The Discord Disaster

by M48 Patton

Rating: teen
Tags: Science Fiction, Human, Sad
Length: 22246

Everyone knows that for every somepony in Equestria, there is a somebody here in our world. Ever wonder what Discord has been up to? Causing chaos of course!

Discord has been around since time began, but what has he been up to? Myths, legends and fairy tales have given us a hint of what that chaotic spirit has been doing, but when a massive attack leaves the world in chaos, the most powerful nations unite to destroy Discord once and for all. Is this Discord's last stand? Or is it ours?

This is my very first attempt at actually writing a full story, so please forgive any of my mistakes, feedback is much appreciated.
The main focus of this story is on Discord vs the military. This story will have little to no involvement of the main six or anyone else for that matter.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2017-02-01 00:24:04 UTC

The Attack

Chapter One

“What makes you think that Discord won't attack again?”

“I can assure you, Mr. Secretary, that Discord is gone.”

“Hmph, General, you mentioned in you brief that Discord is a trickster.”

“A practical joker is more like it, though his humor is somewhat dark.”

“Then how do we know that Discord isn't playing us all for fools?”

“He doesn't like to do the same trick twice, and believe me, Mr. Secretary, he has already played us for the fool for quite a while.”

“Bandits on your tail!”

“I can't shake him!”

“Radar lock! Fox two!”

“Good hit!”

“This is Idaho three, we've been immobilized! Contacts to the west!”

“This is Idaho four! Idaho five has found a weak spot in the north! We're making a push!”

“Derby Base, this is Whiskey one! We have injured, both ours and civilian! Where is our air support?!”

“INCOMING! BRACE! BRACE! BRACE!”

Rear Admiral Bogart, USN, looked out the window just in time to see some sort of spiked ball fly into the water just off the starboard side of the USS Fitzgerald shortly before the ship buckled and smoke poured forth from her funnels. “Damage report on the Fitzgerald!” He yelled.

“Major flooding in her engine compartments, both screws are gone. No casualties as of yet.” Came the reply.

“Tell the McCain to lay alongside and provide support!” Bogart ordered.

“Sir, McCampbell and Barry both report that they're Phalanx guns are depleted and the AEGIS systems are failing!”

“Contact port! It's gonna hit!” A lookout yelled.

“All hands! Brace!” Captain Clifton yelled into the carrier's announcement system. Another spiked ball hurtled out of nowhere and slammed into the flight deck, scoring a deep grove right through the ship's catapults and clipping the wing of an F-18 before crunching into the the big “76” on the side of the island.

The shock threw everyone on the ship to one side. Basic training kept the men and women at their stations and they kept working.

“Damage report!” Clifton called.

“Main cats are down! Ship systems are being reset! Reactors are stable!”

Bogart, somehow still standing, continued to stare at the large dome of energy off the starboard bow.

“Where are the ground forces?” He asked.

“Uh, the Washington National Guard has moved up several armored columns through Bellevue, but the bridges are heavily defended and even if they weren't, that shield is still presenting a big problem.” Came the nervous reply.

Clifton cursed. “They're tearing us apart in this channel. With the forward catapults down, we've lost our ability of simultaneous recovery and launching.”

As if on cue, an F-18 shot past on the secondary catapults located on the angled deck. It soared out and almost immediately began firing the 20mm minigun at some flying creature.

Bogart walked back to the screen showing the fleet in real time using footage from a drone perched high above. “Have Antietam begin to focus on taking out ground targets and clear a path for those tanks. Launch all remaining strike planes and order those that are out of fuel or ammunition to resupply at the nearest airbase. Any ship that is in danger of sinking is to run aground in a position that allows for fire on that energy field.”

“That will make them sitting ducks.” Clifton said.

“It's better than on the bottom of the harbor.” Bogart retorted. “I want Stethem and McCain to move to the south side of the dome and fire their five inch cannons into the dome.”

“McCain is still assisting the Fitzgerald, Sir! Stethem reports that they can move to the south side, but they may have to run aground due to flooding!”

“Very well, have Chancellorville move south instead of McCain.”

“INCOMING PORT SIDE!” Came a yell.

More than twenty randomized projectiles shot out of the dome and streaked towards the carrier. Several were shot down by missiles, even more by the high explosive rounds that sprayed from the gatling guns on the ships. However, two hit. One, a giant flowerpot of all things, crashed into the port side elevator, jamming it and leaving it hanging at a crazy angle. The other, an over sized bowling ball, crunched into the secondary catapults, causing them to vent super heated steam.

Clifton stared out through the bridge windows at the mess before turning around and yelling. “Damage control to the flight deck! All back full!” He moved to look at the overhead view.

Bogart continued staring at the dome. “Captain!” He barked. Clifton looked up from the computer screen. “Sir?”

“Make your course one-two-zero and increase speed to flank.” The admiral said grimly.

Clifton stared at the admiral for a moment, then carried out his orders. More than a dozen randomized projectiles ranging from the spiked balls to a giant Jay Leno's head shot out of the dome and streaked towards the American ships. The first line of defense were the RAM missiles that streaked out and slammed into several of the flying oddities. Then the Phalanx guns sprayed high explosive bullets into the air, destroying several more and knocking the rest off course.

Bogart picked up the ship's broadcast phone and spoke into it. “Attention crew! As of now, our main weapons have been crippled and the ship is heavily damaged. However, we still have over five thousand men and all four shafts. Grab the nearest weapon that you can and prepare to go ashore!”

The carrier began to accelerate as the two nuclear reactors deep inside the ship built up super heated steam and spun the four massive propellers. The deck rumbled and shook and a massive plume of water sprayed up from the stern. Slowly but surely, the pride of the U.S. Navy built up speed and turned towards the strange, glowing dome.

Clifton walked up to Bogart. “Sir, if we're going to do this, we might as well go out with appropriate music.”

“Play it good and loud Captain. I want them to know we're coming.” Bogart said.

Clifton steadied himself and once he was sure that the ship was moving in the correct direction, he too picked up the ship's broadcast phone. “This is the captain. I don't know what is on the other side of that wall, or whether we will even be able to break through. However, should we make by some miracle, that's still Seattle in there and there might be civilians that are still alive. Your main job is to protect them. Get them to safety. And no matter what happens, just remember that you are sailors of the United States Navy, and I am honored to have serve with each and every one of you.”

“Dome in five thousand yards Sir!” Radar reported.

Clifton continued speaking. “Engineering, damage control and weapons will remain at their stations, everyone else is free to go over the side or stay on the ship, it's your choice.”

“Four thousand yards!” The operator sounded frantic.

The captain found what he was looking for on his music player and plugged it into his personal computer. Static filled the speakers, then the sound of AC/DC's “Shoot to Thrill” began to play.

Clifton pick up the phone again. “Let's show those monsters the real meaning of crazy!”

“Two thousand yards!” Came the report.

“Sound collision!” Clifton ordered and the alarm began to scream.

“One thousand yards!”

“ALL HANDS! BRACE! BRACE! BRACE!” Clifton yelled into the phone.

The carrier hit the shield in excess of forty knots, sending a massive shock wave throughout the ship that threw everyone on board to the deck. The shield cracked and stretched before breaking open and the carrier shot past at thirty knots.

Like a bubble that refused to burst, the shield wobbled for a moment, then proceeded to crack across its entire surface before dissolving into a multitude of smaller bubbles that slowly got smaller. Now the sailors on the ships and soldiers of the National Guard could clearly see what the dome had been hiding. The city that stood before them was nearly unrecognizable from what was once Seattle. The buildings now had a lopsided look to them, leaning at impossible angles or flipped over in some cases. Additionally, all of them had some florescent looking color that turned different hues when looking at it from different angles. The roads turned every direction and looked more like roller coaster tracks, complete with loops and massive hills.

In the center of the city, a massive castle looking as strange as the city stood defiantly. Standing on the shoreline was an army of walking cars, lampposts and other pieces of the city that had come to life. In the sky flew winged creatures that resembled dragons, only more impossible.

“All back full! Left full rudder!” Clifton yelled. The ship responded and leaned to starboard as it strained to slow down and turn at the same time. Though the ship was stopping, it was still going too fast and crunched into the sidewalk that ran alongside the shoreline. The bow furloughed through the ground a good twenty feet before the ship finally stopped.

For one, small moment, all that could be heard was the music playing from the carrier's speakers, then the fifty caliber machine guns on the ship opened fire on the creatures on the shore. The flight deck suddenly swarmed with sailors surging up from below and a wild roar filled their lungs. Someone let down nets over the bow that stretched to the ground and men and women began to hastily clamber down while others stood on the deck and provided covering fire. Over three thousand sailors from the carrier hit the ground and began to fan out from the carrier, some armed with heavy weaponry like rocket and grenade launchers while others left the ship with nothing else than their service pistol or something heavy they could swing.

F-18s swept through the sky that the carrier had cleared and promptly went to work on the the air targets while several helicopters calmly cruised in and began to rake enemies with miniguns mounted on the sides. Another yell went up from the sailors as they began to push the strange creatures back towards the castle.

On the other side of what was once the shielded wall, the Washington National Guard surged across the remaining bridge, armored units blowing massive holes into the parts of the city that had risen up to meet them

For Seaman Duframe, the day had started off like just another day. Get up, eat breakfast, perform a FOD walk down and then work on a helicopter engine. Now he was in what was supposed to be Seattle, running up a street chasing a light pole that kept trying to take a swing at him and wondering if the world was going to end.

An M16 chattered and the pole crumpled. Petty officer O'Hara and Lieutenant Pursel ran up behind him. O'Hara held the smoking rifle.

“What, trying to take all the fun for yourself?” Duframe asked of O'Hara.

“Hooowee! Now this is why I joined the Navy!” O'Hara exclaimed.

Duframe highly doubted that O'Hara joined the Navy in order to run around shooting inanimate objects that had suddenly come to life, but he just laughed at his statement. He took a moment to analyze his new squad mates. O'Hara was from engineering, a nuclear specialist of all things, while Pursel was a corpsman from medical.

Civilians began to emerge from the surrounding buildings, and upon seeing the men dressed in uniforms they began to swarm the sailors with request for help. Duframe and the two others tried to calm the people and point them to the carrier.

However, any further discussion was interrupted when more civilians ran around a corner. “Help! They're after us!” One man yelled.

“Get to the carrier! She's two miles down!” Pursel yelled at them.

O'Hara leveled his gun at the corner as a strange clanking sound could be heard. The civilians ran past while Duframe pointed at the direction of the carrier before taking out his service pistol.

A car that now roughly resembled a giraffe roared around the corner that the civilians had just come from and charged them. Bullets sparked across the metal frame, but failed to take effect. Pursel dove for cover first and pulled out a hand held radio. Duframe ran into the cover of a nearby doorway, but O'Hara continued to empty the M16 into the mechanical beast until the last moment and dove out of the way as a wheeled leg smashed where he had been standing just before. The metal giraffe-car hybrid careened past and stumbled into a corner diner that was missing the statue of the waitress, probably having walked off earlier.

Suddenly, a scream was heard from within the diner. O'Hara reacted with the speed of an experienced veteran, loading a new magazine and shouting orders. “Lieutenant! Get us heavy weapons! Duframe! Check that building while I cover you!”

The M16 barked and the beast charged O'Hara again. Duframe wasted no time in making a mad sprint to the diner. Right before the last step he took a leap at the door to break it in. Unfortunately, his body weight was not enough and Duframe bounced off like a rag doll.

“Ow.” He grimaced. “Oooooh, ow.”

He noticed a broken window and climbed inside. There were five people, two couples and a man in a business suit, huddled in the far corner, but upon his entrance they ran forward and practically fell on him.

“Thank the Lord you're here!” One woman sobbed.

“Are they gone?” Asked the business man. His answer was the rapid fire of an M16 and O'Hara yelling out; “Come get some, you. . . Thing!”

Duframe herded them back and explained. “We're pushing them back, but we need you to head to the docks. There's a carrier there.”

“What about those things?” The man asked.

“Like I said, we're pushing them back. Now is there anyone else here?”

A Seahawk helicopter thrummed overhead, the minigun on the side opened up and proceeded to shred the metal giraffe before the helicopter banked away. O'Hara could be heard yelling thanks to the helicopter and curses at the strange creature.

“There was another couple in the lobby next door. We agreed it was best to stay put for the time being.” One of the women said.

Duframe thanked them and told them how to get back to the carrier from where they were at. “O'Hara!” He yelled out. “Got five civilians coming out!”

“You're clear!” Came a hoarse reply.

As soon as the civilians crept out and were on their way to the carrier, Duframe moved to check the hotel while O'Hara scouted ahead and Pursel watched the streets. It was a shattered building with the same crazy appearance as the rest, only more pockmarked. Pistol drawn, he carefully entered.

“Anyone in here?” He called. “U.S. Navy, we've come to help.” He was about to give up when a small voice called. “Over here.”

Duframe eased his tense stance and casually walked to the doorway that he heard the voice call. “Don't worry, we're going to get you out of here and- WHAT THE?!” Duframe jumped back and pointed his pistol at the form in front of him. It appeared to be a snow white wolf standing about three feet tall on its hind legs, wearing a vest and tie outfit and staring at him with cartoonishly large eyes.

“Please don't shoot!” It, or rather he, wailed. “I'm just an accountant! Those things turned me and my lady into this.”

Duframe's eyes were probably as large as the little wolf's when he regained his composure. “You-You-”

“Please help me! My lady is hurt!” The wolf pleaded.

Duframe cautiously followed the wolf and saw another small wolf in a yellow dress lying on the ground with a head wound. Basic medical training kicked in and he examined her head.

“Just a scratch. Can you follow my finger?” Duframe moved his hand in front of the wolf's eyes and she watched his motions. “She's alright.” He announced.

Duframe gently picked her up and began to carry her outside. “Heh, it's funny, I've never heard someone call their girl 'my lady.' You from around here?”

“No.” Came the reply. “We're here for the convention. I suppose we picked a poor time to visit Seattle.”

“As far as I'm concerned, any time is a poor time to visit Seattle.” Duframe replied.

Duframe exited the hotel and called out for Pursel. For a moment, they're was nothing. Then the growl of an engine rumbled closer. Duframe hid and watched for the machine in case it was another piece of equipment that had come to life.

A Bradley IFV crunched into view, Pursel, O'Hara and several other sailors riding on top. “Duframe! Where are you?” Pursel called.

Duframe stood, still holding the little wolf. “Over here! Got some civilians!”

The Bradley stopped one track and turned towards him, the turret turning around to point back the way it came. O'Hara saw the two wolves with Duframe and gave a yell. “Duframe! What are you holding?”

“Two civilians, one of those big monsters showed up and did this to them.” He yelled back. Pursel jumped down and looked at the female wolf's wound. “I need to call this in, or else we may end up shooting civilians. Duframe, mount up. The attack on the castle has already begun. I'll take these two back to the ship.”

“Yes Sir.” Duframe gave Pursel the wolf and jumped up onto the Bradley. It turned around and rolled down the street. Duframe looked back and watched Pursel walk back with his two patients.

Admiral Bogart watched the battle from the bridge of the carrier. In addition to the carrier, the USS Shiloh had beached herself and most of her crew had joined the shore fight with the exception of key personnel and weapon operators.

“Sir. I find it hard to believe, but we're pushing them back. Almost all enemy forces have been routed and are now centered around that castle.” Clifton reported.

“And our forces?” Bogart asked.

“The National Guard has met with our guys and they're currently assaulting the castle.” Came the reply.

“Contact Shiloh. Tell them to hit that castle with every missile that they have left.” He ordered. Bogart then looked down at the ruined flight deck. A Seahawk was landing to pick up ammunition.

“Hold that chopper! I'm going ashore!” He said suddenly.

“Are you sure that that's a good idea Sir?” Clifton protested.

“Using a five billion dollar warship as a battering ram was not a good idea Captain, but I did it anyways.” With that, Bogart turned walked away. “Keep those helos coming Clifton, we can still lose this battle.” He yelled over his shoulder.

Clifton watched him go, then turned to the radio operator. “Hold that chopper! Vector the next one to the Shiloh. New orders to all helos; they are to make missile and strafing runs on that castle and return for resupply.” He then pick up the ship intercom. “Engineering, pick every third man and have them report to the flight deck to assist the helicopters.”

Bogart emerged onto the flight deck just in time to see a massive barrage of missiles leave the Shiloh and streak away. By the time he reached the helicopter, he heard the satisfying explosions that signaled the end of the missiles' journey.

The Seahawk rose off the deck with a shudder and then dipped forward. “Good afternoon Admiral, it's a pleasure to have you aboard.” The pilot spoke into the headset. “We will be cruising at about five hundred feet A-G-L and you can expect to see fireworks later on in the flight. Refreshments will be served once we have hit cruising speed, bullets and targets are free to be expended at anytime.”

Flying lower than some of the buildings, the helicopter dodged in between several towers that rose up in odd positions. Suddenly, a giant mouth appeared in one of the buildings and tried to bite the helicopter. Only the pilot's quick reflexes prevented a disaster, diving down below the gaping jaws and away from the monstrosity. However, the entire building came to life and turned to follow them with an unnatural speed.

“All units! This is the admiral! Converge on the center of the city! Need heavy support for enemy building!” Bogart transmitted.

“Sir, we have the castle surrounded already.” Someone said on the radio.

“I need support for the building that is chasing me!” Bogart yelled back.

Clifton's voice came on the radio. “Roger that Sir, target locked, missiles out in five.”

The Chancellorville's deck was bathed in smoke as Tomahawks shot upwards before arcing over the city. They circled momentarily before centering over the moving building and then streaked downwards, crunching through the top few floors of the building before detonating in a massive explosion. The building took a few steps before breaking in half and falling to the ground.

“Sir!” The pilot's voice came through the headset. “Ground forces have broken through the castle defenses and are entering the inner buildings as we speak!” Bogart looked over and sure enough, an Abrams was driving through the giant doors of the castle and vanished inside.

“Get us closer!” He ordered. “You still have missiles?”

The pilot looked at him and grinned.

Duframe, O'Hara and some other sailors rode the Bradley inside the walls before jumping down onto the odd floor. “Right!” O'Hara yelled. “Time for some payback!”

Just as he said that, the wall in front of the Bradley crashed down and a giant snake with a lion's head rushed out at the men. The Bradley, however, rolled forward and cut the snake off, the 25mm gun rapidly putting lead into its ugly face. The Duframe was knocked to the ground by some flying debris, and a National Guardsman and O'Hara helped him up and pulled him to a spirally stairway.

Somehow, this stairway was in the middle of the room instead of a small alcove type, but Duframe and the others had seen enough weird stuff that day that an impossible stairway didn't even phase them.

“Come on!” The Guardsman yelled and ran up the stairs. Duframe and O'Hara followed. Before he took the last step into the ceiling, Duframe surveyed the room below. The snake had tried to wrap itself around the Bradley, but was learning the concept of roadkill from Bradley's tracks. Several other Guardsmen and sailors had surrounded the the beast and poured  bullets into it. Satisfied that the snake was going to die, Duframe climbed up the last step and followed after O'Hara and the Guardsman.

The stairway wound up for sometime, but finally exited into a large room that held the same crazy design the had overtaken the city. O'Hara and Duframe flanked the Guardsman as they advanced down the room, but nothing challenged them. Or so Duframe thought.

“Well, well, well.” A voice as smooth as silk echoed around them. “I had not anticipated such a quick response.”

“Show yourself!” O'Hara yelled. The three men grouped up back to back and looked around warily.

“Listen, we don't want any trouble!” The Guardsman yelled. “Just call off your army, and we can negotiate!”

The voice chuckled, then two yellow eyes and a smile, normal except for the single, saber like tooth that jutted downwards, appeared in front of Duframe. He screamed and fired his pistol. O'Hara and the Guardsman whirled around and both fired a shot. The bullets hung in mid air, just short of the face that materialized from nothing. A creature that Duframe could only describe as a composite of ugly reared up above them. The body was a snake, the right leg was that of a dragon while the left was from a horse, the right arm was a lion's and the left arm formed an eagle claw. One wing was a bat wing and the other was a parrot wing. Duframe didn't even know what to make of the head, or the antler and horn on top of it.

All three men tried to fire again, but they suddenly found that gravity was no longer in effect. The creature began to laugh, and then focused his eyes on Duframe. “Shall we begin?”

Bogart had found a Stinger underneath his bench and quickly went to work blasting away. The Seahawk went in for another missile run and parts of the castle exploded. The admiral suddenly saw something and he told the pilot to launch the remaining missiles at a certain section.

Duframe tried to level his pistol at the creature, but every time he did, an unknown force flipped him around. The creature seemed amused. “You humans are always so surprising. Tell me, how many times have you been suspended by a spirit of chaos? In the middle of a warzone?”

“Screw you!” Duframe yelled.

“Hm, exactly what I thought. Yet here you are, having done nothing extraordinary in your life, and you somehow have the guts to tell me off. Commendable, but not very smart.”

The creature waved its claw and Duframe felt a chill come over him. His arms began to itch, and his chest became stiff, making it hard to breathe. Black fur began to sprout all across his body, and Duframe felt his bones begin to compress. He screamed, but his voice began to choke out, and his vision became blurry. When it cleared, instead of a pair of human hands, two cat paws stretched out in front of him.

The creature had turned Duframe into a pure black cat wearing a flight suit. Ordinarily, Duframe would have tried to fight, or run, or do something. However, he had a major problem; he was deathly allergic to cats. In minutes his throat would begin to close up and he would choke to death.

Fortunately for Duframe, it was at that moment that two missiles blew a massive hole in the wall behind the creature. A Seahawk helicopter hovered outside, its minigun beginning to spin up. At the same time, soldiers and sailors broke through a set of doors at the far end of the room and charged forward yelling wildly. Duframe saw the creature grin, then its body faded away like the Cheshire cat, only that crazed smile remaining. The smile hung there as the men gathered around it, staring in wonder, then it rolled up and floated to the floor.

Duframe felt a relaxation on his throat, and slowly but surely began to grow back to his normal size. Two Guardsmen helped him to his feet, the last of the black fur finally disappearing. He suddenly began to hack and cough and spat out a clump of black hair.

“Duframe!” O'Hara shouldered his way through the men. “Oh man, I thought you were a goner.”

“Hey look!” A sailor pointed outside. It wasn't just Duframe who was turning back to normal, the city outside began to change as well. The roads began to fall back into place, the buildings returned to their original shape, and the monstrosities that roamed the streets fell where they stood. Only the castle remained.

The room was swept by heavy wind as the Seahawk that had been loitering outside carefully maneuvered into the room and gently set down on the uneven floor. Bogart stepped out and looked around. “What happened?” He asked.

A sergeant in a National Guard uniform stepped forward. “We had just breached when we saw that, thing, messing around with one of your boys. He's over there.” The sergeant pointed at Duframe, and Duframe suddenly felt the Admiral's eyes on him.

“Well, we breached.” The sergeant continued. “Then whatever was here just up and vanished. It left this behind though.”

The sergeant handed Bogart the piece of rolled paper. He looked at it and snarled. “Yeah, next time!” The admiral suddenly looked up and began to issue orders. “All sailors are to report to their ships and begin repairs immediately! All National Guard are to spread throughout the city and begin humanitarian operations! I want all units, Navy, National Guard, all units to begin setting up defenses!”

There was a chorus of “Aye aye Sir!” and “Yes Sir!” that echoed throughout the room and men began to file out. Bogart returned to the waiting helicopter and put on his headset.

“Where to, Sir?” The pilot asked.

“Take me home son.” Bogart said. “Get me back to the Reagan.”

Bogart looked at the paper in his hands. It was a simple square of white paper with clear and simple handwriting. The message was even clearer and yet as mysterious as the creature who wrote it:

Until next time!

-Discord, the Spirit of Chaos

To anyone else, the message may have seemed like a threat or challenge, but Bogart knew what the message really meant. After all, he wrote it. Beneath the dark sunglasses came a yellow glow, and his smile, for a moment, betrayed a set of perfect teeth with a single, saber like tooth.

The Colonel

Chapter 2

“You seem very confident of your analysis of Discord.”

“I spent quite some time putting it together. Interviews, facts, all were checked personally by me.”

“Well, if this information is correct General, then it seems as though our problems have just started.”

“Perhaps, Mr. Secretary, but at least now we have a grasp on the what the unknown is capable of.”

“True, but what about the enemy? What do they know about know about us?”

“I wouldn't go as far as calling whatever lies ahead our enemy. However, I can guarantee that whoever is out there can easily breach our security, if they haven't already.”

Two Days After the Attack:

“Alright gentlemen, tell me what I'm looking at.” Secretary of Defense John Casey sat down in a small conference room deep below ground. Around the table were several of the nation's highest military personnel, including the Chiefs of Staff. In addition to these high ranking officers and their advisers, there were a few of the lower ranking officers, Admiral Bogart being one of them.

“We're looking at a coordinated hit on every major city across the globe. Washington D.C., Los Angeles, Bejing, Moscow, London and Paris.” General Paxton said. “Also, Seattle.”

A map of the world flashed up on the screen, red dots over every city that had been hit.

“Casualties were extensive, each city averaging over two million dead and millions more injured.” Paxton continued. “However, the military suffered relatively little, almost none at all.”

“So this attack wasn't meant to cripple us?” Secretary Casey asked.

“As far as we know, this attack had the sole purpose of a terror attack.” Paxton replied. “What's more disturbing is that we have no idea who, or even what attacked us.”

“Actually, General, I believe Admiral Bogart may be able to shed some light on that.” The Secretary of the Navy interjected.

All eyes turned to Bogart, but he did not skip a beat. “As you may have heard, Seattle was the headquarters of whatever that thing was. When we took down the Seattle hub, the rest fell instantly.”

“We all realize that you saved the planet.” The Secretary of the Air Force cut in. “But how does that help us right now?”

“Because I learned its name, what's more I and most of the men saw it.” Bogart shot back.

That had the everyone's attention. Bogart pulled an artist's sketch of what he had seen in the castle up onto the large screen. “First of all, it's name is Discord.” Bogart said and then pulled up a picture of the note. “Second and more importantly, he's coming back.”

Three stories above the secret meeting, still deep underground, three men sat in the security room having an important debate.

“You're kidding me, right? 'Day of Discord?' No way. 'Discord Disaster' sounds way better.” Lieutenant Butter said.

“Nah man, you don't what you talkin'bout! 'Day of Discord' has that kind of, Sci-Fi, sound to it, yah know?” Sergeant Williams responded.

“What do you think, Robin?” Butter asked the third man in the room. Corporal Robin was about to answer when the door to the security room opened.

“Officer on deck!” Williams yelled.

“At ease, gentlemen. Just checking.” Colonel Granger walked in and sat down. “How's it going?”

“Nothing to report.” Butter said.

“Good, let's hope it stays that way.” Granger said. “Can I get you boys anything? Coffee maybe?”

“No Sir, we just sent Private Miller to go get some.” William replied.

The men all liked Granger. Typically, the type of colonel they got was some snobby jerk with ideas of getting a general's promotion and usually walked on their men to get it. Not Granger, he had no promotions in mind and would rather treat his men with respect.

It was tough being assigned to a base that technically didn't exist, but ever since Granger had arrived, morale had been on the rise. His job was head of the Marine security detail that guarded an underground base in the middle of a forest miles from civilization. The hundred or so men couldn't go on leave unless they first changed into civilian clothes, ensured that nothing could identify them as Marines, and drinking was out of the question.

The former colonel had been strict with the regulations, terrorizing the men and punishing them for the slightest offense. Granger was his replacement, equally as strict when it came to things like security and maintenance, but at the same time giving the men enough freedom to not feel as though they were in prison.

He also made sure that the men knew he was bound by the same chains that they were, often times giving up certain privileges that he alone was entitled to. The effect had been felt immediately, and soon the men swore that they would serve with him even if they had to run through hell to do it.

“So did I interrupt anything?” Granger asked.

“No Sir, we were just discussing the news.” Butter answered.

“Oh, what was so interesting in the news?” Granger leaned back in the seat and propped his feet on the railing on the wall.

Butter explained: “Well, the recent attack, the news networks all have different names for it. C-N-N is calling it 'The Day of Discord,' Fox is calling it 'The Discord Disaster,' and M-S-N is calling it 'Contact; Discord.' I said that I like 'The Discord Disaster' while Williams says that 'The Day of Discord' is better.”

Granger looked between the two men and thought it over for a moment. “Yep, gonna have to go with Fox on this one. 'Discord Disaster' is my vote.”

Butter gave a triumphant laugh while Williams groaned. “Man, shoulda' known officers would side with each'chother.”

Granger smiled, it felt good to have something to smile about after all that had happened. The stress had been piling on ever since the VIPs had shown up. The Secretary of Defense, several Chiefs of Staff, and even Admiral Bogart himself were three floors below having an important meeting.

Suddenly, a red light came on and a small beeping began. The men stopped laughing immediately and were all business.

“Motion detected, two miles east, too big to be wildlife.” Williams said.

“Drone launched, eyes on in one minute.” Butter reported.

“Sniper teams report that they are aware of the bogey, beginning sweep now.” Robin said.

“Tell them to hold fire until we have visual confirmation.” Granger ordered.

Robin relayed the information while Butter and Granger watched the monitor of the drone feed. The forest was spread out below it, the thick trees made it impossible to see through.

“Switching to infrared.” Butter announced. The screen turned blue with several red blots, the largest of which was definitely human shaped and moving straight towards the base.

“ETA until snipers have visual?” Granger asked.

“Should be up right now.” Robin said.

Butter typed on the keyboard in front of him. “Okay, setting drone to auto pilot, and switching feed right now.”

The image went from an overhead view of a blue forest to a ground view of a green and brown forest. In the distance, someone could be seen moving.

“Zoom in.” Granger ordered. “Do we have sound?”

“Coming up now.” Butter said.

The person slowly got closer while a collection of forest noises filtered in. Butter typed on the keyboard some more and the ambient noises faded to leave the voice of a little girl. The video confirmed that a girl of high school age dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans and wearing oversized glasses was indeed walking through the forest holding what appeared to be a sort of phone with a long antennae.

She could be heard muttering. “Stupid thing, why can't I get a bearing?” She slapped it a few times and another voice, a boy's voice could be heard. “Oh yeah, hitting it is going to make it better.” Granger relaxed. “Tell our boys to stand down.”

“Sir, snipers cannot confirm origin of the other voice.” Butter said cautiously.

“It's from her cellphone. She was probably out camping with her friends and got lost.”

Williams shook his head but said nothing. “Should we release the dogs to scare her off?” He asked.

“You kidding me? She couldn't outrun a Chihuahua much less our Shepherds. I'm going out. I've got a niece about her age, so I can handle her.” Granger explained.

“You going out like that Sir?” Robin asked.

Granger gave him a 'are you kidding me' look and said. “Of course not, remember that we're undercover.”

He stepped out of the room. Butter turned to the other men and smiled. “You got to admit, Granger's the only guy I know who would rather talk to her than let the dogs out.”

Williams turned back to the monitor. “He's got balls, that's for sure.”

Granger stepped out of the concealed door wearing a United Forest Service uniform and walked towards the girl's location. The door was closed by a concealed Marine standing guard. The girl was easy to find, snipers were watching her every movement and gave Granger constant updates. He could hear her arguing with her cellphone and why it wasn't working from quite a ways away and probably could have found her without the sniper's help. She didn't notice his approach and he stopped not more than ten feet away. It was then he noticed that the backpack she had on was squirming.

“I hope that's not a Spotted Owl in there.” He said loudly. The girl nearly threw her cellphone and whirled around, an embarrassed look on her face.

“Oh, um, *Gulp* Hi.” She managed to say.

Granger raised an eyebrow. “You know, this area is off limits. Only thing allowed to be here are endangered owls.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn't know.” Then she straightened up. “Well, if the only endangered species are allowed out here, then why are you here?”

Granger smiled, at least this girl had a little spirit. “Counting.” He explained. “I keep track of the owls in this region. And, I also keep nosy little girls out. Now, that backpack has something moving inside of it, can I please see it?”

The girl recoiled at first, but then nodded. She took off the backpack, set it on the ground and unzipped it. Out popped a little dog that barked cheerfully at Granger.

“Well, what do we have here?” Granger knelt down began to scratch the dog's ears. “You're not a spotted owl, are you?”

The girl smiled as she pet her dog. “His name is Spike, he has a lot of personality in him.”

“I can see that.” Granger said as Spike nuzzled up against him. “Well, no harm, no foul. I'll get you as far as the nearest road, then can you find your way back from there?” He asked.

She nodded and put the backpack on again, Spike cheerfully sitting comfortably. Granger started to walk and make idle conversation. “So, you got a name?” He asked.

“Twilight.” She said.

“Twilight huh? Got a last name?”

“Sparkle, Twilight Sparkle.” She admitted.

Granger looked at her with disbelief. “Tell me, are your parents from Woodstock?”

“No.” She said rather confused. “At least I don't think so.”

Granger's earpiece crackled and Williams' voice came through. “File pulled up, she matches her school ID; Canterlot High.”

Granger was about to say more when thunder ripped through the forest. Spike whined. He looked up and saw the skies clouding over, except the clouds looked strangely off. “Odd.” He said to himself. “Not supposed to have rain today.” A big, fat drop came down right on the girl's glasses. Granger looked over and saw brown discoloration.

“Hold still.” He said. He wiped his finger across the glass and sniffed it. It smelled like chocolate. Another drop came down, then another and another until the entire forest was engulfed in rain. Chocolate rain.

Suddenly, the girl's cellphone began to beep excitedly, except Granger could tell it wasn't a cellphone now.

“What is that?” He yelled.

“It's nothing.” Twilight said, hiding it behind her back. Granger took a step towards her and she backed away.

“Listen, you have five seconds to explain yourself or I'll,” Granger stopped.

He noticed that the trees were going down. He looked down and realized that instead he was going up. Twilight realized it as well, only too late. By the time Granger had managed to grab a tree branch and hold on for dear life, she was starting to float away.

“Help!” She cried, flailing wildly.

Granger pulled himself to the tree and turned around. The entire forest was rising, anything not anchored down. Leaves, rocks, even the rain had formed into little droplets and were just floating up.

“Colonel! Colonel! Are you there?” Williams yelled into the earpiece. Granger ignored him. The girl was too far way from any tree to grab onto something, but she hadn't risen above the tree tops yet. Granger sighed and then coiled himself up. He carefully pick a tree that coincided with his and the girl's path and then launched himself. She saw him coming and reached out for him, but he ignored her outstretched arms and body slammed her in midair. He heard her gasp for air, but at least now they were moving.

Granger managed to rotate himself in midair and use his body as a shield when the two of them slammed into a tree. Now it was Granger's turn to have the wind knocked out of him, however he latched onto the tree with one arm and held onto the girl with the other. She sobbed into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Just then, the Twilight's device stopped beeping. Granger realized too late what was about to happen. Gravity kicked in and before he could tighten his grip, he was ripped from the tree and fell earthward. Branches smacked into his back and he grasped at the limbs, but to no avail. He landed with a thud in muddy ground.

Normally, such a fall wouldn't have been to bad, but again, he had used himself as a human airbag for the girl.

“Ow.” He managed to wheeze.

Twilight groaned and began to push herself up, pushing Granger back down. “What happened?” She asked. Granger ignored her and rolled Twilight off with an undignified push. He got to his feet and tried to get his communication set to work.

“Granger to base, status?” He demanded.

There was a large amount of static, then Butter's voice came through, alarms blaring in the background. “Colonel! It's a mess down here, we have several sections in danger of collapsing and personnel are pretty shook up!”

Granger cursed, looked at Twilight's shocked face and instantly apologized for his language. “Butter! Get the VIPs to their rooms! Two guards per room! Launch the drones and do a full sweep of the area! Engineers are to report to the most critical sections and keep them shored up! And open the hangar door, I'm coming in!”

Granger turned his com off before Butter could respond and grabbed Twilight's device out of her hands.

“Hey!” She protested.

“How did you get this?” He said while trying to figure out how to turn the device on.

“I made it!” Twilight explained. “After the attack, I made it to track the magic that was used on the cities!”

“And you tracked it here?” Granger surmised.

“Yes, but the signal keeps fading in and out. It's like it's being blocked.” She said with a frustrated stomp.

“Like it's underground.” Granger whispered. He whirled on Twilight. “I need you to turn it on and then get clear of here!”

Twilight was taken aback, then stood up to Granger with a stubborn expression. “No way! It's mine and you'll need help when you find its source!”

Granger rolled his eyes and then grabbed her arm and pulled her along as he ran through the forest. Twilight tripped a few times but managed to keep up. In front of them, a hill open up to reveal a Blackhawk helicopter on a massive elevator.

They reached it and Granger keyed in a code that dropped the elevator back into the ground. As they got deeper into the earth, he turned back to Twilight who seemed to be in shock, even the dog Spike was poking his head out of the backpack and looking around nervously.

“Turn it on.” He said giving her the device.

She turned it on just as the elevator reached the hangar floor. There was only a single Marine standing guard at the door. When he tried to challenge them, Granger shot him a look and the Marine backed down. Twilight's device slowly got more excited as the two of them got deeper into the complex. Marines stared at them as they passed, but Granger barking orders quickly turned their minds back to the tasks at hand. Finally, they reached a heavy door that led to a bunker room where a VIP stayed. They were scattered throughout the complex so that in the event of a collapse, not all the VIPs would be trapped.

Twilight's device was beeping so rapidly that Granger thought it would explode. The two Marines outside looked at it warily as if it might be a bomb.

“Something big is in there, it's giving off some of the highest readings I've ever seen!” She exclaimed.

Granger looked at the door, then at Twilight. “Listen, go find Lieutenant Butter, he's in the security room on level Bravo, and tell him everything you've told me! He'll help you from there!”

“But I can help!” She protested.

“NO!” Granger yelled and Twilight recoiled. He knelt down and softened his voice.“Listen, this isn't some magical fairy land where some magical princess comes in and saves the day! This is the real world! And right now, you're greatest contribution is getting that device in the hands of the security council!”

She looked at him for a moment, then turned around and ran off. Granger could have sworn that the dog waved at him as she did. He turned to the two Marines standing guard. “We have a bogey in that room, don't know what, but it's big.”

“That's Admiral Bogart's room, Sir.” The Marine on the left said.

“Maybe whatever hit Seattle is here for some payback?” The other Marine said.

Granger's blood froze. The Marine was probably right. Admiral Bogart, a national hero, could be dying as they stood here talking! Granger pushed past the Marine on the right and keyed in his clearance code.

“Prepare to breach!” He said to the two Marines. One dropped his rifle and reached into a wall cabinet, pulling out a massive flamethrower. The other Marine merely shook his head. “Josh, you and your toys.”

Granger pulled out a .45 pistol and held it level on the door as it slid open. The three men ran through the entrance with weapons ready and froze. Not voluntarily, Granger wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger, it was because they could not move at all. There, in front of them, sat the creature known as Discord chatting on the phone like nothing had even happened.

“Yes Mr. President.” Discord said in Bogart's voice. “Yes, the base appears to have been attacked. However, security teams have secured the Chiefs of Staff and are currently sweeping the area for the source of the disruption. What? Have they found anything?”

Discord waved his hand at Granger. “No, Mr. President.” Granger felt his right arm move on its own, bringing the pistol back and pointing directly at his own head, the cold metal pressing on his temple. “No, they have not found anything.”

Bang!

The Captain

Chapter 3

“The attack was only the first part though, we still have no idea about the events that followed afterwards.”

“We have some slight clues, but all accounts of Discord's activities still remain unknown.”

“You talk as though we could find out.”

“We might be able to, but at the same time it's like that anyone who did find out can't tell us.”

“Who would he tell? As far as we know, Discord's only ally was himself!”

Three Days After the Attack

The C-130 touched down with a jolt, the propellers reversing pitch and cause the plane to vibrate violently. Clifton gripped his harness and held on for dear life. Not that he needed too, neither him nor the plane were in any danger, Clifton just hated flying. Lieutenant Assad who was sitting next to him was happily taking a bite out of a Snickers bar while looking up news on his smart phone.

Ordinarily, Clifton would have reprimanded him for using electronics on a plane, but he hadn't spoken a word since the plane had taken off and didn't plan to until he was safely on the ground lest he say what was really on his mind.

“Hey Sir! You're on CNN!” Assad spewed crumbs and held the phone up for Clifton to see. Clifton's stare at Assad would have melted steel.

The plane taxied off of the runway and slowed to a stop. Clifton unbuckled immediately and quickly walked to the ramp that was lowering. There was equipment in the center of the C-130 while men had sat on the rim of the fuselage, Clifton practically jumping over some of them to get out of the plane. He reached the end of the ramp and stepped onto the tarmac.

This is stupid, he thought, you're a Navy Captain whose entire life was flying planes. His arm twitched at that thought, and a flood of memories filled him.

“Sir!” Lieutenant Assad casually walked down the ramp with the rest of the men. “You forgot this.” He said casually holding out a briefcase.

“Thank you.” Clifton said gruffly before grabbing it and turning away. He made it as far as the C-130's wing before his name was called again. “Captain Clifton.”

Clifton turned to see two men approaching him. One was a Naval commander while the other wore a black suit. Clifton knew the commander as Alejandro, an old shipmate before Alejandro was transferred to the Office of Naval Intelligence. Clifton moved towards them with a grin.

“Al! You sonofagun! How have you been?” Clifton took his friend's outstretched hand and shook it firmly. Before Alejandro could respond, Clifton looked at the other man and asked. “Who's the suit?”

Alejandro introduced him as Agent Carter, and when Clifton asked if that was his real name, Carter's response was a blunt and monotone “No.”

“Fair enough. You with the CIA?” He asked.

“NSA. Commander, if you would please inform the captain of the debriefing.” Carter said in the same monotone voice.

Clifton looked at Alejandro. “Debriefing? I already sent in my reports. I don't have time for a debriefing! I need to get home!” His voice rising.

“Calm down Bob.” Alejandro said. “We got your reports, we just need you to answer some questions.”

“It's been three days, no one thought of asking me when I was on the carrier? You just had to wait until I got leave?” Clifton protested to his friend. “Dave! Why don't you ask Admiral Bogart! He had a better seat than I did!”

The three men were silent, wind whipping around them. Finally, Agent Carter spoke. “There's been an incident regarding the Admiral.”

Clifton was taken by surprise. “What happened?” He asked.

“Not here.” Alejandro said abruptly. The two men began walking and Clifton dutifully followed them. The trio entered a low squat building that two Marines were standing in front of. Inside was another agent who was working with several pieces of electronic equipment.

He looked up as they entered. “All clear sir.”

Carter nodded and the man left.

“Sit down.” Carter said, making it sound almost as much of a statement as an order. Clifton sat on one side while Alejandro and Carter sat on the other. He felt uncomfortable, the way Carter kept glancing at him while shuffling through papers and Alejandro's nervous look was putting him on edge.

“Shall we begin?” Carter said at last.

“Might as well.” Clifton grumbled.

Alejandro gave him a condescending look, but softened. “Alright Bob, let's hear it from start to finish. Make sure to include anything that may be of importance, no matter how small.”

Clifton sighed, and then began. “Well, as you know, the Fifth was stationed in Okinawa, just sitting there watching China.” Clifton smiled. “Every once in a while, we'd get some idiot thinking he could buzz the carrier. Had every ship put a missile lock on him, guy's cockpit had to have been one big alarm.”

He noticed that even though Alejandro smiled at this, Agent Carter was less than amused. “Anyways, the plan was for the Carl Vinson and her escorts to make a rapid deployment in Okinawa, while the Reagan was to leave on the same day that the Vinson arrived. The Reagan was to swing north and leave her escorts about five hundred miles from Okinawa, make a wide loop by the Arctic Ocean, and then meet the escorts off the southern coast of Alaska, they, of course, having stopped in Pearl Harbor along the way. Then, the entire task force was to head down to San Diego for three months and undergo inspections.”

Agent Carter interrupted. “For clarification, what was the point of this exercise?”

Clifton took a moment, then explained. “Pentagon wanted an inspection on the Reagan, as well as a minor refit and to replace all the F-18s with F-35s. Admiral Bogart wanted to put the ship through some cold weather training, and the Pentagon approved. The trip home took about six days, refit at San Diego would have been three months, then it was back to Okinawa.”

Agent Carter frowned. “Am I to understand that C-V-N seven six was unescorted in her voyage across the Pacific?”

Clifton over exaggerated a nod. “That would be a fair assessment.”

Alejandro cut in. “It's typical for the escorts of a nuclear powered carrier to leave a few days in advance or take a shorter route because of the carrier's high speed. The escort ships can't keep up.”

Carter grunted, then shuffled his papers. “Let's move on, what happened on the day of the attack?”

Clifton shivered as he remembered that fateful day. “HooBoy. That was a mess. We had met up with the escorts just eight hours earlier and were making waves for San Diego. We had just passed about where Portland is, and then all these weird distress calls started coming in. Calls from Seattle. A dome of, well. . . I don't know what had covered the center of the city, about ten miles in diameter. The dome extended from the bridges to the harbor, and nobody knew what had happened or where it came from. Bogart ordered the fleet to enter the harbor and see if we could offer assistance of some kind.” Clifton paused. He seemed uncertain. “Then the creatures started coming out of it. Cars that had turned into metallic animals, dragons that looked more like bumble bees, even small buildings had come alive andwere coming out of that dome. It was chaos on shore, and all we could do was listen to it from the ship.”

Clifton's stare went right past the two men as he recounted his story, his voice strong but faltering at moments. “Washington National Guard was scrambled, they had a few battalions doing weekend drills on the beaches. They didn't have any air support though, nearest base was hours away and the pilots were all on leave.”

He paused for a moment, his mouth curving into a smile for a moment. “Bogart refused to run to open water, said that turning tail was not a Naval tradition and had me scramble the jets right there in the harbor. Our escorts started to open up on the dome itself, and that's when things got real.”

“Got real?” Carter asked.

“It, the dome I mean, started shooting at us. Weird stuff. Most common projectile was a big spiked ball, but all sorts of stuff came at us. Giant bowling balls, bathtubs, even a giant flowerpot, complete with a thirty foot daisy. The R-A-Ms and C-I-W-S shot most of them down, but eventually we started taking damage. Carrier took some heavy hits, lost all four catapults. Bogart decided that the shield had to come down one way or another. So we took the direct route.”

Clifton smiled at his own comment. Carter was still not amused and said so. “You took a five billion dollar piece of equipment and used it as a battering ram.”

Clifton shrugged. “If it's stupid but it works. Well, we took down the shield, beached the ship and then most of the crew went over the side for land action. I stayed on board and continued to direct missile strikes. Bogart took a helo and directed ground operations until the fight ended, which was about an hour later. Not much else to tell. Battle couldn't have lasted more than five hours, afterwards, we began to pick up the pieces. Fleet was fubar, city looked even worse. Corpsmen had their hands full while the rest of the crew tried to get the ship seaworthy again. And that's all I've been doing for the past three days.”

Carter scanned his documents, his face impassive. “Captain Clifton, you say it was Bogart who wanted to perform the cold weather training?

“Yes.”

“And who decided where the escorts should meet with the fleet?”

“Admiral Bogart. All authorization was from the top though.” Clifton didn't like where Carter was going with this.

“One more question Captain. Has Bogart acted strangely at all over the past few months?”

Clifton eyed Carter with distrust. “No. Why?”

Carter remained impassive as he explained. “Doesn't it seem odd to you that the fleet was conveniently placed off the coast just as the attack began? Or how as soon as Seattle fell, the other cities' aggressors simply disappeared?”

Clifton snapped. “What is wrong with you people?”

Carter's stony expression finally cracked with surprise. “Pardon me?”

Clifton stood up. “You heard me! What is wrong with you people? The world gets attacked! The nations are ready to nuke each other! Entire cities are thrown into chaos and so we retaliate! Suddenly, things start getting normal again! The Navy is the big hero, we've got the entire world signing up to be our ally, and it's all because of one man! And now you say that he planned it?”

“I never said-” Carter began, but Clifton interrupted him mid sentence.

“Can it suits, I've dealt with the Feds before and I got screwed over. Bogart may be eccentric, and maybe he's stepped on a few toes in Washington, but believe me, the last thing he'd ever do is betray this country!”

Clifton turned and kicked the chair out of his way and began walking towards the door.

“We're not finished!” Agent Carter yelled after him.

“Yes we are!” Came the reply momentarily before the door slammed shut.

Carter stared after him, unsure as to what just happened. He looked over at Alejandro who looked back at him with raised eyebrows. Alejandro moved his hand up to disguise the smile threatening to break free. “Well, Clifton seems to have a pretty high opinion of the admiral.”

Carter's gaze returned to his papers. “I hope, for his sake, that it doesn't get him killed.”

Clifton walked out to the parking lot to an old Crown Victoria. The car had been issued to him because his truck was at home and he was not allowed to contact anyone to pick him up.

As he reached the car, the same agent that had swept the room for Carter approached him. Clifton turned. “Listen, I've already told your boss-”

“You forgot this.” The agent held out a briefcase, the same one that Clifton had accidentally left in the plane. He took it and muttered a thanks before getting in the car. Tossing the briefcase in the back seat, Clifton took a deep breath and turned the key. The engine refused to start at first, but slowly grumbled to life and climbed in RPMs.

The drive home was uneventful, the highways were almost clear and soon the Crown Vic rattled into a small neighborhood on the edge of the city. Pulling into the drive, Clifton put it in park and turned the engine off. The gray sky seemed to reflect his mood as he stepped up to the door and inserted the key into the lock.

The door opened without a sound, and he stepped inside. He heard someone moving around in the kitchen and found his wife, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, cleaning a large pizza pan.

“Hello Chrys.” He said. Chrys froze and slowly turned around. Upon seeing him, she dropped the scrubber and ran at him, tears forming in his eyes. They embraced and Bob could feel her wet hands and tears through his shirt. Even with her face buried in his shoulder, he could hear her whispering. “I thought you weren't coming back. Why didn't you call?”

Bob could only hold her tighter, his sobbing breath failing to form words as tears rolled down his face. They stayed like that for some time, rocking back and forth in each others' arms for an unknown amount of time. Small steps could be heard approaching and suddenly an excited voice yelled from the doorway. “DAD!”

Bob and Chrys turned to their eight year old son and knelt down. The boy made a flying leap into their outstretched arms and the three of them fell to the floor in one big hug.

“I was so worried! Mom said that something happened and—and-” His happy face suddenly broke and he began to cry. “Don't ever leave again! Please Dad, don't go anymore!”

Bob held his son close and tried to calm him. “Shhhh. It's okay Sean, I'm here now. I'm here.” He suddenly felt a flood of guilt as he realized just what his family had been going through over the past three days.

In the cool of the evening, long after the sun had set, a lone figure sat on a bench. The backyard had been turned into a rose garden, as beautiful yet dangerous as the person that sat on the bench. The sliding door opened and then closed quietly.

Bob walked on the stone pathway he had laid out to the bench, careful not to touch any of the thorny plants.

“I finally got him to bed, he didn't want to go to sleep though.” He said as he sat down next to Chrys, pulling out a cigarette.

“I'd prefer if you didn't.” She said. Bob shrugged and put the cigarette in his shirt pocket. He felt Chrys lean on him and put her head on his shoulder, so he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

“Everyday.” She said, a distant look in her eyes. “Everyday I would wake up in that bed with no one beside me. And I would wonder, Bob. I would wonder if that bed would ever hold two people again.”

Bob sighed but said nothing, so Chrys continued. “Just last night, the Huckabees' were broken into, right down the street from us. And you know what happened? Eric woke up and grabbed a shotgun and killed the burglar. You know why? The man was in their kids' room. . . Fancy that, little Eric who never hurt another human being in his life, and he killed a man without even thinking about it. And it made me think, Bob, if a burglar ever came into our house, that there's no one there to grab that gun, and make sure that our Sean is alright.”

“If you're worried, I'll get a house on the base for you.” Bob said.

“I don't want a house on the base.” Chrys replied, her voice staying the same. “I don't want a guard dog, I don't want a fence, I don't want a house surrounded by the few, the proud.” Her head turned and she looked right at him. “I want you Bob. I want Sean to be able to wake up for a week straight and be able to say good morning to his father. I want to be able to get up and see someone I love in the bed next to me, go out and make that man coffee and eggs. I want to be able to turn on the news one day without the fear that you'll be on it.”

Bob stayed silent for a moment, contemplating his wife's words. “I want that too, but not right now. Right now, the Navy needs me, almost as much as you do.”

Chrys felt a tear roll down her cheek. “You remember what you promised me? When Sean was born, you promised that you were going to watch Sean grow up with me. Remember when you said that?”

“That was different.” Bob said.

“That was different?” Chrys said, hurt. “I was five months pregnant, then I get a call and told that there's been an accident. You come home in a stretcher, I can't even visit you in the hospital for an entire week. And you tell me no more risks. You were done with flying, with the Navy, and you were coming home to stay.”

Bob's mind kept repeating her words, no more flying, and his thoughts took him to eight years prior, ten thousand feet above the North Atlantic. A flight of four F-18s were flying through an ice storm in response to Russian bombers venturing further into the Arctic and closer to North America. The American response was to launch a series of long range patrols directly into the path of the bombers.

Clifton was flight lead, his F-18 plunging into the ice storm that slammed into the fuselage. Three more planes followed suit. Visibility became so low that the pilots could not see the planes ten feet away. The storm buffeted the flight, threatening to cause a midair collision, but the pilots were experienced and ready for such a pounding.

“Falcon, this is Eagle, I've lost visual.” Clifton's wingman radioed.

“Stay in formation.” Clifton ordered. “Last thing we need is to get separated.”

A third voice chimed in. “Falcon, this is Hoot Owl, ice is starting to form on my wings.”

“Same here, Owl. Time to turn on the heaters.” Eagle radioed back.

The F-18's wings were outfitted with coil heaters specifically to prevent ice buildup on the wings, which could disrupt the airflow and cause the plane to lose lift or control. Slowly, the ice began to thaw and break off.

“Mayday! Mayday! This is Raven! Fire in number one engine! Losing thrust!”

Clifton froze as the fourth man in the flight sent out the frantic call. “Charlie flight! Break right! Abort mission! Repeat, Abort mission!” He ordered.

The four planes turned as one and began to make their way back to the carrier. However, plane four was falling behind.

“Falcon! This is Raven! I'm losing oil pressure, extinguishers aren't doing a thing! Fuel's leaking right into the engine!”

Clifton made a split second decision. “Eagle, Hoot Owl, split off and take perch at twelve thousand. Raven, I'm coming back to take a look.”

As he said this, the planes began to emerge from the depths of the storm and visibility increased. Clifton watched as the other two elements of the flight pull up and  maintain position above them, then chopped power and eased his way back to Raven. The F-18 was trailing a thick line of smoke, occasionally a burst of flame shot out of the tail pipe. Slowly slipping his plane underneath the damaged one, Clifton was able to see the extent of the damage. The engine had blown out, tearing a hole through the bottom of the plane.

“Raven, you've got-”

“Falcon! Break-”

Hoot Owl's warning was cut short as Raven's right wing suddenly whipped down towards Clifton's plane. Clifton threw the stick over and down. Too late. He felt a shudder and suddenly the F-18 spun out of control.

“Eject! Eject!” Someone yelled over the radio.

The G-forces threw Clifton around the cockpit and blackness enveloped his vision. His hands found the handle and he yanked up. The canopy popped up and the rockets fired, sending Clifton out of the plane and safely into the air, dangling from his parachute. Instantly, a chill bit into exposed skin. Clifton's vision returned, allowing him to view the frozen North Atlantic as he helplessly drifted downwards.

Bob's shivered as he remembered the event, his experience had given him a deathly fear of flying. It had taken eight hours before he was fished from the frozen waters, the other pilot, Joseph Vallejo, had been found, his very blood had turned to ice. The mere fact that Bob was still alive stunned doctors. They called it a medical miracle when he was deemed fit to return to service. However, his recovery still took over a year, Sean had been born while Bob was still in the hospital.

After the accident, the inquiry had tried to accuse him of risking both his and Vallejo's planes by flying too close. Fortunately, a certain Admiral had taken a liking to Bob and stepped in on his behalf. Bob's career was salvaged and he made captain, but it was likely that he would never rank up again.

Chrys, on the other hand, had been horrified when Bogart stepped in. She had wanted Bob to retire for the Navy and live a simpler and safer life. She had made Bob promise that he would never take a combat position again. When Bob was assigned to the Reagan, Chrys nearly destroyed the house in anger.

As the two of them sat on the bench, Bob contemplated whether or not he should resign from the Navy. However, his choice was made for him as a buzzing sound shattered the silence. Pulling out his phone, his eyes read the emergency text. “There's been an emergency, all military personnel are to report to their stations.” He read aloud.

Chrys felt tears start to roll down her face. “I can't take it.” She told him. “I can't wake up alone again.” She pushed herself away from Bob and hugged herself, the night air growing colder as she did. “Bob, I'm not going to make Sean grow up with a father that is never there for him.” She looked at him, her green eyes piercing him. “If you go, we won't be here when you get back.”

Bob's breath caught in his throat. “I-”

“Don't.” She cut him off. “We both know what you're going to do. Just don't.”

Bob and Chrys sat there, staring at each other. Finally, Bob turned away and stood. Slowly, his steps clicked down the path to the door. He reached it, but turned around.

“Chrys.” He called to her. She ignored him and continued to stare at the roses. “Just know, that everything I do is for you and Sean. I love you Chrys. More than you realize.”

With that, he opened the door and closed it behind him. The house seemed emptier than ever, the darkness oppressing and dead. Perfectly navigating his way through the rooms, he reached the front door. Closing it behind him, he was greeted with the sight of the dingy Crown Vic sitting in the drive. The keys rattled as he inserted them into the ignition, turned the car on, and pulled out of the drive.

The highway stared back at Clifton in his headlights as the car sped on. Perhaps it was for the best. He had always felt that he was inefficient for Chrys, she had always been the stronger of the couple. Maybe now she could-

“You know she really means it this time.”

Clifton's head spun around to see the face of Discord staring back at him. Reaching for his glove box to grab the pistol, Clifton failed to notice the blinding light that enveloped the car. A sense of zero gravity caused Clifton's body to strain at the seat belt. His hand finally found purchase on the gun and he leveled it at Discord's head.

“Oh Captain.” Discord smiled. “Has no one ever taught you to keep your eyes on the road?”

Clifton looked out of the windshield to see the car floating. Outside, a world of impossible stared back.

The Cafe

Chapter 4:

“What about the void? Do you have anything on that, General?”

“Nothing apart from the obvious. We can't open or close it. Discord could.”

“Blast him.”

“We did.”

“Oh ha ha. Sarcasm aside, I don't really care that we can't open it, so much as close it.”

Three Days After the Attack:

“Colonel.” A familiar voice said. “COLONEL!”

Granger awoke with a start. His neck ached and his eyes were blinded with light. Slowly, his vision adjusted and he looked around. He was in a restaurant, no, a cafe. The big windows showed a city outside, possibly Chicago. The sun was about midday position, and the street was packed by cars that slowly moved every time a green light made it's way onto the signal. The cafe was virtually empty save for the sound of a cook in the back and the man sitting across from him.

“Granger? Are you there?” The voice asked again. Granger squinted at the man on the other side of the table and recognized him as Admiral Bogart.

“Uh, um, Admiral Bogart?” He asked lamely.

Bogart's eyebrows shot up. “Yes. Are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.”

“I. . . I'm sorry. I seem to have spaced out a bit. What were we talking about?”

Bogart's expression was one of concern. “When's the last time you got any sleep?”

“I. . . don't remember.” Granger stuttered.

Bogart leaned back and stretched. “Honestly, you Marines always work yourselves to death. I knew a Major once, he was out on patrol for a week and I don't think he slept the entire time. That reminds me-”

“Excuse me Admiral.” Granger felt panic rising. “What happened to the meeting?”

“What meeting?” The Admiral said in surprise. “Only meeting I know of is the one that Captain Clifton is late for.”

The door opened and closed and Bogart looked up. “Speak of the devil.”

Another man walked up. He was taller than Bogart, although not as well built. He and the Admiral shook hands and then he sat down next to Bogart.

“Who's this?” He asked cheerfully.

“Colonel Granger.” Admiral Bogart said. “We met on the transport. He has some interesting ideas on some possible ground operations in the event of another attack.”

“Hooboy, let's hope they never have to be implemented.” Clifton sighed, then brightened. “Well, it's a pleasure Colonel. Any friend of Bogart is a friend of mine.”

Granger felt relaxed by Clifton's attitude, but his mind still could not figure out why he was in a cafe with the two Naval officers responsible for ending the strange attack. “Excuse me gentlemen, but if I'm intruding, perhaps I should go.”

More than anything, Granger would have liked to have gotten away and find the nearest military base. Bogart, however, would have none of it. “Nonsense Granger! If anything, Bob and I could use a third voice in our conversation.”

Granger sat back down and pretended to listen to the two men talking, but his focus remained on where he was and how he got there.

“What about you, Granger, you got any family?” Clifton asked.

Granger looked up, taking a moment to register the question. “No.” He said quickly.

Bogart leaned closer to Granger, looking at him carefully. “Granger, are you sure you're alright, you look like you're a little more than worn down.”

“I'm fine Sir, just a little fatigued, I was just remembering. . .” Granger stopped, his eyes widened. “The monster.” He breathed.

“Come again?” Bogart asked.

“There was monster!” Granger said. “I was in a base called Coaltown, there was some sort of gravitational anomaly, I went to check on the V-I-Ps and then. . .”

Clifton and Bogart waited expectantly for an answer. Granger's mouth seemed to open and close but no words made it out. Finally, he managed to say something, but it was too quiet to hear. When asked to repeat himself, he looked right at Bogart and asked; “Am I dead?”

Bogart started to laugh so hard he was choking, Clifton turned his head, but from the way his shoulders shook it was obvious he found it comedic. “Where did that come from?” Bogart finally managed to gasp out.

“I shot myself!” Granger said frantically. “I found some sort of monster in a room, he took control of my body, put my pistol to my head and made me pull the trigger!”

Bogart managed to stop laughing and took a deep breath. He leaned back in his seat and wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “No Granger. You're not dead.”

Granger stopped panicking and and realized just how stupid he sounded. He let out a chuckle. “I guess it does sound pretty impossible.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say impossible since it did happen.” An all too sinister voice said. “You just never actually pulled the trigger.”

Bogart's smile now had a single, long saber-like tooth and his eyes glowed yellow. Granger shrieked and reached for his sidearm. For some reason, he had it. One part of his mind told him that he shouldn't have it in a public place, the other part told him to unload every last bullet into Bogart's smiling face. Which he promptly did.

Bits of brains and bone sprayed outwards from the barrage of bullets, and soon Granger's gun clicked empty. Clifton, who was sitting directly across from the former Admiral, fell out of his seat and gagged at the sight of Bogart's face being blown open. Granger quickly stood and grabbed him, pulling him to his feet.

“Come on! We need to go!” He said.

“You just shot Admiral Bogart!” Clifton shouted.

“That wasn't Admiral Bogart! That was a monster, and he's probably got some goons backing him up!” Granger said hurriedly.

As he rushed to the door, Clifton called out from behind him. “Don't go out the doors! It's not-”

Too late, Granger was out the door.

“Well, I must say he took it better than expected.” Discord said as his face morphed from the bloody mess into his true form. He still for his uniform, but his appendages were his own.

Clifton turned to him. “Did you have to let him shoot you? Honestly, the last thing I wanted to see was your brains.”

Discord waved his hand dismissively and pulled out a baseball glove. “Please, it's not like you haven't seen that kind of stuff before. Now if you'll excuse me, our guest will be dropping back in.”

He stood up, walked over to the door and assumed a catcher's position with the glove held out in front of him.

Granger rushed through the door only to find that there was nothing under his feet. The city had turned sideways, and now he was falling parallel to the ground. Desperately, he tried to grab onto something, anything, but everything was just out of reach. Looking below him, he saw a building rapidly approaching.

No matter what way he twisted or contorted his body, he couldn't find a way to stop. Granger shut his eyes and prayed that it would be painless.

Clifton watched as an object smashed through the doors and impacted the far wall. It was Granger, his body embedded a good foot into the wood paneling.

Discord looked back at him from his catcher's stance. “Huh.” He said nonchalantly. “Missed.”

He stood and walked over to where Granger was stuck. “You know, I think you should have thought that one through a bit better.” Discord said as he pulled Granger out. “Can you imagine what would've happened to you if this was actually Chicago?”

Granger's face and exposed skin were entirely red and his eyes were swollen shut, as if he had just done a massive belly flop into a pool. Considering that his fall should have killed him, he supposed he should be a little thankful to be alive, but the massive amount of pain he was feeling simply overrode any such thoughts.

Granger felt Clifton guide him to the nearest chair and sit him down. “Alright Granger, now that you've become acquainted with our host, let's not shoot him anymore.”

“Who are you?” Granger wheezed out, the pain of even moving his lips was unbearable.

“Captain Bob Clifton, United States Navy.” Clifton said calmly. “And that thing, is Discord, although by now, I'm pretty sure the entire world knows it by now. What they don't know is that Discord is also Admiral Bogart of the United States Navy.”

Granger could feel some of the pain begin to ebb away, much faster than it should be. “Why?” He asked.

“Ah, the question of the universe. Why?” Discord said, taking dramatic pose as a thinker. “Why are we here? What is the point of the universe? Why must man continue his effortless crusade to destroy himself? Why is Justin Bieber popular?”

Clifton shot him a dirty look. “Shut it Discord. You know what he means. And I want answers too. Why did you bring us here?”

Granger also looked at Discord, his eyes having stopped swelling enough for him to actually see. Discord merely smiled and said; “Because I need your help.”

“And why would we ever help you?” Clifton asked sourly. Granger wanted to agree, but it still hurt to move his lips.

“Gentlemen,” Discord began, “humans have always been blissfully unaware of the fact that they are not the most powerful beings on the planet. However, now they are painfully aware of it, and they don't like it.”

“Get to the point!” Clifton barked at him.

Discord eyed him coldly, he did not like to be interrupted and his tone became ominous. “My point is, my dear Captain, that I am not Humanity's greatest threat.”

Clifton and Granger both stared at him with blank expressions, several thoughts running through their minds. Finally, Granger spoke up, even though he regretted it. “Okay. So?”

Discord sighed heavily. “So, my attack was not an actual attack!”

“Sure looked like one!” Clifton retorted.

“You of all people should know that appearances are not all they seem.” Discord shot back, causing Clifton to recoil slightly.

“The attack,” he continued, “was in all reality a warning.”

“A warning!” Granger exploded. “Fifteen million people are DEAD because of you!”

“Then I am correct in assuming that I have humanity's attention.” Discord replied calmly. Granger tried to stand, but felt an invisible force holding him down and also keeping his mouth shut.

“It was never meant to be like this.” Discord said, beginning to pace. “I had planned to be the hero myself, reveal to humanity the danger that is so quickly approaching, lead humanity's armies to victory. But certain events have caused my plans to change. I needed a catalyst to force humanity to prepare itself for an invasion. Give you the motivation to put aside you differences and unite against a greater threat.”

Discord stopped his pacing and looked directly at the two men, his tone sounded dangerous. “My choices were difficult, and the end by no way justifies my means, but in the end I had to commit a massacre in order to prevent a genocide.”

Granger felt the movement return to his mouth, and he spoke up again. “You couldn't have tried to warn us using peaceful means? I don't know, showed up at the United Nations building and said something?”

“And how long would it have taken to get something done? I'm on a short time limit! Your leaders would still be discussing on whether or not to believe me when humanity is being wiped out by a foe so powerful you cannot comprehend its might!” Discord said. “No, Colonel, I needed action. I watched World War Two drag on, I watched as Neville Chamberlin and President Roosevelt granted Germany more and more concessions. 'Peace in our time.' HA! And then I saw Pearl Harbor and I knew that the only way to get humanity to mobilize its military might quickly was to attack it! There's something coming a lot quicker than I expected and I was out of options!"

Silence reigned in the cafe after Discord had said. Granger thought about what Discord had said, his brain knew that on one hand, Discord was right, humanity had certainly united as one against a new threat, but on the other hand he could not forgive Discord for his actions.

“So.” Clifton finally said. “What is it that scares you so much you need humans to fight it for you?”

Discord half grinned and half scowled at this, but he simply took a step back. “Why don't I go ahead and show you?”

From out of nowhere, a steam engine and several passenger cars crashed through the wall to Discord's left and promptly ran him over, demolishing half the building in the process. It screeched to a halt so that the last passenger car was directly in front of the two stunned men. The door opened and revealed Discord's smiling face. “All aboard.”

The Promotion

Chapter 5:

“Well, I will give Discord some credit, he certainly has helped the defense budget.”

“Given the repair costs, I'd say we're worse off than before.”

“General, I'm speaking of the long term effects.”

“HAH! With the politicians, nothing ever last long.”

“Have a little faith in humanity. After all, look at how far we've come since Discord first appeared.”

Three Days after the Attack:

“Alright, try it again.” The sound of grinding metal filled the air as a crane on the USS Ronald Reagan's deck lifted a damaged F-18 off one of the starboard elevators. Slowly but surely, the plane was lifted clear of the deck and placed to one side. Almost immediately, a team of engineers swarmed the elevator and began to cut off the jagged pieces of metal that held it in place.

“All hands.” A loudspeaker cut through the noise. “The tide has reached its peak, we're going to try and move the ship. Brace.”

Duframe was in the middle of rebuilding the tail rotor for a Seahawk when the announcement blared. Quickly, he gathered up anything loose and set it inside the bucket he had been standing on.

“Here we go again.” He muttered as he held on to the helicopter.

The ship began to vibrate as the four propellers began to pull against the shoreline. Additionally, the Shiloh, having been freed two days earlier, lent her aid in pulling at the beached carrier. The Reagan had been unable to free herself before, but today was an unusually high tide and the ship's previous efforts had loosened the ground around the bow.

With a massive groan and shrieking of metal, the giant ship slowly slipped away from her earthen confinement and floated out into the middle of the bay. A massive cheer from those onshore was met by the cheer of the sailors and workers onboard.

“All hands, return to your stations. Prepare to exit the harbor.” The speakers blared again. Duframe stared out the open elevator doors for a moment more, feeling the ship gently bob as it slowly made its way to the harbor. Then he returned to the business at hand, repairing the helicopter. Fishing a few pieces out of the bucket, he carefully began to grease and replace them.

The arrival of several civilian workers distracted him for a moment and he watched as they gathered around a foreman.

“Okay!” The foreman yelled. “We have to redo the wiring from sub-sectors three through seven, I want every person in full protective gear, and heads on the swivel. Work from the top down and disconnect as you go. Also, do not cross these two wires, or this will happen!”

Captain Anderson had just retrieved her morning coffee and was looking forward to a relaxing trip down to San Diego when a massive explosion rocked the ship.

“Oh f- What was that?” She shrieked as she tried to wipe the scalding coffee off of her freshly pressed uniform.

“Detonation in the hangar deck, damage control is responding now.” Came the reply.

Anderson picked up the phone as it buzzed. “This is Anderson.”

“Cap, this is McNally, explosion in the hangar deck.” A tired voice said. “Not much damage, got a few injured but no dead.”

Anderson growled in frustration, then spoke. “Need a full damage report. Any idea who caused it?”

There was a moment of silence, then McNally came back on. “Uh, yeah. Seamen Duframe says it was one of the civilian contractors. He touched two wires together and it must've shorted somewhere where we had fuel. Luckily, a helo took the fireball and forced most of it out the portside elevator.”

“Put that contractor in the brig and set his workers under guard.” Anderson barked. “Last thing this ship is some nut near the weapons.”

With that, she slammed the phone back in the cradle. Letting out a frustrated groan, she picked up the coffee cup. The day had started off so promising.

Duframe helped lift the man into the stretcher, the man's arm was heavily burnt. Two corpsmen picked up the stretcher and trotted off toward the med bay. He turned and surveyed the damage. The helicopter he had been working on was now even more damaged, several pieces of debris had punctured the thin metal and scorch marks covered the side nearest the explosion. Beyond the helicopter, the small fuel tank on the starboard side now was now missing its upper half, and anything near the fuel tank had been blown away or burnt.

With a sigh, Duframe began to pick up his tools and make a thorough inspection of the helicopter.

“Seaman Duframe!” Someone behind him barked.

Duframe turned around to see Lieutenant Sanders, his division officer, standing near him. “Sir?”

“Report to Lieutenant Commander Stone in CIC. She's got some questions for you.” Sanders said before turning and leaving Duframe standing clueless.

Upon reaching the CIC room, Duframe found Commander Stone overlooking several pieces of paper attached to a clipboard.

“Ma'am.” Duframe snapped to attention. “Seaman Duframe reporting as ordered.”

Stone looked up at him and set the clipboard down. “At ease, Duframe. Are you aware of the reason that I have called you here?”

“Negative Ma'am.” Duframe said as he relaxed slightly.

Stone picked up an electronic tablet and turned it on. “Let's see, D-U-F-R, ah, here were are. Seaman Duframe, it is my understanding that you were part of the expeditionary force that liberated Seattle.”

“Yes Ma'am.” Duframe affirmed, worried that he might have caused a problem.

“During that battle, you found and reported two civilians that had been exposed to a mutation. Am I correct?” Stone asked.

“Yes Ma'am.” Duframe answered.

“Upon encountering these two civilians, why did you refrain from shooting them?”

“Ma'am?” Duframe asked uncertainly.

“It would make perfect sense, that in the battle, there was a lot of chaos that occurred. How did you know not to open fire on these two civilians even though they resembled the enemy?” Stone asked in a monotone voice.

“Well,” Duframe said, “ 'cause they asked me not to.”

Stone's eyes bored into Duframe for a long minute, then she smiled. “Duframe, did you know that because of your actions, an estimated two hundred civilians were saved from friendly fire?”

Duframe's silence answered her, so she continued. “I also understand that, according to Petty Officer O'Hara and Guardsman Jacobs, you were among the first troopers to make contact with the creature known as Discord, and even in the face of death, you remained resilient.”

“Um, I told him to have intercourse with himself.” Duframe stated.

Stone smile grew for a moment. “Well, in light of recent actions, I see no other option but to approve your transfer to helicopter gunnery training.”

Duframe took a moment to register what Stone had just said. Stone offered her hand and he took it in a firm handshake.

“Congratulations.” Stone smile was reflected by Duframe's broad grin.

Lieutenant Butters's hands were raw from the digging, and his muscles burned from exhaustion. Behind him, practically an army of engineers were doing the same thing he was, digging a tunnel down to the trapped men. They had established contact with Admiral Bogart, and he had informed them that Colonel Granger and two fellow Marines had survived the cave in, but all three were in critical condition.

The tunnel was dug by a portable digging machine about the size of a small car, but the men still had to do excavate the leftover dirt and transport it out by hand. Additionally, they had to wear breathing equipment because of sheer amount of dust that filled the air. This made for less than ideal work conditions, but so far not one of them had complained about the work. If anything, the closer they got to the trapped men, the harder the rescuers worked.

“Lieutenant.” A muffled voice called. He looked over and saw one of the engineers approaching him.

As Butters looked up, the engineer began to explain the situation. “I'm sorry Sir, but we're going to have to slow down.”

“Why?” Butters hated wearing the mask, but it was better than the alternative.

“We're passing under corridor seven.” The engineer said as he pointed up. “My boys need to shore this area extra, or else we run the risk of another cave in. Don't worry, we'll still reach the Admiral in plenty of time.”

“How long?” Butters asked.

“Six, maybe seven hours.”

Butters nodded and thanked the engineer, then picked up the shovel and started to work again.

The Enemy

Chapter 6:

“What about the other one?”

“It remains uncertain of who he was aligned with.”

“He attacked us, General. It's pretty obvious he wasn't on our side.”

“True.”

“What I want to know is, did we get him?”

Much to the relief of Granger, the train was fairly ordinary on the inside. It had wood paneling, comfortable lounge seats that faced inwards, and a bar area at one end. All of the shades were drawn over the windows, and Discord advised to keep them that way unless the two men wanted to test their sanity.

Currently the two men were sitting in chairs next to each other while Discord reclined on a couch across from them.

“Alright Discord. This is a nice train ride, but where are we going?” Clifton asked.

“To a point approximately two hundred miles off of the coast of Oregon.” Discord said. “Anyone care for refreshments.”

Blank stares answered him. “Hmph!” He snapped his talons and a glass of something red appeared in his lion paw. “Well don't expect me to offer it again.”

“What's off the coast of Oregon?” Granger asked aggressively.

“Nothing as of yet.” Discord sipped the liquid from the glass. “And there would continue to be nothing if I wasn't breaking the barrier between Earth and the Void.”

“WHAT?” Clifton shouted and stood up.

Discord was unconcerned with the outburst. “At ease, Captain, I believe you have overreacted a small amount.”

Clifton looked sheepishly at Granger and sat back down. Granger merely shrugged. “What's the Void?” He asked.

“The Void is what we're currently in.” Discord explained. “It is my home, where I spend most of my time away from the chaotic mess of the world.”

“Chaos? Isn't that your whole thing?” Granger sneered.

“Please, that calamity you call humanity is far more than I can handle.” Discord shot right back. “But as I was saying, the Void is a realm of abnormality from the world. Up can be down, or up, or sideways. A dog may be cat, a road may be a person, a dream replacing reality. In short, it is whatever Earth is not.”

“Kind of like what you did to those cities.” Granger surmised.

Discord nodded. “Yes, except multiply that by a hundred, throw it in a blender, light the blender on fire, and then pour it in a vat of toxic waste.”

Granger nodded as well. “So, why are you doing this? And why would we help you do it?”

“In order for me to answer those two questions, I must explain when this whole mess started. Thousands of years ago, while man was just beginning to understand that he was alive and capable of thought, spirits ruled the earth. There were hundreds of us, I was the Spirit of Chaos, Macab was the Spirit of War, so many of us.”

Discord leaned back and sighed. “One of us, Tirek, sought to guide humanity. He took on a human to train him, Sombra. Sombra was smart for a human, perhaps too smart. Simply being Tirek's puppet would not satisfy his lust for power, and he wanted more. Tirek and Sombra began to create an army with which to enslave humanity. This, of course, caused a bit of a rift between the spirits, and soon we were divided. Some who wanted to curb humanity before it could grow too powerful, and some who wanted to let humanity advance on its own.”

“Which side were you on?” Granger asked.

Discord shrugged. “It didn't matter. The two sides soon went to war, one that shook the entire world. Just as Tirek and Celestia, she was the leader of the spirits who wanted to keep humanity free, were at their breaking point, Sombra struck. He had hijacked Tirek's army of creations and laid waste to both armies. Tirek, Celestia, I and a few others managed to hold Sombra back before banishing him and his army to a dead realm.”

“Dead realm?” Clifton interrupted.

“A realm of nothing. That is the simplest explanation of it.” Discord explained. “The war was finished. Only a fraction of our number remained, one that has dwindled as the years progress. Tirek went into hiding for a few thousand years, but then he attacked again. Somehow, he had found a way to drain the life force of other spirits. Tirek thought he was unstoppable, draining and then killing every spirit he came across. Then he came after me.”

Discord scowled, his tone darkened. “The fool tried to get me to join him, and when I refused, he tried to drain my power too. Unfortunately for him, I am far more powerful than most would imagine. I thought it was poetic justice when I threw his limp body into the same dead realm that we had thrown Sombra into so many years before. I see now that it was instead a cruel irony that would come back to haunt me.”

“That's it.” Granger said quietly. “That's why you need our help. Tirek drained Sombra and now he's coming back.”

Discord smiled. “Close, but not quite. Tirek I could handle; Sombra, if he has drained Tirek of power, than he is a force that is more than capable of defeating me.”

Granger frowned. “I thought Sombra was just a human.”

“He was. But his interaction with Tirek has turned him into something much more powerful and much darker than any spirit I have ever seen. His army is made of creatures that have a strength capable of crushing metal and yet the agility of a panther. I banished Tirek almost two thousand years ago, and two hundred years ago, my mistake began to break free.”

The two men and Spirit of Chaos remained silent. “So,” Clifton began, “what's your plan?”

Discord finished his drink and the glass vanished. “Sombra is planning a large scale invasion, but he's no fool. My guess is that he's planning on taking over the Void first.”

A picture of earth appeared in the middle of the train car, surrounded by a thin cloud.

“The Void is undefended for the most part apart from a few monsters, but those could be dispatched easily. From the Void, Sombra could observe and test the defenses of earth. You must forgive this presentation for being a bit dated, I created it in the Eighties for President Reagan.”

Granger started. “You knew Reagan?”

Discord nodded. “Yes, I was a personal adviser to him. Reagan and I were working on the Star Wars project as a way to possibly contain the Void and destroy Sombra's army before it ever breached, but the project failed and Reagan was shot. His health began to fail, so I erased any knowledge of Sombra from his mind and left him to recuperate.”

As Granger stewed over the fact that Reagan and Discord were friends, Discord continued his presentation. “As I was saying, Sombra could easily observe and test the defenses of earth without any retaliation. When he is certain of what he is capable of, he will undoubtedly begin his attack on major metropolitan areas where he can perform the most damage. With humanity's limited knowledge of the Void, Sombra would be able strike at any civilian or military target and retreat to Void before any counterattack could be launched.”

The picture of the planet focused in on what looked like Camp Pendleton in California, with old equipment. The sky above the camp opened up and giant creatures dropped down like bombs. They were four legged canine like beasts that were as easily as large as a tank.

Most of the base was destroyed before the Marines even had a chance to get to their weapons, and those that did were too few and far between to make a successful stand against the creatures. However, before the battle could turn for the better, the creatures began to vanish into wormholes. By the time the planes had arrived, the enemy was nowhere to be seen, and the base was completely decimated.

“As you can see, Sombra would be able to attack and vanish without a trace.” Discord said as the image vanished. “I estimate that he could easily take over half of the world before the remaining forces were able to mount a successful defense.”

Both Granger and Clifton swore, their faces paling at the implications of such an enemy.

Discord smiled. “However, that's if he can take over the Void.”

Recognition dawned on Clifton's face. “That's why your breaking open the Void.”

“Precisely!” Discord exclaimed. “I intend to breach the Void in the exact same location that Sombra will enter, giving the Navy a straight shot at him.”

The train slammed to a stop, sending both men to the floor. Discord stood, unconcerned. “Really gentlemen, I would think members of the United States Military would be more coordinated in their movements.”

Granger tried to call Discord a few choice names, but he had already left the train car. Granger stood and walked to the door, his hand fingering his pistol, while Clifton followed closely behind. Granger stepped out the door to suddenly fall forward before gravity reversed itself and flipped him onto his back. He let out a groan and slowly sat up, observing that the train was now upside down.

Clifton, in an amazing display of dexterity, grabbed the door jam with both arms and held his body out horizontal to the ground before easing himself down dropping to his feet. Discord held up a white card reading '9.5' in one set of arms while another set appeared and clapped. Clifton made a bow and then offered his hand to Granger, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled up.

On his feet once more, Granger looked around. To the rear of the upside down train was a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that seemed to all be moving and shifting. To the front of the engine was a mat gray wall that extended into a twilight sky that blended with a half sun. The ground around the wall was dry and felt like any life that had been there was sucked out.

Discord beckoned to a section of the wall that he pushed aside. Granger stepped into the wall and was amazed by the sight. Above him, the sky looked to have been cracked in a thousand places, some of the cracks flexed and bent with power while others looked to have been there for a century. The ground was as equally cracked, except it failed to flow with the power that the sky did, yet the cracks themselves looked to be more recent.

“Gentlemen!” Discord raised his arms, his Navy uniform gone and his size was twice that of a human being. “Below you lies the Pacific ocean, above lies the army of Sombra. We-”

“Discord!” A small, tinny voice called out interrupting him. “Where have you been, I needed those powercells yesterday!”

A tiny figure stepped out from underneath a large machine that contained an arm with a crystal at the end. Clifton knelt down to get a better look. “Ain't you the cutest little thing?” The tiny figure flashed in energy and was suddenly six foot tall, causing Clifton to fall backwards in surprise.

Now that it was full size, Granger could see that the figure was in fact a she with dark brown skin and long, curly black hair drawn up in a ponytail. She wore a baggy blue jumpsuit, but instead of hands emerging from the sleeves, she had a screwdriver and crescent wrench.

“Granger, Clifton, meet Necessity.” Discord said with a flourish.

Necessity raised an eyebrow. “Necessity?” She asked flatly.

Discord giggled like a schoolboy. “Because you're the mother of invention!” He burst out laughing at his own joke.

The woman shook her head, then her tools flashed and in their place were a set of normal human hands, one of which he held out to Granger. He took it and she smiled at him. “Name's Machina, Spirit of Invention.” She looked at Clifton. “And you ever call me cute again, I'll pull the brakes on your car and jam your accelerator.”

Clifton held his hands up defensively. “Sorry.”

“Well, now that introductions have been made, we can continue.” Discord clasped his claw and paw together.

Granger nodded. “First things first, when is Sombra arriving?”

Machina looked at a clipboard that appeared from thin air. “Two weeks from Thursday.”

“Two WEEKS?”

Machina nodded. “If the decomposition of the rift continues at its current pace, then Sombra will be here in two weeks. That gives me one week to finish up here and another to spend in Vegas before the world ends.”

“Not much time to prepare for an invasion.” Clifton said quietly.

Discord nodded. “Yes, well, originally, he wasn't scheduled to breach for another twelve years, but do you see that large crack that runs the length of the rift?”

Granger looked and saw a fissure that stretched from one side of the broken sky to the other.

“Well, that happened about six months ago, forcing me into a very precarious position.” Discord explained.

“That's why you launched the attack?” Clifton asked.

“Yes. Not only did it move my schedule forward several years, but it also gave me a bit of information that, well, I wish I hadn't known.”

“What?” Granger asked.

Discord sighed. “For Sombra to be able to rip that much of the rift, he is very powerful, more powerful than I ever thought possible.”

There was silence for a moment before Granger broke it. “So, what does that mean for us?”

“It means,” Machina chimed in, “that the only weapon that will even touch Sombra is humanity's most feared possession. We're going to need nukes.”

The Reason

Chapter 7:

“It's odd though, that the other one showed up when he did.”

“About as odd as the original attack.”

“General, that was different.”

“How so?”

“Before, it was just random, this seemed. . . planned.”

Four Days After the Attack:

“So, how many spirits are left?” Granger asked, his head throbbing. Discord, or rather Admiral Bogart in his current state, merely shrugged. “I really don't know. So many of us have been killed or simply disappeared over the years that I believe there can't be more than a few dozen.”

The pair sat in the VIP bunker that Granger had first met Discord a day earlier. Granger had a rather large lump on his head from a supposed injury he had received from the tunnel collapse. In reality, Discord had hit him with an oversized hammer as part of the ruse. The two Marines who had been with Granger were peacefully unconscious on the two beds with their own assortment of injuries that Discord had inflicted on them. None of the the injuries were permanent and the Marines hadn't felt an ounce of pain, but Granger was still uncomfortable with the idea of roughing up his men for the sake of secrecy.

“You still know any of them?” Granger asked. The fact that he was talking to a being thousands of years old and powerful enough to challenge the world was disconcerting and he wasn't sure what to talk about, but he figured that the more information he got out of Bogart, no matter how little, it would be useful.

Bogart nodded. “A few, yes. However, after what I did, I would expect that they're plotting to kill me.”

“Heh, I don't blame them. I still want to kill you.” Granger said.

Bogart grunted. “It's not because of the cities. The majority of them couldn't care less about what happens to humanity. No, it's because I hunted them down.”

“What?” Granger asked. “You mean you were killing them?”

“No, nothing like that. It was that I needed their power. You see, I was trying to build up my own power in order to combat Sombra, spearhead the assault myself. It was never my intention to commit the crimes I did against you, but then-” Bogart paused.

“The crack appeared.” Granger finished.

Bogart nodded. “I took a page out of Tirek's book and managed to master the art of draining the other spirits. I was quite powerful before the attack, so powerful that I couldn't handle it, so I had Machina build me machines to store that power. Even then, I knew that when Sombra nearly broke the barrier, I was no match for him and his army. Perhaps in a one on one fight, I could win, but his army would have been the deciding factor in that battle. So, I made the decision to unleash all of the power I had stored up upon the world. The day known as 'The Discord Disaster'.”

Granger slumped down in his chair, he was still processing the information handed to him earlier. Ancient spirits, unstoppable armies, madmen with impossible power, Granger was a bit overwhelmed by it all.

“So, what'd you with the spirits that you drained?” He asked. “You got them locked up in a prison somewhere in the Void?”

Bogart chuckled. “I'm not a sadist, Colonel. I took care of them. Take Celestia, the Spirit of Day, for instance, as much as we hate each other, I didn't enact some cruel punishment on her, I merely gave her a human life.”

Granger waited for an explanation, but when Bogart didn't immediately speak, Granger asked. Bogart rolled his eyes. “Well if you must know, I found her and her sister, Luna the Spirit of Night, holed up with Cadence, the Spirit of Love, in an underground hot spring in Mount Saint Helens.”

“I'm guessing that the eruption wasn't a natural occurrence?” Granger hazarded a guess.

Bogart smiled. “Correct, it was quite a fight, and I was able to use the volcano to my advantage. As you can see, I won.”

“Obviously.”

“After draining the three of them of their power, I erased their memories and placed them in a small town with some fake back stories. The last I checked, Celestia and Luna had become teachers at some school and were moving up rather quickly.”

As Bogart finished, the room rumbled slightly. Granger looked at the sealed door, behind it sat a few tons of rubble and dirt. “Sounds like my boys are getting close.”

Bogart looked at him with a mixed expression, Granger thought he saw a hint of jealously, but Bogart quickly hid his feelings. “Your men seem as though they would follow you into hell.”

Granger nodded. “Maybe. If it came down to it, I'd lead the charge but I wouldn't make them come.”

Bogart chuckled. “That's probably the reason they would follow you.”

Granger studied his boots. “No, the truth is I'm too much of a coward to order my men to certain doom. I don't mind dying, but I don't think I could live with myself if I was responsible for the deaths of those under me. Why do you think I'm here, in a secret base where nothing happens. Well, nothing is supposed to happen.”

There was a bit a silence between the two men before Granger spoke up again. “So, apart from Machina, any other spirits coming to help?”

Bogart shook his head. “No, they either do not realize the danger or they simply don't care. There was one, but he died.”

“What happened?”

Bogart was quiet, and Granger thought he may have pushed to far, but then Bogart told him. “Sombra happened, and he got desperate. Macab, the Spirit of War. He. . . He wasn't what you think. He was powerful, but yet, he was always eager to help. Seeing as he was the Spirit of War, humanity gave him plenty to feed off of, but he never tried to start conflicts.”

Granger shrugged. “He probably figured that humanity did that well enough for him.”

“No!” Bogart said angrily, causing Granger to flinch. “He didn't like war, yes it made him feel strong, but. . . he was always trying to find a way to end the war as quickly as possible. When he spoke of war, he would never describe the power that he felt or the brutality of battle, but instead he told me of a hero that distinguished himself, or the final calm that reigned over land when the war was over.”

“So, why did he die? What changed?” Granger asked.

Bogart sighed heavily, his eyes sad. “He. . . heheh.” Suddenly, a bit of Discord leaked through and Bogart began to chuckle. “He, he was trying to, haha, use his face, hahaha, as a bomb tester! AHAHA!”

Bogart's voice was now Discord's and he was laughing uncontrollably. Granger was surprised and somewhat taken aback. “What?” He asked incredulously.

Bogart stopped laughing and wiped a tear from his eye. “I apologize, it's just that brings up some interesting memories.”

“I can only imagine.”

“Well, yes, anyways, you see while I was in Europe studying the art of armored warfare under General Patton, Macab was Japan testing the capabilities of the new super battleships' main guns. When he found out that the Americans were testing a new type of bomb and were going to drop it on Hiroshima, he decided to be there to test the effects of the blast.”

“Oh.” That was all Granger could say.

Bogart slumped a bit. “He was really the only friend I had, and I. . . well, at least we know that the bomb works.”

Granger stood and checked on the two unconscious Marines before sitting back down, and this time he stayed silent. After another hour, the drill stopped and the door opened.

Clifton had said good bye to Granger and Discord and gotten in his car, which he drove off a cliff in the Void as Discord instructed. He was still falling after an hour. Others in his position might have panicked or thrown up from the sheer length of time that he had been experiencing zero gravity, but a lifetime as a Navy pilot had given Clifton a stronger fortitude than most.

Deciding not to let one of Discord's pranks get to him, Clifton began to look over the various forms and papers he had in his briefcase. It was a unique experience having to sort papers that simply floated there.

Rather abruptly, there was a bright flash and then car slammed down onto hard asphalt. Clifton was sure that Discord had cushioned the fall somehow, but he wasn't sure how much more abuse the old Crown Vic could take. After a brief inspection of the car, he got back in and turned on the GPS. He was right back where Discord had picked him up.

His phone buzzed and he picked it up, seeing about twenty missed calls, most of which were from the base, but one was from his neighbor. Thinking that something might have happened to Chrys, he called her up first. The phone rang a few times, then she picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey Goggles, it's me, Bob.” Clifton's pet name for her was Goggles because she wore glasses.

“Hey, Mr. Clifton, hi! Um, sorry I called you so early, but um, something weird happened at your house.”

Clifton closed his eyes, wanting to scream, but his voice remained cheerful on the phone. “Did Sean make a bomb again?”

“No, no, it's um, Chrys's garden, I woke up this morning and looked out my window, and I saw that the whole garden was dead. Like, all the roses were all wilted and everything.”

Clifton set his jaw for a moment before speaking again. “Yeah, Chrys decided she wanted to redo the whole garden, so she let the plants die to make it easier to pull up.”

“Oh, okay, um, well that's it really.”

“Thanks for calling, I appreciate you looking out for us. I'll talk to you later, oh and if you finish any more animations, send them to me, their a big hit with the crew.”

“Will do Mr. C, buh bye!”

“Bye.”

Clifton ended the call and sat there, unmoving. Finally, he let out a scream that slowly petered out into heartbroken sobbing. His forehead met the steering wheel and tears fell from his face.

The sound of tires screeching and a car honking startled him. He looked back and saw that there was a car behind him, the driver angrily honking. Clifton realized that the car had been dropped off in the middle of the road, and slowly he turned the car on and began to drive, the other car having passed him as the Crown Vic struggled to start.

Reaching the base, he was admitted and drove to administration. He parked the car, grabbed his briefcase, and went inside.

One Week After the Attack:

Granger awkwardly fingered the single star on his collar as he waited to meet with his superior. It had only been three days since he and Bogart had been had been dug out of the bunker, but in that time Bogart had worked a miracle and gotten Granger not only promoted, but put in charge of several battalions with the specific purpose of preventing further attacks on American soil. The battalions were outfitted with the latest equipment and Granger could have them deployed anywhere in the United States almost instantaneously.

Today, he was going to have to convince General Hamilton to let him deploy most of his forces to the coast of Oregon.

“The general will see you now.” Hamilton's secretary said. Granger stood and walked into the spacious office.

“General Granger, congratulations on the promotion.” General Hamilton walked from behind his desk and both me shook hands.

“Thank you General, it's good to meet you in person.” Granger smiled.

“Likewise. Now, what this I hear about condensing Second and Fifth Battalions?” Hamilton moved back behind his desk and sat down while Granger took a seat across from him.

“Not just Second and Fifth, I want the First as well.”

Hamilton started. “That's half your forces Granger, where are you putting all of them?”

Granger pulled out a USB drive and handed it to Hamilton. “Oregon, specifically near Seattle, although they'll be spread out on the coast a bit.”

Hamilton's laptop whirred to life and he put the drive into the slot. “You better have a good reason for this, otherwise the Pentagon will eat you for breakfast and—what am I looking at?”

Hamilton's laptop screen showed a picture of Seattle during the attack with an overlay various lines of different colors spreading out from the dome.

“The Navy took this during the Discord Disaster, those are various readings from radar off the different ships” Granger explained. “Go ahead and move it to the next slide.”

The next picture was of open ocean, but the same lines spread out from a point in the sky. “That was taken yesterday about two hundred miles off the coast. It's the same as the attack on Seattle.”

Hamilton studied pictures, switching back and forth between the two and rubbing what little hair he had left.

“Well,” he finally said, “it's enough to warrant setting up three battalions up on the coast, but maybe-”

“Hamilton!” Granger protested. “It's the only thing we've got right now! As far as we know, this could be the next attack! That's only two hundred miles from Seattle, right now the only thing guarding that city is a battalion of National Guard, and no disrespect to them but if another attack comes, the weekend warriors are going to get slaughtered!”

Hamilton looked at the two images some more, then back to Granger. “Alright, you get the battalions, if nothing else, it's something we can feed to the politicians to keep them off our backs for now.”

Granger breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Granger,” Hamilton stared at him with a cold glare. “If the attack hits somewhere else and we needed those battalions, you're history.”

The Farewell

Chapter 8:

“Maybe, someday, we'll find out what this whole mess was all about.”

“I have a few theories on that.”

“I don't want theories without facts, General.”

“I can't give you positive proof, but I can give you this.”

“. . .”

Twelve Days After the Attack:

“Captain, we're ready when you are.”

Clifton looked back at his executive officer, then out at San Diego. “Very well, take us out slowly.” Then he muttered under his breath. “I want to get a good view of the city before I die.”

“You say something, Sir?”

“No, just thinking out loud.” Clifton grumbled. He was left alone for a moment before a familiar figure stepped out next to him. “Did you reach her?” Admiral Bogart asked.

Clifton thought back to eight hours prior, hundreds of miles away. The sun had set some time earlier, Clifton was pulling up the drive way in the same Crown Vic as before, to a house that he wanted to forget.

He got out slowly, his eyes scanning for some sign of life in the house even though he knew there would be none. He slowly walked up the steps and tried to slip his key into the lock, but the door was unlatched and simply swung open from the slightest push. Bob stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The house was silent, not even his own footsteps made any noise.

He left the lights off, perfectly navigating his way to the back door without them. The door slid open and he looked out into the backyard. The rose bushes were dead, not a single leaf on one plant. Bob sat down on the bench that he had said goodbye to Chrys on and pulled out a cigarette.

For an hour, he sat there smoking cigarettes, stomping them out when flame neared his lips. His thoughts varied, sometimes on the coming battle, sometimes on the recent revelations that Discord had dropped on him, but mostly on Chrys. He thought of the time that they met.

Bob was twenty, just entering college through the Naval Reserve Officer Training Corps. Standing next to him was his best friend and crush from the sixth grade. She was practically a model by college standards, but she was smart. Bob thought she was the perfect girl, until he found out that she and his roommate were cheating behind his back.

When he found out, his grades took a dive and he was nearly kicked out of ROTC. It was late at night and he was returning to the dorm from a late night party. He had gone to get drunk but was still sober when he left. It was then that he bumped into Chrys.

She was standing on the balcony of the dorm when she dropped her camera. Bob caught it and climbed the drain pipe to give it back. She took it and thanked him as she examined the lens, then she looked up into his eyes. Bob was so shocked that he nearly let go of the pipe. Her eyes drew him in, controlling his every movement and thought. And the best part, he knew she felt the exact same way about him.

Things had changed so much since that moment, and life had driven a rift into their marriage. Bob and Chrys still loved each other, but that was the problem, they loved each other too much.

Bob stood and stomped out his last cigarette before walking silently back into the house. The stairs creaked slightly as he made his way to the bedroom. Empty, as he knew it would be. On the dresser was a notepad, exactly where he left it months earlier. Taking out a pen, he wrote a message to Chrys.

“Chrys,

I know you're going to receive this. The fleet is leaving tomorrow and I have to be on the carrier. With all my heart and soul, I wish I didn't, but I have to be. There's too much at risk for me to sit this one out, and my crew needs me to lead them.

One way or another, this is going to be my last deployment. If I somehow live through the next few days, I'm getting out of the Navy for good. If things take a turn for the worse, please grant me one last request. Forgive me for not being the husband and father that you and Sean deserved.

I will always love you.

-Bob”

Bob looked up at the night sky, his eyes moist and his heart broken, but he dutifully got into the car and drove back to base to board a plane that would take him to the carrier.

That had been only eight hours ago, but to Clifton it felt like a lifetime. He turned to Bogart. “I left her a message.”

Bogart nodded regretfully. “If you want, I could-”

“No.” Clifton interrupted. “If she doesn't want to see me, I won't make her.”

Bogart frowned, but left it at that. “I'm going to be visiting Granger and. . . a friend in a few days. I'll be gone for a while, so I need you to cover for me.”

“I got it.” Clifton grumbled, watching as the ship began moving towards the entrance of the harbor.

“Thank you.” Bogart said. “And Clifton.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean it.”

“. . . Yeah.”

The two men stared at the city when the Reagan passed three ships entering the harbor, causing Clifton to double take. “Admiral Bogart.”

“Yes Captain?”

“Is there a reason why the USS Iowa is being refit?”

Fifteen Days After the Attack:

Principle Celestia continued to sign off on various forms guaranteeing the continued operation of the school as her door opened. “Can I help you?” She asked without looking up.

There was a slight pause, causing Celestia to give her visitor a glance. She had been expecting a student, not the Spirit of Chaos. She was about to scream when a bolt of magic hit her in the face. She fell backwards in her seat and would have fallen over had it not been for a strange force holding her up.

“Discord.” She breathed. With a yell of fury Celestia lunged over the desk and tried to attack him, her hands glowing with power. She was stopped short, hanging frozen in midair as Discord calmly walked around her and pulled a chair up to her desk. Discord then snapped his lion paw and Celestia was seated in her own chair behind her desk, the papers were neatly arranged and even her hair was smoothed out.

“Now Cel, is that any way to treat an old friend?” Discord smiled as he leaned back.

“What do you want?” Celestia growled. She was obviously surprised to see him, but what surprised her even more was the fact that he had returned her memories and some of her power, although she was still extremely weak by former standards.

Discord's smile disappeared. “To say goodbye.”

Celestia would have tried to kill Discord right then and there if he hadn't been holding her down with his powers. “So that's why you returned my memories? Just to come and gloat once more?”

Discord remained silent and pulled out a small glass orb. He handed it to her. “When I die, Luna's and Cadance's memories will return to that orb, as well as a small amount of power.”

“What about the rest of my power, I could've moved this whole building before, now I can't even move my desk.” Celestia asked.

“It's gone, I used it to attack the world.” Discord answered as if it was a matter of fact.

Celestia frowned, her eyes searching him. “Why?” She asked.

“Why what?”

“Why are you giving me my memories back?”

Discord sighed. “Because I want you to continue my work when I die, continue to help humanity.”

Celestia scoffed at that. “You gave me my memories back, remember? And I seem to recall you were trying to enslave humans alongside Tirek. I don't see how much has changed.”

“You think I don't know that?” Discord said, his voice bitter. “We all carry sins that weigh us down. Maybe now I can pay my penance for what I've done.”

Celestia looked at the orb. “Why should I believe anything you're saying?”

Discord leaned forward, practically pleading in his voice. “Because tomorrow, the world is going to change, and you once said that humans, as corruptible and vile as they are, given the right guidance can be molded into creatures of beauty. Tomorrow, they are going to make a stand against the greatest threat that the world has ever known. . . They're going to do it without us, without any help from the spirits. Celestia, right now, humanity is molding itself, and you can help them go even farther. You told me long ago that all you wanted was to help those who can't help themselves, now you can help everyone.”

“It won't work.” Celestia cut him off, her eyes beginning to moisten. “Last time I tried to help, it ended with war that killed almost everyone I cared for. What if it happens again?”

A hand, a human one, touched her own hand on the desk. She looked up and instead of Discord, she saw the man known as Admiral Bogart.

“You've spent thousands of years hiding from what you thought was failure.” He said softly. “I've spent thousands of years hiding from my own face.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “No more hiding.”

Celestia blinked wiped away the tears from her eyes. When her vision cleared, Discord was gone, leaving her alone in her office again. The door opened and a familiar figure walked in.

“Dear sister, you have been crying. What has happened?” Luna asked as she stepped up to embrace her sister. Celestia merely hugged her sister back, rocking back and forth as she considered how fortunate she was to have friends in a time like this.