Battlefields of Equestria

'That was such a cheesy joke...' Recon thought to himself as he made his way slowly up the stairs. Oddly, there weren't as many guards as he suspected. Only occasional sleeping techies. His feeling of unrest faded away as his equilibrium returned, allowing him to properly and completely process his thought. He felt a bit of tiredness in his legs. Taking a few deep breaths, Recon approached a sleeping technician. Overriding all guilt whilst wielding the knife he looted off of a guard from earlier, he stabbed the technicians neck, and sat him on the floor in a position that would conceal the blood.

Recon let himself fall onto the chair, dropping his weapon on the floor and resting his eyes. Whatever they did to him, it was coming back. He assumed they used some sort of temporary sedative. He groaned and brought his hand to his neck as it began to ache, along with his head and legs. Whatever he was in had a mental effect on him, a very painful one. Recon's thoughts began to scatter, but before things got too severe, he mustered up the strength to align his mind once more. Shaking his head, and getting up, he could feel his mind settling down as his aches slowly faded away. Something to keep a mental note of, he could overcome the mental sickness that the machine gave him.

He looked up to the next flight of stairs, and began to ascend them.

"We're under attack!!" A voice sounded as a loud explosion is heard. The voice was that of a stallion. His coat was beige, and his cutiemark was the image of three bags of money. He had on a rugged collar with a torn tie. His once shiny black mane was now a filthy pile of dust and sand. He sat back with an M16 assault rifle, his hoof on the trigger and ready to fight. Bullets whizzed by as his team died one by one.

"Filthy! We gotta find some better cover!" Another stallion shouted. He wore a black sheriff hat on his head. Rugged from damage, with a bullet hold in it, the hat lay lopsided as it's rich color was tattered by the warfare. He was a light brown stallion with a brown mane. He wore a ruined vest with a rusty sheriff badge. It almost resembled his cutiemark, on the exception of the oxidization. The stallion used a magnum as means of defense, as he wore a holster with multiple bullets on it. As many could guess, it was all torn and tattered, but still in tact.

"No really?!" Filthy Rich shouted, holding his rifle over his head and firing it. When the weapon clicked, Filthy instinctively swung it down and switched the magazine load in it. "Silver! Over there! I think it will do for now!"

"Got it!" Silver Star replied, swinging his magnum towards the enemy side. Before he could pull the trigger, he saw a bullet heading right between his eyes. His eyes widened for a split second as his life flashed before his eyes on the reflection of the tip of a bullet. He then cringed, expecting to feel the bullet tear his skull inside-out. However, after a few moments of feeling, hearing, and actually smelling nothing, he opened his eyes to see the bullet still in front of him. He looked over at Filthy, who looked back at him.

"What the Bloody'ell happened?" He asked, moving under is now sustained in space gun.

"I dunno..." Silver replied, looking around at the enemies. "You suspect we beat the game?"

"Maybe it there's a way out then." Filthy said. "Hand me your magnum."

"Filthy...what are you trying to do?" Silver asked.

"Trying to get us out." Filthy replied. Silver sighed and tossed the magnum to him.

Chck

Bam

Recon resumed ascending the seemingly endless stairs. He heard a thud and stopped, looking at a door, he saw a stallion beating on it, then another, then another. That techie died, they were all waking up, with no one to put them out again. Recon had the feeling it would sound an alarm after a while. A bit of sweat fell down his brow. He was going to have a lot of fighting to do in the next few minutes. Recon loaded all of his weapons to full capacity and readied himself to fight his way through the remainder of the building.

Awaiting the thud of metal boots, Recon hid himself again behind the staircase. Head pounding, hands shaking, never stopping, never fading. His heart beating inside of his chest, sweat pouring down his head. It seemed as if he were overreacting, and yet he knew he had something to fear. Before long, soft thumps sounded above his floor of the building, and getting closer, loud clanks of metal to metal. Recon's heart thumped violently against his chest as his adrenaline raised to seemingly unnatural levels. He held on tightly to the looted rifle, and swung across the stairs delivering a hellfire of bullets into the approaching army.

Closing his eyes, he heard nothing but screaming and shouting which was amplified above all other sounds. When his gun began to click, he slowly opened his eyes. His heart dropped when he looked down and saw what he had been afraid of the entire time.