Battlefields of Equestria

Recon dropped his weapon at the sight. There lie, in a pile of corpses...and a puddle of blood, an innocent person. Somehow, a part of him knew there was someone being carried down at this time, and apparently it wasn't because of an alarm. He suspected he may have fallen victim to some sort of memory loss, or something he remembered before whatever cruel pony threw him in that machine. Maybe he got out before. Maybe he was supposed to do this before he was restrained again. He didn't know. All he knew, was that he had to get to the top of this building, and turn it OFF.

'5:30 PM' A thought flashed in his head. Just, out of no where images and thoughts flooded back to him. As he ascended the stairs, a second conscience seemed to take over his fighting, while the other concentrated on piecing together his thoughts.

'Battle And Tactical Training in Living Environments.' he heard, with a mix of his gun firing at soldiers and technicians. 'The B.F.P.; The Experimentation Agreement; Corporate Issues; Advancing technologies; Danger of Homo-sapien dislike...' It was as if his mind was recollecting everything out of order.

He kept pushing until finally he reached the last floor. In the midst of all his thoughts, time itself seemed to speed up until the point in which he couldn't proceed further. A large control panel, documents everywhere.

Recon walked to one of the documents, and picked them up. He then tossed it back down and looked around the area. A large dome, metal wiring and glass roofing. He looked outside and saw large buildings with pipelines and electricity running through them. Large tesla towers and round objects that seemed like energy cores.

Recon heard footsteps and quickly closed off and locked all of the entrances to the area in which he was in. He couldn't have any interruptions. He was going to shut this thing down, and kill it's creator, no matter the cost. Not like he had one anyway, he didn't have a life left.

Recon walked back to the document, and picked it up. Looking around the room once more and seeing no one, he opened it. A bit of dust flew out. He coughed a bit and fanned it away. Using his new index finger, he pointed out the words for his assistance in reading.

THE B.A.T.T.L.E.FIELD PROJECT

The B.A.T.T.L.E. Field Project (Battle And Tactical Training in Living Environments) is a project used to advance military soldiers, while also punishing criminals in a completely new and improved way. Under the creator Doctor Trace Dyson, our crime-rate and military has improved! Though, there are also mental problems with some, one of them being memory loss. Our creator himself bravely entered the machine and tried to fix it, but he fell victim also. It has now fallen under my command, and I hope that I will not disappoint or bring down the name of Trace Dyson.

Good luck to you all,

Doctor Carver Aidan

"The BFP...Battle field project!" Recon said to himself. "Doctor Trace Dyson...I know that name...I know it so well I just don't know where." Recon began to look through all of the other documents. One after another, they'd proven useless to him.

After a few minutes of frantic searching, he found another that struck his interest.

The Experimentation Agreement

I, Doctor Trace Dyson hear-by sign this document, saying that in any case of error, or issue, I will become the experiment for my own machine no matter the cost.

~Note: That won't happen.

"I recognize the handwriting too..." Recon said. He picked up another document.

Corporate Issues

My apologies everyone. This is a memo to all of our staff. We are going through corporate issues at the moment and we have been threatened to be shut down for a side effect of our project, homo-sapien dislike. We have to change from our original human environment, to that of one filled with anthropomorphic horses. Yes I know it's silly, but it's the easiest thing for our processors and programs to handle and execute.

Good day to you all,

Doctor Trace Dyson.

He began to sweat. He picked up a wadded up piece of paper. He unraveled it, and read it.

Recon...Recon I know this is going to sound crazy but you have to stop this thing...

"Wait a minute..."

I created this monster of technology, and I need you to destroy it. If anything, you are my and everyone else's best hope. This project has nothing to do with, ponies, or Battlefield...this is a psychiatric testing zone. It drives dozens insane...daily! Recon, you HAVE to shut it down. After that, your best bet is to use that pistol on the desk, and shut YOU down. You'll know why with my signature.

Your former self,

Doctor Trace Dyson.

"No..." Recon said. "No this can't...this can't be..."

PS: I'm sorry...

Recon just stopped everything. Breathing, thinking, moving...His mind was blank. All thoughts had vanished, except for the fact that he was the reason for all of the innocent deaths. He took the paper and tore it in half, his face flushing red, sweat pouring down his face. He walked up to the control panel, and turned everything off. Recon, now Trace, punched his control panel. His hands bleeding, and swelling from the electric sparks and sharp edges. He didn't care. He just destroyed it, destroyed all of it. He fell back onto the floor and covered his face.

"Why did I do this..." He muttered, his eyes tearing up from all of the stress. "I have to end it."

Trace now brought his weak self to his feet. Taking the loaded M9 on the table, and putting it to his head. He screamed and pulled the trigger.