Ghost Rider

(Fore word to the reader: to avoid confusion. Those who fly on gunships AKA AC-130's are known as Ghost Riders.)

CHAPTER 1: Perimeter Crew!

The van jostled slightly over the poorly constructed paved road that wove its way around the flight line, "Houston" as his friends and crew members called him stared longingly out it's windows into the darkness. His motivation was waning, for all his wanton bravado he was just simply tired. He had been an Aerial Gunner for five years, or Special Mission Aviator(S.M.A. for short) as the newly combined career field was called. This was his sixth combat deployment, the first four were to Afghanistan, these last two had been fox-hunts, chasing after ISIS to whatever God forsaken hole they fled too. The rest of his crew made small talk amongst each other, and Houston simply drummed his fingers against the cold steel of his Beretta pistol seated against his hip. It would be easy to understand why Houston made his fellow crewmembers nervous. He fit the bill for a guy who would go postal, all to quite, and always keeping to himself.

The truth of it though was Houston just had different interests then most military types. Houston like most men who go to war, find a way to escape. For some it was working out, others played poker or a variation of blackjack that they called 'gunner blackjack'. For Houston, his escape was hiding out in his room and watching My Little Pony. It was the direct opposite of everything he knew to be true about his reality, and he loved the show for it.

As the van began to slowdown Houston didn't even bother shifting his gaze from the darkness outside, instead reaching into his right breast pocket and pulling his flight line badge out for the MP that would check when they came to a stop. The van lurched like it often did with its worn out brakes and came to a standstill, within a few seconds a flashlight danced through the interior of the van. The light only lingering momentarily on each of the thirteen crewmembers badges, of course once it reached Houston the MP showed no restraint in shining in his face before waving the van on. The remainder of the drive was spent in silence as the discussions died, and everyone fell into their own pre-mission contemplations. The crew didn't outwardly acknowledge it but a few close calls with anti-aircraft weaponry had left everyone of them on edge.

The van pulled outside of a makeshift life-support facility assembled hastily out of cargo shipping containers, the doors were already open and the light poured out from inside of it. One by one the crew disembarked and made their way to the shipping container. Inside bins for helmet bags had been assembled out of plywood to separate the crews respective gear. Houston was the last out of the van, turning to the driver and asking him to wish them luck. With calculated precision he dodged each one of his crew on his way to his respective bin, it looked like any other were it not marked with duct tape with his name written in sharpie. He grabbed his helmet bag, and slid his body armor over his neck, before making his way back out into the cover of night. He marched with purpose towards the sole plane on the ramp, competing with the pace of the others.

When Houston reached the plane he threw his helmet bag on the ramp before climbing inside of the monstrous war bird. The lights were already on and he did a quick scan of the guns, looking for anything that might be off about their normal configuration before making his way towards the front of the aircraft. He passed the 105 millimeter howitzer and 40 millimeter bofors, his destination tonight wouldn't be to man the guns. No, it was his turn to sit in the right scanner window, a window built into the right side of the aircraft to scan for incoming threats. It used to be that Houston considered sitting the window to be a reprieve, a reason to tune out most of the happenings on the aircraft. But ever since the end of Afghanistan deployments the window and the very idea of it held an immense sense of dread, all it takes is one split millisecond to change a mundane flight into a fight for survival. One moment of distraction could be the difference between catching the glimpse of a muzzle flash, and being gone before you even knew what hit you.

Houston sat in the window staring out onto the runway, waiting for the inevitable "go" call from the pilots once the engines reached the set power. The plane groaned and shifted as the brakes held it firmly in place. Looking over to his intercom system he turned up his primary radios. That's when he felt the brakes release.

"POWERS SET, BRAKES RELEASED!" Called the Flight Engineer from the flight deck.

"GO!" Was the response from the pilot.

Now, for Houston he would have called it screaming down the runway. But compared to most aircraft the AC-130 was one hell of a heavy beast, and it took nearly the full length of the runway to gain enough speed for lift off. He watched from the window as the Earth below slowly drifted away, and his gaze shifted to watch for the fence that marked the end of the military installation. As it approached he feebly grappled in the darkness to find his flare dispense switch, finding it only after hitting it's cord a few times in the darkness like a cat playing with a ball on a string.  With it in hand he hovered his thumb above the button, and made his call when they passed the last lights of the airfield and into the darkness.

"PERIMETER, CREW!"

The next few hours passed uneventfully as the lumbering bird of war travelled towards its target, only stopping along the way for a quick pre-tank with an aerial refueler to top them off before the mission. Not long after, the light show in the distance left no doubt that their target was coming up. Anti Aircraft Artillery, danced across the night sky as the tracers gave all bystanders a terrifying laser light show. Ground to ground rockets launched, and brightened the night sky for fractions of a second before flickering out like dying embers. Houston may not have seemed right in his mind, but he couldn't contain his grin as they flew into the eye of the storm. The explosions of colors and tracers in the dark reminded him of the Fourth of July, and as terrifying as this display was he couldn't help but see a sliver of beauty in this otherwise sea of destruction.

"THOR-4-4, ARIES-3-8 RADIO CHECK, OVER." Houston almost jumped as his primary radio reminded him of why they were here.

"ARIES-3-8, THOR-4-4, HAVE YOU LOUD AND CLEAR, HOW ME?" The navigator passed back.

"HAVE YOU BROKEN BUT READABLE, PROCEED TO TARGET OBJECTIVE, AND AWAIT WORDS."

"THOR-4-4 COPIES, ON ROUTE TO OBJECTIVE."

With that Houston felt the plane bank to the left, on their westerly course.

"Alright Crew this is the Pilot, ETA to target is 5 mikes. We'll be going in hot so I want your heads on a swivel, and be ready to prosecute the target once we get clearance to engage. I want everyone to get up on oxygen since we are about to depressurize." Sighing Houston grabbed for his oxygen mask and brought it up to his face, latching the clips into his helmet. He hated being on "O2", it was uncomfortable and always left his throat sore.

"GUNS, ENG. We are depressurized clear to extend the 105." In the background he could hear his fellow gunners set upon the task, the sounds of wrenches and clanging metal indicating their progress. The whistling sound of wind filled the aircraft, indicating the 105millimeter had extended, and released the airtight seal on the plane. Houston could hear the whine of the hydraulic system as the 105 was lowered into place.

"ENG, GUNS. 105 extended and stowed." The Fire control officer was the next to speak. But by this point Houston began to tune it out. Since he was sitting scanner it meant far less to him about what ammo would be used. As minutes passed by while he scanned the darkness Houston couldn't help but wish he was back there with his fellow gunners loading the guns and preparing for the inevitable fire mission, instead of sitting in his god forsaken window.

"THOR-4-4, ARIES-3-8, clearance to engage!" Houston's blood pressure spiked, he must have tuned out more then he meant to for them to already get clearance. Feeling the spike in adrenaline he scanned the darkness for threats with a renewed sense of purpose. But, he was surprised to see a lack of activity like the light show he had seen coming in. In fact, besides the streetlights below he couldn't make out any gunfire whatsoever. He couldn't place it but there was something else off that he couldn't put his finger on.

"GUN READY!"

*BOOM* The plane rocked to the side, as the first 105mm shell left the aircraft. The nagging feeling in the back of Houston's mind started screaming at him, but no matter how hard he scanned outside of the aircraft he couldn't find the source of his unease. That's when it caught his eye. A chill ran down his spine, as his mind struggled to put the pieces of the picture he was seeing into place. In the dark reflection of the window he saw a quick flash of fangs, and two bright orbs staring back into his own. Instinctually he reared his head back and focused his eyes to bring the picture into view. Only for what he saw to send his mind reeling, peeking out from behind the cloud cover was a full moon...

No...That can't be right, we were briefed that tonight would be perfect because there would be no illumination. In other words the moon can't be there. Wait a minute why do I feel like I'm forgetting someth...

*BOOM*

Oh right, always expect to be fired upon especially when firing. HOLY SHIT! There in the once quite darkness, was a barrage of lights coming straight at them. Missiles, anti-aircraft artillery, hell even lasers and search lights were piercing the darkness in their direction. The nagging in his mind from earlier finally made sense, there was no shooting going on because everyone was waiting for a chance to take down the biggest threat. Them!

Instinctually his thumb went to press the flare dispense button, but he realized to late that when he put his mask on he hadn't picked it back up. He tried to scream into his comms but the words died in his throat, so instead he closed his eyes and let one last thought float through him before their impending doom.

Shit, this is my fault.

Houston waited for pain, for sound, even just for some shredding of metal to indicate the end. But it never came, in fact the more he thought about it the more he realized how little he felt right now. Sensing the danger had passed he slowly began opening himself to his surroundings. In the darkness he found himself floating watching below as the ball of fire, and debris crashing towards Earth is where he should be. Unless, he realized that meant he must already be dead. So instead of linger he felt for the heavens, and began to float towards the only light he could make out. He grew frustrated as it was obscured by the clouds. After all, no near death experience he read about would be interrupted by something as frivolous as clouds. He drifted through the fluffy cumulous obstructions following the faint white glow that lay beyond them.

But when he burst through the last layer he didn't find the light at the end of the tunnel like he had come to expect. No instead what greeted him was an almost impossibly large full moon. But the feature that shocked him the most was the silhouette upon it. A figure from his favorite show, the mare in the moon. As if acknowledging his presence the silhouette disappeared, only for the presence of Nightmare Moon herself to appear before him.

"Greetings Ghost rider, your presence has been expected." Uncomfortably Houston shifted his corporeal form in the darkness to search for whoever she was addressing but found none. God, he so wanted it to be someone else.

"Do not ignore me you foal, I may possess a fraction of my former power but I could still send what's left of you to oblivion."Deciding that she was indeed speaking to him he once again faced her.

"Well, this seals it I must be dead...and the afterlife is hella fucked." The mare flapped her powerful wings once, before rearing her head back and laughing.

"Your not as dead as others may believe, I've need of your services and in exchange for your servitude I'll grant you powers like you've never seen."

"Um, okay I'll bite. Why exactly do you need my help?" With that the evil form of the Lunar Princess acquired a Cheshire like grin.

"I'm a creature of nightmares, and your gunship has inspired many delectable terrors to those who've seen your work. But I cannot expunge the power of such fear from this world without a willing conduit. Namely yourself, and other ghost riders like you."

"Wait, are you saying other ghost riders have joined you?"

"Tsk, Tsk. I think I've given you enough information, so here's my offer. Join me, and live again. Serve me well, and be rewarded with power, perhaps even immortality if your service merits it. Refuse, and I'll send you to the afterlife that all other ghost riders receive. But be warned the wail of your comrades from the other side while they chase whatever their "devil's herd" is, sounds most unpleasant. So what says you?" There was only one answer really, not that he enjoyed be shanghaied.

"I'm in." To the sides of Nightmare Moon, a shimmer like a mirage evaporated bringing five other beings into focus. Houston recognized their form immediately they resembled the mascot of the current ghost riders. Dark frayed rags draped off their skeletal forms, that revealed only a fanged skull and no lower jaw. Fingers long and bony, towards the end of each finger each tapered into a sharp claw. Their eyes pulsed with a sick yellow light. As Houston took in their forms Nightmare Moon began to cackle manically.

"A wise choice indeed. Now after sixty years of waiting I can finally make my glorious return. With six of you, each from a different conflict and their nightmares spanning generations I finally have enough power to return. As a added bonus each of you should do nicely in forming a nasty surprise to defeat those insolent aspects of harmony." Something she said, made Houston immediately respond.

"Wait, sixty years? Shouldn't the element bearers be dead by now?" Nightmare Moon responded by shooting Houston a quizzical gaze.

"How do you know of the Elements of Harmony?"

Oh shit, time to play the fool kid.

"I studied obscure mythology, I was really just taking a shot in the dark as to what you were talking about." Luckily Nightmare Moon seemed to buy the poor excuse.

Well fool, I doubt your mythology is correct no matter how obscure. To answer your question, no they will not be dead. Sixty years may have passed in this realm, but only two years have passed in mine. Yet one more reason why I sought out this obscure dimension to recoup. Time is the most valuable commodity as they say, and this one has afforded me plenty. But I tire of this pointless chatter it has been sixty years, and while nothing comparable to the thousand I spent in banishment Equestria beckons for it's true Princess to return." With that, Nightmare Moon drew all six of the shades to her side. It wasn't until this point that Houston had transformed into a specter as well. Her eyes flashed white, and the last thing Houston felt was a pulling and pinching motion before his senses snapped and everything went gray.