Gamers Versus Ponies

by gamer4COD

Rating: mature
Tags: Alternate Universe, Adventure, Human
Length: 2969

"I know Im not on the right side, but that doesn't mean I can't still fight for it." Charlie, Squad Leader of the PS1 squad, G.E.A.R. PMC division, mercenary. "I can ignore the kidnapping of Brony Protesters, but what happens after, in the Stable..."

Currently under re-write, the story will continue on with maybe three arcs. Arc 1 will be a series of missions on Earth, Arc 2 will be attempt to show about a dozen different worlds and universes and how wrong GEAR is about their "methods" and Arc 3 will be about the final confrontation with the monster behind the enemy. The PS1 squad is based off of myself, my brother, and several people we play with online.

4 7 2025
9:27 p.m.
Private Parody
Royal Changlings Infiltrators
G.E.A.R. Outpost, London U.K.

There is the device, find out whatever you can.

Yes, my queen.

Private Parody walked towards a strange device his queen wanted him to "hack." Whatever that meant. After tapping his horn to the monitor and casting a few spells, his risk was rewarded as the screen lit up. Casting a illusion spell replaced the bug with a scrawny man in a labcoat, looking over his withers, (shoulders) he continued his task. Scrolling down, he clicked on a file titled PS1. A new screen replaced the one he was looking at, looking at the titles confused him, eventually he pick on the one titled "Squad."

The Pro Shooter 1st Generation Squad, PS1 when operating with other PS squads, are always in the top ten on the Squad Board, but when tested individually their scores suffered dramatically, top fifty on the individual Board. The remedy for their linguistic problems will be a new member who will also take the role of sniper. The use of SCARs as their primary weapons with the exception of the squad leader who uses an outdated Galil assault is because, as the second in command put it, "its a damn fine gun with a version for everyone here, and makes it so we only need to bring two types of ammo." The squad leader uses the Galil because of familiarity. The Sqaud leader is always putting his squad before the mission, but it is not a problem if we use a G4 squad for suicide missions where the objective is more important then the unit that was sent in. The excessive drug and alcohol intake whenever their not on or preparing for a mission has yet to contribute to a failed mission, yet asking them to stop when the contract they all signed states they retain the right to "chill" as they put it.

Final assessment.
The leader is ex-military and treats his squad as his family without showing extra preference for his biological brother. The squad is excitable when it comes to the prospect of being hired by Holland, despite the fact the Holland has yet to even see a (live) pony. The heavy weapons operator is overweight, one of the two CQC members is underweight, the other is too tall and will likely get an arrow in his neck, the Second in Command was drinking from a flask during this missions briefing, The squad leader was the only one paying attention to the debriefing and was selected from the rest to complete the squads first solo mission. Likely will be their only mission where they were purposely separated.

Current Mission.
Capture the Changling.

The screen changed to a blank mirror where Parody was terrified to see one of them behind him, trusting his illusion to keep him safe, he turned to meet this newcomer. Thankfully it was a she and the PS1 squad had no females.

"Hey, come on. Your still working, theres a party going on man, lets go." The stranger spoke in a kind, soft manner that immediately relaxed Parodys nerves. Following her out the door, he asked her name.

"Sarah, I just signed the contracts yesterday, Charlie said I need to past a test before I can take the open role in his squad, I can't wait to get this over with."

What? Was the last thing the Changling thought before he was punched in his illusions groin, his chitlin cracking to the blunt force behind it. Grey filled his vision, The Hive screaming in his head to stay awake as he succumbed to sleeps embrace.

"Did I past, sir?" I walked out of the shadow behind the strange pair smiling. She pulled the brass knuckles off of her hand and lightly kicked the unconscious bug a few times, her efforts were rewarded by a groan. The bug was still breathing, for now. Who knows how long he'll last down in the stables.

"With flying colours." I replied with the dumbest joke that everone in G.E.A.R. uses at least once in their time here. "Come on, when we get done with him, you can show me some of the best Britain has to offer. Welcome to the Pro Shooter 1sr Generation Squad.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-30 17:42:45 UTC

Chapter one, Prologue.

Do I see their faces? The short answer would be no, I don't. The long answer is no, I see the faces of my friends and choose their human faces, over the ponies.

Charlie .S. Robertson on The Late Night Show.

Prologue

In the year 2010, a company called NervGear creates a virtual world, the first day all 10000 copies are sold in seconds. Five years later, they make another leap, this time creating a device that converts all you do in the game, into muscle memory. Efficiency creating a way to train soldiers in weeks instead of months, two years go by, armies are raised, and razed by the dozen. This goes on until scientist accidentally discover trans-universe travel while they were looking for teleportation. They send in the German Kommando Spezialkräfte, but only one comes back, followed but queen sunbutt herself. For the next three years, humanity fights to hold back the seemingly endless number of ponies, all of Germany is now under pony control, half of Poland  and France and over half of Normandy are now converted. The Department of Defense needs soldiers now more then ever, their only hope to stop the enemy's advance is a select group of gaming veterans, G1s their called, their average age is between 27 and 33 years old, they played the first PlayStations and Xboxs, they played every Halo and CoD from the first ones to the new NervGear VR, every Elder Scrolls, every Fallout, every Farcry every game that has to do with war. The only problem is most of them signed on with G.E.A.R. which formally announced to the world that it was now a PMC, not a Para Military Corporation, but a Pony Murdering Corp. Now, that knowledge will be transferred to their bodies, what they will do with it, is anyones guess.

GEAR OUTPOST U.K.

800 HOURS

SATURDAY 7 2 2025

YEAR THREE OF HUMAN EQUINE WAR.

CHARLIE

As I look around at the room I shared with my little brother I nod to the beat, gangsta rap made me do it by Ice Cube blasting out of the speakers, a  birthday cake on the single desk next to several paper cups and a few bottle of soda and a bowl for punch, the bunks removed to make room for the TV and couch. A banner taped to the wall over the desk proudly proclaiming to the world that it's someones birthday.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"It's open." I turn to the door as my two of my best friends come in, their arms full of glass bottles and a jug of Hawaiian punch. Craig is a fat boy, rather short, but easily one of the best heavies there is. Where Shane is a skinny tall stereotypical burn out stoner, if you look past the lack of intelligence you see in most people's eyes, you would find he is one of the best mages there is.  "Everclear?" I ask.

"Hell YEAH bro!" Craig replies as he goes to the table in the back to start making the drinks. Shane walks in and starts plugging a ancient PS4 into the TV. I was sitting on the couch reviewing information on my CATA CATI when another knock on the door signalled the man of the hour has arrived. I get up and open the door and hug my brother, many people used to think we were twins when we were younger, but his teenage growth spurts put him at nearly 6 feet, whereas I stayed around 5,7. "Hey bro bro, come on in, hey Tye, hey Amber."

After everyone got inside, got their drinks, and started smoking their joints, we settled in to play borderlands 3 on the near death PS4. After a little more then 2 hours, I decided now was as good a time as ever, and broke the silence. "Okay, first off it's good that command whats us to go in to France and check for survivors, even if we got to work during your brithday bro, but they finally got the stuff I've been asking for done, in a while we'll head down to R&D to inspect the new toys we'll be using during the raid into pony territory. Sober up if you can, cause you know how the labcoats love spending months making this stuff, only for the ponies to trash it in minutes."

"How is it our fault those things kick like a mule?" Eddie replies, getting a laugh out of all of us. as  we get up to leave, I reach into my duffle bag and remove a small box containing one chocolate and pink icing cupcake, and place it on the desk before rushing out to rejoin my friends. Every party I go to, I always leave a similar cupcake behind. I never caught the one who eats it, but if there's one thing I know, some poeple (or ponies) can't resist a party, Physics be damned.

Written in white icing are the words, Life is a party.

Ponyville park

10:15 AM

7 2 1005 CR

Pinkie Pie

A smile slowly found its way to Pinkies face, reaching in her mane, she feels  around for a few seconds before pulling out a cupcake. Her friends merely shrugging it off as a Pinkie thing. Immediately bitting into it, a thought entered her mind.

One day, I'm gonna have to repay him for these.

GEAR OUTPOST R&D TESTING LABS

1030 HOURS

7 2 2025

YEAR THREE OF HUMAN EQUINE WAR.

EDDIE

The walk to the labs didn't take to long, 15 minutes of joking, smoking, and poking each other about how they're the useless one. Right now the jokes have turned to Charlie and how he needs to get laid before the mission. "Why don't you fuck him Amber, lord knows he needs it." Craig jokes, getting a deep blush from the sniper/language specialist.

"Shut up man, for all you know, Amber has been riding me ever night since we've met." Charlie replies, somehow deepening the lone females blush even more. The jokes stop as we approach the thick, heavy door that resembles the inner doors from a vault in Fallout. Opening the door reveals another door five feet ahead and a small room for "decontamination" or some shit. After getting several chem bathes, we are finally allowed to enter to facility. The room is about 40 feet long by 50 feet wide. Everywhere I look are weapons being developed or new armour being tested. The room is incredibly clean, the countertops are covered in armour and weapons, the labcoats on the nerds are spotless. Charlie walks up to one of the nerds at what seems at random and starts walking away with him, whispering about science stuff. No matter how many times we come in here, it still takes my breath away. Over in the corner is something that looks like the unholy basturd of a rad suit from Fallout and a knight from the Renaissance age. I send a quick prayer, hoping that thing isn't the reason Charlie is so excited.

"Hey guys, come on they're about to begin." Charlie calls use over to a door at the back of the room that leads to the labs briefing room, why there's a briefing room in a lab is one of those weird things about G.E.A.R. We continue joking while Charlie has a few last minute words with the labcoat from earlier. A flat screen TV rolled out of a hidden while Charlie walked in front, stopping when he blocked out the TV. "Okay, as you all may or not know, Paris was taken over this morning. The 24th Infantry Regimen was sent by the Land Forces Command to defend Paris failed due to a new threat H.Q. is calling the W.I.N.I. spell. W.I.N.I. being short for Want It, Need It. The entire army abandoned their post to claim the item the spell was casted on, strangely enough, the object was a tattered old pony doll. Our job will be to capture said doll, secure any survivors of the attack, and find this mare who we believe is responsible for the spell."

Stepping aside, a picture of a blue unicorn mare appeared on the screen. Her name and code name appeared under her picture.

Trixie.

Operation, bag the hag.

"This is a contract from what remains of the French government specifically centered around searching the area around the Eiffel Tower, which is agreed to be the most likely spot to find survivors. Command has its own reasons for accepting this job, they want us to "acquire" her and several of these goggles that the ponies were wearing that the scientists believe to have a counter spell on them." On the screen is a pony wearing a pair of old pilots goggles. Stepping back infront of the TV, Charlie continues. "Now, we'll be paid 200,000 American dollars apiece, and a extra 50,000 dollars if you find one of those goggles. The scientists believe we can reverse engineer the spell or spells on the goggles, thus giving the rest of the world one more reason to allow G.E.A.R. to operate in the Ponified Combat Zones, at the moment, should they use this spell again, no one will be safe. It is unlikely we'll encounter her, the doll, or any of these goggles, but if we do, we'll have to strike first, and strike hard to avoid detection. Write letters to your loved ones, say goodbye to the whores you've been fucking, and get ready for an all nighter. That is all." Stepping down, Charlie motions for us to follow him. We walk back into the main room and go though a door on the right marked "TESTING" that we've only been in a dozen times.

"Hey Octagon, show us what you got." I say to our head techie.  He looks over and frowns at the nickname, his real name is... Actually, I've never asked him for his real name. Probably something like Sheldon or maybe Bob, he looks like a Bob. Bob is talking with Charlie over in the corner, can't hear anything, must be a secret.

Oh, look at you. "Hey, names Eddie, and you are..." I say to this fine piece of ass. We talk a little before Charlie gets done and we all enter the firing range. On a table are 6 rifles, 5 of them are SCARs or SCAR variants, and the 6th is Charlie's Galil he named The Gear Of War. Mine is a SCAR-H MK 17 with a barrel length of 20 inches. Craig grabs the HAMR modal, Amber picks her the Sniper Support Rifle (SSR) Mk 20 Mod 0, Shane

grabs his Mk 16 CQC with a 10 inch barrel and Tye picks up his Mk 17 CQC with a 13 inch barrel. All of our weapons are "outdated" by everyone's else's opinion but SCARs have yet to let me and my squad down and Charlie's Galil has been by his side since the day he finished his training program and started on the firearms and physical training. The skill he uses his rifle makes me wish I spent more time on the range everytime we get deployed, so naturally we spend an hour on the range and another hour on the course.

Ka-Click, Click-Clack.

The familiar texture on the grip brings back a comfortable feeling, like the world could try and kill us and fail miserably. Everyone has their guns loaded and wait silently for the order from Charlie. Instead of him spitting a one liner, he stays quiet. For a few seconds, we're focused entirely on the targets, ponies, unicorns, and pegasi paper cutouts staring back at us with various expressions on their muzzles.

Fear, rage, joy, and sorrow.

"Okay Pro Squad, today we are going to test our new toys, Eddie, Bob has your new attachment he calls, The Easy Way Out, enjoy, Amber will be getting a modified thermal optics scope that shows magic as well as body heat, Craig, you will be getting a few new drums for your HAMR, the magazines will automatically enchant any bullet you put in there into several versions, you get 6 different drums, five will enchant them with a single type, and the six will randomly enchant them. Shane, you and Tye will be getting these air burst launchers that, like Craigs, will enchant the rounds you put in there. Me, I will be getting a few new kinds of paintballs for my paintball gun attachment. Test them out on the targets, Amber I want you to target the vials of potion taped to their backs, Eddie, me and you need a stronger room to test yours in, come on." Charlie lights a cigarette and heads out with me trying to figure out the strange mod I gotten.  It's looks like a grenade launcher only its a little too small for that, same principle on it though.

Five minutes and a cubic yard of concrete later...

"Ok, this is incredibly painful." Somehow, the nerds made a 8 gauge under barrel shotgun attachment made specifically for blowing holes though solid... anything! which resulted in me getting knocked back into the wall like this was all some bad joke in a slapstick comedy movie, but god be damned if it didn't feel good watching the dust settle. The wall had lost a serious amount of itself. Charlie said it was reinforced concrete. Which means, "Fuck yeah! We gonna go places bitch! Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!"

We got our daily 'blow something up' out of our systems. Charlie excused himself to do... Something, hell if I know.

G.E.A.R. OUTPOST STABLES

1130 hours

7 2 2025

Year three

Charlie

The sad thing is, I used to like MLP, now I get paid to kill the stupid things. The brony community forms protests outside of the compound everyday, mainly because we're "civilian contractors" and can't use things like rubber bullets and tear gas to deter them. Who knows, maybe if I never signed up for the Marines, I would be out there. Probably wearing a shirt with Derpy on it.

"Ahhhhh!" Another 'assest' being exploited, wonder if it's a unicorn or pegasus this time. Just torture for tortures sake, or maybe collecting horn shavings. As I walk down the hallway receiving foul looks from the ponies in cages on my right, and the cells on my left, my mind continues to wander, Where do they get these numbers? Why are they so hard to break? These ponies seem to be indifferent when it comes to converting us, why? All I got are some theories about fanfic from a show that had its final episode two days after the first conversion, most point to ponies wanting us to abandon our wars and bloodlust and 'join the herd' so we would be happy, yet these last three years have shown us that these are definitely not pacifist ponies.

Shaking the thoughts away, and doing my best to ignore the crying of the 'assets' I head deeper into the monster's gullet. I always head down here, why? Is it to simply see what they look like when we capture them, is it to remind myself that a quick death is better then the slow, torturous deaths the 'scientists' put them thou? Possibly the later, my squad does have the single most worse capture/kill ratio of the whole PSN side of the duel prong mercenary division that GEAR uses, every time I turn my head I am rewarded with glares, tears and barely suppressed rage. Everyone I return with a look of pity and remorse. If all else, my conscience can't blame me for the bronies that were kidnapped in the night, brought here because of their words catching the ears of people GEAR would rather remain deaf. Enough self hate for a day, time to check out the rest of the labs, I heard that they were close to getting me those mana paintballs I asked for, a few shots to a unicorn, pegasus or earth pony were all it would take to knock their magic out for hours.

Omake , Darts and BB guns.

Ahhh, the break room, one of the parts on the contracts we all sign is having a private room for the sole purpose of relaxing and comparing kill counts. The room was packed, divided by the rivalry between the Xbox and Microsoft mercs, and the PlayStation and Nintendo mercs. The room was pretty big, maybe 50 feet by 40 feet, longer then wide. In the room was a bar, stocked with cigars and cigarettes as well as liquor. The small stage at the back of the room for people to play music and karaoke, the flat screen TV's and gaming consoles for when running the training courses gets old, the dartboard with a rather lustful picture of sun butt showing off her double sized flank for use for penetrate with darts. After a moment, I remember a old song my dad would sing after mum and him got into another fight. Smiling, I make my way to the stage, pick up a guitar and start strumming.

"This song was written by the late great Roger Alen Wade, dedicated to the that bitch over there, sing along if you know the words, and if you don't, please learn quickly, Its a short song. I'd. Like. To..."

Two minutes later, the last line coming up, I decide to add a little something special. "I'd like to shoot Princess Celestia right square in the ass, with a Red Ryder, BB GuuuuUUUUuun." Wild cheers and laughter fill the air as I step start strumming the guitar again, intent on bringing the rivalry between the two halfs of GEARs mercenary corp closer together.