A Saucerful Of Secrets

They ran and never stopped.

The sound of their husky breath and the thumping of their hearts bantered and hummed, intensely. Marred by the war that was corrupting the once beloved city of Canterlot, they could not help but wonder for the piling bodies that suffocated their hooves. Wrapped in worn out steel-toed boots, these marines hustled along the foggy streets. One particular street light beamed at the far corner towards the end of Belle Ave, and into the Brandenburg Street marching on were dozens more insurrectionists. They were side by side, their hooves stomping in unison. It scared the daylights of the men that trudged through the mud uselessly. They were soaked from the night before, but unlike the enemies that catered to their supply-line at the east side of Canterlot, where far more able-bodies rested their heads at night soundlessly on cots while the soldiers of Equestria had to sleep in blown out shops with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

The international conflict was getting to be hazardous in these last couple years. And it didn't help when the belly of Equestria began cracking at it seems. Ponies left and right began to distance themselves from the nation that promised far too much, and in return they rebelled. Created their own tribes. Formed their own militia's and now the Equestrian Military was at cross-hairs between their own ponies, and the latter. They caused such a out pour of rage that hate filled their systems to the max. Leaving nothing out, they destroyed small towns, villages and now are amassing giant waves of forces that are curbing the balance between peace and anarchy.

The soldiers moved in through quietly. The marching sound of militant's walking through the street with no self-restraint sparked an unrelenting terror inside the platoons gut. Not only they had to clear out this street, but also they had to be quick and wise about it too. There was no telling in what the Militants would do, as they had heard rumors of what they do to Equestrian soldiers if they ever captured them, and the stories are not pretty. Talks of torture remain high in the platoons mind as they traversed through the littered streets. Mangled bodies were splayed all over the ground and the smell of rotting flesh didn't help with the troubling thoughts also.

Enticement abraded every second of their time since they had gotten here. Spending their time up against the naval warship battles that plagued most of the pacific ocean. In some ways they now considered it their peak from the war with a hot meal every night, or when anyone got a chance at least. A cot to sleep on and the beautiful sky to marvel each and every time they were outside - which was almost always in their case. Now being stuck down here on ground assault to take back a city from their own ponies was just downright insulting. Grey Eyes sniffed the air, sickly he replied, "Blimey, this stinks like a butchered cow." Solo retorted mockingly, as he had never liked that stallion from the get-go, "Stinks a little too much of you, Grey Ass." Grey Eyes scoffed his insult with a lick of his dirty lips, he casually sounded with an invigorating tongue, "Up yours kettle-head."

They continued through, and had originally planned to set up camp on the balconies of two large buildings staring directly from one another before they realized that the stomps of the militants had become far too loud. Throwing their plans into disarray, their leader sergeant Mcgrass ordered them into the blown out shop with a big gaping entry wound in the center. Steadfast, they all huddled quickly into the building that was merely meters away from their position. Shuffling past against one another. They all eventually made it and now they cornered each other like hunters chasing their prey while bracing for the stairs as quietly as possible. Without a hitch, they gained pace and soon enough, the second floor was theirs to keep. For now. In the second floor, the damage wasn't as obvious, with small gashes at the walls or the main windows broken away. The only real shocker was the caved in wooden floor at the middle of the room, like some poor soul that fell through, or must have gotten a scuffle with one of the militants. It didn't matter in the end, as all fourteen troops set camp at this little patch of temporary heaven.

The troops all dropped their bags and sat down for the first time in hours. Since this was a medium-sized second level, they all had room to breathe and have some sense of external privacy. Some chit chatted very quietly while others simply watched or made their own personal space for themselves. Some only peaked through the four windows laced around the two bedrooms and the kitchen and diner. And watched to see when their rivals would be showing up. At this rate, within minutes they should all be starting to bleed onto the Avenue, and with that, they're artillery, they're overwhelming numbers and their attitude for destruction. If there was an end approaching for Equestria, it have to start with their own ponies.

"Alright, everyone keep a lid on it! They'll be approaching any second." Sergeant Mcgrass warned with enough venom in his voice that everyone piped down almost instantly.

The throbbing heart that bustled against everyone's chest was helping everyone realize how serious this was. With everyone hunkered down, Private Gunny chirped up quietly and plotted himself beside the commanding officer and offered details of how to approach these enemies.

"Sir, if I may." Private Gunny pointed out. "We should take inventory of our grenades and lob them as they begin to weed outside of this building and onto the next."

But Mcgrass wasn't having any of that, as he'd already devised a plan that was both simple and effective to their cause. Unfortunately, in order to show that he is the alpha male and no one else mounts up to him, he carefully worded his response with nothing short of his usual vindictive spat. "Listen, that's great and all. But if you want to get your ass out of the naval core, and shape up to the realization that we can't just go Clint Eastwood every time the enemy comes a knockin'."

Gunny tried to sound reasonable, but his voice was beginning to crack at the sides of his throat. "But sir, we could have a surprise attack, and though I-"

"Listen here! Are you itching for death?! Because I as sure as shit ain't, so why don't you take hint that not everyone is planning a death wish like you are and buck off before they realize that we got ourselves loose straw in the group. And start firing the buck out of this building!" He was now chewing away the poor boys self-esteem, but most of them could understand why. As Mcgrass has been in two wars before hand, and he had seen enough bloodshed to know what was right, and what wasn't. In terms of experience, he was the ultimate badass of all, it's a wonder why he hasn't been awarded a general's badge at this point.

Everyone muted and silenced by his cruel response, they all continue to sit quietly and wait while the militants began to start crossing the street. All of them kept their heads down. The tightly coordinated hoof positions with their rallying march shook everyone to the core, just the weight of their immense power frightened them all. They all looked like they were in the due or die approach, no emotion, no retreat, just subliminal rage of despair and destruction onto those around them. They were brutes. Animals freed from their cage, and hungry for their next feed. They wore their uniforms proud. It was amazing how they managed to assemble outfits that were retrofitted to do only one thing, and that was to make sure all of Equestria's power was taken away and be rightfully given to the new blood that demanded them. It was hard not to compare Equestria's broken military to the tightly knit bunch that stood below them. And everyone in this platoon was thinking just that.

One pony looked up to the sky, the city that was once clouded by smog in some of the most busiest of parts. Now only the smell of the dead feigned the skies and the red drenched the sidewalks, while the bleak and morbid bodies clung to the recurring red grass that filled this once prosperous city. The dimly lite sky that beamed just the few sparsely rays that managed to peak through the clouds. It was all tangled up in the cities blood, but it was blood that would forever be still. The one soldier who looked up to the sky, Syd Craft, he wished for one thing only, and it was something that he was sure that everyone else had thought about at one point in all their time stuck in this miserable city.

Let there be more light.