Chapter 1 - Packing up the gear
Big Macintosh sat in the rugged sofa in the recruitment building that was in Canterlot. He had taken a train here - with a teary goodbye from his wife, Ditzy Doo - to join Princess Celestia's advanced army, which she had recently made when a rebellion started in Fillydelphia.
Macintosh wasn't one to do anything with wars, but Celestia had personally sent a letter to him because of his strength, and Mac would do whatever the Princess thought best. So here he was, leaning against the chair's back, holding Celestia's letter in his hoofs while the pony at the front desk of the plain, white room called out names every few minutes. After about twenty minutes, Macintosh heard his name and got up to trot over to the desk.
The clerk looked up as he approached. She had a slender body and wore some sort of grey jacket. Her Cutie Mark was a checklist and there was a label on the desk that named her "Bangle", and wasted no time getting to the point.
"You are Big Macintosh?"
"Eeyup"
"You came here from Ponyville?"
"Eeyu-"
"More specifically, Sweet Apple Acres?"
Macintosh just nodded, hardly keeping up with her stern voice.
“Personally recruited by Celestia?”
Another nod. Bangle looked at the notepad that was on the counter again, and then responded.
“Alright, Big Macintosh, you’ll go through the door on my left where you’ll meet the other soldiers that were recruited by Celestia.”
Thanking her, and receiving no recognition for doing so, Macintosh went into the door she told him to, and was greeted by a crowded room when he entered. Most of the ponies in the big room were big, but still didn’t stand to Macintosh. Mac’s strength and size brought lot’s of attention to him, and any conversations that were going on stopped. Some of the onlookers had tough faces and mean looks, But Macintosh spotted a friendly face. In the Middle of the crowd, and nearly the biggest, was Pipsqueak, who used to live in Ponyville. As he had grown he hadn’t stopped, and eventually became bigger than Caramel. Pipsqueak trotted over to Macintosh with a fresh face.
“Hey Macintosh! I knew i would have seen you here!”
“Hello Pipsqueak. Why are you here?”
“Just like you are, presumably, Got a letter straight from Celestia herself about her new army and… I couldn’t reply with a “no”, knowing, you couldn’t either?”
Macintosh responded with a “Nope”, and then another large Pony came up to him.
“So, I’m told your Big Macintosh?” The pony had a kind voice, along with nice Purple eyes, grey fur, a light brown mane and tail and was a Pegasus, although his wing’s feathers were bent, dirty and didn’t look airworthy.
“Eeyup”
“I can tell, they said you were big, and you are pretty damn big”
He continued talking before Mac could say anything
“Anyways, I’m Heavy, the squad leader of this group. Which you’ll notice seems to be made of the strongest Stallions - at this he looked at a white mare with a ginger mane and added “And Mares” - in Equestria.
“We’re basically here because we’re big, not just smart, and thats really all. We’re gonna be given our positions in the team tomorrow. Although I’ll say you're mostly likely going to be to be our Minigun handler, judging by your size. A-”
Macintosh didn’t hear the rest of what Heavy had to say because the door opened at that moment and the clerk, Bangle, walked in. She gave no greeting when she started talking.
“Alright, I’ve just been told you all are being moved out sooner. A train is coming in two hours to transport you to the forward Fillydelphia base, so hurry and pack your stuff!”
She saw a questioning look on everyones face, and explained.
“Anything you’ve brought with you and your gear, which is in the lockers at the back of the room. Since you’re being shipped out soon, your Squad Positions are also on your lockers. Now get your things together!” And with that, she left.
Everypony turned to the lockers and walked up to them. Macintosh found his next to a locker labeled “Danthen Boss”, who came up as Macintosh opened his. Danthen had brown fur and was only slightly smaller than Macintosh. Dan looked quite threatening, even to Macintosh, due to his Jet Black mane, tough body motions and mean Orange eyes. His Cutie Mark was a black circular bomb, which matched the description on Dan’s locker (Demolition Expert). Macintosh turned his head away, intimidated, and continued opening his locker.
Which, as Heavy had guessed, Described Macintosh as “Minigun Handler). The contents of the locker, now opened, was a tough, thick grey Jacket that would fit on Mac’s back, a saddle-like object which could probably click into the jacket and like the jacket, had clips on the Saddle’s top. Besides the pack that would be Macintosh’s saddlebag and hold basic survival supplies, there was the Minigun itself. It’s main ammo deposit would snap into the saddle, and the gun barrel was on the side of the ammo drum, and would stick out straight, on Macintosh’s right and slightly in his field of view.
Macintosh realized there was no way he could carry all this, but his problem was solved when Heavy looked over and trotted to Macintosh with something in his mouth.
It was a cart, and he let go of it and pushed it to Big Macintosh.
“Put the Minigun on that, we don’t have time to attach it to your saddle. Speaking of, I’ll help you get in your armour.”
Heavy helped put the armoured jacket on Macintosh and tie it firmly under Mac’s stomach. It wasn’t unlike the jacket Applejack would put on him when it was night and he had to buck apples in the freezing cold. Finally, Heavy strapped the Saddle onto Macintosh’s armour and then clipped the saddlebag onto it.
“There you go, all readied up.” Macintosh gave a thanks, but Heavy just said “Don’t mention it” and went to put on his own armour.
Big Macintosh stared at the train as it rolled to a stop in the station. Macintosh was only just realizing what he had gotten himself into. He’d started realizing when he saw the heavy-caliber Minigun he would use to knock the life out of other ponies.
The Minigun he would be using to kill. He would strike fear into anyone who was on the Gun’s wrong side heart.
He had officially started on the path to a killer. To a Soldier.
