“In. Out. In. Out. Hold. C’mon Whitey. It ain’t difficult. You know what you’re doing.” The sound of White’s own thoughts rattled round her head as alicorn mare pulled back the bolt on a Boys Anti Tank Rifle, the smooth cyclic action ejecting the .551 calibre cartridge with ease. She’d been out there for three hours now, sitting alone atop her Western Mountain home surrounded by spent cartridges. Her tallish stature putting her about the same height as Princess Twilight made her a foreboding figure, especially when dressed as she was now, her standard issue blue Wonderbolt combat armour complete with it’s signature blue helmet and leather muzzle guard; her piercing green eyes standing out against the helmet. A slender and elegant body concealed a rod of iron and a strong Western Mountain (Irish/Dublin) accent of a loyal and courageous mare with the ability to simply scare opponents into submission. It had been said many a time that her “Debrief” after the Chrysalis attack had made a Warrant Officer in the guards soil himself out of terror.
The bolt clicked forward, a new round loaded and ready to fire. White looked down the sight, eyeing up the target positioned around 500 metres away, ready to fire. And so the usual breathing routine began. In. Out. In. Out. Hold. She gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle dug into her shoulder as the loud bark of the shot echoed across the mountains followed seconds later by a whump sound as the round hit its target, a small patch of dirt with a bit sitting in it.
“Eh, not bad. Looks like you still got an eye for it” she smiled beneath the muzzle guard as she pulled back the bolt, watching as the now empty cartridge tumbled towards the earth, light grey smoke still wisping out of the chamber, her voice slightly muffled by the muzzle guard. Gently putting the weapon on the floor, she looked at the view. The mountains had always had a mysterious air about them ever since her childhood. The way the early morning sun would lazily climb above the horizon, dispersing into shimmering bolts of light as it broke through the mist on a winters morning into the valley below; peppering it with an orange like haze.
“Ma’am. Message from Canterlot.”
White practically jumped up into the air before pulling a Fairburn Sykes Commando Knife out of a hidden scabbard and spun around. Realising who it was, she slowly resheathed the knife.
“Jesus…feck! you nearly gave me a heart attack! Could you please not sneak up on me next time?” she huffed turning to face a male pegasus with a brown coat and pale blue eyes.
“Sorry ma’am, it was urgent.” he replied looking slightly more worried than he had been thirty seconds earlier. “Celestia asked me to give you this.” speaking as he pulled a small piece of paper out of a saddlebag with the royal seal attached. Annoyed, White grabbed the paper and broke the seal. She read aloud,
“Room 25.”
White’s eyes widened and the note crumpled and fell to the floor. Pulling off her combat helmet and unclipping the muzzle guard revealed a slender face with a petite muzzle and a short, cropped blue and yellow mane. Without uttering a word, she slung the rifle onto her back and trotted off into the distance, returning minutes later with pouches of ammunition and food.
“I’ll meet you there. Just give me a minute okay?”
“As you wish ma’am.” came the response as the pegasus took to the skies and flew off.
That night was a hubbub of activity as papers, quills, magazines, pistol clips and various other bits and pieces were stuffed into saddle bags in preparation for the trip to Canterlot. Come morning and Whitey was sitting outside her home, watching as the winter sun lazily climbed above the horizon and began it’s usual penetration of the morning mist. White sighed and smiled as she watched the spectacle but almost immediately, a grim look of determination spread across her face.
“Whatever we’re being summoned to Room 25 for, it ain’t going to be for cookies and a quick fuck.” she muttered and took off. A single solitary feather gently floated down to earth and came to rest next to the houses entrance.
November?
Where do I end talking about everything thats happened? Their close now so I best write this all down before they arrive. I'll probably be swinging from a tree like the others anyhow. I guess I should start with my name. Names Whitebolt Quillbreeze but my friends call me Whitey. Only member of the Quillbreeze family left alive. The rest either died years ago or were killed by this damn war. I am (or rather was) a Group Captain in the Wonderbolts. Heh, they probably don't exist anymore either. Heck, does anything exist outside of this godforsaken room anymore? There's only a few of us left down here. We're running out of food and this war is proving useless, I'm commanding units in the morning that don't exist by the time the afternoon comes. Canterlot is surrounded, Manehattan is under siege but is only just holding on for dear life. We're deep underground but we can still hear the crump of shells and bombs going off. It's only a matter of time before he gets desperate and just tries to Megaspell us out of existenc...
Wait. Footsteps? Oh god, their here. I guess I've got time to write a few more words and make my peace with whatever God is left. I'm sorry I failed my nation, my family and my soldiers; but at least those bastards aren't going to take me alive. One pistol, one bullet. Should be plenty.
