Author's Note

Sorry, MASSIVE REVISION going on! I derped on the timeline. Will fix.

Chapter 1: Denial

Chapter One
Denial

“We go in, get what we need and get out. But don’t blame us if there’s bodies on the floor.”

0800 hrs.
Camp Lejeune, N.C.
Sgt. Jason M. Stone
Force Reconnaissance
Unit 01

I’m dreaming… that’s all I want to do is dream. I don’t want the next day to come. For anything that’ll happen is the nightmare. That’s all I’ve been dreaming about for the past two months. At first, I dismiss it. It’s something that happens and I move on.

But gradually, it gets worse. It starts out with me in a foggy street, what seems like snow falls from the sky as if time were like a snail crossing the street. I can’t see two feet ahead of me. I call out and listen for a response, but there is none.

Then there’s the bodies…

They cover the street like grisly decorations, something out of an Edgar Allan Poe novel. But they aren’t human. They seem like miniature horses, wearing clothing, shoes and jewelry like a human.

Some are bony like they were starved to death. Some look deformed like zombies, others dressed in some form of armor that a demented six-year old made in a drawing. Others looked beaten and tortured, their limbs broken and scattered.

Suddenly massive skyscrapers take shape around me. Scorch marks on the walls outline the horses just going about their business until their lives come to an untimely end.

What intrigues me the most are six separate bodies holding small statuettes. I can’t read the inscriptions. Then a light emanates from behind me and I see a purple unicorn with violet hair.

She whispers, “Help us.” I shiver, chills taking a bullet train through my spine. My breathing becomes heavy and labored. I go into a cold sweat. I was never trained for this.

I then hear a gunshot directly behind me. I twist my body to meet the source, and I feel cold. My vision blurs as I touch my stomach, only to find blood seeping through. I take one last look to the source of the shot, and I see a unicorn in a blue suit and another covered head-to-toe in high-tech armor.

My vision fades to black as the nightmare ends.

The alarm next to my bed buzzes and burrows its way into my skull. What time is it? I didn’t want to know. My eyes creak open to see the red, blinking numbers of my alarm.

It’s Tuesday, nothing ever happens on Tuesdays. And its 0800. Half the base isn’t even up yet. Me and my squad are supposed to be on our way to Afghanistan for a recon op. Wait, our flight is supposed to leave…

Today. Motherfuck...

Cursing under my breath, I quickly get my rucksack with all my gear, my BDU’s, my cap and weapons, cursing all the way like a Marine would.

On the way, I see a colonel and as I’m running by, make a terrible attempt at a salute. I hope he doesn’t-

“STONE, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!” ...notice.

I quickly run back and stand at attention.

“Stone, just where the hell do you think you’re going? The buses for the airport are THAT way! And salute me properly next time, dammit! Now get outta my sight, the bus leaves in ten!”

I holler “Aye-aye, sir!” as I sprint for the buses. Note to self: NEVER do that again.

2100
Forward Operating Base Rhino
Afghanistan

The trip on the plane is pretty quiet so far. Us Recon gyrenes are feared by some, respected by all. We’re responsible for intelligence on enemy positions anywhere in the world. And the best part of it all is the fact that we’re Special Operations Capable, SOC for easy remembering.

If we have orders, we can work alongside Rangers, SEALs, you name it. It’s nothing personal, but I’d trust one of my Marines over a Navy boy any day of the week.

With all that’s been happening in the Middle East, USSOCOM wants us Recon Marines to scout out the area for any traces of Taliban fighters, or worse, Al-Qaeda.

“Sir? Staff Sergeant Stone?” My ears receive the message but my brain doesn’t. I still lay there without moving. I feel someone punch my shoulder, forcing a reaction.

“Hey! It’s our newest addition to the family.” Oh, yeah. Recent graduate of MCRD Parris Island. My alma mater is San Diego. Hot as hell there.

I hate it when someone does that. It’s completely uncalled for! A guy can’t get any rest without someone getting offended these days.

She quickly stands at attention, saluting me, even though I’m still half asleep.

“Sir! Private Joaquin Daniels, assigned to Recon Unit One, reporting for duty!”

Assigned? Great. I’ll try not to kill her on her first day, but I can’t help her if she can’t keep up. Slowly, I drag myself out of my sleepy stupor and get to my feet.

I make sure to walk around her and stop right in front of her just so the point gets across. You can never be truly sure, just sure enough.

“Ok, Private, here’s how things work in my unit: you do what your superiors say and if you’re unsure of the orders issued by my men, then talk to me. We are a team, we work as a team, talk as a team. We live and breathe… as a team. Do we understand each other?”

“Aye, sir!” That’s good enough for me. Welcome to the family, Private Daniels

The entire plane groans and creaks; a whining sound fills the plane’s innards. We must be landing soon.

“Alright, everyone should have their seatbelt on. We’re landing,” the built-in P.A. system crackles.

I don’t like this part. We all settle into our seats as the pilot brings the plane around. We slowly descend until the plane’s wheels make contact with the tarmac below; a resounding thud compliments it.

“Sergeant, you alright?” I’d feel better if we just drove. At least we’re on the ground.

“I’m fine, Private Mendoza.” I decide to not let him worry. The last thing he needs to worry about is me and my fear of planes. A bunch of flying coffins if you ask me.

After an incident involving heavy turbulence over northern Japan, I took every single option other than flying everywhere I went. Transport by boat? No problem. Transport by land convoy with possible IEDs? Total walk in the park. Travel by helicopter? NO. Just no.

“Oh, por el amor de Dios, dime lo que está mal! I can help… only if you tell me what’s wrong.”
Son of a bitch. He’s playing his ‘I speak Spanish and you have to listen to me.’ card. Don’t...must...not…

“I have a fear of airplanes.” Goddamn it.

“Está bien. Todos tenemos nuestros miedos. We all have our fears.” The plane lurches forward as the plane slows to a halt. I grip my seat belt tightly.

I notice my second-in-command, Cpl. Ferguson, is snoring on my shoulder. He was up all night talking to another Private about Officer Candidate School. I don’t want to be an officer. Life has shit-canned me on three separate occasions. I guess God wants me to stay enlisted.

“Ferguson, wake up. We’re here.” No response, not even a smidge of movement. I’ve wanted to do this for a while. Trust me, you’re gonna love this.

I motion for the others to come over and whisper in PFC. Aaron Hoods’ ear.

“Sound the alarm.” He is going to hate me so much after this, but what can I say? I need a good laugh.

He nods his head and motions for the alarm console near the cockpit.

From PFC Hood's POV

The corporal’s not gonna like this. He’s going to snap like a twig, if he doesn’t have a heart attack first.

I make my way to the cockpit, passing by other Marines as I go. They don’t know that this plane is gonna wake up half the base in about ten to fifteen seconds.

I reach a console that says, WARNING: Fire Alarm and Suppression Console. In case of emergency, open console door and press the Alarm Activation button, marked by black and yellow stripes. Proceed to evacuate the aircraft according to FAA regulations.”

Bingo. I open her up and see the button, a red, glowing circle surrounded with yellow and black stripes. Reminds me of a book I read in college, ‘The Girl who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest’. My hand approaches the button, a surge of adrenaline taking a one-way to my brain, making my hand lurch forward and make contact.

I press down. I hope I live to regret this…

SSgt Stone’s POV

The plane’s insides soon turns a crimson red, alarms blaring, men and women scurrying out of the plane like scared ‘roaches. Some of them run out towards the barracks.

Not two seconds after, my snoring corporal is on his feet and screaming bloody murder and curse words, all while running out of the plane like a total moron.

“AH! What in the name of fuck is going on?! Help me, Tom Cruise! Help me, God! Save me! I’m burning!”

I can’t even. I just can’t. ‘Help me Tom Cruise’? Wonder where he got that from. But I can’t even speak right now, too busy laughing my ass off.

Two hours later

After a couple hours and a stern ass-chewing by a second-lieutenant, we’re settling into the base quite well. The lieutenant was the only person on-post who yelled at us angrily. The rest of the guys who heard about the “plane fire” laughed at Ferguson’s act of temporary insanity.

Some of them even filmed it. Pure military pranking at it’s finest. My DI would’ve yelled at me and told me to do forty, but I know on the inside he would’ve laughed.

“You’re an asshole. A complete. Fucking. Asshole.”

The first thing he says after all the humor and he says that? Come on, I put effort into that prank.

“After everything, that’s all you say?” Really? Well I suppose I should have seen this coming. He’s always been like that after I humble him in front of a crowd. To be honest, I’d react almost the exact same way if our roles were reversed.

“Fuck you!” Something’s missing from that insult. I’m gonna call him out on that.

“Excuse me, corporal? What was that?” I raise an eyebrow and his demeanor instantly changes, like a chameleon swapping colors in the jungle.

“Fuck you… sir.” His face turns into a shade like that of a stop sign. Much better.

“That’s it. Was that so difficult? Now, first thing, you need to learn when to sleep and when to wake up. Your snoring was nearly unbearable.” One of the men made a motion that seemed as if he wanted to shoot him. My men really didn’t care, we were used to it by now.

“I was about to strangle you if the Sergeant didn’t stop me.” Private Harry Jameson, brainiac, and general rulebook and dictionary rolled into a human shell. He’s also our resident Field Medic, which is good… sometimes.

I shake my head at his comment. He wasn’t wrong. If I’d let things continue without my intervention, someone would be dead of asphyxiation right now.

“Private Jameson, let’s not dwell on that. Right now we got bigger fish to fry.” I find that sort of cliche’d as it exits my mouth. Must be because it’s been said a million times.

“So where’s Daniels? She went AWOL after the “Ferguson fiasco”. Think she went to play ball with the Scouts?” Hood spoke as he grabbed a Coke out of the mini-fridge and opened it.

Come to think of it, we needed to get her anyways. A VIP was on-post here and wanted to speak with us about a mission that we were more than qualified to handle. Sounds like another day at the office.

“Come on, boys, we got ourselves an op to do.” I motion for us to leave, and we wanted to see what this op was about.

Base Command Center
FOB Rhino
2000

We arrive at the base’s command center, with our newest member in tow. We meet the Base Commander, a Brigadier General from the looks of it. Lot’s of bands on his chest. Looks like he served in Iraq after 9/11. Operation Iraqi Freedom. Dad would’ve jumped at the chance of commanding Rangers back then.

My heart sinks a bit now that I think about it. I salute the general like I do every officer.

“Sir! Staff Sergeant James Stone and Recon Unit zero-one reporting for duty as requested!” The others make sure to follow suit as their boots snap together behind me.

“At ease.” We take a step to the left and put our right hand over our left. Great, now I’m starting to sound like Jameson.

“Welcome to FOB Rhino. I’m the commanding officer on this base, Brigadier General Edwards. I’m sure by now that you’ve been requested for a mission in this area that you are more than equipped to handle. Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re not going alone on this op.”

Wait a minute. “Alone”? That sounds bad the way he said it. And we are more than capable of handling ourselves, we don’t need no babysitter.

“I’d like to introduce you to Lance Corporal Robert Haines, Marine Scout Sniper. He’s going with you on this mission.”

A Scout. Out of everything else, they assigned a Scout. I know we’re lowly enlisted Marines, but seriously? I don’t like this.

“A pleasure to meet you, Staff Sergeant.” His voice sounds hollow, very unsettling. I force my hand to meet his and we shake hands

“Now that you’ve been acquainted with each other, let’s get to business.” He opens a door that leads to a room with a projector pointing to a wall with a map of a large town.

I guess this is our mission briefing. These guys don’t mess around.

“Three months ago, a Marine convoy went missing in northeastern Afghanistan.”

“How many were in the convoy?” I need more information than just a convoy MIA.

“It was a small supply convoy, meant to give supplies to fellow Army boys that are trying to hold a pisshole the brass calls a town. Calls it ‘strategically vital’.”

From the way I’m hearing it, it sounds like the exact opposite. I’m guessing it’s our job to take it back. I’ll just ask what we’re supposed to do for the record.

“So what’s our job, sir?” The general grins. It’s creepy.

“I was hoping you’d say that sooner. Your mission is to take back the town and secure that convoy. Lance Corporal Haines will be at your disposal for the mission.”

“Just give the word and I can provide sniper cover whenever you need it.” He sounds like he wants to do it. Creepy vibe, though.

“I’ll take that. When do we move out, sir?”

“ASAP. Get everything you need and report to the airfield as soon as you’re done.” It sounds simple enough. Go in, secure the town, get the equipment and get the fuck out of dodge.

“Sounds like a plan, sir.” A grin forms on my mug. This stuff is what I was born to do. What we were born to do.

Time to get some.

Ooo-rah.

Note: Level up! Level 2
New perks added!

Forged in The Crucible: Lvl 1: Your testing in the Crucible has made you into a walking tank that dishes out pain. 15% damage reduction.

Brothers in Arms: Lvl 2: You and your comrades have a bond stronger than titanium and it shows. Your companions give you 12% damage reduction when traveling with them.

Steady Hands: Lvl 2: You have a steady hand when it comes to shooting targets at range. 20% more chance for a critical hit with rifles and automatics.

Ironclad: Lvl 2: You can do anything you set your mind to and no one has the power to stop you. New dialogue options available.

Mindfuck: Lvl 2: You and your nightmares have left you on edge. 30% chance of addiction to Psycho and other mind drugs.

Scarred Memories: Lvl 2: A choice event in your past has left you scarred. New dialogue options available.

Meanwhile…

Ponyville had changed. For five mares who stuck together through thick and thin, everything was turned on its head. The Wonderbolts: Equestria's premier fliers, had suffered a great loss.

Four Wonderbolts were killed in a secret mission involving Zebra gem pirates and seventeen hostages held captive for over two weeks. The operation to free them was a success as all but one of the hostages received serious injury and escaped with their lives. The Caesar of the Zebras offered support to Princess Celestia, but didn't allow Equestrians into Zebra territory, for fear of stretching the relations between the two nations to dangerous levels.

Reportedly, his army's intelligence suggested that the pirates were operating in international waters, as to avoid action from both sides. War now seemed even closer than ever.

The Princess claimed the operation in the Zebras' own territory was a result of "happy miscommunication" and gave the Caesar a direct apology for the actions of the Wonderbolts on their behalf

For one rainbow-haired pegasus, however, it was a tragedy. All her life, her only wish was to join the Wonderbolts and become the best flier in Equestrian history, her name being chanted as she and her team tore through the skies.

She left her friends to join Equestria's newest airborne fighting force, the Skyguard. Knowing that her friends wouldn't understand and more than likely object to her decision, she told Princess Celestia to tell her friends that she was simply on vacation.

Princess Celestia, her knowing the fact that war seemed closer than ever, appointed Twilight, Applejack, Pinkie, Rarity and Fluttershy to strengthen diplomatic relations with the buffalo. Now with the recent discovery of firearms, war seemed more harrowing than ever.

No matter the world,

...War. War never changes.