Your True Colors

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Feelings and inner emotions are what define you and everyone else in the world. Emotions can tell someone whether you’re happy or sad, nice or rude. Occasionally, those feelings can get the better of anyone in the world, spiraling out of control like a raging bull or driving you into a pit of despair. But, when it gets down to it, every human being is the same, an instinct to survive and a drive to prosper in any situation presented, living with what they have. For this, that is the time they show their true selves, their true colors. And when we show our true colors, it is what permanently defines us in the real world.

All around was nothing but the noise of a constant plane engine, make that 4 engines running at once, all in rapid secession. The whirring of the propellers lulled many to a calm and somehow peaceful slumber where they hadn’t a care in the world. How could you catch sleep in this situation? A situation that was causing the others that were not affected by the white noise to become nervous and still thankful for their lives, how far they have come up to his moment. The ones that were sleeping used it as an excuse to escape realities problems and the events that were leading up to this moment; they were the ones afraid to face adversity and to forget the life’s problem. But, they had every reason to be nervous and yet thankful for life, for their lives could be lost, hours from now.

He looked about the plan where his fellow soldiers sat in lines on the side of the plane itself, each chair filled by a passenger. Each of them had a same expressionless face as they starred to the floor or to each other across the cargo room. Close friends quietly talked to each other, sharing laughs and stories about their previous adventures and mishaps that adorned the past. For the most part it was completely silent in the longhouse-like cabin of the plane; only the whirring diluted the silence. The only thing he could do to pass time was play with his hands a little, twirling his thumbs under and over each other as each ticking second past. He leaned forward whilst doing just that, looking to the floor to gain focus and to calm himself.

The cabin wasn't completely empty after all; it was actually full of equipment that was going to be very useful in combat. Mesh ran along the expanse of the walls to hold guns, clothing, equipment, and many other things that were of no use right now. Through the middle of the room were large crates that probably weighed 1000 lbs each, the contents of the crates contained ammo for guns, mainly for PKP’s and Ak74’s which were standard issue for Russian forces. To put the cherry on top, 2 T-90a Russian tanks armed to the teeth with both 105mm and 125mm Armor Piercing Sabot/HE-Fragmentation shells and a 7.62x54R PKMT coaxial machine gun in the main turret. The man always loved the T-90’s, their sleek design and yet still rugged texture made the thing intimidating, granted that if a 2A46M 125mm tank gun was starring you down, it’s always intimidating.

He went out of his trance and noticed the soldier next to him had taken a drink from his flask that he carried, it was worn and yet still retained it silvery shine. His ski mask hid the face of the nameless person who looked seasoned in the arts of battle, he also had no expression to his face as he wiped the excess liquid from his lips. The man went still for a second as he looked to his next door neighbor, smiling a bit. “Khotet’ nekotoryye? (Want some?)” He asked in Russian, holding out the flask to him. He looked at it a bit and decided might as well, “Spasibo. (Thank you)” The Russian grabbed the flask and pressed it against his lips, taking a large gulp of the surprisingly good alcohol. He handed it back to him, he instead licked his lips clean, bourbon was his favorite. He never liked that foreigners always depicted Russians with vodka, it was pre-programmed bullshit to him.

It seemed only fitting that he introduced himself to this random person that sat next to him. Even though they had never met before, they were still in the same army, fighting for the same cause. He now spoke in English as went back up against the walls of the plane, relaxing. “I’m Stanislav Rodion.” He held his hand out and waited for a handshake, the man responded. “Sergei…” He also responded in English, as he returned the professional and firm handshake. His name came from his mouth with a firm tone, but the long silence in the end had thrown Stanislav off a little. “Listen Stanislav, once you’re out there, stay focused and ferocious like a bear or like the harsh Siberian winters, the Americans will show no mercy against you.” Sergei responded in a serious and informative tone, Stanislav nodded in respect for his words. “Call me Stan.”

/././

“Yes, I am aware of the situation good friend. Intimidation is something that can go a long ways when fighting for your life. It really can mean the difference between life and death when you get in their head.” Stanislav looked up to the ceiling and nodded with himself, Sergei looked about the room. “I envy that friend; bravery is something our army lacks these days, if only we had more like you.” Sergei replied in a heavy Russian accent, he really was a true Russian from birth. Stan laughed softly. “Hehe, well what do you expect when I get to wear bulletproof armor huh?” His Russian accent was the opposite of Sergei’s, light and barely noticeable when he spoke in English.

2 hours of small talk later…

“From the looks of it Stanislav, you seem to be Spetsnaz Support. Damn, I imagine that the training was vigorous huh?” Sergei said smoothly as his hand reached up and patted Stan’s shoulder in approval. “Yea, I knew it would be but, being in those forces was what I dreamed of becoming since I was little. I was always the one who liked helping out squads, the role just called to me. And, you can’t beat light machine guns when up against a lot of people.” Stan replied with happiness when he reached for his PKP Pecheneg that sat on a rack above him, caressing his gun in what appeared to be a loving embrace. He handed it the Sergei who looked at it with respect and also love for the Russian ingenuity.

“A fine gun indeed, easy to load and suppressive as hell.” He lifted up the belt feed cover and checked the pullback of the bolt on the side, then looking through the deactivated holographic sight. “How many rounds have you put through the thing?” Sergei said to him as if he should know the answer, Stanislav immediately dismissed it. “*Pfft* More than you can imagine.” He responded in a joking sort of way, just as Sergei ran his finger across the full barrel.

“What can I say, it’s my pride and joy. Chose the paint myself too.” They both thoroughly inspected the well done but worn flecktarn urbanized paint job that suited the weapon swimmingly. On the side of it was a scratched in saying that was carefully carved in by the wielders knife so long ago. It had said ‘podavlyayushchiy ogon'’ which meant ‘suppressing fire’ in English. It ran along the barrel of the gun, it was the perfect place for the customized feature. He put the gun back onto the rack and looked to the cold floor of the plane, arms crossed.

Stanislav Rodion was a very well built man; the soldier had to be masculine if he was expected to carry nearly 100 lbs of ammo and occasionally C4 explosives at all times. He was pretty average when it came to height, which was surprisingly, and exactly 6 feet tall, just more room for ammo. As for his appearance, Stan was mildly tanned with large arms and legs that contributed to the masculine subject, but his body overall was still lean. He had brown hair that was he kept styled to sweep sideways atop his head, having a soft, spiky look. Stan had blue eyes and a slightly oval-ish face, his beard was just mere stubble as he had a goatee of black. A fine soldier indeed.

His exterior, (which was his armor and equipment,) was a heavy infantry uniform and suit. The helmet was a very unique looking wielders helmet, morphed into a more spherical shape to be used in combat. His ski mask that was under the helmet covered everything but his lips and blue eyes, the face shield was up at the moment. The chest plate was thick Kevlar which was meant to withstand a shotgun blast at close ranges, buckshot of course. Stanislav’s front and back was adorned with pouches and bags that were put into place by belts and harnesses to hold the ammo and equipment he carried, which were full. His arms and legs were covered by breathable fabrics, only to be layered by armor plating. Cut off tactical gloves and boots added the touch of a force to be reckoned with.

Stan knew that the time was coming for drop off, which meant boots on the ground. The others around them had started to wake their fellow comrades from sleep, pissing them off more than they already were. He was questioning himself as whether he would make it out this time from the battle, a battle that will come from the pits of hell like the others he had fought in. He controlled his breathing to a minimum as he personally rallied himself to be brave and fight with honor. Gazing at his bayonet which shone brightly, it had never stabbed anything with flesh besides strings and fabric. His trusty MP443 which has seen much us during his tours, he never really knew if it killed that one long ago. That memory was just a blurry nightmare to him, all around was just explosions and gunfire which thankfully, muffled the cries of pain from wounded soldiers on both fronts. The mystery person he shot had fallen, the face he had when I popped up from behind cover was unforgettable. He wasn’t prepared for a surprise like that when he saw the pistol rise up, a face of pure shock. Alas, the amounts of bullets that came at us was all too great to even check if he had died, even though he was an enemy, Stan was a humane being that wouldn’t want things to suffer, even if he was killing others that didn’t deserve death.

It was sickening to him, he was just a private at that time and he was so eager to take the life of another man. A person who fought against him and he was supposed to kill with orders, it was in his nature to follow them. Stan had failed to realize how much he could be wrong, what if the enemy wasn’t really bad, if they were decent beings that would become friends quickly through friendly chatter. This thought had crossed his mind so much that it was uncountable, never really talking to an American soldier, he really wanted to in a peaceful manner. But he wouldn’t act with stupidity; he would protect himself if someone had threatened him to die, even if the person was a decent being as well.

“10 minut! (10 minutes!)” Yelled the pilot from the near end of the room before disappearing into the cockpit of the plane. Stanislav popped his neck a few times, trying to forget about the possibility of death or being captured as a prisoner of war. He closed his eyes and thought of happier times when there was no conflict between the 2 major super forces, where you could have not a care in the world. Those were times where economy flourished and peace ran worldwide, somehow brought together by an unnatural force. Why would peace be abundant and run rampant in a world that has only known war and superior force over one another ever since man roamed the Earth? It confused him, he had never understood why there was peace in the first place, treaties that were signed and handshakes of agreement, only to be inevitably discarded and torn through differences, it was the balance of mankind itself.

A sudden rumble that boomed from outside echoed through the room, now causing all of the inhabitants to stir from their thought processes of fond memories. “proklyat'ye (Damnation)” He mumbled as everyone grudgingly hoisted themselves from the comfort of their chairs to prepare for drop off. Stanislav found himself doing the same. “Lightning? This just gets better by the second.” He shook his head in humorous disbelief as he also shook his boots to make sure they we secure. He quickly reached into his chest pockets and took a little notebook out of the compartment, which also had a little pen to go with it. He struggled to open the thing as he was a shaking, nervous wreck, when he opened it; the notebook was full of ‘battle logs’ which to him were what he wrote down before war.

Stan took hold of the pen and began to write down in Russian, he tried finding the right words to express into his journal entry. He wanted to write about courageousness and his last thoughts, in case he did die. He finally found the words…”To all who reading this passage, my name is Stanislav Rodion of The Russian Federation. I am a Lieutenant in the Russian Spetsnaz Armed Forces, which I have seen too many horrible things over my years to get to that rank. I write this down as a sense of closure, for they may be my final thoughts and sayings as I get launched into a warzone. In the events that you find this, I beg that you tell my mother, Gerda Rodion in Moscow, Russia about my disappearance. If you find this on my body, then it is obvious I am deceased, and if not present, then I am most likely Missing in Action. I am 23 years of age. Date – August 4th, 2021.”

Stanislav nodded in affirmation as he then closed the book and placed both pen and paper into the hidden compartment that was in his chest plate. He jogged over to the crates to inspect them for parachute flaws and to secure them well, 10 others joined him as they went through standard protocol. He bent down in a crouch position as he used a metal wench to tighten the reins on one of the crates, his comrades doing the same on all the others after they checked parachute equipment. “bezopasnyy! (Secure!)” The man yelled for all to hear, others started to yell the very same thing in different pitched voices and tones, patting their handiwork. Walking back to his part of the plane, he looked down and checked his equipment to be secure to his body, patting the straps and clips that kept pouches closed.

Checking his MP443 was essential as well, he pulled the slide back and watched a round chamber itself into the barrel, he released his grip on the slide which then snapped back into its rightful place, it was a satisfying noise as he holstered it. He reached up to his PKP Pecheneg and grasped it tightly; releasing all the nervous tension he had built up in the plane ride into the carrying handle, good thing it was made of steel. Through all of the drop offs he had been through for years, he had never been this nervous before going into a battlefield, it still felt off to him that he was acting this way. Stan did the same thing to his light machine gun, but he didn't put an ammo canister on the gun for it would have a high chance to fall off in flight. The gun oil he had in his pocket found itself in his hand as the belt feed cover was lifted, he inspected the gun and oiled the moving parts so they wouldn’t freeze up a really bad scenario, but there’s only limits to what a weapon can do.

After placing the oil back into his pockets, he hefted the gun to his chest and let it rest there for a bit. He grabbed harness clips from his shoulders and clipped his gun to the front of his body, snapping them onto the skeleton stock of his gun and the carrying handle for maximum safety. “2 minut! (2 minutes!) Yelled a different voice in Russian that was relatively near him, making him stand straight for an odd reason. A pair of goggles that everyone was given for skydiving was on the rack above his heads, he stretched the elastic on them and carefully placed the things on and over his eyes.

A flight instructor ran past him, he knew that it was about to begin. Stan felt a sense of regret and sadness, in the years of training and service, every drop in or even tour, he never really had a person to back him up on anything, no friends. The friends he did make moved on, they went to different squads and never see each other again, sometimes they were even Killed in Action. With that, he was really dull in most situations, but with dullness comes the ability to sense emotions from others around him, and they were bad.

“podklyuchit! (Hook up!)” Upon command, everyone prepared there safety hooks which was a simple snap on piece of metal connected to nylon threading. They placed the hooks onto a long bar that ran the expanse of the plane, made exactly for soldiers to drop in from the skies. He didn't move as every moment passed him like he was stuck in the sands of time, everything appeared slow to him. The man promptly shook his head to snap out of it yet again, “Stop! A soldier never gets side tracked; stay focused and stay on the mission assigned.” He said to himself in his mind. As of now, he was actually getting frustrated with his own self for becoming so gullible and weak-minded. Frustration that was radiating off his thoughts had also fueled the fact that he was actually incredibly nervous, but still had a sense of eagerness. Perhaps it was an eagerness for adventure or even trying something he had never done before, like he was ready for anything.

Stanislav had a thousand yard stare that was fixated on the closable ramp that permanently held its place in the back of the plane. At any moment, it would open them all to a hostile world that only wanted to kill them and see them suffer. The only thing that the inhabitants of the plane could do is fight back and overcome, to exert their might on anyone that dare face them. He did a mental checklist to remember everything he needed. “Parachute,” he felt a bulky back and dangling rip cords in the front. “Weapons,” his hand felt up his PKP Pecheneg and MP443. “Ammo,” he looked down to his full pouches and bags, then randomly to his canteen. “And helmet.”

He gingerly glanced upwards at the piece of metal that was securely strapped to his head. He motioned his left hand and tapped the visor twice, doing the exact same with his right hand. To Stanislav, it was a sign of luck on the field, to protect him. It also meant that he hoped ever so much not to die in battle, to see another day in the future and hopefully a peaceful one. “proverit' linii! (Check lines!)” The instructor yelled through the room with a small pause between the ‘check lines.’ Stan straightened out his nylon line and tugged on the hook.

A red light illuminated the room even further than it was, in fact, Stan never realized that it had been on for minutes before he took notice. He shielded his face from the howling winds that came from the rear, the ramp slowly creaked open to reveal a mix of storm clouds and afternoon sun. It didn’t end there, an unmeasurable amount of planes dotted the sky around them, they all looked like birds finding their prey as hundreds flew over the drop zone.

Without warning, the crates that were only feet away from his figure were suddenly dragged out from the ramp like something monstrous grabbed hold of it and tossed it out of the plane as if it were a toy. The noise that it created was so loud that he couldn't hear himself when he talked, and the screech that it made as well could destroy the ears of anyone who wasn't wearing their hearing protection. He counted each one as they passed by, each of their parachutes deployed the second they left the relative safety of the plane. Once again, Stanislav controlled his breathing so he wouldn't hyperventilate during his free fall, which could cause him to die, he needed to stay calm.

Suddenly, the red, glowing light turned into a vibrant and colorful green. A piercing beep rang through the cabin of the plane, signaling for all of them to run to the exit. His face grimaced as he saw one after another run for the exit, wearing a face of brutality and stone, he did the exact same as his fellow counterparts.”Eetee! (Go!)” The instructor motioned his gloved hand to the exit, repeating the words every second and as every man passed him. His instincts were the only things that carried him out, all he did was put one foot in front of the other. Every step, he came closer and closer to the exit, counting the people in front of him as he ran. “5…4…3…2…1…Voosh!” Stan jumped from the plane with amazing speed and dropped like a rock, plummeting into this hostile world below.

Within the confined view of the helmet and goggles, it was nothing but the static of lightning and the jet black planes that flew about. His soldiers passed him by, each holding their arms and legs out in the same free fall pattern. They all had to focus themselves to the objective below, guns and loose items violently shook in the wind as they dropped faster and faster. The thought that had to be running wildly through all their heads was why they were not receiving any flak or AA in return of the approach. That was the small relief they had, not having to worry about other obstacles whilst airborne so they could collect themselves when everyone hit the ground.

It was at that moment, just seconds out of the plane that was thousands of feet in the rather chilled air, the hairs that were attached to everything on his body stood up, though it was hard to feel with his armor on. The towering thunderheads that engulfed the crew were all to menacing when lightning could be seen surging through them constantly. The arching of the lightning bolts crossed over to other clouds, becoming more and more frequent below him. The thing that threw him off even more was the lack of noise all the lightning bolts were creating, no crack or boom ensued.

A sudden ethereal memory flashed before his eyes as he was blinded by the brightest thing he had seen in life. Sparks flew around him as the lighting that had struck him dissipated slowly around his body, he didn't pass out from the jolt he received, it didn't even affect him at all. "What? How can this be!?" Stanislav said out loud, only to be muffled away by the wind. He never realized that everything around him had silently vanished, no soldier or plane could be seen or heard, only the clouds remained the same. Stan twirled his body around to see how far he was from the plane, the felt breathless when he only found cloud cover.

A good minute had passed after the lightning show had stopped, he scanned desperately for the looming ground. He had the sudden idea that the ground may be covered with fog and wouldn't be visible from above. Struggling to maneuver his arm over to his chest, he finally ripped the cord loose from its place. The whiplash that came with a sudden slowdown like that could of been deadly if not trained properly. Not a second later, he spotted ground below his body, which was laden with thick trees and chirping birds.

Chapter 2

Celestia/Luna (Canterlot)

It was early in the afternoon hours as Celestia sat atop her throne, the place she made important decisions for the good of Equestria. Her golden magic writing away on parchment was she was neck deep in paperwork that involved her royal court duties and approvals for many randomized subjects. Her soft and caring eyes swept across the papers with rapid secession, signing her name and a stamp of approval at the end. It was all quite simple to her, after hundreds of years to practice, it was nothing to her of course.

After many minutes of tedious writing and stamping, she found the need to walk around a little, Celestia had all day to finish her things. "I will be back in a moments notice." Her voice carried through the hall with emphasis as she was royalty after all. The guards nodded and stayed in their fixed positions, not moving a single muscle afterwards. Celestia stepped down from her rather plush throne and into a hallway on the side of the main hall. The hallway was adorned with large window arts and murals of previous history events that have helped shape Equestria. Her perfect mane blew in the non-existent breeze, shining brightly with soft colors of green, pink, and blue. A crown of elegant gold that sat atop her head and large horn. Celestia's horseshoes, (finely crafted gold pieces that are not even close to horseshoes), produced a soft metal clank on the marble floors that passed her by.

Every work of art she passed by reminded her of grand memories and the accomplishments of the Bearers of Harmony, the way they always saved the day with the limitless power of friendship. The one that touched her the most was Luna's Return, the old mares tale that came to the surface, like it was supposed to. How she told Twilight she was reading too many of those mares tales caused a small giggle to escape from her mouth. At the same time, she felt a certain happy that could cause tears to roll down her face, it was when Luna and Celestia were reunited after 1000 years of crippling sorrow.

She continued on to Luna's chambers which were relatively close to her by now, the way she carried herself was grand. Her face was emotionless except when few passers by bowed to her, she would smile a motherly smile and gratefully say "hello" to anypony that did, which was everypony. Each window she passed by illuminated sections of the towering hall with a wide assortment of sharp colors and blurry figures on the opposite wall from them. It was when Celestia passed the blank one next in line, she felt an abnormally large surge of Sky Magic in an all too familiar place. Something was happening in the land she and her sister ruled over, and Celestia was always one to protect her ponies if harm were to happen, she quickly opened the door to Luna's humble abode, just to be greeted by darkness.

"Sister! Arise from your slumber, surely you just felt the same sensation yes?" Celestia trotted over to the deep blue and black bed that lay at the end of the room. Luna herself was enjoying the comfort of a well deserved rest as she lay under the soft covers of peace and tranquility. Celestia tapped her sister on the neck and proceed to nuzzle her awake, it worked perfectly. Luna made a series of grunting noises and shooed Celestia away playfully. "Yes Tia, I know I know..." Luna grudgingly hoisted herself from comfort and into the presence of her big sister. "What do you think it is sister? Sky Magic does not occur in such large pockets naturally." Luna cocked her head a little sideways as she slightly looked up to Celestia. "I haven't a clue, but whatever it is, we must be ready for anything that may come. Walk with me Lulu." Celestia smiled at Luna's expense as she blushed a tad, she never liked to be called that. Luna shook here head and only commented with a soft smile, there was no reason to fight it.

"What do you think we should do Lulu?" Celestia smirked again as Luna hit her on the side. "I don't know, but maybe we should watch what we're saying, you know I hate that!?" Luna tried with all her might to conceal the laughter building up, but it was too much to bear. Celestia nodded with a now solemn face as she remembered all those lonely years without her sister. "It is good to know that your happy Luna, it would of been completely different if that incident wouldn't have happened." She looked to the sky as she past the window again. Luna placed here hoof around Celestia. "Not another word Celestia, I was not myself when it happened and you did what you had to do. That is all in the past now."

Celestia nuzzled Luna out of sheer appreciation for having her back and for her words of encouragement. "Thank you dear sister." She released her head from the sisterly love and continued to walk along the hallway. Both Celestia and Luna's being and figure were perfect, goddesses of light and dark that had no imperfections to their bodies or duties. Each, a crown of respect and admiration, defining their roles as princesses of the sun and moon, day and night. They were the true examples of perfect to all that bestowed their first glances upon them.

"Send a letter to Ponyville, gather the Bearers of Harmony and tell them to look for anything out of the ordinary..." there was a long pause. "Luna, I want you to go there for the time being, to check it out with them." Celestia let it sink in as Luna raised her head up to Celestia, Luna nodded in respect. "You can count on me Tia. I shalt not fail." Luna said with a suppressed proud tone to hide the actual amount. Celestia smiled softly to her and motioned her to get moving, "I know you won't." In seconds, Luna teleported from vision and was now undoubtedly in Ponyville. Celestia repeated what was said to Luna into the air around herself, "I know you won't..."

Author's Note

There's some Celestia and Luna time with each other. Enjoy

Chapter 3

Stanislav Rodion (Somewhere in The Everfree)

Stan tried with all his intellect to recall what had just happened up in the sky not seconds ago. His thought processors were running off the charts as every second felt like agonizing long minutes. Those thoughts lead to questions and those questions lead to the ensuing panic that followed closely. The panic slowly built higher and higher as he fell closer and closer to the treetops below, the dangers that may lie below them as well. Panic is an emotion that had no rightful place on a battlefield, with panic comes no coordination and poor focus. It is something that must be taken by the horns to control, to kept it in check at all times.

The question that caused him to panic in the first place, after seeing his comrades randomly vanish and being struck silently by lightning was, "Am I dead?" He cocked his face and eyebrows in a disgusted look under his mask and helmet. Stan then started to touch is body in a weird way, patting his legs and arms for a few passing moments when he lost track of is location. The treetops slammed into his armor and face, causing it to sting slightly. Each branch was a luscious green with a mix of dry twigs, snapping and whipping him as he pierced through the thickness. He was abruptly stopped by a rotting branch that then fell about a story to the ground,he was caught afterwards by his parachute in the branches.

The ground was covered with brambles and thorny vines what were all kinds of sizes branching out in all directions low to the ground. Stanislav dangled in the air by his parachute just above the thickness of everything, unsure of what to do. He motioned for the headset he had enclosed in his helmet to speak through comms. The piece was very useful for gathering information about orders and what was needed to be done. His hand pressed down on the speaker button to talk on the same frequency that the other Russians were supposed to be on. He stuttered a little due to the shock he was in.

"Privet? (Hello?)" He finally said clearly into the microphone, hoping that something would come back and respond. Stan waited for a minute before he was greeted by constant static. He trashed the Russian and went to English, "Hello? Is anyone out there?" His voice was booming and clear through the microphone, enough that he heard himself through the speaker section. Static again.

"This is what death fells like? I fell so real though." He looked back down to his body and dismissed it. "There has to be something more to this." His stubbornness kept telling him he can't be dead, that their should be more to death than being in the same scenario he started out in. His eyes stared down to the ground again, he knew he needed to get down.

"Alright, it would be wise to scout the area." He said out loud into the musty air for no one to hear. Stan loosed his grip on the parachute handles that controlled his glide downwards. His hand motioned to one of the pouches on his back, the clip snapped open and gave him one of the emergency flares he carried at all times. Stanislav held the flare to look at its appeal and ingenuity, how the world has made so many things that he had taken for granted, this one was light. The cap suddenly snapped off and carefully landed in his hand. His left hand firmly grasped the cap and with a powerful rub against the flare, the flare sparked to life in a mass of spewing red flame.

Without a moments notice, he gingerly tossed it to the clearing that was below his clad figure. It illuminated the slightly dark area with a blinding light that could be seen for miles if it were night. The billowing smoke surrounded him and lightly made its way into the sky, it was slightly black so it could be seen as well. "Ok, now the parachute." The parachute was the hardest thing to take off when skydiving, the intricate straps and strings that the Russians used were pointless. It was hard to take off on solid ground, the fact that he was dangling in the air only tightened the harness on his body, making it rather impossible.

A minute of work only yielded one of the three straps connected to his body to be finally snapped off. His legs unknowingly thrashed about helplessly in the open air as he was getting fed up with the parachute, putting his strength into the firm cords. He heard the sounds of his parachute starting to buckle from the lack of support of weight, but it wasn't him. He noticed that he didn't get any looser from the noise and went into confusion, still working away.

He then looked up to see where he was with the parachute connected to him, a dark shadow formed all around the area. A black rectangular mass with 3 large parachutes slowly drifted down right over him. His pupils widened to the size of marbles as it slowly came closer, stumbling to get free. "Oh shit!" Was the only thing that loudly mumbled from his mouth. Time was not on his side as the tank drifted closer and closer, he tried in vain to release himself from the tomb. "Come on! Come on!!" He stuttered as the branches above started to snap and fall. His body was flailing violently as his hands started to bleed from the fine cords he pulled on.

Then something went off in his head like a bomb, without thinking he grabbed his bayonet and swiped the cords above his head in desperation. His breathing was thick and sweat trickled down his face as all the strings on his left where completely gone. Stanislav skillfully tossed the knife into his left hand the cut through everything on his right. Yelling as he suddenly plummeted downwards to the hard ground. Upon landing 3 seconds later, he let out a large grunt as his legs buckled, then landing to his hands. The knife had cut his thumb about half a centimeter deep, he hissed from the sting but it was manageable, even though the blood was dripping constantly.

The pain didn't stop the tank from falling on him, he had already forgotten about it until a branch landed in from of him with a thud. There was no time to look up as he hurled his body into a patch of soft grass a few feet away. Not a second had passed when a loud boom echoed through the forest, the tank had come to a stop on the ground, his leg only a foot away from the tracks. Stan controlled his breath and let out a suppressed but audible laugh of amazement and joy. "Hahahahaha, thank Lenin's name!" Stan shook his head in disbelief and patted his chest. He then slowly raised himself and looked at the tank, snickering a little "There's my transport."

Before he could check it out, or to even collect himself, voices had started to drone behind him about 100 feet away. Stanislav automatically dropped to the ground to not be spotted. "What do y'all reckon that was fellas'?" He recognized it as English with a twist of a rural tone. Another voice that sounded royal and feminine spoke out in conclusion. "I have not a clue fair Applejack, but a storm is approaching here, I will continue my search for her and the anomaly that has taken place. I want all of you to go back to Ponyville and stay on guard, all of you have done well." It spoke righteously, another protested. "Are you sure? Its dangerous out here, especially if somepony is trotting a muck." It sounded concerned and intelligent.

"All is fair, please go." Said the royal voice again as the sound of soft pattering filled the air. "Thank you princess." said the smart voice again, Stan couldn't make out what it said as it was too far away to successfully listen to. He looked around in confusion at what he heard. "Ponyville? What kind of a name is that? And Applejack, somepony? That makes no since...Hmm, it is no concern at the moment, I must search this forest for my fellow soldiers." His body was hoisted up and back onto his two feet in seconds, dusting his self off with his one good hand.

The T-90a wasn't even damaged, everything on the outside looked well and rather untouched. The parachutes that blanketed the outside of it were very bothersome as he started to take them off. He cut the strings that were attached to the thing just to make it easier, the clank of metal below his boots as he maneuvered his body around the top of the tank. "I may have use for one of these." He said as he successfully tossed the parachutes into a pile, he used his knife to cut one into the shape of a stretcher just in case. His body walked over to the hatch on the main gun turret, ripping it open with an obnoxious screech as both sections parted to reveal a hole. Since the hole was to small, he quickly unhooked the PKP Pecheneg from his chest and placed it atop the turret.

The confined space was dark and dormant, nothing had been in it for a while it looked like. "Must have been freshly produced. I can check later after I return." It was hard to even see is hand in front of his face as he leaned forward to move. He grabbed his MP443 and flicked the LED flashlight on, illuminating the space fully. Stan looked around and strained his eyes for what he wanted, quickly finding the camouflaged fabric. "The tank would produce too much noise, better to cover it up and use it later." With that, he tugged the tarp off the rack it was on and climbed back out of the tank, sheathing his pistol into place.

Thunder rolled in the distance from his location when he crawled out of the tank, he looked upwards and was greeted by dark clouds slowly coming in. "I must hurry." He said as he unraveled the tarp into one piece, climbing onto the tank once more to place that damned thing. He shifted his body and he hurled each end of the tarp into all directions of the tank, grabbing his machine gun and jumping off. The tarp was weighted on all 4 ends with lead pellets so it wouldn't blow away in moderately bad winds, mixed with the think tree cover it was one less thing he had to worry about.

Stanislav pulled the bolt on the PKP Pecheneg back and then pushed it forth to loosen the belt cover. He lifted the cover and placed an ammo canister into a holding clip to have it snap into place under the gun. Twisting his hand, he held the string of bullets and the guided them under the cover as he slapped the cover back down onto it. He used some spare cloth in his pocket to plug up the cut on his thumb. It was a little to big for his preference as he cut it into a smaller strip, he used his teeth to get a good tug on the knot.

He didn't look back as he started for the forest, the crunch of vines and leaves were moderately loud with each step he had taken. His gun was lifted up in both arms, ready for use if needed as he started his own search party into the gathering storm.

Author's Note

Stan finally starts to meet ponies in the next chapter. Patience.

Chapter 4

Stanislav Rodion (Somewhere in The Everfree)

As Stan left the comfort of his prized artillery piece, all he felt was the cold sensation of loneliness and vulnerability. All the noises that motioned through the air around him tried to dilute his hearing from wanting to hear the right things. The birds chirping, thunder in the distance, and the constant swaying of trees were the culprits. What Stan wouldn't give just to hear something call out in Russian for him to investigate.

There was nothing he could do but keep pressing into the forest, Stan knew he was going in further, but hadn't a clue how big the actual thing was. Stanislav's soldiers were out there somewhere, determined that he was not in the afterlife, finding someone would be proof of that subject. The only thing he was finding was the light slap of branches and thorns on his body as he pushed forth.

He hastened his movement when a large crack of thunder boomed through the forest, the trees were becoming an eminent danger to him. It had happened to Stan before, lightning had once struck only 50 ft away from him, he nearly lost his hearing from that day. Ever since that little incident, forests and heavily vegetated areas always made him go on alert, storm or not.

"What kind of forest is this anyway?" Stan said to himself as he passed the odd thorny vines once more, it was darker than it should of been and the birds stopped chirping.

He constantly looked around to check for anything that moved in the silhouette of the trees and bushes. Paranoia had found itself in Stan's mind, he felt that something was in the area, searching like he was. Each step he had taken seemed to echo through the trees. The crack and crunch of twigs and leaves filled the air and then some.

Being alone in a place he had no recollection of where he was can cause many odd things to occur. For one, Stanislav's senses were running on maximum, so much that he could hear a leaf touch the ground around his feet. If his ears could, they would have perked up and twitched from another noise, this one was the soft patter of rain hitting his body.

Stan held his gun close by, ready to be used the second he felt it was necessary. He grasped the bipod of the gun tightly and without hesitation, for the added grip that came with it. Stepping over fallen trees and large brambles so as to not trip over them obviously. He still tried to concentrate on one thing, something was out here with him, Stan was both the hunter and the hunted.

30 minutes later

The rain was now a constant shower of water mixed with the erratic lightning bursting all around his figure. The treetops had helped with the rain not soaking him completely through and through, he pushed the lightning topic from his mind. Stan felt more energized as he had seen a clearing up ahead a few minutes back. The ground was thoroughly soaked and was now boggy like a thick swamp, finding firm patches of ground was a struggle.

The terrain itself was rather flattened and straightforward, only the growth of plants were obstacles in Stan's little journey. It amazed him how this place seemed to untouched by animals, no tracks or even signs could be found while walking. But the heavy rain that was falling probably had washed such evidence away. Stan had lost his distance from the clearing as he nearly dropped to his death.

The sight was amazing and mythological at the same time. Stan laid his eyes on a craggy and gaping chasm. The limitless walls of the ravine were jagged and spiky that would show no mercy to anything that dare pry near them. Stanislav leaned over the cliff to not get vertigo, the endless pit did not have a bottom, or at least it wasn't visible.

A broken down and decayed ruin stood proudly through the rain, showing how it withstood the test of time. The place looked like an old castle that hadn't seen visitors in hundred of years. The once grey stone both outside and inside were now covered in thick tendrils of moss, the moss looked like it was stitching together the large fissures that were in the castle. From Stan's point of view, the roof had partially collapsed from the lack of support.

"Alright, i'm intrigued." Stan said in disbelief of such a place that still stood before his eyes.

He started the short walk over to a rickety bridge that was surprisingly still up and hopefully in use. The rope bridge was very unsafe to even cross, the ropes were frayed and it was missing planks. He pressed his foot onto the planks that were in place, the fact they didn't snap relieved him slightly. Something about the wood intrigued Stan as he leaned in for a closer look, the planks that remained had been recently renewed, freshly placed to be walked on.

Stan wondered why you would want to replace a bridge like this to get into ancient ruins that have probably been ransacked by looters long ago. The suggestion did not matter to him as he gingerly set foot into the plank, his next foot onto the nearest plank ahead of him. With each step, it carried him further and further into the open abyss below, a simple mishap would render him non-existent.

"Just keep going." Stanislav reassuringly said as the frayed ropes had started to twist and morph into single strands instead of the normal twist they had. "Shit, this thing may have new planks, but the ropes and support stakes are too old!" His weight shifted forward when he ran as fast as he could, avoiding missing planks. Stan needed every precious second to be sure it would give way under his body weight whilst running, controlling the pressure he put on the bridge to help himself.

Stanislav was 3/4 of the way across when he heard a sharp snap through the rain, the rope popped up in front of him. His face went to pure shock as he felt the bridge behind him give away, speeding its way towards him as the planks slide off into the grey mist below. Stan tried to keep running but the lack of support on the right side, left it limp and useless.

Stan had to act fast and act now, he had no more time as the last plank behind him fell off the bottom part of the ropes. He channeled all his strength and abilities into his built legs, he tossed his gun onto the other side of the bridge, landing firmly on the edge. He found himself airborne when all the energy in his legs was forced out in a controlled point on the supported side of the bridge.

The bridge was completely gone in moments after his final leap for survival. The crunch of wooden stakes breaking near the edge, whizzing past his face, added to the reality it was in fact gone. The breath was knocked out of him when both hands grabbed the slice of earth, slamming into the cliff side. Stan's relief was short lived as he had grasped onto a rock, a slippery and smooth rock. His mind then set itself into true survival mode as it forced his adrenaline to pump hard, Stanislav's mind was in a life and death struggle, ever so desperately trying to make Stan stay live.

There was nothing he could do, everything that would let him survive involved using on of his hands. Stan started to think that it was end for him, that his foolish judgement led him to his unworthy death by falling. He cursed himself for being so stupid about his decision, why couldn't fate just of swayed him to stay to stay on solid ground.

A mental light bulb busted inside his head, exploding in fact.

"Swaying!! If I shift my body weight back and forth, I can gain momentum and hoist myself up!" Stan exclaimed from his sheer ingenuity.

He started the motion that slowly built energy into his swing. Every second, the momentum grew as he gripped tighter to the rock for the tiniest shred of space to hold onto. Stan built enough momentum in an agonizing 10 seconds of pain as he strained himself beyond his limits, he launched into the air, parallel to the cliff and now above it as well.

Stan desperately tightened his grip on the bayonet that had barely seen any use until today. With a single motion, his arm flew wildly into the air after being clinched by both hands. The knife came down in a killing pose at it struck the ground with force, stabbing deeply into the softened soil. Stan didn't waste a moment as he finally drew himself upwards and onto the ground.

"Never again..." Stan panted as he lay with his back to the ground, the rain pelted his face hard but felt amazing. Stan lay there as he rewarded himself for living through his sticky situation.

With rest back into his body, he hefted himself onward and into the decaying ruins. Stanislav grabbed his PKP Pecheneg, making sure it was in working order as he patted it down and tried drying it off. Stan looked up to the looming castle and only felt a chill run through his body, something was evil about this place just by the sheer abandonment. He walked up the steps only saw a dimly lit hall, rain spattered though the roof and the dust was unbearable.

Luna

"When will this thing stop." Luna said out into the rain as her frustration was started to boil under her coat and mane. She had been trailing the bipedal creature for half an hour, never stopping once to rest of even look back at her, which was a relief. Luna didn't mind the rain as it fell willingly, soothing her body and chilling her to a calm mood, she loved it in fact.

Luna stopped to see that the creature had stopped as well, it looked towards the once royal castle that stood proud long ago. It took in all the details of the ravine and castle, struck by its natural wonder and beauty it had. Luna spread her royal wings and lightly beat them into motion as she took to the skies, landing into a large tree that overlooked the creatures position.

"What is your game." Luna whispered in the cool, stirring air as it had started to walk over the bridge. Luna was confused on why it would want to visit the dusty place, other than historical value and the mass amount of books. She suddenly remembered that the creature was not around from here.

The question that hit Luna's mind that hardest was how the things might react when it actually sees a land full of talking ponies. Would the thing be hostile or peaceful? Would it know how to react in a difficult situation like that?

"No matter how the thing reacts, I must ease the situation if it tries anything rash. It is my duty to protect my little ponies." She proudly stated her role as a princess of the land, Luna's duty was to rule fairly over her subjects and protect them from harm.

Luna knew that the creature had intelligence, but the amount of it was unknown for the time being. She knew it there would be advantages and disadvantages to learning more about this new species that befell into this realm. Luna knew she would find out soon enough. Her horn lit up after seeing how well the creature did with the collapsing bridge, showing her satisfaction through magic.

Luna's wings flickered up again when she slowly trailed the bipedal creature to the other side of the grand chasm.

Stanislav Rodion

Stan proceeded into the dank and musty ruins, hoping to find something to help spark his memory or tell him where he was. Many corridors ran through and could be seen from the main hall of the ruins. The integrity was quite false from the outside of the wall, from the inside, it was well preserved and classy given its age was most likely ancient.

Stan looked at the blue and gold tapestries that hung from the ceilings and walls, torn and degrading from the constant exposure to the elements all around. He constantly twirled his body all around at the finely hung art as he walked to a pair of thrones in the back of the chamber. Each one of the tapestries seemed to elude him from the fine details into the stitching.

The pieces of art all had the sun and the moon sewn into the fabric of each one, yellow ones for the sun and blue for the moon. Stanislav paid close attention to the horse symbols that each one had as well, instinctively thinking about medieval similarities. Non the less, Stan continued to proceed up the steps that lead housed the regal looking thrones. Both were plush but dampened from the beads of rain that gingerly dripped from the leaking roof.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stan spotted a small fireplace that was burning lightly in a dry area, hidden behind a large patch of rubble. Stan fixed his attention to the fire as he vaulted over the fallen debris, what he saw next shocked him into utter disbelief.

By the fire was a curled up creature, painted the colors of many throughout the averagely sized thing. Stan recognized it as a horse, it looked smaller than it should be if it was an adult, assuming it was a young one at that. On the hind quarters was a tri-colored lightning bolt and a puffy cloud emblazoned into it like a brand or tattoo. Its mane and tail were the exact colors of a rainbow, its coat was a perfect and soft cyan blue.

His eyes were only fixated on the gracious wings that were spread out, showing the world their gleaming beauty and mythological wonder. Stan immediately dismissed it as a harsh joke on an animal, leaving it out here to die because it was unwanted perhaps. The fire didn't explain anything, an animal wouldn't stay around a fire too long for the lack of knowledge about it, let alone make it.

Stanislav took notice of the puncture wound on the creatures chest, the skin around it was purple and nasty looking. He automatically noted that it was a sting of some kind, something big had caused it.

"Animal or not, that needs to be fixed. Lucky you I have a snakebite kit which should work for the same reason here." Stan searched his pockets and finally produced a little rubber suction cup with a small scalpel and a bag of copper colored fluid. He unraveled the small scalpel, "this is going to hurt a little." Stan slowly cut into the blue coat, having it immediately stained by red.

Stan worked fast as the blood had begun to lightly pool under the wound area, he applied the liquid to have the venom in the wound rise up to the surface of the wound for easy pickup. He ripped part of a tapestry that lay dormant on the ground to act as a bandage, it was long and thick thankfully. Stan leaned down and grabbed the suction cup while moving the creature into the air, using his arm as support.

The blue horse grunted, but the noise wasn't animal like as it actually sounded human. Stan pumped the purple venom out along with the contaminated blood from the unnatural chest cavity. The process only took 10 seconds to accomplish as he tossed the items used. "There goes that." He casually threw it into a dark corner. The products hit off of something soft in the corner, it couldn't be helped as a very soft "ouch" rang from it.

Stanislav didn't think about it to much as he began to close up the wound on the animal. He pressed his hand down on the cut with pressure to stop the bleeding, it worked quickly. Without his notice, the animal awoke from its stupor. Its cerise eyes looked to Stan with fear and wonder of what loomed above. It looked down at the claws that were placed on the sting area, a golden piece of fabric quickly circled around.

"Thanks..." The voice was feminine but had a scent of tomboy. Stan immediately dropped his mouth and looked at the lips move on the horse.

"You spoke English!! Impossible! I'm just imagining things..." Stan tried to rid the thought but it was impossible to even try.
He slightly back away.

"Nope, your hearing right. It's called Equestrian." The voice corrected him weakly as the nameless creature was still in recovery mode. "What are you?...some sort of monster that preys of ponies?" The animal sounded more serious this time around.

"I, I should be ask...asking the same question!" Stan managed to stammer out as the horse flexed its wings.

"I am a pegasus pony, named Rainbow Dash." She saved the antics for another time as she could barely move, granted she gave it her best shot. "If you're friendly, i'm friendly."

Stan's eyes were twitching as this 'pony' got up and looked to him, it had a sense of defense attributes and intelligence and most likely used its wings to their fullest potential. Sadly her wings didn't look the part as they sagged heavily to the ground from pure exhaustion.

"You're... you're wings are real, yes?" Stanislav said out of pure curiosity towards the so called 'pegasus pony' who amazingly could talk.

"Yea... why wouldn't they?" She haughtily said but quite turned down, she perked up at the sight behind the creature. "Princess Luna? What are you doing?!" Rainbow Dash tried to yell.

Luna's horn was lit up and literally looked up to the bipedal creature as it stood up completely. Stan looked down at the very different pony with a barely visible face of wonder. Luna immediately sensed it and stood down.

"If I see intelligent beings like this, then it is clear I do not belong here..." He said as he cocked his head upwards to the leaking roof. Stan clinched his fists and eyes, "my name is," 'BANG', Stan dropped to the floor in an unconscious state. Luna had just used a sleep remedy to lull him to an unbreakable slumber.

"Princess! That thing saved me! It could speak our language and got rid of the manticore poison, don't hurt it any further." Rainbow Dash pleaded to the princess not to continue.

"Fair Rainbow Dash, I would never hurt a peaceful being such as this, I simply cast a sleeping spell on him to prevent further intervention." Luna said politely to Rainbow Dash who now had a relief on her face.

"Him? How do you know?" Rainbow Dash said with odd reasons unknown. Luna giggled a small fit.

"I didn't, this thing does have skilled reflexes and honed intelligence, along with the fact he is not from this world. It may take time for him to go back, so in the meantime, I have arranged a form for him more suitable in Equestria." Luna let her horn burn as bright as blue could and they were whisked away into the Ponyville.