.. and who's that?"

Applejack gestured to her right. A stallion, earth pony, stood by, holding a rifle. She recognized it as the barrel which was pointed at her little sister's head. He had a faded orange coat, a jet black mane and tail which were both combed, completed with crimson eyes. Set with a square jaw and toned muscles, he was noticeably handsome.

"Oh, him." Rarity blushed slightly. "How embarrassing; I forgot to introduce you." She trotted to the stallion, who smiled warmly at her presence. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and said something unrecognizable to Applejack. Obviously they were in a relationship. Rarity said quietly to her companion, "Ces sont Applejack, Applebloom, et Big Macintosh. Elles sont avec nous."

The handsome stallion nodded, smiling to them. "Bonjour," he said.

"He speaks little English; he's French," Rarity explained.

"Of course she would go for the Frenchie," Applejack thought.

"Applejack. Applebloom. Big Macintosh. I would like you to meet, Remy."

They all smiled and said their best Bonjour's.

"He's my husband."

They were quiet in an instant. Rarity was beaming with shy pride as Remy gave his wife a peck on the cheek, which turned red the instant after. All the trio's eyes were wide open, including the infamously stoic Big Macintosh.

"...Wow," Applejack finally said. "That... is great! Congratulations!"

Rarity's cheeks were pink as she said, "Thank you, Darling. I really do wish you would have known earlier, but things are crazy nowadays... Don't give me that look, Big Macintosh! We've known eachother for years; it's not Fake Romance."

"Yes," Remy said with a smile, the French accent huge. "For about six now."

"Wait, so..." Applebloom said quietly, her first words since their narrow escape. "You two are.. together? Like, married?"

"Indeed we are," Rarity said with a smile. "Oh, my, Applebloom! You've grown so much!" She rushed over to the yellow mare's side, quickly hugging her before examining her. "And you have your Cutie Mark! Oh, how wonderful! It seems just yesterday you would have died to find your special talent!"

The complimentee smiled, but not wholeheartedly. Rarity tilted her head. "What's wrong, dear?"

Applejack stepped forward. "Rarity.. We found Rainbow Dash."

"You've found Rainbow Dash?!" Rarity almost squealed. "My Goodness, how long it has been since I last saw her! Where is she now?"

Applejack sighed. "Captured. Along with two other friends." Rarity visually deflated at this, every inch of joy vanishing in an instant. Remy, although unsure of what was going on, saw his wife's expression and put a hoof on her shoulder. She sniffed, smiling a little at his touch. "Listen, Rares, we need your help, badly. We're all wounded, hungry, and tired, and Rainbow Dash was the only one who knew how to detach a bullet. Well, her and Deacon, but that's besides the point." Applejack took a step toward Rarity. "We need to stitch up, then get them back."

Rarity's eyes were watering at the loss of her friend, although the news of a chance of retrieving her brought hope to the white unicorn. "Actually, I think I can help... Follow me," she said. Then she started to walk towards the camp, Remy close behind. With an unsure shrug, the trio followed their friend.

- - -

"I must say, Deacon, your religion fascinates me."

Nathan, through a black eye and bloody cheek, looked up at Blauesherz. He was currently flipping through the pages of his own special Bible, which was confinscated from him. Nathan was secretly (and desperately) praying that it would soon return to him. If he wasn't tied to a metal chair, in a small room alone with the presumed-dead Captain, Deacon would have tried to retrieve it long ago.

"Hmm.. I like this 'Alma' character. In Alma, chapter 14, it talks about how Alma and his partner are tortured and forced to watch women and children burn.. all because they believed differently than the king."

Deacon almost chuckled at Blueheart's poor description. He forgot almost all the details of the revelation.

"You seem amused," Herz said. "Does my description amuse you, Mormon?" He shifted his grip on Deacon's Bible, as if about to tear the beloved book in half. Nathan's eyes instantly went wide and he shook his head frantically, mumbling through the cloth which covered his mouth.

"Nicht! Bitte, nicht!" he kept trying to say.

Blaues smiled. "Such passion over an assortment of stories. Don't worry; your stupid Bible isn't worth my time." He tucked it in Deacon's shirt pocket with mock sympathy. Nathan was visually relieved. "I hope your God helps you, because the reason I like Alma so much is that it reminds me.." he scooted close to Nathan, his bandaged face smiling devilishly. "...of what I'm going to do to you."

Deacon shrank while Blauesherz stood, turning to the guard at the door. "Geben Sie dem Mormone eine Zelle mit seinem Begleiter. Die blauen." The guard nodded before trotting over to the maimed human. He hoisted Deacon up, the latter groaning as his damaged bones ground against each other. As he was half dragged out of the room, he heard Blaues saying, "When you get to your cell, there will be a doctor waiting for you. In the meantime, I think I'll have a word with the Traitor, Rudolph."

Deacon could only stare as Blauesherz closed the door in front of him. After a few minutes of painful dragging, he was led to his cell, which had two paramedic beds installed in. Two ponies dressed in white robes were awaiting him, one already working on a reluctant Rainbow Dash's wing.

When the paramedic spotted him, his jet black eyes widened. "Was zur Hölle ist das Ding?" he asked his busy companion.

His partner took a glance at Deacon, then shrugged him off. "Ich habe gesehen, seltsamer Mutationen. Lassen Sie uns an die Arbeit." With a job like this, he had seen much weirder.

The black-eyed paramedic nodded, agreeing.

Deacon was, surprisingly, set gently down on the bed. The relieve was short lived, however, as they installed straps to his hands and feet, preventing any movement.

The paramedic appeared over his head, then started to remove the soldier's clothes. Deacon looked around uncomfortably as the doctor's cold hooves unceremoniously detached his jacket, then the continuous layer of clothing. Rainbow Dash glanced over, curious to see the human's body. Looking down at his body, his eyes skimmed over his frost bitten fingers (which had still not healed), badly wounded face, cracked ribs, and the bullet wound to his stomach.

His face stoic, the doctor held Deacon's blue fingers in his hoof. After examining it, he said to his partner, "Dies muss amputiert werden. Holen Sie mir eine Knochensäge" He stuck out a hoof to his companion.

Deacon could only understand so much German, but he could make out the words, "hand me a bonesaw."

Fear gripping him, he started to vainly struggle. The doctors payed no head to this as a bonesaw was handed to the white-coated pony. Rainbow Dash, through clenched and pained eyes, glanced at Deacon sympathetically. He was silently praying.

A brown hoof held Deacon's hand firm, the damaged fingers splayed for the doctor's examination. With horror, Deacon saw him raise his bonesaw steadily, positioned right above the human's squirming fingers.

"Be still," the pony said with his best English.

Then, the bonesaw descended. A dull pain was felt in Nathan's hand, and he heard something land on the ground with a metallic click.

"...What was that?" he asked alertly. After no answer, he frantically tried again in German. "Das war?"

The doctor stoically removed his hoof from Deacon's arm, bending to pick up whatever had fallen. As the view to his arm cleared, his eyes widened as he spotted his hand, now without the pinkie. His breath hitched as he examined the bluish outline of the frostbite, now no longer with a host.

"It was numb.." he said to himself. "There was no pain. It really was that bad?"

Rainbow Dash stared beside him, her wing now being covered by a crude bandage. "...Dude, I think you just lost a finger."

After tossing the severed finger in the trash can by the door, the Blofigan doctor said to Deacon, "It was bad. Plus it is fun to cut." Then, he continued his work on Deacon.

5: A Hellacious Death

5: Hellacious

Deacon couldn't sleep that night. It was like all the want to sleep from just a couple hours ago diminished altogether. His mind was filled with opinions and dwellings on the events of the day; not only did he manage to help his human friends finally cross the American lines, he was also brought back to life, teleported to a new world filled with technicolor ponies, had a couple bullets removed from usually fatal locations, was rudely awaken from a nap by the sound of gunfire, was a part of a bloody battle, got captured by a presumed dead Nazi (or.. Blofigan?) Captain, and had a badly frostbitten finger removed from his hand. To top it all off? His friend was currently being interrogated violently and without remorse.

Nathan's eyes were wet with tears as they scanned the pages of his personal Bible, desperately trying to drown out the sounds of Rudolph screaming from down the hall. He tried praying for the dreaded sound to fade away, but to no avail. He tried multiple times to focus on other things, but the profane German yelling always dragged him back to the ordeal. Even now, he was trying to focus on his Bible reading.

"John, Chapter three, verse sixteen," he thought to himself.

"Blöd, pathetisch Verschwendung von Pelz!" was the distant statement which brought him from focus. Cringing, Deacon tried yet again to continue his Biblical progress.

"For god so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son.." he whispered as he read.

"Ficken pathetischen!"

He almost jumped at the pure profanity which came from Blauesherz's mouth. He had dealt with such language in the Army, but never at this scale. Plus, he always hated profanity. It was the easiest way to drift to wickedness.

"...that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life."

Deacon almost dropped his Bible as the sounds of bones cracking echoed down the hall, followed by a muffled grunting. He sniffed, desperately praying that his friend was okay.

"Verse seventeen," his voice quivered. "For God did not send his Son to condemn--"

The noise of irregular hoofsteps in the hallway was the last straw. Deacon sighed, marking his place before tucking the small Bible in his shirt pocket. "I'll continue later," he said quietly.

As the unknown individuals neared his prison cell, it became evident one was severely wounded, being half dragged by two others. Occasionally a pained grunt or a slip of the hoof erupted from the hurt one. The only response from the two healthier ponies was a rough "Aufstehen," or a shove.

The hoofsteps stopped just outside Deacon's door. Curious, the latter looked up to find two Blofigans throwing a black pegasus in its cell, just across from his own. With a rough slam, the barred door shut the pegasus in.

As the Blofigan guards left, Deacon studied the pegasus. It was definitely young; at least about one year older than Deacon. The messy fur which adorned the body was black in color, along with a black and white mane and tail. He quickly recognized it as a she, judging by the long eyelashes above her eyes, which held light green irises. In a way, she resembled Rainbow Dash because of her mane style.

The next thing he noticed was how horrible her injuries looked. She had a black eye, a huge gash on her leg, and even a bandaged wing. All the wounds were crudely patched by the Blofigan doctors, barely helping.

For a few seconds, the mare looked gloomily at the bars, as if she could glare a hole of pure sadness through them. She seemed to not notice Deacon as she sniffed, looking over to the pathetic bed which was hers. He remained quiet as she trotted, defeated, to the itchy bed and lied down.

It was then she noticed Deacon staring at her, and her eyes immediately went wide. For a few seconds, the two just stared at eachother, not one word escaping their lips. Her light green irises seemed both frightened and curious as they scanned over the human's body, stopping occasionally to examine his wounds more carefully. Deacon let her investigate without a word, knowing it was useless to try talking to her first. She would most likely just not respond or turn away.

She blinked as her vision focused on his four-fingered hand, barely a rag protecting the grotesque wound from infection.

"...How did you get that?" she finally asked, only half expecting the human to understand her.

Deacon looked down at his maimed hand, just a dull pain making up its distress. He lifted it up for her to better study. "It was frostbitten. It had to be amputated."

She slowly examined the spot where the finger used to be. "...Frostbite? In the middle of Summer?"

Deacon shrugged. "It's a long story."

Another one of Rudolph's screams pierced the relatively quiet hallway, echoing off the walls. Deacon cringed, worry for his friend overwhelming. The mare caught onto this.

"That brown stallion," she started, tilting her head. "Do you know him?"

Deacon nodded numbly. "My friend. Rudolph."

The pegasus sighed. "Well, then, I'm sorry for your loss. Everyone who gets on Blauesherz' bad side is as good as dead."

Deacon looked down, a lump forming in his throat. He figured as much, but to hear it flat-out like that triggered something in him. The mare quickly recognized her brutal frankness and looked down, guiltily. "...Sorry." she said.

Deacon took a second to recuperate himself before turning back to the apologetic mare. Curious, he asked a question: "Do you know Blauesherz?"

She chuckled, shifting her position on the bed to better face the human. "Know him? I'm his sister."

Deacon's eyes widened, pulling a rueful smile from the mare. "Don't worry; I'm nothing like him. He doesn't even recognize me anymore."

"How does someone forget how their sister looks?"

She sighed. "He doesn't remember anything now."

Deacon looked at her, his face beckoning her to continue.

A black hoof from the mare waved nonchalantly. "Don't ask. That's all I'm giving away for now. That tale's for people I trust."

"You can trust me," Deacon reassured.

"I'm sure I can," she said sarcastically. A blank look from Nathan made her sigh. "I'm serious. Blauesherz may be... different now, but believe it or not, he was a good pony. A hero, actually." Her eyes shown with nostalgia. "A hero who's tale shouldn't be told. At least, not yet."

The human nodded respectively. He knew some tales are not to be told lightly. "So.. what's your name?"

She gave him a stern look, which made Deacon think he came off a bit too strong. However, after a while she responded. "Flecksturz. But I just prefer 'Starfall.'"

Deacon smiled. "I like that name."

Starfall just grunted. "It's Germane. Just reminds me what my nation has done."

Deacon shrugged. "My country also did stupid things."

Fleck smiled at the soldier's response. "So.. what's your name?"

"Well, my real name is Nathan, but I go by Deacon."

"Deacon? Isn't that some Mormon word?"

"Yeah."

Starfall nodded slowly. "Sooo.. are you, yourself, Mormon?"

"Yep."

Curiosity flashed in Fleck's eyes. "So, do you go on Missions and stuff? Do you pray and have control over nature?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I did go on a Mission and I do pray. I do not, however, have control over nature. God does that, but only when he has to."

Starfall looked at him, fully engaged in Deacon's religion. "...tell me more."

Deacon was taken aback. Never had someone asked him that; they usually just brushed him off or weren't interested, which he could respect. He expected Fleck to be joking, but her face was one of seriousness. He scratched his head, wondering where to start; the Ten Commandments would be a good place, but she would most likely question God's authority, starting her off badly.

But then he had an idea.

Deacon started with the creation of Adam. He took joy in finding someone who was deliberately interested in his beliefs, as it was a rare phenomenon which happened virtually only on his Mission. As he talked, the yells of pain from down the hall seemed to die down. Deacon was grateful for that; perhaps Rudolph was finding strength?

He could not have been more wrong. Down the peaceful hall was the interrogation room, which Rudolph and Blaues were currently in. It was just growing more quiet because of Rudolph nearing his death.

Tied to a metal chair, Rudolph could only whimper and sputter as Blauesherz worked his knife into the brown earth pony's stomach. The pain was overwhelming. If his voicebox wasn't already completely depleted from the yelling of the previous torture session, he would definitely be screaming.

"What does it feel like," Blueheart said menacingly, his cyan eyes filled with hatred. "To betray your own country? Hm?" He twisted the bloody knife, resulting in Rudolph moaning in pain, trying his best to hold back tears. "You know, Rudolph, the moment I layed eyes on you in the training academy, I knew you were going to be useless. I cannot tell you the shock I felt when you were chosen to be in my squad."

"Nn-nngg..!" was the earth pony's responce as the knife worked its way through muscle, scraping bone. He was used to the constant berating of Blauesherz' brutal words, but still, it hurt more than the knife in his gut.

After what felt like an eternity, Blueheart ripped the gory knife from the helpless stallion's belly. The latter heaved with pain, panting.

"You are pathetic," Blauesherz continued with a backhand to Rudolph's cheek. "I would die for my country. You, on the other hand? You would abandon it the moment the oppritunity presented itself. For what? To get layed by some rainbow bitch? Nutzlos, pathetische Stück Scheiße!"

Rudolph, as if a sudden surge of strength passed through him, gave Blueheart a deathstare. Then, he jerked his head forward, his hard forehead crashing into the pegasus' nose. There was a loud crack as the blue pony hissed, holding his now profusely bleeding nose.

"Gott verdammt Hurensohn!" Blueheart yelled, his eyes closed tight from the pain. Rudolph only stared at the result of his deeds, no knowledge of where the burst of energy came from surfacing. His forehead held no pain at all, as if the headbutt only hurt Blaues.

After a while, the pegasus looked up to Rudolph, his eyes full of hatred. "You've got balls, Arschloch." he grunted. "But you just signed your death warrant."

Blauesherz got up from his position, walking right past Rudolph. With a rough hoof, he grabbed the back of the chair holding Rudolph suspended, dragging him with him. Rudolph looked around frantically, struggling desperately to rip free from the metal chair.

Blaues dragged Rudolph through halls, doors, and corridors. The brown pony knew his oncoming fatality was existent, although he refused to believe it. He kept believing that he could escape somehow, his mindset the most optimistic part of the situation.

After dragging the brown pony through a door, Blauesherz was in the prisoner chamber.

"...men were ignorant back then," a calm voice came into focus. Blaues quickly recognized it as the human's. Most likely babbling about his religion. "They thought they could build a tower, leading to Heaven, so they could be with God. As they began, they--"

"SHUT UP!" shouted Blueheart. He could hear the sound of someone starting, most likely Deacon jumping from the sudden and brutal interruption.

A black Pegasus's head appeared from the cell across from Deacon. "Why don't you shut up?!" she shot back. "The guy's telling a story!"

For a second, Blauesherz just stood, dumbfounded. He did not expect somepony to retort, especially a mare. Then, he stormed over to her cage bars.

"Luder! HALT DIE FRESSE!!" he shouted as he grabbed her by the mane, then banged her head on the bars, hard. She screeched with pain as a gash formed on her forehead.

Deacon's eyes widened as he shuffled to his door, kneeling down to her eye level. "Hey! Hey, you okay? Sie gut?"

But the pegasus wouldn't look him in the eyes. Her eyes were downcast as she groaned, massaging her wounded area. It was as if she was ashamed of her wound.

Blaues gave her and Deacon a hard look, shifting his head to look at the two. "Oh?" he said with mock surprise. "Is she your marefriend? Ist das Liebe?"

"Hell no!" the mare said with sudden anger. "No offense, Deke."

Deacon shrugged, although it was clear she did offend him.

"Well, I don't believe it," Blueheart said. Then, he trotted to Deacon's cell. The latter backed away, unsure of what to expect. The black mare took a step forward, sympathetic to the human. Obviously, she cared about him at least a little.

Blueheart ripped the cell door open with incredible strength. Then, he grabbed the hesitant human by the shoulder and dragged him to the mare's cell. She backed away as Deacon was thrown into her abode, grunting as he hit the floor.

"If you're going to witness this," the pegasus said, closing the cell door. "I assume you'll need your little bitch to cry with."

Blueheart walked to Rudolph's chair, dragging him to the cell's view. Deacon's eyes immediately widened at his companion's state. Rudolph wouldn't look at anyone, as if ashamed with his position.

"Hey Rainbow Dash! Come see this," Blaues yelled. In response, Dash's head appeared from a cell down the hall.

"What the Hell do you--" she started, but didn't finish. When she spotted Rudolph, her eyes widened. "Oh, Faust, no.." she whispered.

Blueheart smiled smugly. "I figured I needed the whole gang here to witness this. Now, listen up, everypony!" He looked around, drawing the attention of various ponies in different cells. He could see some poking their heads out, some shaking the recognition off. Every other prisoner had their battle scars, most likely dealt by Blauesherz himself. He had interrogated and beaten so many ponies he couldn't hope to remember faces.

"This pony's name," he patted the brown stallion on the cheek. "is Rudolph. He is a Traitor to my country, betraying the Blofigan race by letting my squad be killed. As you can see, I beat him up real good. Beat him to a pulp, actually..."

As Blauesherz was giving his speech, Deacon stared at Rudolph through the bars of his cage. His eyes watered as he clenched his fists, the fingers closing around the bars between him and his friend.

Rudolph could only glance at Deacon. Although no words passed between the two, a million's worth was reflected in their eyes.

"...and I want all of you," Blueheart continued. "To witness what happens to Traitors!"

Rudolph gave Deacon a slight smile as Blaues finished his talk. "Don't worry," he said. He turned to Rainbow Dash, who was no better than Deacon. She sniffled, her eyes red rimmed. Tears flowed down her cheeks freely. He turned back to the human, who was currently reaching his hand through the bars, shaking tremendously. They were full of passion, to grab Rudolph. To pull him to safety. "My fall will be the beginning of your rise."

"Please, no," Deacon whispered, sniffing.

"Don't worry," Rudolph sniffed as Blueheart wrapped his hooves around his chin and forehead. As they clenched onto Rudolph's features, he made out the words: "If you truelly believe in your religion, then I am with God now."

Then, before Deacon could respond, Blueheart's hooves snapped backward, cracking Rudolph's neck.

The entire room fell dead silent as the death noise echoed throughout the chamber. Blueheart pushed Rudolph's chair, and his body, to the floor.

Deacon and Rainbow Dash both stared in unison at the corpse of their friend, unwilling to accept the young stallion's early fate. The remainder of the room were also downcast, some turning away hopelessly while others just stared.

"You.. You.." Rainbow Dash stuttered. "...son of a BITCH!"

"Say what you will," he said, bending down to grasp the back of Rudolph's chair. "But I thought I needed to teach everypony here a lesson."

"GO BUCK YOURSELF!" Rainbow Dash screamed, slamming her hoof on the cell door.

Blueheart only brushed her statement off as he exited the room, satisfied with his work. He dragged Rudolph's body with him, the brown head lolling to the side. Deacon stared at it, shaking. The face was one of horrification, with the capability of haunting Deacon until the end of his days.

Starfall gazed at the human from behind, sadly. The gash on her forehead just felt numb now; nothing compared to the pain she felt for the human. Hesitantly, she inched her way forward to the downcast Deacon, and awkwardly put a hoof on his shoulder. She definitely was not good with sympathizing, but for now she would make an exception.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she knelt down to his side. After no response from the human, she slowly dragged him in a hug.

Deacon only shuddered at first, but gradually he buried his face in her shoulder. She could see the tears in his eyes, although none fell. It was as if he refused to show weakness, but still wanted to mourn for his friend internally. He didn't speak, only stuttered with his words as his face contorted into one of pure sadness.

She acknowledged the way his eyes held no anger. That was amazing by itself; Fleck wouldn't hesitate to give Blauesherz a lesson. His eyes were only full of pity. She sighed, patting his back.

"He.." he finally made out, sniffling and gasping between words. "was so.. young."

Starfall looked down at the human, his messy and short dirty blonde hair obscuring her vision of the human for the most part. "...I know," she said. "I know now that.. Blueheart really did change. He's a monster."

Deacon shook his head gloomily. "No. He's misled. Confused. We all do many horrible things in War.. but killing someone so young, so helpless.."

Starfall hesitantly put her hoof on her youngerponies friend's head. She began to stroke his hair lightly. "Don't you feel any.. anger?" she chided.

"No," the human replied. For the first time, he looked up at her. She almost flinched at the raw emotion in his chocolate brown eyes. "I never feel anger toward the enemy. They are just another victim to the system of War. The only difference between us and them is our uniform colors."

- - -

Applebloom cringed as she saw a rust-colored hoof work around her eyes, only being able to imagine the deeds they were busy on. If she wasn't on pain killers, and completely numb on the face, she was sure she would be in excruciating pain.

"Ne bougez pas." Remy said through his paramedic mask as his experienced hooves worked around her maimed face. Applebloom could only guess what that meant.

The stallion's eyes squinted, focusing hard on a spot on her face. Without moving his eyes, he slowly reached over to his side, coming back with a pair of tweezers. She started to squirm, only to have Remy repeat his French statement, planting a firm, but gentle, hoof on her shoulder. He expertly and slowly reached down with the utensil. Applebloom's eyes widened as Remy slowly pulled a piece of gray matter from somewhere near her eye. He placed it on the tray beside him. Applebloom turned her head to look, only to have Remy repeat another French statement.

"S'il vous plaît, ne bouges pas."

Applebloom could understand the first word, but beyond that, nothing.

"Remy's asking you to not move, Applebloom," a nurse, who was currently working on Applejack, said. "Let him do the work; he's a professional."

She tried her best to ignore the assortment of dead skin and gore Remy removed from her face. After that was finished, he started to disinfect the wounds. Thanks to the numbness, however, she could barely feel a thing.

Applejack, lying just a couple feet away, received the same treatment. After her wounded leg was fixed and stitched up, her gashes and injuries were next. Big Macintosh was also receiving his well-earned healing. They were all on the sweet trail of healthiness.

Rarity entered the tent, the brief opening showing the herds of bustling ponies. As the tent flap closed, the white unicorn levitated a clipboard infront of her. "Hello, Darlings," she said.

"'Darlings'?" Applejack repeated, amused. "Is that what you just called us?"

"Some habits just don't go away," Rarity defended herself. The nurse working on Applejack giggled, fully accostumed to the unicorn's speech. "Anyways, I have good news and bad news," she said pleasantly.

The entire room, save for the three doctors, were instantly attentive.

"The good news comes first: we've located the Blofigan base, where your friends are being held."

Applebloom was the first one to react, sitting up in a flash. "Where are they?" she almost squeaked with happiness. Remy only grunted as he gently pushed her head back on the pillow.

Rarity shuffled her hooves, unwilling to put an end to the young mare's joy. "Well.. that's where the bad news comes in. They're in the camp: Festung Blauespferd."

Applebloom, instead of reacting as hellacious as before, just stayed still, letting Remy continue rub some sort of tannish lotion on her face. "So?" she asked nonchalantly.

Rarity sighed, looking down. "Festung Blauespferd's captain is Blauesherz." A look of nostolgia passed through her eyes, and Applebloom could have swore she saw a tear in her eye. "Or, in Equestrian, 'Blueheart.' Him and I... have a history."

Applejack, not as restricted to move as her sister, sat up and looked Rarity in the eye with shock. "What do you mean?"

"Well.. that's a story for another time," Rarity shrugged. "Please understand, but I'm afraid I cannot join you in your endeavors."

"What?" asked Applejack. "I don't understand! You can still plan with us to take over the camp.. right?"

"I'm afraid I cannot," the white unicorn sighed. "I do not want anything to do with Blueheart."

Applejack looked at her friend, hard and concerned. Obviously, the stallion had been a part of her friend's life. If it was for the worst or better was the question.

"Like I've told you," Rarity smiled sadly. "Much has changed. Please, I know it is rather selfish, but I beg you: respect my decision." Something in her eyes shown, but it was quickly drowned out. "Anyways, we've had this for a pretty long time. Here are the blueprints for Festung Blauespferd. There are dozens of ponies here who would gladly volunteer for your cause. I wish you the best of luck." She quickly trotted over to Applejack, laying the clipboard down by her arm. There was a blue paper on it, with various designs and levels labeled with white crayon. Then, Rarity turned and left the tent.

Immediately after, all eyes were on Remy. If he was her husband, surely he would know of this ordeal?

Remy didn't even have to look up to know what the Apple family was doing. Instead, he started to apply stitches to his patient's left cheek, closing a gash. "Je sais quelle vous croiyez, et je ne parle pas," he said nonchalantly.

The French-speaking nurse by Applejack spoke up. "He's not talking about it."

Applejack picked up the blueprints by her side as the nurse continued her work on the wounded leg. The base was relatively simply made; there was the entrance, then it curved into a wider, circular building. The interior was a different story. The white lines representing locations, walls, and levels all looked like jibberish to her. It was so jammed pack with information her head hurt as she studied the Blofigan workmanship, but she could get the basics. After a minute of studying the page, she knew where the gas chambers, interrogation room, Captain's Quarters, and the Prison were located in the complicated insides.

Then, a plan hatched in her mind.

We'll set off a distraction, first..

6: Steven Gould, KIA

6: Gouldmining

Everyone knew the story of the Medic, Steven Gould.

He was known as one of the only survivors of the Malmedy Massacre. Every survivors' story was heart wrenching and gruesome, filled with death and loss. But Gould's was the one which stood out the most. And the distress didn't start at the Massacre itself.

At first, when World War 2 was drafting in America, Gould was one of the first to willingly apply. With a background in medicines and psychology, a Medic was the perfect job for the eighteen year old man. However, after reality struck and he backed down, his father forced him to attend. That could definitely be the cause of his sour attitude, although nobody asked him.

Gould's career was solid and with good pay, but in no way did he ever like it. When children and young men died, he was among the first to witness it up close and personal. He was the person who held the person as they passed away due to mortal wounds, trying desperately to fix them. It wasn't worth the rare saving of a life.

However, none of the earlier horrors could ever compare to the Malmedy Massacre. On December 17, 1944, near Belgium, the 1st SS Panzer Division was searching and rummaging American Allies both dead and living, questioning the ones who spoke German and paying little heed to the ones who didn't. Gould was one of the latter, tending to the wounded and dying. He was scared and confused, mad mostly at his father who he blamed for everything bad in the Military.

He was treating a young man with a bullet in his knee when an American prisoner gave in to the pressure, and made a run for it. He was quickly dispatched by a Nazi officer, but that wasn't the end of the excitement. Chaos broke out in the location, Americans running and the few who stole guns from officers shooting, while the Germans easily picked them off. Gould's patient was shot again and killed, making the young Medic run for his life. The uprising was short, and resulted in around eighty American losses, but it provided a distraction for Steven and a select few others to escape into the snowy wilderness.

That's when the Medic found a group of other survivors: Oberon Winley, Shirly Kendrick, Gordon Gunderson, and Nathan Greer. Gould stayed distant from the group, not wanting a relationship as he knew something must certainly happen. Too many deaths had already happened in his life for him. He even insulted Nathan because of his religion as a sign of seclusion, as Gould was a strong Atheist.

After a two-day escapade in the German forest, however, tragedy fell upon the group and a dreadful firefight took place. Only Gould, Winley, and Greer were left. During that time, even if Gould knew he was right all along, he couldn't help but feel sorry for Deacon, who lost his best friend. At first, it started as a comforting pat on the back, then it went on from there. Eventually, they became best friends themselves.

But that friendship didn't last very long. The group had to cross a German camp, disguised, to reach American lines. But after that plan went to hell, they were stranded in the middle of a battlefield.

After a noble sacrifice by his late best friend Greer, or "Deacon," as he was called, Gould and Winley were safely transported to American lines.

It had been a night since the now-famous Deacon had passed away. Still, the memory haunts him. The thoughts of Gould's Atheism getting in the way of their friendship seemed smart at the time. But now, he was smarter, and knew the ways of his error.

But Gould still has a remnant of Deacon, something he would never forget him by:

Deacon's Bible.

In fact, he was currently reading the countless verses, intrigued by the contents of his late friend's religion.

Steven has never been a religious man. In fact, he was a strong Atheist.

Was.

Now, all he could think about was the endless revelations Deacon's Bible provided. He read the Bible by the verses, then the chapters, then the Books. He devoured the text, his heart swollen with greed for more.

More of revelation. The Bible.

More of Deacon.

In a way, it was a way to say sorry for how unfairly Steven had treated Nathan at first, solely based off of his religion. But now, now that he knew more than any school could have taught him, he could consider himself forgiven. Deacon would be proud.

It was late afternoon, in the infirmary tent which was newly appointed to the tired Medic. Ironically, Gould himself was the injured one. Almost all of his fingers were blue with frost bite.

The camp outside, although muffled, was calm. Camp fires all around were cracking and sissing, soldiers were talking about previous events, and everything sounded well.

Unlike the war which was on its peak in Genisis 14. Gould was currently reading the verses, silently noting Abraham's three hundred and eighteen soldiers' bravery. At first, when he confiscated the Bible from his friend's corpse, he was weary. But then, curiosity got the better of him, and he began reading. And never stopped.

But his inner peace was shortly lived. That was when the first signs of battle came from outside.

At first, it was a distant rise in volume of the voices in the camp. They quickly escalated from yelling to screams. Then came the gun shots. They sounded muffled and far away, but they were gunshots nevertheless.

The moment those were heard, Gould's reality shifted.

Steven's entire body became ice cold as he witnessed the first bullet enter Deacon's body.

His friend stood there for a moment, staring down at the wound in his chest. His knees buckled from underneath as another short was heard. A bullet whizzed into Deacon's heart: the death blow.

A tear slipped out from Gould's eye.

That was it. Just like that, his last friend was dead. And they were so close to Home...

Another gunshot. Another spurt of blood from his friend. This time, though, Deacon collapsed completely.

Even from this distance, Gould could see the head of his friend turning towards him. And, for the first time he saw Deacon smile. At him. But Gould couldn't smile back. All he could do was stare in pure horror as Nathan's curve of a mouth slowly dissipated, the light draining from his eyes.

"NO!"

Gould instantly dropped the book, his hands bolting to his ears to shut out the surprise chaos. A distant rumble took place, and more soldiers screamed. More gunshots fired. His tent shook and the outside was illuminated.

"No.." Gould muttered out loud. "Please, no.. This can't be another battle. I need rest..."

His only response was the ground shaking. As if it would do anything, Gould hugged his knees.

"This can't be happening," he repeated. "I just got out of combat.."

The flab to his tent opened quickly as a Paramedic rushed in.

"We have to go, Gould," he hurriedly explained. The second Medic was by Gould's bed side in an instant, dragging him off.

Steven only nodded numbly as he was led to the exit.

When the other Medic opened the flab, a deafening explosion was heard. Before Gould could catch a glimpse of the scenario outside, dirt and snow exploded into the tent, knocking both it and its occupants into thin air. When Gould landed, he was a mess of blurry vision, dirt, and blood.

Shellshocked and confused, he could barely make out the camp, but it wasn't the same anymore. Through bleary vision and ringing ears he could make out people screaming, faint explosions, and the black sky overhead turned orange by the fire. Steven groaned as he attempted to right himself, slowly and unsurely.

That was when a foot crushed his side in what he could only guess was a hard kick. Gould only grunted, dazed as he saw figures running around and over him. Another kick, this time in the chin.

The ringing in his ears only intensified as the boot broke skin. He let out a shrill yelp of pain, holding the bleeding spot.

But that wouldn't accomplish anything.

So, Steven groaned as he tried to shakily kneel up. Another kick sent him back down. The people running around him probably didn't even see him or were ignoring him completely.

Finally, a hand grabbed his jacket collar, pulling him up. Gould's senses worked hard to regain themselves once he was thrusted into a state of running blindly, bumping into other soldiers and knocking over tents.

Finally, his eyesight and hearing cleared long enough for him to capture the scene. All around him, soldiers were hurriedly getting their weapons and equipment, some still in their sleeping garments in the snow. There was no one wounded either on the floor or running, which was peculiar. In the midst of the chaos, various fires and smoke pillars were rising from between the soldiers. Gunshots, yelling, and explosions filled his hearing.

It was another battle.

Steven almost threw his helmet off of his head at the realization. He hated everything about War. The battles, the drills, the cruel sergeants.

Gould was rushed, more so by his comrades then himself, to the front of the camp, where a heavy firefight was taking place. Their were no breaks of fire, no quiet parts, and certainly no mercy. The Nazis were scattered across the woodland entrance around the American camp. For every kill made by the Allies, three more were made by the Nazis.

"Medic!" Gould heard from the crowd.

Anger pulsing throughout his system, Steven pushed through the crowd to the explosive front lines, searching for the distress call's owner. There were already about ten or so dead soldiers, either being dragged away by their comrades or lying still. But, soon enough, he spotted a wounded soldier being dragged to safety.

He jogged over to the woundee, stopping him in his tracks. He held a hand out to his friend as he opened his medkit. "I'm a Medic," he said. "Stand back."

The soldier looked down at his wounded friend, looking scared beyond relief. Gould didn't blame him; the wounded Private looked young. A little too young for the Army. He carefully sat the wounded friend down, the latter groaning in pain.

"Go back to the battlefront," Gould commanded him, showing his superior rank. "I'll take care of him."

The soldier reluctantly obeyed.

Steven, not wasting any time, filled a syringe from his medkit with a numbing drug. "It's for the pain," Gould said as he inserted the needle into one of the soldier's veins. The latter bit his lip, but said nothing. With a slow and steady push of his thumb, the clear liquid was inside the Private. Gould, fetching new supplies from his medkit, stole a glance at the soldier's name tag.

It read: Pvt. G, Barnes

As Gould withdrew his cleansing alcohol from the kit, he dared a small talk with the soldier. "Your name Barnes?" he asked, unscrewing the cap. An explosion shook the ground, making Gould cringe as he almost dropped the cap.

"Yes," came from the soldier. Barnes looked around uncomfortably. "My first name is Gordon, actually."

"You don't look like a Gordon," Steven remarked as he poured some alcohol onto a cotton pad. He then rolled Gordon's pant leg up, then padded the area around the gory hole with the liquid.

Gordon cringed, but the numbing drug helped resist the pain. A lot. Most people scream the first time. "I was born an Andrew. Changed my name when I was seventeen."

"Why?" Gould remarked. Now was the hard part. He took a pair of heavy duty tweezers from the medkit.

Gordon shifted uncomfortably in his spot once he spotted the tool. Obviously, the recent question was going unanswered, but irrelevant nevertheless.

"It won't hurt," Steven said. "At least, not a lot."

Before Barnes knew it, the tweezers were in the bullet hole. He gasped, but didn't scream.

"Do you know what happened?" Gould asked, working his way through muscle. "I was in the medical tent when it exploded. Kinda confused on this whole ordeal."

Gordon nodded, looking anywhere but the bloody metal digging into him. More gunshots and screaming was heard from around them.

"Nazis. I think everyone else is as confused as you. They came from the forest, spread out and hard to hit. They took out the guard towers with silenced weapons." A wet schlick from his leg briefly interrupted his explanation. Gould cursed himself under his breath; his focus had slipped from his patient. Something that should never happen. After a quick apology, Gordon gagged as he saw fresh blood ooze from the faulty move by the tweezers. "They shot me with a silenced gun in the leg. I screamed, and the camp must've heard me. Next thing I know, I'm in the middle of a firefight, wounded, and confused." Gordon gulped. "It wasn't a sniper shot; the wound is small. Right?"

Steven nodded.

Gordon looked at the messy hole and gagged again. "That's the part I don't understand. They could've killed me; I was standing still. They killed the other guards.."

Gould pulled out what he presumed was the bullet, and the perpetrator bounced off the hard snow below. It was unusually small.

"Looks like a pistols shot it," Gould marveled. He looked up at Gordon. "They don't have very good range. Did you see anyone come out to shoot at close range? Anything moving?"

"Nothing," Gordon whimpered. "I swear, I saw nothing. I didn't even hear anything, either. It was like the Nazis have some silencer that can not only lower the sound, but eliminate it. This is scary."

"Do you have any ear or eye problems I should know about?" Gould asked as he retrieved a cloth from the kit, and started wrapping it around the Private's leg.

"None. I'm healthy."

"Hm," Gould simply remarked as he tightened the cloth. He then tied it extra tight, to the cringing of Gordon. "There. No arteries or bones were damaged, so you're lucky. That's surprising, mainly because of the location. There's a major artery in your leg." Gordon nodded, mentally demanding to know the recover time. "But, I don't have enough information to know how long the wound will take to heal. Recovery time depends majorly on the pistol caliber and velocity, although both is unknown. Personally, I'll give it about a fortnight."

Gordon only nodded, thankful the bullet was out. "Thanks, anyways," he said.

Gould nodded, waving for someone to take him away from the battle lines. Not surprisingly, Gordon's friend from earlier came running to his aid.

"Wait," Gordon said hurriedly, pulling away from his comrade. "I need to tell you something."

Gould, packing the supplies back in their order in his medkit, only said, "Eh?"

"I know Deacon," Gordon said. "And... Just wanted to say I'm sorry. He was my brother in law."

Gould visibly faulted in his actions, and sat still for a second. But then, he shakily continued his packing. No words passed through his mouth.

"Well.. I just needed to tell him something," he continued. "I'm not sure it matters anymore, but my sister had a baby. Deacon's wife had a baby."

Gould's pessimism slowly settled in. "...Doesn't matter now, does it?"

"But it does," Gordon said. Steven noticed his voice cracked. "She died while giving birth."

Gould strapped his medkit to his waist, standing up. Sadness was evident, but otherwise he was uncaring. He's had enough drama.

"In all honesty, I'm sorry for your sister," he said, his face darkening under his medic helmet. "But we have enough shit happening here anyways. And don't ever talk about Deacon again."

Gordon looked like he was about to speak, before his friend hoisted him up and said, "Er weiß es. Er kann ihm jetzt sagen."

Gould froze in his place.

"German." he said, eyes wide.

Before he could do anything else, a shot was heard from behind. Unlike any of the other gun shots surrounding him, this one was louder. Closer.

Pointed at him.

Gould's knees collapsed from underneath him. He looked down, and found an open bullet hole in his chest. Blood spurted from it, showering the ground below and his clothes.

Steven slowly turned his head around, wanting to look his killer in the eyes, but only came across Gordon, holding a Luger pointed right at him. Smoke rose from its barrel.

"Tell Deacon what I told you," Gordon said. This time, however, his voice was deeper. Angrier. "He will be in a prison with a mare. Tell her this: 'Andrew Davis brought both of you here. Blauesherz' human is not dead.'"

Gould could only stare as another flash came from the gun, and another bullet entered his body. This time, Steven collapsed on the ground, panting lightly as death swiftly came to him. Before he died, though, one more sentence came from his bloody mouth.

"I don't follow your commands, Nazi."

Then, his head fell to the floor, darkness engulfing his vision.

- - -

"We'll need a distraction."

The statement came out of Applejack's mouth before she knew it was even out. Her two siblings both looked at her, as if surprised a plan could have come to light that quickly. Applejack didn't know why she said it herself, but the more she thought of it, the more it made sense.

"...Yes, we'll make a distraction first!" Applejack exclaimed, joyfully accepting the idea. "With these blueprints and Rarity's volunteers, we could start a distraction by our ponies killing the guards, maybe even setting off a few explosions. That'll be enough for us and a select group to sneak in."

The nurse operating on Applejack rolled her eyes. "With your current condition? You won't get within a mile of the camp, no way. You need to rest."

The orange former farm pony glanced patiently at the nurse, although a fire was behind her eyes. "With all do respect, Nurse, our three friends are being tortured in that building, and we are going to help them."

The nurse seemed aggravated, but didn't show it. "Not exactly an 'eye-widening' speech, but I don't expect much from wounded ponies, as their minds are scattered." (Applejack fumed with frustration at that statement) "Expect a lifetime of limping if you get shot again. Not many ponies get away with even one shot anywhere and no traumatization."

"I know somepony who got shot four times in the chest and is still functioning," Applebloom mumbled rebelliously.

Applejack coughed rather loudly in her hoof and made a "cut it!" sign.

"Oh, really?" the nurse said in mock unbelief. "Tell me about her."

Applejack gave her sister another signal to stop, but Applebloom seemed set on showing the nurse up.

"Him. And his name is Nathan, or Deacon." Luckily, Applebloom hadn't inherited her sister's profuse honesty. "He's an earth pony, and has had a lot of experience in the Military. He's a Hero."

"I wouldn't say 'Hero,'" Applejack corrected her sister. "But he did something very noble, yes. And he doesn't like it when people talk about him behind his back."

The nurse, now completely done with Applejack, pulled up a chair from the corner of the tent and sat. Obviously she wasn't being payed to do this part. "What did he do, exactly?"

Applebloom, finally realizing her error, gulped and glanced at Applejack. The latter only gave her a "Think before you leap" look, not offering any help.

The tent flap opened abruptly. The entire group turned to look, and was surprised to see a young stallion with a black coat and an equally dark mane in the doorway. It was evident he was a Private, considering his age and medal. The pony was dressed in the same greenish style of the other soldiers, although the helmet on his head was a bit oversized. The last part only reminded Applebloom of Deacon, and she sulked.

He looked as if he was about to speak, but a look from Remy quickly brought him back to realization. He unsurely saluted the Medic, then started to speak.

"Remy, Scarlett, there is a disturbance outside," he said unprofessionally.

Remy gave him yet another look. "En français," he said irritably, as if they were related.

Nurse "Scarlett" quickly explained to the clueless trio, "They're brothers. Remy is constantly trying to get him to speak French, it's some kind of tradition."

Meanwhile, the young black stallion looked as if he was shot. "Remy, this is serious!"

"Same with Tradition," Remy said in his best English. "You do not speak French, I do not respond."

The exasperated stallion sighed impatiently, doing a little dance with his hooves. Obviously this was important. "Remmy... Il y a une probleme... à l'extériere."

"À l'extérieure," Remy corrected. He glanced back at the trio, told them briefly to stay, then followed his brother out of the tent.

Through the thin tent fabric, they could hear Remy say, "Ton fançrais suce."

After a couple moments of awkward silence, Scarlett leaned back in her chair, her mood visibly happier than before. "His name is Arnaud."

Applejack gave a playful look to her sister. "Quite a handsome stallion, isn't he, Applebloom?" she commented. The statement made Applebloom look offended.

Before Applebloom could respond, however, Scarlett spoke up. "Oh, trust me, he doesn't like romance. Never once has he had a marefriend."

Applejack could sense some depth to the statement, as if Scarlett may have asked Arnaud himself.

Before she could ponder more on the subject, however, a commotion became evident outside. At first, it was just ponies yelling to each other, and hoof steps running past the tents.

Then, however, there was a massive wind current which struck the tent. The howling of fast air traveling between and around the tents of the camp instantly filled the room. The fabricate walls rocked back and forth, knocking over medical supplies. Scarlett was quickly on them, however, hurriedly cleaning them up.

"That's strange!" Scarlett had to yell over the howling of the wind and the piercing sound of a flag being whipped around. "Unless the Blofigans broke our War Rules, I think those are our pegasi make a tornado!"

Applebloom and Applejack both looked at each other, their eyes wide. Although they were safe from the awesome weather outside, their hearts were pumping as fast as the tornado.

"It's like when Deacon came," Applebloom said ludicrously.

As Scarlett was picking up supplies knocked from the table near the tent wall, Applebloom quickly sat up.

"What are you doing?" Applejack remarked.

"I have to see what it is," Applebloom said. "It'll only be a couple seconds." Then, she was out the flap, much to the dismay of Applejack.

The first thing Applebloom noticed was the wind. It instantly and brutally crashed into her frame, Applebloom shaking as her eyes watered. Her stitches began to reopen, and she cringed at the unpleasant feeling. After a few seconds of recollecting herself, she could muster up the eye power to steal a glance up.

As expected, there was a massive tornado outside the camp. Ponies, both dressed in military attire and undressed, were running around her. Some gave her nods of recognition as they ran past, some glanced confused at her beaten face, and some completely ignored her. Tents everywhere were being nailed down or just plain rolled up.

All in all, just a normal drill for an average tornado, made by their pegasi for an unknown reason.

But the mare knew it was much more than that. Applebloom, after a quick look at the wind-beaten tent behind her, slunk off to the edge of the camp, in the direction of the tornado.

Deep down, she knew this had something to do with Deacon.

7: Martyrdom of the Sane