Fallout Equestria: Equestrian Marines

Chapter Three
Missing In Action

Washington D.C.
The Pentagon
USSOCOM HQ
Force Reconnaissance Wing

“They say war never changes... They never said anything about the battlefield.”

Ten minutes after loss of contact.

I must be part stupid because I don’t get it. How could a squad of my Recon Marines in northwestern Afghanistan just disappear off the face of the fucking planet! The facts just don’t add up!

We have over twenty surveillance satellites in orbit and these radar jockeys can’t find seven Marines in a desert. Alone. In the middle of August. Either the satellites are malfunctioning pieces of shit and we should scrap ‘em, or the people operating them are plain stupid. Although… most of the satellites are five to seven years old, so it could just be me.

“I don’t understand, how could we lose radio and visual and satellite contact all of a sudden?” I had to yell to get the question across the myriad of chatter the room became. Must be my old ears.

“We’ve lost all visual and radio contact. Attempting to reconnect.”

He started click-clacking at the keyboard viciously, a sea of words erupting onto the screen. I couldn’t make anything of it at all. Suddenly, I start beeping. I never beep, at least if it isn’t so important that is has Alpha priority etched in red letters on my pager. This can’t be good.

“Excuse me, I have to take this.” I walk away real smooth-like, masking my already piqued interest and taking my leave out of the room.

A Marine Corporal stands at attention and escorts me through the maze of corridors and hallways that is The Pentagon to the “War Room”.

Inside, I find myself sharing a table with the Secretary of Defense, the Cabinet and the Joint Chiefs. I don’t like where this is going, but I keep my tongue.

“General, welcome. Please have a seat.” One of the Joint Chiefs has an aura of power that usually comes from a select few. I take up his offer without hesitation and find myself a seat.

“I think I already know what this is about, but humor me. What am I doing here?”

“I think you already know…” The Secretary’s tone darkens. I stay completely silent.

“Ten minutes ago, a Marine Force Reconnaissance detachment disappeared off our scopes without a trace. We came to you to hopefully find out exactly why that is.” His tone suggests he wanted an answer. I don’t have one.

“We honestly don’t know what happened. Twenty minutes ago, they were participating in a liberation op on a nearby town and were just ex-filling out of the area.” I tell him the honest to God truth.

“As far as we know, you’re the one who gave them that mission.” The Secretary of Defense bores into me. They wouldn’t. Don’t tell me that they’re actually blaming me for this.

“Don’t you have something better to do than to blame one of our best generals? Especially when he’s commanded over three thousand troops in one of the bloodiest battles in world history? A squad of some of our best Marines has just been declared MIA!” One of the Joint Chiefs speaking up? And in my defense? Truly, things have changed.

“Cut the shit people, we have a job to do…” The SOD is really not happy today. What happened? Al-Qaeda stick a burr up his ass? A drop in the polls? If so, they did a really good job.

“Who was in command of the detachment?” A Fleet Admiral breaks up the bickering, I’m glad he did.

“Staff Sergeant James Matthew Stone, signed up for the Marine Corps six years ago and has been on twenty-seven recon ops, search and destroys, VIP recovery missions, VIP assassination missions and an assortment of classified missions that would make a man insane. Don’t be mistaken gentlemen, what you’re looking at is a bona fide American soldier.” Sounds like your average Recon jockey. My cup of tea.

“So he’s a decorated soldier. We have plenty of those. What about his civvie life, before the Corps? Who was he before we trained him to be a killer?” What is this guy’s problem? He’s starting to get under my skin. It’s like he’s considering Stone to be a criminal and this is starting to look like an interrogation.

“Mr. Secretary, with all due respect, is this a briefing or an interrogation?”

“It’s whatever I want it to be, General Bryce. Now who the hell is James Stone?”

“Again, with all due respect, he’s one the best Marines I’ve seen in years. He was under my command for three years and did missions nobody else had the balls to do, or was too busy dealing with political and PR bullshit. While we were off with our dicks in the wind in Iraq, Stone and his men were searching for Hussein’s WMD’s he was supposedly testing on his own people!” I really hope I live long enough to regret that. I expect him to lash out, he just sits and glares daggers at me. My tirade must’ve had more of an effect than I thought.

“Okay… So why is he and his squad labeled as MIA?” Again, I come up with a blank.

“I honestly don’t know.”

Meanwhile...

...Fuck. Okay, sanity? That’s up for debate. Squad? They’re just as confused as I am. Where the fuck are we? Hell if I know!

The winged horse along with what seems to be its child are just looking at us. Either they are oblivious to the fact that we don’t fit into this picture, or they’re just staring for some other reason. I’ve got to choose my next actions carefully. Panic is NOT good, so it’s something I want to hopefully-

“OH GODDESSES! WHAT ARE THOSE THINGS!?”

“SOMEPONY GET A GUN!”

Just before I fucking say it. You have got to be fucking kidding me!

“MARINES, MOVE IT!” I motion to move into a cafe across the street from us. I don’t know what it holds and I honestly don’t care right now. My first priority is to find out where the fuck we are!

In a worst case scenario, one of us usually yells out something like “We’re FUBAR!” Now would be the time if anyone’s got it.

“With all due respect, we’re FUBAR!” Hood’s carrying voice makes him seem so loud enough it seems he’s right next to me. I knew somebody was gonna say it, just didn’t expect the only black guy in our squad to say it.

We need to figure out just what the shit-eating FUCK is happening here!

“I did NOT sign up for this bullshit!” Well look who’s talking, Corporal Ferguson, a man who says he can go anywhere and do anything, yet he procrastinates ninety percent of the time..

Daniels hollers over the screams of the… inhabitants. “Corporal, with all due respect, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I’ll have to chastise her about that particular phrase later, right now we have bigger fish to fry. Although, I do have to congratulate her. Too. Usually privates like her are strictly by-the-book. They grow up so fast.

Mendoza lets out a yell as he sprints full steam into the cafe door and blasts it off its hinges, making me think twice about challenging him to football. We all file in and start turning the place into a half-assed fortress. Me and Hood turn over tables and make barricades on the windows to prevent any… thing else from seeing us. The rest make sure there weren’t any back entrances or secret paths in. I take a moment to glance at what seems to be a menu of sorts. ‘Pony Joe’s Donut Shop’? Who the fuck comes up with a name for a shop like that? I can understand eccentricity, but this is a bit over the top for me.

I can hear all sorts of commotion happening outside. Why do I feel like Burt Lancaster from Gunfight at the O.K. Corral? Is it because I’m on the wrong side of a standoff on an alien planet?

The rush of adrenaline is pushing my heart rate through the roof by now, I love it. This is what being a Marine is like. You’re neck deep in the shit, your squad is right there with you and it’s you versus the world. You feel it pushing down on you, but you know in your heart that you can do it.

Soon the windows are boarded up like Kino der Toten, and the whole shop looks like my college dorm gone wild. A few drinks and half-eaten plates of donuts and… hay inside a burger. What the fucking fuck? This must be a place where vegans get together. The whole donut facade is just to mess with people. Save for a couple of broken windows, and the shop looking like it’s been ransacked, this place was secure. For a moment at least.

I call the squad together for a role call, need to make sure I didn’t miss anyone.

“Ferguson, you good?”

“Yeah I’m fine. ‘cept for losing my mind, I need that back in ten.”

“Great, he’s good. Mendoza, where the fuck are you?” I look around and I get a somewhat muffled response.

“Ahm here! Fis food is really go-” Motherfucker’s stuffed himself with God knows what and he looks like a teen with his first car. Really awkward silence follows along with us staring like we’ve just found fucking Atlantis.

“Mendoza. You will spit that shit out. Right. Now.” I can’t fucking believe this shit is happening to me of all people on the fucking planet! We get teleported to an alien planet and the first thing on of my squaddies, a fucking Marine for chrissake, is chewing on something meant for horses! What the fuck is going on here?!?

He promptly spits whatever he was previously eating onto the floor. Goddamn it, Mendoza. You and your Hispanic heritage.

After a long pause, I manage to regain some composure. I look around and see most of my squad. Wait, most of my squad? The fuck happened to Haines? Must’ve gone somewhere else. And the Humvee is gone. Fucking perfect! I guess this planet is just full of surprises!

“Okay… Hood! You good?”

“Uh… No, Staff Sergeant.” Good, there’s always someone who says no. His darkened skin shines in the sun, his chocolate skin looks almost black in the sun’s light. His large and intimidating figure must’ve been what scared the locals, the guy’s nearly six and a half feet tall and looks like the black version of Undertaker with a machine gun and complimentary rocket launcher. Him in his armor is what’s most terrifying about him, his chestpiece is covered in ammo for his M240 and the SMAW on his back.

“That’s okay, I’m not okay either. Jameson, you squared away?”

“Squared away, Sarge.” Jameson’s your Average Joe. Not too big, not too small, just right. Not so big that in a crowd he stands out, but not so small that people can call him “fun-sized”.

“Daniels.” Hood elbows her after a minute or so without a response. She just stared out into the open.

“Yes, Sarge?” Her voice is incredibly soft, for her tomboy-ish accent. Ferguson notices and calls her out. Our resident rookie is… quite tall for a woman. Nearly six feet tall and a gorgeous frame… She looks fine, I’ll just leave it there.

“Hey, you okay? Daniels, how many fingers am I holding up?” He puts up both his middle fingers and madly grins.

“Ferguson, can it. Daniels, you squared?” She quickly acknowledges. Sirens could be heard in the distance. This was getting worse by the minute.

We need a way out, fast.

M.A.S Canterlot HQ,
5 minutes after reports of bipedal monsters in downtown

Me and the girls meet in Canterlot Castle to discuss these reports of… “armored bipedal monsters with firearms.” or “minotaurs without horns.” There’s full-scale panic in downtown and we have to deal with this quickly and efficiently before the press catches wind.

We’re already butting heads. Rainbow wants to shoot the creatures on sight, Pinkie wants to “study” them (using that word as a vague term in this context), and AJ, Rarity and myself want to simply talk to them.

“We don’t have time for chit-chat! We have to deal with the zebras, now we have minotaurs running around downtown! Just kill them!”

“We need to study them, that’s what we need to do!”

“No, that’s what you want to do, Pinkie!”

“We need to find out where they came from and if they have more on the way. How about we-”

My blood boils as I nearly shatter everypony’s eardrums with a yell.

“EVERYPONY, STOP!” I think I might have overdone it. I don’t care at the moment. I quickly grab everypony’s attention with my outburst.

“Okay… Here’s what we do. Until we find out why they’re here and if they are hostile, Luna will give the order and you and the M.O.A along with the local police will engage. Only until the words come from Luna’s muzzle, will you engage. Do I make myself clear?” Rainbow nods slowly.

“Rarity. Try and curb the press and give us some time to handle the situation. Applejack, get the military police on station and have them stand by.”

The two nod slowly.

“I certainly hope they aren’t like the... zebras. Maybe they came here on accident.” I certainly hope so, Fluttershy…

I desperately hope so.

Downtown Canterlot

I hear hoofsteps. Lots of them. It chills me to the bone. My skin crawls as my adrenaline courses through my body. I squeeze the grip of my M16 to the point where I could hear the grip groan as it crumples slowly. I’m sure the others are doing the same as we take defensive positions near the windows of the cafe, ever paranoid of the events occurring just on the other side of the barricaded double doors.

“You think they want to kill us?” Hood’s gruff voice cuts through the silence.

“No… If they wanted us dead, we would’ve been. There’s something else at work, here.”

“Hey Sarge! How’s life at home treating you?” That question sets off a bomb in my head. Everything was fine. I had my house. My health. My faith. My family...

“MINOTAURS, LISTEN UP!” My eardrums are nearly shattered as a booming voice as if God himself made his presence known. I am a God-fearing man, I’ll admit. But one of my mottos is “Respect all, fear nothing.” I live by that motto every day. A booming voice doesn’t scare me. It does, however, annoy the shit out of me.

“YOU ARE SURROUNDED! PUT DOWN YOUR ARMS AND SURRENDER! BY ORDER OF THE CANTERLOT MILITARY POLICE!” God, that shit is fuckin’ loud as fuckin’ shit! My eardrums can’t take

“Hey! Would you mind not trying to blow our ears up?! We need those, damn it!” Not now!

“Jameson, shut it!”

An awkward moment of silence follows. The next thing that happens is even more awkward.

“YOU MINOTAURS CAN TALK?” That big voice is getting real old, real fast.

“YES, WE CAN! AND WE’RE NOT MINOTAURS! Now how about you-”

“Ferguson, shut the fuck up! Let me handle this!” I whisper harshly to get the point across.

I’m initiating first contact with an alien race on their home planet and we haven’t even gotten our heads out of our asses yet. And I thought today was going to be Tuesday. Guess it’s a Monday. It’s always a fuckin’ Monday…

Downtown Canterlot
Makeshift M.O.M HQ

“We’ll be able to hear them through the police’s ears?” I certainly hoped so. My stomach twisted and churned. I’m scared, but at the same time, positive. Maybe they’re not hostile and their intentions are benign.

“Hey! Would you mind not trying to blow our ear up?! We need those, damn it!”

Oh my stars… Did they just… talk?! Everypony in the room has my reaction plastered on their faces and rightly so. This is completely unexpected.

“Did that just happen?” AJ’s voice drools with surprise.

“This is most incredible thing in Equestrian history since Star Swirl the Bearded discovered time travel!”

“You can talk?” The pony’s voice on the other end is heard loud and clear as he is establishing communication with these… aliens.

“YES, WE CAN! AND WE ARE NOT MINOTAURS! Now how about you-” All of a sudden, the voice on the other end cuts off.

“What happened?” Rainbow instantly tenses up. She’s chomping at the bit. It won’t be long before she snaps.

“It stopped talking. Recommendation, ma’am?” The officer seems scared. I would honestly act the same way were we in different roles.

“Minister Twilight, we have the building surrounded by snipers and have a SWAT team on standby to storm the cafe, should you give the order. Do we have authorization?”

Nononononono! They should be equipped with stun rounds and stun grenades! Not prepared for some sort of standoff! This is in downtown Canterlot for Celestia’s sake!

“No. Standby and await orders.” They’ve been quiet and they haven’t shot anypony, so far at least. Let’s see how this plays out. Wait, an idea is popping into my head. I’m going to ask for something stupid, aren’t I?

“Give me five minutes, let me speak to them.”

“What?!?”

“Have you lost it or something?!?”

“We don’t have time for chitchat!”

“Oh… My.”

“This is preposterous! Even for you, Twilight!” My friends make their discomfort known in typical fashion, however I cast that aside.

“I know, just give me the mic. I know what I’m doing.”

Downtown Canterlot
Pony Joe’s Donut Shop

I’ll do it. No, I won’t do it. Come on, can it really be that bad? They could just be defending their land like any decent alien race would. Or, they could just open fire and turn us into Swiss cheese at the drop of a hat. Argh, this is so frustrating!

“Oye, pendejo. They’ve gone quiet.” Suddenly, I’m taken out of my thoughts.

My inner thinking is disturbed by what seemed to be a Puerto Rican’s version of ‘dumbass’. I have no comment.

“For how long?”

“Seven minutes. I think.”

After a long pause, I say the stupidest thing a Marine, or anyone for that matter could say in a situation such as this.

“I’m gonna talk with them, protocols be damned.”

“Whatever you say, Sarge.” I expected a bit more resistance than that.

Whatever. That being said, I’m making history. Right here, right now.

“My name is Staff Sergeant James Stone! I’m a United States Marine, I respectfully request to talk to your superiors so we can establish a truce!” What. The actual fuck. Am I. Even doing?

My heart skips a few beats. This is insane. I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is something that a Marine can never truly be trained for. All I can do is trust in God, and in the fact that he’ll guide me.

“One second, the Mare of the Ministry of Arcane Science wishes to speak to you! Stand by!”

“Psst. Hey, Sarge!” Mendoza calls me over.

“What’s up, Mendoza? You don’t look so good.”

“Can we take a moment to… pray? We don’t know what’s gonna happen, we don’t know if we can even get home. I just want to make sure that we’re on good terms with God before we do anything.” Mendoza’s always been a Christian, born and raised one from what I’ve heard. We all share his beliefs, It’s one of the reasons we’re in this squad.

“Sure Mendoza, we can do that. Marines, form a circle. Helmets and boonies off.”

“Mendoza, want me as a translator?” Ferguson offers assistance. Being stationed in Central America for three years gives you plenty of opportunities.

“Sure Ferguson, thanks.”

We all form a circle and hold hands, just like in kindergarten. Well it’s more like bible school, but you get the idea.

“Dios, por favor nos guíe guerreros caprichosos como pisamos tierra desconocida.”

If there’s anything that holds a squad together in times of crisis, it’s faith. Faith in the officers that are supposed to protect you. Faith in the men and women who stand beside you.

“God, please guide us wayward warriors as we tread unknown lands.”

It’s the glue that binds people together, provides them with a feeling of protection, of security. Perhaps it’s the reason so many people feel safe when they transfer from civilian to military, they know that they are protected, and will be protected until the day God calls them home.

“Velar por nosotros en nuestra lucha en su nombre, Dios glorioso.”

We Marines put our priorities in this order,

“Watch over us as we fight in your name, glorious God.”

“Amen.”

The men standing beside you,

“Que tu Escudo de la Verdad protegernos de aquellos que desean la muerte a sus guerreros!”

The country you protect;

“May your Shield of Truth protect us from those who would wish death upon your warriors! Oh, mighty God!” We break into a chorus of amens.

“Amen!”

And the God which you dedicate your life to serve.

“Se puede su Espada de la Justicia será nuestra arma contra los esquemas del diablo!”

We are protectors. Not destroyers. Although, contrary to popular belief, some may say different. We are charged with protecting our country against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

“May Your Sword of Justice be our weapon against the devil's schemes! Thanks be to God!”

“Amen!”

“Proteger a nuestras familias, y hacerles saber que estamos bajo su protección, poderoso Dios!”

We are fathers, we are sons;

“Protect our families, and let them know that we are under your protection!”

We are brothers in arms.

“AMEN!”

“En Jesús y santo nombre de Dios…”

“In Jesus’ and God’s holy name…” We may seem like a bunch of religious nuts, in reality, we’re just scared. Scared children hoping that God will protect us and guide us hom

“Amen.”

“Well… time to meet the locals.” I open the door to the outside world, not knowing what lies beyond.

New perks added!

Cool Head: Lvl 2: You are cool under pressure and make the best decisions when calm. 20% aim bonus when you are in combat.

In God, we trust: Lvl 2: You are God’s creation, no-one can take that from you. New dialogue options available.

Leadership: Lvl 2: You are trained in the ways of a leader. You can make decisions, but you can’t make the hard ones. 15% aim bonus to you and your squad when with your squad. New dialogue options available.