#8 of Platoon 61

by Elusith

Rating: mature
Tags: Tragedy, Dark, Alternate Universe, Applejack, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Fluttershy
Length: 8262

Within another dimension, Equestria's scarred by war. Pitiful pockets of resistance hold out against the towering titans of the mechanics. Magic against machines, both wielded by former friends and allies. In the far future, only war could be seen.

Upon another plane of existence,

War thrives upon Equestria.
Ponies lost their lives.
Others lost their souls.

This is a story about how it ended.
And #8 will tell you how.
This is about Platoon 61
We eat, breathe and live in war.
Secretly hoping that one day we receive our souls back....

Published 2015-08-01 14:40:03 UTC
Last updated 2015-08-01 14:40:03 UTC

The Plaque within New Canterlot.

Hey Guys,
Before you start reading, I would like to warn that the following content is slightly vivid in terms of 'gore'. Meaning, if you can't stand blood, this is not for you to read. If you can't stand a bit of description about parts of the human body, this is not for you. I would not be held responsible for any childhood devastation or loss of innocence or whatnot... You have been warned...

Seven years had passed since the all unicorn Mechanics invaded with their towering robot abominations.

Seven years passed when the first Equestrian Wars began.

Six years had passed when the princesses of Equestria vanished while protecting their country.

Six years had passed when the royal family took over the task of raising and lowering both the sun and the moon.

Five years had passed since the Equestrian Resistance was formed.

Five years had passed since the Griffons of the east decided to aid Equestria in their war.

Five years had passed since Squad 61 was formed.

Four years had passed since Number 8 was inducted into Squad 61.

And a year from now, twenty-five names will be remembered on a Plaque in New Canterlot

The silent night in the frozen northern mountains were ablaze with flashing lights and deafening explosions. The smell of gunpowder laid over the land as the craters littered the ground. An factory lay half buried in snow, it's surroundings a pile of destroyed walls. Results of an ongoing skirmish.

After all, it was war.

Number 8 looked over a broken down wall as bullets rained overhead. A solidly built light green pegasi stallion, dressed in a flak jacket and topping a helmet, a radio set hung from his back as he hefted the familiar cylindrical grenade launcher, a spring loaded rectangular mechanism.

"Is that mech gonna run out of rounds yet?" Complained a voice beside him.

Beside him was Number 5, a white pegasi mare dressed similarly, hooves clinging onto a rifle, an ugly black object, as she glared at him while waiting for an answer. An answer which will never come, after all, Number 8 has no idea at all about when the stream of bullets was going to end anyway.

The source of the bullets was a familiar enemy, one that Number 8 had seen for the past six years. Even without looking at it, he could make out the bipedal mechanical colossal, with two multi-barreled contraptions that spat out bullets faster than an automated rifle could do, steel plated all over and painted in black, with a pony seated in the place where its chest would be, dictating its every movement.

"I can't take this anymore!" Grumbled Number 5, "are we really going to sit here? How do we know that sarge ain't dead yet?"

Eyes tracking the sky above the colossus, Number 8 quickly spotted the familiar shadows within the clouds above.

"Now!" Shouted Number 8, as he loaded a flashbang and took a pot shot at the the colossus, not that it would matter anyway, it was more a distraction than anything.

As the resulting blinding light shimmered down. Three figures swooped down from the clouds, like star fliers that entertained the crowds before the war started, they descended towards the machine at an incredible speed, rifles they were carrying blazing away at the colossus.

The pilot of the machine had apparently recovered from the effects of the blinding flash. Noticing the shots raining down at him, the brown unicorn directed his mechanical puppet's weapons skywards, unleashing a torrent of bullets as he did so.

Two of the descending pegasi managed to evade the advancing shots, but one was unlucky enough to be caught in it. Exploding in a pulp of blood as the bullets found their mark, his bloodied remains dropped to the earth in a rain of flesh.

Smiling as he did his grisly work, the pilot unicorn maneuvered his machine's range of fire to cover the two escaping figures. Until he spotted two figures standing in the open out of the corner of his eyes.

Number 8 and Number 5 fired simultaneously, both weapon's finding their target. As the brown Unicorn's fore hooves which were manning the controls burst apart in a spray of blood, a Molotov cocktail launched towards him exploded in a shower of flames. Screaming as he was being cooked alive within the robot, he failed to check the balance of his machine as it toppled over.

Hardly blinking an eye, the two comrades did not even flinch as the machine struck the ground with a deafening crash. Looking around carefully, they paid no heed to the screams of the unicorn pilot as he was burned alive while they scanned the area around for more foes.

As the screams died out, two pegasi zoomed into view, a red stallion and a black mare, both dressed in similar garbs to the two of them. Gazing at them calmly as they landed on the snow laden ground, Number 8 greeted them.

"Number 13, number 16, nice work."

"No kidding, 8," panted the mare, Number 13, "pity about Number 22 though, he was a little late in pulling out."

That's the way they refer to each other in Platoon 61. No names, none at all. Besides, what's the use of names when ponies in their field of work dying was an everyday occurrence? So they just call each other by numbers, up to 23, you only get your name back when you die or quit. By dying. Both ways would land you a name on the memorial the higher echelons were planning to construct if this war ever ended.

"He gets a plaque with his name on it," commented 5, "no biggie."

Surprisingly, the entire group found that comment funny, breaking out into quiet smiles or soft chuckles. Guess that's what happens when one lived on the battlefield for far too long. Ponies get hooked on morbid jokes.

"Enough," ordered Number 13, who was placed in charge of the entire group. "We just need to get this mission done," eyeing the group as he continued, "then we can all go get our own plaques for all I care."

Chuckling softly, the four ponies headed off, searching for more foes to kill.

"You're late," snarled a turquoise earth pony stallion as he watched Number 5, 8, 13 and 16 snuck in.

He was Number 1, the only one not to be referred to by his tag, but by 'sarge'. Simply put, he's the one in charge.

As the four pegasi slunk into the cover of what was once a magnificent mansion, and now just a broken down ruin consisting of walls and walls with holes in them. Number 8 was sure that it must had been the house of the mayor who was in charge of the district here in the Frozen North, a range of Ice-capped mountains which was located at the north of Equestria, obviously.

A lamp emitting a bluish light akin to the that made by the moon lay beside the Sarge, his eyes darted about, ever suspicious, not even sparing the four Pegasi walking towards him.

"Where's Number 22?" He asked casually, a question he had repeated so many times he pretty much could be remembered for saying it.

"On a plaque," replied Number 16 in a similar tone.

That's what happens when one sees so many die in front of them. Kills the mood when somepony dies.

"I see..." muttered the Sarge, completely unconcerned by the loss of a soldier, "We'll make do with what we have."

"So what's on our menu," asked Number 5 playfully, "where do we jump the objective this time?"

"Shut up, you minx," chided the Sarge, "and listen to what I have to say."

Pulling out a combat knife, the Sarge trailed a square upon the snow-covered ground.

"Nice work of art, Sarge," commented Number 13.

"Well, I ain't no master drawer, so this will have to do." Smiled the Sarge as he spat out the knife. "Anyway, it appears that the importance in our mission had just increased tenfold."

"Why's that?" Asked Number 8.

"Those robot monstrosities the Mechanics invaded us with runs on fuel," explained Sarge, "and thanks to 7, we just found out that the factory we were supposed to hit was far larger than expected. In fact, it's the biggest one we have ever seen, even in the records held by the Resistance, and, better yet, it provides fuel."

"You don't mean..."

"Yeah, this should be their main source of fuel for their invasion against Equestria," Stroking his mustache, the sarge frowned. "But that's the good news."

"What's the bad?" Prompted Number 8.

"The Resistance is currently aiding the Royals at Canterlot against a full fledged siege, meaning, that they would be unable to provide any effective aid immediately."

"What of the Griffins? They are incapable too?"

"Yeah," laughed Sarge mirthlessly, "those stupid Royals believed that if they could defeat a siege that large, the morale of the Mechanics would drop and war would be ended. Then they go and draw up a string of agreements that the Griffin signed with Princess Celestia, and you know how Griffins act about honor."

"Yeah, with their pride on the line, they just follow without thinking." Snorted Number 16, "Typical."

"So no reinforcements?" Echoed Number 13.

"Yeah, not like we could afford to wait. The higher ups say that we should attempt to harass and maybe stop any fuel shipments going out, but since we already made a loud announcement coming down. Thing's gonna be pretty tight."

"So what's this next big plan?" Asked Number 5, grinning as though Hearthswarming Eves just arrived early.

"Well, it's simple... just listen closely..."

The factory was an imposing structure indeed, tall gigantic chimneys puffed white smoke resembling those of clouds. Dark black walls gave it the feel of being a small mountain while the white snow renders it almost unrecognizable. No windows of any sort exist, except for four cylindrical towers which rose from each corner of the cube-shaped building. The night sky was quiet and the moon was out, providing a source of light in the darkness.

"Ready to bring this bad boy down?" Squealed Number 5 quietly, almost excitedly. Chuckling quietly at her antics, Number 8 patted his rifle, which he had swapped his grenade launcher out for, because frequent explosions were not suited for enclosed areas.

"Quiet!" Snapped Number 16, "we need to watch for the signal!"

"Yeah," agreed Number 13, patting a long cylindrical object next to her almost lovingly, "Then one shot, one kill."

Without warning, a bright burning flare lit the darkness before slamming itself into a tower. After a second or two, the tower collapsed upon itself as a torrent of flames erupted from it with a deafening blast.

The world shook as alarms flashed red throughout the building and sirens blared. Snow upon the ground shifted as concealed doors grumbled to life and the first of the mechanical monsters revealed themselves, rumbling up a ramp.

"Now!" Yelled Number 16, even as Number 13 took aim with the long cylinder object which was, of course, a missile launcher.

She was not the first to fire, As the first machine came into view, another pod from elsewhere flew into it, coating it in a furious explosion of flames and smoke.

That was when she shot her own, as her shot flew true, the resulting explosion caused the machine to topple back into the entrance within the ground.

"Alright!" Ordered Number 16, "let's go!"

Spreading his wings, Number 8 followed his group leader as they zipped straight for the entrance. Through the blazing smoke, he had noticed that the toppled machine had in fact caused a domino effect, and the pilots of those robots that had fallen were attempting to leave the discomfort of their current state.

They never got their chance.

Guns blazing, Number 5, 8 and 15 charged into the entrance created. As he caused a white unicorn's head to explode in a splatter of blood, Number 8 shifted his rifle's shots at another one who was attempting to step free of the bonds that strapped him to his robot, that died without even seeing who put three red stained holes in his heart. With a cold blooded efficiency, the trio continued their grisly work until they reached the bottom of the ramp.

Staring in silence at the massacre they wrought, the trio looked at each others blood stained self bewilderingly.

"So," started Number 5, breaking the silence, "I got fifteen scum, how about you?"

"Everyone clear of their roles?" Asked Sarge, his gruff voice a whisper.

The remainder of Platoon 61 stood assembled at the end of the a ramp, in a dark hall, lighted only by an endless row of dim lights. They were twenty-three, now only fifteen Pegasi, Unicorn and Earth Pony gazed around, weapons pointing down both sides of the hallway as they searched for signs of movement.

At two ends of the hall, there were two dark corridors that lead further down into ground.

"Yeah," affirmed Number 3, a yellow unicorn mare grasping onto a tome.

"Understood," Said Number 16.

"Good," said Sarge, " 3, where do we go?"

Closing her eyes, the white unicorn muttered a soft spell, her horn glowing slightly for a few seconds before it returned to normal.

"Sarge, your group is to keep going down this hallway," she declared, pointing into hallway to her left, opening her eyes, "down this way this way, first door to the left, that's where the control room should be. 16, your group will follow me, but we will be heading into third room down the other hallway. You just need to keep walking and every time you reach a fork, just do it in this order, left, left, right, left, straight and left."

"Left, left, right, left, straight and left," repeated Number 16.

"Right," whispered the Sarge, "time's a'wastin, good luck."

And the group split up.

It had seemed like hours when they had split up from Number 3's squad, and the tension was beginning to get to Number 8. Stepping silently through the corridor with his squad, running his hoof through his blood spattered blue mane, Number 8 wished something would happen already.

And quickly wished that he hadn't done that.

It all happened so fast, yet so slow.

Just as Number 13 rounded a corner, a shadow pounced upon her, slamming the black pegasi into the wall and with a swift motion, decapitated her. Her face still an expression of surprise, the head sailed through the air, trailing a stream of blood. Number 8 could only stare on in shock as he beheld the assailant.

A lean slender figure covered in feathers, its visage was that of an eagle while its forelegs end in claws. A pair of brown wings lay folded to its body as the assailant turned about. It's blood spattered face filling his gaze.

A Griffon.

Number 8 wanted to move, but his limbs who was still in a state of shock, refused to even twitch. All he could do was stop there and stare at the suddenness of the event.

He could see the muscle upon the assailant's hind legs tightening. Yet he could do nothing. It bent it's knees back, ready to pounce, however, Number 8 could not move. Then a red shadow flashed forward, barreling into the Griffon.

That's when he heard Number 5 snapping at him.

"Get yourself together! We need to help Number 16!"

Shaking his head, Number 8 quickly rushed up to the scene ahead.

The two figures were tangled together. Number 16 had cleverly used a hoof to restrict the use of the Griffon's beak, while he kept the Griffon's foreclaw's joint against the ground, preventing their use. However, a pegasus was never a match for a griffon in terms of brute strength, and never will be.

Unfortunately for the predator, it was outnumbered.

As the griffon attempted to rise up, Number 5 and 8 had already reached the scenes. Using hooves and rifle butts, they hammered the Griffon into submission, but did not stop there. Continuing their grisly work, even if their hooves were stained bright red with the Griffon's blood, not until the visage of the thing was nigh unrecognizable did they discontinued their work.

"Sorry," panted Number 8, "I was in a shock."

"This isn't the first time!" scolded Number 5, "you gotta stop spacing out whenever somepon-"

"Quiet!" Hissed Number 16, as he stood up, untangling himself from the corpse. "We still have a job!"

"But why's there a Griffon?" Continued Number 8. "Weren't they on our side?"

"A mercenary," Snorted Number 16, as he rolled the corpse, "See that tag on it's wing? A prisoner, no less. Come on, let's go."

"What about Number 13?"

"Just take her tag," said Number 16, "we still have a job."

Number 8 nods as he went over to the his fallen comrade's headless body. Reaching inside her flak jacket, he yanked free the dog tag that was hung from her neck. Sparing some time, he took a quick glance at the contents. It read:

#13
Platoon 61
Nightfeather

"What's her name?" Asked Number 5.

"Nightfeather," replied Number 8 as he pocketed her dog tag.

Grunting in acknowledgement, Number 16 turned around continuing the trip down the dark hallway, his companions following him. There was no further commentary about the Nightfeather.

After all, that's how it works in Platoon 61, the dead were given their name back, then they were forgotten.

A figure sat in the shadows, the darkness covering her features. The only light that shone through the edges of the only opaque door did nothing but outline the pony, but she was used to the dark. After all, it's been years since she's been kept in here.

Then she heard a sound, like that of a fire cracker. Paying it no attention, she returned to her hopeless dreams before a series of similar sounds disturbed her again.

She wanted to voice out her opinions, wanted to protest against the noise but she knows it would be useless, the guards are just jerks anyway.

Closing her eyes, the Pony curled up and tried to sleep.

Number 8 emptied a clip into a grey unicorn, his black rifle's barrel flashing like firecrackers burning. The Unicorn's blood coated him and the walls as the it's guts spilled out from the impact of point-blank bullets. Looking up, his cold eyes could see Number 16 and Number 5 dumping the guard's lifeless companions to one side of the dark hallway. Easy.

"Strange," Wondered Number 8.

"About what?" Prompted Number 5.

"There are only three doors here, what's with the heavy guard duty?"

"Beats me," Shrugged Number 16, as he strode over to the door, "but I reckon it's somepony rather important."

"Need a hoof?" offered Number 8.

"Yeah."

Shoving their combined weight against the first door, it broke loose with an ear splitting crash. Light flooded the dark room, revealing a motionless pink pony. Scars outlined her unmoving flank, a good enough evidence that life left her long ago.

"Poor thing," mumbled Number 5, "I wonder what's her name."

"Nothing we can do to help," snorted Number 16, "she seems pretty important but with her dead, she's of no use to us. Let's check the other doors."

The second door yielded different results, in fact right as the door fell to the ground, a rasping voice growled.

"What now? Trying to show that you're so rich that you can bust down that door?"

The light revealed a squinting young cyan Pegasi, whose hair was looks like what would happen if you dragged a rainbow through the dirt. Eyes obviously not used to the light glared at them while ragged breaths racked her flanks.

"Name?" Asked Number 8.

"What?" Rasped the mare, "Gotten so dumb that you forgot? Mr. Mechanic?"

"You're not helping," cooed Number 5 dangerously, "how about you tell us who in the hay you are and we may just leave you alone?"

"Fine, if that's the game you are playing, I'm Rainbow Dash, happy?"

"Rainbow... Dash..." wondered Number 16 thoughtfully. "Wait, Rainbow Dash, friend of Princess Twilight Sparkle?"

"Yeah," spat the mare, who was still mistaking them for the Mechanics, "why are you still asking me questions you know the answers to?"

"What do we do?" Asked Number 5, "we can't leave her around."

"The Resistance would be happy to know that another of the princess' friends survived," put in Number 8.

"What are you talking about? Resistance? Happy?" Blinked the Mare, "Omigosh, if this is a joke, it's rather cruel."

"Oh don't worry," smiled Number 8, "we are not joking."

"You mean... you are not one of them?"

"The mechanics? Nope." Replied Number 16.

"So..." Brightened Rainbow, "You're here to save us?"

"Us? There's more of you?"

"What? There's me, Applejack and Pinkie Pie, they are in the cells next to mine."

"Oh no, is that Pink Mare...?" gasped Number 5.

"What?" Started the Mare, before horror encased her face, "oh,no. It can't be."

"We're sorry," apologized Number 16, "We were too late."

Rainbow's eyes flashed at them angrily for a moment before a unnatural calm settled over her.

"It's okay," She sighed, "She was on her last straw anyway, but more importantly, what about-"

"We haven't checked," interjected Number 5 as she stepped out of the room, "give us a moment... 16! I need your help!"

"Right," smiling apologetically at Number 8, he followed her out of the room.

The tension was growing thicker by the moment, in fact, Number 8 was extremely uncomfortable in being left alone with a mare who just lost a friend. When a crash signaled the last door broken down, so thick was the tension in the atmosphere that Number 8 visibly jumped in shock.

After what seemed like an eternity, Number 5 called out.

"She's still alive! Just barely though!"

Heaving a sigh of relief, Number 8 jumped again in shock when the voice of Rainbow cut through his thoughts.

"You going to help me up or what?"

Why does it have to end up like this? wondered Number 8 silently as he followed Number 16 across the corridor.

Him and Number 16 had decided to have Number 5 retreat with the unconscious form of Applejack, and have Rainbow Dash follow them. However, for some unbeknownst reason, the Cyan Pegasi found her way back to them, and had tailed them ever since.

"We should really send her back," muttered Number 8 to 16.

"And how do we ensure her safety?" Argued Number 16, "we can't compromise the mission anymore by giving her another escort!"

"I can hear you, boys," said Rainbow, "and no way in hell am I going to pass up a chance to get back at those gits who did a round on Pinkie!"

"And we can't let emotions compromise the mission," hissed Number 8, "something she's full of right now!"

"And how are we going to explain to the higher ups if Applejack turns up and she don't? We already got one bearer death to deal with, we can't afford another one!"

"To hell with politics!" Spat Number 8, "we can't let a single Pegasi compromise the mission! This is something that could end the war!"

"Uuuuh, you could just tell those sacks of hay superiors that they can just go stuff it and puke," commented Rainbow, "I'm not going to be some bargaining chip!"

"Well, you can tell that to her," mused Number 16, "The two of you suit each other anyway."

"Wh-" Began Number 8 indignantly, when Rainbow cut him off, a snicker on her face.

"I'm staying, that's final." She chuckled, "oh yeah, what's your names?"

"I'm Number 16, that chap's Number 8."

"Number 16? 8? What kind of names are those?"

"Names in a war," snarled Number 8, "our name's are useless when ponies keep dying anyway."

"Oh..." mused Rainbow, falling silent while gazing at Number 8 with.... Is that sympathy?

"What are you looking at?" Spat Number 8.

"No, just thinking how pathetic I was when I heard Pinkie...died, when compared to you."

Taken aback by her words, Number 8 began to form a sentence, for something, anything like an apology when Number 16 halted.

"We're here."

The corridor had ended to reveal a huge room filled with massive distillation towers. In fact, they had reached their destination, and their goal was to blow it up.

The Distillation room was empty, except for three unicorns in white overalls and a half dozen worth of guards, one of whom had the misfortune of spotting the three newcomers and having his head split apart in a dozen red pieces.

Unfortunately, the gunshot alerted all of the ponies present, not that it helped anyway. After all, many of these unicorns had either never seen battle or done it from the safety of a machine armor. When faced with a couple of efficient hunters, they all stood not even a single chance.

Guns blazing away, the two eliminated their prey with alarming ease. After all, they had been fighting machines that can tear down a castle in a single night so many times that, to them, ponies were like second-rate prey.

When the last unicorn went down in a fountain of red fluid, Number 8 took the liberty to admire the dimly lit gargantuan room. Three enormous grey cylinders were the highlights of the room, most likely the distillation towers. A stairway which they come from was the only way out, and what tables there were was laden with blood soaked parchments or mechanical devices that require some other pony's expertise.

Hearing the sound of hoof against blood behind him, Number 8 turned around to see Rainbow Dash stepping gingerly over the pools of red fluids and body parts.

"Something wrong?" inquired Number 8.

"What?" asked Rainbow incredulously, "of course there's something wrong! Ponies killing ponies or any other being for that matter, it just feels wrong..."

"Welcome to seven years in the future," laughed Number 16 as he made his way to the first distillation tower, "war made us this way, killed something in all of us."

"What are you doing ?"Rainbow frowned as she watches him pull a package from within his jacket and laid it on the floor beside the giant cylinder.

"Charges," replied Number 16.

"Charges?"

"Something which goes 'boom!'" explained Number 8, "and makes this whole place goes 'boom!'"

"Yeah, and we got 20 minutes befo-"

A gunshot echoed throughout the room, cutting off Number 16's words. The world turned red, but this time Number 8 could move his limbs. Turning to its source, he leveled his rifle at the still-alive Unicorn who laid in a pool of blood. Three shots killed the idiot, three more checked to make sure it's dead.

"You okay, 16?" Asked Number 8 as He made his way over to his fallen comrade.

"What do you think?" Squeezed out Number 16 weakly, "though i would... really want to know why you didn't space out this time..."

"Never liked you," joked Number 8 weakly.

"The feeling is mutual," chuckled Number 16.

"Come on now, pal." Said Number 8 attempting to support his comrade upright, "it's not as bad as it looks."

"I can't feel my legs."

"What?"

"I can't..." coughed Number 16, "I can't feel them..."

"Don't joke around." Fretted Number 8, "that's not funny."

"I'm serious," coughed the red Pegasi, "so you know what to do?"

Unable to trust his words, Number 8 could only reached into his comrade's jacket and yanked the dog tag free, sparing a glance at what it read:

#16
Platoon 61
Free Fall

"Nice knowing you, Free Fall," croaked Number 8 as he turned his back on his dying friend. Only to find his way blocked by a single Cyan Pegasi.

"You're gonna leave him?" Asked Rainbow indignantly, "even though you are friends?"

Before he could answer, another voice replied for him.

"Time's up for me Rainbow," Laughed Free Fall, "I... I just need some me time now, okay?"

As Rainbow started to protest, Number 8 herded her out. She tried to resist, tried to stop him from making her leave when something in his silver eyes stopped her. Those eyes spoke of great pain, and something else... and Rainbow shivered as she realized what had happened to the world.

War was cruel, for it claimed the lives of the dead, and the souls of the living.

Elsewhere in another part of the underground labyrinth, however, a white pegasi, coat and feathers stained red, staggered, strong hooves of an blond orange Earth pony holding her upright. The path they walked was trailed with a stream of leaking blood, blood of the pegasi.

"Easy there, sugarcube," said the Earth pony, "ya lost a lotta blood."

"Ha..." Gasped Number 5, "I just did not guess that there will be another Griffon lying around. I'm... really worried for your friend that... ran off..."

"Why didn't it come after us?" Asked the Earth pony.

"Applejack... right?" Blinked Number 5, "Bloodthirsty beings like toying with their prey. I'd seen them, on our side and on others... Even Ponies' ain't no exception... That... Griffon most likely... sensed... better prey..."

"Easy there," consoled Applejack, "ya don't sound too good."

"Listen pal..." Asked Number 5, "mind if you do a favor for me?"

"It'd be mah pleasure."

"When we get outta this dump, just leave... me at the entrance and... make a run for it..."

"What?" Exclaimed Applejack.

"Oh," continued Number 5, reaching inside her jacket to retrieve a dog tag. "never... thought I'd do this to a non-comrade... but take this to HQ when they come... yeah?"

"Ya ken be serious!"

"I am..." Said the pegasi, "that's how it goes in platoon 61... Not to mention the way... I'm leaking... I'll much rather die out in the open sky... than die running..."

"Ya..." Started Applejack when Number 5's adamant stare stopped her. "Ah understand."

Receiving the tag, Applejack held it up against the dim light to read its contents. It said:

#05
Platoon 61
Winter Storm

"Winter Storm of Platoon...61..." Rasped the Pegasi, "pleased to meet...you..."

"A pleasure..."

"I just... hope... that some of my mates... get to see this tag..."

Despite that her fervent wishing, deep down, Winter Storm somehow knew that it would be wistful thinking.

Number 8 screamed in pain as his wing was torn free.

The Griffon had struck quickly, knocking Rainbow who was up front unconscious before leaping unto Number 8. Unable to dodge in time, Number 8 paid the price, where his left wing was ripped right off his back.

The sound of flesh tearing filled the corridor as Number 8 spun around instinctively, eyes watering at the excruciating pain. Hooves trembling, he filled the corridors with bullet holes as the Griffon seemingly avoided them with ease.

With a speed that seemed impossible, the Griffon slammed Number 8 into the wall, claws ripping off a good section of his green coat. Losing his grip on his rifle, Number 8 drew a knife he kept on his shoulder, something of a habit, tightening his teeth on its grip.

This Griffon was clearly female, and the dim lighting obscured her features but she was definitely a stronger one than most. From what he had seen of Griffons so far, this one would have been a beauty.

Not that he cares anyway. There's far more important things to do than figure out how nice a Griffon would look in their society.

Like staying alive.

Unfortunately, he was outmatched, for a Pegasi can never match a Griffon in combat.

Rainbow Dash awoke to a cry of pain. Blinking away the soreness in her head, she opened her eyes in time to see a light green Pegasi thrown to the ground in a rain of blood, and he was in a very bad shape.

A hindleg and a wing torn off, blood flowed from Number 8 in a dozen places. Rainbow did all she could to pretend she was still down as she heard the assailant crept towards Number 8.

A Griffon was responsible, its outline clearly seen in the dim light of the room. Firmly built, but dripping blood from it claws, Rainbow shuddered at what it would had looked like if the lighting was brighter.

When she saw the black shape of a rifle on the ground.

Number 8 had ran out of resistance, after all, his body had already given up long ago. He could feel his life fluids slowly flowing out, from a dozen places which were supposed to hurt before. Strangely enough, those places had stopped wracking his body with pain.

He could feel something sharp pick him up, he knew who it was but didn't care. His eyes gazed tiredly at the features of his assailant, the shadowed hawk-like visage glaring back at him as she smiled.

"Scream," whispered the Griffon in a voice that sounded like sand upon metal, "scream more..."

He would have, but now, Number 8 just can't do it. He could see the Griffon's eyes glow with disappointment, as she raised a claw, ready to end his life.

She would have, when a bright light illuminated her for a moment and a sound like a firecracker echoed throughout the corridor.

Flinching with pain, the Griffon dropped Number 8, as she turned around to see Rainbow Dash pointing a rifle at her. Eyes flashing with rage, she barreled into the shocked mare, claws drawing a cruel gash across her flank. Rainbow cried out in pain, but could only widen her eyes as she saw what happened next.

Number 8 had risen to his feet, and tackled the surprised Griffon.

"Now!" She heard him yell.

Almost by reflex, she leveled the rifle at the stumbling Griffon and another shot rang from it.

in time, all that was left in that segment of the hallway was a headless Griffon corpse, and two Pegasi.

Finally registering the wound she had, Rainbow dropped to the ground, all drive leaving her. Her flank rang with pain, pain far more than she had ever encountered.

Hearing a grunt, she turned around, beholding Number 8 in his ragged glory. Blood streamed from a place where his left wing was supposed to be, and more flowed out from a torn off leg and a skinless patch, pooling upon the ground. Lying in the puddle of his own life fluids, Number 8 smiled at her.

"Nice... Nice work, Rainbow."

"Uuuuuh, how's bad my wound?"

"It'll get better soon," Chuckled Number 8, "the feeling is... leaving me..."

Despite the joking nature of the green pegasi, Rainbow Dash knew what he meant:

They were dying.

In another part of the building, a turquoise Earth pony slumped against the wall. The Sarge sighed, His flak jacket was soaked through and through with blood, either his or the enemies. Tired eyes looked at the carnage before him.

They had met with a group of roughly six unicorns in overalls and four Griffons in the control room. To be honest, it ached his heart to know that some things lived for blood. He had seen Griffons before, dealt with them, fought alongside them and even seen them fighting each other. These, however, were mercenaries who forsaken their homeland for personal benefits.

Benefits that included taking the lives of innocents. Not that he or his squad were exactly innocent, chuckled the Sarge.

The skirmish was quick and brutal. Faster than he could say jack, two of his ponies went down before they eliminated a griffon and some of those Mechanics. He even headed into hoof to claw and only managed to kill that darned thing because number 12 went in to get beheaded on his behalf. Even now, he could see the decapitated blue unicorn lying in a corner, a pool of blood at where the neck was supposed to be.

He did not know how the others got rid of the griffons, but only him and Number 4 were alive at the end of it. They had quickly operated on the those mechanical platforms that could could control the entire building. Personally, the sarge still think that having all the master controls in one room was a bad idea.

After all, they collapsed whole tunnels teeming with guards so that the other two teams could get on with their work unimpeded.

Ever since then, Number 4 had stopped replying to his words. The quaint green unicorn sitting in a blood soaked chair as though sleeping, but Sarge knows better, and he'll let her keep her well-earned rest.

"Well," He chuckled at the head of a Mechanic Unicorn who still had his combat knife stuck into a bleeding eye socket. "looks like we won this war."

Slumping against the wall, he sighed.

"Yeah, hurry up and blow this dump Platoon 61..."

Number 8 could not remember the last time he spoke so much, granted this time he was having a conversation in ragged breaths but it felt good, having somepony to talk to once in awhile. He shared his history with Rainbow Dash, telling her about his dream to serve some purpose, which came true in a grim sot of way. He told her about his friends in a far off town, a cozy place where life was all turned upside down when the word of the invasion arrived.

Rainbow in turn told him about her, about his dream to join the Wonderbolts, Equestria's most prominent aerial acrobat team. She spoke of her friends, Princess Twilight Sparkle and her pet dragon Spike. Of honest Applejack, who owned an apple farm which churns widely famous apple cider. Of Rarity, who knew all the latest fashion trends, of gentle Fluttershy, the best animal caretaker she'd ever known, and of Pinkie Pie, who can make anyone smile.

It was a weird situation be chatting in, both them in a pool of growing blood, but it helped take their minds off other stuff.

Like the fact that they were dying.

"Heh..." Said Number 8 weakly, "it must be nice... this..ugh... ponyville town..."

"Yeah..." chuckled Rainbow. "It was..."

Number 8 then noticed that she had been holding his rifle to a hoof all this while. Now that he actually looked at it when peace was arriving, he laughed sadly at the ugly piece of metal.

It was ugly, a lump of black metal chucked together to kill. A piece of art that deserved no admiration. One that takes lives, and the soul of its owner.

"Hey..." Said Rainbow, breaking him out of his thoughts. "I never got your name."

"What use is a name?" chuckled Number 8, "we are not going on a date anyway."

"What's this?" laughed Rainbow weakly, "You're hitting on me?"

"Next life, maybe," replied Number 8 smugly.

It was sad, the scene of two dying Pegasi trying to make light of the situation. But they both appreciated it, the comfort the other was trying to give. It brightens up the dark road ahead, the dark route to death.

"You think there'll be an afterlife?" Asked Rainbow.

"I hope so," joked Number 8, "you look... like the kind of girl... that'll make a good friend, but I do think... There'll be one... Hopefully there's no guns or such things... there... Could do without another war..."

"Good," mused Rainbow, "that way I'll be able to become a Wonderbolt at least."

"By the way," added Number 8, as he dragged himself over. "hold this."

Rainbow looked up to see the outline of a knife's grip before, biting it, she noticed Number 8 holding something to the stone floor.

A dog tag.

"Scratch... your initials... onto it, that way, somepony... will know it's us and maybe... put it on a plaque." Number 8 said, his voice getting weaker.

Grimly, Rainbow dug the knife into the dog tag, cutting her initials into the piece of metal. Each moment agonized the fading pain from the wound on her flank, but she finished the task anyway. Spitting the knife away, she turned her eyes to the sight of a Number 8, his eyes all but fully closed.

"I never got... your name," prompted Rainbow Dash softly.

She thought she heard it, but the whisper Number 8 managed was carried away. Dragging herself closer, she placed her ear against his mouth.

"What?" She whispered.

Number 8 managed another weak whisper, but this time Rainbow heard. Smiling gently at the her companion to death's door, she chuckled.

"That tickles," She joked softly, "but it's nice to meet you."

In the distillation room, a red Pegasi sat waiting, the puddle of his life fluids lapping at his body, Free Fall's eyes never left the timer atop the package in the distance. He knows what it was, it was a countdown to his death.

It read:

02:01
02:00
01:59

And slowly it continued, and Free Fall's eyes never left it.

Simply put, since he was going to die, he would like to see how he died.

Outside in the snow, a white Pegasi stained in red watched as an orange figure disappeared from her sights.

She really wanted to be her friend, but Winter Storm knows that will never come true.

At the very least, she would not want Applejack see what she was going to do.

Pulling a round object from within her blood soaked flak jacket, the white pegasi pulled its pin free.

Hugging it to her neck, she directed her gaze to the sky.

She never did like slow deaths anyway.

In the control room, a turquoise earth pony waited, Sarge himself was dying from the wait, literally.

SIghing, Sarge reached inside his flak jacket and pulled his dog tag out. Thoughlt slightly stained with blood, he could still make out the words. It read:

#01
Platoon 61
Wildride

Smiling as he did so, Wildride closed his eyes.

"Hello," he said, imagining his platoon before him, their attentive eyes on him , "I'm your sergeant, Wildride, pleased to be working with you..."

Back in the dark corridor. A cyan Pegasi waited alongside a mauled green pegasi in a growing pool of blood. Rainbow could feel her eyesight growing blurry by the second, and she could barely hear her companion's breathing.

He was lying quite still, the chest rising in shallow breaths the only indication he was still alive, for now anyway.

It felt like an eternity had passed, but she knew that was not possible, after all, Free Fall had promised them twenty minutes.

And if she was not wrong, there was less than a minute left.

Resting her head next to her only companion for some distance around, Rainbow closed her eyes and gave herself to the encompassing darkness engulfing her. Before she did, She gave a last whisper:

"Wait for me," She told her seemingly asleep friend and countless others within her imagination, "wait for me on the other side."

And the darkness swallowed her.

The night had seemed quiet for the last hour, when a massive explosion rocked the range of Mountains to the north. A billowing cloud of smoke obscured the sky, one that can be seen even from Canterlot, the capital of Equestria where a siege unlike any other was ongoing.

Days past, and the assault on the capital grew weaker and more desperate.

It was revealed in within a week to Prince Shining Armor, a well built white unicorn stallion who was the current regent of Equestria, that the Mechanics had lost their closest main source of fuel supply.

Days later, the regent himself led a skirmish against the Mechanic forces.

That day was the last day of the First Equestrian War.

Though nopony else knows it yet, the outcome of the war was decided only a week ago by twenty-four ponies.

One Month Later

"C'mon Rarity!" Shouted Sweetie Belle, a young white unicorn foal, "we are going to be late!"

"Coming, coming!" Replied a high pitched feminine voice.

Stumbling out of her room, Rarity, a white stern-looking unicorn mare still looked about it in wonder. It was never anything special, just plain and without decorations. Grey walls decorated made up most of the architecture and a single round wooden table stood in its center. However, one would appreciate it greatly when they had been leaving in a trench for years.

It was one of the many apartments granted to refugees in Canterlot, even as a new capital was being raised as they stood there. Prince Shining Armor had deemed the structure of Canterlot too devastated to be repaired at the moment, and decided to raise a new capital to house Canterlot's previous population.

"C'mon!" Pushed Sweetie Belle, "Apple Bloom's going to be reunited with her sister! We need to go to the Fancypants' office now!"

"I know!" Snapped Rarity,"Just give me teensy while to make sure that we are not in a dream."

"But!"

"Okay, I'm done!" Affirmed Rarity, "let's go."

Canterlot was in a state of devastation. Broken down buildings and mechanical monstrosities utilized by the Mechanics can be seen everywhere. However, the mood was bright, after all, a war had ended, the invasion was eliminated and the world was at peace.

They had met with three others at the office's doorstep. Fluttershy, a pink haired yellow pegasi, who had been taking care of Sweetie Belle's other friends, Scootaloo, an orange pegasi filly and Apple Bloom, a yellow Earth pony filly about to be reunited with her sister.

It took roughly ten minutes before Apple Bloom flung herself at their old friend, Applejack, as she appeared. It was such a touching scene that Rarity herself was moved to tears.

But the happy reunion was dampened by the serious expression of Fancypants, current representative of Canterlot, as he motioned Fluttershy and Rarity to follow him. Slightly reluctant to leave her friend after such a long time of absence, Rarity complied nonetheless. Leaving with Fluttershy to accompany Fancypants to his current room of residence. It was as simple as Rarity's apartment, grey walled, and with but a bed and a table for decoration. Atop the table lay a small chest, but Rarity paid it no attention, her eyes trained upon Fancypants.

They did not expect the news, they had the thought once, but when Fancypants began, they were not prepared for it.

"I'm terribly sorry," began the civilized white unicorn, "but I bring grave news about your other two friends."

"Oh dear," Said Fluttershy, "is it Pinkie? and Rainbow?"

"They can't be..." began Rarity in horror.

"I'm terribly sorry, Rarity," Fancypants continued, "but we discovered their bodies just as we found your friend Applejack up north."

"Are you sure it's them?" Asked Fluttershy, who was unnaturally calm. War does strange things, Rarity realized, this was but one of them.

"You heard of the explosion of the fuel factory up north?"

"It was what won this war, was it not?" Prompted Rarity. "By the noble Platoon 61 who died doing so?"

"Yes," agreed Fancypants, "it appears that they were the ones who rescued your friend Applejack from that factory, one who died trying to escort her."

"They did that? So you are implying that Rainbow and Pinkie were rescued by them?"

"Yes," said Fancypants, "Unfortunately, Pinkie had died before they found them," Rarity whimpered slightly at the word, "but Rainbow had refused to escape, and she went down fighting with them."

"Their bodies were charred," continued Fancypants as he walked over to his table, "but we managed to decipher that Rainbow and her companion died of wounds inflicted by a enemy griffon due to the facts the doctors scooped up. In fact, they were alive long enough for them to do what they did."

Opening the chest, Fancypants retrieved an abject from within it. Holding it up, Rarity could tell that the charred metal had deeply engraved lines. Engraved lines spelling the initials: R.D.

"So you used DNA testing to tell if she was Rainbow and your results turned out positive?" Asked Fluttershy.

"Yes," admitted Fancypants, "I'm terribly sorry about this..."

"There's no need to be, Fancypants," interjected Rarity.

"Pardon?"

"Rainbow died for her friends, and Pinkie was wronged but judgement was passed onto her captors." Declared Rarity as she blinked back her tears. "I will hold them proudly in my heart, and that of Squad 61, who not only ended the war but brought Applejack back to us!"

"Well said," smiled Fluttershy softly.

"But Fancypants," asked Rarity, "who's the friend that died with Rainbow? We would like to know who at least tried protecting her."

Holding up the charred dog tag, Fancypants squinted at the words that were originally imprinted upon it.

"He is Number 8 of Squad 61," Declared Fancypants, "his name is..."

End

Author's Note

Hello all,
This is my first time attempting a dark story. I wanted to write it because I overheard bunch of children who was like watching some history channel and saying something along the lines of:

Wouldn't it be cool to live in World War I?

In my opinion, war is never fun. And I hope not see it. This is my depiction of war, even if it's in its last days.

Regards,
Elusith