but you'll just die tired."
~USMC Sniper.
"Sniping is poetry in slow motion up until you pull the trigger."
Unknown
"If you heard the shot, I missed..."
Unknown
"The Tragedy of life is not death but what we let die inside of us while we live."
Norman Cousins
October 4th, 2023
Darkness covered the forest, the moon hidden above a veil of dark stormclouds with only a few lunar rays shining down below. The tree tops stood high above, blocking out any view of the sky from down below as rain pelted whoever was unlucky enough to be down below. A freezing wind was blowing through the woodlands, chilling the bones of several humans and their pony companions. This group had just escaped certain death by a group of PHL forces, as they were PER.
They were led by a man named Jorge Bender, an escaped Hispanic prisoner that was serving a life sentence. Now he was free, and leading his own cutthroat band of misfits. Of course, some would assume he would join the HLF... thing is, he did, only he killed his entire squad because they didn't do what he wanted. So he left, and ended up joining the PER for unknown reasons.
Maybe he’d given up, maybe he’d just lost his mind, who knew. Now he was here, with only three humans left and three ponies. All of them Newfoals, and annoying, in his words.
"Alright, hold up," he ordered, holding up his fist as he eyed the foliage in front of him. The rain pelted his boonie cap and pooled at his feet, lightning cracked across the sky lighting it up and the ground near him for a few brief seconds. He saw nothing, except thick bushes and massive trees.
"You see something?" One of the other humans asked, looking ahead through his hunting rifle’s scope. He could see nothing in the dark however, except leaves and bushes. Something howled off in the distance. Maybe a coyote. Maybe a wolf.
The man held up a finger. "You don't feel that?" he asked, looking around as his grip tightened on his shotgun. He looked back at the others, his dark brown eyes barely visible in the dark. "We're being watched, gringo." he said, turning back around.
*KRA-BOOM*
Thunder sounded above, making several of the group flinch from the explosive sound.
If only one of them looked behind, they would have seen one of their teammates being dragged off into the darkness, a knife plunging in and out of his neck.
One down... six to go.
-ooo000=+=000ooo-
The Conversion Bureau: Fear The Unknown
Written by: Dustchu.
Approved by: Redskin122004
MLP:FIM belongs to Hasbro and Lauren Faust.
I own only my OC's and certain elements.
Big Thanks to:
Redskin122004
VoxAdam
Bendy
Sledge115
Doctor Fluffy
Jed R
And the Theidiot
For helping with making this story infinitely better and for being awesome.
Thanks guys!
-ooo000=+=000ooo-
The figure, who had just killed one of the eleven was kneeling beside the body. His knife was still in the soldier's neck, blood slowly seeping out of the wound. His eyes open, he stared into the sky above, rainwater hit them yet he did not blink, for he was dead... obviously. This figure, was a sniper, a part of the USMC. He was the last of his squad, his name... Sergeant Scott Mercer.
He remembered it all... it was just a routine smash and grab mission, gather intel from the local PER encampments about group movements and get out, simple as pie... but it all went downhill from there. As soon as they infiltrated the camp, they were attacked on all sides by PER forces. Scott was providing overwatch with his rifle, a Barrett M92A1, chambered for 50. BMG with an effective range of almost 6,000 feet and a maximum range of 23,000 feet. It was a beast, and he was happy to have it. There wasn’t anything the Empire could throw at him that it couldn’t punch through.
He watched his squadmates get gunned down, half of them shot in cold blood while the others... including his own sister, were ponified. Right before his very eyes, they were turned into zombie like shells of themselves... and he watched it all go down, and couldn't do anything to stop it.
No... I could have done something. He told himself as the rain ran down his back, his ghillie suit doing little to stop the torrential downpour of ice cold rain. I could have put them down, but I ran... I ran. He closed his eyes, his hands grasping the knife as he slid it out of the man’s neck. There was a soft, wet sound. He wiped the blood off on the man's shirt and held it tight in his hands, blade facing downwards. He stood up, his rifle shifting on his back as he looked out ahead. He could see the group still moving, completely unaware he had just brutally killed one of their own.
He moved forward in a crouch, his footsteps muffled by the rain and lightning. He tracked the group through the woods after they were attacked by PHL soldiers, ones he had considered joining... but, he needed to do this, he needed to kill this man and his lackeys before joining any group. His last orders were from the higher up, to gather intel... now those orders were devoid, and his only mission right now...
Avenge his fallen brothers and sisters.
-ooo000=+=000ooo-
Scott tracked the group to a large field, which wasn't too odd of a sight... if it weren't for the large C-130 wreckage that was sprawled out everywhere. The plane was totaled, the grass had been burned away from the center of the crash going outward, the wings were gone, the engines scorched, unsalvageable metal. Scott saw the cockpit was relatively undamaged anyway. The PER soldiers quickly made their way into the wreckage.
”Probably to get out of the rain,” Scott told himself, pulling off of rifle and checking it. "Fully loaded," he murmured to himself, flipping up the scope lid and getting down onto the ground in a prone position. He watched the crash site through the scope, his finger lingering above near the trigger should he have to fire.
Inside the crash, Jorge was not having a nice night.
"Where in the fuck is that gringo?!" He yelled, looking at his group. He didn't notice it, but one of his guys had gone missing. How long had he been gone? Where was he?! "Where the fuck is he?!"
"I dunno boss." The only female human of the group shrugged. She was a tad overweight, and carried a shotgun sawed as short as she could go without cutting into the magazine. "Probably off takin' a piss or sumthin."
Jorge wiped his forehead, tearing off his boonie cap and flinging the water off violently. He looked around the inside of the plane, most of the crates that contained supplies had been looted and broken into, the bodies of several pilots and crew members were gone, either drug off or they got out when it crashed. Either way he didn't give a shit, he just wanted to know where his teammate was at.
"Someone better find that fucker, now!" he yelled, pulling out a Python revolver and pulling back the hammer. “It’s never that easy!”
"Don't worry! I'll find him lickety split!" One of the Newfoals, a unicorn with a long purple mane and tail cheered, clapping his hooves together as he charged outside without a care in the world. “Oh, he’ll be so happy to take the potion!”
Meanwhile, outside Scott watched the pony trot outside into the rain, that damned smile still on his face as he looked high and low for something. Now, to anyone else it would have been your run of the mill Newfoal... but Scott knew better. He saw something around all of the Newfoals necks that made him think otherwise.
Dog tags, belonging to his squad. They’d stayed round the neck all the while, and, in that weird way that Newfoals had, kept wearing them. He knew each of them by heart, right down to the serial number. This particular pony had been a good friend of his. Private Richard, Explosives, fucking goofball but he was a good soldier. He sighed shakily as he watched the pony trot around, the eyes never staying in one spot for too long. He centered his rifle's crosshairs on the pony as more thunder sounded, he waited... and waited... as soon as the pony made it to the tree line...
*KRA-BOOM-BOOOOOOOOOOOM-CRACK*
... He pulled the trigger, and the recoil shook his body. For Scott, time seemed to slow down as he watched the massive 50. BMG round soar through the air, its sound masked by the thunder and lightning. Suddenly, the pony's neck snapped backward as the bullet collided with his head, taking off the upper half of his skull and sending him sprawling to the ground. No one heard or saw a thing as the body flew into the trees.
Wasting no time, Scott released the casing from its chamber, making a click-clack sound as the empty brass flew through the air out of the side port before hitting the ground. He stood up, and moved quietly through the woods to the body.
He quickly arrived at the scene. The pony was lying down on the ground, his upper head completely gone. the only thing that remained was its lower jaw and everything below that. And the necklace, the dog tags that belonged to his friend. Kneeling down, Scott grabbed the dog tags and ripped them from the body. Leaning on his rifle, he looked at the dog tags in his hands, the moonlight shining down to let him see the name.
Richards
Lance A
O Negative
USMC
Christian
I'm sorry Lance... I didn't want to do this... but I'd rather you be dead then one of those damn Newfoals. With a sigh, he stood up, depositing the Dog Tag in his breast pocket before turning around, not bothering to do anything about the body. Four to go. Here’s hoping that you find peace.
-ooo000=+=000ooo-
An Hour Later
Back at the plane, Jorge was currently watching the storm outside from inside the plane's cockpit. He sat in the pilot's seat looking out at the thunderclouds, lightning striking a tree nearby and he thought it would catch on fire. But to his dismay it didn't, somehow. He was also enjoying the slight silence.
"Uh, boss."
But all good things must come to an end sooner or later.
"The fuck you want?" He turned around, eyeballing the other male of his team. A short stout man who once owned a clothes shop in Brazil. "Well?"
"Da pony didn't come back, he's gone." The man told Jorge, cringing when he saw the man reach for his gun.
Jorge's veins pulsed in anger, his eyes wide. "So you're tellin' me... that two," he stood up, holding up two of his fingers. "Fuckin' two of our guys are missing now?"
The short man nodded, clutching his pistol in fear as the hispanic ex-con leered at him.
"Well, how about you go FUCKING FIND THEM!" Jorge screamed, pulling back the hammer of his gun and scaring the shorter man into running away, quickly gathering two of the ponies and the only other human and heading outside into the storm. Jorge watched them go, hand clutching the handle of his gun. Fucking disgrace!
-ooo000=+=000ooo-
Back outside, Scott's mental countdown was interrupted as he saw two humans and two ponies leave the aircraft. No doubt leaving to find their missing teammates, he knew they would find one of them anyway, he made sure of that. He pulled off of his rifle, getting down onto the ground and watching them through his night vision scope.
Out here... He began, watching the short man through his scope as he waddled through the tall grass. Shaking from both the cold and the fear.
I am the one who controls your fate.
*KA-BOOOOOOOOOOM*
He fired, shooting the man in the chest and sending him flying backwards. His gun flew out of his hands and into the grass, lost forever. The others didn't seem to notice a thing.
Out here...
He centered his crosshairs on the other human, an overweight female carrying a short shotgun. He was about to fire but she disappeared into the woods, and he lost sight of her. Getting up, he quickly ejected the spent brass and shouldered his rifle before heading into the tree line. Knife and pistol drawn, moving past trees he spotted the woman looking around, eventually she tripped over something.
I am the one who dictates who lives-
She shook her head, looking up and spotting the body, her eyes went wide with fear as she saw her pony teammate's body lying not two feet in front of her. The top off his head blown off, blood and bits of skull and brain sat scattered around in the grass around her. She suddenly felt a presence behind her, when she turned, lightning cracked across the skies and she saw him.
He stood tall, nearly six feet and covered in grass, leaves and moss. His face was revealed only for a split second, showing icey blue eyes and a chiseled face, his jaw was set straight as he stalked towards her.
She opened her mouth to scream.
*KRAA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM*
-and who dies
Her voice was drowned out by the thunder, the downpour of rain and the increasing winds. Scott lunged forward, grabbing her and shoving the knife up through her jaw, piercing the top of her mouth and skull. She was dead in seconds, her last breath ended in gurgle as blood spewed out of her.
Out here I am both life and death.
He was suddenly tackled by something, something small and furry. He fell forward as whatever it was straddled his back, eventually he felt hooves, and he fought back. Turning around he grabbed the pony's neck, gripping it and pulling the pony forward until it fell in front of him. He saw the glint of the dog tags, Jason. he growled, raising his knife for the kill. But he was stopped as the pony punched him in the face, still smiling that damned smile.
The pony stalked forward, somehow producing a small pink bottle of liquid and stalking towards him. "Just one sip, and everything will be okay~" he told the human in front of him, wiggling the potion in his hooves.
"No." Scott coldly replied, shooting up and charging the pony, his knife and pistol at the ready.
Out here... I am God...
The pony saw him coming and leapt at him, prepared to throw the potion, that is if Scott hadn't ducked and thrown an uppercut into the pony's chin that is. The Newfoal felt his teeth crack as they clacked together, and tasted blood as part of his tongue was bitten off. He collided with Scott, the human grabbing onto him and pushing him up against a tree, shoving the knife into his the pony's barrel as far as it would go. The Newfoal Scott knew as Jason, struggled, despite having a knife inside of his body he kept fighting against the hold.
I am the reaper.
That is until the marine shoved his pistol into the pony's mouth and fired three times, sending three 9mm bullets into the back of the pony's throat. Blood flew out of his mouth and onto Scott's face, blood rain out of the Newfoal's mouth and onto Scott's hand, warm crimson. He slackened his grip, letting the body of the former Marine fall onto the ground with a thud.
I am death with a Barrett rifle.
Kneeling down, the sniper plucked the tags off of the body and read them.
Franklin
Jason B
B Negative
USMC
Christian
Two left.
Walking away from the bodies, Scott watched as the only pony left alive wandered into the woods, spotting him. It was a female, a unicorn with a light auburn colored mane and tail, and a dark colored brown body. The one most striking feature however, were the blue eyes that locked on him. Sophia. Scott watched as his ponified sister trotted into the woods, her mane bobbing along with her trot.
"Hello, brother." She greeted, smiling widely as her dog tags bounced off of her chest with each step making a jingling sound.
Scott stood stock still, his pistol in one hand and his knife in the other. He said nothing as the rain bombarded both him and his sister... no... what used to be my sister, she's no longer there. He told himself, getting into a battle stance.
"Oh brother, don't you want to be like me?" She asked him, smiling sweetly, holding up a potion. "Just drink this, and we can both be happy together, just like mom and dad." Sophia told him, her horn lighting up.
Scott frowned, clutching his knife. "Sorry Sophia," he sighed, raising his knife and putting his pistol away. "But I'm not letting go of my humanity... I'm not letting them take it away from me, like they did with you." Scott growled, his voice deep and scratchy. "Time to end this."
"My name isn't Sophia anymore... it is Star Shine, an-" she didn't get a chance to finish anything as Scott charged her mid-sentence. He tackled her to the ground, both rolling across the ground. The strap to Scott's rifle snapped loose, dislodging the rifle from his back. The two ended up hitting a tree, the pony on top of him with the potion still in his magical grasp somehow. "Drink up, big brother!" she cackled, grinning wide.
As a lightning bolt struck a tree, a branch was snapped loose and fell down, hitting the mare in the back of the head and giving Scott a chance to escape. He headbutted her, regretting it instantly.
Rolling away from the injured pony he groaned, Stupid idea. he told himself. Struggling to stand up as the pony galloped to him, hitting him in the legs and knocking him down onto the ground making him drop his knife. The marine struggled against her hold, elbowing her in the stomach and turning around to face her. Drawing back his fist he punched her in the mouth, making her cry out, falling back and clutching her mouth.
When he did, a memory flashed through his mind of when he and his sister were just kids and were fighting over a spot on a swing, and he punched her by accident, making her cry out just as the pony before him did now. And for the first time since he became a Marine... he hesitated, this gave the pony all the time she needed to attack him. Starshine tackled him again, but she had no potion to shove down his throat, so she opted to strangle him.
"If I can't turn you, then I'm afraid I have to go about this a different way." Sophia leaned down, her eyes boring into his. He swore he saw something in her eyes, something disturbing, more so than the never ending happiness she had. "I'll just knock you out, then I'll go and get my friend Jorge to help me change you~"
Struggling against the hold, Scott tried in vain to escape her choke hold but she was too strong for him. Despite being a unicorn, she had strength that far surpassed his own. Looking around he tried to find something to help him, and he saw it. His combat knife lay just a few feet away from him, the steel glinting from the lightning and thunder above.
*KA-BOOOOM-BOOOOOOM-CRASH*
The thunder roared as Scott's hand grasped the knife, pulling to him he muttered two words. "goodbye Sophia." Then grabbed her and thrust the knife at her neck, plunging it deep to the hilt. The pony choked, blood spilling out onto Scott's uniform and ghillie suit. The pony's eyes bugged out, some blood droplets fell onto his face as the life slowly seeped out of her. The pony looked him in the eyes, and to his surprise... he saw tears.
"I'm sorry..." she choked, tears falling into his face and mixing with the blood. She then fell onto his chest, having her final breath.
Scott laid there in the rain for the longest time, the water washing the blood and mud off of his body and mixing into his suit. Eventually he sat up, pulling the knife out of the pony's neck with a shilick sound. Scott sat there, his arms cradling the body of his sister turned pony. He never wanted to do this, but he had no choice... He held her close, his eyes locked onto the lifeless blue orbs that belonged to Sophia. I'm sorry... he laid her down on the ground, taking a moment to close her eyes and retrieve her dog tags.
Mercer
Sophia C
AB Positive
USMC
Christian
He put it in his pocket with the others, their chains jingling with the movement. Only one more... he growled, walking over to retrieve his rifle before going onto his final target. Jorge Bender.
-ooo000=+=000ooo-
Jorge was not happy... everyone of his guys were gone, missing in action. He heard no gunshots, no screams or yells for help... there was simply... silence. he sat on the steps with a mad glare, his eyes locked on the hatch leading outside. Jorge wanted to know what the hell was going on, so he stood up and walked over to the door. The second he did, a boom sounded, almost like thunder. Except it wasn't...
It was a rifle, and the bullet clipped his leg. Whoever was out there just shot at him, and almost took his leg off! Jorge fell backwards as his leg screamed in protest, he saw a good sizeable chunk missing from the front. He could almost see the bone. Sitting back up against the plane, he yelled. "You the one that killed all my guys eh?!" Ripping off a part of his sleeve, he wrapped it around his leg, slowing down the flow of blood.
No answer.
"Fuckin' coward!" Jorge screamed, reaching into his vest pocket and pulling out something. A grenade to be exact, he pulled the pin, kissed it and muttered. "~See you in hell asshole~" before throwing it outside as far as he could. When the explosion sounded, he quickly got up and ran outside, well... he limped outside as fast as he could go that is, and ran for the tree line. Once he made it far enough, he dived forward, just as a shot was fired taking off half of the tree next to him. "Fuckin' asshole!" he yelled as the tree groaned, then snapped before falling.
Jorge ran forward, dodging the tree before running deep into the woods. He didn't know where he was going, but as long as it wasn't near the sniper he was alright with it. Another shot rang out again, this one nearly taking his head off. He felt the bullet whiz by him, impacting the tree near him as he limped away. He chanced a look behind him, and he saw the man standing on top of the fallen tree, his rifle aimed right at him in the darkness.
He's fuckin' playing with me! He screamed out mentally before turning around and running, blindly firing shots off behind him, and missing. Each step forward felt like a searing hot lance being shoved through his leg, every step made him grit his teeth. His guys were dead, and now he was going to be killed by some freaking psychopath sniper!
*KABOOM*
Another shot, this one hitting its mark and taking out his leg sending him falling forward into a rock where he busted his nose. "Fuck!" Jorge yelled, clutching his face and letting loose a string of curses as he saw his leg, or what was left of it. It was a stump now, the lower part of his leg as been left behind in the mud.
He could only watch as the sniper calmly walked towards him, the barrel of the gun smoking as he ejected the spent brass casing from the ejection port. The brass hit the ground with a wet thud, smoke billowing off of the hot metal.
Jorge could see his eyes, the icy blue orbs full of hate, anguish, and sorrow. The sniper stopped, his rifle held downward. "You just gunna stand there? All high an mighty like?" Jorge asked, cackling before coughing up blood, twin streams of it ran out of his nose as the sniper stared at him.
"I am here to avenge my brothers and sisters... the ones you allowed to be turned into those Newfoals." Scott spat, frowning deeply. "You turned your back on humanity, working with the Tyrant and turning friends and families into ponies, tearing families apart... and for that, I am going to kill you."
A laugh escaped the ex-con's mouth, then another, then he collapsed into a fit of laughter. "You really think it matters gringo, what you do to me. I'm just one man," he said, holding up a finger. "Ese, even if you kill me, there's hundreds more like me, all and of them crazy muthafuckers." He grinned, stealthily reaching for his python. "You'll never win."
Scott, for the first time tonight, smiled. "I don't need to win," he told the convict. "I just need to kill assholes like you."
In an instant, both raised their guns and fired.
*KA-BOOOOOOOOM*
-ooo000=+=000ooo-
Five Hours Later
"Excuse me, hello?" a voice asked, sounding faint.
Scott felt no rain hitting him from above, which brought the question, what had happened? He remembered chasing down Jorge, then the dialogue between the two of them, then they both shot at one another. His eyes opened wide, and he shot up, only to regret it as his stomach protested that action by flaring in pain. Bastard must have gotten me.
"Um, sir?"
Scott looked to his left, and he saw a pony. A hundred thoughts ran through his mind, was this a Newfoal, and if so where was his knife and gun? But then he saw the cutie mark on the pony's flank and relaxed a bit. But this pony could be working with them, he had no idea. "Who are you?" he asked, eyeballing the pony suspiciously.
The pony next to him was a small pegasus, probably only a teenage filly at best. She had a long golden mane and tail which curled upwards at the end, a beige coat and emerald green eyes. Her cutie mark was of a pair of binoculars, colored black. She looked up at Scott, a slightly terrified look in her eyes. "M-my name is Swift Sight, sir." She told him, trembling.
Scott looked around, he saw the woods around him, the bushes and far off he could see the plane wreckage. Beside him he saw his rifle lying by his side, along with an open and empty medical kit. Looking over to his right he saw Jorge, his chest was opened up, blood covered his entire body from the neck down, the rock, and the ground. His face was locked in a glare, his mouth wide open, his Python revolver still in his hands. Looking back down at his chest, he asked. "Did you do this?" He asked, picking at the sloppily made bandages thrown onto his wound.
The filly nodded quickly, "y-you were hurt, and I just wanted to help."
Scott sighed softly. "Don't worry about it... thank you."
She smiled, but then frowned sadly again, looking over at Jorge. "Did... did you kill him?" She asked Scott.
With a sight, Scott nodded. "Yes..."
"Why?"
"... he was a bad man, Swift." Scott told her, taking a moment to undo his ghillie suit. "He took my friends and family away from me, so I had to stop him."
Swift looked at the convict for a bit longer, a sad look in her eyes as she turned back to Scott. With a slight hesitance, she trotted closer to him and rearing up, she put her tiny forelegs around him in a hug. To say Scott was surprised, was an understatement. "I lost my family too." Swift admitted to him, hugging him tight. "And my friends."
The USMC Sniper just sat there, letting the filly hug him before he brought his hand up, and rubbed her back. "I'm sorry about that." He said, looking up into the trees, there he spotted a few birds hopping from branch to branch. "This war has taken many things from us." Scott continued looking up into the trees, the filly did so as well, trying to see whatever it was he was seeing. "Its taken families, friends, and our homes away from us." He looked down, his blue eyes looking into her green ones. "But you know what it hasn't taken away from us?"
Swift shook her head, tilting her head in the cutest way. "What?"
He smiled, feeling slightly happy for once. "Our freedom, and our will to fight back." He rubbed the top of her head, making her smile and close her eyes. "As long as we have those, we'll win this war."
Opening her eyes, Swift asked. "Are you going to fight?"
"I never stopped fighting." Scott sighed, finally undoing the rest of his suit and taking it off, revealing a battered tactical vest, elbow and knee pads, combat boots, forest camouflage pants and a short sleeve shirt, and black fingerless gloves. He took off his cap, folding it up and putting it into the back of his pants pocket, short brown hair could be seen on top of his head. "Are you alone out here?" He asked suddenly, bending down to pick up his rifle.
The filly nodded sadly. "My big brother was taking me to New York, but... he..." Tears brimmed on the edges of her eyes. "He didn't make it..." she sobbed, holding her head down. "I'm all alone..."
The sight of this tore at Scott's heart, to see someone so young lose her only family... it hurt. I can't leave her out here... With a gentle smile he knelt down and put a hand on her head, making her look up. "Listen... do... do you want to come with me to New York?" He asked her.
She sniffled, shaking where she stood. "You... you'd take me with you?" Swift questioned with a sorrowful tone, she really hoped he would.
To her delight, he nodded. "Of course... I can't just leave you out here can I?" He told her, shouldering his rifle with another nod.
Again, to Scott's surprise, the filly jumped onto him, doing her best to wrap as much of herself around him as she could. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she cried, sobbing lightly into his shirt.
The sniper, a cold blooded killing machine trained to kill without remorse, and to take no prisoners. Smiled warmly as he picked up the filly in his arms, cradling her close to his chest as he walked away from the bloody body of Jorge, he soon set eyes on the pony body of his sister who was nearby. She was still in the same spot, as the others were. Kneeling down, he said. "Swift... I need you to stay here for a moment... okay?"
She looked up, her face saying she didn't want to but one look at the body and she understood. Hopping out of his arms, Scott stood up and walked over to Sophia and knelt down again. She was still the same as before, albeit smelling of death and had matted down fur. He quickly ran over to the plane, looking around for something. He opened up several boxes, only finding even more empty boxes, bags and a few helmets. Eventually he found what he wanted, a shovel.
Grabbing it he exited the plane, seeing Swift in the same spot watching him curiously. He paid her no mind as he cleared out a small place near the plane's fuselage and planted the shovel into the dirt, and began to dig. He dug three graves, no more no less. Side by side, five feet deep. It took about three hours to do, but he got it done.
Swift watched him the entire time, her brow matted with sweat. She was hot, but said nothing. Waiting patiently for Scott to finish up, so they could go to New York. She watched as he picked up the body of the mare gently, cradling her body close to him as he carried her over to one of the holes. He place her inside, this repeated with the other two pony bodies, Scott placing them into the holes and putting blue tarps over them. He then grabbed the shovel, and began filling the holes with dirt. This took less time, only fifteen minutes of shoveling dirt back into the holes.
Scott then grabbed several pieces of metal, and stuck them into the ground at the head of the graves. Then, grabbing some nylon rope that was inside of the plane, he fashioned some crosses out of them pieces of metal. Then... he was done, which prompted Swift to canter over. She saw him kneel down in front of the three graves, muttering something to himself. She waited until he was finished before asking something that was on her mind.
"Is this your family?"
Scott looked up, his eyes finding the filly's. "It is..." he told her. In truth, these three were his family, as were the others of his squad. They were his brothers and sisters in arms, everyone of them he would have given his life for. But now, they were gone, and he was all alone like Swift.
Almost as if she were reading his thoughts, Swift reached over and placed a hoof on his side. "You're not alone," she said, smiling. "We... we got each other... right?"
Scott looked down at the ground, smiling. She's right... I'm not alone... Placing a hand on her head, he answered. "Yeah... we do Swift." Looking back at the graves he said. "Sophia, Lance, and Jason... they were my family... but they'll live on," he put a hand to his chest, over his heart. "in here."
-ooo000=+=000ooo-
After burying his squadmates, both Scott and Swift left the field, trekking through the woods looking for the dirt road that led out. They passed the time by talking to each other, mostly about random things.
"I just thought of something." Swift said, fluttering her wings.
"Yeah? what's that."
"I don't know your name."
"Oh... well that's embarrassing." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "My name is Sergeant Scott Mercer, you can just call me Scott."
"Alright, Scott." The filly giggled with a smile, flying up and perching herself on his shoulder much like a parrot would. This caused Scott to raise an eyebrow.
"Comfortable?" He asked, a small smirk playing at his lips.
"Yep!"
Scott laughed, the first real laugh since this war started. Shaking his head, he stepped over a log as the road came into view, what he saw gave him pause. Several cars had been left on the road, their doors ajar and lights still on. Uh oh. He pulled out his pistol, stalking towards the cars as Swift hung off of his shoulder, her wings pressed against his back to keep herself up.
Once he reached the cars, he saw no signs of foul play. Its as if someone just left them there, but why?
"Hello~ All you listeners out there!" A voice on the radio cried as gunfire sounded in the background. "It's your old pal Dusty here, well... the shit is about to hit the fan!" He yelled, from the sounds of it he was fighting something.
"Who is that?" Swift asked, looking at the car radio in wonder.
"Some kid who talks to people worldwide, giving information to the PHL and other survivor camps. He helps out and keeps people's spirits up, or at least he tries to anyway." Scott informed her, remembering how much Jason loved listening to the radio broadcast.
"Well kiddies, my studio is being overrun by a bunch of fucking Newfoals!" Another shotgun blast is heard, making Swift flinch. "Folks, I'm going to have to leave you for now! My studio in the lovely lovely land of Africa is being attack by old Celly's forces! and I've no backup!" more shots. "I'm leaving now and I'm heading to Manhattan, I got a buddy who'll fly me over! If you want meet up, go to The Bar Downstairs, on Andaz 5th Avenue Hotel, 485 5th Ave, in Manhattan!" He yelled through the radio as cackling sounded. "Let's meet up and give that bitch Celly a fight she won't soon forget. Humanity will not fall! Humanity will persevere, with the help of our pony friends, WE WILL NOT LOS-!"
The radio cut out, static replacing it.
Scott looked to Swift, who likewise looked at him.
"Is he going to be alright?" She asked him, despite not knowing about Dusty long, she quickly grew fond of his accent.
Scott shook slightly looking away from the big eyes of Swift, he knew all about Dusty's broadcasts. The twenty something year old was helpful to a lot of PHL movements, and to the USMC as well, giving them intel and assuring words... He hoped the kid got out alright. "I'm sure he's fine."
"He said meet up in Manhattan... where's that Scott?"
He looked back at her. "Why, it's in New York." He told her, checking his pistol he moved towards the car. Seeing the key still inside, and a half a tank of gas. He grinned. "Feel like taking a roadtrip?" Scott questioned her.
She nodded and flew into the passenger side seat, Scott shook his head and took off his rifle setting it in the backseat before getting into the front seat. The car he was in was a simple dark red sedan with a broken back window. It wasn't the best, but it would do. Putting the car in gear, he backed up until, then turned the car right down the road and drove. The shocks of the car were crap so he and Swift felt every bump. Swift was enjoying herself however, giggles escaped her with every bump in the road.
Scoot couldn't help but smile at the sound, it felt like the world wasn't at war, and yet. He knew that wasn't true, the war was going to last for a long time, he didn't know how long, but he hoped it would end soon. And damn it, he was going to help end it, even if it cost him his life.
He was going to fight back... for his friends... for his family...
For Swift Sight.
Driving down the road, he came to the main highway, once he did he turned right again, and started driving east. He didn't know how long this journey would be, but something told him, in the end the trip would be worth it, and he'd be making a lot of new teammates and friends soon.
-ooo000=+=000ooo-
Celestia, know this... I am not going to stop... until I see your head on a pike.
Your damned Newfoals took my mother, my father, and my sister away from me. You took my friends away from me, and you took my life away. You've taken too many lives, broken too many families, and destroyed all that we hold and cherish.
With my rifle on the battlefield, I am life... I am death... I am god...
And I am going to make you make you pay for what you've done.
My name is Scott Mercer... I am a USMC Sniper... and I am going to fight back.
I'm never going to stop until my planet is free from your tyranny.
So prepare yourself... because you won't see me coming.
~Fin~
